All the high expectations of December at Princedown were doomed to
disappointment; they were a further illustration of Lord Roehampton’s
saying, that there was no gambling like politics. The leader of the
opposition came up to town, but he found nothing but difficulties, and
a few days before Christmas he had resigned the proffered trust. The
protectionist ministry were to remain in office, and to repeal the corn
laws. The individual who was most baulked by this unexpected result was
perhaps Lord Roehampton. He was a man who really cared for nothing but
office and affairs, and being advanced in life, he naturally regretted a
lost opportunity. But he never showed his annoyance. Always playful, and
even taking refuge in a bantering spirit, the world seemed to go light
with him when everything was dark and everybody despondent.
The discontent or indignation which the contemplated revolution in
policy was calculated to excite in the Conservative party generally
were to a certain degree neutralised for the moment by mysterious and
confidential communications, circulated by Mr. Tadpole and the managers
of the party, that the change was to be accompanied by “immense
compensations.” As parliament was to meet as soon as convenient after
Christmas, and the statement of the regenerated ministry was then to
be made immediately, every one held his hand, as they all felt the blow
must be more efficient when the scheme of the government was known.
The Montforts were obliged to go to their castle, a visit the sad
necessity of which the formation of a new government, at one time, they
had hoped might have prevented. The Roehamptons passed their Christmas
with Mr. Sidney Wilton at Gaydene, where Endymion also and many of the
opposition were guests. Waldershare took refuge with his friends the
Beaumaris’, full of revenge and unceasing combinations. He took down St.
Barbe with him, whose services in the session might be useful. There
had been a little misunderstanding between these two eminent personages
during the late season. St. Barbe was not satisfied with his position in
the new journal which Waldershare had established. He affected to have
been ill-treated and deceived, and this with a mysterious shake of the
head which seemed to intimate state secrets that might hereafter be
revealed. The fact is, St. Barbe’s political articles were so absurd
that it was impossible to print them; but as his name stood high as a
clever writer on matters with which he was acquainted, they permitted
him, particularly as they were bound to pay him a high salary, to
contribute essays on the social habits and opinions of the day, which he
treated in a happy and taking manner. St. Barbe himself had such quick
perception of peculiarities, so fine a power of observation, and so keen
a sense of the absurd, that when he revealed in confidence the causes of
his discontent, it was almost impossible to believe that he was entirely
serious. It seems that he expected this connection with the journal in
question to have been, to use his own phrase, “a closet affair,” and
that he was habitually to have been introduced by the backstairs of
the palace to the presence of Royalty to receive encouragement and
inspiration. “I do not complain of the pay,” he added, “though I could
get more by writing for Shuffle and Screw, but I expected a decoration.
However, I shall probably stand for next parliament on the principles of
the Mountain, so perhaps it is just as well.”
Parliament soon met, and that session began which will long be
memorable. The “immense compensations” were nowhere. Waldershare, who
had only waited for this, resigned his office as Under-Secretary of
State. This was a bad example and a blow, but nothing compared to
the resignation of his great office in the Household by the Earl of
Beaumaris. This involved unhappily the withdrawal of Lady Beaumaris,
under whose bright, inspiring roof the Tory party had long assembled,
sanguine and bold. Other considerable peers followed the precedent
of Lord Beaumaris, and withdrew their support from the ministry.
Waldershare moved the amendment to the first reading of the obnoxious
bill; but although defeated by a considerable majority, the majority was
mainly formed by members of the opposition. Among these was Mr. Ferrars,
who it was observed never opened his lips during the whole session.
This was not the case with Mr. Bertie Tremaine and the school of
Pythagoras. The opportunity long waited for had at length arrived. There
was a great parliamentary connection deserted by their leaders. This
distinguished rank and file required officers. The cabinet of Mr. Bertie
Tremaine was ready, and at their service. Mr. Bertie Tremaine seconded
the amendment of Waldershare, and took the occasion of expounding the
new philosophy, which seemed to combine the principles of Bentham
with the practice of Lord Liverpool. “I offered to you this,” he said
reproachfully to Endymion; “you might have been my secretary of state.
Mr. Tremaine Bertie will now take it. He would rather have had an
embassy, but he must make the sacrifice.”
The debates during the session were much carried on by the Pythagoreans,
who never ceased chattering. They had men ready for every branch of
the subject, and the debate was often closed by their chief in mystical
sentences, which they cheered like awestruck zealots.
The great bill was carried, but the dark hour of retribution at length
arrived. The ministry, though sanguine to the last of success, and
not without cause, were completely and ignominiously defeated. The new
government, long prepared, was at once formed. Lord Roehampton again
became secretary of state, and he appointed Endymion to the post under
him. “I shall not press you unfairly,” said Mr. Bertie Tremaine to
Endymion, with encouraging condescension. “I wish my men for a season
to comprehend what is a responsible opposition. I am sorry Hortensius
is your solicitor-general, for I had intended him always for my
chancellor.”