THE PRIME MINISTER (77 page)

Sir James Deering asked the question. ‘He trusted,’ he said, ‘that the House would not think that the question of which he had given notice and which he was about to ask was instigated by any personal desire on his part to inquire into the conduct of the Prime Minister. He was one who believed that the Duke of
Omnium was as little likely as any man in England to offend by unconstitutional practice on his own part. But a great deal had been talked and written lately about the late election at Silverbridge, and there were those who thought, – and he was one of them, – that something should be said to stop the mouths of cavillers. With this object he would ask the Right Honourable Gentleman who led the House,
and who was perhaps first in standing among the noble Duke’s colleagues in that House, whether the noble Duke was prepared to have any statement on the subject made.’

The house was full to the very corners of the galleries. Of course it was known to everybody that the question was to be asked and to be answered. There were some who thought that the matter was so
serious that the Prime Minister
could not get over it. Others had heard in the clubs that Lady Glen, as the Duchess was still called, was to be made the scapegoat. Men of all classes were open-mouthed in their denunciation of the meanness of Lopez, – though no one but Mr Wharton knew half his villainy, as he alone knew that the expenses had been paid twice over. In one corner of the reporter’s gallery sat Mr Slide, pencil in hand,
prepared to revert to his old work on so momentous an occasion. It was a great day for him. He by his own unassisted energy had brought a Prime Minister to book, and had created all this turmoil. It might be his happy lot to be the means of turning that Prime Minister out of office. It was he who had watched over the nation! The Duchess had been most anxious to be present, – but had not ventured
to come without asking her husband’s leave, which he had most peremptorily refused to give. ‘I cannot understand, Glencora, how you can suggest such a thing,’ he had said.

‘You make so much of everything,’ she had replied petulantly; but she had remained at home. The ladies’ gallery was, however, quite full. Mrs Finn was there, of course, anxious not only for her friend, but eager to hear how
her husband would acquit himself in his task. The wives and daughters of all the ministers were there, – excepting the wife of the Prime Minister. There never had been, in the memory of them all, a matter that was so interesting to them for it was the only matter they remembered in which a woman’s conduct might probably be called in question in the House of Commons. And the seats appropriated to
peers were so crammed that above a dozen greyheaded old lords were standing in the passage which divides them from the common strangers. After all it was not, in truth, much of an affair. A very little man indeed had calumniated the conduct of a minister of the Crown, till it had been thought well that the minister should defend himself No one really believed that the Duke had committed any great
offence. At the worst it was no more than indiscretion, which was noticeable only because a Prime Minister should never be indiscreet. Had the taxation of the whole country for the next year been in dispute there would have been no such interest felt Had the welfare of the Indian Empire occupied the House, the House would have been empty. But the hope that a certain woman’s name would have to be mentioned,
crammed it from the floor to the ceiling.

The reader need not be told that that name was not mentioned. Our old friend Phineas, on rising to his legs, first apologized for doing so in place of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. But perhaps the House would accept a statement from him, as the noble Duke at the head of the Government had asked him to make it. Then he made his statement. ‘Perhaps,’
he said, ‘no falser accusation than this had ever been brought forward against a minister of the Crown, for it specially charged his noble friend with resorting to the employment of unconstitutional practices to bolster up his parliamentary support, whereas it was known by everybody that there would have been no matter for accusation at all had not the Duke of his own motion abandoned a recognized
privilege, because, in his opinion, the exercise of that privilege was opposed to the spirit of the Constitution. Had the noble Duke simply nominated a candidate, as candidates had been nominated at Silverbridge for centuries past, that candidate would have been returned with absolute certainty, and there would have been no word spoken on the subject. It was not, perhaps, for him, who had the honour
of serving under his Grace, and who, as being a part of his Grace’s Government, was for the time one with his Grace, to expatiate at length on the nobility of the sacrifice here made. But they all knew there at what rate was valued a seat in that House. Thank God that privilege could not now be rated at any money price. It could not be bought and sold. But this privilege which his noble friend
had so magnanimously resigned from purely patriotic motives, was, he believed, still in existence, and he would ask those few who were still in the happy, or, perhaps, he had better say in the envied, position of being able to send their friends to that House, what was their estimation of the conduct of the Duke in this matter? It might be that there were one or two such present, and who now heard
him, – or, perhaps, one or two who owed their seats to the exercise of such a privilege. They might marvel at the magnitude of the surrender. They might even question the sagacity of the man who could abandon so much without a price. But he hardly thought that even they would regard it as unconstitutional.

‘This was what the Prime Minister had done, – acting not as Prime Minister, but as an English
nobleman, in the management of his own property and privileges. And now he would come to the gist
of the accusation made; in making which, the thing which the Duke had really done had been altogether ignored. When the vacancy had been declared by the acceptance of the Chiltern Hundreds by a gentleman whose absence from the House they all regretted, the Duke had signified to his agents his intention
of retiring altogether from the exercise of any privilege or power in the matter. But the Duke was then, as he was also now, and would, it was to be hoped, long continue to be, Prime Minister of England. He need hardly remind gentlemen in that House that the Prime Minister was not in a position to devote his undivided time to the management of his own property, or even to the interests of the
Borough of Silver-bridge. That his Grace had been earnest in his instructions to his agents, the sequel fully proved; but that earnestness his agents had misinterpreted.’

Then there was heard a voice in the House, ‘What agents?’ and from another voice, ‘Name them.’ For there were present some who thought it to be shameful that the excitement of the occasion should be lowered by keeping back all
allusion to the Duchess.

‘I have not distinguished,’ said Phineas, assuming an indignant tone, ‘the honourable gentlemen from whom those questions have come, and therefore I have the less compunction in telling them that it is no part of my duty on this occasion to gratify a morbid and an indecent curiosity.’ Then there was a cry of ‘Order’, and an appeal to the Speaker. Certain gentlemen wished
to know whether indecent was parliamentary. The Speaker, with some hesitation, expressed his opinion that the word, as then used, was not open to objection from him. He thought that it was within the scope of a member’s rights to charge another member with indecent curiosity. ‘If,’ said Phineas, rising again to his legs, for he had sat down for a moment, ‘the gentleman who called for a name will
rise in his place and repeat the demand, I will recall the word indecent and substitute another, – or others. I will tell him that he is one who, regardless of the real conduct of the Prime Minister, either as a man or as a servant of the Crown, is only anxious to inflict an unmanly wound in order that he may be gratified by seeing the pain which he inflicts.’ Then he paused, but as no further
question was asked, he continued his statement. ‘A candidate had been brought forward,’ he said, ‘by those interested in the Duke’s affairs. A man whom he would not name,
but who, he trusted, would never succeed in his ambition to occupy a seat in that House, had been brought forward, and certain tradesmen in Silverbridge had been asked to support him as the Duke’s nominee. There was no doubt
about it The House perhaps could understand that the local adherents and neighbours of a man so high in rank and wealth as the Duke of Omnium would not gladly see the privileges of their lord diminished. Perhaps, too, it occurred to them that a Prime Minister could not have his eye everywhere. There would always be worthy men in boroughs who liked to exercise some secpnd-hand authority. At any rate
it was the case that this candidate was encouraged. Then the Duke had heard it, and had put his foot upon the little mutiny, and had stamped it out at once. He might perhaps here,’ he said, ‘congratulate the House on the acquisition it had received by the failure of that candidate. So far, at any rate,’ he thought, ‘it must be admitted that the Duke had been free from blame; – but now he came to
the gravamen of the charge.’ The gravamen of the charge is so well known to the reader that the simple account which Phineas gave of it need not be repeated. The Duke had paid the money, when asked for it, because he felt that the man had been injured by incorrect representations made to him. ‘I need hardly pause to stigmatize the meanness of that application,’ said Phineas, ‘but I may perhaps conclude
by saying that whether the last act done by the Duke in this matter was or was not indiscreet, I shall probably have the House with me when I say that it savours much more strongly of nobility than of indiscretion.’

When Phineas Finn sat down no one arose to say another word on the subject. It was afterwards felt that it would only have been graceful had Sir Orlando risen and expressed his opinion
that the House had heard the statement just made with perfect satisfaction. But he did not do so, and after a short pause the ordinary business of the day was recommenced. Then there was a speedy descent from the galleries, and the ladies trooped out of their cage, and the greyheaded old peers went back to their own chamber, and the members themselves quickly jostled out through the doors, and
Mr Monk was left to explain his proposed alteration in the dog tax to a thin House of seventy or eighty members.

The thing was then over, and people were astonished that so great a thing should be over with so little fuss. It really seemed that after
Phineas Finn’s speech there was nothing more to be said on the matter. Everybody of course knew that the Duchess had been the chief of the agents
to whom he had alluded, but they had known as much as that before. It was, however, felt by everybody that the matter had been brought to an end. The game, such as it was, had been played out. Perhaps the only person who heard Mr Finn’s speech throughout, and still hoped that the spark could be again fanned into a flame, was Quintus Slide. He went out and wrote another article about the Duchess.
If a man was so unable to rule his affairs at home, he was certainly unfit to be Prime Minister. But even Quintus Slide, as he wrote his article, felt that he was hoping against hope. The charge might be referred to hereafter as one that had never been satisfactorily cleared up. That game is always open to the opponents of a minister. After the lapse of a few months an old accusation can be serviceably
used, whether at the time it was proved or disproved. Mr Slide published his article, but he felt that for the present the Silverbridge election papers had better be put by among the properties of the
People’s Banner,
and brought out, if necessary, for further use at some future time.

‘Mr Finn,’ said the Duke, ‘I feel indebted to you for the trouble you have taken.’

‘It was only a pleasant duty.’

‘I am grateful to you for the manner in which it was performed.’ This was all the Duke said, and Phineas felt it to be cold. The Duke, in truth, was grateful; but gratitude with him always failed to exhibit itself readily. From the world at large Phineas Finn received great praise for the manner in which he had performed his task.

The abuse which was now publicly heaped on the name of Ferdinand Lopez hit the man very hard; but not so hard perhaps as his rejection by Lady Eustace. That was an episode in his life of which even he
felt ashamed, and of which he was unable to shake the disgrace from his memory. He had no inner appreciation whatsoever of what was really good or what was really had in
a man’s conduct He did not know that he had done evil in applying to the Duke for the money. He had only meant to attack the Duke; and when the money had come it had been regarded as justifiable prey. And when after receiving the Duke’s money, he had kept also Mr Wharton’s money, he had justified himself again by reminding himself that Mr Wharton certainly owed him much more than that. In a sense
he was what is called a gentleman. He knew how to speak, and how to look, how to use a knife and fork, how to dress himself, and how to walk. But he had not the faintest notion of the feelings of a gentleman. He had, however, a very keen conception of the evil of being generally ill spoken of. Even now, though he was making up his mind to leave England for a long term of years, he understood the
disadvantage of leaving it under so heavy a cloud; – and he understood also that the cloud might possibly impede his going altogether. Even in Coleman Street they were looking black upon him, and Mr Hartlepod went so far as to say to Lopez himself, that, ‘by Jove he had put his foot in it’. He had endeavoured to be courageous under his burden, and every day walked into the offices of the Mining Company,
endeavouring to look as though he had committed no fault of which he had to be ashamed. But after the second day he found that nothing was said to him of the affairs of the Company, and on the fourth day Mr Hartlepod informed him that the time allowed for paying up his shares had passed by, and that another local manager would be appointed. ‘The time is not over till to-morrow,’ said Lopez
angrily. ‘I tell you what I am told to tell you,’ said Mr Hartlepod. ‘You will only waste your time by coming here any more.’