THE PRIME MINISTER (85 page)

But he, the Duke of St Bungay, had brought his friend into the trouble, and it was certainly his duty to extricate him from it The admonition might come
in the rude shape of repeated minorities in the House of Commons. Hitherto the number of votes at the command of the Ministry had not been very much impaired. A few always fall off as time goes on. Aristides
¹⁰
becomes too just, and the mind of man is greedy of novelty. Sir Orlando, also, had taken with him a few, and it may be that two or three had told themselves that there could not be all that
smoke raised by the
People’s Banner
, without some fire below it. But there was a good working majority, – very much at Mr Monk’s command, – and Mr Monk was moved by none of that feeling of rebellion which had urged Sir Orlando on to his destruction. It was difficult to find a cause for resignation. And yet the Duke of St Bungay, who had watched the House of Commons closely for nearly half a century,
was aware that the Coalition which he had created had done its work, and was almost convinced that it would not be permitted to remain very much longer in power. He had seen symptoms of impatience in Mr Daubeny, and Mr Gresham had snorted once and twice, as though eager for the battle.

Early in June had died the Marquis of Mount Fidgett. In all England there was no older family than that of the Fichy Fidgetts, whose baronial castle of Fichy Fellows is still kept up, the glory of archaeologists and the charm of tourists. Some people declare it to be the most perfect castle residence in the country. It is admitted to have been completed in the time of Edward
VI, and is thought to have been commenced in the days of Edward I. It has always belonged to the Fichy Fidgett family, who with a persistence that is becoming rarer every day, has clung to every acre that it ever owned, and has added acre to acre in every age. The consequence has been that the existing Marquis of Mount Fidgett has always been possessed of great territorial influence, and has
been flattered, cajoled, and revered by one Prime Minister after another. Now the late Marquis had been, as was the custom with the Fichy Fidgetts, a man of pleasure. If the truth may be spoken openly, it should be admitted that he had been a man of sin. The duty of keeping together the family property he had performed with a perfect zeal. It had always been acknowledged on behalf of the existing
Marquis, that in whatever manner he might spend his money, however base might be the gullies into which his wealth descended, he never spent more than he had to spend. Perhaps there was but little praise in this, as he could hardly have got beyond his enormous income unless he had thrown it away on race-courses and roulette tables. But it had long been remarked of the Mount Fidgett marquises that
they were too wise to gamble. The family had not been an honour to the country, but had nevertheless been honoured by the country. The man who had just died had perhaps been as selfish and as sensual a brute as had ever disgraced humanity; – but nevertheless he had been a Knight of the Garter. He had been possessed of considerable parliamentary interest, and the Prime Minister of the day had not
dared not to make him a Knight of the Garter. All the Marquises of Mount Fidgett had for many years past been Knights of the Garter. On the
last occasion a good deal had been said about it. A feeling had even then begun to prevail that the highest personal honour in the gift of the Crown should not be bestowed upon a man whose whole life was a disgrace, and who did indeed seem to deserve every
punishment which human or divine wrath could inflict. He had a large family, but they were all illegitimate. Wives generally he liked, but of his own wife he very soon broke the heart. Of all the companies with which he consorted he was the admitted king, but his subjects could do no man any honour. The Castle of Fichy Fellows was visited by the world at large, but no man or woman with a character
to lose went into any house really inhabited by the Marquis. And yet he had become a Knight of the Garter, and was therefore, presumably, one of those noble Englishmen to whom the majesty of the day was willing to confide the honour, and glory, and safety of the Crown. There were many who disliked this. That a base reprobate should become a Marquis and a peer of Parliament was in accordance with
the constitution of the country. Marquises and peers are not as a rule reprobates, and the misfortune was one which could not be avoided. He might have ill-used his own wife and other wives’ husbands without special remark, had he not been made a Knight of the Garter. The Minister of the day, however, had known the value of the man’s support, and, being thick-skinned, had lived through the reproaches
uttered without much damage to himself. Now the wicked Marquis was dead, and it was the privilege and the duty of the Duke of Omnium to select another Knight.

There was a good deal said about it at the time. There was a rumour, – no doubt a false rumour, – that the Crown insisted in this instance on dictating a choice to the Duke of Omnium. But even were it so, the Duke could not have been very
much aggrieved, as the choice dictated was supposed to be that of himself. The late Duke had been a Knight, and when he had died, it was thought that his successor would succeed also to the ribbon. The new Duke had been at that time in the Cabinet, and had remained there, but had accepted an office inferior in rank to that which he had formerly filled. The whole history of these things has been
written, and may be read by the curious. The Duchess, newly a duchess then and very keen in reference to her husband’s rank, had instigated him to demand the ribbon as his right. This he had not only declined to do,
but had gone out of the way to say that he thought it should be bestowed elsewhere. It had been bestowed elsewhere, and there had been a very general feeling that he had been passed
over because his easy temperament in such matters had been seen and utilized. Now, whether the Crown interfered or not, – a matter on which no one short of a writer of newspaper articles dares to make a suggestion till time shall have made mellow the doings of sovereigns and their ministers, – the suggestion was made. The Duke of St Bungay ventured to say to his friend that no other selection was
possible.

‘Recommend her Majesty to give it to myself!’ said the Prime Minister.

‘You will find it to be her Majesty’s wish. It has been very common. Sir Robert Walpole had it.’
¹¹

‘I am not Sir Robert Walpole.’ The Duke named other examples of Prime Ministers who had been gartered by themselves. But our Prime Minister declared it to be out of the question. No honour of that description should
be conferred upon him as long as he held his present position. The old Duke was much in earnest, and there was a great deal said on the subject, – but at last it became clear, not only to him, but to the members of the Cabinet generally, and then to the outside world, that the Prime Minister would not consent to accept the vacant honour.

For nearly a month after this the question subsided. A
Minister is not bound to bestow a Garter the day after it becomes vacant. There are other Knights to guard the throne, and one may be spared for a short interval. But during that interval many eyes were turned towards the stall in St George’s Chapel. A good thing should be given away like a clap of thunder if envy, hatred, and malice are to be avoided. A broad blue ribbon across the chest is of all
decorations the most becoming, or, at any rate, the most desired. And there was, I fear, an impression on the minds of some men that the Duke in such matters was weak and might be persuaded. Then there came to him an application in the form of a letter from the new Marquis of Mount Fidgett, – a man whom he had never seen, and of whom he had never heard. The new Marquis had hitherto resided in Italy,
and men only knew of him that he was odious to his uncle. But he had inherited all the Fichy Fidgett estates, and was now possessed of immense wealth and great honour. He ventured, he said, to represent
to the Prime Minister that for generations past the Marquises of Mount Fidgett had been honoured by the Garter. His political status in the country was exactly that enjoyed by his late uncle; but
he intended that his political career should be very different. He was quite prepared to support the Coalition. ‘What is he that he should expect to be made a Knight of the Garter?’ said our Duke to the old Duke.

‘He is the Marquis of Mount Fidgett, and next to yourself, perhaps, the richest peer of Great Britain.’

‘Have riches anything to do with it?’

‘Something certainly. You would not name
a pauper peer.’

‘Yes; – if he was a man whose career had been highly honourable to the country. Such a man, of course, could not be a pauper, but I do not think his want of wealth should stand in the way of his being honoured by the Garter.’

‘Wealth, rank, and territorial influence have been generally thought to have something to do with it.’

‘And character nothing!’

‘My dear Duke, I have
not said so.’

‘Something very much like it, my friend, if you advocate the claim of the Marquis of Mount Fidgett. Did you approve of the selection of the late Marquis?’

‘I was in the Cabinet at the time, and will therefore say nothing against it. But I have never heard anything against this man’s character.’

‘Nor in favour of it. To my thinking he has as much claim, and no more, as that man
who just opened the door. He was never seen in the Lower House.’

‘Surely that cannot signify.’

‘You think, then, that he should have it?’

‘You know what I think,’ said the elder statesman thoughtfully. ‘In my opinion there is no doubt that you would best consult the honour of the country by allowing her Majesty to bestow this act of grace upon a subject who has deserved so well from her Majesty
as yourself.’

‘It is quite impossible.’

‘It seems to me,’ said the Duke, not appearing to notice the refusal of his friend, ‘that in this peculiar position you should allow yourself
to be persuaded to lay aside your own feeling. No man of high character is desirous of securing to himself decorations which he may bestow upon others.’

‘Just so.’

‘But here the decoration bestowed upon the chief
whom we all follow, would confer a wider honour upon many than it could do if given to anyone else.’

‘The same may be said of any Prime Minister.’

‘Not so. A commoner, without high permanent rank or large fortune, is not lowered in the world’s esteem by not being of the Order. You will permit me to say – that a Duke of Omnium has not reached that position which he ought to enjoy unless he be
a Knight of the Garter.’ It must be borne in mind that the old Duke, who used this argument, had himself worn the ribbon for the last thirty years. ‘But if –’

‘Well; – well.’

‘But if you are, – I must call it obstinate.’

‘I am obstinate in that respect’

‘Then,’ said the Duke of St Bungay, ‘I should recommend her Majesty to give it to the Marquis.’

‘Never,’ said the Prime Minister, with very
unaccustomed energy. ‘I will never sanction the payment of such a price for services which should never be bought or sold.’

‘It would give no offence.’

‘That is not enough, my friend. Here is a man of whom I only know that he has bought a great many marble statues. He has done nothing for his country, and nothing for his sovereign.’

‘If you are determined to look to what you call desert alone,
I would name Lord Drummond.’ The Prime Minister frowned and looked unhappy. It was quite true that Lord Drummond had contradicted him, and that he had felt the injury grievously. ‘Lord Drummond has been very true to us.’

‘Yes; – true to us! What is that?’

‘He is in every respect a man of character, and well looked upon in the country. There would be some enmity and a good deal of envy – which
might be avoided by either of the other courses I have proposed; but those courses you will not take. I take it for granted that you are anxious to secure the support of those who generally act with Lord Drummond.’

‘I don’t know that I am.’ The old Duke shrugged his shoulders. ‘What I mean is, that I do not think that we ought to pay an increased price for their support. His lordship is very
well as the Head of an Office; but he is not nearly so great a man as my friend Lord Cantrip.’

‘Cantrip would not join us. There is no evil in politics so great as that of seeming to buy the men who will not come without buying. These rewards are fairly given for political support.’

‘I had not, in truth, thought of Lord Cantrip.’

‘He does not expect it any more than my butler.’

‘I only named
him as having a claim stronger than any that Lord Drummond can put forward. I have a man in my mind to whom I think such an honour is fairly due. What do you say to Lord Earlybird?’ The old Duke opened his mouth and lifted up his hands in unaffected surprise.

The Earl of Earlybird was an old man of a very peculiar character. He had never opened his mouth in the House of Lords, and had never sat
in the House of Commons. The political world knew him not at all. He had a house in town, but very rarely lived there. Early Park, in the parish of Bird, had been his residence since he first came to the title forty years ago, and had been the scene of all his labours. He was a nobleman possessed of a moderate fortune, and, as men said of him, of a moderate intellect He had married early in life
and was blessed with a large family. But he had certainly not been an idle man. For nearly half a century he had devoted himself to the improvement of the labouring classes, especially in reference to their abodes and education, and had gradually, without any desire on his own part, worked himself up into public notice. He was not an eloquent man, but he would take the chair at meeting after meeting,
and sit with admirable patience for long hours to hear the eloquence of others. He was a man very simple in his tastes, and had brought up his family to follow his habits. He had therefore been able to do munificent things with moderate means, and in the long course of years had failed in hiding his munificence from the public. Lord Earlybird, till after middle life, had not been much considered,
but gradually there had grown up a feeling that there were not very many better men in the country. He was a fat, bald-headed old man, who was always pulling his spectacles on and off, nearly blind, very
awkward, and altogether indifferent to appearance. Probably he had no more idea of the Garter in his own mind than he had of a Cardinal’s hat. But he had grown into fame, and had not escaped the
notice of the Prime Minister.