Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
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"Well, I have made the acquaintance of Mr. St. Barbe," said Myra to
Endymion. "Strange as he is, he seemed quite familiar to me, and he was
so full of himself that he never found me out. I hope some day to know
Mr. Trenchard and Mr. Waldershare. Those I look upon as your chief
friends."
On the following afternoon, Adriana, Myra, and Endymion took a long
walk together in the forest. The green glades in the autumnal woods were
inviting, and sometimes they stood before the vast form of some doddered
oak. The air was fresh and the sun was bright. Adriana was always gay
and happy in the company of her adored Myra, and her happiness and her
gaiety were not diminished by the presence of Myra's brother. So it was
a lively and pleasant walk.
At the end of a long glade they observed a horseman followed by a groom
approaching them. Endymion was some little way behind, gathering wild
flowers for Adriana. Cantering along, the cavalier soon reached them,
and then he suddenly pulled up his horse. It was Colonel Albert.
"You are walking, ladies? Permit me to join you," and he was by their
side. "I delight in forests and in green alleys," said Colonel Albert.
"Two wandering nymphs make the scene perfect."
"We are not alone," said Adriana, "but our guardian is picking some wild
flowers for us, which we fancied. I think it is time to return. You are
going to Hainault, I believe, Colonel Albert, so we can all walk home
together."
So they turned, and Endymion with his graceful offering in a moment met
them. Full of his successful quest, he offered with eager triumph the
flowers to Adriana, without casting a glance at her new companion.
"Beautiful!" exclaimed Adriana, and she stopped to admire and arrange
them. "See, dear Myra, is not this lovely? How superior to anything in
our glass-houses!"
Myra took the flower and examined it. Colonel Albert, who was silent,
was watching all this time Endymion with intentness, who now looked
up and encountered the gaze of the new comer. Their eyes met, their
countenances were agitated, they seemed perplexed, and then it seemed
that at the same time both extended their hands.
"It is a long time since we met," said Colonel Albert, and he retained
the hand of Endymion with affection. But Endymion, who was apparently
much moved, said nothing, or rather only murmured an echo to the remarks
of his new friend. And then they all walked on, but Myra fell a little
back and made a signal to Endymion to join her.
"You never told me, darling, that you knew Colonel Albert."
"Colonel Albert!" said Endymion, looking amazed, and then he added, "Who
is Colonel Albert?"
"That gentleman before us," said Myra.
"That is the Count of Otranto, whose fag I was at Eton."
"The Count of Otranto!"
CHAPTER XXXV
Colonel Albert from this day became an object of increased and deeper
interest to Myra. His appearance and manners had always been attractive,
and the mystery connected with him was not calculated to diminish
curiosity in his conduct or fate. But when she discovered that he was
the unseen hero of her childhood, the being who had been kind to her
Endymion in what she had ever considered the severest trial of her
brother's life, had been his protector from those who would have
oppressed him, and had cherished him in the desolate hour of his
delicate and tender boyhood, her heart was disturbed. How often had they
talked together of the Count of Otranto, and how often had they wondered
who he was! His memory had been a delightful mystery to them in their
Berkshire solitude, and Myra recalled with a secret smile the numberless
and ingenious inquiries by which she had endeavoured to elicit from her
brother some clue as to his friend, or to discover some detail which
might guide her to a conclusion. Endymion had known nothing, and was
clear always that the Count of Otranto must have been, and was, an
English boy. And now the Count of Otranto called himself Colonel Albert,
and though he persisted in speaking English, had admitted to Mrs.
Neuchatel that he was a foreigner.
Who was he? She resolved, when she had an opportunity, to speak to the
great banker on the subject.
"Do you know, Mr. Neuchatel," she said, "that Endymion, my brother, was
at school with Colonel Albert?"
"Ah, ah!" said Mr. Neuchatel.
"But when he was at school he had another name," said Myra.
"Oh, oh!" said Mr. Neuchatel.
"He was then called the Count of Otranto."
"That is a very pretty name," said Mr. Neuchatel.
"But why did he change it?" asked Myra.
"The great world often change their names," said Mr. Neuchatel. "It is
only poor City men like myself who are always called Mr., and bear the
same name as their fathers."
"But when a person is called a count when he is a boy, he is seldom
called only a colonel when he is a man," said Myra. "There is a great
mystery in all this."
"I should not be surprised," said Mr. Neuchatel, "if he were to change
his name again before this time year."
"Why?" asked Myra.
"Well, when I have read all his papers in Bishopsgate Street, perhaps I
shall be able to tell you," said Mr. Neuchatel, and Myra felt that she
could pursue the theme no further.
She expected that Endymion would in time be able to obtain this
information, but it was not so. In their first private conversation
after their meeting in the forest, Endymion had informed Colonel Albert
that, though they had met now for the first time since his return, they
had been for some time lodgers in London under the same roof. Colonel
Albert smiled when Endymion told him this; then falling into thought,
he said; "I hope we may often meet, but for the moment it may be as well
that the past should be known only to ourselves. I wish my life for the
present to be as private as I can arrange it. There is no reason why we
should not be sometimes together--that is, when you have leisure. I had
the pleasure of making your acquaintance at my banker's."
Parliament had been dissolved through the demise of the crown in the
summer of this year (1837), and London society had been prematurely
broken up. Waldershare had left town early in July to secure his
election, in which he was successful, with no intention of settling
again in his old haunts till the meeting of the new House of Commons,
which was to be in November. The Rodneys were away at some Kentish
watering-place during August and September, exhibiting to an admiring
world their exquisitely made dresses, and enjoying themselves amazingly
at balls and assemblies at the public rooms. The resources of private
society also were not closed to them. Mr. and Mrs. Gamme were also there
and gave immense dinners, and the airy Mrs. Hooghley, who laughed a
little at the Gammes' substantial gatherings and herself improvised
charming pic-nics. So there was really little embarrassment in the
social relations between Colonel Albert and Endymion. They resolved
themselves chiefly into arranging joint expeditions to Hainault.
Endymion had a perpetual invitation there, and it seemed that the
transactions between Mr. Neuchatel and the colonel required much
conference, for the banker always expected him, although it was well
known that they met not unfrequently in Bishopsgate Street in the course
of the week. Colonel Albert and Endymion always stayed at Hainault from
Saturday till Monday. It delighted the colonel to mount Endymion on one
of his choice steeds, and his former fag enjoyed all this amazingly.
Colonel Albert became domiciled at Hainault. The rooms which were
occupied by him when there were always reserved for him. He had a
general invitation, and might leave his luggage and books and papers
behind him. It was evident that the family pleased him. Between Mr.
Neuchatel and himself there were obviously affairs of great interest;
but it was equally clear that he liked the female members of the
family--all of them; and all liked him. And yet it cannot be said that
he was entertaining, but there are some silent people who are more
interesting than the best talkers. And when he did speak he always
said the right thing. His manners were tender and gentle; he had an
unobtrusive sympathy with all they said or did, except, indeed, and that
was not rarely, when he was lost in profound abstraction.
"I delight in your friend the colonel, Adrian," said Mrs. Neuchatel,
"but I must say he is very absent."
"He has a good deal to think about," said Mr. Neuchatel.
"I wonder what it can be," thought Myra.
"He has a claim to a great estate," said Mr. Neuchatel, "and he has to
think of the best mode of establishing it; and he has been deprived of
great honours, and he believes unjustly, and he wishes to regain them."
"No wonder, then, he is absent," said Mrs. Neuchatel. "If he only knew
what a burthen great wealth is, I am sure he would not wish to possess
it, and as for honours I never could make out why having a title or a
ribbon could make any difference in a human being."
"Nonsense, my dear Emily," said Mr. Neuchatel. "Great wealth is a
blessing to a man who knows what to do with it, and as for honours, they
are inestimable to the honourable."
"Well, I ardently hope Colonel Albert may succeed," said Myra, "because
he was so kind to my brother at Eton. He must have a good heart."
"They say he is the most unscrupulous of living men," said Mr.
Neuchatel, with his peculiar smile.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Neuchatel.
"How terrible!" said Adriana. "It cannot be true."
"Perhaps he is the most determined," said Myra. "Moral courage is the
rarest of qualities, and often maligned."
"Well, he has got a champion," said Mr. Neuchatel.
"I ardently wish him success," said Myra, "in all his undertakings. I
only wish I knew what they were."
"Has not he told your brother, Miss Ferrars?" asked Mr. Neuchatel, with
laughing eyes.
"He never speaks of himself to Endymion," said Myra.
"He speaks a good deal of himself to me," said Mr. Neuchatel; "and he is
going to bring a friend here to-morrow who knows more about his affairs
even than I do. So you will have a very good opportunity, Miss Ferrars,
of making yourself acquainted with them, particularly if you sit next to
him at dinner, and are very winning."
The friend of Colonel Albert was Baron Sergius, the baron who used to
visit him in London at twilight in a dark brougham. Mrs. Neuchatel
was greatly taken by his appearance, by the calmness of his mien, his
unstudied politeness, and his measured voice. He conversed with her
entirely at dinner on German philosophy, of which he seemed a complete
master, explained to her the different schools, and probably the
successful ones, and imparted to her that precise knowledge which she
required on the subject, and which she had otherwise been unable
to obtain. It seemed, too, that he personally knew all the famous
professors, and he intimated their doctrines not only with profound
criticism, but described their persons and habits with vividness and
picturesque power, never, however, all this time, by any chance raising
his voice, the tones of which were ever distinct and a little precise.
"Is this the first visit of your friend to this country?" asked Myra of
Colonel Albert.
"Oh no; he has been here often--and everywhere," added Colonel Albert.
"Everywhere! he must be a most interesting companion then."
"I find him so: I never knew any one whom I thought equal to him. But
perhaps I am not an impartial judge, for I have known him so long and
so intimately. In fact, I had never been out of his sight till I was
brought over to this country to be placed at Eton. He is the counsellor
of our family, and we all of us have ever agreed that if his advice had
been always followed we should never have had a calamity."
"Indeed, a gifted person! Is he a soldier?"
"No; Baron Sergius has not followed the profession of arms."
"He looks a diplomatist."
"Well, he is now nothing but my friend," said the colonel. "He might
have been anything, but he is a peculiarly domestic character, and is
devoted to private life."
"You are fortunate in such a friend."
"Well, I am glad to be fortunate in something," said Colonel Albert.
"And are you not fortunate in everything?"
"I have not that reputation; but I shall be more than fortunate if I
have your kind wishes."
"Those you have," said Myra, rather eagerly. "My brother taught me, even
as a child, to wish nothing but good for you. I wish I knew only what I
was to wish for."
"Wish that my plans may succeed," said Colonel Albert, looking round to
her with interest.
"I will more than wish," said Myra; "I will believe that they will
succeed, because I think you have resolved to succeed."
"I shall tell Endymion when I see him," said Colonel Albert, "that his
sister is the only person who has read my character."
CHAPTER XXXVI
Colonel Albert and Baron Sergius drove up in their landau from Hainault
while Endymion was at the door in Warwick Street, returning home. The
colonel saluted him cordially, and said, "The baron is going to take
a cup of coffee with me; join us." So they went upstairs. There was
a packet on the table, which seemed to catch the colonel's eye
immediately, and he at once opened it with eagerness. It contained many
foreign newspapers. Without waiting for the servant who was about to
bring candles, the colonel lighted a taper on the table with a lucifer,
and then withdrew into the adjoining chamber, opening, however, with
folding doors to the principal and spacious apartment.
"A foreign newspaper always interests our friend," said the baron,
taking his coffee.
"Well, it must always be interesting to have news from home, I suppose,"
said Endymion.
"Home!" said the baron. "News is always interesting, whether it come
from home or not."
"To public men," said Endymion.
"To all men if they be wise," said the baron; "as a general rule, the
most successful man in life is the man who has the best information."
"But what a rare thing is success in life!" said Endymion. "I often
wonder whether I shall ever be able to step out of the crowd."
"You may have success in life without stepping out of the crowd," said
the baron.
"A sort of success," said Endymion; "I know what you mean. But what I
mean is real success in life. I mean, I should like to be a public man."
"Why?" asked the baron.
"Well, I should like to have power," said Endymion, blushing.
"The most powerful men are not public men," said the baron. "A public
man is responsible, and a responsible man is a slave. It is private life
that governs the world. You will find this out some day. The world talks
much of powerful sovereigns and great ministers; and if being talked
about made one powerful, they would be irresistible. But the fact is,
the more you are talked about the less powerful you are."
"But surely King Luitbrand is a powerful monarch; they say he is the
wisest of men. And the Emperor Harold, who has succeeded in everything.
And as for ministers, who is a great man if it be not Prince
Wenceslaus?"
"King Luitbrand is governed by his doctor, who is capable of governing
Europe, but has no ambition that way; the Emperor Harold is directed by
his mistress, who is a woman of a certain age with a vast sagacity,
but who also believes in sorcery; and as for Prince Wenceslaus, he is
inspired by an individual as obscure as ourselves, and who, for aught I
know, may be, at this moment, like ourselves, drinking a cup of coffee
in a hired lodging."
"What you say about public life amazes me," said Endymion musingly.
"Think over it," said the baron. "As an Englishman, you will have
difficulty in avoiding public life. But at any rate do not at present
be discontented that you are unknown. It is the first condition of real
power. When you have succeeded in life according to your views, and I
am inclined to believe you will so succeed, you will, some day, sigh
for real power, and denounce the time when you became a public man, and
belonged to any one but yourself. But our friend calls me. He has found
something startling. I will venture to say, if there be anything in it,
it has been brought about by some individual of whom you never heard."
CHAPTER XXXVII
With the assembling of parliament in November recommenced the sittings
of the Union Society, of which Endymion had for some time been a member,
and of whose meetings he was a constant and critical, though
silent, attendant. There was a debate one night on the government
of dependencies, which, although all reference to existing political
circumstances was rigidly prohibited, no doubt had its origin in
the critical state of one of our most important colonies, then much
embarrassing the metropolis. The subject was one which Endymion had
considered, and on which he had arrived at certain conclusions. The
meeting was fully attended, and the debate had been conducted with a
gravity becoming the theme. Endymion was sitting on a back bench, and
with no companion near him with whom he was acquainted, when he rose
and solicited the attention of the president. Another and a well-known
speaker had also risen, and been called, but there was a cry of "new
member," a courteous cry, borrowed from the House of Commons, and
Endymion for the first time heard his own voice in public. He has since
admitted, though he has been through many trying scenes, that it was
the most nervous moment of his life. "After Calais," as a wise wit said,
"nothing surprises;" and the first time a man speaks in public, even if
only at a debating society, is also the unequalled incident in its way.
The indulgence of the audience supported him while the mist cleared
from his vision, and his palpitating heart subsided into comparative
tranquillity. After a few pardonable incoherencies, he was launched into
his subject, and spoke with the thoughtful fluency which knowledge alone
can sustain. For knowledge is the foundation of eloquence.
"What a good-looking young fellow!" whispered Mr. Bertie Tremaine to his
brother Mr. Tremaine Bertie. The Bertie Tremaines were the two greatest
swells of the Union, and had a party of their own. "And he speaks well."
"Who is he?" inquired Mr. Tremaine Bertie of their other neighbour.
"He is a clerk in the Treasury, I believe, or something of that sort,"
was the reply.
"I never saw such a good-looking young fellow," said Mr. Bertie
Tremaine. "He is worth getting hold of. I shall ask to be introduced to
him when we break up."
Accordingly, Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who was always playing at politics,
and who, being two-and-twenty, was discontented he was not Chancellor
of the Exchequer like Mr. Pitt, whispered to a gentleman who sate behind
him, and was, in short, the whip of his section, and signified, as a
minister of state would, that an introduction to Mr. Ferrars should be
arranged.
So when the meeting broke up, of which Mr. Ferrars' maiden speech was
quite the event, and while he was contemplating, not without some fair
self-complacency, walking home with Trenchard, Endymion found himself
encompassed by a group of bowing forms and smiling countenances, and,
almost before he was aware of it, had made the acquaintance of the great
Mr. Bertie Tremaine, and received not only the congratulations of that
gentleman, but an invitation to dine with him on the morrow; "quite
_sans facon_."
Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who had early succeeded to the family estate, lived
in Grosvenor Street, and in becoming style. His house was furnished with
luxury and some taste. The host received his guests in a library, well
stored with political history and political science, and adorned with
the busts of celebrated statesmen and of profound political sages.
Bentham was the philosopher then affected by young gentleman of
ambition, and who wished to have credit for profundity and hard heads.
Mr. Bertie Tremaine had been the proprietor of a close borough, which
for several generations had returned his family to parliament, the
faithful supporters of Pitt, and Perceval, and Liverpool, and he had
contemplated following the same line, though with larger and higher
objects than his ancestors. Being a man of considerable and versatile
ability, and of ample fortune, with the hereditary opportunity which
he possessed, he had a right to aspire, and, as his vanity more than
equalled his talents, his estimate of his own career was not mean.
Unfortunately, before he left Harrow, he was deprived of his borough,
and this catastrophe eventually occasioned a considerable change in the
views and conduct of Mr. Bertie Tremaine. In the confusion of parties
and political thought which followed the Reform Act of Lord Grey, an
attempt to govern the country by the assertion of abstract principles,
and which it was now beginning to be the fashion to call Liberalism,
seemed the only opening to public life; and Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who
piqued himself on recognising the spirit of the age, adopted Liberal
opinions with that youthful fervour which is sometimes called
enthusiasm, but which is a heat of imagination subsequently discovered
to be inconsistent with the experience of actual life. At Cambridge
Mr. Bertie Tremaine was at first the solitary pupil of Bentham, whose
principles he was prepared to carry to their extreme consequences, but
being a man of energy and in possession of a good estate, he soon found
followers, for the sympathies of youth are quick, and, even with an
original bias, it is essentially mimetic. When Mr. Bertie Tremaine left
the university he found in the miscellaneous elements of the London
Union many of his former companions of school and college, and from
them, and the new world to which he was introduced, it delighted him to
form parties and construct imaginary cabinets. His brother Augustus, who
was his junior only by a year, and was destined to be a diplomatist, was
an efficient assistant in these enterprises, and was one of the guests
who greeted Endymion when he arrived next day in Grosvenor Street
according to his engagement. The other three were Hortensius, the whip
of the party, and Mr. Trenchard.
The dinner was refined, for Mr. Bertie Tremaine combined the Sybarite
with the Utilitarian sage, and it secretly delighted him to astonish or
embarrass an austere brother republican by the splendour of his
family plate or the polished appointments of his household. To-day the
individual to be influenced was Endymion, and the host, acting up to his
ideal of a first minister, addressed questions to his companions on the
subjects which were peculiarly their own, and, after eliciting their
remarks, continued to complete the treatment of the theme with adequate
ability, though in a manner authoritative, and, as Endymion thought,
a little pompous. What amused him most in this assemblage of youth was
their earnest affectation of public life. The freedom of their comments
on others was only equalled by their confidence in themselves. Endymion,
who only spoke when he was appealed to, had casually remarked in answer
to one of the observations which his host with elaborate politeness
occasionally addressed to him, that he thought it was unpatriotic to
take a certain course. Mr. Bertie Tremaine immediately drew up, and
said, with a deep smile, "that he comprehended philanthropy, but
patriotism he confessed he did not understand;" and thereupon delivered
himself of an address on the subject which might have been made in the
Union, and which communicated to the astonished Endymion that patriotism
was a false idea, and entirely repugnant to the principles of the new
philosophy. As all present were more or less impregnated with these
tenets, there was no controversy on the matter. Endymion remained
discreetly silent, and Augustus--Mr. Bertie Tremaine's brother--who sate
next to him, and whose manners were as sympathising as his brother's
were autocratic, whispered in a wheedling tone that it was quite true,
and that the idea of patriotism was entirely relinquished except by a
few old-fashioned folks who clung to superstitious phrases. Hortensius,
who seemed to be the only one of the company who presumed to meet Mr.
Bertie Tremaine in conversation on equal terms, and who had already
astonished Endymion by what that inexperienced youth deemed the extreme
laxity of his views, both social and political, evinced, more than once,
a disposition to deviate into the lighter topics of feminine character,
and even the fortunes of the hazard-table; but the host looked severe,
and was evidently resolved that the conversation to-day should resemble
the expression of his countenance. After dinner they returned to the
library, and most of them smoked, but Mr. Bertie Tremaine, inviting
Endymion to seat himself by his side on a sofa at the farther end of the
room, observed, "I suppose you are looking to parliament?"
"Well, I do not know," said the somewhat startled Endymion; "I have not
thought much about it, and I have not yet reached a parliamentary age."
"A man cannot enter parliament too soon," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine;
"I hope to enter this session. There will be a certain vacancy on a
petition, and I have arranged to have the seat."