Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
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"But surely without capital we should all of us be little better than
slaves?"
"I am not against capital," replied Enoch. "What I am against is
capitalists."
"But if we get rid of capitalists we shall soon get rid of capital."
"No, no," said Enoch, with his broad accent, shaking his head, and with
a laughing eye. "Master Thornberry has been telling you that. He is the
most inveterate capitalist of the whole lot; and I always say, though
they keep aloof from him at present, they will be all sticking to his
skirts before long. Master Thornberry is against the capitalists in
land; but there are other capitalists nearer home, and I know more about
them. I was reading a book the other day about King Charles--Charles the
First, whose head they cut off--I am very liking to that time, and read
a good deal about it; and there was Lord Falkland, a great gentleman in
those days, and he said, when Archbishop Laud was trying on some of his
priestly tricks, that, 'if he were to have a pope, he would rather the
pope were at Rome than at Lambeth.' So I sometimes think, if we are to
be ruled by capitalists, I would sooner, perhaps, be ruled by gentlemen
of estate, who have been long among us, than by persons who build big
mills, who come from God knows where, and, when they have worked their
millions out of our flesh and bone, go God knows where. But perhaps we
shall get rid of them all some day--landlords and mill-lords."
"And whom will you substitute for them?"
"The producers," said Enoch, with a glance half savage, half triumphant.
"What can workmen do without capital?"
"Why, they make the capital," said Enoch; "and if they make the capital,
is it not strange that they should not be able to contrive some means
to keep the capital? Why, Job was saying the other day that there was
nothing like a principle to work upon. It would carry all before it. So
say I. And I have a principle too, though it is not Master Thornberry's.
But it will carry all before it, though it may not be in my time. But I
am not so sure of that."
"And what is it?" asked Endymion.
"CO-OPERATION."
CHAPTER LXIV
This strangely-revived acquaintance with Job Thornberry was not an
unfruitful incident in the life of Endymion. Thornberry was a man of
original mind and singular energy; and, although of extreme views on
commercial subjects, all his conclusions were founded on extensive and
various information, combined with no inconsiderable practice. The mind
of Thornberry was essentially a missionary one. He was always ready to
convert people; and he acted with ardour and interest on a youth who,
both by his ability and his social position, was qualified to influence
opinion. But this youth was gifted with a calm, wise judgment, of
the extent and depth of which he was scarcely conscious himself; and
Thornberry, like all propagandists, was more remarkable for his zeal and
his convictions, than for that observation and perception of character
which are the finest elements in the management of men and affairs.
"What you should do," said Thornberry, one day, to Endymion, "is to go
to Scotland; go to the Glasgow district; that city itself, and Paisley,
and Kilmarnock--keep your eye on Paisley. I am much mistaken if there
will not soon be a state of things there which alone will break up the
whole concern. It will burst it, sir; it will burst it."
So Endymion, without saying anything, quietly went to Glasgow and its
district, and noted enough to make him resolve soon to visit there
again; but the cabinet reassembled in the early part of November, and he
had to return to his duties.
In his leisure hours, Endymion devoted himself to the preparation of
a report, for Mr. Sidney Wilton, on the condition and prospects of the
manufacturing districts of the North of England, with some illustrative
reference to that of the country beyond the Tweed. He concluded it
before Christmas, and Mr. Wilton took it down with him to Gaydene, to
study it at his leisure. Endymion passed his holidays with Lord and Lady
Montfort, at their southern seat, Princedown.
Endymion spoke to Lady Montfort a little about his labours, for he had
no secrets from her; but she did not much sympathise with him, though
she liked him to be sedulous and to distinguish himself. "Only," she
observed, "take care not to be _doctrinaire_, Endymion. I am
always afraid of that with you. It is Sidney's fault; he always was
_doctrinaire_. It was a great thing for you becoming his private
secretary; to be the private secretary of a cabinet minister is a real
step in life, and I shall always be most grateful to Sidney, whom I love
for appointing you; but still, if I could have had my wish, you should
have been Lord Roehampton's private secretary. That is real politics,
and he is a real statesman. You must not let Mr. Wilton mislead you
about the state of affairs in the cabinet. The cabinet consists of the
prime minister and Lord Roehampton, and, if they are united, all the
rest is vapour. And they will not consent to any nonsense about touching
the corn laws; you may be sure of that. Besides, I will tell you a
secret, which is not yet Pulchinello's secret, though I daresay it will
be known when we all return to town--we shall have a great event when
parliament meets; a royal marriage. What think you of that? The young
queen is going to be married, and to a young prince, like a prince in
a fairy tale. As Lord Roehampton wrote to me this morning, 'Our royal
marriage will be much more popular than the Anti-Corn-Law League.'"
The royal marriage was very popular; but, unfortunately, it reflected no
splendour on the ministry. The world blessed the queen and cheered
the prince, but shook its head at the government. Sir Robert Peel
also--whether from his own motive or the irresistible impulse of his
party need not now be inquired into--sanctioned a direct attack on
the government, in the shape of a vote of want of confidence in them,
immediately the court festivities were over, and the attack was defeated
by a narrow majority.
"Nothing could be more unprincipled," said Berengaria, "after he had
refused to take office last year. As for our majority, it is, under such
circumstances, twenty times more than we want. As Lord Roehampton says,
one is enough."
Trade and revenue continued to decline. There was again the prospect of
a deficiency. The ministry, too, was kept in by the Irish vote, and
the Irish then were very unpopular. The cabinet itself generally was
downcast, and among themselves occasionally murmured a regret that they
had not retired when the opportunity offered in the preceding year.
Berengaria, however, would not bate an inch of confidence and courage.
"You think too much," she said to Endymion, "of trade and finance. Trade
always comes back, and finance never ruined a country, or an individual
either if he had pluck. Mr. Sidney Wilton is a croaker. The things
he fears will never happen; or, if they do, will turn out to be
unimportant. Look to Lord Roehampton; he is the man. He does not care a
rush whether the revenue increases or declines. He is thinking of real
politics: foreign affairs; maintaining our power in Europe. Something
will happen, before the session is over, in the Mediterranean;" and she
pressed her finger to her lip, and then she added, "The country will
support Lord Roehampton as they supported Pitt, and give him any amount
of taxes that he likes."
In the meantime, the social world had its incidents as well as the
political, and not less interesting. Not one of the most insignificant,
perhaps, was the introduction into society of the Countess of Beaumaris.
Her husband, sacrificing even his hunting, had come up to town at the
meeting of parliament, and received his friends in a noble mansion on
Piccadilly Terrace. All its equipments were sumptuous and refined,
and everything had been arranged under the personal supervision of Mr.
Waldershare. They commenced very quietly; dinners little but
constant, and graceful and finished as a banquet of Watteau. No formal
invitations; men were brought in to dinner from the House of Lords "just
up," or picked up, as it were carelessly, in the House of Commons by
Mr. Waldershare, or were asked by Imogene, at a dozen hours' notice, in
billets of irresistible simplicity. Soon it was whispered about, that
the thing to do was to dine with Beaumaris, and that Lady Beaumaris was
"something too delightful." Prince Florestan frequently dined there;
Waldershare always there, in a state of coruscation; and every man of
fashion in the opposite ranks, especially if they had brains.
Then, in a little time, it was gently hoped that Imogene should call
on their wives and mothers, or their wives and mothers call on her; and
then she received, without any formal invitation, twice a week; and
as there was nothing going on in London, or nothing half so charming,
everybody who was anybody came to Piccadilly Terrace; and so as,
after long observation, a new planet is occasionally discovered by a
philosopher, thus society suddenly and indubitably discovered that there
was at last a Tory house.
Lady Roehampton, duly apprised of affairs by her brother, had called on
Lord and Lady Beaumaris, and had invited them to her house. It was the
first appearance of Imogene in general society, and it was successful.
Her large brown eyes, and long black lashes, her pretty mouth and
dimple, her wondrous hair--which, it was whispered, unfolded, touched
the ground--struck every one, and the dignified simplicity of her
carriage was attractive. Her husband never left her side; while Mr.
Waldershare was in every part of the saloons, watching her from distant
points, to see how she got on, or catching the remarks of others on her
appearance. Myra was kind to her as well as courteous, and, when the
stream of arriving guests had somewhat ceased, sought her out and spoke
to her; and then put her arm in hers, walked with her for a moment,
and introduced her to one or two great personages, who had previously
intimated their wish or their consent to that effect. Lady Montfort was
not one of these. When parties are equal, and the struggle for power is
intense, society loses much of its sympathy and softness. Lady Montfort
could endure the presence of Tories, provided they were her kinsfolk,
and would join, even at their houses, in traditionary festivities; but
she shrank from passing the line, and at once had a prejudice against
Imogene, who she instinctively felt might become a power for the enemy.
"I will not have you talk so much to that Lady Beaumaris," she said to
Endymion.
"She is an old friend of mine," he replied.
"How could you have known her? She was a shop-girl, was not she, or
something of that sort?"
"She and her family were very kind to me when I was not much better than
a shop-boy myself," replied Endymion, with a mantling cheek. "They are
most respectable people, and I have a great regard for her."
"Indeed! Well; I will not keep you from your Tory woman," said
Berengaria rudely; and she walked away.
Altogether, this season of '40 was not a very satisfactory one in any
respect, as regarded society or the country in general. Party passion
was at its highest. The ministry retained office almost by a casting
vote; were frequently defeated on important questions; and whenever a
vacancy occurred, it was filled by their opponents. Their unpopularity
increased daily, and it was stimulated by the general distress. All that
Job Thornberry had predicted as to the state of manufacturing Scotland
duly occurred. Besides manufacturing distress, they had to encounter a
series of bad harvests. Never was a body of statesmen placed in a more
embarrassing and less enviable position. There was a prevalent,
though unfounded, conviction that they were maintained in power by a
combination of court favour with Irish sedition.
Lady Montfort and Lord Roehampton were the only persons who never lost
heart. She was defiant; and he ever smiled, at least in public. "What
nonsense!" she would say. "Mr. Sidney Wilton talks about the revenue
falling off! As if the revenue could ever really fall off! And then our
bad harvests. Why, that is the very reason we shall have an excellent
harvest this year. You cannot go on always having bad harvests. Besides,
good harvests never make a ministry popular. Nobody thanks a ministry
for a good harvest. What makes a ministry popular is some great _coup_
in foreign affairs."
Amid all these exciting disquietudes, Endymion pursued a life of
enjoyment, but also of observation and much labour. He lived more
and more with the Montforts, but the friendship of Berengaria was not
frivolous. Though she liked him to be seen where he ought to figure, and
required a great deal of attention herself, she ever impressed on him
that his present life was only a training for a future career, and that
his mind should ever be fixed on the attainment of a high position.
Particularly she impressed on him the importance of being a linguist.
"There will be a reaction some day from all this political economy,"
she would say, "and then there will be no one ready to take the helm."
Endymion was not unworthy of the inspiring interest which Lady Montfort
took in him. The terrible vicissitudes of his early years had gravely
impressed his character. Though ambitious, he was prudent; and, though
born to please and be pleased, he was sedulous and self-restrained.
Though naturally deeply interested in the fortunes of his political
friends, and especially of Lord Roehampton and Mr. Wilton, a careful
scrutiny of existing circumstances had prepared him for an inevitable
change; and, remembering what was their position but a few years back,
he felt that his sister and himself should be reconciled to their
altered lot, and be content. She would still be a peeress, and the happy
wife of an illustrious man; and he himself, though he would have to
relapse into the drudgery of a public office, would meet duties the
discharge of which was once the object of his ambition, coupled now with
an adequate income and with many friends.
And among those friends, there were none with whom he maintained his
relations more intimately than with the Neuchatels. He was often their
guest both in town and at Hainault, and he met them frequently in
society, always at the receptions of Lady Montfort and his sister.
Zenobia used sometimes to send him a card; but these condescending
recognitions of late had ceased, particularly as the great dame heard
he was "always at that Lady Beaumaris's." One of the social incidents of
his circle, not the least interesting to him, was the close attendance
of Adriana and her mother on the ministrations of Nigel Penruddock. They
had become among the most devoted of his flock; and this, too, when the
rapid and startling development of his sacred offices had so alarmed
the easy, though sagacious, Lord Roehampton, that he had absolutely
expressed his wish to Myra that she should rarely attend them, and,
indeed, gradually altogether drop a habit which might ultimately
compromise her. Berengaria had long ago quitted him. This was attributed
to her reputed caprice, yet it was not so. "I like a man to be
practical," she said. "When I asked for a deanery for him the other day,
the prime minister said he could hardly make a man a dean who believed
in the Real Presence." Nigel's church, however, was more crowded than
ever, and a large body of the clergy began to look upon him as the
coming man.
Towards the end of the year the "great _coup_ in foreign affairs," which
Lady Montfort had long brooded over, and indeed foreseen, occurred, and
took the world, who were all thinking of something else, entirely by
surprise. A tripartite alliance of great powers had suddenly started
into life; the Egyptian host was swept from the conquered plains of
Asia Minor and Syria by English blue-jackets; St. Jean d'Acre, which had
baffled the great Napoleon, was bombarded and taken by a British fleet;
and the whole fortunes of the world in a moment seemed changed, and
permanently changed.
"I am glad it did not occur in the season," said Zenobia. "I really
could not stand Lady Montfort if it were May."
The ministry was elate, and their Christmas was right merrie. There
seemed good cause for this. It was a triumph of diplomatic skill,
national valour, and administrative energy. Myra was prouder of her
husband than ever, and, amid all the excitement, he smiled on her with
sunny fondness. Everybody congratulated her. She gave a little reception
before the holidays, to which everybody came who was in town or passing
through. Even Zenobia appeared; but she stayed a very short time,
talking very rapidly. Prince Florestan paid his grave devoirs, with a
gaze which seemed always to search into Lady Roehampton's inmost
heart, yet never lingering about her; and Waldershare, full of
wondrous compliments and conceits, and really enthusiastic, for he
ever sympathised with action; and Imogene, gorgeous with the Beaumaris
sapphires; and Sidney Wilton, who kissed his hostess's hand, and
Adriana, who kissed her cheek.
"I tell you what, Mr. Endymion," said Mr. Neuchatel, "you should
make Lord Roehampton your Chancellor of the Exchequer, and then your
government might perhaps go on a little."
CHAPTER LXV
But, as Mr. Tadpole observed, with much originality, at the Carlton,
they were dancing on a volcano. It was December, and the harvest was
not yet all got in, the spring corn had never grown, and the wheat was
rusty; there was, he well knew, another deficiency in the revenue, to be
counted by millions; wise men shook their heads and said the trade was
leaving the country, and it was rumoured that the whole population of
Paisley lived on the rates.
"Lord Roehampton thinks that something must be done about the corn
laws," murmured Berengaria one day to Endymion, rather crestfallen;
"but they will try sugar and timber first. I think it all nonsense, but
nonsense is sometimes necessary."
This was the first warning of that famous budget of 1841 which led to
such vast consequences, and which, directly or indirectly, gave such a
new form and colour to English politics. Sidney Wilton and his friends
were at length all-powerful in the cabinet, because, in reality, there
was nobody to oppose them. The vessel was waterlogged. The premier
shrugged his shoulders; and Lord Roehampton said, "We may as well try
it, because the alternative is, we shall have to resign."
Affairs went on badly for the ministry during the early part of the
session. They were more than once in a minority, and on Irish questions,
which then deeply interested the country; but they had resolved that
their fate should be decided by their financial measures, and Mr. Sidney
Wilton and his friends were still sanguine as to the result. On the last
day of April the Chancellor of the Exchequer introduced the budget, and
proposed to provide for the deficiency by reducing the protective
duties on sugar and timber. A few days after, the leader of the House
of Commons himself announced a change in the corn laws, and the intended
introduction of grain at various-priced duties per quarter.
Then commenced the struggle of a month. Ultimately, Sir Robert Peel
himself gave notice of a resolution of want of confidence in the
ministry; and after a week's debate, it was carried, in an almost
complete house, by a majority of one!
It was generally supposed that the ministry would immediately resign.
Their new measures had not revived their popularity, and the parliament
in which they had been condemned had been elected under their own advice
and influence. Mr. Sidney Wilton had even told Endymion to get their
papers in order; and all around the somewhat dejected private secretary
there were unmistakable signs of that fatal flitting which is peculiarly
sickening to the youthful politician.
He was breakfasting in his rooms at the Albany with not a good appetite.
Although he had for some time contemplated the possibility of such
changes--and contemplated them, as he thought, with philosophy--when
it came to reality and practice, he found his spirit was by no means so
calm, or his courage so firm, as he had counted on. The charms of
office arrayed themselves before him. The social influence, the secret
information, the danger, the dexterity, the ceaseless excitement, the
delights of patronage which everybody affects to disregard, the power
of benefiting others, and often the worthy and unknown which is a real
joy--in eight-and-forty hours or so, all these, to which he had now been
used for some time, and which with his plastic disposition had become
a second nature, were to vanish, and probably never return. Why should
they? He took the gloomiest view of the future, and his inward soul
acknowledged that the man the country wanted was Peel. Why might he not
govern as long as Pitt? He probably would. Peel! his father's friend!
And this led to a train of painful but absorbing memories, and he sat
musing and abstracted, fiddling with an idle egg-spoon.
His servant came in with a note, which he eagerly opened. It ran thus:
"I must see you instantly. I am here in the brougham, Cork Street end.
Come directly. B. M."
Endymion had to walk up half the Albany, and marked the brougham the
whole way. There was in it an eager and radiant face.
"You had better get in," said Lady Montfort, "for in these stirring
times some of the enemy may be passing. And now," she continued, when
the door was fairly shut, "nobody knows it, not five people. They are
going to dissolve."
"To dissolve!" exclaimed Endymion. "Will that help us?"
"Very likely," said Berengaria. "We have had our share of bad luck,
and now we may throw in. Cheap bread is a fine cry. Indeed it is too
shocking that there should be laws which add to the price of what
everybody agrees is the staff of life. But you do nothing but stare,
Endymion; I thought you would be in a state of the greatest excitement!"
"I am rather stunned than excited."
"Well, but you must not be stunned, you must act. This is a crisis for
our party, but it is something more for you. It is your climacteric.
They may lose; but you must win, if you will only bestir yourself. See
the whips directly, and get the most certain seat you can. Nothing must
prevent your being in the new parliament."
"I see everything to prevent it," said Endymion. "I have no means of
getting into parliament--no means of any kind."
"Means must be found," said Lady Montfort. "We cannot stop now to talk
about means. That would be a mere waste of time. The thing must be done.
I am now going to your sister, to consult with her. All you have got to
do is to make up your mind that you will be in the next parliament, and
you will succeed; for everything in this world depends upon will."
"I think everything in this world depends upon woman," said Endymion.
"It is the same thing," said Berengaria.
Adriana was with Lady Roehampton when Lady Montfort was announced.
Adriana came to console; but she herself was not without solace, for, if
there were a change of government, she would see more of her friend.
"Well; I was prepared for it," said Lady Roehampton. "I have always been
expecting something ever since what they called the Bed-Chamber Plot."
"Well; it gave us two years," said Lady Montfort; "and we are not out
yet."
Here were three women, young, beautiful, and powerful, and all friends
of Endymion--real friends. Property does not consist merely of parks
and palaces, broad acres, funds in many forms, services of plate, and
collections of pictures. The affections of the heart are property, and
the sympathy of the right person is often worth a good estate.
These three charming women were cordial, and embraced each other when
they met; but the conversation flagged, and the penetrating eye of Myra
read in the countenance of Lady Montfort the urgent need of confidence.
"So, dearest Adriana," said Lady Roehampton, "we will drive out together
at three o'clock. I will call on you." And Adriana disappeared.
"You know it?" said Lady Montfort when they were alone. "Of course you
know it. Besides, I know you know it. What I have come about is this;
your brother must be in the new parliament."
"I have not seen him; I have not mentioned it to him," said Myra,
somewhat hesitatingly.
"I have seen him; I have mentioned it to him," said Lady Montfort
decidedly. "He makes difficulties; there must be none. He will consult
you. I came on at once that you might be prepared. No difficulty must be
admitted. His future depends on it."
"I live for his future," said Lady Roehampton.
"He will talk to you about money. These things always cost money. As a
general rule, nobody has money who ought to have it. I know dear Lord
Roehampton is very kind to you; but, all his life, he never had too much
money at his command; though why, I never could make out. And my lord
has always had too much money; but I do not much care to talk to him
about these affairs. The thing must be done. What is the use of a
diamond necklace if you cannot help a friend into parliament? But all I
want to know now is that you will throw no difficulties in his way. Help
him, too, if you can."