Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
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It cannot be pretended that all this energy and enterprise were free in
their operation from those evils which, it seems, must inevitably attend
any extensive public speculation, however well founded. Many of the
scenes and circumstances recalled the days of the South Sea Scheme.
The gambling in shares of companies which were formed only in name was
without limit. The principal towns of the north established for that
purpose stock exchanges of their own, and Leeds especially, one-fifth of
whose population had been authoritatively described in the first session
of the new parliament as dependent on the poor-rates, now boasted a
stock exchange which in the extent of its transactions rivalled that of
the metropolis. And the gambling was universal, from the noble to the
mechanic. It was confined to no class and to no sex. The scene which
took place at the Board of Trade on the last day on which plans could be
lodged, and when midnight had arrived while crowds from the country were
still filling the hall, and pressing at the doors, deserved and required
for its adequate representation the genius of a Hogarth. This was the
day on which it was announced that the total number of railway projects,
on which deposits had been paid, had reached nearly to eight hundred.
What is remarkable in this vast movement in which so many millions were
produced, and so many more promised, is, that the great leaders of the
financial world took no part in it. The mighty loan-mongers, on whose
fiat the fate of kings and empires sometimes depended, seemed like
men who, witnessing some eccentricity of nature, watch it with mixed
feelings of curiosity and alarm. Even Lombard Street, which never was
more wanted, was inactive, and it was only by the irresistible pressure
of circumstances that a banking firm which had an extensive country
connection was ultimately forced to take the leading part that was
required, and almost unconsciously lay the foundation of the vast
fortunes which it has realised, and organise the varied connection which
it now commands. All seemed to come from the provinces, and from unknown
people in the provinces.
But in all affairs there must be a leader, and a leader appeared. He
was more remarkable than the movement itself. He was a London tradesman,
though a member of parliament returned for the first time to this House
of Commons. This leader was Mr. Vigo.
Mr. Vigo had foreseen what was coming, and had prepared for it. He
agreed with Mr. Neuchatel, what was wanted was "a new channel." That
channel he thought he had discovered, and he awaited it. He himself
could command no inconsiderable amount of capital, and he had a
following of obscure rich friends who believed in him, and did what he
liked. His daily visits to the City, except when he was travelling
over England, and especially the north and midland counties, had their
purpose and bore fruit. He was a director, and soon the chairman and
leading spirit, of a railway which was destined to be perhaps our most
important one. He was master of all the details of the business; he had
arrived at conclusions on the question of the gauges, which then was
a _pons asinorum_ for the multitude, and understood all about rolling
stock and permanent ways, and sleepers and branch lines, which were then
cabalistic terms to the general. In his first session in parliament he
had passed quietly and almost unnoticed several bills on these matters,
and began to be recognised by the Committee of Selection as a member who
ought to be "put on" for questions of this kind.
The great occasion had arrived, and Mr. Vigo was equal to it. He was one
of those few men who awake one day and find themselves famous. Suddenly
it would seem that the name of Mr. Vigo was in everybody's mouth. There
was only one subject which interested the country, and he was recognised
as the man who best understood it. He was an oracle, and, naturally,
soon became an idol. The tariff of the ministers was forgotten, the
invectives of the League were disregarded, their motions for the repeal
of the corn laws were invariably defeated by large and contemptuous
majorities. The House of Commons did nothing but pass railway bills,
measures which were welcomed with unanimity by the House of Lords, whose
estates were in consequence daily increasing in value. People went to
the gallery to see Mr. Vigo introduce bills, and could scarcely restrain
their enthusiasm at the spectacle of so much patriotic energy, which
secured for them premiums for shares, which they held in undertakings of
which the first sod was not yet cut. On one morning, the Great Cloudland
Company, of which he was chairman, gave their approval of twenty-six
bills, which he immediately introduced into parliament. Next day, the
Ebor and North Cloudland sanctioned six bills under his advice, and
affirmed deeds and agreements which affected all the principal railway
projects in Lancashire and Yorkshire. A quarter of an hour later, just
time to hurry from one meeting to another, where he was always received
with rampant enthusiasm, Newcastle and the extreme north accepted his
dictatorship. During a portion of two days, he obtained the consent of
shareholders to forty bills, involving an expenditure of ten millions;
and the engagements for one session alone amounted to one hundred and
thirty millions sterling.
Mr. Neuchatel shrugged his shoulders, but no one would listen even to
Mr. Neuchatel, when the prime minister himself, supposed to be the most
wary of men, and especially on financial subjects, in the very white
heat of all this speculation, himself raised the first sod on his own
estate in a project of extent and importance.
Throughout these extraordinary scenes, Mr. Vigo, though not free from
excitement, exhibited, on the whole, much self-control. He was faithful
to his old friends, and no one profited more in this respect than
Mr. Rodney. That gentleman became the director of several lines, and
vice-chairman of one over which Mr. Vigo himself presided. No one was
surprised that Mr. Rodney therefore should enter parliament. He came in
by virtue of one of those petitions that Tadpole was always cooking, or
baffling. Mr. Rodney was a supporter of the ministry, and Mr. Vigo was
a Liberal, but Mr. Vigo returned Mr. Rodney to parliament all the
same, and no one seemed astonished or complained. Political connection,
political consistency, political principle, all vanished before the
fascination of premiums.
As for Endymion, the great man made him friendly and earnest overtures,
and offered, if he would give his time to business, which, as he was
in opposition, would be no great sacrifice, to promote and secure his
fortune. But Endymion, after due reflection, declined, though with
gratitude, these tempting proposals. Ferrars was an ambitious man, but
not too imaginative a one. He had a main object in life, and that was to
regain the position which had been forfeited, not by his own fault. His
grandfather and his father before him had both been privy councillors
and ministers of state. There had, indeed, been more than the prospect
of his father filling a very prominent position. All had been lost, but
the secret purpose of the life of Endymion was that, from being a clerk
in a public office, he should arrive by his own energies at the station
to which he seemed, as it were, born. To accomplish this he felt
that the entire devotion of his labour and thought was requisite. His
character was essentially tenacious, and he had already realised no
inconsiderable amount of political knowledge and official experience.
His object seemed difficult and distant, but there was nothing wild or
visionary in its pursuit. He had achieved some of the first steps, and
he was yet very young. There were friends about him, however, who were
not content with what they deemed his moderate ambition, and thought
they discerned in him qualities which might enable him to mount to
a higher stage. However this might be, his judgment was that he must
resist the offers of Mr. Vigo, though they were sincerely kind, and so
he felt them.
In the meantime, he frequently met that gentleman, and not merely in
the House of Commons. Mr. St. Barbe would have been frantically envious
could he have witnessed and perused the social invitations that fell
like a continuous snow-storm on the favoured roof of Mr. Vigo. Mr. Vigo
was not a party question. He dined with high patricians who forgot their
political differences, while they agreed in courting the presence of
this great benefactor of his country. The fine ladies were as eager in
their homage to this real patriot, and he might be seen between rival
countesses, who emulated each other in their appreciation of his public
services. These were Mr. Vigo's dangerous suitors. He confessed to
Endymion one day that he could not manage the great ladies. "Male
swells," he would say laughingly, "I have measured physically and
intellectually." The golden youth of the country seemed fascinated by
his society, repeated his sententious bons-mot, and applied for shares
in every company which he launched into prosperous existence.
Mr. Vigo purchased a splendid mansion in St. James' Square, where
invitations to his banquets were looked upon almost as commands. His
chief cook was one of the celebrities of Europe, and though he had
served emperors, the salary he received from Mr. Vigo exceeded any one
he had hitherto condescended to pocket. Mr. Vigo bought estates, hired
moors, lavished his money, not only with profusion, but with generosity.
Everything was placed at his command, and it appeared that there was
nothing that he refused. "When this excitement is over," said Mr. Bertie
Tremaine, "I hope to induce him to take India."
In the midst of this commanding effulgence, the calmer beam of Mr.
Rodney might naturally pass unnoticed, yet its brightness was clear and
sustained. The Rodneys engaged a dwelling of no mean proportion in
that favoured district of South Kensington, which was then beginning to
assume the high character it has since obtained. Their equipages were
distinguished, and when Mrs. Rodney entered the Park, driving her
matchless ponies, and attended by outriders, and herself bright as
Diana, the world leaning over its palings witnessed her appearance with
equal delight and admiration.
CHAPTER LXXIX
We have rather anticipated, for the sake of the subject, in our last
chapter, and we must now recur to the time when, after his return from
Paris, Endymion entered into what was virtually his first session in the
House of Commons. Though in opposition, and with all the delights of the
most charming society at his command, he was an habitual and constant
attendant. One might have been tempted to believe that he would turn out
to be, though a working, only a silent member, but his silence was
only prudence. He was deeply interested and amused in watching the
proceedings, especially when those took part in them with whom he was
acquainted. Job Thornberry occupied a leading position in the debates.
He addressed the House very shortly after he took his seat, and having
a purpose and a most earnest one, and being what is styled a
representative man of his subject, the House listened to him at once,
and his place in debate was immediately recognised. The times favoured
him, especially during the first and second session, while the
commercial depression lasted; afterwards, he was always listened to,
because he had great oratorical gifts, a persuasive style that was
winning, and, though he had no inconsiderable powers of sarcasm,
his extreme tact wisely guided him to restrain for the present that
dangerous, though most effective, weapon.
The Pythagorean school, as Waldershare styled Mr. Bertie Tremaine and
his following, very much amused Endymion. The heaven-born minister
air of the great leader was striking. He never smiled, or at any rate
contemptuously. Notice of a question was sometimes publicly given
from this bench, but so abstruse in its nature and so quaint in its
expression, that the House never comprehended it, and the unfortunate
minister who had to answer, even with twenty-four hours' study, was
obliged to commence his reply by a conjectural interpretation of the
query formally addressed to him. But though they were silent in the
House, their views were otherwise powerfully represented. The weekly
journal devoted to their principles was sedulously circulated among
members of the House. It was called the "Precursor," and systematically
attacked not only every institution, but, it might be said, every
law, and all the manners and customs, of the country. Its style was
remarkable, never excited or impassioned, but frigid, logical, and
incisive, and suggesting appalling revolutions with the calmness with
which one would narrate the ordinary incidents of life. The editor of
the "Precursor" was Mr. Jawett, selected by that great master of human
nature, Mr. Bertie Tremaine. When it got about, that the editor of this
fearful journal was a clerk in a public office, the indignation of the
government, or at least of their supporters, was extreme, and there was
no end to the punishments and disgrace to which he was to be subjected;
but Waldershare, who lived a good deal in Bohemia, was essentially
cosmopolitan, and dabbled in letters, persuaded his colleagues not to
make the editor of the "Precursor" a martyr, and undertook with their
authority to counteract his evil purposes by literary means alone.
Being fully empowered to take all necessary steps for this object,
Waldershare thought that there was no better mode of arresting public
attention to his enterprise than by engaging for its manager the most
renowned pen of the hour, and he opened himself on the subject in the
most sacred confidence to Mr. St. Barbe. That gentleman, invited to call
upon a minister, sworn to secrecy, and brimful of state secrets, could
not long restrain himself, and with admirable discretion consulted on
his views and prospects Mr. Endymion Ferrars.
"But I thought you were one of us," said Endymion; "you asked me to put
you in the way of getting into Brooks'!"
"What of that?" said Mr. St. Barbe; "and when you remember what the
Whigs owe to literary men, they ought to have elected me into Brooks'
without my asking for it."
"Still, if you be on the other side?"
"It is nothing to do with sides," said Mr. St. Barbe; "this affair goes
far beyond sides. The 'Precursor' wants to put down the Crown; I
shall put down the 'Precursor.' It is an affair of the closet, not of
sides--an affair of the royal closet, sir. I am acting for the Crown,
sir; the Crown has appealed to me. I save the Crown, and there must be
personal relations with the highest," and he looked quite fierce.
"Well, you have not written your first article yet," said Endymion. "I
shall look forward to it with much interest."
After Easter, Lord Roehampton said to Endymion that a question ought
to be put on a subject of foreign policy of importance, and on which
he thought the ministry were in difficulties; "and I think you might as
well ask it, Endymion. I will draw up the question, and you will give
notice of it. It will be a reconnaissance."
The notice of this question was the first time Endymion opened his
mouth in the House of Commons. It was an humble and not a very hazardous
office, but when he got on his legs his head swam, his heart beat so
violently, that it was like a convulsion preceding death, and though
he was only on his legs for a few seconds, all the sorrows of his life
seemed to pass before him. When he sate down, he was quite surprised
that the business of the House proceeded as usual, and it was only after
some time that he became convinced that no one but himself was conscious
of his sufferings, or that he had performed a routine duty otherwise
than in a routine manner.
The crafty question, however, led to some important consequences. When
asked, to the surprise of every one the minister himself replied to it.
Waldershare, with whom Endymion dined at Bellamy's that day, was in no
good humour in consequence.
When Lord Roehampton had considered the ministerial reply, he said to
Endymion, "This must be followed up. You must move for papers. It will
be a good opportunity for you, for the House is up to something being
in the wind, and they will listen. It will be curious to see whether the
minister follows you. If so, he will give me an opening."
Endymion felt that this was the crisis of his life. He knew the subject
well, and he had all the tact and experience of Lord Roehampton to guide
him in his statement and his arguments. He had also the great feeling
that, if necessary, a powerful arm would support him. It was about a
week before the day arrived, and Endymion slept very little that week,
and the night before his motion not a wink. He almost wished he was
dead as he walked down to the House in the hope that the exercise might
remedy, or improve, his languid circulation; but in vain, and when his
name was called and he had to rise, his hands and feet were like ice.
Lady Roehampton and Lady Montfort were both in the ventilator, and he
knew it.
It might be said that he was sustained by his utter despair. He felt
so feeble and generally imbecile, that he had not vitality enough to be
sensible of failure.
He had a kind audience, and an interested one. When he opened his mouth,
he forgot his first sentence, which he had long prepared. In trying to
recall it and failing, he was for a moment confused. But it was only for
a moment; the unpremeditated came to his aid, and his voice, at first
tremulous, was recognised as distinct and rich. There was a murmur of
sympathy, and not merely from his own side. Suddenly, both physically
and intellectually, he was quite himself. His arrested circulation
flowed, and fed his stagnant brain. His statement was lucid, his
arguments were difficult to encounter, and his manner was modest. He
sate down amid general applause, and though he was then conscious that
he had omitted more than one point on which he had relied, he was on
the whole satisfied, and recollected that he might use them in reply,
a privilege to which he now looked forward with feelings of comfort and
confidence.
The minister again followed him, and in an elaborate speech. The subject
evidently, in the opinion of the minister, was of too delicate and
difficult a character to trust to a subordinate. Overwhelmed as he was
with the labours of his own department, the general conduct of
affairs, and the leadership of the House, he still would undertake the
representation of an office with whose business he was not familiar.
Wary and accurate he always was, but in discussions on foreign affairs,
he never exhibited the unrivalled facility with which he ever treated
a commercial or financial question, or that plausible promptness with
which, at a moment's notice, he could encounter any difficulty connected
with domestic administration.
All these were qualities which Lord Roehampton possessed with reference
to the affairs over which he had long presided, and in the present
instance, following the minister, he was particularly happy. He had
a good case, and he was gratified by the success of Endymion. He
complimented him and confuted his opponent, and, not satisfied with
demolishing his arguments, Lord Roehampton indulged in a little raillery
which the House enjoyed, but which was never pleasing to the more solemn
organisation of his rival.
No language can describe the fury of Waldershare as to the events
of this evening. He looked upon the conduct of the minister, in
not permitting him to represent his department, as a decree of the
incapacity of his subordinate, and of the virtual termination of the
official career of the Under-Secretary of State. He would have resigned
the next day had it not been for the influence of Lady Beaumaris, who
soothed him by suggesting, that it would be better to take an early
opportunity of changing his present post for another.
The minister was wrong. He was not fond of trusting youth, but it is a
confidence which should be exercised, particularly in the conduct of a
popular assembly. If the under-secretary had not satisfactorily answered
Endymion, which no one had a right to assume, for Waldershare was a
brilliant man, the minister could have always advanced to the rescue
at the fitting time. As it was, he made a personal enemy of one who
naturally might have ripened into a devoted follower, and who from
his social influence, as well as from his political talents, was no
despicable foe.
CHAPTER LXXX
Notwithstanding the great political, and consequently social, changes
that had taken place, no very considerable alteration occurred in
the general life of those chief personages in whose existence we have
attempted to interest the reader. However vast may appear to be the
world in which we move, we all of us live in a limited circle. It is
the result of circumstances; of our convenience and our taste. Lady
Beaumaris became the acknowledged leader of Tory society, and her
husband was so pleased with her position, and so proud of it, that he in
a considerable degree sacrificed his own pursuits and pleasures for its
maintenance. He even refused the mastership of a celebrated hunt, which
had once been an object of his highest ambition, that he might be early
and always in London to support his wife in her receptions. Imogene
herself was universally popular. Her gentle and natural manners, blended
with a due degree of self-respect, her charming appearance, and her
ready but unaffected sympathy, won every heart. Lady Roehampton was her
frequent guest. Myra continued her duties as a leader of society, as her
lord was anxious that the diplomatic world should not forget him. These
were the two principal and rival houses. The efforts of Lady Montfort
were more fitful, for they were to a certain degree dependent on the
moods of her husband. It was observed that Lady Beaumaris never omitted
attending the receptions of Lady Roehampton, and the tone of almost
reverential affection with which she ever approached Myra was touching
to those who were in the secret, but they were few.
No great change occurred in the position of Prince Florestan, except
that in addition to the sports to which he was apparently devoted, he
gradually began to interest himself in the turf. He had bred several
horses of repute, and one, which he had named Lady Roehampton, was the
favourite for a celebrated race. His highness was anxious that Myra
should honour him by being his guest. This had never occurred before,
because Lord Roehampton felt that so avowed an intimacy with a personage
in the peculiar position of Prince Florestan was hardly becoming a
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs; but that he was no longer, and
being the most good-natured man that ever lived, and easily managed in
little things, he could not refuse Myra when she consulted him, as
they call it, on the subject, and it was settled that Lord and Lady
Roehampton were to dine with Prince Florestan. The prince was most
anxious that Mr. Sidney Wilton should take this occasion of consenting
to a reconciliation with him, and Lady Roehampton exerted herself much
for this end. Mr. Sidney Wilton was in love with Lady Roehampton, and
yet on this point he was inexorable. Lord and Lady Beaumaris went, and
Lady Montfort, to whom the prince had addressed a private note of his
own that quite captivated her, and Mr. and Mrs. Neuchatel and Adriana.
Waldershare, Endymion, and Baron Sergius completed the guests, who were
received by the Duke of St. Angelo and a couple of aides-de-camp. When
the prince entered all rose, and the ladies curtseyed very low. Lord
Roehampton resumed his seat immediately, saying to his neighbour, "I
rose to show my respect to my host; I sit down to show that I look upon
him as a subject like myself."
"A subject of whom?" inquired Lady Montfort.
"There is something in that," said Lord Roehampton, smiling.
The Duke of St. Angelo was much disturbed by the conduct of Lord
Roehampton, which had disappointed his calculations, and he went about
lamenting that Lord Roehampton had a little gout.
They had assembled in the library and dined on the same floor. The
prince was seated between Lady Montfort, whom he accompanied to dinner,
and Lady Roehampton. Adriana fell to Endymion's lot. She looked
very pretty, was beautifully dressed, and for her, was even gay. Her
companion was in good spirits, and she seemed interested and amused. The
prince never spoke much, but his remarks always told. He liked murmuring
to women, but when requisite, he could throw a fly over the table with
adroitness and effect. More than once during the dinner he whispered
to Lady Roehampton: "This is too kind--your coming here. But you have
always been my best friend." The dinner would have been lively and
successful even if Waldershare had not been there, but he to-day was
exuberant and irresistible. His chief topic was abuse of the government
of which he was a member, and he lavished all his powers of invective
and ridicule alike on the imbecility of their policy and their
individual absurdities. All this much amused Lady Montfort, and gave
Lord Roehampton an opportunity to fool the Under-Secretary of State to
the top of his bent.