Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
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Mr. Trenchard had come down and brought the news that the ministry had
resigned, and that the Queen had sent for the leader of the opposition,
who was in Scotland.
"I suppose we shall have to go to town," said Lady Roehampton to her
brother, in a room, busy and full. "It is so difficult to be alone
here," she continued in a whisper; "let us get into the gardens." And
they escaped. And then, when they were out of hearing and of sight of
any one, she said, "This is a most critical time of your life, Endymion;
it makes me very anxious. I look upon it as certain that you will be in
office, and in all probability under my lord. He has said nothing to me
about it, but I feel quite assured it will happen. It will be a great
event. Poor papa began by being an under-secretary of state!" she
continued in a moody tone, half speaking to herself, "and all seemed so
fair then, but he had no root. What I want, Endymion, is that you should
have a root. There is too much chance and favour in your lot. They will
fail you some day, some day too when I may not be by you. Even this
great opening, which is at hand, would never have been at your command,
but for a mysterious gift on which you never could have counted."
"It is very true, Myra, but what then?"
"Why, then, I think we should guard against such contingencies. You know
what is in my mind; we have spoken of it before, and not once only. I
want you to marry, and you know whom."
"Marriage is a serious affair!" said Endymion, with a distressed look.
"The most serious. It is the principal event for good or for evil in all
lives. Had I not married, and married as I did, we should not have been
here--and where, I dare not think."
"Yes; but you made a happy marriage; one of the happiest that was ever
known, I think."
"And I wish you, Endymion, to make the same. I did not marry for love,
though love came, and I brought happiness to one who made me happy. But
had it been otherwise, if there had been no sympathy, or prospect of
sympathy, I still should have married, for it was the only chance of
saving you."
"Dearest sister! Everything I have, I owe to you."
"It is not much," said Myra, "but I wish to make it much. Power in every
form, and in excess, is at your disposal if you be wise. There is a
woman, I think with every charm, who loves you; her fortune may have
no limit; she is a member of one of the most powerful families in
England--a noble family I may say, for my lord told me last night
that Mr. Neuchatel would be instantly raised to the peerage, and
you hesitate! By all the misery of the past--which never can be
forgotten--for Heaven's sake, be wise; do not palter with such a
chance."
"If all be as you say, Myra, and I have no reason but your word to
believe it is so--if, for example, of which I never saw any evidence,
Mr. Neuchatel would approve, or even tolerate, this alliance--I have too
deep and sincere a regard for his daughter, founded on much kindness
to both of us, to mock her with the offer of a heart which she has not
gained."
"You say you have a deep and sincere regard for Adriana," said his
sister. "Why, what better basis for enduring happiness can there be?
You are not a man to marry for romantic sentiment, and pass your life
in writing sonnets to your wife till you find her charms and your
inspiration alike exhausted; you are already wedded to the State, you
have been nurtured in the thoughts of great affairs from your very
childhood, and even in the darkest hour of our horrible adversity. You
are a man born for power and high condition, whose name in time ought to
rank with those of the great statesmen of the continent, the true lords
of Europe. Power, and power alone, should be your absorbing object, and
all the accidents and incidents of life should only be considered with
reference to that main result."
"Well, I am only five-and-twenty after all. There is time yet to
consider this."
"Great men should think of Opportunity, and not of Time. Time is the
excuse of feeble and puzzled spirits. They make time the sleeping
partner of their lives to accomplish what ought to be achieved by their
own will. In this case, there certainly is no time like the present. The
opportunity is unrivalled. All your friends would, without an exception,
be delighted if you now were wise."
"I hardly think my friends have given it a thought," said Endymion, a
little flushed.
"There is nothing that would please Lady Montfort more."
He turned pale. "How do you know that?" he inquired.
"She told me so, and offered to help me in bringing about the result."
"Very kind of her! Well, dearest Myra, you and Lord Roehampton have
much to think of at this anxious moment. Let this matter drop. We have
discussed it before, and we have discussed it enough. It is more than
pain for me to differ from you on any point, but I cannot offer to
Adriana a heart which belongs to another."
CHAPTER LXXXIII
All the high expectations of December at Princedown were doomed to
disappointment; they were a further illustration of Lord Roehampton's
saying, that there was no gambling like politics. The leader of the
opposition came up to town, but he found nothing but difficulties, and
a few days before Christmas he had resigned the proffered trust. The
protectionist ministry were to remain in office, and to repeal the corn
laws. The individual who was most baulked by this unexpected result was
perhaps Lord Roehampton. He was a man who really cared for nothing but
office and affairs, and being advanced in life, he naturally regretted a
lost opportunity. But he never showed his annoyance. Always playful, and
even taking refuge in a bantering spirit, the world seemed to go light
with him when everything was dark and everybody despondent.
The discontent or indignation which the contemplated revolution in
policy was calculated to excite in the Conservative party generally
were to a certain degree neutralised for the moment by mysterious and
confidential communications, circulated by Mr. Tadpole and the managers
of the party, that the change was to be accompanied by "immense
compensations." As parliament was to meet as soon as convenient after
Christmas, and the statement of the regenerated ministry was then to
be made immediately, every one held his hand, as they all felt the blow
must be more efficient when the scheme of the government was known.
The Montforts were obliged to go to their castle, a visit the sad
necessity of which the formation of a new government, at one time, they
had hoped might have prevented. The Roehamptons passed their Christmas
with Mr. Sidney Wilton at Gaydene, where Endymion also and many of the
opposition were guests. Waldershare took refuge with his friends the
Beaumaris', full of revenge and unceasing combinations. He took down St.
Barbe with him, whose services in the session might be useful. There
had been a little misunderstanding between these two eminent personages
during the late season. St. Barbe was not satisfied with his position in
the new journal which Waldershare had established. He affected to have
been ill-treated and deceived, and this with a mysterious shake of the
head which seemed to intimate state secrets that might hereafter be
revealed. The fact is, St. Barbe's political articles were so absurd
that it was impossible to print them; but as his name stood high as a
clever writer on matters with which he was acquainted, they permitted
him, particularly as they were bound to pay him a high salary, to
contribute essays on the social habits and opinions of the day, which he
treated in a happy and taking manner. St. Barbe himself had such quick
perception of peculiarities, so fine a power of observation, and so keen
a sense of the absurd, that when he revealed in confidence the causes of
his discontent, it was almost impossible to believe that he was entirely
serious. It seems that he expected this connection with the journal in
question to have been, to use his own phrase, "a closet affair," and
that he was habitually to have been introduced by the backstairs of
the palace to the presence of Royalty to receive encouragement and
inspiration. "I do not complain of the pay," he added, "though I could
get more by writing for Shuffle and Screw, but I expected a decoration.
However, I shall probably stand for next parliament on the principles of
the Mountain, so perhaps it is just as well."
Parliament soon met, and that session began which will long be
memorable. The "immense compensations" were nowhere. Waldershare, who
had only waited for this, resigned his office as Under-Secretary of
State. This was a bad example and a blow, but nothing compared to
the resignation of his great office in the Household by the Earl of
Beaumaris. This involved unhappily the withdrawal of Lady Beaumaris,
under whose bright, inspiring roof the Tory party had long assembled,
sanguine and bold. Other considerable peers followed the precedent
of Lord Beaumaris, and withdrew their support from the ministry.
Waldershare moved the amendment to the first reading of the obnoxious
bill; but although defeated by a considerable majority, the majority was
mainly formed by members of the opposition. Among these was Mr. Ferrars,
who it was observed never opened his lips during the whole session.
This was not the case with Mr. Bertie Tremaine and the school of
Pythagoras. The opportunity long waited for had at length arrived. There
was a great parliamentary connection deserted by their leaders. This
distinguished rank and file required officers. The cabinet of Mr. Bertie
Tremaine was ready, and at their service. Mr. Bertie Tremaine seconded
the amendment of Waldershare, and took the occasion of expounding the
new philosophy, which seemed to combine the principles of Bentham
with the practice of Lord Liverpool. "I offered to you this," he said
reproachfully to Endymion; "you might have been my secretary of state.
Mr. Tremaine Bertie will now take it. He would rather have had an
embassy, but he must make the sacrifice."
The debates during the session were much carried on by the Pythagoreans,
who never ceased chattering. They had men ready for every branch of
the subject, and the debate was often closed by their chief in mystical
sentences, which they cheered like awestruck zealots.
The great bill was carried, but the dark hour of retribution at length
arrived. The ministry, though sanguine to the last of success, and
not without cause, were completely and ignominiously defeated. The new
government, long prepared, was at once formed. Lord Roehampton again
became secretary of state, and he appointed Endymion to the post under
him. "I shall not press you unfairly," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine to
Endymion, with encouraging condescension. "I wish my men for a season
to comprehend what is a responsible opposition. I am sorry Hortensius
is your solicitor-general, for I had intended him always for my
chancellor."
CHAPTER LXXXIV
Very shortly after the prorogation of parliament, an incident occurred
which materially affected the position of Endymion. Lord Roehampton had
a serious illness. Having a fine constitution, he apparently completely
rallied from the attack, and little was known of it by the public. The
world also, at that moment, was as usual much dispersed and distracted;
dispersed in many climes, and distracted by the fatigue and hardships
they annually endure, and which they call relaxation. Even the
colleagues of the great statesman were scattered, and before they
had realised that he had been seriously ill, they read of him in the
fulfilment of his official duties. But there was no mistake as to his
state under his own roof. Lord Roehampton had, throughout the later
period of his life, been in the habit of working at night. It was
only at night that he could command that abstraction necessary for the
consideration of great affairs. He was also a real worker. He wrote his
own despatches, whenever they referred to matters of moment. He left to
the permanent staff of his office little but the fulfilment of duties
which, though heavy and multifarious, were duties of routine. The
composition of these despatches was a source to Lord Roehampton of much
gratification and excitement. They were of European fame, and their
terse argument, their clear determination, and often their happy irony,
were acknowledged in all the cabinets, and duly apprehended.
The physicians impressed upon Lady Roehampton that this night-work
must absolutely cease. A neglect of their advice must lead to serious
consequences; following it, there was no reason why her husband should
not live for years, and continue to serve the State. Lord Roehampton
must leave the House of Commons; he must altogether change the order
of his life; he must seek more amusement in society, and yet keep early
hours; and then he would find himself fresh and vigorous in the morning,
and his work would rather benefit than distress him. It was all an
affair of habit.
Lady Roehampton threw all her energies into this matter. She entertained
for her lord a reverential affection, and his life to her seemed a
precious deposit, of which she was the trustee. She succeeded where the
physicians would probably have failed. Towards the end of the year Lord
Roehampton was called up to the House of Lords for one of his baronies,
and Endymion was informed that when parliament met, he would have to
represent the Foreign Office in the House of Commons.
Waldershare heartily congratulated him. "You have got what I most
wished to have in the world; but I will not envy you, for envy is a vile
passion. You have the good fortune to serve a genial chief. I had to
deal with a Harley,--cold, suspicious, ambiguous, pretending to be
profound, and always in a state of perplexity."
It was not a very agreeable session. The potato famine did something
more than repeal the corn laws. It proved that there was no floating
capital left in the country; and when the Barings and Rothschilds
combined, almost as much from public spirit as from private speculation,
to raise a loan of a few millions for the minister, they absolutely
found the public purse was exhausted, and had to supply the greater
portion of the amount from their own resources. In one of the many
financial debates that consequently occurred, Trenchard established
himself by a clear and comprehensive view of the position of affairs,
and by modestly reminding the House, that a year ago he had predicted
the present condition of things, and indicated its inevitable cause.
This was the great speech on a great night, and Mr. Bertie Tremaine
walked home with Trenchard. It was observed that Mr. Bertie Tremaine
always walked home with the member who had made the speech of the
evening.
"Your friends did not behave well to you," he said in a hollow voice to
Trenchard. "They ought to have made you Secretary of the Treasury. Think
of this. It is an important post, and may lead to anything; and, so far
as I am concerned, it would give me real pleasure to see it."
But besides the disquietude of domestic affairs, famine and failures
competing in horrible catastrophe and the Bank Act suspended, as
the year advanced matters on the Continent became not less dark and
troubled. Italy was mysteriously agitated; the pope announced himself
a reformer; there were disturbances in Milan, Ancona, and Ferrara; the
Austrians threatened the occupation of several States, and Sardinia
offered to defend His Holiness from the Austrians. In addition to all
this, there were reform banquets in France, a civil war in Switzerland,
and the King of Prussia thought it prudent to present his subjects with
a Constitution.
The Count of Ferroll about this time made a visit to England. He was
always a welcome guest there, and had received the greatest distinction
which England could bestow upon a foreigner; he had been elected an
honorary member of White's. "You may have troubles here," he said to
Lady Montfort, "but they will pass; you will have mealy potatoes
again and plenty of bank notes, but we shall not get off so cheaply.
Everything is quite rotten throughout the Continent. This year is
tranquillity to what the next will be. There is not a throne in Europe
worth a year's purchase. My worthy master wants me to return home and be
minister; I am to fashion for him a new constitution. I will never have
anything to do with new constitutions; their inventors are always
the first victims. Instead of making a constitution, he should make
a country, and convert his heterogeneous domains into a patriotic
dominion."
"But how is that to be done?"
"There is only one way; by blood and iron."
"My dear count, you shock me!"
"I shall have to shock you a great deal more before the inevitable is
brought about."
"Well, I am glad that there is something," said Lady Montfort, "which is
inevitable. I hope it will come soon. I am sure this country is ruined.
What with cheap bread at famine prices and these railroads, we seem
quite finished. I thought one operation was to counteract the other; but
they appear both to turn out equally fatal."
Endymion had now one of those rare opportunities which, if men be equal
to them, greatly affect their future career. As the session advanced,
debates on foreign affairs became frequent and deeply interesting. So
far as the ministry was concerned, the burthen of these fell on the
Under-Secretary of State. He was never wanting. The House felt that he
had not only the adequate knowledge, but that it was knowledge perfectly
digested; that his remarks and conduct were those of a man who had
given constant thought to his duties, and was master of his subject. His
oratorical gifts also began to be recognised. The power and melody
of his voice had been before remarked, and that is a gift which much
contributes to success in a popular assembly. He was ready without being
too fluent. There were light and shade in his delivery. He repressed his
power of sarcasm; but if unjustly and inaccurately attacked, he could be
keen. Over his temper he had a complete control; if, indeed, his entire
insensibility to violent language on the part of an opponent was not
organic. All acknowledged his courtesy, and both sides sympathised with
a young man who proved himself equal to no ordinary difficulties. In a
word, Endymion was popular, and that popularity was not diminished by
the fact of his being the brother of Lady Roehampton, who exercised
great influence in society, and who was much beloved.
As the year advanced external affairs became daily more serious, and
the country congratulated itself that its interests were entrusted to
a minister of the experience and capacity of Lord Roehampton. That
statesman seemed never better than when the gale ran high. Affairs in
France began to assume the complexion that the Count of Ferroll had
prophetically announced. If a crash occurred in that quarter, Lord
Roehampton felt that all Europe might be in a blaze. Affairs were never
more serious than at the turn of the year. Lord Roehampton told his wife
that their holidays must be spent in St. James' Square, for he could not
leave London; but he wished her to go to Gaydene, where they had been
invited by Mr. Sidney Wilton to pass their Christmas as usual. Nothing,
however, would induce her to quit his side. He seemed quite well, but
the pressure of affairs was extreme; and sometimes, against all her
remonstrances, he was again working at night. Such remonstrances on
other subjects would probably have been successful, for her influence
over him was extreme. But to a minister responsible for the interests
of a great country they are vain, futile, impossible. One might as well
remonstrate with an officer on the field of battle on the danger he was
incurring. She said to him one night in his library, where she paid him
a little visit before she retired, "My heart, I know it is no use my
saying anything, and yet--remember your promise. This night-work makes
me very unhappy."
"I remember my promise, and I will try not to work at night again in a
hurry, but I must finish this despatch. If I did not, I could not sleep,
and you know sleep is what I require."
"Good night, then."
He looked up with his winning smile, and held out his lips. "Kiss me,"
he said; "I never felt better."
Lady Roehampton after a time slumbered; how long she knew not, but when
she woke, her lord was not at her side. She struck a light and looked at
her watch. It was past three o'clock; she jumped out of bed, and, merely
in her slippers and her _robe de chambre_, descended to the library. It
was a large, long room, and Lord Roehampton worked at the extreme end
of it. The candles were nearly burnt out. As she approached him, she
perceived that he was leaning back in his chair. When she reached him,
she observed he was awake, but he did not seem to recognise her. A
dreadful feeling came over her. She took his hand. It was quite cold.
Her intellect for an instant seemed to desert her. She looked round her
with an air void almost of intelligence, and then rushing to the bell
she continued ringing it till some of the household appeared. A medical
man was near at hand, and in a few minutes arrived, but it was a
bootless visit. All was over, and all had been over, he said, "for some
time."
CHAPTER LXXXV
"Well, you have made up your government?" asked Lady Montfort of the
prime minister as he entered her boudoir. He shook his head.
"Have you seen her?" he inquired.
"No, not yet; I suppose she will see me as soon as any one."
"I am told she is utterly overwhelmed."
"She was devoted to him; it was the happiest union I ever knew; but
Lady Roehampton is not the woman to be utterly overwhelmed. She has too
imperial a spirit for that."
"It is a great misfortune," said the prime minister. "We have not been
lucky since we took the reins."
"Well, there is no use in deploring. There is nobody else to take the
reins, so you may defy misfortunes. The question now is, what are you
going to do?"
"Well, there seems to me only one thing to do. We must put Rawchester
there."
"Rawchester!" exclaimed Lady Montfort, "what, 'Niminy-Piminy'?"
"Well, he is conciliatory," said the premier, "and if you are not very
clever, you should be conciliatory."
"He never knows his own mind for a week together."
"We will take care of his mind," said the prime minister, "but he has
travelled a good deal, and knows the public men."
"Yes," said Lady Montfort, "and the public men, I fear, know him."
"Then he can make a good House of Lords' speech, and we have a
first-rate man in the Commons; so it will do."
"I do not think your first-rate man in the House of Commons will
remain," said Lady Montfort drily.
"You do not mean that?" said the prime minister, evidently alarmed.
"His health is delicate," said Lady Montfort; "had it not been for
his devotion to Lord Roehampton, I know he thought of travelling for a
couple of years."
"Ferrars' health delicate?" said the premier; "I thought he was the
picture of health and youthful vigour. Health is one of the elements
to be considered in calculating the career of a public man, and I have
always predicted an eminent career for Ferrars, because, in addition to
his remarkable talents, he had apparently such a fine constitution."
"No health could stand working under Lord Rawchester."
"Well, but what am I to do? I cannot make Mr. Ferrars secretary of
state."
"Why not?"
The prime minister looked considerably perplexed. Such a promotion could
not possibly have occurred to him. Though a man of many gifts, and
a statesman, he had been educated in high Whig routine, and the
proposition of Lady Montfort was like recommending him to make a curate
a bishop.
"Well," he said, "Ferrars is a very clever fellow. He is our rising
young man, and there is no doubt that, if his health is not so delicate
as you fear, he will mount high; but though our rising young man, he is
a young man, much too young to be a secretary of state. He wants age,
larger acquaintance with affairs, greater position, and more root in the
country."
"What was Mr. Canning's age, who held Mr. Ferrars' office, when he was
made secretary of state? and what root in the country had he?"
When the prime minister got back to Downing Street, he sent immediately
for his head whip. "Look after Ferrars," he said; "they are trying to
induce him to resign office. If he does, our embarrassments will be
extreme. Lord Rawchester will be secretary of state; send a paragraph
at once to the papers announcing it. But look after Ferrars, and
immediately, and report to me."
Lord Roehampton had a large entailed estate, though his affairs were
always in a state of confusion. That seems almost the inevitable result
of being absorbed in the great business of governing mankind. If there
be exceptions among statesmen of the highest class, they will generally
be found among those who have been chiefly in opposition, and so have
had leisure and freedom of mind sufficient to manage their estates. Lord
Roehampton had, however, extensive powers of charging his estate in lieu
of dower, and he had employed them to their utmost extent; so his
widow was well provided for. The executors were Mr. Sidney Wilton and
Endymion.