Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39
"Adieu! my Endymion," said Myra at the last moment they were alone. "All
has happened for you beyond my hopes; all now is safe. I might wish we
were in the same land, but not if I lost my husband, whom I adore."
The reason that forced them to curtail their royal visit was the state
of politics at home, which had suddenly become critical. There were
symptoms, and considerable ones, of disturbance and danger when
they departed for their wedding tour, but they could not prevail on
themselves to sacrifice a visit on which they had counted so much,
and which could not be fulfilled on another occasion under the same
interesting circumstances. Besides, the position of Mr. Ferrars, though
an important, was a subordinate one, and though cabinet ministers were
not justified in leaving the country, an under-secretary of state and
a bridegroom might, it would seem, depart on his irresponsible holiday.
Mr. Sidney Wilton, however, shook his head; "I do not like the state of
affairs," he said, "I think you will have to come back sooner than you
imagine."
"You are not going to be so foolish as to have an early session?"
inquired Lady Montfort.
He only shrugged his shoulders, and said, "We are in a mess."
What mess? and what was the state of affairs?
This had happened. At the end of the autumn, his Holiness the Pope had
made half a dozen new cardinals, and to the surprise of the world, and
the murmurs of the Italians, there appeared among them the name of an
Englishman, Nigel Penruddock, archbishop _in partibus_. Shortly after
this, a papal bull, "given at St. Peter's, Rome, under the seal of the
fisherman," was issued, establishing a Romish hierarchy in England. This
was soon followed by a pastoral letter by the new cardinal "given out of
the Appian Gate," announcing that "Catholic England had been restored to
its orbit in the ecclesiastical firmament."
The country at first was more stupefied than alarmed. It was conscious
that something extraordinary had happened, and some great action taken
by an ecclesiastical power, which from tradition it was ever inclined to
view with suspicion and some fear. But it held its breath for a while.
It so happened that the prime minister was a member of a great house
which had become illustrious by its profession of Protestant principles,
and even by its sufferings in a cause which England had once looked
on as sacred. The prime minister, a man of distinguished ability,
not devoid even of genius, was also a wily politician, and of almost
unrivalled experience in the management of political parties. The
ministry was weak and nearly worn out, and its chief, influenced partly
by noble and historical sentiments, partly by a conviction that he had
a fine occasion to rally the confidence of the country round himself
and his friends, and to restore the repute of his political connection,
thought fit, without consulting his colleagues, to publish a manifesto
denouncing the aggression of the Pope upon our Protestantism as insolent
and insidious, and as expressing a pretension of supremacy over the
realm of England which made the minister indignant.
A confused public wanted to be led, and now they were led. They
sprang to their feet like an armed man. The corporation of London, the
universities of Oxford and Cambridge had audiences of the Queen; the
counties met, the municipalities memorialised; before the first of
January there had been held nearly seven thousand public meetings,
asserting the supremacy of the Queen and calling on Her Majesty's
Government to vindicate it by stringent measures.
Unfortunately, it was soon discovered by the minister that there had
been nothing illegal in the conduct of the Pope or the Cardinal, and
a considerable portion of the Liberal party began to express the
inconvenient opinion, that the manifesto of their chief was opposed
to those principles of civil and religious liberty of which he was the
hereditary champion. Some influential members of his own cabinet did
not conceal their disapprobation of a step on which they had not been
consulted.
Immediately after Christmas, Endymion and Lady Montfort settled in
London. She was anxious to open her new mansion as soon as parliament
met, and to organise continuous receptions. She looked upon the ministry
as in a critical state, and thought it was an occasion when social
influences might not inconsiderably assist them.
But though she exhibited for this object her wonted energy and high
spirit, a fine observer--Mr. Sidney Wilton, for example--might have
detected a change in the manner of Berengaria. Though the strength of
her character was unaltered, there was an absence of that restlessness,
it might be said, that somewhat feverish excitement, from which formerly
she was not always free. The truth is, her heart was satisfied, and that
brought repose. Feelings of affection, long mortified and pent up, were
now lavished and concentrated on a husband of her heart and adoration,
and she was proud that his success and greatness might be avowed as the
objects of her life.
The campaign, however, for which such preparations were made, ended
almost before it began. The ministry, on the meeting of parliament,
found themselves with a discontented House of Commons, and discordant
counsels among themselves. The anti-papal manifesto was the secret cause
of this evil state, but the prime minister, to avoid such a mortifying
admission, took advantage of two unfavourable divisions on other
matters, and resigned.
Here was a crisis--another crisis! Could the untried Protectionists,
without men, form an administration? It was whispered that Lord Derby
had been sent for, and declined the attempt. Then there was another
rumour, that he was going to try. Mr. Bertie Tremaine looked mysterious.
The time for the third party had clearly arrived. It was known that he
had the list of the next ministry in his breast-pocket, but it was only
shown to Mr. Tremaine Bertie, who confided in secrecy to the initiated
that it was the strongest government since "All the Talents."
Notwithstanding this great opportunity, "All the Talents" were not
summoned. The leader of the Protectionists renounced the attempt in
despair, and the author of the anti-papal manifesto was again sent
for, and obliged to introduce the measure which had already destroyed a
government and disorganised a party.
"Sidney Wilton," said Lady Montfort to her husband, "says that they are
in the mud, and he for one will not go back--but he will go. I know him.
He is too soft-hearted to stand an appeal from colleagues in distress.
But were I you, Endymion, I would not return. I think you want a little
rest, or you have got a great deal of private business to attend to,
or something of that kind. Nobody notices the withdrawal of an
under-secretary except those in office. There is no necessity why you
should be in the mud. I will continue to receive, and do everything
that is possible for our friends, but I think my husband has been an
under-secretary long enough."
Endymion quite agreed with his wife. The minister offered him preferment
and the Privy Council, but Lady Montfort said it was really not so
important as the office he had resigned. She was resolved that he should
not return to them, and she had her way. Ferrars himself now occupied a
rather peculiar position, being the master of a great fortune and of an
establishment which was the headquarters of the party of which he was
now only a private member; but, calm and collected, he did not lose his
head; always said and did the right thing, and never forgot his early
acquaintances. Trenchard was his bosom political friend. Seymour Hicks,
who, through Endymion's kindness, had now got into the Treasury, and
was quite fashionable, had the run of the House, and made himself
marvellously useful, while St. Barbe, who had become by mistake a member
of the Conservative Club, drank his frequent claret cup every Saturday
evening at Lady Montfort's receptions with many pledges to the welfare
of the Liberal administration.
The flag of the Tory party waved over the magnificent mansion of which
Imogene Beaumaris was the graceful life. As parties were nearly equal,
and the ministry was supposed to be in decay, the rival reception was as
well attended as that of Berengaria. The two great leaders were friends,
intimate, but not perhaps quite so intimate as a few years before. "Lady
Montfort is very kind to me," Imogene would say, "but I do not think
she now quite remembers we are cousins." Both Lord and Lady Waldershare
seemed equally devoted to Lady Beaumaris. "I do not think," he would
say, "that I shall ever get Adriana to receive. It is an organic gift,
and very rare. What I mean to do is to have a first-rate villa and give
the party strawberries. I always say Adriana is like Nell Gwyn, and she
shall go about with a pottle. One never sees a pottle of strawberries
now. I believe they went out, like all good things, with the Stuarts."
And so, after all these considerable events, the season rolled on and
closed tranquilly. Lord and Lady Hainault continued to give banquets,
over which the hostess sighed; Sir Peter Vigo had the wisdom to retain
his millions, which few manage to do, as it is admitted that it is
easier to make a fortune than to keep one. Mrs. Rodney, supremely
habited, still drove her ponies, looking younger and prettier than ever,
and getting more fashionable every day, and Mr. Ferrars and Berengaria,
Countess of Montfort, retired in the summer to their beautiful and
beloved Princedown.
CHAPTER C
Although the past life of Endymion had, on the whole, been a happy life,
and although he was destined also to a happy future, perhaps the four
years which elapsed from the time he quitted office, certainly in his
experience had never been exceeded, and it was difficult to imagine
could be exceeded, in felicity. He had a great interest, and even
growing influence in public life without any of its cares; he was
united to a woman whom he had long passionately loved, and who had every
quality and a fortune which secured him all those advantages which are
appreciated by men of taste and generosity. He became a father, and a
family name which had been originally borne by a courtier of the elder
Stuarts was now bestowed on the future lord of Princedown.
Lady Montfort herself had no thought but her husband. His happiness, his
enjoyment of existence, his success and power in life, entirely absorbed
her. The anxiety which she felt that in everything he should be master
was touching. Once looked upon as the most imperious of women, she would
not give a direction on any matter without his opinion and sanction. One
would have supposed from what might be observed under their roof, that
she was some beautiful but portionless maiden whom Endymion had raised
to wealth and power.
All this time, however, Lady Montfort sedulously maintained that
commanding position in social politics for which she was singularly
fitted. Indeed, in that respect, she had no rival. She received the
world with the same constancy and splendour, as if she were the wife of
a minister. Animated by Waldershare, Lady Beaumaris maintained in this
respect a certain degree of rivalry. She was the only hope and refuge of
the Tories, and rich, attractive, and popular, her competition could not
be disregarded. But Lord Beaumaris was a little freakish. Sometimes he
would sail in his yacht to odd places, and was at Algiers or in Egypt
when, according to Tadpole, he ought to have been at Piccadilly Terrace.
Then he occasionally got crusty about his hunting. He would hunt,
whatever were the political consequences, but whether he were in Africa
or Leicestershire, Imogene must be with him. He could not exist without
her constant presence. There was something in her gentleness, combined
with her quick and ready sympathy and playfulness of mind and manner,
which alike pleased and soothed his life.
The Whigs tottered on for a year after the rude assault of Cardinal
Penruddock, but they were doomed, and the Protectionists were called
upon to form an administration. As they had no one in their ranks who
had ever been in office except their chief, who was in the House of
Lords, the affair seemed impossible. The attempt, however, could not be
avoided. A dozen men, without the slightest experience of official life,
had to be sworn in as privy councillors, before even they could receive
the seals and insignia of their intended offices. On their knees,
according to the constitutional custom, a dozen men, all in the act
of genuflexion at the same moment, and headed, too, by one of the most
powerful peers in the country, the Lord of Alnwick Castle himself,
humbled themselves before a female Sovereign, who looked serene and
imperturbable before a spectacle never seen before, and which, in all
probability, will never be seen again.
One of this band, a gentleman without any official experience whatever,
was not only placed in the cabinet, but was absolutely required to
become the leader of the House of Commons, which had never occurred
before, except in the instance of Mr. Pitt in 1782. It has been said
that it was unwise in the Protectionists assuming office when, on this
occasion and on subsequent ones, they were far from being certain of
a majority in the House of Commons. It should, however, be remembered,
that unless they had dared these ventures, they never could have formed
a body of men competent, from their official experience and their
practice in debate, to form a ministry. The result has rather proved
that they were right. Had they continued to refrain from incurring
responsibility, they must have broken up and merged in different
connections, which, for a party numerically so strong as the
Protectionists, would have been a sorry business, and probably have led
to disastrous results.
Mr. Bertie Tremaine having been requested to call on the Protectionist
prime minister, accordingly repaired to headquarters with the list
of his colleagues in his pocket. He was offered for himself a post of
little real importance, but which secured to him the dignity of the
privy council. Mr. Tremaine Bertie and several of his friends had
assembled at his house, awaiting with anxiety his return. He had to
communicate to them that he had been offered a privy councillor's post,
and to break to them that it was not proposed to provide for any other
member of his party. Their indignation was extreme; but they naturally
supposed that he had rejected the offer to himself with becoming scorn.
Their leader, however, informed them that he had not felt it his duty
to be so peremptory. They should remember that the recognition of their
political status by such an offer to their chief was a considerable
event. For his part, he had for some time been painfully aware that the
influence of the House of Commons in the constitutional scheme was fast
waning, and that the plan of Sir William Temple for the reorganisation
of the privy council, and depositing in it the real authority of the
State, was that to which we should be obliged to have recourse. This
offer to him of a seat in the council was, perhaps, the beginning of
the end. It was a crisis; they must look to seats in the privy council,
which, under Sir William Temple's plan, would be accompanied with
ministerial duties and salaries. What they had all, at one time, wished,
had not exactly been accomplished, but he had felt it his duty to
his friends not to shrink from responsibility. So he had accepted the
minister's offer.
Mr. Bertie Tremaine was not long in the busy enjoyment of his easy post.
Then the country was governed for two years by all its ablest men, who,
by the end of that term, had succeeded, by their coalesced genius, in
reducing that country to a state of desolation and despair. "I did not
think it would have lasted even so long," said Lady Montfort; "but then
I was acquainted with their mutual hatreds and their characteristic
weaknesses. What is to happen now? Somebody must be found of commanding
private character and position, and with as little damaged a public one
as in this wreck of reputations is possible. I see nobody but Sidney
Wilton. Everybody likes him, and he is the only man who could bring
people together."
And everybody seemed to be saying the same thing at the same time. The
name of Sidney Wilton was in everybody's mouth. It was unfortunate that
he had been a member of a defunct ministry, but then it had always been
understood that he had always disapproved of all their measures. There
was not the slightest evidence of this, but everybody chose to believe
it.
Sidney Wilton was chagrined with life, and had become a martyr to the
gout, which that chagrin had aggravated; but he was a great gentleman,
and too chivalric to refuse a royal command when the Sovereign was
in distress. Sidney Wilton became Premier, and the first colleague
he recommended to fill the most important post after his own, the
Secretaryship of State for Foreign Affairs, was Mr. Ferrars.
"It ought to last ten years," said Lady Montfort. "I see no danger
except his health. I never knew a man so changed. At his time of life
five years ought to make no difference in a man. I cannot believe he
is the person who used to give us those charming parties at Gaydene.
Whatever you may say, Endymion, I feel convinced that something must
have passed between your sister and him. Neither of them ever gave me a
hint of such a matter, or of the possibility of its ever happening, but
feminine instinct assures me that something took place. He always had
the gout, and his ancestors have had the gout for a couple of centuries;
and all prime ministers have the gout. I dare say you will not escape,
darling, but I hope it will never make you look as if you had just lost
paradise, or, what would be worst, become the last man."
Lady Montfort was right. The ministry was strong and it was popular.
There were no jealousies in it; every member was devoted to his chief,
and felt that he was rightly the chief, whereas, as Lady Montfort said,
the Whigs never had a ministry before in which there were not at least a
couple of men who had been prime ministers, and as many more who thought
they ought to be.
There were years of war, and of vast and critical negotiations. Ferrars
was equal to the duties, for he had much experience, and more thought,
and he was greatly aided by the knowledge of affairs, and the clear and
tranquil judgment of the chief minister. There was only one subject on
which there was not between them that complete and cordial unanimity
which was so agreeable and satisfactory. And even in this case, there
was no difference of opinion, but rather of sentiment and feeling.
It was when Prince Florestan expressed his desire to join the
grand alliance, and become our active military ally. It was perhaps
impossible, under any circumstances, for the Powers to refuse such
an offer, but Endymion was strongly in favour of accepting it. It
consolidated our interests in a part of Europe where we required
sympathy and support, and it secured for us the aid and influence of the
great Liberal party of the continent as distinguished from the secret
societies and the socialist republicans. The Count of Ferroll, also,
whose opinion weighed much with Her Majesty's Government, was decidedly
in favour of the combination. The English prime minister listened to
their representations frigidly; it was difficult to refute the arguments
which were adverse to his own feelings, and to resist the unanimous
opinion not only of his colleagues, but of our allies. But he was cold
and silent, or made discouraging remarks.
"Can you trust him?" he would say. "Remember he himself has been, and
still is, a member of the very secret societies whose baneful influence
we are now told he will neutralise or subdue. Whatever the cabinet
decides, and I fear that with this strong expression of opinion on the
part of our allies we have little option left, remember I gave you my
warning. I know the gentleman, and I do not trust him."
After this, the prime minister had a most severe attack of the gout,
remained for weeks at Gaydene, and saw no one on business except
Endymion and Baron Sergius.
While the time is elapsing which can alone decide whether the distrust
of Mr. Wilton were well-founded or the reverse, let us see how the world
is treating the rest of our friends.
Lord Waldershare did not make such a pattern husband as Endymion, but
he made a much better one than the world ever supposed he would. Had he
married Berengaria, the failure would have been great; but he was united
to a being capable of deep affection and very sensitive, yet grateful
for kindness from a husband to a degree not easily imaginable. And
Waldershare had really a good heart, though a bad temper, and he was
a gentleman. Besides, he had a great admiration and some awe of his
father-in-law, and Lord Hainault, with his good-natured irony, and
consummate knowledge of men and things, quite controlled him. With
Lady Hainault he was a favourite. He invented plausible theories and
brilliant paradoxes for her, which left her always in a state of charmed
wonder, and when she met him again, and adopted or refuted them, for her
intellectual power was considerable, he furnished her with fresh dogmas
and tenets, which immediately interested her intelligence, though she
generally forgot to observe that they were contrary to the views and
principles of the last visit. Between Adriana and Imogene there was
a close alliance, and Lady Beaumaris did everything in her power to
develop Lady Waldershare advantageously before her husband; and so,
not forgetting that Waldershare, with his romance, and imagination, and
fancy, and taste, and caprice, had a considerable element of worldliness
in his character, and that he liked to feel that, from living in
lodgings, he had become a Monte Cristo, his union with Adriana may be
said to be a happy and successful one.
The friendship between Sir Peter Vigo and his brother M.P., Mr.
Rodney, never diminished, and Mr. Rodney became richer every year. He
experienced considerable remorse at sitting in opposition to the son
of his right honourable friend, the late William Pitt Ferrars, and
frequently consulted Sir Peter on his embarrassment and difficulty. Sir
Peter, who never declined arranging any difficulty, told his friend
to be easy, and that he, Sir Peter, saw his way. It became gradually
understood, that if ever the government was in difficulties, Mr.
Rodney's vote might be counted on. He was peculiarly situated, for, in a
certain sense, his friend the Right Honourable William Pitt Ferrars had
entrusted the guardianship of his child to his care. But whenever the
ministry was not in danger, the ministry must not depend upon his vote.
Trenchard had become Secretary of the Treasury in the Wilton
administration, had established his reputation, and was looked upon as
a future minister. Jawett, without forfeiting his post and promotion
at Somerset House, had become the editor of a new periodical magazine,
called the "Privy Council." It was established and maintained by Mr.
Bertie Tremaine, and was chiefly written by that gentleman himself. It
was full of Greek quotations, to show that it was not Grub Street, and
written in a style as like that of Sir William Temple, as a paper in
"Rejected Addresses" might resemble the classic lucubrations of the
statesman-sage who, it is hoped, will be always remembered by a grateful
country for having introduced into these islands the Moor Park apricot.
What the pages of the "Privy Council" meant no human being had the
slightest conception except Mr. Tremaine Bertie.
Mr. Thornberry remained a respected member of the cabinet. It was
thought his presence there secured the sympathies of advanced Liberalism
throughout the country; but that was a tradition rather than a fact.
Statesmen in high places are not always so well acquainted with the
changes and gradations of opinion in political parties at home as they
are with those abroad. We hardly mark the growth of the tree we see
every day. Mr. Thornberry had long ceased to be popular with his former
friends, and the fact that he had become a minister was one of the
causes of this change of feeling. That was unreasonable, but in politics
unreasonable circumstances are elements of the problem to be solved.
It was generally understood that, on the next election, Mr. Thornberry
would have to look out for another seat; his chief constituents, those
who are locally styled the leaders of the party, were still faithful to
him, for they were proud of having a cabinet minister for their member,
to be presented by him at court, and occasionally to dine with him; but
the "masses," who do not go to court, and are never asked to dinner,
required a member who would represent their whims, and it was quite
understood that, on the very first occasion, this enlightened community
had resolved to send up to Westminster--Mr. Enoch Craggs.