Part 36 (2/2)
”I used no violence,” said Bunce.
”According to your own showing, you endeavoured to make your way up to Mr. Turnbull's carriage,” said the magistrate.
”I was close to the carriage before the police even saw me,” said Bunce.
”But you tried to force your way round to the door.”
”I used no force till a man had me by the collar to push me back; and I wasn't violent, not then. I told him I was doing what I had a right to do,--and it was that as made him hang on to me.”
”You were not doing what you had a right to do. You were a.s.sisting to create a riot,” said the magistrate, with that indignation which a London magistrate should always know how to affect.
Phineas, however, was allowed to give evidence as to his landlord's character, and then Bunce was liberated. But before he went he again swore that that should not be the last of it, and he told the magistrate that he had been ill-used. When liberated, he was joined by a dozen sympathising friends, who escorted him home, and among them were one or two literary gentlemen, employed on those excellent penny papers, the _People's Banner_ and the _Ballot-box_. It was their intention that Mr. Bunce's case should not be allowed to sleep.
One of these gentlemen made a distinct offer to Phineas Finn of unbounded popularity during life and of immortality afterwards, if he, as a member of Parliament, would take up Bunce's case with vigour. Phineas, not quite understanding the nature of the offer, and not as yet knowing the profession of the gentleman, gave some general reply.
”You come out strong, Mr. Finn, and we'll see that you are properly reported. I'm on the _Banner_, sir, and I'll answer for that.”
Phineas, who had been somewhat eager in expressing his sympathy with Bunce, and had not given very close attention to the gentleman who was addressing him, was still in the dark. The nature of the _Banner_, which the gentleman was on, did not at once come home to him.
”Something ought to be done, certainly,” said Phineas.
”We shall take it up strong,” said the gentleman, ”and we shall be happy to have you among us. You'll find, Mr. Finn, that in public life there's nothing like having a horgan to back you. What is the most you can do in the 'Ouse? Nothing, if you're not reported. You're speaking to the country;--ain't you? And you can't do that without a horgan, Mr. Finn. You come among us on the _Banner_, Mr. Finn. You can't do better.”
Then Phineas understood the nature of the offer made to him. As they parted, the literary gentleman gave our hero his card. ”Mr. Quintus Slide.” So much was printed. Then, on the corner of the card was written, ”_Banner_ Office, 137, Fetter Lane.” Mr. Quintus Slide was a young man, under thirty, not remarkable for clean linen, and who always talked of the ”'Ouse.” But he was a well-known and not undistinguished member of a powerful cla.s.s of men. He had been a reporter, and as such knew the ”'Ouse” well, and was a writer for the press. And, though he talked of ”'Ouses” and ”horgans”, he wrote good English with great rapidity, and was possessed of that special sort of political fervour which shows itself in a man's work rather than in his conduct. It was Mr. Slide's taste to be an advanced reformer, and in all his operations on behalf of the _People's Banner_ he was a reformer very much advanced. No man could do an article on the people's indefeasible rights with more p.r.o.nounced vigour than Mr.
Slide. But it had never occurred to him as yet that he ought to care for anything else than the fight,--than the advantage of having a good subject on which to write slas.h.i.+ng articles. Mr. Slide was an energetic but not a thoughtful man; but in his thoughts on politics, as far as they went with him, he regarded the wrongs of the people as being of infinitely greater value than their rights. It was not that he was insincere in all that he was daily saying;--but simply that he never thought about it. Very early in life he had fallen among ”people's friends,” and an opening on the liberal press had come in his way. To be a ”people's friend” suited the turn of his ambition, and he was a ”people's friend.” It was his business to abuse Government, and to express on all occasions an opinion that as a matter of course the ruling powers were the ”people's enemies.” Had the ruling powers ceased to be the ”people's enemies,” Mr. Slide's ground would have been taken from under his feet. But such a catastrophe was out of the question. That excellent old arrangement that had gone on since demagogues were first invented was in full vigour. There were the ruling powers and there were the people,--devils on one side and angels on the other,--and as long as a people's friend had a pen in his hand all was right.
Phineas, when he left the indignant Bunce to go among his friends, walked to the House thinking a good deal of what Mr. Slide had said to him. The potted peas Committee was again on, and he had intended to be in the Committee Room by twelve punctually: but he had been unable to leave Mr. Bunce in the lurch, and it was now past one.
Indeed, he had, from one unfortunate circ.u.mstance after another, failed hitherto in giving to the potted peas that resolute attention which the subject demanded. On the present occasion his mind was full of Mr. Quintus Slide and the _People's Banner_. After all, was there not something in Mr. Slide's proposition? He, Phineas, had come into Parliament as it were under the wing of a Government pack, and his friends.h.i.+ps, which had been very successful, had been made with Ministers, and with the friends of Ministers. He had made up his mind to be Whig Ministerial, and to look for his profession in that line.
He had been specially fortified in this resolution by his dislike to the ballot,--which dislike had been the result of Mr. Monk's teaching. Had Mr. Turnbull become his friend instead, it may well be that he would have liked the ballot. On such subjects men must think long, and be sure that they have thought in earnest, before they are justified in saying that their opinions are the results of their own thoughts. But now he began to reflect how far this ministerial profession would suit him. Would it be much to be a Lord of the Treasury, subject to the dominion of Mr. Ratler? Such lords.h.i.+p and such subjection would be the result of success. He told himself that he was at heart a true Liberal. Would it not be better for him to abandon the idea of office trammels, and go among them on the _People's Banner_? A glow of enthusiasm came over him as he thought of it. But what would Violet Effingham say to the _People's Banner_ and Mr. Quintus Slide? And he would have liked the _Banner_ better had not Mr. Slide talked about the 'Ouse.
From the Committee Room, in which, alas! he took no active part in reference to the potted peas, he went down to the House, and was present when the debate was resumed. Not unnaturally, one speaker after another made some allusion to the row in the streets, and the work which had fallen to the lot of the magistrates. Mr. Turnbull had declared that he would vote against the second reading of Mr.
Mildmay's bill, and had explained that he would do so because he could consent to no Reform Bill which did not include the ballot as one of its measures. The debate fas.h.i.+oned itself after this speech of Mr. Turnbull's, and turned again very much upon the ballot,--although it had been thought that the late debate had settled that question.
One or two of Mr. Turnbull's followers declared that they also would vote against the bill,--of course, as not going far enough; and one or two gentlemen from the Conservative benches extended a spoken welcome to these new colleagues. Then Mr. Palliser got up and addressed the House for an hour, struggling hard to bring back the real subject, and to make the House understand that the ballot, whether good or bad, had been knocked on the head, and that members had no right at the present moment to consider anything but the expediency or inexpediency of so much Reform as Mr. Mildmay presented to them in the present bill.
Phineas was determined to speak, and to speak on this evening if he could catch the Speaker's eye. Again the scene before him was going round before him; again things became dim, and again he felt his blood beating hard at his heart. But things were not so bad with him as they had been before, because he had nothing to remember. He hardly knew, indeed, what he intended to say. He had an idea that he was desirous of joining in earnest support of the measure, with a vehement protest against the injustice which had been done to the people in general, and to Mr. Bunce in particular. He had firmly resolved that no fear of losing favour with the Government should induce him to hold his tongue as to the Buncean cruelties. Sooner than do so he would certainly ”go among them” at the _Banner_ office.
He started up, wildly, when Mr. Palliser had completed his speech; but the Speaker's eye, not unnaturally, had travelled to the other side of the House, and there was a Tory of the old school upon his legs,--Mr. Western, the member for East Ba.r.s.ets.h.i.+re, one of the gallant few who dared to vote against Sir Robert Peel's bill for repealing the Corn Laws in 1846. Mr. Western spoke with a slow, ponderous, unimpressive, but very audible voice, for some twenty minutes, disdaining to make reference to Mr. Turnbull and his politics, but pleading against any Reform, with all the old arguments. Phineas did not hear a word that he said;--did not attempt to hear. He was keen in his resolution to make another attempt at the Speaker's eye, and at the present moment was thinking of that, and of that only. He did not even give himself a moment's reflection as to what his own speech should be. He would dash at it and take his chance, resolved that at least he would not fail in courage. Twice he was on his legs before Mr. Western had finished his slow harangue, and twice he was compelled to reseat himself,--thinking that he had subjected himself to ridicule. At last the member for East Ba.r.s.et sat down, and Phineas was conscious that he had lost a moment or two in presenting himself again to the Speaker.
He held his ground, however, though he saw that he had various rivals for the right of speech. He held his ground, and was instantly aware that he had gained his point. There was a slight pause, and as some other urgent member did not reseat himself, Phineas heard the president of that august a.s.sembly call upon himself to address the House. The thing was now to be done. There he was with the House of Commons at his feet,--a crowded House, bound to be his auditors as long as he should think fit to address them, and reporters by tens and twenties in the gallery ready and eager to let the country know what the young member for Loughshane would say in this his maiden speech.
Phineas Finn had sundry gifts, a powerful and pleasant voice, which he had learned to modulate, a handsome presence, and a certain natural mixture of modesty and self-reliance, which would certainly protect him from the faults of arrogance and pomposity, and which, perhaps, might carry him through the perils of his new position. And he had also the great advantage of friends in the House who were anxious that he should do well. But he had not that gift of slow blood which on the former occasion would have enabled him to remember his prepared speech, and which would now have placed all his own resources within his own reach. He began with the expression of an opinion that every true reformer ought to accept Mr. Mildmay's bill, even if it were accepted only as an instalment,--but before he had got through these sentences, he became painfully conscious that he was repeating his own words.
He was cheered almost from the outset, and yet he knew as he went on that he was failing. He had certain arguments at his fingers'
ends,--points with which he was, in truth, so familiar that he need hardly have troubled himself to arrange them for special use,--and he forgot even these. He found that he was going on with one plat.i.tude after another as to the benefit of reform, in a manner that would have shamed him six or seven years ago at a debating club. He pressed on, fearing that words would fail him altogether if he paused;--but he did in truth speak very much too fast, knocking his words together so that no reporter could properly catch them. But he had nothing to say for the bill except what hundreds had said before, and hundreds would say again. Still he was cheered, and still he went on; and as he became more and more conscious of his failure there grew upon him the idea,--the dangerous hope, that he might still save himself from ignominy by the eloquence of his invective against the police.
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