Part 39 (2/2)

Phineas by no means encouraged his landlord in his litigious spirit, advising him rather to keep his money in his pocket, and leave the fighting of the battle to the columns of the _Banner_,--which would fight it, at any rate, with economy. But Bunce, though he delighted in the _Banner_, and showed an unfortunate readiness to sit at the feet of Mr. Quintus Slide, would have his action at law;--in which resolution Mr. Slide did, I fear, encourage him behind the back of his better friend, Phineas Finn.

Phineas went with Bunce to Mr. Low's chambers,--for Mr. Low had in some way become acquainted with the law-stationer's journeyman,--and there some very good advice was given. ”Have you asked yourself what is your object, Mr. Bunce?” said Mr. Low. Mr. Bunce declared he had asked himself that question, and had answered it. His object was redress. ”In the shape of compensation to yourself,” suggested Mr.

Low. No; Mr. Bunce would not admit that he personally required any compensation. The redress wanted was punishment to the man. ”Is it for vengeance?” asked Mr. Low. No; it was not for vengeance, Mr.

Bunce declared. ”It ought not to be,” continued Mr. Low; ”because, though you think that the man exceeded in his duty, you must feel that he was doing so through no personal ill-will to yourself.”

”What I want is, to have the fellows kept in their proper places,”

said Mr. Bunce.

”Exactly;--and therefore these things, when they occur, are mentioned in the press and in Parliament,--and the attention of a Secretary of State is called to them. Thank G.o.d, we don't have very much of that kind of thing in England.”

”Maybe we shall have more if we don't look to it,” said Bunce stoutly.

”We always are looking to it,” said Mr. Low;--”looking to it very carefully. But I don't think anything is to be done in that way by indictment against a single man, whose conduct has been already approved by the magistrates. If you want notoriety, Mr. Bunce, and don't mind what you pay for it; or have got anybody else to pay for it; then indeed--”

”There ain't n.o.body to pay for it,” said Bunce, waxing angry.

”Then I certainly should not pay for it myself if I were you,” said Mr. Low.

But Bunce was not to be counselled out of his intention. When he was out in the square with Phineas he expressed great anger against Mr.

Low. ”He don't know what patriotism means,” said the law scrivener.

”And then he talks to me about notoriety! It has always been the same way with 'em. If a man shows a spark of public feeling, it's all hambition. I don't want no notoriety. I wants to earn my bread peaceable, and to be let alone when I'm about my own business. I pays rates for the police to look after rogues, not to haul folks about and lock 'em up for days and nights, who is doing what they has a legal right to do.” After that, Bunce went to his attorney, to the great detriment of the business at the stationer's shop, and Phineas visited the office of the _People's Banner_. There he wrote a leading article about Bunce's case, for which he was in due time to be paid a guinea. After all, the _People's Banner_ might do more for him in this way than ever would be done by Parliament. Mr. Slide, however, and another gentleman at the _Banner_ office, much older than Mr.

Slide, who announced himself as the actual editor, were anxious that Phineas should rid himself of his heterodox political resolutions about the ballot. It was not that they cared much about his own opinions; and when Phineas attempted to argue with the editor on the merits of the ballot, the editor put him down very shortly. ”We go in for it, Mr. Finn,” he said. If Mr. Finn would go in for it too, the editor seemed to think that Mr. Finn might make himself very useful at the _Banner_ Office. Phineas stoutly maintained that this was impossible,--and was therefore driven to confine his articles in the service of the people to those open subjects on which his opinions agreed with those of the _People's Banner_. This was his second article, and the editor seemed to think that, backward as he was about the ballot, he was too useful an aid to be thrown aside. A member of Parliament is not now all that he was once, but still there is a prestige in the letters affixed to his name which makes him loom larger in the eyes of the world than other men. Get into Parliament, if it be but for the borough of Loughshane, and the _People's Banners_ all round will be glad of your a.s.sistance, as will also companies limited and unlimited to a very marvellous extent. Phineas wrote his article and promised to look in again, and so they went on. Mr. Quintus Slide continued to a.s.sure him that a ”horgan” was indispensable to him, and Phineas began to accommodate his ears to the sound which had at first been so disagreeable. He found that his acquaintance, Mr. Slide, had ideas of his own as to getting into the 'Ouse at some future time. ”I always look upon the 'Ouse as my oyster, and 'ere's my sword,” said Mr. Slide, brandis.h.i.+ng an old quill pen. ”And I feel that if once there I could get along. I do indeed. What is it a man wants? It's only pluck,--that he shouldn't funk because a 'undred other men are looking at him.” Then Phineas asked him whether he had any idea of a const.i.tuency, to which Mr.

Slide replied that he had no absolutely formed intention. Many boroughs, however, would doubtless be set free from aristocratic influence by the redistribution of seats which must take place, as Mr. Slide declared, at any rate in the next session. Then he named the borough of Loughton; and Phineas Finn, thinking of Saulsby, thinking of the Earl, thinking of Lady Laura, and thinking of Violet, walked away disgusted. Would it not be better that the quiet town, cl.u.s.tering close round the walls of Saulsby, should remain as it was, than that it should be polluted by the presence of Mr. Quintus Slide?

On the last day of the debate, at a few moments before four o'clock, Phineas encountered another terrible misfortune. He had been at the potted peas since twelve, and had on this occasion targed two or three commissariat officers very tightly with questions respecting cabbages and potatoes, and had asked whether the officers on board a certain s.h.i.+p did not always eat preserved asparagus while the men had not even a bean. I fear that he had been put up to this business by Mr. Quintus Slide, and that he made himself nasty. There was, however, so much nastiness of the kind going, that his little effort made no great difference. The conservative members of the Committee, on whose side of the House the inquiry had originated, did not scruple to lay all manner of charges to officers whom, were they themselves in power, they would be bound to support and would support with all their energies. About a quarter before four the members of the Committee had dismissed their last witness for the day, being desirous of not losing their chance of seats on so important an occasion, and hurried down into the lobby,--so that they might enter the House before prayers. Phineas here was b.u.t.ton-holed by Barrington Erle, who said something to him as to the approaching division. They were standing in front of the door of the House, almost in the middle of the lobby, with a crowd of members around them,--on a spot which, as frequenters know, is hallowed ground, and must not be trodden by strangers. He was in the act of answering Erle, when he was touched on the arm, and on turning round, saw Mr. Clarkson. ”About that little bill, Mr. Finn,” said the horrible man, turning his chin round over his white cravat. ”They always tell me at your lodgings that you ain't at home.” By this time a policeman was explaining to Mr.

Clarkson with gentle violence that he must not stand there,--that he must go aside into one of the corners. ”I know all that,” said Mr.

Clarkson, retreating. ”Of course I do. But what is a man to do when a gent won't see him at home?” Mr. Clarkson stood aside in his corner quietly, giving the policeman no occasion for further action against him; but in retreating he spoke loud, and there was a lull of voices around, and twenty members at least had heard what had been said.

Phineas Finn no doubt had his privilege, but Mr. Clarkson was determined that the privilege should avail him as little as possible.

It was very hard. The real offender, the Lord of the Treasury, the peer's son, with a thousand a year paid by the country was not treated with this cruel persecution. Phineas had in truth never taken a farthing from any one but his father; and though doubtless he owed something at this moment, he had no creditor of his own that was even angry with him. As the world goes he was a clear man,--but for this debt of his friend Fitzgibbon. He left Barrington Erle in the lobby, and hurried into the House, blus.h.i.+ng up to the eyes. He looked for Fitzgibbon in his place, but the Lord of the Treasury was not as yet there. Doubtless he would be there for the division, and Phineas resolved that he would speak a bit of his mind before he let his friend out of his sight.

There were some great speeches made on that evening. Mr. Gresham delivered an oration of which men said that it would be known in England as long as there were any words remaining of English eloquence. In it he taunted Mr. Turnbull with being a recreant to the people, of whom he called himself so often the champion. But Mr.

Turnbull was not in the least moved. Mr. Gresham knew well enough that Mr. Turnbull was not to be moved by any words;--but the words were not the less telling to the House and to the country. Men, who heard it, said that Mr. Gresham forgot himself in that speech, forgot his party, forgot his strategy, forgot his long-drawn schemes,--even his love of applause, and thought only of his cause. Mr. Daubeny replied to him with equal genius, and with equal skill,--if not with equal heart. Mr. Gresham had asked for the approbation of all present and of all future reformers. Mr. Daubeny denied him both,--the one because he would not succeed, and the other because he would not have deserved success. Then Mr. Mildmay made his reply, getting up at about three o'clock, and uttered a prayer,--a futile prayer,--that this his last work on behalf of his countrymen might be successful.

His bill was read a second time, as I have said before, in obedience to the casting vote of the Speaker,--but a majority such as that was tantamount to a defeat.

There was, of course, on that night no declaration as to what ministers would do. Without a meeting of the Cabinet, and without some further consideration, though each might know that the bill would be withdrawn, they could not say in what way they would act.

But late as was the hour, there were many words on the subject before members were in their beds. Mr. Turnbull and Mr. Monk left the House together, and perhaps no two gentlemen in it had in former sessions been more in the habit of walking home arm-in-arm and discussing what each had heard and what each had said in that a.s.sembly. Latterly these two men had gone strangely asunder in their paths,--very strangely for men who had for years walked so closely together. And this separation had been marked by violent words spoken against each other,--by violent words, at least, spoken against him in office by the one who had never contaminated his hands by the Queen's s.h.i.+lling.

And yet, on such an occasion as this, they were able to walk away from the House arm-in-arm, and did not fly at each other's throat by the way.

”Singular enough, is it not,” said Mr. Turnbull, ”that the thing should have been so close?”

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