Part 23 (1/2)
”And to think. Grey, that the Tory Administration and the Tory party of Great Britain should never, by one single act, or in a single instance, have indicated that they were in the least aware that the exertions of such a man differed in the slightest degree from those of Hunt and Hone!
Of all the delusions which flourish in this mad world, the delusion of that man is the most frantic who voluntarily, and of his own accord, supports the interest of a party. I mention this to you because it is the rock on which all young politicians strike. Fortunately, you enter life under different circ.u.mstances from those which usually attend most political debutants. You have your connections formed and your views ascertained. But if, by any chance, you find yourself independent and unconnected, never, for a moment, suppose that you can accomplish your objects by coming forward, unsolicited, to fight the battle of a party.
They will cheer your successful exertions, and then smile at your youthful zeal; or, crossing themselves for the unexpected succour, be too cowardly to reward their unexpected champion. No, Grey; make them fear you, and they will kiss your feet. There is no act of treachery or meanness of which a political party is not capable; for in politics there is no honour.
”As to Gifford, I am surprised at their conduct towards him, although I know better than most men of what wood a minister is made, and how much reliance may be placed upon the grat.i.tude of a party: but Canning; from Canning I certainly did expect different conduct.”
”Oh, Canning! I love the man: but as you say, Cleveland, ministers have short memories, and Canning's; that was Antilles that just pa.s.sed us; apropos to whom, I quite rejoice that the Marquess has determined to take such a decided course on the West India Question.”
”Oh, yes! curse your East India sugar.”
”To be sure; slavery and sweetmeats forever!”
”But, aside with joking, Grey, I really think, that if any man of average ability dare rise in the House, and rescue many of the great questions of the day from what Dugald Stuart or Disraeli would call the spirit of Political Religionism, with which they are studiously mixed up, he would not fail to make a great impression upon the House, and a still greater one upon the country.”
”I quite agree with you; and certainly I should recommend commencing with the West India Question. Singular state of affairs when even Canning can only insinuate his opinion when the very existence of some of our most valuable colonies is at stake, and when even his insinuations are only indulged with an audience on the condition that he favours the House with an introductory discourse of twenty minutes on 'the divine Author of our faith,' and an eloge of equal length on the Genie du Christianisme, in a style worthy of Chateaubriand.”
”Miserable work, indeed! I have got a pamphlet on the West India Question sent me this morning. Do you know any raving lawyer, any mad Master in Chancery, or something of the kind, who meddles in these affairs?”
”Oh! Stephen! a puddle in a storm! He is for a crusade for the regeneration of the Antilles; the most forcible of feebles, the most energetic of drivellers; Velluti acting Pietro l'Eremita.”
”Do you know, by any chance, whether Southey's Vindiciae is out yet? I wanted to look it over during the holidays.”
”Not out, though it has been advertised some time; but what do you expect?”
”Nay, it is an interesting controversy, as controversies go. Not exactly Milton and Salmasius; but fair enough.”
”I do not know. It has long degenerated into a mere personal bickering between the Laureate and Butler. Southey is, of course, revelling in the idea of writing an English work with a Latin t.i.tle! and that, perhaps, is the only circ.u.mstance for which the controversy is prolonged.”
”But Southey, after all, is a man of splendid talents.”
”Doubtless; the most philosophical of bigots, and the most poetical of prose writers.”
”Apropos to the Catholic Question, there goes Colonial Bother'em trying to look like Prince Metternich; a decided failure.”
”What can keep him in town?”
”Writing letters, I suppose, Heaven preserve me from receiving any of them!”
”Is it true, then, that his letters are of the awful length that is whispered?”
”True! Oh! they are something beyond all conception! Perfect epistolary Boa Constrictors. I speak with feeling, for I have myself suffered under their voluminous windings.”
”Have you seen his quarto volume: 'The Cure for the Catholic Question?'”
”Yes.”
”If you have it, lend it to me. What kind of thing is it?”
”Oh! what should it be! ingenious and imbecile. He advises the Catholics, in the old nursery language, to behave like good boys; to open their mouths and shut their eyes, and see what G.o.d will send them.”