Volume I Part 7 (2/2)

Jules sat down to inspect it, and found to his surprise it was a species of memorandum on the subject of the educationary establishments of France, with much statistic detail, and a great amount of information, evidently the result of considerable labour and research. There were many points, of course, perfectly new to him, but there were others with which he was well acquainted, and some on which he was so well informed as to be able to detect mistakes and fallacies in the memorandum.

Conning the theme over, he reached a little way-side inn, and inquiring who the traveller was that pa.s.sed, he heard, to his surprise, it was the Minister of Public Instruction.

When Jules reached Paris, it was about a fortnight before the opening of the Chambers, and the newspapers were all in full cry discussing the various systems of education, and with every variety of opinion p.r.o.nouncing for and against the supposed views of the Government. Most men, in his situation, would have sought out the Minister's residence, and, restoring to him the lost paper, retired well satisfied with a very modest recompense for a service that cost so little.

Not so Jules; he established himself in a cheap corner of the Pays Latin, and spent his days conning over the various journals of Paris, until, by dint of acute study and penetration, he had possessed himself of every shade and hue of political opinion professed by each. At last he discovered that the ”Siecle” was the most decidedly obnoxious to the Government, and the ”Moniteur” most favourable to the newly projected system. To each he sent an article: in one, setting forth a dim, but suggestive idea, of what the Minister might possibly attempt, with a terrific denunciation annexed to it; in the other, a half defence of the plan, supported by statistic detail, and based on the information of the ma.n.u.script.

These two papers both appeared, as a.s.sertion and rejoinder; and so did the polemic continue for above a week, increasing each day in interest, and gradually swelling in the number of the facts adduced, and the reasons for which the opinion was entertained. Considerable interest was created to know the writer, but although he was then dining each day, and that his only meal, for four sous in the ”Ilee St. Louis,” he preserved his _incognito_ unbroken, and never divulged to any one his secret. At last came an announcement in the ”Siecle,” at the close of one of the articles, that on the next day would appear a full disclosure of the whole government measure, with the mechanism by which its views were to be strengthened, and the whole plan of conception on which it was based. That same evening a young man, pale, and sickly looking, stood at the _porte-cochere_ of a splendid mansion in the Rue St.

George, and asked to see the owner. The rude repulse of the porter did not abash him, nor did the insolent glance bestowed on his ragged shoes and threadbare coat cost him a pang of displeasure: he felt that he could bide his time, for it would come at last.

”His Excellency is at the Council!” at last said the porter, somewhat moved by a pertinacity that had nothing of rudeness in it.

With a calm resolve he sat down on a stone bench, and fell a-thinking to himself. It was full three hours later when the Minister's carriage rolled in, and the Minister, hastily descending, proceeded to mount the stairs.

”One word, your Excellency,” cried Jules, in a voice collected and firm, but still of an almost imploring sound.

”Not now--at another time,” said the Minister, as he took some papers from his secretary.

”But one word, Sir--I crave no more,” repeated Jules.

”See to that man, Delpierre,” said the Minister to his secretary; but Jules, pa.s.sing hastily forward, came close to the Minister, and whispered in his ear, ”_M. le Ministre, je suis Octave_,” the name under which the ”Siecle” articles appeared. A few words followed, and Jules was ordered to follow the Minister to his cabinet. The article of the ”Siecle” did appear the next day, but miserably inefficient in point of ability; and so false in fact-, that the refutation was overwhelming.

The ”Moniteur” had a complete triumph, only to be exceeded by that of the Minister's own in the Chamber. The Council of Ministers was in ecstasy, and Jules de Russigny, who arrived in Paris by the mail from Orleans--for thither he was despatched, to make a more suitable entry into the great world--was installed as a clerk in the office of the Finance Minister, with very reasonable hopes of future advancement. Such was the fortune of him who was one, and, I repeat it, the pleasantest of our _convives_.

This is the age of smart men--not of high intelligences. The race is not for the thoroughbred, but the clever hackney, always ”ready for his work,” and if seldom pre-eminent, never a dead failure.

Of my own brief experience, all the first-rate men, without exception, have broke down. All the moderates--the ”clever fellows”--have carried the day. Now I could pick out from my contemporaries, at school and university, some half-dozen brilliant, really great capacities, quite lost--some, s.h.i.+pwrecked on the first venture in life--some, disheartened and disgusted, have retired early from the contest, to live unheard of and die brokenhearted. But the smart men! What crowds of them come before my mind in high employ--some at home, some abroad, some waxing rich by tens of thousands, some running high up the ambitious road of honours and t.i.tles! There is something in inordinate self-esteem that buoys up this kind of man. It is the only enthusiasm he is capable of feeling---but it serves as well as the ”real article.”

For the mere adventurer, the man of ready wit and a fearless temperament, politics offer the best road to fortune. The abilities that would have secured a mere mediocrity of position in some profession will here win their way upwards. The desultory character of reading and acquirements, so fatal to men chained to a single pursuit, is eminently favourable to him who must talk about every thing, with, at least, the appearance of knowledge; while the very scantiness of his store suggests a recklessness that has great success in the world.

In England we have but one high road to eminence--Parliament.

Literature, whose rewards are so great in France, with us only leads to intimacy with the ”Trade” and a name in ”the Row.” It is true, Parliamentary reputation is of slow growth, and dependent on many circ.u.mstances totally remote from the capacity and attainments of him who seeks it. Are you the son of a great name in the Lords, the representative of an immense estate, or of great commercial wealth? are you high in the esteem of Corn men or Cotton men? are you a magnate of Railroads, or is your word law in the City? then your way is open and your path easy. Without these, or some one of them, you must be a segment of some leading man's party'.

My own little experience of Parliament--about the very briefest any man can recall--presents little pleasurable in the retrospect. Lord Collyton was one of my Christchurch acquaintances, and at his invitation I spent the autumn of 18-- at his father, the Duke of Wrexington's.

The house was full of company, and, like an English house in such circ.u.mstances, the most delightful _sejour_ imaginable. Every second day or so brought a relay of new arrivals, either from town or some other country-house full of the small-talk of the last visit,--all that strange but most amusing farrago which we designate by the humble t.i.tle of ”gossip,” but which, so far as I can judge, is worth ten thousand times more than the boasted _causerie_ of France, and the perpetual effort at smartness so much aimed at by our polite neighbours.

The guests were numerous, and presented specimens of almost every peculiarity observable in Englishmen of a certain cla.s.s. We had great lords and high court functionaries, deep in the mysteries of Buckingham House and Windsor; a sprinkling of distinguished foreigners; ministers, and secretaries of emba.s.sy; some parliamentary leaders, men great on the Treasury benches or strong on the Opposition. Beauties there were too, past, present, and some, coming; a fair share of the notorieties of fas.h.i.+on, and the last winner of the Derby, with--let me not forget him--a Quarterly Reviewer. This last gentleman came with the Marquis of Deepdene, and was, with the exception of a certain pertinacity of manner, a very agreeable person.

Although previously unknown to the host, he had come down ”special”

under the protection of his friend Lord Deepdene, hoping to secure his grace's interest in the borough of Collyton, at that time vacant. He was a man of very high attainments, had been an _optime_ at Cambridge, was a distinguished essayist, and his party had conceived the very greatest expectations of his success in Parliament. Of the world, or at least that portion of it that moves upon Tournay carpets, amid Vand.y.k.es and Velasquez, with sideboards of gold and lamps of silver, he had not seen much, and learned still less; and it was plain to see that, in the confidence of his own strong head, he was proof against either the seductions of fas.h.i.+on or the sneers of those who might attempt to criticise his breeding.

Before he was twenty-four hours in the house he had corrected his grace in an historical statement, caught up the B---- of D---- in a blunder of prosody, detected a sapphire in Lady Dollington's suite of yellow diamonds, and exposed an error of Lord Sloperton's in his pedigree of Brown Menelaus. It is needless to say he was almost universally detested, for of those he had suffered to pa.s.s free, none knew how soon his own time might arrive. His patron was miserable; he saw nothing but failure where he looked for triumph. The very acquirements he had built upon for success were become a terror to every one, and ”the odious Mr.

Kitely” became a proverb. His political opponents chuckled over the ”bad tone” of such men in general; the stupid ones gloried over the fall of a clever man; and the malignant part of the household threw out broad hints that he was a mere adventurer, and they should not wonder if actually---- an Irishman! Indeed, he had been heard to say ”entirely”

twice upon the same evening in conversation, and suspicion had almost become a certainty.

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