Part 37 (2/2)
FLOATWELL received them in the politest manner, though he did not agree with them. What he did agree with was difficult to say. Clever, brisk, and bustling, with an university reputation and without patrimony, Floatwell shrunk from the toils of a profession, and in the hurry skurry of reform found himself to his astonishment a parliament man. There he had remained, but why, the Fates alone knew. The fun of such a thing must have evaporated with the novelty. Floatwell had entered public life in complete ignorance of every subject which could possibly engage the attention of a public man. He knew nothing of history, national or const.i.tutional law, had indeed none but puerile acquirements, and had seen nothing of life. a.s.siduous at committees he gained those superficial habits of business which are competent to the conduct of ordinary affairs, and picked up in time some of the slang of economical questions. Floatwell began at once with a little success, and he kept his little success; n.o.body envied him it; he h.o.a.rded his sixpences without exciting any evil emulation. He was one of those characters who above all things shrink from isolation, and who imagine they are getting on if they are keeping company with some who stick like themselves. He was always an idolater of some great personage who was on the shelf, and who he was convinced, because the great personage a.s.sured him of it after dinner, would sooner or later turn out the man. At present, Floatwell swore by Lord Dunderhead; and the game of this little coterie, who dined together and thought they were a party, was to be courteous to the Convention.
After the endurance of an almost interminable lecture on the currency from Mr KITE, who would pledge himself to the charter if the charter would pledge itself to one-pound notes, the two delegates had arrived in Piccadilly, and the next member upon their list was Lord Valentine.
”It is two o'clock,” said one of the delegates, ”I think we may venture;” so they knocked at the portal of the court yard, and found they were awaited.
A private staircase led to the suite of rooms of Lord Valentine, who lived in the family mansion. The delegates were ushered through an ante-chamber into a saloon which opened into a very fanciful conservatory, where amid tall tropical plants played a fountain. The saloon was hung with blue satin, and adorned with brilliant mirrors: its coved ceiling was richly painted, and its furniture became the rest of its decorations. On one sofa were a number of portfolios, some open, full of drawings of costumes; a table of pietra dura was covered with richly bound volumes that appeared to have been recently referred to; several ancient swords of extreme beauty were lying on a couch; in a corner of the room was a figure in complete armour, black and gold richly inlaid, and grasping in its gauntlet the ancient standard of England.
The two delegates of the National Convention stared at each other, as if to express their surprise that a dweller in such an abode should ever have permitted them to enter it; but ere either of them could venture to speak, Lord Valentine made his appearance.
He was a young man, above the middle height, slender, broad-shouldered, small-waisted, of a graceful presence; he was very fair, with dark blue eyes, bright and intelligent, and features of cla.s.sic precision; a small Greek cap crowned his long light-brown hair, and he was enveloped in a morning robe of Indian shawls.
”Well, gentlemen,” said his lords.h.i.+p, as he invited them to be seated, in a clear and cheerful voice, and with an unaffected tone of frankness which put his guests at their ease; ”I promised to see you; well, what have you got to say?”
The delegates made their accustomed statement; they wished to pledge no one; all that the people desired was a respectful discussion of their claims; the national pet.i.tion, signed by nearly a million and a half of the flower of the working cla.s.ses, was shortly to be presented to the House of Commons, praying the House to take into consideration the five points in which the working cla.s.ses deemed their best interests involved; to wit, universal suffrage, vote by ballot, annual parliaments, salaried members, and the abolition of the property qualification.
”And supposing these five points conceded,” said Lord Valentine, ”what do you mean to do?”
”The people then being at length really represented,” replied one of the delegates, ”they would decide upon the measures which the interests of the great majority require.”
”I am not so clear about that,” said Lord Valentine; ”that is the very point at issue. I do not think the great majority are the best judges of their own interests. At all events, gentlemen, the respective advantages of aristocracy and democracy are a moot point. Well then, finding the question practically settled in this country, you will excuse me for not wis.h.i.+ng to agitate it. I give you complete credit for the sincerity of your convictions; extend the same confidence to me. You are democrats; I am an aristocrat. My family has been enn.o.bled for nearly three centuries; they bore a knightly name before their elevation. They have mainly and materially a.s.sisted in making England what it is. They have shed their blood in many battles; I have had two ancestors killed in the command of our fleets. You will not underrate such services, even if you do not appreciate their conduct as statesmen, though that has often been laborious, and sometimes distinguished. The finest trees in England were planted by my family; they raised several of your most beautiful churches; they have built bridges, made roads, dug mines, and constructed ca.n.a.ls, and drained a marsh of a million of acres which bears our name to this day, and is now one of the most flouris.h.i.+ng portions of the country. You talk of our taxation and our wars; and of your inventions and your industry. Our wars converted an island into an empire, and at any rate developed that industry and stimulated those inventions of which you boast. You tell me that you are the delegates of the unrepresented working cla.s.ses of Mowbray. Why, what would Mowbray have been if it had not been for your aristocracy and their wars? Your town would not have existed; there would have been no working cla.s.ses there to send up delegates. In fact you owe your every existence to us. I have told you what my ancestors have done; I am prepared, if the occasion requires it, not to disgrace them; I have inherited their great position, and I tell you fairly, gentlemen, I will not relinquish it without a struggle.”
”Will you combat the people in that suit of armour, my lord?” said one of the delegates smiling, but in a tone of kindness and respect.
”That suit of armour has combated for the people before this,” said Lord Valentine, ”for it stood by Simon de Montfort on the field of Evesham.”
”My lord,” said the other delegate, ”it is well known that you come from a great and honoured race; and we have seen enough to-day to show that in intelligence and spirit you are not unworthy of your ancestry. But the great question, which your lords.h.i.+p has introduced, not us, is not to be decided by a happy instance. Your ancestors may have done great things. What wonder! They were members of a very limited cla.s.s which had the monopoly of action. And the people, have not they shed their blood in battle, though they may have commanded fleets less often than your lords.h.i.+p's relatives? And these mines and ca.n.a.ls that you have excavated and constructed, these woods you have planted, these waters you have drained--had the people no hand in these creations? What share in these great works had that faculty of Labour whose sacred claims we now urge, but which for centuries have been pa.s.sed over in contemptuous silence?
No, my lord, we call upon you to decide this question by the result.
The Aristocracy of England have had for three centuries the exercise of power; for the last century and a half that exercise has been uncontrolled; they form at this moment the most prosperous cla.s.s that the history of the world can furnish: as rich as the Roman senators, with sources of convenience and enjoyment which modern science could alone supply. All this is not denied. Your order stands before Europe the most gorgeous of existing spectacles; though you have of late years dexterously thrown some of the odium of your polity upon that middle cla.s.s which you despise, and who are despicable only because they imitate you, your tenure of power is not in reality impaired. You govern us still with absolute authority--and you govern the most miserable people on the face of the globe.”
”And is this a fair description of the people of England?” said Lord Valentine. ”A flash of rhetoric, I presume, that would place them lower than the Portuguese or the Poles, the serfs of Russia or the Lazzaroni of Naples.”
”Infinitely lower,” said the delegate, ”for they are not only degraded, but conscious of their degradation. They no longer believe in any innate difference between the governing and the governed cla.s.ses of this country. They are sufficiently enlightened to feel they are victims.
Compared with the privileged cla.s.ses of their own land, they are in a lower state than any other population compared with its privileged cla.s.ses. All is relative, my lord, and believe me, the relations of the working cla.s.ses of England to its privileged orders are relations of enmity, and therefore of peril.”
”The people must have leaders,” said Lord Valentine.
”And they have found them,” said the delegate.
”When it comes to a push they will follow their n.o.bility,” said Lord Valentine.
”Will their n.o.bility lead them?” said the other delegate. ”For my part I do not pretend to be a philosopher, and if I saw a Simon de Montfort again I should be content to fight under his banner.”
”We have an aristocracy of wealth,” said the delegate who had chiefly spoken. ”In a progressive civilization wealth is the only means of cla.s.s distinction: but a new disposition of wealth may remove even this.”
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