Anthony Trollope: The Palliser Novels: Complete Parliamentary Chronicles (All Six Novels in One Volume)

“But there’s a decency in these matters, is there not, Mr. Fitzgibbon?” said Lady Laura.

“I thought they had thrown all that kind of thing overboard long ago,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “It would be better that they should have no veil, than squabble about the thickness of it.”

Then dinner was announced. The Earl walked off with Miss Fitzgibbon, Barrington Erle took Mrs. Bonteen, and Mr. Fitzgibbon took Lady Laura.

“I’ll bet four pounds to two it’s over nineteen,” said Mr. Bonteen, as he passed through the drawing-room door. The remark seemed to have been addressed to Mr. Kennedy, and Phineas therefore made no reply.

“I daresay it will,” said Kennedy, “but I never bet.”

“But you vote—sometimes, I hope,” said Bonteen.

“Sometimes,” said Mr. Kennedy.

“I think he is the most odious man that ever I set my eyes on,” said Phineas to himself as he followed Mr. Kennedy into the dining-room. He had observed that Mr. Kennedy had been standing very near to Lady Laura in the drawing-room, and that Lady Laura had said a few words to him. He was more determined than ever that he would hate Mr. Kennedy, and would probably have been moody and unhappy throughout the whole dinner had not Lady Laura called him to a chair at her left hand. It was very generous of her; and the more so, as Mr. Kennedy had, in a half-hesitating manner, prepared to seat himself in that very place. As it was, Phineas and Mr. Kennedy were neighbours, but Phineas had the place of honour.

“I suppose you will not speak during the debate?” said Lady Laura.

“Who? I? Certainly not. In the first place, I could not get a hearing, and, in the next place, I should not think of commencing on such an occasion. I do not know that I shall ever speak at all.”

“Indeed you will. You are just the sort of man who will succeed with the House. What I doubt is, whether you will do as well in office.”

“I wish I might have the chance.”

“Of course you can have the chance if you try for it. Beginning so early, and being on the right side,—and, if you will allow me to say so, among the right set,—there can be no doubt that you may take office if you will. But I am not sure that you will be tractable. You cannot begin, you know, by being Prime Minister.”

“I have seen enough to realise that already,” said Phineas.

“If you will only keep that little fact steadily before your eyes, there is nothing you may not reach in official life. But Pitt was Prime Minister at four-and-twenty, and that precedent has ruined half our young politicians.”

“It has not affected me, Lady Laura.”

“As far as I can see, there is no great difficulty in government. A man must learn to have words at command when he is on his legs in the House of Commons, in the same way as he would if he were talking to his own servants. He must keep his temper; and he must be very patient. As far as I have seen Cabinet Ministers, they are not more clever than other people.”

“I think there are generally one or two men of ability in the Cabinet.”

“Yes, of fair ability. Mr. Mildmay is a good specimen. There is not, and never was, anything brilliant in him. He is not eloquent, nor, as far as I am aware, did he ever create anything. But he has always been a steady, honest, persevering man, and circumstances have made politics come easy to him.”

“Think of the momentous questions which he has been called upon to decide,” said Phineas.

“Every question so handled by him has been decided rightly according to his own party, and wrongly according to the party opposite. A political leader is so sure of support and so sure of attack, that it is hardly necessary for him to be even anxious to be right. For the country’s sake, he should have officials under him who know the routine of business.”

“You think very badly then of politics as a profession.”

“No; I think of them very highly. It must be better to deal with the repeal of laws than the defending of criminals. But all this is papa’s wisdom, not mine. Papa has never been in the Cabinet yet, and therefore of course he is a little caustic.”

“I think he was quite right,” said Barrington Erle stoutly. He spoke so stoutly that everybody at the table listened to him.

“I don’t exactly see the necessity for such internecine war just at present,” said Lord Brentford.

“I must say I do,” said the other. “Lord de Terrier took office knowing that he was in a minority. We had a fair majority of nearly thirty when he came in.”

“Then how very soft you must have been to go out,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“Not in the least soft,” continued Barrington Erle. “We could not command our men, and were bound to go out. For aught we knew, some score of them might have chosen to support Lord de Terrier, and then we should have owned ourselves beaten for the time.”

“You were beaten,—hollow,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“Then why did Lord de Terrier dissolve?”

“A Prime Minister is quite right to dissolve in such a position,” said Lord Brentford. “He must do so for the Queen’s sake. It is his only chance.”

“Just so. It is, as you say, his only chance, and it is his right. His very possession of power will give him near a score of votes, and if he thinks that he has a chance, let him try it. We maintain that he had no chance, and that he must have known that he had none;—that if he could not get on with the late House, he certainly could not get on with a new House. We let him have his own way as far as we could in February. We had failed last summer, and if he could get along he was welcome. But he could not get along.”

“I must say I think he was right to dissolve,” said Lady Laura.

“And we are right to force the consequences upon him as quickly as we can. He practically lost nine seats by his dissolution. Look at Loughshane.”

“Yes; look at Loughshane,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “The country at any rate has gained something there.”

“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Mr. Finn,” said the Earl.

“What on earth is to become of poor George?” said Mr. Fitzgibbon. “I wonder whether any one knows where he is. George wasn’t a bad sort of fellow.”

“Roby used to think that he was a very bad fellow,” said Mr. Bonteen. “Roby used to swear that it was hopeless trying to catch him.” It may be as well to explain that Mr. Roby was a Conservative gentleman of great fame who had for years acted as Whip under Mr. Daubeny, and who now filled the high office of Patronage Secretary to the Treasury. “I believe in my heart,” continued Mr. Bonteen, “that Roby is rejoiced that poor George Morris should be out in the cold.”

“If seats were halveable, he should share mine, for the sake of auld lang syne,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon.

“But not tomorrow night,” said Barrington Erle; “the division tomorrow will be a thing not to be joked with. Upon my word I think they’re right about old Moody. All private considerations should give way. And as for Gunning, I’d have him up or I’d know the reason why.”

“And shall we have no defaulters, Barrington?” asked Lady Laura.

“I’m not going to boast, but I don’t know of one for whom we need blush. Sir Everard Powell is so bad with gout that he can’t even bear any one to look at him, but Ratler says that he’ll bring him up.” Mr. Ratler was in those days the Whip on the liberal side of the House.

“Unfortunate wretch!” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“The worst of it is that he screams in his paroxysms,” said Mr. Bonteen.

“And you mean to say that you’ll take him into the lobby,” said Lady Laura.

“Undoubtedly,” said Barrington Erle. “Why not? He has no business with a seat if he can’t vote. But Sir Everard is a good man, and he’ll be there if laudanum and bath-chair make it possible.”