XXVII
WICKED SHIFTS
It was with a lighter heart that Vaughan walked on to Bury Street.There were still, it seemed, faith and honour in the world, and somemen who could be trusted. But if he expected much to come of this, ifhe expected to be received with an ovation on his next appearance atWestminster, he was doomed to disappointment. Wetherell's defenceconvinced those who heard it; and in time, no doubt, passing frommouth to mouth, would improve the young Member's relations, not onlyon the floor of the House, but in the lobbies and at Bellamy's. Butthe English are not dramatic. They have no love for scenes. And no oneof those whose silence or whose catcalls had wronged him thought fitto take his hand in cold blood and ask his pardon; nor did any DonQuixote cast down his glove in Westminster Hall and offer to do battlewith his traducers. The manner of one man became a shade more cordial;another spoke where he would have nodded. And if Vaughan had risen atthis time to speak on any question which he understood he would havebeen heard upon his merits.
But the change, slow though genial, like the breaking up of an Englishfrost, came too late to do him much service. With the transfer of theBill to the House of Lords public interest deserted the Commons. Theysat, indeed, through the month of September, to the horror of many acountry gentleman, who saw in this the herald of evil days; and theydebated after a fashion. But the attendance was sparse, and thethoughts and hopes of all men were in another place. Vaughan saw thatfor all the reputation he could now make the Dissolution might be comealready. And with this, and the emptiness of his heart, from which hecould no more put the craving for Mary Vermuyden than he could dismissher image from the retina of his mind, he was very miserable. The voidleft by love, indeed, was rendered worse by the void left unsatisfiedby ambition. Mary's haunting face was with him at his rising, wentwith him to his pillow, her little hand was often on his sleeve, hereyes often pleaded to his. In his lonely rooms he would pace the floorfeverishly, savagely, pestering himself with what might have been;kicking the furniture from his path and--and hating her! For the ideaof marriage, once closely presented to man or woman, leaves neitherunchanged, leaves neither as it found them, however quickly it be putaside.
Still it was not possible for one who sprang from the governingclasses, and was gifted with political instincts, to witness theexcitement which moved the whole country during those weeks ofSeptember and the early days of October, without feeling his own bloodstirred; without sharing to some extent the exhilaration with whichthe adventurous view the approach of adventures. What would the peersdo? All England was asking that question. At Crockford's, in thelittle supper-room, or at the French Hazard table itself, men turnedto put it and to hear the answer. At White's and Boodle's, in the hallof the Athenaeum, as they walked before Apsley House, or under thegas-lamps of Pall Mall, men asked that question again and again. Itshared with Pasta and the slow-coming cholera--which none the less wascoming--the chit-chat of drawing-rooms; and with the next prize fightor with ridicule of the New Police, the wrangling debates of everytavern and posthouse. Would the peers throw out the Bill? Wouldthey--would those doting old Bishops in particular--dare to thwart thePeople's will? Would they dare to withhold the franchise fromBirmingham and Manchester, Leeds and Sheffield? On this husbands tookone side, wives the other, families quarrelled. What Croker thought,what Lord Grey threatened, what the Duke had let drop, what Broughamhad boasted, how Lady Lyndhurst had sneered, or her husband retorted,what the Queen wished--scraps such as these were tossed from mouth tomouth, greedily received, carried far into the country, andeventually, changed beyond recognition, were repeated in awestruckears, in county ballrooms and at Sessions.
One member of the Privy Council, who had left his party on the Bill,and whose vote, it was thought, had turned a division, shot himself.And many another, it was whispered, never recovered wholly from thestrain of those days.
For far more hung upon the Lords' decision than the mere fate of theBill. If they threw it out, what would the Ministry do? And--moremomentous still, and looming larger in the minds of men--what wouldthe country do? What would Birmingham and Sheffield, Manchester andLeeds do? What would they do?
Lord Grey, strong in the King's support, would persevere, said some.He would bring in the Bill again, and create peers in numbersufficient to carry it. And Macaulay's squib was flung from club toclub, from meeting to meeting, until it reached the streets:
_What, though new opposed I be, Twenty peers shall carry me! If twenty won't, thirty will, For I am his Majesty's bouncing Bill_.
Ay, his Majesty's Bill, God bless him! His Majesty's own Bill! Hurrahfor Lord Grey! Hurrah for Brougham! Hurrah for Lord John, and downwith the Bishops! So the word flew from mouth to mouth, so errand boysyelled it under the windows of London House, in St. James's Square,and wherever aproned legs might be supposed to meet under themahogany.
But others maintained that Lord Grey would simply resign, and let theconsequences fall on the heads of those who opposed the People's will.Those consequences, it was whispered everywhere--and not by the timidand the rich only--spelled Revolution! Revolution, red and anarchical,was coming, said many. Was not Scotland ready to rise? Was not thePolitical Union of Birmingham threatening to pay no taxes? Were notthe Political Unions everywhere growling and lashing their sides? Thewinter was coming, and there would be fires by night and drillings byday, as there had been during the previous autumn. Through the longdark nights there would be fear and trembling, and barring of doors,and waiting for the judgment to come. And then some morning thecrackling sound of musketry would awaken Pall Mall and Mayfair, themob would seize the Tower and Newgate, the streets would run blood andthe guillotine would rise in Leicester Square or Finsbury Fields.
So widely were these fears spread--fostered as they were by bothparties, by the Tories for the purpose of proving whither Reform wasleading the country, by the Whigs to show to what the obstinacy of theborough-mongers was driving it--that few were proof against them. Sofew, that when the Bill was rejected in the early morning of Saturday,the 8th of October, the Tory peers, from Lord Eldon downwards, thoughthey had not shrunk from doing their duty, could hardly be made tobelieve that they were at liberty to go to their homes unscathed.
They did so, however. But the first mutterings of the storm soon madethemselves heard. Within twenty-four hours the hearts of many failedthem for fear. The Funds fell at once. The journals appeared inmourning borders. In many towns the bells were tolled and the shopswere shut. The mob of Nottingham rose and burned the Castle and firedthe house of an unpopular squire. The mob of Derby besieged the gaoland released the prisoners. At Darlington, Lord Tankerville narrowlyescaped with his life; Lord Londonderry was left for dead; no Bishopdared to wear his apron in public. Everywhere rose the cry of "NoTaxes!" Finally, the rabble rose in immense numbers, paraded the WestEnd of London, broke the windows of many peers, assaulted others, andwere only driven from Apsley House by the timely arrival of the LifeGuards. The country, amazed and shaken from end to end, seemed to bealready in the grip of rebellion; so that within the week the veryTories hastened to beg Lord Grey to retain office. Even the King, itwas supposed, was shaken; and his famous distich--his one contributionto the poetry of the country,
_I consider Dissolution Tantamount to Revolution_,
found admirers for its truth, if not for its beauty.
Such a ferment could not but occupy Vaughan's mind and divert histhoughts from his own troubles, even from thoughts of Mary. Every daythere was news: every day, in the opinion of many, the sky grewdarker. But though the rejection of the Bill promised him a secondshort session, and many who sat for close boroughs chuckled privatelyover the respite, he was ill-content with a hand-to-mouth life. He sawthat the Bill must pass eventually. He did not believe that therewould be a revolution. It was clear that his only chance lay infollowing Wetherell's advice, and layin
g his case before one of hischiefs.
Some days after the division he happened on an opportunity. He waswalking down Parliament Street when he came on a scene, much of apiece of the unrest of the time. A crowd was pouring out of DowningStreet, and in the van of the rabble he espied the tall, ungainlyfigure of no less a man than Lord Brougham. Abreast of the Chancellor,but keeping himself to the wall as if he desired to dissociate himselffrom the demonstration, walked another tall figure, also in black,with shepherd's plaid trousers. A second glance informed Vaughan thatthis was no other than Mr. Cornelius, who had been present at hisinterview with Brougham; and accepting the omen, he made up to theChancellor just as the latter halted to rid himself of the raggedtail, which had, perhaps, been more pleasing to his vanity in thesmaller streets.
"My friends," Brougham cried, checking with his hand the ragamuffins'shrill attempt at a cheer, "I am obliged to you for your approval; butI beg to bid you good-day! Assemblages such as these are----"
"Disgusting!" Cornelius muttered audibly, wrinkling his nose as heeyed them over his high collar.
"Are apt to cause disorder!" the Chancellor continued, smiling. "Restassured that your friends, of whom, if I am the highest in office I amnot the least in good-will, will not desert you."
"Hurrah! God bless you, my lord! Hurrah!" cried the tatterdemalions invarious tones more or less drunken. And some held out their caps."Hurrah! If your lordship would have the kindness to----"
"Disgusting!" Cornelius repeated, wheeling about.
Vaughan seized the opportunity to intervene. "May I," he said, raisinghis hat and addressing the Chancellor as he turned, "consult you, mylord, for two minutes as you walk?"
Brougham started on finding a gentleman of his appearance at hiselbow; and looked as if he were somewhat ashamed of the guise in whichhe had been detected. "Ah!" he said. "Mr.--Mr. Vaughan? To be sure!Oh, yes, you can speak to me, what can I do for you? It is," he added,with affected humility, "my business to serve."
Vaughan looked doubtfully at Mr. Cornelius, who raised his hat. "Ihave no secrets from Mr. Cornelius," said the Chancellor pleasantly.And then with a backward nod and a tinge of colour in his cheek,"Gratifying, but troublesome," he continued. "Eh? Very troublesome,these demonstrations! I often long for the old days when I could walkout of Westminster Hall, with my bag and my umbrella, and no one thewiser!"
"Those days are far back, my lord," Vaughan said politely.
"Ah, well! Ah, well! Perhaps so." They were walking on by this time."I can't say that since the Queen's trial I've known much privacy.However, it is something that those whom one serves are grateful.They----"
"Cry 'Hosanna' to-day," Cornelius said gruffly, with his eyes fixedsteadily before him, "and 'Crucify him' tomorrow!"
"Cynic!" said the Chancellor, with unabated good-humour. "But even youcannot deny that they are better employed in cheering their friendsthan in breaches of the peace? Not that"--cocking his eye at Vaughanwith a whimsical expression of confidence--"a little disorder here andthere, eh, Mr. Vaughan--though to be deplored, and by no one more thanby one in my position--has not its uses? Were there no apprehension ofmob-rule, how many borough-mongers, think you, would vote with us? Howmany waverers, like Harrowby and Wharncliffe, would waver? And how, ifwe have no little ebullitions here and there, are we to know that thepeople are in earnest? That they are not grown lukewarm? ThatWetherell is not right in his statement--of which he'll hear more thanhe will like at Bristol, or I am mistaken--that there is a Toryre-action, an ebb in the tide which so far has carried us bravely? Butof course," he added, with a faint smile, "God forbid that we shouldencourage violence!"
"Amen!" said Mr. Cornelius. And sniffed in a very peculiar manner.
"But to discern that camomile," the Chancellor continued gaily,"though bitter to-day makes us better tomorrow, is a different thingfrom----"
"Administering a dose!" Vaughan laughed, falling into the great man'shumour.
"To be sure. But enough of that. Now I think of it, Mr. Vaughan," hecontinued, looking at his companion, "I have not had the pleasure ofseeing you since--but I need not remind you of the occasion. You'vehad good cause to remember it! Yes, yes," he went on with volublecomplacency--he was walking as well as talking very fast--"I seldomspeak without meaning, or interfere without result. I knew well whatwould come of it. It was not for nothing, Mr. Vaughan, that I got downour Borough List and asked you if you had no thought of entering theHouse. The spark--and tinder! For there you are in the House!"
"Yes," Vaughan replied, astonished at the coolness with which theother unveiled, and even took credit for, the petty intrigue of sixmonths back. "But----"
"But," Brougham said, taking him up with a quick, laughing glance,"you are not yet on the Treasury Bench? That's it?"
"No, not yet," Vaughan answered, good-humouredly.
"Ah, well, time and patience and Bellamy's chops, Mr. Vaughan, willcarry you far, I am sure."
"It is on that subject--the subject of time--I venture to trouble yourlordship."
The Chancellor's lumpish but singularly mobile features underwent achange. Caught in a complacent, vain humour, he had forgotten a thingwhich, with Vaughan's last words, recurred to him. "Yes?" he said,"yes, Mr. Vaughan?" But the timbre of that marvellously flexible voicewith which he boasted that he could whisper so as to be heard to thevery door of the House of Commons, was changed. "Yes, what is it,pray?"
"It is time I require," Vaughan answered. "And, in fine, I have donesome service, yeoman service, my lord, and I think that I ought not tobe cast aside by the party in whose interest I was returned, and withwhose objects I am in sympathy."
"Cast aside? Tut, tut! What do you mean?"
"I am told that though the borough for which I sit will continue toreturn one member, I shall not have the support of the party inretaining my seat."
"Indeed! Indeed!" Brougham answered, "Is it so? I am sorry to hearthat."
"But----"
"Very sorry, Mr. Vaughan."
"But, with submission, my lord, it is something more than sorrow Iseek," Vaughan answered, too sore to hide his feelings. "You haveowned very candidly that I derived from you the impulse which hascarried me so far. Is it unreasonable if I venture to turn to you,when advised to see one of the chiefs of my party?"
"Who," Brougham asked with a quick look, "gave you that advice, Mr.Vaughan?"
"Sir Charles Wetherell."
"Um!" the Chancellor replied through pinched lips. And he stood, "theyhad crossed Piccadilly and Berkeley Square, and had reached the cornerof Hill Street, where at No. 5, Brougham lived.
"I repeat, my lord," Vaughan continued, "is it unreasonable if I applyto you in these circumstances, rather----"
"Rather than to one of the whips?" Brougham said drily.
"Yes."
"But I know nothing of the matter, Mr. Vaughan."
But Vaughan was in no mood to put up with subterfuges. If the otherdid not know, he should know. He had been all-powerful, it seemed, tobring him in: was he powerless to keep him in? "There is a compact, Iam told," he said, "under which the seat is to be surrendered--forthis turn, at any rate--to my cousin's nominee."
Brougham shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Mr. Cornelius. "Dearme, dear me," he said. "That's not a thing of which I can approve. Farfrom it! Far from it! But you must see, Mr. Vaughan, that I cannotmeddle in my position with arrangements of that kind. Impossible, mydear sir, it is clearly impossible!"
Vaughan stared; and with some spirit and more temper, "But the spark,my lord! I'm sure you won't forget the spark?" he said.
For an instant a gleam of fun shone in the other's eyes. Then he wasfunereal again. "Before the Bill, and after the Bill, are two things,"he said drily. "Before the Bill all is, all was impure. And in animpure medium--you understand me, I am sure? You are scientific, Iremember. But after the Bill--to ask me, who in my humble measure, Mr.Vaughan, may call myself its prime cause--to ask me to infringe itsfirst principles by interposing between the
Electors and their rights,to ask me to use an influence which cannot be held legitimate--no, Mr.Vaughan, no!" He shook his head solemnly and finally. And then to Mr.Cornelius, "Yes, I am coming, Mr. Cornelius," he said. "I know I amlate."
"I can wait," said Mr. Cornelius.
"But I cannot. Good-day, Mr. Vaughan. Good-day," he repeated, refusingto see the young man's ill-humour. "I am sorry that I cannot help you.Or, stay!" he continued, halting in the act of turning away. "Oneminute. I gather that you are a friend of Sir Charles Wetherell's?"
"He has been a friend to me," Vaughan answered sullenly.
"Ah, well, he is going to Bristol to hold his sessions--on the 29th, Ithink. Go with him. Our fat friend hates me like poison, but I wouldnot have a hair of his head injured. We have been warned that therewill be trouble, and we are taking steps to protect him. But anable-bodied young soldier by his side will be no bad thing. Andupon my honour," he continued, eyeing Vaughan with impudentfrankness--impudent in view of all that had gone before--"upon myhonour, I am beginning to think that we spoiled a good soldier whenwe--eh!"
"The spark!" Mr. Cornelius muttered grimly.
"Good-day, my lord," said Vaughan with scant ceremony; his blood wasboiling. And he turned and strode away, scarcely smothering anexecration. The two, who did not appear to be in a hurry after all,remained looking after him. And presently Mr. Cornelius smiled.
"What amuses you?" Brougham asked, with a certain petulence. For atbottom, and in cases where no rivalry existed, he was good-natured;and in his heart he was sorry for the young man. But then, if onebegan to think of the pawn's feelings, the game he was playing wouldbe spoiled. "What is it?"
"I was thinking," Mr. Cornelius answered slowly, "of purity." Hesniffed. "And the Whigs!"
Meanwhile Arthur Vaughan was striding down Bruton Street with everyangry passion up in arms. He was too clever to be tricked twice, andhe saw precisely what had happened. Brougham--well, well was he calledWicked Shifts!--reviewing the Borough List before the GeneralElection, had let his eyes fall on Sir Robert's seats at Chippinge;and looking about, with his customary audacity, for a means ofsnatching them, had alighted on him--and used him for a tool! Now, hewas of no farther use. And, as the loss of his expectations renderedit needless to temporise with him, he was contemptuously tossed aside.
And this was the game of politics which he had yearned to play! Thiswas the party whose zeal for the purity of elections and theimprovement of all classes he had shared, and out of loyalty to whichhe had sacrificed a fortune! He strode along the crowded pavement ofParliament Street--it was the fashionable hour of the afternoon andthe political excitement kept London full--his head high, his faceflushed. And unconsciously as he shouldered the people to right andleft, he swore aloud.
As he uttered the word, regardless in his anger of the scene abouthim, his fixed gaze pierced for an instant the medley of gay bonnetsand smiling faces, moving chariots and waiting footmen, which even inthose days filled Parliament Street--and met another pair of eyes.
The encounter lasted for a second only. Then half a dozen heads and aparasol intervened. And then--in another second--he was abreast of thecarriage in which Mary Vermuyden sat, her face the prettiest and herbonnet the daintiest--Lady Worcester had seen to that--of all thefaces and all the bonnets in Parliament Street that day. The landau inwhich she sat was stationary at the edge of the pavement; and on thefarther side of her reposed a lady of kind face and ample figure.
For an instant their eyes met again; and Mary's colour, which hadfled, returned in a flood of crimson, covering brow and cheeks. Sheleaned from the carriage and held out her white-gloved hand. "Mr.Vaughan!" she said. And he might have read in her face, had he chosen,the sweetest and frankest appeal. "Mr. Vaughan!"
But the moment was unlucky. The devil had possession of him. He raisedhis hat and passed on, passed on wilfully. He fancied--afterwards,that is, he fancied--that she had risen to her feet after he had goneby and called him a third time in a voice at which the convenances ofParliament Street could only wink. But he went on. He heard, but hewent on. He told himself that all was of a piece. Men and women, allwere alike. He was a fool who trusted any, believed in any, loved any.
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