Phineas Redux

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LVIII.

  THE TWO DUKES.

  It was necessary that the country should be governed, even thoughMr. Bonteen had been murdered;--and in order that it should be dulygoverned it was necessary that Mr. Bonteen's late place at the Boardof Trade should be filled. There was some hesitation as to thefilling it, and when the arrangement was completed people were verymuch surprised indeed. Mr. Bonteen had been appointed chiefly becauseit was thought that he might in that office act as a quasi House ofCommons deputy to the Duke of Omnium in carrying out his great schemeof a five-farthinged penny and a ten-pennied shilling. The Duke, inspite of his wealth and rank and honour, was determined to go on withhis great task. Life would be nothing to him now unless he could atleast hope to arrange the five farthings. When his wife had bulliedhim about the Garter he had declared to her, and with perfect truth,that he had never asked for anything. He had gone on to say that henever would ask for anything; and he certainly did not think thathe was betraying himself with reference to that assurance when hesuggested to Mr. Gresham that he would himself take the place leftvacant by Mr. Bonteen--of course retaining his seat in the Cabinet.

  "I should hardly have ventured to suggest such an arrangement to yourGrace," said the Prime Minister.

  "Feeling that it might be so, I thought that I would venture toask," said the Duke. "I am sure you know that I am the last man tointerfere as to place or the disposition of power."

  "Quite the last man," said Mr. Gresham.

  "But it has always been held that the Board of Trade is notincompatible with the Peerage."

  "Oh dear, yes."

  "And I can feel myself nearer to this affair of mine there than I canelsewhere."

  Mr. Gresham of course had no objection to urge. This great nobleman,who was now asking for Mr. Bonteen's shoes, had been Chancellor ofthe Exchequer, and would have remained Chancellor of the Exchequerhad not the mantle of his nobility fallen upon him. At the presentmoment he held an office in which peers are often temporarilyshelved, or put away, perhaps, out of harm's way for the time, sothat they may be brought down and used when wanted, without havingreceived crack or detriment from that independent action into which apolitician is likely to fall when his party is "in" but he is still"out". He was Lord Privy Seal,--a Lordship of State which does carrywith it a status and a seat in the Cabinet, but does not necessarilyentail any work. But the present Lord, who cared nothing for status,and who was much more intent on his work than he was even on his seatin the Cabinet, was possessed by what many of his brother politiciansregarded as a morbid dislike to pretences. He had not been happyduring his few weeks of the Privy Seal, and had almost envied Mr.Bonteen the realities of the Board of Trade. "I think upon the wholeit will be best to make the change," he said to Mr. Gresham. And Mr.Gresham was delighted.

  But there were one or two men of mark,--one or two who were olderthan Mr. Gresham probably, and less perfect in their Liberalsympathies,--who thought that the Duke of Omnium was derogating fromhis proper position in the step which he was now taking. Chief amongthese was his friend the Duke of St. Bungay, who alone perhaps couldventure to argue the matter with him. "I almost wish that you hadspoken to me first," said the elder Duke.

  "I feared that I should find you so strongly opposed to myresolution."

  "If it was a resolution."

  "I think it was," said the younger. "It was a great misfortune to methat I should have been obliged to leave the House of Commons."

  "You should not feel it so."

  "My whole life was there," said he who, as Plantagenet Palliser, hadbeen so good a commoner.

  "But your whole life should certainly not be there now,--nor yourwhole heart. On you the circumstances of your birth have imposedduties quite as high, and I will say quite as useful, as any which acareer in the House of Commons can put within the reach of a man."

  "Do you think so, Duke?"

  "Certainly I do. I do think that the England which we know could notbe the England that she is but for the maintenance of a high-minded,proud, and self-denying nobility. And though with us there is noline dividing our very broad aristocracy into two parts, a higherand a lower, or a greater and a smaller, or a richer and a poorer,nevertheless we all feel that the success of our order dependschiefly on the conduct of those whose rank is the highest and whosemeans are the greatest. To some few, among whom you are conspicuouslyone, wealth has been given so great and rank so high that much ofthe welfare of your country depends on the manner in which you bearyourself as the Duke of Omnium."

  "I would not wish to think so."

  "Your uncle so thought. And, though he was a man very different fromyou, not inured to work in his early life, with fewer attainments,probably a slower intellect, and whose general conduct was inferiorto your own,--I speak freely because the subject is important,--hewas a man who understood his position and the requirements of hisorder very thoroughly. A retinue almost Royal, together with anexpenditure which Royalty could not rival, secured for him therespect of the nation."

  "Your life has not been as was his, and you have won a higherrespect."

  "I think not. The greater part of my life was spent in the House ofCommons, and my fortune was never much more than the tenth of his.But I wish to make no such comparison."

  "I must make it, if I am to judge which I would follow."

  "Pray understand me, my friend," said the old man, energetically. "Iam not advising you to abandon public life in order that you may livein repose as a great nobleman. It would not be in your nature to doso, nor could the country afford to lose your services. But you neednot therefore take your place in the arena of politics as though youwere still Plantagenet Palliser, with no other duties than those of apolitician,--as you might so well have done had your uncle's titlesand wealth descended to a son."

  "I wish they had," said the regretful Duke.

  "It cannot be so. Your brother perhaps wishes that he were a Duke,but it has been arranged otherwise. It is vain to repine. Your wifeis unhappy because your uncle's Garter was not at once given to you."

  "Glencora is like other women,--of course."

  "I share her feelings. Had Mr. Gresham consulted me, I should nothave scrupled to tell him that it would have been for the welfare ofhis party that the Duke of Omnium should be graced with any and everyhonour in his power to bestow. Lord Cantrip is my friend, almost aswarmly as are you; but the country would not have missed the ribbonfrom the breast of Lord Cantrip. Had you been more the Duke, and lessthe slave of your country, it would have been sent to you. Do I makeyou angry by speaking so?"

  "Not in the least. I have but one ambition."

  "And that is--?"

  "To be the serviceable slave of my country."

  "A master is more serviceable than a slave," said the old man.

  "No; no; I deny it. I can admit much from you, but I cannot admitthat. The politician who becomes the master of his country sinks fromthe statesman to the tyrant."

  "We misunderstand each other, my friend. Pitt, and Peel, andPalmerston were not tyrants, though each assumed and held forhimself to the last the mastery of which I speak. Smaller men whohave been slaves, have been as patriotic as they, but less useful.I regret that you should follow Mr. Bonteen in his office."

  "Because he was Mr. Bonteen."

  "All the circumstances of the transfer of office occasioned by youruncle's death seem to me to make it undesirable. I would not haveyou make yourself too common. This very murder adds to the feeling.Because Mr. Bonteen has been lost to us, the Minister has recourse toyou."

  "It was my own suggestion."

  "But who knows that it was so? You, and I, and Mr. Gresham--andperhaps one or two others."

  "It is too late now, Duke; and, to tell the truth of myself, not evenyou can make me other than I am. My uncle's life to me was always aproblem which I could not understand. Were I to attempt to walk inhis ways I should fail utterly, and become absurd. I do not feel thedisgrace of following Mr. Bonteen."

&
nbsp; "I trust you may at least be less unfortunate."

  "Well;--yes. I need not expect to be murdered in the streets becauseI am going to the Board of Trade. I shall have made no enemy by mypolitical success."

  "You think that--Mr. Finn--did do that deed?" asked the elder Duke.

  "I hardly know what I think. My wife is sure that he is innocent."

  "The Duchess is enthusiastic always."

  "Many others think the same. Lord and Lady Chiltern are sure ofthat."

  "They were always his best friends."

  "I am told that many of the lawyers are sure that it will beimpossible to convict him. If he be acquitted I shall strive to thinkhim innocent. He will come back to the House, of course."

  "I should think he would apply for the Hundreds," said the Duke ofSt. Bungay.

  "I do not see why he should. I would not in his place. If he beinnocent, why should he admit himself unfit for a seat in Parliament?I tell you what he might do;--resign, and then throw himself againupon his constituency." The other Duke shook his head, therebydeclaring his opinion that Phineas Finn was in truth the man who hadmurdered Mr. Bonteen.

  When it was publicly known that the Duke of Omnium had stepped intoMr. Bonteen's shoes, the general opinion certainly coincided withthat given by the Duke of St. Bungay. It was not only that thelate Chancellor of the Exchequer should not have consented to fillso low an office, or that the Duke of Omnium should have betterknown his own place, or that he should not have succeeded a man soinsignificant as Mr. Bonteen. These things, no doubt, were said,--butmore was said also. It was thought that he should not have gone toan office which had been rendered vacant by the murder of a manwho had been placed there merely to assist himself. If the presentarrangement was good, why should it not have been made independentlyof Mr. Bonteen? Questions were asked about it in both Houses, andthe transfer no doubt did have the effect of lowering the man in theestimation of the political world. He himself felt that he did notstand so high with his colleagues as when he was Chancellor of theExchequer; not even so high as when he held the Privy Seal. In theprinted lists of those who attended the Cabinets his name generallywas placed last, and an opponent on one occasion thought, orpretended to think, that he was no more than Postmaster-General. Hedetermined to bear all this without wincing,--but he did wince. Hewould not own to himself that he had been wrong, but he was sore,--asa man is sore who doubts about his own conduct; and he was not theless so because he strove to bear his wife's sarcasms without showingthat they pained him.

  "They say that poor Lord Fawn is losing his mind," she said to him.

  "Lord Fawn! I haven't heard anything about it."

  "He was engaged to Lady Eustace once, you remember. They say thathe'll be made to declare why he didn't marry her if this bigamy casegoes on. And then it's so unfortunate that he should have seen theman in the grey coat; I hope he won't have to resign."

  "I hope not, indeed."

  "Because, of course, you'd have to take his place asUnder-Secretary." This was very awkward;--but the husband onlysmiled, and expressed a hope that if he did so he might himself beequal to his new duties. "By the bye, Plantagenet, what do you meanto do about the jewels?"

  "I haven't thought about them. Madame Goesler had better take them."

  "But she won't."

  "I suppose they had better be sold."

  "By auction?"

  "That would be the proper way."

  "I shouldn't like that at all. Couldn't we buy them ourselves, andlet the money stand till she choose to take it? It's an affair oftrade, I suppose, and you're at the head of all that now." Thenagain she asked him some question about the Home Secretary, withreference to Phineas Finn; and when he told her that it would behighly improper for him to speak to that officer on such a subject,she pretended to suppose that the impropriety would consist in theinterference of a man holding so low a position as he was. "Of courseit is not the same now," she said, "as it used to be when you were atthe Exchequer." All which he took without uttering a word of anger,or showing a sign of annoyance. "You only get two thousand a year, doyou, at the Board of Trade, Plantagenet?"

  "Upon my word, I forget. I think it's two thousand five hundred."

  "How nice! It was five at the Exchequer, wasn't it?"

  "Yes; five thousand at the Exchequer."

  "When you're a Lord of the Treasury it will only be one;--will it?"

  "What a goose you are, Glencora. If it suited me to be a Lord of theTreasury, what difference would the salary make?"

  "Not the least;--nor yet the rank, or the influence, or the prestige,or the general fitness of things. You are above all such sublunaryideas. You would clean Mr. Gresham's shoes for him, if--the serviceof your country required it." These last words she added in a toneof voice very similar to that which her husband himself used onoccasions.

  "I would even allow you to clean them,--if the service of the countryrequired it," said the Duke.

  But, though he was magnanimous, he was not happy, and perhaps theintense anxiety which his wife displayed as to the fate of PhineasFinn added to his discomfort. The Duchess, as the Duke of St. Bungayhad said, was enthusiastic, and he never for a moment dreamed ofteaching her to change her nature; but it would have been as wellif her enthusiasm at the present moment could have been brought todisplay itself on some other subject. He had been brought to feelthat Phineas Finn had been treated badly when the good things ofGovernment were being given away, and that this had been caused bythe jealous prejudices of the man who had been since murdered. But anexpectant Under-Secretary of State, let him have been ever so cruellyleft out in the cold, should not murder the man by whom he has beenill-treated. Looking at all the evidence as best he could, andlistening to the opinions of others, the Duke did think that Phineashad been guilty. The murder had clearly been committed by a personalenemy, not by a robber. Two men were known to have entertainedfeelings of enmity against Mr. Bonteen; as to one of whom he wasassured that it was impossible that he should have been on thespot. As to the other it seemed equally manifest that he must havebeen there. If it were so, it would have been much better that hiswife should not display her interest publicly in the murderer'sfavour. But the Duchess, wherever she went, spoke of the trial as apersecution; and seemed to think that the prisoner should already betreated as a hero and a martyr. "Glencora," he said to her, "I wishthat you could drop the subject of this trial till it be over."

  "But I can't."

  "Surely you can avoid speaking of it."

  "No more than you can avoid your decimals. Out of the full heart themouth speaks, and my heart is very full. What harm do I do?"

  "You set people talking of you."

  "They have been doing that ever since we were married;--but I do notknow that they have made out much against me. We must go after ournature, Plantagenet. Your nature is decimals. I run after units." Hedid not deem it wise to say anything further,--knowing that to thisevil also of Phineas Finn the gods would at last vouchsafe an ending.