Phineas Redux

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXXVII.

  PHINEAS FINN'S SUCCESS.

  When Phineas Finn had been about a week at Matching, he received aletter, or rather a very short note, from the Prime Minister, askinghim to go up to London; and on the same day the Duke of Omniumspoke to him on the subject of the letter. "You are going up tosee Mr. Gresham. Mr. Gresham has written to me, and I hope that weshall be able to congratulate ourselves in having your assistancenext Session." Phineas declared that he had no idea whatever ofMr. Gresham's object in summoning him up to London. "I have hispermission to inform you that he wishes you to accept office."Phineas felt that he was becoming very red in the face, but he didnot attempt to make any reply on the spur of the moment. "Mr. Greshamthinks it well that so much should be said to you before you see him,in order that you may turn the matter over in your own mind. He wouldhave written to you probably, making the offer at once, had it notbeen that there must be various changes, and that one man's placemust depend on another. You will go, I suppose."

  "Yes; I shall go, certainly. I shall be in London this evening."

  "I will take care that a carriage is ready for you. I do not presumeto advise, Mr. Finn, but I hope that there need be no doubt as toyour joining us." Phineas was somewhat confounded, and did not knowthe Duke well enough to give expression to his thoughts at themoment. "Of course you will return to us, Mr. Finn." Phineas saidthat he would return and trespass on the Duke's hospitality for yet afew days. He was quite resolved that something must be said to MadameGoesler before he left the roof under which she was living. In thecourse of the autumn she purposed, as she had told him, to go toVienna, and to remain there almost up to Christmas. Whatever theremight be to be said should be said at any rate before that.

  He did speak a few words to her before his journey to London, but inthose words there was no allusion made to the great subject whichmust be discussed between them. "I am going up to London," he said.

  "So the Duchess tells me."

  "Mr. Gresham has sent for me,--meaning, I suppose, to offer me theplace which he would not give me while that poor man was alive."

  "And you will accept it of course, Mr. Finn?"

  "I am not at all so sure of that."

  "But you will. You must. You will hardly be so foolish as to let thepeevish animosity of an ill-conditioned man prejudice your prospectseven after his death."

  "It will not be any remembrance of Mr. Bonteen that will induce me torefuse."

  "It will be the same thing;--rancour against Mr. Gresham because hehad allowed the other man's counsel to prevail with him. The actionof no individual man should be to you of sufficient consequence toguide your conduct. If you accept office, you should not take it as afavour conferred by the Prime Minister; nor if you refuse it, shouldyou do so from personal feelings in regard to him. If he selects you,he is presumed to do so because he finds that your services will bevaluable to the country."

  "He does so because he thinks that I should be safe to vote for him."

  "That may be so, or not. You can't read his bosom quitedistinctly;--but you may read your own. If you go into office youbecome the servant of the country,--not his servant, and shouldassume his motive in selecting you to be the same as your own insubmitting to the selection. Your foot must be on the ladder beforeyou can get to the top of it."

  "The ladder is so crooked."

  "Is it more crooked now than it was three years ago;--worse than itwas six months ago, when you and all your friends looked upon it ascertain that you would be employed? There is nothing, Mr. Finn, thata man should fear so much as some twist in his convictions arisingfrom a personal accident to himself. When we heard that the Devilin his sickness wanted to be a monk, we never thought that he wouldbecome a saint in glory. When a man who has been rejected by a ladyexpresses a generally ill opinion of the sex, we are apt to ascribehis opinions to disappointment rather than to judgment. A manfalls and breaks his leg at a fence, and cannot be induced to rideagain,--not because he thinks the amusement to be dangerous, butbecause he cannot keep his mind from dwelling on the hardship thathas befallen himself. In all such cases self-consciousness gets thebetter of the judgment."

  "You think it will be so with me?"

  "I shall think so if you now refuse--because of the misfortune whichbefell you--that which I know you were most desirous of possessingbefore that accident. To tell you the truth, Mr. Finn, I wish Mr.Gresham had delayed his offer till the winter."

  "And why?"

  "Because by that time you will have recovered your health. Your mindnow is morbid, and out of tune."

  "There was something to make it so, Madame Goesler."

  "God knows there was; and the necessity which lay upon you of bearinga bold front during those long and terrible weeks of course consumedyour strength. The wonder is that the fibres of your mind shouldhave retained any of their elasticity after such an ordeal. But asyou are so strong, it would be a pity that you should not be strongaltogether. This thing that is now to be offered to you is what youhave always desired."

  "A man may have always desired that which is worthless."

  "You tried it once, and did not find it worthless. You found yourselfable to do good work when you were in office. If I remember right,you did not give it up then because it was irksome to you, orcontemptible, or, as you say, worthless; but from difference ofopinion on some political question. You can always do that again."

  "A man is not fit for office who is prone to do so."

  "Then do not you be prone. It means success or failure in theprofession which you have chosen, and I shall greatly regret to seeyou damage your chance of success by yielding to scruples which havecome upon you when you are hardly as yet yourself."

  She had spoken to him very plainly, and he had found it to beimpossible to answer her, and yet she had hardly touched the motivesby which he believed himself to be actuated. As he made his journeyup to London he thought very much of her words. There had beennothing said between them about money. No allusion had been made tothe salary of the office which would be offered to him, or to theterrible shortness of his own means of living. He knew well enoughhimself that he must take some final step in life, or very shortlyreturn into absolute obscurity. This woman who had been so stronglyadvising him to take a certain course as to his future life, was veryrich;--and he had fully decided that he would sooner or later askher to be his wife. He knew well that all her friends regarded theirmarriage as certain. The Duchess had almost told him so in as manywords. Lady Chiltern, who was much more to him than the Duchess,had assured him that if he should have a wife to bring with him toHarrington, the wife would be welcome. Of what other wife could LadyChiltern have thought? Laurence Fitzgibbon, when congratulated onhis own marriage, had returned counter congratulations. Mr. Low hadsaid that it would of course come to pass. Even Mrs. Bunce had hintedat it, suggesting that she would lose her lodger and be a wretchedwoman. All the world had heard of the journey to Prague, and all theworld expected the marriage. And he had come to love the woman withexcessive affection, day by day, ever since the renewal of theirintimacy at Broughton Spinnies. His mind was quite made up;--buthe was by no means so sure of her mind as the rest of the world mightbe. He knew of her, what nobody else in all the world knew,--excepthimself. In that former period of his life, on which he now sometimeslooked back as though it had been passed in another world, this womanhad offered her hand and fortune to him. She had done so in theenthusiasm of her love, knowing his ambition and knowing his poverty,and believing that her wealth was necessary to the success of hiscareer in life. He had refused the offer,--and they had partedwithout a word. Now they had come together again, and she wascertainly among the dearest of his friends. Had she not taken thatwondrous journey to Prague in his behalf, and been the first amongthose who had striven,--and had striven at last successfully,--tosave his neck from the halter? Dear to her! He knew well as he satwith his eyes closed in the railway carriage that he must be dear toher! But might it not well be that she had r
esolved that friendshipshould take the place of love? And was it not compatible with hernature,--with all human nature,--that in spite of her regard for himshe should choose to be revenged for the evil which had befallen her,when she offered her hand in vain? She must know by this time that heintended to throw himself at her feet; and would hardly have advisedhim as she had done as to the necessity of following up that successwhich had hitherto been so essential to him, had she intended togive him all that she had once offered him before. It might well bethat Lady Chiltern, and even the Duchess, should be mistaken. MarieGoesler was not a woman, he thought, to reveal the deeper purposes ofher life to any such friend as the Duchess of Omnium.

  Of his own feelings in regard to the offer which was about to be madeto him he had hardly succeeded in making her understand anything.That a change had come upon himself was certain, but he did notat all believe that it had sprung from any weakness caused by hissufferings in regard to the murder. He rather believed that hehad become stronger than weaker from all that he had endured. Hehad learned when he was younger,--some years back,--to regardthe political service of his country as a profession in which aman possessed of certain gifts might earn his bread with moregratification to himself than in any other. The work would be hard,and the emolument only intermittent; but the service would initself be pleasant; and the rewards of that service,--should he beso successful as to obtain reward,--would be dearer to him thananything which could accrue to him from other labours. To sit inthe Cabinet for one Session would, he then thought, be more to himthan to preside over the Court of Queen's Bench as long as did LordMansfield. But during the last few months a change had crept acrosshis dream,--which he recognized but could hardly analyse. He hadseen a man whom he despised promoted, and the place to which the manhad been exalted had at once become contemptible in his eyes. Andthere had been quarrels and jangling, and the speaking of evil wordsbetween men who should have been quiet and dignified. No doubt MadameGoesler was right in attributing the revulsion in his hopes to Mr.Bonteen and Mr. Bonteen's enmity; but Phineas Finn himself did notknow that it was so.

  He arrived in town in the evening, and his appointment with Mr.Gresham was for the following morning. He breakfasted at his club,and there he received the following letter from Lady Laura Kennedy:--

  Saulsby, 28th August, 18--.

  MY DEAR PHINEAS,

  I have just received a letter from Barrington in which he tells me that Mr. Gresham is going to offer you your old place at the Colonies. He says that Lord Fawn has been so upset by this affair of Lady Eustace's husband, that he is obliged to resign and go abroad. [This was the first intimation that Phineas had heard of the nature of the office to be offered to him.--] But Barrington goes on to say that he thinks you won't accept Mr. Gresham's offer, and he asks me to write to you. Can this possibly be true? Barrington writes most kindly,--with true friendship,--and is most anxious for you to join. But he thinks that you are angry with Mr. Gresham because he passed you over before, and that you will not forgive him for having yielded to Mr. Bonteen. I can hardly believe this possible. Surely you will not allow the shade of that unfortunate man to blight your prospects? And, after all, of what matter to you is the friendship or enmity of Mr. Gresham? You have to assert yourself, to make your own way, to use your own opportunities, and to fight your own battle without reference to the feelings of individuals. Men act together in office constantly, and with constancy, who are known to hate each other. When there are so many to get what is going, and so little to be given, of course there will be struggling and trampling. I have no doubt that Lord Cantrip has made a point of this with Mr. Gresham;--has in point of fact insisted upon it. If so, you are lucky to have such an ally as Lord Cantrip. He and Mr. Gresham are, as you know, sworn friends, and if you get on well with the one you certainly may with the other also. Pray do not refuse without asking for time to think about it;--and if so, pray come here, that you may consult my father.

  I spent two weary weeks at Loughlinter, and then could stand it no longer. I have come here, and here I shall remain for the autumn and winter. If I can sell my interest in the Loughlinter property I shall do so, as I am sure that neither the place nor the occupation is fit for me. Indeed I know not what place or what occupation will suit me! The dreariness of the life before me is hardly preferable to the disappointments I have already endured. There seems to be nothing left for me but to watch my father to the end. The world would say that such a duty in life is fit for a widowed childless daughter; but to you I cannot pretend to say that my bereavements or misfortunes reconcile me to such a fate. I cannot cease to remember my age, my ambition, and I will say, my love. I suppose that everything is over for me,--as though I were an old woman, going down into the grave, but at my time of life I find it hard to believe that it must be so. And then the time of waiting may be so long! I suppose I could start a house in London, and get people around me by feeding and flattering them, and by little intrigues,--like that woman of whom you are so fond. It is money that is chiefly needed for that work, and of money I have enough now. And people would know at any rate who I am. But I could not flatter them, and I should wish the food to choke them if they did not please me. And you would not come, and if you did,--I may as well say it boldly,--others would not. An ill-natured sprite has been busy with me, which seems to deny me everything which is so freely granted to others.

  As for you, the world is at your feet. I dread two things for you,--that you should marry unworthily, and that you should injure your prospects in public life by an uncompromising stiffness. On the former subject I can say nothing to you. As to the latter, let me implore you to come down here before you decide upon anything. Of course you can at once accept Mr. Gresham's offer; and that is what you should do unless the office proposed to you be unworthy of you. No friend of yours will think that your old place at the Colonies should be rejected. But if your mind is still turned towards refusing, ask Mr. Gresham to give you three or four days for decision, and then come here. He cannot refuse you,--nor after all that is passed can you refuse me.

  Yours affectionately,

  L. K.

  When he had read this letter he at once acknowledged to himselfthat he could not refuse her request. He must go to Saulsby, and hemust do so at once. He was about to see Mr. Gresham immediately,--within half an hour; and as he could not expect at the most abovetwenty-four hours to be allowed to him for consideration, he mustgo down to Saulsby on the same evening. As he walked to the PrimeMinister's house he called at a telegraph office and sent down hismessage. "I will be at Saulsby by the train arriving at 7 P.M. Sendto meet me." Then he went on, and in a few minutes found himself inthe presence of the great man.

  The great man received him with an excellent courtesy. It is thespecial business of Prime Ministers to be civil in detail, thoughroughness, and perhaps almost rudeness in the gross, becomes notunfrequently a necessity of their position. To a proposed incomingsubordinate a Prime Minister is, of course, very civil, and to aretreating subordinate he is generally more so,--unless the retreatbe made under unfavourable circumstances. And to give good thingsis always pleasant, unless there be a suspicion that the good thingwill be thought to be not good enough. No such suspicion as that nowcrossed the mind of Mr. Gresham. He had been pressed very much byvarious colleagues to admit this young man into the Paradise of hisgovernment, and had been pressed very much also to exclude him; andthis had been continued till he had come to dislike the name of theyoung man. He did believe that the young man had behaved badly to Mr.Robert Kennedy, and he knew that the young man on one occasion hadtaken to kicking in harness, and running a course of his own. He haddecided against the young man,--very much no doubt at the instance ofMr. Bonteen,--and he believed that in so doing he closed the Gates ofParadise against a Peri most anxious to enter it. He now stood withthe key in his hand an
d the gate open,--and the seat to be allottedto the re-accepted one was that which he believed the Peri wouldmost gratefully fill. He began by making a little speech about Mr.Bonteen. That was almost unavoidable. And he praised in glowing wordsthe attitude which Phineas had maintained during the trial. He hadbeen delighted with the re-election at Tankerville, and thoughtthat the borough had done itself much honour. Then came forth hisproposition. Lord Fawn had retired, absolutely broken down byrepeated examinations respecting the man in the grey coat, and theoffice which Phineas had before held with so much advantage to thepublic, and comfort to his immediate chief, Lord Cantrip, was therefor his acceptance. Mr. Gresham went on to express an ardent hopethat he might have the benefit of Mr. Finn's services. It was quitemanifest from his manner that he did not in the least doubt thenature of the reply which he would receive.

  Phineas had come primed with his answer,--so ready with it that itdid not even seem to be the result of any hesitation at the moment."I hope, Mr. Gresham, that you will be able to give me a few hours tothink of this." Mr. Gresham's face fell, for, in truth, he wanted animmediate answer; and though he knew from experience that Secretariesof State, and First Lords, and Chancellors, do demand time, and willoften drive very hard bargains before they will consent to get intoharness, he considered that Under-Secretaries, Junior Lords, and thelike, should skip about as they were bidden, and take the crumbsoffered them without delay. If every underling wanted a few hours tothink about it, how could any Government ever be got together? "Iam sorry to put you to inconvenience," continued Phineas, seeingthat the great man was but ill-satisfied, "but I am so placed that Icannot avail myself of your flattering kindness without some littletime for consideration."

  "I had hoped that the office was one which you would like."

  "So it is, Mr. Gresham."

  "And I was told that you are now free from any scruples,--politicalscruples, I mean,--which might make it difficult for you to supportthe Government."

  "Since the Government came to our way of thinking,--a year or twoago,--about Tenant Right, I mean,--I do not know that there is anysubject on which I am likely to oppose it. Perhaps I had better tellyou the truth, Mr. Gresham."

  "Oh, certainly," said the Prime Minister, who knew very well thaton such occasions nothing could be worse than the telling ofdisagreeable truths.

  "When you came into office, after beating Mr. Daubeny on the Churchquestion, no man in Parliament was more desirous of place thanI was,--and I am sure that none of the disappointed ones felttheir disappointment so keenly. It was aggravated by variouscircumstances,--by calumnies in newspapers, and by personalbickerings. I need not go into that wretched story of Mr. Bonteen,and the absurd accusation which grew out of those calumnies. Thesethings have changed me very much. I have a feeling that I have beenill-used,--not by you, Mr. Gresham, specially, but by the party; andI look upon the whole question of office with altered eyes."

  "In filling up the places at his disposal, a Prime Minister, Mr.Finn, has a most unenviable task."

  "I can well believe it."

  "When circumstances, rather than any selection of his own, indicatethe future occupant of any office, this abrogation of his patronageis the greatest blessing in the world to him."

  "I can believe that also."

  "I wish it were so with every office under the Crown. A Minister israrely thanked, and would as much look for the peace of heaven in hisoffice as for gratitude."

  "I am sorry that I should have made no exception to suchthanklessness."

  "We shall neither of us get on by complaining;--shall we, Mr. Finn?You can let me have an answer perhaps by this time to-morrow."

  "If an answer by telegraph will be sufficient."

  "Quite sufficient. Yes or No. Nothing more will be wanted. Youunderstand your own reasons, no doubt, fully; but if they were statedat length they would perhaps hardly enlighten me. Good-morning." Thenas Phineas was turning his back, the Prime Minister remembered thatit behoved him as Prime Minister to repress his temper. "I shallstill hope, Mr. Finn, for a favourable answer." Had it not been forthat last word Phineas would have turned again, and at once rejectedthe proposition.

  From Mr. Gresham's house he went by appointment to Mr. Monk's, andtold him of the interview. Mr. Monk's advice to him had been exactlythe same as that given by Madame Goesler and Lady Laura. Phineas,indeed, understood perfectly that no friend could or would give himany other advice. "He has his troubles, too," said Mr. Monk, speakingof the Prime Minister.

  "A man can hardly expect to hold such an office without trouble."

  "Labour of course there must be,--though I doubt whether it isso great as that of some other persons;--and responsibility. Theamount of trouble depends on the spirit and nature of the man.Do you remember old Lord Brock? He was never troubled. He hada triple shield,--a thick skin, an equable temper, and perfectself-confidence. Mr. Mildmay was of a softer temper, and would havesuffered had he not been protected by the idolatry of a large classof his followers. Mr. Gresham has no such protection. With a finerintellect than either, and a sense of patriotism quite as keen, hehas a self-consciousness which makes him sore at every point. Heknows the frailty of his temper, and yet cannot control it. And hedoes not understand men as did these others. Every word from an enemyis a wound to him. Every slight from a friend is a dagger in hisside. But I can fancy that self-accusations make the cross on whichhe is really crucified. He is a man to whom I would extend all mymercy, were it in my power to be merciful."

  "You will hardly tell me that I should accept office under him by wayof obliging him."

  "Were I you I should do so,--not to oblige him, but because I knowhim to be an honest man."

  "I care but little for honesty," said Phineas, "which is at thedisposal of those who are dishonest. What am I to think of a Ministerwho could allow himself to be led by Mr. Bonteen?"