The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXXXIII.

  MELMOTTE AGAIN AT THE HOUSE.

  On that Thursday afternoon it was known everywhere that there was tobe a general ruin of all the Melmotte affairs. As soon as Cohenlupehad gone, no man doubted. The City men who had not gone to the dinnerprided themselves on their foresight, as did also the politicianswho had declined to meet the Emperor of China at the table of thesuspected Financier. They who had got up the dinner and had beeninstrumental in taking the Emperor to the house in Grosvenor Square,and they also who had brought him forward at Westminster and hadfought his battle for him, were aware that they would have to defendthemselves against heavy attacks. No one now had a word to say inhis favour, or a doubt as to his guilt. The Grendalls had retiredaltogether out of town, and were no longer even heard of. Lord Alfredhad not been seen since the day of the dinner. The Duchess of Albury,too, went into the country some weeks earlier than usual, quelled, asthe world said, by the general Melmotte failure. But this departurehad not as yet taken place at the time at which we have now arrived.

  When the Speaker took his seat in the House, soon after four o'clock,there were a great many members present, and a general feelingprevailed that the world was more than ordinarily alive becauseof Melmotte and his failures. It had been confidently assertedthroughout the morning that he would be put upon his trial forforgery in reference to the purchase of the Pickering property fromMr. Longestaffe, and it was known that he had not as yet shownhimself anywhere on this day. People had gone to look at the housein Grosvenor Square,--not knowing that he was still living in Mr.Longestaffe's house in Bruton Street, and had come away with theimpression that the desolation of ruin and crime was already plainlyto be seen upon it. "I wonder where he is," said Mr. Lupton to Mr.Beauchamp Beauclerk in one of the lobbies of the House.

  "They say he hasn't been in the City all day. I suppose he's inLongestaffe's house. That poor fellow has got it heavy all round. Theman has got his place in the country and his house in town. There'sNidderdale. I wonder what he thinks about it all."

  "This is awful;--ain't it?" said Nidderdale.

  "It might have been worse, I should say, as far as you areconcerned," replied Mr. Lupton.

  "Well, yes. But I'll tell you what, Lupton. I don't quite understandit all yet. Our lawyer said three days ago that the money wascertainly there."

  "And Cohenlupe was certainly here three days ago," said Lupton;--"buthe isn't here now. It seems to me that it has just happened in timefor you." Lord Nidderdale shook his head and tried to look verygrave.

  "There's Brown," said Sir Orlando Drought, hurrying up to thecommercial gentleman whose mistakes about finance Mr. Melmotte on aprevious occasion had been anxious to correct. "He'll be able to tellus where he is. It was rumoured, you know, an hour ago, that he wasoff to the continent after Cohenlupe." But Mr. Brown shook his head.Mr. Brown didn't know anything. But Mr. Brown was very strongly ofopinion that the police would know all that there was to be knownabout Mr. Melmotte before this time on the following day. Mr. Brownhad been very bitter against Melmotte since that memorable attackmade upon him in the House.

  Even ministers as they sat to be badgered by the ordinaryquestion-mongers of the day were more intent upon Melmotte thanupon their own defence. "Do you know anything about it?" asked theChancellor of the Exchequer of the Secretary of State for the HomeDepartment.

  "I understand that no order has been given for his arrest. There isa general opinion that he has committed forgery; but I doubt whetherthey've got their evidence together."

  "He's a ruined man, I suppose," said the Chancellor.

  "I doubt whether he ever was a rich man. But I'll tell you what;--hehas been about the grandest rogue we've seen yet. He must have spentover a hundred thousand pounds during the last twelve months on hispersonal expenses. I wonder how the Emperor will like it when helearns the truth." Another minister sitting close to the Secretary ofState was of opinion that the Emperor of China would not care half somuch about it as our own First Lord of the Treasury.

  At this moment there came a silence over the House which was almostaudible. They who know the sensation which arises from the continuedhum of many suppressed voices will know also how plain to theear is the feeling caused by the discontinuance of the sound.Everybody looked up, but everybody looked up in perfect silence. AnUnder-Secretary of State had just got upon his legs to answer a mostindignant question as to an alteration of the colour of the facingsof a certain regiment, his prepared answer to which, however, was sohappy as to allow him to anticipate quite a little triumph. It is notoften that such a Godsend comes in the way of an under-secretary; andhe was intent upon his performance. But even he was startled intomomentary oblivion of his well-arranged point. Augustus Melmotte, themember for Westminster, was walking up the centre of the House.

  He had succeeded by this time in learning so much of the forms ofthe House as to know what to do with his hat,--when to wear it, andwhen to take it off,--and how to sit down. As he entered by the doorfacing the Speaker, he wore his hat on one side of his head, as washis custom. Much of the arrogance of his appearance had come fromthis habit, which had been adopted probably from a conviction that itadded something to his powers of self-assertion. At this moment hewas more determined than ever that no one should trace in his outergait or in any feature of his face any sign of that ruin which, ashe well knew, all men were anticipating. Therefore, perhaps, his hatwas a little more cocked than usual, and the lapels of his coat werethrown back a little wider, displaying the large jewelled studs whichhe wore in his shirt; and the arrogance conveyed by his mouth andchin was specially conspicuous. He had come down in his brougham, andas he had walked up Westminster Hall and entered the House by theprivate door of the members, and then made his way in across thegreat lobby and between the doorkeepers,--no one had spoken a wordto him. He had of course seen many whom he had known. He had indeedknown nearly all whom he had seen;--but he had been aware, from thebeginning of this enterprise of the day, that men would shun him, andthat he must bear their cold looks and colder silence without seemingto notice them. He had schooled himself to the task, and he was nowperforming it. It was not only that he would have to move among menwithout being noticed, but that he must endure to pass the wholeevening in the same plight. But he was resolved, and he was now doingit. He bowed to the Speaker with more than usual courtesy, raisinghis hat with more than usual care, and seated himself, as usual,on the third opposition-bench, but with more than his usual fling.He was a big man, who always endeavoured to make an effect bydeportment, and was therefore customarily conspicuous in hismovements. He was desirous now of being as he was always, neithermore nor less demonstrative;--but, as a matter of course, heexceeded; and it seemed to those who looked at him that there was aspecial impudence in the manner in which he walked up the House andtook his seat. The Under-Secretary of State, who was on his legs, wasstruck almost dumb, and his morsel of wit about the facings was lostto Parliament for ever.

  That unfortunate young man, Lord Nidderdale, occupied the seat nextto that on which Melmotte had placed himself. It had so happenedthree or four times since Melmotte had been in the House, as theyoung lord, fully intending to marry the Financier's daughter, hadresolved that he would not be ashamed of his father-in-law. Hehad understood that countenance of the sort which he as a youngaristocrat could give to the man of millions who had risen no oneknew whence, was part of the bargain in reference to the marriage,and he was gifted with a mingled honesty and courage which togethermade him willing and able to carry out his idea. He had givenMelmotte little lessons as to ordinary forms of the House, and haddone what in him lay to earn the money which was to be forthcoming.But it had become manifest both to him and to his father during thelast two days,--very painfully manifest to his father,--that thething must be abandoned. And if so,--then why should he be any longergracious to Melmotte? And, moreover, though he had been ready to becourteous to a very vulgar and a very disagreeable man, he was notanxious to extend his civilities t
o one who, as he was now assured,had been certainly guilty of forgery. But to get up at once and leavehis seat because Melmotte had placed himself by his side, did notsuit the turn of his mind. He looked round to his neighbour on theright, with a half-comic look of misery, and then prepared himself tobear his punishment, whatever it might be.

  "Have you been up with Marie to-day?" said Melmotte.

  "No;--I've not," replied the lord.

  "Why don't you go? She's always asking about you now. I hope we shallbe in our own house again next week, and then we shall be able tomake you comfortable."

  Could it be possible that the man did not know that all the worldwas united in accusing him of forgery? "I'll tell you what it is,"said Nidderdale. "I think you had better see my governor again, Mr.Melmotte."

  "There's nothing wrong, I hope."

  "Well;--I don't know. You'd better see him. I'm going now. I onlyjust came down to enter an appearance." He had to cross Melmotte onhis way out, and as he did so Melmotte grasped him by the hand. "Goodnight, my boy," said Melmotte quite aloud,--in a voice much louderthan that which members generally allow themselves for conversation.Nidderdale was confused and unhappy; but there was probably not a manin the House who did not understand the whole thing. He rushed downthrough the gangway and out through the doors with a hurried step,and as he escaped into the lobby he met Lionel Lupton, who, since hislittle conversation with Mr. Beauclerk, had heard further news.

  "You know what has happened, Nidderdale?"

  "About Melmotte, you mean?"

  "Yes, about Melmotte," continued Lupton. "He has been arrested in hisown house within the last half-hour on a charge of forgery."

  "I wish he had," said Nidderdale, "with all my heart. If you go inyou'll find him sitting there as large as life. He has been talkingto me as though everything were all right."

  "Compton was here not a moment ago, and said that he had been takenunder a warrant from the Lord Mayor."

  "The Lord Mayor is a member and had better come and fetch hisprisoner himself. At any rate he's there. I shouldn't wonder if hewasn't on his legs before long."

  Melmotte kept his seat steadily till seven, at which hour the Houseadjourned till nine. He was one of the last to leave, and then witha slow step,--with almost majestic steps,--he descended to thedining-room and ordered his dinner. There were many men there, andsome little difficulty about a seat. No one was very willing to makeroom for him. But at last he secured a place, almost jostling someunfortunate who was there before him. It was impossible to expelhim,--almost as impossible to sit next him. Even the waiters wereunwilling to serve him;--but with patience and endurance he did atlast get his dinner. He was there in his right, as a member of theHouse of Commons, and there was no ground on which such service ashe required could be refused to him. It was not long before he hadthe table all to himself. But of this he took no apparent notice.He spoke loudly to the waiters and drank his bottle of champagnewith much apparent enjoyment. Since his friendly intercourse withNidderdale no one had spoken to him, nor had he spoken to any man.They who watched him declared among themselves that he was happy inhis own audacity;--but in truth he was probably at that moment themost utterly wretched man in London. He would have better studiedhis personal comfort had he gone to his bed, and spent his eveningin groans and wailings. But even he, with all the world now gonefrom him, with nothing before him but the extremest misery which theindignation of offended laws could inflict, was able to spend thelast moments of his freedom in making a reputation at any rate foraudacity. It was thus that Augustus Melmotte wrapped his toga aroundhim before his death!

  He went from the dining-room to the smoking-room, and there, takingfrom his pocket a huge case which he always carried, proceeded tolight a cigar about eight inches long. Mr. Brown, from the City, wasin the room, and Melmotte, with a smile and a bow, offered Mr. Brownone of the same. Mr. Brown was a short, fat, round little man, oversixty, who was always endeavouring to give to a somewhat commonplaceset of features an air of importance by the contraction of his lipsand the knitting of his brows. It was as good as a play to see Mr.Brown jumping back from any contact with the wicked one, and puttingon a double frown as he looked at the impudent sinner. "You needn'tthink so much, you know, of what I said the other night. I didn'tmean any offence." So spoke Melmotte, and then laughed with a loud,hoarse laugh, looking round upon the assembled crowd as though hewere enjoying his triumph.

  He sat after that and smoked in silence. Once again he burst outinto a laugh, as though peculiarly amused with his own thoughts;--asthough he were declaring to himself with much inward humour that allthese men around him were fools for believing the stories which theyhad heard; but he made no further attempt to speak to any one. Soonafter nine he went back again into the House, and again took his oldplace. At this time he had swallowed three glasses of brandy andwater, as well as the champagne, and was brave enough almost foranything. There was some debate going on in reference to the gamelaws,--a subject on which Melmotte was as ignorant as one of his ownhousemaids,--but, as some speaker sat down, he jumped up to his legs.Another gentleman had also risen, and when the House called to thatother gentleman Melmotte gave way. The other gentleman had not muchto say, and in a few minutes Melmotte was again on his legs. Whoshall dare to describe the thoughts which would cross the august mindof a Speaker of the House of Commons at such a moment? Of Melmotte'svillainy he had no official knowledge. And even could he have hadsuch knowledge it was not for him to act upon it. The man was amember of the House, and as much entitled to speak as another. Butit seemed on that occasion that the Speaker was anxious to save theHouse from disgrace;--for twice and thrice he refused to have his"eye caught" by the member for Westminster. As long as any othermember would rise he would not have his eye caught. But Melmotte waspersistent, and determined not to be put down. At last no one elsewould speak, and the House was about to negative the motion withouta division,--when Melmotte was again on his legs, still persisting.The Speaker scowled at him and leaned back in his chair. Melmottestanding erect, turning his head round from one side of the Houseto another, as though determined that all should see his audacity,propping himself with his knees against the seat before him, remainedfor half a minute perfectly silent. He was drunk,--but better ablethan most drunken men to steady himself, and showing in his facenone of those outward signs of intoxication by which drunkenness isgenerally made apparent. But he had forgotten in his audacity thatwords are needed for the making of a speech, and now he had not aword at his command. He stumbled forward, recovered himself, thenlooked once more round the House with a glance of anger, and afterthat toppled headlong forward over the shoulders of Mr. BeauchampBeauclerk, who was now sitting in front of him.

  He might have wrapped his toga around him better perhaps had heremained at home, but if to have himself talked about was his onlyobject, he could hardly have taken a surer course. The scene, as itoccurred, was one very likely to be remembered when the performershould have been carried away into enforced obscurity. There was muchcommotion in the House. Mr. Beauclerk, a man of natural good nature,though at the moment put to considerable personal inconvenience,hastened, when he recovered his own equilibrium, to assist thedrunken man. But Melmotte had by no means lost the power of helpinghimself. He quickly recovered his legs, and then reseating himself,put his hat on, and endeavoured to look as though nothing special hadoccurred. The House resumed its business, taking no further notice ofMelmotte, and having no special rule of its own as to the treatmentto be adopted with drunken members. But the member for Westminstercaused no further inconvenience. He remained in his seat for perhapsten minutes, and then, not with a very steady step, but still withcapacity sufficient for his own guidance, he made his way down to thedoors. His exit was watched in silence, and the moment was an anxiousone for the Speaker, the clerks, and all who were near him. Had hefallen some one,--or rather some two or three,--must have picked himup and carried him out. But he did not fall either there or in thelobbies, or on his way down
to Palace Yard. Many were looking at him,but none touched him. When he had got through the gates, leaningagainst the wall he hallooed for his brougham, and the servant whowas waiting for him soon took him home to Bruton Street. That wasthe last which the British Parliament saw of its new member forWestminster.

  Melmotte as soon as he reached home got into his own sitting-roomwithout difficulty, and called for more brandy and water. Betweeneleven and twelve he was left there by his servant with a bottleof brandy, three or four bottles of soda-water, and his cigar-case.Neither of the ladies of the family came to him, nor did he speak ofthem. Nor was he so drunk then as to give rise to any suspicion inthe mind of the servant. He was habitually left there at night, andthe servant as usual went to his bed. But at nine o'clock on thefollowing morning the maid-servant found him dead upon the floor.Drunk as he had been,--more drunk as he probably became during thenight,--still he was able to deliver himself from the indignitiesand penalties to which the law might have subjected him by a dose ofprussic acid.