The Palliser Novels (462 page)

“But a report has reached us, and we may say more than a report, which makes it our duty to ask this question. Were those expenses paid out of the private pocket of the present Prime Minister? If so, we maintain that we have discovered a blot in that nobleman’s character which it is our duty to the public to expose. We will go farther and say that if it be so, — if these expenses were paid out of the private pocket of the Duke of Omnium, it is not fit that that nobleman should any longer hold the high office which he now fills.

“We know that a peer should not interfere in elections for the House of Commons. We certainly know that a Minister of the Crown should not attempt to purchase parliamentary support. We happen to know also the almost more than public manner, — are we not justified in saying the ostentation? — with which at the last election the Duke repudiated all that influence with the borough which his predecessors, and we believe he himself, had so long exercised. He came forward telling us that he, at least, meant to have clean hands; — that he would not do as his forefathers had done; — that he would not even do as he himself had done in former years. What are we to think of the Duke of Omnium as a Minister of this country, if, after such assurances, he has out of his own pocket paid the electioneering expenses of a candidate at Silverbridge?” There was much more in the article, but the passages quoted will suffice to give the reader a sufficient idea of the accusation made, and which the Duke read in the retirement of his own chamber.

He read it twice before he allowed himself to think of the matter. The statement made was at any rate true to the letter. He had paid the man’s electioneering expenses. That he had done so from the purest motives he knew and the reader knows; — but he could not even explain those motives without exposing his wife. Since the cheque was sent he had never spoken of the occurrence to any human being, — but he had thought of it very often. At the time his private Secretary, with much hesitation, almost with trepidation, had counselled him not to send the money. The Duke was a man with whom it was very easy to work, whose courtesy to all dependent on him was almost exaggerated, who never found fault, and was anxious as far as possible to do everything for himself. The comfort of those around him was always matter of interest to him. Everything he held, he held as it were in trust for the enjoyment of others. But he was a man whom it was very difficult to advise. He did not like advice. He was so thin-skinned that any counsel offered to him took the form of criticism. When cautioned what shoes he should wear, — as had been done by Lady Rosina, or what wine or what horses he should buy, as was done by his butler and coachman, he was thankful, taking no pride to himself for knowledge as to shoes, wine, or horses. But as to his own conduct, private or public, as to any question of politics, as to his opinions and resolutions, he was jealous of interference. Mr. Warburton therefore had almost trembled when asking the Duke whether he was quite sure about sending the money to Lopez. “Quite sure,” the Duke had answered, having at that time made up his mind. Mr. Warburton had not dared to express a further doubt, and the money had been sent. But from the moment of sending it doubts had repeated themselves in the Prime Minister’s mind.

Now he sat with the newspaper in his hand thinking of it. Of course it was open to him to take no notice of the matter, — to go on as though he had not seen the article, and to let the thing die if it would die. But he knew Mr. Quintus Slide and his paper well enough to be sure that it would not die. The charge would be repeated in the “People’s Banner” till it was copied into other papers; and then the further question would be asked, — why had the Prime Minister allowed such an accusation to remain unanswered? But if he did notice it, what notice should he take of it? It was true. And surely he had a right to do what he liked with his own money so long as he disobeyed no law. He had bribed no one. He had spent his money with no corrupt purpose. His sense of honour had taught him to think that the man had received injury through his wife’s imprudence, and that he therefore was responsible as far as the pecuniary loss was concerned. He was not ashamed of the thing he had done; — but yet he was ashamed that it should be discussed in public.

Why had he allowed himself to be put into a position in which he was subject to such grievous annoyance? Since he had held his office he had not had a happy day, nor, — so he told himself, — had he received from it any slightest gratification, nor could he buoy himself up with the idea that he was doing good service for his country. After a while he walked into the next room and showed the paper to Mr. Warburton. “Perhaps you were right,” he said, “when you told me not to send that money.”

“It will matter nothing,” said the private Secretary when he had read it, — thinking, however, that it might matter much, but wishing to spare the Duke.

“I was obliged to repay the man as the Duchess had — had encouraged him. The Duchess had not quite — quite understood my wishes.” Mr. Warburton knew the whole history now, having discussed it all with the Duchess more than once.

“I think your Grace should take no notice of the article.”

No notice was taken of it, but three days afterwards there appeared a short paragraph in large type, — beginning with a question. “Does the Duke of Omnium intend to answer the question asked by us last Friday? Is it true that he paid the expenses of Mr. Lopez when that gentleman stood for Silverbridge? The Duke may be assured that the question shall be repeated till it is answered.” This the Duke also saw and took to his private Secretary.

“I would do nothing at any rate till it be noticed in some other paper,” said the private Secretary. “The ‘People’s Banner’ is known to be scandalous.”

“Of course it is scandalous. And, moreover, I know the motives and the malice of the wretched man who is the editor. But the paper is read, and the foul charge if repeated will become known, and the allegation made is true. I did pay the man’s election expenses; — and, moreover, to tell the truth openly as I do not scruple to do to you, I am not prepared to state publicly the reason why I did so. And nothing but that reason could justify me.”

“Then I think your Grace should state it.”

“I cannot do so.”

“The Duke of St. Bungay is here. Would it not be well to tell the whole affair to him?”

“I will think of it. I do not know why I should have troubled you.”

“Oh, my lord!”

“Except that there is always some comfort in speaking even of one’s trouble. I will think about it. In the meantime you need perhaps not mention it again.”

“Who? I? Oh, certainly not.”

“I did not mean to others, — but to myself. I will turn it in my mind and speak of it when I have decided anything.” And he did think about it, — thinking of it so much that he could hardly get the matter out of his mind day or night. To his wife he did not allude to it at all. Why trouble her with it? She had caused the evil, and he had cautioned her as to the future. She could not help him out of the difficulty she had created. He continued to turn the matter over in his thoughts till he so magnified it, and built it up into such proportions, that he again began to think that he must resign. It was, he thought, true that a man should not remain in office as Prime Minister who in such a matter could not clear his own conduct.

Then there was a third attack in the “People’s Banner,” and after that the matter was noticed in the “Evening Pulpit.” This notice the Duke of St. Bungay saw and mentioned to Mr. Warburton. “Has the Duke spoken to you of some allegations made in the press as to the expenses of the late election at Silverbridge?” The old Duke was at this time, and had been for some months, in a state of nervous anxiety about his friend. He had almost admitted to himself that he had been wrong in recommending a politician so weakly organised to take the office of Prime Minister. He had expected the man to be more manly, — had perhaps expected him to be less conscientiously scrupulous. But now, as the thing had been done, it must be maintained. Who else was there to take the office? Mr. Gresham would not. To keep Mr. Daubeny out was the very essence of the Duke of St. Bungay’s life, — the turning-point of his political creed, the one grand duty the idea of which was always present to him. And he had, moreover, a most true and most affectionate regard for the man whom he now supported, appreciating the sweetness of his character, — believing still in the Minister’s patriotism, intelligence, devotion, and honesty; though he was forced to own to himself that the strength of a man’s heart was wanting.

“Yes,” said Warburton; “he did mention it.”

“Does it trouble him?”

“Perhaps you had better speak to him about it.” Both the old Duke and the private Secretary were as fearful and nervous about the Prime Minister as a mother is for a weakly child. They could hardly tell their opinions to each other, but they understood one another, and between them they coddled their Prime Minister. They were specially nervous as to what might be done by the Prime Minister’s wife, nervous as to what was done by every one who came in contact with him. It had been once suggested by the private Secretary that Lady Rosina should be sent for, as she had a soothing effect upon the Prime Minister’s spirit.

“Has it irritated him?” asked the Duke.

“Well; — yes, it has; — a little, you know. I think your Grace had better speak to him; — and not perhaps mention my name.” The Duke of St. Bungay nodded his head, and said that he would speak to the great man and would not mention any one’s name.

And he did speak. “Has any one said anything to you about it?” asked the Prime Minister.

“I saw it in the ‘Evening Pulpit’ myself. I have not heard it mentioned anywhere.”

“I did pay the man’s expenses.”

“You did!”

“Yes, — when the election was over, and, as far as I can remember, some time after it was over. He wrote to me saying that he had incurred such and such expenses, and asking me to repay him. I sent him a cheque for the amount.”

“But why?”

“I was bound in honour to do it.”

“But why?”

There was a short pause before this second question was answered. “The man had been induced to stand by representations made to him from my house. He had been, I fear, promised certain support which certainly was not given him when the time came.”

“You had not promised it?”

“No; — not I.”

“Was it the Duchess?”

“Upon the whole, my friend, I think I would rather not discuss it further, even with you. It is right that you should know that I did pay the money, — and also why I paid it. It may also be necessary that we should consider whether there may be any further probable result from my doing so. But the money has been paid, by me myself, — and was paid for the reason I have stated.”

“A question might be asked in the House.”

“If so, it must be answered as I have answered you. I certainly shall not shirk any responsibility that may be attached to me.”

“You would not like Warburton to write a line to the newspaper?”

“What; — to the ‘People’s Banner!’”

“It began there, did it? No, not to the ‘People’s Banner,’ but to the ‘Evening Pulpit.’ He could say, you know, that the money was paid by you, and that the payment had been made because your agents had misapprehended your instructions.”

“It would not be true,” said the Prime Minister, slowly.

“As far as I can understand that was what occurred,” said the other Duke.

“My instructions were not misapprehended. They were disobeyed. I think that perhaps we had better say no more about it.”

“Do not think that I wish to press you,” said the old man, tenderly; “but I fear that something ought to be done; — I mean for your own comfort.”

“My comfort!” said the Prime Minister. “That has vanished long ago; — and my peace of mind, and my happiness.”

“There has been nothing done which cannot be explained with perfect truth. There has been no impropriety.”

“I do not know.”

“The money was paid simply from an over-nice sense of honour.”

“It cannot be explained. I cannot explain it even to you, and how then can I do it to all the gaping fools of the country who are ready to trample upon a man simply because he is in some way conspicuous among them?”

After that the old Duke again spoke to Mr. Warburton, but Mr. Warburton was very loyal to his chief. “Could one do anything by speaking to the Duchess?” said the old Duke.

“I think not.”

“I suppose it was her Grace who did it all.”

“I cannot say. My own impression is that he had better wait till the Houses meet, and then, if any question is asked, let it be answered. He himself would do it in the House of Lords, or Mr. Finn or Barrington Erle, in our House. It would surely be enough to explain that his Grace had been made to believe that the man had received encouragement at Silverbridge from his own agents, which he himself had not intended should be given, and that therefore he had thought it right to pay the money. After such an explanation what more could any one say?”

“You might do it yourself.”

“I never speak.”

“But in such a case as that you might do so; and then there would be no necessity for him to talk to another person on the matter.”

So the affair was left for the present, though the allusions to it in the “People’s Banner” were still continued. Nor did any other of the Prime Minister’s colleagues dare to speak to him on the subject. Barrington Erle and Phineas Finn talked of it among themselves, but they did not mention it even to the Duchess. She would have gone to her husband at once; and they were too careful of him to risk such a proceeding. It certainly was the case that among them they coddled the Prime Minister.

Parliament was to meet on the 12th of February, and it was of course necessary that there should be a Cabinet Council before that time. The Prime Minister, about the end of the third week in January, was prepared to name a day for this, and did so, most unwillingly. But he was then ill, and talked both to his friend the old Duke and his private Secretary of having the meeting held without him. “Impossible!” said the old Duke.