Chapter 39

IN February, 1855, Roebuck moved for a select committee toinquire into the condition of the Army before Sebastopol.

　　Lord John Russell, who was leader of the House, treated thisas a vote of censure, and resigned. Lord Palmerston resistedRoebuck's motion, and generously defended the Government hewas otherwise opposed to. But the motion was carried by amajority of 157, and Lord Aberdeen was turned out of office.

　　The Queen sent for Lord Derby, but without Lord Palmerston hewas unable to form a Ministry. Lord John was then appealedto, with like results; and the premiership was practicallyforced upon Palmerston, in spite of his unpopularity atCourt. Mr. Horsman was made Chief Secretary for Ireland; andthrough Mr. Ellice I became his private secretary.

　　Before I went to the Irish Office I was all but a stranger tomy chief. I had met him occasionally in the tennis court;but the net was always between us. He was a man with a greatdeal of manner, but with very little of what the French call'conviction.' Nothing keeps people at a distance moreeffectually than simulated sincerity; Horsman was a master ofthe art. I was profoundly ignorant of my duties. But thoughthis was a great inconvenience to me at first, it led to afriendship which I greatly prized until its tragic end. Forall information as to the writers of letters, as to IrishMembers who applied for places for themselves, or for others,I had to consult the principal clerk. He was himself anIrishman of great ability; and though young, was eitherpersonally or officially acquainted, so it seemed to me, withevery Irishman in the House of Commons, or out of it. Hisname is too well known - it was Thomas Bourke, afterwardsUnder Secretary, and one of the victims of the Fenianassassins in the Phoenix Park. His patience and amiabilitywere boundless; and under his guidance I soon learnt thetricks of my trade.

　　During the session we remained in London; and for some timeit was of great interest to listen to the debates. WhenIrish business was before the House, I had often to be inattendance on my chief in the reporters' gallery. SometimesI had to wait there for an hour or two before our questionscame on, and thus had many opportunities of hearing Bright,Gladstone, Disraeli, and all the leading speakers. After atime the pleasure, when compulsory, began to pall; and I usedto wonder what on earth could induce the ruck to waste theirtime in following, sheeplike, their bell-wethers, or wastetheir money in paying for that honour. When Parliament wasup we moved to Dublin. I lived with Horsman in the ChiefSecretary's lodge. And as I had often stayed at CastleHoward before Lord Carlisle became Viceroy, between the twolodges I saw a great deal of pleasant society.

　　Amongst those who came to stay with Horsman was SidneyHerbert, then Colonial Secretary, a man of singular nobilityof nature. Another celebrity for the day, but of a verydifferent character, was Lord Cardigan. He had just returnedfrom the Crimea, and was now in command of the forces inIreland. This was about six months after the Balaklavacharge. Horsman asked him one evening to give a descriptionof it, with a plan of the battle. His Lordship did so; nowords could be more suited to the deed. If this was 'pell-mell, havock, and confusion,' the account of it wasproportionately confounded. The noble leader scrawled andinked and blotted all the phases of the battle upon the samescrap of paper, till the batteries were at the starting-pointof the charge, the Light Brigade on the far side of the guns,and all the points of the compass, attack and defence, hadchanged their original places; in fact, the gallant Earlbrandished his pen as valiantly as he had his sword. Whenquite bewildered, like everybody else, I ventured mildly toask, 'But where were you, Lord Cardigan, and where were ourmen when it came to this?'

　　'Where? Where? God bless my soul! How should I know whereanybody was?' And this, no doubt, described the situation toa nicety.

　　My office was in the Castle, and the next room to mine wasthat of the Solicitor-General Keogh, afterwards Judge. Webecame the greatest of friends. It was one of Horsman'speculiarities to do business circuitously. He was fond ofmysteries and of secrets, secrets that were to be kept fromeveryone, but which were generally known to the officemessengers. When Keogh and I met in the morning he wouldsay, with admirable imitation of Horsman's manner, 'Well, itis all settled; the Viceroy has considered the question, andhas decided to act upon my advice. Mind you don't tellanyone - it is a profound secret,' then, lowering his voiceand looking round the room, 'His Excellency has consented toscore at the next cricket match between the garrison and theCivil Service.' If it were a constabulary appointment, oreven a village post-office, the Attorney or the Solicitor-General would be strictly enjoined not to inform me, and Ireceived similar injunctions respecting them. In spite ofhis apparent attention to details, Mr. Horsman hunted threedays a week, and stated in the House of Commons that theoffice of Chief Secretary was a farce, meaning when excludedfrom the Cabinet. All I know is, that his private secretarywas constantly at work an hour before breakfast by candle-light, and never got a single day's holiday throughout thewinter.

　　Horsman had hired a shooting - Balnaboth in Scotland; here,too, I had to attend upon him in the autumn, mainly for thepurpose of copying voluminous private correspondence about asugar estate he owned at Singapore, then producing a largeincome, but the subsequent failure of which was his ruin.

　　One year Sir Alexander Cockburn, the Lord Chief Justice, cameto stay with him; and excellent company he was. Horsman hadsometimes rather an affected way of talking; and referring tosome piece of political news, asked Cockburn whether he hadseen it in the 'Courier.' This he pronounced with an accenton the last syllable, like the French 'Courrier.' Cockburn,with a slight twinkle in his eye, answered in his quiet way,'No, I didn't see it in the "Courrier," perhaps it is in the"Morning Post,"' also giving the French pronunciation to thelatter word.

　　Sir Alexander told us an amusing story about Disraeli. Heand Bernal Osborne were talking together about Mrs. Disraeli,when presently Osborne, with characteristic effrontery,exclaimed: 'My dear Dizzy, how could you marry such awoman?' The answer was; 'My dear Bernal, you never knew whatgratitude was, or you would not ask the question.'

　　The answer was a gracious one, and doubtless sincere. But,despite his cynicism, no one could be more courteous or sayprettier things than Disraeli. Here is a little story thatwas told me at the time by my sister-in-law, who was a womanof the bedchamber, and was present on the occasion. When herMajesty Queen Alexandra was suffering from an accident to herknee, and had to use crutches, Disraeli said to her: 'I haveheard of a devil on two sticks, but never before knew anangel to use them.'

　　Keogh, Bourke, and I, made several pleasant little excursionsto such places as Bray, the Seven Churches, Powerscourt, &c.,and, with a chosen car-driver, the wit and fun of the threeclever Irishmen was no small treat. The last time I saweither of my two friends was at a dinner-party which Bourkegave at the 'Windham.' We were only four, to make up a whistparty; the fourth was Fred Clay, the composer. It is sad toreflect that two of the lot came to violent ends - Keogh, thecheeriest of men in society, by his own hands. Bourke I hadoften spoken to of the danger he ran in crossing the PhoenixPark nightly on his way home, on foot and unarmed. Helaughed at me, and rather indignantly - for he was a veryvain man, though one of the most good-natured fellows in theworld. In the first place, he prided himself on his physique- he was a tall, well-built, handsome man, and a good boxerand fencer to boot. In the next place, he prided himselfabove all things on being a thorough-bred Irishman, with asneaking sympathy with even Fenian grievances. 'They allknow ME,' he would say. 'The rascals know I'm the bestfriend they have. I'm the last man in the world they'd harm,for political reasons. Anyway, I can take care of myself.'

　　And so it was he fell.

　　The end of Horsman's secretaryship is soon told. A bishopricbecame vacant, and almost as much intrigue was set agoing aswe read of in the wonderful story of 'L'Anneau d'Amethyste.'

　　Horsman, at all times a profuse letter-writer, wrote foliosto Lord Palmerston on the subject, each letter moreexuberant, more urgent than the last. But no answer came.

　　Finally, the whole Irish vote, according to the ChiefSecretary, being at stake - not to mention the far moreimportant matter of personal and official dignity - Horsmanflew off to London, boiling over with impatience andindignation. He rushed to 10 Downing Street. His Lordshipwas at the Foreign office, but was expected every minute;would Mr. Horsman wait? Mr. Horsman was shown into hisLordship's room. Piles of letters, opened and unopened, werelying upon the table. The Chief Secretary recognised his ownsignatures on the envelopes of a large bundle, all amongstthe 'un's.' The Premier came in, an explanation EXTREMEMENTVIVE followed; on his return to Dublin Mr. Horsman resignedhis post, and from that moment became one of LordPalmerston's bitterest opponents.