He must at any rate go to Lord Brentford’s dinner on Wednesday, and, to enable him to join in the conversation there, must attend the debates on Monday and Tuesday. The reader may perhaps be best made to understand how terrible was our hero’s state of doubt by being told that for awhile he thought of absenting himself from these debates, as being likely to weaken his purpose of withdrawing altogether from the House. It is not very often that so strong a fury rages between party and party at the commencement of the session that a division is taken upon the Address. It is customary for the leader of the opposition5 on such occasions to express his opinion in the most courteous6 language, that his right honourable7 friend, sitting opposite to him on the Treasury8 bench, has been, is, and will be wrong in everything that he thinks, says, or does in public life; but that, as anything like factious9 opposition is never adopted on that side of the House, the Address to the Queen, in answer to that most fatuous10 speech which has been put into Her Majesty11’s gracious mouth, shall be allowed to pass unquestioned. Then the leader of the House thanks his adversary12 for his consideration, explains to all men how happy the country ought to be that the Government has not fallen into the disgracefully incapable13 hands of his right honourable friend opposite; and after that the Address is carried amidst universal serenity14. But such was not the order of the day on the present occasion. Mr Mildmay, the veteran leader of the liberal side of the House, had moved an amendment15 to the Address, and had urged upon the House, in very strong language, the expediency16 of showing, at the very commencement of the session, that the country had returned to Parliament a strong majority determined17 not to put up with Conservative inactivity. “I conceive it to be my duty,” Mr Mildmay had said, “at once to assume that the country is unwilling18 that the right honourable gentlemen opposite should keep their seats on the bench upon which they sit, and in the performance of that duty I am called upon to divide the House upon the Address to Her Majesty.” And if Mr Mildmay used strong language, the reader may be sure that Mr Mildmay’s followers19 used language much stronger. And Mr Daubeny, who was the present leader of the House, and representative there of the Ministry20 — Lord de Terrier, the Premier21, sitting in the House of Lords — was not the man to allow these amenities22 to pass by without adequate replies. He and his friends were very strong in sarcasm23, if they failed in argument, and lacked nothing for words, though it might perhaps be proved that they were short in numbers. It was considered that the speech in which Mr Daubeny reviewed the long political life of Mr Mildmay, and showed that Mr Mildmay had been at one time a bugbear, and then a nightmare, and latterly simply a fungus24, was one of the severest attacks, if not the most severe, that had been heard in that House since the Reform Bill. Mr Mildmay, the while, was sitting with his hat low down over his eyes, and many men said that he did not like it. But this speech was not made till after that dinner at Lord Brentford’s, of which a short account must be given.
Had it not been for the overwhelming interest of the doings in Parliament at the commencement of the session, Phineas might have perhaps abstained25 from attending, in spite of the charm of novelty. For, in truth, Mr Low’s words had moved him much. But if it was to be his fate to be a member of Parliament only for ten days, surely it would be well that he should take advantage of the time to hear such a debate as this. It would be a thing to talk of to his children in twenty years’ time, or to his grandchildren in fifty — and it would be essentially26 necessary that he should be able to talk of it to Lady Laura Standish. He did, therefore, sit in the House till one on the Monday night, and till two on the Tuesday night, and heard the debate adjourned27 till the Thursday. On the Thursday Mr Daubeny was to make his great speech, and then the division would come.
When Phineas entered Lady Laura’s drawing-room on the Wednesday before dinner, he found the other guests all assembled. Why men should have been earlier in keeping their dinner engagements on that day than on any other he did not understand; but it was the fact, probably, that the great anxiety of the time made those who were at all concerned in the matter very keen to hear and to be heard. During these days everybody was in a hurry — everybody was eager; and there was a common feeling that not a minute was to be lost. There were three ladies in the room — Lady Laura, Miss Fitzgibbon, and Mrs Bonteen. The latter was the wife of a gentleman who had been a junior Lord of the Admiralty in the late Government, and who lived in the expectation of filling, perhaps, some higher office in the Government which, as he hoped, was soon to be called into existence. There were five gentlemen besides Phineas Finn himself — Mr Bonteen, Mr Kennedy, Mr Fitzgibbon, Barrington Erle, who had been caught in spite of all that Lady Laura had said as to the difficulty of such an operation, and Lord Brentford. Phineas was quick to observe that every male guest was in Parliament, and to tell himself that he would not have been there unless he also had had a seat.
“We are all here now,” said the Earl, ringing the bell.
“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting,” said Phineas.
“Not at all,” said Lady Laura. I do not know why we are in such a hurry. And how many do you say it will be, Mr Finn?”
“Seventeen, I suppose,” said Phineas.
“More likely twenty-two,” said Mr Bonteen. There is Colcleugh so ill they can’t possibly bring him up, and young Rochester is at Vienna, and Gunning is sulking about something, and Moody28 has lost his eldest29 son. By George! they pressed him to come up, although Frank Moody won’t be buried till Friday.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Lord Brentford.
“You ask some of the Carlton fellows, and they’ll own it.”
“If I’d lost every relation I had in the world,” said Fitzgibbon, “I’d vote on such a question as this. Staying away won’t bring poor Frank Moody back to life.”
“But there’s a decency30 in these matters, is there not, Mr Fitzgibbon?” said Lady Laura.
“I thought they had thrown all that kind of thing overboard long ago,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “It would be better that they should have no veil, than squabble about the thickness of it.”
Then dinner was announced. The Earl walked off with Miss Fitzgibbon, Barrington Erle took Mrs Bonteen, and Mr Fitzgibbon took Lady Laura.
“I’ll bet four pounds to two it’s over nineteen,” said Mr Bonteen, as he passed through the drawing-room door. The remark seemed to have been addressed to Mr Kennedy, and Phineas therefore made no reply.
“I daresay it will,” said Kennedy, but I never bet.”
“But you vote — sometimes, I hope,” said Bonteen.
“Sometimes,” said Mr Kennedy.
“I think he is the most odious31 man that ever I set my eyes on,” said Phineas to himself as he followed Mr Kennedy into the dining-room. He had observed that Mr Kennedy had been standing32 very near to Lady Laura in the drawing-room, and that Lady Laura had said a few words to him. He was more determined than ever that he would hate Mr Kennedy, and would probably have been moody and unhappy throughout the whole dinner had not Lady Laura called him to a chair at her left hand. It was very generous of her; and the more so, as Mr Kennedy had, in a half-hesitating manner, prepared to seat himself in that very place. As it was, Phineas and Mr Kennedy were neighbours, but Phineas had the place of honour.
“I suppose you will not speak during the debate?” said Lady Laura.
“Who? I? Certainly not. In the first place, I could not get a hearing, and, in the next place, I should not think of commencing on such an occasion. I do not know that I shall ever speak at all.”
“Indeed you will. You are just the sort of man who will succeed with the House. What I doubt is, whether you will do as well in office.”
“I wish I might have the chance.”
“Of course you can have the chance if you try for it. Beginning so early, and being on the right side — and, if you will allow me to say so, among the right set — there can be no doubt that you may take office if you will. But I am not sure that you will be tractable33. You cannot begin, you know, by being Prime Minister.”
“I have seen enough to realise that already,” said Phineas.
“If you will only keep that little fact steadily34 before your eyes, there is nothing you may not reach in official life. But Pitt was Prime Minister at four-and-twenty, and that precedent35 has ruined half our young politicians.”
“It has not affected36 me, Lady Laura.”
“As far as I can see, there is no great difficulty in government. A man must learn to have words at command when he is on his legs in the House of Commons, in the same way as he would if he were talking to his own servants. He must keep his temper; and he must be very patient. As far as I have seen Cabinet Ministers, they are not more clever than other people.”
“I think there are generally one or two men of ability in the Cabinet.”
“Yes, of fair ability. Mr Mildmay is a good specimen37. There is not, and never was, anything brilliant in him. He is not eloquent38, nor, as far as I am aware, did he ever create anything. But he has always been a steady, honest, persevering39 man, and circumstances have made politics come easy to him.”
“Think of the momentous40 questions which he has been called upon to decide,” said Phineas.
“Every question so handled by him has been decided41 rightly according to his own party, and wrongly according to the Party opposite. A political leader is so sure of support and so sure of attack, that it is hardly necessary for him to be even anxious to be right. For the country’s sake, he should have officials under him who know the routine of business.”
“You think very badly then of politics as a profession.”
“No; I think of them very highly. It must be better to deal with the repeal42 of laws than the defending of criminals. But all this is papa’s wisdom, not mine. Papa has never been in the Cabinet yet, and therefore of course he is a little caustic43.”
“I think he was quite right,” said Barrington Erle stoutly44. He spoke45 so stoutly that everybody at the table listened to him.
“I don’t exactly see the necessity for such internecine46 war just at present,” said Lord Brentford.
“I must say I do,” said the other. Lord de Terrier took office knowing that he was in a minority. We had a fair majority of nearly thirty when he came in.”
“Then how very soft you must have been to go out,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.
“Not in the least soft,” continued Barrington Erle. We could not command our men, and were bound to go out. For aught we knew, some score of them might have chosen to support Lord de Terrier, and then we should have owned ourselves beaten for the time.”
“You were beaten — hollow,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.
“Then why did Lord de Terrier dissolve?”
“A Prime Minister is quite right to dissolve in such a position,” said Lord Brentford. “He must do so for the Queen’s sake. It is his only chance.”
“Just so. It is, as you say, his only chance, and it is his right. His very possession of power will give him near a score of votes, and if he thinks that he has a chance, let him try it. We maintain that he had no chance, and that he must have known that he had none — that if he could not get on with the late House, he certainly could not get on with a new House. We let him have his own way as far as we could in February. We had failed last summer, and if he could get along he was welcome. But he could not get along.”
“I must say I think he was right to dissolve,” said Lady Laura.
“And we are right to force the consequences upon him as quickly as we can. He practically lost nine seats by his dissolution. Look at Loughshane.”
“Yes; look at Loughshane,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. The country at any rate has gained something there.”
“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Mr Finn,” said the Earl.
“What on earth is to become of poor George?” said Mr Fitzgibbon. “I wonder whether anyone knows where he is. George wasn’t a bad sort of fellow.”
“Roby used to think that he was a very bad fellow,” said Mr Bonteen. “Roby used to swear that it was hopeless trying to catch him.” It may be as well to explain that Mr Roby was a Conservative gentleman of great fame who had for years acted as Whip under Mr Daubeny, and who now filled the high office of Patronage47 Secretary to the Treasury. “I believe in my heart,” continued Mr Bonteen, “that Roby is rejoiced that poor George Morris should be out in the cold.”
“If seats were halveable, he should share mine, for the sake of auld48 lang syne,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon.
“But not tomorrow night,” said Barrington Erle; the division tomorrow will be a thing not to be joked with. Upon my word I think they’re right about old Moody. All private considerations should give way. And as for Gunning, I’d have him up or I’d know the reason why.”
“And shall we have no defaulters, Barrington?” asked Lady Laura.
“I’m not going to boast, but I don’t know of one for whom we need blush. Sir Everard Powell is so bad with gout that he can’t even bear anyone to look at him, but Ratler says that he’ll bring him up.” Mr Ratler was in those days the Whip on the liberal side of the House.
“Unfortunate wretch49!” said Miss Fitzgibbon.
“The worst of it is that he screams in his paroxysms,” said Mr Bonteen.
“And you mean to say that you’ll take him into the lobby,” said Lady Laura.
“Undoubtedly,” said Barrington Erle. Why not? He has no business with a seat if he can’t vote. But Sir Everard is a good man, and he’ll be there if laudanum and bath-chair make it possible.”
The same kind of conversation went on during the whole of dinner, and became, if anything, more animated50 when the three ladies had left the room. Mr Kennedy made but one remark, and then he observed that as far as he could see a majority of nineteen would be as serviceable as a majority of twenty. This he said in a very mild voice, and in a tone that was intended to be expressive51 of doubt; but in spite of his humility52 Barrington Erle flew at him almost savagely53 — as though a liberal member of the House of Commons was disgraced by so mean a spirit; and Phineas found himself despising the man for his want of zeal54.
“If we are to beat them, let us beat them well,” said Phineas.
“Let there be no doubt about it,” said Barrington Erle.
“I should like to see every man with a seat polled,” said Bonteen.
“Poor Sir Everard!” said Lord Brentford. It will kill him, no doubt, but I suppose the seat is safe.”
“Oh, yes; Llanwrwsth is quite safe,” said Barrington, in his eagerness omitting to catch Lord Brentford’s grim joke.
Phineas went up into the drawing-room for a few minutes after dinner, and was eagerly desirous of saying a few more words — he knew not what words — to Lady Laura. Mr Kennedy and Mr Bonteen had left the dining-room first, and Phineas again found Mr Kennedy standing close to Lady Laura’s shoulder. Could it be possible that there was anything in it? Mr Kennedy was an unmarried man, with an immense fortune, a magnificent place, a seat in Parliament, and was not perhaps above forty years of age. There could be no reason why he should not ask Lady Laura to be his wife — except, indeed, that he did not seem to have sufficient words at command to ask anybody for anything. But could it be that such a woman as Lady Laura could accept such a man as Mr Kennedy because of his wealth, and because of his fine place — a man who had not a word to throw to a dog, who did not seem to be possessed55 of an idea, who hardly looked like a gentleman — so Phineas told himself. But in truth Mr Kennedy, though he was a plain, unattractive man, with nothing in his personal appearance to call for remark, was not unlike a gentleman in his usual demeanour. Phineas himself, it may be here said, was six feet high, and very handsome, with bright blue eyes, and brown wavy56 hair, and light silken beard. Mrs Low had told her husband more than once that he was much too handsome to do any good. Mr Low, however, had replied that young Finn had never shown himself to be conscious of his own personal advantages. “He’ll learn it soon enough,” said Mrs Low. “Some woman will tell him, and then he’ll be spoilt.” I do not think that Phineas depended much as yet on his own good looks, but he felt that Mr Kennedy ought to be despised by such a one as Lady Laura Standish, because his looks were not good. And she must despise him! It could not be that a woman so full of life should be willing to put up with a man who absolutely seemed to have no life within him. And yet why was he there, and why was he allowed to hang about just over her shoulders? Phineas Finn began to feel himself to be an injured man.
But Lady Laura had the power of dispelling57 instantly this sense of injury. She had done it effectually in the dining-room by calling him to the seat by her side, to the express exclusion58 of the millionaire, and she did it again now by walking away from Mr Kennedy to the spot on which Phineas had placed himself somewhat sulkily.
“Of course you’ll be at the club on Friday morning after the division,” she said.
“No doubt.”
“When you leave it, come and tell me what are your impressions, and what you think of Mr Daubeny’s speech. There’ll be nothing done in the House before four, and you’ll be able to run up to me.”
“Certainly I will.”
“I have asked Mr Kennedy to come, and Mr Fitzgibbon. I am so anxious about it, that I want to hear what different people say. You know, perhaps, that papa is to be in the Cabinet if there’s a change.”
“Is he indeed?”
“Oh yes — and you’ll come up?”
“Of course I will. Do you expect to hear much of an opinion from Mr Kennedy?”
“Yes, I do. You don’t quite know Mr Kennedy yet. And you must remember that he will say more to me than he will to you. He’s not quick, you know, as you are, and he has no enthusiasm on any subject — but he has opinions, and sound opinions too.” Phineas felt that Lady Laura was in a slight degree scolding him for the disrespectful manner in which he had spoken of Mr Kennedy; and he felt also that he had committed himself — that he had shown himself to be sore, and that she had seen and understood his soreness.
“The truth is I do not know him,” said he, trying to correct his blunder.
“No — not as yet. But I hope that you may some day, as he is one of those men who are both useful and estimable.”
“I do not know that I can use him,” said Phineas; but if you wish it, I will endeavour to esteem59 him.”
“I wish you to do both — but that will all come in due time. I think it probable that in the early autumn there will be a great gathering60 of the real Whig Liberals at Loughlinter — of those, I mean, who have their heart in it, and are at the same time gentlemen. If it is so, I should be sorry that you should not be there. You need not mention it, but Mr Kennedy has just said a word about it to papa, and a word from him always means so much! Well — goodnight; and mind you come up on Friday. You are going to the club, now, of course, I envy you men your clubs more than I do the House — though I feel that a woman’s life is only half a life, as she cannot have a seat in Parliament.”
Then Phineas went away, and walked down to Pall61 Mall with Laurence Fitzgibbon. He would have preferred to take his walk alone, but he could not get rid of his affectionate countryman. He wanted to think over what had taken place during the evening; and, indeed, he did so in spite of his friend”s conversation. Lady Laura, when she first saw him after his return to London, had told him how anxious her father was to congratulate him on his seat, but the Earl had not spoken a word to him on the subject. The Earl had been courteous, as hosts customarily are, but had been in no way specially62 kind to him. And then Mr Kennedy! As to going to Loughlinter, he would not do such a thing — not though the success of the liberal party were to depend on it. He declared to himself that there were some things which a man could not do. But although he was not altogether satisfied with what had occurred in Portman Square, he felt as he walked down arm-in-arm with Fitzgibbon that Mr Low and Mr Low’s counsels must be scattered63 to the winds. He had thrown the die in consenting to stand for Loughshane, and must stand the hazard of the cast.
“Bedad, Phin, my boy, I don’t think you’re listening to me at all,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon.
“I’m listening to every word you say,” said Phineas.
“And if I have to go down to the ould country again this session, you’ll go with me?”
“If I can I will.”
“That’s my boy! And it’s I that hope you’ll have the chance. What’s the good of turning these fellows out if one isn’t to get something for one’s trouble?”
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1
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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miasma
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| n.毒气；不良气氛 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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factious
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| adj.好搞宗派活动的，派系的，好争论的 | |
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fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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adjourned
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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tractable
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| adj.易驾驭的；温顺的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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repeal
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| n.废止，撤消；v.废止，撤消 | |
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43
caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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internecine
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| adj.两败俱伤的 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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51
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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dispelling
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的现在分词 ) | |
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58
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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