On the Sunday afternoon Phineas went to Lord Brentford’s in Portman Square, intending to say a word or two about Lord Chiltern, and meaning also to induce, if possible, the Cabinet Minister to take part with him against the magistrates — having a hope also, in which he was not disappointed, that he might find Lady Laura Kennedy with her father. He had come to understand that Lady Laura was not to be visited at her own house on Sundays. So much indeed she had told him in so many words. But he had come to understand also, without any plain telling, that she rebelled in heart against this Sabbath tyranny — and that she would escape from it when escape was possible. She had now come to talk to her father about her brother, and had brought Violet Effingham with her. They had walked together across the park after church, and intended to walk back again. Mr Kennedy did not like to have any carriage out on a Sunday, and to this arrangement his wife made no objection.
Phineas had received a letter from the Stamford surgeon, and was able to report favourably14 of Lord Chiltern. “The man says that he had better not be moved for a month,” said Phineas. “But that means nothing. They always say that.”
“Will it not be best for him to remain where he is?” said the Earl.
“He has not a soul to speak to,” said Phineas.
“I wish I were with him,” said his sister.
“That is, of course, out of the question,” said the Earl. “They know him at that inn, and it really seems to me best that he should stay there. I do not think he would be so much at his ease here.”
“It must be dreadful for a man to be confined to his room without a creature near him, except the servants,” said Violet. The Earl frowned, but said nothing further. They all perceived that as soon as he had learned that there was no real danger as to his son’s life, he was determined15 that this accident should not work him up to any show of tenderness, “I do so hope he will come up to London,” continued Violet, who was not afraid of the Earl, and was determined not to be put down.
“You don’t know what you are talking about, my dear,” said Lord Brentford.
After this Phineas found it very difficult to extract any sympathy from the Earl on behalf of the men who had been locked up. He was moody16 and cross, and could not be induced to talk on the great subject of the day. Violet Effingham declared that she did not care how many Bunces were locked up; nor for how long — adding, however, a wish that Mr Turnbull himself had been among the number of the prisoners. Lady Laura was somewhat softer than this, and consented to express pity in the case of Mr Bunce himself; but Phineas perceived that the pity was awarded to him and not to the sufferer. The feeling against Mr Turnbull was at the present moment so strong among all the upper classes, that Mr Bunce and his brethren might have been kept in durance for a week without commiseration17 from them.
“It is very hard certainly on a man like Mr Bunce,” said Lady Laura.
“Why did not Mr Bunce stay at home and mind his business?” said the Earl.
Phineas spent the remainder of that day alone, and came to a resolution that on the coming occasion he certainly would speak in the House. The debate would be resumed on the Monday, and he would rise to his legs on the very first moment that it became possible for him to do so. And he would do nothing towards preparing a speech — nothing whatever. On this occasion he would trust entirely18 to such words as might come to him at the moment — ay, and to such thoughts. He had before burdened his memory with preparations, and the very weight of the burden had been too much for his mind. He had feared to trust himself to speak, because he had felt that he was not capable of performing the double labour of saying his lesson by heart, and of facing the House for the first time. There should be nothing now for him to remember. His thoughts were full of his subject. He would support Mr Mildmay’s bill with all his eloquence19, but he would implore20 Mr Mildmay, and the Home Secretary, and the Government generally, to abstain21 from animosity against the populace of London, because they desired one special boon22 which Mr Mildmay did not think that it was his duty to give them. He hoped that ideas and words would come to him. Ideas and words had been free enough with him in the old days of the Dublin debating society. If they failed him now, he must give the thing up, and go back to Mr Low.
On the Monday morning Phineas was for two hours at the police court in Westminster, and at about one on that day Mr Bunce was liberated. When he was brought up before the magistrate6, Mr Bunce spoke23 his mind very freely as to the usage he had received, and declared his intention of bringing an action against the sergeant24 who had detained him. The magistrate, of course, took the part of the police, and declared that, from the evidence of two men who were examined, Bunce had certainly used such violence in the crowd as had justified25 his arrest.
“I used no violence,” said Bunce.
“According to your own showing, you endeavoured to make your way up to Mr Turnbull’s carriage,” said the magistrate.
“I was close to the carriage before the police even saw me,” said Bunce.
“But you tried to force your way round to the door.”
“I used no force till a man had me by the collar to push me back; and I wasn’t violent, not then. I told him I was doing what I had a right to do — and it was that as made him hang on to me.”
“You were not doing what you had a right to do. You were assisting to create a riot,” said the magistrate, with that indignation which a London magistrate should always know how to affect.
Phineas, however, was allowed to give evidence as to his landlord’s character, and then Bunce was liberated. But before he went he again swore that that should not be the last of it, and he told the magistrate that he had been ill-used. When liberated, he was joined by a dozen sympathising friends, who escorted him home, and among them were one or two literary gentlemen, employed on those excellent penny papers, the People’s Banner and the Ballot26-box. It was their intention that Mr Bunce’s case should not be allowed to sleep. One of these gentlemen made a distinct offer to Phineas Finn of unbounded popularity during life and of immortality27 afterwards, if he, as a member of Parliament, would take up Bunce’s case with vigour28. Phineas, not quite understanding the nature of the offer, and not as yet knowing the profession of the gentleman, gave some general reply.
“You come out strong, Mr Finn, and we’ll see that you are properly reported. I’m on the Banner, sir, and I’ll answer for that.”
Phineas, who had been somewhat eager in expressing his sympathy with Bunce, and had not given very close attention to the gentleman who was addressing him, was still in the dark. The nature of the Banner, which the gentleman was on, did not at once come home to him.
“Something ought to be done, certainly,” said Phineas.
“We shall take it up strong,” said the gentleman, and we shall be happy to have you among us. You’ll find, Mr Finn, that in public life there’s nothing like having a horgan to back you. What is the most you can do in the ‘Ouse? Nothing, if you’re not reported. You’re speaking to the country — ain’t you? And you can’t do that without a horgan, Mr Finn. You come among us on the Banner, Mr Finn. You can’t do better.”
Then Phineas understood the nature of the offer made to him. As they parted, the literary gentleman gave our hero his card. “Mr Quintus Slide.” So much was printed. Then, on the corner of the card was written, “Banner Office, 137, Fetter29 Lane.” Mr Quintus Slide was a young man, under thirty, not remarkable30 for clean linen31, and who always talked of the “‘Ouse.” But he was a well-known and not undistinguished member of a powerful class of men. He had been a reporter, and as such knew the “‘Ouse” well, and was a writer for the press. And, though he talked of “‘Ouses” and “horgans”, he wrote good English with great rapidity, and was possessed32 of that special sort of political fervour which shows itself in a man’s work rather than in his conduct. It was Mr Slide’s taste to be an advanced reformer, and in all his operations on behalf of the People’s Banner he was a reformer very much advanced. No man could do an article on the people’s indefeasible rights with more pronounced vigour than Mr Slide. But it had never occurred to him as yet that he ought to care for anything else than the fight — than the advantage of having a good subject on which to write slashing33 articles. Mr Slide was an energetic but not a thoughtful man; but in his thoughts on politics, as far as they went with him, he regarded the wrongs of the people as being of infinitely34 greater value than their rights. It was not that he was insincere in all that he was daily saying — but simply that he never thought about it. Very early in life he had fallen among “people’s friends,” and an opening on the liberal press had come in his way. To be a “people’s friend” suited the turn of his ambition, and he was a “people’s friend.” It was his business to abuse Government, and to express on all occasions an opinion that as a matter of course the ruling powers were the “people’s enemies.” Had the ruling powers ceased to be the “people’s enemies,” Mr Slide’s ground would have been taken from under his feet. But such a catastrophe35 was out of the question. That excellent old arrangement that had gone on since demagogues were first invented was in full vigour. There were the ruling powers and there were the people — devils on one side and angels on the other — and as long as a people’s friend had a pen in his hand all was right.
Phineas, when he left the indignant Bunce to go among his friends, walked to the House thinking a good deal of what Mr Slide had said to him. The potted peas Committee was again on, and he had intended to be in the committee room by twelve punctually: but he had been unable to leave Mr Bunce in the lurch36, and it was now past one. Indeed, he had, from one unfortunate circumstance after another, failed hitherto in giving to the potted peas that resolute37 attention which the subject demanded. On the present occasion his mind was full of Mr Quintus Slide and the People’s Banner. After all, was there not something in Mr Slide’s proposition? He, Phineas, had come into Parliament as it were under the wing of a Government pack, and his friendships, which had been very successful, had been made with Ministers, and with the friends of Ministers. He had made up his mind to be Whig Ministerial, and to look for his profession in that line. He had been specially38 fortified39 in this resolution by his dislike to the ballot — which dislike had been the result of Mr Monk40’s teaching. Had Mr Turnbull become his friend instead, it may well be that he would have liked the ballot. On such subjects men must think long, and be sure that they have thought in earnest, before they are justified in saying that their opinions are the results of their own thoughts. But now he began to reflect how far this ministerial profession would suit him. Would it be much to be a Lord of the Treasury41, subject to the dominion42 of Mr Ratler? Such lordship and such subjection would be the result of success. He told himself that he was at heart a true Liberal. Would it not be better for him to abandon the idea of office trammels, and go among them on the People’s Banner? A glow of enthusiasm came over him as he thought of it. But what would Violet Effingham say to the People’s Banner and Mr Quintus Slide? And he would have liked the Banner better had not Mr Slide talked about the ‘Ouse.
From the committee room, in which, alas43! he took no active part in reference to the potted peas, he went down to the House, and was present when the debate was resumed. Not unnaturally44, one speaker after another made some allusion45 to the row in the streets, and the work which had fallen to the lot of the magistrates. Mr Turnbull had declared that he would vote against the second reading of Mr Mildmay’s bill, and had explained that he would do so because he could consent to no Reform Bill which did not include the ballot as one of its measures. The debate fashioned itself after this speech of Mr Turnbull’s, and turned again very much upon the ballot — although it had been thought that the late debate had settled that question. One or two of Mr Turnbull’s followers46 declared that they also would vote against the bill — of course, as not going far enough; and one or two gentlemen from the Conservative benches extended a spoken welcome to these new colleagues. Then Mr Palliser got up and addressed the House for an hour, struggling hard to bring back the real subject, and to make the House understand that the ballot, whether good or bad, had been knocked on the head, and that members had no right at the present moment to consider anything but the expediency48 or inexpediency of so much Reform as Mr Mildmay presented to them in the present bill.
Phineas was determined to speak, and to speak on this evening if he could catch the Speaker’s eye. Again the scene before him was going round before him; again things became dim, and again he felt his blood beating hard at his heart. But things were not so bad with him as they had been before, because he had nothing to remember. He hardly knew, indeed, what he intended to say. He had an idea that he was desirous of joining in earnest support of the measure, with a vehement49 protest against the injustice50 which had been done to the people in general, and to Mr Bunce in particular. He had firmly resolved that no fear of losing favour with the Government should induce him to hold his tongue as to the Buncean cruelties. Sooner than do so he would certainly “go among them” at the Banner office.
He started up, wildly, when Mr Palliser had completed his speech; but the Speaker’s eye, not unnaturally, had travelled to the other side of the House, and there was a Tory of the old school upon his legs — Mr Western, the member for East Barsetshire, one of the gallant51 few who dared to vote against Sir Robert Peel’s bill for repealing52 the Corn Laws in 1846, Mr Western spoke with a slow, ponderous53, unimpressive, but very audible voice, for some twenty minutes, disdaining54 to make reference to Mr Turnbull and his politics, but pleading against any Reform, with all the old arguments. Phineas did not hear a word that he said — did not attempt to hear. He was keen in his resolution to make another attempt at the Speaker’s eye, and at the present moment was thinking of that, and of that only. He did not even give himself a moment’s reflection as to what his own speech should be. He would dash at it and take his chance, resolved that at least he would not fail in courage. Twice he was on his legs before Mr Western had finished his slow harangue55, and twice he was compelled to reseat himself — thinking that he had subjected himself to ridicule56. At last the member for East Barset sat down, and Phineas was conscious that he had lost a moment or two in presenting himself again to the Speaker.
He held his ground, however, though he saw that he had various rivals for the right of speech. He held his ground, and was instantly aware that he had gained his point. There was a slight pause, and as some other urgent member did not reseat himself, Phineas heard the president of that august assembly call upon himself to address the House. The thing was now to be done. There he was with the House of Commons at his feet — a crowded House, bound to be his auditors57 as long as he should think fit to address them, and reporters by tens and twenties in the gallery ready and eager to let the country know what the young member for Loughshane would say in this his maiden58 speech.
Phineas Finn had sundry59 gifts, a powerful and pleasant voice, which he had learned to modulate60, a handsome presence, and a certain natural mixture of modesty61 and self-reliance, which would certainly protect him from the faults of arrogance62 and pomposity63, and which, perhaps, might carry him through the perils64 of his new position. And he had also the great advantage of friends in the House who were anxious that he should do well. But he had not that gift of slow blood which on the former occasion would have enabled him to remember his prepared speech, and which would now have placed all his own resources within his own reach. He began with the expression of an opinion that every true reformer ought to accept Mr Mildmay’s bill, even if it were accepted only as an instalment — but before he had got through these sentences, he became painfully conscious that he was repeating his own words.
He was cheered almost from the outset, and yet he knew as he went on that he was failing. He had certain arguments at his fingers’ ends — points with which he was, in truth, so familiar that he need hardly have troubled himself to arrange them for special use — and he forgot even these. He found that he was going on with one platitude65 after another as to the benefit of reform, in a manner that would have shamed him six or seven years ago at a debating club. He pressed on, fearing that words would fail him altogether if he paused — but he did in truth speak very much too fast, knocking his words together so that no reporter could properly catch them. But he had nothing to say for the bill except what hundreds had said before, and hundreds would say again. Still he was cheered, and still he went on; and as he became more and more conscious of his failure there grew upon him the idea — the dangerous hope, that he might still save himself from ignominy by the eloquence of his invective66 against the police.
He tried it, and succeeded thoroughly67 in making the House understand that he was very angry — but he succeeded in nothing else. He could not catch the words to express the thoughts of his mind. He could not explain his idea that the people out of the House had as much right to express their opinion in favour of the ballot as members in the House had to express theirs against it; and that animosity had been shown to the people by the authorities because they had so expressed their opinion. Then he attempted to tell the story of Mr Bunce in a light and airy way, failed, and sat down in the middle of it. Again he was cheered by all around him — cheered as a new member is usually cheered — and in the midst of the cheer would have blown out his brains had there been a pistol there ready for such an operation.
That hour with him was very bad. He did not know how to get up and go away, or how to keep his place. For some time he sat with his hat off, forgetful of his privilege of wearing it, and then put it on hurriedly, as though the fact of his not wearing it must have been observed by everybody. At last, at about two, the debate was adjourned68, and then as he was slowly leaving the House, thinking how he might creep away without companionship, Mr Monk took him by the arm.
“Are you going to walk?” said Mr Monk.
“Yes”, said Phineas; I shall walk.
“Then we may go together as far as Pall47 Mall. Come along.” Phineas had no means of escape, and left the House hanging on Mr Monk’s arm, without a word. Nor did Mr Monk speak till they were out in Palace Yard. “It was not much amiss,” said Mr Monk; “but you’ll do better than that yet.”
“Mr Monk,” said Phineas, I have made an ass8 of myself so thoroughly, that there will at any rate be this good result, that I shall never make an ass of myself again after the same fashion.”
“Ah! — I thought you had some such feeling as that, and therefore I was determined to speak to you. You may be sure, Finn, that I do not care to flatter you, and I think you ought to know that, as far as I am able, I will tell you the truth, Your speech, which was certainly nothing great, was about on a par3 with other maiden speeches in the House of Commons. You have done yourself neither good nor harm, Nor was it desirable that you should. My advice to you now is, never to avoid speaking on any subject that interests you, but never to speak for above three minutes till you find yourself as much at home on your legs as you are when sitting. But do not suppose that you have made an ass of yourself — that is, in any special degree. Now, goodnight.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
decency
|
|
| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
par
|
|
| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
batches
|
|
| 一批( batch的名词复数 )； 一炉； （食物、药物等的）一批生产的量； 成批作业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
magistrates
|
|
| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
magistrate
|
|
| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
liberated
|
|
| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
metaphorically
|
|
| adv. 用比喻地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
favourably
|
|
| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
moody
|
|
| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
commiseration
|
|
| n.怜悯，同情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
abstain
|
|
| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
boon
|
|
| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
sergeant
|
|
| n.警官，中士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
ballot
|
|
| n.（不记名）投票，投票总数，投票权；vi.投票 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
immortality
|
|
| n.不死，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
fetter
|
|
| n./vt.脚镣，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
slashing
|
|
| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
lurch
|
|
| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
fortified
|
|
| adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
monk
|
|
| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
treasury
|
|
| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dominion
|
|
| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
unnaturally
|
|
| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
pall
|
|
| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
expediency
|
|
| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
vehement
|
|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
repealing
|
|
| 撤销，废除( repeal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ponderous
|
|
| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
disdaining
|
|
| 鄙视( disdain的现在分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
55
harangue
|
|
| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
auditors
|
|
| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sundry
|
|
| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
modulate
|
|
| v.调整，调节(音的强弱)；变调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
modesty
|
|
| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
arrogance
|
|
| n.傲慢，自大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
pomposity
|
|
| n.浮华；虚夸；炫耀；自负 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
platitude
|
|
| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
invective
|
|
| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
adjourned
|
|
| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |