“But the other men who are not lords don’t want that kind of happiness.”
“If such happiness were attainable it might be well to constrain men to accept it. But the lords of this world are fallible men; and though as units they ought to be and perhaps are better than those others who have fewer advantages, they are much more likely as units to go astray in opinion than the bodies of men whom they would seek to govern. We know that power does corrupt, and that we cannot trust kings to have loving hearts, and clear intellects, and noble instincts. Men as they come to think about it and to look forward, and to look back, will not believe in such a millennium as that.”
“Do they believe in any millennium?”
“I think they do after a fashion, and I think that I do myself. That is my idea of Conservatism. The doctrine of Liberalism is, of course, the reverse. The Liberal, if he have any fixed idea at all, must, I think, have conceived the idea of lessening distances—of bringing the coachman and the duke nearer together—nearer and nearer, till a millennium shall be reached by—”
“By equality?” asked Phineas, eagerly interrupting the Prime Minister, and showing his dissent by the tone of his voice.
“I did not use the word, which is open to many objections. In the first place the millennium, which I have perhaps rashly named, is so distant that we need not even think of it as possible. Men’s intellects are at present so various that we cannot even realise the idea of equality, and here in England we have been taught to hate the word by the evil effects of those absurd attempts which have been made elsewhere to proclaim it as a fact accomplished by the scratch of a pen or by a chisel on a stone. We have been injured in that, because a good word signifying a grand idea has been driven out of the vocabulary of good men. Equality would be a heaven, if we could attain it. How can we to whom so much has been given dare to think otherwise? How can you look at the bowed back and bent legs and abject face of that poor ploughman, who winter and summer has to drag his rheumatic limbs to his work, while you go a-hunting or sit in pride of place among the foremost few of your country, and say that it all is as it ought to be? You are a Liberal because you know that it is not all as it ought to be, and because you would still march on to some nearer approach to equality; though the thing itself is so great, so glorious, so godlike—nay, so absolutely divine—that you have been disgusted by the very promise of it, because its perfection is unattainable. Men have asserted a mock equality till the very idea of equality stinks in men’s nostrils.”
The Duke in his enthusiasm had thrown off his hat, and was sitting on a wooden seat which they had reached, looking up among the clouds. His left hand was clenched, and from time to time with his right he rubbed the thin hairs on his brow. He had begun in a low voice, with a somewhat slipshod enunciation of his words, but had gradually become clear, resonant, and even eloquent. Phineas knew that there were stories told of certain bursts of words which had come from him in former days in the House of Commons. These had occasionally surprised men and induced them to declare that Planty Pall—as he was then often called—was a dark horse. But they had been few and far between, and Phineas had never heard them. Now he gazed at his companion in silence, wondering whether the speaker would go on with his speech. But the face changed on a sudden, and the Duke with an awkward motion snatched up his hat. “I hope you ain’t cold,” he said.
“Not at all,” said Phineas.
“I came here because of that bend of the river. I am always very fond of that bend. We don’t go over the river. That is Mr. Upjohn’s property.”
“The member for the county?”
“Yes; and a very good member he is too, though he doesn’t support us;—an old-school Tory, but a great friend of my uncle, who after all had a good deal of the Tory about him. I wonder whether he is at home. I must remind the Duchess to ask him to dinner. You know him, of course.”
“Only by just seeing him in the House.”
“You’d like him very much. When in the country he always wears knee-breeches and gaiters, which I think a very comfortable dress.”
“Troublesome, Duke; isn’t it?”
“I never tried it, and I shouldn’t dare now. Goodness, me; it’s past five o’clock, and we’ve got two miles to get home. I haven’t looked at a letter, and Warburton will think that I’ve thrown myself into the river because of Sir Timothy Beeswax.” Then they started to go home at a fast pace.
“I shan’t forget, Duke,” said Phineas, “your definition of Conservatives and Liberals.”
“I don’t think I ventured on a definition;—only a few loose ideas which had been troubling me lately. I say, Finn!”
“Your Grace?”
“Don’t you go and tell Ramsden and Drummond that I have been preaching equality, or we shall have a pretty mess. I
