The great man received him with an excellent courtesy. It is the special business of Prime Ministers to be civil in detail, though roughness, and perhaps almost rudeness in the gross, becomes not unfrequently a necessity of their position. To a proposed incoming subordinate a Prime Minister is, of course, very civil, and to a retreating subordinate he is generally more so—unless the retreat be made under unfavourable circumstances. And to give good things is always pleasant, unless there be a suspicion that the good thing will be thought to be not good enough. No such suspicion as that now crossed the mind of Mr. Gresham. He had been pressed very much by various colleagues to admit this young man into the Paradise of his government, and had been pressed very much also to exclude him; and this had been continued till he had come to dislike the name of the young man. He did believe that the young man had behaved badly to Mr. Robert Kennedy, and he knew that the young man on one occasion had taken to kicking in harness, and running a course of his own. He had decided against the young man—very much no doubt at the instance of Mr. Bonteen—and he believed that in so doing he closed the Gates of Paradise against a Peri most anxious to enter it. He now stood with the key in his hand and the gate open—and the seat to be allotted to the re-accepted one was that which he believed the Peri would most gratefully fill. He began by making a little speech about Mr. Bonteen. That was almost unavoidable. And he praised in glowing words the attitude which Phineas had maintained during the trial. He had been delighted with the reelection at Tankerville, and thought that the borough had done itself much honour. Then came forth his proposition. Lord Fawn had retired, absolutely broken down by repeated examinations respecting the man in the grey coat, and the office which Phineas had before held with so much advantage to the public, and comfort to his immediate chief, Lord Cantrip, was there for his acceptance. Mr. Gresham went on to express an ardent hope that he might have the benefit of Mr. Finn’s services. It was quite manifest from his manner that he did not in the least doubt the nature of the reply which he would receive.
Phineas had come primed with his answer—so ready with it that it did not even seem to be the result of any hesitation at the moment. “I hope, Mr. Gresham, that you will be able to give me a few hours to think of this.” Mr. Gresham’s face fell, for, in truth, he wanted an immediate answer; and though he knew from experience that Secretaries of State, and First Lords, and Chancellors, do demand time, and will often drive very hard bargains before they will consent to get into harness, he considered that Undersecretaries, Junior Lords, and the like, should skip about as they were bidden, and take the crumbs offered them without delay. If every underling wanted a few hours to think about it, how could any Government ever be got together? “I am sorry to put you to inconvenience,” continued Phineas, seeing that the great man was but ill-satisfied, “but I am so placed that I cannot avail myself of your flattering kindness without some little time for consideration.”
“I had hoped that the office was one which you would like.”
“So it is, Mr. Gresham.”
“And I was told that you are now free from any scruples—political scruples, I mean—which might make it difficult for you to support the Government.”
“Since the Government came to our way of thinking—a year or two ago—about Tenant Right, I mean—I do not know that there is any subject on which I am likely to oppose it. Perhaps I had better tell you the truth, Mr. Gresham.”
“Oh, certainly,” said the Prime Minister, who knew very well that on such occasions nothing could be worse than the telling of disagreeable truths.
“When you came into office, after beating Mr. Daubeny on the Church question, no man in Parliament was more desirous of place than I was—and I am sure that none of the disappointed ones felt their disappointment so keenly. It was aggravated by various circumstances—by calumnies in newspapers, and by personal bickerings. I need not go into that wretched story of Mr. Bonteen, and the absurd accusation which grew out of those calumnies. These things have changed me very much. I have a feeling that I have been ill-used—not by you, Mr. Gresham, specially, but by the party; and I look upon the whole question of office with altered eyes.”
“In filling up the places at his disposal, a Prime Minister, Mr. Finn, has a most unenviable task.”
“I can well believe it.”
“When circumstances, rather than any selection of his own, indicate the future occupant of any office, this abrogation of his patronage is the greatest blessing in the world to him.”
“I can believe that also.”
“I wish it were so with every office under the Crown. A Minister is rarely thanked, and would as much look for the peace of heaven in his office as for gratitude.”
“I am sorry that I should have made no exception to such thanklessness.”
“We shall neither of us get on by complaining;—shall we, Mr. Finn? You can let me have an answer perhaps by this time tomorrow.”
“If an answer by telegraph will be sufficient.”
“Quite sufficient. Yes or No. Nothing more will be wanted. You understand your own reasons, no doubt, fully; but if they were stated at length they would perhaps hardly enlighten me. Good morning.” Then as Phineas was turning his back, the Prime Minister remembered that it behoved him as Prime Minister to repress his temper. “I shall still hope, Mr. Finn, for a favourable answer.” Had it not been for that last word Phineas would have turned again, and at once
