“But why commercial, Mr. Turnbull?” said Mr. Kennedy.
“Because the commercial constituencies really do elect their own members in accordance with their own judgments, whereas the counties and the small towns are coerced either by individuals or by a combination of aristocratic influences.”
“And yet,” said Mr. Kennedy, “there are not half a dozen Conservatives returned by all the counties in Scotland.”
“Scotland is very much to be honoured,” said Mr. Turnbull.
Mr. Kennedy was the first to take his departure, and Mr. Turnbull followed him very quickly. Phineas got up to go at the same time, but stayed at his host’s request, and sat for awhile smoking a cigar.
“Turnbull is a wonderful man,” said Mr. Monk.
“Does he not domineer too much?”
“His fault is not arrogance, so much as ignorance that there is, or should be, a difference between public and private life. In the House of Commons a man in Mr. Turnbull’s position must speak with dictatorial assurance. He is always addressing, not the House only, but the country at large, and the country will not believe in him unless he believe in himself. But he forgets that he is not always addressing the country at large. I wonder what sort of a time Mrs. Turnbull and the little Turnbulls have of it?”
Phineas, as he went home, made up his mind that Mrs. Turnbull and the little Turnbulls must probably have a bad time of it.
XIX
Lord Chiltern Rides His Horse Bonebreaker
It was known that whatever might be the details of Mr. Mildmay’s bill, the ballot would not form a part of it; and as there was a strong party in the House of Commons, and a very numerous party out of it, who were desirous that voting by ballot should be made a part of the electoral law, it was decided that an independent motion should be brought on in anticipation of Mr. Mildmay’s bill. The arrangement was probably one of Mr. Mildmay’s own making; so that he might be hampered by no opposition on that subject by his own followers if—as he did not doubt—the motion should be lost. It was expected that the debate would not last over one night, and Phineas resolved that he would make his maiden speech on this occasion. He had very strong opinions as to the inefficacy of the ballot for any good purposes, and thought that he might be able to strike out from his convictions some sparks of that fire which used to be so plentiful with him at the old debating clubs. But even at breakfast that morning his heart began to beat quickly at the idea of having to stand on his legs before so critical an audience.
He knew that it would be well that he should if possible get the subject off his mind during the day, and therefore went out among the people who certainly would not talk to him about the ballot. He sat for nearly an hour in the morning with Mr. Low, and did not even tell Mr. Low that it was his intention to speak on that day. Then he made one or two other calls, and at about three went up to Portman Square to look for Lord Chiltern. It was now nearly the end of February, and Phineas had often seen Lady Laura. He had not seen her brother, but had learned from his sister that he had been driven up to London by the frost. He was told by the porter at Lord Brentford’s that Lord Chiltern was in the house, and as he was passing through the hall he met Lord Brentford himself. He was thus driven to speak, and felt himself called upon to explain why he was there. “I am come to see Lord Chiltern,” he said.
“Is Lord Chiltern in the house?” said the Earl, turning to the servant.
“Yes, my lord; his lordship arrived last night.”
“You will find him upstairs, I suppose,” said the Earl. “For myself I know nothing of him.” He spoke in an angry tone, as though he resented the fact that anyone should come to his house to call upon his son; and turned his back quickly upon Phineas. But he thought better of it before he reached the front door, and turned again. “By the by,” said he, “what majority shall we have tonight, Finn?”
“Pretty nearly as many as you please to name, my lord,” said Phineas.
“Well;—yes; I suppose we are tolerably safe. You ought to speak upon it.”
“Perhaps I may,” said Phineas, feeling that he blushed as he spoke.
“Do,” said the Earl. “Do. If you see Lord Chiltern will you tell him from me that I should be glad to see him before he leaves London. I shall be at home till noon tomorrow.” Phineas, much astonished at the commission given to him, of course said that he would do as he was desired, and then passed on to Lord Chiltern’s apartments.
He found his friend standing in the middle of the room, without coat and waistcoat, with a pair of dumbbells in his hands. “When there’s no hunting I’m driven to this kind of thing,” said Lord Chiltern.
“I suppose it’s good exercise,” said Phineas.
“And it gives me something to do. When I’m in London I feel like a gipsy in church, till the time comes for prowling out at night. I’ve no occupation for my days whatever, and no place to which I can take myself. I can’t stand in a club window as some men do, and I should disgrace any decent club if I did stand there. I belong to the Travellers, but I doubt whether the porter would let me go in.”
“I think you pique yourself on being more of an outer Bohemian than you
