Avondale of Avondale : a political romance

Front matter

OF

A POLITICAL ROMANCE.

IN THREE VOLS.

Chapter I

It was the midst of the season, of a season gayer even than London had known for some years. On all sides nought but tokens of wealth and prosperity met the eye. The metropolis was filled with visitors from home and abroad. Splendid equipages crowded the Park, fashionable mobs nightly flocked to reception, ball, and concert, theatre and opera were packed to overflowing. True enough a close observer might have detected blemishes beneath the fair exterior. Of the wealth so ostentatiously displayed not a little came from speculations, nearer akin to gambling or downright fraud than to honest trading. Many branches of employment were in a depressed state, and even in those where work was plentiful there existed the feud, scarcely concealed, which modern legislation keeps alive between employer and employed, each anxious to grasp the whole profit. And far down in the social strata tossed and seethed that mass of suffering and vice, born of man's selfishness and crimes, which is never absent from a great city, and which, now and again, even in law-abiding, religious England, made its cries of misery, want, and despair heard above the roar of pleasures. But what of that ? Wretchedness and care are incidental to humanity, at least to its lower sections. Need those placed by fate above the reach of such mishaps allow useless regrets to embitter their cup of life? Need the sybarite, who has erected his dwelling amid the elms and olives that cluster round the flanks of Vesuvius, and overlooking the Circean bay, trouble himself about the eruption that may not happen in his time ?

More than anything else a lively session added an unusual excitement to London life. Death had removed a long-tried statesman from the head of affairs, and the sceptre he had wielded with consummate tact had fallen into younger and rasher hands. Such an event, at all times, is productive of great agitation, and especially so was it now. Phaeton was endeavouring to guide his father's chariot, but with little success. The steeds were pulling each in a different direction, and mankind were watching their efforts with feelings compounded of contempt and fear, some dreading, more hoping for, all expecting a general catastrophe.

Granstone Street is one of the quietest of those opening into Piccadilly. Here, in chambers, dwelt Walter Avondale, a member of the Inner Temple, with aspirations, however, tending to politics, rather than law. He was a very passable specimen of the average Englishman, about twenty-five, tall, well-made, with the Saxon's blue eye, and the -Briton's reddish moustache and whiskers. His face told you that he was an honest man, his finely cut lips that he was a determined one, while his square, high forehead augured well for his abilities and intellect. Just at present something had ruffled his temper, and his countenance wore an expression of both vexation and constitutional melancholy, which occasionally seized him. A slight knock at the door roused him from his meditations.

" Confound it !" was his ejaculation. " Talbot, I suppose, wants to trot me off to the Adelphi to see the new actress he is in love with — unless it is Tom Lewis, with a cool request for another fiver."

The appearance of his visitor agreeably dissipated his doubts, and he gladly welcomed him — " Jardine, my dear fellow, how are you? I thought your people had a grand affair on to-night, and when I heard you outside I fully expected some other less delightful acquaintance."

" Well, so I believe my mother has, or is to have, a crush this evening. I don't suppose they have begun to come yet. I must be back there presently ; but I heard something at dinner just now which I thought would interest yourself, and I have dropped in to let you know it."

"Me! What is it? A police magistracy at the diggings, or a consulship in Mexico ? Both which, as my head is not proof against lead, nor my intercostal integuments against a wellsharpened poignard, I must respectfully decline." " No, nothing of the sort, Avondale. You are too valuable to your friends to be despatched on such an expedition. The fact is, my father has been offered, or partly offered, the Vice-Presidency of the Colonial Board. You know all about his experience in that line. The Government is rather shaky." ("Very much so," interpolated his listener). " Very much so — in fact, there is an ominous split in it. Wharfedale, Chief Commissioner of the Poor Law Board, and Maitland, of the Home Office, do not agree particularly well. The latter is, as you are aware, the actual head of the Ministry, and, if it comes to a crisis, the Marquis must simply go out into the cold. He is at best but a dummy, his subs do all the work. Magnus Jupiter kept him there out of personal regard, and now that his kingship has gone back to Olympus, Wharfedale has been considerably snubbed. He considers himself, too, quite as important an individual as the Premier. It, therefore, seems very probable that before the end of the week he will resign. His retirement may carry others with him, though I think not — save his own particular following — but, anyhow, Sir George Edmunds is to change from the Emigrants to the Workhouses."

" Edmunds to go to the Poor Law Board ! What next, my dear fellow ? He is the solitary Liberal who knows anything of the Colonies."

" So it may be, but that, at least, is the present proposal, and, if it be carried out, the Vice- President is to become head of his department, and my father to take the place thereby left vacant."

lt Well narrated, Jardine. I did not think you were such a politician, though it strikes me that you have left out some very important considerations. Why don't you get a seat somewhere ?"

" I ? Not while I can run up a good /•core at Lord's. But where was I ? At the offer made to the governor — this is just the point which has brought me here. If this arrangement is carried out, what say you to being the new Vice-President's Private Secretary ? I believe such an individual is a necessary part of the establishment ; and I am sure my father is not acquainted with any one whom he would appoint in preference to yourself. Probably such a post won't satisfy the cravings of your ambitious mind, but don't refuse it straight off. It would, at least, give you what you especially desire — an introduction to politics — as well as a species of inchoative claim to something higher in future."

" I scarcely know what to reply. It is an opening such as I have not ventured to hope for, at least, not for some time. I am extremely obliged to you, Stuart, personally, for your consideration and kindness."

" Never mind about that. If you will accept the offer, it is all the thanks I ever desire. But I don't believe you will long be content with a private secretaryship. Give you an inch, I have no doubt you will soon take an ell."

" Not unlikely, supposing I should see the opportunity for taking the ell ; and this opportunity might, in the present state of affairs, easily occur at any moment. We seem on the point of a general smash up, when all sections will become involved in one inextricable muddle, and leaders without followers, parties without chief, will go wandering about purposeless."

" It looks very like it, as far as one can judge, who reads only the sporting news and keeps clear of parliamentary dinners. I dare say you not unseldom catch yourself thinking that, from the midst of this medley, you might contrive to pull yourself to the fore ?"

" A very natural thought, too, Stuart. But about this offer — is it at all probable that Mr. Jardine will close with it V

"In truth, I scarcely think it is. He and Maitland are not on the best terms. However, you now know quite as much about it as I do — that the offer has been made — and very probably you know the governor's private sentiments much better than I do. Anyhow, if you don't, you can find them out to-morrow evening. They have been complaining, my mother and my sisters I mean, that you have not put in an appearance for a week or more ; and said I was to bring you to-night. You have an invitation,, but have refused. Can't you come ?"

" No thanks; don't feel up for company." "What is the matter? You were looking rather glum when I came in. Not got anything on that roarer, Star of Dawn, I hope. She has gone down nicely in the betting the last few days, and the race comes off in a fortnight."

" Merely a few shillings, and those I went at the solicitation of Tom Lewis, who, poor beggar, has all his earthly wealth, a £10 note, invested on the mare. It was a fit of the blues, I suppose. I have been seeing how the vessel of State is drifting aimlessly a prey to winds and waves, and what miserable little men it is who are pretending to guide her, and I have felt like a caged eagle ; but your information has put me all right, for if W harfedale goes out, there will be a split in the Cabinet, and then, with Mr. Jardine's assistance, who can tell what opening may be afforded one ?"

" You have much confidence in yourself, and more, you often say, in your luck. I am sure I wish you all success. But I rather fancy you are too impatient. Your ostensible career is the Bar, your private inclination is to politics. Yet, even there, you are not content to pace the toilsome road, but wish to rush into sudden notoriety. Have you been trying any of your old friends, the editors, lately ?"

" Only once or twice, besides that article which you saw in last Saturday's ' Weekly.' "

" That was a very good one. I have heard several speaking of it. But don't waste time in getting up a reputation as ajournalist. Besides, you are not fitted for that line — you are intended for Nisi Prius rather than Chambers ; for a visible, rather than an invisible king of men."

" Thanks, Stuart ; I ought to rise and bow. I, too, begin to think that at the Press, as in every other line of life, to obtain a reputation one must be blessed with the luck which Providence seems to have taken from my family, or the special connections ' in the trade ' which I certainly do not possess."

"Probably so, my friend. Don't, however, run down the newspapers. Nobody knows you yet, and not unlikely your articles are not quite the stuff that suits the populus. Besides, that is at best a slow method of reaching celebrity. Better try a three volume novel, or a sensational drama, or, better still, stick to the law."

" No, I can't keep to Coke and Blackstone — it's impossible. Cestus que trusts, and trespass qr. cl. fr., contingent remainders and bottomry bonds are continually getting into confusion worse confounded in my brain. Your proposal seems to solve the difficulty. I have not money or influence enough to get into Parliament unaided ; and affairs just now offer a capital opening for one. I have great doubts, however whether joining the present Government would not be embarking in a sinking boat. Maitland is certainly the real head; and if Wharfedale goes, I imagine the Premier and the more moderate men will go with him."

"Perhaps so. The governor decidedly is not a Rad ; and if it comes to a choice between that flag and the Tories, I know which he will choose. But do not omit to come to dinner with us to-morrow — no one will be there — and then we can talk it over quietly."

" Thanks, I will. Seven o'clock ?"

" Yes, that to half-past. But, dear me, what a time I have been. Excuse my running away. They will be wondering what has become of me."

" Don't trouble about it, though I am sorry you are obliged to be off. Good evening."