THE VALUE OF A THICK SKIN.
Sir Orlando Drought must have felt bitterly the quiescence with which he sank into obscurity on the second bench on the opposite side of the House.One great occasion he had on which it was his privilege to explain to four or five hundred gentlemen the insuperable reasons which caused him to break away from those right honourable friends to act with whom had been his comfort and his duty, his great joy and his unalloyed satisfaction.Then he occupied the best part of an hour in abusing those friends and all their measures.This no doubt had been a pleasure, as practice had made the manipulation of words easy to him,--and he was able to reveal in that absence of responsibility which must be as a fresh perfumed bath to a minister just freed from the trammels of office.But the pleasure was surely followed by much suffering when Mr Monk,--Mr Monk was to assume his place as Leader of the House,--only took five minutes to answer him, saying that he and his colleagues regretted much the loss of the Right Honourable Baronet's services, but that it would hardly be necessary for him to defend the Ministry on all those points on which it had been attacked, as, were he to do so, he would have to repeat the arguments by which every measure brought forward by the present Ministry had been supported.Then Mr Monk sat down, and the business of the House went on just as if Sir Orlando had not moved his seat at all.
'What makes everybody and everything so dead?' said Sir Orlando to his old friend Mr Boffin as they walked home together from the House that night.They had in former days been staunch friends, sitting night after night close together, united in opposition, and sometimes a few halcyon months in the happier bonds of office.But when Sir Orlando had joined the Coalition, and when the sterner spirit of Mr Boffin had preferred principles to place,--to use the language in which he was wont to speak to himself and to his wife and family of his own abnegation,--there had come a coolness between them.Mr Boffin, who was not a rich man, nor by any means indifferent to the comforts of office, had felt keenly the injury done to him when he was left hopelessly in the cold by the desertion of his old friends.It had come to pass that there had been no salt left in the opposition.Mr Boffin in all his parliamentary experience had known nothing like it.Mr Boffin had been sure that British honour was going to the dogs and that British greatness was at an end.But the secession of Sir Orlando gave a little fillip to his life.At any rate he could walk home with his old friend and talk of the horrors of the present day.
'Well, Drought, if you ask me, you know, I can only speak as Ifeel.Everything must be dead when men holding different opinions on every subject under the sun come together in order that they may carry on a government as they would a trade business.The work may be done, but it must be done without spirit.'
'But it may be all important that the work should be done,' said the Baronet, apologizing for his past misconduct.
'No doubt,--and I am very far from judging those who make the attempt.It has been made more than once before, and has, Ithink, always failed.I don't believe in it myself, and I think that the death-like torpor of which you speak is one of its worst consequences.' After that Mr Boffin admitted Sir Orlando back into his heart of hearts.
Then the end of the Session came, very quietly and very early.
By the end of July there was nothing left to be done, and the world of London was allowed to go down into the country almost a fortnight before its usual time.
With many men, both in and out of Parliament, it became a question whether all this was for good or evil.The Boffinites had of course much to say for themselves.Everything was torpid.
There was no interest in the newspapers,--except when Mr Slide took the tomahawk into his hands.A member of Parliament this Session had not been by half so much bigger than another man as in times of hot political warfare.One of the most moving sources of our national excitement seemed to have vanished from life.We all know what happens to stagnant waters.So said the Boffinites, and so also now said Sir Orlando.But the Government was carried on and the country was prosperous.A few useful measures had been passed by unambitious men, and the Duke of St Bungay declared that he had never known a Session of Parliament more thoroughly satisfactory to the ministers.
But the old Duke in so saying had spoken as it were his public opinion,--giving, truly enough, to a few of his colleagues, such as Lord Drummond, Sir Gregory Grogram and others, the results of his general experience, but in his own bosom and with a private friend he was compelled to confess that there was a cloud in the heavens.The Prime Minister had become so moody, so irritable, and so unhappy, that the old Duke was forced to doubt whether things could go on much longer as they were.He was wont to talk of these things to his friend Lord Cantrip, who was not a member of the Government, but who had been a colleague of both the Dukes, and whom the old Duke regarded with peculiar confidence.
'I cannot explain it to you,' he said to Lord Cantrip.'There is nothing that ought to give him a moment's uneasiness.Since he took office there hasn't once been a majority against him in either House on any question that the Government has made on its own.I don't remember such a state of things,--so easy for the Prime Minister,--since the days of Lord Liverpool.He had one thorn in his side, our friend who was at the Admiralty, and that thorn like other thorns has worked itself out.Yet at this moment it is impossible to get him to consent to the nomination of a successor to Sir Orlando.' This was said a week before the Session had closed.
'I suppose it is his health,' said Lord Cantrip.
