Sybil, Benjamin Disraeli [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

to the rescue of the castle. Besides there is a priest here, one St. Lys, who exercises a most pernicious influence over the people. It will require immense efforts and great distress to root him out. No; it would fail.”

“Then we must wait awhile,” said Hatton, “or devise some other means.”

“ ’Tis a very impracticable case,” said Morley.

“There is a combination for every case,” said Hatton. “Ponder and it comes. This seemed simple; but you think, you really think it would not answer?”

“At this moment, not; that is my conviction.”

“Well suppose instead of an insurrection we have a burglary. Can you assist me to the right hands here?”

“Not I indeed!”

“What is the use then of this influence over the people of which you and Gerard are always talking? After yesterday I thought here you could do anything.”

“We have not hitherto had the advantage of your worldly knowledge; in future we shall be wiser.”

“Well then,” said Hatton, “we must now think of Gerard’s defence. He shall have the best counsel. I shall retain Kelly specially. I shall return to town tomorrow morning. You will keep me alive to the state of feeling here, and if things get more mature drop me a line and I will come down.”

“This conversation had better not be mentioned to Gerard.”

“That is obvious; it would only disturb him. I did not preface it by a stipulation of confidence because that is idle. Of course you will keep the secret; it is your interest; it is a great possession. I know very well you will be most jealous of sharing it. I know it is as safe with you as with myself.”

And with these words Hatton wished him a hearty farewell and withdrew.

“He is right,” thought Morley; “he knows human nature well. The secret is safe. I will not breathe it to Gerard. I will treasure it up. It is knowledge; it is power: great knowledge, great power. And what shall I do with it? Time will teach me.”

Book VI I

“Another week,” exclaimed a gentleman in Downing Street on the 5th of August, 1842, “and we shall be prorogued. You can surely keep the country quiet for another week.”

“I cannot answer for the public peace for another four-and-twenty hours,” replied his companion.

“This business at Manchester must be stopped at once; you have a good force there?”

“Manchester is nothing; these are movements merely to distract. The serious work is not now to be apprehended in the cotton towns. The state of Staffordshire and Warwickshire is infinitely more menacing. Cheshire and Yorkshire alarm me. The accounts from Scotland are as bad as can be. And though I think the sufferings of ’39 will keep Birmingham and the Welsh collieries in check, we cannot venture to move any of our force from those districts.”

“You must summon a council for four o’clock. I have some deputations to receive which I will throw over; but to Windsor I must go. Nothing has yet occurred to render any notice of the state of the country necessary in the speech from the Throne.”

“Not yet,” said his companion; “but what will tomorrow bring forth?”

“After all it is only a turnout. I cannot recast her Majesty’s speech and bring in rebellion and closed mills, instead of loyalty and a good harvest.”

“It would be a bore. Well, we will see tomorrow;” and the colleague left the room.

“And now for these deputations,” said the gentleman in Downing Street, “of all things in the world I dislike a deputation. I do not care how much I labour in the Closet or the house; that’s real work; the machine is advanced. But receiving a deputation is like sham marching: an immense dust and no progress. To listen to their views! As if I did not know what their views were before they stated them! And to put on a countenance of respectful candour while they are developing their exploded or their impracticable systems. Were it not that at a practised crisis, I permit them to see conviction slowly stealing over my conscience, I believe the fellows would never stop. I cannot really receive these deputations. I must leave them to Hoaxem,” and the gentleman in Downing Street rang his bell.

“Well, Mr. Hoaxem,” resumed the gentleman in Downing Street as that faithful functionary entered, “there are some deputations I understand, today. You must receive them, as I am going to Windsor. What are they?”

“There are only two, sir, of moment. The rest I could easily manage.”

“And these two?”

“In the first place, there is our friend Colonel Bosky, the members for the county of Calfshire, and a deputation of tenant farmers.”

“Pah!”

“These must be attended to. The members have made a strong representation to me that they really cannot any longer vote with government unless the Treasury assists them in satisfying their constituents.”

“And what do they want?”

“Statement of grievances; high taxes and low prices; mild expostulations and gentle hints that they have been thrown over by their friends; Polish corn, Holstein cattle, and British income tax.”

“Well you know what to say,” said the gentleman in Downing Street. “Tell them generally that they are quite mistaken; prove to them particularly that my only object has been to render protection more protective, by making it practical and divesting it of the surplusage of odium; that no foreign corn can come in at fifty-five shillings; that there are not enough cattle in all Holstein to supply the parish of Pancras daily with beefsteaks; and that as for the income tax, they will be amply compensated for it by their diminished cost of living through the agency of that very tariff of which they are so superficially complaining.”

“Their diminished cost of living!” said Mr. Hoaxem a little confused. “Would not that assurance, I humbly suggest, clash a little with my previous demonstration that we had arranged that no reduction of prices should take place?”

“Not at all; your previous demonstration is of course true, but at the same time you must