Endymion Part 33

"It is an advantage, a great advantage, for me to observe the Count of Ferroll in this intimate society," said the prince, speaking slowly, "perhaps even to fathom him. But I am not come to that yet. He is a man neither to love nor to detest. He has himself an intelligence superior to all pa.s.sion, I might say all feeling; and if, in dealing with such a being, we ourselves have either, we give him an advantage."

"Well, all the same, I hope you will win the golden helm to-morrow,"

said Endymion, looking a little perplexed.

"The golden casque that I am ordained to win," said the prince, "is not at Montfort Castle. This, after all, is but Mambrino's helmet."

A knot of young dandies were discussing the chances of the morrow as Endymion was pa.s.sing by, and as he knew most of them he joined the group.

"I hope to heaven," said one, "that the Count of Ferroll will beat that foreign chap to-morrow; I hate foreigners."

"So do I," said a second, and there was a general murmur of a.s.sent.

"The Count of Ferroll is as much a foreigner as the prince," said Endymion rather sharply.

"Oh! I don't call him a foreigner at all," said the first speaker. "He is a great favourite at White's; no one rides cross country like him, and he is a deuced fine shot in the bargain."

"I will back Prince Florestan against him either in field or cover,"

said Endymion.

"Well, I don't know your friend," said the young gentleman contemptuously, "so I cannot bet."

"I am sure your friend, Lady Montfort, my dear Dymy, will back the Count of Ferroll," lisped a third young gentleman.

This completed the programme of mortification, and Endymion, hot and then cold, and then both at the same time, bereft of repartee, and wishing the earth would open and Montfort Castle disappear in its convulsed bosom, stole silently away as soon as practicable, and wandered as far as possible from the music and the bursts of revelry.

These conversations had taken place in the chief saloon, which was contiguous to the ball-room, and which was nearly as full of guests. Endymion, moving in the opposite direction, entered another drawing-room, where the population was spa.r.s.e. It consisted of couples apparently deeply interested in each other. Some faces were radiant, and some pensive and a little agitated, but they all agreed in one expression, that they took no interest whatever in the solitary Endymion. Even their whispered words were hushed as he pa.s.sed by, and they seemed, with their stony, unsympathising glance, to look upon him as upon some inferior being who had intruded into their paradise. In short, Endymion felt all that embarra.s.sment, mingled with a certain portion of self contempt, which attends the conviction that we are what is delicately called _de trop_.

He advanced and took refuge in another room, where there was only a single, and still more engrossed pair; but this was even more intolerable to him. Shrinking from a return to the hostile chamber he had just left, he made a frantic rush forward with affected ease and alacrity, and found himself alone in the favourite morning room of Lady Montfort.

He threw himself on a sofa, and hid his face in his hand, and gave a sigh, which was almost a groan. He was sick at heart; his extremities were cold, his brain was feeble. All hope, and truly all thought of the future, deserted him. He remembered only the sorrowful, or the humiliating, chapters in his life. He wished he had never left Hurstley.

He wished he had been apprenticed to Farmer Thornberry, that he had never quitted his desk at Somerset House, and never known more of life than Joe's and the Divan. All was vanity and vexation of spirit. He contemplated finishing his days in the neighbouring stream, in which, but a few days ago, he was bathing in health and joy.

Time flew on; he was unconscious of its course; no one entered the room, and he wished never to see a human face again, when a voice sounded, and he heard his name.

"Endymion!"

He looked up; it was Lady Montfort. He did not speak, but gave her, perhaps unconsciously, a glance of reproach and despair.

"What is the matter with you?" she said.

"Nothing."

"That is nonsense. Something must have happened. I have missed you so long, but was determined to find you. Have you a headache?"

"No."

"Come back; come back with me. It is so odd. My lord has asked for you twice."

"I want to see no one."

"Oh! but this is absurd--and on a day like this, when every thing has been so successful, and every one is so happy."

"I am not happy, and I am not successful."

"You perfectly astonish me," said Lady Montfort; "I shall begin to believe that you have not so sweet a temper as I always supposed."

"It matters not what my temper is."

"I think it matters a great deal. I like, above all things, to live with good-tempered people."

"I hope you may not be disappointed. My temper is my own affair, and I am content always to be alone."

"Why! you are talking nonsense, Endymion."

"Probably; I do not pretend to be gifted. I am not one of those gentlemen who cannot fail. I am not the man of the future."

"Well! I never was so surprised in my life," exclaimed Lady Montfort. "I never will pretend to form an opinion of human character again. Now, my dear Endymion, rouse yourself, and come back with me. Give me your arm.

I cannot stay another moment; I dare say I have already been wanted a thousand times."

"I cannot go back," said Endymion; "I never wish to see anybody again.

If you want an arm, there is the Count of Ferroll, and I hope you may find he has a sweeter temper than I have."

Lady Montfort looked at him with a strange and startled glance. It was a mixture of surprise, a little disdain, some affection blended with mockery. And then exclaiming "Silly boy!" she swept out of the room.

CHAPTER LXI

"I do not like the prospect of affairs," said Mr. Sidney Wilton to Endymion as they were posting up to London from Montfort Castle; a long journey, but softened in those days by many luxuries, and they had much to talk about.

"The decline of the revenue is not fitful; it is regular. Our people are too apt to look at the state of the revenue merely in a financial point of view. If a surplus, take off taxes; if a deficiency, put them on. But the state of the revenue should also be considered as the index of the condition of the population. According to my impression, the condition of the people is declining; and why? because they are less employed.

If this spreads, they will become discontented and disaffected, and I cannot help remembering that, if they become troublesome, it is our office that will have to deal with them."

"This bad harvest is a great misfortune," said Endymion.

"Yes, but a bad harvest, though unquestionably a great, perhaps the greatest, misfortune for this country, is not the entire solution of our difficulties--I would say, our coming difficulties. A bad harvest touches the whole of our commercial system: it brings us face to face with the corn laws. I wish our chief would give his mind to that subject. I believe a moderate fixed duty of about twelve shillings a quarter would satisfy every one, and nothing then could shake this country."

Endymion listened with interest to other views of his master, who descanted on them at much length. Private secretaries know everything about their chiefs, and Endymion was not ignorant that among many of the great houses of the Whig party, and indeed among the bulk of what was called "the Liberal" party generally, Mr. Sidney Wilton was looked upon, so far as economical questions were concerned, as very crotchety, indeed a dangerous character. Lord Montfort was the only magnate who was entirely opposed to the corn laws, but then, as Berengaria would remark, "Simon is against all laws; he is not a practical man."

Mr. Sidney Wilton reverted to these views more than once in the course of their journey. "I was not alarmed about the Chartists last year.

Political trouble in this country never frightens me. Insurrections and riots strengthen an English government; they gave a new lease even to Lord Liverpool when his ministry was most feeble and unpopular; but economical discontent is quite another thing. The moment sedition arises from taxation, or want of employment, it is more dangerous and more difficult to deal with in this country than any other."

"Lord Roehampton seemed to take rather a sanguine view of the situation after the Bed-Chamber business in the spring," observed Endymion, rather in an inquiring than a dogmatic spirit.

"Lord Roehampton has other things to think of," said Mr. Wilton. "He is absorbed, and naturally absorbed, in his department, the most important in the state, and of which he is master. But I am obliged to look at affairs nearer home. Now, this Anti-Corn-Law League, which they established last year at Manchester, and which begins to be very busy, though n.o.body at present talks of it, is, in my mind, a movement which ought to be watched. I tell you what; it occurred to me more than once during that wondrous pageant, that we have just now been taking part in, the government wants better information than they have as to the state of the country, the real feelings and condition of the bulk of the population. We used to sneer at the Tories for their ignorance of these matters, but after all, we, like them, are mainly dependent on quarter sessions; on the judgment of a lord-lieutenant and the statistics of a bench of magistrates. It is true we have introduced into our subordinate administration at Whitehall some persons who have obtained the reputation of distinguished economists, and we allow them to guide us.

But though ingenious men, no doubt, they are chiefly bankrupt tradesmen, who, not having been able to manage their own affairs, have taken upon themselves to advise on the conduct of the country--pedants and prigs at the best, and sometimes impostors. No; this won't do. It is useless to speak to the chief; I did about the Anti-Corn-Law League; he shrugged his shoulders and said it was a madness that would pa.s.s. I have made up my mind to send somebody, quite privately, to the great scenes of national labour. He must be somebody whom n.o.body knows, and n.o.body suspects of being connected with the administration, or we shall never get the truth--and the person I have fixed upon is yourself."

"But am I equal to such a task?" said Endymion modestly, but sincerely.