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 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE 
 
 donor 
 
 <$]? 
 
 MA 

 
 MR. ZANGWILVS WORKS. 
 
 THE PREMIER & THE PAINTER 
 
 By I. Z AN G WILL & LOUIS COW EN. 
 THIRD EDITION, Croum 8vo., Cloth, 6*. 
 
 The Cambridge (University) Review : That the book will have readers- 
 in a future generation we do not doubt, for there is much in it that is of lasting- 
 merit. 
 
 The Echo : We are glad to see that a new and popular edition ba<= appeared of 
 Mr. Freeman Bell's fantastic romance, 'The Premier and the Painter.' Long is, of 
 course, a relative term, and in spite of its five hundred and two very closely 
 printed pages, Mr. Bell's work is anything but tedious. It is oae of the cleveres't 
 books of the day. What can be better than the description of the Premier's, 
 breakfast party ? The book contains as much wit and humour as would serve 
 for outfit to half-a-dozen ordinary scribes. 
 
 The Graphic : It might be worth the while of some industrious and capable 
 person with plenty of leisure to reproduce in a volume of reasonable size the 
 epigrams and other goc'l things witty and serious which The Premier and the- 
 Painter ' contains. There are plenty of them, and many are worth noting and 
 remembering. 
 
 St. James's Gazette : The diffusion of politics and the spread of what 
 passes for education would make many strange things possible in these days : 
 and no one can maintain that the central idea of Mr. Bell's fantastic but ingenious 
 and amusing romance is altogether beyond the bounds of what might happen. 
 Mr. Bell's satire hits all round with much impartiality ; while one striking 
 situation succeeds another till the reader is altogether dazzled. The story is fuU 
 of life and ' go ' and brightness, and will well repay perusal. 
 
 The Athenaeum : In spite of its close print and its five hundred pages ' The- 
 Premier and the Painter ' is not very difficult to read. To speak of it, however.. 
 is difficult. It is the sort of book that demands yet defle quotation for one 
 thing ; and for another it is the sort of book the description of which as ' ver\ 
 clever' is at once inevitable and inadequate. In some -ways it is original enough 
 to be a law -unto itself, and withal as attractive in its whimsical, wrong-headed 
 way, as at times it is tantalising, bewildering, even tedious The theme is 
 politics and politicians, and the treatment, while for the most part satirical and 
 prosaic, is often touched with sentiment, and sometimes even with a fantastic 
 kind of poetry. The several episodes of the story are wildly fanciful in them- 
 selves and are" clumsily connected ; but the streak of humorous cynicism which 
 shows through all of them is both curious and pleasing. Again, it has to be 
 claimed for the author that as is shown to admiration by his presentation of 
 the excellent Mrs. Dawe and her cookshop he is capable, when he pleases. 
 of insight and observation of a high order, and therewith of a masterly 
 sobriety of tone. But he cannot be depended upon for the length of a single 
 page ; he seeks his effects and his material when and where he pleases. In some 
 respects his method is not, perhaps, altogether unlike Lord Beaconsfleld's. To 
 our thinking, however, he is strong enough to go alone, and to go far. 
 
 The "World : ' The Premier and the Painter ' is an uncommon long book, but 
 also an undeniably clever one, though with a somewhat mixed and eccentrk 
 cleverness. Mr. Bell is often puzzling, not seldom provoking, but rarely dull. 
 
 The Morning Post : 'The Premier and the Painter' is not 'everyone's book.' 
 Its admirers will probably be few but in its way there are not many at the same 
 time so paradoxical and so clever. The story is described as a ' fantastic 
 romance,' and, indeed, fantasy reigns supreme from the first to the last of it-- 
 pages. Mr. Bell's work is especially tantalising, since to do it any sort of justicc- 
 it would require to be quoted with a frequency that a limited space renders, 
 impossible. It relates the history of our time with humour and w 11 -aimed 
 sarcasm. All the most prominent characters of the day, whether political or 
 otherwise, come in for notice. The identity of the leading politicians is but 
 thinly veiled, while many celebrities appear in proprid lersond. Both the 
 'Premier' and 'Painter' now and again find themselves in the most critical 
 situations. Certainly this is not a story that he who runs may read, but it i* 
 cleverly original, and often lightened by bright flashes of wit. 
 
 London : WILLIAM HELXEMANN, 21, Bedford Street, W.C.
 
 MR. ZANGWILVS WORKS. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Crown 8ro., Cloth 6s. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO. 
 
 Some W8S pinions 
 
 TO 4^& d ^ f wSlSr$5f^ powerful and fascinating book I 
 
 THE OLD~MAIDS'~CLUB. 
 
 With 44 Illustrations by F. H. TOWSSEND. 
 
 * ravishing piquancy, which is 
 , 21. Bedford Street, W.O. 
 
 ISSUED BY OTHER PUBLISHERS. 
 
 THE BACHELORS' CLUB. 
 
 Profusely Illustrated by GEORGE HUTCHINSON. 
 Daily Chronicle .^^^S^^^S^m^ of claiming a 
 
 place in literature. 
 
 MERELY MARY ANN. 
 Illustrated by MARK ZANGWILL. 
 
 Tenth Thousand. Crown 8uo., Is. 
 
 THE BIG BOW MYSTERY. 
 
 JUST OUT. Foolscap 8vo, Is. nc.it. 
 
 GHETTO TRAGEDIES. 
 
 Illustrated by SOLOMON J. SOLOMON, & A. S. BOYD.
 
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 PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 
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 Price Six Shillings each. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO. By I. ZANGWILL, 
 
 Author of "The Old Maids' Club," &e. New Edition, with 
 Glossary. 
 
 IDEALA. By SARAH GRAND, Author of " The Heavenly 
 
 Twins," &c. New Edition. 
 THE HEAVENLY TWINS. By SARAH GRAND. Kew 
 
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 YARD KIPLING and WOLCOTT BALESTIER. Second Edition. 
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 FROM THE FIVE RIVERS. By FLORA ANNIE STEEL, 
 
 Author of " Miss Stuart's Legacy." [In preparation 
 
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 "Two Little Wooden Shoes," &c. New Edition. Illustrated. 
 
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 Price Five Shillings each. 
 
 THE SECRET OF NARCISSE. By EDMUND GOSSE. 
 THE PENANCE OF PORTIA JAMES. By TASMA, 
 
 Author of " Uncle Piper of Piper's Hill," &c. 
 INCONSEQUENT LIVES. A Village Chronicle. By 
 
 3. H. PEARCE, Author of " Esther Pentreath," &c. 
 A QUESTION OF TASTE. By MAARTEX MAARTENS, 
 
 Author o;' "An Old Maid's Love," &c. 
 COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE. By 
 
 ROBERT BUCHANAN, Author of "The Moment After," Ac. 
 VANITAS. By VERNON LEE, Author of " Hauntings," &c. 
 
 LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMA.NN, 21, BEDFORD STREET, w.c.
 
 THE 
 
 PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 tc Romance 
 
 BY 
 
 I. ZANGWILL 
 
 AXD 
 
 LOUIS COWEN 
 
 LONDON 
 WILLIAM HEIXEMANN 
 
 1893 
 
 [All rights reserved]
 
 THIED EDITION. 
 
 FIK&T EDIT10X, March 1888. 
 SLCONL ED11IO&, Jwte, 8S9.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN the writing of History we may distinguish roughly three 
 methods ; the first, of Picturesque or Prejudiced Narration ; the 
 second, of Philosophic Narration ; and the third, of Scientific or 
 Factual Narration ; and, though all have co-existed, the three 
 methods have broadly speaking been sequent in their appear- 
 ance on the scientific platform. 
 
 By classifying histories according to their respective method-;, 
 three species are obtained : the first is composed of those works 
 which contain all the essentials of Historiography except the facts ; 
 the second comprises all works in which historical facts are 
 exhibited as containing a philosophy of their own, or proving 
 that of the writer; the third consists of those works which present 
 Truth naked and unashamed. 
 
 But Scientific Narration has hitherto lacked extreme Special- 
 ization, and it is in the thorough application of Specialization to 
 Hiscory that what little originality the present work may have 
 consists. Though no greater mistake could be made than to con- 
 found this minute study of a brief episode in the career of the 
 Elder Floppington with that extinct literary type, the " historical 
 romance," yet the blunder is excusable when it is considered that 
 the new method attempted by the present work is simply a novel 
 method of writing history, and that real personages and real events 
 are for the first time treated with the fulness of domestic and 
 political detail hitherto accorded only to the creations of fiction. 
 The advantages of this innovation are obvious. So long as 
 historical figures are not shown in their work-a-day environment, 
 in all their manifold relations to their fellow-creatures of every 
 grade, so long will it remain impossible to understand the work-a- 
 day motives which have made our national history what it is. 
 
 The writer need say little of the Herculean labour involved in 
 thus recording the history of almost a quarter of a year, and he 
 cannot hope that his existence will be prolonged sufficiently to 
 enable him to complete his projected magtium opus, dealing with
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 eleven-and-a-half days of what is usually considered a humdrum 
 and uneventful year. The subjoined list of authorities includes 
 less than a hundredth part of the volumes and newspapers con- 
 suited by him, and is intended chiefly as a guide to those readei 
 whom the present work may stimulate to extend their acquamtanc 
 with a most fascinating period of our annals. 
 
 The writer may, without undue immodesty, claim that for mo 
 than twenty years he has been trying to familiarize himself witl 
 that epoch, to impregnate himself with its customs, its politics, and 
 its literature-in a word, to live in it a task he has found by no 
 means easy ; and if his work prove sufficiently graphic to charm 
 one reader into the belief that he, too, is living in it, he wil 
 amply repaid for his long and dusty researches. He hopes that 
 footnotes will explain all phrases of any real difficulty ; but, shoul< 
 he have overlooked any obscurities, he hopes the reader will do the 
 same, and he promises to clear up all such in a future edition. 
 
 As he has throughout, and in the accompanying list, recognise 
 his obligations to modern authors, it would be supererogatory to 
 enumerate them here ; but he cannot refrain from expressing his 
 indebtedness to Charles Chesterfield, Esq., O.K., Rector of Grimsby 
 University, for his kind revision of the whole work, his suggestio 
 of numerous improvements, and especially for his aid in the 
 preparation of the epitome, which is issued simultaneously with 
 the present work as a compendium for schools and colleges. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 IN thanking the critics and the public for the cordial reception 
 they have given this history, it is, perhaps, due to my readers 
 to mention the ingenious theory of a recent writer in the Old 
 English Historical Review, who, while praising my industry a 
 a compiler, wonders my new facts did not lead me to see that 
 the Premier and the Painter exchanged places (!). He explains 
 away obvious inconsistencies by the further hypothesis of un- 
 foreseen temporarily -necessitated readoptions of their native 
 ( Sic ~) roles in Caps, v., vii., viii., and ix. of Book IV. The re 
 viewer surely forgets how far-fetched and improbable all this is , 
 and I am still content to present Truth naked of theory and 
 unashamed. j p -Q
 
 PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 THIS edition of what was, roughly speaking, " My First Book," 
 differs only by a phrase or two from the original editions published 
 under the joint pen-name of J. Freeman Bell. Although there is 
 much of my own share of the work which I could not better to-day 
 for a writer does not always improve with age there is more 
 which I should like to alter; so much, in fact, that I have had to 
 leave the text untouched, in order not to write a different book. 
 After all, one owes some reverence to one's dead youth. I need 
 scarcely say anything here of the genesis of this satirical, political, 
 and philosophical fantasia, since I have so recently explained in 
 the Idler how it grew under my hand out of a "Shilling Skit" 
 which I planned with a friend, and which, through seven-eights 
 of the writing being left to me, evolved into an outlet for all 
 the ferment and audacity of youth 
 
 " In the brave days when I was twenty-one." 
 
 From a practical point of view, the great mistake of the book is 
 the sacrifice of lucidity to super-subtle satire by our reluctance to 
 state straight out that the world-weary Premier and the ambitious 
 House-Painter agreed to change places for a period, at the end of 
 Cap. i. ; that owing to an unexpected consequence of this 
 compact the real Premier had to call upon Lady Harley to warn 
 her against the love of his artisan double (Book IV., Cap. v.) ; 
 while as a result of the further " unforeseen contingency " of 
 the next Chapter, the Painter was compelled to go home again for 
 a night to his mother's cookshop (Book IV., Caps. vii. and 
 viii.) just the very night of the second reading of his Female 
 Franchise Bill, over which the real Premier was thus reluctantly 
 forced to preside (Book IV. Cap. ix.). Missing these obvious 
 points, many readers lost themselves in the labyrinth of resultant 
 complications, though I still think the method of narration by 
 indirect suggestion not without compensations for the subtle.
 
 PREFA CE. 
 
 In drawing up the main outlines, we thought the real Premier's 
 trick of philosophic reverie, as contrasted with the go-ahead 
 style of the working-man Premier, amply sufficient to tell 
 the reader which was which, whenever either appeared. 
 Surely Cowen, at least, was old enough to know better ; not to 
 expect any assistance from the audience. I cannot conclude 
 without remarking on the shamelessness with which History has 
 plagiarised from a romance conceived nearly a decade ago, or with- 
 out thanking those critics and readers who on the first appearance 
 of this book more than five years ago were generous in praise of 
 the unknown "Freeman Bell." Dr. Nicoll has accused me of 
 sneering at the late James Runciman, because in a leader in the 
 Family Herald and elsewhere, he said that " The Premier and the 
 Painter " was the most brilliant book of the generation. But Dr. 
 Nicoll misunderstood my reference. I am deeply grateful to the 
 dead man I never saw he had courage, if not balanced judgment, 
 and he did not wait till Mr. Bell was dead to praise him 
 immoderately. I only regretted that the organs he praised him 
 in were so uninfluential, that for long years after the publication 
 of "the most brilliant book of the generation," I was the only 
 editor with whom Mr. Bell's work was in request. 
 
 I. ZANGWILL. 
 
 LONDON, July, 18(33.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 II. 
 
 JACK DAWE AT HOME 
 
 Q 
 
 III. 
 
 THE CABINET TRICK 
 
 . 18 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE PREMIER AT HOME .... 
 
 . 27 
 
 V. 
 
 THE KEWBRIDGE SALON .... 
 
 33 
 
 VI. 
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS 
 
 42 
 
 VII. 
 
 TRANSFORMATION 
 
 . 51 
 
 VIII. 
 
 
 58 
 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 
 1. 
 
 MRS. DAWE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY 
 
 . . 64 
 
 II. 
 
 THE PAINTER PAINTS A LION . 
 
 . 74 
 
 III. 
 
 ARCADIA 
 
 . 81 
 
 IV. 
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 
 
 . . 85 
 
 v. 
 
 
 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT . . 
 
 . . IO2 
 
 II. 
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL .... 
 
 . 113 
 
 III. 
 
 LOVE AND SUFFRAGE 
 
 . 122 
 
 IV. 
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 
 
 . 126 
 
 V. 
 
 STAINS OLD AND NEW 
 
 . 136 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 
 
 143 
 
 VII. 
 
 CONFIDENCES 
 
 . . 16 5 
 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 SALLY AND THE PAINTER GO THROUGH 
 
 PERILS 
 
 
 TOGETHER 
 
 . 175 
 
 II. 
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER 
 
 . . 185 
 
 III. 
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUNTCHAPEL 
 
 193 
 
 IV. 
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A- WOOING 
 
 I . 200 
 
 V. 
 
 WEAVING THE NET 
 
 . 212 
 
 VI. 
 
 AN UNFORESEEN CONTINGENCY. 
 
 . . 22O 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER . 
 
 . 226
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 tuc; 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 VIII. THE PAINTER DESPAIRS OF THE PEOPLE . . . 234. 
 
 IX. AY OR NO? 241 
 
 X. THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID , . . .251 
 
 XI. THE KEY OF THE DEVIL'S DOOR . . . .261 
 
 XI I. A SOCIAL SOCIALIST 269 
 
 XIII. THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT .... 276 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 I. RUMOUR'S HUNDRED TONGUES 283 
 
 ii. FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 287 
 
 in. A FAMILY GROUP 300 
 
 IV. A COCKNEY COURTSHIP 307 
 
 V. THE VAGARIES OF A HAT 312 
 
 VI. IN THE LIONS' DEN 314. 
 
 VI!. A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR 319 
 
 VIII. "FOR AULD LANG SYNE" ...... 327 
 
 IX. THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH . . 333 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 i. A MAN'S HEART 340 
 
 II. A NOVEL DILEMMA 343 
 
 III. SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 349 
 
 IV. CALM CONVALESCENCE 361 
 
 V. TOUT PASSE, TOUT CASSE, TOUT LASSK . . . 366 
 
 VI. THE HALL OF FLIRTATION 373 
 
 VII. THE PAINTER IS DISOWNED 377 
 
 VIII. A COOL TWO THOUSAND 383 
 
 IX. THE ADVENTURES OF A HOMELESS PAINTER . . 386 
 
 X. AT THE LATIN PLAY . 393 
 
 XI. THE PRODIGAL SON 399 
 
 XII. A NOCTURNAL VISITOR .... , 406 
 
 X11I. AVE ATQUE VALE 414 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 I. A NATIONAL TRAGEDY 419 
 
 II. UNE CAUSE CELEBRE 423 
 
 III. SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 430 
 
 IV. A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 445 
 
 V. DEAD MEN'S SHOES 405 
 
 VI. NON OMNIS MOR1AR . ... . . . 477 
 
 VII. A SLEEPLESS CITY 486 
 
 VIII. THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER . . 496
 
 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WITH THE COGERS. 
 
 " SP'SHL Heliher I 'Ave the Hekker, sir ! Dissensions in the 
 Kabbernet ! " 
 
 It was a dull evening in May ; the sort of evening of which 
 London appears to have a monopoly, which is not grudged it by 
 the rest of the country. The almanacs, with one accord, and a 
 unanimity worthy of better things, assured all who chose to look 
 at them that the season called summer was about to dawn upon 
 the metropolis. But Nature, in London at any rate, treats- 
 almanacs with contempt. A cold wind was blowing vigorously 
 along the streets, making the diary-deluded pedestrian wish that 
 he had brought his overcoat with him, and causing him to look 
 enviously at those who had ignored the calendar. A drizzly rain 
 was falling in an undecided, hesitating fashion, as if not comfortable 
 in its mind as to its right to be where it was. The stree s, 
 nevertheless, were full of people hurrying to and fro ; though 
 but few of them stopped to buy the evening papers of the eager 
 newsvendors, who snouted and displayed their contents bills with 
 an ever-growing conviction of the inferiority of politics to other 
 forms of crime. " Dissension in the Cabinet " might be printed 
 in the biggest of type, with "rumour of" in the smallest; but 
 the hurrying wayfarers wanted to get home. The ordinary English- 
 man might he fairly enough described as a political animal. It 
 would be far more true than to describe him as a cooking animal, 
 which some rash scientist has done. But in the year of disgrace 
 with which this history deals, he was used to having his evening news'
 
 2 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 fare highly spiced. Wars, and rumours of wars, had beguiled him 
 into parting w.th stray coppers for the purchase of "specials" and 
 " extra-do. ; " and now such mild fare as family jars in the Cabinet 
 failed miserably to tempt the "halfpennies" from their snug retreat 
 in breeches-pockets. 
 
 Besides, the members of the Cabinet were continually dis- 
 agreeing. Scarcely a day passed without the political atmosphere 
 being darkened by reports that this, that, or the other Minister 
 was about to resign. But none of them did. And so the indignant 
 Briton began to feel that Ministers were playing it rather low upon 
 him,* and made up his mind that the Ministry might hang together 
 figuratively, of course or go to pieces, or do anything else it 
 pleased, so long as it didn't impose any extra taxes, without his 
 troubling himself in the least about the matter. 
 
 " Hekktr, sir just out sir, sp'shl, sir !/" panted a youthful but 
 leather-lunged street Arab, brandishing a copy of the evening paper 
 in the face of a gentleman, who, with hat drawn down over his 
 brows, and chin on breast, was walking slowly eastward, looking 
 nervously about him at intervals, as if he feared recognition. 
 
 " What's in to-night, my lad ?" he said, taking a paper of the 
 youngster. 
 
 ' 'Orful row at to-day's Kabbernet reg'lar scrimmage, sir," 
 replied the lad, with a grin. 
 
 "Anybody hurt?" 
 
 " They don't go at it with fists, sir. Hekher, yes, sir. But old 
 Floppy'll have to give some on 'em the kick out, ot else chuck 
 up the sponge," was the reply, given with the air of conviction and 
 superior knowledge characteristic of people talking on a subject of 
 which their ignorance is almost phenomenal, if any degree of 
 ignorance could fairly merit that adjective. 
 
 " I should let Floppy know, if I were you," said the stranger, 
 with grim sarcasm, as he strode on, leaving the newspaper lad 
 staring at him, and whistling contemplatively as he stared. Then 
 muttering, " I've seen that mug afore," he dropped the contempla- 
 tive whistle, and resumed the ear-splitting business cry. 
 
 " So Floppy had better kick some of them out or throw up the 
 sponge. Easily said, my lad, easily said ; but the doing of it ay, 
 there's the rub." 
 
 " What a night for May ! " he murmured, as he drew his coat- 
 collar higher up, and let his chin sink lower down. " Nature's as 
 inconsistent as myself, but more permanent. I wonder whether 
 the modern philosophy is right, and that even Nature is not un- 
 conscious. If so, to judge by myself, she must regret ever having 
 
 * It is worthy of remark that this phrase, now used by the gravest writers, 
 was, at the period treated of, considered an American vulgarism. See last 
 edition of Pugil's " History of Modern Idioms." The distich of Drychurch 
 (who, with something of Pope's condensed brilliancy, combines not a little of 
 his scurrility) will be fresh in every one's memory : 
 
 " For classic phrases, like patrician clans, 
 Owe birth to scoundrels and to harridans."
 
 WITH THE COGERS 3 
 
 allowed mankind to evolve speech. That boy is right ; the times 
 .are out of joint. Oh, cursed spite, that ever I was born to set them 
 right ! Even Hamlet hadn't a Cabinet to tackle, where every man 
 is for himself, though all say they're for the State. The State's 
 for them, rather," he chuckled. 
 
 This soliloquy, which wasn't rattled straight off, but ran discon- 
 nectedly and jerkily through the mind of the Unknown but not the 
 Unknowable as he strode along the Strand, will ere this have let the 
 discriminating reader into the secret of his identity. Mysteries are 
 bores and best avoided. Thegentleman was Floppy himself. "Floppy" 
 was the abbreviation more or less affectionately used by all classes 
 when speaking of the Right Honourable Arnold Floppington. 
 
 The Right Honourable Arnold Floppington was Premier of an 
 Empire on which the sun never set, and in the centre of which it 
 occasionally manifested evident indisposition to rise. He belonged 
 to a family, whose members took to politics as a matter of 
 course. A House of Commons might have existed without a 
 member of the Floppington family on its benches ; but the experi- 
 ment was never tried. He belonged to one of the two great parties 
 into which the State was divided. He was born a "little Conser- 
 vative," and as years rolled on he became, in every sense of the 
 term, a big one. Family connections, brilliant oratory, and, 
 perhaps, the mutual jealousies of stronger if not abler men, had 
 made him the leader of his party. By instinct and training he was 
 .an old-fashioned Tory, but being of a reflective turn of mind, he 
 could not escape from living in a state of doubt, honest enough, it 
 ; is true, but in which his enemies did not believe there lived more 
 faith than in the accepted party creeds. And if his enemies 
 doubted his honesty, his friends were not always sure of his sanity. 
 Once at the epoch of a general election, his then opinions happened 
 !by a strange coincidence to be those of the majority of the electors, 
 .and very much to his own surprise he became Home Secretary in 
 a Conservative Cabinet. But unfortunately the Minister's opinions 
 were constantly in a state of flux, and so he had not held office 
 long. And now when, having by his opposition brought about the 
 defeat of the Reform Bill of the Liberals, he had with much hesi- 
 tation consented to form an Administration, he still retained his old 
 habits of conscientiousness, and was still liable to be tossed about 
 on the "fell incensed points'' of opposite opinions. Wherefore 
 seeing that his colleagues had only one opinion, that it was better 
 to be in office than in opposition, the reports of dissension in the 
 Cabinet naturally had quite enough truth in them to deprive the 
 morning papers of the pleasure of contradicting the evening ones. 
 
 The rain having stopped, the wind having ceased from troubling, 
 .and the hats being at rest, the unwonted calm caused him to look 
 up from his reverie. He had reached that joint shrine of Thespis and 
 Venus, the Gaiety Theatre. The notices " Stalls full," " Dress 
 Circle full," attracted him. He smiled at the thought of the 
 people whom he had found it so hard to govern, enjoying them- 
 selves, regardless of him and his government. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Foolish theory of Hobbes," he thought, " that the Common- 
 wealth is a gigantic man. In this case the head aches, while the 
 legs dance. If the gigantic man's head ached like mine, the only- 
 dance his legs would care for would be the ' Danse Macabre.'" 
 
 He was now in Fleet Street, where he would have had a glorious 
 view of St. Paul's, had it not been for the rapidly gathering shades 
 of night, and the intervention of a railway bridge: a piece of bar- 
 barism which we, in our wore aesthetic age and with our improved: 
 means of locomotion, can hardly comprehend. 
 
 Unthinkingly turning a corner, he found himself in a side 
 street, and paused to look at a bill displayed in the window of a 
 public-house. From it he learnt that the "Antient Society of 
 Cogers" held their meetings there ; that the meetings were open to 
 the public, and that strangers were invited to take part in the dis- 
 cussions, which were on politics. " The Antient Society of Cogers " 
 was well known ; but the Right Honourable Arnold Floppington 
 had never heard of it. The subject for debate, " The Events of the 
 Week Will Mountchapel resign ?" attracted him and roused him 
 from the train of thought into which he had fallen. To hear what 
 that abstraction "the People" had to say on the great question of 
 the day would be a novelty He knew that in a sort of theoretical 
 fashion, he and his Cabinet were supposed to carry out the wishes of 
 "the People." But he also knew, that neither he nor his colleagues 
 ever got to know at first hand what " the People " really said and 
 thought. That only reached him after passing through many 
 media, and being refracted out of all shape in the process. 
 
 " Haroun Alraschid be my guide," he murmured, as, without 
 stopping to think of consequences, he walked boldly in. 
 
 He found himself in a long, narrow room, with a row of tables 
 at each side, and another row down the centre. At these tables 
 were seated some thirty or forty men, busily engaged in smoking 
 and drinking. Tney were listening gravely, as befitted members of 
 so ancient a Society, to a speaker who eked out the feebleness oi 
 his arguments by the violence of his gesticulations. At the end of 
 the room sat the " Grand," whose duty it was to keep order, and. 
 see that no speaker exceeded the regulation time of twenty minutes; 
 though when the speaker did not please those assembled, loud 
 cries of "Time ' were heard before the twenty minutes had expired 
 It was noticeable, moreover, that those who had most to say, never 
 took long in saying it. 
 
 Dropping into a quiet corner seat, the Right Honourable Arnold: 
 Floppington seemed to realise what he had done. He might at 
 any moment be recognised, as his portrait figured in the shop- 
 windows side by side with those of the fashionable beauties p 
 though it must be reluctantly admitted that it did not sell so well. 
 Having gone so far however, he determined to see it out, and hear 
 what treatment he and his colleagues would meet with. Hiding his 
 face as much as possible by leaning it upon his hand, he called the 
 waiter, and ordered a tankard of bitter. He had often dilated on 
 the noble part that beverage had played in making the Rritishi
 
 WITH THE COGERS 5 
 
 workman what he '.vas : he had, when in opposition, objected to iis 
 being taxed ; he had done everything but taste it. After doing so,, 
 he determined to tell his Chancellor to tax chemicals in his next 
 Budget. 
 
 Cries of "Time :) roused the Premier from the fit of abstraction 
 into which the People's beer had cast him. Me looked up, not 
 knowing what the cries might mean. He soon learnt they denoted 
 that the audience had had enough of the gentleman who was ad- 
 dressing them, and after a peroration which failed to be heard 
 above the din, the unfortunate debater subsided. 
 
 Scarcely had he done so when loud cries of " Floppy! Floppy!" 
 resounded throughout the room. The Premier looked up, and felt 
 himself turning pale, He had hoped he would not be recognised ; 
 he had not for a moment thought that, if recognised, he would be thus 
 addressed by the democracy. He had coquetted with democracy, 
 it is true, but he never forgot that he was allied to Conservatism. 
 Among his many changing veins of thought, democracy had found 
 a place. But such democratic familiarity \vas like to make him 
 an oligarch for ever. 
 
 Involuntarily he seized his hat, determined to leave the place, 
 when loud cheers following the words " Mr. Chairman and gentle- 
 men " made him pause. On the opposite side of the room, a plainly- 
 dressed man had risen to address the assembly. The Premier 
 rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming ? For in this man, despite the 
 obscuring difference of dress, he saw his fetch, his wraith, his double, 
 his living image. The puzzle was solved. This, then, was " Floppy." 
 The man's marvellous resemblance to himself had struck the 
 habitues of the place, and hence they had playfully presented him 
 with the name by which the Right Hon. Arnold Floppington was 
 usually spoken of. 
 
 ' Mr. Chairman and gentlemen," said the man in the dulcet 
 high-pitched tones of the born orator, " I shall be very happy to 
 discuss the question when I have finished discussing my supper." He 
 pointed downward to his plate of bread and cheese, with the easy 
 grace of a man sure of his position, and the burst of laughter and 
 applause that followed the unconventional remark proved unmis- 
 takably that he was a prime favourite in the room. The rule of 
 the alternation of speakers of opposite politics was even relaxed 
 for the nonce, for as no Conservative ventured consciously to 
 precede so satirical an opponent, a Radical M as permitted to act as 
 a stop-gap till the nonchalant Jack Dawe (for such was " Floppy's" 
 real name) was ready to charm the expectant audience. 
 
 The Premier did not carry out his resolution of instant depar- 
 ture. He could not tear himself away. The scene had a weird 
 fascination for him. His eyes rested, by an irresistible attraction, 
 upon the remarkable lineaments of his double; the features so 
 strangely like his, but the whole face so alive with confident strength. 
 '1 he few words spoken by the man had moved him strangely the 
 same trumpet-like clearness of limbre which he himself commanded 
 in moments of impassioned oratory, thrilled in the tones of his
 
 6 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 wraith and he felt himself chained to his seat by a morbid desire- 
 to hear what this almost mysterious being would say of him. 
 
 En attendant, the feeble diatribe of the stop-gap fell upon his- 
 patient ears ; but they were too hardened to tingle. 
 
 He heard, as he had often heard in the House of Commons,, 
 that everything he had done was wrong ; and cynically reflected 
 that, if it were so, the doctrine of chances must have treated him 
 shabbily. As moreover, he had, on certain points of detail, fol- 
 lowed diametrically opposite policies, he felt there was a flaw some- 
 where or other ; but whether in him, in his opponents, or in Nature 
 herself, he had never been able to determine satisfactorily. What 
 gave him a good deal of rather melancholy amusement was to find 
 that he was held responsible for everything, while his colleagues 
 were quietly ignored. He knew it was perfectly constitutional, but 
 as he had not unfrequently done little more than serve as the 
 coloured glass through which the lights of his colleagues shone, he 
 couldn't resist appreciating the joke. He grew somewhat more- 
 interested when the speaker touched upon his want of decision. 
 
 "If the Prime Minister," he thundered forth, "doesn't know 
 what he wants, we know what we don't want and that's him !: 
 Why doesn't he make up his mind?" 
 
 " If it were only as easy as making up one's face," muttered the- 
 Premier disconsolately. 
 
 " How much longer is this weathercock going to tax our 
 patience ? " 
 
 A voice with a strong Irish brogue : 
 
 " Hear, hear ! Floppy's finished his supper." 
 
 Laughter, and some confusion. The speaker, perceiving that 
 his opportunity was over, dashed at once inf> his peroration : 
 
 " But 'it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good,'" he cried; 
 " and if the wind which blows about this weathercock stamps the 
 Ministry with indelible disgrace, and crowns the Opposition with 
 victory amid the crumbling ruins of the Ministerialists, I for one 
 will call down blessings on its head;" and striking the table 
 emphatically, he sat down amid good-humoured applause, which, a 
 moment afterwards, swelled into an outburst of tremendous cheer- 
 ing as Jack Dawe slowly rose to his feet. 
 
 Unmoved by the enthusiastic salvo to which he was probably 
 accustomed, the man stood facing his audience, the central figure 
 in the cloud-wreathed atmosphere, his right hand resting upon the 
 rim of a pewter-pot, with the alcoholic contents of which he was 
 wont to moisten his lips from time to time. The Premier, still 
 magnetised by the subtle influence of the strange personage he had 
 chanced upon, bent forward eagerly as though feverishly anxious 
 not to miss a syllable of the coming speech. In the intensity of 
 his interest, he almost forgot his dread of recognition, and he 
 utterly missed the quaint and somewhat old-fashioned charm of the 
 scene the archa ; c simplicity of the tableau, made up of the rows 
 of flushed, excited faces of almost every type of physiognomy, and of 
 all ages from seventeen to seventy ; the background of imitation-
 
 WITH THE COGERS 7 
 
 painted panelling ; the long tables glittering with half-empty glasses, 
 and with huge tankards of shandy-gaff; the whole veiled in nebulous 
 folds, picturesquely relieved here and there by the red glow of cigars 
 and cigarettes, or the artistic colouring of the more or less grotesquely- 
 shaped pipes. 
 
 The man, whose oratory was now for the first time to stir the 
 pulses of a listener of exalted position, was only a house-and-sign- 
 painter. But in politics he could have given lessons to many of 
 those who were bent upon educating their masters. He was in 
 many respects a workman of the best type studious, thoughtful, 
 and a thorough master of his business. His intellectual faculties 
 were of a high order, and his debating powers not by any means 
 the same thing had been proved in many a tough encounter, 
 where his extreme Radicalism had held its groui.d against all 
 comers by dir.t of a rare talent for satire, and a sledge-hammer 
 force of expression. The first half-dozen sentences of his double 
 convinced Floppington that he was in the presence of a speaker of 
 a different stamp from his predecessors, and of one whose intrinsic 
 merits called for attention to his remarks, apart from the interest 
 excited by his personality. 
 
 " I would willingly echo the concluding sentiment of the gentle- 
 man who has just sat down," he began, amid a continuous current 
 of more or less boisterous laughter, ' were it not that its metaphors 
 were as mixed as the ideas of the gentleman who preceded him. 
 Metaphors have a bad habit of being mixed, though their intentions 
 are generally good. Mr. Rowley's comparison of Mr. Floppington 
 to a weathercock is true, if not new. A weathercock at the top 
 of the Church is all very well (in fact only a weathercock could 
 remain there for a day) ; but, as Mr. Rowley rightly declared, it is 
 out of place at the head of the State. But when he proceeded to 
 accuse the weathercock in question of taxing our patience, I could not 
 help speculating on the exact fiscal abilities of a vane, and I came to 
 tiie conclusion that the only bond of connection between it and a 
 Chancellor of Exchequer was the ignorance of arithmetic. Mr. 
 Rowley might suggest to Sir Stanley Southleigh the advisability of 
 imposing a tax upon patience, though perhaps it would be too 
 direct to suit that great financier. \Ve are a long-suffering people 
 we have stood he;editary legislators long enough to prove that 
 but I don't think the receipts would be very great nevertheless. 
 England expects every man to pay his duties, and we should not 
 quite refuse to submit to an extra one ; but what I am afraid of is, 
 that our impatience at the new demand would seriously interfere 
 with the official estimate of our normal amount of the commodity 
 under taxation. Mr. Chairman, I am aware I am digressing ; but if 
 1 were to remain in the route which the debate has been allowed to 
 d ift into, I should have no chance of getting to the real issue at alL 
 1 ha\e noticed it as a remarkable peculiarity of the subjects down, 
 for discussion in this room, that they have a rude habit of leaving 
 directly we are assembled, and of going off to spend their evenings 
 elsewhere." (Loud laughter.)
 
 8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 With these bantering words of introduction, the speaker entered 
 upon an elaborate and philosophical, yet amusingly-couched dis- 
 quisition upon the political situation. Ever and anon wild bursts 
 of cheering and laughter escaped from his listeners from all but 
 that one pathetic figure in the corner, the poor, pallid stranper who 
 leaned his throbbing brow upon his burning palm. As Jack Dawe 
 warmed to his work, his remarks became less and less general, and 
 at last he found himself dissecting, with remorseless scalpel, the 
 whole public career of the Hon. Arnold Floppington. '1 he last 
 speaker had also cut up the Premier ; but with what inferior 
 weapons! His previous tenure of the Home Secretaryship; his 
 factious opposition to the Radical Reform Bill ; his overthrow 
 of the last Government ; the feigned hesitation of his accept- 
 ance of office ; his own Reform Bill ; his difficulties with his 
 Cabinet ; were all passed in review. The intricacy of his motives 
 was laid bare ; his weaknesses and his inconsistencies \ve:'e 
 exposed; his incompetence was painted in the most glaring colours; 
 and his whole life was made to point the evils of the system of 
 administration under which a man so hopelessly behind the times, 
 and so terribly inefficient, could yet rise to the head of affairs. 
 
 "This, then," concluded the house-painter vehemently, "is the 
 man who, according to gentlemen opposite, is to lead their party to 
 victory after the dissolution whether it be precipitated, as it almost 
 certainly will be, by the defeat of the Reform Bill, or whether it take 
 place in the natural course of events. This is the man whose waver- 
 ing and antiquated principles are to secure a triumphant majority in 
 the next Parliament. Let me tell my Conservative friends that 
 their hopes are as hollow as their arguments. So long as Floppiug- 
 ton remains what he is, so long as Mountchapel remains what he is, 
 so long the Cabinet Chamber would be not the bureau of Govern- 
 ment but the arena of contending ambitions, and so long as Con- 
 servatism has no better leaders than these two men, so long a stable 
 Conservative Administration is an impossibility. Nor would even 
 the retirement of one of them mend matters in the least. Flop- 
 pington, with Mountchapel in opposition, would be a ludicrous and 
 pitiable sight; but the sight of Mountchapel at the helm of the 
 vessel of state would, if possible, be still more ludicrous and pitiable. 
 The gorge of this great nation would rise in disgust at the spectacle. 
 But if by a wild stretch of imagination one could conceive the 
 Premier as, to apply the sinewy language of Milton, rousing him- 
 self like a strong man after sleep, or as an eagle, mewing his mighty 
 youth and kindling hisendazzled eyes at the lull midday beam ; rid- 
 ding himself of the incubus of his Foreign Secretary (though it 
 might be well 10 retain the valuable unscrupulousness of that re- 
 markable politician), and opening his ears to the imperious demands 
 of modern democracy instead of dulling them with the dismal 
 drone of mummified ecclesiastics; if, I say, there was the remotest 
 probability of this, why, then there might be some hope for Con- 
 servatism; but, as it is, the confidence of Tories in their continued 
 political existence resembles the state of mind of the patients in a
 
 JACK DAWE AT HOME 9 
 
 galloping consumption. And I claim to have acted as a true friend 
 in warning .them of their impending fate, in directing them to wind 
 up their affairs, and in adjuring them to reflect on their sins; and 
 if I have not attempted to soiten their last hours by the usual 
 shadowy suggestions of a certain but distant resurrection, it is 
 because the attempt would not soothe, but only terrify them by re- 
 minding them of the awful proximity of the hour of resurrection to 
 the Day of Judgment." 
 
 \Yhen the protracted cheering that followed Jack Dawe's re- 
 sumption of his seat had subsided, a supporter of the Ministry 
 rose, who sarcastically suggested that no doubt the country would 
 be much better governed if their friend Floppy were to replace the 
 head of the Government. Floppy's friends cheered this suggestion 
 vigorously- one of them calling out " he couldn't do worse, if he 
 tried his level best. : ' 
 
 'I he Premier sat motionless in his corner. He screened his 
 face from view. Could it have been seen, its strange expression 
 would have puzzled the beholder. He was watching his wraith with 
 an odd, half-sad, somewhat feverish expression and with a strange 
 unhealthy glitter in his eyes, as though the enthusiasm of the 
 assembly had communicated itself to his jaded spirit ; and when 
 Jack Dawe, after looking at his watch, quitted the room amid a 
 renewed burst of cheering, he was followed by the Right Hon. 
 Arnold Floppington. 
 
 ***** 
 
 What would not the fashionable diarist have given to know that 
 the Premier, that night, had to be helped to his bedroom by sug- 
 gestively-winking servants ? 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JACK DAWE AT HOME. 
 
 ROSY- FINGERED Morn had been long tapping on the window- 
 panes before Jack Dawe awoke and rubbed his eyes presumably 
 from sleepiness. He had not slept well. The Cogers- that arena 
 where epithets had last night engaged in deadly combat- had, in 
 the mysterious fashion well known to sufferers' from nightmare, 
 transformed itself into a Protean something which weighed heavily 
 and vaguely upon him in all his fantastic doings in dreamland. 
 And now in the clear sunlight the something translated itself in a 
 flash into its original, and the whole scene rose before him while 
 cries of " Floppy " reverberated in his ears. A shade of anxiety 
 followed by a faint smile appeared on his face as he fell back mur- 
 muring " Rest ! Rest ! :) Then his eyes wandered over the gaudily- 
 papered room, the walls of which were further adorned by an
 
 io THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 almanac, a few lithographs, a small pipe-rack, several Board 
 School* certificates of a highly eulogistic nature, and a large portrait 
 of Mr. JBradlaugh, then at the height of his popularity. Over the 
 head of the bed was a small hanging bookcase on which were 
 ranged Swinburne's "Songs before Sunrise," "Odes and Ballads," 
 Mill's " Logic," Paine's "The Rights of Man," Shelley's " Queen 
 Mab,'' Mill's " Subjection of Women," IngersolFs " Letters," Mill 
 on " Representative Government," Gilbert's " Plays," some bound 
 volumes of " Progress,'' (a Freethought magazine of the period), 
 and a few works of an educational and a non-literary character. 
 " Blessed is he," thought Jack when he had surveyed for a moment 
 the backs of these volumes, " who can catch a truth with a small 
 ' t,' and label it ' Truth ' with a cap tal ' T,' and thus armed con- 
 front the world ! In reality truth is as many-sided as myself, and as 
 hated." With this mournful reflection he jumped out of bed. 
 
 Assuredly a middle-aged man ought not to have gazed at him- 
 self in the glass for a quarter of an hour as our friend did when 
 dressed. But although the Preacher pronounced that "all is vanity? 
 it is probable that this dictum was based on his experience of his 
 better halves, and it is doubtful how far it applies to men of a 
 philosophical cast when lost in their reflections. Be that as it may, 
 Mr. Davve, on the termination of his reverie, as we shall mercifully 
 call it, proceeded downstairs with uncertain steps. One flight was 
 all that he had to descend, and it led into a small parlour dominated 
 by stuffed birds flying under a vitreous sky. These were benevo- 
 lently looked down upon by the counterfeit presentments of a mild- 
 eyed man in black with a bright badge on his breast, and of a stout 
 sharp-looking woman in blue ; and the flesh and blood and bones 
 of the latter sat on a horsehair couch and devoured eggs and 
 bacon. She was now flabbier than her picture, and the sharpness 
 had migrated from her nose and cheeks and dwelt entirely in her 
 gray eyes. 
 
 " You're early, Jack," she exclaimed ere he had entered. " The 
 bacon's getting cold." This was not spoken satirically, for Jack 
 generally breakfasted on a second supply, which was even then 
 getting up heat in the kitchen, which lay, for reasons that will 
 soon be obvious, between the parlour and the shop. 
 
 "Good morning," said Jack advancing, and might have said 
 more had not his breath been stopped by a tremendous hug ac- 
 companied by a sonorous kiss. It was not Mrs. Dawe's habit to 
 favour him with this matutinal salute ; but on this occas : on there 
 was such a strange look of worry in his face and such a new 
 tenderness in his eyes, and she had done such a " roaring :) trade 
 the night before, that the dormant maternal instinct was aroused. 
 He disengaged himself from the unaccustomed embrace, blushing 
 all over and much disturbed. " Oleum redo!et" he reflected. " As 
 
 * Board Schools were establishments in which what in that age passed for 
 education was doled out in annual instalments, paid for by Government, at 
 rates varying from seventeen to twenty-five : hillings per instalment. These 
 figures are, of course, those of the old pre-deciu.al system.
 
 JACK DAWE AT HOME 11 
 
 they said of my speeches, she smells of the oil. And her teeth I 
 As corrupt as a Greek play and as irregular as its verbs ! " 
 
 But remorse speedily seized upon his tender heart, and he 
 murmured : '' It is a small price to pay for rest. He who would 
 eat lotuses must not spurn tne plate they're offered in." 
 
 " Eat lettuces ! " exclaimed his mother who had caught the last 
 sentence ; " I didn't know as you was fond of 'em." 
 
 " Never mind," he said gently, taking a seat before the small 
 round table. " And what am I to have ? ?) 
 
 " Why, you can have some of this 'ere cold, or you can wait tiil 
 Sally brings your own. ' 
 
 He frowned at standing once more by the cross-roads of action; 
 but began mechanically to examine the logical alternatives. 
 
 " Then there are two courses," he commenced. 
 
 " Bless the boy ; he knows very well we only 'ave one for 
 breakfast," she ejaculated. " Sally, bring in master's breakfast if it's 
 ready. But what's a matter with you ? Are you caught cold ? 
 Oh, there she is. You'll find that prime." 
 
 " Thank you," said Jack with a gracious smile, as a slipshod 
 girl with dishevelled hair and smudgy countenance laid a plate of 
 fried eggs and bacon before him. To a hungry man the savour of 
 these dainties was not unappetising, and the plate which held them 
 was of unimpeachable cleanness, contrasting sharply with the 
 slovenly appearance of that from which Mrs. Dawe was eating. It 
 was evident that the son was somewhat more finical and squeamish 
 than the mother. " No, thank you. Don't trouble. I dare say 
 this coffee will be wann enough for me. Will you be so kind as 
 to bring me a spoon ? " 
 
 " Well, are you hever going for that spoon ? " cried Mrs. Dawe 
 irritably. " D'ye suppose I pays ye for openin' your tater-trap like 
 a Alleylujey Sister ? ' 
 
 For the girl had flushed deeply. The unwonted carmine over- 
 spread her face and neck. The room had grown misty to her 
 eyes. 
 
 Without a word she rushed into the kitchen, seized a tea-spoon, 
 polished it vigorously, and was back again with it in less tiian a 
 dozen seconds. 
 
 "What an active girl!" said Jack, with an approving smile. 
 " Thank you, Sally." 
 
 * I've done your boots, master," said Sally huskily. She struggled 
 for a moment with a lump in her throat before she was able to add, 
 ' They're under the table. I couldn't shine 'em any better 'cos the 
 leather's too new." Ducking her head she brought them up for his 
 inspection, trembling a little from force of habit before submitting 
 her work to her usually imperious taskmaster. 
 
 " Polish comes with age," he murmured reflectively. " You 
 couldn't shine them any better !" he cried in admiration. " Would 
 we all had as little to apologise for ! Your ideals must be high 
 indeed, if this brilliant lustre doesn't satisfy you. What a treasure 
 YOU would be in a prodigal servants' hall, although " An
 
 12 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 almost imperceptible shudder concluded the sentence. Decidedly 
 the lissom charm, the piquant freshness, the shining purity of the 
 neat-handed Phyllis was absent from Sally's person, or if latent, 
 very latent indeed. 
 
 " When you've done showin' off them boots as if you was the 
 Museum," Mrs. Dawe cried brutally, though her eyes twinkled a 
 little with dim comprehension of her son's satire. " P'raps you 
 wishes you was. I know you'd like to 'ave a p'liceman to look 
 arier ye," she chuckled grimly. 
 
 " I never !" said Sally, with high-pitched and fiery indignation. 
 *"E only come to arx if I'd seen a one-armed man with a tambourine 
 as was wanted for the card-trick, and 'e paid for 'is plum-duff with 
 a kick with a 'ole in it." 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Jack, who had ceased stirring his coffee in 
 surprise. " You must not excite yourself like that, my good girl 
 I do not think your mistress was accusing you seriously, so there's 
 really no need to defend yourself so loudly." 
 
 The maid-of-all-work stared dumbly at her master; the glitter- 
 ing " Wellingtons " almost fell from her hands. The suavity of the 
 reproof was too much for her perfervid condition. 
 
 The intensity of the girl's gaze infected Mrs. Dawe. She bent 
 her sharp, gray eyes upon her son, and a puzzled look came over 
 her broad visage. The sign-painter seemed uneasy under this dual 
 scrutiny. He bent his head over the smoking viands and took up 
 his knife and fork. 
 
 Suddenly the old woman's face lit up with an expression of 
 relief. 
 
 " Why, Jack ! " she exclaimed. " Where's your Sunday togs ?" 
 " Eh," he said, looking up vaguely. " My Sunday togs ? " 
 " Bless the boy, ain't to-day Sunday ? And you such a swell in 
 your new trousers !" 
 " Oh ! " said Jack. 
 
 " This comes o' bein' out late. You wake up without your wits. 
 But come, don't let your bacon spoil. You can change afterwards. 
 Oh, I forgot. 'Ere's your Rejeree and your Lloyd's! Let me know 
 if there's any good murders on." 
 
 He took the newspapers which his mother handed him and laid 
 them aside with a sigh. She started and turned pale. " Break 
 fast without politics ! Is there anything a matter, Jack ?" 
 
 '' I feel a trifle worried," he replied, " and I have no wish to be 
 worried further by the criticisms of the Sunday Press." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe stared. Then seeing his lips move she said anxi- 
 ously : ' Why, you're a tremblin' all over." 
 ' No, no ; I am merely saying grace." 
 
 The crash which followed this announcement was caused by 
 the rapid decline and fall of Mrs. Dawe's knife and fork. Jack 
 smiled. 
 
 " It's disgraceful ! " she exclaimed, re-assured, '' to give a body 
 such a tuin by your jokes. I thought you had one boot in ttie 
 grave already. As your father used to say, 'when a man is took
 
 JACK DAWE AT HOME 13. 
 
 religious it's a sign he's took bad.' Rest his soul ! he didn't believe 
 in nothing, he didn't, and he'd maintain them principles in this- 
 world or the next. He used to say as my services 'd be wanted 
 down below, as I was such a hexcellent frier and roaster, which 
 not as it's me ns savs it there isn't in the kingdom, if modesty will 
 allow ine to say it." 
 
 "I have noticed," said Jack, "that, as a rule, those only are- 
 modest who have something to be modest about." 
 
 " Well, I 'ave got something to be modest about," responded 
 Mrs. Dawe proudly ; "and that's why I ses if. I can't do better 
 than believe in the same nothing as my late husband. And as I 
 was a-sayin' to Salvation Polly only yesterday, in my business I don't 
 trust nobody, and in my religion it's the same. And as for savin'' 
 grace, it's all humbug. My customers, ses I, don't say grace, 'for 
 they know if they get a square meal they've earned it, and no thanks 
 to nobody. When I sees the poor, famishin' young 'uns a flattentn' 
 their noses against my windows, and a smellin' the pork-pies, 
 thinks I to myself it ain't true what your folks says that He gives 
 food to the young ravenous when they cry. They can cry till their 
 eyes is as red as their fathers' noses ; and pork-pies'll be as far off 
 as ever." Then she rolled up her sleeves, much to Jack's alarm. 
 " Eat away, my boy, I must get to work now ; people's stomachs- 
 never takes no rest, Sunday or any other day, does they, Jack? 
 And what did they talk about last night ? More politics, I suppose. 
 Ah, Jack, don't eat my 'ead off if I asks ye not to waste so much 
 time on politics it takes you away from your work. Not that, 
 thank Gord, you can't be idle a day ; still politics is only for them 
 as ain't got to get a honest living." Here Mrs. Dawe's features 
 assumed a timid, conciliatory expression, narrowly verging on the 
 apologetic. 
 
 " That is very true," said Jack, with a grim smile. 
 
 " I'm glad you're a-comin' round to common sense," said his 
 mother, at once surprised and emboldened by the passiveness with 
 which these tentative remarks were received. " Your dear father 
 took as much interest in politics as you ; but did he let it ruin him. 
 as it well-nigh does you ? Not he. He just took his sovereign 
 whenever there was an election on and marked the paper accord- 
 ing, doing a good stroke of work he used to call it, ha ! ha! ha !" 
 
 " You are right, mad mother. I have wasted too much time on 
 it already." 
 
 "Yes, and when you might ha' been doin' something nicer,. 
 Jack." Here Mrs. Dawe beamed benevolently on her son and. 
 winked at him. 
 
 " Nicer ! " said Jack. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe winked again, looked at the picture of her departed, 
 husband and beamed with increased vigour. 
 
 " Yes, you hav' been neglectin' your duty ! " 
 
 "Have I?" said Jack. 
 
 " You know you have. Poor thing ! " 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said Jack.
 
 14 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Yes, I means it. Poor thing ! You have ill-treated her shame- 
 ful." 
 
 "Ill-treated?" said Jack. 
 
 " You promised to finish the business months ago ; but you've 
 teen so busy with your politics, I do believe it's gone clean out of 
 your 'ead.'' 
 
 " Oh, the business," said Jack. 
 
 " Yes, she was here yesterday, and she complained bitterly of 
 
 your neglect while you was at Oh, drat them church bells, 
 
 they seem to say if you won't sleep in church, you shan't sleep 
 nowhere else that's one of your father's, Jack! '' 
 
 " So she wants the job done ? " said Jack. 
 
 "Yes, she does ; and the quicker it's done the better, she said; 
 and so say I, and so say all of us, I hope. You're forty now, and 
 life is short." 
 
 " And art long," mused Jack. " Though I doubt whether what 
 this lady requires would be entitled to the denomination." " Well 
 then." he said aloud, "you can tell her the next time you see her 
 that I'm ready to do whatever she wants." 
 
 "Oh, that's a dear Jack!" and she smothered him with oily 
 kisses. " I likes to see my son do what's right and propn-. And, 
 Jack, you'll see what a dinner I'll give you. I'll cook it myself." 
 
 With this threat she released him from her maternal embraces. 
 "And now, mother," he said, rising, " I'll dress and go to church." 
 
 For a moment her heart stood still and the old alarm seized 
 her. 
 
 "Jack!" she panted, but remenbering his specific declaration 
 that he was not ill she let her face broaden into a smile. "That's 
 twice in one morning," she said. "What's the good o' tryin' to 
 make a fool o' your mother ? Why, Natur 5 couldn't do it, and she 
 'ad the fust try. My gracious, wouldn't they stare to see Jack 
 Uaweat St. John's?" 
 
 " I know I have never been to St. John's before, but that is no 
 reason against my going there now. Jack Dawe has changed his 
 .opinion. In other points,'' he added, seeing her emotion, '' I am 
 wJling to make large concessions; but this point is vital." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe's face blazed with astonishment and anger, for there 
 was the old expression on the face of her son, that look of deter- 
 mination which she dreaded and from which she knew there was 
 no appeal. But the greatness of the issue moved her to fight to 
 the bitter death. Those who have known the anguish caused by 
 a son's deserting the faith of his forefathers, the religion in which 
 he has been born and bred, will sympathise with the poor old 
 woman, in danger of being cut off by her son's infidelity from all 
 spiritual communion with him in her declining years. Moreover 
 there seemed something strangely pliant, wavering, and meek, about 
 him that morning, strongly in contrast with his wonted imperious- 
 ness. The astonishing quiescence with which he had already given 
 way in an important matter a moment ago, invited her to fresh 
 victories while the humour lasted to make hay before the erratic
 
 JACK DA WE AT HOME 15 
 
 sun sank below the horizon for an indefinite period. So she risked 
 the combat. " Go to church ! '' she cried. "Can't /make your flannel 
 waistcoats ? Do we stand in need of any charity ? It's only a step 
 from the church to the workus. And don't you remember what 
 your father told the parson ? ' I don't go to church,' ses he, 'that I 
 may keep out o' temptation.' ' Temptation ! ' ses the parson. ' Yes, 
 ses your father, ' them as goes to church is tempted to put a bad 
 'apenny in the plate. And besides,' ses your father, which I knovved 
 politics would make you wander from the right path ; 'besides, ses 
 your father, 'I don't believe in nothing, thank Gord, I don't ; and a 
 man as would go to church without meaning it, would rob a church 
 mouse.' So sit down and finish your corfy." She laid her plump 
 hand tentatively upon his, and not finding it rudely shaken off, she 
 pressed him down lightly as though he were the dough of a pie- 
 crust. 
 
 " He was doubtless a very straightforward man," he observed, 
 settling down meekly and thinking that there was plenty of time 
 to temporise. Her eyes twinkled with triumph ; but the historical 
 weapon was too dear to be laid aside, merely because it had 
 vanquished the enemy. She continued her survey of her laie 
 husband's religious and theological opinions, as though her son had 
 never heard them before. 
 
 " That he was," she replied ; " and he'd always let you know 'is 
 mind. ' I don't keep my views to myself,' he used to say ; ' I lets 
 other folks look at them. I makes my private view a public view.' 
 And when, under my management, this cookshop began to thrive 
 more than it 'ad ever done in his family, his views wa r . more so 
 than ever. He didn't 'ide his light under a bushel of lies, he didn't. 
 And with sich a father, Jack, you wants to go to church ! Shame 
 on you ! It's enough to make 'im turn in 'is grave. It's enough if 
 a man goes three times in his life once when he's born, once when 
 he's married, and once when he's dead. 5 ' 
 
 Jack could not help smiling at this maternal bull ; not the last 
 specimen of the Hibernian breed which ranged and occasionally 
 escaped from their stalls in Mrs. Dawe's brain. Mrs. Dawe had 
 r.ow gone into the kitchen, whence a mingled odour of roast pork and 
 becf-s:eak pudding began to enter on currents of air that continued 
 to vibrate with her rather shrill tones. She was up to her elbows in 
 dough and up to her neck in reminiscence. Ever courteous, ever 
 shrinking from giving pain, Jack Dawe sat there with as grave 
 attention as he would have given to the Queen. Dusty rays darting 
 from the back-yard lit up his stained white suit, and his long white 
 hands, and his careworn white face, and his dark eyes full of dreamy 
 pain. 
 
 " The parson was always a-arguin' with him," continued the 
 voice in the kitchen. " Many a set-to they used to have in the Park. 
 When their opinions smashed together the shock was terrible the 
 parson was always thrown off the track and damaged severely. 
 ' Parson,' your father would say, when he got talkin' about the 
 delights of 'eaven and scornin' this world, ' parson, you are like
 
 1 6 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 them poogilists as sometimes sees stars when they can't see what's 
 under their noses. Your doctrines is as 'ard to swallow as Mrs. 
 Prodgers's dtimplins and you should only try one of 'em, Jack. 
 Them dumplins of hers is a 'elpin' my custom beautiful. But 
 them as eat her widdles must stomach 'em as best they can. 
 You're always a sayin', parson, that life is a dream, and that's why 
 you give us your sermons to make your words come as true as 
 possible.' Ha! ha! ha! Sharp man, your father. Sally, the soup 
 is bilin' ! Drat that girl, you never see her when you want her, or 
 want her when you see her." 
 
 Even this interruption did not long check the flow of Mrs. 
 Uawe's recollections. Jack had fallen into a reverie on the Atha- 
 nasian Creed, when the words, " Your father said," aroused him. 
 
 " My father must have been a modern Socrates," he thought, 
 gazing up at the mild-eyed man with the bright badge on his breast ; 
 'only he probably died from drinking beer instead of hemlock. I 
 will listen to what oral tradition rcc >rds of him before the apotheosis 
 of time surrounds him with legendary halo." 
 
 Singularly enough the next words related to the fluid unknown to 
 classic democracy. 
 
 " ' No,' said your father, ' I sleeps at 'ome of a Sunday. Ten 
 sermons ain't in it with a pint of beer. Life a dream, indeed I 
 Them as says that life's a dream usually behaves as ridiklus as if it 
 was.' 'All right, my man,' ses the parson. ' Do you ever think of 
 what comes after death?' 'Often and often,' ses your father; 
 'and I'm saving up to 'ave the thing done 'andsome.' The parson 
 groaned. He was licked again. And when your father winked to 
 his mates, he grew desperit, and he said : ' The time'll come as 
 you'll sit in sackcloth and ashes for this.' Your father grinned. 
 ' D'ye think I'm going to be a dustman late in life ?' he says. ' I 
 sticks to house-paintin'.' There was a roar at this. ' And the parson 
 walked away,' said your father, 'as solemn as a funeral plume.' " 
 
 "And this is Demos," thought Jack mournfully, as he sipped 
 his coffee. " Squalid as their lives seem to be, they make them 
 loathlier by their meagre positivism. The finer aspects, the spiritual 
 mysteries of existence are to them unrevealed. And how can any 
 Government influence them unless it sinks to their level? As 
 
 Tacitus finely said No, I will take no more coffee, thank 
 
 you." 
 
 " But it's the finest corfy, and I gave one-and-eight a pound for 
 it ; and your other two cups '11 be wasted," ejaculated Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 She had dislocated Jack's reflections by hovering suddenly over 
 him with the half-inverted coffee-pot. Her bare arms were thickly 
 sown with particles of dough, and a solitary currant clung 
 desperately to her right elbow. 
 
 " I don't care for any more," Jack protested feebly. " Give it 
 to the girl." 
 
 "Give it to Sally ! Why, lor 1 bless you, that gal couldn't hap- 
 preciate one-and-eightpenny corfy ! It would be sheer waste. I'd 
 rather throw it in the dusthole at once, or drink it myself."
 
 JACK DA WE AT HOME 17 
 
 In die violence of her denunciation of her unaesthetic maid-of- 
 all-work, the solitary currant became detached from her elbow and 
 dropped into Jack's plate. This event turned her thoughts in a new 
 and grave direction. 
 
 "And you've hardly touched your ham and eggs, neither. Oh, 
 dear, dear, this will never do ! " 
 
 '' And yet here was the great spiritual force of the century," 
 thought Jack, with a pitying contempt for the poor critic of the 
 Edinburgh Review. " Would that I had never quitted poetry for 
 politics ! But Matthew Arnold spoke truly when he said that 
 ' Wordsworth's eyes avert their ken from half of human fate.' " 
 
 He sighed wearily ; the burthen of the mystery of all this un- 
 intelligible world weighed heavily upon him after a momentary 
 inward vision of calm peaks and waters irradiated by the light that 
 never was on sea or land ; and he ate a morsel of ham. 
 
 "That's better," said Mrs. Dawe, who stood anxiously by. 
 After a moment's silent reverie, he sighed again, and murmured 
 bitterly, " My cup is full." 
 
 ' No, it isn't ; it's empty," cried Mrs. Dawe, proceeding to refill 
 it with cheerful alacrity. 
 
 "Shall I cut some more bread and butter? A man must eat, 
 even if it goes against the grain. As your father used to say, and 
 well was his words worth listenin' to 
 
 " Eh ? :> cried Jack with a start. " Wordsworth ! What was it 
 he said?" 
 
 " Why, he said we 'ang on to life by our teeth." 
 " Kang on to life by our teeth ! " repeated Jack wonderingly. 
 " Where did he say that in ' The Excursion ' ? " 
 
 "Well, yes and no. It was a fav'rit sayin' of his, and some- 
 times he said it at 'Amstead 'Eath, in course." 
 
 " That must have been at Coleridge's house," thought Jack. 
 " But the fust time he said it," continued Mrs- Dawe, " was in 
 this very parlour !" 
 
 ' What, here ? " ejaculated Jack, in a tone of incredulity mingled 
 with awe. " He could never have been here." He stopped abruptly. 
 A poet might well be eccentric, too. 
 
 ' Well, that's good !" exclaimed his mother ; " why, you know 
 he lived and died here, man and boy, all his life, and his mother 
 kept the cookshop afore me; and when she died he took a wife just 
 to keep on the business, and you should see him make a pork-pie 
 almost as well as I can. You haven't inherited them talents, Jack. 
 You can make poetry, but I'm blessed if you can make pork-pies." 
 This juxtaposition of the poet of nature and the pork-pies of art 
 was too absurd not to make Jack suspect some misunderstanding, 
 but clouds of bewilderment still overshadowed his countenance. 
 The line "And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost 
 and deep almost as life," could hardly be supposed by the maddest 
 commentator to contain a hint of its author's misery at keeping a 
 thriving, but uncongenial cookshop. After swallowing a few inore 
 fragments of ham to save the credit of his voracity, Jack found to
 
 1 8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 his amazement that his coffee was untouched. He could have 
 sworn that he had drunk it. However, he gulped it down as fast as he 
 could, reflecting on the uncertainty of evidence as of everything 
 else. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CABINET TRICK. 
 
 THE Bethnal Green Road derived its name from the almost total 
 absence of verdure which was everywhere conspicuous. In one or 
 two front gardens a few sickly blades of grass maintained a pre- 
 carious existence, but they were rebuked by the stony frowns of the 
 grim houses around. There were several churches, and in super- 
 fluous illustration of Defoe's epigram, many public-houses. A 
 Grecian ghost might almost have imagined the latter to be Acade- 
 mies and the barmen Philosophers, so vast was the attendance 
 of the Intelligent British Workman of the epoch ; and to complete 
 the illusior, the inscriptions "Private Bar," " Public Bar," might 
 well be dee ned to relate to esoteric and exoteric discourses 
 respectively. And, indeed, it was a fact that in them the Intelli- 
 gent British Workman of the epoch congregated for symposia, in 
 the course of which much criticism was expressed on all subjects, 
 by means of an epithet which like a skeleton key opened all locks 
 that hindered the passage of thought. The uses of this adjective 
 were as numerous as those of the bamboo to put the matter 
 briefly, it was "all things to all men." The walls, whose ears--if 
 polite must have been shocked by it, were gay with paint and 
 coloured glasses, and they closed round a scene of ravishing glitter 
 and gaiety. 
 
 Except for these " Palaces of Delight" the road offered little 
 that was attractive. It was one of those dull, dirty, thriving business 
 streets which may be philosophically regarded as a natural out- 
 growth of the bastard civilisation of that age. On Saturday nights 
 and Sunday mornings one side of it did duty as a market, being 
 fringed with stalls, whose bawling proprietors might fairly be 
 supposed to co a " roaring trade." Its sanitary arrangements were 
 assiduously presided over by an Inspector who, however, suffered 
 from a defect analogous to that to which Charles Lamb confesses 
 he had no nose. 
 
 It was in a small shop near one extremity of the road that Mrs. 
 Dawe supplied the necessaries and luxuries of life to the labourers 
 who, although on the margin of subsistence, showed their ignorance 
 of political economy by consuming both. The house was one of a 
 group of three, one storey high, whose lofty neighbours rose on 
 each side like the turrets of a castle. Over the shop window might 
 be seen the majestic legend recently painted afresh by Jack Dawe 
 in letters of gold, " The" Star Dining Rooms." Through the blurred
 
 THE CABINET TRICK 19 
 
 glass the " young ravenous " could take a delicious peep at the 
 mysteries of the interior : the most prominent objects being two 
 copper pans and a sprinkling of plates, not scrupulously clean, but 
 unscrupulously dirty, containing roley-poley pudding and other 
 dainties, " the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves." The 
 panes themselves seemed to have received multitudinous scratches 
 in some street affray, and to be covered with strips of sticking- 
 plaister, longitudinally, horizontally, and at angles acute and obtuse. 
 Each strip tempted the passer-by, however, with Circean blan- 
 dishment, to partake of the sensual feast. Three notes of excla- 
 mation emphasised the statement that the establishment was noted 
 for supplying Good Articles. "A la mode Soup " tickled the palate 
 with dreams of vague delight. More definite were the announce- 
 ments : " Hot Joints from 12 till 2," " Plate of Meat and Vegetables 
 ' Beef Steak Pudding, 3d. ;" and "All Joints 4d. and 6d." 
 Presumably dearer, because unpriced, were " Roast Pork," " Steak 
 and Kidney Pie," and " Leg of Beef Soup." Lastly, the intimation, 
 "'All Dinners sent out," must doubtless have had its effect in increas- 
 ing Bethnal Green bachelordom. 
 
 As Jack, without iterating his intentions, stepped out into the 
 street, he drew a breath of relief. The fresh air was welcome after 
 the close odours of the Astraean cookshop, and he was a little 
 bored and greatly shocked by the materialism so frankly expressed 
 by his mother, who hitherto had had little occasion to reprove him 
 for wandering from the right path. There were few persons abroad, 
 and still fewer bore Prayer-Books to indicate their destination. 
 The clamorous peals of the bells were unheeded by the majority of 
 the residents, and unneeded by the minority. One of the latter 
 was a decrepit old lady, with a huge Psalter, who was tottering along 
 to St. John's Church, which fronted the end of the road, but who 
 slipped down when very near her destination. Jack, who had been 
 following her, picked her up and offered her his arm for the rest of 
 the way, which favour she accepted rather suspiciously. Just then, 
 mingling strangely with the restless jangle of the bells, arose the 
 rude harmony of a music-hall chorus, given con brio, from behind a 
 partition consisting of tarred planks rudely joined together. The 
 frequent interludes suggested that this al fresco performance was 
 a religious service, and that the music was sacred. The original 
 jingle of the air was retained, but it now produced an impression of 
 decorous vivacity from its being invested in verbal garments of an 
 ecclesiastical cut. High up, and written in huge printing letters, 
 and in ink whose darkness could be felt, one might read the follow- 
 ing mysterious announcement : 
 
 On Sunday 
 
 THE CITY IN FLAMES. 
 Come and See. 7 o'clock. 
 
 On Sunday 
 THE HALLELUJAH MAN, 
 
 From Sheffield. 
 And the Devonshire Cook 
 
 C 2
 
 20 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 During the pauses of harmony a loud voice was heard "holding 
 forth," and the curious folks who were peeping through the chinks in 
 the door could see the owner of the voice standing on a barren 
 undulating piece of ground and gesticulating wildly. At the conclu- 
 sion of each of his brief addresses he demanded hoarsely, "Why not, 
 dear brethren?" and the chorus, taking up the riddle, awoke the 
 echoes with a somewhat solemn effect in the quiet Sunday air. 
 Jack's eyes filled with tears, and he was thrilled by an indescribable 
 sensation at the thought of these poor fanatics working out their 
 scheme of life in their own rude way, and lacking in their religion 
 those elements of culture and delicacy which had no place in the 
 rest of their existences. 
 
 " And this, too, is Demos," he thought, as he took the old lady 
 across the road to the church. " Not entirely is the spiritual in- 
 stinct dead in the people. With good paternal government much 
 may still be done to raise them. Plato doubtless sacrificed Truth 
 to perfection of parallelism with his psychological triplicity when 
 he found the senses a sufficient analogue of the lowest class in his 
 Republic. Christianity 
 
 " Hullo, old fellow, where are you oft" to ? " cried a hearty voice 
 in atone of surprise. Jack stopped as he was passing through the 
 gateway and responded mechanically, " I have promised to read 
 the lessons for the day.'' 
 
 His interlocutor, who was a young man with a red and hairy 
 face, burst out laughing with boisterous enjoyment. 
 
 " Perhaps you're going to get married ?" lie said, when he could 
 once more command his breath. 
 
 The old lady looked up indignantly. Jack, who was by this 
 time roused from his reverie, explained that he was helping his 
 companion into church. 
 
 "That's right," said the young man with good-humoured sarcasm. 
 " Do you feel your head burning, Mrs. Prodgers ? Coals of fire in 
 this weather are a little out of season. But I say, Jack, are you- 
 coming out for a walk now or going back home ? " 
 
 " I can't come out now," said Jack. 
 
 "Au revoir, then. I suppose I shall see you to-night at the 
 Monarch ? You know William Morris is going to lecture there on- 
 'Art and Socialism' how to make the world an earthly paradise, I 
 suppose. Ha, ha, ha ! " And the hairy young man walked on, too 
 much immersed in admiration of his own joke, and in reflecting 
 as to the best method of introducing it in the discussion which 
 would follow the lecture, to note that his friend did not make any 
 reply. 
 
 As Jack Dawe, with the old lady on his arm, entered the church, 
 the vicar, who had just come in, stood rooted to the spot. A buzr 
 of astonishment was heard, and here and there people stood up in 
 their pews and whispered to their neighbours. Immediately all 
 eyes were fixed upon him; those who had never heard of him 
 being quickly apprised of his character. For a moment Jack was 
 alarmed, and he turned round as if to make his exit. In an instant
 
 21 
 
 the vicar, a white-haired, benevolent-looking old gentleman, was at 
 his side, and with tears in his voice besought him to remain. " I 
 can guess," he said, " what chance act of kindness has led your 
 steps hither, but the Omnipotent works by just such means. Who 
 knows what seeds of Faith the holy influences of the spot may sow 
 in your spirit ? Often have those who came to scoff remained to 
 pray, and though I am far from attributing to you the former in- 
 tention, I hope you will remain at least to listen." Well might the 
 good man's voice falter at the prospect of saving an immortal soul. 
 For half a century he had worked in this squalid neighbourhood, 
 with scant remuneration; often wasting his energies on the desert 
 .air, yet never totally despairing of his stubborn flock. It was he 
 whom Matthew Arnold has immortalized in one of his sonnets, by 
 describing a rencontre with him in Bethnal Green. The poet 
 found him pale with overwork, but "much cheered with thoughts 
 of Christ the living bread." 
 
 That inoffensive-looking man, Jack's father, had always been a 
 thorn in his side, and by his satirical and epigrammatic powers 
 .had greatly counteracted the clergyman's influence among many of 
 the most intelligent artisans of the neighbourhood. At his death, 
 which took place about twenty-five years before the commencement 
 of this history, his adversary read the Funeral Service over him 
 and prayed for the repose of his soul. The son, who was then 
 fifteen, had been carefully trained up by his father in the way he 
 should go, and when he was old he did not depart from it at least 
 before this very day. But whereas the father had confined his 
 aggressions to religion, the son showed himself as doughty a 
 warrior in the logomachy of politics as in that of theology. 
 
 Absorbed in social studies, he shunned the billiard-room and 
 the dancing saloon, and indeed most places of amusement. He 
 had once been attacked by the bicycle mania, and he still occasion- 
 .ally rode out on a fine spider machine; but on the whole he pre- 
 ferred to spend his evenings in impugning or defending the 
 Government, according as his party was in or out. When there 
 was no debate on within a three-mile radius, he read, or (though 
 much less frequently) went to the theatre. Whenever 'he Weekly 
 Dispatch, a popular Sunday journal, offered its prize of two guineas 
 for political verses, his attempts either carried off the prize, or 
 received the honour of print. These wtri not his only appearances 
 .as an author. Inheriting the audacious profanity of his parents, he 
 utilized the literary powers developed by the training of the Board 
 School to concoct lampoons and pasquinades for a coarsely satiri- 
 cal journal, entitled The Freethinker. So great was his local fame 
 that he had once been Premier in a Local Parliament, which carried 
 on the business of the realm in a dancing academy on off-nights. 
 And when in office, the appalling social and political reforms that he 
 carried had well-nigh wrought a revolution in the country. Defeated, 
 however, on the question of Female Franchise, he was forced to 
 resign. All his measures were at once lepealed by the new 
 Ministry, and the country was saved from ruin.
 
 22 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 The vicar was well acquainted with Jack's abilities, and re- 
 gretted all the more that "the wrong party" should have got hold 
 of him and them. If he could only be brought under other than 
 his early influences, if the stubborn shell of unbelief could be 
 pierced through, the vicar believed there would be found a religious 
 heart underneath. And from him, how would the wave of Faith 
 spread among his friends and followers ! Throbbing with intense 
 emotion, the old man felt the divine influx of inspiration flood his 
 soul, as in his young days when his whole being vibrated with 
 passionate thoughts that struggled for splendid utterance. He 
 threw aside the carefully prepared sermon, and abandoned himself 
 to the torrent. He took two texts : " Come unto me all ye that are 
 weary and I will give you rest," and, " The fool hath said in his 
 heart, 'there is no God,'" and sounded these two chords of emo- 
 tional and rational argument with the greatest skill and effect. 
 Now his tones trembled with pathos, now they thundered in im- 
 passioned denunciation of the wilful blindness of unbelief. Now 
 low and pleading they thrilled the audience, and affected them to 
 tears; anon they carried everybody along in a stream of irresistible 
 reasoning. 
 
 At first Jack felt himself the cynosure of all eyes, and was pain- 
 fully aware that the sermon was aimed solely at himself; but he 
 soon lost all such self-conscious thoughts in the exquisite delight 
 he felt at so powerful and felicitous an exposition. He wept with 
 the rest at the melting pathos of the preacher's appeal, and was 
 fired to sympathetic indignation at the eloquent portraiture of the 
 stiff-necked race of infidels. 
 
 The audience streamed out of the church at last, many feeling 
 themselves so spiritually set up by the magnificent sermon as to 
 be able to dispense for some time with religious thought. 
 
 The vicar who had seen Jack apply a handkerchief to his eyes 
 came up to him, determining to strike while the iron was hot. Jack 
 awaited his approach with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret; 
 he was pleased with the beauty of the discourse, and he regretted 
 that the discourser should be no spiritual star, but only "a dim 
 religious light." 
 
 " Mr. Dawe," said the clergyman, " I propose to call upon you 
 to-morrow evening." 
 
 " I shall be extremely delighted to see you," said Jack, shaking 
 hands with him. "I was much affected, I assure you, by your 
 excellent sermon. And," he added as he turned away, " I promise 
 you the next vacant deanery at my disposal." And he hurried off 
 to avoid a shower of thanks. 
 
 Jack would have been distressed to see the look of pain that 
 crossed the benevolent features of the good old man. All his lofty 
 enthusiasm was shattered in an instant, and the reaction after his 
 violent efforts was so great that he tottered and nearly fell. " Like 
 father, like son," he murmured with despairing sadness. " No re- 
 spect for my grey hairs. He sat in the seat of the scorner and 
 wept fictitious tears. Help me, O my God, to save this sinful soul !"'
 
 THE CABINET TRICK 23 
 
 Happily unconscious of the misery he had caused his faithful 
 shepherd, the incorrigible Jack pursued his way homewards after 
 bidding "good bye" to Mrs. Prodgers, who surlily declared herself 
 able to walk home without any assistance. Before her departure, 
 however, she had hinted to Jack that it would have done his mother 
 good to hear the sermon instead of breaking the Lord's Sabbath 
 and getting other people's customers away from them for that day. 
 
 The road was now much livelier than before church time. A con- 
 stant succession of funerals of people in all grades of death provided 
 the masses with " amusement blended with instruction." A gloomy, 
 bustling gaiety was in the air. Some " criticism of life," and espe- 
 cially of the end of it, could be heard in which the epithet of all 
 work played a prominent part. The fringe of stalls, too, had grown 
 thicker. 1 here were dealers in new china, ice-cream vendors, fish- 
 mongers, and butchers ; there were learned-looking quacks with 
 lots of rhubarb, quinine, pills, and Parliamentary eloquence. There 
 was one quack, moreover, who was regarded with intense jealousy 
 by his professional brethren for he was a specialist who had con- 
 fined himself to the maladies curable by sarsaparilla. There were 
 fruit vendors with undersized pints of Spanish nuts ; there were 
 costermongers with a perspective of greens vast enough to vindi- 
 cate the right of the road to its ancient honourable title ; there 
 were artificial-flower girls trying hard to make the lovely rose go, 
 though not in a Wallerian sense ; there were other dealers who 
 did not come under any definite genus, being what Bacon calls 
 " bordering instances," though all might fairly claim that name ; 
 there were men with small aquaria in whose green depths vegetable 
 matter floated the fluid which was called lemonade being drained 
 off by pipes into glasses and thence into mouths in return for half- 
 pence ; then, too, there were popular processions, chiefly of children, 
 bearing foaming jugs of the staff of life, or smoking tins of baked 
 meat and potatoes, the lictors waiting at home to administer punish- 
 ment in case of surreptitious quaffs or bites. With few exceptions 
 the shops open were those more or less directly connected with the 
 Sunday dinner : a few put up three or four shutters as if only in half 
 mourning for the death of business activity on that day. 
 
 Amid this stir of life and death, under the burning sun, along 
 the dusty pavement, Jack stalked on, regarding the scene from time 
 to time with the greatest interest. Everything was text to him for 
 long internal commentary, as tedious, wandering, and learned as if 
 intended for publication. His thoughts flashed from the public- 
 house to the Pyramids ; from 'Arry to Aristophanes and Aristotle ; 
 from the quacks to metaphysics and politics ; and from " cream 
 and strawberries 'apenny a glass" to the cool valley of Hicmus. 
 
 " O gui me gelidis " he muttered. 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you. How's yourself?'' said a short, stout 
 man with a clay pipe in his mouth and a paper in his hand. Jack 
 started violently, and said he was better than he had been for a 
 long time. 
 
 " That's right, old ch ip."
 
 2^ THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Jack was passing on again when his friend exclaimed somewhat 
 reproachfully, " You don't ask after the old woman ! " 
 
 "The old woman ?" cried Jack. " I have but this moment left 
 her! She seems too feeble to go out alone, but she didn't hurt 
 herself much ! " 
 
 " What!" gasped the man, opening his mouth in utter oblivious- 
 ness of his pipe which fell and was smashed into a hundred pieces. 
 " Sfte went out this morning after I left and didn't hurt herself 
 mi(ch>" 
 
 " The facts are as I have stated them." 
 
 " O my poor Sally ! She must have been mad. And that con- 
 founded Mrs. Gamp, what was she up to, I wonder?" 
 
 " Of course she ought to have gone with her to look after her." 
 
 The man stared at Jack suspiciously, but not a muscle stirred 
 in his innocent countenance, which was overshadowed by an expres- 
 sion of pitying concern. After a minute's silence the stout man 
 gasped " Well, I'm blowed, and where the devil did she go to?" 
 
 '' To church, of course," responded Jack. 
 
 The man heaved a sighed of relief and then burst into a fit 
 of laughter. " You are a oner ! " he said admiringly. " Always 
 some joke about church when one least expects it." 
 
 " I assure you 1 meant no joke," said Jack in a horrified tone, 
 which caused his friend another roar. 
 
 " Well. I'm blowed," he said again. " Hang it all, you ought 
 to go on the stage, Jack. I've no doubt you could play the most 
 burlesque parts without a grin or laughing in your sle'eve." 
 
 " There may be some truth in what you say," said Jack moodily. 
 
 " I'm blowed if there ain't a lot of truth in it," said the man, at 
 which asseveration Jack's face grew several shades moodier. 
 
 "Well, ta-ta, Jack. I'll go and look after the old woman, for 
 to tell the truth you did give me a bit of a turn. \Vhile she was 
 about it yesterday she might have had triplets instead of twins, 
 though it would be a bad look-out when the Queen's money was 
 gone. Now, in the Republic that you are always clamouring for, 
 who would dp all that ? If my wife promises to go on in that way, 
 I'm blowed if I don't turn Tory and support our glorious Constitu- 
 tion. Good bye." And he hurried off home, where he found his wife 
 asleep and Mrs. Gamp (who had counted upon two hours' freedom) 
 carrying into effect the principles of Communism by imbibing her 
 patient's brandy. 
 
 " I suppoge," said Mrs. Gamp with drunken dignity, "that I 
 may test the kvolity of the licker afore I lets the dear critter pison 
 herself. There's some 'usbands," here she disdainfully spat out a 
 few drops of spirit on the new carpet, "as thinks hany thing good 
 enough for the pardners of their buzoms when they're 'layin' on the 
 vvirgin of death. 'Oh, Sairey/Mrs.Harris used to say tome, which I am 
 bound to say I was allus much depressed by her words which 
 was worth their weight in gold, 'Sairey, I don't know how you can 
 take so much trouble for the small sellery and the no pc'rkwisits
 
 7 HE CABINET '1 RICK 25 
 
 that mean folks "puts you off with. Yet your successes allus exceeds 
 .my wildest expectorations.' " 
 
 Meanwhile Jack Dawe, unconscious of the mischief he had 
 done to this respectable Lucina, was in a state of utter 
 collapse from several causes. He had not yet recovered from 
 this condition of intense dejection and self-dissatisfaction, when 
 another cheery cry of" Morning, Jack" and a vigorous handshake 
 made him wince. 
 
 The new-comer was a man whose jovial face readily lent 
 itself to broad grins, and it was much distended by one of them at 
 the present moment. 
 
 " Seen the Referee yet?" he cried. "Sims* is awfully funny 
 this week he must have had a bad bilious attack." 
 
 " He generally suffers from a cold, I believe," said Jack ; "but 
 1 never heard that he was funny." 
 
 "What! Oh, of course, he's not a patch on you. Since when 
 have you put on these lofty critical airs ? I've seen you roar with 
 laughter at his sayings, anyhow." 
 
 "That's impossible," said Jack calmly, "for he never says 
 anything." 
 
 " Eh ! " exclaimed the Refereader. " Come now, don't try that 
 on me, I'm up to snuff, old man. Why, you said last Sunday that 
 he was well worth listening to on any theme. You don't see any 
 green in my eye since then, I hope." 
 
 " I grant he is but a wreck of himself. But it is surely cruel to 
 call him funny," said the painter, disregarding the last question. 
 
 " So he is. Why, look here and here there ! " cried the 
 enthusiast in a state of great excitement, pointing out paragraph 
 after paragraph of a series of notes, headed "Mustard . nd Cress," 
 to the amazed Jack, who had hitherto been ignorant of the literary 
 powers of the great bass. It needed not the signature of " Dagonet " 
 to convince him that the singer had made a fool of himselt in his 
 old age. This persuasion was at first intensified by the feeling of 
 bitterness with which he read the following epigram. 
 
 "I consider myself in honour bound to resist to the utmost of 
 my power any such proposals for giving the Franchise to Women." 
 
 ' ' Letter of the Premier to a Constituent. 
 
 " Floppy once again declares he's bound by honour, 
 
 But at slipping bonds he can Creation lick 
 When the coors in Downing Street are next thrown open, 
 You will find that he has done 'The Cabinet Trick.' " 
 
 Jack read and re-read this with brow a frown and cheek blush- 
 ing with shame and anger. Then his face grew sad, and in his 
 
 * A popular journalist and dramatist of the period afterwards member 
 for a Metropolitan borough. Not to be confounded with Sims Reeves, a 
 tamous bass, not a baritone (as the author of " Social Life in the Reign of 
 Victoria " affirms), who seems to have been referred to amongst his friends by 
 his Christian name.
 
 26 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 eyes there was a look of infinite weariness. He put his hand to 
 his aching forehead. 
 
 " You're not going to be ill, old man ! " said the Refereader, who 
 was narrowly watching the effect of the joke. 
 
 " Oh no," said Jack, with a feeble smile ; " it is very biting." 
 
 " Which is a treat for those not bitten. I thought that would 
 bring you round. But, I say, d'ye think the Premier reads the 
 Referee ? Because, if so, wouldn't I give something to see his 
 phiz when he reads that ! " Grinning at the idea the jovial 
 man walked on, leaving Jack to thread his way amid the throng 
 like a man in a dream. 
 
 Soon, to his delight, a whiff of hot, many-odoured air informed 
 him that he was near home. He staggered through the crowd of 
 customers in the shop and let himself fall into the arm-chair in the 
 back parlour with a crash that made the welkin (of the stuffed 
 birds) ring. 
 
 "Jack, Jack! what's a matter?" cried Mrs. Dawe, rushing in 
 with a gigantic ladle in her hand, and embracing him with it. " I 
 knew all along as you was queer. As I was just a-sayin to Mr. 
 Green, it's too much politics and his head was always weak. It 
 that boy goes and dies I shall never forgive him." 
 
 " Only a slight head-ache, mother. I think I will go to bed." 
 
 " Well, you know my sentiments you're ill from too much 
 politics." 
 
 She shook her head and her ladle at him in grave reproof. 
 Her large, fat face worked with contending emotions of pity and 
 rebuke. Her cheeks were humid, but whether with tears or per- 
 spiration it was difficult to ascertain. She kissed him and ran into 
 the shop. Much relieved at her departure he mounted the stairs 
 feebly, and got into bed. For once Mrs. Dawe ate her Sunday 
 dinner without him, and the dainty morsels were swallowed with 
 much pain owing to a lump in her throat caused by her son's 
 wasteful inability to partake of the tempting viands, which would 
 now have to be disposed of at the same price as the inferior 
 articles on sale in the shop. 
 
 All the afternoon Jack had Gilbert's Plays open on a pillow ; 
 but he read little, for his thoughts gave him no peace. Now and 
 again he sought a brief respite by gazing through the window- 
 panes at the varied scene without. 
 
 '' Generous impulse of an inconsistent soul! " he cried suddenly 
 when the lamplighter was going his rounds. " Say rather, cowardly 
 desertion of post and principle ! " 
 
 He lay back wearily upon the pillow. Silence was falling upon 
 the road now a silence occasionally broken by the banging of 
 drums and the squeaking of flutes and the wondering dull murmur of 
 crowds of hurrying boys. At last these sounds too ceased, and 
 nothing was audible save rare approaching and receding footsteps. 
 He heard the shutters put up and barred, and soon after, his mother 
 entered the room, but finding him asleep she departed on tiptoe. 
 Then he opened his eyes again. The room was filled with the glory
 
 THE PREMIER AT HOME 27 
 
 of the moonlight, and he could see the clear stars high up in the 
 cloudless blue. It was a perfect night, a harbinger of summer nights 
 to come ; and a divine calm seemed to lie even upon the fever and 
 fret of London. 
 
 But for Jack there was no rest. Far into the night he lay toss- 
 ing and turning from side to side, and from lime to time his lips* 
 formed the words : " The Cabinet Trick." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PREMIER AT HOME. 
 
 " UNEASY lies the head that wears a crown," would appear to 
 have been as true of most sovereigns at the period treated of in 
 this history, as it has been at most other periods. We find from 
 contemporary records that loyal and devoted subjects were 
 frequently impressed with the idea that this earth abode of 
 strite, imperfection, uncharitableness, and trouble was not 
 good enough for sainted majesty to dwell in ; and as sainted 
 majesty was never of the same way of thinking, but inclined to the 
 opinion that a crown on this earth was infinitely preferable to the 
 potentiality of one in any other, loyal and devoted subjects 
 frequently resorted to violent and explosive methods of influencino 
 sainted royalty's actions, if not sainted royalty's thoughts. This 
 had a tendency, explicable on natural, scientific, and other grounds,- 
 to make sainted royalty lead a most uncomfortable existence ; an 
 existence made up chiefly of cold shivers and precautions, with 
 occasional narrow escapes to vary the monotony. The contem- 
 porary records from which we gather these facts differ, it must 
 honestly be admitted, among themselves in numerous ways. This 
 however, does not in any way detract from the truth of the facts! 
 On the contrary, it is an axiom cordially admitted without reserva- 
 tion by historians, that no event can be considered really to have 
 happened, unless the accounts of it contain numerous discrepancies. 
 For, it is argued, and very justly, different men describing the same 
 thing could not possibly agree, unless there were collusion and 
 falsification. 
 
 It has been reserved for the country that gave birth to the poet 
 whose dictum we have quoted, to deprive it of universal application. 
 The head that wore the crown in England lay very easily indeed. 
 It may occasionally have been troubled, it is true, by visions of 
 having to spend a few days in London ; of ladies who did not 
 expose enough of the upper part of their persons to the gaze of 
 sainted royalty ; and of Englishmen who, despite all that Oscar 
 Wilde* and the example of the Highlands could do, stuck to 
 
 * A gentleman who became famous at this period by obiectin- to 
 trousers.
 
 c8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 breeches with the dogged resolution of their race. But still these 
 troubles, real though they were, were not enough to make the royal 
 head lie uneasily. It was the Ministers whose heads should do ail 
 the uneasy lying, according to the theory of the Constitution ; and 
 they did it easily, if opposition statements are to be believed. All 
 .the troubles, cares, and responsibilities of royalty fell on their 
 shoulders, owing to the happy working of that oft-quoted intangi- 
 bility, the British Constitution, which has defied alike the battle 
 .and the breeze, the historian and the legislator. 
 
 The morning sun that peeped into the window of the room in 
 Downing Street where the Premier was slumbering, might reason- 
 .ably have expected to gaze upon a head tossing restlessly under the 
 weight of vicarious royalty. But no such sight met the orb of day. 
 The Premier was sleeping with the calm of an innocent child. No 
 visions of irate opposition appeared to trouble him ; the cabals 
 .against his authority, the petty intrigues that do so much to em- 
 bitter the statesman's life, did not affect his slumbers. His breath 
 did not come fitfully, or jerkily ; it was the breathing of an un- 
 troubled spirit, which the cares of the world passed by. Deep and 
 regular, it might, by the unimaginative spectator and auditor of the 
 Ministerial repose, have been dubbed a good, steady snore ; but to 
 the .penetrating gaze of the philosopher, it was symbolic of the 
 peace that passes most people's understanding. Even a snore may 
 teach much to the man who looks beneath the surface of things, 
 .and is not satisfied with knowing the mere physical chain of causa- 
 tion which precedes the coming into being of a snore. The 
 philosophy of snoring has yet to be given to an expectant world. 
 
 The door opened gently, and a tall, handsome man entered the 
 room, and advancing towards the sleeper, placed a hand upon his 
 shoulder. This was John Tremaine, the Premier's private 
 secretary, and, in the opinion of many whose opinion was entitled 
 ;to respect, the real Premier. The Premier had other private 
 secretaries, who indited the numberless notes, in which the Right 
 Hon. A. Floppington presented his compliments and remained their 
 obedient servant, to some obscure and inquisitive individuals, who 
 revelled in such glory as was to be derived from the snubbing such 
 missives generally conveyed. But John Tremaine managed all his 
 private affairs ; engaged and dismissed the servants ; paid his 
 bills ; signed his cheques ; and, it was jocularly whispered amongst 
 those more intimate with the Premier, would, if events called for 
 such a sacrifice, conduct the Premier's courtship, and represent him 
 .at the altar. He was connected in some fashion or other with 
 most of the noble families of England, and, when at Cambridge, 
 had devoied himself for some weeks to the study of the Integral 
 Calculus ; not from any ambition of becoming Senior Wrangler,* 
 but because he thought it opened up a possible means of ascertain- 
 ing the number of his cousins. He was on the best of terms with 
 the leading men of all shades of thought, political and otherwise, 
 
 * The title borne by the candidate who obtained the highest place in a 
 mathematical examination at Cambridge University.
 
 THE PREMIER AT HOME ce> 
 
 and was thus in a position to keep the Premier well posted up in 
 all that was going on. In addition to this, his general intimacy 
 with all sorts and conditions of men enabled him to conduct deli- 
 cate negotiations without attracting undue attention. Somehow or 
 other, he managed to get wind of all the little secrets a knowledge 
 of which is such a help in the game of politics ; and had Flopping-. 
 ton been a man of stronger will, with the help of Tremaine's omnk 
 science he might have made himself almost omnipotent. To wind 
 up, all the records of this period to which we have had access com- 
 bine in depicting him as having for his master a more than filial 
 love and devotion. 
 
 The Premier started impatiently as he felt the hand of Tremaine 
 on his shoulder, and turned half round in the bed. He was in that 
 nebulous borderland betwixt waking and sleeping, that twilight of 
 human day and night, in which the real and the non-real mingle, and 
 waking and sleeping thoughts confuse the half-awakened. Then, 
 as John Tremaine said laughingly, "You're very late this morning, 
 sir. You mustn't wander off all alone at night again," the Premier 
 sat up, rubbed his eyes, looked around as if his surroundings were 
 strange ; then he bent his gaze earnestly upon Tremaine, and said : 
 
 " Where am I ? " 
 
 "I'm afraid you're not very well this morning,'' replied Tre- 
 niaine ; who added to himself: "I hope to goodness those men 
 downstairs will hold their tongues. What indiscretion has he been 
 committing ?" 
 
 The Premier paused, as if pondering over Tremaine's sugges- 
 tion. The official habit of suspecting a snare lying perdu beneath 
 the m&si innocently-worded phrase, was so strong upon him, that, 
 even when semi-somnolent, he did not answer hastily. But at last, 
 as if the suggestion of illness afforded him relief from the per- 
 plexities which had been making themselves visible on his face, he 
 icplied : 
 
 " You are right. I'm not at all well. I don't quite feel myself 
 this morning. Hut it will soon wear oft", and then 
 
 " Then you'll be yourself again," cheerily responded Tremaine, 
 adding : ' Now, never mind church to-day. Just have a doze for 
 a bit, and I'll send you up some tea and toast ;" and turning 
 briskly on his heel, he left the room, muttering : " He does look 
 shockingly seedy. \Vhat could he have been doing last night ? !> 
 
 Left alone, the Right Honourable Arnold Floppington raised 
 himself on one elbow, and pondered the situation. The effects of 
 the previous night's adventure had not worn off; and he still 
 appeared strangely agitated. He had suddenly descended from 
 his habitation in cloudland from the official atmosphere in which 
 everything was rarefied into unreality, and had, at one plunge, 
 found himself in the thick of the every-day working 1 world. The 
 familiar tone in which he was spoken of, the freedom with which 
 he had been criticised, had all jarred upon him, coming as they 
 did, not from his equals, but from men whom he and his had looked 
 down upon as poor creatures born to work, and vote, and die,
 
 30 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 while their superiors thought and legislated for them in a kindly 
 fashion, which merited reverence and gratitude. Democracy, not 
 as a rhetorical abstraction, but in the concrete, had brought home 
 ;to him the underlying common humanity of mankind. As in a 
 .flash his vision had been purified, he had gazed straight into the 
 very innermost heart of things ; and that one night's adventure had 
 surely done more to make him a true leader of men, than all the 
 years he had spent wandering amidst the involuted commonplaces 
 .of officialism. A moral and spiritual change was taking place in 
 -the Premier. He was wearied with the struggle of contending 
 forces ; and, at length, relaxing his hard, fixed gaze, and murmur^ 
 jng gently : " It will be best to stay in my room for awhile ; it will 
 give me time to learn and think," his head fell back upon the 
 pillow, and he dropped into a gentle slumber, from which he was 
 awakened by the entry of a servant with tea and toast. This was 
 one of the men who had witnessed the Premier's entry home the 
 previous night ; and it was with the faintest suspicion of a smile, 
 which all his training failed completely to conceal, that he inquired 
 ,how his master felt. 
 
 " Not very well, thank you," was the reply. " And Thomas 
 .bring me up \hzReferee? 
 
 James stared, startled out of all propriety, not so much at being 
 .called Thomas, for the Premier left the management of his domestic 
 affairs so completely in Tremaine's hands, that his not knowing his 
 servant's name or surname was not surprising, but at being asked 
 for the Referee. He read it himself, and, if truth must be told, 
 enjoyed the merciless chaff to which his master was subjected weekly 
 in its columns; but that he, himself the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington should desire to see it, was, as he afterwards expressed 
 it to his fellow-servants, "a twister.'' He recovered himself suf- 
 ,ficiently to say, " Yes, sir, :) and left the room, decided to read his 
 Referee very carefully that week, as he felt sure there must be 
 something unusual in it. In a very short time he returned with 
 .the wished-for paper, and left the Premier to his tea and toast and 
 reading. Not very much progress had been made, for tea and 
 toast did not seem altogether to the Premier's taste, when Tre- 
 maine entered the room and barely had time to say, " Sir William 
 has come, sir. I thought it best to send for him at once," when he 
 was followed by the gentleman in question. 
 
 Sir William Lancet, usually spoken of as Sir William, was one 
 .of the leading fashionable physicians of London at the time a tall, 
 well-set-up man, slightly grizzled, and showing signs of age, but 
 sprightly and youthful in manner and bearing. He knew as much, 
 .or as little, as most members of the profession, of the ailments to 
 which flesh is heir ; but he was imbued with a profound belief in 
 the recuperative powers of Nature and the potentialities of self- 
 repair possessed by the human body. He therefore interfered as 
 .little as possible, either by medicine or otherwise, with Nature's 
 , healing efforts, and acquired considerable reputation by so doing.
 
 THE PREMIER AT HOME 31 
 
 His manner was brisk and cheerful ; he had a confident way of 
 speaking, which inspired confidence in the patient, who felt that 
 with such an ally, it would have to be an exceptionally vigorous 
 disease that did not at once lay down its arms and retire worsted 
 from the contest. Diet he laid great stress upon, and little cards 
 containing lists of prohibited viands were placed at the side of the 
 menu by his noble patients when dining out. 
 
 " The school of medicine of which I am a humble member," he 
 used to say, "is scientific, not empirical. Medicine need no longer 
 be a struggle between disease and nasty stuff in bottles, t\ve patient 
 being the sufferer whichever be the conqueror." 
 
 This was the gentleman who, advancing to the bedside, looked 
 searchingly into the Premier's face, and said beamingly : 
 
 " Well, Mr. Floppington, and how are we this morning ? '' This 
 manner of identifying himself with the patient had been no unim- 
 portant factor in earning him the confidence of his distinguished 
 patients. 
 
 "Just the least bit out of sorts : slight headache nothing worth 
 talking of," replied the Premier. 
 
 While listening to the reply, Sir William had felt the patient's 
 pulse and inserted a small thermometer under his armpit. Then 
 waiting a few moments, he took it out, looked at it, shook his head 
 solemnly and asked to see the Premier's tongue. His view of this 
 made him shake his head solemnly once more, and then seating 
 himself by the Premier's bedside, he said gravely : 
 
 " Now, this won't do. We're feverish ; we've been unduly 
 exciting ourselves, getting heated, and then, a chill following, we 
 are queer. Slight enough, perhaps ; nothing to worry about, and 
 yet without careful treatment most serious consequences may 
 ensue. Now, am I not right ? " 
 
 " Pretty near the mark," said the Premier. " I suppose I had 
 better stay in bed for the day." 
 
 " For the day ! " repeated Sir William, in tones which curiously 
 blended astonishment and deprecation, " for three or four days. 
 My dear sir, your life is a preciour. one. I have attended you 
 very many years, and understand your constitution. You have 
 great nervous energy ; but you must not allow yourself to be de- 
 luded by it into the belief that you are physically strong. You 
 must have rest, and plenty of it." 
 
 Mr. Floppington made a gesture of impatience, and, but for the 
 restraints which civilisation imposes on the natural man, would 
 have said, " Silly old woman ! " Sir William took no heed of all 
 this ; but, being started on a pet subject, went on placidly : 
 
 " Now that's an important point by the way, that study of the 
 constitution. We are called in to see a patient ; we know nothing 
 of his constitutional peculiarities ; we treat him according to rule ; 
 but as the old proverb has it : ' one man's medicine is another 
 man's poison,' and he succumbs. Now if we had been called in to 
 that patient when a child, had watched him growing from babydom
 
 32 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 to childhood, from childhood to manhood, and from manhood to 
 middle age, \ve should have known exactly how to treat him. 
 Unless we can get that thorough knowledge of a patient's consti- 
 tution, \ve work in the dark." 
 
 " I suppose the difficulty of the pursuit of medicine is, that so 
 few patients live long enough to allow you to obtain that know- 
 ledge of their constitution which you so desire," said the Premier. 
 
 " Just so, just so, ;) briskly replied Sir William, unconscious of 
 the implication of the Premier's reply, " but we're getting over it 
 by degrees. Now there are some patients, like yourself for ex- 
 ample, who have been under my care twenty years or more, and 
 I'm now in a position to know how to treat them. I know every 
 minute peculiarity of their constitutions." 
 
 " Fortunate mortals," said the Premier wearily; " I never knew 
 before how much I had to be thankful for." 
 
 Just then the doctor caught sight of the paper lying on the 
 bed. 
 
 "Reading that!'" he exclaimed; " no wonder we are feverish 
 and excited. We really must not read these irritating remarks. 
 Now go to sleep, and I'll see you to-morrow. Good-bye." And 
 off he strode, giving Tremaine, who left the room with him, copious 
 instructions as to the course to be pursued, and a careful descrip- 
 tion of the Premier's state of health, which enabled him to forward 
 the following announcement to appear in Monday's papers : 
 
 " The Right Honourable Arnold Floppington is confined to 
 his room with a slight cold, accompanied by feverish symptoms. 
 Sir William Lancet has called, and is of opinion that a few days' 
 '-est will be all that is required to restore the Premier to his usual 
 health." 
 
 Talleyrand, when informed of the illness of a statesman, was in 
 the habit of inquiring: "Now, why is he ill?" But even that 
 astute cynic would hardly have been able to discover any deep, 
 diplomatic reason for the Premier's indisposition at this juncture. 
 The ordinary plumb-line of the man of the world would have failed 
 lamentably to fathom the soul of the simple-minded Floppington.
 
 THE KEW BRIDGE SALON 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE KEWBRIDGE SALON. 
 
 " FLOPPINGTON is more eccentric than ever," said Sir Stanley 
 Southleigh. 
 
 " He is, though it's a puzzle to me what his object can have 
 been in being eccentric at all. I am sure he would have been 
 Premier without it," replied Lord Bardolph Mountchapel. " He 
 can plead nothing in extenuation not even genius. Even the 
 leader of the Opposition would not accuse him of that ; " and 
 the speaker laughed heartily. Sir Stanley, however, continued to 
 look grave, as if his estimate of the Premier was not identical with 
 Mountchapel's. 
 
 Sir Stanley Southleigh was the Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 He was a genial, mild-tempered sort of man, who was believed to 
 be a great financier. By making debts which his successors 
 would have to pay, he enabled his party to point proudly to the 
 smallness of their expenditure as compared with that of their 
 opponents. His unfailing courtesy had earned him the respect of 
 the Opposition, which he may have found some compensation for 
 the tendency to snub him largely developed amongst the Ministe- 
 rialists. Conservatism was to him the fly-wheel of the political 
 machine ; and, as such, a most useful and indispensable part of it. 
 He was, consequently, out of sympathy with those who wished to 
 unite the functions of fly-wheel and driving-wheel in one somewhat 
 incongruous combination. 
 
 Lord Bardolph Mountchapel was a man of quite a different 
 type. He was a younger son of a noble house, the founder of which 
 had been distinguished. His descendants reverenced him with 
 almost Chinese veneration, and had, in consequence, carefully 
 abstained from doing anything notable themselves, for fear of 
 overshadowing his reputation. It was a striking instance of noble 
 self-sacrifice. Lord Bardolph, however, had not a particle of 
 reverence in his composition, and had determined that the 
 reflected greatness of this progenitor should not satisfy him. He 
 cast aside the family tradition, and boldly ventured on the stage of 
 politics. He had joined the Conservative party ; but he deter- 
 mined to make it go ahead. Wesley didn't see why the devil 
 should have all the good tunes; and Lord Bardolph didn't see why the 
 Liberals should have all the reforms. He had elevated inconsis- 
 tency to the rank of a science. Like all English gentlemen, he 
 had a fondness for horse-racing. He had observed that the 
 gentlemen who occupied the position of prophets on the sporting" 
 journals never pinned their faith to one horse. They suggested 
 different horses, in different issues of their journal, as the winners. 
 By so doing, they were always able to boast, with truth, that they 
 had " spotted '' the winner. Lord Bardolph had not failed to notice
 
 34 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 how wisdom was thus justified of her children, and he adopted 
 the same tactics in politics. By advocating different policies of a 
 most contradictory character at different times, he was always in a 
 position to quote instances of his own foresight. The chameleon of 
 politics, he was always able to maintain that he had sported any given 
 colour. He was the Foreign Secretary. Nobody quite knew why 
 he had been appointed to this important post. The only reason 
 given for it was that he had asked for it, and that the Premier had not 
 dared to refuse him. He was a Past M aster in the art of translating 
 the dialect known as Billingsgate into English fit for ears polite ; 
 and a man who could do that was, as English politics went in that 
 age, a most obviously heaven-born statesman. Captious critics 
 grumbled at his want of knowledge. It was objected that he was 
 not quite clear on the relative position of the countries with which 
 he had to deal ; and that he had on one occasion threatened to 
 send the fleet to a country without an inch of sea-board. But such 
 critics only betrayed their own ignorance. If he had possessed 
 more knowledge, he would have met with less success. Knowledge 
 would have brought reflection ; and, in politics, the man who 
 reflects is lost. 
 
 The gentlemen thus introduced to the reader were standing, 
 chatting with several other members of the Administration, in the 
 salon of the Duchess of Kewbridge. Her husband, as became a 
 Duke, was an important member of the party ; so, of course, held 
 office. He did not care a brass farthing about politics. It was 
 open to question whether he cared a brass farthing about anything; 
 but he was never tired of saying "noblesse oblige," and he 
 felt that his position demanded of him that he should help to 
 govern the country. It was a source of surprise not unmingled 
 with sadness to find that the country did not appreciate the sacrifice 
 at its true value ; and that the Radical papers often wrote of him, 
 as they wrote of the inferior mortals who felt that they were 
 honoured in being entrusted with a share in the government of the 
 country, and not that they conferred honour upon the country by 
 condescending to mismanage its affairs. 
 
 If the Duke, however, looked upon politics as one of the 
 necessities of his elevated rank, the Duchess took quite a differ- 
 ent view of the matter. She was a politician to her finger-tips. 
 To take part in an intrigue, which had for its object the coaxing 
 over of some refractory member of the Cabinet, or the detach- 
 ment from their party of some recalcitrant adherents of the 
 Opposition, was the very breath of her nostrils. She looked upon 
 politics as a game of skill ; and had an all-absorbing desire to 
 know what were the real, as opposed to the ostensible, motives 
 which dictated the moves of the players. This desire was frequently 
 gratified, and no one was more behind the scenes than Her Grace* 
 Her name had not figured in the newspapers when the names of 
 the members of the Administration were published. But then, 
 although the name of the prompter does not figure on the programme, 
 there is no person whose services are more important.
 
 THE KEW BRIDGE SALON 35 
 
 The laudatores temporis acti were fond of saying that the 
 political salon had died with Lady Palmerston. Her Grace thought 
 differently, and with reason. She held regular receptions, at which 
 one might confidently rely upon meeting, if not everybody who 
 was anybody, yet a goodly number of somebodies ; for, in com- 
 pounding even her least exclusive social olla podrida, the Duchess 
 always threw in enough celebrities to make provincial nobodies feel 
 that they were at last moving in the society of their intellectual 
 equals. Ministers and leaders of the Opposition formed friendly 
 little groups, where little comedies to be enacted in the House for 
 the edification of the public were carefully rehearsed. Members 
 of the diplomatic corps dropped in, and tried their best to deceive 
 each other. In order to do this successfully, they told the truth. 
 Civilised man finds this more effective than falsehood ; and, 
 additional advantage, there is less strain on the memory. 
 
 There, too, the "small fry" of the political world were eager to 
 show themselves. It was doubtless a great pity that any member 
 of the Conservative party, who had a seat in the House of 
 Commons, should not have been in what it was customary to term, 
 Society, with a capital " S " ; that Society whose doings were 
 chronicled in the Morning Post, the World, and other long defunct 
 journals, whose readers used to take an all-absorbing interest in 
 such items of information as, that His Grace the Duke of Mangold 
 Wurzel intended to wear a white hat for the rest of the season ; or 
 that the Countess of Leicester Square preferred quill toothpicks to 
 all others. But however sad it might be, it was a fact that many 
 Conservative M.P.'s were not in Society. Such men had spent 
 their money, and lost their self-respect in order to get into the 
 House ; but, if they had visions of the two letters after their names 
 opening to them the doors of certain big houses, these visions had 
 proved as unsubstantial as visions have an unpleasant habit of 
 being. Still, they had to be kept in good temper- the men, not 
 the visions and shown some little consideration ; and so they 
 .had the entree to Her Grace's political receptions, where they 
 were in the world, if not of it ; and where they made themselves 
 conspicuous by their endeavours to look quite at ease and comfort- 
 able. They felt dutifully grateful for the honour conferred 
 upon them; and Her Grace had the satisfaction of feeling that if 
 some of her guests were not all they should have been, yet she was 
 instrumental in keeping the Party together, and patching up many 
 .a little rift in the Tory lute, that might have made the Tory music 
 very discordant, though it failed to silence the instrument. 
 
 This particular night, the rooms were unusually crowded, and 
 there were all the signs of unusual excitement. The Ministry had 
 introduced a new Reform Bill. The last Ministry had also intro- 
 duced a Reform Bill, the most prominent part of which was a limited 
 concession of the franchise to women. But the then Opposition 
 had defeated them. Women's suffrage was not a thing the Con- 
 stitutional party could tamely permit. They predicted the inevi- 
 table ruin of our great and glorious Constitution, if any woman had 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 a vote. They harrowed the feelings of the country by heart-rending 
 pictures of Britannia ceasing to rule the waves, and being reduced 
 to the sad necessity of pawning her trident. They drew maps in 
 which the Atlantic Ocean fraternised with the North Sea, no 
 British Isles intervening to check their loving embrace. They 
 revelled in descriptions of " Red Ruin, and the breaking-tip of 
 laws," and, drawing largely on their own minds, became painfully 
 familiar with chaos. They repeated ad nauseam the impassioned 
 arguments of their leader, Floppington, till the fine images of the 
 great orator grew tedious to the ear. Having done all this they, 
 in due course, reaped the reward of virtue, and were admitted 
 to have qualified themselves to introduce a Reform Bill of their 
 own. 
 
 It goes without saying, that save for the absence of any provi- 
 sion for female suffrage, it was rather more Radical than the 
 measure upon which the Liberals had been defeated. It goes 
 equally without saying, that the Radicalism was due to the pressure 
 exercised upon the Premier by his colleagues. 
 
 So far, all had been happiness and concord. But it was- 
 whispered that some bold spirits in the Ministry wanted to go 
 further still. It was an open secret in well-informed political circles 
 that Lord Bardolph Mountchapel and his following were determined, 
 notwithstanding their recent opposition to the limited Liberal 
 measure, to introduce a clause unconditionally enfranchising 
 women, and that the Premier and the rest of the Cabinet were 
 convinced they had gone as far as they consistently could. Hence 
 the rumours of dissensions in the Cabinet, and all the excitement 
 consequent upon them. Would Lord Bardolph resign, or would 
 the Premier give way ? was the question upon every one's lips. 
 When the Daily News one morning announced, " it is rumoured 
 that an influential member of Her Majesty's Government has- 
 threatened to resign if the Reform Bill does not provide for the 
 complete enfranchisement of women," people were doubtful what 
 truth there might be in such rumours. But when the Standard, 
 the following morning, announced that it was enabled," on the best 
 authority, to contradict the rumours to which a contemporary had' 
 given currency," everybody was convinced that a split in the 
 Cabinet was imminent. 
 
 The ladies and gentlemen, therefore, who were at Her Grace's 
 reception, formed into little groups, by which the situation was eagerly 
 discussed. The Premier prided himself upon looking at all sides- 
 of a question. He did not look at them all at once though, but 
 in turn, and not even his colleagues knew which particular aspect 
 of a question he was regarding at any particular moment. This 
 charming variability gave his proceedings an interest they might 
 not otherwise have commanded ; and speculations as to what he 
 would do next, had replaced the solution of acrostics as the pet 
 amusement of the readers of Society journals. In nothing was 
 the difference between the Premier and Lord Bardolph more 
 marked than in the one quality they had in common. Lord
 
 THE KEWBRIDGE SALON 37 
 
 Bardolph was consistent in his inconsistency ; the Right Hon. 
 Arnold Floppington was not. 
 
 " Floppington certainly is more eccentric than ever," said the 
 Right Honourable William Jones. He was Secretary at State for 
 War ; a position for which he was eminently fitted, as he had made 
 a large fortune in the wholesale drug trade. He was a little man, 
 with pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose, of which he was very proud, as 
 he believed it resembled the great Uuke of Wellington's, and with 
 a calm placid way of answering questions, which the chronic state 
 of his department rendered invaluable. His mind was a mirror 
 which reflected with tolerable fidelity that of Lord Bardolph, by 
 whom, indeed, he had been forced upon Floppington when the 
 Ministry was forming. " I am told/' he continued, " that the other 
 morning being pestered with inquiries about what he would like 
 for breakfast, he actually cried out, ' fry me some eggs and bacon 
 and be done with it.' The story ends there, so I do not know 
 whether he got his fried eggs and bacon or not. If he did, he can't 
 have the hyper-squeamish stomach I have always credited him with." 
 
 " I daresay he did," said Lord Bardolph, laughing. " That 
 fellow Tremaine would go though fire and water for him ; you 
 know the debt of gratitude he owes him. If Floppington wanted 
 the moon his secretary would at once commence negotiations with 
 the man in possession. And I shouldn't wonder if the story's truer 
 than the majority of the anecdotes you pick up. As that pedantic 
 Jorley says, ' Many a man begins the voyage of life with queasy 
 susceptibilities and ends it a cannibal.' Floppington began by 
 kicking against 'Tory Democracy,' and here he is appealing to 
 the plebeian heart through the medium of its stomach." 
 
 '' I told the story to Rockington," observed Sir William reflec- 
 tively ; " and with his usual straining to be witty, he made a stupid 
 remark about the eggs being laid by a canard." 
 
 " I haven't seen the Premier since the last Council," put in Sir 
 Stanley, "but I, too, hear strange things of him. He has passed 
 some intimate friends without seeing them. He walks about gazing 
 into vacancy, or as one of his secretaries described it, trying his 
 hardest to look into the middle of next week. He was always 
 absent-minded, but now he really seems to have forgotten who 
 he is." 
 
 '' Self-knowledge is the highest of all knowledge," laughed 
 Lord Bardolph, " and our let-dare-not-wait-upon-I-would Premier 
 has not yet attained to it." 
 
 " 1 wonder whether he'll remain firm in his opposition to the 
 Woman Suffrage Clause," said the Right Honourable William 
 Jones; "he was determined enough at the last Council, but pos- 
 sibly at the next, he may, as he has so often done before, tell us 
 that he sees the matter in a different light." 
 
 " He's very fond of the cold dry light of intellect," said Sir 
 Stanley, "but his mind unfortunately is a very prism. If he would 
 only use monochromatic light now." 
 
 " Oh, I believe he's determined this time," interposed Lord
 
 38 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Bardolph. " My veiled threat of resignation put his back up, and 
 to do him justice, I don't think he'll yield to threats. His sus- 
 ceptibility to argument has probably rendered him callous to other 
 and generally more effective modes of inducing a change of opinion. 
 You see determination is such a novel sensation to him, that the 
 charm of it may induce him to be untrue to himself, and determine 
 him to be determined.'' 
 
 "And what shall you do then ? >! asked Sir Stanley. 
 
 " However painful it may be to go against the wishes of one's 
 leader, I feel I have no choice. I have committed myself too 
 deeply on the question to change now." 
 
 " I wasn't aware you found such difficulty in altering your 
 policy," replied Sir Stanley, with mild sarcasm. " But if you don't 
 wish to expose yourself to the dread necessity of every now and 
 again boxing almost the whole of the compass, why don't you 
 steer a middle course, so that you'll never have to deviate more 
 than a few points ? Besides, you know what the poet says about 
 ' the falsehood of extremes ' ? " 
 
 " Certainly; and I quite agree with him," said Lord Bardolph, 
 with a curious smile. "And henceforth I intend to act differently. 
 I have found out the average elector can't comprehend extremes." 
 
 " Then you will give way on the Woman Question ? '' cried Sir 
 Stanley eagerly. 
 
 " Not exactly that; but one extreme at a time will content me 
 for the future," he replied, with a malicious gleam in his eyes. " It's 
 in the plural that the danger lies. And for the moment my views 
 are extreme upon just that point." 
 
 " I don't understand the new Toryism," said Sir Stanley, as he 
 turned to leave the group. " You'll be advocating the abolition of 
 the House of Lords next." 
 
 " Not while you and other friends of mine are in the House of 
 Commons," meaningly replied Lord Bardolph; and then, he and 
 the Right Honourable William Jones being left together, he 
 indulged in a suppressed burst of laughter; of which the Right 
 Honourable William Jones gave a moderately successful imitation. 
 They were the leading representatives of the new Toryism, and 
 the frank confession that it was unintelligible to the old school 
 afforded them genuine gratification. 
 
 " But don't you think it will be a mistake to push your resis- 
 tance too far? Will it not damage us in the eyes of the country? 
 What about public opinion ?" said the Right Honourable William 
 Jones when the Chancellor of the Exchequer was out of ear-shot. 
 
 "And pray what are the eyes of the country ?" demanded Lord 
 Bardolph. '* The country is a gigantic abstraction. Let us analyse 
 it. For political purposes this abstraction, about which so much 
 has been said, which is quoted so largely, which is addressed so 
 magniloquently, for which any number of practical, shrewd, hard- 
 headed men of the world profess to be ready to sacrifice themselves, 
 is a few millions of men, ordinary mortals. What is their object in 
 life ? To live on ; and, therefore, to get the bread and butter with-
 
 THE KEWBR1DGE SALON 39 
 
 out which life is impossible. Some few of us, the lucky ones, my- 
 self among the number, have the dead hands of those who have 
 gone before holding out to us our bread and butter from their 
 graves. The rest of this abstraction, the people, are daily digging 
 their own graves in the struggle for bread and butter." 
 
 "Well?" murmured the Right Honourable William inquiringly, 
 and looking rather confused ; for to tell the truth, he rather sus- 
 pected some allusion to the business he had carried on, in all this 
 talk about bread and butter and graves. 
 
 " Well, they haven't therefore either the time or the opportunity 
 to form any opinion of their own about politics, the way in which 
 they are governed, or misgoverned, as every Opposition says of 
 every Government in turn. They have eyes, but they see not ; 
 ears have they, but they hear not, save and except through the 
 skilfully devised medium which goes by the name of public opinion. 
 This is manufactured in large quantities by editors of newspapers 
 in their columns, and by politicians on the platform. It has made 
 things false seem true ; cheated through eye and through 
 ear. Now in order that the eyes of the people shall view my con- 
 duct in this matter in the right light, that is to say, the light I wish 
 them to view it in, I have taken good care to manufacture a very 
 large amount of public opinion, whose quality, therefore, I am in 
 a position to guarantee." 
 
 "What are your lowest terms for the article?" put in the War 
 Minister, who dearly loved what, with the courage befitting his 
 post, he ventured to call a joke. 
 
 Lord Bardolph calmly ignored his satellite's witticisms, and 
 went on : 
 
 " If then Floppy indulges in the unwonted luxury of a back- 
 bones, and evolves from the molluscous into the vertebrate class of 
 beings, I shall resign. The Ministry, I flatter myself, will not be 
 long in going to pieces. As for myself, a large proportion of the 
 people, looking at me through the medium of my specially pre- 
 pared public opinion, will be convinced that I am the only man 
 to whom they can look for political guidance. I shall appear as 
 the statesman who saw that it was unjust to hinder the fairer half 
 of humanity from indulging in the exquisite pleasure to be 
 derived from dropping a voting paper into the ballot-box. 
 There is a swift flowing tide in the direction of the total enfran- 
 chisement of women. I shall take it at the flood, and have no 
 doubt it will lead me to fortune." 
 
 "You know, my dear Mountchapel, that I have always followed 
 you, and always will. But really now, for us to advocate the en- 
 franchisement of women such a revolutionary measure ! is simply 
 flying in the face of the principles of the party to which we belong; 
 not to speak of our having objected to that small modicum of en- 
 franchisement offered by the late Government." 
 
 " Principles were made for men and not men for principles," 
 sententiously observed Lord Bardolph. " Besides, when we are 
 alone, we two may drop the usual cant. There is but one principle
 
 40 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 in politics to get power. The present is an age of demo- 
 cracy ; which means, I have been told, ' government by the people 
 for the people' translated into Latin populus vult dccipi et 
 decipitur. The Doctor wouldn't have passed that in the good old 
 days ; but it is faithful, if not literal, notwithstanding. To my 
 mind, rival statesmen are like rival tradesmen. The people, who 
 are our customers, want certain things done, certain measures 
 passed. They think, Heaven alone knows why, that they will get 
 their bread and butter easier if plenty of work is given to the 
 Oueen's printers, if more Acts are added to the Statute Book. 
 We must supply their wants. We must assure the public that the 
 Opposition firm is composed of men ignorant of the business, 
 whose charges are exorbitant, whose goods are unsatisfactory, and 
 that we, and we alone, are capable of supplying Acts of Parliament 
 of first-rate quality and finish at reasonable rates, with punctuality 
 and dispatch. Whoever does not share my views may hug him- 
 self with the consciousness of superior virtue, but as a statesman 
 he had better put up the shutters." 
 
 The War Minister stared in undisguised astonishment as this 
 battalion of words hurled itself upon his auditory apparatus. He 
 had all along felt that the policy of his leader and friend was sadly 
 lacking in principle ; a sort of sub-consciousness that this reduction 
 of politics to the level of auctioneering was unworthy of gentlemen 
 at times disturbed him. He was the unhappy possessor of a con- 
 science. It was not a very big one, it is true, and its pricks were 
 not of a vigorous description, so that he never experienced much 
 difficulty in ignoring them ; but this frank exposition of what his 
 poor little weakling conscience now and then tried to tell him 
 rather staggered him. What he would have replied is uncertain, 
 for just as he was on the point of giving vent to his thoughts, the 
 Duchess joined them. 
 
 " And so, Bardolph, you really persist in your ridiculous fad of 
 giving women a vote?" she said, addressing him in the tone a 
 mother might adopt towards a disobedient child. Truth to tell, 
 she looked upon Lord Bardolph as the naughty boy of the pnrty| 
 who ought to have been whipped and put to bed when he made a 
 noise, instead of being allowed to stay up with his elders to quiet 
 him. 
 
 " Certainly, Duchess," half-mockingly replied Lord Bardolph. 
 ' I do not believe in half measures. We, that is to say, the 
 Ministry, have wisely awakened to the fact that to oppose the 
 Spirit of Progress is about as wise as attempting to mop up the 
 Atlantic, like a good old lady of whom you may have heard.'' 
 
 He looked inquiringly at the Duchess, as if he expected her to 
 claim acquaintance with the lady in question. Finding she did 
 not do so, he resumed : 
 
 "The Spirit of Progress (with a capital P, you know) demands 
 that all who have to obey the laws shall have a voice in making 
 them. Women have to obey the laws, therefore they should have 
 a voice in making them."
 
 THE KEWBRIDGE SALON 41 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " said Her Grace. " It's quite time 
 enough to give the people what they want when they get trouble- 
 some, and organise processions, and are likely to break windows. 
 Then, I am glad to say, we have shown ourselves as ready as the 
 Opposition to do what is right and proper ; but women 
 
 " Well, but women?" 
 
 '' Women haven't made any fuss about the vote. I don't believe 
 any of them want it. Why should you cause a lot of bother to 
 give women what they don't want, and haven't asked for?" 
 
 " Haven't they ? What about woman's rights meetings ? What 
 about ' J 
 
 " Spare me the recital of that, I beg you. A lot of unattractive, 
 masculine women may have identified themselves with this move- 
 ment ; unable to exercise the power legitimately theirs, they seek 
 after the franchise!'' vehemently exclaimed the Duchess. "But 
 women, with women's charms, want it not." 
 
 "All charming women are not like yourself," responded Lord 
 Bardolph with a bow. " You know the text, ' Unto them that have 
 much, shall much be given.' Its truth lies in this that those who 
 have much are always wanting more, and are not satisfied till they 
 get it. You perceive the application ? " 
 
 " Scarcely." 
 
 " The poor man is content so long as he has the barest neces- 
 saries of life. It is the rich man, able to gratify every wish, that 
 thirsts for more gold. And so it is the women richly dowered 
 with all the graces that charm man and give her power over 
 him, who long for the vote that shall give them actual political 
 power." 
 
 " You cannot persuade me that women want the franchise. To 
 initiate change is opposed to all our principles. Your action may 
 prove embarrassing to the party. You are playing some game of 
 your own." 
 
 4i Your Grace is pleased to be severe ; but you are mistaken in 
 my motives. I simply believe that the course I recommend is best 
 for the party and the country." And so saying, Lord Bardolph 
 slowly sauntered away. 
 
 The Duchess and the Right Honourable William Jones, who 
 had been nervously silent during this conversation, stood looking 
 after him. 
 
 " He's as enthusiastic about women's rights as Gwendolen 
 Harley herself,'' said Her Grace. 
 
 "Why, there she is!" said the Right Honourable William, 
 turning round ; " and Bardolph's talking to her." 
 
 " Um ! " said the Duchess, as she bent her eyes on the Foreign 
 Secretary and his fair companion. 
 
 The War Minister looked at her, and then at them. Then a 
 gleam of intelligence set out on a journey over his face as he 
 reflectively muttered, " Oh ! "
 
 42 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS. 
 
 A GREAT man is dependent for much of his greatness on his making 
 his entry into the world at a fitting time. Through not attending to 
 this essential requisite, many a man has gone to his grave, if not 
 unwept, " unhonoured and unsung." The sum which Milton 
 received for " Paradise Lost " cannot be called excessive ; but had 
 Milton lived later, it is doubtful whether he would have received 
 anything at all ; in all probability, he would have had to publish 
 his monumental work at his own risk, and would certainly have 
 been a loser by the venture, for people would not think it a duty, 
 in the case of a modern writer, to place the great epic poem on 
 their shelves, though they never took it down. No better advice 
 could therefore be given to those who wish to become great, than 
 the counsel to be very careful in selecting the period of their 
 birth. 
 
 This is true of all departments of human greatness, and not of 
 literature alone. Helen of Troy was doubtless a very beautiful 
 woman. By being born at an early period in the history of the 
 world she contrived to be immortalised. In the prosaic epoch 
 with which this history deals, she might have figured in the columns 
 of the Society journals, have set the fashions, and received that 
 highest of all tributes to feminine charms, the innocently-worded 
 query of other women as to what the men could see in her. But 
 she would not have set two peoples by the ears, or been handed 
 down to posterity by a great singer. 
 
 Lady Gwendolen Harley opened her eyes for the first time a 
 little more than a quarter of a century before the ministry of the 
 elder Floppington ; and though she played a prominent part in the 
 world, it is not what it would have been had she graced less prosaic 
 times. She was of medium height ; the meaning of which often- 
 used phrase appears to be that short people thought her rather tall, 
 and tall people rather short. Her figure was well rounded and 
 exquisitely proportioned, with a waist whose lines would have 
 delighted Pheidias himself, from which it follows that it could not 
 have been squeezed into a nineteen-inch corset. She had a charm- 
 ing face, perhaps a shade paler and more thoughtful than was 
 consistent with perfect physical health, but, nevertheless, not lack- 
 ing the sweet flush of rose on its lily fairness ; eyes of lustrous 
 gray, now sparkling with intellect, now liquid with emotion, but 
 at all times the windows of a noble soul, fearless and true ; a mouth 
 not too small " for human nature's daily food ; " a nose with finely- 
 curved nostrils, and a somewhat lofty brow crowned by a mass of 
 light chestnut hair. 
 
 The daughter of a man who had held high office in the State 
 she had early married a rising politician, who was unfortunately cut
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS 43 
 
 off before promise had ripened into performance. A widow and an 
 orphan, she had found consolation in the emancipation of woman. 
 She threw herself into the cause with all the enthusiasm of her 
 nature. Had she been a mother, she might have given up to baby 
 what was meant for womankind. As it was, she made the raising 
 of the status of woman the business of her life. She wrote articles,. 
 in which she dwelt almost lovingly upon the wrongs to which 
 woman was subject, upon the disadvantages under which she 
 laboured, because she had to submit to laws made for her by man,, 
 and man alone. Her friends sometimes said that success in her 
 mission would be the greatest misfortune that Fate could have in- 
 store for her. Life, without any of the wrongs committed by tyrant 
 man to expatiate upon, would be dull and vapid indeed. 
 
 There was some truth in this. It is sad to think what would 
 become of all those" who, from the pulpit and from the printing- 
 press, are alike engaged in endeavouring to make the world moral, 
 if, by some miraculous agency, their words took effect. A perfect 
 world, with nothing to find fault with, is too dreadful to contem- 
 plate ; and more dreadful to reformers of all descriptions than to 
 any one else. Evidently it is only the hopelessness of their efforts 
 which induces them to persevere. 
 
 Undeterred by such thoughts as these, or the banter of her 
 friends, she brought all the resources of a clear intellect, a bright 
 wit, and a noble enthusiasm to the work she had set herself the 
 raising of woman to a position of equality with man. Her ideal 
 was : 
 
 " Everywhere 
 
 Two heads in council, two beside the hearth, 
 Two in the tangled business of the world ;" 
 
 and so earnestly had she worked, that the enfranchisement of 
 woman was already within the sphere of practical politics. Indeed, 
 had it not been for the unfortunate opposition of Floppington, she 
 would, ere this, have reaped the first-fruits of her labours. 
 
 Her friends wanted her to marry again. They regarded her 
 views on the woman question as a malady for which marriage 
 would prove an efficacious cure. Violent diseases need violent 
 remedies. 
 
 As yet, however, she had not complied with the wish of her 
 friends. Having adopted advanced views as to the rights of her 
 sex, she included the right to please herself amongst them, and, 
 with the selfishness inherent in the very best of us, meant to avail 
 herself freely of it. Young, beautiful, clever, and possessed of an 
 ample fortune, society was all before her where to choose ; and 
 though many men were known to declaim against strong-minded 
 women, not one of them but would have been too glad to have the 
 chance of proposing to the leader of the much-maligned portion of 
 the sex. As she was strong-minded, however, they did not get the 
 chance. 
 
 Nevertheless, society in general, and her friends in particular, 
 felt certain that sooner or later she would marry. They took an
 
 44 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 interest in her, of which she was quite ignorant, and for which she 
 would not have been grateful had she known it. And Society had 
 made up its mind not an extensive operation that the happy 
 man would be the Premier of England ; but whether the Premier 
 in esse or the Premier in posse was uncertain. In a word, the 
 enjoyment of the position of wife of the Premier was to be hers. 
 Whether she would enter upon it at once as the wife of Floppington, 
 or await the reversion of it as the wife of Lord Bardolph Mount- 
 chapel, it was open to her to decide : that much freedom of action 
 was allowed her, no more. 
 
 As therefore Lady Gwendolen and Lord Bardolph stood chat- 
 ting together, many pairs of eyes were directed towards them. 
 Animated groups filled the spacious rooms. Ministers, ambassa- 
 dors, distinguished foreigners, the rank and beauty and wealth of 
 England were gathered there ; the majority discussing horse-racing 
 or the latest scandal when they had grown tired of airing their 
 political sagacity. The love of gossip is deeply implanted in the 
 human heart. Peer and peasant alike share it ; which accounts for 
 the universal abuse which is its fate. Do we not all hasten to read 
 Memoirs and Reminiscences, so that we shall not speak in ignorance 
 when condemning alike their contents, and the depraved taste to 
 which they pander ? And as these pairs of eyes were directed 
 towards them, be sure the owners did not fail to jump at conclusions. 
 That is a form of athletics we are all addicted to. One can succeed 
 in it without training. But there were restless figures here and 
 there, whose mental gymnastics did not take this conventional 
 form. An archbishop was discussing the indecent suggestions 
 afforded to impure minds by ballet-dancing, as tested by his own 
 intuition ; a brilliant landscape-painter was priding himself on 
 never having painted Nature from the nude; a professor of Eso- 
 teric Buddhism was expounding the successive re-incarnations of 
 spirits on their upward course from Liberalism to Conservatism ; 
 an Egyptologist whose fondness for antiquities made him an enthusi- 
 astic lover of high old Toryism, was boring an interested group 
 with his solution of cryptogramic papyri; a disciple of Maurice was 
 boasting of his humility to an inridel native Indian, whom the 
 Carlton was going to put up at the autumn elections ; an able 
 editor was busily engaged in a series of confidential conversations, 
 in which the confidences were all on one side; a fascinating 
 member of that once celebrated league, which turned "a prim- 
 rose by the river's brim " into a pitcher-plant for luring in the 
 unwary, was endeavouring to strengthen the political faith of a 
 somewhat slippery adherent by skilfully avoiding any reference to 
 politics. 
 
 But the scope of this history sternly vetoing indiscriminate 
 eavesdropping, the historian must reluctantly leave in the silence 
 which sooner or later overtook them these, and many other 
 ardent talkers who have long since crumbled into dust : is not 
 Kewbridge House too, with all its glories, a dream of the past; its 
 heartburnings and its airy badinage, its galaxies of beauty and wit,
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS 45 
 
 its very dulnesses alike sanctified by the glamour of intervening 
 centuries ? 
 
 " At last I pay my homage to the goddess of the cause, nay,, 
 burn incense at her shrine of which I am the priest," laughingly 
 said Lord Bardolph to Lady Gwendolen, looking at her however 
 with an earnestness that belied the lightness of his tone. 
 
 " The goddess accepts your homage," she answered with a 
 winning smile; " but have the goodness to refrain from burning the- 
 incense of flattery. Priests are too much addicted to that sort of 
 thing; and the dwellers on Olympus are weary of hearing their 
 praises sung by mortals. Gods and goddesses, you know, may not 
 be too clever, but they possess more intelligence than most of their 
 worshippers appear to credit them with." 
 
 " The incense I burn is that of truth, 1 ' replied Lord Bardolph in, 
 a mock heroic tone. 
 
 " Then be careful lest its novelty prove too much for my un- 
 accustomed nerves," said Lady Gwendolen. " But let us descend 1 
 from the empyrean, and tread the earth. Is it true that you intend 
 to resign ? '' 
 
 " It is," he replied, lowering his tone confidentially. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Surely you know," he said, with tender reproach. " Ministers 
 of different creeds never pull together well, especially when one of 
 them has just been converted to the faith he professes. So unless 
 I can make a proselyte of my fellow minister 
 
 " But will he remain firm ? He is so very vacillating," she said' 
 musingly ; and a shade of sadness came over her face, but whether 
 in sorrow for the Premier's vacillation or in fear lest he should 
 prove firm, it would be difficult to determine. Probably both emo- 
 tions swayed her equally at the moment. Emotions have a logic 
 of their own, and Lady Gwendolen had never paused to analyse 
 her own wishes : never thoroughly realised their inconsistency and 
 never mentally faced the situation in the event either of his yield- 
 ing or of his remaining firm. 
 
 " I think he will," replied Lord Bardolph, endeavouring to 
 answer indifferently ; and yet unable to prevent a note of triumph 
 becoming audible to the keen ears of his companion. " It was not 
 without difficulty that I that is to say, we induced him to decide 
 for a Reform Bill at all. His mind kept the pros and cons of it 
 dancing up and down, like a juggler with balls. The pros had it 
 at last. The pros of woman suffrage, however, have not been so- 
 fortunate. I have tried to convince him of its necessity, but in 
 vain. But I do not wonder that I should have failed, when possi- 
 bly ", and he stopped, as though afraid to venture to put his 
 
 thought into words. 
 
 She knew what he was about to say, as well as if he had finished 
 the sentence. A slight blush tinged her cheek, and then left her 
 pale, as she unconcernedly said : 
 
 " When possibly -" 
 
 " You, the high priestess of the cause had failed," he said,.
 
 4 6 
 
 lowering his gaze, and yet never losing sight of her face for a 
 moment. He had a purpose in every word he uttered ; and marks- 
 man never scanned target more eagerly, than he did her counte- 
 nance. 
 
 If he expected her to betray any trace of disappointment or 
 annoyance, his expectation was not gratified. 
 
 She laughed gaily as she replied : 
 
 " But a few short minutes ago I was a goddess, now I am but 
 a priestess. How are the mighty fallen !" Then, with just the 
 slightest suspicion of malice in her tones, she added : " Not every 
 one is so readily converted as yourself. But have you fully weighed 
 all the consequences of your action in retiring from the Ministry?" 
 
 " I have espoused the extension of the franchise to women too 
 strongly to admit of my remaining a member of a Cabinet which 
 will not introduce it into the Reform Bill. My honour is at stake. 
 It may be that I am ruining my hopes of a political career by my 
 devotion to you to your cause. But I have put my hand to the 
 plough and I cannot, in honour, draw back.' 1 
 
 " Your sentiments and your conduct alike do you credit," said 
 she, with a mocking inflection that took some of the charm from 
 the compliment. " But it is not improbable that your pessimistic 
 anticipations may never be realised. You may perhaps find, if you 
 will pardon the perversion of the Laureate's words 
 
 ' That politicians rise on stepping stones 
 Of flouted chiefs, to higher things.' " 
 
 "That poor Laureate ! I often wonder whether his lines are so 
 frequently perverted because he is popular ; or whether he is popu- 
 lar because his lines lend themselves so readily to perversion. I 
 incline to the latter view myself," said Lord Bardolph, with simu- 
 lated gaiety. Then changing his tones he said seriously : " I 
 know you approve my action ; why then so harshly misjudge my 
 motive ? You know how I value your good opinion ; you know " 
 
 " Really you misunderstand me," replied Lady Gwendolen, 
 evidently anxious to prevent the conversation taking the turn 
 Lord Bardolph seemed eager to give it. " I do not misjudge 
 your motives. On the contrary, I wished to give you some en- 
 couragement by reminding you of the possibility that your virtue 
 might not be so unfortunate as to be its own reward.' 1 
 
 ' Enfin je te trouve? joyfully exclaimed a shrill, feminine 
 -voice. 
 
 " I am sorry you have had any trouble, Madame Drapeau- 
 rouge," responded Lady Gwendolen, beaming gracious welcome on 
 a weazened, scraggy personage. " The rooms are certainly more 
 crowded than I remember them for a long time." 
 
 " Out. All the world expects Monsieur Floppington, n?est ce 
 pas ? Do you believe that he will arrive ?" 
 
 " I really don't know," murmured Gwendolen, blushing, her 
 heart beating a trifle more rapidly at the suggested prospect. 
 
 " He'd do better to stick to his St. Augustine," thought Lord
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS 47 
 
 Mountchapel. sauntering away in disgust. " I didn't bargain for 
 the old hermit turning up again." 
 
 " What a contrast between those two ladies under the chandelier! 
 Who are they?" 
 
 " Yes. Bringing them together is a master-stroke of the 
 Duchess's. The angelically beautiful one is Lady Harley. and the 
 devilishly ugly one is Madame Drapeaurouge." The querist was a 
 young newly-imported Gum-sucker.* At home he had signalised 
 himself and his ignorance by writing a flippant satire on every- 
 thing under the sun in the form of a political burlesque, and his 
 shyness in society was only equalled by his audacity on paper. His 
 interlocutor was the famous Marquis of Rockington, whose tragic 
 fate has made him so popular a historical character, though his 
 -colloquial powers and his escapades alone would have ensured him 
 such immortality as is conferred by frequent mention in the 
 memoirs of the period. He was, as everybody knows, a violent 
 Tory ; but it would seem that his principles were based more upon 
 an instructive repugnance to those of the canaille than upon 
 reason. He loved Conservatism, although he knew it was ridicu- 
 lous, and hated Liberalism because it was. The absurdity of the 
 one was the cobweb round port, that of the other the cobweb in 
 the garret-window. His face which has been preserved for us by 
 the pencil of Erlyon--was disfigured by a squint, so that he was 
 singularly successful in his amours ; and his mental observation of 
 people had frequently the same obliqueness as his physical. Having 
 a sharp eye for dulness and a dull eye for sharpness, he was a man 
 to whom Truth was indeed a friend, but Epigram a boon com- 
 panion. He was, therefore, a.causeur, and of the type, even then 
 almost extinct, of those who do not reserve all their talk for print. 
 Authors found conversation with him very inspiring ; but he had 
 apparently not succeeded in inspiring himself to sufficient flights 
 of dulness to satisfy an English audience. A comedy which he 
 had produced at the Haymarket, had been damned for its wit ; but 
 as a compensation, a play of his, which had been brought out at 
 the Odeon, had been hissed off the boards for its immorality. But 
 his literary life had been the least part of his existence. He had 
 roved over the world for adventure ; in his own words, " a personifi- 
 cation of peripatetic many-sided aimlessness." 
 
 u Madame Drapeaurouge, the famous Republican ! " cried 
 Oudeis, for such was the satirist's modest noin de guerre. " Im- 
 possible ! How came she here ? " 
 
 "As a warning to ladies of the effects of Radicalism. No one is 
 here without some reason. For instance, that lady in green assists 
 our cause in quite an original way. She is a high-class spiritualist 
 medium, with a large acquaintance amongst ghosts of the best 
 families, and she locates all the deceased Radicals in Sheol, as the 
 modern version hath it. Apropos," added the Marquis quickly 
 
 * This was the name given to the natives of Victoria, a province of the 
 .great Australian Empire, which at this time was a comparatively insignificant 
 dependency of Britain
 
 48 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 seeing the dawning suspicion on the listener's face ; " there is 
 Bishop Worldleigh, one of the revisers." 
 
 " From what I've heard of him, he wouldn't mind being trans- 
 lated afresh himself," said Oudeis, unconsciously plagiarising from 
 his own jeu d 'esprit. " But a revised version of him could not but 
 
 be an improvement, whereas ' 
 
 " Take care. If he overhears you making fun of him, he will 
 mistake you tor one of his friends, and buttonhole you." 
 
 " Well, tell me about Lady Harley. I have been watching her 
 eyes. What laughing tenderness ! " 
 
 "Young man, don't be poetical and don't fall in love. Her lady- 
 ship, it is whispered, is to be led to the altar by nothing under a 
 Prime Minister, and it is hardly likely she will wait for you. She 
 is a special study of mine and I perceive of yours too it's so 
 rare to find a woman who unites blue stockings with blue blood, 
 and beauty with both. She is proud without being vain, and I 
 suspect she is emotional. She loves to talk to poets, and see, she 
 is even now turning to the young sonneteer of the National Review. 
 If only she would insist less on adding to the burdens of her sex 
 by giving them the responsibility of a vote ! But there is this dif- 
 ference between a man's hobby and a woman's a man is vul- 
 garised by his hobby, a woman beautifies hers. 'Tis pleasant to 
 talk to her. We live in an ocean of lies, and only occasionally 
 come to the surface to breathe." 
 
 "And do you mean to say that Floppington aspires to her 
 hand?" 
 
 "So his rivals fear, or, perhaps I had better say feared, for I 
 understand that since he began to lead the opposition to the Fe- 
 male Suffrage Reforms of the late Government mind, I didn't say 
 because there has been a coldness between them. If, as expected, 
 he turns up to-night (which I doubt, for he's not appeared in society 
 for months), their meeting ought to be dramatic, and I should 
 advise you to keep your eye on it.' 1 
 
 " It seems harder to believe she's in love with him than that 
 he's in love with her. I wonder what's the source of the attraction 
 his gravity?" 
 
 " Don't pun, there's a good fellow. No present-day pun can be- 
 old enough to be original." 
 
 "Well, I won't, though I was really in earnest. But if it isn't 
 his gravity that she admires, what is it? Perhaps she reverences 
 his age. It must be twice as great as hers." 
 
 " My dear boy, in the first place no one thinks age venerable 
 till he is old himself; and in the second, there's not more than 
 fourteen years' difference between them. She is a widow of 
 " Twenty-two, at most." 
 
 " Twenty-eight, at least. And he is about forty-two, and mar- 
 vellously young for his position.'' 
 
 " I don't wonder at him making such rapid headway, when I 
 consider the strength of his ambition. A man that preferred office 
 to Lady Harley "
 
 BEAUTY AND BRAINS 
 
 49 
 
 "They do say he's a wonderful opportunist, but I don't believe 
 it, unless perhaps, the greatest opportunist is he who resigns at 
 the most inopportune moment ; for though he resigned his Home 
 Secretaryship in the last Conservative Cabinet when the Ministry 
 was at the zenith of its popularity, it turned out, as few had fore- 
 seen till after the event, that he had been far-sighted enough to 
 descry the coming turn in the tide of opinion. But, as Premier, 
 he has made a horrible mess of everything, as you know. He 
 has had his day, though to be sure it was not an Arctic one, 
 and in all likelihood his Premiership will be as much a failure as 
 his verses are : we shall never see a second edition of either. He 
 is a Christian as well as a poet, so how could he expect to manage 
 a Cabinet ? I will say this for him, though, that he is thoroughly 
 consistent all round in his want of originality. He took his 
 Christianity from Coleridge, his poetry from Wordsworth, and 
 his politics from the Family Bible, and and the family 
 'scutcheon." 
 
 " But his speeches are surely original ? How they glow with 
 the spirit of the highest traditions of Toryism ! How he stirs the 
 blood when he calls upon his hearers to maintain the power and 
 the glory of England, or to preserve the integrity of the Empire ! 
 In Victoria we look upon them as models of oratory." 
 
 ' Models of high falutin' ! " replied Rockington disdainfully. 
 " We shall lose the next election through him, any way ; just when 
 there was a rift in that cloud of vulgar blatant demagoguism, 
 which has so long overshadowed the political firmament. I hope 
 his career will bring home the much needed lesson that a man 
 will not necessarily make practical speeches in office, because 
 he has made poetical ones in opposition. The only qualification 
 Floppington has for his post, as far as I can see, is his trick 
 of reverie, which often makes him miss the sense of a long ques- 
 tion. You smile, but you mustn't think I am talking cynically. 
 On the contrary, I am in one of my most sentimental moods 
 to-night. Whether Lady Harley is to blame for it I don't know, 
 but really I never felt so sympathetic towards the poor Premier 
 before. I have already risked my reputation by maintaining 
 that he was sincere, and now I don't mind avowing that though 
 he often irritates me by his ineptitude, I pity him from the 
 
 bottom of my What a nuisance these popular idioms are, 
 
 you are forced to talk of your heart or your soul whether you 
 have got them or not ? Poor Floppington, stung by a million 
 criticasters, and worried by a hundred anxieties ! He always 
 reminds me of a delicate hot-house plant struggling in the cold 
 air amid a crowd of hardy perennials. But this last remark 
 strictly entre nous ! " 
 
 " Why ? " inquired Oudeis in astonishment. 
 
 " Because the comparison is trite ! But it's the one that natur 
 ally occurs to me for all that. Yes, Floppington is no more fitted 
 for his place in the Cabinet than he is for anything else, save the 
 scriptorium of a mediaeval monastery. He is a pure survival of the
 
 50 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ages of faith ; which is all the more surprising, because his family 
 has always been so worldly." 
 
 " According to you, then, a place in the Cabinet of a Museum 
 would be the most appropriate situation for him. But surely his 
 Reform Bill is advanced enough." 
 
 ''Granted; but what does that prove? Why, this. That his 
 distrust in himself makes him defer to the dogmatic opinions of 
 his colleagues. I have not the slightest doubt that the guiding 
 spirit of the Reform Bill is Mountchapel, and I quite believe the 
 report that he is trying his hardest to worry his chief into com- 
 pliance with his new policy of extending its articles to women." 
 
 " Do you think he will succeed ? '' 
 
 " Quien sabe ? But if our principles cannot win the battle, save 
 by assuming the helmet of invisibility, or by dressing themselves 
 in the uniform of their enemies, then may the devil save us from 
 such victories, say I. If Hodge and the butterman are to regulate 
 my morals and my taxes, why, the sooner we give up pretending 
 that Conservatism exists to keep off the reign of pragmatic dulness 
 the better. Let us emblazon on our banner, Vive la bctise, and the 
 country will follow us to a man. I'm sure I don't see why Mount- 
 chapel's Reform Bill I say MountchapePs advisedly drew the 
 line at criminals and imbeciles. Th<?y have just as much claim to 
 enfranchisement as the dustman and the ploughboy, perhaps more. 
 Criminals have acquired by experience, more or less dearly bought, 
 a familiarity with our laws which should give their vote special 
 value. As for imbeciles, their admission into the ranks of the 
 electorate would afford a much-needed excuse for many of the 
 proceedings of the Legislature. Tory democracy, indeed ! If 
 Mountchapel doesn't ruin himself, he will ruin the party." 
 
 " Then you think his policy short-sighted ?" 
 
 "Very. It does not even recognise the author of its being; 
 or at least it affects not to." 
 
 " Perhaps he hopes to flatter the Radicals by imitating them, 
 and so to conciliate all parties." 
 
 " I don't credit him with anything so subtle as the sycophancy 
 you suggest. The rogue is simply trying to unite the principles or" 
 Toryism with the want of principle of the Birmingham school, and 
 between two schools the party may fall to the ground.'' 
 
 " But I understand that the other side is ready to snatch him 
 up. He is not a drug in the market." 
 
 "He is not; but the Tory leaders take him as a drug with 
 many grimaces, but in the hope he'll do them some good. For 
 my part, I believe he's a quack medicine. At best, he's a spurious 
 imitation of the Screwnail Elixir, and we should beware of him 
 accordingly." 
 
 " Haven't we had too big a dose of Mountchapel ourselves to- 
 night?" smilingly suggested Oudeis. 
 
 '' I'm aware you want to talk about Lady Harley," replied 
 Rockington, a trifle piqued. " Perhaps you'd better talk to her." 
 
 " I don't see much chance of getting a word in," said Oudeis
 
 TRA NSFORMA T1ON 5 1 
 
 ruefully, glancing in her direction, " even if I had been introduced, 
 which I haven't. But she cant be twenty-eight. It would be 
 impossible for her to look so young." 
 
 "In the dictionary of youth, there is no such word as im- 
 possible. For aught I know she may be thirty," responded Lord 
 Rockington, moving off through the crush. 
 
 " Une feinme a I' age qifelle parait avoir" cried Oudeis. 
 
 4i Une femme ri'a jamais Page qiielle parait avoir," retorted 
 Rockington, turning his head. "Well, Duchess, didn't I pro- 
 phesy you wouldn't get the lion out of his jungle of Parliamentary 
 papers, after all ? Next week, perhaps, when he's resigned " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TRANSFORMATION. 
 
 LORD ROCKINGTON, though he expected the meeting between 
 Lady Harley and the Prime Minister to be dramatic, was not 
 aware of all the grounds of his own expectation. Should it take 
 place, dramatic it would certainly be, though not in the vulgar 
 sense of the word. The characters would strike no attitudes, group 
 themselves into no tableaux. But for complicated play of emotion, 
 and for shock and interaction of passions, the situation would 
 be as dramatic as possible. Nobody but the two chief personages 
 of the drama themselves knew the precise nature of their amorous 
 relations; indeed, it may be doubted whether even their own know- 
 ledge was perfectly definite. To judge by the sequel, each seems 
 to have had his or her own view of the depths of their intimacy. 
 Anyhow, however far matters had gone between them, this much 
 was certain, that the mild importunities of the unenterprising 
 Premier had never quite overcome Lady Gwendolen's fatal objec- 
 tion to him on the score of incompatibility of belief, for the 
 Enfranchisement of Women was almost a religion with its beauti- 
 ful champion. But Her Ladyship knew no more than the veriest 
 outsider why Floppington's appearances in Society always 
 extremely rare had ceased altogether on his taking office ; or 
 why he had not called upon her since the beginning of his vigorous 
 crusade against the Radical Reform Bill. In moments of buoyancy, 
 she put his absence down to the pressure of business ; in seasons 
 of despondency, to a mistaken belief that she could never forgive 
 him for overthrowing her cause. It did not occur to her that he 
 might fear the living argument of her personality, the intoxicating 
 magic of her liquid eyes. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lord Mountchapel had improved the opportunity. 
 Although always an admirer of Gwendolen, he had repressed the 
 
 E 2
 
 52 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 nascent passion for one whose affections were by all accounts pre- 
 engaged, and had staunchly supported Floppington in the anti- 
 suffrage course which led to office. But when he was left in 
 possession of the field, his admiration rapidly changed into love, 
 and he set himself to win the object of his affections. He had not 
 advanced very far as yet, though he had undoubtedly made a 
 certain headway. He had succeeded in turning a conventional 
 acquaintanceship into a somewhat intimate friendship by confiding 
 to her his conversion to the cause ; and it would be too bad of 
 Floppington to reappear on the scene and perhaps renew his 
 relations with her. The only consolation he would have would be 
 the reflection that the Premier had in all likelihood handicapped 
 himself fatally by his conscientious objections to Woman Suffrage. 
 
 This consolation he was soon compelled to administer to his 
 chafed spirit, for on emerging from the depths of an enthralling 
 conversation with the editor of the Times, and from the corner in 
 which it had been carried on, he found that the guests were nearly 
 all gathered in the next room, an apartment of noble dimensions, 
 ornamented with the most exquisite taste, though not after the 
 ephemeral fashion of the period. The various detached groups, of 
 which the company had previously been composed, had coalesced. 
 Evidently somebody of importance had arrived ; and as he 
 approached the outer fringe of the crowd, he saw to his vexation 
 that it was the Premier. He was the centre of attraction to which 
 all these human atoms had gravitated ; and, if the truth must be 
 told, the atoms had drawn somewhat too close to be pleasant. 
 
 The Premier looked rather hot and excited. And yet he looked 
 better than on the night he visited the Cogers. The careworn air, 
 the aspect of weariness, the appearance of being perpetually engaged 
 in the study of some intricate problem, the solution of which con- 
 tinually baffled him, had all disappeared. He had all the air of a 
 man who has seen the storm-clouds of doubt roll away, and has 
 gained a glimpse of eternal truth that had been long hidden from 
 him ; he was bright, alert, active. 
 
 This important change for the better was of course noticed by 
 everybody, and everybody, equally of course, commented on it in 
 more or less decorous whispers to his, or her, nearest neighbours. 
 His Grace the Duke of Kewbridge noticed it, and said to his wife : 
 " He has made up his mind to let Bardolph do his worst. He must 
 have been dreadfully worried about it, certainly ; and no doubt it 
 was the cause of his prostration last Sunday. But it would have 
 
 been worse than suicide to have given way to him ; it " but here 
 
 he got excited and raised his voice, so Her Grace playfully placed 
 her ducal hand upon his ducal mouth ; and the ducal eloquence 
 subsided into an inarticulate murmur, just as the ducal pronouns 
 were getting very much mixed. 
 
 His Grace had no warrant for his remarks ; but they put into 
 words not only his own thoughts and wishes but the thoughts 
 of almost every one present. The editor of the Standard, who 
 had just dropped in, must have arrived at the same explanation of
 
 TRANSFORMATION 53 
 
 the Premier's improved bearing, for in the very next issue of that 
 weighty journal a paragraph appeared to the effect t-iat on the 
 very best authority it \vas anticipated that Lord Bardolph Mount- 
 chapel would very shortly place his resignation in the hands of Her 
 Gracious Majesty. And not content with this, there was a leader 
 in which the resolution, foresight, and other qualities of the Premier, 
 were lauded to the skies ; while the presumption, impertinence, and 
 ignorance of Lord Bardolph were duly scarified. The article 
 wound up with a brilliant flourish, in which the world was reminded 
 that it was a great man who remarked " il n'y a point d'homme 
 indispensable ; " and that it was left for Lord Bardolph to assume 
 the contrary. 
 
 Lord Bardolph knew nothing of the rod the next morning's 
 newspaper had in store for him. He was in happy ignorance of 
 that as of most other things. And as he neared the Premier, 
 whose animated talk was keeping a throng of listeners, he whispered 
 to Lady Gwendolen, who had left Madame Drapeaurouge and who 
 now found herself at his side : 
 
 " Floppington's very lively. He has evidently quite recovered 
 from his indisposition. 1 wonder if he's holding forth on his pet 
 philosopher, a German, Haydn I think they call him." 
 
 ' Hegel 1 think you mean." 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's right. Floppington talked to me about him 
 one night. He started with a medium-sized zero, and evolved the 
 universe from it," said Lord Bardolph, summing up the secret of 
 Hegel in the complacently condescending manner he adopted in 
 his treatment of most subjects. It was an important factor in his 
 success. 
 
 As they joined the Premier's listeners, that gentleman paused 
 for a moment to give them a beaming glance of welcome ; and 
 then, rummaging in the tail pocket of his coat, he resumed : 
 
 " Then you certainly don't read the Ref., for in this week's " 
 
 "The what ?" interrupted Her Grace, perfectly astounded. 
 
 " The Referee, I mean," said the Premier, whose search in his 
 pocket had proved successful ; and he flourished a copy of the 
 journal in question as he spoke. 
 
 " That rag ! " contemptuously exclaimed Sir William Jones. 
 
 " It's not rag, Sir William," mildly interposed Sir Stanley 
 Southleigh, " I inquired into the matter in connection with my 
 last Budget. I believe it's hemp or esparto grass," and the Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer looked wonderingly round as a hearty laugh greeted 
 his remark. Sir Stanley had never been able to divine why people 
 laughed when he did not make a joke, while they remained perfectly 
 stolid and unmoved when he uttered witticisms the concoction of 
 which had consumed much midnight oil. 
 
 ' Rag indeed ! I always read it," said the Premier, waxing 
 enthusiastic. " It wouldn't be Sunday without my Ref. After the 
 hard work of the week, it's delightful to lie in bed Sunday morning, 
 with a pipe in my mouth, and hear the clock strike ten as I read 
 ' Mustard and Cress.' "
 
 54 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Scientific men have demolished the thunderbolt, and have 
 proved that it does not exist, that it cannot exist, and that it never 
 did exist. They may be right ; but in publishing this conclusion 
 they have been strangely neglectful of the vested interests of 
 authors. Imagine, therefore, dear reader, that despite all men of 
 science have said and done, the thunderbolt has a real, tangible 
 existence. Imagine that one of the greatest possible dimensions 
 had plunged down the ducal chimney and deposited itself at the 
 very feet of the assembled guests ; imagine the consternation it 
 would cause; and then you would have but a feeble idea of the con- 
 sternation the Premier's avowal had upon those who listened to 
 him. The thought occurred simultaneously to many of them that 
 his many eccentricities had culminated in this which admitted of 
 only one explanation lunacy, and that had he not been Premier, 
 this explanation would have been forthcoming earlier. 
 
 The Premier stopped waving the Referee as he caught sight of 
 the horror-stricken faces round him. He paused for a moment as 
 if puzzled, and then burst into a peal of Homeric laughter. 
 
 "Ah, ah, ah !" he gasped when he could speak. " Did you 
 think I was speaking of myself? I was only quoting the words 
 addressed to me by an artisan, whose acquaintance I made some 
 time back, when 1 went on a 'slumming expedition;'" and he 
 laughed again. Giving his hearers time to recover their wonted 
 composure, he continued gravely and earnestly : <; And that is the 
 way thousands of workmen men who vote, who may by their 
 votes sway the destinies of this empire spend the Sabbath morn. 
 Ah, my Lord Bishop," he said reproachfully, turning to Bishop 
 Worldleigh, who stood by him, "how is it the Church fails to reach 
 these men that it has not the slightest influence on their lives ? 
 It should not be so ; for if you cannot make poor men believe 
 they will be better off in the next world, they will be Radicals in 
 this." 
 
 " I think you judge too hastily," said the portly Church dignitary, 
 in a somewhat offended tone. "Ex fede Herculein is not a mode 
 of reasoning to be adopted with safety ; and though you have 
 made the acquaintance of an artisan who stays in bed on the 
 Sabbath to read the periodical you hold in your hand, I do not 
 hesitate to affirm that the Church does not fail to reach the labour- 
 ing man." 
 
 " Well, then, it is the labouring man who fails to reach the 
 Church," briskly retorted the Premier, laughing heartily at his own 
 joke. Some of those standing round laughed also. But many, 
 from an inward conviction that the subject was a religious one, put 
 on that expression of mingled sorrow and deprecation usually seen 
 on the faces of mourners, who know they will be considerably 
 benefited by the reading of the will. 
 
 " This number," continued the Premier, when the owners of 
 bolh sorrowful and laughing countenances had reduced their pos- 
 sessions to the normal condition, "was sent to me by some enthusi- 
 astic Radical who thought it might do me good to know what was.
 
 TRA NSFORMA TION 5 5 
 
 thought of me. I only wonder that he did not head it ' Sinner, 
 repent ! ' or ' Know what awaits thee ! ' What do you think of 
 these lines ? " and he gravely recited as follows : 
 
 " Floppy once again declares he's bound by honour, 
 
 But at slipping bonds he can Creation 1 ck. 
 When the doors in Downing Street are next thrown open, 
 You will find that he has done 'The Cabinet Trick.' " 
 
 A merry peal of laughter greeted the recital, in which the 
 Premier himself joined. All present felt the applicability of the 
 verse, though they did not quite realise the meaning of the hint 
 conveyed in the last line. This was excusable, however, as the 
 writer himself, unless gifted with more of the prophetic spirit than 
 was generally supposed to be available for modern use, could not 
 have been any wiser than his readers. Lord Bardolph, in a semi- 
 audible tone, whispered, " Floppy to a T." But many present had an 
 ill-defined feeling, for which they could not have accounted, that the 
 application of the lines was rather past than present. It may have 
 been imagination, which we all know plays us strange tricks ; but 
 some subtle change seemed to have operated in the Premier. 
 Outwardly he was the same ; but those who looked beneath the 
 surface were vaguely conscious of a spiritual change. So might 
 Henry V. have appeared to those who, knowing him as a madcap 
 Prince, gazed upon him as he announced his intention to 
 
 " Mock the expectation of the world, 
 To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out 
 Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
 After my seeming." 
 
 " I am told," went on the Premier, "that I am made fun of in 
 this fashion weekly, so that I can conscientiously recommend some 
 of my friends to become subscribers." 
 
 " Really," said His Grace, who, as a member of the Cabinet, 
 felt that he ought to say something ; "really, I think this is going 
 too far. Liberty of the Press is all very well, all very well, but this 
 is license ; and license should be put down, really should be put 
 down." His Grace had a knack of repeating words and short 
 phrases. He thought it gave them emphasis. 
 
 " Oh dear no !" laughed the Premier. " What for ? I dare say it 
 amuses the \viiter ; I suppose it amuses his readers; and I am sure 
 it amuses me." 
 
 At this moment one of the Premier's private secretaries, who 
 had been hovering uneasily round the edge of the group of 
 listeners surrounding the Premier, succeeded in his long-con- 
 tinued endeavours to catch the Premier's eye. He would have 
 done so sooner, but for the fact that the visual organ of the First 
 Minister of the Crown, unlike that of the Speaker, is unused to 
 being caught ; and judging from its expression, it did not relish the 
 process. However, business is business, and so, jestingly uttering
 
 56 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 a few words about the cares of State pursuing him everywhere, 
 the Premier took his secretary's arm, and retired into a smaller 
 room. 
 
 The withdrawal of the centre of attraction led to the breaking 
 up of the aggregation of human atoms into its constituent parts. 
 The great cluster resolved into small clusters, the atoms com- 
 posing which were one and all busily engaged in talking about 
 the Premier, till some one or other brought the news, which 
 diffused itself rapidly by some law as yet unknown to philosophers, 
 that some noble lord had married his sister's maid. This bit of 
 intelligence rapidly deposed the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington from the position he had previously occupied as 
 fcod for conversation. 
 
 His business over it did not occupy ten minutes and his 
 secretary gone, the Premier remained seated in the chair which he 
 had taken in order to hear what his secretary had to say. It was 
 a comfortable chair, if not exactly what the possessor of an artistic 
 eye would call a beautiful one. But it fulfilled the functions of its 
 being. One could sit in it with a pleasant sense of being at rest, 
 instead of being tortured, as is often the case with chairs that 
 please the artistic eye, by the thought that Nature must have made 
 the human body fearfully and wonderfully angular. And, there- 
 fore, on the Socratic theory at any rate, it might lay claim honestly 
 enough to the possession of beauty. A screen stood almost 
 directly in front of it, and so, nearly hid its occupant from view. 
 From the other room there floated in the buzz and hum of conver- 
 sation, and the frou-frou of ladies' dresses. But the Premier 
 remained in the comfortable chair, and showed no inclination to 
 move out of it. His eyes were half-closed, and a cynical smile 
 played timidly round the corners of his mouth ; and his lips half- 
 parted as a peal of laughter made itself audible. Perhaps he was 
 thinking with how little wisdom, and with how little honesty the 
 world is governed. The old careworn, irresolute look was on his 
 face. He had given the best years of his life to politics, and 
 possibly he was reflecting on his folly, and wondering whether it 
 was worth the constant fret and worry, in order to be lampooned 
 by an irresponsible writer in a Sunday paper. If he and that 
 writer could only change places for a time, the lesson might do 
 some good to the irresponsible wielder of the pen. Or perhaps he 
 was not thinking at all, but only indulging in the luxury familiarly 
 spoken of as " forty winks.'' 
 
 The latter supposition must be reluctantly admitted as the more 
 probable, for when a low, soft voice gently uttered his name, he 
 jumped to his feet, and rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if he were 
 polishing up their lenses. 
 
 " I am pleased to find you alone," continued the sweet voice 
 which belonged to Lady Gwendolen. " I have been hoping for 
 a few words with you, but you have hitherto been unapproach- 
 able. How is it I have not seen you for so long?" she added, 
 her voice unconsciously taking a tenderer inflection. "Even if
 
 TRANSFORMA TION 57 
 
 you had no leisure for morning calls, this is not the first Wed- 
 nesday of the session." 
 
 " I really couldn't manage to come here before," replied the 
 Premier, with a strange look of earnestness. " Heaven knows 
 how gladly I should have jumped at the chance if it had been 
 offered to me. I assure you I took the very first opportunity." 
 
 Lady Gwendolen's eyes sparkled with delight and a tender 
 expression came over her face. That there should be a breach 
 between them on account of his political conduct had plainly 
 never occurred to him. It was only her own feverish imagina- 
 tion that had conjured up the spectre. The busy statesman had 
 always been longing to see her. 
 
 " You are looking better now than then/' she said, surveying 
 him affectionately. " You have lost that haggard, worn air, which 
 made your friends fear for your health. I did not expect to find 
 you looking so well, especially after your recent illness." 
 
 " My recent indisposition," corrected the Premier. " The in- 
 disposition in question prevented me from going to church, but I 
 do not believe it affected me much otherwise. It certainly wasn't 
 
 serious. Still late hours and talking politics at the Co , at the 
 
 Commons, tell upon the most robust constitution sooner or later. 
 But, I believe " with a mocking smile, the meaning of which 
 Lady Gwendolen could not fathom " I believe 1 am myself again. 
 How hot it is here !" he added, with an evident desire to change 
 the subject. 
 
 u Let us go into the conservatory then ." 
 
 Without another word he offered her his arm ; and as they dis- 
 appeared in the conservatory, Lord Bardolph and the Duchess 
 came into the room in search of the Premier. Lord Bardolph, with 
 an ugly frown on his face, was about to follow them, when the 
 Duchess touched him lightly on the arm. 
 
 " For the first time in my life, I regret being a woman. I wish 
 I were a man," she said. 
 
 " Why ? ;; said Lord Bardolph, forgetting his annoyance for the 
 moment in his astonishment at this speech from the Duchess. 
 
 " Because I should like to plunge my hands in my trousers' 
 pockets, and indulge in a long, low whistle."
 
 58 THE PREMIER AND THF PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BACCHUS AND VENUS. 
 
 "THIS is delightful," said Lady Gwendolen, as she entered the 
 conservatory. ' What a contrast ! '' 
 
 Lady Gwendolen was right. The contrast was great. The 
 gorgeous salons they had quitted were oppressively hot and daz- 
 zlingly light. The air was vibrating with whirling passions, con- 
 flicting ambitions, repressed emotions. It pulsated with life, the 
 keen, eager, restless, almost feverish life of London Society. 
 Here in the conservatory all was repose. The atmosphere was 
 still by contrast almost painfully so and redolent of the odours 
 of many blossoms, that brought with their fragrance a delicious 
 sense of peacefulness and rest. The pale blue light of the moon 
 fell upon huge spreading ferns and rare plants, and cast their 
 shadows in weird forms upon the chequered floor. It threw a 
 ghostly radiance upon the marble figures, whose cool, glossy white 
 contrasted so well with the green foliage. And then, as a cloud 
 flitted across the moon's face, all would be darkness, with vague, 
 shadowy figures that the imagination involuntarily clothed with 
 the life of pixies and gnomes. The plashing of a fountain fell 
 slumberously on the ear with an indescribably soothing effect. 
 The busy hum of life from without barely stirred the sleeping air. 
 The keynote of the harmony was repose. It was a place in which 
 to commune with one's own heart and be still. 
 
 Lady Gwendolen seated herself, and looked up at the Premier, 
 who stood leaning against a pillar. It may have been the moon- 
 light, or it may have been fancy, but her face had lost its vivacity, 
 her eyes had lost their sparkle. They were fixed upon the Premier's 
 face with a look of intense interest the look that a Avoman only 
 bestows upon the man who is her ideal but with something of 
 sadness in it, too, as though he had not yet reached the height on 
 which she would fain have placed him. She felt that his abilities 
 were worthy of the great post he held, that his lofty morality made 
 him the very Bayard of statesmen; but his vacillation, the result of 
 his earnest endeavours never to judge hastily, destroyed all the 
 power for good he might have been expected to exert, and reduced 
 him to the level of a party-leader, who followed more often than 
 led. But that night, she, in common with every one else, had 
 noticed the change for the better in him; and now that they were 
 together, she could not altogether repress her anxiety lest it had 
 been but a passing phase of his many-sided character. 
 
 As he stood there, it appeared probable enough that this was 
 indeed the case. All his confidence was gone. He seemed 
 strangely troubled, and ill at ease. But then a tete-d-tite by moon- 
 light, in a dimly-lighted conservatory, with one of the most beauti- 
 ful women in England is, however pleasurable, apt to be burdened
 
 BACCHUS AND VENUS 59 
 
 with momentous consequences. The more exquisite the enjoy- 
 ment, moreover, the nearer to that melancholy which is the under- 
 current of all pleasurable emotion ; so that the Premier's agitation 
 was easily accounted for. 
 
 '' They tell me," said Lady Gwendolen, at length breaking the 
 silence, which was almost oppressive, "that you are still determined 
 to resist the demand for Woman Suffrage." She said this half- 
 reproachfully, as though she expected to have heard his determina- 
 tion from himself, and not from the impersonal " they," responsible 
 for so many rumours. " I am glad, and sorry, if that be possible r 
 at the same time." 
 
 " That is strange. Why ? " 
 
 " Can you ask ? I am sorry because your determination delays 
 only delays, mind the final success of the cause I have so much 
 at heart." 
 
 " And glad ? " 
 
 He was evidently determined to force the confession from her 
 beautiful lips. Well, he was welcome to what pleasure he could 
 extract from the sweet, shy response. 
 
 "Glad, because I, I am your friend ; and I am proud to see 
 you defy those who would force you to abdicate your position as 
 leader, or hold it on sufferance. Such a situation would be un- 
 worthy of you. That, sir," she concluded with mock stateliness, 
 tossing her head with a charming affectation of wounded dignity, 
 " is why ; and I am glad to see that you have got the better of 
 your vacillation, and at last are a changed man." 
 
 " You are right, I am a changed man," said the Premier, sud- 
 denly brightening up and straightening himself. "And if Lord 
 Bardolph thinks that I am going to dance while he pulls the 
 strings, Lord Bai dolph will come a pretty considerable cropper/' 
 
 Lady Gwendolen looked somewhat astonished at this fresh, free, 
 vigorous, and unconventional use of the vernacular. Truth to tell, 
 the Premier's speech was ordinarily deeply tinged with philo- 
 sophical terms, and apt to be vague and hazy. This departure in 
 the direction of plain, if rot altogether classical English, was 
 rather to be welcomed than condemned ; and so, after just a 
 momentary hesitation Lady Gwendolen decided. 
 
 The Premier v.-aved his hand in the direction of a statue of 
 Bacchus, the laugh on whose carven image might have discon- 
 certed him and disturbed the even flow of his oratory. Luckily, it 
 was in a dark corner, and so he proceeded, regardless of the laugh- 
 ing god. 
 
 ' I intend having my own way in the Cabinet for the future. I 
 have to bear all the responsibility, and I don't intend being respon- 
 sible for the policy of other people any longer." He was confide.it 
 enough now, and the ring of earnestness and conscious power in 
 his tone showed that he meant what he said, and was capable of 
 action in accordance with his words. 
 
 " The great thing," he continued, again waving his hand towards 
 the dark corner, where a stray beam of moonlight for a second
 
 60 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 made the Bacchus visible, " is to make up your mind, and let the 
 rest of the Cabinet see that you have done so. There will not be 
 much opposition then. A Minister may threaten to resign ; but 
 if you take him at his word, he'll be as much disappointed as the 
 lady whose lover foolishly forgets that her ' no ' is only an indirect 
 way of saying ' yes.' " 
 
 By the light of the moon, a blush might have been seen to 
 flicker over Lady Gwendolen's cheek as he uttered these words, 
 and she looked keenly at him, as though half suspecting some 
 hidden application. But he continued calmly in the self-possessed, 
 unhesitating style so eminently uncharacteristic of the man. 
 
 " In politics, as in most other affairs, he who hesitates is lost. 
 My motto is, 'Do the right thing, if you can;' but it will be better 
 for the country to do the wrong one than to flounder about doing 
 nothing in futile search after what is right." 
 
 " How your views have changed ! When last we talked 
 together" and an under-current of regret seemed mingled with 
 the musical flow of the words "you thought and spoke so dif- 
 ferently. Then it was, ' Do what is right, come what may.' " 
 
 " Well, don't I say so still ? If it is better for the country that 
 I should do the wrong thing rather than nothing at all, don't you 
 see that the wrong thing becomes the right ? It is not the contrast 
 of the right thing with the wrong thing that I am now speaking of, 
 but simply the alternative of anything or nothing. If I did not 
 add this rider to my motto at our last conversation, it was because 
 I had then had no real experience of practical life. Since I have 
 taken on my shoulders the duties and responsibilities of the Premier- 
 ship, I have discovered that Life spells Action, and not Thought ; 
 that there is no standing still in it ; and so I am not likely to under- 
 rate the value of determination in future," philosophised the Pre- 
 mier, his words ringing out clearly, almost sharply, in the stillness 
 of the conservatory. " But for my want of determination, a whipper- 
 snapper like Lord Bardolph would not have talked of making and 
 unmaking Cabinets. I beg your pardon," he added with a sudden 
 change of tone, " I forgot that you and Lord Bardolph " 
 
 With a sudden movement, Lady Gwendolen rose to her feet, 
 her eyes blazing with anger, rather at the apology indeed than at 
 the disparaging manner in which Lord Bardolph had been spoken 
 of. though in both the Premier had shown himself strangely deficient 
 in his usual gracious tact. 
 
 " You mistake. Lord Bardolph is nothing to me." Then, as if 
 feeling she had said too much, she sat down and covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 The Premier was deeply moved. The sight of this beautiful 
 woman, physically and intellectually the highest development of 
 her sex, wounded almost to tears, and by him, stirred tender chords 
 within his breast. He bent over her, and whispered gently, " Dear 
 Lady Gwendolen, forgive me." 
 
 " I have nothing to forgive," she answered ; for, woman-like, she 
 forgot the sting to her pride in her joy at having him address her
 
 BACCHUS AND VENUS 61 
 
 thus tenderly. Then, too, must there not have been a little out- 
 burst of jealousy in his words ? What but jealousy could have 
 made him speak his inmost thoughts so openly of one who was a 
 colleague ? And she was more pleased at the jealousy, than hurt 
 at what he had implied. The scent of the rose was well worth the 
 prick of the thorn. 
 
 " Let us forget Lord Bardolph," she said, smiling at him, as, his 
 face still full of contrition, he gazed upon her. " I like to hear you 
 talk of yourself. I love to hear you speak so boldly of what you 
 will do. I am proud to think that I may have helped to waken you 
 to a truer consciousness of your o\vn powers," and her voice sank 
 to a gentle whisper. 
 
 The moonlight fell full upon her lovely face, as she spoke thus. 
 Ah ! moonlight and beauty, what have you not to answer for ? 
 Premiers are but mortal men, and as Floppington gazed into the 
 crystal depths of her eyes, his hand pressed hers tenderly. 
 
 " You shall be my good angel," he said. " I will be guided by 
 you." 
 
 She did not resent the gentle pressure of his hand on hers, as 
 she replied : " I would not have you act against your convictions 
 for my sake. If I thought you could be tempted even by me, to 
 be false to yourself, I could not you would forfeit my good opinion. 
 No, on one question at least we must be content to differ ; the 
 question to which I mean to devote my life." 
 
 " But we do not differ." 
 
 Lady Gwendolen jumped to her feet, snatching her hand almost 
 violently from his. Had she heard aright? She stood staring at 
 him blankly. A whirl of conflicting emotions surged within her 
 brain, and she pressed her hand to her forehead, and it was as one 
 in a dream that she repeated his words, " but we do not differ ! " 
 
 " No, I am at one with you in the Enfranchisement of Woman. 
 It is a burning shame that she should have no voice in the making 
 of laws which she must obey ; which weigh often enough more 
 heavily on her than on man. It is a wrong that has endured too 
 long. It must be righted now ; " and his voice thrilled as he spoke, 
 and he shook his hand as if threatening the Bacchus, who still' 
 laughed on. 
 
 Still the same dazed look in her eyes. Was she dreaming ? 
 No, all around seemed real enough. The moonlight played on 
 fern and palm. The plash of the fountain sounded painfully loud, as- 
 she murmured : "But when we were last together, you said it was- 
 impossible." 
 
 " I said ''he paused irresolute for a moment, then with a 
 gesture of determination he said in low tones, vibrating with 
 emotion : " Why should I hide it from you any longer? Happily 
 I need no longer veil my olden fears from you, for fear you should 1 
 laugh them away. Now that I have myself proved their hollow- 
 ness, I need no longer hesitate to expose my apprehensions. You 
 must know, then, that I was never so opposed to the Enfran- 
 chisement of Women as you seem to have imagined."
 
 62 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " But considering that in all our conversations you paraded 
 your three or four Directions with obstinate vehemence, and that 
 you wrecked the late Government on the question," she ejaculated, 
 scarcely knowing what to think, and all her joy in his conver- 
 sion swallowed up in the terrible doubt of how the world would take 
 such apparently shameless inconsistency. Would it not have been 
 better if he had not budged from his unsound convictions? Yet 
 what but this right-about face had she been hoping and praying 
 for all along ? 
 
 " I know, I know, he interrupted hastily. ''But listen before 
 you condemn me. No, I was not so inimical as you thought to the 
 objects of your association. If I was so alive to the objections to 
 it, it was because I dreaded that I was too alive to the arguments 
 in favour of it. Some of my dearest friends were staunch advo- 
 cates of it you know the cynical moralists say that the wish to 
 believe is the father to the belief the influence is subtle and often 
 unsuspected. I believed in the justice of your cause ; but my 
 knowledge of this this cynical analysis led me into the opposite 
 extreme. I was misled by the fear of being misled. But since I 
 last saw you I have exorcised the phantom fear and looked things 
 straight in the face." 
 
 He made the explanation awkwardly, almost blunderingly; but 
 this very awkwardness, suggestive as it was of infinitely delicate re- 
 ticences, heightened the emotion of the listener, affected almost to 
 tears by the confession itself. What a sudden light was flashed over 
 their past interviews and over his life ! The tragedy of a man's soul 
 was revealed by these few reluctant sentences, its pathos softened only 
 by the thought that poetic justice was to be dealt out at last. Little 
 wonder that his health had threatened to give way. At this moment, 
 Lady Gwendolen felt immeasurably inferior to her lover. Surely love 
 should have cleared her vision, if she lacked kindred nobility of spirit 
 to read the secrets of his soul. How she had made him suffer by 
 making herself, however indirectly, a reward for the profession of 
 her miserable doctrines ! Ought she not to have divined that to a 
 man of his Quixotic temperament, of his quintessential conscien- 
 tiousness, the prospect of gain was almost enough to turn the scale 
 .on the other side? How she had misunderstood him! Yet no 
 word of reproach had passed his lips. Intense feeling kept her 
 silent. Unconscious of her remorseful condition, and, perhaps, 
 mistaking her silence for incredulity, Floppington went on : " There 
 is another motive which swayed me a motive which I call right, 
 but which the world may, for aught I know, call wrong. Even at 
 the risk of crushing individual measures, I felt how unsafe it was to 
 allow the reins of power to remain in the hands of the Radicals ; 
 men whose reckless driving will sooner or later destroy religion, and 
 all that you and I hold sacred. They will scoff at me as incon- 
 sistent, not perceiving the larger consistency of my course. But I 
 must bear my cross," he said with infinite sadness. A sublime 
 light shone in his eyes; the spiritual fire that illumines the face of 
 ja. martyr. 
 
 " 1 et the world think what it will," she cried, ineffably touched,
 
 BACCHUS AND VENUS 63 
 
 her whole spirit vibrating under the penetrating charm of his 
 mellow accents. " There is one at least who would stake her 
 life on your honour." 
 
 The Premier gave her a smile of gratitude. He was un- 
 doubtedly glad to have retained her sympathy, especially as she 
 had appeared so shocked at his inconsistency. 
 
 " I am afraid you are very rash," he said with cheery good- 
 humour, as if ashamed of his display of emotion. " You mustn't 
 risk your life, you know, before your society has to wind itself up 
 on account of having nothing more to make capital of." 
 
 A faint smile crossed her face, and then she trembled with an 
 overpowering influx of almost delirious joy. 
 
 " And you will add the clause to the Bill ? " she said eagerly, 
 her eyes bright with happiness, yet humid with unshed tears 
 brimming up from a full heart beating with other and sweeter than 
 political hopes. Then, half- sadly she added: " But what will Lord 
 Bardolph say ? Will it not be a triumph for him ? For he will 
 think you have yielded to his threats 4 " 
 
 " If he thinks that, he will discover his mistake very soon," 
 replied the Premier evasively. " If his Lordship doesn't know he's 
 the fly on the wheel, let him keep his place unmoved till the next 
 turn. Like Charles the First, he will be crushed by the Revolution." 
 
 A merry laugh rippled from Lady Gwendolen's lips; but it was 
 not so much a tribute to the Premier's grotesque way of putting 
 things as an outlet for the waves of delight that surged within her 
 brain. 
 
 The Premier laughed too; the humorous aspect of the whole 
 affair appealed much more strongly to him than to her. But his 
 face grew grave as he said: " We shall have a hard fight. I shall 
 have many prejudices arrayed against me. My own men will 
 desert me. May I count upon your influence ? You were no doubt 
 brought into communication with the leading Radicals, without 
 whose support I could not hope to do anything. Fate has created 
 in you a valuable intermediary between the rival camps, and I 
 should like to commence negotiations with the enemy as soon as 
 possible. You will smooth my path, will you not ? " 
 
 "Always. You know I am yours entirely," impulsively burst 
 forth Lady Gwendolen, stretching out both her hands and taking 
 hold of his. 
 
 How beautiful and noble she looked as she stood there in the 
 pale light, her face radiant whh happiness and aglow with enthu- 
 siasm. Of what lofty deeds would not a man be capable, inspired 
 by her ! As the Premier gazed at her and felt the soft warm clasp 
 of her hands, he was thrilled to the core by a strange emotion, in 
 which something of vague and indefinable sweetness was blent with 
 an almost solemn perception of the beauty of high endeavour : as 
 if the sweet seriousness of Gwendolen's face had spiritualised 
 itself in his mind. He bowed reverently and kissed her hand. 
 
 At that moment a cloud passed over the face of the moon, and 
 hid the Premier's earnest expression from the view of the mocking 
 Bacchus.
 
 BOOK IT. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MRS. DAWE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 JACK DAWE, as the reader already knows, occupied the humble 
 yet occasionally lofty position of a house-and-sign painter. His 
 earnings were sufficiently large to prevent him crossing the 
 boundary-line between Ultra-Radicalism and Socialism, even 
 if he had not been the sole heir of an ancient demesne. 
 His professional reputation was unsullied by a single blotch of 
 paint in the wrong place, and it was achieved after a long and 
 arduous preparation in youth. A touch of artistic instinct lifted his 
 lions and cows far above the vulgar herd. His griffins and unicorns 
 seemed to have been photographed from life, and their air of vitality 
 was such as to vindicate their originals' claims to reality, and to the 
 right of sending representatives to the International Assembly at 
 the Zoo. His letters over shop-windows were remarkable for bold 
 experiment in perspective. His native road contained many illus- 
 trations of his genius, notably a blue beer-barrel, which occupied 
 the centre of a white-painted wall. The magnificent scale of the 
 work called forth all his powers. Of him, as of Shakespeare, no 
 man can say that he had a great opportunity without rising to the 
 height of it. An eminent art critic, to whom it was pointed out as 
 an early work of Turner's, said of it (" Modern Sign-Painters," 
 Vol. VI., pp. 35-6), "It would be impossible to overpraise the 
 wholly admirable chiaroscuro, the subtle tinting, exquisite in its 
 delicate gradations to finer and finer shades of blue, caught from 
 his accurate observation of the Maiden Lane skies, the vigorous 
 and ideally-realistic rendering of the bunghole, and the highly 
 imaginative details which make of the tap a vision of sensuous 
 beauty surcharged with high poetic meaning. In reality, and in 
 esteem, this blue beer-barrel is the greatest spiritual painting of 
 our time." Happy the artist who has himself for Hanging Com- 
 mittee, whose gallery is the town, who has the world for spectator ! 
 
 Jack Dawe received two orders by the first post on the Monday 
 morning which followed his sleepless night. His mother brought
 
 MRS. DA WE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY 65 
 
 them in, treading gingerly in immense list slippers (a size too small), 
 for Jack had not risen with the newsboy, the London lark. She 
 found him with his face turned to the wall, and with his eyes tightly 
 closed. Depositing the post-cards, together with the Daily iVews, 
 on the table, she left the room, murmuring, " Poor boy, he sha'n't 
 go to work, not if they stand on their 'eads for 'im, 'cos it's better 
 to knock up your work for a day than yourself and your work for a 
 week. I'm sorry I blowed Mm up yesterday for neglecting his 
 business. Yet he agreed with me that politics ain't for those as has 
 got to get a honest living. P'r'aps when he's better I shall be able 
 to make him spoon instead of spout." 
 
 No sooner was she gone than Jack extended a feverish hand and 
 clutched the post-cards, for anything was welcome to him after the 
 intense mental conflict of the night, which had ended in a dull 
 quiescence induced by sheer weariness. One demanded his imme- 
 diate presence in Poplar to paint some doors and shutters green, 
 with the intimation that the job would not be saved for him later 
 than ten. The other was from an old friend in the Whitechapel 
 Road a publican who informed him that, in a recent storm, his 
 signboard had been blown down and smashed to pieces, in common 
 with the noble lion that he had been so pleased with ; he therefore 
 requested the artist to portray another at his convenience, any time 
 during the week. 
 
 " After all," mused Jack, "painting doors green is better than 
 making Mountchapel's face of that colour with envy, and painting 
 lions is better than living in a den of wild beasts." 
 
 And lo, he found himself suddenly chuckling, much to his own 
 surprise, and he blushed as he saw the field of unsuspected motive 
 laid bare in a momentary flash. 
 
 " He'll meet his match ! " he cried, with a glee he could not 
 repress. lt He'll meet his match, and at his own weapons. 'Tis 
 Greek against Greek.'' 
 
 And in a moment the heavy clouds of depression rolled away, 
 and a feverish gaiety rilled his soul. " Fool that I was ! " he cried, 
 " to spend the night in sighs, when I should rejoice ! For three 
 months the calm realms of Thought and Poetry once more open to 
 me; action unnecessary, save of a novel and refreshing kind ; the 
 study of Humanity possible, and perhaps its spiritualisation. Euge y 
 amice, eitge, thou hast found the Elixir of Life, thou hast got b-ick 
 thy youth ! This, this is the land of the Lotophagi, who eat flowers 
 as food ! " And he was about to jump out of bed, light-hearted, and 
 filled with mercurial vivacity, when the entrance of Mrs. Dawe 
 caused him to postpone his intention. 
 
 " Good gracious me 1 " she said, in much ahrm, occasioned by 
 her overhearing the last two sentences. "The boy is gone mad, 
 a-talkin' of witchcraft and the devil! And what flowers do we eat 
 except cauliflowers ?" 
 
 " Reassure yourself; I am perfectly well," he said gaily. 
 
 " It don't seem like it," she said dubiously. " There's been 
 something queer about you ever since yesterday mornin' ; I can't 
 
 F
 
 66 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 quite make out what it is. You don't look quite right about the 
 eyes, and your face is paler than it's been for years. 'Ave you been 
 whitewashing yourself ? " 
 
 He smiled faintly. " I am afraid many people would consider 
 that impossible." 
 
 " Well, you ain't yourself," she continued, with some asperity, 
 " and I'm sure it's all over goin' to talk politics. I wish you'd 
 never 'ad nothing to do with 'em." 
 
 The words escaped Mrs. Dawe involuntarily, and she paused 
 half-affrighted when she had uttered them. It was true her mild 
 expostulation of the day before had escaped the stern filial reproof 
 which she felt her audacity deserved ; but she could not expect 
 such luck twice. Judge, then, of her surprise when her son ex- 
 claimed earnestly, " So do I ! " She uttered a cry of joy. Then 
 she remembered it must be his physical weakness that modified 
 his natural imperiousness. Her mood softened, the acridity of her 
 tones died away, but she was not one to lose an opportunity. " Ah, 
 Jack, I'm glad you've got sense enough to see there's some left in 
 your poor old mother. If you 'adn't been so 'eadstrong you'd been 
 a 'appier man, and somebody else 'ud been a 'appier woman." 
 
 The painter's eyes gleamed with a sad, tender light. 
 
 "As your late father said," continued Mrs. Dawe, perceiving 
 the impression she had wrought : "'A man with a weak 'ead can't 
 afford to be 'eadstrong,' and your 'ead was allus too weak for poli- 
 tics. Not as I wishes to insinuate that you don't take arter me. 
 You're clever enough in your own way, but I've 'card that to get 
 on in that line of business you must be too clever by 'arf. And 
 when politics spiles your appetite, as well as wastes your time, it's 
 'igh time to give it up. It don't make no difference to me, whether 
 the Liberals or the Conservatives is a-ruinin' the country, and I 
 don't see what it's got to do with you. Floppy's a rascal, and 
 trade's as bad as 'imself, but I don't see that sore throats is likely 
 to benefit any business except doctors !" 
 
 " Well, you will be pleased to hear that I intend taking a long 
 rest from politics," he observed kindly. 
 
 " Fortune smiles indeed upon my determination !" he reflected. 
 ~"Tis an unexpected happiness to be able to brighten her sordid 
 existence by doing nothing to effect that object. The saint ma/grd 
 ini!" But had he foreseen the long, half-delirious hug that 
 awaited him, accompanied as it was by inarticulate sounds of de- 
 iight, he would not have forgotten that every pleasure has its 
 price. 
 
 "That's my dear old Jack!" she cried, when she had exhausted 
 herself and him. " It reminds me of the good old times when I 
 used to spank you. Ah, you was a wicked boy sometimes, Jack, 
 even afore you took to politics. D'ye remember when you stole a 
 baked potato as took all the skin off your hand when you was 
 raking the skin off of it, and your father said you was punished 
 nat'rally, as Roosso recommended ; but I said that the nat'ral punish- 
 ment was not in the hands but only in that part of the body created
 
 MRS. DA WE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY 67 
 
 on purpose for it, and your father said, ' P'r'aps you're right, spare 
 the slipper and spile the child.'" Here Mrs. Dawe paused to take 
 breath, and smiled with the air of a law of nature apologising for 
 its harsh conduct on the ground of benevolent intentions. Jack 
 smiled too, not the smile of forgiveness blent with security with 
 which one receives one's old schoolmaster, but a smile of amuse- 
 ment at teleological views such as Bacon declared to have strangely 
 defiled philosophy. 
 
 " Shall I bring you up your breakfast or will you come down- 
 stairs ? " said Mrs. Dawe, suddenly reverting to actuality and the 
 present. " It's a lovely day (though rather hot for cooking), and you 
 can go in the Park if you ain't ekal to paintin', We ain : t so poor 
 as all that, though there was five pounds of meat over yesterday, 
 and I'm afraid it'll turn." 
 
 '' If you will kindly prepare the meal," said Jack, "I will be 
 down immediately. Plain bread and butter, please, without ham 
 and eggs." 
 
 " No ham ! " she cried reproachfully. " Why, I've got such a 
 lovely, streaky bit this morning, fit for the Pry Minister hisself." 
 
 " What will do for the Postmaster-General," said Jack with a 
 malicious smile, " will not do for me." 
 
 "Well, I know what I'll do then. I'll brile you a two-eyed 
 steak, as old Charley calls 'em, a real Yarmouth one as I bought 
 fresh yesterday arternoon, provided the weather ain't been too 
 much for it." 
 
 So saying she left the room, and Jack began to dress. A few 
 moments later, voices were heard in loud expostulation, and the 
 House of Commons rose vividly to his mind. Mrs. Dawe appeared 
 to be accusing Sally of ingratitude and dishonesty, declaring that 
 she must have ruined her many times over unbeknown to her. The 
 girl was even more shrilly protesting that without her the business 
 would have gone to the dogs, and that she had thrown it out be- 
 cause it was "no good;" and her mistress retorted that without 
 .her, she would have gone to the dogs, and that she would be thrown 
 out because she was " no good." She followed this up by warning 
 Sarah against giving her " any more of her sauce," and by remind- 
 ing her of the proverb (which she had just adapted from another) 
 that " cheeking never prospers." 
 
 Jack on coming down to breakfast found his mother flushed, 
 panting, and perspiring, while Sally could be heard viciously bang- 
 ing together saucepans in the kitchen under pretence of cleaning 
 them. 
 
 " There ain't no bloater," said Mrs. Dawe, with tears in her eyes. 
 "That wiper that I suckled at my buzzum has gone and bolted it." 
 
 " Thank God ! " murmured Jack. 
 
 ' You must help yourself," she added, "for I'm busy inside." 
 
 " Thank God ! " repeated Jack. 
 
 Left to himself he unfolded the Daily News and reperused one 
 of its leaders with much satisfaction. 
 
 "The news of the indisposition of the Premier," it said, "follow- 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ing immediately upon the rumour of a stormy Cabinet meeting, is 
 sufficiently pathetic in its significance. ' O that mine enemy would 
 write a book.' is no longer a cry of dark meaning in these davs of 
 universal paper-staining. ' O that mine enemy would wreck a 
 Ministry,' has a truer ring of infinite malevolence. 'Worry,' is the 
 laconic but pregnant phrase in which SIR WILLIAM LANCET is 
 reported to have summed up the state of the case to a friend, and 
 whosoever has followed MR. FLOPPINGTON'S career from the 
 moment he returned from BALMORAL pledged to manufacture an 
 Administration from the antagonistic materials at his command, will 
 for once unhesitatingly endorse the view of a disciple of GALEN and 
 HIPPOCRATES. Who does not remember the affecting picture of the 
 new Premier escaping for a few minutes from the invidious task of 
 selecting his Cabinet and rushing into the Park, literally gasping for 
 breath ? And since then, every day has demonstrated his inability 
 to harmonise the heterogeneous elements that make up his Cabinet 
 and himself. Surely he cannot still retain any hope that his 
 Reform Bill will ever advance beyond a first reading. Striking as 
 are the defects of this measure (and we have already pointed them 
 out ad nauseam) we do not deny that an abler man might have 
 pulled it through the House. MR. FLOPPINGTON is constitutionally 
 unfitted for his present post, however respectable his talents. Give 
 him a sentimental theme to rhapsodise about, and he will astonish 
 you by superficial brilliances. Set him a problem in practical 
 politics, and he breaks down hopelessly. Still we should be un- 
 feignedly sorry if the state of MR. FLOPPINGTON'S health necessitated 
 his retirement from Parliament. He is a valuable member of the 
 House, though such a mere ornament in a Government. It will be 
 remembered that in the Indian drama of HARICHANDRA (which 
 deals in its own rude way with the problems of JOB and of our 
 modern FAUST) Wis WAMITRA " Jack did not pursue the re- 
 condite illustration any further. The first few sentences made him 
 quite happy, and even the shame he felt at hearing for the first time 
 of Wis Wamitra could not dispel his content. As he confessed to 
 himself, he could not be expected to be as omniscient as journalists, 
 who are as polyglot as certain bibles, if not as holy. Psychologists 
 warn us against the phrenological fallacy of localising the mental 
 powers, but it is certain that the memory of the modern man is 
 localised on his bookshelves. 
 
 After breakfast Jack strolled into the kitchen, but the heat of a 
 roaring fire, on which stood an open cauldron, forced him to retreat 
 into the parlour. 
 
 " You won't go to work, will you ? " cried his mother, who was 
 peeling potatoes. 
 
 " There is much to be said pro and con," he replied musingly. 
 "Where are my brushes?" 
 
 " Why, where should they be ? Nobody's moved them." 
 
 " I don't see them," said Jack. 
 
 " Great 'eavens ! " cried Mrs. Dawe, rushing in with a nude 
 potato. "Who could ha' stoled them ? Why," she continued, after
 
 AIRS. DAWE ON POLITICS AMD MATRIMONY 69 
 
 a rapid glance into the back-yard, " there they are, under the shed 
 all right." 
 
 " Why, so they are ! " he cried, lugging in a couple of paint-pots 
 and regarding them with much interest. " Who will ever paint me 
 in my true colours?" he was thinking. "What is dishonest bio- 
 graphy but a painting white or a painting black ; honest biography 
 but a piebald painting that makes the man into a clown ; and auto- 
 biography but a rouging of one's face?" He took a pot in each 
 hand and entered the kitchen on his way out. " It can be but a 
 very rude art," he muttered ; ' and I could sketch pretty well as a 
 schoolboy." He was mistaken in this modest depreciation of his 
 profession, as has been shown by the criticism quoted above. 
 The artist may be rude (when ill-paid) but not the art. " A mere 
 twirling of the brush would probably suffice to paint a door," he 
 continued, whirling the brush round in the pot and splashing the 
 paint all over the kitchen. 
 
 " Lor' bless the boy," Mrs. Dawe exclaimed, very red in the 
 face (at intervals), " I saw a tiny drop fly into the soup." And the 
 unfortunate cook found herself reproached the next day for not 
 reproducing the novel and subtle flavour which had characterised 
 the soup of the day before. But as it is not given to mortal cooks 
 to read the future, Mrs. Dawe exclaimed angrily, " It's gettin' a 
 little red." 
 
 Jack peered anxiously into the cauldron, without, however, per- 
 ceiving the least rubicund trace. 
 
 " I don't see " he began. 
 
 " In course you don't," she interrupted harshly. " Why don't 
 you keep your eyes open ? A-splashin' about in the paint as if 
 you was a duck ! " 
 
 He cowered visibly under her wrath. The pots trembled in 
 his hands. 
 
 " Well, my good woman," he observed mildly, " if I have 
 spoilt the soup 1 am willing to make compensation. Would a 
 sovereign cover the damage ? " he added, smiling grimly ; " or the 
 matter can be referred to arbitration ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dawe burst into tears, at which unexpected event her son 
 was utterly confounded. Long as he had known his mother, he 
 was not yet familiar with all her idiosyncrasies. "As if I cared 
 about the spilin' of the soup ! " she sobbed. 
 
 " What, then, is it?" he inquired in amaze. 
 
 "It's the soup bein' spiled that I care about. I can't get 
 any more done in time for sendin' out and I'll get- a name 
 like Mrs. Prodgers." 
 
 "Mrs. Prodgers!" cried Jack, hoping to change the subject, 
 u I saw her yesterday, poor old woman ! " 
 
 " Poor old woman, indeed ! " cried Mrs. Dawe, drying her eyes. 
 " She ought to be briled on her own gridiron. She's always a- 
 cursin' you and me behind our backs." 
 
 " Well, she fell on her own yesterday, poor thing ! " 
 
 "Fell on her back!" screamed Mrs. Dawe gleefully. "Did
 
 70 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 she ? Tell me the truth, Jack. Don't play with your poor old 
 mother's feelin's ! " 
 
 " Do you suppose I would make such a statement if it were not 
 true ? She seemed a good deal hurt." 
 
 " It's a punishment on her," said Mrs. Dawe solemnly, " for 
 goin' to church on a Sunday instead of attendin' to her business, 
 and for trying to take people's customers away from them by pre- 
 tendin' to be more religious and consekently more reliable." 
 
 "Whatever do you think?" cried a neighbour, rushing uncere- 
 moniously into the kitchen. " I'm a-emptyin' out my front bed- 
 room ! " 
 
 The neighbour was a small woman with black eyes. Black 
 eyes are normal in all Oriental regions, and so, of course, very 
 common in the East End of London. 
 
 " A-emptyin' out your front bedroom !" echoed Mrs. Dawe, as 
 if the stability of nations had been shaken. " What for ? " 
 
 " Why, it's in this way," said the small woman in much excite- 
 ment. "Three weeks ago my gal Jane comes home from work 
 with her finger tied up. ' What's a matter ? ' ses I. ' I've cut my 
 finger,' ses she ' Bad ? ' ses I. Bad,' ses she. A week arter I 
 ses to her, ' Ain't ye going to take that dirty rag off? Your finger 
 must be better.' But she wouldn't, and kept it on till this mormn'. 
 The sight of it aggravated me fearfully, and this mornin' I pulled 
 it off in a temper. And what should I see on that 'ere finger but a 
 weddin' ring ! " 
 
 "Good 'eavens!" gasped Mrs. Dawe. "And Jane is married?'* 
 
 " Married !" said the woman grimly. " And I ses quietly, seein' 
 it was no use, 'And who's your 'usband?' ' Billy Simpson,' ses she 
 as bold as brass. 'And where d'ye live ?' ' Nowheres at present,' 
 ses she. 'We bought some furniture, but we 'ad to leave it in the 
 shop, and if you'll let us 'ave your front bedroom, mother, we'll 
 bring it 'ome.' And just now my blessed son-in-law walks in 
 smokin' a pipe quite comfortable like. ' Mother,' ses he, ' I'll give 
 you 'arf-a-crown a week for the room,' and so I thought it was bast 
 to say nothing." 
 
 " There you was right," said Mrs. Dawe. "As I often tells my 
 customers when they grumble about the beef, you must make the 
 best of what you've got, for what's done can't be underdone." 
 
 "And as I shall be in a bother at 'ome to-night," continued her 
 practical neighbour, " I've come to see if you can't buy this order 
 for the Foresters'. Me and Jane was a-goin' to-night, but we can't 
 now. Admit two to the balcony you can 'ave it for fourpence." 
 
 "What do you say, Jack? Why, where is he? Jack ! Jack \ 
 Oh, there you are ! Come 'ere. 'Ere's Mrs. Green wants to sell a 
 order for the Foresters'. Shall we go to-night, you and me, and 
 leave Sally 'ere ? " 
 
 " The Foresters' ! " said Jack wonderingly. " What is there to 
 be seen there ? " 
 
 " Why, fust of all," replied Mrs. Green quickly, " there's the 
 Great Macdermott ; and then there's Jenny Lee, the Vital Spark j
 
 MRS. DA WE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY 71 
 
 and there's the Bounding Brothers of Bokhara ; and there's Nemo r 
 the wentriloquist, with his nigger, and his old woman, and his little 
 dog that barks whenever the nigger laughs ; and I dunno what else, 
 and all for fi'pence." 
 
 " Fourpence you said," cried Mrs. Dawe indignantly. "But/ 
 don't want to go, Jack ; I leaves it to you." 
 
 " Well, I don't think I should find much entertainment there," 
 replied her son. " No, thank you, Mrs. Green." 
 
 "There, did you ever see the likes o' that?" Mrs. Dawe burst 
 out. " I do 'ave so much enjoyment, as you're a witness, Mrs. 
 Green ; and whenever I wants to go out for a night, this brute of 
 a son o' mine wants to stay at home." 
 
 " It's a shame!" said Mrs. Green; and Jack quailed beneath 
 four scornful eyes. 
 
 " And I forgot," she added compassionately, " there's the un- 
 happy nobleman, Sir Roger ; and you would so enjoy yourself, 
 Mrs. Dawe. Good mornin' to you." 
 
 " Stop, stop !" cried Jack frantically. "If Sir Roger is there, 
 I'll go." 
 
 " That's just like you," said Mrs. Dawe. " When you 'ear as 
 there's something as youd like to see, you wants to go. I've arf a 
 mind not to go for your pleasure. 'Owsoever, Mrs. Green, if you 
 likes to take thrippence for it, I don't mind givin' it, for, as you. 
 see, I don't care much about it." 
 
 " Well, I'm not the one to quarrel about a penny," said Mrs. 
 Green. " 'Ere you are ! " 
 
 "Hooray, Jack!" exclaimed Mrs. Dawe, when she was gone. 
 " I've been that longin' to see Tichborne, you can't tell. I'd ha' 
 given a bob for it any time this ten years. So mind you're 'ome in 
 time seven at the latest." 
 
 " Very well," said Jack resignedly. " If I must go to see the 
 impostor, I " And then he stopped and blushed. 
 
 "Now wasn't that clever of Jane?" said Mrs. Dawe, changing 
 the subject. " I shouldn't think she 'ad it in her." 
 
 " What did she do ? " said Jack. 
 
 " Why, didn't you 'ear ? " she replied. " She went and got 
 married on the sly, unbeknown to her mother. Fancy me not bein' 
 at your weddin' ! It's almost as strange as not bein' at your own 
 funeral. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Why did the laugh end almost in a sob, and a strange prophetic 
 shiver thrill mother and son ? 
 
 " I'm a old woman," said Mrs. Dawe, with sudden gravity, 
 " and it' you don't make haste about it, I shall be nailed down afore 
 you're tied up. I've been waitin' for it for years. Your father 
 used to say, ' Don't let that boy be a bachelor. Tell him if I should 
 die afore my time (and his words was true, Jack, for when you was 
 six feet high he was six feet low), tell him that it's ungrateful to his 
 posterity, for how would he like it if / had kept a bachelor?' Twenty- 
 one is the time when a man as can afford it is of age to marry. 
 Them as the gords love marry young."
 
 72 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " I wish I could," sighed Jack, whom his mother's remarks had 
 sent into a mournful day-dream. " I suppose the gods don't love me." 
 
 " Well, the girls does, anyhow,'' retorted Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 " Possibly for my position. But then 1 don't love them." 
 
 ' Except one," said Mrs. Dawe insinuatingly. 
 
 " Except one," he repeated sadly ; " and her I can't marry " 
 
 " Can't marry her ! " cried Mrs. Dawe, nearly cutting her finger. 
 " What's a matter now ? " 
 
 " I could not, without violating my conscience and sense of 
 honour," he answered, with a sad smile. 
 
 " Eh ? Just listen to the boy ! You can't marry her without 
 wiolating your conscience and sense of honour ; and if you don't 
 mairy her, you'll prove you've got neither. It makes me giddy to 
 think on it. You're treading on the coins of a dilemma, Jack, and 
 sich things is allus very painful." 
 
 But Jack was no longer listening. He was immersed in a pro- 
 found reverie, his eyes were full of tears, and his lips were moving ; 
 and in place of Mrs. Dawe, greasy, fat, paint-spitted, loquacious, 
 arose a vision of radiant beauty, a face exquisitely mobile, with 
 tender giay eyes, in which love and pity were strangely blent with 
 a certain wild enthusiasm. " I thought I had completely conquered 
 it," he was murmuring ; " but a casual word has revived it in all 
 its intensity. Yet for months I have not seen her face, fearing lest 
 I should take the gleam of her eyes for the light of truth, and the 
 music of her voice for the voice of reason. Oh, eternal contest of 
 passion and duty ! Yet am I not unhappy in the renunciation ; 
 but, with Romola, I can only tell my happiness from misery by its 
 being what I would choose before everything else, because my soul 
 sees it is good." 
 
 " Well, this is a rum go," cried Mrs. Dawe, looking up suddenly. 
 " Why, the boy is a-cryin ! !" 
 
 " Two things there are," said Jack, uttering the guttural German 
 in a low, solemn tone, while a saint-like cairn overspread his worn 
 features, "which, the oftener and the more steadfastly we consider 
 them, fill the mind with an ever new, an ever rising admiration and 
 reverence : the starry heaven above, and the moral law within." 
 
 " 'Eaven alone knows what's a matter with him," cried Mrs. 
 Dawe, with exasperation tempered by bewilderment, "a-grumblin' 
 and a-croakin' as if he lived on frogs, like them dirty Pollywoos, 
 and all 'cause a pretty gal is in love with him. And you won't 'ave 
 her, eh?" 
 
 " I have long given up all hope," responded Jack, in a semi- 
 automatic fashion. 
 
 " Well, she ain't, and 1 ain't, and we'll soon let you know," was 
 the angry reply. " Why, you couldn't set eyes on a finer gal, not 
 even if you was to search till you was blind. And she's got such a 
 good place now. She's too good for you, that's what she is." 
 
 " She is, indeed," asserted Jack warmly, his eyes still fixed on 
 an inward vision. 
 
 " Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not marryim
 
 MAS. DAWE ON POLITICS AND MATRIMONY 73 
 
 her," said his mother somewhat illogically; "and arter keepin' 
 company with her for years, too !" 
 
 " I have already told you " At this point Jack started, 
 
 awoke, and stopped. 
 
 " You're a hass," said Mrs. Dawe shortly. She stopped to skim 
 the soup, and continued : "A gal in a thousand, and if you throw 
 away this dirty water, you'll never catch another fish like 'er. And 
 sj heddicated ! And so mad in love with you ! Why, when I told 
 'er on Saturday night that you was gone out again 'cause you was 
 allus engaged with politics, I thought she'd a had a fit ; and she 
 said she wished politics was a girL" 
 
 " Why ? " cried Jack, startled. 
 
 "So that she might scratch her eyes out, you know. That'll 
 show you how much she loves you ; and if you love her, why, make 
 an end of it at once." 
 
 " But I don't love her," said Jack, meditatively watching Sally, 
 \vho was furtively trying to mount a bicycle in the yard, which was 
 out of her mistress's line of vision. 
 
 " That don't matter," was the unexpected response. " You must 
 do that afterwards. As your father said, you needn't marry the 
 gal you love, but you must love the gal you marry. And why 
 shouldn't you love her? She's none of your Mrs. Prodgers's 
 sausages. She's good stuffin' in a neat brown skin a broonet 
 as'll be faithful to death ; none of your blondes, fair but false, like 
 new tombstones, as your father said. Mark my words, Jack, them 
 as looks as lively as kittens is often as wicious. Marriage often 
 turns turtle-doves into cats and dogs. And you've kept company 
 with her so long that you know all her ins-and-outs. And yet, tell 
 me, Jack, have you ever found anything wrong in her ?" 
 
 " Never,' ; said Jack, with a slight smile. 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs. Dawe triumphantly. " You're quite safe 
 for, as your father said, marryin' in haste is like buyin' a 'ouse 
 without lookin' at the drainage. You must either part or die afore 
 your time. But this gal Lor' bless you, she'll never make cinders 
 of your meat." 
 
 The heat of the kitchen, combined with his mother's gabble, had 
 by this time given Jack a headache. He put his hand to his weary 
 brow. 
 
 " At present you're a trifle skittish," she continued. 
 
 " Me miser um !" gasped Jack, " skittish ! " 
 
 "And if you was to marry 'Lizer, you'd be settled." 
 
 " Vcrum est, it is too true," groaned Jack. " I certainly didn't 
 bargain for any 'Lizer," he muttered. 
 
 "And I'll give you the business, and send Sally packin', and 
 'Lizer and me'll attend to the cookin', and you needn't go out, but 
 make yourself generally useful about the shop. You're in a position 
 to marry, I'm sure. Not like Bill Simpson, who ought to ha' been 
 warned in the words your father said to a poor young chap fifty 
 years ago 'Arter the union,' ses your father, 'the Union.' Yes, 
 that Jane Green is a fool for all her cleverness."
 
 74 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Here Jack resolutely put on his hat and took up his painting 
 apparatus. 
 
 " Well, if you will go, mind you're 'ome at seven at latest," 
 cried his mother. " I wouldn't miss Tichborne for the world, 
 though it's certainly a risk to leave Sally all alone. If she don't 
 take a good penny for herself, she may take a bad 'un for me. Good- 
 bye, and mind, if you don't make up your mind, I shall worry you 
 till you do." 
 
 The rapidity of Mrs. Dawe's encroachments would have made 
 her reputation in a higher field. It was only a day since her son 
 had shown the faintest symptoms of allowing himself to be pecked 
 at by the maternal hen, and here she was already reasserting the 
 empire she had long ceased to wield. It is surprising how quickly 
 the human animal accommodates itself to changed relations, and 
 how soon it forgets that they were ever different. 
 
 " I was on to you enough when you didn't marry her" (Mrs. 
 Dawe's suppressed desires took the solidity of actual occurrences, 
 when looked at through the stereoscope of memory), "but now that 
 you say you won't, you've jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. 
 You'll get not a moment's peace." 
 
 " Not a moment's peace," echoed the unhappy painter as he 
 strode through the shop. " No peace even with dishonour. Truly 
 have I jumped from the frying-pan into the fire." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE PAINTER PAINTS A LION. 
 
 " I WILL begin with the tail." said Jack Dawe to himself. 
 
 He was perched on a ladder confronting a huge signboard. The 
 blazing rays of the sun beat fiercely upon his battered broad-brimmed 
 white felt hat, and he was already " spotted like the pard." Below 
 him slept drowsy Whitechapel not in calm slumber but in the un- 
 easy sleep of a somnambulist. Nobody seemed awake, yet every- 
 body was working, or going to work, or coming back from it. The 
 mud of Saturday was dried up, and seemed to form an integral or a 
 fractional part of the road. Dogs, preceded by their tongues, 
 strolled languidly along, and from some unexpressed law of prece- 
 dence, everybody made way for them. It was just noon, and thirst 
 reigned supreme. 
 
 Jack Dawe had. immediately on his elevation, clutched his brush, 
 and was just beginning to make a dab on the white surface, when 
 it struck him that a little preliminary reflection would be advisable. 
 The reflection had begun well, but in a short time it had strayed 
 away into quite other fields of thought (passing on its way under 
 the tunnel of theology). Occasionally it deviated into painting, 
 but only for an instant. At last, after the lapse of a quarter of an 
 hour, a shrill voice inquired, " Well, master, when are you a-going 
 to begin ? "
 
 THE PAINTER PAIXTS A LrOi\ 75 
 
 Looking down, he perceived to his horror a crowd of small ragged 
 boys, and of smaller ragged girls carrying large babies, gazing up- 
 wards with expectant eyes, while from a whitewashed court at the 
 side of the public-house, a row of close-pressed faces was lit up with 
 eager anticipation. To have beheld a nascent and chaotic lion 
 assuming form and colour, and growing each moment more and 
 more terrible under the creator's hand, would be something to brag" 
 about to their playmates. 
 
 " The sanctity of the atelier is invaded," he murmured grimly, 
 " I must to work, else my critics will be impatient. But how shall 
 I begin ? This work is not unpleasant after all, if it were only a 
 little cooler. If peace is not to be found in the house it can be 
 attained on the ladder. High up on the concrete ladder dwells calm, 
 high up on the social ladder, unrest. Better be pestered by young- 
 rascals in the open air than by old ones in the torture chamber." 
 
 "Well, how are you getting on, old man?" inquired the pro- 
 prietor, sauntering ot in his shirt-sleeves. "Hullo ! Why, you 
 haven't begun yet ? " 
 
 " No o," said Jack, with a start, " I you see I it's so hot.' r 
 
 The proprietor took the hint, disappeared, and immediately re- 
 appeared with a foaming tankard of beer. 
 
 " Take a pull at that," he said. " That'll make you right." 
 
 Jack shuddered. " No, thank you/' he stammered. 
 
 "Good heavens, Jack! Surely you haven't joined the tee- 
 totalers, who are tempted by the devil to take the bread out of our 
 mouths?" 
 
 " You mean the beer out of your customers' mouths," said Jack 
 feebly. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Good, my boy. I can enjoy a joke even against 
 myself. But d'ye remember when you said you wouldn't take the 
 pledge because you weren't a pawnbroker ? Well, that joke has gone 
 the round of the entire profession, and your health has been drunk 
 in every bar in London for it. Lord, you don't know how celebrated 
 you are. You've done more harm to the League by your chaff than'll 
 be repaired in a hurry. Come on ! Take a good swig, and don't 
 try any of your larks on me." 
 
 Unable to resist, Jack put the pewter to his lips. He was pretty 
 thirsty, and somehow the fluid seemed cool and inviting, and he 
 drained the pot. 
 
 The proprietor received back the empty tankard with a knowing 
 grin. " Run away to school, you young vagabonds," he cried, 
 threatening to throw it among the throng (which if he had done he 
 would never have seen it more), and much to Jack's relief the 
 juvenile crowd fled in all directions. 
 
 It was when left alone that Jack made the observation which 
 commences this chapter: 
 
 " I must begin with the tail." 
 
 So saying, he made a rough, almost perpendicular smear to 
 represent a raging tail. Then he paused and viewed the tail 
 critically.
 
 76 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " It is the easiest part of the animal," he said, " and yet it 
 doesn't seem natural." 
 
 He paused for another minute, lost in thought. 
 
 " Fool that I am ! " he cried. " Of course it's unnatural. Who 
 ever saw an unowned raging tail ? The unnatural is that which 
 departs from normal associations. And what does ' Nature ' 
 connote as opposed to ' Art,' unless it be the primitive associa- 
 tions only? " Then he gave a curl to the smear, but the result was 
 unsatisfactory. He had often made the British lion wag his tail, 
 but painting that tail was a task that called for higher powers. 
 
 " It seems a very weak tail," he observed confidentially to 
 himself. " My animal will not be like the Conservative party, 
 which is at present strongest in the tail. My talent seems to have 
 grown rusty. Yet at school my caricature of the Head was good 
 enough to get me into a scrape." 
 
 He paused once more. A flood of recollections poured upon 
 his soul the good old times, his old schoolfellows, his old suc- 
 cesses. The hot air was filled with shadows. With tears in his 
 eyes, he began to recite from ^Eschylus the sacrifice of Iphigenia. 
 
 Every moment the doors of the public-house swung on their 
 hinges, and men and women, wiping their mouths with satisfaction, 
 or licking their lips in anticipation, stared at the painter, who, 
 waving his brush about frantically, was uttering gibberish in tones 
 of melting pathos. 
 
 " And plain as a picture fain to speak." The line recalled him 
 to reality. A boy was screaming somewhere below, and, looking 
 down, he found he had not been alone. The same youthful spec- 
 tators were gazing at him with rapt awe, and one was sitting on the 
 pavement, rubbing his eyes, and crying loudly. 
 
 " You brute ! " cried a slatternly woman in a plaid shawl. " I 
 seed you a-dashin' the paint into the poor children's eyes all the 
 while I was a-comin' up the road. A-grudgin' 'em the sight of your 
 rotten picture ! " 
 
 " Go away, my good woman,'' said Jack mildly. " You are 
 under a delusion." 
 
 " I'm under your ladder," retorted the woman, violently shaking 
 it, " and s'elp me Bob if I ain't a good mind to chuck yer down ! " 
 
 ' Go away !' ! repeated Jack, much alarmed, and feeling in his 
 pocket. 
 
 The woman saw the action, and, picking up the screaming small 
 boy, she embraced him passionately. "My poor Bobby!" she 
 cried. " I'll 'ave the law on the brute for this ! Keep still, you little 
 devil ! '' she added, sotto voce, to the child, who had vague fears of 
 being kidnapped, and who writhed accordingly. " Keep still, d'yer, 
 or I'll bang yer 'ead on the pavement for yer ! " 
 
 "After all," thought Jack compassionately, "maternal affection 
 is common to all ranks, and perhaps I did hurt the poor lad.'' And 
 he threw the woman half-a-crown. 
 
 "You little liar!" she exclaimed, releasing the child, who fled 
 away as fast as his legs could carry him. " What d'ye mean
 
 THE PAINTER PAINTS A LION 77 
 
 by cryin', when the gentleman didn't mean to 'urt yer?" So- 
 saying, she winked at Jack, and crossed the road to the opposite 
 public-house. 
 
 " I must really get on," thought Jack ; " the body can be done 
 with a few strokes." 
 
 He worked away vigorously for five minutes. Formless dabs of 
 red paint were added to formless dabs, till the whole began to grow 
 into an elongated oval. But now he discovered that the tail was 
 really unnatural, for he had made it about a quarter of the width 
 of the space allotted to the body, and he did not know how to 
 diminish it. 
 
 " It is Destiny," he said. " Hitherto Fate, working by a re- 
 markable harinonie pr&tablie, has driven us both into this course. 
 But the harmonie seems to fail here. If it is the greatest art to. 
 conceal art, I have achieved perfection, for I have concealed mine 
 beyond all chances of discovery." An organ commenced to play as 
 Jack began on the head, and unconsciously his brush jerked up and 
 down in time to the music. 
 
 l 'V(Z mi/a/" he sighed. "How hide these horns? I shall' 
 have to give the poor animal water on the brain." At this point he 
 heard a long, low whistle. It came from his employer, who was 
 looking up in speechless astonishment. 
 
 " What do you call that ?" he said at last. " That ain't a lion ! * 
 
 "Of course not," replied Jack feebly. "It is a a lion in 
 embryo." 
 
 " A lion where?" 
 
 " Unfinished, you know before birth," he explained. 
 
 " And d'ye mean to tell me that lions have horns before birth ? '*" 
 
 " Some lions have," said Jack, with logical accuracy. 
 
 u Well, you know more about them than I do, old man. But stop. 
 it now, and come and have a chop with me inside ; it's dinner-time." 
 
 Nothing loth. Jack descended and ate the chop, amid a sullen 
 silence that much disturbed his friend and "the missus," the latter 
 of whom kept plying him with ale to enliven him. 
 
 " You're sure you ain't ill, old man ? " the publican said earnestly,, 
 when Jack was preparing to remount. " Because if you are, you 
 can finish it when you're better, and when you can handle the brush 
 better." 
 
 " I assure you," protested Jack, " I'm handling the brush better 
 to-day than ever before." 
 
 "Think so?" said the publican doubtfully. " It looks funny. 
 However, you know your own business best." 
 
 The crowd was anxiously waiting, and a slight cheer greeted 
 his arrival. " They will see it out to the bitter end," he thought. 
 No sooner was he in position than it struck him that, by giving the 
 lion an unusually flowing mane, the horns might be utilised as hair. 
 He set to work with extra vigour. 
 
 "Toot-a-tootle, toot-a-tootle, bang! bang!" The former 
 mellifluous strains suddenly broke out from a paper-cohered comb,, 
 played by a man whose beating of a drum produced the latter.
 
 78 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Punch and Judy!" exclaimed the children in a breath, and 
 some rushed to the new attraction. But many still refused to 
 budge, and followed the growth of the lion with keen excitement. 
 
 "At last !" exclaimed Jack bitterly. "At last I am an equal 
 attraction with a Punch and Judy man." He finished the head 
 quickly, and surveyed the whole with a puzzled look. 
 
 ' There seems to be something wanting, but I don't know what 
 it is," he murmured. " Ha ! How foolish ! I forgot the eyes." 
 He inserted two green spots, descended the ladder, and called the 
 publican. 
 
 41 Finished ? " said the latter. Jack nodded. 
 
 " All right, I'll be out in a minute." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " roared the proprietor, holding his sides. 
 
 41 It's a good lion enough," said Jack moodily. "Look at the 
 head." 
 
 " I don't say anything against the head, old man. But Where's 
 Me legs ? " 
 
 Jack ran up the ladder without saying a word, but looking very 
 dazed. In a few minutes he had supplied the missing members. 
 
 " Well, it looks a little better now, Jack," said the publican 
 .after a critical examination. " Perhaps, after all, I should have 
 had more custom if you had left the lion without any legs. But 
 candidly speaking, old man, don't you think it's a leetle different 
 from the last one ? " 
 
 Jack was silent. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea which recalled 
 the painter in his best days. 
 
 " You have heard of Evolution ? " he said. 
 
 " Eva Lution ? Oh, yes," said the publican readily. " She's the 
 woman that says we come from monkeys, ain't she ?" 
 
 ' And do you believe it ?'' 
 
 " Oh, yes, it's true enough. Some of us do." 
 
 " Now, how long is it since I painted your last lion ?" he asked, 
 with a confidence probably born of a brain heated to unusual 
 .activity by his recent potations. 
 
 " Well, it might be three years and it might be more." 
 
 "Now don't you see that in three years lions will develop?" 
 rsaid Jack. 
 
 4> Is that it?" said the puzzled publican. 
 
 " That is it," replied Jack decisively, though wondering not a 
 little at his own audacity. " You've no idea what changes can 
 come over lions in three years." 
 
 44 Ah, well, I'll take your word for it. Here's your money. 
 'Good-bye, old man. Have another glass ? That's right. Good- 
 bye, and drop in now and again." 
 
 What was this sudden dimness that made all objects sway 
 before Jack's eyes as he walked down the Cambridge Road? He 
 got down the road as best he could till he reached the grounds of 
 the Bethnal Green Museum. It was four o'clock. In five minutes 
 lie would be at home. But he would first sit down on a bench and 
 .rest for a moment, placing his paint-pots beside him. When he
 
 THE PAINTER PAINTS A LION 79 
 
 awoke he felt a trifle numbed. He looked at his watch sleepily 
 half-past eight o'clock. 
 
 " I must have slept for some time," he muttered. " But how 
 did I get here ? I don't remember anything after I turned out of 
 Whitechapel Road. How my head aches ! " He staggered home. 
 Mrs. Dawe was standing weeping at the door of the cook-shop, 
 attired in bonnet and shawl, and ran forward to meet him, her eyes 
 blazing with fury. 
 
 "Is this seven o'clock?" she shrieked; "and I have been 
 waitin' 'ere, dressed, since six o'clock, like a waxwork." 
 
 "It's half-past eight," he said, a little thickly. " Where are 
 you going ? " 
 
 " Good 'eavens, he's forgotten where I'm goin' ! " she screamed. 
 " Why, you're drunk, you beast ! " 
 
 Jack drew himself up. 
 
 " I'm not," he said indignantly. 
 
 "You are," she shrieked, wringing her hands. "I knew what 
 ud 'appen if you went to church yesterday. But it's my fault, it's 
 my fault for not marryin' you off as your father wanted. Spare the 
 wife, he used to say, and spile the man. And I won't spile you no 
 more, Jack, not if I has to drag you to church by the 'air o' your 
 'ead." " 
 
 With trembling footsteps Jack was seeking to hide himself 
 indoors, when a terrible exclamation made him turn pale, look 
 quickly round, and sink miserably into an empty cauldron. 
 
 " You drunken beast," shrieked his mother, " Where's your pots 
 and brushes ? " 
 
 It may be doubted whether, throughout the vast realm ruled 
 over by well, to discard fictions, by the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington, any man crept into his bed that night more miserably 
 self-dissatisfied than that intelligent house-and-sign painter, Jack 
 Dawe. Painful as the events of the day had been, they were 
 capped and the images of them deadened by the horrible climax 
 of its close. 
 
 When Jack Dawe and his mother arrived at the Foresters' 
 Music-hall (an average specimen of those now obsolete places of 
 entertainment), they found that "the Claimant" (whose memory 
 has survived how many immortals !) had already taken his turn. 
 This was the last straw, and Mrs. Dawe, in her just indignation, 
 lost any lingering vestiges of that dread of her son which only a 
 few days ago had sufficed to curb her aggressive spirit in all but 
 her most impetuous moments. The painter needed all his powers 
 of inattention to cope with the moroseness of the old woman who, 
 conspicuous by her flaunting shawl and bonnet, sat beside him on 
 a wooden bench and interlarded the performance with more or less 
 audible remarks. The balcony was occupied by men and boys in 
 fustian and corduroys, a sprinkling of better class people, and a fair 
 proportion of young women accompanying their sweethearts. The 
 .atmosphere reeked with smoke, and was heavy with alcoholic scents.
 
 8o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Downstairs, "gents" sat in luxurious stalls and sipped ale or spirits, 
 or even champagne, and there was a general sense of gilding and 
 looking-glass. There was a chairman whose hand was continually 
 being shaken by new-comers, who had the air of asserting thereby 
 a familiarity with the mysterious world behind the scenes. This 
 functionary held a hammer with which he tapped on a table, not 
 with the auctioneering signification of " Going," but with the 
 opposite meaning of " Coming." He also used it to lead the 
 applause and to restore order. The entertainment was fairly inno- 
 cent, and where it was unrefined it but reflected the general coarse- 
 ness of the working man of the period before he had been humanised 
 by the spread of People's Palaces and University-Extension Lec- 
 tures. The great philanthropic movement the civilisation of the 
 English aborigines, as Maxville has called it was then in its in- 
 fancy, and "beer and skittles" was the highest ideal of mortal 
 beatitude (as is evident from a proverb now fallen into desuetude). 
 A rouged and powdered " serio-comic " lady, in the voluptuously- 
 cut evening dress then in vogue, flashed upon the stage, realising 
 the vague visions of romantic costermongers, singing and dancing 
 with saucy archness a very dream of delight, recalling the 
 halycon days of youth to blear-eyed coal-heavers. Then came 
 some clever legerdemain, conjuring, and ventriloquism, with inter- 
 ludes of comic singing (the last neither comic nor singing, though it 
 more than passed muster in both respects, being received with un- 
 bounded cachinnation). At last the sensation of the evening ap- 
 peared in the person of "The Great JVLicdermott," still known to 
 students of philology, anthropology, and comparative mythology, 
 as the High Priest of a Neo-P.igan cult entitled Jingoism ; and it 
 was during his tenure of the stage that the ridiculous and lament- 
 able incident took place which formed a fitting climax to a clay so 
 auspiciously begun. The series of misadventures which had be- 
 fallen the painter, supplemented by the captious observations of 
 the peevish old lady at his side, had driven him to such a state of 
 desperation that nothing but a strong sense of duty would have re- 
 tained him in his filial attendance upon her ; his head was throb- 
 bing with a dull pain, his brain was distracted by feverish and 
 remorseful thoughts, his soul was sick at the indelicacy and silliness 
 of much of the buffoonery, and he was depressed by the coarseness 
 of moral fibre displayed by the audience. The illustrious artiste 
 was in the middle of a " topical song," a species of composition in 
 which success depended on the discovery of a telling phrase ; which 
 found, rhythm, music, and sense were superfluous, though these re- 
 dundancies were sometimes present. The chorus of this particular 
 specimen, which chorus he rarely deigned to sing, but which the 
 audience bawled out to the waving of his hand, triumphantly and 
 arrogantly asserted that something would knock something else 
 into the middle of next week or be knocked by it into the same 
 time. After John Bull and various other persons and things had 
 played an active part, and Prince Bismarck and various other per- 
 sons and things passive parts in the process described, the lyrical
 
 ARCADIA 8 1 
 
 inspiration culminated in a vigorous panegyric on the Premier, who 
 was placed in the former category, and was represented as capable 
 of performing, or about to perform, the operation indicated upon 
 sundry statesmen of his acquaintance who wished to ruin English 
 women by giving them votes. At the mention of Floppington the 
 audience (like all music-hall audiences, Conservative to the back- 
 bone) could no longer contain themselves ; they rose at the singer ; 
 they huzzahed themselves hoarse ; they waved their hats and rattled 
 their sticks and umbrellas ; and then abandoning themselves to a 
 frenzy of delight they sang the Floppington chorus three times 
 over, while the artiste looked complacently on with the air of a man 
 who is sure of his effects. But amid all the enthusiasm one solitary 
 dissentient hiss made itself heard. It proceeded from that fiery 
 Radical, Jack Dawe. His unutterable and contemptuous disgust 
 had completely overturned his mental equilibrium. That these 
 people, who had never studied the man as he had, whose gross 
 tastes utterly shut them out from the comprehension of the Premier's 
 motives, whose sympathies were utterly worthless as a test of worth, 
 that these ignorant and coarse-grained creatures should presume 
 to patronise Floppington, and that the singer should pitch so false 
 a note of adulation, worked him into one of those irrational fits 
 whose occasional recurrence at long intervals in this history will 
 show what unknown and tenebrous depths lay beneath his placid 
 exterior. The sound of disapprobation, the provocation of it 
 magnified manifold by its singleness, raised the passions of the 
 audience to fever-heat. Cries of " Turn him out," resounded from 
 all quarters. This absurd failure of logic and justice completed the 
 painter's irritation. He repeated his hiss, and the orders for his 
 removal redoubled in intensity. He persisted in his hissing, and 
 was accordingly ejected from the premises amid a scene of inde- 
 scribable excitement to which Mrs. Dawe contributed not a little 
 As soon as the disturber was removed, the audience (including 
 Mrs. Dawe, who would have her money's worth, and who was cap- 
 tivated by the lilt) set to with tenfold enthusiasm, and declared 
 over and over again, to the ever accelerated waving of the vocalist's 
 hand, that Floppington was able to knock, and would knock, divers 
 politicians into the middle of next week. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ARCADIA. 
 
 A WEEK of idleness for Jack Dawe a week of delicious sauntering 
 through sunny lanes, whose simple and contented inhabitants 
 greeted him pleasantly as he walked along, musing yet not unob- 
 servant ; of pensive rambles through quaint courts, where the 
 crumbling walls were eloquent with the picturesque pathos of an- 
 tiquity ; of afternoon wanderings in shady alleys, where loose-clad 
 loungers filled the quiet air with fantastically wreathed cloudlets of 
 
 G
 
 82 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 smoke, and sipped cool tankards with easy, epicurean abandon; of 
 delightful promenades in starry groves, where the solemn evening 
 air was stirred by sweet strains of music, and where the pale 
 moonlight fell in cairn beauty on the forms of maidens whirling in 
 the rural dance ; where satyrs frolicked, and youth engaged in 
 light-hearted wrestlings, and, with quick dexterity, hurled the 
 graceful dart of banter ; of nocturnal walks under the awful 
 mystery of the stars, when London was hushed as in the dull, 
 heavy slumber of a sick man, and the church-steeples rose weirdly 
 in the air, though the cloudless moon suffused the earth with a 
 silvery sheen ; when all sound had ceased save occasional snatches 
 of melodious song, and the steady tramp of the watchman, and the 
 bewitching accents of the daughters of Hesperus. It was a week 
 fertile in reflections. Walking through these wondrous regions, he 
 felt his life, his experience, his conceptions of the universe, expand. 
 He saw new meanings in the poet reverenced from youth, he was 
 awed by the opening of bottomless depths as he wandered in un- 
 dreamed-of spots where Nature's every sight and scent and sound 
 was sweet. He marvelled at the equality with which the Great 
 Mother treated her children, and still more at the truly wondrous 
 and wholly feminine address by which she had been able to persuade 
 so cool a head as Paley's of the fact. 
 
 Yet could not his Nature-worship have been so deep as he 
 thought it, for, far from yielding to all the charms that she dis- 
 played to him in his daily pilgrimages, he was frequently disgusted, 
 and occasionally horrified. The manners of the peasantry filled 
 him with alternations of pity and indignation. The sunny lanes, 
 the quaint courts, the shady alleys, the star-lit groves why was he 
 not soothed by their peaceful beauty, and refreshed in spirit by 
 their fair repose ? What was this new sadness that filled his soul 
 when he murmured his favourite lines : 
 
 " For Nature never did betray 
 The heart that loved her." 
 
 Had he quite lost the old sense of glory in the grass, of splen- 
 dour in the flower ? And had that divine power precious posses- 
 sion of the spiritual man been lost by the sullying of his purity? 
 Alas, that we should have to record it ! Not only had the once 
 industrious workman become a_/&z;2^r,buthelivedin an atmosphere 
 of deceit in which delicate feelings might well be asphyxiated. In 
 the morning he left home, balanced between two resplendent paint- 
 pots (freshly-bought) ; late at night he returned home, balanced 
 between two empty paint-pots ; during the day he walked about 
 unencumbered by paint-pots. He took his meals in distant dining- 
 rooms, choosing restaurants of a class that must have been beyond 
 his means. One morning he was perforce detained at home to 
 write brief letters of refusal, on the ground of excess of business ; 
 and his mother made good use of the opportunity to carry out her 
 threat of worrying him into marriage or the grave. During the rest 
 of the week he had kept out of her way. Armed with a latch-key, 
 he had been able to defend himself against her tongue.
 
 ARCADIA 83 
 
 Yet he did not spend a happy week. True, he learnt much ; he 
 was often interested, and now and then amused. In all these 
 respects he was sensible of a vast contrast between his present idle 
 existence and the busy life he had led hitherto. But his heart sent 
 up many despairing cries to Heaven and this, too, was strange, 
 for, as the reader knows, he had never cried to Heaven before. 
 
 Sunday came round once more ; once more the church bells 
 rang ; and once more Jack went over to the minority. The vicar 
 stared at him with a puzzled look, then sighed, and turned away 
 his head. The calm of the church was soothing after his weary 
 pilgrimage. As he entered, a sudden dimness came over him, he 
 bowed humbly, and returned to the fold. The solemn roll of the 
 organ, the sweet voices of the choir, the sunlight streaming through 
 the stained glass dappled with leafy shadows, these had their 
 wonted effect. The new associations, linked by a myriad electric 
 chains of emotion, banded themselves together against the old 
 and conquered. By the time the service was over, the rays of sun 
 light had given place to serried lines of rain ; but Jack hardly 
 noticed the change. He walked home in deep, contrite thought. 
 
 " De Tocqueville was right," he reflected, as he entered the 
 shop, " when he corrected his first opinion, -and placed doubt at the 
 head of human evils. But henceforth I falter no more. The truths 
 one so glibly repeats ere one has felt their meaning, must be 
 doubted to be believed. Life is based on suffering, and in suffering 
 must we seek the solution of the mystery of existence." 
 
 " Why, Jack, you're wringin' wet," cried his mother, who was 
 rapidly piling up potatoes and pudding, and doing an enormoss 
 trade ; " you won't be able to go out on your bicycle. But ' it's an 
 ill wind that blows nobody any good,' as your father said, and I've 
 been wantin' to talk to you all the week about something partik'ler, 
 but you've been that busy I've never been able to get a word with 
 you, like a eel." 
 
 Jack turned pale, and for an instant meditated flight ; the next, 
 he smiled sadly. " Life is based on suffering," he repeated to 
 himself. 
 
 " I believe you, my boy," cried Mrs. Dawe, smiling in self- 
 approval, as she issued her plates without a moment's cessation. 
 
 ' I believe you, my boy," cried the company generally, with 
 much mutual winking. 
 
 " They are poor, they have suffered, they know, they have found 
 spiritual truth," thought Jack, with a flash of intuition. Evidently 
 they were all earnestly acquiescent, from the doddered old man 
 with the rat on his cheek, who was eating peas with his knife, to 
 the flash youth of sixteen in his Sunday paper collar, who was 
 leering suggestively at a soup-swallowing, wide-mouthed maiden ot 
 thirty. 
 
 " Without sufferings,"* croaked the old man who was infested 
 by the pictorial parasite, " the world couldn't stand a day." 
 
 '"Ear, 'ear ! " from the company. 
 
 * " Suffering " was the pronunciation given by the Cockney lower ordeis 
 to the name of the standard gold coin of the period. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " In what a transcendental and mystic shape this cabalist puts 
 his views," thought Jack, passing through the crowd and retiring to 
 his room. He was much cheered by the general intellectual and 
 spiritual level evidenced by this consentience of the company, and 
 it was a much-needed corrective and counteractive to the ex- 
 periences of the past week, going far to endorse the results of his 
 morning's reflections. " One is always dazzled by a first glance at 
 evil, as at beauty," he observed to the heedless walls. Especially 
 was he pleased with his mother's approval of the sentiment. " As 
 well as I thought myself religious when I was not," he added, as 
 he washed his face vigorously, " so may she be religious while she 
 thinks she is not." It was, therefore, just as well that he did not 
 hear her dilating on the text. 
 
 " Without sufferings," she was remarking, while the audience 
 looked up to her with such rapt admiration that Sally was all but 
 sent round with a second supply of black-pudding" without 
 sufferings life would go to the dogs. If it wasn't for sufferings, 
 would I fry myself over the fare for you like Sally Mander ? If it 
 wasn't for sufferings, would a man 'get 'ard labour for stealin'?" 
 (" Hooray ! " from a small boy who was meditating the purloining 
 of a saveloy, but who quailed beneath the Argus eyes of the shop- 
 keeper.) " Would the Queen sit in a 'eavy crown, 'oldin' a 'eavy 
 spectre, in all weathers, if she didn't get her screw reggylar ? Why 
 is one man poor and another rich ? Why ? "the speaker paused 
 rhetorically " Because one's got money, and the other ain't." 
 (Immense enthusiasm.) "Why has one man got to shine other 
 people's boots, while another wouldn't stoop to shine his own?" 
 ("'Ear, 'ear! Bravo!" from a shoeblack, who immediately re- 
 pented of his zeal, for his soup went the wrong way.) " Tell me 
 that," continued Mrs. Dawe fiercely, stamping her foot dramatically, 
 "one man's got to eat humble-pie 
 
 " Pork-pie, you mean," said the doddered old man, chuckling. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe glared at him, and the youth in the paper collar 
 cried, " Shut up." The old man subsided into his peas, snivelling 
 pathetically. 
 
 "One man's got to eat humble-pie," repeated the oratress, 
 " while another can be as proud as Satan, or his wife Lucy Fer. 
 It's 'cause one's got money in his stockin', and the other ain't even 
 got a spare stockin' to put it in if he had it, that's all. I don't be- 
 lieve in nothing, thank Gord I don't, but my poor 'usband used to 
 say none of you 'ere knowd 'im except Bill Brown" (Bill Brown was 
 the old man, and this mention of him restored at once his promi- 
 nence and his self-respect), '"cause he died long afore your time, 
 and many's the things he said sitting on this 'ere very counter, and 
 Avell do I remember once when he smashed a dish as fell on a boy's 
 head and cut it open, as made everybody roar." 
 
 " Will you kindly repeat the remark your late husband made?" 
 said a quiet young man with silver studs and a green tie, who 
 prided himself on his company manners, " I didn't quite catch it." 
 
 " I'm sure I spoke loud enough," said Mrs. Dawe. " He said, ' I
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 85 
 
 don't believe in nothing, thank Gord I don't ; but I do believe in 
 money.' " 
 
 " Thank you very much, madam," said the quiet young man, 
 " and will you oblige me with another hayputh of peas ? " 
 
 " You know 1 don't make less than a pennuth,'' returned Mrs. 
 Dawe. " And if 1 lets you 'ave it this time, you mustn't make a 
 practice of it." 
 
 ' You may rely on my honour, madam," said he, putting his 
 hand to his heart. 
 
 When the press grew less, Mrs. Dawe left Sarah as chief of the 
 commissariat department, and retired to the back parlour to dine 
 with her son. 
 
 Jack was very happy. The reaction from his anguish during 
 the past week was so great, that he chatted with his mother quite 
 gaily. He even allowed her without wincing to dart a few hymeneal 
 arrows at him, and he said grace internally so as not to alarm her. 
 It was not to be expected that he could convert her as rapidly as a 
 Board School boy converts a vulgar fraction. 
 
 After dinner, Mrs. Dawe put the finishing stroke to his happiness. 
 She left him. Perhaps she thought she had done enough sharp- 
 shooting. Or more probably she felt her victim was safely trapped, 
 and she wished to roll on her tongue the delicate morsel of poten- 
 tiality as well as to sharpen her weapons on her husband's grind- 
 stone. 
 
 Jack stretched himself on the sofa and gazed at the stuffed birds. 
 Returning from a ramble in the African forests, and from an inter- 
 view with Hannibal, he fell to thinking of the small man with the 
 bright badge on his breast, and being in a wondrous charitable 
 mood he felt very kindly towards him, too. Then, with a peaceful 
 smile on his weary face, such as had not been seen on it for months, 
 he fell into a calm, dreamless sleep. 
 
 Sleep, Jack, sleep while thou canst ; for lo ! the nights come where- 
 in sleep shall be sought and often in vain. Sleep, Jack, sleep, for 
 bitter shall be thy awakening. For behold the nights come, where- 
 in, if thou dreamest, a face shall haunt the visionary halls of sleep 
 a woman's face, dark, with fierce and passionate eyes full of the 
 wild glory of the South. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PLOT AND PASSION. 
 
 "AND here, Mrs. Dawe, is the answer." The speaker was a tall 
 young woman, coquettishly attired in a black cashmere dress, a 
 fringe cape, and a Princess bonnet, for the shape of which last the 
 curious reader is referred to Myrows Journal in the British Museum. 
 Round her shapely brown throat glittered a snowy-white collar 
 relieved in front by a dainty silver brooch, and in her hand, which 
 displayed a most refreshing contrast of black silk glove and creamy
 
 86 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 turned-up cuff, she held a most bewitching parasol. The rain had 
 now ceased, and Nature was as bright as the maiden's face. From 
 both, clouds had recently passed away. The girl had arrived at the 
 cookshop with looks as black as night, and with a most determined 
 expression of countenance. Her dark eyes glittered dangerously, 
 her pretty lips were pressed tightly together, and that dark-red hue 
 which is so lovely on a brunette's cheek, glowed with unwonted in- 
 tensity. But Mrs. Dawe's tidings had restored serenity, and all 
 was sweetness and light. 
 
 " It's no use, my dear'Lizer," said Mrs. Dawe, rejecting the prof- 
 fered journal. "You know I can't read and write; not as I regrets 
 it to be sure, for, as my late 'usbancl said, ' a man as can't read and 
 write is more likely to make his mark than a man as can.' D'ye 
 twig?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Eliza, trying hard to convert an expression 
 of perplexity into one of admiration. " How true ! How sweet ! " 
 
 "And if I had gone to school and learnt to read," continued 
 Mrs. Dawe, " what would be the use of reading to me at my age ? 
 Why, I'm glad of a nap as soon as I've got a moment's rest, and 1 
 falls asleep in a second. I don't want no book, I don't." 
 
 " A lady like you," remarked Eliza suavely, " has no need of 
 books such as a poor, simple person like myself feels. Your mind 
 is, if you will pardon me the flattery for I assure you I'm speaking 
 only the plain truth your mind is a book which you are never 
 finished reading, for it is always to be continued in our next. You 
 don't want to know what's in other journals." 
 
 "You've hit me off hexact, 'Lizer," said Mrs. Dawe compla- 
 cently. " And now, do read what the Headitur says, for I'm dyin' 
 to 'ear it." 
 
 Eliza coughed, and then read the following without the faintest 
 blush, either native or exotic : 
 
 "A Slighted Fair Old Reader. (That's me, Eliza BatMrill.) 
 You must act very cautiously for fear of provoking an irreparable 
 breach (as if I cared\ as you say you have loved him sincerely for 
 two years and three months. Our advice is to appeal delicately to 
 his sense of honour; and if this fails, to throw yourself openly on his 
 mercy, at the same time taking care to let him know that you will 
 show him none yourself. But once more we say, Be cautious. Write 
 again. We think with you that you have been badly treated." 
 
 " Badly treated !" exclaimed the widow. " Badly ain't the word 
 for it. He's neglected his dooty shameful, and if my old man had 
 treated me like that when we was keepin' company I'd ha' bashed 
 his hat in, 'usband or no 'usband. He's used you like a umbrella, 
 only using you when it's raining. That Headitur is a man who 
 knows what he's about, and I've a good mind to send him them two 
 pork-pies I've got over, done up in brown paper and tied neat with 
 red string, if you think he'd pay the carridge." 
 
 " Don't mention pork-pies," said Eliza with a deprecatory snig- 
 ger, "for the thought of your cookery always makes my mouth 
 water."
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 87 
 
 "And mine too," said Mrs. Davve naively, "although I stuffs 'em 
 myself. And I think we'll have one each and clear off the stock." 
 
 "And now," continued Mrs. Dawe when the pork-pies had gone 
 over to the majority, " shall I tell him you're here ? Hark at him 
 snorin' away inside! He's been asleep since two, and now it's near 
 six, as if he was paid for it so much a hour. And you take my 
 tip and do as the Headitur says, which is so sensible and sich as I 
 would ha' advised you myself if you'd ha' asked me." 
 
 " But you say it's all right now and he's given up politics, and 
 his heart is fancy-free except for me." 
 
 " Never you mind that," replied Mrs. Dawe stoutly. " What's 
 good advice yesterday can't be bad to-day, don't that stand to 
 reason ? You tells him delicately that he's got no sense of honour 
 if he don't do what's right that's the first thing." 
 
 " Ye-es," murmured Eliza. 
 
 " Then you've got to throw yourself on his lap and show him no 
 mercy if he resists that's number two ; and then you've got to 
 write again. All that is very easy. But I'll tell you what's much 
 easier," cried Mrs. Dawe, struck by a brilliant idea, " let him read 
 the paper and it's as good as done." 
 
 " Oh no," said Eliza quickly, " that wouldn't do at all." 
 
 " I don't see it," said Mrs. Dawe coldly, " if you let him see 
 what you're gain' to do, you won't have the trouble of doin' it." 
 
 The philosophic and diplomatic profundity of this remark over- 
 powered Eliza, who could only murmur feebly : 
 
 " That is true." 
 
 " Howsoever," added Mrs. Davve with a willingness to compro- 
 mise that would have delighted John Morley in his early days, 
 " what's true of other men may not be true of Jack. He's a queer 
 customer sometimes, though I believe his 'art's in the right place 
 under his liver arter all. Anyhow, do as pleases you ' every man ', > 
 his taste ' as my 'usband used to say. I'll go and wake him, and I 
 wish you luck." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Dawe shuffled towards the parlour. But ere 
 she reached it she turned back to observe to her prospective 
 daughter-in-law : " And I should like to see you married quick, 
 'cause you see these 'ere slippers is gettin' too old, and they'll come 
 in 'andy afore I sells 'em to the china-woman." 
 
 Full of this laudable desire Mrs. Dawe entered the parlour and 
 shook her son roughly. 
 
 " All right," he murmured sleepily. "Is that fellow Partlet done 
 yet ? " Then yawning tremendously he sat up and stared around 
 him. 
 
 " Wake up," cried his mother. " There's glorious news ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " he said, brightening up. " Has Mountchapel 
 yielded?" 
 
 " What nonsense you do talk ! It's much more glorious than 
 that. The gal you love is here." 
 
 " Impossible !" cried Jack. " How could she know I was here? 
 God bless her ! "
 
 88 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Gord bless 'er," echoed Mrs. Dawe delightedly. " She's a 
 dear, lovely critter." 
 
 " But how do you know it's she ? " said Jack suspiciously. " You 
 must be making a mistake," 
 
 "A mistake!" shrieked Mrs. Dawe. "You'll be tellin' me I 
 don't know my own son next ! " 
 
 At this exclamation the last scales of sleep fell from Jack's eyes, 
 and his brow grew gloomy with disappointment. 
 
 "What a fool I was to think she would come here! " he muttered. 
 
 " What a fool you are now," cried Mrs. Dawe sharply ; " for as 
 sure as your name is Jack Dawe she's a-waitin' in the shop that 
 longin' to see you that she couldn't sleep for weeks, and come all 
 the way from 'Arley 'Ouse a-purpose." 
 
 Jack started, and his cheeks flushed with joy. 
 
 "From Harley House!" he exclaimed. "It is she! Noble 
 girl! She has sought me out. She has risked herself in these 
 wilds with her usual scorn of conventionality ! Oh, why did I not 
 confide in you, my better self? Oh, my darling ! how in the fire of 
 thine eyes is all but my love consumed ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dawe rushed rapturously into the shop. w Now's your 
 time to fix the day, 'Lizer," she whispered breathlessly ; " he's 'ead 
 over 'eels in love with your eyes." 
 
 Eliza snatched up a tin pan, looked at her eyes, gave a few 
 hurried touches to her hair, adjusted her parasol, called up a look 
 of indifference, and strolled nonchalantly into the parlour. 
 
 Jack was standing at the door, his eyes filled with tears of 
 sacred joy. A feminine form painted itself in blurred tints on his 
 retina. But yet how well he saw every detail of her marvellous 
 figure and of her spirituelle face with its exquisite features, its 
 tender mouth, and its dreamy eyes strangely lit up with a wild 
 radiance what need had he of eyes to see these oft-imaged traits ? 
 He felt all his soul helpless beneath her influence, and drawn to 
 her as the waters to the moon. 
 
 "Ask me no more," he whispered, "for at a touch I yield." 
 
 Eliza took the hint and supplied the touch. In an instant they 
 were folded in each other's arms. All Jack's being thrilled in 
 ecstatic rapture. Never before had he felt her warm cheek touch 
 his, or his spirit faint under the heavy scents of her hair rich with 
 spices of the South. He forgot truth, honour, life, death, time, 
 place, and all but her. He clasped her more tightly to his heart, 
 "and their four lips became one burning mouth." 
 
 There was a moment of delicious silence. 
 
 Jack's brain was in a ferment the isolated elements of experi- 
 ence were linked by an electric chain that lit up the dark places ot 
 the universe. 
 
 " Love is the principle of existence." At last he had found le 
 mot de Unigme. 
 
 " Oh, this is prime, Jack," sighed Eliza ; " this is like the olden 
 times when we were first betrothed. Give me another." 
 
 A fierce spasm of pain crossed Jack's melancholy countenance
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 89 
 
 he turned deadly pale and staggered back then he blushed a 
 fiery red and tried to disengage himself. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Jack," cried Eliza, holding up her lips in 
 demand for an encore. "There's nobody looking." And abandon- 
 ing passivity for activity she attempted a kiss that just grazed the 
 extremity of his rapidly-retreating chin. 
 
 For a moment the usually glib Jack could hardly find fit expres- 
 sion. Nothing in his political training had prepared him for such 
 an amorous contretemps as this for in politics love's antithesis 
 was the master-passion. Truly had he suffered in the pays de 
 /amour, comparative stranger that he was. Young, he had 
 neglected the opportunity of studying the customs of the country ; 
 old, he could not gracefully extricate himself from so simple a 
 situation. That he, of all men in the world, should have kissed 
 the wrong person seemed to him an event without precedent (and 
 perhaps he was right), and he was naturally indignant with fate at 
 so unparliamentary a proceeding on its part. 
 
 " I I beg a thousand pardons," he stammered at last, and his 
 voice was hoarse with shame and disappointment. " I am infinitely 
 grieved. It was an accident, I assure you, my dear m " 
 
 "Well, you ought \.o crave forgiveness," retorted Eliza, "jerking 
 your head back in that fashion just as I was imprinting a loving 
 kiss. You don't deserve to get another any more, 'oo naughty boy, 
 'oo," she added with reproachful tenderness. 
 
 " This is too much," groaned Jack, breaking away from her 
 desperately, throwing his wonted chivalry to the winds and retreat- 
 ing behind Mrs. Dawe's arm-chair. But Eliza followed him laugh- 
 ingly, and taking his head in her arms she began to smooth his 
 cheek with her gloved hand, murmuring affectionately: "And did 
 'e poor Jacky fink I really meant not to give him no kissy-wissies 
 never no more?" 
 
 " Good God, miss ! " he cried, unceremoniously removing his 
 head, "for heaven's sake don't talk to me like that." 
 
 Jack could tolerate babies, he even regarded them with mystical 
 reverence. But baby-language, even though invested with the 
 classic grace of a Lytton, gave him an acuter shock than a wrong 
 accent in Latin or Greek would give a scholar. 
 
 "Miss!" exclaimed Eliza in a tone of angry reproach. "For 
 heaven's sake don't talk to me like that, sir." 
 
 " I I beg pardon, madam, I I thought " 
 
 "Madam? 1 ' Eliza's voice had become a little grim, and Jack 
 trembled beneath her flashing black eyes. "But I deserve it all 
 for my folly," he thought, "and for yielding to passion, vile wretch 
 that I am. As ^Eschylus observed, the doer must suffer, though 
 the gods sometimes resort to strange retributive devices." 
 
 " Then you are not married. I thought so at first," he observed, 
 trying to assume a cool, conversational tone. 
 
 ' Oh, I see," said Eliza, with a slow smile. " This is another of 
 your jokes. He! he! he! How exquisite ! No, I'm not married, 
 Jack," she added coaxingly ; " but we're going to be, ain't we,
 
 90 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 darling?" And, with a sweet smile, she laid her head on his 
 shoulder, and looked up lovingly into his eyes. 
 
 " I shall go mad," thought Jack, his head throbbing, and the 
 arteries on his forehead swelling with suppressed emotion. " My 
 punishment is greater than I can bear." 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! " sighed Eliza ecstatically. " Oh, if my head could 
 only lay on your bosom for ever ! Oh, I am truly blessed ! Never 
 had girl like me so noble and so faithful a lover, and, in return, 
 never has a heart beat truer than mine. In misfortune I will never 
 desert you, and, should adversity come, I would welcome it to be 
 able to say to you, ' Jackey, my own true loved one, wait till the 
 clouds roll by.' " 
 
 This prospective picture affected her so, that she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "And this/' thought Jack in horrified disgust, "is the creature 
 that Mountchapel would give the franchise to ! " "My poor girl ! " 
 he exclaimed, " can't you see you're making a mistake no, no, I 
 don't mean that I mean I can't marry you. So go away, my my 
 dear Eliza, now be reasonable and go away. I can't marry you I 
 can't indeed." 
 
 At these terrible words Eliza sprang away from him and to her 
 full height, and glared savagely at him. 
 
 "You can't marry me?" she shrieked, raising her parasol 
 threateningly. " Say that again, you vagabond, and we'll die 
 together ! " 
 
 " I don't believe in nothing, thank Gord, I don't ! " Mrs. Dawe's 
 voice might have been heard exclaiming at this juncture. "And I 
 don't want no shepherds a-lookin' arter me as if I was a baby. Nor 
 my son neither. He'd be that wild if you was to disturb him now 
 I wouldn't answer for the consikkences. Now, don't you try to 
 soft-soap me ! You won't get round me ; I'm too fat. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 But the lovers, with all the egotism of their tribe, were too 
 intent on their own feelings to pay any attention to the vigorous 
 dialectic that was being waged in the shop. 
 
 " Say that again ! " repeated Eliza hysterically, " and you shall 
 wed a corpse ! '' 
 
 On Jack refusing to accede to her request and to take the 
 nuptial consequences, she staggered to the sofa, and was plumping 
 down in a swoon when she observed a paper upon it, much crumpled 
 from Jack's having inadvertently lain upon it. Struck by a sudden 
 thought, she stopped and pulld a journal from her pocket, looked 
 at it, and said humbly : " I crave your forgiveness, Jack. My 
 great love mastered me." 
 
 " Come now, that's a little more sensible," said Jack. " Put 
 down that parasol, there's a good girl. Now sit down on the sofa 
 and calm yourself." 
 
 "Oh, I am calm, Jack," she said rapidly, meekly obeying his 
 directions. " I know I haven't been very cautious, but I haven't 
 provoked an irreparable breach, have 1, darling ? I know I'm very 
 passionate at times, like all my sex."
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 91 
 
 " Yes, yes, Eliza, you are a little too passionate ; and if all your 
 sex are like that, Heaven alone knows what politics will become 
 when 
 
 " Well, I don't say," she interrupted, with ill-concealed pride, 
 " that all women have feelings as vivid and as easily stirred as my 
 own. Few women can love as passionately as me. Oh, those 
 were happy times when our affections were young ! " 
 
 "Oh, don't cry any more," said Jack hastily, foreseeing the 
 coming tempest by a small handkerchief, no bigger than a man's 
 hand, that appeared on the horizon. 
 
 " Well, as it affects you so much, my darling, I will try not to," 
 said Eliza, choking down her emotion very audibly, " though tears 
 would be a relief to my overcharged heart.'' 
 
 Jack's eyes grew moist. " Poor creature ! " he thought, " she 
 seems very much affected ; and, indeed, she is very unfortunate. 
 Such a pretty girl, too." 
 
 " And when we're married, Jack," continued Eliza, " I'll never 
 cry except you particularly wish it. And you'll be a good husband 
 to me, won't you, dear?" 
 
 " Now do calm yourself, Eliza," said Jack, quite overcome by 
 the meek pathos of her words. " She, too," he was thinking, " has 
 constructed her glittering dome of many-coloured glass to stain 
 the white radiance of the future, and shall it, alas ! be shattered 
 too ? " 
 
 " I am calm," she replied, " but I can't help being excited, to 
 think however in the world I can get my things ready at such short 
 notice. But I'll try my best not to disappoint you." 
 
 " What things?" said Jack, though with a glimmering of the 
 truth. 
 
 " My trow-see-aw, you stupid old darling. You can't expect 
 me to marry you as I am." 
 
 " You can't expect me to marry you as I am," retorted Jack, 
 frowning. " In fact, I can't marry you at all." 
 
 The girl breathed hard. " Be cautious, be cautious," she re- 
 peated to herself. 
 
 " And is all my appeal to your sense of honour thrown away, 
 then ? " she exclaimed indignantly. " Look here," and she drew 
 out of her breast a heap of letters tied up with a lock of hair. 
 " Look at this : ' Yours till death, Jack Dawe.' ' Your devoted 
 lover, Jack Dawe.' Yes, look at it well. You are Jack Dawe, and 
 you must accept the situation." 
 
 " Her reasoning is not unsound," thought Jack. " However, I 
 will examine into the premises." 
 
 " Well, well, my good girl," he said aloud, " we'll talk it over." 
 
 " You didn't say I was a good girl in these letters," she ex- 
 claimed, unable to repress her anger. " They were written fit for 
 a princess to receive ; and I'm sure all the other girls were jealous, 
 and said you must be a prince in disguise. Once upon a time. I 
 was your black-eyed devil, your rosy and rapturous Saccharissa, 
 your adorable Aspasia, your clinging Cleopatra, your "
 
 92 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Jack. " And how long have you loved me ? " 
 he continued, in a calm, judicial tone. 
 
 " All my life ; but especially for the last two years and three 
 months." 
 
 " Why especially during that time ? " 
 
 " Because it is exactly two years and three months since I first 
 saw you ; but I always loved you and dreamed of you." 
 
 "Ah!" said Jack," and how long have I loved you? Be 
 precise, if you please." 
 
 " Well, with your sense of honour, Jack, you wouldn't have 
 written these verses, dated exactly two years and two months ago, 
 if you didn't really love me or these or these." 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Jack, when he had read the passionate 
 effusions. " I am convinced. Any judge would think with me, 
 and no jury would disagree on the subject. I'll do my best for 
 you you may depend on me. What is fair is fair ; and you're a 
 pretty girl, too, whom no man need be ashamed to call his wife. 
 You shall have your way in three months at most." 
 
 With a low cry of joy, Eliza ran to him and kissed him pas- 
 sionately, and clung to him in loving gratitude. 
 
 " Oh, Jack," she exclaimed, " I'm so glad I appealed to your 
 sense of honour. And you promise me that in three months 
 
 " Yes, yes, I promise," he said hastily, trying to worm himself 
 gently out of her embraces, but making very gradual progress. 
 " But I want you to promise me something in return." 
 
 " Anything you like, Jack ; and I will gladly grant it you." 
 
 " Well, you mustn't come to see me during the three months. 
 I I'm so busy." 
 
 Eliza made a moue and a move of one hand towards the 
 dreaded pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Oh, Jack, you're too cruel," she said, in trembling tones. 
 "What, never?" 
 
 " Well," he said, relenting ; "well, hardly ever. Once or twice 
 at most, you know. I have a very high respect love, you know, 
 for you, but " 
 
 "Well, I'm satisfied, darling," she cried, stopping his mouth 
 with a kiss, " to be your black-eyed little devil again." 
 
 " Mrs. Dawe ! " she shouted. " I want you to promise me again 
 in her hearing," she explained. " Only to make sure, you know." 
 
 "Yes, my child," said Mrs. Dawe, opening the door and uttering 
 a cry of joy as she beheld the lovers. The vicar stood behind her. 
 Shaken in his belief in Jack's obduracy by his reappearance at 
 church that morning, he had, after earnest prayer, resolved to have 
 a spiritual talk with him; and had, by a little judicious flattery of 
 Mrs. Dawe's cooking, using temporal weapons for the glory of 
 Heaven, at length overcome her scruples and obtained access 
 through the shop. 
 
 . " Don't mind me, my children," he said, beaming benevolently 
 on the affianced pair, the girl embracing the man with a sweet 
 smile on her face. " Don't mind me, I've done the same when I was 
 young."
 
 PLOT AND PASSION 93 
 
 " Now there will be no difficulty in waking his soul to faith," he 
 said to himself. " What is it that Clough says somewhere about 
 married people that they all 
 
 Incline to think there is a God, 
 Or something very like him." 
 
 On perceiving the clergyman, Jack wriggled out of the Eliza- 
 bethan bower formed by his sweetheart's arms, feeling totally out 
 of harmony with this environment. But he was glad of the appear- 
 ance of the visitor in itself and in its effects. At one stroke it 
 terminated a disagreeable interview, and initiated an agreeable. 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, holding out his hand amicably, " I am 
 delighted to see you. Will you take this arm-chair ?" 
 
 " He would see you," put in Mrs. Dawe apologetically ; "though 
 I told him we was honest folks, as didn't want nothing to do with 
 religion." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dawe," protested Eliza, a shade more independently 
 than before. " But we must get married in church, and," she 
 added in a whisper, and with a slight blush, " supposing you were 
 to become a grandmother, you would surely be wanting to have the 
 babe christened, especially after I have been months picking out a 
 name for him, and looking through all the numbers of the London 
 Reader." 
 
 '' You are wrong, 'Lizer," replied Mrs. Dawe loudly ; committing 
 an ignoratio elenchi, and forgetting propriety in her indignation. 
 " You don't want no London Reader* while I'm 'ere to tell you what's- 
 right and proper. It's the custom in my late 'usband's family for 
 the name to dissend from father to son accordin' to the Fifth Com- 
 mandment. It isn't as I cares about the Commandments, but I'm 
 sure something 'ud 'appen to the child if we didn't call it Jack 
 Dawe." Jack's head was turned away, so that his face could not 
 be seen by the vicar, who for his part was attentively surveying 
 the bicycle in the back-yard. 
 
 'Jack Dawe! "cried Eliza. "They're both very good names, but 
 do you think I'd have a child of mine put off like a pauper with 
 only two names ? Why, Oliver Twist as you may have heard of, 
 Mrs. Dawe asked for more." 
 
 "Then I hope he didn't get it, the discontented rascal. Why, 
 I've lived all my life with only two names, and no one never heard 
 me grumble. And how many names do you want to weigh the 
 poor little thing down with ?" 
 
 " Three at least," replied Eliza. " I know," she added with 
 honest pride, " that I've only had two myself. But because I was 
 neglected is no reason why I shouldn't strive to bring up my 
 children better." 
 
 " Three ! " ejaculated Mrs. Dawe. " Well, I can only warn you 
 in the words of my late 'usband, 'two's company and three's none.' 
 And what's your third name, pray ? " 
 
 Eliza looked mysterious. " I couldn't find anything suitable in 
 the London Reader" she began. 
 
 " I told you so," interrupted Mrs. Dawe in triumphant contempt.
 
 94 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 '' And I was for a considerable period weltering in the depths 
 X)f despair, when one day as I was in a shop buying a parasol, and 
 couldn't find one to my liking, and the shopman was quite polite 
 when I walked out without purchasing, which was hardly to be 
 expected, the right name darted to my lips like a flash. It'll read 
 beautiful Jack F. Dawe." 
 
 " But what is the other name?" said Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 " I'm telling you. Jack Floppington Dawe. Jack F. Dawe 
 don't you see ? What do you say, Jack ? Isn't it appropriate and 
 high-sounding?" 
 
 Jack murmured something which would have been unintelligible 
 -even if Mrs. Dawe had not completely drowned it by a vigorous 
 exclamation of " Floppington ! Why Floppington ? I calls it a 
 -very vulgar name sounds like Flopping Down, Flopping Down." 
 
 " But it's so appropriate," protested Eliza, " that Jack's boy 
 should be called after Floppington." 
 
 " After Floppington ! " cried Mrs. Dawe in pretended amazement. 
 "Why, who is Floppington ? '' 
 
 The vicar uttered an exclamation of surprise. " Surely you 
 >must know Floppington," he said. Mrs. Dawe shook her head. 
 
 "Why, I'm sure you do," cried Eliza indignantly. "He's the 
 Prime Minister, and as everybody says Jack is so like him, as if 
 they were brothers " 
 
 " Of course there's a good deal of exaggeration, Mr. Dawe," 
 said the vicar, turning to him with a smile, " in the resemblance 
 that people pretend to find between you and the Premier that sort 
 of thing is always exaggerated, and it's only natural. Now, to me, 
 and it is perhaps that my observation is more subtle than most 
 .people's, ignoring the strongly-marked features for those less obtru- 
 sive parts where idiosyncrasy shows itself to me, I say, you appear 
 actually different types. If you have studied Botany, you will have 
 remarked that it is not by the most obvious resemblances that we 
 .classify our genera." 
 
 ' In reading Mill's chapter on Classification last week," said 
 Jack, " I was much struck by the inutility of attempting to draw 
 rigid lines of demarcation, and it seemed to me that by applying 
 the principle of evolution to character 
 
 "Ha!" said the vicar with satisfaction, "how soon has Mill's 
 Logic fallen out of date ; and, believe me, his views on theology 
 will not find acceptance much longer." 
 
 " Floppington ! " cried Mrs. Dawe, who had by this time con- 
 . descended to recognise his existence. "W T ell, I does remember 
 .once when I was out with Jack, a boy called him Floppinton and 
 threw mud at him, but as for your saying, 'Lizer, that they're like 
 two brothers, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " I am sure I meant no harm, madam," said Eliza humbly, 
 lf and I am only repeating what everybody says." 
 
 " Parrots never says nothing good,'' retorted Mrs. Dawe senten- 
 .tiously. "And besides, from all I've heard of this 'ere Floppinton, 
 not to speak of music 'alls, as is too full of drink to be relied on, I
 
 95 
 
 should be ashamed to call sich a one my son. He ain't worthy to 
 lick my Jack's boots." 
 
 " Beware of hasty judgments, my dear madam," interposed the 
 vicar. " Your son is no doubt an estimable man, but he seems 
 grieved himself at such an atrocious comparison. Let him that is 
 guiltless cast the first stone. The Premier may not be perfectly 
 sincere ; indeed, though far be it from me to judge him, I am sure 
 he's dishonest and given to paltering with his conscience ; but then 
 public life is always private sin, and we all live in glass houses." 
 
 "I'm sure some on us do," Mrs. Dawe burst forth, "a-lecturing 
 the others as cool as cucumbers. But / ain't a politician or a 
 parson, thank Gord ! and I can speak my mind. I've been told by 
 persons whose words I can take" here Mrs. Dawe looked wither- 
 ingly at the vicar "that this vagabond of a Floppinton has been 
 and gone and ruined the country. His measures was all short. If 
 a poor shopkeeper's weights was as false, he'd ha' got dragged up and 
 fined 'eavily long ago. Ask any business person ow's business, and 
 see what they'll tell you. Why, since Floppy's been Pry Minister, 
 bread's rose awful. He'll spile every blessed 'arvest." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " cried the vicar, lifting up his hands in pious 
 horror, "surely every one knows that only Providence can do that." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure he's quite as wicked as Providence," retorted 
 Mrs. Dawe, " and from what I've heard, I'd lay odds he's wickeder. 
 Why, he's the cause of all them Irish murders." 
 
 " This is perfectly absurd," cried the irritated vicar. " Now, 
 who could have told you that ? " 
 
 " Why, one who knows more o' politics in his little finger than 
 you in your whole body, though he promised me when he was 
 going mad to get married and give it up. There he sits. He 
 knows better than anybody else what a rascal Floppy is except 
 himself, of course. Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 "Mr. Dawe," said the vicar severely, "you ought to know 
 better than to make these libellous statements. He's not so bad 
 but what he : d be terribly grieved even to hear that such crimes are 
 attributed to him. We should beware of grieving our fellow man." 
 
 "And yet you come lecturin' to him," cried Mrs. Dawe. " I'm 
 sure Jack sticks to what he said." 
 
 " Not if he is sensible," said the vicar, frowning at him. 
 
 " I I am sure I don't don't recollect saying anything of the 
 kind/' stammered Jack. 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! fie, for shame ! " cried his mother. " I can see the 
 parson's converted you you're tellin' crackers already. You know 
 you said it sittiiV on that chair with the loose leg, and you fell down 
 as you said it; and when you got up and was rubbin' yourself all 
 over your back you ses, ' Floppy changes his policies like his 
 shirts when one looks a bit dirty he gets another.' And I ses to 
 you, ' But what does he do with the dirty ones ? Throw *em away ?' 
 ' No,' ses you, ' but he has 'em washed and mangled till they looks, 
 like new, and then he claims they're the same.' You know you 
 hates him like pison, and got yourself kicked out of the Foresters'
 
 96 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 last week, and spiled my pleasure, because your feelings was so 
 strong. And do you think, 'Lizer, I'd have the disgrace in my 
 family of havin' a grandchild called Floppinton, and havin' it 
 stuck right in the middle of his name, too ? " 
 
 "But it sounds nice," said Eliza sulkily. "And who knows 
 what luck he might have he might become " 
 
 "Pry Minister? Gord forbid!" interrupted Mrs. Dawe. " You 
 might as well make him a Harchbishop at once." 
 
 " But Jack is so like the Premier," still protested Eliza ; "and I 
 love him all the more for it." 
 
 "The imagination of man, and woman too, is evil," interrupted 
 the vicar ; "and, my child, I do not think your future husband 
 looks quite pleased at your remarkable sentiments." 
 
 The next moment jack darted an angry but unobserved glance 
 at the vicar for his interference, for Eliza came up to him and 
 began stroking his face. 
 
 " Don't look so sulky, darling," she said ; "not that it isn't nice 
 to see you lowering like a majestic, rainy sky. I was only joking. 
 I would rather kiss you than ten Floppys." And she translated her 
 words into action. 
 
 "This is my good-bye," she added; "for I must get back to 
 Harley House " 
 
 Fatal name ! How vividly it brought before Jack's mind the 
 appalling contrast between the first kiss and the last ! 
 
 " Good-bye, dear Mrs. Dawe," said Eliza, kissing her on both 
 cheeks with affection tempered by deference. " I can't tell you how 
 happy I feel. My heart is as light as a bird." 
 
 " And mine's as light as a feather," replied Mrs. Dawe, returning 
 the dual salutation with affection, tempered by superiority. " And 
 it would be as light as a air-balloon, if you didn't argy so much. 
 My late 'usband used to say ' that fightin' with argyments ain't 
 necessary in a woman's spear. They 'as their 'ousehold duties, 
 and besides them there's nothin' to argy about but dres?, and there 
 argyments ain't allowed, for it's the fashion to follow the fashion.' 
 Not that it's any good in a man's spear neither. Many's the time 
 he's argyed with is mates that argyin' to convince anybody and 
 especially a parson is like pourin' a pint of depillory fluid over a 
 bald 'ead and expectin' to see a bushel of 'air spring up." 
 
 "Alas for the House of Commons ! if that be true, as it may 
 possibly be," thought Jack, looking at the vicar, who was nodding 
 his head approvingly and murmuring : " By faith, not words, are 
 ye saved." 
 
 " I shall take care to remember your advice, dear Mrs. Dawe," 
 rep'.ied Eliza. " Although I have not a bald head at present, the 
 time may come when your lamented husband's words will prove 
 useful. Good-bye." 
 
 Curtseying to the vicar, Eliza hastened into the shop, for she 
 heard the roll of a " 'bus." The 'bus was heard to stop at the door 
 and the conductor to cry " Right." Then a sudden thought struck 
 Mrs. Dawe, and she rushed into the street. The 'bus had started.
 
 THEOLOGY AND MEDICINE 97 
 
 and was rapidly diminishing on the horizon. " Hi ! " cried Mrs 
 Davve. "Stop! Hi !" 
 
 The 'bus came slowly to a standstill. Mrs. Dawe hurried up- 
 with as quick a waddle as her corpulency and her tight old slippers 
 would allow, and reached it gasping for breath. 
 
 " 'Lizer," she panted, putting her head through the window. 
 " Suppose it should be a girl after all." 
 
 Eliza turned pale and put her hand to her heart. 
 
 "It all comes from argying too much," observed Mrs. Dawe 
 compassionately to the alarmed occupants. " And never, my poor 
 'Lizer, as my late husband used to say, " ' never count your eggs. 
 before they're chickens.'" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THEOLOGY AND MEDICINE. 
 
 " BY faith, not words, are ye saved," repeated the vicar musingly,, 
 proud of the mot. " I am speaking to you, my dear Mr. Dawe, as 
 one who would wish nothing better than to help a man of your 
 ability with his own experience. No arguments can induce the 
 spiritual condition, any more than they can persuade a deaf man 
 that Beethoven is divine. As Pascal pointed out long ago, our 
 simplest notions admit of no real definitions. And this is the only 
 point on which I have been able to agree with a recent writer, called 
 Professor Drummond, who argues that the spiritual life is equally- 
 incapable of definition." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Jack, much interested, and settling down for an 
 enjoyable talk with one who was evidently a man of culture and 
 general reading. "And pray what was your opinion of the book as 
 a whole ? " 
 
 " I opened it at boiling point of enthusiasm," replied the vicar, 
 "and left off at zero. It is neither religion nor science in bhort, 
 'tis General Booth masquerading as Herbert Spencer.'' 
 
 " There's some truth in your epigram," said Jack ; " yet you seem 
 to depreciate General Booth somewhat unduly. Whatever his 
 motives may be, he certainly does more good among the people 
 around us than Herbert Spencer." 
 
 " I confess I do not see the point of the satire," remarked the 
 vicar, looking displeased. 
 
 " My dear sir," returned Jack, " I honestly assure you it's a very- 
 neat epigram." 
 
 " You have read the book, then," cried the vicar, forgetting in- 
 dignation in astonishment. 
 
 " Most certainly," was the reply. " Do you think I could afford 
 to miss it?" 
 
 The vicar made no reply he could not speak. 
 
 " Everybody spoke so highly of it," Jack continued. " that I 
 devoured it in the very first interval permitted by the cares of 
 business."
 
 98 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " And I presume you read it with a predisposition to ridicule it 
 in the brutal style of Bradlaugh or Foote ! " 
 
 " As to the gentlemen you mention," replied the painter, " I have 
 never read any of their writings, nor am I anxious to do so, for I 
 am given to understand that they do not argue with, but laugh 
 coarsely at you. I hope I am always open to reasoning but coarse 
 satire would, I should think, have no effect upon me. And in 
 accordance with my ordinary custom I read Natural Law in the 
 Spiritual World in a most susceptible temper anxious, indeed, to 
 harbour any legitimate reconciliation between religion and so-called 
 science ; and I found the analogies it disclosed wonderfully 
 suggestive." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried the vicar; "then I congratulate you on a 
 receptivity for which I had not given you credit. To desire truth 
 is to partially attain to it. It is half the battle ; and with the 
 blessing of God we shall speedily rout the deadly hosts of sense." 
 
 " The deadly hosts of sense," repeated Jack musingly, not 
 oblivious of Eliza ; and the vicar writhed under his own words, 
 which seemed to acquire new meaning in an adversary's mouth. 
 
 " In a world of mystery," he said, " it is idle to rely on so-called 
 common -sense. Common-sense deals but with the limited and 
 clearly-defined, and can never attain to the unlimited. The eye of 
 the soul sees no trimly-cut Dutch garden, but a vague, majestic 
 prairie stretching out into infinity. With Aquinas, we must believe 
 in order to know, and with St. Paul " 
 
 " Pardon me." interrupted Jack, " was it not Anselm who said : 
 'Credo nt sciatn ' ? " 
 
 "You are right," replied the rector in much astonishment. 
 " But how is it you are so well-informed?" 
 
 "In youth," replied Jack modestly, "I made some acquaint- 
 ance with mediaeval theology. I was always anxious to gain some 
 acquaintance with every form of thought." 
 
 " Great Heavens ! " cried the rector. "And yet you were un- 
 influenced by the products of the age of Faith ?" 
 
 " Was that possible ? I could not but find repose in the moral 
 submissiveness of a Lanfranc, nor be uninspired by the love of 
 righteousness that breathes through the writings of an Anselm. Of 
 Abelard's books I confess to have learnt most from his Autobio- 
 graphy. The Angelical Doctor was overwhelmingly convincing 
 on many points when I read him, but the impression was feeble after- 
 wards in the multitude of reasons there was confusion. At one 
 time I was much attracted by the mysticism of Bonaventura and 
 St. Bernard." 
 
 " I confess my own reading has not been so extensive as yours," 
 said the rector, in a tone of incredulity blent with astonished belief. 
 " I have been more of a man of action than you. Except St. 
 Augustine " 
 
 ' Yes, he's always a-readin', 1 ' put in Mrs. Dawe, opening the 
 door and admitting herself and a curiously complex and many- 
 scented odour. " He's got a book called ' Songs Afore Sunrise,'
 
 THEOLOGY AND MEDICINE 99 
 
 and long afore cockcrow he does read it, too. But I don't mind 
 that, 'cause when he reads it to me I always feels like I could do a 
 jig to it ; it's as good as 'avin' Jimmy playin' on the fiddle. Drat 
 you, you needn't knock so loud on the counter as if you was a post- 
 man d'ye think I'm as deaf as a post ? " 
 
 '' Swinburne and Aquinas ! " thought the rector. " My young 
 friend's tastes are singularly catholic. His mind must resemble 
 the compound scent of his mother's cookery. That such talent 
 and such culture should be found in a house-painter ! And if, as 
 is likely, his companions are equally intelligent, I fear me a 
 Democracy is irresistible." 
 
 " You spoke of Augustine just now,' 1 said Jack, after a medita- 
 tive pause. " What new depth of meaning I find already in him ! 
 Never before had I comprehended Love, Sin, Suffering. Only 
 when he has felt in himself the struggle of Evil with Good" (and he 
 thought of Eliza), " and has himself been racked by religious doubt" 
 (and his mind ran rapidly over the incidents of the past week), 
 " only then is a man able to do justice to those wonderful 'Con- 
 fessions.'" His voice faltered, and the rector's suspicions were 
 banished by its genuine sadness. He forgot all Jack's satirical 
 and mimetic powers, the feigned tears in church, the gravely- 
 uttered praise and promise of promotion, he saw only his soul 
 suffering and longing for light. 
 
 " You have at last, then, begun to doubt the teachings of your 
 childhood, my son ?" he cried joyfully. 
 
 " Alas, yes,' : was the mournful reply. 
 
 " Nay, grieve not," said the vicar, shocked once more at such 
 hardened infidelity. " Rather rejoice with me at the methods God 
 has seen fit to employ to illumine your soul." 
 
 " Though doubt was terrible. I have learnt much from it," said 
 Jack, "and I rejoice that you have come to strengthen me at 
 such a crisis." 
 
 Sacred joy and thanksgiving filled the heart of the venerable 
 clergyman. Obeying a sudden inspiration, he knelt down and in 
 trembling tones repeated for another the aspiration of the dying 
 Goethe for more light. It was a solemn scene, and when the grey- 
 haired rector rose with streaming eyes, Jack was ineffably touched. 
 
 " I shouldn't like to be the parson's old woman," thought Mrs. 
 Dawe, who in the midst of her duties caught a glimpse of the 
 scene through the glass of the sitting-room door, " if she's got the 
 job of patching up the knees of his trousers. If he often does that 
 when he gets a new pair, it's never too early to mend." 
 
 ' I should have some hope in Democracy," said the rector 
 when he was calmer, " if it did not promise to ignore any Higher 
 Control/' 
 
 " It's pourin' cats and dogs," remarked Mrs. Dawe, re-entering 
 the room, " and I'm a-feared 'Lizer with her parasol '11 get wet to 
 the skin. Not that you seems to care much, sittin' comfortable on 
 your sophy. But I wants some paper to wrap up some veal and 
 ham pie for Mrs. Trotters. I thought I saw some lyin' about 'ere 
 
 H 2
 
 loo THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 afore." Casting her eyes anxiously about, Mrs. Dawe disappeared 
 under the table. 
 
 " My own hope," said Jack, disregarding the interruption, " is- 
 that we shall some day return to the admirable constitution of the 
 ancient Jews I mean a Theocracy. A very visionary ideal, I grant 
 you, but the hours we spend in Utopia are the happiest of our lives. 
 In my theological writings " 
 
 " You have written on theology ? " gasped the vicar. 
 
 "As a student and layman merely, of course. In them I have 
 always advocated a union of Church and State." 
 
 " I could ha' swore it was in 'ere," said Mrs. Dawe, reappearing 
 empty-handed from under the table. " Why, Jack, you're a-sittin' 
 on it, I do believe. Yes, that's it. You don't want it, do you ? 
 Don't be frightened, this ain't the number of the Free Thinker 
 that's got your thing in it about the Angel Gaybrill and the Hokey- 
 Pokey ha ! ha ! ha ! It makes me laugh whenever I thinks of it. 
 What are you opening your mouth like a fish for ? I'm sure it ain't 
 'cause this one's got a picture of a angel standin' on 'is 'ead and 
 a little chirrup goin' round with the 'at, while the one your poetry 
 was in 'ad a pictur of the devil in 'is cookshop and, of course, I 
 remembers it particular. Well, if I don't call that manners for a 
 parson to run out like a madman in a strait-waistcoat without 
 sayin' good evenin'. Why, he's been and forgot 'is umbreller in, 
 'is 'urry. 'T'ould serve 'im right if he got drenched to the skin r 
 poor old man. Hi ! Parson ! Hi ! " 
 
 A moment afterwards, Mrs. Dawe, with dripping hair, rushed 
 back into the parlour in a state of great indignation. 
 
 " May I be crushed to a jelly," she exclaimed, addressing her 
 son, who was lying prostrate on the sofa, his mild countenance wan. 
 with despair, " if ever that man darkens my back parler agen. I 
 got wet to give 'im back 'is rubbishin' umbreller, and he took it 
 like a sleep-walker on a tight-rope, without a word of thanks. He 
 must be a nice man to 'ave in a 'ouse. I pity 'is old woman and 
 the little 'uns if that's the sort of father they've got to put up with. 
 I remembers when I was married, a second cousin of your father 
 on the mother's side, a nice little chap he was, he burst a blood- 
 vessel ten years ago, singing a song that began : 
 
 ' The minister's boy to the war 'as gone, 
 'Is sword he 'as girded on 'im.' 
 
 and I'm sure I don't wonder at it arter to-day. These ere two< 
 pages '11 do for Mrs. Trotter. You can 'ave the rest if you ain't 
 read 'em yet." 
 
 Thrusting the remnants into Jack's nerveless hand, she with- 
 drew into the shop to wrap up the pie. 
 
 Involuntarily Jack's eyes scanned a few lines of print. A pointed: 
 logical remark roused him from his dull lethargy his shattered 
 energies pieced themselves together he read on. The arguments 
 were powerful, scathing, virulent, coarse, but delivered with art 
 irresistible air of contemptuous superiority.
 
 THEOLOGY AND MEDICINE 101 
 
 "Can I have been deceiving myself all my life," he asked him- 
 self bitterly, "and were my eyes opened for once only to be imme- 
 diately closed, unable to bear the light of truth?" He turned to 
 another column that made him flinch every moment under cruel, 
 Voltairean sneers. Then he found some brutal jokes under whose 
 weight the delicate, dew-hung, gossamer web of Theology was rent 
 to pieces and shrank to naught and vanished in the morning wind. 
 A vigorous and enthusiastic article on the Religion of Man thrilled 
 him with pity for the suffering it depicted, and with noble resolu- 
 tions to aid in relieving the temporal wants of humanity in lieu of 
 the spiritual. Then he read some anecdotes which chilled him 
 again. He dropped the paper. 
 
 " Is the truth with these men, then ?" he reflected. "Surely I 
 find here some of the thoughts I hardly dared think during my 
 weary wanderings. Alas, is the Life of Man but a wretched dream 
 and the Universe but a soulless bubble ; and must I spend the rest 
 of my days in the City of Dreadful Night ? Then is Schopen- 
 hauer right and Consciousness an evil interruption of the blissful 
 repose of the Unconscious. What is man that he should dream of 
 righteousness, and of power over Nature? I thought my soul im- 
 pregnable, and lo ! to-day it yielded at the first assault of the flesh 
 yielded in intention if not in actuality. Where is the grandeur 
 of the moral world within and the starry universe without ? Of dust 
 are we and our emotions, of dust are the infinite spheres, and to 
 dust shall all return." 
 
 "Jack," cried Mrs. Dawe, who had re-entered and was watching 
 him anxiously. "Jack, you looks very ill and gloomy. You must 
 take a pill."
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 IT was Saturday night in the great city. As it happened to be 
 a fine night, London had turned out into the streets and other 
 places in search of amusement; and all open-air entertainments 
 were being especially well patronised. For listening to music, 
 without having walls around one, and a roof above one's head, 
 and a hot and vitiated atmosphere to breathe, was a pleasant 
 novelty in those days when scientific knowledge was confined to a 
 few savants, and the answers to examination papers. 
 
 The theatres, too, were fairly full, as Saturday night was so 
 evidently cut out by the social arrangements of the age as the 
 night on which people could best enjoy themselves, that, even with 
 the mercury making frantic attempts to escape through the top of 
 the thermometer tube, theatres and music-halls might rely on a 
 decent attendance for that particular night of the week. Another 
 source of amusement for vacant minds was talking politics. 
 Chemistry turns all sorts of waste produce to account, and manu- 
 factures things of beauty from the refuse of our manufactories, 
 The same utilitarian spirit must have been at work in those Satur- 
 day night holiday-makers who managed to extract their amusement 
 from political philippics. Ordinarily, hot weather would, para- 
 doxically enough, have cooled the ardour of these gifted beings, 
 and their favourite seat would oft have known them not. But this 
 particular summer, things were more exciting than usual, and so- 
 summer failed in its wonted eliminations. And on this particular 
 Saturday night, the conduct of the Right Honourable A. Floppington 
 was being discussed, as warmly as the heat of the weather would 
 permit, all over the metropolis, for on the following Monday would 
 be held that Cabinet Council which would decide whether Flop- 
 pington's Ministry was to go to pieces or rot. 
 
 All this did not trouble the Right Honourable Arnold Flopping- 
 ton veiy much. The bustle and excitement of the outer world, the 
 stir of the motley phantasmagoric figures shifting restlessly on the
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 103 
 
 magic-lantern of the gay and sombre city, evidently failed to 
 penetrate within the walls of No. 10, Downing Street, where the 
 Premier, not yielding to the general desire to be in the open air, 
 was sitting in his own bachelor snuggery, which was, in truth, a 
 very sanctum sanctorum. It was a small, and comfortably rather 
 than elegantly furnished room. The walls were lined with books ; 
 not those graves of information called Blue Books, printed by a 
 grateful country in the interests of the butter-man ; not the things 
 in book's clothing which so roused the ire of gentle Elia ; but real 
 books, the work of the lords of fancy and the kings of the imagi- 
 nation. The Premier was delighted to leave the stern realities of 
 politics, to forget " the world out of joint" in the music of the poets 
 he so dearly loved, or in the thoughts of those metaphysicians 
 whose endless and resultless speculations had so strange a charm 
 for him. From the top of the book-shelves there looked down 
 upon him the busts of his great predecessors, Pitt, Peel, and 
 Beaconsfield. 
 
 The Premier was seated, with a book in his harvd, at a table in 
 the centre of the room. He had a pipe in his mouth, and was 
 lazily puffing rings of smoke, which he watched as they curled up 
 towards the ceiling; while at intervals he cast his eyes upon his 
 book, an English translation of Hugo's Hernani. 
 
 " I can understand what it's all about now," he said to himself; 
 " but I couldn't understand a word when I saw Sarah Bernhardt 
 play in it at the Gaiety. They do talk French so dreadfully fast, to 
 be sure ;" and shaking his head, as if in condemnation of the speed 
 which Frenchmen employ in the use of their own language, he 
 resumed his book. He was a true Briton and patriot, and felt in 
 his heart of hearts that he could have given them a lew hints on the 
 subject worthy of attention. 
 
 He read and smoked on quietly for a few minutes, absorbed in 
 the glowing words of the great poet. 
 
 Then putting down his book, he resumed his contemplative gaze 
 at the aspiring smoke rings, and his soliloquy at the same time. 
 
 " Ah," he continued, " this speech of Don Carlos before the 
 tomb of Charlemagne is superb. I wish I could get into the style 
 for my next speech. I fancy it would make them sit up in the 
 House." 
 
 It will have been already observed that the Premier's language 
 contained many strange but vigorous figures of speech ; and he 
 smiled softly, as he conjured up a vision of the Members listening 
 with open-mouthed astonishment to a melodramatic harangue. 
 
 " It isn't quite the style of Don Juan, which Dizzy thought 
 proper for the Commons, nor that of Paradise Lost, which he 
 deemed most suitable for the Lords ; though I rather think if the 
 Paradise Lost style were common there, it wouldn't be long before 
 they'd bring in a bill for their own abolition ; but I think it would 
 fetch them ;" and he stopped his soliloquy for a moment to mix 
 himself some whisky and water, which he sipped with gusto. 
 
 Reireshed by the stimulating drink for he uad not exceeded in
 
 104 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 the matter of water he plunged into the play again, and for a time 
 silence reigned in the room, broken only by short, unintelligible 
 sounds that issued at intervals from his lips. The world might 
 wonder how he would surmount the troubles which surrounded him ; 
 his countrymen might condemn him or praise him ; he was in- 
 different to it all. The cares of the Empire sat but lightly on his 
 shoulders ; and not a thought of them impaired his placid enjoy- 
 ment of the poet's linei. It is this power of living the life of the 
 moment, which makes men great. 
 
 " How fine the finish is, too ! That bit, when after acting in a 
 manner worthy of an Emperor, he addresses the tomb of Charle- 
 magne, and asks if he has done well, is splendid. I wonder whether 
 he found clemency pay, though. I must look it up one of these 
 days. History is not one of my strong points. And yet, it would 
 not be altogether out of place, if the man who makes history knew 
 something of the way in which others have made it before him. It 
 might improve the quality of the article," and he laughed inwardly 
 at his own irony. 
 
 He put down the book, and his thoughts wandered to the past. 
 " What a squeeze there was to get in that night, to be sure ! The 
 gallery was half-a-dollar, and how the people crowded to pay it ! 
 But it was worth the money and the trouble to see the play, acted 
 as it was, though I couldn't make out a word they were saying. 
 When the divine Sarah breakfasts with me next week, I must tell her 
 that I went to the gallery to see her play Dona Sol, and I'll give her 
 a graphic description of what I went through. She'll think me 
 mad, I dare say, which will be a thoroughly English idea. Curiously 
 enough, the British public doesn't think much of Floppy," and 
 he laughed to himself at this frank way of putting matters. He 
 was much given too much given, most people said to intro- 
 spection ; but he didn't introspect flatteringly, which is more than 
 can be said of most men who are as philosophically inclined. 
 
 He laughed so long that he let his pipe go out He rose to take 
 another from a rack suspended over the mantel, for he was too old 
 a smoker to smoke a hot pipe. Having found one to his taste, he 
 leisurely filled it, and as he did so, a fresh train of thought was 
 started. He lit the pipe, and then, instead of resuming his seat, 
 he set to walking up and down the room with short, jerky strides. 
 " I wish Monday were here and gone," he mused. " I don't half 
 relish that Cabinet Council. However, I am quite decided what to 
 do as regards Lord Bardolph. He isn't alone in the Cabinet 
 though, I think; but I c'on't care. If one of us has to give way, the 
 name of the one who does so will not be Floppington. Won't it 
 "be a joke, though, if he resigns, and then finds that I intend giving 
 women the franchise after all? It would save a deal of trouble if 
 I told him so first ; but then he and his partisans would say that I had 
 caved in. and my influence would be gone. People may suggest 
 what motives they please for my action in this matter, but fear of 
 Lord Bardolph shall not be one of them." 
 
 He stopped in his hurried walk before the bust of Lord Beacons
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 105 
 
 field, and stood looking closely at the Sphinx-like countenance, as 
 if eager to discover what that great Parliamentarian thought of 
 the matter. 
 
 " You had a pretty hard time of it," he continued, apostrophising 
 the bust, " but you conquered, and so will I." 
 
 Again he started pacing the room, his mind still busy with the 
 thoughts of the struggle to come ; but a confident smile played 
 about his lips, and showed that the momentary fit of despondency 
 if such it could be termed had passed away. Then his pace 
 slackened, he shook his head at the bust of Lord Beaconsfield, and 
 finally resumed his seat. He did not feel inclined to resume his 
 reading of Hernani ; and for some moments all his energies 
 were absorbed in the struggle to find a thoroughly comfortable 
 position in his chair ; a struggle which has been going on for 
 generations without the requisite development being evolved. Our 
 kin beyond the sea have, it is true, hit upon a fairly successful 
 device in reposing the heels upon a table or mantel ; but this is to 
 some extent independent of a chair, and to that extent, therefore, 
 imperfect. The Premier tried it however, among many others, but 
 gave it up with a sigh, as he said : 
 
 " I never could feel quite comfortable with my legs up in the air 
 like that. One must be born to it, I think," and then, with a vicious 
 pull at his pipe, which had the effect of making the room as cloudy 
 as his ideas were said to be by his opponents, he resumed his 
 thinking : 
 
 " Lord Bardolph disposed of, I expect the rest of the Cabinet 
 will let me have my own way in the matter ; they will sing small 
 when they find I am not to be frightened by him. Then there is the 
 House to be considered. Will the measure get through safely?" 
 and the Premier knitted his brows, and let his pipe go out, as he 
 pondered this question. " I think it will," he continued; " the party 
 will, of course, follow the Cabinet; and the Opposition well," 
 and here he smiled grimly, "some of them, at any rate, are too 
 deeply committed to my views to oppose me. But what a sensation 
 there will be when everybody learns that Floppington is changed ! 
 Ah ! Lady Gwendolen, Lady Gwendolen, you will have much to 
 answer for, but the gentleman known to the democracy as Floppy 
 will have much more ; :) and the thought of the respective appor- 
 tionment of responsibility between Lady Gwendolen and himself 
 apparently afforded him much amusement ; for he laughed heartily, 
 as though coolly making the Conservative party pass Radical 
 measures was a practical joke, and not a serious step fraught with 
 gravest consequences to his country. 
 
 " They'll say that I'm as devoid of principle as Bardolph, after 
 this," he went on when he had become tired of laughing ; " but the 
 Conservatives have devoted quite enough attention to the preserva- 
 tion of antiquities. Under my leadership they shall now turn their 
 back on the past, and face the future. After all," he continued, 
 mechanically striking a match and relighting his pipe, " it's very 
 easy to carry on government. The permanent officials rule the
 
 loS THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 roast in the departmental work ; and as for legislation, you can 
 carry anything you want, if you let your colleagues in the Govern- 
 ment fully understand that you intend to boss your own show. 
 Domestic affairs are quite safe in my hands, and as for foreign ones, 
 I'm Radical enough to think that they are quite secondary as a 
 general thing. There's a good deal more fuss than importance 
 about them. Still, I must get some ideas on the business for 
 Monday, as it won't do to let Bardolph have his own way. Besides, 
 he may resign. Let me see," and he got up and began reflectively 
 turning over a heap of papers. At last he settled down with the 
 Daily Telegraph in his hand. " Yes, I'll see what ideas I can get 
 from the D. T. about this latest move of Bismarck's ;" and crossing 
 one leg over the other, and giving vent, to a tired sort of sigh, he set 
 to work at his very important task. 
 
 "The Island of BOBO," he read, "is situated somewhere in the 
 Indian Ocean. It is a barren rock, of such ridiculously small 
 dimensions that none of the maps to which we have access con- 
 tains the name ; and we understand, also, that it is not marked 
 upon aj of the maps at the Foreign Office. It is believed, how- 
 ever, to be identical with the island which, under the name of 
 SKI-HI, was blown up by internal convulsions, as recorded in the 
 ancient Chinese records. The date of this event is variously placed 
 at from 630x2 to 6150 B.C. It also figures prominently in the 
 mythologies of India, and '' 
 
 "This won't help me," said the Premier, running his eye rapidly 
 over a long history of this unknown and unmarked-on-any-map 
 island, in which the part it had played during the empires of 
 Assyria and Persia was given at full length, with the introduction 
 of a number of names, containing quaint and unpronounceable 
 combinations of consonants, which led the reader gently on to the 
 comparatively modern period of Greece, Carthage, and Rome, and 
 so by a series of easy gradations to the nineteenth century. " It's 
 very interesting, and the writer must be wonderfully clever ; but 
 Oh, this is more practical ;" and he took up the thread of the 
 article again. 
 
 " Altogether," he read, " a more desolate spot cannot be 
 imagined. No waving palms lift their fronds in silent adoration 
 to tropical skies ; no cocoanuts afford sport to countless myriads 
 of monkeys ; no sound of life is heard upon its arid wastes. All is 
 desolation. It has no harbours ; and if it had, no fleets would enter 
 them. But the German flag is now waving over this barren spot 
 of earth ; and this fact at once raises this island to an important 
 position in the geographical \\orld. It may be said, ' What does it 
 matter if the German flag does wave over so insignificant and so 
 valueless a spot?' It may not matter to the recreant Englishman 
 who thinks the honour and glory of his country are cribbed, cabined 
 and confined within the narrow limits of the British Isles ; but it 
 does matter to every Englishman who thinks with pride of that 
 greater empire upon which the sun never sets, and who feels within 
 his bosom that patriotic glow which tells him that there is not on
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 107 
 
 the globe a spot of land, however insignificant and barren, but that 
 it is written in the scroll of the heavens that the English flag, and 
 not the German, shall wave above it. PRINCE BISMARCK must be 
 made to understand this clearly. If he is made to understand trie- 
 immutable natural destiny of England by diplomatic means, well 
 and good. We shall rejoice at it. But if not it" he prove 
 obstinately blind to the manifest intentions of the all-ruling forces 
 of Nature, then it must be England's mission to open his eyes, by 
 the roar of Woolwich infants belching forth their iron lessons from 
 the turrets of our iron walls ! " 
 
 The Premier dropped the paper with a half-ludicrous start of 
 amazement on reading these brave words ; for had he not read 
 in another paper, but the day previously, that the English Navy 
 was a shadow, a skeleton, utterly incompetent to defend the shores- 
 of England, and still more incompetent, therefore, to attack other 
 shores ; and had not this other paper called loudly for the im- 
 mediate impeachment of himself and the First Lord of the 
 Admiralty, if they did not at once make the navy stronger than 
 the combined navies of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America ? He 
 sat gazing sheepishly into vacancy for a while, in a vain attempt to 
 reconcile the readings of the different days, and then shook his- 
 head mournfully as he said : 
 
 " I shall have to stick to one paper for the future, and tell my 
 secretaries so. Becoming acquainted with the contents of several 
 is so very confusing." 
 
 And having delivered himself of this truism, the Premier sat 
 thinking, looking reflectively the while, as was his wont, at the 
 up-curling rings of smoke. 
 
 " Perhaps the D. T. is right after all," he resumed, " and self- 
 assertion is as valuable in foreign affairs as I know it is at home. 
 Besides, a spirited foreign policy is one of the traditions of the party 
 I have the honour to lead ; and I had better leave them a shred or 
 so of their old professions to swear by," and then, with a nod of his 
 head, as if to imply that he had finally dismissed the subject, he 
 took up his book. But somehow or other he could not read. The 
 train of thought into which he had wandered since he had been 
 charmed with the noble speeches of Don Carlos, had put him out 
 of harmony with the world of the drama. The real world, in which 
 he moved, and lived, and had his being, was too much with him ; and 
 it was with an air of discontent with himself that he threw down 
 the book, and let his thoughts stray as pleased them best all will- 
 power over them entirely gone. It was not without a pitying ex- 
 clamation of self-contempt that the Premier found himself forced to 
 let his thoughts take the reins, and came to the conclusion that a 
 man might control the destinies of a vast empire, but not the 
 mysterious workings of his own brain. For some time, if one 
 might judge from the expression of his face, his thoughts were not 
 pleasing, though through all their varying phases, the look of calm, 
 almost assertive self-reliance, the quality in which till very recently 
 he had shown himself so deficient, was never absent. But gradually
 
 JoS THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 his face softened, and a tender, wistful look came into his eyes as 
 he thought : 
 
 "Ah, Lady Gwendolen, your cause will triumph. But in the 
 .after years will you ever think of the ephemeral May-fly, the poor 
 insect of a day we used to sing about at school ? ' And as he 
 leaned his head upon his hand, the air of assurance vanished ; he 
 looked worn, and haggard, and hesitating as of yore. 
 
 His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by 
 the entry of a servant. 
 
 " Lord Bardolph Mountchapel wishes to see you, sir." 
 
 " To see me ? " said the Premier, gazing at the servant, as if in a 
 dream. "Ah, yes," he continued, " I expected him. Show him in here." 
 
 The servant vanished ; the Premier sprang to his feet. The 
 interview he had been expecting, and upon which he felt so much 
 depended, had come at last. He hastily emptied his glass of 
 whisky and water. All despondency had died away. He was his 
 newer and better self again. 
 
 Lord Bardolph entered, and the two shook hands, looking 
 -warily at each other the while, as do two boxers before commencing 
 to fight. Outwardly, they had always been friends, and even rather 
 intimate friends, though each had ever been conscious of some 
 .antagonism ; but this had never been allowed to interfere with 
 their personal relations. Each, too, had a sort of admiration for 
 the other. The man who could not make up his mind because he 
 thought too much, felt something like admiration for the man who 
 /made up his mind at once because he didn't think at all. 
 
 " Whisky ? " said the Premier interrogatively, when Lord 
 Bardolph had settled himself comfortably in a chair, which he did 
 with an ease that made his host quite envious. 
 
 " Thanks, no, I don't drink," was the reply. " You see, I think 
 of founding a school of Conservative abstainers, as a set-off against 
 the Radical teeotallers." 
 
 " Have you sworn off smoking, too ? " 
 
 " No. Thank goodness, the Radicals all smoke ; so I feel quite 
 at ease with my conscience in doing ditto," and, suiting the action 
 to the word, he lighted up a choice regalia selected from the box 
 the Premier held out to him. But you," he continued, looking at 
 the Premier, who had set to work again on his pipe, " since when 
 have you smoked that thing ? " 
 
 " Since I was I mean only lately," returned the Premier some- 
 what confusedly ; " really good cigars are so very expensive." 
 
 "You economical, Floppington !" laughed Lord Bardolph. "Well, 
 I must tell SouthJeigh in time that he may reduce his estimate of 
 the revenue from customs ;" and then the two men smoked silently 
 for a time. At length the silence was broken by Floppington, who 
 said : 
 
 " What do you think of doing about that Bobo business ? " 
 
 " Nothing," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " Nothing ?" mechanically repeated the Premier. 
 
 " Yes, nothing. The fact is," Lord Bardolph went on, " that
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT log. 
 
 we're too near the election to do anything in foreign affairs that 
 may compromise us. It's right to try and make the other side 
 blunder into a spirited foreign policy when they're in power ; but 
 that's no reason why we should blunder into one ourselves." 
 
 The Premier seemed puzzled at the new phase of Conservatism: 
 his colleague was developing. No doubt the hen of the fable that 
 hitched a duckling was unable to account for the fondness her 
 new-born offspring manifested for water, and was terrified accord- 
 ingly. Such conduct must have quite transcended her range of 
 experience, and, if a hen of philosophical tendencies, have caused 
 her to regard the theories of some gallinaceous John Stuart Mill 
 with suspicion ever afterwards. But though no fable has dealt with 
 it, the surprise of a duck that hatched a chicken, on finding the- 
 new-comer had an invincible objection to any medium less solid 
 than terra firma, would be equally great, though contempt would 
 accompany it rather than terror; and the Premier's bewilderment 
 was of this description. 
 
 " Surely," he remonstrated, " we can't allow Bismarck to go on 
 annexing without even a protest. England must put her foot down 
 somewhere." 
 
 "But as one of the Radical fellows said," repl ed Lord Bar- 
 dolph, " England isn't a centipede. Deucedly clever remark that. 
 I feel that I could have made it myself," he went on musingly. 
 " But it's just like the Rads. They anticipate my wit as well as my 
 policy." 
 
 " But what about public opinion ? " said the Premier. "We can't 
 afford to run counter to it. See what the Telegraph says," and 
 he took up the paper he had been reading, and handed it to his 
 companion. 
 
 "Just like you, to bother with public opinion," sneered Lord 
 Bardolph, " as if you didn't know how it was got up ; as if you 
 hadn't taken shares in a newly started manufactory of the com- 
 modity yourself." 
 
 "But it is cowardly," said the Premier, who, however, was 
 apparently reconciling himself to the non-intervention Conserva- 
 tism of his colleague. "As you said in one of your speeches, no- 
 Conservative Minister will ever shrink from defending British 
 interests, whenever and by whomsoever attacked." 
 
 "Did I ?" queried Lord Bardolph, " I forget. But you flatter 
 me by remembering what I said. I thought only the Opposition 
 did that, when they want to be disagreeable. However, as we are 
 pledged to protect British interests, and we have persuaded every- 
 body that we are only too eager to do so, our non-intervention 
 simply shows " 
 
 " Our inconsistency," interjected the Premier. 
 
 " Not at all ; but simply that there are no British interests to 
 defend,'' was the calm reply. 
 
 The Premier sat quiet a few moments, smoking reflectively as 
 he allowed this new version to sink into his mind. His receptivity 
 and readiness to respond to new impressions have been already
 
 no THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 pointed out. So it is not surprising that he ended by agreeing 
 with Lord Bardolph, as Lord B. expected. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," he said ; then, looking up and throw- 
 ing back his head with a quick, imperious gesture, he went on, " I 
 think, therefore, you may be allowed to have your way in this affair." 
 
 The husband of patient Griselda could hardly have been more 
 taken aback had that good lady suddenly launched out in the style 
 of the lamented Mrs. Caudle, than was Lord Bardolph by the words 
 of the Premier, and the tone in which they were said. There was 
 underlying it an assumption of superiority, a tacit taking for granted 
 of mastery, that set the teeth of Lord Bardolph's self-sufficiency on 
 edge. The Premier had yielded, it was true ; but there was about 
 his very yielding something of stern resolution which was un- 
 wonted, and which awoke Lord Bardolph to the fact that victory in 
 the struggle he contemplated would not be gained so easily as he 
 had anticipated. As he sat there, watching his chief, who, busily 
 intent on mixing himself another glass of whisky and water, appeared 
 to have quietly dismissed the whole subject from his thoughts, he 
 felt a foreboding that victory might not be his at all. De Paudace, 
 de F (induce, et toujoiirs de Paudace had been his motto ; and he had 
 invariably acted upon it, and with success. Was it about to fail 
 him now ? 
 
 Not if he could help it. Fortified as he was by the knowledge of 
 the support he knew he might expect from many of the members of 
 the Cabinet, and relying on the success of the intrigue into which he 
 had entered, his momentary doubt passed away. Other than poli- 
 tical reasons, too, swayed him ; and it was, metaphorically speaking, 
 with the gloves off that he resumed the attack. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Floppington, you had an awfully long tete-a-tete 
 with Lady Gwendolen, at the Duke's the other night. Did she 
 convert you?" 
 
 " Convert me !" said the Premier in a tone of laughing astonish- 
 ment; "why, I fancymy mind was madeup on the question of Woman 
 Suffrage before Lady Gwendolen gave a thought to it." 
 
 " I dare say it was. But that's some time ago," said Lord Bar- 
 dolph pointedly. 
 
 " So it is ; and yet I haven't changed my views. Curious, isn't 
 it, Mountchapel?" banteringly replied the Premier. "But then, 
 you know, it's the unexpected that always happens." 
 
 Lord Bardolph was feeling uncomfortable. The Premier was 
 evidently enjoying himself at Lord Bardolph's expense, and that 
 gentleman felt considerably aggrieved, and began to lose his temper. 
 It was very unwise, no doubt ; but the phase of character displayed 
 by the Premier was so utterly unlike all previous manifestations that 
 some allowance must be made for his inexperience in dealing with it. 
 
 " Then I presume you do not see your way to falling in with 
 my views, and doing as I wish," he said, a tone of anticipated 
 triumph breaking in his voice. He felt that he had the game in his 
 hands. If, on the one hand, the Premier, vacillating as ever, 
 yielded the point at issue, his own position in the Cabinet and in
 
 THE PREMIER'S SATURDAY NIGHT in 
 
 the country would be immensely strengthened. It would make him 
 Premier in all but name. If, on the other hand, the Premier proved 
 obdurate, his obduracy would be softened speedily enough, when 
 he found Lord Bardolph was not alone at the Council. Lord Bar- 
 dolph, in fact, didn't see what course but acquiescence was open to 
 the Premier, when he should find himself in a minority in his own 
 Cabinet ; unless, indeed, he informed the Queen that he could not 
 continue to carry on Her Majesty's Government. That would mean 
 Floppington's fall, which would be synonymous with Bardolph's 
 rise. 
 
 Politics formal the weft, his love for Lady Gwendolen the warp 
 of his conduct, and so deftly was the web woven that no possible 
 contingency (as far as Bardolph could see) was unprovided for. 
 Whether Floppington yielded or not, an increase of influence in the 
 spheres of both politics and love must inevitably ensue. 
 
 And yet, carefully as he had laid his plans, cautiously as he had 
 mapped out his line of action, confident as he was in the impossibility 
 of the failure of his intrigue, an under-current of doubt kept mingling 
 with his anticipations of victory. He could not account for it. He 
 :ried to shake off his forebodings as foolish, but could only do so 
 momentarily. They had vanished as he uttered the last few words 
 to the Premier ; they returned with the Premier's reply : 
 
 " I shall be only too pleased to do as you wish, when your wishes 
 are coincident with mine." 
 
 " I don't think you recognise the importance of your wishes co- 
 inciding with mine," retorted Lord Bardolph, who, being somewhat 
 nettled, was led on into saying more than he had intended. "You 
 can't do without me. ;! 
 
 " Xor with you, to all appearances," blandly replied Floppington. 
 
 Hedid not know how Bardolph was playing hisgame, but he knew 
 what the game was ; and he knew that now or never was the time 
 to assert himself. The necessity for this process had occurred to 
 him often enough before ; but he had never yielded to the necessity. 
 
 He always knew the right thing to do, but never did it. But he 
 did it this time; so that it is a perfectly fair inference that he must 
 have been under the impression he was doing wrong. 
 
 ' Let us understand each other," went on Lord Bardolph ; "we 
 are alone and can speak openly. If you think you can do without 
 me, you are at liberty to make the experiment ; but I prophesy it 
 will be a failure." 
 
 "Is Bardolph also among the prophets?'' asked Floppington, 
 with that coolness which generally has the effect of exciting heat in 
 the person addressed. Lord Bardolph ignored the remark, however, 
 and went on : 
 
 " If you want to keep in office and I suppose you do there is 
 only one course open. You must go to the country with the Radical 
 programme. Thank goodness there is no such thing as political 
 copyright. It's all very well talking about preserving the Consti- 
 tution. It's admirably suited for the peroration. It is the cheese 
 to help digest the banquet. But the banquet itself must consist of
 
 112 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 good, substantial promises to outbid the Radicals. You do not see 
 this fact. I do. You are still haunted by antiquated superstitions 
 as to party traditions and party principles. I am free from all 
 such weaknesses. I am the admitted exponent of this go-ahead 
 Conservatism, which is the only Conservatism that has a chance. 
 At our meetings I am the only speaker that draws." 
 
 " Because the taste for burlesque has not yet died out," said the 
 Premier, who, incredible as it must appear to all who know anything' 
 at all of Floppington, seemed bent on provoking a quarrel with 
 his colleague. 
 
 " Because people are tired of stick-in-the-mud politics," almost 
 screamed Lord Bardolph, whose temper was now fairly roused. 
 " Because people are sick of shilly-shally ; because people want a 
 leader whose conception of leading is not going backwards 
 Without me you can't hold the reins of power a single day ; and 
 you must have me on my own terms, or not at all." 
 
 " Your terms are too high, I am afraid," said the Premier. "You 
 have said what you had to say ; now listen to me. I am the 
 Premier, and I am going to have my own way in the Cabinet. If 
 you, or any one else, think you can dictate terms to me, you are 
 mistaken. As Premier, I am and intend to continue the motive 
 power of the Ship of State. You appear to think I am only the 
 figure-head." 
 
 For a moment or so Lord Bardolph was dumb. That Flop- 
 pington the molluscous should speak in such a strain was im- 
 possible. It must be a dream. And yet it was the real flesh and 
 blood Premier that stood before him, for he had risen as he uttered 
 the last words, pale and defi mt,as Lord Bardolph never remembered 
 to have seen him before. As he called to mind the eccentricities 
 he had recently displayed, the thought struck him that Floppington 
 was mad. But an instant's reflection convinced him that the man 
 facing him was sane enough ; a man of inflexible determination 
 and iron will. What magic power had wrought the transformation 
 he could not even conjecture, but he intuitively recognised that 
 Floppington was his master ; that his own reckless audacity would 
 simply shiver to atoms if brought into collision with Floppington's. 
 newly-manifested resoluteness. The game was slipping from his 
 hands in the very moment of victory. What if the men who had' 
 promised to support him deserted him when confronted with the 
 new Floppington ! In his despair he threw prudence to the winds, 
 and played his last card. 
 
 ' Then you refuse to yield to my wishes. You will carry out 
 your own ideas." 
 
 " That is certainly my intention," answered the Premier, who 
 appeared to grow cooler as Lord Bardolph became more and more 
 excited. 
 
 " You had better think twice before you persist in this latest fad 
 of yours obstinacy. If you persist in opposing me I shall resign," 
 and as he uttered the threat he narrowly watched the Premier's 
 countenance to judge its effect. He still hoped that it would make?
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL 113 
 
 the Premier waver ; for he still entertained the idea that despite 
 his apparent defiance the fear of a secession from the Cabinet, 
 and siuch an important one too, would shake Floppington's reso- 
 lution. But he was mistaken. 
 
 " If I do not submit to your dictation, you will resign ?" 
 
 " Yes," blurted out Lord Bardolph, not pausing to deprecate the 
 Premier's mode of expression. 
 
 " Then resign, and be d d," said the Premier, now thoroughly 
 
 roused. " Good night ; " and Lord Bardolph, too surprised to utter 
 a word, left the room, and found himself in Downing Street, without 
 having the ghost of an idea how he got there. 
 
 Left alone, the Premier resumed his seat. Mechanically his 
 eyes wandered over the yet open pages of the book he had pre- 
 viously been reading. He had formed the bold resolution of ridding 
 himself of Lord Bardolph, and he had succeeded. For some few 
 minutes he sat thus, exultant at his victory', and yet oppressed by 
 a sense of the responsibility of so grave a step. He knew that he 
 had made an enemy not to be despised. Shaking off, by an effort 
 of will, the despondency that followed his exultation, he rose to his 
 feet, determined to cut out the path he had proposed to himself, be 
 the obstacles in that path what they might. His eyes again fell upon 
 the bust of Lord Beaconsfield, the inanimate witness of the strange 
 scene that had just taken place. It may have been imagination, for 
 he was somewhat unnerved after so trying an interview, but to his 
 excited gaze, the carven face seemed to smile approval of his daring ; 
 the spirit of his great predecessor appeared to animate the figure, 
 and it was with something akin to awe that he said half aloud, half 
 to himself : 
 
 " Great Beaconsfield ! have I done well ? " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL. 
 
 THE Premier stood in the lofty Council Chamber the mystic 
 Rath-zimmer, into which no profane optic ever penetrated while 
 a dozen or so elderly gentlemen were busily mismanaging the affairs 
 of the Empire the studio where designs for monuments of human 
 folly were turned out with neatness if not with despatch. To the 
 imaginative eye the room was littered with torsos of legislative acts. 
 Summer being at hand, a bright fire blazed in the grate, and the 
 Prime Minister, the nominal head of the artistic firm, stood with his 
 back to the fireplace, his legs bestriding the hearthrug like the 
 Colossus of Rhodes, his hands supporting his coat-tails. This, the 
 favourite attitude of English gentlemen, is doubtless adopted for the 
 unselfish purpose of acting as a self-adjusting screen ; and from the 
 force of habit, Floppington took up the position, though there was 
 none yet to screen. His gaze wandered over the long green table 
 with its array of inkstands and blotting-paper, the latter ready to
 
 H4 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 absorb the contents of the former in the interests and at the expense 
 oi the country, and he felt chilled by the frigid formality of the 
 preparations. 
 
 " I suppose it's all right," he murmured in a discontented tone. 
 " But how much pleasanter it would be if there were pipes and 
 pewter on the table ! These meetings so often end in smoke, that 
 it's a pity they cannot be accompanied by it. They talk much more 
 comfortably at the ' Cogers,' and do less damage. I am sure I could 
 get on much better without these fellows discussing my plans. I 
 don't half like this fuss I hope it'll all go well, yet somehow it makes 
 me uneasy. But hang it all, what have I to fear ? Now that I have 
 tackled Bardolph, the worst is over." 
 
 And, with a sudden accession of energy, he turned round and 
 began poking the fire vigorously, when he heard the sound of ap- 
 proaching footsteps. He dropped the poker. " It's of no use 
 deceiving myself," he muttered. " I feel as nervous as a girl going 
 to her first ball." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Floppington," cried Sir Stanley Southleigh. 
 " I am glad to see you looking so well." 
 
 "And I intend to look well after the country," said the Premier, 
 laughing somewhat forcedly, and shaking his old friend's hand 
 heartily. "And how is the revenue getting on ?" 
 
 " So-so," replied Sir Stanley, as though speaking of his wife's 
 health. " It gives me great anxiety." 
 
 " Oh, don't you worry so much, old fellow," said the Pemier. "/'// 
 look into it soon." 
 
 Sir Stanley looked at him with a bewilderment that was not 
 lessened when the Premier went on after a pause : " Now, what do 
 you say to a graduated income-tax ? " 
 
 Sir Stanley blew his nose, hesitated a minute, and finally 
 stammered : " That is a question I am not prepared to answer 
 without notice." 
 
 By this time most of the other members of the Cabinet had 
 arrived, and a general handshaking was taking place, accompanied 
 by a lively conversation on a variety of topics, amongst which 
 racing appeared to take the most prominent part. Nobody seemed 
 inclined for business, and it was with a look of placid resignation, 
 half pathetic, half comical, that the members of the Cabinet obeyed 
 the intimation of the Premier that a Cabinet Council might not 
 inappropriately devote some of its time to a consideration of 
 political questions. 
 
 " We cannot wait longer for Lord Bardolph," said the Premier, 
 when all were seated ; " we are already somewhat late." 
 
 Several of the Ministers looked curiously at each other as the 
 Premier spoke, and a smile, suggestive of something amusing to 
 come, flitted over their countenances. It was but momentary ; 
 nevertheless it did not escape the notice of Floppington, who, in 
 his turn, indulged in that saturnine smile which boded mischief. 
 
 " But," said Sir Stanley, " we can scarcely discuss our line of 
 action in connection with the Bobo difficulty in his absence."
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL 115 
 
 " Why not ? " said the Premier. " He and I chatted over it the 
 other night. Lord Bardolph thinks we : d better not interfere, and 
 I've allowed him to please himself in the matter." 
 
 The Ministers looked at each other again ; this time with a 
 stare of blank astonishment in place of the smile. They had often, 
 amongst themselves, regretted that FloppingtOn was hardly strong 
 enough for his position ; that he was led instead of leading, and 
 that he could never make up his mind to face responsibility ; and 
 they had frequently compared his invertebrate condition with the 
 stiff backbone which characterised, or was supposed to characterise, 
 the Foreign Secretary. The cool, masterful tone in which he now 
 spoke, the assumption of autocratic authority, and the tacit impli- 
 cation that the Cabinet existed simply to ratify his decisions, sur- 
 prised them so much that they were unable at the moment to feel 
 the v.-ound inflicted upon their self-love. 
 
 "What, knuckle under to Bismarck?" burst in the Home 
 Secretary ; " we, the great Conservative party, to swallow a peace- 
 at-any-price policy ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interposed Floppington mildly ; " we 
 simply give up a war-at-any-price policy. I can't see that it matters 
 a rap to us whether the German flag flies over a barren rock or 
 not/' 
 
 "But surely we'll instruct our Ambassador to protest ?" ejacu- 
 lated the Irish Secretary. 
 
 " What for ? Are you prepared to fight Germany about this 
 matter ? If so, well and good. But if you're simply going in for 
 the traditional spirited foreign policy, which consists in writing 
 angry despatches, and having a hasty look round to see if we have 
 any guns that will go off without hurting our own men, I, for one, 
 object to any longer treating foreign policy as a farcical comedy. 
 Spirited foreign policy, indeed ! Dutch-courage foreign policy would 
 be nearer the mark." 
 
 The determined air of the Premier had its effect. Sir Stanley, 
 though, made a feeble protest : "Surely we are not going to allow 
 it to be said that we are afraid ? Just think what we should have 
 said had a Radical Government acted in this meek fashion." 
 
 " Very much the same as we should have said had they acted 
 in a cocky fashion. It is a maxim of our glorious Constitution that 
 the King can do no wrong, and his Ministers no right." 
 
 His colleagues laughed in an embarrassed fashion at their chiefs 
 sally. They evidently did not relish the cavalier way in which they 
 were being treated ; and the Premier must have guessed as much, 
 for he continued : 
 
 " I'm responsible for the poli y of the Government, I believe; and 
 unless you can give me a bettei reason for altering it than a craven 
 fear of what the Radicals may say, further discussion will be was'e 
 of time. Besides, I may remind you that Lord Bardolph is in 
 complete accord with me on this point," with a slight but percep- 
 tible emphasis on the " this." " There is not the slightest need for 
 strong measures." 
 
 I 2
 
 Ii6 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Quite so," eagerly put in the Right Honourable William Jones. 
 " We don't want to fight." 
 
 " I think Mr. Floppington is right," said His Grace the Duke 
 of Kewbridge. " We have too often in the past too often in the 
 past been identified with what, for want of a better term, I may call 
 ' Macdermottism.' It will, in my opinion, take the wind take the 
 wind out of the Radical sails, if we can infringe their monopoly of 
 peace principles infringe their monopoly of peace principles." 
 
 No further objection was raised. The attitude of Floppington 
 and the support it met with from the Duke and from Mountchapel, 
 effectually silenced remonstrance, and with a " Well, well, we had 
 better leave it to you and the Foreign Secretary " from Sir Stanley, 
 the discussion ended. Perhaps its most important result was the 
 conviction it sent home into the minds of every one of the Ministers 
 that Floppington meant to rule in reality as well as in name. The 
 determination might be but temporary ; he might soon relapse into 
 his old vacillating, reflective, and dreamy style ; but for the moment, 
 at any rate, they were subdued by his stronger will. By fits and 
 starts he had been resolute on previous occasions taking up the 
 attitude with the same unexpectedness as his opinions ; but this 
 time it seemed as if he had reasoned himself into making a serious 
 effort to assert himself. This was the more strange on account of 
 the overwhelming difficulties of his position, both in the Cabinet 
 and in Parliament. And it was, perhaps, characteristic of the man 
 and conclusive evidence of his unfitness for affairs, that he should 
 have been weak enough to choose so fatally inopportune a moment 
 for vindicating his strength. However, time would clear up the 
 puzzle of the Premier's apparent metamorphosis, every moment 
 would clarify their yet hazy impressions, and they could afford to 
 wait the development of the drama. 
 
 At this juncture Lord Bardolph hurriedly entered the room, and 
 apologising for being unpunctual, took his seat at the Council 
 table The Premier watched him keenly from under his bushy 
 eyebrows, and Lord Bardolph moved uneasily and shifted in his 
 place. He was evidently ill at ease. The conversation, dropped 
 as he entered, was not resumed. Those in the secret knew that 
 Lord Bardolph was about to make an important statement ; those 
 not in it, had an intuition that something of grave import was 
 going to happen. And so a hush fell on them, a hush of expect- 
 ancy, a stillness fraught with vaiied hopes and fears. It was 
 broken by Lord Bardolph addressing the Premier. 
 
 " I presume you have not mentioned anything of our conversa- 
 tion," he said. 
 
 " Only that part of it which referred to the Bobo affair," replied 
 the Premier. "Our interview closed with an announcement of 
 your intentions, and I did not feel at liberty to say anything about 
 them." 
 
 There was a touch of savage triumph in Floppington's voice, 
 as he made this reply, which to some extent belied the ex- 
 aggerated calmness of his demeanour. All present felt that there
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL 117 
 
 *had been a struggle for the mastery between him and Mount- 
 chapel, and that he had gained the victory. This was very em- 
 'barrassing to those who may best be described as Mountchapelites. 
 They had laid their plans and based their calculations on certain 
 hypotheses, which they had taught themselves to look upon as cer- 
 tainties. If the Premier gave way on the question of the extension 
 of the franchise to women and this was thought no unlikely con- 
 tingency, as he had often proved most squeezable after a show 
 of rigidity the ascendency of Lord Bardolph would be unques- 
 tioned ; and the Premier would, in the eyes of the country, be a 
 nonentity in the Cabinet of which he was the nominal head. If, 
 inconsistent in inconsistency, he remained steadfast and adhered to 
 his resolve, Lord Bardolph's resignation, which would inevitably 
 follow in that case, must prove a fatal blow. The Cabinet might 
 stagger on without him, but it was an open secret that his defection 
 would be the signal for the defection of his followers in the Ministry, 
 and Floppington would find his power shattered, and himself dis- 
 credited. So that the Mountchapelites fondly hugged themselves 
 with the delusion that they were playing a game which they were 
 bound to win in one eventuality, and their opponent to lose in the 
 other. The indifference of the Premier to Lord Bardolph's resolve, 
 his obvious you-may-go-to-the-patron-saint-of-politics air, and the 
 altogether indefinable but perfectly appreciable change in his style 
 and bearing, struck them therefore with dismay. Their feelings 
 must have been very much like those of the gentleman who learned 
 swimming by stretching himself out on the table, and imitating the 
 movements of a frog in a basin in front of him, when he first tested 
 practically the difference between swimming on a solid and in a 
 fluid. A conviction of the instability of all things mundane flashed 
 upon them, and they felt with Heracleitus that there is nothing 
 fixed, nothing stable. 
 
 While thinking all this, they had naturally kept silence, and in 
 this had been followed by those of the Cabinet who were not 
 Mountchapelites, but who could see that something strange was 
 happening. At last Mountchapel rose, doing his best to appear 
 at ease, and to maintain that outward aspect of calm and cool- 
 ness which had played no unimportant part in making his re- 
 putation. The British public dearly loved a lord ; they perhaps 
 even more dearly loved a " plucky 'un," or a " cheeky 'un ; " and 
 when the two were combined in one and the same person, what 
 wonder that the British public exhibited tendencies to worship the 
 combination ? 
 
 " Mr. Floppington," commenced Lord Bardolph, "has already, 
 \ understand, put you in possession of our views on the Bobo busi- 
 ness. We happen to agree upon that, and I presume the Govern- 
 ment's line of action has been agreed to." 
 
 There was a feeble muttering of " Hear, hear,'' and " Just so," 
 from his colleagues, who were all intently watching him, as he 
 nervously proceeded : 
 
 " In the course of a conversation I had with Mr. Floppingto.a
 
 Ii8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 the other night, I found that there was no prospect of the altera- 
 tion which you all know I so ardently advocate being made in the 
 Reform Bill. I have strained every nerve to prevent any rupture 
 in the Cabinet, the disastrous effects of which, to the party and to' 
 the country, I know too well. But Mr. Floppington finds it abso- 
 lutely impossible to adopt my proposal." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interposed the Premier, " I merely said I 
 intended to have my own way in the matter." 
 
 "Mr. Floppington is an adept at hair-splitting," replied Lord 
 Bardolph, evidently irritated at being unable to irritate the Premier, 
 or draw any signs of emotion from him. " Whatever the words he 
 used, they conveyed to my mind the idea that it would be impos- 
 sible for me to continue longer a member of a Cabinet, which 
 neglects a measure of which personally I have been one of the 
 staunchest advocates. To hold office longer would be dishonour- 
 able. I have therefore no choice but to .take the necessary steps 
 to place in Her Majesty's hand my resignation of the post in her 
 Government I have the honour to hold." 
 
 A murmur, not of astonishment, as the declaration was not un- 
 expected, but yet of something bordering on it, ran round the table ; 
 but it was instantly hushed as Lord Bardolph continued : 
 
 " I need not say what regret and pain it causes me to be thus 
 compelled to sever my connection with colleagues with whom I 
 have always worked in perfect harmony, and to part from a chief 
 who has always commanded my admiration as a leader, and my 
 warmest regard and esteem as a friend." 
 
 All eyes were turned to the Premier, as these words were uttered 
 in a tone that all felt was not in consonance with the sentiments 
 expressed ; for all knew that strong personal feeling was no in- 
 significant factor in the motives actuating Lord Bardolph. Flop- 
 pington, however, if conscious of this, betrayed it in no wise as he 
 said : 
 
 " I can cordially reciprocate the regret expressed by Lord 
 Bardolph. It pains me to lose a colleague who is a source of 
 strength to any Government ; but I must submit to the force of cir- 
 cumstances and of the reasoning which has induced him not, I 
 am aware, without grave consideration to take so important a 
 step." 
 
 Several other members expressed themselves in similar terms ;. 
 and one or two suggested that possibly Lord Bardolph might be 
 induced to reconsider his decision. But very little discussion 
 proved the impossibility of any such reconsideration ; the Premier 
 in his blandest tones regretting that the determination at which he- 
 had arrived apparently precluded Lord Bardolph from working 
 with him, and Lord Bardolph cordially agreeing in all that the 
 Premier said. A desultory conversation ensued, in which the- 
 details of the steps to be taken in connection with the resignation 
 were agreed upon. Lord Bardolph then took his leave, giving some 
 of his colleagues a meaning glance as he left, the significance o 
 which did not escape the Premier.
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL 119 
 
 A constrained silence followed his departure. What was to 
 come next ? Some had intended following Lord Bardolph's lead, 
 and tendering their resignations also ; but an intuition, if such it 
 may be called, impelled them to wait, and to do nothing rashly. 
 It warned them that the Premier, in his new mood, might prove an 
 uncomfortable sort of person to quarrel with or to defy, and they 
 obeyed its monitions. Floppington at length addressed his col- 
 leagues, his eyes roving restlessly from face to face, as if he were 
 anxious not to miss the least shade of expression that his words 
 might cause to flicker over their countenances. 
 
 " The next point we have to consider is the Reform Bill. In its 
 present form, 1 am afraid it does not stand too good a chance of 
 steering clear of the rocks and quicksands that beset it. On the 
 one hand, we have those of our friends who are afraid to venture 
 into the paths of reform. They are hide-bound in tradition, and 
 do not seem to recognise the fact that Conservatism, if it is to be a 
 power, must advocate and promote change as actively as Radicalism. 
 Of course, there is a vital distinction," he continued smilingly, 
 noticing that some of those seated round the green table looked as 
 if they were disposed to disagree with him ; "the changes we bring 
 about are improvements, those brought about by Radicals are 
 revolutions." 
 
 A hearty " Hear, hear ! " from the more youthful members of 
 the Cabinet greeted this explicit statement of a vital distinction, 
 while the elder ones contented themselves with a subdued rumbling 
 murmur of applause. 
 
 " Our bill," went on the Premier, "may fail to win the approval 
 of the older school of Conservatives ; but I have every reason to 
 believe that they will not fail, when the critical moment comes, to 
 remember that, on principle, we have always placed party discipline 
 before pi inciple." 
 
 " Quite so," said Sir Stanley ; then, suddenly awaking to the 
 implications involved in the Premier's words, he would have entered 
 upon an explanation, but his friends laughed heartily at what they 
 thought one of Floppington's little jokes. A 'species of humorous 
 depreciation of himself and party was eminently characteristic of 
 their philosophical Chief. 
 
 " On the other hand," resumed Floppington, " there are those 
 amongst us, among the party as well as around this table, who 
 think the Bill does not go far enough ; they think, not altogether 
 without reason, perhaps, that to make a measure of progress 
 essentially Conservative in the truest and best sense of the term, it 
 should be so complete, so thorough, as to leave no excuse for 
 officious meddling Radicals to tinker it, under the pretence of 
 mending it, hereafter. These Conservatives will not support our 
 Bill, because, in refusing to extend the franchise to women, it does 
 leave opportunities for improvements hereafter. They will join with 
 the Radicals, and, when united in opposition against us, with a pos- 
 sible addition to their ranks from men who are timorous if honest 
 members of our party, to say nothing of the Parnellites, it will be
 
 120 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 difficult, perhaps impossible, for us to pass our great measure of 
 reform." 
 
 The Ministers were listening with all their ears. The situation, 
 as expounded by Floppington, was no new one. It had been im- 
 pending for some time past ; but some means of getting over the 
 difficulty must have suggested itself to the Premier, for surely all 
 this talk was but the preliminary to pointing out a road whereby to 
 escape from the impasse. And yet, with Lord Bardolph out of the 
 Cabinet, what could this road be ? 
 
 " I need not say that all these circumstances have been duly 
 weighed by me. I have long been aware that some among you are 
 in favour of extending the suffrage to women, though, with a for- 
 bearance for which I cannot thank you enough, you have refrained 
 from thrusting your convictions forcibly upon me. The time has 
 come when I may candidly admit to you that 1 fully see the neces- 
 sity of making this concession to the wishes of so many of our 
 supporters." 
 
 Here the Premier paused for a second, coolly scanned the faces 
 of his colleagues, who might one and all have sat as models for a 
 picture to be entitled Dumbfoundered, and then calmly resumed : 
 
 " I shall therefore, with your consent, on which I feel sure I may 
 reckon in advance, arrange for the acceptance in Committee by 
 the Government, of a clause enacting the desired change with 
 regard to the admission of women to the suffrage. We shall, 
 perhaps, alienate the support of some of our party ; though, as I 
 have already said, I have every hope of party discipline preventing 
 any unfortunate display of independence. But we shall secure the 
 adhesion, on the other hand, of many valued followers, who, in 
 common with the noble lord who has seen fit to leave the Govern- 
 ment, have long been warm advocates of the change I am now 
 prepared to adopt. Moreover, our Radical friends, the enemy, will 
 be in honour bound to support us. They may use strong language 
 as to our presumption in carrying what they have been pleased to 
 consider a Radical measure ; but they dare not oppose the measure 
 because it is the work of Conservative men. They always arrogate 
 to themselves the consciousness of superior virtue in politics, and it 
 is only fair they should have for once an opportunity of displaying 
 that superiority to purely personal and party considerations, of which, 
 as a matter of fact, they have done little else than boast. Really 
 .Screwnail and his friends will be under an obligation to us for giving 
 them the chance. With their support, then, in the bargain, we 
 may, I think, rely on our measure being salely passed through the 
 House." And with these words the Premier resumed his seat. 
 
 A short silence followed. The members of the Cabinet looked 
 at each other, one idea informing all of them, one question on the 
 tip of every toneue. The Right Honourable Arnold Floppington 
 waited calmly for the question which he knew must come, sitting 
 Sphinx-like, gazing immovably straight in front of him, with an 
 admirable air of not knowing what was to follow. Then the short 
 silence was broken. Sir Stanley, feeling by some subtle,indefinab!e
 
 THE CABINET COUNCIL 121 
 
 consciousness that all were expecting him to translate their one and 
 only thought at the moment into words, said : 
 
 " But why, if you have come round to this view of the question, 
 has Lord Bardolph resigned? It is inexplicable." 
 
 The quiet, business-like, passionless tone in which the statement 
 of the Premier's policy had been made, was abandoned in a moment. 
 Scarcely had the question for which he had been waiting left Sir 
 Stanley's lips, than he jumped to his feet, his frame vibrating with 
 energy, his voice trembling with triumphant emotion, as, one hand 
 on the table before him, the other pointed half-menacingly at the 
 faces confronting him, he replied : 
 
 "Why did Lord Bardolph resign? I will tell you. Because I 
 am not the man he thought me ; because I knew every detail of his 
 plans, every winding of his schemes. He fancied to force me to 
 grant women suffrage, so that he might pose before the country as 
 the actual Premier, while I was but a puppet whose strings he con- 
 descended to pull. Of my own initiative I have taken the step 
 announced to-day. Had I done so with Lord Bardolph in the 
 Cabinet, his plot in appearance at any rate would have succeeded. 
 It was evident that one of us must perforce cease to be a factor in 
 the Ministry, and I was determined that it should not be myself. 
 I kept back, then, my resolution on the Suffrage Bill ; and when 
 Lord Bardolph, in the interview to which he has alluded, asked if 
 I intended doing as he wished, I replied that I intended having my 
 own way in the matter. I naturally regret that, with the ill- 
 considered impetuosity of youth, Lord Bardolph should have rushed 
 to the conclusion that my way and his way were different ways ; 
 but, having done so, it was inevitable that he should leave me the 
 burden of governing without him, a burden I do not think beyond 
 my strength." 
 
 All were silent. The Premier's tone was almost insolent, but 
 those who had plotted against him dared not say anything ; those 
 who were true to him forgave all in their delight at seeing him exert 
 that long-latent power with which they had always credited him. 
 He continued : 
 
 " One word more, gentlemen. Lord Bardolph was not alone in 
 his plans. He hoped that some of his colleagues would support 
 him ; without that hope, even his audacity might have shrunk trom 
 the game he was playing, from staking so much on the hazard of a 
 die. If, therefore, any gentlemen present wish to resign, I shall be 
 obliged if they will do so at once. Her Majesty, too, will save time 
 by accepting their resignations wholesale." 
 
 Two or three of the Ministers wriggled uncomfortably in their 
 chairs as the Premier was speaking. They were not at all sure 
 that he would refrain from mentioning names, and though they had 
 not scrupled to plot against him, they nervously shrank from being 
 found out. It is satisfactory to perceive from this that, though 
 politicians, they were not altogether devoid of some lingering 
 traces of morality. And it was with an almost audible sigh of 
 relief that they saw the Premier resume his seat, saying:
 
 122 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " This, gentlemen, concludes our business for to-day. At our 
 next meeting 1 shall lay before you the text of the clause I propose 
 the Government shall agree to support. I presume it will be the 
 work of a united Cabinet." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LOVE AND SUFFRAGE. 
 
 WHEN the relative positions of the man and the woman come to be 
 reversed, the latter becoming the " superior sex," and the former, 
 presumably, the " better half" of the connubial unity, the amorous 
 "fair one" (if indeed the title be not inherited by the male) may 
 indite sonnets to her beloved's eyebrow, and the masculine charms 
 may at length meet with poetic appreciation. The feminine eye 
 has too long had the vested right of misleading the morn, or of 
 abashing the constellations ; the feminine face has too long pos- 
 sessed the monopoly of floriculture : these women's rights are men's 
 wrongs. Still it must be admitted that the ladies, when justifying 
 their choice, make up for their reticence as to our physical traits by 
 flattering our moral features, which, as they are less apparent, are 
 less able to contradict the ideal portrait. 
 
 Seldom has a finer opportunity of glorifying her lover, salva 
 conscientia, fallen to the lot of a woman than that which Lady 
 Harley was now taking by the forelock. Since the reunion in the 
 Duchess's salon, she had neither seen the Premier nor heard from 
 him. She had passed most of the time in a state of girlish light- 
 heartedness and vivacity. Full of her two-fold secret, she seemed 
 to herself (for science was among her accomplishments) to breathe 
 a non-nitrogenous atmosphere. It was a delightful experience, too, 
 though curiously verging on the pathetic, to attend a meeting of 
 the National Society for Women's Suffrage and to listen to half- 
 enthusiastic, half-despairing reports and discussions. The goal 
 seemed still far off to these earnest workers, the recently manifested 
 strength of antagonism to the enfranchisement of women had 
 saddened them, and some of them were reconciled to the belief 
 that the rumour of success would never penetrate the silence of 
 their graves. There was one sickly, elderly lady whose noble self- 
 saciifice for the cause (the circumstances were known to Lady 
 Harley, but not to the world, which ridiculed her) had greatly 
 stimulated her to her own humble efforts. But hope had fled with: 
 health, and her work was now limited to electrifying her friends 
 by the lightnings of her bitter indignation. How Lady Harley 
 would have liked to tell the poor creature that the day. had come ! 
 But she restrained herself. In a few days they would know all. 
 Tears started to her eyes, and she was thrilled by the pathos of 
 long-deferred success. She said a few hopeful words, reminding 
 them of the reports that were in the air. More she dared not sav. 
 and even while speaking, a dreadful chilling doubt invaded hersouL
 
 LOVE AND SUFFRAGE 125. 
 
 What if, after all, the Premier underwent another phase ? Was it 
 not incredible that at one stroke Fate would ensure her own happi- 
 ness and, in some measure, that of all other women ? And if he 
 did undergo another phase, the ultimate success of their movement 
 would be as distant as the most pessimistic Member imagined. 
 For, while Floppington retained his supremacy over the House 
 (and his influence, being due to the magic of his oratory, was inde- 
 pendent of his possession of office), she knew that it would be well- 
 nigh impossible to obtain the coveted measure if he should put 
 himself at the head of the Opposition. A charm so potent that it 
 had temporarily withdrawn not a few of the Liberals from their 
 allegiance was not to be counteracted without " backward mutter- 
 ings of dissevering power" from the enchanter himself. With his 
 advocacy, however, with the aid of his eloquence, which could not 
 fail to convince the members of his own party and add them to the 
 already convinced Liberals, it would be easy to free the ladies, at 
 present, so to speak, 
 
 " In stony fetters fixed and motionless." 
 
 Her conscience sometimes plied her with uneasy queries as to 
 whether she had sold herself for the benefit of her sex. After im- 
 partial examination, however, she acquitted herself of the charge 
 on the plea that she had loved him in his character of man, irre- 
 spective of his character of political animal, and had only refused 
 to unite her life with his because she felt that it would be a sort of 
 desertion of her colours to merge her political personality in one 
 so diverse. And she might feel not the less of honest pride in this 
 heroic self-sacrifice on the altar of principle, because it had ceased 
 to be necessary. It thus appeared that her conscience had been 
 over-busy, and it now received an effectual snub which somewhat 
 diminished its officious zeal. 
 
 But on the morning wherewith this chapter deals, all doubts- 
 were set at rest by a glorious announcement in the Standard which 
 almost compensated for her slight disappointment at not having 
 received during the week some hastily scrawled note addressed 
 from the House, such as she thought she had a right to expect. 
 
 " We understand," ran the obviously official paragraph, '' that 
 at the Cabinet Council held yesterday, it was unanimously resolved 
 not to resist the introduction into the Franchise Bill of a clause 
 extending the franchise to women, should such an amendment be 
 proposed in Committee. It is expected that the Opposition will 
 be conciliated by this deference to their views, and the second 
 reading of this long-debated Bill may now, therefore, be regarded 
 as a certainty. It is supposed that the first part of the sitting was 
 taken up with Lord Bardolph Mountchapel's explanation of the 
 motives of his resignation. His lordship left at half-past two, 
 probably immediately after his explanation, and was received with 
 cheers by a crowd which had assembled to watch the arrival and 
 departure of the Ministers. The sitting terminated at a few minutes 
 before three."
 
 124 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 The other dailies were all at sea, and destitute of this compass, 
 they floundered about wildly. It had long been suspected that the 
 Foreign Secretary and his chief were at loggerheads, but it was 
 thought that the unsuccessful career with the small chances of life 
 of the Reform Bill was at the bottom of their differences. So it 
 was a huge joke to the world at large, which had read the Standard, 
 and which saw that Mountchapel was the only honest man in the 
 Cabinet, to peruse the dogmatic leaders of the other journals, which 
 gravely laid it down that Floppington's reluctance to follow him in 
 his inconsistent willingness to enfranchise the female sex had forced 
 him to resign his portfolio. One could hardly imagine a more 
 delicious commentary on these dogmatic utterances than the 
 glaring evidence of their incorrectness supplied by the paragraph 
 in the ministerial organ. Nevertheless, the next day they were as 
 omniscient as ever. 
 
 As for the astounding alteration in the ministerial programme, 
 and consequently in the ministerial fortunes, it would require a 
 volume to reproduce the hundreds of columns of praise, or of blame, 
 or of both in varying proportions. An eloquent denunciation of 
 the Premier's tergiversation will be found in Dullman's "Memoirs 
 of Mountchapel," and an eloquent defence in Prosie's "Short 
 Sketch of the Ministry of the Elder Floppington." Floppington 
 himself went on his impassive way, displaying the iron will of a 
 Bismarck, and indifferent alike to invective or laudation. Had it 
 not been for an accidental opportunity outside the House, he would 
 probably never have broken his austere and stoical silence. 
 
 From the Standard Gwendolen turned to the other journals, to 
 find them one and all weltering in that slough of ignorance which 
 has been described, and without a suspicion of the intentions of the 
 Government whose speedy disintegration now that it had lost its 
 tower of strength they prophesied with no uncertain tone. The 
 Franchise Bill would be rejected by a majority of at least one 
 hundred, made up of Liberals and Parnellites ; Parliament would 
 dissolve, and the brief period of Tory ascendency would be at an 
 end. They had evidently received no inkling of the " wise con- 
 cession " dexterously eulogised by their Conservative contemporary. 
 The exhaustive ignorance of the rest of the press gave Gwendolen 
 a curious feeling of illusion. She almost felt that she was dreaming 
 the good news. But no, that was impossible. As she glanced 
 casually over the papers she felt that she was incapable of inventing, 
 even in sleep, the ancient history which, alive with capitals, glared 
 at her from the serried lines of the Daily Telegraph. Besides, she 
 remarked a few errors in one of the leaders of another journal 
 though not enough to allow it to be mistaken for an ordinary article 
 and she knew that in dreamland such self-criticism is rare. But 
 though she soon began to laugh softly and joyously to herself at 
 her absurd doubts, everything did not yet wear the clarity of 
 morning. There was a mysterious unreality about Lord Bar- 
 dolph's resignation which still puzzled her. The conclusion, 
 natural to every one else, that his retirement the day after a mo-
 
 LOVE AND SUFFRAGE 125 
 
 mentous Cabinet Council could be no mere coincidence, but the 
 result of antagonism to the determinations of that assembly, was 
 not natural to one to whom he had, weeks ago, confided the secret 
 of his conversion. She could not entertain such a supposition for 
 an instant. The Standard, which alone might have supplied the 
 solution, was evidently as ignorant as the rest of the press was 
 confident, hinting vaguely at a difference between the Premier and 
 the Foreign Secretary as to the method of dealing with the Bobo- 
 difficulty ; and she was too full of pleasurable excitement to rack 
 her brain for other hypotheses. No sooner had she finished her 
 perusal of the morning papers than, afire with love and gratitude, 
 she betook herself to her desk to write, in the first flush of 
 enthusiasm, the leading article for the next issue of the monthly 
 magazine devoted to the enfranchisement of women, and it was 
 then that she enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of writing prose 
 dithyrambs on her lover. 
 
 As if in revenge for previous criticism, this asserted that he had 
 never done anything wrong, that in all his aberrations he had fol- 
 lowed the Jack o' Lantern of conscience ; that Humanity and 
 especially the long-oppressed half of it owed him an eternal debt ; 
 that no nobler spirit had ever swayed the destinies of the nation; in 
 short, to read it you would have thought that the man was just dead. 
 
 This rhapsody was foamed out at the point of a spluttering quill 
 by her ladyship while seated in her study for she had early appro- 
 priated to herself a chamber for this masculine purpose, nor could 
 it be distinguished from the den of the ordinary male, save by the 
 absence of pipes and litter. 
 
 Her morning dress was very plain, but then as she was not, the 
 absence of ornament served only to set off her charms, which were 
 such as perhaps an exceptional woman here and there might have 
 preferred to a vote. Excitement and happiness had lent a lovely, 
 delicate flush to her usually pale cheeks, and a bewitching sparkle 
 to her usually dreamy eyes. 
 
 The leader finished, the fair writer laid down her pen, and con- 
 templated the MS. It was written in as well as by a beautiful 
 hand, and each letter was unmistakably itself, and quite unindebted 
 to its neighbours for its legibility. There were no erasures, because 
 there was no laboured composition ; there was a direct route between 
 her heart and the point of her pen, and her thoughts travelled ex- 
 press along it. Yet on re-reading her work, she found that the 
 execution fell far short of the conception. But she must defer touch- 
 ing it up, for many daily duties claimed her attention. She returned 
 to the charge on the first opportunity, which did not present itself 
 till nearly four p.m. by which early hour, by a happy accident, all 
 her usual visitors had come and gone full of new enthusiasm ready 
 to vent itself in words. She settled to her desk once more, and 
 began "toning up" her fervent sentences. Immersed in this 
 agreeable occupation, with the image of the Premier ever before 
 her, she suddenly woke to find that the bodily man himself had 
 called and was waiting to see her. Her heart gave a great leap of
 
 *26 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 joy ; he had kept his word, he had taken up the cause of her sisters, 
 .and now he was come to claim her gratitude, her collaboration, her 
 sympathy, her love. Determining to receive him where she was, in 
 the study where the happiest hours of her life had been passed, she 
 put his praises into her desk, and her pen into its receptacle on the 
 .richly chased silver inkstand which her grandfather had bought in 
 Venice to serve as an ancient heirloom the family, though rich in 
 genuine ancestors, being rather out of other antiquities and re- 
 placed the books she had been referring to in their exact homes on 
 the shelves. Even at this supreme moment she had that soul for 
 detail which marks great genius or great mediocrity ; but she had 
 the soul of the artist, for she felt that her rhapsodical abilities would 
 be raised to a much higher power by the coming interview, and 
 also the soul of a woman in so far as that expresses itself by a 
 heightened colour, a quickened pulse, a pleasing fear, and a great 
 irush of tender thoughts and recollections. The pale, wistful face of 
 the Premier, the premature furrows on his brow, the slightly stoop- 
 ing figure, as they now rose before her nearly with the vividness of 
 reality, roused that almost maternal feeling of pity, which in a 
 woman is akin to love. Hers should be the envied task of smooth- 
 ing those lines of care, of invigorating and encouraging that jaded 
 spirit ; a fair vista of happiness stretched down the years that were 
 to be fruitful in noble work and lofty thought. His soul, weary of 
 -the pursuit of Truth under difficulties in the clamour of the forum, 
 would, haply, receive new light from the glimmer of the fire on the 
 shrine of Vesta. 
 
 The clock began to strike four ; the Premier's footsteps, falling 
 with slow and grave precision, were heard outside, and her lady- 
 ship, at the last instant, turned involuntarily to the mirror, forgetting 
 she was not in her boudoir. She had an inaccurate feeling that her 
 hair must be rumpled, but there was no looking-glass to which to 
 -turn for help. Such an article had been strictly banished from it, 
 probably as likely to cause reflections antagonistic to the genius loci. 
 " One touch of nature makes the whole world kin." Under a 
 similar lack of this necessary of life, mistress and maid displayed 
 .equal ingenuity. 
 
 Eliza Bathbrill, on the eve of a love- meeting with Jack Dawe, 
 .consulted a tin pan. 
 
 Lady Harley, on the eve of a love-meeting with the Honourable 
 .Arnold Floppington, consulted a silver inkstand. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 
 AT the last stroke of four the Premier entered the study. It 
 -was as if he had timed himself to arrive at that hour. A man who 
 : shared the love .of Lucretius for getting at the causas reruin might
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 127 
 
 reasonably refuse to accept the coincidence as accidental ; and 
 Avere he furthermore acquainted with the logical habits of mind of 
 the Premier, he might even suspect that, since the fashionable time 
 for visits was between three and five in the afternoon (as the books 
 of etiquette rather paradoxically laid it down), the great Minister 
 liad extracted the definite from the indefinite by taking the arith- 
 metical mean. Could it be that he regulated his conduct by the 
 canons enunciated by those " Members of the Aristocracy" whose 
 literary performances displayed at once the emptiness ot their in- 
 tellects and their purses ? Surely not ! For, take the crucial test 
 of deportment in society, and in the street ; what can be subtler in 
 social philosophy than the degrees of intimacy with which a man 
 must know and address others ? Yet, as we have already seen, the 
 Premier seemed to know everybody, and, dictu horrendum, to speak 
 to people to whom it was certain he had never even been introduced. 
 This conduct the shrewd observer would probably set down to that 
 sudden thirst for popularity and that conservatively-democratic 
 spirit which the Premier had latterly given evidence of, though he 
 might doubt its efficacy in flattering the multitude of small men ; 
 for the Premier not unfrequently displayed such an extraordinaiy 
 ignorance of their petty careers as to deserve, in their eyes, the 
 imputation of being ignorant of modern history, and in the effort 
 to grasp this multiplicity of detail, muddled himself so completely 
 as to injure his memory of even recent transactions and conversa- 
 tions with his best friends and warmest supporters. 
 
 The Premier entered the room, hat in hand ; the stern footman 
 retired, and the lovers were left alone. 
 
 With a sweet smile of welcome, Lady Harley advanced to meet 
 him, and gave him her hand. 
 
 " In the name of my sex," she exclaimed, in low, silver}' accents, 
 " I thank you." 
 
 " Don't mention it, don't mention it," said the Premier hastily, 
 dropping her hand after a limp pressure. 
 
 Did her ladyship feel slightly disappointed at her lover's 
 neglect to take advantage of the privileges of his position, if only 
 to the extent of a tighter squeeze of the hand ? Not at all ; for did 
 she not immediately tell herself that she reverenced him the more 
 for it, and that she must try to lift herself to his height ? She 
 credited him with an ideal purity which was beyond her who was 
 fascinated by the mystic glamour which Rossetti had thrown around 
 Cupid, with the effect of apparently transforming the mischievous 
 little god of paganism into a mediaeval angel. 
 
 " He is indeed a preux chevalier" she reflected, as she looked 
 at him nervously twirling his hat round ; " a modern Knight of the 
 Round Table, who has passed his life searching for the Holy Grail. 
 Never have those lips touched the face of a woman." Then a 
 gleam of humour played about the corners of her mouth as she 
 reflected merrily that a man so utterly sans reproche was almost 
 wasted on her who had not a grain of jealousy in her composition,
 
 128 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and that he would be a god-send to a female Leontes, who could 
 in turn be utterly sans peur of the slightest infidelity. 
 
 Yet how love that was sure of its earthly goal had already 
 changed even him ! Seen in the broad daylight, what new vigour 
 seemed to dwell in the face, what unwonted erectness in the figure ! 
 But had this assertive vitality been purchased at the price of other 
 qualities ? She would fain have answered in the negative ; yet, as- 
 the interview proceeded, she could not but think that an indefinable 
 something had vanished, a certain cachet of aristocratic reserve and 
 delicate modesty perhaps the fair but unsound fruit of indecision, 
 which could not be expected to co-exist with definite views 
 and specific action. Nor could the eyes, which had once gazed 
 unflinchingly on the sun of truth, retain the dreamy poetry of 
 yore. 
 
 " Pray sit down and let us talk," she cried gaily, " if, indeed, the 
 State will allow me three minutes of you." 
 
 " The State allow!" he replied with contemptuous pride. "The 
 State is not my master. I am the master of the State." 
 
 He was nothing loth to talk ; in truth, he had come for that pur- 
 pose. He considered her a most interesting woman, and he felt a 
 strong intellectual attraction towards her. He thought her pretty, 
 too, and indeed she looked quite fairy-like to-day in her dainty gown 
 of cream tussore silk : 
 
 " Clothed in white samite mystic, wonderful." 
 
 But physically she was hardly "his style"; she was too blonde, 
 too ethereal. Yet when, in the salon of the Duchess of Kewbridge, 
 finding him at one with her and her society on the vital question 
 of female enfranchisement, she had said : " You know I am yours 
 entirely," the admiring glance which accompanied this offer of 
 aid had thrilled him perhaps a little more than if it had been shot 
 from an eye less bright. The subtle emotion of the moment, with 
 its dim revelation of new spiritual perspectives, had been transitory 
 and hard to recall. Though he had not been unconscious of a 
 certain curious fascination, the feeling was as placid as it was novel. 
 When her image had flitted before his mental vision in the busy 
 hours of the past week, the thoughts it called up were tender 
 rather than deep. And now, as he sat in this sunny room with its 
 dainty bric-a-brac, its brightly-bound volumes, and its mistress, 
 whose mere presence would have lighted up the dustiest library, 
 and distracted the attention of the veriest Dryasdust, he experienced 
 the same quiet and unanalysable charm. 
 
 Gwendolen made him sit on her own chair before her desk, and 
 found great satisfaction in gazing at him installed there as her lord 
 and master, and she vowed to endeavour to realise the fine image 
 of the reigning Laureate, and be to him " as noble music is to 
 noble words." 
 
 After a few moments of contented silence she said softly : " Is 
 there any danger of defeat ? "
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 129 
 
 " In what direction could the danger lie ? I'll answer for the 
 Conservatives, and surely the Liberals can't refuse their help to 
 enable me to achieve a reform which they professed to have so much 
 at heart. They won't go in for a sort of dog-in-the-manger policy ; 
 'We couldn't pass it, therefore you sha'n't.' Besides, I count on 
 your influence for overcoming any tendencies in that direction." 
 
 " I suppose women are more timid than men. I confess that at 
 moments it all seems to me too good to be true," she said with a 
 pensive smile. 
 
 " Nothing is too good to be true, except, perhaps, the morality 
 of a bishop. You mustn't be influenced by such superstitious 
 fancies, either for hope or despondency, /am confident because I 
 have looked facts in the face." 
 
 "But facts are Janus-headed," she pleaded laughingly. "And 
 the best physiognomist may overlook one of the faces altogether, 
 or even if one face is a sufficient index, the facts may have their 
 head screwed the wrong way on. As far as I can understand your 
 intentions, you are about to give us woman suffrage pure and 
 simple, and I can't help being uneasy lest the Liberals may refuse 
 to follow you so far. For, as you know, their projected gift \\as 
 much more conditional." 
 
 " I have thought of that, too, and a host of essayists and jour- 
 nalists are already at work to point out the illogicality and incon- 
 sistency of such a course. They will show that to the man who is 
 honestly convinced of the electoral rights of woman there is no 
 half-way house, no halting-place. Matthew Arnold said to me the 
 other day : ' The English do not think clear or see straight ;' but 
 I claim to be an exception, for when I was once convinced of the 
 principle I tracked it to its remotest issue, and I hope to go on 
 putting a healthful pressure on my countrymen till what is now the 
 exception proves the rule. When the Liberals do anything, they 
 only illustrate the good old plan of ' how not to do it.' They 
 don't realise that two half-measures are never equal to a whole 
 one. They seem to fancy that political arithmetic follows the laws 
 of the avoirdupois table." 
 
 Gwendolen smiled. 
 
 " Well, at the risk of another rebuke for my superstition, I 
 must avow that I have doubts about the attitude of the House 
 of Lords. It did not appear too favourably disposed towards 
 even that modicum of enfranchisement offered us by the late 
 Government." 
 
 " I wont rebuke you for that,' 1 said the Premier graciously, 
 "because I may educate you out of it. I have a plan in my head 
 for extirpating one deeply-rooted superstition at least. I don't 
 mean the House of Lords, though, to be sure, that is a superstition 
 in more than one sense, a soit of horse-shoe supposed to guard the 
 Constitution from the malevolence of democratic witchcraft. But I 
 will rebuke you for your ignorance of modern politics. Don't you 
 know that the House of Lords will never veto a Bill introduced by
 
 130 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 me ? Besides, it never really resists a reform in the long run. As 
 Swinburne says : 
 
 ' For whatever a man of the sons of men 
 Shall say to his heart of the lords above, 
 They have shown him verily, once and again, 
 Marvellous mercies and infinite love.' " 
 
 Lady Harley smiled a little at this application of the poet's 
 lines ; but there were clouds upon her brow. 
 
 " But, Arnold, you don't seriously believe that so many of our 
 common friends in that assembly are swayed, not by thorough 
 judgment, but by blind favouritism ? " 
 
 " I don't deny the thoroughness of their judgment," he said, 
 with an embarrassed laugh. " The blind favouritism which they 
 display is the best proof of it." 
 
 " I was sure you were joking, Arnold," said Gwendolen with an 
 air of relief. " 1 do think the House of Lords represents all that is 
 best in the theoretical and practical intellect of England. Of 
 course, it's only an opinion. I don't profess to have studied 
 Freeman or Maine very deeply. (Wasn't it you that made me 
 read Maine, by-the-by?) I wasn't going to fly in the face of my 
 own theory of the sexual differentiation there ought to be in 
 politics when we get our vote my own doctrine that a woman's 
 views should be limited " 
 
 "They are limited," interrupted the Premier sharply, rather 
 piqued by the outburst of feminine prejudice. 
 
 Lady Harley looked up at him in surprise. " To the subjects 
 she is able to understand better than men," she concluded. " That 
 is to say," she added in revenge, " they should be ?/;/limited." 
 
 "And so they are," he replied curtly, "for they are usually 
 vague and formless." 
 
 She gave in with another good-humoured smile. She could 
 find nothing to reply, and wondered why she had not enjoyed more 
 this delicate fencing, and how she could have been fool enough to 
 momentarily mistake badinage for impoliteness. Perhaps it was 
 that she had not hitherto found him quick at repartee, though 
 occasionally able to parry adroitly. His ordinary conversation was 
 tinged with humorous melancholy rather than sparkling with wit. 
 
 "Are you going to write a comedy ?" she asked satirically. 
 
 "I took part in one yesterday," he replied. "At the Cabinet 
 Council." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " You are getting cynical. I hope we women are not the cause 
 of it." 
 
 " Oh no. You have not been able to become office-seekers yet." 
 
 " Trust me, we shall purify and soften the struggle for power. 
 But tell me what sort of a comedy ? " 
 
 " Well, the dialogue was heavy, but the situations were de- 
 cidedly good." 
 
 " Especially yours."
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 131 
 
 " Especially mine. I believe I am the only one who strives 
 to play seriously, and yet they do not think me a good actor. But 
 we have managed a thing generally considered impossible." 
 
 " How is that?" 
 
 " Why, we play successful English comedy without love in it. 
 There's not the least bit of love between any of the characters, and 
 yet there is every prospect of a long run." 
 
 " That is clever, but too savage,'' said Lady Gwendolen " To 
 speak thus of your colleagues ! " 
 
 A strange dissatisfaction, an ominous foreboding was chilling 
 her amorous enthusiasm, yet she set everything down to a certain 
 feverish gaiety which she thought she could read in the Premier's 
 eyes. Her " parfait knyghte," speaking thus cynically of the 
 highest duties of State, was showing himself in a new and not 
 altogether pleasing light. Surely, Sir Galahad never made jokes 
 on his noble companions. 
 
 Yet she was mistaken if she inferred that the Premier thought 
 lightly of the responsibilities of his lofty station ; like most cynicism, 
 his excluded the utterer, and all his heart and soul was in the 
 reforms which he was planning or carrying out. 
 
 Lady Harley was glad that the conversation had at length 
 drifted into love. 
 
 " If you have worked so long together without love,'' she con- 
 tinued after a pause, " what might you not have done with it ? '' 
 
 " Why, done with politics," he exclaimed. " Politics, properly 
 so-called, would have ceased to exist, but the work of Government 
 reform would have advanced with electric strides. But I think I 
 must modify my criticism on my colleagues. As a rule, we Con- 
 servatives love one another much better than the Liberals do. 
 Our mutual attachment is strong enough to overcome even grave 
 differences of opinion ; we don't break up the party for the sake of a 
 few scruples ; we don't shatter ourselves into independent units each 
 
 with his private fad ; and if our love is not stronger than death " 
 
 He paused to take breath, and the air ceased for a moment to 
 vibrate with his loud, strident tones, and to be agitated by the 
 emphatic sway of his gesturing left hand, which described irregular 
 geometrical figures with the tall hat which he held in it. With his 
 right hand he now mechanically took up a goblet of ancient Vene- 
 tian glass which stood on the desk, and put it so rapidly to his lips 
 that he had half-drained its contents before a look of surprise 
 appeared on his countenance, and he set it down, evidently some- 
 what annoyed with himself for taking it up. No one who is aware 
 of Carlyle's opinion of the quality of London water in those days 
 will be surprised to learn that he found the liquid disappointing. 
 
 Lady Harley was staring at him, quite puzzled by this irony 
 which yet appeared so earnest. 
 
 " You speak harshly of our party," she said at last, seeing that 
 he was disconcerted. " But I can partially understand your bitter- 
 ness. You must not expect all our class to rise to your height of 
 unselfishness." These sympathetic words did not suffice to dissi- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 pate the clouds of self-dissatisfaction that rested on the Premier's 
 brow. 
 
 He replied hurriedly : "As you say, it is our own party, but 
 that should not blind me to their defects. But they have had their 
 own way too long, they shall now be carried along willy-nilly on 
 the torrent of my reforms." 
 
 " I am glad to see you so resolved," she said, looking at him 
 tenderly, "for the sake of my sex, and," she added, with a blush, 
 and an irresistibly lovely abasing of her eyes, '' myself." Some- 
 how the conversation showed a strong tendency to drift away from 
 a certain subject, and this could not be entirely permitted. 
 
 " The social organism," he continued, " shall no longer wait for 
 those changes of Government which are as necessary for its health 
 as changes of underclothing are essential to that of the individual 
 organism. For years I have studied the defects of the British 
 Constitution !: 
 
 "And neglected those of your own," she interrupted with gentle 
 reproach. " These lines on your brow " she rose and passed her 
 hand lightly over his forehead " tell a sad tale of over-work 
 prompted by noble motives." 
 
 The Premier's face brightened under the effusive sympathy or 
 her touch. " I am certainly not suffering from over-pressure now," 
 he said, for like other great men, notably the People's Bill (Shake- 
 speare), he dearly loved a pun. 
 
 Lady Harley laughed a low laugh of delight. Decidedly the 
 preux chevalier was improving, and would unbend to her, though to 
 all other women as magnificently stiff as a Court elegiac. 
 
 " But, seriously, you know how precious your health is to your- 
 self and to others," she said. 
 
 " I know how necessary I am to the State," he replied earnestly. 
 " But do not be alarmed, I was never better in my life." 
 
 She put what was presumably a second compliment laughingly 
 aside, and said with tender admonition : 
 
 " I will not have you worried too much. You shall not entirely 
 subordinate the physical to the mental." 
 
 " I do not now," he replied. " I assure your ladyship " 
 
 " Gwendolen," she interrupted sweetly. 
 
 How kind she was ! What a pity she was so fair and delicate ! 
 As it was, she set the chords of tender emotion vibrating in his- 
 breast. 
 
 " I assure you, Gwendolen," he recommenced, " that I do take- 
 exercise, and in spite of a thousand worries, of many of which you 
 know nothing, I feel more vigorous and active than ever before. 
 My strength and courage seem to rise to the height of the work I 
 have to do. My constitution, as you sympathetically observe, is not 
 good, and it is true that I neglected it in early life ; but I hope ta 
 make up for that now. Since the bicycle has become popular I 
 have taken exercise in that form as frequently as possible." 
 
 " On a bicycle ! " she exclaimed. There seemed to be some-
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 133 
 
 thing absurdly unheroic in the idea of Sir Galahad careering 
 through the streets of London on that unclassical steed. But she 
 told herself that this was mere prejudice ; that modernity, like 
 youth, was a fault that would mend as the bicycle grew older, and 
 received the consecration of the past. 
 
 " On a bicycle !" she repeated. " But how is it I have never 
 heard of that before ? " 
 
 " You see," he stammered hesitatingly, for he was doubtless 
 reluctant to reveal his weakness, "I I should be continually 
 caricatured on my bicycle Floppy overturned, and sprawling, and 
 all that sort of thing, in cartoons, you know. You must keep what 
 I've told you as a secret." 
 
 " I will if you wish it. But how do you avoid detection ? " 
 
 " In the gray dawn I slip out of Downing Street, procure my 
 bicycle, which I keep at a stable in an obscure street, ride through 
 unknown districts for an hour, then return, letting myself in with 
 my latch-key, often to the suspicion of the pee the peevish police- 
 man on his beat." 
 
 This picture of the stealthy proceedings of the great legislator 
 made them both laugh. 
 
 " Well, I am glad," said Lady Harley, " that you do not neglect 
 your health." 
 
 " And necessity makes me take my exercise at the healthiest 
 hour," added the Premier. " I assure you, Gwendolen, it is a most 
 delightful sensation, that of careering along in the early morn like 
 the wind, with head erect and fearless of interruptions. I often say 
 to myself that it is thus I will urge on my Ministerial career while 
 it lasts." 
 
 " While it lasts ! Do you, then, fear defeat at the coming 
 General Election ? " 
 
 " Hardly. 1 shall move heaven and earth to secure our con- 
 tinuance in power when Parliament dissolves after I have passed 
 the Reform hill, and what other reforms I can squeeze into the 
 short time. Then I shall retire, knowing that I leave my work in 
 good hands." 
 
 "Retire !" ejaculated Lady Harley, in supreme astonishment. 
 And, indeed, there was occasion for amazement. To hear the 
 descendant of a long line of English statesmen calmly announcing 
 his determination to retire from active life just when the ball was 
 at his foot, and when the responsibilities of office had at last 
 awakened him to a consciousness of his own strength, overwhelmed 
 the woman living amid the thick of contemporary politics, and 
 .ambitious for the man she loved. Had he alleged that Nature cried 
 aloud for repose, her mind would have been easy ; but as he was in 
 the prime of life, there was some chance of his carrying out his 
 threat. But her amazement was instantaneously dissipated by a 
 flash of comprehension. 
 
 " Yes," replied the Premier gravely. " My mantle will fitly fal 
 >n the shoulders of Lord Bardolph Mountchapel the Radicals are
 
 134 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 so slow. He was superfluous in the present Cabinet, and so he has 
 retired. In the next he will, whether nominally or not, be at the 
 head of affairs." 
 
 "Mountchapel !" she exclaimed. In the midst of a tumult of 
 emotions, she could not help feeling that the poor fellow deserved 
 some compensation for having lost her. For what woman is igno- 
 rant of how she affects her masculine environment ? But at the same 
 time she felt that her own worldly spirit would never rise to such 
 unselfishness as to permit her future husband to abandon to another 
 the first position in the world. She knew his rare nobility of soul 
 had led him to overlook her own eager interest in public life, her 
 own earthly ambitions, and to think she would be happier if he 
 were hers alone, and not the State's. But she would not spoil the 
 ecstasy of the moment by terrestrial considerations. There was 
 plenty of time to disabuse him of his Quixotic notions, and induce 
 him to discard his chivalrous resolve. For the moment she sur- 
 rendered herself to the intoxication of the thought that he was 
 willing to sacrifice the delights of power for her sake. Epicurean 
 that she was, she put the question point-blank, that she might enjoy 
 the answer. 
 
 " And what is the reason of your retirement ? " 
 
 The Premier looked embarrassed. 
 
 " That is a delicate question," he answered mysteriously. 
 
 Lady Gwendolen saw a world of tenderness in his eyes as he 
 said this. 
 
 " Could I guess ? " she inquired sweetly, laying her hand on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Not if you tried ever so hard," replied the Premier emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 The delicately playful turn which the conversation was taking 
 enchanted Lady Harley. The stern Minister could then even enter 
 into that fanciful, innocent gaiety so dear to the hearts of lovers, 
 and possible only where there is a perfect common understanding. 
 
 " Will nothing shake your resolution to retire ?" she asked. 
 
 " Nothing." As the word left his lips he brought his right fist 
 down on the desk with startling vehemence. " What an old muddler 
 I am ! " he muttered. 
 
 " Nothing ! " she repeated, pleased with his demonstrative 
 affection. " Not even," she added slyly, " if a certain event did not 
 take place." 
 
 " I was mistaken in announcing my determination so emphati- 
 cally," he said hurriedly, much to her delight. " I have just seen a 
 possibility which would render it inexpedient to resign. But my 
 continuance in office will not materially alter the aspect of affairs ; 
 for in that case I foresee the loss of all my energy with the sure 
 ascendency of Mountchapel as in the former case, so that I shall 
 still do my best to secure our return." 
 
 "Then unless you resign, you will be left a shadow of your 
 present self." 
 
 " That is the alternative."
 
 HISTORY IN BLACK AND WHITE 135 
 
 Was ever flattery more subtly conveyed? Could the most 
 gallant frequenter of the French salon in its palmiest and most 
 euphuistic days, have found a more delicate way of telling her that 
 without her love, life would not be worth living, but that its flame 
 would flicker on wearily in its old way till it went out ? She remained 
 silent, but her looks were eloquent. The Premier appeared anxious 
 to change the subject. 
 
 "The present Conservative programme which we intend to 
 stick to this time, though the Acts have never yet answered to their 
 descriptions contains these chief points as a foretaste of future 
 changes : Annual Parliaments, Payment of Members " 
 
 " These were demanded by the workmen in the Five-point 
 Charter, and rejected then, were they not ?" inquired Lady Harley. 
 
 "They were rejected, and shall I tell you why?" 
 
 "If you please." 
 
 "Because," explained the Premier grimly, "in those days the 
 Conservative working-man had not been invented. The poor men 
 made the mistake of appealing to Radical demagogues instead of to 
 the gentlemanly instincts of the Tories. But now the latter are 
 eager to atone for the past, and as Fate has made me their repre- 
 sentative, I shall carry out their laudable desires to the full. I know 
 their perpetual anxiety for a reinvestigation of the principles of 
 political economy, so I shall organise commissions of inquiry on 
 various topics." He smiled sardonically as he said the last two words. 
 " If possible, I shall deal immediately with the great questions of 
 finance ; and first as to the Income Tax " he had become excited 
 by this time, and his left hand was in vigorous rotatory action " I 
 shall probably propose a graduated tax with the first rung of the 
 ladder very high up. After careful consideration of Mill's argu- 
 ments I do not believe that he has made out his case against it. 
 He was too much misled by that fictitious automatic regularity 
 which Ricardo pretended to have discovered in the action of human 
 motives. As if a growing tax would hinder the growth of capital ; 
 a man might as well grumble that his shadow grew taller with him, 
 or cut off his nose to spite his spectacles, as my father '' 
 
 A crash drowned the last words. Unaccustomed to orate hat 
 in hand, he had not accurately measured distances, and in its orbit 
 the hat now came into collision with the goblet of water which he 
 had carelessly placed down on the edge of the desk. The glass was 
 swept on to the silver inkstand, whose venerable antiquity did not 
 save it from accompanying the glass to the floor. The white samite, 
 mystic, wonderful, of Lady Harley's robe was desecrated by splashes 
 of ink and water, and the bright carpet displayed a polygonal black 
 stain. The Premier escaped unspotted, but his hat was ruined and 
 reduced to the level of those of some of his colleagues. He sat 
 gazing speechlessly at the havoc he had wrought 
 
 Lady Harley burst into a merry laugh. 
 
 "I feared your reforms would end in destruction," she exclaimed. 
 
 The Premier did not reply. He stooped down moodily to pick 
 up the fragments.
 
 136 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Oh, pray don't trouble to do that," she said. " I'll send in a 
 housemaid. I hope you are not going yet, I am so interested in 
 the graduated Income Tax ; and if you will excuse me a few minutes 
 I will change my dress." 
 
 "I am so sorry that the accident occurred." observed the Premier 
 simply. "It deprives me of your company for a few minutes." 
 
 " Thank you." She made him a laughingly elaborate curtsey, 
 and quitted the study. 
 
 Those Comtists, who are still striving to extract (not painlessly) 
 the philosophy of history, are kindly requested to mark the mani- 
 fold, immensely complex and far-reaching consequences of the fall 
 of an inkstand. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 STAINS OLD AND NEW. 
 
 " WHAT exquisite delicacy ! " exclaimed the Premier, as he looked 
 at the debris that strewed the carpet. These words did not refer 
 to the workmanship of the glittering fragments of Venetian 
 glass, but to the courteous nonchalance and merry carelessness 
 with which Lady Gwendolen had treated the catastrophe. " At 
 last I meet a woman," he thought, " who does not become utterly 
 irrational the moment a breakage occurs. Shall I ever forget the 
 row when I broke that blue and gold tea-cup ? I have never dared 
 to touch another since. And yet I paid for it three times over. I 
 wonder how much this goblet was worth. I must replace it as soon 
 as possible. What a sweet, and tender, and talented woman she 
 is, to be sure ; so quick to give and take, and so able to understand 
 my views on the Income Tax ! Actually, a woman that one can 
 tilk to without once speaking about love ! And she isn't a bit proud. 
 The aristocrats are not so bad as they're painted, after all ; her 
 gentle courtesy, and refined grace, and delicate charm are irre- 
 sistibly winning. I feel that this interview has given me strength 
 to fight the battle of the oppressed. What matters if I must vanish 
 like a bubble on the breast of the river so long as the stream flows 
 onward ? I shall die forgotten, but not forgetting, O my country !" 
 rie stood for a moment, stirred to the soul by a rush of lofty 
 emotions. Whatever of unselfishness existed in his complex per- 
 sonality now welled up pure and fresh, forcing its way through the 
 overlying strata of pride, prejudice, sense of power, desire for self- 
 applause, and a score of other feelings that choked its silver 
 current. And it was to Gwendolen that was due this awakening 
 of the finer chords of his spirit, now vibrant with tender emotion 
 and noble resolution. Such an intellectual camaraderie with a 
 woman who was bewitching and beautiful, and from whom seemed 
 to emanate an exquisite aroma of purity and delicacy, would, he 
 felt sure, lessen the cares of office and brighten the short tenure of 
 power that yet remained to him.
 
 STAINS OLD AND NEW 137 
 
 " Oh, what can I give you in return, my good angel ? " he ex- 
 claimed aloud. " Except a vote," he added smilingly. 
 
 " Oh, Jack, what a romantic coincidence! How came you here? 
 And dressed like a real aristocrat, too ! " exclaimed Eliza all in a 
 breath, as she entered through the half-open door. Her lovely 
 face was in a glow, and her dark eyes were gleaming with the 
 excitement of the surprise. Her shapely arms were bare to the 
 well-moulded elbow, the sleeves having been rolled off their creamy 
 plumpness for the better performance of her lustral functions. 
 
 Her sudden irruption greatly startled the Premier. For a 
 moment he could only stare at her in such horrified surprise as the 
 rudeness of the matter and manner of her speech might well 
 occasion. 
 
 " Hush, hush !" he exclaimed, as soon as his emotions would 
 allow him to speak. " You must not speak to me like that. You 
 mustn't speak to me at all." 
 
 Eliza's face fell, and the corners of her mouth twitched 
 ominously. 
 
 " Oh, you are cruel," she cried ; " and, besides, you asked me 
 what you could give me. I don't want a vote ; give me a kiss/' 
 
 "Shut up," cried the irritated Minister. "I've told you once 
 not to bother me, and isn't that enough ?" 
 
 "You did, Jack," replied the housemaid humbly; "and with 
 sorrow at my heart I promised to obey you, and hardly ever come 
 to see you for three months. But now that you have come to see 
 me \ " 
 
 " Don't be a fool. How can you think I've come to see you ?" 
 
 " I know you have been speaking to her ladyship ; but I am 
 sure you spilt the ink on purpose to get an opportunity of speaking 
 to me" 
 
 'I he great Minister glared at her speechlessly. The over- 
 whelming audacity of this idea took his breath away. 
 
 " I don't care now," cried Eliza rapturously, answering what was 
 perhaps a passionate look of love with one of tenfold intensity, " I 
 <Ion't care now whether you've got a sense of honour for me to 
 appeal to or not. You see you can't live without your Eliza, you 
 dear old Jack " 
 
 " Don't call me Jack ! " interrupted the Premier, trembling with 
 suppressed rage and excitement. 
 
 The light of joy died suddenly out of the girl's face at one 
 stride came the dark. 
 
 "What, not even that?" she pleaded piteously. 
 
 " You are mad ! My name is not Jack," cried the Honourable 
 Arnold Floppington brutally. "Oh, of course, you are going to cry. 1 ' 
 
 " I am not, Jack." 
 
 " Once for all," hissed the Premier, " I tell you, never call me 
 Jack ! " 
 
 "What then? Mr. D ?" 
 
 " Nothing at all. Call me nothing at all. Don : t address me at 
 all. Do your work, and go, and don't talk."
 
 138 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 This last peremptory remark was too much for the girl's feel- 
 ings, and she furtively wiped away a genuine tear with a corner of 
 the duster. That her emotion did not assert itself in a more violent 
 manner, can only be explained by a certain air of hauteur in the 
 Premier which seemed to act repressively upon all nascent out- 
 bursts of passion. 
 
 " Do your work," repeated the Premier a shade more gently. 
 "You were sent to wipe up ink, not tears." 
 
 " I will, darling," said Eliza in a tone of angelic sweetness. " I 
 have sworn, without waiting like most girls for the ceremonial, to 
 love, honour, and obey you. If you order me to wipe up the ink, I 
 will do so." 
 
 "It is not for me to give orders here. That is for your mistress. 
 So wipe it up, come." 
 
 " As you have ordered it now," replied Eliza, settling down to- 
 ner task, " 1 will. Oh my, the carpet is quite spoiled ! This is a 
 mess ! " 
 
 " Yes, this is a mess," murmured the Premier with rueful 
 humour, as he listened fearfully for the returning footsteps of Lady 
 Gwendolen. 
 
 And in truth it was not a pleasant predicament for a Premier 
 to be in. 
 
 " My sins have found me out," he groaned. 
 
 What youthful folly was it that now clouded his brow with too- 
 late remorse ? Could he be suffering from the effects of that hey- 
 day in the blood which Goethe has taught us to regard as a craving 
 for Experience? But then how, in that moral nineteenth century 
 could a Minister ever be in danger of being found out ? Perhaps, 
 however, we have here a case of quasi-atavism, Nature having in 
 some respects reproduced in Floppington a Premier of the old 
 school. But what is the exclamation that bursts suddenly from his 
 lips, at the end of a rushing train of recollections ? 
 
 " D n Swinburne ! " 
 
 " Oh, Jack I mean oh, without the Jack," cried Eliza reproach- 
 fully. " What has he been doing to you ? " 
 
 Floppington did not reply. He gazed mocdily at the handsome 
 housemaid, who was rubbing the carpet with nonchalant grace, her 
 white cap making a delightful contrast with her glossy, neatly- 
 brushed hair. 
 
 "Two years ago,'' he mused, "a creature such as this could 
 move my very soul, though disgust soon supervened. Strange that 
 a few months of imaginatively sensuous manhood should disturb a 
 life long settled down to the comparative calm of politics." 
 
 " Do tell me what's the matter between you and Swinburne," 
 continued Eliza, pausing and turning a tenderly-beseeching look 
 full upon him. "Is he a rival of yours that I do not know of? 
 Have no fear, dearest. You know my heart is yours. It shall 
 never be his." 
 
 " I wish it was," muttered the Premier, and smiled grimly at the 
 idea.
 
 STAINS OLD AND NEW 139 
 
 Eliza noted the smile. 
 
 "You see," she observed gently, "how love can drive the storm- 
 clouds off your brow." 
 
 " What a diplomatic little minx it is ! " thought Floppington. 
 " By what insidious steps has she advanced to affectionate 
 familiarity with me already, despite my chilling reception of her ! 
 And I have been outflanked by her I, Prime Minister of Great 
 Britain and Ireland, the head of the country that is at the head of 
 the world. And she is doing her work with provoking slowness, 
 as if awaiting her ladyship's return. And I suppose etiquette won't 
 allow me to cut my stick." 
 
 "Do get on with your work, my good girl," he said aloud, de- 
 ciding to manoeuvre in turn, " because her ladyship may return at 
 any moment, and I shouldn't like you to get a blowing-up for not 
 being finished." 
 
 " Her ladyship never blows me up," retorted Eliza, much hurt by 
 the shock to her dignity ; " she merely reproves me. I appreciate 
 your kindness, but I wish you wouldn't be so vulgar." 
 
 Vulgar ! He, the scion of one of the noblest English families, 
 the illustrious successor of the Palmerstons and the Derbys, to be 
 called vulgar, and to be put into an apologetic position by a pert 
 housemaid presuming too much on her good looks ! This, then, 
 was the way the sex requited his unselfish exertions to give them a 
 louder voice in the affairs of the nation. 
 
 " Don't be angry, darling," pleaded Eliza, seeing the blackness 
 of his brow. " I don't blame you for falling into the mistake. You 
 haven't lived in the best families, you know." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't," he growled. 
 
 "Well, I'm sure you can't complain that I give myself any airs 
 on account of my superior station," she urged meekly. " But if 
 you're jealous, say the word, and instead of waiting three months, 
 I'll abandon everything and gladly share your humble cottage at 
 once." 
 
 " Xo doubt," he sneered. " And would you like to be clad in a 
 simple white dress, and stand at the door embowered by eglantine 
 and honeysuckle ?" 
 
 " Oh, you are a duck," cried Eliza enthusiastically. " However 
 did you read my thoughts ? " 
 
 " By reading them before they were yours," he replied enigma- 
 tically. "And if you don't want to ruin your chances of idyllic 
 felicity," he added with a dangerous glitter in his eyes, "you'll clear 
 out of this room as quickly as you can, and keep a still tongue in. 
 your head about the relations between us. I'm here on business,, 
 and I'm not supposed to waste my time on pleasure. 1 ' 
 
 "You've got a job here to paint," she cried, clapping her hands. 
 ' I shall see you often, then. And who knows how many nice teet- 
 ateets I beg your pardon, Jack, tete-a-teteor we might get by acci- 
 dent, like to-day." 
 
 " Xo," he replied, in a lugubrious tone. " I am sorry to say 
 that after seeing you here to-day I shall never be able to come 
 again."
 
 140 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Poor fellow !" she sighed, complacently affected by the genuine 
 ring of regret in his tone. " Well, I'll make up for it by coining to 
 see you." 
 
 A silence of some minutes ensued, during which Eliza Bath- 
 brill's rubbings and the Premier's irritation increased in intensity. 
 Floppington had no sooner exchanged these few familiar remarks 
 -with the servant than he bit his bantering tongue. It was as though 
 he had been inadvertently drawn into answering questions in the 
 House, without the preliminary invention of the true reply. He 
 probably felt, too, that those stores of affability which were so useful 
 for electioneering purposes were wasted on one of the people who 
 did not yet possess a vote. Moreover, it struck him too late that 
 he ought to have refused altogether to recognise her. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure, dear, I can't get this stain out," cried Eliza. 
 
 " There are some stains, it would seem," thought the Premier 
 bitterly, " that can never be washed out." 
 
 He looked down at Eliza. The golden sunlight streamed down 
 upon her, and she was in an attitude not unlike that of the Madeline 
 of Keats but he smiled grimly at the touch of commonness, that 
 potent shatterer of romance, which was imparted by the nature of 
 her occupation to a maiden who, born under more frescoed ceilings, 
 might have swayed poets and financiers by her vacuous beauty. 
 The very sunlight seemed vulgarised by her presence, and instead 
 of lying sacredly and reverently on this delightful, peacelul shrine 
 dedicated to the nineteenth century god, Culture, it seemed to be 
 glaringly asserting that it was there to bring out the earthly beauty 
 of flesh-tints. He frowned. The temple was deserted of its goddess, 
 and a rash mortal had mounted on the empty pedestal. But Eliza 
 Bathbrill was a bad dream which the returning reality of Lady 
 Gwendolen would soon displace, and the Premier felt that the 
 mauiiais quart (Fheure he was now spending would educate him to 
 an even warmer appreciation of his hostess. Somehow he seemed 
 to realise for the first time how much the womanly charm of the 
 latter, the candour and tenderness of her gray eyes, the crystalline 
 ring of her laughter had wrought upon his spirit. In the first thrill 
 of this discovery he felt that during the remainder of the interview 
 and for the future, he would never be able to return to that half- 
 contemptuous and wholly independent attitude which he had 
 originally adopted. 
 
 " Fool that I was," he thought, " to speak to her as to other 
 women! There are many women fitted for the Harem, but few for 
 the Home." 
 
 This reflection was intended to glance at Eliza Bathbrill, but 
 whether viewed particularly or generally it showed the Premier's 
 ignorance of human nature. Too much is usually forgiven to 
 epigrammatic ignorance, so it is just as well to remark, that in all 
 probability Eliza would have settled down (after the Sturm und 
 drang of the London Reader period of her development) into the 
 happy, humdrum domesticity which follows an enthusiastic youth. 
 Indeed, her conduct compares favourably with Guinevere's. She
 
 STAINS OLD AND NEW 141 
 
 saw that it was her duty to love the highest, and accordingly she 
 loved the highest she could find. She had resisted many worldly 
 temptations. She had not become a barmaid, nor even an actress. 
 She had neither hungered after the mashers of the Gaiety Restaurant^ 
 nor persuaded the critics that beauty is dramatic genius. 
 
 The disgusted Premier was seeking among the dead a refuge 
 from the living in plain language, he was looking at the books. 
 The scholarly eye of the man was fascinated by the well-laden 
 shelves filled with volumes evidently chosen with the novel inten- 
 tion of reading them. A beaatifully-bound copy of Rossetti's- 
 sonnets, occupying a prominent position, attracted his attention. 
 The leaves opened and remained supine with that facility that they 
 can only gain by practice. He chanced upon the exquisite lines- 
 beginning, 
 
 " To be a sweetness more desired than Spring." 
 
 Enraptured, he read the sonnet aloud. As he was commencing, 
 Lady Gwendolen appeared noiselessly at the half-open door of 
 the study. On hearing the first syllables in tones made tender by 
 emotion, she paused so as not to disturb the flow of the magnificent, 
 words. It was an unexpected pleasure to hear her lover recite a 
 poem so appropriate to the occasion, and to find that he who had 
 comprehended only Wordsworth could now delight in more passion- 
 ate erotics. At last, then, he understood that there was something 
 sweeter than Nature, and that was Woman. She laughed silently,, 
 with that laugh of delight that verges on tears. 
 
 As Eliza heard the first line she pricked up her ears. At the 
 second, " a bodily beauty more acceptable," she blushed with pride. 
 The reader was evidently reading at her. She paused from her 
 work and remained motionless, at once petrified and electrified. 
 As the harmonious sounds ceased and the spell was broken, she 
 sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Oh, you darling Jack," she cried. "It's nearly as lovely as 
 the poems you used to write to me. I'll never doubt you any 
 more." 
 
 So saying, she rushed into his arms. Startled, he dropped the 
 book and repelled her rudely. At the same instant he became 
 conscious that steel-gray eyes were piercing him like swords. He 
 turned as pale as Gwendolen herself. 
 
 "Bathbrill," said Gwendolen in piteous, quivering tones, that 
 even indignation could not render firm. " What is the meaning of 
 this ? " 
 
 " I beg pardon, your ladyship," said Eliza humbly. " This is 
 not the place or time for love-making, I am aware. But I never 
 expected to see Jack I mean Mr. Dawe -here, and my feelings 
 overcame me. It's not his fault, pray don't blame him." 
 
 The terrible suspicion that throbbed in Gwendolen's heart as 
 sharp, physical pain, and that made her catch her breath, was turned 
 into certainty. She gazed wearily at Eliza, and the fatal beauty 
 of the girl was burnt into her brain with pencils of fire. The -
 
 142 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 caresses that her entrance had made him refuse doubtless he had 
 lavished them often enough on his paramour, this wronged girl to 
 whom he was only plain Jack Dawe. Bitterly did she remember 
 her late unuttered thought : " Never have those lips touched the 
 face of a woman." And that it should be this of all women ! 
 Le preux chevalier \ 
 
 " And I may as well tell your ladyship now," continued Eliza, 
 thinking to improve the situation, and speaking at her lover as well 
 as to her mistress, " that I shall leave in two months, as we are 
 going to be married. Jack has been always putting it off, but he 
 has promised me faithfully this time." 
 
 It wanted no more. " The vile wretch ! " Lady Gwendolen 
 longed to cry ; but her tongue refused to articulate the words. She 
 cast an agonised look at the Premier and his victim. She saw that 
 he was cowering miserably beneath her glance ; but her blurred 
 vision could not perceive the hopeless tears that trickled down his 
 ashen cheeks. For he read in her eyes her suspicion and the 
 shattering of his dreams. 
 
 " Very well, Bathbrill," said Lady Harley, with an effort. " You 
 can go." 
 
 As the door closed upon the poor girl, Gwendolen sank into a 
 chair. Her eyes were closed. The Premier rushed forwards, 
 thinking that she had fainted. He took her hand to chafe it. She 
 snatched it away fiercely, opened her eyes, and flashed a look of 
 bitter reproach upon him. 
 
 " I am innocent, Gwendolen," he pleaded wildly ; " I am 
 innocent ! " 
 
 "Ah, why did I hope for happiness?" moaned Gwendolen, 
 covering her face with her hands. 
 
 " Oh, if / could make you happy I would die ! " he cried. " I 
 love you, Gwendolen. I am a nobody ; but my life is yours to do 
 with it what you will. I have no hope that you will be mine; but 
 pray, pray believe I am innocent." 
 
 Lady Gwendolen lifted her head. " Enough of this pitiful bur- 
 lesque sentiment," she said in a low, scornful tone. " By your own 
 confession, you are a skilful comedian. I understand many things 
 that puzzled me before ; my eyes have been opened." 
 
 " I love you, Gwendolen ! " repeated the Premier despairingly. 
 " I am innocent ! " 
 
 Again she covered her face with her hands. 
 
 "And if I am not innocent I will atone. I love you ; but I hope 
 for no return save the permission to dedicate my humble life to 
 your happiness. What, O my dear lady, can I do for you?" 
 
 "You can ring that bell in the right-hand coiner," replied 
 Gwendolen in a tone of utter misery. 
 
 In a second the Premier had done so. A tall, stately footman 
 .appeared. 
 
 " Show Mr. Floppington out," said Gwendolen apathetically. 
 
 The footman stared, and looked from one to the other. 
 
 The Premier drew himself up to his full height, took his hat
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 143 
 
 calmly, made an elaborate bow to Gwendolen, and left the fateful 
 chamber. In the hall he scowled majestically at his attendant, 
 and gave him half-a-sovereign. 
 
 "It's d d awkward!" he muttered furiously as the door 
 slammed behind him. " It's d d awkward to have another fellow 
 looking like you. D n Jack Dawe !" 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. 
 
 " GOOD gracious me ! " said the Professor, looking round nervously. 
 " There are thirteen of us ! " The Professor was a man who 
 believed that consciousness was a superfluity, and who, abandoning 
 the search for a great central and unifying verity, taught that Truth 
 was only to be found in atoms from which it should not be hastily 
 inferred that he was in the habit of breaking his word. 
 
 The genial host burst into a hearty laugh. 
 
 "You have a quick eye, Mr. Dallox," he said. "In fact, my 
 intention was to have that number during the series of breakfasts 
 I intend to give, in the hope of laying the superstition that still 
 haunts the minds of many. I wonder," he added jocularly, " which 
 sphere of life is to lose a shining light science, or painting, or 
 literature, or the drama, or politics." 
 
 "Don't you consider politics a branch of the drama? "asked 
 Mr. Bab, looking curiously around the table. 
 
 " You may laugh, Mr. Floppington," intervened the Professor, 
 evidently contemplating the extinction of his own superfluous con- 
 sciousness with anything but satisfaction ; " but amid the mass of 
 superstitions it is extremely illogical to suppose that there would not 
 here and there be a germ of truth." 
 
 "A germ of truth !" cried Mr. Dagon. "Do you mean to say, 
 Professor, that Truth is catching ? And if so, do you propose 
 inoculation to make us truth-proof? " 
 
 " Why not ?" asked Mr. Bab. " It has long been recognised that 
 Truth is a disease of language." 
 
 " Mythology is, you mean," corrected Mr. Claviger. 
 
 " Perhaps he wishes to insinuate that the bulk of our truth is 
 mythology," interposed the Premier. 
 
 But the Professor's train of thought was not to be thrown off the 
 track by these interruptions. " The fact that any superstition has 
 come down to us is, on Darwinian principles, a proof of its useful- 
 ness." He went on : " The doctrine of the survival of the fittest 
 is as applicable to the history of religion as to the " 
 
 " Survival of the fittest ! " Mr. Dagon exclaimed contemptu- 
 ously. " If there were any truth in that, we should be a nation of 
 epileptics." 
 
 The Professor paused and frowned, but the irreverent Dagon,
 
 144 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 supported by the sympathetic smile on the venerable countenance 
 of Mr. Claviger, refused to be sat upon. 
 
 " Survival of the fittest ! : ' repeated Mr. Claviger with equal 
 scorn. " Even the beautiful regions of superstition must be invaded 
 by the demon of Darwinism, which can explain everything we don't 
 want explained. Any counter-jumper could have written the ' Origin 
 of Species' if he had a mind to do it." 
 
 " Quite so," said Dagon ; " it's only the mind that would be 
 wanting." 
 
 "That is very clever," murmured Bab. "A quotation, I 
 presume." 
 
 " My dear sir," replied Dagon, " we haven't all got good 
 memories enough to be original. Originality is, I take it, only un- 
 detected plagiarism." 
 
 " Still," put in Sir John Momus, the illustrious low comedian, 
 "coincidences will happen even in the best-regulated plagiarisms." 
 
 "Moi, savez-vous que je suis aiTreusement superstitieuse ?" 
 interposed the great French tragedienne, whom Dagon had already 
 secretly dubbed the skeleton at the feast. 
 
 " Before discussing superstition," said the host, " suppose we 
 define it. It seems to be a belief in that part of the supernatural 
 in which the definer does not believe." 
 
 "Oh, please don't be so clever, Mr. Floppington," pleaded Nelly 
 Shepherd, pausing in her manipulation of the leg of a fowl. "You 
 are as unintelligible as the lines of my new part." 
 
 " I'm sure I intended no pun," said the Premier in a hurt tone. 
 May I fill your glass ?'' His sprightly neighbour assented laugh- 
 ingly, and the little incident seemed to remind the company tnat 
 they had assembled for more than a feast of reason, and for some 
 moments everybody helped everybody else with that lavish expendi- 
 ture of unselfishness which causes many people to use up their 
 whole stock at table. It was not without a feeling of pride that 
 Floppington surveyed the snowy expanse of cloth glittering with 
 silver and precious glass, and fragrant with flowers, around which 
 sat men and women whom he had admired and reverenced for 
 years. The sight of the noiseless servants hovering behind the 
 guests, so exquisitely respectful and attentive, so alert and graceful 
 in their movements, added to his serene content. For a moment, 
 indeed, a frown crossed his face. But this was probably due to the 
 vision of another scene which flashed upon him, suggested by con- 
 trast a scene lacking in the daintiness and refinement which sur- 
 rounded him. It must have been that thought of hungry mouths 
 which sometimes hovers about the table of Dives, and spoils his 
 luxurious meals. Whatever the thought was, it was transient. The 
 Premier busied himself in helping his guests, and for some minutes 
 there was that silence which prevails among well-bred people 
 endeavouring to obscure the fact that they are masticating. 
 
 Suddenly Sir John Momus was observed sitting bolt upright 
 with a grave expression on his round countenance, as if he had 
 been surprised by the irruption of an idea. But he said nothing
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAK FAST-TALLE 145 
 
 till Sir Hugh Erlyon, the President of the Royal Academy, who 
 was the comedian's vis-a-vis, taking upon himself to interpret the 
 general sentiment, observed deferentially : " You were about to 
 remark ? " 
 
 " That it was a very fine day," replied Sir John, his eyes, which 
 were fixed on vacancy, dilating into a perplexed stare as a current 
 of laughter, musical and unmusical, ran round the table. 
 
 " To me there is nothing ridiculous in the occasional reminder 
 that Nature has a beautiful picture on view," said Sir Hugh. 
 
 " I didn't know you admired Nature," observed Mr. Bab. Sir 
 Hugh looked up in horror at Mr. Bab, who added deprecatingly : 
 " I only mean, you know, that, as an artist, she's just a little bit too 
 realistic, eh ? French school, and all that sort of thing. Frankly, 
 now, Sir Hugh, do you think you'd make her an R.A. ?" 
 
 Before the President could decide this delicate question, Momus 
 interposed : " I don't know about making her an R.A. But she 
 certainly wouldn't do for a President. All her stars are remorse- 
 lessly skied." 
 
 ' The truest art is to conceal art," sententiously observed 
 Momus's friend, Lord Thespis, who since he had been raised to 
 the peerage had begun to cultivate an oracular habit. He accom- 
 panied the remark by that mysterious and winning smile which 
 never deserted him, even when he thought he had said something 
 original. 
 
 " The truest art is to conceal Nature," amended a quiet voice, 
 proceeding from the Marquis of Rockington, who had hitherto 
 amused himself in talking of old times with the fair tragedienne, 
 and who now began to show the cloven hoof. The warm friend- 
 ship which had sprung up between the ultra-cynical and sceptical 
 man of the world and the orthodox Minister was not the least 
 remarkable phenomenon accompanying the Premier's abandon- 
 ment of his reserved habits. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Momus firmly, coming to the defence 
 of his friend, with the natural authoritativeness of a man who was 
 playing every night in a classical burlesque, "the Latin original 
 is artem." 
 
 " Art or Nature," responded the Marquis in a bored tone. "You 
 artists manage to conceal both to perfection." 
 
 "Unfortunately for satirists," interposed Mr. Claviger, "the 
 weakest part of an epigram is generally the truth of it. Surely no 
 one will now venture to affirm that Turner was unfaithful to Nature. 
 Look, too, at the glorious effects of rain, and mist, and cloud, de- 
 picted by so long a line of British landscape painters." 
 
 " Perhaps it is owing to the climate that English artists have 
 taken so naturally to water-colours ? " put in Mr. Dagon. 
 
 " Oh, no doubt the environment largely affects the artistic in- 
 stincts of a people," said Mr. Dallox. 
 
 " Oh. do please explain that big word," said the sprightly Miss 
 Shepherd, with an arch side-glance at Mr. Claviger, who smiled in 
 return.
 
 146 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 The Professor laid down his fork, and cleared his throat with an 
 Albemarle Street cough. 
 
 " Est-ce qu'il va nous faire un cours?" whimpered the divine 
 Sarah, throwing a reproachful glance at Miss Shepherd. 
 
 " Never mind, old boy," said Neliy. with that delightful chic in 
 which she was without a rival. " Til let you off. Besides, you 
 could never make me understand." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the Professor sharply. "Have you not 
 heard that my books are noted for their popular character ? " 
 
 " 1 never knew before that you had succeeded in making the 
 Lobster a popular character," said Dagon, " though you have ana- 
 lysed him so minutely in your best-known scientific fiction. To 
 make popular characters, you should sketch broadly a la Dickens. 
 All you have done is to show that he is rather a queer fish, and that 
 we all knew before." 
 
 "Anyhow, he makes very good salad," said Floppingt on. And 
 everybody laughed, which encouraged the host, \\ho had hitheito 
 been somewhat silent, enjoying the conversation as if he had paid 
 for it. though a little ove powered by the talent assembled round 
 his hospitable board. 
 
 " I always endeavour to speak the language of the people, and I 
 am sure a great part of my success is due to this," continued the 
 unruffled Piofessor. 
 
 " No doubt," said the Marquis drily. " The most popular philo- 
 sopher is he who makes people think they think." 
 
 " For my part I must confess," said Mr. Alderney Lightfoot, de- 
 sisting from his long attempt to find enough rhymes to silver to 
 furnish a rondeau. " 1 think your books too clear to be of any value 
 as literature." 
 
 "I cannot serve two masters Sense and Nonsense at onre," 
 replied the Professor warmly. 
 
 "It strikes me that you scientific gentlemen don't always serve 
 the master you think," said Mr. Claviger. " When I see Miss 
 Shepherd dancing, I thank Heaven th.it made her graceful and 
 happy, whereas the eye with the Evolution squint can only see in 
 her a cross between a dodo and a daddy-longlegs." 
 
 Miss Nelly made a comic moue^ which, together with the 
 ridiculous description of her, set everybody laughing. But Mr. 
 Claviger went on with sombre solemnity : 
 
 " It is not lor nothing that ever since the year of the publication 
 of the ' Origin of Species,' the sky has been darkened by a storm- 
 cloud. But what care we now if the fathomless depths of blue 
 the visible type of infinity and eternity have been indignantly 
 veiled from our grovelling vision ? Intent on the physical processes 
 of growth, we have forgotten the breath of the Spirit. Man is dead, 
 but the 'featherless biped' who is left alive is untouched by the 
 beauty of the Heavens and the Earth. Would, at least, that their 
 beauty were untouched by him ! The miserable creature must 
 needs scar the faces of both with lines of ugliness, leaving himself 
 nothing to worship but Sunday, and he goes and worships that in
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 147 
 
 churches which he can't even pay for. If he had the least grain of 
 honestv, he would rather go and pray in the coal-hole." 
 
 "The fourth commandment according to Claviger! " cried the 
 Premier in a horrified tone. " Remember the Sabbath Day to keep 
 it coaley ! Mr. Claviger, do you know you are shockingly 
 irreverent ? " 
 
 " And, Mr. Claviger," observed the Marquis reflectively, " if man 
 is the miserable creature that you say he is, the Society for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ought to see that the discovery of 
 his descent is kept from the monkeys. They would probably be 
 .ashamed of their newly-discovered poor relations." 
 
 For once Bab smiled, and exclaimed, without seeing till too 
 late how the idea might have been furbished up for his next comic 
 opera : 
 
 " Yes ; imagine what a shock it would be to the merry Punchi- 
 nello on the barrel-organ to learn that it was related to the 
 oleaginous organ-grinder." 
 
 " The barrel-organ is a much-maligned instrument," said Sir 
 Arthur Connor. "It has done more to popularise music than the 
 pianoforte. By its means the grand compositions of the great 
 modern masters are brought home to the very poorest. It makes 
 its way into dark regions where no pianoforte has ever penetrated ; 
 the foulest air is made musical with gay and chorded melody." 
 " You leave out," said Bab, " that it is more quickly learnt." 
 ' And leaves less scope for false notes. Perhaps that's why no 
 genius ever plays it," added Rockington. 
 
 Mr. Alderney Lightfoot looked up from his plate. 
 " Nothing affected me more," he said simply, " than to see the 
 little children in a squalid court kissing the hem of the Italian's 
 robe, and begging him to go on playing ; evidently regarding him 
 .as the fountain of all that divine sweetness. It was a subject for 
 the Master." 
 
 '* I'm sure you could do it as well," exclaimed Floppington 
 .enthusiastically. 
 
 Mr. Lightfoot shook his head. 
 
 " No one could embody the touching tenderness of the theme in 
 all its penetrating pathos and infinite ideality, but the one starry 
 soul whose winged verses will hold him for ever poised in the pure 
 ether of sacred remembrance, the one sweet seraph who has veiled 
 his awful face from mortal sight." 
 
 "Would you mind passing the salad, Mr. Lightfoot?" said Sir 
 John Mom us. 
 
 " Well, if you don't think you could make anything of it," said 
 the Premier. " suppose you give the subject to Mr. Dagon. I should 
 be so proud if anything said at my breakfast-table resulted in a new 
 ballad of Babyland." 
 
 Mr. Lightfoot appeared shocked, and passed the salad-bowl with 
 anuch dignity. 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Mr. Dagon. " I hope I know my place better." 
 " Don't be so modest, Dagon," said Mr. Bab, with some spite- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 fulness. " No one could possibly make a better thing out of squalid 
 courts and squalling babies than you do." 
 
 " Well, if they could I should like to see it," cried Floppinston. 
 " Do let me persuade you to please the great army of reciters, of 
 whom I am one." 
 
 " Do you hear that ?" said Bab. " Mr. Floppington wants you 1 
 to write a lesson for the day." 
 
 " And does he not write lessons for the day ? " Floppington in- 
 quired with some embarrassment. 
 
 "And are not those lessons read on Sunday too, and in the 
 Church of Humanity ?" added Lord Thespis solemnly. 
 
 " What French observer was it," interposed the Marquis, "who 
 discovered that the favourite Sunday dish of the British working 
 classes was liver, garnished with a little mustard and cress ? " 
 
 " For shame ! " cried Floppington , '' if the world at large is 
 interested in Mr. Dagon's dyspepsia, it is because he has a heart 
 of gold." 
 
 " A liver of go'd," murmured Mr. Bab. " He makes money out 
 of himself, like the man in Douglas Jerrold's story." 
 
 "When you have done with my liver, gentlemen," said Mr, 
 Dagon, smiling good-humouredly. 
 
 " I am sure you are not eating anything. Mr. Dagon. 1 Flopping- 
 ton said, with much solicitude. " Let me help you to some of this- 
 pate de foie g> as." 
 
 " Pdtt de foie gras ! " gasped Mr. Dagon. 
 
 " It is delicious." urged the Premier. 
 
 " It is indeed ! " said Mr. Dallox reverently. "The goose, whose 
 liver it once was. must have died happy, knowing that by its death, 
 it would confer the most exquisite sensations upon poster 
 
 "That was because it was a goose," interrupted Miss Shepherd. 
 
 "I don't believe it died happy," said Sir Hugh, "but it was- 
 doubtless happy to die. which is not the same thing. The greatest 
 coward, suffering so from enlargement of the liver, would have wel- 
 come d death." 
 
 " Not even a goose liveih unto itself alone," continued the Pro- 
 fessor, whose gift of happy Scriptural or quasi-Scriptural quotation 
 had endeared him to the Philistines. " Infinite are the vibrations- 
 of its guttural quack. The atoms that constitute its liver have now 
 passed into my being, to be invested with a higher collateral con- 
 sciousness, a sublimer capacitv for emotion and understanding." 
 
 " From which it logically follows that your next lecture will, at 
 bottom, be the work of a goose," Mr. Claviger burst forth. 
 
 " Yes, why not ?" Mr. Dallox responded calmly. "All forms of 
 matter are equally sacred. There is no reason " 
 
 "But surely, Mr. Dallox," interrupted Mr. Dagon, "you don't 
 mean to class yourself among the scientific quacks of Mr. Claviger's- 
 denunciations ? " 
 
 "There is no reason," repeated the Professor, taking no notice- 
 of the impertinent punster, "why we should despise any of the 
 manifestations of protoplasm. Rather should we reverence them."' 
 
 "And do we not reverence geese ?" the Marquis asked blandly.-
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 149 
 
 " Do let me persuade you ! " again pleaded Floppington, in the 
 silence which followed this remark. 
 
 ' You know not what you ask," Mr. Dagon replied. " I thought 
 everybody knew how bitterly opposed the atoms of my liver are to 
 the introduction of those of any foreign liver." 
 
 "What? Is pate de foie gras indigestible?" inquired the 
 Premier. 
 
 " Happy mortal !" ejaculated poor Mr. Dagon. "Where igno- 
 rance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise. I think the prayer to be saved 
 from his friends must have been first framed by an unhappy 
 dyspepiic." 
 
 " Pernaps by Carlyle ? " suggested Rockington. 
 
 " I am glad the prayer wasn't granted," said Lightfoot. " Mr. 
 Froude was perfectly right to unmask that canting Calvinist, to 
 brush oft the glory of grass beneath which that venomous viper 
 polluted the Arcadian air with rancid respiration." 
 
 ' The happiest men, like the happiest women, are they that 
 have no biography," said Rockington. 
 
 " Mill, I'm sure Mr. Floppington intended to be a true friend," 
 interposed Mr. Bab. ' Siuiitia similibus curantur." 
 
 " i3ut I'm afraid,'' 1 added Momus, ''that our iriend Dagon is an 
 incurable jester." 
 
 ' There is one joke at least," said Dagon gloomily, "that I ought 
 to have been allowed to make. Suppose you had got to discuss 
 whether life was worth the living. Now could I have helped saying 
 that that depends upon the liver?" 
 
 '' It is hard, :! admitted Bab, "that in a question of literary 
 coincidence, tne prior writer always gets the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 *' The Greeks picked upon the liver as the seat or passion," 
 observed Sir Hugn, "which shows that their popular physiology 
 was in advance 01 ours." 
 
 '' All such popular generalisations point to a great truth," said 
 the Professor : " the interconnection of physical and mental pheno- 
 mena. This is one or those great truths which are known to all 
 but the very dull or the very philosophic. Nature is simple her 
 great facts are patent to every one in possession of his five senses. ' 
 
 "Fiddlestick!" cried Mr. Claviger. -'The divine human soul 
 is not bound down by the five senses." 
 
 ' Weil," admitted tue Professor, with a flash of latent humour in 
 his keen gray eyes, ' at ieast, it is only the philosopher that can go 
 out of his senses. " 
 
 ' It is betier to be out of one's senses with Plato, than in them 
 with Darwin," retorted Mr. Claviger. '' I will never believe that I 
 am related to a blackocetle." 
 
 " 'I here's no answering for the indiscretions of one's ancestors," 
 murmured the Marquis. 
 
 'Oh, you disgusting creature!" said Nelly, rapping Mr. 
 Claviger across the knuckles with ner fork. "Just as 1 was enjoy- 
 ing this oyster sauce, too. '' 
 
 " You mustn't judge by appearances," said the Professor im- 
 pressively, ''tne vital genera shade off into each other. The
 
 150 THE PREMIER AND THE PA1N1ER 
 
 Ornithorhynchus graduates towards Reptiles ; the Ichthyosaurians 
 present affinities with Amphibians, in their turn allied to Ganoid 
 fishes. The Lancelet or Amphioxus oh ! " for the Professor, too, 
 had received castigation from the irate actress. 
 
 Everybody began to laugh but the two culprits, who rushed at 
 each other verbally like two schoolboy pugilists whom everybody 
 is tn ing to part. Their tones grew louder and louder. 
 
 " Order, gentlemen," cried Floppington, rapping the table with* 
 his closed fist like the chairman at the smoking concerts in public- 
 houses. 
 
 There was another burst of laughter, above which rose the 
 eager clamour of the lecturing duet. 
 
 " Order ! Chair ! " vociferated Miss Shepherd, gulping down a 
 glass of champagne, " Order ! :) 
 
 " Ces gens sont tous fous!" soliloquised Sarah, calmly con- 
 tinuing her unfaltering promenade through the courses marked on. 
 the chart. " Havez-vous, M. Floppington," she said in low silvery 
 accents, turning towards him with a serpentine movement, " c.a 
 commence a m'embeter. Et vous, vous ne dites rien? Causons L 
 Vous m'avez vu dans Fedora ?" 
 
 " Oui," said Floppington, blushing. 
 
 " Je ne me rappelle pas, cependant, vous y avoir vu. Faut que 
 vous vous soyez blotti dans la foule." 
 
 " Oui," said Floppington. 
 
 "Un monarque devrait se montrer partout. Vous avez tort 
 de rechercher 1'obscuritd. Et moi qui ne savais! Ou la vertu va- 
 t-elle sc nicher dans le monde de la Gaiety, car vous etes la vertu 
 personnifie'e, n'est-ce pas ? " 
 
 " Oui/' said Floppington. 
 
 Sarah laughed her delicious laugh. " C'est du Hugo tout pur I 
 L'otre intelligent fait de I'ego'i'sme une vertu, 1'imbecile en fait une 
 MCC. I\lais qu'avez-vous done aujourd'hui, M. Floppington, que 
 vous repondez tout en monosyllabes? Vous n'ctes pas un vrar 
 ciplomate. Ne savez-vous pas que le meilleur moyen de se taire, 
 c'est de p ir'er ? Le langage ne nous fut-il pas donne pour 
 degniser nos pensdes ?" 
 
 "Oui," said Floppington. 
 
 Sarah clapped her hands. " Mr. Floppington falls of accord 
 with me," she cried. "Ah, Monseigneur Kockington, you have then 
 been giving him of your lessons ?" 
 
 " Why, what new heresy has he been guilty of?" inqif red the 
 Marquis from the other end of the table. 
 
 "He says language was given us to conceal our thoughts." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the Marquis. " Really these gentle- 
 men are so busy quoting their books that I can't hear." 
 
 "Well, I've always admitted " began Floppington, and 
 
 paused. 
 
 " Silence !" cried Nelly. " Order for the Chair ! Order for Mr. 
 Floppington ! " 
 
 A sudden hush fell upon the company.
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 151 
 
 " He says that language was given to us to conceal our thoughts," 
 repeated Sarah. 
 
 "Our want of thought,'' murmured Mr. Claviger, with a dis 
 dainful glance at the Professor. 
 
 " Well, I do say it," cried Floppington. 
 
 " Then, ladies, you may claim your gloves ! " said Bab. " It 
 was distinctly understood that the slightest allusion to politics 
 should be punished." 
 
 " The punishment is an honour," said the Premier, with an ad- 
 miring glance at Mr. Bab. 
 
 The ladies bowed gracefully. 
 
 " Oh, do talk politics," said Nelly, looking appealingly at the 
 company. " Do make them talk politics, dear Mr. Floppington," 
 she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Shall I unmake my own laws?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, bother your laws !" cried Nelly. 
 
 The company looked aghast, but the courtly Premier preserved 
 a polite smile. 
 
 " Miss Shepherd thinks stolen politics sweetest," drily observed 
 the Marquis. 
 
 " That's another forfeit ! " cried Nelly, clapping her hands and 
 repressing a tendency to whist'e an air of Meyer Lutz. 
 
 The high spirits and entrain of the actress seemed to exhilarate 
 the Premier. He poured himself out another glass of Perrier- 
 Jouet. "I'll make this concession," he observed gaily. "The 
 ladies shall talk the politics and the gentlemen buy the gloves." 
 
 "How jolly!" Nelly cried, bursting into a laugh. "But I'm 
 afiaid I don't know anything about the subject." 
 
 ' What a promising candidate for a constituency ! " exclaimed 
 Sir Aithur Connor. 
 
 "Is a promising candidate a candidate who promises?" inquired 
 Nelly. " Because I'm ready to promise anything except marriage. 
 But ically, although I'm even now singing a topical song of courte 
 in the Conservative interest, Mr. Floppington with oh ! such en- 
 thusiasm, I confess I don't know the difference between a Liberal 
 and a Conservative. ' 
 
 * That is not your fault," said Bab ; " the nomenclature of poli- 
 tics is of a very unscientific description." 
 
 "The difference is simply this," said the Marquis: ' : the Con- 
 servative believes that Providence is on his side, the Liberal that 
 he is on the side of Providence. ' 
 
 Everybody's eyes turned to the Premier's face. But if the 
 student of divinity was shocked, he allowed no trace of the emotion 
 to appear. He even smiled oracularly and observed: '' I firmly 
 believe that Providence is giving the Tories a lift." 
 
 "Gcd created sex, and man politic?,' interposed Sir HughErlyon. 
 " For my part I prefer the natural division of humanity to the 
 unnatural. ' 
 
 ' Politics were invented to keep the upper classes out of mis- 
 chief," put in Mr. Claviger sententiously.
 
 152 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "And to get the lower classes into it," added the Marquis. 
 
 " I don't think the unnatural division, as you call it, does any 
 harm,' 1 said Sir Arthur. 
 
 " But it causes so many other divisions,' 5 exclaimed Dagon. 
 
 " I agree with Sir Arthur," Lord Thespis remarked with his 
 mysterious smile. " Great minds agree to differ '' 
 
 "That is so," observed Momus earnestly. " My friend Thespis 
 and I have more than one set of opinions between us." 
 
 "Well, since modesty and politics are the order of the day," 
 said the Marquis, " I must confess that I disagree in toto with my 
 right honourable friend, Mr. Floppington, on the very vital question 
 of representative government." 
 
 "Well, for my part," said the host, "I detest people with 
 dubious views. A man who professes to belong to no party 
 usually combines the defects of all. So out with your tirade, 
 Rockington.' 
 
 " Society is to be nothing but a Mutual Administration Society, 
 forsooth !" cried the Marquis. "Govern me, and I'll govern you. 
 I refuse to be governed by Monsieur Prudhomme for any con- 
 sideration whatever." 
 
 " Hear, hear !" cried Mr. Dallox. 
 
 The Marquis became animated. 
 
 " Democracy is nothing but an offshoot of Positivism, with its 
 deification of a humanity which consists largely of total abstainers 
 from any manifestation of its better qualities. Everything is to be 
 regulated by the combined action of petty National or pettier Local 
 Boards. They will soon be wishing to depose the Creator, and 
 administer the affairs of the universe and regulate all the pheno- 
 mena of Nature by representative government." 
 
 " Excellent ! " cried the Professor. "If people were only clear- 
 headed enough to understand that that is the logical outcome of 
 their attacks on the oligarchical and monarchical principles ! 
 Government by average opinion is only a circuitous method of 
 going to the devil." 
 
 "And by any other method they'd go there straight ! " cried the 
 Premier with flashing eyes. 
 
 " You forget, Professor," interposed Dagon, "that the gentleman 
 they're going to is a Conservative." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " cried Momus, turning to his friend, who was then 
 playing Mephistopheles. 
 
 " 1 don't mean that," said Dagon hastily. " I mean that his 
 Satanic Majesty would naturally be an enemy to the Radicalism 
 and Republicanism that threatens to upset all thrones." 
 
 " Well, really, Lord Thespis," said the Premier, " I never could 
 understand why you were one of us. In your theatrical character 
 you are so full of new plans." 
 
 " He believes in reform in no direction except where it is least 
 necessary," said Dagon. 
 
 " I deny the analogy," said Thespis. " The theatre is not the 
 world."
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 153 
 
 " Pardonnez-moi .' " cried Sarah. " All the world's a stage. 
 What's good lor the one must be good for the other." 
 
 ' So the ladies of the world seem to think who paint," said 
 Bab. 
 
 " I'll owe you one for that, Mr. Bab," cried Nelly playfully. 
 " You know I paint, and I'm no more ashamed to confess it than 
 Sir Hugh Erlyon himself." 
 
 " Miss Shepherd has found the Elixir of Youth," said Sarah. 
 
 "Thank you," cried Nelly, with a pretty grimace. 
 
 Mr. Alderney Lightfoot came to the rescue. 
 
 " What is earlier born than the sunshine, and yet what is more 
 beautiful ? Eternally fresh as 
 
 " As your metaphor," interrupted Bab. 
 
 "Happily the comparison won't hold in detail," said the Premier. 
 " Miss Shepherd is frequently with us." 
 
 Nelly laughed in delight, and held out her glass, which the 
 Premier filled. The other guests smiled silently, as feeling the in- 
 sincerity of the compliment, for the Premier had never taken a 
 course of Gaiety burlesque even medicinally. They felt sure he 
 had no accurate conception of Miss Shepherd's performances, and 
 that he had only added her to the party lor the sake of representa- 
 tive completeness for logical, and not for personal reasons. 
 
 " She's certainly a wonderful woman," Sir Arthur said in a low 
 tone to Mr. Bab. " Her skin is as well preserved " 
 
 "Asa general's," concluded Bab. " We must keep that. You 
 ought to get up a good jingle for that. Her skin as well preserved 
 as a general's as a general's." 
 
 Sir Arthur immediately began to hum. 
 
 " Who's going to oblige with a song ?" cried Floppington, catch- 
 ing the sounds. 
 
 There was a general laugh at Sir Arthur's expense, but the 
 Premier seemed to be as disconcerted as the musician. 
 
 " I am afraid I missed that," said Mr. Alderney Lightfoot, 
 starting up. " I do believe I was lost in thought." 
 
 "No wonder," murmured Bab ; "it's a terra incognita." 
 
 "Is anybody going in for Johannisberg?" the Premier exclaimed 
 hastily. "My butler tells me I haven't exhausted the bottles pre- 
 sented to me by Prince Bismarck." 
 
 " I wonder whether he gave them to you to illustrate his 
 socialistic principles ?" observed Dagon. " If so, he is more con- 
 sistent than that immensely wealthy Marquis of Dash whom 1 was 
 talking to the other day, and who amazed me by coolly telling me 
 that he agreed with Proudhon, that la propriete c'est le vo/." 
 
 " I don't see the inconsistency," said Mr. Bab. " It's quite 
 certain he never took any trouble to acquire property." 
 
 " I don't go in for Socialism," said Floppington ; '' but I must 
 confess the rule of society seems to be, that to him that hath nothing 
 to do, much shall be given." 
 
 "You have put your ringer on the plague-spot of Society," said 
 Dagon earnestly. " Really, Mr. Floppington, you have no concep-
 
 154 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 tion, if you will ailosv me to say so, of the growing bitterness of 
 feeling in the lower classes. Living, as your class does, in its clubs 
 and its mansions, it isolates itself from the true current of national 
 life, and I must say it even at the risk of displeasing you 
 thereby becomes stagnant and foul." 
 
 The Premier seemed to catch his enthusiasm. " Go it, my boy; 
 give it to us ! " he cried. 
 
 The adroit way in which the Premier rebuked his too presump- 
 tuous guest was generally admired, and almost every one perceived 
 the subtle reproof implied by the ironically familiar " my boy." 
 There was a moment's constrained silence, which was broken by 
 Mr. Dallox, who neatly dragged the talk out of its dangerous 
 course. " I have been thinking of your remark that democracy 
 was an offshoot of Positivism," he said to the Mar-quis. " I had an 
 idea that you were a Positivist yourself." 
 
 '' I ? " cried the latter. " I am a student of mankind.'' 
 
 Bab laughed. " Then you agree with me that Pythagoras was a 
 fool to tell a man to know himself." 
 
 " Yes. It would make most people as miserable to know them- 
 selves as not to know their richer neighbours." 
 
 " Yet the cynical Pope said the noblest study of mankind is 
 man," said Thespis. 
 
 " The cynical Pope is not infallible," observed Dagon. 
 
 " The noblest study of mankind is woman," cried Momus 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 A pained look came into the Premier's eyes. The company 
 observed it, and Momus looked shamefaced. 
 
 " Qu'est-ce que c'est que le credo du Positivisme?" asked Sarah. 
 
 "There is no God but Humanity, and Harrison is his prophet," 
 answered Bab glibly. 
 
 " Le Positivisme c'est tin pas en arriire," the Marquis explained 
 to the tragedienne. " Comte, en voulant donner sa religion a 
 Phomme, avaitoublie que c'est 1'homme qui veut donner son compte 
 a la religion." 
 
 Sarah smiled. 
 
 " If we talk French to her," said the Premier, "she will never 
 learn English. 1 think I shall make a point of speaking to no 
 foreigner in his own tongue." 
 
 " Carlyle was right in one thing,'' said Mr. Dallox. " He had 
 none of this preposterous reverence for the masses." 
 
 " He wasn't a Newman,'' said Momus. 
 
 " He was fairly Catholic in his antipathies," said Bab. " No one 
 can accuse him of narrow-mindedness." 
 
 " Do you think that Catholicism is gaining ground in society?" 
 said Lord Thespis to Sir Hugh. 
 
 ' ; There is only one religion in society," said the Marquis : ''tree 
 worship." 
 
 " Eh ?" cried the Professor, startled. "A survival what do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Family tree worship," amended Rockington.
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 155 
 
 " In all its branches," added Momus. 
 
 " You remind me of one of the best things I ever said in a. 
 speech," said the Premier to the Marquis. "Some cad had been 
 arguing for hereditary legislation." 
 
 The guests looked at one another. Was the Premier un- 
 consciously revealing the future? 
 
 " And I recollect perorating with great effect as follows : ' And', 
 finally, I am convinced that my cocky young friend has as little 
 knowledge of history as of the good society he eulogises. The- 
 slightest peep at Debrett would have told him that almost all 
 people of birth trace their descent either to an ancestor of whom 
 they would be ashamed, or to one who would be ashamed of them.' " 
 
 " I don't remember reading that in your speeches," said Sir Hugh.. 
 
 " No," said the Premier with a forced laugh. " That was in the 
 days when I was a comparatively unknown man." 
 
 "It is strange to think," said Lord Thespis, "that the great 
 men of the next decade are now struggling unrecognised. Truly 
 for a time at least the world knows nothing of its greatest men." 
 
 "And it's not satisfied without knowing everything," added Bab. 
 
 " Rather say, its greatest men know nothing of the world," said 
 the Premier with strange bitterness, " for, after all, the world of 
 culture that we call Society is the only real world for an inteliectual 
 man.''' 
 
 " You seem to regret your long, almost total seclusion," said Sir 
 Hugh sympathetically. 
 
 " I do," said the Premier simply. " I regret bitterly the long 
 years I passed cut off from it by the artificial barriers of prejudice." 
 
 " The world rejoices that you have overcome that prejudice," 
 said Lord Rockington. " It cannot bear to be looked down upon." 
 
 '' I confess I did look down upon it,'' he replied. " But now that 
 I have come to know it, amid much that is hollow and rotten I 
 find a solid substratum of delicate and refined feeling, of noble 
 action, and of true thought." 
 
 The sincerity and frankness of the simple-minded host moved 
 the company to admiration. 
 
 " Yes, the old order has much that is good, and will not change 
 so quickly as the Radical imagines," mused Sir Hugh. "As Schiller 
 said in the lines you so beautifully translated as I would say to 
 every hot-headed revolutionist : 
 
 ' Du willst die Macht, 
 Die ruhig, sicher thronende erschiittern, 
 Die in verjahrt geheiligtem Besilz 
 In der . . . .' 
 
 How does it run ? :) 
 
 " It's as much as you can expect a politician to do to remember 
 his own sneeches," said Floppington. 
 
 " Surely no one expects him to do that," said Bab. " Politicians 
 should cultivate badness of memory by all available methods." 
 
 The Premier laughed. " That is like Mark Twain's phrase. I
 
 156 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 wish he wasn't out of England now, by-the-by. He speaks some- 
 where of a man devoting his life to the acquisition of ignorance." 
 
 "The phrase is not so paradoxical as it seems." said the 
 Marquis. "Think of the divinity student's laboriously acquired 
 knowledge of theology." 
 
 Sir Hugh sent his lordship a warning glance, but the latter had 
 already tested his man, and had never known a sarcasm of his 
 resented by the Premier. 
 
 " I have heard most of the great preachers," he continued ; " they 
 are all so lavish ; they use up in one sermon a stock of ignorance 
 which could be spread out over a dozen." 
 
 "That comes from giving over Religion to a prejudiced body," said 
 Mr. Dallox. " Why are we scientific men not permitted to occupy 
 the pulpits? I consider myself a preacher, and purposely entitled 
 .a work of mine ' Lay Sermons,' to show that I thought the field of 
 Conduct as much mine as any ecclesiastic's." 
 
 "To me the objections to lay-preaching seem well founded," 
 observed Mr. Bab. "Only duly qualified practitioners should be 
 allowed to administer narcotics." 
 
 The Premier burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 "Would they administered innoxious narcotics only ! " said Light- 
 foot. It is poison that they administer." 
 
 At this exhibition of bad taste the guests looked at the Premier, 
 in whose eyes tears of enjoyment stood. 
 
 "Oh, no, no! " he cried, perceiving their glances. " My dear 
 fellow, remember that we are not all so unprejudiced as you." 
 
 The exquisite courtliness of this rebuke was lost upon the poet, 
 who launched into an alliterative diatribe, while Miss Shepherd 
 amused herself and the company by making grimaces. 
 
 " Bother the spirit of reason ! Don't you think we've had 
 enough of reason," interrupted Bab, taking advantage of a failure 
 of breath in the speaker. "Suppose you give us some rhyme lor a 
 change." 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " from the company, and laughter. 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Lightfoot," urged the Premier, "do let us hear one of 
 your forthcoming poems." 
 
 " 1 am so fond of poetry," said Nelly, looking up at the poet 
 with languishing eyes. 
 
 Mr. Lightfoot was stammering out a refusal, when the great 
 tragedienne exclaimed : "Ah si, Monsieur Lightfoot, M. Hugo m'a 
 tant parle de vous." 
 
 " But it is addressed to Death," said the poet, softening, "and 
 perhaps " 
 
 Sarah broke into a silvery laugh. '' Moi craindre la mort, moi 
 qui me suis suicidee tant de fois ! Est-ce que cette theme vous 
 effraye, Mademoiselle Shepherd?" 
 
 " Miss Shepherd has died occasionally, I am sure," said 
 the Marquis. 
 
 '' I warn you that it expresses in poetry the ideas I have just 
 been enunciating in prose," said Mr. Lightfoot.
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 157 
 
 " That doesn't matter ! " said Bab, adding sotto voce : " Poetry 
 is none the worse for having none." 
 
 Without further prelude, the poet began in a thrilling voice,. 
 Arising and falling with emotion, the following verses : 
 
 "TO DEATH. 
 
 " O bitter, blind Death that biddest us hasten 
 
 From the Heaven of Earth to the Hell of Heaven, 
 From sorrows that strengthen to joys that chasten. 
 
 And the Stygi.in sphere of the virtues seven, 
 From the fiery flask of the sun fierce-hearted 
 , To th-e sorrowful sheen of the Heavenly bar; 
 
 bitter, blind Death, ^^'hen from Earth we are parted, 
 Make us as blind as thine own eyes are. 
 
 " O dismal, dumb Death that stillest the beauty 
 
 Of the words of delight, and the whispers of lovers. 
 And the clarion call to sweet Glory and Duty, 
 
 And the thunderous tones that defiance discovers. 
 And givest for shout of the man sea-hearted 
 
 Sanctimonious songs from each sensual star; 
 O dismal, dumb Death, when from Earth we are parted, 
 
 Make us as dumb as thine own lips are. 
 
 " O dreary, deaf Death that drivest us mortals 
 
 From the sacred sojt sound of our loves' sweet kisses 
 To the passionless praise at the Heavenly portals, 
 
 Fi'om the proud human pain to the blind bovine blisses, 
 Frvm the shrill wild s >und of the wind free-hearted. 
 
 From the discords that soothe to the concords that jar ; 
 O dreary, deaf Death, when from Earth n-e are farted, 
 Make us as deaf as thine own ears are." 
 
 As the last words died on the air, Floppington, the Marquis, and 1 
 Sarah, broke into rapturous applause. The rest of the company 
 preserved a discreet silence, save that Momus whispered to Dagon: 
 "I wonder whether he'd allow me to sing that in my next bur- 
 lesque"; that Bab responded: "It would be out of place; it's. 
 funny" ; and that Dagon inquired whether the poet's dread of 
 going to heaven wasn't a little bit superfluous. 
 
 The Premier was the last to cease rapping the table. When he 
 had done so, he became conscious that he was the cynosure of all 
 eyes. 
 
 " You see how impartial I am," he said, smiling. " It is not every 
 critic that can separate the form from the matter. Mr. Alderney's 
 technique seems to me perfect. I recollect once trying to imitate - 
 him." 
 
 " You flatter me," said the poet. " I should be delighted to see- 
 the result. Your appreciation of delicate effects of harmony is well 
 known to us poets. 1 ' 
 
 " Oh, it's such a long time ago," said the gratified Premier, " but; 
 it began like this 
 
 4 M hen the Peerage and Priests and Perpetual Pensions 
 That are flame to the flesh shall be flesh to the flame ' "
 
 158 THE PREMIER AND THE PAIN TEX 
 
 A suppressed titter ran round the table at this satirical im- 
 promptu. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Floppington," said the poet, " would that you, who 
 have a giant's strength, used it to bring that day nearer ! '' 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Lightfoot," responded the Premier evasively, "you 
 could do that by bringing out a cheaper edition of your poems. 
 The present price is simply prohibitive to the working man." 
 
 " Thank God !" came with the suddenness of a bullet from Mr. 
 Claviger's lips. " I can understand the pessimism of a Leopardi, 
 even the saddened meliorism of one to whom the fair breathing 
 world with its heroic types of passion and strength is but a Penton- 
 viiie omnibus. But the modern poet's indecent and jubilant jig on 
 the grave of his dead faith ! " 
 
 " It is not the death of his laith that the poet celebrates ; it is 
 the resurrection of his manhood," cried Mr. Lightfoot, erecting his 
 flabby-muscled arm. " It is freedom ; it is the giory of the world, 
 and of his own soul ; it is the unutterable loveliness of man, and the 
 ineffable splendour of Nature that no God created and that none 
 can destroy." 
 
 " That is going too far," interposed Mr. Dallox, seeing the light- 
 ning in Mr. Claviger's eye. " May I venture to suggest that you 
 have not yet got the better of your early imprudence? Agnosticism 
 is much more respectable than Atheism. 1 ' 
 
 "Respectability!" gasped the poet. " I will none of it. Re- 
 spectability is the bugbear of little minds.'' 
 
 " But surely good taste requires moderation," said the horrified 
 Professor. 
 
 " Good taste ! " shrieked Mr. Lightfoot. " Good taste is the 
 canon of little critics." 
 
 ' Look here, Momus, let us have Trying a Magistrate," said 
 poor Miss Shepherd, shuddering. " What with dismal, dreary, 
 deal" and dumb death, and all the rest of it, I've got an awful fit of 
 the blues.' 1 
 
 The Premier looked at her sympathetically. 
 
 " No wonder." said Mr. Claviger. " Death is neither dismal, 
 nor dreary, nor deaf and dumb.'' 
 
 " Lightfoot has evidently personified Death as a funeral mute," 
 said Mr. Dagon. 
 
 " Instead of a majestic and awful Angel, leading man from time 
 to eternity," added Mr. Claviger. 
 
 "Surely, Mr. Lightfoot," said Sir Hugh, 'immortality is impe- 
 ratively demanded to remedy the injustices of this world." 
 
 " That's calling in a new world to redress the balance of the 
 old, isn't it ? " asked Floppington, colouring with pleasure at the 
 marked effect of his mot. 
 
 " I doubt whether any one nowadays seriously believes in his 
 future existence," put in the Marquis. 
 
 ' ? There are people who doubt their present," sneered Mr. 
 Claviger. "Great sceptics who affirm that it cannot be denied
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 159 
 
 that nothing can be affirmed ; but I never knew that any one took 
 them seriously." 
 
 " Well, I am convinced the modern man is more concerned 
 about his stomach than his soul," persisted Rockington. " He 
 violates the decalogue, but he would shudder at infringing the 
 dietary laws of his doctor." 
 
 ' I'll take some pdte de foie gras" called out Mr. Dagon 
 hastily. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the Marquis. " I was thinking of 
 the people who carry their text-books of religion to the dinner- 
 table and consult them piously at every course. Fortunately, many 
 of them read the Lancet, and can't eat even the most digestible 
 dishes without suspecting germs, and adulteration, and what 
 not ! " 
 
 "To the pure all things are pure," remarked the Premier ; and 
 in the laughter that followed this apposite quotation, he drank off 
 another glass of champagne to hide his glowing countenance. 
 
 " L'Angleterre c'est la religion ! L'Angleterre c'est la moralite !" 
 cried Sarah enthusiastically. 
 
 ''C'est vrai," said the Marquis, "very few of us break more 
 than one commandment at a time " 
 
 "There, madame, you will observe the superiority of our 
 national character," put in Bab. " We believe that to do anything 
 well, we must do one thing at a time." 
 
 " Observe too, madame," said the Marquis, " the perfection to 
 which we have carried division of labour. Such of us as can afford 
 it are moral by deputy. We are great lovers of Christianity in 
 
 -others, and we found Sunday-schools; we admiie chastity, and 
 
 .But I will not enumerate. 
 
 ' Meas (contendere noli) 
 
 Stultitiam patiuntur opes ; ubi parvula res est. ' 
 
 So Horace said nearly two thousand years ago." 
 
 "He was old enough to know better," said Nelly. " I knew it 
 was something improper by your quoting it." 
 
 " I suppose if Horace had written nowadays he would have been 
 as obscure as his own allusions," observed Dagon. 
 
 " Nonsense !" cried Rockington. " Our best Society poets are 
 to Horace as water unto wine." 
 
 " A Butler's analogy in your mouth ! " exclaimed Dagon, and 
 the ridiculous pun convulsed the company. 
 
 " Talking of analogies," said the Premier, wiping his eyes with 
 his napkin, " I found among Mis among my books the other 
 day a most curious volume of American origin. The writer tried 
 hard to prove the doctrine of the Trinity how do you think ?" 
 
 " By asserting it?" said the Marquis. 
 
 " Well, it came to that," answered the Premier, smiling. " The 
 proof was that everything in Nature runs in triads : sun, moon, 
 stars ; man, woman, child ; and so on. The joke was that nearly
 
 160 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 all the supposed triads were purely verbal and not in Nature at all. 
 Spiritual intoxication had made the writer see not only double but 
 treble." 
 
 Mr. Claviger was staring at the speaker in indignant surprise. 
 " If I recollect aright, Mr. Floppington," he said, "it was your in- 
 fluential puff in the Nineteenth Century that gave the book its 
 ephemeral success in England. Why, you said it was a most 
 subtle and penetrative book, marking an era in theology." 
 
 " Ah !" said the Premier reflectively, " it is by these landmarks 
 that the retrospective soul traces its progress. Shall animals 
 evolve and not man ? Shall man evolve and not Floppington ? 
 Happily I have learnt to base my faith on deeper and more 
 logical grounds." 
 
 "The only theological analogy I ever heard that would bear 
 examination," interposed the Marquis, "was the comparison of a 
 Calvinist Elect to a successful lottery ticket." 
 
 " It's a fine thing to be a Calvinist Elect," said Bab with a 
 sigh. " I once knew one of the tribe. After a long and happy life 
 he got entangled in a succession of law-suits, which so disgusted 
 him with the lawyers that he committed suicide to escape their 
 company for ever." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of your stories," said Nelly, laughing. 
 
 "I admire your scientific caution," said Mr. Dallox. 
 
 " Can't somebody oblige by unfolding the sun myth in my 
 story ? '' asked Bab anxiously. 
 
 " Scientific caution is a bugbear that makes a man afraid to 
 trust the clearest teachings of his own God-created soul," said Mr. 
 Claviger. 
 
 "There you go!" said the Professcr, with a calm, superior 
 smile. " A man must look before he leaps, mustn't he ? " 
 
 " But he needn't look through a microscope ! " cried Mr. 
 Claviger. " To the whole man, to the man for whom all your 
 science exists, the world is something more than a museum of 
 curious phenomena, which life was given us to label. Your demi- 
 god Spencer has pigeon-holed the universe very neatly but 
 apres ? We live by admiration, hope, and love ; and can I admire 
 ferrocyanide of potassium, or put my trust in sewer-gas, or enter- 
 tain a passion for the seventy elemeats ? '' * 
 
 " What a Don Juan ! " whispered Nelly. 
 
 "You can love gold !" murmured Dagon. 
 
 " Believe me," concluded Mr. Claviger earnestly, "it is only by- 
 emotion that the world is saved from being ridiculous.'' 
 
 "It is only by emotion that the world is made ridiculous," 
 amended Bab. 
 
 " And it is only by ridicule that the world is saved from being 
 emotional," added the Marquis. 
 
 " Epigram is a good servant but a bad master," said Lord 
 Thespis, "and I am afraid you gentlemen have been enslaved by 
 
 * This was (roughly speaking) the number of elements recognised by the- 
 old pre-Manc'ottian chemistry.
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 161 
 
 it. For my part, I prefer the original apophthegm to your revised 
 versions." 
 
 " Revised versions are always in need of revision," said the 
 Premier. " I am afraid the gentlemen who undertook the recent 
 revision of the Bible have done more to unsettle faith by their 
 action than the entire secular press has succeeded in doing during 
 the last decade." 
 
 " Why ? " inquired Sir Hugh in much astonishment. 
 
 "You see it brings so strongly before people's minds that the 
 Bible wasn't written in English." 
 
 " I wonder,'' put in Rockington reflectively, "whether they were 
 trying to prove the Bible verbally inspired by substituting words 
 of their own." 
 
 ' It reminds me of the Scotch Professor," said Dagon, " who in 
 his lectures on ' Poetry as Criticism of Life,' proves that if you 
 remove the violent Radical passages all the poets are Tories." 
 
 " Mat's definition of poetry is better known than his poetiy 
 itself,'' observed Sir Hugh. 
 
 " His strong point seems to be weak definitions," observed the 
 Marquis. " Fancy an old Irish beggar-woman whom you have 
 just relieved coming out with 'Och, and may the Power not our- 
 silf that makes for Righteousness bless you and your childer.' 
 But what will we not worship, now that our religion is gone ?" 
 
 " I had the honour of dining the other day in the company of 
 the King of Whytawai," said Sir Hugh, " and both at the dinner 
 and at the reception his Sable Majesty was the focus of enthusiastic 
 interest. That sort of thing seems to me worse than even the 
 worship of blue china." 
 
 " There's a man of good taste for you, Professor," cried Bab. 
 " He is a cannibal of a high order, by all accounts. In him you 
 have the love of humanity in its purest and most primitive form." 
 
 " But his love is of the fleshly school," added Dagon. 
 
 " Some people are born to greatness," said Nelly ; " some 
 achieve greatness " 
 
 "But most thrust it on others," concluded Lord Thespis. 
 
 " Oh, you are rude ! " cried Nelly. " Taking the words out of 
 my mouth." 
 
 " But you didn't want them to remain there," said the Premier 
 chuckling. 
 
 "It has often struck me," said Sir Arthur, "that the intro- 
 duction of quotation marks into a musical score would be an 
 advantage." 
 
 " They would be quite unnecessary in your own case," said 
 Dagon gravely. 
 
 " But still one occasionally feels the want of them," said Sir 
 Arthur. " There are times when one could better express his 
 meaning by the help of a quotation." 
 
 "The absence of quotation marks is shared by conversation, 
 too !'' observed Sir Hugh. 
 
 " Music and conversation are even more intimately related than 
 
 M
 
 1 62 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 that," said the Marquis. "At least, that has been my experience as 
 an observer. I say observer because I have no ear. To me music 
 is the most gratuitous of all forms of noise." 
 
 " Gratuitous ! " exclaimed Nelly ; '' when Patti " 
 
 There was a burst of laughter, amid which Dagon could be 
 heard protesting that music -was gratuitous, for one simply got 
 notes in exchange for gold. 
 
 "No ear," mused Sir Arthur. "Well, it has its compensations. 
 The music of the future is no worse to him than the music of the 
 present." 
 
 " 1 am interested neither in the music of the future nor the 
 future of music," said the Marquis. "At least, only to the extent 
 of wishing that it may have none." 
 
 " Absit omen I " cried Sir Arthur. " But I admit that if the 
 music of the future is to be the music of the future, music will have 
 no future, and the future will have no music." 
 
 " Taurum expellas furca, tamen usque recurret," said the 
 Marquis laughingly. " I really think, Mr. Floppington, my 
 emendation gives a much more pictorial image than Horace's.'' 
 
 "I don't go in for worshipping images not even those of 
 poetry, 1 ' said the Premier, with a somewhat forced laugh. 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Dagon. " I understood you \\ere a great 
 admirer of Tennyson ! " 
 
 " Well," said the Premier guardedly, " what if I am ? '' 
 
 "Oh, nothing ! Only I thought all Englishmen worshipped the 
 Idylls of his manufacture." 
 
 " To tell the truth, gentlemen," said the Premier with a sphinx- 
 like smile, " I really don't know what I admire." 
 
 " Most people admire what they don't know," said Momus. 
 " Omne ignotum pro magnifico yes, my appetite's most terrific, 
 oh ! " he added involuntarily. 
 
 " I think Tennyson stands quite alone in present-day English 
 literature," said Bab. 
 
 " He has feet enough to stand alone ! " exclaimed Momus and 
 Dagon simultaneously. 
 
 " Browning is surely on the same level," observed Sir Hugh. 
 
 " I said English literature," said Bab coldly. " And even if we 
 are to take foreign poets into consideration, that man is only half a 
 poet who merely writes the verse and leaves it to a Society to put 
 in the meaning." 
 
 " Poetry was not written to afford parsing exercises for school- 
 boys," said Mr. Lightfoot angrily. 
 
 " Perhaps that's why Society is so tolerant to even the most 
 antinomian poetry," said Mr. Dallox, smiling. " It knows the poet 
 means nothing." 
 
 '' I think that on the whole modern novelists display more 
 invention than modern poets," observed Sir Hugh. 
 
 "And modern historians than modern novelists," added Dagon. 
 
 " Truth is rarer than fiction, but I don't think it's stranger," 
 observed Lord Thespis.
 
 THE AUTOCRAT AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 163 
 
 " Truth is stranger than fiction," corrected the Premier 
 oracularly. " Why, even within my experience things have hap- 
 pened which nobody would believe, which would even be declared 
 impossible, but which, in reality, are much more possible than 
 probable. I have known the wildest attempts succeed by their 
 very audacity." 
 
 " Perhaps that is the cause of the success of American fiction," 
 said the Marquis ; " for I think it requires the highest audacity on 
 the part of an author to venture to be so tame." 
 
 " / like American cheese better than American fiction," said 
 Floppington. " No Boston man would dare to rise to the height 
 of a really great argument such as I could suggest. Greatness in 
 a book seems to the Yankee mind to mean a collection of little- 
 nesses." 
 
 " I anticipate a great development in Transatlantic novel- 
 writing," said Dagon. " One day we shall read announcements 
 like this : ' The Portrait of a Peer, a novel in two libraries, by 
 Henry Howells.'" 
 
 "At that rate Richardson will soon cease to be a classic," 
 exclaimed Bab. " He will begin to be read." 
 
 " Still, even American fiction is better than our modern novel 
 of culture (displaying any culture indeed but that of the art of 
 fiction), with its sham aesthetics and its picked-up philosophical 
 jargon," said Uagon. 
 
 " Yes ; what do they mean by putting in such words as 
 * Hypostatisation ' ? " said Nelly. 
 
 "What do they mean? "cried the Marquis. "Evidently you 
 skipped the preface, or you would have read these words : ' If the 
 author only succeeds in sending one human being to his dictionary, 
 he will feel he has not written wholly in vain.' " 
 
 ''If all quotation were banished from the face of the earth," 
 intervened Mr. Claviger, who had been sitting with corrugated 
 brow, "we should have far more independence of thought. I mean 
 quotation in the widest sense, so as to get rid of party shibboleths, 
 scientific catchwords and cut-and-dried opinions of every descrip- 
 tion." 
 
 " Vous voulez done faire un monde de Trappistes," cried Sarah. 
 
 " Is it not strange," continued Mr. Claviger, turning reflectively 
 to the Professor, ' that men should put a formula into their mouths 
 to steal away their brains ? " 
 
 " I should say only those do it who have none to steal," said 
 Bab. 
 
 " Many people talk glibly of an inspired musician, an inspired 
 poet," said the Premier, "as if that settled it, when the real question 
 beems to be, inspired by whom ? " 
 
 " Exactly so," said Thespis. "That is where the other arts have 
 the advantage over acting. In the actor alone is the spontaneity 
 of inspiration actually made manifest." 
 
 " I don't see that," said Sir Arthur. " If there were no re- 
 hearsals, there might be some truth in it. I think Diderot and 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Lewes have smashed up all that stuff about the passion of the 
 moment." 
 
 "You have not kept au courant with the latest literature on the 
 subject," replied Thespis in a hurt tone. " I sent you my pamphlet, 
 I believe." 
 
 " What is the opinion of Mr. Claude on the point ?" inquired 
 the Premier. 
 
 " What makes you ask that ? " said Thespis. 
 
 " Oh, I thought he would go the whole hog in the competition 
 with you," said the Premier. " By-the-by, what makes him always 
 play the same old part under different names ?" 
 
 " He evidently believes that a brave man struggling with adver- 
 sity is a sight for the gods," replied Dagon. 
 
 " If that is so, he must have scored tremendously in Hamlet," 
 suggested Thespis slily. 
 
 The Premier laughed boisterously, and the chiming of a marble 
 clock mingled with his cachinnations. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " cried Nelly. " The Matinee ! " 
 
 Sir John Momus and Lord Thespis started to their feet in con- 
 sternation, and looked at each other's faces and watches. 
 
 " Oh, you two are all right ! You're only down for monologues," 
 cried Nelly. " I wouldn't miss poor Ben's Ben for any money." 
 
 "And I promised to be a juror in Trial by Jury" said Dagon. 
 
 "Don't worry ! There'll be plenty of Jewry," said Momus, "to 
 do honour to one of its body." 
 
 The Premier, inwardly cursing the matinee, accompanied Miss 
 Shepherd to the door. " Good-bye," he said ; " you didn't enjoy 
 yourself. Oh, I could see you were bored. I am afraid the 
 company was badly mixed. But it's my first trial, Nelly, you see. 
 I shan't ask you to meet such serious people again. We shall have 
 a rare old time of it, all to ourselves, eh, Nelly ? Well, good-bye. 
 Always glad to see you." 
 
 "What a stunning good fellow he is, when you come to know 
 him ! " soliloquised Nelly, as she was whirled towards ehe Strand. 
 " Who would have thought it ? I'll join the Primrose League this 
 very day, and get Farnie to put an extra verse to my topical song." 
 
 When the Premier returned to his guests he found them discuss- 
 ing the influence of Judaism on Art, and commenting on the fact 
 that while there were great Jewish names in music, in acting, and 
 in poetry, painting seemed to be uninfluenced by Semitism. The 
 Professor was laying it down that the reason was that Jews had 
 been too subjective for centuries, and had withdrawn themselves 
 from the observation of external nature. They could produce great 
 philosophers like Spinoza, but they would have to wait long for a 
 man with equal grasp of the objective world. 
 
 " I was much interested in the discovery that Jews have had no 
 influence on painting," observed the Marquis laughingly, when 
 everybody had said his say, " because it's a favourite theory of 
 mine that modern Art is essentially Mosaic." 
 
 " I don't quite see the force of the pun," observed Dagon.
 
 CONFIDENCES 165 
 
 " It's not a pun," protested the Marquis. 
 
 " Well, I don't see the point of the paradox," said Mr. Claviger 
 in a puzzled tone. " Modern Art essentially Mosaic ?" 
 
 "Yes. The more I see of modern Art, and especially of 
 spiritualistic and allegorical Art, the more convinced I am of the 
 truth of my theory. Mr. Dallox will correct me if I quote the 
 Mosaic Art canons wrongly : 'Thou shall not make unto thee any 
 flikeness of anything that is in the heaven above, or that is in the 
 earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.' '' 
 
 The Premier's enjoyment of the remark was intense. Tears 
 ran down his cheeks, and he swallowed some more wine in his 
 delight. " I don't think the lower classes would stand any 
 Mosaicism in their Art," he observed as soon as the laughter had 
 subsided. " You wouldn't think, Sir Hugh, that I know some- 
 thing of Art practically." 
 
 " Indeed!" said Sir Hugh, much interested, and with visions of 
 making the Premier an R.A., and himself an Earl. " Do you 
 paint?" 
 
 " I have painted," replied the Premier, " though of course 1 
 have never exhibited. In the partial eyes of my poor mother, I 
 might have attained a high place in the profession." 
 
 " Well, I am sure there were few better judges of pictures 
 in England,'' said Sir Hugh. " I don't forget, Mr. Floppington, ho\v 
 she patronised me when I was young and unknown, and prophesied 
 that I would one day get to the top of the ladder." 
 
 " Well, I gave up climbing the ladder," said the Premier, ' and 
 I can't say I regret it. I certainly prefer cabinet-making to paint- 
 ing," and he laughed boisterously. " I am afraid people wouldn't 
 stand my pictures in their dining-rooms," he added. 
 
 " I don't know that they would be worse than the majority," 
 said the Marquis, smiling. "As a rule, the worst use you can put 
 a picture to is to hang it." 
 
 "And the best use, O Philistine?" queried Sir Hugh scornfully. 
 
 " Sell it ! " exclaimed the Marquis. And more hilarity followed. 
 
 But the departure of Miss Shepherd had disintegrated the 
 party, and shortly afterwards the Premier was left alone to solilo- 
 quise like Marius before the ruins of the breakfast. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 FOR a few minutes the Premier remained grinning at the parting 
 complaint of Mr. Bab that he had had no opportunity to let off one 
 of his best impromptus, but soon his countenance grew thoughtful. 
 " I wonder whether they put on their mental Sunday-clothes," he 
 murmured ; " but whether their conversation was forced or not, I 
 feel that I can talk quite as intellectually or as wittily as any of
 
 i66 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 them." And he took to bestriding the room with feverish steps, his 
 breast swelling with a new sense of triumphant power. 
 
 He began to meditate a lavish hospitality. His bachelor con- 
 dition soon recurred to him. More than ever he saw the need of a 
 woman to grace his hospitable board, to be queen of a salon which 
 should be famous throughout Europe, to supplement his political 
 successes by social triumphs. His only near relative, a married 
 sister, was travelling with her husband in their yacht, and drawing 
 up a diary of her tour for use in Sunday-schools. With the rest of 
 the family he fraternised hardly at all. They were a keen, worldly 
 lot. He had never mixed much with them, and now that he was 
 Prime Minister he thought it better to have as little to do with 
 them as possible. He had a horror of doing anything for his 
 family, were it even giving away the smallest Colonial appointment. 
 He for one would be clean-handed. The horny-handed should 
 have nothing to reproach him with. Was it strange that the image 
 of Gwendolen hovered before him now and saddened his gay mood? 
 If he could have seen her sweet face on the other side of the table 
 instead of the grave countenance of the popular comedian ! Once 
 more he wrestled with his despair. 
 
 The entrance of Tremaine roused him. The secretary's face 
 flared with news like the contents bill of an evening paper. 
 
 "Ah, Tremaine!" said the Premier. "I am so sorry you 
 cc uMn't breakfast with us." 
 
 "What's the odds?" cried Tremaine. "Business before pleasure. 
 Did it go off all right?" 
 
 "Stunning on the whole. Though they didn't all hit it off as 
 well as I had hoped." 
 
 The secretary smiled with an expression of superior foresight. 
 Then his face clouded. "It is as I feared," he said. "Mount- 
 chapel has put himself at the head of a coalition of old Tories and 
 Anti-Suffragist Liberals, and he expects to gain over many of even 
 the Suffragist Liberals." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Premier indifferently. " You can put a young 
 head on old shoulders, you see." 
 
 Tremaine did not smile at the mild joke. He simply stared at 
 his master. The latter yawned heavily and lit a cigar. 
 
 " I suppose there'll be awful disappointment at Brooks'," he re- 
 marked, puffing listlessly at the fragrant regalia. " They must hr.ve 
 expected his lordship to join the party altogether." 
 
 " Oh, I know there was some negotiation. Bailey was the inter- 
 mediary, but it seems the talking it over led to nothing." 
 
 " I never for a moment entertained the idea that he would join 
 the Liberals," said the Premier, with another yawn. " The fellow 
 wants to be cock of the walk, and the Liberals have so many fighting 
 cocks that it wouldn't pay. But I thought he had gone too far in 
 the direction of Female Franchise to recede. What's his platform 
 now ? " 
 
 " We shall know for sure by to-morrow, but I believe he takes 
 up the ground that there is no adequate secuiity for your accepting
 
 CONFIDENCES 167 
 
 the clause in Committee, after the House has given you a majority 
 on the second reading. I had some conversation with a Liberal 
 who had been at the meeting this morning, and he let drop these 
 significant words : ' There are ways by which a Government, though 
 ostensibly working hard for the insertion of a clause, can succeed 
 in failing to carry it.' Of course I at once saw the idea of the com- 
 bination." 
 
 The Premier's eyes twinkled with enjoyment. 
 
 "A master-stroke ! " he exclaimed in admiration. " It enables 
 him at once to lead those who want the suffrage and those who 
 don't, and without loss of consistency too, even in the eyes of his 
 late colleagues in the Cabinet. It's really splendid !" 
 
 Tremaine did not appear to share his master's impersonal 
 delight. 
 
 " Yes, for Mountchapel. I see plenty of rocks ahead," he 
 observed moodily. 
 
 " On which he'll be the first to split." 
 
 Tremaine shook his head gravely. He had always trembled at 
 the inevitable consequences of the Premier's audacity in making an 
 open enemy of this man, though, of course, he did not dare to 
 reproach him. 
 
 " It's of no use underrating him, 1 ' he said. "You'll have a hard 
 fight to get the Suffrage Bill through the second reading now." 
 
 " I'm sick already of the beastly long discussion," said the 
 Premier. " There's too much freedom of speech given to the 
 twaddling rank and file. If there was a twenty minutes' rule as 
 
 there is at the but I don't intend to let the debate run on 
 
 beyond Monday, and that'll be too long." 
 
 " Why, it's been an unprecedentedly short debate," muttered 
 Tremaine. 
 
 "And then they'll be coming with other confounded amendments 
 in Committee, not satisfied with adding on the Female Franchise 
 clause," grumbled the Premier. " It's time an end was made of all 
 that bosh. It's lucky I'm a Conservative, and the Lords, at least, 
 will let the Bill alone." 
 
 The secretary looked at his master in fresh surprise. " But, 
 surely," he ventured to remonstrate, "now that Mountchapel is to 
 be the head of a strong faction " 
 
 " D n Mountchapel," cried the Premier. "That's not the first 
 time you've looked at me as if I were only fit for a lunatic asylum 
 or a seat in the House of Lords. I won't stand it, do you hear? 
 By the way you funk about this and funk about that, and lecture 
 me as if I didn't know my book better than fifty secretaries, one 
 would never guess that / was the man at the head of the affairs of 
 the country. Once for all, am I the Prime Minister of England, or 
 are you ? " 
 
 During this extraordinaiy outburst the secretary was too be- 
 wildered and shocked to do anything but stand in dazed silence. 
 But when it was over, he said with white lips : " I understand, sir. 
 I have seen it for some time. I will no longer obtrude my services
 
 168 THE PREMIER AND THE PAL\TER 
 
 upon you." He turned on his heel and left the room like a man in 
 a dream. A crowd of thoughts and pleasant memories jostled in 
 his consciousness. How he had once revered this man ! Some- 
 how, the tears came into his eyes. Then he felt himself grasped by 
 the arm. 
 
 " What do you mean, Tremaine?" cried the Premier anxiously. 
 " Surely you won't desert me, too. You know I can't do without 
 you." 
 
 The young man flushed deeply. To be entreated thus by the 
 proud Minister was a new experience. But he had been wounded 
 very deeply. Gently detaching his arm, he moved away. 
 
 " Don't be obstinate, my dear fellow," said the Premier in 
 piteous tones. " I've got so much to consult you about before I go 
 down to the House. It isn't as if I were in the habit of blowing you 
 up ; I mustn't go in for champagne in the morning any more, I 
 see." 
 
 A pang of remorse shot through the secretary's heart, that 
 he had exposed the Premier to the humiliation of this con- 
 fession. His conscience told him, moreover, that he had some- 
 times presumed upon his position. It was true that Floppington 
 had always admitted him to an extraordinary familiarity, or 
 rather, perhaps, it was his own strong character that had imposed 
 this intimacy upon his master's weakness. Not that their mutual 
 confidence was unprecedented. He knew that Lord Beaconsfield's 
 secretary had attained to an almost equal familiarity. Still, in 
 view of the greater self-reliance and confidence that seemed to 
 have come with the tenure of power, ought he not to have re- 
 frained from any half-conscious attempt to play the part of Mentor ? 
 Besides, it would be nothing less than ungrateful and dishonour- 
 able to abandon the Premier at this critical moment. Without a 
 word he turned back and re-entered the room. 
 
 " That's a brick," said the Premier, dropping into his chair with 
 a sigh of relief. " Have a cigar." Still without a word, Tremaine 
 took a cigar, and for some moments the two men smoked in con- 
 strained silence. Each in his own way was strangely affected by 
 the reconciliation. 
 
 " See here, Tremaine," said the Premier suddenly. " I'm glad 
 this has happened. It'll give me an opportunity of coming to an 
 explanation with you." 
 
 The secretary could not repress a look of astonishment. 
 
 The Premier smiled. "There you are again ! That's just the 
 look that has been annoying me for days past. You're not a diplo- 
 matist. We were talking about that over breakfast not about you, 
 but about the use of language for concealing one's thoughts, and I 
 suppose facial expression was given us for the same purpose." 
 
 The young man took the good-humoured hint. " What the 
 devil is he driving at now ? " he thought. 
 
 " To put it plainly, Tremaine," continued the Premier, dropping 
 his bantering manner, and darting a sudden, straight glance into 
 the other's eyes. " You find me changed."
 
 CONFIDENCES 169 
 
 The secretary laughed uneasily. " Well, I do somewhat," he 
 admitted. 
 
 " In what respects ? " said the Premier, in a voice firm, but 
 just a shade tremulous. He still kept his piercing gaze fixed on 
 the secretary, who in his embarrassment had ceased smoking. " I 
 am anxious to know how I impress the world. I want the truth 
 from you, Tremaine, for I shall get it from nobody else." 
 
 " Well, sir," answered the secretary hesitatingly. " You are a 
 trifle more imperious, perhaps, than of old. And and of course 
 you have become much more of a Society man. You've gone out 
 more in a fortnight than you used to do in a year. And your 
 spirits are better, and you make more jokes. And I really believe 
 that's all." 
 
 "On your word of honour?" said the Premier, with a gleam of 
 triumph in his eyes. 
 
 " Well, you are a little more slangy than you used to be." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " roared the Premier. ' You noticed ;that, did 
 you ? Yes, I think I've done that part of the business to perfection." 
 He was convulsed with laughter. All sorts of strange suggestions 
 flashed through Tremaine's mind. 
 
 "Well," said the Premier, recovering himself with difficulty, " I 
 suppose you are curious to know the reason of the change." 
 
 Tremaine looked offended. " I hope I am not liable to im- 
 proper curiosity, sir," he said. " Nor do I desire to seek your 
 confidence on any point not connected with my duties." 
 
 " That's all rot, as somebody I know used to say. It's not 
 in human nature. Between us two there ought to be perfect frank- 
 ness and no tomfoolery. Anyhow, 1 am going to let you into the 
 know, for I'm sure you'll respect my secrets. You've read Martin 
 Chuzsle-uit ? " Tremaine shook his head. ' Well, Our Mutual 
 Friend^ 
 
 " No," said Tremaine, lightly, but in reality trembling with 
 curiosity. " I don't read any fiction but our own protocols." 
 
 '' You are a duffer, spoiling my illustrations like that. Well, to 
 cut it short, if I am not the old Floppington you used to know, the 
 reason is, that I -am playing a part. I thought I'd make you open 
 your eyes. Well, this is how it all came about. A couple of months 
 ago, when things were as black as night for my Ministry " 
 
 ' They are just as black now," said the secretary. 
 
 The Premier laughed. "That's all you know about it, my boy. 
 Take a match. You have let your cigar go out. There had been 
 a Cabinet Council in the morning, at which Mountchapel hinted at 
 resignation if I didn't let him have his own way. As that was 
 impossible, I had almost determined to resign myself. The night 
 came, and I had not yet decided what to do. At last I dashed out 
 into the street and went for a walk in the hope of getting rid of a 
 splitting headache, and to see if things would be clearer in the cool 
 a:r, and at last found myself in in Fleet Street." 
 
 " A long walk." murmured the enthralled listeaer. 
 
 " I believe you. All at once my attention was attracted by a bill
 
 1 70 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 in a public-house window, stating that the subject for the night's 
 debate was: 'Will Mountchapel resign?' Obeying a sudden 
 whim, I drew my hat over my eyes and went in." 
 
 "Why, it's just like the Arabian Nights .'" cried Tremaine. 
 " Like what's-his-name and his vizier. I am sorry I wasn't with 
 you to complete the parallel." 
 
 " Haroun Alraschid is the man you mean. It struck me at 
 the time. Well, entering, I found myself in a long room with 
 mirrors all round it, and benches laden with decently dressed men, 
 nearly all eating or drinking at little tables, or having done so, or 
 about to do so. My entrance attracted no attention. The room 
 was crowded. There was a fellow on his legs addressing a sort of 
 Mr. Speaker ; and so, on securing a bit of table, I ordered my pint 
 of beer as I saw I was expected to do, and burying my head in my 
 hands and sipping my beer slowly, I listened. You are interested, 
 eh ? Oh, I know what you're smiling at. You begin to remember 
 that Saturday night ? Well, yes, you've guessed right. I did finish 
 the beer quite unconsciously in my excitement. The fact was 
 that the man was an uncommonly clever chap, in proof of which I 
 need only tell you that he predicted that I would never pass the 
 Bill unless I added this Female Franchise clause to it. Well, I 
 have often been smashed up in the Commons and elsewhere, but I 
 was dissected by this fellow. The metaphor well expresses the dif- 
 ference. My enemies in the House pounded me to annihilate me. 
 This fellow whom I honestly reckon the best friend I ever had 
 this fellow cut me up only to demonstrate scientifically where I 
 was diseased. He took my whole life to pieces and analysed me 
 till I blushed in my hat. He asked how it was that a man who 
 had come into office with a majority at his back a man of such 
 reputed high principle and oratorical power couldn't keep a 
 Ministry together for three months? And he answered his own 
 questions in a style that almost made me feel he was more fitted 
 for my post than myself. He pointed out, in elaborate detail, how 
 and where I had gone wrong ; and, better still, how I could get 
 right again. Little by little the man's enthusiasm took possession 
 ot me. My heart throbbed with fierce determination. And when 
 the speaker sat down amid well-deserved plaudits, I dashed into 
 the street another man. Yes, another man," repeated the Premier 
 solemnly. " I entered the room resolved to resign. I left it resolved 
 to rule. I had a strange feeling that Providence must have directed 
 my steps you know I was always a religious man, Tremaine and 
 I determined to be guided by the audible voice of Heaven." The 
 Premier rose, and began to pace the room. His words came 
 quickly and passionately. " The man said : ' Let him get rid of 
 Mountchapel and assert himself more.' I have g< t rid of Mount- 
 chapel and asserted myself more. The man said : ' Let him add 
 the Female Suffrage clause.' 1 have pledged myself to accept the 
 clause as an amendment. The man said : ' Let him drop his poetry 
 and be a Minister of the people.' I have dropped my poetry, ar.cl 
 am trying to become a Minister of the people.
 
 CONFIDENCES 17 1 
 
 u You understand now what I meant by saying I was playing a 
 part In opposition to my nature I am schooling myself in every 
 possible way to be a practical man of the world, as my heaven- 
 sent adviser directed me. Perhaps in time habit will give me a 
 second nature, and I shall cease to play a part. In the meantime, 
 the belief that God is with me has made me strong, though I am 
 wenk ; resolute, though I am wavering ; confident, though I am 
 doubtful. The faith that inspired Joan of Arc inspires me. Fear, 
 distrust, doubt, cannot chill me with their icy touch. I shall 
 triumph." 
 
 The sublime conviction of this last cry sent an electric shock 
 through the breathless listener. Involuntarily he extended his 
 hand in congratulation, and the Premier clasped it with an emotion 
 he made no effort to conceal. At this moment Tremaine felt 
 ready to make any sacrifice for his beloved master. 
 
 "As for the slang," said the Premier with a forced lightness that 
 the secretary well appreciated, " I have made a special study of it. 
 A Minister of the people must speak the language of the people." 
 
 " Well, really," said Tremaine, smiling, '' you speak it like your 
 mother tongue." 
 
 " Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well. I think I could 
 give you points, though I admit I have learnt something from 
 you." 
 
 Tremaine blushed. "And now I can learn something from 
 you. Where, in Heaven's name, did you pick it all up ? " 
 
 " Society novels, my boy. See what you miss by not reading 
 fiction." Tremaine laughed. "All the Treasury clerks read fiction/' 
 said the Premier, " though they are ashamed to confess it, for they 
 hide their novels whenever I look in. By-the-by, I shall want an 
 extra private secretary.'' 
 
 " Why?" asked Tremaine. 
 
 " You see," replied the Premier nonchalantly, " I really can't see 
 any fit man to succeed Mountchapel at the Foreign Office, so I am 
 going to take the work on my own shoulders." 
 
 This startling announcement took away the secretary's breath. 
 He stared at the intrepid Minister in mingled admiration and 
 amazement. 
 
 "There's nothing to funk about," said the Premier, with a bright 
 smile. " I shall get Grantley to post me up in no time. What's 
 an extra department ? Besides, it saves dissension in the Cabinet, 
 don't you know ? I can't be in a minority of one any more." 
 
 The secretary could not resist the infection of his master's 
 spirits. He smiled too. " But the Press will protest," he ventured 
 to urge. 
 
 " The Press protest ?" demanded the Minister haughtily. " Do 
 you think I care a snap of the fingers for the opinions of the Press ? 
 What right have the seedy scribblers or the editorial nobodies one 
 meets in drawing-rooms to interfere with my disposal of the offices 
 at my command ?" 
 
 " As representatives of the public," murmured the secretary.
 
 172 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Representatives of the public. Yes, I know," said the 
 Premier with a disdainful laugh. " Pothouse journalists ! And 
 what in Heaven's name can they find to say ?" 
 
 " Why, that the Constitution demands that the two offices should 
 be separate, because in all important matters the Secretary of 
 State for Foreign Affairs should consult and should defer to the 
 Head of the Government." 
 
 " Well, it seems to me that there's no danger of that article 
 being violated now that Mountchapel's gone," replied Floppington 
 sharply; "I can't act without consulting myself, can I ?" 
 
 Tremaine dared not say more. He changed the subject. 
 
 " By-the-by," he cried, " I had almost forgotten. There's a 
 letter from Ponsonby grumbling about the delay in selecting the 
 new Mistress of the Robes." 
 
 " Bother the new Mistress of the Robes and her mistress too !" 
 cried the Premier irritably. "As if I haven't got enough trouble 
 with her reports ! These humbugging little appointments are 
 enough to drive a man mad. If it wasn't for the pleasure of having 
 these big pots under one's thumb," he muttered to himself, " I'd 
 chuck the blooming thing up in disgust. But after all, they come 
 in very handy at a crisis like this." 
 
 This last reflection was not uncalled for. Indeed, he intended 
 to leave no stone unturned to secure the second reading of his Bill, 
 and the passing of his measures generally. During the whole oi 
 his term of office he was an ever-spouting fount of honour, ejecting 
 profuse side-streams of stars and ribbons, of Commissionerships 
 and Colonial Governorships, together with smaller jets of 
 baronetages and peerages, while a great shining central column 
 dashed its spray to the skies, fascinating the heaven-seeking gaze 
 of devout Churchmen. It is not every Prime Minister who is lucky 
 enough to be able to keep this glittering central jet at work, as its 
 subterranean machinery is only kept in order by the breaking down 
 of other mechanisms. 
 
 Sir Archibald Alison wrote many ponderous volumes to prove 
 the first half of Rockington's epigram that Providence was on the 
 side of the Tories ; but an unbelieving generation had grown up 
 who knew not Alison, and were consequently ignorant of the 
 political leanings of Providence. To them, this great truth must 
 have been brought home by the amount of ecclesiastical patronage 
 that fell to the share of Floppington. His opponents had been in 
 office a long time before an adverse division in the House and in 
 their own ranks had compelled them to retire to the cool shades 
 of opposition. During that period it was noticeable that the 
 Bishops were given to flying irreverently in the face of the 
 Psalmist's statistics of mortality. They went on clinging to the 
 Church long after they were able to enter one unaided, the props 
 of the Church being themselves in need of propping ; while as to 
 minor dignitaries, it was noticed that the Canons, being of Govern- 
 ment manufacture, did not go off ; and the Deans must have con- 
 siderably increased the dividends of the insurance companies.
 
 CONFIDENCE 173 
 
 This was very sad. Liberal Churchmen were getting tired of wait- 
 ing, forgetting that they also serve who only stand and wait. But 
 no sooner had the Liberals gone out and the Conservatives come 
 in, than all was changed. It is true that in the early months of the 
 new Ministry things ecclesiastical went on as usual. Nature does 
 not make changes by leaps. But when the English summer came, 
 then, as the Member for Oueeropolis brutally put it, the ecclesiastics 
 migrated in shoals to a warmer clime ; and Floppington found 
 himself with quite a plethora of patronage at his disposal. The 
 party enjoyed it, without a doubt ; but Floppington did not. The 
 many rival claims he had to dispose of as each piece of preferment 
 fell vacant worried him. He seemed to have the great drawback 
 to a man in authority of being conscientious. Perhaps he had an 
 exaggerated idea as to the duties and qualifications of a bishop or 
 a dean; but certainly he could not be brought by his supporters to 
 see that being the second cousin of a duke who had subscribed 
 liberally to the election fund at the Carlton, gave a man a prima 
 facie right to a bishopric or a deanery. " A man should have 
 something of the apostolic spirit," he said to Tremaine ; and he 
 shook his head in a dissatisfied way when that gentleman calmly 
 replied : " Quite so ; but it's as easy to find it in the second cousin 
 of a staunch Tory as anywhere else, especially if you look for it." 
 Still, on the whole, he managed fairly well ; though when he con- 
 ferred an important appointment on a Radical, his supporters felt 
 dissatisfied. They thought that when Providence showed such an 
 evident desire to be saved by Tory Ministers, it bordered on blas- 
 phemy to refuse to gratify it. But then Floppington got a good 
 deal of praise for his impartiality, which consoled him and pleased 
 the party. They felt it a great thing to be led by a man who could 
 rise superior to mere considerations of party, provided he didn't 
 rise too frequently. 
 
 But much of this impartiality was yet to vent itself. Up to the 
 present period of our history he had done little to earn the ingrati- 
 tude of the receivers of his patronage. But now the news that 
 Lord Bardolph Mountchapel was organising a faction against him 
 reminded him afresh of the necessity of looking after, if not 
 exactly the waverers, yet their brothers, and their cousins, and their 
 uncles. It struck him that the few hours which would elapse before 
 he went down to the House could not be better employed than in 
 going over his lists of appointments and applicants, the latter 
 known to him in ways ranging through infinitely subtle gradations 
 from direct demand to indirect refusal. 
 
 He whistled occasionally as he went on, but not from want of 
 thought. Now and then he dictated a letter to Tremaine, or gave 
 him a rough draft which was passed on to the assistant secretaries 
 in an adjoining room. 
 
 " It's awfully hot," said Floppington, pausing for an instant. 
 " I think I could work better without my coat." He took it off, 
 and slung it carelessly over the back of a chair. "All real working 
 men work in their shirt-sleeves in this weather. You'd better do 
 ditto."
 
 174 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " I'm not very hot," said Tremaine, smiling. " If a national 
 crisis should arise now, you would be found somewhat like 
 Cincinnatus." 
 
 " Except that I should be a dictator already," replied the 
 Premier with a hearty laugh. " I wonder how many people in 
 England would accept a Garter on condition of wearing the full 
 robes in addition to their ordinary clothing all through the Dog 
 Days." 
 
 "Let me see," mused the secretary. "The male population 
 of England is twelve millions." 
 
 "Mostly fools," added the Premier laughingly. "Well, I 
 dare say you're right. Anyhow, the male population serves to re- 
 cruit the Upper House, whither Blenkinsop will appropriately lead 
 the way. You know his mania for shaking hands with real live 
 lords. Well, he will soon be able to gratify it by shaking himself 
 by the hand from early morn till late eve." 
 
 " Blenkinsop to receive a peerage! " cried the secretary, in one 
 >l those fits of irrepressible surprise for which he had just been 
 reproached. " Blenkinsop ! " 
 
 " I don't see why he should be debarred from the honour," the 
 Premier answered with comic indignation. " He's done nothing !" 
 
 Tremaine smiled faintly. " No, indeed," he said. " He hasn't 
 even made himself obnoxious." 
 
 " If promotions were made on the principle of rewarding 
 obnoxiousness," replied the Premier reflectively, "what did not 
 the Parnellites deserve at the hands of the late Government ? " 
 
 " They would deserve the same from any Government. It be- 
 comes increasingly plain every day that they vote against any 
 English Ministry whatever its creed. Mr. Parnell will probably be 
 known in history by a name analogous to Warwick's the Ministry- 
 Maker or, better still, the Ministry-Breaker." 
 
 The Premier was surveying his confidential secretary with an 
 .amused smile. 
 
 " Never prophesy unless you know," he said, with bantering 
 condescension. "As a matter of fact the Parnellites, after having 
 shown themselves the truest friends of the Conservatives by voting 
 with them against Female Suffrage and bringing them into power, 
 will now, by remaining staunch and voting with them for it, keep 
 them in power." 
 
 Tremaine's expression of utter amazement sent Floppington into 
 fits of laughter. After a moment the secretary's face took on a 
 sympathetic radiance. The conviction of victory with which his 
 whole being had momentarily vibrated at the " I shall triumph" of 
 Floppington, again penetrated his soul, but this time the impression 
 v/as calmer and more likely to last.
 
 BOOK IV. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SALLY AND THE PAINTER GO THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER. 
 
 JACK DANVE did not take the pill his mother recommended, and his 
 mental atmosphere continued overcast by the November fog of 
 pessimism. He walked about listlessly for days, with the aspect 
 but not, alas, with the unconsciousness of a somnambulist. 
 As, with haggard and feverish looks, he stalked aimlessly along 
 the squalid regions, he might well have seemed their soul of misery in- 
 carnate. Sleep received him grudgingly, and regaled him with visions 
 of Eliza, who alternately shrivelled him up with the scornful fire of 
 her fierce black eyes, and maddened him with the tender dialect of 
 the nursery. Of that other face, with the dreamy gray eyes which 
 the humble painter had probably first caught sight of in a box at 
 the Lyceum Somnus vouchsafed not a glimpse; a fit punishment 
 for his infidelity to Eliza and his presumption in looking so high. 
 A cat may look at a king, and a painter at an heiress ; but only 
 to paint her, bien entendu. When morning came he rejoiced that 
 night was gone ; when evening came he was glad that it was near. 
 Coming do\vn in his slippers one morning to breakfast,he found, to 
 his surprise, everything dark. A few rays of sunlight stealing 
 through chinks in the parlour-shutters showed that outside it was 
 day, though they did not diminish the obscurity. 
 
 " It is perhaps thus with the few gleams of intuition which 
 traverse the darkness of the spirit," mused Jack, softly descending 
 the last stair. " They do not dispel it, but point, maybe, to a great 
 Source of Light somewhere. Or," he added, with a melancholy 
 smile, " these rays resemble the glittering speeches of my early days, 
 which were more concerned to prove the brilliancy of their source 
 than to light up the questions at issue.'' 
 
 He threw open the shutters, and hearing a scampering of tiny 
 feet, he turned round in time to see the " vanishing point " of a 
 tail. 
 
 " At least," he muttered, " I have not skulked into a hole, fearing 
 the light of Truth. Steady, my child, steady ! "
 
 176 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 The last remark was prompted by a bound into the parlour that 
 made the stuffed birds tremble on their perches, and Mrs. Dawe 
 and her late husband clatter ominously against the green and gold 
 wall. Sally, slipshod, with defiant, unwashed face, dishevelled hair, 
 grimy, turned-up nose, and panting bosom, almost fell into his arms, 
 unable to recover herself after clearing three stairs at a jump. 
 
 " / don't care," cried Sally breathlessly. " I wish it was twelve 
 o'clock instead of nine ; and a jolly good job too ! " 
 
 '' Have you overslept yourself?" asked Jack mildly. 
 
 " What rot ! Overslept myself, indeed ! No, it's all over my 
 dreams which was 'strordinary long, that's all." 
 
 " Your dreams ! And what are they about ? " Jack inquired 
 with amused interest. 
 
 " You ! " Sally jerked out with a sullen, defiant bluntness. 
 
 " Me ! " said Jack, smiling. " Why, my good girl, what can you 
 dream about me ? " 
 
 " Don't call me a good girl, 'cos I ain't," returned Sally snap- 
 pishly. " Lately you've been that gentle with me that I can't bear 
 it no longer. You never used to speak a good word for me with 
 the old 'un before, or say ' Thanky ' when I brings yer yer boots, as 
 if I was a borned lady, and you'll have to drop it ; d'yer ? " 
 
 Her indignation brought tears into her eyes. 
 
 " My dear child," said Jack, who stood amazed before this 
 singular outburst, " whatever has put such ridiculous ideas into 
 your head ? " 
 
 " Dunno. P'raps they growed overnight." In spite of the 
 hard sullenness of the tone, her voice trembled a little. 
 
 " Then you had ridiculous dreams. All dreams are nonsense, 
 you foolish girl ! " 
 
 "This wasn't no nonsense, and I'd dream it again if I 'ad the 
 chance. You see this 'ere pin." 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, looking curiously at a long white pin, which 
 Sally had extracted from the bosom of her dress. 
 
 " Oh my, didn't she scream ! " cried Sally voluptuously. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Why, 'er." 
 
 " Eliza ? You pricked Eliza ! " 
 
 " Pricked ain't the word. You see, she was sittin' with you on 
 this 'ere sophy with 'er arm round your neck, and as I was in the 
 yard a-cleanin' the knives and forks I 'eard'er a-spoonin' through 
 the open window, and all at once I takes out this 'ere pin and runs 
 it right into 'er shoulder. She give such a screech I woke up in a 
 fright; anc^when I looked out of a window and see Tim Popper play- 
 in' 'is whistle and carryin' 'is books, I knowed it was nine o'clock, 
 and I rushed down." 
 
 " But, my dear child, you acted very wrongly in wounding an 
 innocent young woman for no reason whatever." 
 
 " Oh, go it, I knowed you'd take 'er part." 
 
 " But just consider the question logically. You should not be 
 cruel, even in dreams "
 
 THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER 177 
 
 "I'll dream what I like without asking your leave," retorted 
 Sally. 
 
 ' You are not amenable to reason," said Jack, still mildly. 
 " Instead of being sorry and your conscience pricking you " 
 
 " I'd prick Vr with my conscience if I 'ad the chance," cried the 
 irritated Sally, bursting into loud sobs 
 
 " Hush, my poor girl," whispered Jack, in wondering alarm. 
 He felt as impotent before the complexities of the female character 
 as before those of his own. 
 
 The admonition but increased her sobs in volume and in 
 intensity. 
 
 " Hush," he repeated, " you'll wake Mrs. Dawe." 
 
 The sobs ceased immediately. Supreme surprise excluded all 
 other emotion. 
 
 " What, ain't she up ? " gasped Sally. " Then she's dead ! " 
 
 " Dead ! " gasped her son, turning deadly pale as the horror of 
 the situation flashed across him. Dead thus suddenly, without 
 saying farewell to her only child ! 
 
 " Impossible ! " he cried. 
 
 " That's why I never yerd : er this mornin', and that's why I 
 never waked. For the ten veers I've been 'ere she's allus been up 
 at six." 
 
 " But she may be ill," urged Jack. 
 
 " 111, what rot ! " cried Sally. '' She never was ill in 'er life ! " 
 
 Jack had by this time recovered some of his equanimity. 
 " What a striking illustration," he remarked to Sally, " your mind 
 is of Mill's theory of unbroken experience ! " 
 
 " What rot ! " returned Sally. " I never 'ad a week of unbroken 
 experience in my life. Arx missus. And we don't keep no cat, 
 worse luck." 
 
 So saying she was rushing upstairs, when a shrill shriek of 
 " Sally ! " from the upper regions made her heart go pit-a-pat as 
 though she had heard a voice from the grave. 
 
 ' Well, did you ever ? ;; queried Sally. As this is one of the 
 questions which have this in common with the problems in preten- 
 tious philosophical books, that no one expects an answer to them, 
 Jack did not give any. Besides, the Teutonic vagueness of the 
 phraseology rendered doubtful the precise question at issue. 
 
 " Oh, you're 'ere at last," cried Mrs. Dawe, sitting up in bed as 
 Sally entered. Her face, massy, large, and round, like Satan's 
 shield, was covered with discordant beads of perspiration and oil, 
 and topped by a dirty cotton nightcap. The room was large and 
 square, covered with discordant strips of carpet, and topped by a 
 dirty ceiling. 
 
 " I came as quick as I could. What's a matter a-shriekin' like 
 that ? " said Sally. " I thought you was dead." 
 
 " I know you'd murder me if you could,'' cried Mrs. Dawe, 
 "a-lettin' me call you for hours. You'd walk a jolly sight quicker 
 at my funeral." 
 
 " What rot ! You know you've got to creep along at a funeral.'*
 
 i;8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " You hussy ! To mention about my funeral, indeed ! It makes 
 my flesh creep but I'll show you who's got most life in 'er." 
 
 Suiting the intention to the words, Mrs. Dawe tried to jump out 
 of bed, and fell back, groaning. 
 
 " Oh, my 'ead," she moaned, "it's a-turnin' round like the merry- 
 go-rounds in the Park." 
 
 "Oh, what's a matter, dear missus?" cried Sally anxiously, 
 running to the bedside. " Shall I go for the doctor ? Shall I fry 
 you a bloater ? Shall I " 
 
 " Lift up my 'ead, you fool," cried Mrs. Dawe sharply, " and 
 prop up my back. D'you think I'm going to lay down? That's 
 better. What's the time ? " 
 
 " Half-past eleven," replied Sally with an air of reproachful 
 superiority. Her audacious retrousse nose, shaded at the point by 
 a black smear, jerked itself towards the ceiling as she made the 
 statement. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe's eyes dilated with horror and shame, and she made 
 another ineffectual attempt to rise. " Why didn't you wake me ? " 
 she gasped. 
 
 " When I come in at six," replied Sally, with the childlike bland- 
 ness of the Heathen Chinee," you was that sound asleep that I thinks 
 to myself, ' Poor thing ! it's a pity to wake 'er.' So I arxed Jack, 
 and he ses, ' Can't you manage, yourself, for once ? Let 'er sleep, 
 she works so 'ard.' So I done everything as quiet as I could." 
 
 " It's just like Jack ! If he'd only ha' let you wake me then, I 
 might ha' been all right. I'll pick that little bone with him when I 
 see 'im." 
 
 Sally bit her lips with vexation. In her anxiety to do Jack a 
 good turn she had, like a coward, transferred the blame to his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " It's lucky I bought everything last night," resumed Mrs. Dawe. 
 " Have you stuffed the big plum-pudding with the pennuth of plums 
 in the brown bag under the counter, and chipped the cold potatoes, 
 and warmed the beans in the blue dish, and " 
 
 " It's all done, every inch on it, missus. And I've put on that 
 nice joint of beef for the allimud soup " 
 
 "The beef !" shrieked Mrs. Dawe. "The ninepenny-apenny 
 beef ! Why, I bought that for myself." 
 
 " D'yer think I'm a fool ?" responded Sally calmly. "It's the 
 same beef that was in last Sunday's mock-turtle. And I've scrubbed 
 the shop, too, so that'll save me doin' it to-morrow, the usual day, 
 though it his aggravatin' the way people won't wipe their feet, even 
 if they see it's just been cleaned." 
 
 " It is aggravatin' and what always puzzled my late 'usband," 
 put in Mrs. Dawe, mollified by the girl's zeal, "was 'ow the devil 
 people can walk about with such innocent faces and such dirty boots. 
 But I ain't a-goin' to lay in bed ill at my time of life ; I'll try to 
 get up." 
 
 " Oh, don't, missus, don't," cried Sally. " You're tremblin' all 
 over."
 
 THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER 179 
 
 " I must. I ain't tremblin' a bit." 
 
 " You shant. You're ill." 
 
 " 'Ow can I be ill when there's no one to look after the bizness ? 
 It ain't nat'ral." 
 
 " There's me ! And there's Jack been servin' all the mornin' and 
 doin' a roarin' trade with the 'ot peas." 
 
 "\Yith the 'ot peas?" cried Mrs. Dawe eagerly. "I kno\ved 
 they'd take." 
 
 " But 'e's goin' out now," added Sally. " I see 'im just take 'is 
 paint-pots. I can serve, missus." 
 
 " I dunno so much," replied Mrs. Dawe suspiciously. " 'Owso- 
 ever, I wants a cup o' tea, 'cause there's something buzzin' inside 
 my forred, so let Jack bring it up in a jiffy. Jack, mind, not you. 
 Let 'im make 'aste, or I'll 'ave to come down myself." 
 
 Sally bounded downstairs, overturned Jack, who was on his 
 knees, rushed to the cupboard, opened it, and dragged out the tea- 
 caddy, all in a minute. " Where's the teapot ? " she gasped. 
 
 " You're in a great hurry, my child," observed Jack as he picked 
 himself up. " How is Mrs. Dawe ?" 
 
 " Can't speak," panted Sally. " Drat the spoons, where are 
 they?" 
 
 " But I heard her," said Jack. 
 
 " She said she'll be down if you don't bring her up a cup of tea 
 at once. She thought it was made, you know. She can't get up. 
 Oh, what shall I do?" 
 
 " Do not be so distressed," said Jack soothingly. " I dare say 
 it's nothing serious." 
 
 " Ain't it, oh my eye ! " responded Sally. " I'm in for it if she 
 comes down." 
 
 " Sally," screamed the voice from above, " is Jack comin with 
 that tea ? " 
 
 " Oh, lor," murmured Sally ; " and the fire not alight yet ! " 
 
 " Can I help you ?" inquired Jack with sympathetic politeness. 
 
 " Quick, make the fire," Sally gasped, " while I fills the kettle 
 and measures out the tea." 
 
 Jack hesitated. 
 
 " Sally ! " cried the voice again. 
 
 Jack rushed into the shed and reappeared in an instant laden 
 with coal and wood. 
 
 " At last my honour is hopelessly blackened," he murmured 
 grimly, as he caught sight of his face (which now rivalled Sally's) 
 in the chimney-glass 
 
 He threw his burden into the grate in a promiscuous heap, tore 
 off a page of a newspaper which was lying on the table, ignited it, 
 and placed it on the top of the grate. A momentary flare, and the 
 paper was consumed. 
 
 "Oh, ain't you clever?" contemptuously cried Sally, dashing 
 in from the kitchen with a very small kettle of cold water. " You 
 must put the paper under, quick." 
 
 " The fire of Revolution, too," mused Jack as he hastily lit 
 
 M 2
 
 i8o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 another sheet, "will be lit up from the bottom." Thus speaking,. 
 he set fire to the red fringe which depended from the mantelpiece, 
 without perceiving it, and tried to ram the paper under the thickly 
 wedged mass that stuffed up the grate. 
 
 " Lord a mussy on us," exclaimed Sally, briskly turning the- 
 kettle into a fire-engine. " Get out of the way," she exclaimed 
 rudely. " And get a cup and saucer, quick." 
 
 Jack Dawe sighed and meekly obeyed the maid of all work. 
 
 "Jack ! " cried the voice, trembling with indignation. 
 
 " It's all right, missus," Sally screamed back. "Jack says you 1 
 must 'ave a extra good cup, so we're a-makin' of it." 
 
 " I won't wait 'ere much longer," the voice replied with angry 
 determination. 
 
 Sally speedily differentiated the chaotic mass in the grate, and' 
 applied a light. 
 
 Her master, a blue-and-gold cup and saucer in hand, stood 
 anxiously surveying the scene. 
 
 As the paper blazed up, new hope was kindled in both their 
 breasts. 
 
 But the next moment hope and the flame died away together. 
 
 " I've been and wetted the sticks when I was making out the- 
 mantelpiece," cried the exasperated girl, with an oath. " Run for 
 some more." 
 
 " Hush ! " said the horrified Jack, running to get the bundle of 
 wood, but the admonition was lost in another cry of "Sally! Jack! 
 Are you deaf?" 
 
 In a second the dexterous Sally had the wood in a blaze. Then 
 arming Jack with the bellows, she hastily got everything ready for 
 the critical moment when the kettle should boil. Jack puffed 
 vigorously away, and produced an immense volume of smoke. 
 Suddenly Sally uttered an exclamation. "Why, what idjuts we 
 are ! The gas ! " 
 
 Quick as thought, she turned the gas on to the full, and snatch- 
 ing up the kettle held it over the flame. Jack looked on in helpless 
 admiration. 
 
 " Froude is right," he murmured. " Action is greater than 
 speech." 
 
 "It's nearly done, missus," Sally screamed ; " only we're that 
 busy in the shop." 
 
 In a few minutes the tea was ready. Milk, sugar, spoon, were 
 inserted the fight against time had been won. 
 
 " Saved ! " gasped Sally, falling exhausted into an arm-chair, 
 as Jack, grasping the saucer tightly, began to mount the stairs with, 
 cautious rapidity. 
 
 " How an external interest takes one out of himself!" he was 
 reflecting. " It is thus true, as Hegel says in his transcendental 
 exposition of Christianity, that only by going out of ourselves are 
 we saved." 
 
 At this point, having reached the top of the staircase, he 
 attempted to ascend an imaginary step, stumbled, and let the cup 
 jro out of the saucer without being able to save it.
 
 THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER 181 
 
 " O Lor' ! " gasped Sally as she heard the crash. " He's been 
 .and gone and done it ! " 
 
 "Jack!" screamed Mrs. Dawe, "if you've smashed any o' the 
 blue-and-gold service, don't come near me for love or money ! Let 
 .me die in peace." 
 
 Jack hastily gathered up as many fragments as he could see, 
 and bore them mournfullv downstairs. 
 
 Sally, crushed by defeat, with pallid but firmly-set features, 
 threw them hastily into the dust-hole. Not for a single moment 
 did the brave girl's presence of mind desert her. Shouting out 
 that she had fallen down and dropped a tin pan, she firmly poured 
 out the rest of the liquid into the cup which trembled in her 
 master's hand. 
 
 But it was too late. Mrs. Dawe's shuffling step was heard on 
 the landing above. The old woman was unable to bear the un- 
 certainty of the fate of the blue-and-gold service ; her dauntless 
 energy had conquered physical weakness. She was coming. 
 
 " Cut ! " whispered the devoted Sally. " Here's the paint-pots." 
 She dragged them in hurriedly from the shed. " I'll say you went 
 out long ago." 
 
 " Never ! " replied Jack, setting them down firmly in the corner. 
 -" I will not desert you, my child. It is not your fault." 
 
 She thanked him by a look. 
 
 " Then stay here," she whispered, " and keep 'er out o' the 
 :shop till I takes down the shutters. Try to get 'er up to bed." 
 
 Jack obeyed instinctively, as one always obeys the born 
 commander. 
 
 He took up his position with his back to the glass of the door 
 of communication, and with beating heart awaited his mother's 
 .approach. 
 
 She came like Night. 
 
 " D'you call this a tin pan ? " she shrieked, before she was well 
 within the room. 
 
 Her son looked at the fragment, which she thrust into his eyes, 
 and hung his head on his breast. 
 
 '"Ow dared you touch the blue-and-gold set? Ain't I warned 
 you a million times not to lay a finger on 'em ?" 
 
 Then, looking round, her voice took a higher range with each 
 successive discovery. 
 
 " A fire in my best room, a-spilin' all the furniture, as if the one 
 in the kitchen ain't good enough ! The gas blazin' away in broad 
 day as if it was below ! ! I'm ruined ! ! ! The paint-pots on the 
 new carpet, and the mantelpiece set on fire ! ! ! ! And you've gone 
 .and burnt the only Free Thinker I ever loved 'cause it 'ad that 
 picture of the Devil in his Cookshop, just to spite me ! ! ! ! ! This 
 is all one gets by bein' ill. But it's all over yer not vvakin' me 
 this mornin'. Jack, you wicked, foolish boy, you've killed your 
 only mother." 
 
 With these ominous words, Mrs. Dawe, having by this time 
 overtaxed Nature's endurance, fell forwards on the sofa. 
 
 Quivering under the accusation, and acutely conscious that it
 
 182 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 was not altogether false, Jack rushed to the couch and lifted up her 
 head. The globular mass drooped heavily on his arm ; she had 
 fainted. Turning in frantic remorse to the table, he seized the 
 second blue-and-gold teacup and dashed its heated contents into 
 her pallid countenance. 
 
 Little did Mrs. Dawe think, when she clamoured for the cup of 
 tea, that she would receive it in this fashion. The divinity student 
 may draw the obvious moral. But the two-and-eightpenny Bohea 
 (surpassing in quality the coffee that the poor woman had recently 
 declared wasted on Sally, and better thrown away alas ! how do 
 our words return to us with stings in their tails!) produced no effect 
 except upon the gorgeous carpet and the horsehair covering of the 
 sofa. 
 
 Again Jack looked wildly round for something fluid to throw 
 over his mother his eye fell on the paint-pots. Poor Mrs. Dawe ! 
 
 Luckily at this instant, Sally, after a cautious peep through the 
 door, flung it open and burst into the room in wild consternation. 
 
 Jack breathed a sigh of relief all would be well now. With 
 such confidence had the noble girl inspired him in so short a time ! 
 
 " Oh, my poor missus," sobbed Sally, bending over the inani- 
 mate form, her long dishevelled hair floating vaguely over her 
 mistress's fat face with its corpse-like hue. " Oh, my poor missus, I 
 said you was dead the moment you didn't get up and I was right." 
 
 But there was no time for grief now. 
 
 " Some water ! " she commanded, loosening the dress which 
 Mrs. Dawe had hastily assumed. " Lots of it." 
 
 Jack hastened to fill a large soot-covered saucepan, and set it 
 down on the floor near the sofa. 
 
 " Why didn't you bring a pan ? " said Sally sharply. " You'll 
 ruin the carpet." 
 
 The streams of tears were dry on her face now, but their beds 
 were plainly marked by contrast with the sooty regions around. 
 She dipped her hand into the saucepan and bathed the cold brow 
 of her mistress, waiting between each application of the liquid to 
 see its effect. During one of these intervals she observed Jack's 
 eyes fixed on her, and immediately afterwards catching sight of 
 her face in the saucepan, she applied the water to her own counte- 
 nance instead of to its original destination, and wiped herself 
 hurriedly with her greasy apron. If the ruling passion is strong in 
 death, it is especially strong when the death and the passion are 
 divided between two persons. O all-potent Vanity, that pressest 
 into thy service a saucepan of water, a tin pan, a silver inkstand ! 
 
 Presently Mrs. Dawe gave a sigh and opened her eyes. 
 
 Jack uttered a cry of joy. " A truly wonderful girl," he thought, 
 " who seems to do the right thing by instinct would we dreamers 
 were equally blessed ! Under this humble exterior lives (as her 
 true complexion lived under the soot) a pure and fearless spirit. 
 Truthfulness, Veracity as of one of Carlyle's heroes, looks from her 
 eyes. With education, with meditation on the eternal verities 
 inarticulate as yet to the ear of her soul, but ever striving to get
 
 THROUGH PERILS TOGETHER 183 
 
 themselves heard, with listening to the Silences, what noble woman- 
 hood might not emerge from this dreary girlhood ! By the side of 
 her, that dreadful Eliza Bathbrill appears but emptiness and 
 discord." 
 
 "Jack," groaned Mrs. Dawe, passing her hand over her humid 
 forehead, " put up the umbreller, but beware of squalls. It's a 
 ill wind as blows umbreller-makers no good, as your father " 
 
 She closed her eyes again and fell back exhausted. A dead 
 silence ensued, disturbed only by the splash of another handful of 
 water. 
 
 " My poor 'ead," she muttered, reopening her eyes after a 
 moment of anxious suspense. " It never felt like this afore seems 
 as if it was somebody else's 'ead. But two 'eads is better than one. 
 Is that tea a-comin'. Jack ?" She raised herself on her elbow and 
 gazed vaguely round. 
 
 'It's all right," cried Sally cheerfully. '"And over the cup, 
 Mr. Dawe." 
 
 " It's s spilt," stammered Jack, cowering under her antici- 
 pated scorn. 
 
 "What's a matter, Sally ?" inquired Mrs. Dawe feebly. " What 
 are yer a-kneelin' on the floor for, like the parson the day he runned 
 away and forgot ! is umbreller corduroy trousers can't stand it^- 
 let alone yours." 
 
 "You're ill. missus," replied Sally. " You must go to bed." 
 
 " Go to bed ! '' cried Mrs. Dawe, partially recalled to reality by 
 the horror of the idea. " And the business ?" 
 
 "Jack is lookin' arter that." 
 
 " Come 'ere, Jack." He obeyed, and received a maternal kiss. 
 "You won't go out to-day, Jack, 'specially as the 'ot peas is sellin' 
 like wildfire, all out of my own 'ead, too. 'Ow much did you take 
 this mornin' ? A 'cap o' money ? " 
 
 " Yes," cried Sally. " You must 'umer 'er," she whispered. 
 
 " But you needn't give 'em a 'eap o' peas for their money. And 
 above all spare the winegar it ain't good for their digestions. 
 Lean down. I've got summat to tell you." 
 
 He put his ear to her mouth. 
 
 "Beware of Sally," she breathed ; " and look arter the till." 
 
 "And now," she added aloud, " that you've promised to take the 
 shop for the arternoon, I'll go to bed." 
 
 She rose, made a few steps, staggered and fell into Jack's arms. 
 
 " We must carry 'er," said Sally. " I'll take ! er : ead, 'cause I 
 can walk backerds better than you." 
 
 " It will be too heavy for you," said Jack hastily. 
 
 "Yer very kind," replied Sally; "but yer might drop it. The 
 legs don't matter." 
 
 " Men always drops women when they're tired of 'em," groaned 
 Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 " But I'll be very careful," said Jack, cutting the question short 
 by seizing the head. 
 
 He was very proud of this decisive action, as, staggeiin^ under
 
 1 84 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 the weight, he gingerly made the backward ascent, Sally bringing up 
 the rear of the procession. 
 
 " Can it be," he reflected, " that the world gives one only what 
 he takes ; and that in the same peremptory fashion one could get 
 to the head of the body politic, and keep it too? Wise Mountchapel !" 
 
 They deposited Mrs. Dawe on the bed. 
 
 " Go for the doctor ! " ordered the maid of all work. Jack went 
 for the doctor. Sally put her mistress to bed, and waited anxiously 
 for Dr. Thomas, though an under-current of "Jack" ran through 
 her mind. For the first time in her life she had tasted the sweets 
 of power ; not of that vulgar power which is obeyed grudgingly, 
 but of that gentler force which in this case seemed to render Jack 
 as pliant as wax, and as obedient as a party man. The old awe 
 with which she had once regarded him had been shaken by his 
 sweet reasonableness and delicate chivalry during the past few 
 weeks, and the last remnants had just been destroyed by the 
 maternal contempt that his awkwardness excited. There was still 
 a vast gap between them, of course ; but what firmer bridge than 
 the common memory of common danger ? 
 
 Presently Dr. Thomas came, saw, and prescribed. Sally, armed 
 with hieroglyphics, was despatched in haste to the surgery. On 
 her way through the parlour, Jack, who was ruefully surveying his 
 grimy lace in the glass, stopped her. 
 
 " How is she?" he inquired. 
 
 " He says she's bad, but 'e 'opes she'll be all right." 
 
 "A meliorist, like George Eliot," observed Jack. " Sally, do you 
 know I consider you a very extraordinary girl ? You have behaved 
 like a heroine. How shall I reward you ? " 
 
 " By tellin' me," was the blunt reply, " who yer like best, me or 
 'Lizer ? " 
 
 Jack smiled at the naivete of the question. 
 
 "Ingenuous soul," he thought, "where Nature's innocent in- 
 stincts are still free from the veneer of conventionality ! " 
 
 The instinct for poetry is one of Nature's strongest, if not most 
 innocent. In tender moments scraps of Rossetti sang themselves 
 in Lady Gwendolen's brain as she gazed into the eloquent eyes of 
 the Hon. Arnold Floppington. Gazing into Jack's eyes now, Sally 
 chanted softly to herself the classic lines : 
 
 " Stand upright upon your feet 
 And choose the one that you love best." 
 
 " I like you very well," replied Jack, seizing the opportunity, 
 "but you see Eliza is educated, and so must you be. I'll see what 
 I can " 
 
 " But supposen," interrupted Sally eagerly, " I could read and 
 write, too; which would ?" 
 
 "Education means more than reading and writing, my dear 
 child. Reli " 
 
 "Well, suppose I knowed everything," urged Sally, determined 
 to press the point, " would yer like me as well as her ?"
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER 185 
 
 " Better, my child, better." 
 
 Sally uttered a cry of joy. 
 
 " I'll begin this very day. Will yer learn me? " 
 
 " Gladly," replied Jack, his face brightening at the thought of a 
 definite work to do, and his eyes rilling with tears at the enthusiasm 
 for knowledge on the part of the poor drudge. 
 
 Sally uttered another exclamation of delight, seized his hand, 
 put it to her lips, and danced through the shop into the street. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER. 
 
 BEHOLD, then, Jack Dawe installed, for the first time in his life, 
 behind the counter of the Star Dining Rooms. In point of fact, 
 Mrs. Uawe had never before had occasion to demand his services 
 in this respect, nor to interfere in any way with his daily duties. 
 As Sally remarked, illness never made its appearance in her 
 mistress's organism, which was in such a state of physical perfection 
 as to go through its daily and yearly cycles of work with the punc- 
 tuality of a planet whence, perhaps, the name of the establishment. 
 No wonder, then, that its sudden failure to appear at the shop in its 
 diurnal orbit should have been ascribed by Sally to complete 
 extinction, not to say evaporation. 
 
 As Mrs. Dawe insisted on Sally's staying with her whenever the 
 girl was not actually engaged in cooking, there was no alternative 
 for Jack but to take his mother's place. We blush to record it, but 
 the reader who will probably by this time have discovered in him 
 the not unusual combination of lofty views with colossal laziness 
 will not be surprised to hear that he grumbled internally at the work 
 both as work and as derogatory work ! Derogatory, forsooth ! The 
 priggishness of the nouveaitx- riches is as nothing to that of the 
 nouveaux instrnits. What right, moreover, had he to grumble who 
 had brought down this infliction on his own head by lying in bed 
 late, and not going to work at the same hour as his professional 
 brethren? In truth, it would not have been easy to find his equal in the 
 dolcefar niente line, even amongst the hardest-worked functionaries 
 of the Royal Household. The trifling physical exertion of fishing up 
 Irish stew caused this hyper-sensitive being the extremest agony ; 
 he served up a dish of French beans, not at all heavy, with stifled 
 groans ; he ladled out the a la mode soup with a face as woebegone 
 as if he were buying the liquid instead of selling it. Utterly re- 
 gardless of his mothers hard-earned hoards, he gave one half of the 
 customers too much change, and the other half too little ; the latter 
 complained of the injustice, the former did not. Mrs. Dawe's till 
 suffered, and was purified and cleaned out accordingly. Destitute, 
 too, of the smallest esprit cte corps, he dragged his mother's reputa- 
 tion in the dust. Unable to distinguish by sight between the various 
 genera of Bethnal Green pastry, unskilled in judging of the interior
 
 1 86 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 by the indications afforded by the formation of the crust, he made 
 guesses as to what was wanted, as wild and random as if he were a 
 Prime Minister serving out Acts of Parliament, instead of a waiter 
 serving out meat-pies. Ministers of every kind are notorious for 
 proportioning the intensity of their dogmatism to that of their 
 ignorance, but, to give Jack his due, he did not insist that a man 
 was eating eel-pie when with much use of sanguinary language 
 the man brought the yawning compound full of parti-coloured 
 morsels of ham into close proximity to his nose, and ordered him to 
 see, taste, and smell it. 
 
 Only in Art criticism is such insistence possible. 
 
 " Can it be," he asked himself mournfully, as his first customer, 
 who was a dirty little boy. pointed out that a sausage was not pre- 
 cisely identical with a saveloy, " that I am unfitted for whatever part 
 I undertake to play ? So it has always seemed. I am always 
 making absurd mistakes in everything, even when the task appears 
 of the simplest, as now. Would the consequences were always as 
 harmless as now ! Poor old vicar!" He sighed bitterly, and over- 
 turned a huge salt-cellar. 
 
 " To judge by results I must have been doing that unconsciously 
 all my life," he reflected, with a sad smile irradiating his melancholy 
 though delicately noble countenance, and illuminating his dreamy 
 eyes with a pathetic brightness. '"Tis strange how old supersti- 
 tions cling to one, and how the practical superstitions of the old 
 religions survive the faiths themselves, as though they were 
 the osseous skeletons that lived when the superstructures of once 
 glowing flesh have long since crumbled to dust I beg your 
 pardon ! " 
 
 The first ragged little boy had vanished (in company with the 
 greater part of the plateful of smoking sausages), and there stood 
 in his place another ragged little boy (sent by him to put the finish- 
 ing touches to his work), but Jack Dawe did not notice the differ- 
 ence. The little imp had just completed his annexations when 
 Jack perceived his presence. But the boy preserved wonderful 
 equanimity. He was one of the shining lights of the Board School 
 round the corner, which always put him forward as a show boy. 
 Incredible as it appears, it is a well-authenticated fact that the best 
 educationists of the age expected that the multiplication table would 
 moralise the masses. 
 
 " 'Aypenny plate of peas, please," he demanded calmly, knowing 
 that Mrs. Dawe did not "make ayporths," and so foreseeing a 
 dignified exit. 
 
 To his alarm Jack began shovelling peas upon peas into a plate. 
 Every instant the danger of the discovery of the empty plate 
 increased ; delay would be fatal. 
 
 " D'yer call that a 'ayporth ? " said the show boy, rejecting the 
 heap with feigned contempt, but determining to let his friends know 
 of the revolution in the business. " Whyn't yer give a feller valley 
 for 'is money? Blest if I don't change my cookshop." With this 
 Delphic double entente he was quitting the shop when Jack observed
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER 187 
 
 mildly (though with much internal approbation of his own business 
 powers ): " Come back! You haven't paid me for the saveloy." 
 
 The boy heard no more than the first two words ; he was off 
 like a shot, leaving Jack staring blankly at the vacant doorway. 
 
 " The political economists tell us," he muttered at length, "that 
 Society is based on the universal desire to get something for some- 
 thing else ; this theory would do for primitive times, but as the 
 higher civilisation advances, is there not a universal desire to get 
 something for nothing ? The invent'on of printing is thus utilised 
 for puffery ; the burglar profits by the latest scientific discoveries, 
 and is, strange to say, among the best educated men of " 
 
 " Come along, you little wagabond. 'Ere he is, Mrs. Dawe I 
 beg your pardon, Mr. Dawe 1 'ope Mrs. Dawe isn't ill. He just 
 run into my arms." So saying, the policeman dragged in the small 
 boy by the ear. 
 
 " I suspected summat," he added. " Turn out your pockets, you 
 young scamp." 
 
 " I shan't," screamed the boy, struggling hard for liberty. " Leave 
 me go, or I'll 'ave yer locked up." 
 
 The sublime audacity of this threat took away the policeman's 
 breath. 
 
 " Lock me up," he gasped. In an instant the boy had writhed 
 from his grasp. But only for an instant. He darted after him 
 and brought him back, both panting for breath. 
 
 Eight greasy saveloys, brown, savoury, smoking, were now 
 brought to light. 
 
 " You dare touch my saveloys ! " cried the boy, still defiantly. 
 " I'll take yer number if yer does ; I bought 'em at a place in. 
 Whitechapel. 
 
 " Boy," said the policeman solemnly, " they are still smoking. 
 Where do you expect to go when you die ? " 
 
 " Not before the beak," cried the boy, breaking down at last. 
 " Don't take me before the beak I'll tell the truth. The other boy 
 who was 'ere first give 'em to me." 
 
 Jack looked sad. "You grieve me, my boy," he said, " by your 
 falsehood. You know there was no other boy here before you. 
 However, I suppose you are hungry ?" 
 
 " Ain't 'ad nuffm' to eat for three days," cried the boy eagerly. 
 "Father and mother is dead, and I've got three little brothers." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " cried Jack. " I thought as much. Take some 
 potatoes. Excuse me for offering you cold ones, to-day's are not 
 ready yet. But why did you not ask ?" 
 
 " Why, .it's all gammon, Mr. Dawe," exclaimed the horrified 
 policeman ; " his father keeps a ice-cream stall, and rubs his face 
 with walnut-juice to imitate a Italian at the top of the road. There 
 you are, he's bolted again." And the zealous functionary was dash- 
 ing out again in pursuit, when Jack cried : " Let him go, if you 
 please." 
 
 " Let him go ! After taking eight saveloys for nothing ! " 
 
 "Excuse me," replied Jack, politely but fiimly, "he did not take
 
 188 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 them for nothing. In the first place, he taught me to distinguish 
 between a sausage and a saveloy. And in the next, his abstraction 
 of them supplied me with food for reflection on the nexus that 
 binds together modern society, and I found it to be the possibilities 
 which gregariousness affords of over-reaching your neighbour. 
 Good morning." 
 
 The policeman left, tapping his forehead significantly. 
 
 " I heard he was a bit cracky," he muttered, ' never cracking 
 his jokes in the shop at dinner-time as he used to do, and behaving 
 strange all round. But I never thought he was as bad as this. 
 You never know what to expect of them political fellers ! And don't 
 he look old and ill ! I wonder," he added, resuming his beat, 
 *' what 'ud become of our wives and families if all thieves was 
 offered cold potatoes with apologies." 
 
 As dinner-time approached, the straggling line of customers 
 began to be changed into a more and more serried file. The 
 invading tide, beginning with wavelets of small boys, and creeping 
 up steadily and surely,gradually overflowed the high-water mark of 
 Jack's powers of attention. The diversity and multiplicity of the 
 orders drove him to distraction. Thought was completely sub- 
 merged, not a single reverie could raise its head above water. The 
 *' bore " was at its height a few minutes after one, and the appear- 
 ance of Sally at this juncture was as welcome as that of an 
 additional customer was unwelcome. 
 
 Sally, who came to take stock, remained to serve, and took the 
 tide at the flood. Instead of returning at once to her sick mistress 
 with news of how the day was going, the girl encouraged by the 
 glad smile with which Jack greeted her, and seeing his infantile 
 impotence joyfully lent a hand. Her self-sacrifice was not lost 
 upon Jack, who knew well how the vials of his impatient mother's 
 wrath were filling upstairs. 
 
 Relegated, temporarily, to the single function of dispensing the 
 hot peas, on which there was a tremendous run, he worked away 
 more manfully, occasionally stealing an admiring look at the 
 devoted and dexterous drudge, who, smiling from pure lighthearted- 
 ness, was here, there, and everywhere, at the same instant. 
 
 Without, the midday sun was heating the dreary road to un- 
 healthy sultriness, and the glorious blue sky, strewn with the most 
 delicate cloud-gossamer, daintily woven into structures of faery, 
 looked down on another expanse strewn with litter and disease- 
 germs. Within, one perceived an atmosphere laden with clouds of 
 steam, with odours more or less subtle and intermingled, proceeding 
 from the eaters as well as from the eaten, and with the breaths of 
 unwashed adults and children ; the sounds of a score of munching 
 mouths, the clatter of knives and forks and spoons and plates, the 
 rattle of money, the gurgling and sucking-in of soup, the orders 
 ranging from fortissimo to pianissimo the bursts of laughter, the 
 half-inaudible remarks spoken with full mouths, the inchoate 
 quarrels about " shoving " and the monopoly of too much room ; 
 the frequent sighs of the master of the shop, whose brow perspired
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER 189 
 
 externally and ached internally ; and through all the din a con- 
 tinuous current of conversation on the one topic of which the 
 morning papers were full. Some of this discussion shall be faith- 
 fully reported, with the exception of ornamental superfluities. 
 
 "1 don't see what a woman wants with a wote," observed a 
 burly man with a ragged black beard. " It's a-flyin' in the face of 
 Providence, which orders that women should have the kids, and 
 men the wotes. A nice thing if you wote one way and your old 
 woman another the blessed Act '11 make no end of family quarrels,, 
 as if there wasn't enough already." 
 
 " That's all my eye," replied a tall, thin man with a very red 
 nose. " There needn't be no family quarrels at all about it. If my 
 old woman don't wote as I want 'er, I'll give 'er a black eye that'll 
 stop 'er going outsiue the door to wote at all. Family quarrels,, 
 indeed ! You Tories always exaggerates." 
 
 " Get out with you for a pair of fools," interposed the man with 
 the rat on his cheek. " If you stop your wife woting you diminish 
 your income. As a married man I value the Act at I don't know 
 how many extra half-pints for me a year." 
 
 " Yah ! We've got you, then ! " exclaimed the shrill treble of a. 
 withered old charwoman. "We won't marry you !" 
 
 " I don't think you 'will, old gal," cried a young man in a paper 
 cap. There was a general burst of laughter mingled with applause 
 that made the young man blush and roused Jack's dormant 
 faculties. 
 
 "Have I done anything foolish?" was the first thought that 
 suggested itself But a few minutes' listening convinced him that 
 the laughter had not been directed at him. It also naturally enough 
 gave him rather a shock to find under discussion a subject on. 
 which he had himself reflected lengthily, and at the discovery, a 
 rapid succession of vivid images and trains of thought coursed 
 through his mind. The debate, which was good-humoured on 
 the whole, and far from dull, seemed to be the freer for the ab- 
 sence of Mrs. Dawe, who was wont to come down on the orators 
 with the sledge-hammer of posthumous aphorism ; even the silent 
 members ventured to express their opinions. 
 
 " And with all due df-ference to the Honourable Arnold Flopping- 
 ton," concluded the polite young man in the paper collar, who had 
 modestly waited till nearly everybody else had spoken, " I think, 
 he's a great fool ; don't you, Mr. Dawe ? " He paused and looked 
 at the hitherto silent Jack, with the reverence of a disciple. The 
 last word remained to be spoken. 
 
 Jack started at the sudden appeal to his judgment, but was silent. 
 
 41 Don't you think he's a great fool ?" repeated the young man 
 in astonished disappointment. 
 
 " I am sure he is," replied Jack. 
 
 The company gave a buzz of applause, and the young man 
 coloured with pleasure. 
 
 But there was one recalcitrant member. This was the rat- 
 ridden man, who had a personal grudge against Jack Dawe.
 
 390 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ' I don't see it at all," he remonstrated stoutly. . 
 
 ' Then your mind is illogical, my friend," replied Jack calmly. 
 
 ' I ain't so mad as you," sulkily answered the man, who would 
 never have dared to make such a remark in Mrs. Dawe's presence. 
 
 'Silence !" cried the polite young man. 
 
 ' Shut up ! " screamed Sally, " or I'll chuck the soup in yer 
 ugly face." 
 
 " I ain't going to shut up," muttered the man. " I ain't going 
 to be silenced by a stuck-up Radical. I maintain that Floppy ain't 
 a fool. Floppy 'd make ten of the likes of him any day. Floppy 
 knows what he's about." 
 
 " That shows your mind is illogical," retorted Jack, warming 
 up. " He is a fool, and he doesn't know what he's about. For if 
 you looked at the matter logically you would see plainly that he 
 should either have allowed the suffrage to be given to women long 
 ap'o, or that he should never have permitted it to be introduced 
 at all." 
 
 " Oh, of course, that's always the way with you Radicals. You're 
 all as alike as the peas I'm eating. Now I'd wager Mr. Uawe, 
 that when the Radicals introduced something of the sort you were 
 among the first to praise it to the skies and to abuse Floppy for 
 opposing it. Whatever Floppy does is wrong with you." 
 
 " It is not so," replied Jack earnestly. " I judge the man by his 
 works, and not his works by the man. And in sober truth, what- 
 ever he does is wrong. But why argue with a prejudiced man like 
 you ? As for this female suffrage business, your mention of peas 
 made me reflect that modern politics is like a game of thimble-rig 
 one never knows under which thimble the pea of reform will be 
 found. The Conservatives " 
 
 " I don't know what you're speechifying about, old man,'' ex- 
 claimed a young man with a good-humoured visage, rushing into 
 the shop, " but 1 suppose it's all right. I'll take a plate of those 
 ,peas, Jack, quick." 
 
 Jack stopped short in his harangue and mildly built up a broad- 
 based pyramid of peas to such a height, even for him, that Sally 
 rushed forward to stay his generous spoon. 
 
 His measures would certainly have maddened his mother now, 
 ruinous as they were before. 
 
 " No, you don't," cried the young man, whisking the plate out 
 of Jack's hand, and bolting its contents all down in a few seconds, 
 to the admiration of the company. 
 
 "Give us another, Mrs. Dawe," he cried " I mean Jack. But 
 hang me if you ain't like an old woman altogether now ! " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " roared the rat-ridden man, while Sally, who 
 was sluicing the dirty plates, started up with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Where's your old jokes?" continued the young man. "And 
 why don't you come to the ' Cogers ' any more ? We miss you 
 awfully. By Jingo, you must come to-night ! What a grand 
 opportunity you'd have of slinging into Floppy ! It just wants to 
 be done in your btyie. We shall lose a treat. And it 11 be specially
 
 LIFE BEHIND THE COUNTER 191 
 
 apropos. We ought to make a field-night of it in imitation of the 
 Commons, and we don't want a lot of prosy duffers to spoil _such a 
 splendid opportunity. They made enough mull of Floppy's jockey- 
 ing Bardolph Mountchapel out of the Cabinet. How differently 
 you would have handled that theme, now!" The young man 
 heaved a regretful sigh. " Don't let this slip, anyhow." 
 
 " What opportunity ? " inquired the painter wearily. 
 
 " Why, the subject for to-night is the Governmental Concessions. 
 And d'ye mean to say you haven't heard the rumour about Floppy's 
 marriage? It first appeared in last week's Truth, I think. They 
 say he's going to get spliced to one of the leaders of the Woman 
 Suffrage Movement Lady what's her name? Lady Harley. 
 Two and two are four, ain't they, Jack? " 
 
 For an instant the close steamy shop, with its fumes, and its 
 uncouth crowd with their munching jaws vanished, and by some 
 link of association a pale dreamy face shone before Jack's eyes 
 through a mist of tears. He staggered, and a cry of sharpest 
 pathos rent the air : 
 
 " Oh, Gwendolen ! oh, my love ! " 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted this transpontine effort. 
 
 "Bravo, Jack ! " cried the young man in a burst of admiration. 
 " Do that again to-night and you'll bring down the house. I've 
 never seen you do anything so funny in your life. But go on : 'Oh, 
 Gwendolen ! oh, my love, give me your hand, and I'll give your 
 
 grandmother a vote.'" 
 
 ****** 
 
 " I can't stop up, missis," cried Sally, as the clock was striking 
 three. " I can't do more than run up and see to you erery now 
 and agen ; we was never so busy in all our borned days. And 
 everybody is a-sayin' as 'ow the cookery is better than they ever 
 tasted afore/' 
 
 The intense delight depicted on Mrs. Dawe's face during the 
 utterance of the greater part of this sentence vanished as she felt 
 the sting it carried in its tail. 
 
 " You're a liar ! " she exclaimed, turning purple in the face. 
 '" You can no more cook than I can than I can fly. The only 
 dish you can do is Irish stew, and a nice mess yer make o' that, 
 too." 
 
 " Well, I made a nice mess of it to-day, anyhow," replied Sally, 
 grinning. " And Jack's doin' a roarin' trade in it this very moment. 
 It's as much as he can do to take the money." 
 
 " Crow away, my gal, when you've got your missus on the heap. 
 But it isn't no dust-heap ; I ain't yet carted out as rubbish into the 
 cimitery. We'll see who's got most life in 'er yet. Crow away, 
 Sally, but remember, as my late 'usband said, the cheekiest cock 
 don't crow when he's stuffed." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Dawe vindicated her vitality by once more 
 jumping out of bed. 
 
 " Very good," said Sally sullenly, " if you will kill yerself, yer 
 must take the consikkences. Y'ain't a-goin' down in your bed- 
 gownd ! "
 
 192 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " I ain't a hopera singer, ham I ?" demanded Mrs. Dawe with 
 indignation, as she staggered out through the door. " I'm goin' to 
 listen 'ow many asks for Irish stew, that's all." 
 
 Sally received the information with a tremulous quiver of the 
 lips, and the old defiant look came into her face. There was a 
 moment of intense silence, broken only by the loud beating of the 
 girl's heart, and the stertorous breathing of the old woman. 
 
 " Why, Sally," shrieked Mrs. Dawe, " I don't 'ear a customer 
 in the shop ! " 
 
 "You must be very ill indeed, mum," said Sally compas- 
 sionately, "for there's a dozen if there's one. Did yer tell the 
 doctor as you was deaf? " 
 
 For answer, Mrs. Dawe snatched up a blanket, enveloped her- 
 self in it, and rushed down the stairs dragging Sally behind her 
 tugging at the blanket to keep her back. 
 
 "Oh 'Eavens, I'm ruined!" cried the distracted old woman, 
 beginning to wring her hands as she at once perceived the shop 
 completely deserted, the shutters up, and the door closed though 
 not bolted. " I'm robbed. Where's Jack ? My own son leavin' the 
 business at the mercy of the neighbours ! I'm ruined ! " 
 
 " What, ain't Jack here ? " said Sally innocently. " Then he's 
 just this moment gone." 
 
 " Gone ! " she screamed. " And so is the business. And where's 
 he gone, the vagabond?" 
 
 " Oh, missus, he's got such a wonderful order. I seed the 
 tellygraph come. Jack said it would bring 'im a mint of money, 
 and he told me he was goin' to paint it soon, and while I was up 
 just now he must have served all the customers and shut up the 
 shop, and so Sally's breath and inventive powers failing at 
 the same time, she stopped. 
 
 Her mistress, without heeding her, had rushed to the till. A 
 scanty sprinkling of coppers alone redeemed the bottom from 
 bareness. 
 
 " He's took all the silver," Sally hastened to say, seeing the 
 deadly horror of Mrs. Dawe's expression. " He knowed he couldn't 
 trust me. ;> 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" cried Mrs. Dawe; "you've been tellin' me a 
 large parcel of lies. It's 'cause you never taken no more, not 
 'cause he couldn't trust yer. D'ye think I'd a picked yer out 
 when yer was that 'igh if I didn't know yer was honest and truthful 
 as the day? No, you never taken no more ; you see yer can't do 
 without the old woman, arter all." This reflection gave her such 
 acute pleasure as almost to counterbalance the shock administered 
 by the emptiness of the till. She turned round suddenly to enjoy 
 her triumph in Sally's humiliated countenance, and instead poor 
 creature discovered the girl in the act of furtively concealing the 
 paint-pots. She raised her eyes in horrified astonishment, and the 
 blanket slipped oft" her shoulders to the ground. 
 
 "That undootiful jackanapes," hysterically sobbed the woman 
 in dirty white ; " he ain't gone to paint at all I know what it is
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUXTCHAPEL 193 
 
 he's gone to get drunk again, like the day he went to the Foresters', 
 when he lost his paint-pots. He only cares for his own pleasures, 
 he does ; he don't valley the money I earnt by the sweat of my 
 brow, cookin' all day long, a bit. He goes and shuts up my shop 
 in the middle o' the day to go on the spree. Oh, oh ! and my good 
 name and all the custom'll go to that ugly Mrs. Prodgers ; oh, oh!" 
 here Mrs. Dawe could utter nothing but sobs for some time "a 
 spiteful, mean, religious old cat, who would pray for you behind 
 your back pray for you behind your back." 
 
 The thought of being eclipsed by a woman who would do this 
 was too dreadful to allow of any other idea being contemplated 
 for some time. 
 
 " Til go to bed" the broken-hearted creature moaned threaten- 
 ingly; "rUgoto'lHd? 
 
 Sally sat at the bedside all the afternoon with humid eyes, 
 attending on her mistress with the gentleness of an unprofessional 
 nurse. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe sobbed for a long time in sullen despair, refusing all 
 her handmaid's tender ministrations. At last she fell asleep. 
 
 Then Sally got a number of the Freethinker, and, in the inter- 
 vals of readjusting the blankets which the uneasy slumberer was 
 continually throwing off, she studied the formation of the letters of 
 the alphabet. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUNTCHAPEL. 
 
 NEVER in the whole course of his career had Bardolph received 
 such a knock-down blow as that administered by the mild sentences 
 of the Standard paragraph. The calm, deliberate, official tone 
 made him shudder with the conviction of impotence, and when the 
 first shock of pure surprise was over, he felt like some Arctic voyager 
 hemmed in between inexorable icebergs advancing surely and 
 majestically to crush him to powder. Nothing in his experience, 
 even of himself, had prepared him for the sublime audacity of the 
 coup dealt him by the astute and wily diplomatist whom he had 
 imprudently quarrelled with. He had expected a visit from one or 
 other of his colleagues after the Cabinet Council ; but the omission 
 of one and all to put in an appearance had not made him very un- 
 easy. Had he known how overwhelmed they were in all senses by 
 the now historical proceedings of that Council, he would not have 
 been so overwhelmed himself by surprise, indignation, alarm, and 
 remorse. And the first emotion was never absent from his agitated 
 consciousness. Not even the epigrammatic Frenchman who has 
 taught us to expect nothing but the unexpected could have been 
 more surprised at the occasional falsification of his anticipations 
 than was the pragmatic Englishman at the failure of his own 
 insight. That Floppington he the dreamer, the prize-poet, the one 
 man that could awe the frivolous Commoners with solemn, religious
 
 194 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 perorations, the simple-minded scholar with the gentle vein of 
 humorous melancholy that this man should have all along been 
 as consummate an intriguer, as worldly a man and politician as 
 himself, lowered his view of human nature and galled him to the 
 quick. Bardolph had imagined that his web was so cunningly 
 woven, that while every fibre was linked with and strengthened by 
 every other, each was at the same time independent of the rest. 
 He did not want the Conservatives to be beaten at the coming 
 General Election, and what better catchword than Female Suffrage, 
 pure and simple ? He did not want the Premier to take office again, 
 and how could he better cut the ground from under his feet than 
 by advertising Female Suffrage as an essential plank in the Tory 
 platform ? He did not want Lady Harley to risk her happiness in 
 the incompetent hands of Floppington, and how could he better 
 ingratiate himself with her than by posing as a martyred convert 
 to Female Suffrage, whose conscience would not allow him to 
 retain his position in an unjust Administration ? And yet with one 
 shameless stroke his rival had severed the triple strands. The good 
 election cry would be spoilt in advance ; the promissory note would 
 be discounted ; and it would be hard to find another prospect 
 equally alluring. Whatever of prestige and gratitude was to be 
 gained by the gift of the Franchise would attach to his chief, who 
 had coolly filched from him, at once his motive of opposition and 
 his enlightened principles. And in the game played for love, he 
 had conquered him by the Grecian, and therefore un-English 
 method of appropriating the trumps and substituting them for 
 the worthless cards of the other suits. But not content with the 
 destruction of the ambitions of his underling, the unscrupulous 
 Minister had endeavoured to annihilate even the comparatively 
 humble political status to which he had laboriously attained. He 
 had forced him to leave the Cabinet under the impression that he 
 was resigning because of his disagreement with him, and then by 
 an unparalleled manoeuvre he had cut away the basis of the dis- 
 agreement and left the unhappy Ex-Minister in a position which, 
 from one point of view, was as ridiculous as it was humiliating. 
 
 What lurid light the self-revelation of the Premier threw upon 
 the events of the past few months, from the day on which he had, 
 with Cromwellian reluctance, accepted the virtual sovereign power 
 of the Constitution ! The masterly hypocrisy of Floppington's 
 dealings with his Cabinet filled his late Secretary for Foreign 
 Affairs with disgust. Wise after the event, Bardolph recalled 
 certain long-distant observations of the Premier, displaying flashes 
 of satirical insight which, though they had startled him somewhat 
 at the time, he had passed over too carelessly. It was evident now 
 that the Premier had always been aware of his cabals, and could 
 not refrain from occasionally letting slip a sub-cynical remark, 
 which seemed, even when uttered, to point to a passively humorous 
 tolerance of the situation. Bardolph ground his teeth at the 
 recollection of these phrases, the product not of self-conscious 
 impotence as he had imagined, but of dormant power.
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUNTCHAPEL 195 
 
 But if Floppington imagined he had done with Lord Bar- 
 dolph either in the sphere of politics, or in the realm of love, he 
 was greatly mistaken. If he chuckled at the finesse by which he 
 had disarmed the certain opposition of an Ex-Minister to the strug- 
 gling ministerial measure, it could only be because he had not 
 gauged the Protean resources of his antagonist. Defeat could not 
 wither the noble lord, nor conscience stale the infinite variety of 
 his policy. Like that ingenious toy, the bottle imp, it was impos- 
 sible to knock him down. He gave his contemporaries such an 
 impression of superabundant vitality that it was understood that if 
 you cut him up each fragment would assume independent life. 
 Whether this excessive modifiability of function, this physical 
 Jack-of-all-trades-ism, was only the obverse of defective organisa- 
 tion shall be left an open question ; but it may be pointed out to the 
 scientist that the better organised a political party is, the greater 
 and not the less is the homogeneity of the parts. 
 
 Bardolph, being thus brimming over with vitality, was far from 
 giving up the ghost. Not only did he hit upon a plan which enabled 
 him to offer a determined resistance to the second reading of the 
 Reform Bill, but with his usual ingenuity he utilised his opposi- 
 tion for the apparently impossible purpose of posing as a con- 
 sistent and lofty-minded statesman and of retaining the favour 
 of Lady Harley. 
 
 But before the general conflict in the House grew to a head, and 
 before the hostile armies divided for the bloodless fray, Bardolph 
 had the luxury of a duel with his hated rival. Every Ex-Minister 
 has his night, and by the laws of the combat, Bardolph was al- 
 lowed his innings first ; and for an hour and a half he did nothing 
 but make savage thrusts, and administer vigorous prods, and deal 
 vicious digs at his unresisting opponent with a keen, brightly- 
 polished, poisoned dagger, or belabour and thwack him with a 
 ponderous and crushing sledge-hammer. Marvellous to relate, 
 Floppington bore the blows and the stabs without moving a muscle. 
 A contemptuous and placid smile dwelt upon his passive coun- 
 tenance, as though he were guarded by invisible mail. The invul- 
 nerability of his enemy maddened the already wildly-slashing 
 swash-buckler. But in vain he foamed at the mouth. His scath- 
 ing virulence did not seem to scathe anybody but himself, for his 
 righteous and justifiable indignation grew unrighteous and unjustifi- 
 able under the extravagance of its manifestation. 
 
 At last the young champion sank down upon a bench exhausted, 
 and the imperturbable Minister, rising, answered him with winged 
 words, 
 
 Never had Floppington addressed the House with so majestic 
 a mien, or so dignified an air, as that assumed by him at the com- 
 mencement and the conclusion of his famous reply to the grave 
 accusations of Mountchapel ; and even in the middle of it, though 
 he, perhaps, marred its classic severity by his late-born love for 
 popular phraseology, his manner never lost its haughty serenity. 
 So must have fronted the tribunal of his fellow-citizens, that old 
 
 O 2
 
 196 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Roman worthy who, for all refutation of the charges brought 
 against him, was content to deny their truth. 
 
 The Premier began by administering a severe reproof to the 
 peccant Cabinet Minister for the breach of confidence committed 
 by him, in revealing the secrets of the Cabinet and publishing to 
 the world the private discussions of its members. He regretted 
 that the noble lord should have so far forgotten what was due alike 
 to himself and his colleagues, and more particularly to the Head of 
 H er Majesty's Government, as to have allowed himself to use his im- 
 perfect recollections of confidential conversations for the purpose of 
 substantiating certain charges which he had thought it necessary to 
 bring against his late chief and some of his late colleagues. 
 
 " Such behaviour," said the Premier, thumping the table em- 
 phatically, "is unprecedented" and somebody crying " Question ? " 
 he added amid laughter " at least in my short experience of the 
 House." 
 
 The right honourable gentleman went on to express his con- 
 viction that, in time, the noble lord would himself see, and even 
 acknowledge, with what imprudence and indiscretion he had acted. 
 Then drawing himself up with a sudden accession of august in- 
 dignation : 
 
 " Meantime, sir," he cried, " the noble lord has forced upon me 
 the necessity of unveiling to the world the relations between myself 
 and him, and as he has courted public scrutiny so far as to exhibit 
 a caricature of them, he cannot complain if I correct the coarseness 
 of his strokes, and convert his daub into a faithful portrait. The 
 issue raised by the member for Wadding is altogether false. He 
 has trailed the red herring of Women's Suffrage across the track, 
 andgiven a fishy complexion to thestraightforwardfacts." (Laughter,) 
 "All I shall say on the point is that his secession from my Ministry 
 was quite unconnected with any specific political question, but was. 
 due to the impossibility of the noble lord's working harmoniously 
 with myself and the rest of his colleagues. The late Secretary for 
 Foreign Affairs seemed, in his independence and self-sufficiency, to 
 have taken Palmerston as a model, and he endeavoured to impose 
 his wishes on the rest of the Cabinet. The noble lord forgot that I 
 was no more a replica of Grey than he of Palmerston." (Cheers 
 and laughter.) " The experiment of dual control appeared to me 
 as little satisfactory in home as in foreign politics. Sir, this is the 
 sole and sufficient explanation of the disagreement between me and 
 my late colleague, who seems to forget the logical canon, that ex- 
 planations are not to be multiplied beyond necessity." (Laughter 
 and cheers.) " We did not disagree on the woman clause in the 
 Reform Bill because it takes two to make a disagreement, and we 
 had both grown convinced of its necessity." (Cheers.) " Nor did 
 1 extract his...Nestorian counsels (laughter) under false pretences, 
 and then repudiate their author as he imagines. Let me tell him 
 that I had determined upon my present policy long before he had 
 the faintest conception of his own views." (Cheers and laughter.) 
 " Let me tell him what he knows as well as I do that he resigned
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUNTCHAPEL 197 
 
 because I was compelled to intimate to him that two Premiers in a 
 Cabinet were one too many, and that, in my opinion, two Heads 
 were not better than one. ;) (" Hear, hear," and laughter.) " But the 
 noble lord has not confined his denunciations to me. Her Majesty's 
 Government as a whole he has essayed to scarify. He has pre- 
 dicted that under that organised hypocrisy, as he has with such origi- 
 nality termed it (laughter), the country will go to the devil. Sir, the 
 member for Wadding has long been the Old Moore of politics 
 (loud laughter) ; but if he fancies that the country will follow him 
 (immense laughter) in his distrust of Her Majesty's Government 
 (more laughter) I shall not attempt to disturb his cheerful faith." 
 (Laughter.) "The Laureate, in a celebrated passage of In Memoriam 
 and what more appropriate poem could be cited on the present 
 occas'on? (loud and prolonged laughter) says : 
 
 ' Leave thou thy sister where she prays, 
 Her early Heaven, her happy views.' 
 
 If we alter the sex throughout the couplet, and change prays to 
 prophesies, and throw in the member for Wadding's devil in ex- 
 change for Tennyson's heaven, the verses will express my senti- 
 ments exactly." (Loud laughter.) 
 
 " So, although I do not share the noble lord's belief that Govern- 
 ment without the noble lord is only a roundabout method of going 
 to the devil (laughter), I shall follow the spirit of the poet's advice 
 by leaving the noble lord where he prophesies, and making no 
 attempt to dispossess him of his devil (loud laughter) or of his happy 
 views. I feel sure he will extend a similar tolerance to my own 
 faith. Weakened as Her Majesty's Government undoubtedly is by 
 the retirement of the noble lord. I believe it will still be able to 
 totter on." (Laughter.) " While I sincerely deplore the loss of the 
 coadjutorship of the noble lord, I console myself by the hope that 
 in process of time, when the noble lord is cured of the excesses and 
 impetuosities of youth ; when the rigorous discipline of life shall 
 have taught him the lesson that self-will pushed to the verge of 
 egotism is not quite the same thing as resolution ; when in the 
 course of years he settles down into the sober and solid wisdom of 
 a late maturity; and when study shall have given him a profounder 
 mastery of Imperial and financial questions; his undeniable talents, 
 his unquestionable ability in debate, will qualify him to again render 
 valuable services to the State." (The right honourable gentleman 
 resumed his seat amid cheers from all parts of the House, having 
 spoken for ten minutes.) 
 
 While the grave senators were convulsed with merriment, 
 Bardolph was convulsed with more malignant passions. The formid- 
 able indictment of dishonourable conduct which he had preferred 
 against the Prime Minister, and which had at first made a weighty 
 impression upon the House, had temporarily, at least, degenerated 
 into a subject of inextinguishable laughter. Floppington delivered 
 his speech in his newest manner, with his latest innovations in 
 dramatic gesture and rhetorical pause. Despite the dignified tone
 
 198 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 of the bulk of the speech, the timid hesitativeness of his applica- 
 tion of the epithet " Nestorian," the half-frightened stopping short 
 after "if the country will follow him," as though he had just per- 
 ceived the implication, the mournful tone of his reference to In 
 Memoriam, recalled the methods of American humorists on the 
 lecture-platform, rather than of the great Christian orator of earlier 
 debates, with his solemn invocations and his lambent flashes of 
 melancholy humour. Poor Bardolph writhed under the excoriating 
 lash of Floppington's contempt. He could have borne anything 
 sooner than this frank avowal of the Premier's ability to dispense 
 with the services of one who had hitherto been regarded as indis- 
 pensable to a Tory Ministry. So lightly did his late chief appear to 
 value him, that he would not even condescend to take him seriously, 
 and, refusing to bandy arguments with him, had treated his preten- 
 sions with lofty arrogance, airy badinage, and unstatesmanlike 
 sarcasm. The public humiliation was intolerable, and could not 
 fail to damage powerfully his political status. The Ex-Secretary 
 was an emotional creature at bottom. He could not imitate the 
 external immobility of his adversary. He shifted about in fiery 
 restlessness and twisted his moustache furiously. The Radicals, 
 who had appeared sympathetic at first, had ended by joining in the 
 hearty laughter at his expense. He had not bargained for the 
 simple outspokenness of the Premier, whose statement was tanta- 
 mount to the assertion that the Foreign Secretary had been virtually 
 deposed from his lofty position. He darted fierce glances at the 
 Treasury Bench, and vowed vengeance on his unprincipled colleagues, 
 especially on those who were his friends. None of the latter had, as 
 yet, sent in their resignations. The fact was that they admitted 
 the justness of their chief's standpoint. The older members who 
 had served in the last Conservative Government, had all along been 
 wondering at the dominating tone assumed by the pert youngster, 
 the new man, ignorant or disdainful of the traditions of the Cabinet, 
 and at the patience with which the Premier had tolerated the insub- 
 ordination of his inferior. It was now plain to his fellow Ministers 
 that the attitude assumed by Lord Mountchapel on the Women's 
 Suffrage question had been the last straw that broke the back of 
 even so long-suffering a camel as the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington. 
 
 The views of these gentlemen found expression in a peculiarly 
 bitter article in the next day's Standard, which obviously took its 
 cue from the speech of the Prime Minister. After commenting 
 severely upon the indiscretions of the youthful Ex-Minister, whom 
 it characterised as an " overgrown schoolboy," it proceeded to treat 
 the whole affair as burlesque, and as necessitating a like levity 
 in the handling of it. " MR. FLOPPINGTON was well advised," it 
 said, " in refusing to continue the critical discussion of the actions 
 of an imaginary being. If the House were in the habit of sitting 
 for the purpose of analysing the creations of fiction, no doubt MR. 
 FLOPPINGTON could add a valuable quota to the discussion of the 
 i o )le lord's conception of MR. FLOPPINGTON, since his total absence
 
 RESUMES THE HISTORY OF MOUNTCHAPEL 199 
 
 of relation to the character under analysis would be a guarantee 
 of impartiality. The utterances of the Member for WADDING have 
 long revealed an embryonic talent for origination, but never before 
 we speak under correction had his genius flashed forth so deci- 
 sively as last night, and it ought not to be long before his speeches 
 appear in the appropriate three volumes of the moral Mudie.* 
 Only an Italian improvisatore of the highest order could rival him 
 in his rapid invention of character, dialogue, and incident, and all 
 the while his eye rolled in the fine frenzy which we have been 
 taught to associate with the process of giving to airy nothings a 
 local habitation and a name. It was well that the unsullied repu- 
 tation of the great statesman who directs the destinies of the nation 
 reassured his supporters, or they would have passed several bad 
 quarters of an hour while the late Foreign Secretary was making 
 his clumsy but forcible onslaught. And their faith was fully justi- 
 fied in the sequel. LORD BARDOLPH MOUNTCHAPEL, like all 
 ambitious poets, attempted the historical drama, but the demands 
 of art caused him to overdraw his villains and throw too spiritual 
 a halo over his martyrs. After the literary historiographer usually 
 comes the prosaic investigator ; after the sprightly man of romance 
 the dull man of facts ; and it frequently turns out that the villains 
 are no worse than the martyrs, and the martyrs no better than they 
 should be. But rarely does the man of facts tread so fast on the 
 heels of the artist as he did last night. How the noble lord could 
 have ventured upon misrepresentation so gross in the face of the 
 knowledge that immediate contradiction and exposure was inevit- 
 able, it is difficult to understand ; but his conduct is of a piece with 
 his wonted policy of living from hand to mouth. Nothing is so 
 favourable to discontent as resignation, and the Ex-Minister 
 evidently sacrificed everything to the promptings of spleen and 
 dissatisfaction." 
 
 Even the Daily News, which took the passage of arms far more 
 seriously, and spoke of it in language far more cautious, accepted 
 in the main the undisguised avowal of the Premier that he and 
 Mountchapel could not (as the pressmen put it) run in .1 team, and 
 that they were forced to separate by incompatibility of tempera- 
 ment ; while the Pall Mall Gazette crystallised much fluid thought 
 by pithily suggesting that in the Premier's opinion the machine 
 of Government was not a Sociable, and that Floppington preferred 
 to skelter down-hill alone. 
 
 By the Opposition, indeed, the fall of Mountchapel was hailed 
 with more or less open delight. Not only must it weaken the 
 Government, but also it held out some prospect of the desertion of 
 a formidable adversary to their own ranks. The audacity and inde- 
 pendence of the Premier impressed as much as they astonished the 
 
 * The allusion is to Mudie's Library, a philanthropic institution founded 
 for the purpose of compelling authors to expand a word into a sentence, a 
 sentence into a pag*, and a pige into a volume (to reverse the saying of 
 Joubert), in order tnat the supply of reading-matter might not run short ; and 
 also serving as a succedineum for the absent censorship of the Press.
 
 200 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 House; and even the mental sluggards whom the announcement 
 of the ministerial intentions had failed to arouse began to recognise 
 that their conceptions of " Floppy" must be overhauled. 
 
 Following hard upon the unpleasant incident in the House there 
 came to Bardolph the unpleasant rumour that a marriage had been 
 arranged between the Premier and Lady Harley. The rumour 
 was to some extent confirmed by some remarks in the number of 
 7 'ruth which appeared after the Cabinet Council. This smart Society 
 journal, in some respects the prototype of the "Causerie " leaflets 
 that played such an important part in the social life of the reign of 
 Albert I., asserted, " on good authority," that now that woman was 
 to have a vote, the Premier was to have a wife ; and inquired 
 satirically whether he had vowed to remain a bachelor so long as 
 every possible partner, whatever her beauty or talents, must be 
 devoid of the crowning grace of suffrage. The next paragraph 
 congratulated Lady Harley on the prospective victory of her 
 cause. 
 
 This blow was not calculated to lessen the rancorous activity of 
 his opposition to the Reform Bill. As Tremaine had shrewdly 
 divined, he was leading a sort of patchwork coalition, the compo- 
 nents of which were only united by a common desire to throw out 
 the measure. It was not till the night preceding that on which it 
 was almost certain that the division would be taken that contra- 
 dictory reports reached his ears concerning the Premier's marriage. 
 For gibing the heel of Truth came the World with a playful 
 rebuke of its rival, and stating, " on higher authority," that far 
 from there being any truth in the malicious insinuations that the 
 Minister's head had been unduly influenced by his heart, there was 
 even a coolness between him and the lady in question. 
 
 Bardolph determined to pay Gwendolen a visit the very next 
 day, in order to ascertain, if possible, how the ground lay ; and for 
 other reasons. It was perhaps prudent, in view of future contin- 
 gencies, to make clear to her the grounds of his opposition. More- 
 over, he had not met her since the Duchess's reception, and he 
 hungered for a sight of her face and a quiet talk to soothe his 
 troubled spirit. Despair had, indeed, almost stung him to the 
 proposing point. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 BARDOLPH GOES A-WOOING. 
 
 IT is well that so few people are able to read their own biographies, 
 for, though less false than their autobiographies, the errors generally 
 lean to the wrong side. And although the writer has been able to 
 find no contemporary volume devoted to the life of Lady Harley, 
 the remark will still apply to the ana concerning her which appeared 
 from time to time in the contemporary press. It was well, then, 
 that she was not in the habit of looking at herself in the distorting
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A-W GOING 201 
 
 mirror of ephemeral literature, for at one period she would have 
 found her lineaments invested with an expression of appealing 
 piteousness which she was utterly incapable of assuming. Lady 
 Gwendolen was not one of those social nobodies who resemble 
 amateur authors in their eagerness to see their names in print, and 
 whose selfishness leads them to such extremes of altruism that they 
 are anxious to be a bonne bouche " in everybody's mouth," rather 
 than that the supply of scandal should run short. So when, as hap- 
 pened in the course of time, a certain amount of commiseration 
 began to be felt for her, her ignorance of its existence prevented 
 her from enjoying this sympathy of the public. But she did not 
 suffer the less because this compassion was wanting. She bled in 
 silence, like the wounded fawn, whose cries would only bring the 
 hunters on its track. For some days after her miserable discovery 
 she remained in a state of utter prostration. Floppington had 
 been to her the embodiment of her ideals of honour, delicacy, 
 chivalry ; and with the fall of the concrete man, it seemed at first 
 as if these ideals, too, had been shattered. The thought that her 
 life would not be an utter failure, since she was soon to see the 
 emancipation of her sex, afforded her but little comfort in those 
 dark days. She realised now how much selfish joy had entered 
 into that sacred rapture which had been hers when the Premier 
 announced to her the change in his views. How childish seemed 
 now that first moment of delicious two-fold anticipation ! The cool, 
 fragrant conservatory, with its waxen exotics, often rose dimly 
 before her through a mist of tears, but darkness reigned therein, 
 save where a ray of moonlight fell upon the mocking, stony counte- 
 nance of Bacchus. 
 
 Life without love seemed a poor thing to one whose intellect, 
 keen as it was, always worked on the lines laid down by emotion. 
 It was true that she had let the Premier understand that she could 
 never be his so long as he was of his old mind on the Woman 
 Question, but the voluntary breach was very different from the 
 present. That had all the exquisite pleasure of renunciation com- 
 bined with the soothing hope that it would sooner or later be un- 
 necessary. Bitterly disappointed in her first marriage, she cherished 
 unconfessed visions of future happiness. No sooner was the first 
 shock of marital bereavement over, than there sprang up in her 
 soul an aftermath of the earnest aspirations and high ideals of her 
 girlhood. And now once again the fatal sickle of conventional 
 immorality had remorselessly cut down the golden harvest. 
 
 A week passed before Gwendolen could settle down to her old 
 life. Making a resolute effort to shake off the past, she sat down 
 one afternoon to answer her neglected correspondents. As she 
 opened her desk, she perceived her unrevised eulogy on the 
 Premier. She took it up with a sigh, and read it through with 
 half-humorous scepticism. It seemed to belong to a world of 
 dream in which she had dwelt ages ago, and to which she could no 
 more return than to the innocent days of childish happiness. But 
 its perusal wrought a good effect. It appealed to her sense of fun.
 
 202 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 The rhodomontade, silly and false as it now appeared to her, she 
 could yet look at with the melancholy but humorous tolerance of 
 larger experience. The fresh fount of brightness and merriment 
 which often sparkled through her seriousness could not but pre- 
 serve her from protracted mental unhealthiness. With half 
 mockery, half pity of herself, she thought of those lofty expectations 
 of masculine virtue which she, now grown worldly-wise, would 
 never more entertain ; of the self-deception which made her admire 
 the delicate Gallican compliments of her lover while longing for 
 one word of healthy, honest passion ; and of her wilfully-blind mis- 
 interpretation of that presumptuous rudeness which he had never 
 shown till he thought himself certain of her hand. 
 
 It was a dull, cold day, and a cheerful fire gave cosiness to the 
 study. Lady Gwendolen tore up the paper into small bits, and 
 musingly burnt the fragments, one by one. By the time the last 
 morsel was consumed she had persuaded herself that her love for 
 Floppington was equally annihilated, that she was now perfectly 
 calm, and that her final freedom from illusions and conflicting 
 interests would enable her to devote the rest of her life to the 
 service of humanity. The half-checked thought even crossed her 
 mind that she might, in years to come, make a mariage de coivve- 
 nance (for love was plainly a delusion), with the proviso that the 
 " convenience " should be tested by the additional possibilities of 
 well-doing. 
 
 It was while smiling sadly at this not inglorious substitute for 
 romance in life that she was informed Lord Bardolph Mount- 
 chapel had called to see her. She started, and sent back a 
 message that she was unwell. Then, with her usual impulsive- 
 ness, she recalled the servant and said she would see him where she 
 was. It suddenly flashed across her that here was one more 
 sufferer by the Premier's duplicity. In a dull sort of way she had 
 glanced through the newspapers during that week of hyper-sensitive 
 shrinking from all contact with the outside world, and, though 
 startled, she had not been amazed to learn the true reason of her 
 friend's resignation of his secretariat. It goes without saying, that 
 she was more inclined to credit the story of the man with the 
 grievance; and, while she could not repress a feeling of admiration 
 for the courageous frankness of the Premier's defence, she still felt, 
 and was not alone in feeling, that he had shirked the impeachment 
 of his methods of getting rid of an undesirable colleague. Surely 
 nothing but a pure love of intrigue, such as animated Pope, could 
 have induced him to dismiss a subordinate by the needlessly round- 
 about plan of pretending to disagree with him upon an important 
 question. Or had he been unable to find a decent pretext for 
 dismissing him, and so resorted to an unprecedented manoeuvre, 
 counting upon the unpleasantness of the Ex- Minister's position to 
 ensure his silence ? Anyhow, one thing was plain. The younger 
 politician had fallen a victim to the sharp practice of the old par- 
 liamentary stager. She had not followed the debate on the Reform 
 Bill, nor the kaleidoscopic combinations of parties ; taking it for
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A-WOOING 203 
 
 certain that the second reading would be carried. Had she done 
 so, she might not have thought the conduct of Lord Mountchapel 
 so childlike and bland. As it was, she felt herself drawn towards 
 him more than ever by the magnetism of common suffering. When 
 he entered the cosy room she went to meet him with a tender smile 
 of welcome. She gave him her hand sympathetically, and allowed 
 him to retain it for a moment, feeling somehow strengthened by 
 the air of determination and jauntiness visible upon his vivacious 
 countenance. The mercurial Bardolph had had time to recover 
 from the effects of his recent duel, and he had found balsam for 
 his wounds in the support of a portion of the press (notably the 
 Times) and in the thought of the coming defeat of the Reform 
 Bill. Gwendolen's feelings soon passed from pity to admiration. 
 The smartness of his dress, the gay rose in his button-hole, the 
 brightness and directness of his glance, the erectness of his well- 
 poised head, all pointed to an internal consciousness of power. 
 She began to wonder whether her opinion of this blunt, cynical 
 man of the world, who made no pretensions to superfine emotions, 
 did not need revision. A woman, who had already blundered so 
 fatally in her reading of character, could not but have her con- 
 fidence in her own powers rudely shaken. 
 
 Smiling still more winningly in her remorse she motioned him 
 to a chair. Bardolph's mind was as sensitive as the Stock Ex- 
 change. Small forces could produce in it what seemed to less 
 delicate minds disproportionate effects. Thus, though he had been 
 impressing upon the Premier how necessary it was that the Con- 
 servatives should give woman a vote, yet, when he found himself 
 juggled out of the Cabinet, he saw the danger of entrusting the 
 reform of the franchise to a party containing men so unprincipled. 
 The moment seemed propitious for benefiting his country by 
 imitating the role of Disraeli versus Peel in circumstances sur- 
 prisingly parallel, except in the one fact that he himself agreed in 
 the abstract with the principle to whose success he was so violently 
 opposed. This exception necessitated a change of method, but 
 not a diminution of rancour, and he at once organised a strong 
 faction of all those opposed to female franchise, basing his own 
 antagonism, as has already been explained, on his disbelief in the 
 genuineness of the ministerial promises ; and, as is often the case, up 
 to the last moment both parties felt certain of victory. But when 
 he heard the contradiction of Gwendolen's engagement, he began 
 to feel a reviving sense of the undesirability of procrastination in 
 so important a reform, and a reluctance to allowing it to pass into 
 the hands of the Liberals. He determined to offer himself at once 
 in marriage to her ladyship, and if she accepted him to defer to her 
 views on the subject. Should she think his well-meant opposition 
 was doing harm to her cause, he was prepared, even at the eleventh 
 hour, to throw it up and save the Bill, whose fate he felt sure was 
 in his hands. This course could easily be made to redound to his 
 credit. There would be no inconsistency in his voting for the 
 second reading ; indeed, he knew that bets had been otiered that
 
 ?04 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 he would vote for it in the end. He would then appear as a man 
 who, in his magnanimity, refrained from breaking up the party, and 
 was not ashamed of giving way to the majority, even at the last 
 moment. The reflected light thrown on his past action would 
 show how unjust had been the suspicion of personal motives. 
 
 On the other hand, Gwendolen's refusal of his suit would prove 
 that she meant to marry Floppington after all, and there would be 
 no reason why he should desist from harassing a renegade and 
 defeating his measures, for the sake of a flirt with unsound views on 
 political expediency. 
 
 " Of course you will be in the Gallery to-night," was his first 
 remark. 
 
 " No," replied Gwendolen simply. "Why should I ?'' 
 
 " I thought you would care to hear Floppington's speech," he 
 replied bluntly. 
 
 She started slightly, and coloured up. The name seemed to 
 rankle her wound afresh. 
 
 "Indeed ?" she murmured, with a show of indifference. 
 
 Bardolph, who had watched her sharply, pierced through the 
 assumption. "Is it possible,'' he exclaimed, "that you will be 
 absent on so critical an occasion ?" 
 
 " What, is the debate over, then?" cried Gwendolen, startled 
 into excitement. 
 
 "To-night, in all human probability," returned Bardolph, " the 
 division on the second reading will be taken, and if the Govern- 
 ment get a majority well, you know what they promise ! " 
 
 " To-night ! " echoed Gwendolen, with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Didn't you know it ? " asked he, in intense surprise. 
 
 "No," she returned. " I I have been so busy at home all the 
 week that I have not been able to give sufficient attention to the 
 course of events. But I shall certainly be present if that is the 
 case." 
 
 Ere she had finished, the young statesman, with his usual 
 decisiveness, had taken a complete diagnosis of her mental con- 
 dition. There had undoubtedly been an irreparable breach 
 between the lovers, and her affection had changed to indifference, 
 perhaps to loathing. To conceal his exultant perturbation, he 
 said the first thing that came to his lips- a jumble of classical 
 reminiscences in the worst taste. 
 
 " Then Demosthenes will be cheered by the presence of 
 Egeria/' 
 
 ' I do not understand you," said Gwendolen coldly. 
 
 " Then I suppose the allusion is wrong,'' he observed lightly. 
 " Unfortunate man that I am, my friends are always down on my 
 classical, and my enemies on my political facts." 
 
 Gwendolen hastened to change the subject. " Will you speak ?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 "Certainly. I have reserved myself for to-night," he answered 
 with calm determination. 
 
 " And which side do you take ? You oppose us now, perhaps," 
 she said languidly.
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A-WOOING 20; 
 
 " Lady Harley ! '' Bardolph half rose from his chair and threw 
 a look of eloquent reproach at Gwendolen, who was gnztngly wist- 
 fully into the fire. " Et tu, Brute? " he exclaimed bitterly. " Is 
 Saul also among the proph I mean, are you among those who 
 think evil of me, and are ever impugning my motives ? I am 
 opposing the Premier, it is true, but not you oh, I hope never j ou ! 
 And I thought that you, at least, would do justice to the purity of 
 my motives." 
 
 Gwendolen was moved by the ring of pathos and sincerity in 
 the words. " Pardon me if I have wronged you," she said gently. 
 "But so far am I from impugning your motives in opposing the 
 Premier, that excepting, indeed, your passage of arms with him 
 last week, I did not know you were doing so. And I can to some 
 extent sympathise with your action, knowing as I do how badly 
 you have been treated.'' 
 
 An irrepressible smile of triumph flitted across his face. " Yes,'" 
 he exclaimed eagerly, " I have been vilely betrayed and duped." 
 
 How strange it was that her best friends were always destined 
 to hamper the success of her cause ? Yet she received the news of 
 Bardolph's antagonism with indifference, feeling it not unnatural 
 and confident ol its inefficacy. 
 
 " But you cannot expect me to sympathise with your aims,'*' 
 she went on, smiling sadly. " For even if your opposition is to the 
 Premier and not to us, you must see how the course you say you 
 are taking injures the cause you professed to have at heart." 
 
 "Ah, Lady Harley," replied Bardolph reproachfully, "I am 
 sorry to hnd you taking that superficial view. You were right in 
 saying you have not kept an courant with the march of events. 
 But when you have heard my speech to-night, you will confess that 
 I am the truest friend of your cause. And you will rejoice with 
 me, when, as I anticipate, the Government is beaten, or wins by so 
 small a majority that the Reform Bill will have to be dropped." 
 
 "The Government beaten!" Gwendolen exclaimed in alarmed 
 astonishment. Was it the irony of fate that one of her lovers 
 should always be the instrument of destroying her hopes, on the 
 very eve of their fulfilment? She looked at Bardolph with an ir- 
 repressible flash of indignation. "I thought an enormous majority 
 of the members agreed with you ? " she said a trifle maliciously. 
 
 " Yes, so they do," he replied nervously. " We are nearly all 
 agreed on the principle. But you see many men believe that after 
 the experience of Ministerial manoeuvres afforded by the treatment 
 of me, the Government are not to be trusted to keep their promise 
 of getting the Female Suffrage clause inserted in Committee. You 
 must acknowledge, Lady Hariey, that they have good reason for 
 refusing to vote on what is probably a false issue. There never 
 was such a curious division nor such a strange jumble of parties. 
 Nobody thinks of the actual Reform Bill at all. Everybody is 
 going to vote for or against a clause which is, as yet, non-existent, 
 and which, I honestly believe, will never be added to Floppington's 
 measure. He is trying to hoax the House into assuring the pass-
 
 206 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ing of his Bill, and if he succeeds, why, you may take the word 
 of a practical politician for it, that the enfranchisement of your 
 sex will be indefinitely postponed. You see, then, that I am working 
 with, and not against, your cause." 
 
 The earnestness of Bardolph's accents wrought a visible im- 
 pression upon Gwendolen. He saw the advantage he had gained 
 and continued meaningly : 
 
 " But I am not inflexible, Lady Harley. I have acted according 
 to my best judgment, and I have given you the grounds of 
 my action. But I may be wrong in doubting the sincerity of the 
 Government. You may have reasons for trusting it, and if you 
 think I am doing your cause more harm than good, I am ready 
 to reconsider my opposition. That is why I thought it right to see 
 you before the irrevocable division, and to ask your advice as a 
 leader of the cause. I could not find time to come before, but it is 
 not too late yet. If I intimate to my adherents that I have seen 
 reason to believe the intentions of the Government are honest, 
 they will follow me into the Ministerial lobby in a body that is, 
 of course, except the independent members and the old Tories, 
 who are against the principle of the proposed clause. Even 
 though I were to be the butt of the entire Radical press for my 
 sudden revolution (and the Radical press exists only to misrepre- 
 sent me), I would bear all that and more for your sake, Gwendolen." 
 He uttered the name quickly and tentatively, and lingered over the 
 preceding words. 
 
 "How can I tell what is best?" she asked mournfully, ignoring 
 the last phrase altogether. " If, as you say, so many men mistrust 
 the Government, there must be some grounds for their want of 
 confidence. And if we should gain nothing by the Premier's par- 
 liamentary victory " She sighed, and did not complete the 
 
 sentence. 
 
 An awkward silence of some minutes ensued. A sudden dim- 
 ness fell upon the study and a heavy driving rain dashed against 
 the window panes. Gwendolen shivered drearily. "Will you 
 come to the fire ? " she asked. 
 
 Bardolph drew his chair to a corner of the fire and sat down 
 opposite Gwendolen. Her delicately-cut mobile face was very 
 pale, and the ruddy firelight flickering over it invested it with a 
 weird charm. Her eyes appeared to have grown larger and more 
 pathetic. The halo of a saint who had done with earthly joys 
 seemed to surround her. Bardolph did not break the delicious 
 silence. It seemed to him that he could be satisfied to remain 
 there for ever with her, out of the storm. For the first time in 
 his life, repose seemed better than action. He had come to ask 
 her to be his wife, but he could not utter the words for fear of 
 cutting short those divine moments of quasi-domestic bliss. 
 
 Gwendolen, for her part, was thinking of her visitor's factious 
 opposition to the Reform Bill. At one moment she thought his 
 fears of treachery justified; at another, she reflected on the purity 
 of the Premier's career up to a few days ago, and was tortured
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A- WOOING 207 
 
 with disquieting suspicions that even in the Mountchapel affair 
 he might be found guiltless were all known. She knew that men 
 whose private lives would not bear investigation had often served 
 their country faithfully, and she asked herself whether it was fair 
 to test the sincerity of his promises to the public by her personal 
 knowledge of his character. After all, might not Mountchapel's 
 attitude needlessly delay a great reform ? And was Mountchapel 
 himself quite sincere ? She had always repressed any suspicion of 
 him, though, as in her last talk with him at the Duchess's, she had 
 now and again transfixed him with a playful dart. He had certainly 
 confided to her his changed views on the enfranchisement of 
 woman before any of the other Ministers had made the least sign 
 of concession, and now he had to all appearance suffered some- 
 thing of martyrdom for the cause. But what had made him come 
 over so unexpectedly in the first instance ? At last she observed 
 musingly : 
 
 "Thinking doesn't seem to help one much. You come to me 
 for advice, and it's so hard to give it, despite the cynics. Perhaps 
 I could make up my mind better if I were sure you were quite frank 
 with me. Forgive my bluntness. Lord Bardolph, but there is 
 no need for pretence between friends and we are friends, are 
 we not ? and the interests at stake are too great to be risked 
 lightly." 
 
 Bardolph's heart bounded vigorously at this remark. Accus- 
 tomed as he was to receive people's slightest observations as though 
 they were political manifestoes, and to see in them all sorts of 
 suggested subtleties and equivoques, the implications of this remark 
 removed his last doubt. 
 
 Refusal of his suit was impossible now. The woman had evi- 
 dently made as sharp a right-about-turn in love as the man in 
 politics. He settled himself more comfortably in his chair, and 
 warmed the hand he was about to offer to her ladyship. 
 
 It was with a mental vision of himself gleefully tearing up the 
 projected speech which he was carrying in his pocket, that he 
 replied after a pause : 
 
 " Dear Lady Harley, how can I be franker with you ? In my 
 hands lies the fate of the Reform Bill. I have transferred the 
 decision to you, and it is for you to raise or lower your thumb." 
 
 " You have certainly sketched the situation frankly,'' she said 
 with a quiet smile. " But you forget that I am dependent upon you 
 for the data of my decision. You are an ex-gladiator with an inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the champions of the arena, whom I, for 
 my part, know only in their non-professional character. And if you 
 assure me," she added with sudden determination, "that the 
 combatant-in-chief is fighting unfairly, and that you have no 
 arncre per.see in informing me of it, but are actuated by a pure love 
 of justice, why, Fll take your word, and there's an end of it." 
 
 "Well, I can assure you of this,'' he answered earnestly: 
 " Floppington never swerved from his opposition to your cause, 
 though I pointed out, time after time, that he was flying in the face
 
 208 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 of justice, and the good of the party. And it is impossible to believe 
 that he changed his mind so suddenly. Even if he was goaded into 
 promising th. extra clause, his conscience would not allow him to 
 keep his promise." 
 
 Gwendolen could not help smiling again at this paradox, as well 
 as at the naiveti of Bardolph's use of double-edged argument. 
 
 " But you changed your mind quite as suddenly," she said slily. 
 " Come, my lord, be your true self, and tell me candidly why you 
 gave us your support." 
 
 Her truthful gray eyes looked at him banteringly, yet gravely. 
 He was silent. He felt unable to make one of his glib replies ; 
 something told him that the moment was one in which she would 
 instinctively recognise a sham, and that to give her his confidence 
 was to enter into closer relations with her. Perhaps, indeed, her 
 suspicion that he had never been quite open with her, had always 
 kept a certain impassable gulf between them. But he feared to 
 shock those delicate cloistral scruples that had never known the 
 necessities of practical politics. 
 
 " Pray do not torture your brain for a compliment," said Gwen- 
 dolen. " I will take it for granted that you thought the cause could 
 not be wrong because / was always in the right. But what else 
 wrought your conversion ?" 
 
 Still he was silent. But he reflected that as they were going to 
 be one, her portion of the unity must be approximated in character 
 to his, and the sooner the better. The window rattled impatiently 
 for his answer. 
 
 " I don't see why you shouldn't know my sentiments exactly,' 
 he burst out. " If representative government be not a fiction, the 
 business of us legislators is to represent. The people wish for 
 reforms, and I see no reason why the honourable duty of carrying 
 out their desires should not be undertaken by whosoever can 
 manage to get to the front. Well, I have got to the front, but I am 
 young and ambitious. That seat in the Cabinet, which would have 
 satisfied most men, never contented me. I want to be at the head 
 of affairs. It's very natural. In fact, it is only another phase of 
 the universal competition of life, as you would know had you studied 
 concrete politics as I have. Each of the two parties like rival 
 shop-keepers endeavours to get the temporary monopoly of the 
 manufacture of Acts of Parliament, the reward being honour, and 
 sometimes pelf. The supply is determined by the demand, as it is 
 in everything else. So it really doesn't matter what party is in 
 power except to the leaders, and the public gets its reforms and is 
 satisfied. I do claim to be honestly convinced that woman should 
 be enfranchised, but I don't deny that the ever growing demand for 
 female suffrage hastened my conviction of its justice. But even 
 supposing I was influenced only by the consideration that as a 
 representative I was bound to supply the demand, would that make 
 any difference to the newly enfranchised sex ? Well, then, that is 
 the position I take up. The distinctions between Conservatives and 
 Liberals have grown obsolete. There are plenty of signs that the
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A- WOOING 209 
 
 Conservatives are at last tired of being perpetually told by the 
 Radical policeman to ' move on,' and of being badgered from re orm 
 to reform. Well, we now move on so fast that the Radical police- 
 man can't catch up to us, but toils laboriously after us in the path 
 of reform. I might even say that the distinctions have been re- 
 versed, for nowadays the Liberal talks of going forward and stands 
 still, while the Conservative talks of standing still and goes 
 forward ." 
 
 He had risen in the excitement of exposition, and now stood 
 eagerly bending over her chair. He felt he was carrying his hearer 
 with him, and he was glad he had taken the bold determination to 
 allow no humbug in future between himself and her. " Believe me, 
 Lady Harley," he said earnestly, " to think differently from me is to 
 live in a world of dreams. The belief in political ideals, which each 
 party exists to expound and to pursue, dies away with all the other 
 beautiful delusions of youth." 
 
 Gwendolen buried her face in her hands. His last words 
 touched a now familiar discord. Alas ! it was all too true. Life, 
 always seeking for ideals which it was never to find, seemed so 
 dreary, so dreary, and to be fitly symbolised by the chill rain and 
 by the mournful wind that sobbed without ; while the existence of 
 common people was like the red, comfortable glow of the cheerful 
 fire. Why could she not resign herself to the workaday felicity of 
 the practical folk who took life as they found it ; why was she 
 destined to be always unhappy ? She raised her head. 
 
 " I am very ignorant of that concrete world you speak of,'' she 
 said humbly, " but illusion is the salt of life, and I, at least, could 
 not live utterly devoid of it." 
 
 " That is another illusion of yours," replied Bardolph, with 
 good-natured superiority. "You will soon get an acquired taste 
 for some more modern substitute for that salinity. When a man 
 of the world loses his illusions, he devotes himself to spreading 
 abroad the illusion that he still possesses them. He scatters what 
 you call the salt of life very liberally, and the stupid buffaloes con- 
 gregate in public places to lick it. He who would retain his fellow- 
 ship in the University of Politics must not wed himself for life to 
 a principle. He may flirt with all without much danger, but it is 
 safest to dispense with them altogether. To put the matter in a 
 nutshell, the first principle for a modern politician is to have none." 
 
 Gwendolen was looking sadly at the fire. A reaction against 
 this brutally-cynical Bardolph was beginning. Her eyes fil'ed with 
 tears at the thought of all that might have been, and her mind with 
 tender memories. 
 
 " I am grieved to hear such a report from a practical politician," 
 she said softly. "Especially," she added, with a slight blush, "as 
 my previous experience of Ministers had taught me that, in their 
 public career at least, principle is sometimes adhered to in the face 
 of temptation. And I always understood that nowadays the 
 standard of honour has been raised men do not sell themselves 
 for round sums, as in the time of Walpole."
 
 210 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " It is not the standard of honour that is higher, it is the standard 
 of self-valuation. Nowadays, we think no round sum could 
 purchase us. Sometimes," he continued slowly, " 'tis but a smile 
 of the Siren of Politics that we crave." 
 
 " From what you tell me of her powers of transformation, this 
 Siren of Politics must be a veritable Circe." 
 
 " She is," cried Bardolph enthusiastically. 
 
 This remark appealed so much to Gwendolen's sense of the 
 ridiculous that she burst into a laugh that had somewhat of the 
 merry ring of yore. But she checked herself half-way. 
 
 " I suppose I'm wrong again," he said ruefully. " But I repeat, 
 every man has still his price." 
 
 " Not every man," said Gwendolen in a low tone, which was 
 almost a whisper. " There are some who are to be bought neither 
 by power nor its emoluments." 
 
 "Then they are bought by love," replied Bardolph, unthink- 
 ingly accentuating each word, or rather thinking only of his own 
 case. 
 
 Gwendolen started and flushed deeply in righteous indignation. 
 " It is not true," she exclaimed hotly. " He changed from con- 
 viction, like Peel in the " she stopped suddenly. 
 
 It was now Bardolph's turn to start. "The devil," he ejacu- 
 lated mentally, " is it only a lovers' quarrel after all, and have I 
 been wasting my time ? " " When I say every man," he said aloud, 
 " I, of course, do not speak of men like Floppington, who before 
 the strange aberration which led him to manoeuvre me out of the 
 Cabinet, was the soul of honour. Putting that aside, he is the only 
 honest politician I have ever known, and in fact the exception 
 that proves my rule. And don't you remember how 1 explained to 
 you, a few moments ago, my fears that this very honesty will keep 
 him from giving you the promised clause ? " 
 
 He paused and looked down at Gwendolen, whose head was 
 turned away. She was distressed and ashamed of her passionate 
 outburst. That Bardolph's guess was perhaps accurate, only, 
 added an extra sting to her pain. 
 
 " It's all up !" he thought, with a suppressed groan, as he gazed 
 around the bright room shut in from all worldly troubles as from 
 the wind and rain at the empty chair by the fireside in which he 
 had passed those moments of transitory rapture. " Confound 
 Floppington ! Not content with filching my policy, he has stolen 
 the woman I love ! Traitor, you shall writhe to-night, despite your 
 stoical pretences." 
 
 He looked at his watch, feigned to start, and took up his hat. 
 
 " I fear I must go. Good-bye," he said, holding out his hand. 
 She gave him hers. He held it for a moment. 
 
 Something in her eyes a look of remorse, bordering on tender- 
 nessmade him retain it just as he was about to drop it. 
 
 " Look here, Gwendolen," he cried, " I'm not going to make a 
 fool of myself. I came to tell you I love you, and I all but went 
 away without telling you. You know very well I have loved you
 
 BARDOLPH GOES A-WOOING 211 
 
 for some time. \Villyouacceptme? To judge by the daily abuse 
 of me I am sure of the Premiership. I shall rule England, and you 
 will rule me, for you know I am helpless in your hands. Will you 
 accept me?" 
 
 Gwendolen had months ago foreseen the possibility of this offer, 
 but she did not expect its realisation either in such a shape or at 
 such a time. Conflicting emotions kept her silent. When it came 
 'to the point, the thought of allying herself with this of her two 
 lovers Drought a revulsion of feeling. Bardolph still kept pos- 
 session of her hand. He began to hope that the silence gave 
 consent. 
 
 " I cannot make up my mind so suddenly," she faltered. 
 " Why not, Gwendolen ? " he asked tenderly. 
 Again she found nothing to reply, and Bardolph was preparing 
 to cut the situation short by clasping her passionately in his arms, 
 when the butler entered, bearing a card. With a smothered oath 
 he dropped her hand. 
 
 " Mr. Floppington ! " cried Gwendolen, involuntarily flushing 
 scarlet, and then turning paler than before. " Oh no, I cannot 
 see him. I can never see him any more !" 
 
 Not a muscle moved in the butler's stolid countenance till he 
 .arrived outside. Then he grinned and winked. 
 
 " Gwendolen ! " exclaimed Bardolph, in feverish exultation, 
 " say you consent ! " 
 
 But Gwendolen had thrown herself into a chair, and was 
 sobbing convulsively. He went to her and stood for a moment 
 looking at her helplessly. She controlled her emotion with an 
 effort as he leant over her. 
 
 "Gwendolen!" he cried, distracted by alternations of confi- 
 dence and alarm. "You are troubled. Give me the right to 
 protect you.'' 
 
 '' Forgive me if I wound you, dear Lord Bardolph," she replied 
 softly, "but I shall never marry again." 
 
 Her beautiful eyes looked at him pleadingly, her mouth 
 quivered with emotion. She seemed so weak and helpless that 
 her determination had an ironically pathetic effect, and fell lightly 
 upon MountchapePs ears. 
 
 "No, Gwendolen," he exclaimed passionately, "I cannot, 
 believe that you will be so cruel." 
 
 He bent over her in imperious tenderness. She was so weak 
 .and overcome at the moment that she felt herself in danger of 
 being dominated by his stronger will. Not thus had Floppington 
 wooed her She felt her energies of resistance giving way. Her 
 womanly gentleness, that shrank from paining him, unfitted her to 
 repulse him decisively, even if a certain hesitation had not been 
 engendered in her by the expansion of her experience. But she 
 must conquer the lethargy that was creeping over her. Bardolph 
 sasv that she was yielding. 
 
 " You will not refuse to ensure my happiness and to entrust 
 your own to my keeping," he went on. " Dearest Gwendolen. I 
 
 P 2
 
 212 
 
 have unveiled my soul to you. You will not refuse to share and 
 sweeten the struggle for posver." 
 
 He saw a change come over her face as he finished the 
 sentence, an expression of resolute calm blent with a tinge of relief. 
 Her lips parted for the first time since she had declared her inten- 
 tion of remaining in her desolate widowhood. His heart beat 
 quickly with the prevision that in another moment that divine form 
 would be clasped in his embrace, those beautiful lips pressed close 
 to .his. 
 
 "What is it now?" she asked in tranquil, passionless tones. 
 
 Bardolph turned his head quickly, and, to his horror and 1 
 disgust, he beheld the same domestic tendering a card to his 
 mistress. "He won't go away. He said will you please read 
 what's on the back." 
 
 Gwendolen took the card, and read as follows : 
 
 " As you value the happiness of your life, give me one minute 
 Floppington." 
 
 This enigmatical sentence, coming upon her at the critical 
 moment when the happiness of her life was at stake, affected her 
 with the solemnity of some divine oracle. A wild hope that her 
 old love was guiltless instantaneously flashed through her excited 
 brain. She shook with nervous tremor. 
 
 " I will see him," she breathed. 
 
 ."Adieu, Lady Harley," exclaimed Bardolph harshly. " I fear I 
 have been wasting too much of your time." 
 
 ." No ; if you are my friend, stay. I shall be stronger. He will 
 be gone in a minute,' 1 she replied incoherently. 
 ...-"As you will," he said sullenly. 
 
 .She made no reply. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway,, 
 watching for her fallen lover. In a moment he appeared, and at 
 .the. -woeful sight her overstrung nervous system gave way, and she 
 sank back on her chair in a swoon ; for his face was the white 
 face of a phantom, and his eyes were sunk deep in his head, and; 
 the flesh had faded from his cheek-bones. His clothes hung loosely 
 upon him as though his body had shrunk, and they exhaled the 
 damp. But what words can paint the horror of his haggard glance- 
 in which one seemed to read the concentrated misery of the human. 
 race ? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WEAVING THE NET. 
 
 THE astonishment of Lord Bardolph Mountchapel at the ghastl/ 
 spectacle of the Premier was so intense that he stood riveted to the 
 spot, .staring dumbly at his former chief, and not noticing the con- 
 dition of Lady Harley. His well-tested principle of nil admirari 
 broke down at last, as well as his incapacity for failing to under- 
 stand anything under the sun. He even forgot for a moment his, 
 bitter irritation at an interruption so inopportune.
 
 WEAVING THE NET 213 
 
 The Premier, for his part, started back on seeing Bardolph 
 the surprise was evidently mutual. Both seemed to feel the 
 delicacy of the situation ; and Mountchapel wondered what tone 
 it was best to take with the man who had ousted him from the 
 Cabinet, and whom he was perhaps to oust from the Premiership 
 that very night, unless the line taken by Lady Harley should yet 
 interfere with his scheme of revenge in the few hours still remaining. 
 
 For he was by this time wrought up to such a pitch of amative- 
 ness that he had determined to forego his opposition to the Premier 
 in the event of her ladyship's consent to his suit. He told himself 
 that he would be generous in his joy; and, lost in contemplation of 
 the altitude of his sentiments, his inner vision was turned away 
 from the earthly fact that since Gwendolen had manifested more 
 than an inkling of distrust in his motives on this particular question, 
 magnanimity would pay better than rancour from all points of view, 
 political or amorous. If, then, he should end by leading a large 
 section of his following into the Governmental lobby, he would find 
 it awkward in view of possible reconciliations to have still further 
 widened the breach between himself and the Prime Minister. On 
 the other hand, if he should be left free to wreck the Ministry after 
 all, it would be humiliating to have done anything to fill up the gap, 
 or to have treated Floppington with anything but lofty contempt. 
 The problem of how to behave was, therefore, not easy. It was, 
 indeed, a problem that baffled all his political sagacity, and reduced 
 his usually clear-cut ideas to an indecisive pulp. Never before 
 had he stood "by the parting of the ways" so doubtful as to the 
 route he would ultimately follow. He fumed at the fate which 
 left him at this crisis ignorant whether Gwendolen would be his 
 or Floppington's, ignorant whether his principles would force him 
 to support the Reform Bill or to oppose it, and ignorant whether 
 he was to be the Premier's henchman or his adversary. And to 
 think that in a moment more he might have acquired definite views 
 pn all these points ! 
 
 The Premier cut the knot. After an instant's hesitation he 
 advanced into the room and extended his hand, which shook 
 tremulously. 
 
 Bardolph was thunderstruck. Could the Premier, in his well- 
 founded dread of defeat, be desiring a compromise ? And did he 
 fear him sufficiently to gulp down his hatred and make the first 
 Covertures.? And what meant that deadly pallor and woe-begone 
 air? Had there been a hopeless breach with Gwendolen, and did 
 the unfortunate man feel his happiness being undermined in all 
 directions ? 
 
 Feeling that a smile of triumph was irresistibly dawning on his 
 countenance, he utilised it as one of welcome, and after a moment 
 >of intensely rapid reflection, he put out his hand in return. 
 
 " Has the beggar been touching himself up with chalk,'"' he 
 thought, ' and getting himself measured for clothes too big for him 
 in order to appeal ad Gwendolen's misericordiam, as he is now 
 .doing to mine? He's anful enough for ten Premiers."
 
 214 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 But the grasp of the Premier's burning hand dispelled this 
 idea. 
 
 " He's really ill, the fool ! " Bardolph admitted to himself. 
 " No wonder he's knocked himself up. The tremendous amount 
 he's done lately ! He works as if he were paid by the job. He- 
 can't, take things easily. And then he worries even about his love- 
 affairs, and makes a mull of them. While I make business into 
 pleasure, he makes pleasure into business. He won't be in very 
 good form to-night, that's evident." 
 
 Soliloquising thus complacently, he shook the Premier's hand 
 with a dignified cordiality that committed him equally to alliance, 
 to antagonism, and to neither. Floppington took no notice of the 
 Ex-Minister's nuances, but turned to Gwendolen, of \vhom he had: 
 caught but a blurred glimpse the first brief vision of a white 
 figure, and a pale, angelic face, played upon by the ruddy tints of 
 tongues of flame. He bent upon her a look of infinite tenderness, 
 
 " Pardon me for forcing myself upon your ladyship," he began 
 in grave, trembling tones, '' but the greatness of the necessity must 
 be my excuse for refusing to accept your decision." 
 
 Bardolph writhed under this humiliation of his rival. Surely 
 the irony of fate would not allow the breach to be healed in his 
 presence. He turned his back on the Premier and stared at the 
 window-panes, down which the rain-drops were now coursing more 
 slowly. " The man who humbles himself before a woman," he 
 moralised, " dishonours his sex." Gwendolen did not stir. 
 
 " 1 hope my message did not alarm you Good God, what 
 
 have I done ? " 
 
 The sharp cry of remorse startled Bardolph. He turned his 
 head and saw his rival peering anxiously into Gwendolen's face. 
 
 " What is to be done ? " whispered the Premier hoarsely. " She 
 has fainted ! '' 
 
 For answer Bardolph rang the bell with violence. Then, push- 
 ing the unresisting Floppington unceremoniously aside, he bent 
 over the helpless form and gazed at the unearthly beauty of the 
 motionless face. The wind gave a final sob and died out, and the 
 sky began to lighten. 
 
 " A curse seems to fall on whomsoever I would love or be- 
 friend," mused Floppington bitterly. " I must have the evil 
 eye." 
 
 When assistance came, he looked on passively, though 
 anxiously, while Bardolph briskly superintended the restorative 
 measures ; the young statesman showing alike his common-sense 
 and his science by ascribing her ladyship's prostration to the heat 
 of the fire, and by ordering the affrighted servants to open the 
 window. 
 
 " Again I find/' reflected the Premier, " that speech is silvern, 
 and action golden." 
 
 At last quivering eyelids foretold Gwendolen's return to con- 
 sciousness. Bardolph had the window closed, dismissed the 
 domestics, and tenderly bathing her forehead, he awaited the
 
 WEAVING THE NET 215 
 
 moment of grateful illumination in her eyes. But when she opened 
 them and perceived Bardolph, a look of wonder came into them. 
 
 " Arnold ! " she murmured. " Where are you ? I dreamt you 
 were here." 
 
 She closed her eyes again. 
 
 Bardolph's brow grew as black as night. He looked sharply 
 at the Premier, who stood a few yards off. Instead of the expected 
 look of tender exultation, he read only one of hopeless misery. 
 Could the words not have reached him ? 
 
 With a prolonged shudder, Gwendolen raised her head and 
 looked round the room. As her gaze rested on the Premier she 
 received a fresh shock, and she understood what had happened. 
 At the sight of the gaunt, hollow-eyed, careworn man, her eyes 
 rilled with tears, and an expression of womanly pity and loving 
 tenderness came over her face. 
 
 The Premier caught the glance, and their eyes met. He made 
 a step forwards. 
 
 " Gwendolen ! " he cried in tones of searching pathos. 
 
 "I will not intrude upon jour ladyship any longer," sneered 
 Bardolph. "Good-bye, Lady Harley. Adieu, Mr. Floppington ; we 
 shall meet again to-night." 
 
 The parting threat of his rival was lost upon the Premier. His 
 eyes were fixed upon Gwendolen with a look of hopeless yearning. 
 She was deadly pale, and trembling under a rush of formless 
 emotion and indefinite thought. Pity was vaguely blent with 
 anger softened by time to despairing regret, and with a shuddering 
 sense of relief at having awakened from a bad dream when on the 
 point of falling into some bottomless gulf. The havoc wrought 
 upon the Premier by her dismissal of him touched her woman's 
 soul to sympathetic tenderness, and with renascent love came a 
 dim revival of that belief in his nobleness with which it had always 
 been associated. Swifter and swifter ran the current of old emotion 
 till, with a sudden impulse of divine forgiveness, she stretched out 
 her hand in reckless self-abandonment to the torrent, and in her 
 tender eyes and tremulous lips one read a lofty but passionate 
 spirit moved to its depths. But as the feverish hand of her lover 
 touched hers, a feeling of mortal sickness came over her, for the 
 contact seemed to burn the man's impurity into her own blood, 
 and there seemed to emanate from his very garments something 
 of coarse dissipation, offensive no less aesthetically than morally, 
 at which all the purity and delicacy of her nature revolted ; and 
 the terrible details of his baseness flashed upon her anew. She 
 drew away her hand quickly with an irrepressible shudder of 
 disgust. 
 
 'Oh! why have you come here?" she cried in heartrending 
 tones, in which indignation vainly struggled with renewed despair. 
 " I cannot, I cannot forgive you." 
 
 A wild startled look shot across the Premier's countenance. 
 
 "Good God!" he exclaimed. "You know?" A nervous 
 trembling seized him afresh, and the pallor of his face grew deeper.
 
 216 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Gwendolen was struggling with a desire to burst into a wild 
 flood of tears. But the sight of his cowardly agitation froze her to 
 an icy calm. 
 
 She flashed a chilling look of contempt upon him. 
 
 " Did you then entertain any hope," she said slowly and bitterly, 
 "that I have not guessed all? Dupe as I have been, I am not so 
 simple as- not to know everything now, Mr. Jack Dawe." 
 
 The Premier winced at the name as if a red-hot iron had 
 touched him, but the start which he gave was as much due to 
 astonishment as to agony. Gwendolen saw that he writhed under 
 the recall of his baseness, and in her present mood of righteous 
 indignation, the painful fascination of inflicting deserved punishment 
 added pungency to the lash of scorn. 
 
 Floppington stood before her with bowed, contrite head. He 
 was silent from agitation and indecision as to what to say. He 
 opened his mouth and shut it again with a perplexed, hesitating 
 expression. There seemed something tragically ridiculous about 
 the man. A sudden semi-hysterical fit of sneering laughter seized 
 her. 
 
 ' These be thy gods, O Israel ! " she exclaimed. " This is the 
 nobler sex which woman cannot replace at the Council-board. 
 There stands he silent whose every word is hung upon by the 
 gullible country he has so long deceived." 
 
 " Deceived, Lady Harley ? " cried the Premier piteously. 
 
 " Yes, deceived ! " replied Gwendolen hotly. " Where is the 
 world to look for models if not in its leaders ? And you could 
 preach the loftiest morality in your speeches, while in your inner- 
 most heart you were capable of deeds that you tried to hide from 
 all the world. You have betrayed he trust of a whole nation. But 
 why do I discuss this loathsome subject with you?" she added 
 with a shudder. "Your conscience must be fatally blunted if it 
 tells you otherwise.'' 
 
 " I always relied on your clearer intuition," said the Premier 
 earnestly, " and I will trust it now. But God knows if I sinned, it 
 was in carelessness. I followed the mere whim of the moment, and 
 bitterly have I repented it since. As I wandered about London on 
 the fatal night of our rencontre, world-weary, sick of the din and 
 contest of politics, its lies, and its endless intrigues, a fever in my 
 blood oh ! who but myself can gauge the strength of the terrible 
 temptation to " 
 
 "Sir !" interrupted Gwendolen. "You forget yourself ! Would 
 it not be better to reserve these details for your boon companions ? " 
 
 How chill her heart and the room had grown ! Yet there was 
 a bright fire leaping in the grate, and the rain had ceased, leaving 
 behind a sunny freshness as of early spring, and outside, moist- 
 feathered birds were twittering among the glistening dripping 
 leaves. Not for her would the dark hours any more glide into 
 light and song. As she uttered the last word she wished that she 
 had not been weak enough to admit him once more. In time she 
 might have grown to believe again in some substratum of delicacy,
 
 WEAVING THE NET , 217 
 
 honour, refinement, not destroyed by an isolated faux pas. But 
 now all such tender webs of soothing thought were for ever im- 
 possible. It was plain that his nature was vulgarised and debased 
 to the core. 
 
 A spasm of pain distorted the Premier's countenance. " You 
 judge me harshly," he replied humbly. " Tis true I have deceived 
 the world, but what evil have I done that cannot be repaired ?" 
 " You are right. Nothing is lost, sauf Vhonneur? 
 "Lhonneur I " echoed Floppington in dismay ; " surely you are 
 exaggerating. I cannot believe I have been guilty of anything 
 really dishonourable. Aquinas himself, who was the first to lay 
 
 such stress on the subjective side of moral action :; 
 
 Surprise and indignation had rendered Gwendolen momen- 
 tarily speechless ; but when she heard this impudent, casuistic 
 appeal to the Angelic Doctor, all her ardent nature flashed out in 
 lightning that made the Premier quail before the dark recesses of 
 his spirit which it illuminated. 
 
 " It is not really dishonourable to lower yourself to the level of 
 an untutored peasant; it is not really dishonourable to masquerade 
 in another man's name, leaving State affairs to regulate themselves 
 as best they may ; it is not dishonourable to trail the reputation of 
 
 a noble family in the dust ; nor to :> 
 
 " Oh, spare me, spare me ! " he entreated, cowering before her 
 arrowy glance and holding his hands before his face as if to ward 
 off the shower of verbal darts ; " I did not think of all that. Spare 
 me!" 
 
 " Spare you ! " cried Lady Gwendolen ; and her words were 
 dagger-thrusts. "And did you spare me when you made me a 
 subject of ridicule, of scandal in my own house? Did you bestow 
 a thought upon what your infamous conduct would probably ex- 
 pose me to ? Did you " 
 
 The Premier interrupted her by a cry of pain. " Oh, my God," 
 he thought, " what madness was mine ! I who would die to save 
 her pain have recklessly exposed her to all this ! What must her 
 delicate spirit not have suffered ! Yet God knows I thought our 
 lives sundered beyond the possibility of such an intimacy." 
 
 "Did you not subordinate all other considerations, great cr 
 little, to your own selfish desires ? " 
 
 " I did, I did," moaned the Premier. " I was blind, but you 
 have opened my eyes." 
 
 He uncovered his face and stretched out his hands towards her 
 in piteous supplication. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said in a low tone that vibrated with infinite 
 pathos. " If you knew what I have suffered ! Forgive me ! " 
 Gwendolen was moved in spite of herself. 
 
 "What is my wrong beside hers?" she said softly. "Ask her 
 to forgive yon ! :) 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said the Premier with an air of inno- 
 cence that irritated Gwendolen afresh, and sent through her a 
 thrill of indignant pity at all the countless sufferings of her sex.
 
 2i8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 u I have wronged no woman but you." Gwendolen looked straight 
 into his eyes and said with bitter reproach : 
 
 " Is it not wrong, then, according to your remarkable code, to 
 persuade a poor housemaid that you are going to marry her in three 
 months ?" The Premier did not flinch before her withering glance. 
 She saw a proud look of low cunning in his eyes and a wicked 
 smile playing round the corners of his mouth, as, after a sigh of re- 
 lief, he said with the easy affability of an accomplished rout : 
 
 " Is that all ? Now, whatever wrongs I have really committed, 
 I cannot see that I did anything blameworthy there. I acted for 
 once like a man of the world : at one stroke I ensured my own 
 repose and her happiness. Of course," he concluded, breaking 
 into a melancholy little laugh, "you don't suppose I ever meant 
 to marry the girl." 
 
 Gwendolen started from her chair, her sweet face rigid and 
 pale, her gray eyes flashing fire, her figure drawn up in regal 
 majesty, her imperious forefinger pointing to the door. 
 
 At the shock of this attitude the Premier's heart almost ceased 
 to beat. " Don't send me away," he cried wildly. " I don't under- 
 stand it all. I have so much to say to you." 
 
 Still the imperious forefinger pointed to the door while she 
 made a movement towards the bell. 
 
 " Gwendolen ! " The cry was wrung from his innermost heart. 
 
 The forefinger was relaxed, and the hand fell to her side. "If 
 you have really anything to say," she said after an instant's silence, 
 " I will listen to you for five minutes. Then we part for ever." 
 
 "For ever !" The Premier looked round the room in a dazed 
 fashion. He was conscious of serried rows of rich morocco bind- 
 ings, and of workaday chairs and fire-irons ; but all this concrete- 
 ness seemed curiously out of harmony with the dream-like minor 
 key in which his inner life was playing itself out. Mechanically he 
 went to the window and opened it, admitting a rather chill breeze. 
 He closed it immediately, and then walked to the fireplace and 
 stood looking reflectively into the fairy structures and arcades of 
 red-hot coal. All at once he turned round and found Gwendolen's 
 eyes fixed curiously upon him. He started. " For ever ! " he 
 repeated musingly. " So much for human vaticination. Uo you 
 remember, Lady Harley, my prophecy that your sex would have to 
 wait for ever for its enfranchisement ? " 
 
 " I never thought," said Gwendolen, sadly, " that the day 
 would come when I should wish that we were indebted for this 
 act of justice to some other man than you." 
 
 " 'Tis true I am the agent," replied Floppington, "but a very 
 indirect agent. My own opinions are unchanged. You know why 
 I allowed it to be introduced. It was part of our agreement 
 to " 
 
 " I deny it ! There was no agreement," exclaimed Gwendolen 
 passionately. " I thought that you had altered from conviction, 
 though I know better now. Did you think to buy me thus ? Or 
 did you fear that Bardolph Mountchapel was too strong for you? "
 
 WEAVING THE NET 21? 
 
 "You are mistaken," replied the Premier, mildly. " I agreed to 
 let him have his own way just for the sake of the experiment." 
 
 " A very paltry evasion of my last question and one worthy of 
 you. You allowed him to prepare the public mind and to per- 
 suade the Cabinet to the new course in fact, it is to him that 
 the gratitude of our sex is due and not to you. And all the %vhile 
 you knew you intended ultimately to oust him out of his office so 
 that you might reap all the glory of his great measure ! " 
 
 The Premier was about to protest, but Gwendolen went on 
 rapidly : " Perhaps you are going to say it was not dishonourable 
 to play such a trick as you did on Mountchapel ! " 
 
 "That can hardly be called a trick," returned the Premier with. 
 the faintest suspicion of a mischievous smile. " I certainly paid 
 him back in his own coin, unchristian though it may have been, 
 and I cannot honestly say that I regret that he has lost his place 
 in endeavouring to deprive me of mine. He met his match. Be- 
 sides, all's fair in love and war, they say." 
 
 " Ah ! " ejaculated Gwendolen, scornfully. " At last a ray 
 of truth ! Is it thus that you revenge yourself on a rival,, 
 sir ? Thank Heaven that our interview is at an end." She rang^ 
 the bell. An electric shock seemed to pass through the Premier. 
 
 '' I deeply regret having intruded my presence upon you," he 
 said quickly and with infinite humility. " How could I foresee 
 that my visit would be as superfluous as it has proved ? I did not 
 mean to take up your time in discussing my political rival. It 
 must be plain to you that I came to show you I know not ex- 
 actly how, for I had sworn to tell no one that the man whom 
 rumour declares tt> have replaced me in your affections, my rival 
 in love," a faint, sad smile passed over his face as he said the 
 words, " is an impostor, or at least not what he pretends to be, and 
 that, of course, you mustn't marry him." 
 
 "How now?" exclaimed Gwendolen, flushing deeply. "Will 
 you dictate to me ? Am I to give my heart where you choose ? If 
 you had a spark of gentlemanly feeling in you, you would have 
 spared me this last insult of interfering in my love affairs." 
 
 " You must not," he repeated in wild astonishment ; " you 
 don't know him ; he is vulgar, uncultivated, a stranger to refine- 
 ment." 
 
 "Continue to heap indignities on the head of a defenceless 
 woman," interrupted Gwendolen in low tones vibrating with in- 
 tense scorn. " But what is to be expected of one who slanders 
 the absent? Yori to constitute yourself a judge of refinement! 
 You to dare speak thus of a man who was magnanimous enough 
 to praise you far beyond your deserts ! " 
 
 " He magnanimous enough! " gasped the Premier. 
 
 " Unable to win by fair means you resort to foul, in love as well 
 as politics. Well would it be for the country if you made way for 
 him altogether. Mine would not then be the only grateful sex." 
 She said the last words very calmly, for a footman had just 
 entered.
 
 220 
 
 " If I made way for him altogether!" repeated Floppington, 
 disregarding the domestic, who was welling over with delightful 
 excitement. " Is this your real opinion ? Do you think it would 
 be better for the country ?" 
 
 " Most decidedly," she replied, quietly. " Adieu, Mr. Flopping- 
 ton ! Pour toujours ! " 
 
 His lips twitched painfully. He moved slowly towards her as 
 if intending to take her hand. She remained perfectly rigid, her 
 delicate fingers grasping a chair tightly to keep herself from trem- 
 bling. Her gray eyes were cast down, but as he came close to her, 
 they were raised to his with a hard, glittering expression that 
 seemed to interpose a bar of steel against his further progress. 
 
 " My punishment is greater than I can bear," said the Premier 
 in a whisper that was half a sob. " You will at least keep the 
 secret you have surprised." 
 
 Gwendolen shuddered perceptibly, but made no answer. Her 
 eyelids drooped once more. 
 
 " What is done cannot be undone," he pleaded humbly. " It is 
 not my secret alone." 
 
 She raised her eyes again and flashed upon him a look of 
 fierce, contemptuous indignation. " It wanted but that," she 
 said bitterly, nevertheless retaining enough self-possession to 
 speak French; " but since you must have a categorical answer, yes, 
 I will keep your shameful secret." 
 
 A twinge of pain shot across the Premier's face. He gazed at 
 the pallid, firm-set, unquivering mask that hid a world of agony 
 behind its cruel, white beauty, and he bowed his head as if before 
 some stony image of remorseless and unexultant Justice. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN UNFORESEEN CONTINGENCY. 
 
 THE afternoon continued fine. There was a softness and coolness 
 in the air after the rain and in the clear light the faded fa5ades 
 of houses stood out with a delicacy of outline that made them 
 almost picturesque. Yet to the bent figure walking slowly along 
 the busy pavement, the atmosphere was charged with a wistful pathos, 
 and thick-shadowed with olden memories. Faces that had long 
 fallen into dust, voices whose musical or unmelodious ring vibrated 
 no more save for the ear of remembrance, scenes hallowed by the 
 mystic glamour of childish association, these accompanied him as 
 he almost unconsciously threaded his way through the throng of 
 pedestrians. The present had vanished, nor did he ask himself 
 why his mind was not busy with it. The events of that day or of 
 the day before, or of the past week, seemed to him to belong to the 
 life of somebody else, and to concern him no more than a tragic 
 story one vaguely remembers to have listened to with dull apathy. 
 But something had thawed the frozen stream of forgotten experience
 
 AN UNFORESEEN CONTINGENCY 221 
 
 and it burst into life and motion. Aspiration, struggle, failure, 
 regret so ran the gamut of his life, which year after year did but 
 reproduce in different keys or with other discords. He had settled 
 down surveying his past with the quiet mournfulness of the philo- 
 sophic observer by the time he reached the Bethnal Green Road, 
 down which he forgot to turn. 
 
 " Finds himself a fool at forty," he muttered. " 'T would 
 probably be the same if, like cats, we could make nine experiments 
 in the art of living. Yet it seems hard to have had only one life to 
 bungle. Too late have I found that each man belongs by nature 
 to one of two classes the first formed for action, the second for 
 criticism. The function of the former is to do all the work of life, 
 that of the latter to find fault with it when done. By these two- 
 agencies, each as indispensable as the other, does the world's 
 work progress and I wishing to play a part in both I beg your 
 pardon ! " 
 
 " Whyn't yer look where yer a-goin' to ? " growled a juvenile 
 voice. 
 
 Jack Dawe looked at the small boy who was wiping beer-splashes- 
 off his grimy garments. It was the hero of the saveloys. The 
 recognition \vas mutual. 
 
 " If yer don't pay for that 'ere champagne yer spilt," cried the 
 boy, whirling the can rapidly to show off his power of retaining the 
 contents, " I'll have yer locked up, s'elp me Bob I will." 
 
 The sight of the lad brought Jack back with a shock to the 
 realities of life. The heat and effluvia of the dinner in the shop- 
 came upon him with almost the intensity of actuality, and his gorge 
 rose. 
 
 Then with the image of the dining-rooms came that of their 
 sick proprietress, and with a self-reproachful frown he strode forward 
 more rapidly. 
 
 " Come back," shrieked the boy, with an excellent imitation of 
 Jack's morning manner and matter. " Ye haven't paid me for that 
 champagne ! " 
 
 Some passers - by looked on admiringly, but Jack merely- 
 quickened his step. 
 
 "Stop thief!" cried the boy, running a few yards after him-. 
 Jack smiled a smile of humorous melancholy, tolerant alike of the 
 boy and of his admirers. 
 
 " 'Tis but Mountchapel in miniature," he murmured. 
 
 Suddenly a bright idea struck the small boy. He put his hand 
 into his pocket and drew out a huge pellet which he hurled at 
 the high hat of the pedestrian. The large, mealy Regent caught 
 the target neatly between brim and crown, and there crumbled 
 into floury dissolution, ruining the glossy silk in its own destruc- 
 tion. It was the cold potato Jack had given him after freeing 
 him from the grasp of the policeman. Jack staggered under 
 the force of the blow. Recovering himself, he took off his hat 
 and looked at it ruefully. 
 
 "Said I not he was an embryonic Mountchapel?" he muttered.
 
 Z22 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 He was replacing it on his head, when a distant valedictory cry of 
 " Yah, what a swell ! " was borne to his ears. He started slightly. 
 'Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, for the lesson thou hast 
 laught," he murmured with a sad smile. " It is thus that good 
 :is still evolved out of ill." 
 
 Looking about now, fully awake to the outer world, he dis- 
 covered that he had gone too far, so he determined to go clown the 
 Hackney Road,* which ran almost parallel to the Bethnal Green, 
 .and then skirt round into the latter. 
 
 " It is too late now to go back," he said aloud. He walked on 
 in silence. Suddenly, as he was passing a hat shop, he turned into 
 at, and reappeared in a few moments wearing a soft sombrero more 
 in keeping with his daily functions, and at the same lime free from 
 the static seediness imparted to the other by the dynamic force of 
 rthe potato. He next crossed the road, and entered a large clothing 
 establishment. Here he exchanged his morning coat (which was 
 as ill-fitting in every particular as if the wrong measure had been 
 .carefully taken express) for a long, loose paletot, which fitted any- 
 body because it fitted nobody. It was evident that the small boy's 
 .satire had struck home. His ill-considered ambition to emulate 
 Pelham had brought upon him the abhorrent indignation of a 
 youthful Carlyle, and he had hastened to rid himself of garments so 
 obnoxious to a juvenile hater of cant and pretence. Hence, doubt- 
 Jess, the thanks and the theological soliloquy recorded above. But 
 had he known the wretched effect he produced in his swellish 
 clothes, he would not have needed the boy's reproof to make him 
 Jay them aside together with his foppish ambition. To escape 
 being ridiculous he must either change his mind or his tailor. 
 
 Once more attired with befitting simplicity, he struck forward 
 with extra vigour, fretting internally at the scant progress he made. 
 That he should be conscious of the length of the route was a 
 healthy sign ; but that he was not entirely out of the clouds was 
 proved by the surprise with which he remembered the existence of 
 omnibuses when one rumbled past. 
 
 He stood still till there was some danger of being left behind, 
 ithen he rushed madly forwards ; typifying thus the procedure of 
 Conservatives like Floppington. 
 
 While he is rolling homewards we shall have time to point a 
 moral, even if we do not adorn the tale by so doing. Facili 's descensus 
 Averni! By what imperceptible gradations has the humble 
 ,painter descended from honest daily work to aimless vagabondage, 
 thence to contempt of his mother's occupation, thence to desertion 
 of his post and his sick mother, and lastly to masherdom ! And as 
 ,his means could not have been extensive he must necessarily have 
 belonged to that needy but noble species of the race which elects 
 for plain living and high collars. 
 
 At the bottom of Hackney Road Jack alighted, and turned 
 .sharply to the right. A few minutes more, and he was ascending 
 
 * For this and other localities mentioned in the text, see Bigwood's " Map 
 
 ,of Old London."
 
 AN UNFORESEEN CONTINGENCY 223 
 
 his native road. Here and there he observed shop fronts whose 
 glory was partially eclipsed by shutters. 
 
 "They that look out of the windows shall be darkened," he said 
 solemnly. " Peace be to thy soul, whosoever thou art! If thou didst 
 not find life worth the living, mayst thou find death worth the 
 dying!" 
 
 " Who is dead ? " he asked of a little unkempt girl who stood at 
 the door of one of the shops which were in mourning. 
 
 " The woman in the cookshop," was the reply. 
 
 Jack's heart ceased to beat, but even in the first rush of 
 thronging thoughts came an interrogation as to why the dread 
 truth had not instantly burst upon a mind brooding upon sickness. 
 
 "Mrs. Dawe?" he inquired breathlessly. 
 
 " That's her," said the girl. 
 
 " My God ! " he ejaculated. " What shall I do ?" He walked 
 on slowly in mournful agitation. He shivered in the warm air, for 
 he felt the piercing blast of the bleak February day when he saw 
 the sodden earth flattened on his father's grave. The sunlight was 
 darkened by dull lines of rain, and through the gray mist he heard 
 the iron bell that seemed to translate into sound all the ineffable 
 dreariness of the day and his spirit. Above the rattle of wheels 
 and the buzz of life he caught the high, vibrating tones in which 
 the minister uttered the solemn words words which had ever since 
 been associated with the timbre of his voice "And the spirit 
 return to the God who gave it." 
 
 " Dead ! " he muttered. " Cut off without warning, and even 1 
 not at thy bedside to admonish thy parting soul ! Well, O wise 
 Rabbi, mightest thou say : ' Repent one day before thy death.' 
 . May He whom thou hast denied receive thee into His in- 
 finite mercy. Poor lonely Mrs. Dawe, whose son's ways could not 
 be thy ways, nor his words thy words ; and from whom thou wast 
 divided in thy death as in thy life. Poor unit of the vast multitude 
 of Demos, how little those who quarrelled over making laws for 
 thee knew of thy limited life limited, yet so much to thee of the 
 spiritual blight that ate into thee amidst thy material prosperity, or 
 of the years of ceaseless, unrepining drudgery, lightened by no 
 larger hope than the petty gains of day by day. Faithful to thine 
 husband whose words yet live upon thy lips, how often wast thou 
 wont to set the counter in a roar ! But thou hast joined him now 
 where thy mots avail not, nor thy cunning cookery, nor thy succu- 
 lent sausages. What profits it now that Mrs. Prodgers is deserted 
 of her customers, or that the fame of thy pork-pies will survive 
 thee ? What to thee is the beauty of thy stuffed birds and thy 
 Brussels carpet, what the glory of thy blue and gold tea-set ? . . . 
 But who am I to moralise on thee, I, whose shifting life, querulous, 
 restless, useless . . . noxious to the happiness ... of 
 others ... is as a shadow to the concrete definiteness of 
 thine?" 
 
 A sob that overmastered him and half-surprised him, interrupted 
 his reflections. Looking up, he found that he had reached his home.
 
 224 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Some children were trying to peep through the closed shutters, as 
 if they thought to see the corpse behind them. As Jack paused at 
 the shop door and lifted up his hand to knock, they turned their 
 attention to him as a connecting link between themselves and 
 the dread unknown, and watched him with mingled awe and 
 curiosity. 
 
 " That's 'im," he heard one whisper. " Ifs 'is mother." 
 "Don't you wish you was 'im, Bill?" replied another. "To ride 
 in a carriage all to yourself." 
 
 Jack's hand dropped to his side. 
 
 " Of what use is it," he thought, " to go in now ? I had better 
 arrange about the funeral, and get the sad task over this very 
 afternoon." 
 
 He stood still in anxious meditation. Then, suddenly conscious 
 again of the staring group of children, he started, and looked at 
 them sadly. How used he was to grimy pinafores, patched knicker- 
 bockers, and pinched faces ! 
 
 " Whereas . . . and "whereas . . . "he muttered bit- 
 terly. "A coach and four! Nay ; a herd of buffaloes are daily 
 driven through them all ! After so many years of philanthropic 
 effort, so many yards of barren words ! You would like a ride, 
 would you ?" he said aloud, putting his hand into his pocket. 
 
 The children looked at each other suspiciously, then by common 
 consent they turned tail and fled, scared like timid animals by the 
 unexpected. 
 
 Jack was looking blankly after them when an omnibus rolled 
 up, and he sprang into it, as though its advent had determined his 
 course. The vehicle was almost empty, and he threw himself into- 
 a corner. As the 'bus started he caught a glimpse of the window 
 of his own bed-room, with the solitary pot of mignonette on the sill,, 
 and his thoughts travelled into the adjoining room and rested upon 
 the plump, white, stony face, made solemn by death. He buried 
 his head in his hands. 
 
 The sound of his mother's name roused him from his reverie.. 
 Glancing round, he found the conveyance full, and himself wedged 
 tightly into his corner. His nostrils were assailed by a strong 
 smell of fish, and his ears by a dialogue which was being carried 
 on by two feminine voices issuing from the other end of the bench on 
 which he sat. 
 
 " Poor old soul ! To be took so sudden. All last week she was 
 in the best o' sperrits. Only yesterday she was that 'arty she 
 threatened to 'ave a beggar locked up and to-day she's dead ! " 
 
 " Her old man was took all of a 'cap, just the same. It runs in 
 the blood. I lay Jack goes off, too, like a barrel o' gunpowder. 
 Yes, a barrel of gunpowder mark my words, Betsy Baker for as 
 sure as eggs is eggs he'll blaze up like Old Nick." 
 " Blaze up ?" echoed Betsy Baker. 
 
 " Blaze up or I'm no prophet ! That man has took to drink o' 
 late, and from what I 'ear he guzzles enough to burn up a 'orse. My 
 Bill seed 'im one day when he was buildin' in 'Aggerston. He:
 
 AN UNFORESEEN CONTINGENCY 225 
 
 didn't 'ave no paint-pots, and 'e was walkin' along, knockin' agin 
 everybody, and drunk as a lord. Another time, one o' Bill's mates 
 met 'im in 'Ackney Wick, in a fit of Delilium Trimmings, a-ta!kin : 
 to 'isself." 
 
 "On a workin'-day ?'' inquired Betsy Baker. 
 
 " Yes, and on a Wednesday not even on a Monday. He was 
 on the booze agin, and without 'is pots and brushes." 
 
 " Shame ! " exclaimed Betsy Baker. " The man as gets drunk 
 except on a Saturday night is a beast." 
 
 " Right you are, Betsy ! As we learnt at Sunday School, 'six 
 days shall thou labour, and the seventh thou shall ' " 
 
 The voice stopped in evident confusion, and went on in a dif- 
 ferent tone : 
 
 " I dare say the old woman knew it, for all she looked so jolly, 
 and as I said to Mrs. Prodgers when she argyfied lhal il was 'cause 
 Mrs. Dawe was a Bradlaugh, as I said to her, ses 1 : ' Mark my 
 words, Mrs. Prodgers,' ses I, ' that Jack 'as been the death o' her, 
 or I'm no prophel.' The fusl time that she found out he had took 
 to drink, that night he was chucked out o' the Foresters', it made 
 'er nigh mad. She loved 'im like the 'air of 'er 'ead, and to see 'im 
 go wrong and pine away to a shadow, all in a few weeks, cut 'er to 
 the bone/' 
 
 "There maybe some truth in thai, Mrs. Green ; but I 'card 
 another slory. They say that this Eliza Bathbrill he used to be so 
 sweet on 'as chucked 'im up, since he went to the devil, and the 
 old woman who 'ad set 'er 'eart on the match died of a broken 
 'earl." 
 
 "You've got it quite wrong, Betsy. It was the old woman that 
 chucked up Elizer 'cause she was that extravagant with 'er silks 
 and satins that you may lay your life Jack paid for 'em. Many and 
 many a row she 'ad with Jack about it, but 'e wouldn't give 'er up, 
 and that was the broken 'art she died of, not the one you mention." 
 
 " You none of you know nothing about it," chimed in a ihird 
 voice with some asperity. " It was Jack that chucked up Elizer to 
 spite 'is mother for jawin' 'im for spendin' all r is wages in drink." 
 
 '' Any'ow," summed up Mrs. Green, " it's all *t's doin's which- 
 ever way you look at it. The old woman 'as 'ad enough trouble to 
 turn 'er 'air gray twice, even if it 'adn't been gray any time this ten 
 years. That Jack 'as been ihe dealh of 'er, or I'm no prophet." 
 
 Jack was cowering in his corner, his sombrero drawn over his 
 forehead, his paletot buttoned to the throat, his head turned away 
 to avoid detection. 
 
 " Am I the Canon or Guido Franceschini ? " he asked himself. 
 " My concerns certainly seem as explicable in as many ways as 
 those of the people in the Ring and the Book. And more than 
 these are doubtless busy with me ! I wonder how Browning would 
 tell my story. Shall 1 ever let him know of the opportunity of 
 gaining new laurels ? "
 
 226 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER. 
 
 THE same evening a cab dashed up to the " Star " dining-rooms, 
 and a figure attired in a loose paletot and a spreading sombrero 
 jumped briskly out, pushed double his fare into the hand of the 
 driver, and strode in two steps to the shop door. The look of 
 anxiety, worry, and even irritation on his face was intensified when 
 he was stopped by a meek man in black ; but any feeling of 
 resentment at the interruption was momentary, for he paused and 
 said : 
 
 "Well, Mr. White?" 
 
 " I'm very sorry, Mr. Dawe," said Mr. White, " to be com- 
 pelled to make this mournful call, and I sincerely sympathise with 
 your distress ; but I know the deceased lady would not like to 
 employ any other undertaker than the one who gave her such 
 satisfaction when he buried her husband. Fearing that in your 
 trouble you might forget me, I ventured to anticipate rivals in 
 these days of competition, when we shall perhaps soon have people 
 ordering their funerals at co-operative stores, or cremating them- 
 selves because it is cheaper, or exporting their bodies abroad for the 
 benefit of the foreigner " 
 
 " Don't impugn Free Trade ; you shall have the order," inter- 
 rupted Jack. 
 
 " Thank you very much, sir. Will you kindly look at this card 
 and choose your style? We do it in deal, without plumes, for three- 
 ten ; but I could not honestly recommend it. Note how far 
 superior, in the matter of gold-headed nails, waving plumes, and 
 artistic hearse, is our nine-ten funeral. Take my word for it, Mr. 
 Dawe, in coffins, as in everything else, a really good article is 
 economy in the long run." 
 
 " Let her have the nine-ten, poor old soul," replied Jack. 
 
 "You are a good son, sir, 1 ' said Mr. White, much affected. " I 
 will do my best for her and for you, and bury her in such style that 
 you shall not regret it. Were all sons like you, sir, we undertakers 
 would have no reason for grumbling that business is bad." 
 
 Jack started as if stung, and his face flushed with self-re- 
 proachful shame. 
 
 " You are right," he thought bitterly. " Poor mother ! ' : The 
 long years of childhood flashed across his mind, ere a thoughtful 
 manhood had somewhat sundered their lives. He knew that her 
 love for him had never failed, and of the associations of forty years, 
 only the tender reminiscences now stood out clearly, bathed in 
 sacred light. 
 
 " Has my neglect hastened her end ? " he asked himself. " And 
 I was not even at her death-bed ! '' Struggling with such 
 thoughts as these, he replied negligently, " Business bad then?"
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER 227 
 
 "As gloomy as it can well be, sir. It's enough to drive an 
 undertaker to suicide." 
 
 " To give himself a job ? " asked Jack. His impatience to enter 
 'had given place to a certain reluctance, and he seemed to grasp at 
 the opportunity of staving off the dreaded moment, at least till he 
 grew calmer internally. 
 
 "No, sir," replied Mr. White, "but because he can't get a 
 diving." 
 
 " Out of death cometh life," murmured Jack. 
 
 " Everything is against us lately," proceeded the undertaker. 
 " For one thing I observe that the marriage rate is falling seven 
 per cent." 
 
 " I should have imagined the death rate would have interested 
 you more, unless you think that marriage and suicide are con- 
 aiected." 
 
 " It isn't that, sir. But marriage brings into the world more 
 people to die, you see. And if people defer marriage till they can 
 afford it, the children are more likely to grow up to benefit our 
 posterity instead of us. Then, sir, look at the newfangled fuss 
 they are making nowadays about Horrible Londons and Bitter 
 Cries. The slums, hotbeds of immorality and unhealthiness 
 as they are, are the very best fields of infant and adult 
 mortality. In short, sir, what with the spread of sanitary 
 'knowledge and the extension of medical science, people are kept so 
 healthy " 
 
 ' That were it not for quack medicines and elixirs of life your 
 occupation would be gone." 
 
 Mr. White stared and concluded as though he had not been 
 interrupted : 
 
 " That the good old epidemics are impossible." 
 
 " I am glad he has reminded me," thought Jack, " I must take 
 up the Slums Question." Then, feeling a little better able to 
 endure the mute reproach on the dead face of his mother, he 
 knocked sharply at the door with his closed fist. There was no 
 answer. 
 
 " That girl of yours is awfully cheeky, if you will allow me to 
 say so,'' observed Mr. White. " I knocked for ten minutes before 
 I could get an answer. Then she looked out of the upper window 
 and asked what I wanted. When 1 stated my business she asked 
 Tne who sent for me, and why I poked my nose where I wasn't wanted, 
 and other saucy things, and at last said I was drunk and shut 
 down the sash. I went next door to ask whether any other under- 
 taker had called. The shopkeeper said not as far as he knew. 
 He was a busy man, and the first he heard of the sad affair was 
 from a customer, who asked him who was dead next door. 
 Knowing that the old lady had not been able to serve in the shop, 
 he at once guessed the truth. He, too, has been knocking here, 
 but could not get in at once ; and, having no time to spare, went 
 away. That girl is not to be trusted, sir, tor to my own knowledge 
 several persons who saw you rush frantically along the road this 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 afternoon in search of the doctor, and whose inquiries you did not 
 answer in your grief and anxiety, were served in the same rude 
 way either not answered at all or shouted at to go away." 
 
 Jack shook the door violently. Still no reply. A look of pain 
 came into his eyes. 
 
 " I deserve to be shut out," he thought, and emotion over- 
 powered him once more. 
 
 " He does look ill," reflected Mr. White. "But not so much 
 as I had been led to believe by those who met him this afternoon. 
 They said he was like a ghost, but that must have been through 
 fright. But I mustn't grumble." 
 
 " Shall I take the measurement at once, sir ? " he asked aloud. 
 
 " No, no !" replied Jack hastily. He hesitated, and then added : 
 " Well, perhaps it would be better for you to accompany me at 
 once." 
 
 " Ah, sir, it is a sad task for us to bury friends. We do not 
 pretend to regret the death of strangers, but when a family is en- 
 deared to us by burying all its members in turn" he stopped to 
 wipe away a tear and then proceeded with more resignation " our 
 only consolation is the knowledge that we have done our duty by 
 them." 
 
 Jack was about to knock a third time when a shrill voice de- 
 scended upon them. 
 
 " Y'ain't gone yet ?" it screamed. " If ye don't sling yer 'ook 
 in a jiffy, I'll chuck a pail o' water over yer, ye black, drunken 
 beast." 
 
 Then, putting her head out of the window, Sally caught sight 
 of her master and uttered a cry of joy. In another moment the 
 door was flung open, and she appeared on the threshold with a 
 scrap of newspaper in her hand. Jack stepped in and Mr. White was 
 following him, but Sally snatched up a ladle and repulsed him 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Sally ! " exclaimed Jack, darting an imperious look at her. 
 " Come in, Mr. White." 
 
 The girl shrunk under the glance, and lowered the ladle. 
 
 " What does he want 'ere ? " she murmured sullenly. 
 
 "Mind your own business," cried Jack sharply. 
 
 At this unwonted reproof the tears came into Sally's eyes, and 
 she stood still in silent, grieved astonishment. 
 
 Jack was looking curiously round the darkened shop, with a 
 mixture of conflicting emotions. The presence of death seemed to 
 invest the well-known objects with strangeness and pathos. 
 
 " Where is she ? " he said gently. 
 
 " In her own room, of course," replied Saliy shortly, only half- 
 n pressing a sob. 
 
 Jack was moved by her grief. 
 
 "It's a reproach to my coldness," he thought. "Ah ! surely 
 no thing dies but something mourns." 
 
 " You can stay here, Sally," he said aloud. " Follow me, Mr. 
 White."
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER 229 
 
 Passing through the kitchen, he walked through the small 
 parlour with a shudder doubtless occasioned by the cold, desolate 
 appearance of the fireless room. He paused a moment to gaze at 
 the oil-painting of his dead parent, and turned away to the stuffed 
 birds with another shudder. Remorse seemed to seize upon him 
 once more, for he murmured : 
 
 " Why did I ever leave her ? Whether I am at all guilty in the 
 matter of her death or not, I have ruined my own life. I can never 
 be happy here any more. This room, that once seemed to me so 
 sweet a place to rest in " 
 
 Sally interrupted his reflections by putting her head into the 
 room, and asking the two, in a humble tone, to tread softly. She 
 stili held the ladle in her right hand, but listlessly and almost un- 
 consciously, so that it hung down with the inertness of a beaten 
 dog's tail ; and her glib tongue was silenced by the half-conscious- 
 ness of a fence of dignity and authoritativeness round her master 
 a superiority to interrogation and advice which recalled certain 
 experiences of days she had hoped gone by for ever. 
 
 The two men obeyed the reverent instructions of the household 
 drudge. Hat in hand they mounted the narrow stairs. The shadow 
 ot' death seemed to lie upon their dark windings, and its coldness 
 upon the small, square bleak landing upon which the three bed- 
 rooms opened. The air was charged with vague, mysterious noises 
 that made them botf shudder with a ghastly awe they felt to be un- 
 reasonable. Jack paused with his hand on the door of the room 
 where the dead woman lay. A sudden superstitious sense that the 
 corpse was stirring restlessly in its bed seized upon him, and many 
 weird fancies that had haunted his childhood chilled his blood. 
 
 Smiling scornfully at his folly, he threw open the door. The 
 last rays of the dying sun rested upon the tawdry room, and lit up 
 that white upturned face on the pillow, that redeemed by its so- 
 lemnity the meanness and bareness of the apartment. 
 
 '1 he whole scene flashed upon his vision in the tenth of a second, 
 and ere his hand had loosed its hold of the door, a slight movement 
 seemed to agitate the face of the corpse, and a loud snore was 
 borne to his ears. He started, turned pale with excitement, and 
 tightened his grasp on the knob. At the same time Mr. White 
 .gave vent to a bitter cry of astonished disappointment : 
 
 " Why, she's alive ! '"' 
 
 Jack's pallor turned into a flush of hot indignation. " The cruel 
 trickster !" he cried. He stopped short and passed a handover 
 his brow in bewilderment. " But they all thought so," he mur- 
 mured. " Can I have been deceived in common with the whole 
 neighbourhood ? " He pulled out his watch sharply and glanced at 
 it. With a half-suppressed oath he thrust it back into his pocket. 
 An expression of grim determination came over his face. " It was 
 a curious coincidence that she should just die to-night," ran his 
 thoughts, " and so I felt even at the first shock of the news. My 
 irritation was excusable after all. Who knows the mischief this 
 may do?" He glanced at the undertaker, who was staring frown-
 
 230 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ingly at the unconscious sleeper. " But I'll soon settle his hash for 
 him," he murmured. " Mr. White," he added, raising his voice, " I 
 am very sorry that you should have come on a fool's errand." As- 
 he made the remark his eyes naturally wandered to the pale face of 
 his mother, and the flush of indignation on his own face deepened 
 into one of shame as it flashed upon him that his first thought had 
 not been that of joy at her being still alive. Poor, hard-working, 
 gray-haired mother ! How ill she looked ! At best she could not 
 be with him long. 
 
 " A fool's errand ! " repeated Mr. White, forgetting the above- 
 fact in his anger. " Then this is another of these jokes of yours ot 
 which I have heard so much. None but an Atheist would play 
 such a practical joke on his own mother, not to mention the whole- 
 neighbourhood. But I'll have the law on you, and you shall pay 
 dearly for wasting the time of an undertaker, whose hands are fulL 
 and to whom every instant is precious." 
 
 " That will do, sir. My time is more valuable than yours, and 
 if you have anything more to say, I must refer you to my secretary/' 
 He stopped in the middle of the last word, as if to add to the 
 effect, and completed it with a mysterious and irritating smile. 
 
 " You may laugh now, Mr. Dawe, but he laughs best who laughs 
 last. I can well understand that a man who would make fun of 
 death would make fun even of an undertaker who has buried all the 
 best families in Bethnal Green. I sincerely rejoice " 
 
 His angry countenance was turned towards Jack's, and his tones- 
 increased each instant in shrillness. 
 
 Suddenly a look of alarm came over Jack's face, he shot a warn- 
 ing, threatening glance at the irate Mr. White, and whispered 
 " hush " imperiously. 
 
 " No, sir, I will not hush. I repeat I sincerely rejoice that I did. 
 not bury your mother and lower my rep 
 
 " Bury me ! " gasped Mrs. Dawe. She sat bolt upright with the 
 blankets tucked round her like an Indian squaw. Her eyes dilated 
 with horror and indignation, and her gray hairs stood up rigidly 
 and perceptibly raised the level of her dirty-white nightcap. 
 
 " Bury me alive ! Help ! Police ! Sally ! My own son has 
 brought Mr. White to bury me alive, like he buried my husband, 
 'cause he's tired of waiting for the property. But you sharit, you 
 Irish assassin, you shan't murder your poor old mother not while /';;/ 
 alive. You'll 'ave to wait long for the property. Help ! You shan't 
 bury me," she shrieked, seizing a pillow and flourishing it threaten- 
 ingly, " you shan't bury me not if I die for it." The pillow fell 
 from her hand, and she sank back exhausted by the violence of her 
 ravings. 
 
 Jack went to her and kissed her. " Don't be a fool, mother,'' 
 he said soothingly. " Who wants to bury you ?" 
 
 " You ! " she cried. " Don't gi'mme me any o' your crocodile 
 kisses! What 'ave you brought Mr. White 'ere for? But thank 
 Gord, I've woke up in time to smash up your plans and your cauffins 
 too. It ain't my deal yet, as your father used to say."
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER 231 
 
 " Mr. White, will you have the goodness to retire now," said 
 Jack severely, " or are you not satisfied with the mischief you have 
 done ? " But that functionary's resentment had not yet abated. 
 
 " I am glad to see you suffer by your own joke," he replied. 
 " But before I go I demand some compensation. You have ordered 
 a nine-ten funeral, and, as a matter of business, I can claim that 
 that funeral shall take place." 
 
 " With pleasure," responded Jack cheerfully ; " if you will per- 
 form the role of corpse. And unless you are prepared to undertake 
 your own funeral at a day's notice, you had better clear out." 
 
 " Pranks are expensive," returned Mr. White stolidly. " I claim 
 a sovereign at least." 
 
 The last words died away in an inarticulate gurgle, and he 
 staggered under the weight of the pillow which Mrs. Dawe had 
 hurled at his face. 
 
 ' - A sufferin' !" she shrieked. "Then it's you at the bottom of 
 this ; ye want to rob poor, honest' folks, ye thief, and steal the skin 
 off their backs, and turn their own sons agin them, just for the sake 
 of a job. But I won't be buried by you, nor the likes o' ye, not if I 
 'ave to live a 'undred years to escape ye ! " 
 
 She stopped suddenly to listen to Sally's shrill vociferations, 
 and the sounds of a scuffle below. 
 
 " Yer shan't go up ! " Sally was screaming. " Y'ain't a-goin' to 
 worry 'im no more ; ye know 'e don't want you. Don't stick your 
 bonnets, and your silks and satins in my eyes. 'E says I'm worth 
 twenty o' you any day. Stealin' in like a 'ighway robber, just 
 because I'd forgotten to bolt the door." 
 
 MR. WHITE. "This is assault and battery ! I'll have the law 
 on both of you ! Your neighbours shall hear of this disgraceful 
 conduct, Mr. Dawe. You shall suffer for it." (Da capo.} 
 
 ELIZA BATHBRILL. "You impertinent minx, stand out of my 
 way, or you shan't stay in this house ! Put down that ladle, you 
 shameless hussy, and go and wash your dirty face ! Let me pass, 
 or I call Mr. Dawe instantly, and blast your career at one fell blow ! 
 Don't come near me, you ragged slut, you tatterdemalion ! I am 
 the mistress here now that Mrs. Dawe is dead !" (And so forth.) 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Forgotten to bolt the door! Thieves! I'm 
 ruined. Oh, Jack, you wretch, you villain ! I can never forgive 
 you what you have done to-day. You shut up the shop, and leave 
 the door open, don't take any money in, and leave it all go out ; 
 you bum my mantelpiece and my free Thinker, spoil my carpet, 
 waste my gas, and break another blue-and-gold teacup, and then, 
 to prevent me finding it all out, ye want to bury me alive. But I 
 won't be buried alive, Mr. White." (Et cetera.} 
 
 SALLY. '' Don't lift up yer parasol to me, 'cause ye'll begin 
 with the wrong party ! Yah, my fine lady, 'ow did ye like that pin 
 I dug into ye last night? My, didn't yer squeal like a pig! Don't 
 ye try to slip past now, or I'll spile your beauty with a sutty fryin'- 
 pan. Mrs. Dawe dead ! Wouldn't ye like it ! Ye're off your 
 chump ! Keep off. d'yer?" (Da capo.}
 
 232 THE PREMIER AA'D THE PAINTER 
 
 JACK DAWE (soliloquises). " This house is a Bedlam ! What 
 a home ! Alas ! I feel more than ever how vulgar it is. Great 
 Beaconsfield, will they never stop ! And I must stay here listening 
 to this petty babble, while in another place the great battle of 
 women's suffrage is being fought. It almost drives me mad ! " 
 (And much more.) 
 
 The quartet, together with its inaudible accompaniment of 
 soliloquy, was abruptly terminated in the midst of a fortissimo 
 passage by a howl of disappointment. This last note brought to a 
 fittingly sombre and ghastly climax one of those weird fantaisies de 
 diable which only the melancholy genius of the English lower orders 
 of that day was capable of extemporising in their full perfection. 
 This particular performance, however, was rather different from the 
 ordinary, which was alfresco, and in which the themes of the one 
 singer were taken up by the other with the finest instinct of 
 harmony, so that the most complicated fugues chased their own 
 tails till the tap of the imperious baton brought the music to a 
 sudden close. 
 
 The howl came from Sally. Eliza's righteous indignation had 
 left her no ears except for her own voice ; but when Mrs. Dawe 
 made an unprepared transition into her shrillest key, she caught 
 the speakers ear, and bl inched her cheek. It would seem then 
 that the old lady was not dead, but shrieking. Eliza was startled, 
 but not altogether displeased. Although Jack had at last consented 
 to approximately " name the happy day," she feared he might yet 
 slip through her fingers, and even the joy of his inheritance of the 
 business was not sufficient to counterbalance this dread. Mrs. 
 Dawe was a strong ally ; and, all things considered, it would be 
 kinder for her to defer her decease till after the marriage than to 
 leave Jack to the imperceptible impulses of his ' sense ot honour." 
 Her heart swelled with a genuine joy which she felt to be all the 
 more noble that she would have been the gainer by Mrs. Dawe's 
 death, and she burned to congratulate that personage on her indif- 
 ference to rumour. Excitement lent her audacity and agility, and 
 she flashed under the uplifted ladle and was half up the stairs 
 before her adversary realised what had happened. Sally gave 
 chase, but too late. A moment's wild commotion on the staircase, 
 and Eliza rushed frantically into the room, shut the door with a 
 Lang and fell breathless into Jack's arms with a cry of " Save me, 
 my love." Hardly had she done so when the door was again burst 
 open, and Sally, fire in her eyes, and a ladle in her hand, made for 
 her cowering prey. Mrs. Dawe, seeing the danger of her favourite, 
 neatly dispossessed the drudge of her weapon as she flew past, and 
 whirled it round in the direction of Mr. White with an exclamation 
 of reproach. The latter leapt just beyond its whizzing circuit and 
 retreated to the door with renewed menaces. The duel between 
 the undertaker and his corpse recommenced; both parties making 
 occasional lunges at Jack ; one of Jack's arms was around Eliza, 
 who was resting upon his bosom apparently in a swoon, and the 
 other was keeping off the irate Sally, who, unable to effect anything
 
 THE SORROWS OF AN UNDERTAKER 233 
 
 -ji et armis, burst into heartrending sobs, and, brandishing the 
 fragment of newspaper, incoherently demanded a reading lesson. 
 And amid all the din and horror of the scene, cheers and counter 
 cheers rang in the ear of fancy and chafed his soul, and filled it 
 with bitter indignation. 
 
 " Great Beaconsfield ! " he thought. " The whole house is 
 disorganised my mother scolds me as if I were a child this in- 
 fernal girl chooses to faint on my breast, a liberty she would never 
 have dared to take a month ago and, worst of all, this unwashed, 
 
 miserable Sally has the d d cheek to kick up a devilish row and 
 
 attack people with ladles in my very presence, besides clamouring 
 for free education, as if / was bound to teach her because I have 
 advocated it. A nice return of evil for good ! While I have been 
 working like a horse and without a single mistake, I find everything 
 topsy-turvy here. If I don't bestir myself while I have the chance, 
 the house will become utterly unbearable, and if I once leave it I 
 shall never be able to return." 
 
 Eliza, on hearing the news from her brother, with whom she was 
 staying (having been dismissed from her place a week ago and 
 .paid in lieu of notice), had donned a black dress and a plain bonnet 
 hastily decorated with crape, and wended her way to the desolated 
 home. The sobriety of her present costume gave her the de- 
 meanour of a Puritan, but of a Puritan whom the merry monarch 
 would have longed to convert to his more orthodox Christianity. 
 It toned down the passion of her dark eyes, touching with a gleam 
 of tenderness and purity those orbs in which a poet might think to 
 read the secret of the universe. But at this moment Jack was not 
 dazzled by her beauty, not because her eyes was shut but because 
 his were open. His first action was to deposit the burden in the 
 arms of Mrs. Dawe, who therefore hurled the ladle at Mr. White 
 as the readiest means of getting rid of it. As she took careful aim 
 .at him, the weapon, in accordance with the law of projectiles, struck 
 Sally at the other end of the room. Her, staggering under the 
 shock, Jack took by the nape of the neck and dropped downstairs. 
 This exhibition of sangfroid moved Mr. White in more senses 
 than one. Fiat experiinentum in corpare vili, thought the undertaker, 
 who naturally knew something of the dead languages. Seeing that 
 nothing, or rather something, was to be got by delay, he retired 
 disgracefully, leaving the enemy in possession of the bedchamber; 
 .and a motley audience outside was soon entertained by the story 
 of his wrongs, involving as it did another fact of unprecedented 
 interest.
 
 234 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE PAINTER DESPAIRS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 THE news spread, and everywhere the shutters retreated at its 
 approach. Combined with the natural rejoicing (not because Mrs. 
 Dawe was such a favourite, but from the reaction) were a sense of 
 irritation as at having been cheated out of pity, and a natural 
 sympathy with the undertaker. Still it was felt that the latter had 
 acted injudiciously in quarrelling with a potential nine-ten funeral. 
 
 All the next day and during the week, little parties from her 
 greatest cronies to her most casual acquaintances called to gaze 
 upon the woman who had survived her own death. These did her 
 as much harm as if they had been the mothers, and sisters, and 
 aunts of a Funeral Association. 
 
 Dr. Thomas, calling in the evening, soon after his patient's 
 revival, summarily expelled an advance-party of such, and tem- 
 porarily dispelled the knots of outsiders that had congregated round 
 the shop. All the rest of the week the business was magnificent, 
 but it was not Jack that conducted it. Eliza, who came to bury 
 Mrs. Dawe, remained to praise her and to serve in her stead. Foi 
 although Dr. Thomas said that Mrs. Dawe must not be worried, 
 and that he could not answer for the consequences if the noisy 
 shop were kept open, Dr. Brown, whom Jack also called in, said 
 that she must not worry, and that he could not answer for the con- 
 sequences if it were kept shut. Mrs. Dawe accused the former of 
 wishing to ruin her, and the latter of neglecting her; and they would 
 both have refused to attend but for the pacificatory remonstrances 
 of her son, the smallness of their practice, and their common 
 belief that the other would treacherously endure the humiliation of 
 return. The unhappy Jack was likewise constantly twitted with 
 desiring to destroy her by flying in the face of his fathers axiom : 
 " Between two doctors one falls into the ground." But we are 
 anticipating. 
 
 Some mysterious instinct must have informed Eliza that Jack 
 had dropped Sally, for she opened her eyes just in time to witness 
 Mr. White's retreat. The ladies, being in need of mutual consola- 
 tion, kissed each other profusely. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Mrs. Dawe," cried Eliza, "I am so grieved to 
 find you ill, especially as I came here to tell you good news. I have left 
 my place this very day in order to prepare my trow-see-aw for our 
 wedding, which, as you know, takes place in about two months." 
 
 Jack started, then frowned, and bit his lips as a flood of bitter 
 memories poured upon him. 
 
 " Yes," he thought, " 1 remember she said so then, the infernal 
 
 little jade. Was there ever such a d d piece of foolishness as 
 
 making her a fresh promise of marriage ? What claim after all 
 has she upon me ? My punishment is greater than I can bear.
 
 THE PAINTER DESPAIRS OF THE PEOPLE 235 
 
 She has done me irreparable miscl ie', she has been a drag upon 
 my career." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dawe. " And didn't you know I was 
 dead?" 
 
 " No," replied Eliza. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dawe burst into tears. 
 
 " I wish I was,' : she sobbed, " I wish I was and they 'ad buried 
 me alive, I should 'ave been well out of it. I am tired of un- 
 grateful sons, and I would rather be buried and layin' with my 
 'ead on the cold tombstone than on the buzzom that I nussed from 
 a child." 
 
 " Look here, mother,'' interrupted Jack. " If you are going on 
 like that I shan't stay in the house." 
 
 She sobbed on, Eliza vainly uttering neutral soothing mono- 
 syllables. 
 
 " Very well," he said, with icy determination. " Then I'm off 
 to the Cogers." 
 
 " I don't care if you go mad now," said Mrs. Dawe. " Go and 
 spout as much as ye like now, though ye promised me not to go 
 no more ; but a man as wouldn't mind breaking 'is poor old mother's 
 'eart can't be expected to care about breaking a promise. Go to 
 the Cogers and break yer 'ead over politics, go on." 
 
 "There you go, talking rot again!" he cried desperately. 
 
 " Don't ye remember politics made ye neggelect yer painting ? " 
 she said indignantly. 
 
 " Yes, I do, and a good job too." 
 
 "A good job ! I tell ye again, politics is only for those as ain't 
 got to get a 'onest living. Besides, you could never do no good in 
 politics, yer 'ead is too weak." 
 
 " The world is not of your opinion, mother," he answered with 
 proud disdain. 
 
 " The world ! Who's to know what ye can do and what ye 
 can't better than yer mother, who knowed ye before anybody 
 else ? Ye can bury me alive, can't ye ?" 
 
 The thought renewed her momentarily-interrupted sobbing, and 
 Jack shuddered. 
 
 " Shut up ! " he cried savagely. " Good-bye, I'm not going to 
 stand it." And he threw open the door. 
 
 " Go on ! " shrieked Mrs. Dawe. " Thank Gord I've got a 
 daughter if I ain't got a son. Go on ! Leave yer dyin' mother 
 and get drunk, ye beast, as ye did at the Foresters'. Everybody 
 knows what a drunkard ye are." 
 
 Jack staggered under the blow. " Drunkard ! " he gasped. 
 
 He slammed the door furiously, and was rushing downstairs 
 when something moved him to enter his own room. He stood 
 with his hand on the knob, in angry thought. " As you make your 
 bed you must lie on it," he murmured bitterly. " It's a fine situa- 
 tion when I come to take stock of it : Eliza present and odiously 
 assertive, and expecting marriage in two months ; my mother ill 
 herself and treating me like a baby ; Sally perfectly mad ; my very
 
 236 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 movements constrained by a mad promise ; and, best of all, here 
 am I with the reputation of a drunkard ! " 
 
 Throwing open the door, he looked curiously into his room, as 
 if he expected to find it as changed as everything else. From the 
 leap of Sally into the parlour in the morning till her involuntary 
 fall therein in the evening, the day had been full of crowded hours 
 of excited life. The perils and catastrophes of the forenoon, the 
 descent of Mrs. Dawe and her helpless ascent, the scenes with 
 Sally, the unwonted attendance in the shop with all its novelty and 
 its varying incidents, criminal and professional, the debate on 
 woman's suffrage, the disgusted abandonment of his duties, the 
 agitated promenade, the return, the reception of the bad news, the 
 frantic rush into the omnibus, the second return, the colloquy with 
 the undertaker, the discovery of Mrs. Dawe's true condition, the 
 quarrel with Mr. White, the affray between Sally and Eliza, the 
 fainting of the latter on his bosom, the disposal of the former, the 
 unbearable reproaches of his mother what wonder that these 
 numerous events produced an illusion of the sense of duration and 
 that it seemed to him years since he had last seen the little 
 dingily-papered bed-room. 
 
 Nothing was altered. The pot in which flourished the solitary 
 mignonette glowed redly in the dusk, the jug and basin showed 
 ghost-like in the gloom of their corner, the dark outlines of the 
 iron bedstead were dimly felt from the luminous presence of the 
 cream-coloured quilt, the pipe-rack over the mantelpiece gleamed 
 with its long clay pipes, and the small hanging bookcase was 
 revealed by the vague glimmer of a few brightly-bound volumes. 
 With the unhesitating instinct that comes of familiarity, he walked 
 over to the bookcase and ran his hands along the well-loved books 
 with a strange sense of pathos. He knew them all by the touch, 
 and the feel of each of them was like the grasp of the hand of an old 
 friend. How dear they were to him, one and all, in their different 
 \vays. There was Mill, so advanced on the whole, but yet so 
 tentative and sober sometimes, with a giant's strength for demo- 
 lition, but not using it as a giant. Jack's own mind had not this 
 largeness, this tolerance of intolerance, nor any dubiety in its own 
 conclusions. These numbers of Progress were more the expression 
 of himself with their scornful rejection of the fetishes that made 
 life sacred and beautiful to many, with their passionate enthusiasm 
 for democracy and their fiery denunciations of oligarchy. Then 
 there was Swinburne, the interpreter of all this congenial one- 
 sidedness in mighty verse of rushing metre and misty magnificence. 
 The poet's lofty indignation and bitter invective on the one hand, 
 and his Pagan sensuousness on the other, had often moved his 
 spirit to corresponding passion ; but he had only vaguely under- 
 stood the mystic pantheism at the root of both, the spiritual ma- 
 terialism, the keen delight in existence, and the deification of love. 
 Perhaps this lack of receptivity was more than compensated for by 
 a superior sense of humour, fun, and satire, which he had inherited
 
 THE PAINTER DESPAIRS OF THE PEOPLE 237 
 
 from his father, and which made the New Pilgrinfs Progress a 
 rival to Swinburne in his affections. 
 
 He lingered long in the darkness with his hand on the bookcase. 
 There was a sense of restfulness in the caressing attitude, and the 
 silence, broken only by a few murmurous sounds, somewhat soothed 
 his irritation ; but he was still agitated by tumultuous thought. At 
 last he went to the window and threw it open. The night was warm 
 and heavy, but rather dark. He leant out of the window and gazed 
 along the dusky stretch of street, shot here and there with points of 
 fire in mid air, and quivering on both sides with occasional waver- 
 ing al fresco gas flames. At frequent intervals bright masses of 
 light betokened the presence of public-houses. A louder hum rose 
 to his ears, and the subtle scent of the solitary mignonette impreg- 
 nated the air near him. Sitting thus musingly he suddenly became 
 conscious that he had a book in his hand, and the next instant was 
 aware that it was Songs before Sunrise. 
 
 " Your battle shall be fought," he cried, grasping the book with 
 fierce determination, " but oh, how slow it all is ! Once upon a time 
 I used to think that if 1 could be king for a day, I would make this 
 the best of all possible worlds by instantaneous reforms. In that 
 time all the tyrants could be executed, Virtue universally rewarded, 
 and Vice punished. Alas for the childish dream. Life is no fairy- 
 tale, but a cruel comedy of errors, a muddle where the fools have 
 seized upon the duties meant for the wise, and the wise have been 
 thrust into the places of the fools, and, unkindest cut of all ! they 
 have got so rooted into their surroundings, that an attempt to change 
 places must bring unhappiness to both." He had risen in his 
 excitement, and he now walked to the fireplace and lit the gas ? 
 before resuming his position at the window. He opened the book, 
 intending to read, when the night was disturbed by the distant 
 strains of an advancing band and the softened roar of a somewhat 
 weird, popular chorus. A convulsive shudder agitated his frame. 
 
 " There is the enemy! " he exclaimed bitterly. " But I will crush 
 them, them and their sympathisers in the Church, and the Church 
 itself. The knotted cords stood out in his forehead as he made 
 this determination to do the little in his power to disestablish that 
 mighty institution. 
 
 Louder and louder grew the sounds, he caught the outlines of 
 waving banners, and a few incessantly repeated words now became 
 audible : " When we end the journey we shall wear a crown, O 
 Jerusalem !" 
 
 "Wear a crown! "he muttered. "You are welcome to your 
 heavenly ones ; but we shall soon get rid of the few earthly crowns 
 that remain, eh Swinburne ?...." 
 
 The procession passed, and the road was once more left to its 
 dreariness. He turned over the pages, but he could not read. He 
 kept looking out into the darkness, watching the dimly-descried 
 figures, the frowsy workmen trudging home with their tools ; the 
 coarse, reckless factory girls ; the nondescript shifting crowd that
 
 38 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 stopped and stared at the notorious shop ; the shabby women 
 carrying baskets of potatoes .... never in his most passionate 
 moods had he so strongly felt the meanness and misery of the life 
 that surrounded him, and of his own existence. It was all so 
 hopeless, so hopeless. 
 
 And his mother ! Compared to that of many of her neighbours 
 her condition was prosperous. But what was physical want to the 
 want she shared with them the lack of refinement, culture, deli- 
 cacy, of all that makes human beings other than a plexus of animal 
 iimctions ? The ineffable blankness and weariness of comfortable 
 Dourgeois existence appalled his spirit. And for ^comfortable 
 Dourgeois existence, an immense pity now seized him. But he felt 
 wilh novel keenness the flatness, the narrow limitations of both 
 mental and moral poverty was the lot of the people of his perora- 
 tions, whatever their physical condition. Not that it was their 
 fault ; centuries of misgovernment, of unjust social laws, were re- 
 sponsible for this dulness. Everything would be remedied, now 
 that they were allowed to legislate for themselves, if they only 
 had the sense to send to Parliament such men as himself, who knew 
 what they wanted better than the dullards themselves. But and 
 he ground his teeth at the reflection the fools would not choose 
 their representatives out of their own class. Here was a man 
 whose heart had always beat in sympathy with them, who WHS 
 unselfishly prepared to devote himself to their happiness ; and 
 yet what chance would he have had of entering Parliament if he 
 had presented himself for election in the ordinary way ? . . . . 
 Woman Suffrage, Manhood Suffrage, what was the good of it all if 
 the people still went on in their old stupid way, dazzled by wealth 
 .and making a wrong use of their new powers by excluding the few 
 specially gifted individuals they chanced to produce ? The women 
 were about to be enfranchised, it was true, but to whom would they 
 give their votes to him who had always advocated their cause, or 
 io, say, Floppington, who had reluctantly, after years of opposition, 
 yielded to a pressure to which he had more or less contributed ? 
 
 A never-before-felt disbelief in the lauded instincts of the people 
 overpowered him. He gazed stonily out into the street, his brow 
 frowning, his face distorted with gloomy pain. Never before had 
 tthe "good time" prophesied by Radical bards seemed so near at 
 hand never before had so thorough a friend of the people been ai 
 .the helm of state, ready to turn to solid fact all the golden visions 
 of dreaming democracy and never before had Jack Dawe's ardent 
 .nature been so chilled by despair of Progress ! The night of the 
 second reading of one of the greatest Reforms in history was the 
 night of his first unfaith in reform ! 
 
 With this sudden cynicism came a renascence of irritation. He 
 turned over the leaves of his book petulantly, scanning a rhetorical 
 line here and there with an incredulous smile. Even the 
 daringly infidel passages failed of their old effect. 
 
 "If religion were true, too, after all !" he murmured with a 
 strange smile of self-mockery. At last he came to a poem which
 
 THE PAINTER DESPAIRS OF THE PEOPLE 239 
 
 arrested him. It was not one of his favourites, and indeed had 
 always seemed to him rather meaningless even in the earliest days 
 of that passion for Eliza which, at the best of times largely 
 factitious, was now for ever dead. But from the new tone of his 
 thoughts, or from whatever other cause it might be, he now read 
 and re-read the verses, lingering with particular emotion over the 
 last stanza. 
 
 " I that have love and no more 
 Give you but love of you, sweet. 
 He that hath more let him give ; 
 He that hath wings let him soar, 
 Mine is the heart at your feet 
 Here, that must love you to live." 
 
 The tears came into his eyes, and the expression of pain gave 
 way to one of tenderness. His moodiness and irritation fled before 
 a rapture of abnegation, a humble consciousness of inferiority, a 
 trust in the purity and nobility of human nature. The summer 
 night was filled with beauty and the soft air with calm. The star- 
 light lay sacredly upon the squalid road and upon the human 
 figures that flitted across it. 
 
 After a few minutes he rose gently, put out the gas, and went 
 into his mother's room. Eliza was sitting by the bedside, patiently 
 adjusting the pillows as Mrs. Uawe tossed to and fro in uneasy 
 sleep. He bent over his mother and kissed her. Then, bringing 
 in a chair from his own room, he sat down and watched her struggles 
 with a pitying eye. 
 
 To Eliza he said a few kind words, but the hitherto dormant 
 feminine instinct of nursing was aroused, and the girl warned him 
 not to awaken the sleeper. Still further moved by this novel trait, 
 he sat for ten minutes in thoughtful silence. At the end of this 
 time he grew weary of inactivity, and seeing that he could do no 
 good, quitted the room and re-entered his bedchamber. The old 
 uneasiness had seized upon him, he could not rest. He could not 
 forget that this was the great night of the Debate on the Reform 
 Bill. He had so longed for it, and so looked forward to be present 
 at it. He was so interested in the question, it had occupied so 
 much of his attention ! And now to be shut out of participation in 
 the moment of triumph ! He walked up and down the room with 
 impatient strides. The darkness was transformed to brilliant light; 
 the small apartment swelled into a vast, lofty hall crowded with 
 the intellect and the beauty of England. There was the stir of 
 life, the rustle of intense excitement, the low buzz of enthusiasm and 
 interest. And now a sudden hush falls on the vast assembly, to 
 be broken by ringing cheers that stir the orator's blood and lift his 
 soul to the sublimest heights of eloquence. It is the Premier that 
 has risen. Princes and peers, scientists and historians, duchesses 
 and countesses, ambassadors and envoys, generals and admirals 
 hang in breathless silence upon the inspired words of the great 
 commoner. Again and again unanimous plaudits shake the roof
 
 2*o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 as that silvery voice trembles with pathos or rises like a trumpet in 
 righteous denunciation. So vividly was the scene present to him 
 that he saw the gleam of stars and orders and caught the flash of 
 diamonds. 
 
 And to miss all this through a false rumour whose incorrectness 
 he had not discovered till too late ! It would be useless to attempt 
 to gain admission now ; all his anticipatory trouble was nullified 
 by this deception. He clenched his fists and set his teeth at the 
 thought. Half-an-hour afterwards he was still pacing up and 
 down in the darkness like a caged lion. Filled with tumultuous 
 passion his thoughts grew wilder and wilder. At every step bitter 
 exclamations burst from him, furious expressions of contempt and 
 indignation. All at once he stopped with sudden resolution. 
 He dashed his hat on his head and hurried downstairs. As he 
 approached the parlour he heard a low, melancholy sound like 
 the inarticulate moaning of a wild beast. With a nervous thrill 
 he impatiently struck a match. In the momentary flare he saw an 
 inexpressibly grimy form, cowering in a corner. The face was pale, 
 stony, and sullen, the eyes wild and bloodshot, the hair dishevelled, 
 and the hands knotted convulsively together. He shuddered in 
 disgust. Turning round towards the fireplace he beheld his paint- 
 pots and shuddered again ; and, as the match gave its last flicker, 
 it might have been overwrought imagination that showed him 
 another white, ghastly face glaring savagely at him from under a 
 light sombrero. 
 
 " Oh, master," cried Sally, starting up and laying a hand on 
 his arm. " What's a' matter ? Yer ill." 
 
 He shook her off rudely, strode into the shop, opened the door 
 which he found unbolted, and hurried into the street, unceremo- 
 niously cutting his way through the little gossiping crowd. There 
 was a murmur of remonstrance. The hero of the saveloys was 
 among the group, and the existing discontent found in him a genius 
 to express it. Spontaneously there came to him a derisive phrase, 
 and the more he pondered it afterwards the more ben trovato it 
 seemed. As he thought of the lofty- pyramids of peas, and the 
 almost immoral pennyworths of pudding, what wonder if the 
 coarsely expressive hoot suddenly changed into the definite cry 
 of " Mad Jack ! " 
 
 Jack started as the words, followed by a jeering laugh of ap- 
 proval, reached his ears. 
 
 " Mad Jack ! " he repeated grimly. " Yes, mad if you will ; but 
 there is method in his madness. Mad Jack ! Truly has he all the 
 cuuning of insanity ! "
 
 AY OR NO? 241 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AY OR NO ? 
 
 IN return for the privilege so coveted by Jack Dawe of being 
 present at the memorable division, the reader is requested to 
 possess such soul as he has in patience, while the writer goes back 
 a little to recapitulate summarily the effects of the sudden change 
 of front on the part of the Government. Designated masterly 
 strategy, or disgraceful opportunism, according to the special bent 
 of the designator, it had, of course, altered the whole aspect of 
 affairs, and had knocked on the head all the forecasts as to the fate 
 of the Bill, which editors, local politicians, and the general public 
 had been happily and harmlessly engaged in forming. To their 
 credit, be it said, they did not long stagger under this unexpected 
 blow. They rallied quickly, and were speedily engaged in drawing 
 tip fresh prognostications conformable to the new condition of 
 things political ; betraying in this as in other, if less vital matters, 
 that power of rising superior to the buffets of adverse fortune, which, 
 in the opinion of the writers of that age, shared with the abundance 
 of coal, the freedom of the Press, and the Corporation of the City 
 of London, the honour of making England great. 
 
 The general opinion, an opinion supposed to be shared by the 
 official whips, was that the change was in favour of the Government, 
 though whether it would do more than merely decrease theii 
 minority was a moot point ; the probabilities of ministerial success 
 varying daily in harmony with the incessantly shifting combinations 
 of political atoms. It had already alienated some of their old and 
 staunch supporters, it is true. But these were veterans, whose 
 joints were stiff, and back-bones rigid, and who were unfitted for 
 the rapid evolutions of modern political warfare. The number of 
 the irreconcilables was moreover very small. John Tremaine had 
 been busy among those, who, it was feared, might not take kindly 
 to the new Conservatism. He pointed out that to turn out men 
 with whom you disagreed on only one point, to replace them by 
 men with whom you agreed on only one point, was conduct utterly- 
 unworthy of sensible men, conduct suitable only for faddists and 
 Radical sentimentalists. This argument had worked wonders, and 
 they agreed not to be dissentients. It was not that they hated 
 Woman Suffrage less, but that they loved their party more. Had 
 it not been for the almost certain defection of the Mountchapel 
 faction, the few who were unmoved by Tremaine's reasoning would 
 have been more than counterbalanced by the accession of strength 
 the Radical vote would give the Government, for the Radical leader 
 had announced his intention to support the Ministry. 
 
 This announcement was very welcome, though, as ever in 
 human concerns, there was an qUiqvid amari in the proffered cup 
 of Radical aid. For Screwnail, in his powerful speech, had spoken
 
 242 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 freely as was his wont. "I will support this measure," he said, 
 " because it is a good measure, a measure I have always con- 
 sistently advocated, and one that, to my mind, can only be fraught 
 with the best results. But though I go into the lobby with Ministers, 
 the one pang of regret I shall feel in recording my vote in favour 
 of one of the dearest aspirations of my life will be, that I am in the 
 same lobby with men who have taken up this movement, as before 
 they opposed it, from sheer want of principle ; who have no solitary 
 shred of heart or conscience ; who look upon legislative measuies 
 as means to keep themselves in power, and who, to secure that 
 end, readily juggle and palter with the destinies of this great 
 Empire. Not the least amongst the benefits I hope irom the 
 admission of women to the Suffrage will be the introduction of some 
 measure of purity into political life, so that it shall in the future 
 be impossible for a Minister to rule who is swayed by party and 
 personal motives alone. And the Nemesis that dogs the footsteps 
 of the wrong-doer will decree that the Minister, who, inspired by 
 unworthy motives, has given women direct political influence, has 
 in that very act signed the political death-warrant of himself and 
 his imitators." Although Floppington was hit very hard by all this, 
 especially the allusion to personal motives (which was generally 
 felt to be in bad taste) he did not reply, but smiled good-temperedly, 
 and, it was reported, said to a colleague, " If he only knew every- 
 thing, how differently he'd talk ;" which was generally thought to be 
 a very vague but also a very profound remark. Screwnail, however, 
 did not go unanswered. His remarks as to the inconsistency of 
 the Cabinet were not dealt with; but his condemnation of its 
 motives led the Minister who replied to taunt him with the implied 
 purity of his own motives and the general assumption of moral 
 superiority which his tone conveyed. 
 
 " He cannot shake himself free from commercial associations," 
 said the Minister, " morality is to him like any other commodity ; 
 and so he thinks that Brummagem* morality, like other Brum- 
 magem productions, may be palmed off by means of bold and 
 sufficient advertising." 
 
 This sally was much applauded, and the Government were felt 
 to have the best of the argument. That the rights and wrongs of 
 any question could be settled by gentlemen calling eac.f other 
 names does not appear a very logical proposition ; but as Parlia- 
 mentary Government was admitted to be a great success, it must 
 have had merits not apparent to the modern logical vision. 
 
 Lord Bardolph, it was generally known, would vote against the 
 Bill, and go into the same lobby as the old Tories, whom he was 
 in the habit of speaking of disrespectfully as fossils ; with which 
 petrified beings would be further associated for the nonce a small 
 number of Free-lances and a large number of Liberals. The mantle 
 of Beaconsfield, which had fallen on the shoulders of the temporary 
 
 * A term supposed to be a corruption of Birmingham, and applied de- 
 lisivrly, for what reason is not known, to ihe manufactured productions of 
 that town.
 
 AY OR NO? 243 
 
 leader of the Opposition, was indeed a garment of many colours- 
 No surprise was felt that his lordship should vote against the 
 Minister who had out-played him in the little game of bluff they had 
 teen indulging in. The only conjecture was as to how he would 
 conceal the cynicism which prompted his opposing a measure of 
 which he had been one of the foremost champions, in order 
 to gratify his spleen against the man who was supporting it. 
 Public opinion, however, backed the noble lord to square the diffi- 
 culty neatly. 
 
 So far, therefore, the elements of the problem were constant, to 
 use the language of the mathematician ; but in the Irish party, the 
 variable existed. These formed a resolute, compact body of men, 
 .about eighty in number, and, therefore, amply sufficient to turn the 
 scale in any division, carried out upon the ordinary lines of party 
 cleavage. They had one object in view, and only one, to wring 
 certain concessions from the English Government. This steadfast- 
 ness of purpose made it exceptionally difficult to prophesy what 
 would be their course of action upon any particular question, and 
 this applied to the new Reform Bill. Would the prospects of Home 
 Rule be furthered or retarded by supporting the Government, was 
 the question would-be prophets had to answer, and, as the connec- 
 tion betwee i the data was somewhat recondite and obscure, it is 
 not matter for wonder that solutions of the mnst contradictory 
 character were evolved by rival seers. Some believed they would 
 support Lord Bardolph, who was understood to be of opinion that 
 Conservatism was connected with the verb "conserve ;" that "con- 
 serve" meant "to keep," and that therefore a Conservative was 
 one who kept all such ideas, Radical or otherwise, Home Rule 
 amongst them, as promised to be politically remunerative. He had, 
 moreover, been seen in communication with certain members of 
 the Irish party, speaking to them in dark corners, and holding 
 anysterious confabulations in retired nooks : all circumstances 
 pregnant with food for Gossip's insatiable appetite. But then 
 Tremaine was known to be a warm friend of the Irish leader; and 
 -some conjectured that this friendship was not, as it really was, 
 purely personal, but was inspired by the deep sagacity of Flop- 
 pington, who would thus, without attracting undue notice to his 
 .manoeuvres, be enabled to coquet with the Home Rule party. 
 
 The important character of the debate and the uncertainty the 
 representatives of Erin brought into calculations as to the probable 
 iresult, caused a good deal of excitement. And when it was under- 
 stood that honourable members had finished giving their own 
 versions of the leading articles of the leading newspapers to a 
 much-suffering Speaker, and that only the member for Wadding 
 .and the Premier remained to speak, everybody tried to get admis- 
 sion into the House to be a witness of the closing scene of the great 
 .agitation. From princes of the blood downwards, every class in 
 the nation was represented in the spaces devoted to those not 
 members of the House, where they made experiments as to the 
 .amount of heat, discomfort, and vitiated air that the human fi\ime 
 
 K 2
 
 244 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 could support before succumbing ; and for every individual fortu- 
 nate enough to thus aid the cause of science, there were at least a. 
 thousand who were wofully disappointed because they could not 
 also contribute to the advancement of learning. But even tran- 
 cendentalists have to content themselves with talking and theorising 
 of space of many dimensions. Ordinary space of three dimensions 
 is all that is available for occupation by human beings, and conse- 
 quently only a given number of persons can be present on any 
 important occasion. Even in our more enlightened age, space of 
 four dimensions is not yet a reality. We can only hopefully antici- 
 pate the time when it shall have replaced the inconvenient form of 
 space now tolerated ; and when the whole nation, if desirous of the- 
 process, shall be comfortably stowed away in an ordinary drawing- 
 room. Then, as now, crowding was uncomfortable, and so the- 
 lank, and fashion, and beauty, and intellect that squeezed and 
 perspired to be present on the last night of this debate, doubtless 
 felt that there was something patriotic in the sacrifices of comfort 
 they were making. 
 
 . The members of the House, however, thought differently, and. 
 the House was comparatively empty. Orator after orator had' 
 dwelt at much length upon the vital importance of the change they 
 were discussing. Supporters and opponents had concurred in this. 
 one thing, at any rate, that the whole civilised world was deeply- 
 concerned in it ; that humanity from the frozen pole to the torrid 
 zone was hanging upon the words of English legislators ; nay,, 
 some of the more perfervid had boldly described the whole solar 
 system as deeply absorbed in the prospects of the struggle, and as. 
 likely to have their revolutions affected by the revolution projected 
 in England. And yet the men, who thought and said and pre- 
 sumably believed all this, were not in the House absorbed in their 
 work. The Parliamentary machine was a curious one. The com- 
 ponent parts had various ways of aiding in the legislative achieve- 
 ments of the whole ; and when seated comfortably in the smoking 
 room, in an atmosphere almost as nebulous as the primeval chaos 
 from which the smoking-room and himself had been evolved, an 
 M.P. was, in reality, doing his share as a wheel or lever to the best 
 of his ability. For most work was gone through, as we learn from 
 contemporary writers, when the attendance in the actual legislative 
 Chamber was sparse. A full House meant lots of talk, possibly on 
 some bit of spicy personal gossip, but very little work ; and the 
 most important of the duties of Parliament, that of voting supplies,, 
 was generally carried on in an almost empty House. Paradoxical 
 it may seem, but it is nevertheless true, that in legislative efficiency 
 the whole was not greater than the part, and unlike other 
 machines, the law-making one did not gain in Power what it lost 
 in Time. 
 
 Over and above these general reasons, there was a special one 
 why the uncomfortably-crowded visitors looked down upon a scene of 
 ease and comfort ; on members stretching themselves at full length, 
 and contorting their bodies into all kinds of knots and twists. As-
 
 AY OR NOf 245 
 
 already stated, it had been arranged that Lord Bardolph and the 
 Premier were to close the debate, and that the division should be 
 taken immediately at'ter the Premier's speech. But the Premier 
 had not yet arrived. Lord Bardolph, lolling lazily on a back bench, 
 rrefused to speak in his absence, and so the Whips had to keep the 
 ball of debate rolling in the meanwhile. Vai ious members, some 
 glad of the opportunity of speaking, others the reverse, got upon 
 their legs in obedience to the earnest entreaties of the Whips, and 
 displayed great if not altogether unsuspected powers of emptying 
 the House of Commons. Meanwhile, much consternation prevailed 
 .amongst the official ring. A messenger, who had bee:i sent to 
 Downing Street, returned with the message that the Premier had 
 gone out early in the afternoon, hurriedly, and had left no word 
 with Mr. Tremaine as to his movements. And thus it was that the 
 evening came on, and that the setting sun looked down upon a 
 House of Commons, bored, and wearied, and anxious for the 
 Ttermination of an important and epoch-making debate ; yet sus- 
 tained by a sub-consciousness that something unusual had hap- 
 pened, or would happen, as member after member looked in, and 
 lound that Smith, or Jones, or Robinson was still prosing, and that 
 :the Premier was still absent from the Treasury Bench. 
 
 Suddenly a change came o'er the scene. The parboiled 
 ' ; strangers," shaking off the lassitude that had mastered them, 
 craned forward with looks of eager excitement. Honourable 
 members came trooping in hurriedly, springing up as if by magic, 
 ;till, in a very few moments, the House was uncomfortably full, 
 iinany members having to do as best they could without seats ; for 
 an eminently practical people had a chamber for the meeting of 
 their legislative assembly which contained fewer seats than there 
 -were members, acting upon the maxim, true enough as a rule, that 
 .de non iipparcntibus et tie non existentibus eadetn cst ratio. 
 
 The Premier had come. Slipping in quietly behind the 
 Speiker's chair, he had taken his usual place. It was at once 
 .noticed that he looked ill and worried ; he kept for a few moments 
 hurriedly glancing round him, as if unaccustomed to the place, and 
 then sank back into a heap of loosely-fitting garments, from which 
 -.protruded a pair of nervously-twitching hands. His colleagues 
 .regarded him anxiously, and with sage shakes of the head 
 whispered among themselves that they feared his recent display of 
 will and energy had been but a spurt, and that he could keep it up 
 no longer. And then the gentleman in possession of the House, 
 .as he caught sight of the Premier, felt that his mission was ended, 
 that he need no longer talk against time ; and, without waiting to do 
 more than finish the sentence he was engaged in, he subsided into 
 Iris seat. A murmur of excitement, then a hush, and the words, 
 *' Mr. Speaker," in Lord Bardolph's clear, hard, and assertive voice, 
 miade themselves heard from behind the Treasury Bench. 
 
 Lord Bardolph did not waste time, but at once, and without any 
 preliminary skirmishing, announced his intention to vote against 
 the second reading of the Bill.
 
 246 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " I am not skilled," he said, " in the arts of deception. I cannot 
 twist language to conceal my thoughts ; nor can I keep the whole 
 world in the belief that I intend one thing, and then, suddenly,, 
 without a word of warning, veer round and do another. I leave 
 these arts to other, and possibly, abler men." 
 
 Here he looked full at the Premier, who, however, never stirred' 
 from the position he had assumed on his entry. 
 
 " Therefore,'' continued his lordship, "I may, without preamble,, 
 declare my intention to vote against the Government to-night." 
 
 He went on to point out how much there was in the Bill with 
 which he was in fullest sympathy ; much which he had advocated 1 
 and helped to put into the very shape in which it now presented 
 itself. 
 
 " I regard it,'' he exclaimed fervently, " with almost paternal' 
 love. But for one defect, the absence of any provision for the ad- 
 mission of woman to the duties and rights of citizenship, I should 1 
 never have quitted my post in the Government, and might have- 
 stood sponsor for a really genuine Reform Bill. But it was not to be,' 
 said his lordship, endeavouring, not unsuccessfully, to infuse some 
 pathos into his naturally unsympathetic voice. " I need not re- 
 capitulate the circumstances which led to my secession from the 
 Ministry. But, sir, scarcely had I quitted office, hardly had the 
 echo of my footsteps ceased to sound in the Council Chamber, than- 
 the Head of Her Majesty's Government executed a marvellous- 
 strategic movement, and, at an early stage of this debate, it was- 
 announced, on behalf of the Government, that a clause granting 
 the franchise to women would be introduced in Commiitee, and 
 receive Government support. This was said authoritatively. The 
 right honourable gentleman, the leader of this House, who, I under- 
 stand, will follow me, will doubtless repeat this assurance, and may 
 even accompany the declaration with one of those psychological 
 analyses, with which he is ever ready to explain away his many 
 vacillations and inconsistencies. It remains therefore for me, ir 
 such plain, simple English as I may command for I lay no pre- 
 tensions to the scientih'c jargon of my right honourable friend to 
 explain why I now declare my intention not to vote for the second 
 reading, when, apparently, all that I have so strenuously contended 
 for is granted. Some, I know, will attribute my action to persona! 
 motives. They will think I am actuated by feelings of revenge. 
 In the exercise of my duty, I will not shrink from misrepresenta- 
 tion, and I will do what I think right, how cruelly soever my motives- 
 may be misconstrued. I have no confidence in the Government. 
 I am no believer in sudden conversions, and think political hysteria 
 as objectionable as religious hysteria. I am not going to support 
 the second reading of this Bill blindfolded; and then, for what to- 
 my mind is the most important of its provisions, open my mouth 
 and swallow thankfully what the Government choose to give. Who- 
 is to know what this clause will be which they promise shall be in- 
 troduced in Committee? What guarantee have we that it will 
 secure a m;ijority? None; absolutely none whatever! When a
 
 AY OR NO? 247 
 
 Reform Bill makes due and proper provision for the enfranchise- 
 ment of women I will support it heartily, no matter who or what 
 the authors may be. But I will have nothing whatever to do with 
 this Bill, \vhich omits all reference to that vital question, but whose 
 authors promise they will propose something, which is pretty certain 
 to be rejected, to effect the desired object." 
 
 His lordship concluded with an eloquent peroration, in which 
 he invoked various abstract substantives to bear witness to the 
 purity and fidelity of his conduct ; and sat down amidst long- 
 continued plaudits. His audience all thought he had acted with 
 skill and tact in a difficult situation ; he himself had but one idea 
 which surged to and fro in his brain, keeping time with the music 
 of the cheeis : 
 
 "What will she think?" 
 
 The Premier rose slowly, hesitatingly, limply ; his whole bearing 
 in glaring contrast with his demeanour on the last occasion he had 
 crossed swords with Lord Bardolph in public. A feeling something 
 like pity welled up in the hearts of those who gazed upon him ; one 
 thought flashed through all minds the Bill was doomed. The 
 Premier must have learnt the well-kept secret of the Parnellites, 
 and knew that they had decided to support his rival. This and 
 this alone seemed a feasible explanation of his dejection. And 
 when he spoke the contrast was deepened. The brightness had 
 left his voice ; it was clear, penetrating, musical as ever, but its 
 vivid vibratory tones were gone, there was something suppliant 
 in its modulations, as befitted an oration that was explanatory, 
 almost apologetic. He reviewed the provisions of the Bill, briefly 
 criticising the objections that had been raised by preceding 
 speakers. But he felt that the one point for which all were waiting, 
 and in comparison with which all else was leather and prunella, 
 was the promised clause. He admitted that those who had charged 
 him with inconsistency had, at least, a show of reason on their side; 
 but he pointed out that responsible Ministers must be largely 
 guided by practical considerations. There was such a thing as 
 spoiling the ship by being parsimonious in tar, and so the great 
 measure of reform which he had been desirous of inaugurating 
 might have suffered total shipwreck had he foolishly insisted on dis- 
 regarding the wishes of so many who were at one with him on the 
 remainder of the measure. 
 
 ''The member for Wadding," he said, and here for the first 
 time he quickened into something like animation, his voice 
 vibrating with strange, indignant bitterness, '' does not believe in 
 sudden conversions. No more do I. But then he has no right to 
 assume that the conversion of the Government was sudden. It 
 must have been the result of a slow and long continued process of 
 thought, the outcome of long continued and prolonged deliberation 
 for the end of which his lordship was too impatient to wait." He 
 continued to defend the course taken by the Ministry, still in the 
 same strange, tentative fashion (more as if endeavouring to excuse 
 his colleagues to himself than himself and his colleagues to the
 
 248 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 country), but itwas noticed as significant that he did not say one word 
 in defence of the promised clause per se did not utter one syllable in 
 vindication of the justice of the reform it attempted, while the whole 
 apologia was wanting in heart. Towards the conclusion he again 
 dealt with Lord Bardolph, and again he shook off his lassitude, and 
 spoke with somewhat of his old verve and fire. " The noble lord 
 said," he remarked, "that he would not shrink from misrepresen- 
 tation. He has m t done so, for he has misrepresented his late 
 colleagues. He says he has no confidence in them, and if there is 
 any real meaning in his inuendoes, he implies either that we will 
 not keep our promise to introduce the clause enfranchising women, 
 or else that we will so word it as to secure its rejection, and that 
 our promised support of it is a sham. It is unnecessaiy for any 
 English Minister to reply to such charges. Not even the fact that 
 they are made by one who has held office under the Crown can 
 raise them above contempt. The noble lord has worked with the 
 men he thus stigmatises for some time. It says but little for his 
 penetration that he should not have made the discovery of their 
 true character sooner ; it says something for the motives which 
 have actuated him, and which he deprecated, thit he should have 
 made and published the discovery after leaving them ;" and with a 
 peroration of the usual type as to the result of the debate, the 
 Premier resumed his seat, leaving upon his hearers the impression 
 that he spoke as a defeated man. 
 
 Then the rush to the lobbies took place, and those who were 
 last noticed how the Parnellites were voting. A short interval, and 
 then members trooped back excitedly to their places. The stream 
 of "No's" thinned, while that of "Ay's" was yet in full and 
 vigorous tide. Before the tellers for the Government stood before 
 the Speaker's table the result was a foregone conclusion. Still, 
 the breathless hush of repressed excitement hung over the assembly 
 till the numbers were announced, and it was known that the 
 Government had a majority of thirty-nine. The Parnellites had 
 voted with the Government ; the Premier had outbid Lord 
 Bardolph. Then, throwing off all restraint, honourable members, 
 staid and veteran legislators, jumped upon the benches, tossed their 
 hats in the air, and made hideous and inarticulate noises that 
 Pandemonium might have envied, and tried in vain to rival. Lord 
 Bardolph shook his fist at the leader of the Irish party, who smiled 
 calmly, serenely, inscrutably. And amid all the din. the cheers of 
 triumph, the counter cheers of those who tried to make-believe that 
 defeat was as welcome as victory, the congratulations, the hand- 
 shakes, and the despondent head-shakes, one figure sat still and 
 unmoved. His head bent down, an expression of sadness on his 
 worn features, his whole being a prey to a lassitude that betokened 
 despair, dejected and not elated by the victory which he had gained, 
 though a few weeks ago victory had appeared impossib.e, the 
 Premier wrote his usual despatch to the Sovereign. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The moon was shining above the terrace, though the sun had
 
 AY OR J\'Of 249 
 
 not yet set. The sky was crimson overhead, a burning depth of 
 colour shading away into impalpable and indefinable tints. A 
 thin, vapoury mist was rising Irom the river, hanging like a film of 
 smoky lace over the brown water, tinged with a chocolate reflection 
 of the evening sky. Through it, softened and beautified by its 
 veiling, the south side of the river, its factories, its hospitals, its 
 wharves, loomed blackly forth ; while the rushing of the steamers 
 and the whishing of oars came softly upwards. The terrace was 
 deserted, save for Lord Bardolph pacing hurriedly up and down, 
 his whole figure vibrant with expectancy. The debate over, dinner 
 had proved too strong an attraction to honourable members, who 
 found that empty stomachs were as imperious as empty heads. 
 As he turned, he caught sight of a lady advancing towards him. 
 He quickened his step, and stood before her. "Well ?" was all he 
 said, and then, turning, he walked on by her side. 
 
 His monosyllabic question remained unanswered. Lady Gwen- 
 dolen was too agitated to speak. She had consented to see him on 
 the terrace after the debate ; she had braced herself for the inter- 
 view, and she shrank from it. And, as they paced side by side, a 
 surging tide of conflicting emotions kept her silent, till at length 
 Lord Bardolph spoke again. 
 
 " Am I to congratulate you on your victory ? " he said, half 
 earnestly, half mockingly. " The Parnellites are your champions, 
 and have kept the Government in." 
 
 " I do not know," she answered slowly, speaking scarcely above 
 her breath. " I have so often pictured this debate to myself, in- 
 dulged in fond visions of the triumph of my sex ; and now that it 
 is come, I am not glad I am perplexed 1 am sad." 
 
 " Then, 1 shall not congratulate you," replied Lord Bardolph. 
 He was gaining confidence. The Premier's attitude, his tone 
 throughout the debate, the utter absence of more than a solitary 
 spark of his old vigour, had all told Lord Bardolph their tale. He 
 alone knew why the Premier sat dejected in the moment of victory, 
 why no flush of gladness had passed over his visage when the 
 numbers were announced. The reconciliation, for which Flopping- 
 ton had hoped, had failed to come to pass. And, while the know- 
 ledge sent the blood pulsing madly through his veins, while his 
 whole being trembled with eager delight, he felt a throb of pity for 
 that rival who had lost the prize he now felt sure of gaining, for 
 him to whom victory had brought the sting and bitterness of heart- 
 breaking defeat ; and he dimly comprehended the tragic irony of 
 the situation that a leader of men should, for the sake of a woman, 
 have thrown to the winds his reputation for statesmanship and 
 honesty of purpose, and have made the sacrifice in vain. 
 
 " I am afraid you were right this morning," said Lady Gwen- 
 dolen. " This victory of my cause is but a sham, and we are no 
 nearer enfranchisement than we were. The promised clause is but 
 a political device, that will be kept to the letter and broken in the 
 spirit." 
 
 " True," said Lord Bardolph. " Did you notice how he avoided
 
 250 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 uttering one word on the great question ; how he kept silent on 
 that point?" 
 
 Had she noticed it? As the Premier spoke, every word of his 
 defence stabbed her to the heart. When he opposed the mea- 
 sure she loved him ; had he supported it from conviction, she 
 would have loved him still. But despite his mendacious senti- 
 mental apologetics on that night at the Duchess's, it was now pi iim 
 to her that he had supported it because he thought it expedient, as- 
 well from amorous as from political motives. And she despised 
 him for so misreading her as to believe she could be bought thus. 
 As his nerveless, fibreless defence went on, as he laid it bare in all 
 its sordid trimming to partizan exigencies, she wondered afresh 
 whether this could be the Bayard, the preux Chevalier whom. 
 she had been proud to love. And her heart, throbbing though it 
 was with unselfish hope, died within her, as there flashed once 
 more before her those other scenes which reminded her that the 
 preiix Chevalier had ceased to be one in private life as in politics, 
 that the chivalry and nobility had gone, and that she had been on 
 the point of giving her soul in keeping to a simulacrum of virtue, to- 
 a ghastly mockery of honour; and as such shreds of illusion as still 
 clung to her even after the terrible scene of the morning dropped 
 from her at the last revolting discovery that he was trying to back 
 out of the promised enfranchisement of her sex, in order to avenge 
 upon all women the disdain of one. 
 
 The Premier was utterly unworthy of confidence. Had he but 
 made a le-s despicable display of wounded egotism, had he at 
 least had the manly courage to carry through under the new cir- 
 cumstances what he had undertaken under the old, he might 
 still have retained some vestige of her respect. But, alas, the self- 
 appointed champion of her cause was its most insidious enemy. 
 It was the man who had denounced him, who had just voted 
 against woman suffrage, that was the real friend of her sex. It 
 was the cynic who had repudiated the possession of principle 
 that alone obeyed his conscience. She shivered with remorseful 
 recollection of her shallow misreading of Lord Bardolph's noble 
 disclaimer of nobility. 
 
 Not a passing shade flickering over her mobile countenance 
 had escaped the attention of her companion. He saw she was 
 shaken and yielding ; and thinking " now or never," he boldly put 
 his fate to the touch. 
 
 "Lady Gwendolen," he said, real intense passion thrilling in 
 his tones, "I asked you a question this morning, I ask it again. 
 I love you. With you by my side, I feel strong enough to do any- 
 thing. Can you not love me ? " 
 
 " No, no," she murmured agitatedly, " do not ask me. You do- 
 not know ; you cannot 
 
 " I do know, Lady Gwendolen, I do. Love has opened my 
 eyes. But think I say nothing of your life darkened and 
 shadowed. You are too unselfish to be swayed by thoughts of 
 that. But think of the cause you have at heart ; think of how in-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID 25* 
 
 spired by your love my life would be consecrated to the removal of 
 injustice." 
 
 He paused. She was under the spell of his earnest words ;. 
 magnetised by the manly power that appeared to inform him. She was 
 troubled. Would it not be selfish to sacrifice him and the cause to 
 her disappointment ? She must rise above mere considerations of 
 self. Nay, could she even be certain that she did not love him ? 
 Her ideal of manhood had been shattered by the Premier ; it was 
 not the Premier alone, it was manhood that was disgraced in her 
 eyes. But now, as Lord Bardolph spoke, love and honour and truth 
 appeared to breathe in his utterances ; she saw him not as he was - r 
 her weakened, excited fancy draped him with the manly motives 
 she had almost lost faith in. And it was to an ideal Lord Bardolph r 
 a Lord Bardolph the product of her own pure imagination, that 
 she at length said : "Yes." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID. 
 
 'So ye see, Eliza," concluded Mrs. Dawe, "that with Jack's- 
 turnin' up 'is nose and chuckin' up the shop, and worriting Sally 
 into soup-ladles, the business is like to go to the dogs not the 
 dogs to the business as my'usband said of Mrs. Prodgers' sausages. 
 The moment my heye is off that gal I sees 'er up to little duffs and 
 tricks no good to 'er, but just for the sake of cheatin' me, which 
 would make 'er fortune if done honestly in the way of business. 
 The moment my heye is on 'er she cleans 'er saucepans like a busy 
 bee, or makes dumplins like a madman in a strait waistcoat." 
 
 " Then I had better take charge of the shop till you are better," 1 
 observed Eliza decisively. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe rose on her pillow, and looked at her suspiciously 
 before replying : 
 
 " I don't say Sally would lay a finger on a 'aypenny that wasn't 
 'ers except it belonged to 'er honestly. 'Owsoever, no reasonable 
 being wants to cut off 'is nose to spite 'is spectacles unless he's a 
 fool. What's mine is Jack's, and what's Jack's is yourn, and, con- 
 s.kkently, what's yourn is mine. But for all that yer not fit to 
 take my place and show me the woman in the whole world who 
 is ! Ye can't cook no more than Adam." 
 
 ' I know I can't," said Eliza meekly, " because I was always 
 brought up as a housemaid, and I hope I always knew my place 
 Better than to cook as well. But I don't want to cook any more 
 than Adam did. I've got Sally to cook for me, just as he had 
 Eve." 
 
 " More fool she not to 'ire a gal," interrupted Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 " How could she ? She was the first woman lady, I mean 
 that ever lived."
 
 252 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho! ho!" chuckled Mrs. Dawe. "Fancy the fust 
 lady in the land doin' 'er own 'ousework ! After marryin' a man, 
 too, who 'ad just come into such large estates before there was any 
 lawyers to do Mm out of 'em. But now I come to think on it, there's 
 no wonder Adam and Eve weren't too proud to wait on theirselves, 
 for, as my late 'usband said, ' they couldn't trace their dissent to 
 the Conkyrer ! ' " 
 
 " Then that settles it ! " cried Eliza. " But I can stay here 
 serving till the shop shuts, occasionally running up to look after 
 your comfort. How fortunate it is that I left my place in time ! 
 Jack couldn't be expected to desert his painting and stand behind 
 the counter. And when the shop shuts he can see me home every 
 night. It will be delightful ! " 
 
 " Every night ? Delightful ? " echoed Mrs. Dawe reproachfully. 
 " It's just like you, 'Lizer, to wish a poor lone woman to lay 'ere 
 years upon years while things is goin' as wrong as a crab. But I've 
 never been ill afore, except when I was a infant without any sense, 
 and I ain't a goin' to stand it. I mustn't get up for a week, indeed ! 
 How does Dr. Thomas know I mustn't? It can't be right a person 
 should lay in bed for a week. A nice state of affairs if all the 
 world 'ad to. Why, all the businesses would go bankrupt ! 
 But you are only thinkin' of your Jack seein' ye 'ome. I know 
 ye'd both be glad to see me to my long 'ome " 
 
 "Hush, hush, dear mother. You know you mustn't talk." 
 Eliza soothingly smoothed her face and tucked her in ; but in vain. 
 
 " Mustn't talk, indeed ! The doctor only said that 'cause he couldn't 
 stand my tellin' Mm truths as ugly as the nose on Ms face. And as for 
 Jack seein' ye 'ome, if he comes 'ome as he did last night, a nice 
 time for you and 'im to be gallivantin' together. I 'card Mm come 
 in, and just as he was strikin' a match in Ms bedroom the clock 
 struck two. This is what comes from indulgin' boys. As my 
 'usband said : 'The devil's door is opened by a latch-key.' I shall 
 take it from Mm, see if I don't. I've 'ad my own way for some time 
 and managed Mm as if I was Ms wife instead of Ms mother, and I 
 mean to be missus in my own cook-shop as long as there's a drop 
 of gravy in my joints. Last night he tried to come Ms old tricks 
 and be masterful agen, but did you see 'ow I shut Mm up by nut 
 answerin' Mm ? He ; ad to run out o' the room. And jolly sorry he 
 was, too, by the way he kissed me this mornin' be. ore goin' to 
 work, and while he was sayin' 'good-bye,' he looked at me as 
 solemn as if I was never to see Mm no more, and there was teats 
 in Ms eyes, which made the blowin' up I was goin' to give Mm, for 
 keepin' late hours, stick in my throat. Let me give ye a word of 
 advice, 'Lizer, if ye want to be missus after yer married, for unless 
 ye take care you will find yerself in the wrong shop. All the 
 Dawes are fond of 'avin' their own way ; we can't abear to be 
 crossed. We ain't very talkative (except my late 'usband and my 
 son), but we knows what we wants and we sees that we gets it. 
 Even my late 'usband was fond of Ms own way, only I was fonder, 
 and he was that busy sayin' things (over and over a^en he said
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID 255 
 
 the same things as if he was a picacher) that he 'ad no mind to 
 interfere with me. Now that's what ye must do with Jack en- 
 courage' him to say things about other people, and he'll leave ye 
 alone. And when he says so and so ought to be done, it's no use- 
 contradictin' 'im then, ye must always contradict 'im before'and. 
 Once he's made up 'is mind to a thing, the boy's as obstinate as a 
 bull, and even when he was young 'is father found that out, for he- 
 said I was allus bringin' forth bulls, when I only 'ad one, though to 
 be sure that one is as pig-'eaded as a dozen bulls." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Dawe," said Eliza, "and now here is your 
 medicine." 
 
 "A nice way of thankin' me," grumbled Mrs. Dawe. " I wonder 
 'ow much he's goin' to charge for that little bottle. He only sends 
 me a thimbleful at a time to run up the bill more. I don't want no- 
 luxuries, only plain medirine ; but he'll charge for it as though it 
 was fit to be put on the Queen's table. It's a great shame a woman 
 should take to drink in 'er old age and ruin 'erself when she don't 
 want to. There ought to be a Blue Ribbon Army to fight agen the- 
 doctors. As my late 'usband said : ' Medicine is like creeds ; ye've 
 got to swallow 'em both, and little good they does ye.'" So saying,, 
 she swallowed the draught. 
 
 Eliza was thus installed in the shop, and had a foretaste of her 
 future position, as Dante had of Paradise. She was a woman 
 worthy of alliance with the house of Dawe, being blessed with an 
 equal fondness for having her own way. She, too, knew what she- 
 wanted, and saw that she got it. Jack to a dowerless girl was a 
 lover who, except in age (in which superiority is often inferiority), 
 was superior to every other likely man she had ever met. He was- 
 gcod-looking even when one saw him at work on lions and unicorns,, 
 and startling paradox when the paint was washed off his face,, 
 he was almost handsome. And when he was laying down the law 
 on political matters, Eliza felt proud of the noble, intellectual 
 expression on his animated countenance. Then, too, his re- 
 semblance to the Premier invested him with a faint halo of 
 disguised Princeship, that caused her youthful fancy to please 
 itself with a hundred dreamy webs of ideality. 
 
 Moreover, no heroine of her acquaintance had had a more- 
 ardent lover in the fiery days when affection was new. What 
 brother painter (from K.A. to 'Any) could lend himself more- 
 tenderly to all the romance of passion the exquisite rainbow tints 
 on the bubble of Love ? What brother poet could indite amorous 
 verse, of softer splendour, or more rapturous encomium ? When, ini 
 addition to all these formative elements of tender emotion, the 
 cor k-shop is thrown in, there seem almost superfluous raisons d'etre 
 for that whose existence is often best explained by the absence 
 of any. 
 
 That this ardour had gradually cooled on the male side was due 
 to no fault of hers, unless excess of affectionateness be one. The- 
 dynamic energy that blazed forth as anger in moments of irritation 
 flashed out as love in instants of tranquillity. But the limitations,.
 
 254 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Tor which she was not responsible, chafed the sensitive Jack when 
 .his love grew old enough to know better, and to be ashamed if its 
 youthful outbursts. Eliza lacked the infinite variety of Cleopatra, 
 -and at that critical period of his existence it was Cleopatra, more 
 than any other woman, that seemed to him to express the ideal of 
 femininity, He bitterly regretted his engagement to her, and took 
 to treating her with contemptuous rudeness in the hope of a breach. 
 His visits ceased, his answers to her letters grew curt. But Eliza 
 had the rare virtue of Fidelity, and though her visions of personal 
 happiness were obscured, she retained her belief in the desirability 
 of things in general. Reversing the conventional functions of Hero 
 and Leander, she descended upon her lover like a Grecian goddess 
 (whenever she could leave her "place"). To escape her, Jack 
 betook himself to the Cogers' whenever he could, and on Sundays 
 fled on his bicycle, which had grown rusty from disuse. The 
 ,nymph could therefore only register an occasional success in the 
 pursuit of her sweetheart, and even when caught he was as coy as 
 Adonis, and far more insulting in his rebuffs. It was often all but 
 impossible to restrain herself from tearing his eyes out; but, while 
 ;there was a gleam of hope, and while Mrs. Dawe was on her sid^-, 
 l;his must be reserved. The marriage was put off indefinitely, and 
 :at last things came to a climax. The poor girl saw the gratification 
 of one of her ambitions she obtained a situation in such a great 
 house as Lady Harley's. But all her proud joy was dulled by Jack's 
 conduct. The letter she wrote to him announcing the news was ' 
 unanswered, and she could not get a holiday for a month. So lon<* 
 a period of totally severed life could not but complete the estrange - 
 ment, and she was not familiar enough with her surroundings tJ 
 find means of getting away, such as she afterwaids discovered. In 
 .this crisis she wrote to the Editor of the London Reader, but tha 
 Editor, whose fingers were already in hundreds of amorous pies, 
 was slow to reply. An unexpected opportunity enabled her to dart 
 
 down to her lover's demesne on the Saturday on which this history 
 
 opened. Unfortunately he was at the Cogers', and the poor girl 
 was again baffled. At last, however, her holiday came ; and, armed 
 ,by this time with the Editor's advice, she hastened to the Star 
 Dining Rooms once more. She came, a bitter woman, and left, a 
 happy girl. Just reward of sublime Patience! The only draw- 
 back to her happiness was the rankling doubt suggested by Mrs. 
 Dawe as to the sex of her firstborn. The prohibition against 
 frequent visits took little from the rapture of success. In the first 
 place, Obedience would make a virtue of necessity, and in the next, 
 she felt that the pertinacity which had carried her so far would 
 carry her further if required. On the Editor she showered much 
 gushing gratitude, promising him a piece of bridecake in three 
 months, and herself that, in future moments of trial, she would 
 persist in the meekness of spirit which had realised the hope that 
 her natural passionateness would have destroyed. 
 
 As she now stood behind the counter, with an imperative eye 
 on the sullen and smutty Sally (whom nothing but Jack's stern
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID 255 
 
 threat of dismissal had set to work that morning), she felt that 
 doubt was no longer possible, if, indeed, any vestige of it could 
 remain after his tender reading of that poem to her at Lady 
 Ilarley's. A new series of tender familiarities with her lover had 
 culminated in a swoon in his arms. With his old chivalry he had 
 protected her from an insane adversary, whom he had dropped 
 downstairs in the approved heroic fashion (Sally took for the 
 nonce the proportions of a wild bull at least). And last night he 
 had come into the sick room with such a look of tenderness for her 
 in his eyes, that she felt any manifestations of similar emotion 
 superfluous on her part. Anxious to concentrate her attention on 
 the nascent intuitions of nursing, she allowed a wish for silence to 
 escape her, and did not repent when she saw his quick, responsive 
 obedience. The scene was vividly present to her now, and her 
 heart leapt lightly with triumph. She was glad that the constant 
 irruption of Mrs. Dawe's cronies and acquaintances into the sick 
 room rendered frequent ascents thither unnecessary. The novelty 
 of Nightingaleism had worn off, and she was weary of the restlessly- 
 tossing, querulous old woman in the dull, tawdry bedchamber, with 
 its cracked wine-glass, dirty spoon, and dusty phial. The busy 
 <-hop was more in harmony with the dancing heart of Youth, with 
 the stir of entrance and exit, the sense of touch with the bustle of 
 outside life, and the panorama of admiring faces. For the girl 
 drew ; and in the unprecedented earnings of the day, her presence 
 was almost as potent a causal element as the return to life of Mrs. 
 Dawe. It is the mark of perfect beauty to appear improved by 
 every change of vesture, and Eliza, arrayed in a white apron, stood 
 the test admirably, and seemed an exquisite incarnation of idyllic 
 simplicity. The till groaned under piles of coppers, and her heart 
 swelled with its contents. 
 
 Jack did not appear in the shop till the evening, much to the 
 disappointment of the admirers of his innovations, and even then 
 he only lingered a moment. The "new dispensation" of rations 
 had been as brief as a French regime. The floods of soup resumed 
 their normal price, the old landmarks reappeared, and the 
 boundaries between pennyworths and twopennyworths became 
 once more visible. 
 
 On seeing Eliza, Jack started. 
 
 " Good-evening, Jack," said Eliza sweetly. 
 
 " Good-evening," replied Jack politely. " I did not expect to 
 see you."' 
 
 " Did you think I would desert you in the hour of trial ? A 
 halfpenny change, thank you. Do I not know how repugnant it is 
 to your aristocratic nature to serve behind the counter ? So, 
 darling, I have determined to suffer instead. We don't sell 
 bloaters. You'll get beauties three doors up." 
 
 "You are very kind, child," said Jack, visibly affected by this 
 altruism. '' I had come, ?' much debate, to the conclusion that 
 it behoved me to fulfil all t.ie duties of that position in life in which 
 1 find myself. But I will not deny that 1 accepted these kitchen
 
 256 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 duties not with pleasure, but for the humiliation of the spirit, and 
 as what shall I say ? a Fiery Baptism." 
 
 " Good gracious, Jack, you're not going to turn Baptist ?" 
 
 "You appear alarmed," said Jack, smiling benevolently, and 
 with a delightful sense of escape from thraldom. " Why should I 
 not turn Baptist ?" 
 
 " You can't mean it ! " protested Eliza anxiously. " There's a 
 Baptist butler at Lady Harley's, and of ail the stingy, ugly 
 wretches Tell your mother I can't cut it any leaner." 
 
 Eliza, bending over the savoury joint, missed the sudden flush 
 on her lover's cheek, nor did she catch the low murmur of " The 
 riddle's solved, hinc illce lachrymal" But soon his face was 
 clouded by perplexity ; he leaned his head on his hand and stood 
 thinking. " It is not at all clear," he said dubiously. 
 
 "That's what Pm always telling Mrs. Dawe," grumbled a stout 
 man with his spoon in his hand. "The soup is so full of little 
 bones that there's sure to be an inquest one of these days." 
 
 Eliza shot a repioachful glance at Jack. She could not under- 
 stand this failure of esprit de corps. And, indeed, a world in which 
 people should criticise themselves instead of one another might 
 well seem to violate the conditions of possibility. 
 
 The painter caught the look and an alarmed light flashed into- 
 his eyes, instantly succeeded by an expression of remorseful pain. 
 " You are no longer at Lady Harley's ?'' he asked in the hopeless- 
 tone with which one courts a dreaded answer too well foreknown. 
 
 Eliza raised her head once more, and exclaimed lovingly : 
 'Oh, you dear stupid old Jack, didn't I tell you that yesterday?' 
 How could I be here if I was there?" She shook the carving- 
 knife playfully at him, and laughed a low, silvery laugh of enjoy- 
 ment. The airy grace of the flourish, the brightness of her face., 
 and the charm of her laughter wrought upon Jack, and he brushed 
 away a tear. " Poor girl ! " he thought. " She opposes a brave- 
 heart to misfortune. Hers is a fine nature at bottom, though she 
 be liable to volcanic outbursts. But these are perhaps neces- 
 sary to show the intensity of those bright spirits which are in danger 
 of the suspicion of superficiality." 
 
 " You shall not suffer," he said resolutely. " I will make 
 amends. I will see that you get another and, if possible, a better 
 place." 
 
 Eliza saw the joke, and her eyes brimmed over with fun. 
 
 " I don't think my last mistress will give me a character," she 
 observed slyly. 
 
 " That need not trouble you," replied Jack in grave reassurance;. 
 "it will be enough it /recommend you. You will be engaged 
 without further inquiry." 
 
 Eliza laughed again, partly with delight and partly at the pun. 
 Then, checking herself, she said with a pout: "But I have been 
 engaged so long that I am quite tired of it." 
 
 Jack looked sad. 
 
 *' I can quite understand that !" he said sympathetically, as the.-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID 257 
 
 long years of drudgery flashed across his mind. " Poor bright 
 young creature, meant for the sunshine and the open air." 
 
 Eliza felt a thrill of self-pity. " I don't ask for the sunshine and 
 the open air," she said, with quivering lips. " I only want to be 
 settled in my new life ; I hate this delay, this uncertainty. And I 
 don't mind working ever so hard then." 
 
 Jack blushed. " She reads me a lesson," he thought. " Carlyle 
 taught truly that idleness is the root of evil. The healthy, human 
 soul cannot endure the burden of aimless days,unsanctified by work. !> 
 
 Eliza rounded the counter by a swift, graceful movement, and 
 stood before Jack, turning a seductive face up to his, her hands 
 clasped together, and her softly flashing eyes humid with love 
 and tender beseechment. The shop was momentarily empty of 
 customers. 
 
 " Can't it be before six weeks ?" she pleaded. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. There is no reason why you should have 
 to wait more than a fortnight or a month at most." 
 
 Eliza seized his hand and rained burning kisses upon it. " Oh, 
 say it again, say it again," she cried, " and ease a suffering heart." 
 The fervency of her gratitude was slightly disconcerting to Jack, 
 but he patted her hair kindly with his disengaged hand, as he 
 replied sadly : " Do you doubt me, child ? Know that my word is 
 sacred. Did I not hold my pledge inviolate you would never more 
 have seen me here." 
 
 "I know, I know your sense of honour," murmured Elizi, 
 meeting his pensive gaze with eyes welling over with tenderness. 
 "You never meant to wrong me." 
 
 " Meant to wrong you ? " said Jack softly. " God knows I 
 never meant to wrong any one. But, alas ! whom have I not in- 
 jured?" He paused in melancholy retrospect, and added-: " I 
 have injured you, child, but I will do my best to brighten your 
 future existence." 
 
 " And I to brighten yours," returned Elizi, looking up to 
 him again, with a bright glance of affection and gratitude. She 
 still held his hand in hers, and, lulled to a trance of happy con- 
 fidence, was content not to disturb this moment of calm though 
 deep delight by the more passion ite manifesta-ions of amorous 
 inebriety. She seemed once more to breathe the air of the dream- 
 land of early love, and had a delightful feeling of being in a 
 serial, and a curious but delicious sense of having to be continued 
 in our next. 
 
 The poor girl's gratitude touched the painter and softened his 
 despairing mood. *' She brighten my life ! " he thought, smiling" 
 sadly. " Yet, why despise the impulsive movement of grateful 
 emotion ? 'Tis in these moments that soul speaks to soul ; and 
 shall I reject such offering, I, whom no one else in the world 
 wishes well?" But ere he could reply, Eliza's temporary Paradise 
 was lost by a demand for apple-dumplings, and she could not help 
 eyeing the customer with irritation. She felt vaguely that some- 
 thing was wrong somewhere in a universe so much more unlady- 
 
 S
 
 258 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 like than that constructed by the female novelist. The web of ex- 
 istence was no better than an amateur patchwork quilt, if it 
 permitted affairs of the heart and affairs of the stomach to be 
 interwoven in this blundering fashion. 
 
 A few minutes of silence ensued before the man got rid of the 
 dumplings, and the lovers of the man. Then Jack, who had been 
 anxiously watching his betrothed, said : " I can see you don't like 
 life behind the counter. It would only pain you to serve instead of 
 me, and I have no right to demand such a sacrifice from one meant 
 by Nature for happier things." 
 
 " Sacrifice !" cried Eliza, paling. "What do you mean? Is it 
 a sacrifice to work for one you love and honour? I do not care 
 what Nature meant me for, I desire nothing better ; I am happy 
 in my choice." 
 
 " Noble creature ! " thought Jack. " Vainly would she conceal 
 what I know by sad experience. And did she not say just now 
 that she would suffer for me? Ought I then to take advantage of 
 her devotion ? 'Tis a difficult problem. I do not know whether 
 Kant's formula will avail me here. 'Act so that thy conduct may be 
 a law to all beings under similar circumstances? Ay, there's the rub. 
 QitiJ!<>ttum ought I or Eliza to serve Demos with sausages ? 
 
 Data given a man born for failure in higher things " The 
 
 thread of thought was suddenly snapped by a violent shudder and 
 a grimace of disgust as the horrors of the day before flashed upon 
 him. "'Tis vain to struggle," he resumed. " Yet, let me not fall 
 into the common error of mistaking prejudices for moral intui- 
 tions." He frowned, and Eliza's blood, already chilled by the 
 shudder and the grimace, ran colder than ever. In the brief interval 
 while the man was eating his apple-dumplings, what had occurred 
 to cause this sudden change of attitude ? She was sure she had 
 done nothing wrong. Perhaps he really thought she ought to look 
 higher. If so, she must reassure his morbidly-conscientious mind. 
 She felt (somewhat ungratefully) that she would be happier it he 
 took less care of her happiness. 
 
 " You shall not get rid of me," she exclaimed passionately. 
 " My duty lies here." 
 
 Jack's brow cleared. " She, too, has been busy with the ethical 
 pr )blem," he thought. " I will abide by her more instinctive decision." 
 
 " Eliza," he replied gravely, " I accept the sacrifice, for it is a 
 sacrifice " 
 
 "Speak not of it," interrupted Eliza, with equal irradiation of 
 countenance. "Ambition yields to love." 
 
 " A noble sentiment, child," responded Jack. " What, indeed, 
 would existence be without these little, nameless, unremembered 
 acts of kindness and of love ? But they shall not be unremembered 
 by me. I confess I have wronged you in thought as well as in 
 action, but henceforth you may command me." 
 
 The remorseful and apologetic condition of her lover moved 
 Eliza's womanly soul to the quick. The sight of the strong man in 
 a moment of weakness called forth an effusion of love and pity,
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A HOUSEMAID 259 
 
 and the impression was the stronger for its novelty. She leaned 
 across the counter to him with an impulsively caressive action not 
 the less spontaneous because accompanied by a subconsciousness 
 of the resemblance of the scene to an illustration in the London 
 Reader (with the substitution of a stile for the counter). Ere Jack 
 could divine the bliss in store for him, her soft arms were round his 
 neck, her soft cheek was pressed to his, and her soft voice murmured 
 in his ear : "It is you that shall command me, my own darling Jack." 
 The situation was charming in its naivete". 'Twas a beautiful picture 
 of innocent candour set off by the nineteenth-century convention- 
 alities around them, a precious moment of stolen love perilously 
 poised between the past and the future of custom. But the Beautiful 
 cannot be attained without effort, and in this case it was not attained 
 without Eliza standing on tiptoe and stretching forward in such a 
 manner as to come into contact with other things besides Jack's 
 face, to wit, a dish of steaming, rich, brown, greasy, odorous 
 potatoes. For the moment, however, she heeded them not any 
 more than she would have heeded the pressure or scent of nawthoi n 
 bushes, and their effect was at least equally picturesque. An im- 
 pressionist could not wish for a better subject. 
 
 As for Jack, his emotions maybe best described as indescribable. 
 But ere his warring impulses could agree among themselves, the 
 ictc-a-tete in its literal sense was disturbed by a crash that shook 
 the windows. 
 
 " You cat ! " shrieked Eliza, releasing Jack and embracing her 
 toes instead. The debris of two large willow-pattern soup-plates 
 strewed the floor. 
 
 " Why was your toes in the way then ?" retorted Sally, darting 
 an indignant look at her new mistress, whom the audacity of the 
 remark rendered speechless. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" inquired Jack politely ; though conscious of a 
 feeling of relief. 
 
 For reply Eliza leaned against the wall with shut eyes and 
 tightly-pressed lips. 
 
 Jack felt a sympathetic twinge. " Is it the law of life," he 
 reflected, "that one's good is another's evil, and pain is always the 
 obverse of pleasure ? " Suddenly he caught sight of Sally grinning 
 in intense enjoyment. 
 
 "Sally," he said as severely as unreasoning gratitude would allow, 
 " if you have sinned through carelessness, you need not aggravate 
 your crime." 
 
 "Why shan't I ? She haggravates me," returned Sally. '' Besides, 
 she's only shammin' Abram. I didn't drop 'em 'ard enough to 'urt 
 'er. :) 
 
 " You minx ! " screamed Eliza, starting into activity. '' Then 
 you admit you dropped them on purpose.' 1 
 
 "No I didn't. I only dropped 'em on yer toes. Shouldn't 
 wear such thin, kid boots. I can't 'elp droppin' 'em, can I ? Two 
 things is bound to go in a week, and if it ain't plates why then it's 
 cups." 
 
 S 2
 
 260 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Is Fatalism induced by the knowledge of the Law of 
 Averages ? " thought Jack. 
 
 " The lazy, impertinent rapscallion ! " cried Eliza, stamping her 
 foot in majestic indignation. " I wonder you keep her." 
 
 But Jack was still musing on Fatalism. Sally put her arms 
 akimbo and tossed her head. 
 
 " Keep me, indeed ! '"' she exclaimed, swaying her body from 
 right to left in an irritating fashion. " I keeps myself by 'one* t 
 work. More likely 'e keeps you." 
 
 " Jack," cried Eliza, hysterically, "dismiss that girl at once." 
 
 " Eh," replied Jack, looking up vaguely. 
 
 " Dismiss that girl at once. I insist upon it," repeated Eliza. 
 
 Jack hesitated. " I can hardly take such an important step 
 without due reflection," he replied ; " but I promise you the matter 
 shall have my fullest attention." 
 
 " She ought not to stay in the house another instant. I don't 
 see what reasons there can be for her remaining another instant." 
 Sally still maintained her irritating attitude, and she increased its 
 effect by a confident grin. It was true that in the morning Jack 
 had threatened her with expulsion ; but now that he had returned in 
 an obviously gentler mood, she felt that the threat was of a piece 
 with the temporary dementia of the previous evening. 
 
 " Well, for one thing," replied Jack slowly, " you see one has an 
 affection " Sally's grin broadened with delight " for old re- 
 tainers." 
 
 Sally's face fell. 
 
 " I ain't a old retainer," she cried. " I'm as young as she is, 
 any day. / don't want no powder, 7 don't, except a sedlitz powder, 
 and that goes inside." 
 
 " You ought to have gunpowder inside you," retorted Eliza, ex- 
 asperated almost beyond endurance, " and I'd like to put a 
 match to you." 
 
 " Yah ! " chanted Sally. " Guy Fox, Guy ! put 'er up the chim- 
 bly pot and there let 'er die ! " 
 
 " You ignorant, uneducated creature," replied Eliza with infinite 
 disdain. " You don't even know whether Guy Fawkes was a man 
 or a woman." 
 
 " If ye think I can't read and write as well as you," retorted 
 Sally, " ye're jolly well mistaken, 'cause Master Jack's promised to 
 learn me." 
 
 Eliza started, and turned upon Jack a look compounded cf 
 stupefaction, sorrow, horror, and wrath. 
 
 "You promised to teach her ! " she gasped. " It is false ! " 
 
 " I I did make a sort of a promise," he stammered. 
 
 Eliza interrupted the avowal by a dramatic gesture of despair. 
 
 " Then it is true ! " she whispered hoarsely. 
 
 Jack quivered beneath her contemptuous glance. 
 
 " You don : t think it wrong ?" he inquired anxiously, all kinds of 
 vague, uneasy ideas flitting through his mind.
 
 THE KEY OF THE DEVIL'S DOOR 261 
 
 "Wrong?" echoed Eliza, with a high, scornful laugh, "oh no, 
 it isn't wrong to destroy the value of education." 
 
 " Eh ?" cried the puzzled painter. 
 
 " What's the good of being able to read and write if everybody 
 can ? What right have servants to be educated ? Why, they'll 
 think themselves as good as their mistresses. The world will be 
 turned upside down." 
 
 Jack stared. 
 
 "You think servants should not be educated," he said. 
 
 " Decidedly not," returned Eliza with a proud toss of the head. 
 
 " But you are educated, and are not you a. servant ? " he inquired. 
 
 " A servant ! " she exclaimed indignantly. '' I am no longer a 
 servant to be tyrannised over by a capricious mistress. Now that 
 I am a mistress myself, why do you remind me of the unhappy 
 past ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE KEY OF THE DEVIL'S DOOR. 
 
 "GOOD-EVENING, Mr. Dawe," said Mrs. Green, as she entered the 
 shop from the kitchen, having been sitting upstairs with three or 
 four other females ; for, as has already been told, when Mrs. Dawe 
 woke up that morning she found herself famous, from the mere fact 
 of waking up at all. 
 
 The body of gossips, which was perpetually changing (though 
 so continuously, and with such substitution of similar atoms as to 
 maintain a kind of unbroken identity), first roused the sufferer's 
 spirits by the inspiration of its presence, and then lowered them by 
 ihe inspiration of her oxygen. What wonder, therefore, if the 
 heaviness of the atmosphere, and perhaps of the conversation, 
 weighed at times upon her so that she slept with equal heaviness. 
 
 '' I ain't inquisitive," said Mrs. Green, pausing on her way out, 
 and surveying the group with compound interest. " But Mrs. 
 Dawe woke up in a fright and said she dreamt that you, Mr. Dawe, 
 was smashin' up the business ; and we 'ad a 'ard job to keep 'er 
 from rushin' downstairs, and we swore there was nothing a-matter, 
 and then she quieted a bit, and said she must a-bin dreamin' ! But 
 we all knew it was crockery, 'cause plates and dishes is slippery 
 customers to deal with. If you was already married'' here Mrs. 
 (jreen sighed, not smiled '' I'd a-known you was throwin' things ; 
 and if my daughter 'adn't tried to 'ide 'er weddin'-ring by pretendin' 
 t > a cut 'er finger, she might still a-bin a 'appy gal, in as good a 
 place as one could wish to 'ave, at 'leven bob a week, and a 
 excursion to the Forest once a year." 
 
 This interruption relieved the prevailing moral tension. Eliza 
 assumed an air of impenetrable hauteur, but Sally, preserving the 
 contour of a two-handled vase, sent her a saucy leer of smiling
 
 262 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 triumph, preceded by a wink and a slight toss of the head, intended 
 for the edification of Mrs. Green. By this gesture-language, well 
 understood of the people, the good lady obtained more than an 
 inkling of which way the wind lay. Eliza was fully aware of the 
 fact, and pretending to have missed the sense of Sally's expressive 
 observation, she examined the suddenly-perceived stains on her 
 apron, and waited impatiently for Mrs. Green's exit. To her 
 horror, however, Jack did not seem to share her views as to the 
 undesirability of a stranger's presence. 
 
 "Pardon me, madam," he said, "do you then think that eleven 
 shillings a week and an annual excursion are enough to make a 
 girl happy ?" 
 
 "Lor' bless me!" cried Mrs. Green sharply. "Everybody 
 can't be as well off as you and your gal, no more than they can 
 afford to lay out nine-pun-ten in one day in funerals. Us com- 
 mon folk must put up with silver and copper, just as we must put 
 up with bein' mocked at, and called madam by people as I've 'card, 
 called by wuss names, and not so different neither." 
 
 " You forget yourself," exclaimed Eliza with dignity. 
 
 " Ma'am, if you please" Mrs. Green answered her with proud 
 disdain, " like all my other tradespeople does." 
 
 " I am very sorry, ma'am," interposed Jack in much distress ; 
 " I assure you my question was conceived in no mocking spirit, but 
 was prompted by a sincere desire to ascertain the modes of 
 thought, and especially the standard of comfort of people of your 
 status." 
 
 Eliza suppressed a smile, compounded of enjoyment of the sneer- 
 ing irony and of relief from the shock of the simulated apology ; 
 but Mrs. Green's insight was not so keen. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean,'' she said, mollified by the 
 earnest ring of the words. " I don't set up for bein' heddicated ; 
 there wasn't no Board Schools in my young days ; though p'r'aps 
 my Billy might know what you mean by the standard o' comloit. 
 Seems to me it's the sixth, for I know he got least whacked in it. 
 But as I was say in', the gal who stepped into my Jane's shoes 
 when she got married to the most drunken wagabond, and of all 
 wagabonds a drunkard is the wusst (beggin' your pardon, which no 
 offence is meant), she was glad enough of the chance of 'leven bob 
 a week, for nice, easy work it is, too, is tailorin', compared to some 
 other trades, and regular nearly 'arf the year ; and only from eight 
 to nine, which gives a gal two or three hours to eat and rest in, 
 except when they're very busy, and works till twelve." 
 
 While Mrs. Green was talking, a few straggling customers had 
 entered the advanced section of the coming army of supper- 
 seekers and the mutual animosities of Sally and Eliza were tem- 
 porarily quenched to meet the common need. 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Jack. "The recent Act only permits 
 such work till eight p.m." 
 
 "Lor 3 bless me ! The gal never told me that. But she was 
 alius a sly 'un, and it was just like 'er to get married on the sly.
 
 THE KEY OF THE DEVILS DOOR 263 
 
 Only till eight ! That explains things. I never could make out 
 'ovv she could ha' found time for courtin'." 
 
 Found time for courting ! The unconscious pathos of the 
 phrase went to Jack's heart. 
 
 A man, who was eating mashed potatoes just touched by the 
 cdour of roast beef, pricked up his ears. He was lean ; he was 
 sharp-eyed and feverish ; he was out at elbows. 
 
 ' What nonsense ! " he interposed. " You must be very ignorant 
 if you don't know how the Capitalist grinds work out of human 
 machines. Act or no Act, your daughter never left off till nine, take 
 my word/' 
 
 ' Then the hussy kept back the money she got for overwork." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! ho ! " laughed the man. " Money, indeed ! She 
 was lucky to have the overwork to do." 
 
 'Do you mean to say, sir?'' inquired Jack anxiously, " that 
 this great measure, for which I so long contended, is systema- 
 tically violated ?" 
 
 The man burst into another roar of bitter laughter. 
 
 '' I am sorry you had your trouble for nothing, not that, of 
 course, your efforts could do much meaning no disrespect. Why, 
 bless you, I know all the tricks these small workshops are up to 
 when the Inspectors sometimes come round and who shall inspect 
 the Inspectors? They keep 'em knocking till they've turned out 
 the gas and gone to bed, and got up in their dressin' -gowns, while 
 the girls get into cupboards and what not. I have heard of a case 
 where they stowed the work away in a jiffy, and got out wine, and 
 oranges, and cards, and were having a birthday party when the 
 officers came in. An Act of Parliament, even when prompted by 
 the best motives, is, in my opinion, a thing invented to appease the 
 consciences of our rulers. It costs nothing, and it does nothing, 
 or, at most, very little ; like the vow of reformation which makes 
 one feel so satisfied with himself. Is ever)' infant vaccinated ; are 
 there no children running the streets or slaving under taskmasters; 
 is there no false weight or measure ; is all our food unadulterated ; 
 are all our houses in perfect sanitary condition ; do all our factories 
 
 close at eight ; is there ? But you appear shocked. Surely 
 
 you know all this ! " 
 
 ' Latterly, in moments of despondency, I have indeed feared that 
 the truth was such. But, on reflection, I dismissed the idea as very 
 much exaggerated." 
 
 " Exaggerated ! " cried the man, in a voice muffled by large 
 fragments of potato. " You may take it as an axiom, sir, that the 
 State can never interfere without doing more harm than good." 
 
 "Then you would leave the millions to despair,"' said Jack 
 wearily. 
 
 The man's lean face lit up with animation, and his eyes glowed 
 with more feverish intensity. He hastily gulped down the last 
 morsels of potato, which, in their own tyrannical way, had been 
 impeding his freedom of speech. 
 
 ' I would bid the millions hope, not despair," he cried.
 
 264 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Then you have another remedy than State interference?" 
 asked Jack, catching his enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes," said the man, slowly turning to depart, " I have ! We 
 want no tinkering legislation, we want a complete recasting of the 
 relations of Capital and Labour, and of the conditions of Society ; 
 individual selfishness must no longer be the key-stone of the arch 
 of civilisation. In one word, sir, we want" he paused drama- 
 tically in the doorway, while every gaze was bent on him" we want 
 Socialism ! " 
 
 His eyes flashed with the fervour of a prophet-martyr ; his 
 pinched features were ardent with noble emotion. And so, with the 
 image of that pale face flitting before their vision, with the sound of 
 those fiery words ringing in their ears, he left them. 
 
 " But, sir," Jack burst forth, " what is Socialism but State inter- 
 ference raised to infinity ?" 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Who is that man, Jack ? " inquired Eliza. 
 
 " I do not know," replied Jack ; " but he is certainly an honest, 
 earnest, unselfish, well-informed man, though far from sound in his 
 economics. What is the matter?" 
 
 " I'm sure it's not my fault," said Eliza, half crying with vexa- 
 tion. " I thought you knew him, and I forgot for the moment that 
 he hadn't paid for his mashed potatoes." 
 
 Jack was staggered for an instant. The next, a flush of shame 
 overspread his cheek. " I am sure he is an honest man," he said. 
 " What right have we to doubt it, because in the heat of high argu- 
 ment he forgot base mundane matters ? Such obliviousness of 
 earth, perhaps more than Fame, is the last infirmity of noble 
 minds, which doth the clear spirit raise to live laborious days." 
 
 ' Live luxurious days, you mean," cried the exasperated Hebe, 
 " at other people's expense the rogue ! " 
 
 "You libel him," said Jack mildly. "I might have done the 
 same myself." 
 
 " Oh Jack, for shame. You would never have robbed a poor 
 old woman." 
 
 " I do not mean intentionally. Yet had I echoed Goethe's 
 remark in its full sense who knows ? If I had been in his 
 place " 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Jack. You can never be anybody but 
 yourself." 
 
 " So it would seem," he replied sadly, ' : though I once had a 
 higher opinion of my powers." Then, seeing her puzzled face, he 
 added quickly, " but you need not take the petty loss so much to 
 heart. What were the potatoes worth ? " 
 
 " Twopence." 
 
 "Here is a shilling," said Jack ; " I will redeem his honour." 
 
 Eliza laughed merrily, and the cloi d of annoyance vanished 
 from her pretty forehead. " You take it o ;t of one pocket and put 
 it into another," she exclaimed.
 
 THE KEY OF THE DEVILS DOOR 265 
 
 " Perhaps," said Jack moodily, as he perceived the fallacy, " you 
 have given a general definition of benevolence." 
 
 A man, who had entered with the Socialist, and who had been 
 listening with much interest to this duologue, now sauntered out with 
 an air of much amusement, and his departure broke up the group. 
 
 And now there was a sudden stir ot entry as well as of exit, lor 
 night had fallen, with its balmy, twinkling splendour and its sugges- 
 tions of rest and supper. And the moon from its peephole in the clouds 
 looked down among other things on an Indian file of appetites such 
 as the autocrat in it might envy. And savoury dishes leaped out of 
 the oven, fully prepared for the fray, like Minervas from the head of 
 Jove, only better than wisdom, and cauldrons of odorous soup dared 
 the descent down unknown gullets, and lo ! there arose the wonted 
 sounds of much gurgling, and carving, and munching, and lip- 
 smacking. And the two Hebes longed for Briareus with his 
 hundred arms ; but he came not, and Apelles and his two arms 
 went away. For his soul was weary and desired not such ref, esh- 
 ment, neither did he hanker after the astral flesh-pots. Wherefore, 
 staying not even to minister to the needs of his fellow man, he 
 sought the upper air. And, as he went, he spoilt all the charm of 
 Sappho's line : " O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things,'' by 
 adding bitterly, "and the sittings of the Senate among them. 
 Miserable men, who have deserted their ancient convictions for the 
 sake of power and at the bidding of a reckless upstart ! . . . 
 Shame on me ! Do these unworthy suspicions yet rankle in me ? 
 Do I not know too well the base emotions, the petty jealousies and 
 mortifications that give birth to them? \Vhy should not his 
 eloquent advocacy of his own views have moved them as it once 
 moved me ? " 
 
 The failure of an attempt to ascend an imaginary stair cut 
 short his reflections and informed him that he had reached the last 
 term of the Aeries. As he turned to the right towards his own 
 door, the chatter of voices in front of him reminded him loudly of 
 his duties to the author of his being. These authors of our beings, 
 by the way, did not seem sufficiently protected by copyright even in 
 their own country, to judge by the instance of rival editions which 
 this history hath made mention of. 
 
 Jack knocked at the door and received a quartette of invitations 
 to enter. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe presented at this moment little of the conventional 
 appearance of the invalid. Perhaps, to do so requires practice like 
 everything else, and she had never been ill before in her life. She 
 struck Jack as more like the lady of the Hotel Rambouillet, who 
 held receptions in her bedchamber. To add to her resemblance to 
 A rthcnice, she wore a nightcap. But here the likeness to la Alai quise 
 ended. Mrs. Dawe was not given to euphemism, nor did the ladies 
 of her court dignify her nightcap by any such title as ' the innocent 
 accomplice of falsehood." In fact, her animation at the moment 
 was due to some scandalous reminiscences which Mrs. Jollikins, a
 
 266 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 raconteuse of a high order, was narrating with such gusto as to 
 give her the air ot" two posthumous volumes. And, indeed, it was 
 the general impression that she " talked like a book." 
 
 On Jack's entry there was a suppressed disappointment, and the 
 leaf of Jollikins' memoirs was turned down. It was felt that the 
 session was at an end. The ladies rose to go with a reluctance 
 creditable alike to their heads and to their hearts. For the attraction 
 was purely intellectual, a feast of reason and not a flow of bowl, 
 Mrs. Dawe not having offered them even a taste of her medicine. 
 
 Jack sat down on one of the vacated chairs and fixed a curious 
 glance upon his mother who was bubbling over with amusement at 
 an equivocal story. He seemed reassured to find her so improved, 
 and so far from being in a scolding mood. But his strange, reflective 
 observation of her underwent no change. He could not get rid of 
 the sense that she had returned from the grave a proceeding highly 
 unjustifiable in one who had been duly philosophised over and he 
 was engrossed in those vast speculations which have ruined some if 
 they have enriched others. All at once Mrs. Dawe uttered an 
 exclamation of dismay. 
 
 " The gas ! " she exclaimed. "Turn down the gas. That's the 
 wust of 'avin' folks come to see ye, they want a better light than is 
 good for their eyes or the gas bill." 
 
 Jack obeyed her promptly. The room was stiflingly hot, and 
 he was glad to find motives of economy doing the work of physio- 
 logical reasons. As the glare dwindled and took a more subdued 
 tone, Mrs. Davve's spirits received an inverse exhilaration. She 
 even forgot the dull aching pain that had Iain with her all day on 
 the pillow, and that was the only intimation vouchsafed to her of 
 the presence of her new guest. The prompt obedience of her son 
 encouraged her to complete the victory of the morning", and regain 
 the ground lost on the evening before. For some weeks past, 
 Mrs. Dawe had tasted of power, and to be dethroned from the 
 novelty of dictatorial rank without a moment's warning was enough 
 to upset a stronger mind than hers. It was true that her new 
 kingdom had only one subject, but then she could boast of the 
 unity of the nation. Her rule might be considered despotic, but 
 was she not the mother of her people ? This close relationship to 
 her subjects did not, however, avail to mitigate her rancour, when 
 they rose as one man and defied her a proof that the love of power 
 is greater than the power of love. 
 
 Mrs. Da\ve, in short, could no more enjoy life without her whilom 
 authority than any other historic personage under similar conditions, 
 and there were precedents to warrant an attempt to regain it. 
 Napoleon indeed failed, but we have it on classical authority that 
 Dionysius became a schoolmaster at Corinth. 
 
 "Jack," said Mrs. Dawe in solemn, bleating tones, "ye was 
 out late last night." 
 
 Jack flushed, but said nothing. What scenes were these that 
 rose before him, what pictures for ever hung in the private galleries 
 of memory ?
 
 THE KEY OF THE DEVIL'S DOOR 267 
 
 " Two o'clock is a time when all honest peop!e is abed." 
 
 "You are right. M.P.'s are excluded from ihat category," Jack 
 remaiked, still with a contemptuous bitterness that would not yield 
 to reason. 
 
 " Hexactly. And as you ain't neither a M.P. nor a cat, you've 
 got no call to be out late screechin' in Parliament, or on the tiles."' 
 Mrs. Dawe's tone became sharp and peremptory as soon as she 
 heard Jack assent to the correctness of her views, but for once she 
 struck a false note. 
 
 " I do not see, madam," he replied with proud politeness, "'that 
 the hours I keep are any business of yours." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe turned pale. Had matters then irrevocably re- 
 turned to the status ante quo ? The crisis was delicate, but in 
 the current of angry emotion prudence was drowned while trying 
 to cross it, and Mrs. Dawe burst forth : "I don't see they're any 
 business of yours, neither. A man as is got a old mother to keep 
 on the brink o' the grave can't afford to knock 'isseif up for the 
 next mornin' till he goes on the parish, for/ can't afford to keep ye. 
 As yer late father said (though to be sure he was never late till he 
 was dead) it's all very well for the moon and stars to keep late 
 hours, they ain't got no work to do by day. When I was young, I 
 no more thought of flyin' in my mother's face when she asked me 
 to be 'ome early than I thought of flyin'. I ain't by no means a old 
 woman yet, and I've got plenty o' life in me; but I feel that I shall 
 soon be gone,''' here Mrs. Dawe broke down and began to sob, 
 "and then my blood will be on your shoulders." 
 
 A woman's tears are known to be her most potent engines of 
 war. "What assertions will not a man swallow when these lustrous 
 drops provide the necessary grain of salt? And while the male 
 animal is barking out his absolutely unanswerable argument, does 
 not the '' crusher " say in its trembling heart : Apres nioi le deluge ? 
 What are the dykes and seawalls of logic before this briny flood ? 
 
 Jack was thrown off his lofty pedestal by the shock, and he 
 looked uneasily at his shoulders. His heart smote him somewhat 
 at the thought of a possible neglect of duty on his part. So he 
 replied gently : " Come, come, you are ill and must not excite 
 yourself. You must take more care of yourself. I shall see that 
 you do." 
 
 "A lot you takes care o' me or o' what I says. D'ye think it 
 does me good to keep awake worritin' for ye, and waitin' to 'ear 
 ye come in till two o'clock ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, especially in your present condition. But I am 
 not aware that I ever came in so late." 
 
 " Well, did I hever 'ear so howdacious a lie ! It was lucky I 
 was a ake last night and 'eard the clock strike two and 'arf expected! 
 it to strike three only it didn't with my own ears. P'laps ye'll s;iy 
 ye didn't want to bury me alive next ! Ah, I thought ye couldn't 
 deny it. A guilty conscience is like bilin' water to a lobster, as 
 your father said. ;) 
 
 '' Well, well," said Jack, shrinking from this triumphant re
 
 -268 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 proof. " I shall not be out so late again, as far as lies in my power 
 that is." 
 
 " Then 1 tell ye what, Jack," said Mrs. Dawe, with eager eyes 
 gleaming with victory. " I don't want yer promises to be like my 
 tpiecrusts but like Mrs. Prodgers', which ye can't break if ye try 
 ever so 'ard. So you'd better let me mind yer latchkey for ye." 
 
 " I am not accustomed to have my words doubted at least not 
 so explicitly." 
 
 "'Tain't yer words I doubt, my boy," said Mrs. Dawe earnestly. 
 "" It's yer deeds. If ye think ye could slip in quietly any time ye 
 like ye might be easily tempted to forget yer duty, but if ye knew 
 ye couldn't get in without wakin' everybody ye might be more 
 careful." 
 
 The cloud on Jack's face deepened. "How keenly she inter- 
 prets the past ! " he reflected mournfully. " Again that cruel but 
 too true charge easily tempted to forget my duty." 
 
 "And remember, Jack,'' continued Mrs. Dawe, with ghost-like 
 solemnity, " remember yer late father's words the Devil's door 
 opens with a Latchkey." 
 
 A malicious smile flickered for an instant round Jack's mouth, to 
 be quenched by a sigh. 
 
 " Believe me, it was the wust day of yer life when ye asked 
 for that latchkey. It'd been better if ye'd never got it; but ye allus 
 would 'ave yer own way, and who could refuse you anything? If 
 ye knew what's good for ye, ye : d give it up at once." 
 
 " 1 cordially agree with you in every respect," replied Jack 
 grimly, yet with an air of reverie. '' Unfortunately, however, 1 am 
 afraid my sense of honour will not allow me to follow your advice." 
 
 "Well, of all the strange things I've seen," gasped Mrs. Dawe, 
 '"your sense of honour is the funniest ; sometimes it's in two places 
 at once, and sometimes it ain't to be found 'igh or low. It ought to 
 be in a show, it ought. Whenever ye're quite licked, and I'm 
 lookin' to see ye chuck up the sponge, up je chucks yer sense 
 
 of honour instead. Gimme the latchkey this minute, and d n 
 
 yer sense of honour." 
 
 Jack looked shocked, and even frightened. 
 
 " You can have the latchkey," he said hastily, " I don't want to 
 use it any more." 
 
 His mother's face flushed with triumph, and she fell back 
 exhausted. Jack felt in his right waistcoat pocket and frowned. 
 Evidently the key was not in its usual receptacle. He tried the 
 left pocket, but it was not there. Nor was it in the upper pocket, 
 nor in his inner coat pocket, nor in his breast pocket, nor in either 
 of his trousers' pockets. He recommenced the search, and his 
 brow darkened to a deeper and deeper black as the returns from 
 each intensified the probability of failure. The watcher's bro\v, 
 too, went deeper and deeper into the shades, except for one 
 moment, when her whole face lit up at the sight of a handsome 
 purse which, if purses are to judged by their looks, betokened an 
 interior as we'.l lined as an alderman's.
 
 A SOCIAL SOCIALIST 269- 
 
 "Come forth, ruiner of many lives," he muttered, fumbling 
 impatiently. "Who shall estimate all the mischief thou hast 
 done!" 
 
 " Look 'ere, Jack," said Mrs. Dawe sharply, wearying of the 
 pantomime, "if ye think to put salt on my tail, ye'll find ye've only 
 put pepper on my tongue. Give me the key 1 tells ye, and thank 
 Gord ye ain't got a fool for a mother." 
 
 Jack bit his lips. "There is nothing on earth like suspicion,"" 
 he thought, " for irritating yourself and your victim at the same 
 time." 
 
 " I must have lost the key,'' he said sternly ; " and, as I can't use 
 it, it's all the same as if you had it." 
 
 " Ye're a liar," screamed Mrs. Dawe, "it's in yer purse; ye: 
 know it is." 
 
 Jack turned as red as fire. With an impulsive movement he 
 drew out his purse and threw it open, displaying a gleaming 
 cylinder of sovereigns, whose volume precluded the possibility of" 
 the presence of such an article. Then he closed it with a snap, 
 turned on his heel, and left the room in high dudgeon, leaving 
 Mrs. Dawe in speechless astonishment. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SOCIAL SOCIALIST. 
 
 His aimless movements hurried him downstairs, and in an instant 
 he found himself in the parlour, wondering why he had come there. 
 He paused. 
 
 " More rash steps," he said with a self-mocking smile. " After 
 all, what matters the talk of a sick, fretful old woman ? I should 
 have been more considerate. Thus always comes reason after 
 impulse though it usually devotes itself to justifying the action of" 
 its predecessor. What Frenchman was it that asked whether he 
 would be less the toy of chance because chance had its seat within 
 the mind instead of without ? Truly a pregnant remark which 
 Spinoza " 
 
 "A great speaker, is he now?" came at the moment from the 
 shop, in tones which thrilled Jack to the marrow. ' I'm so sorry I 
 can't see him to-night. But I'm glad to hear he's an orator. All 
 the better for the Cause when I do convert him. We want ' tongues 
 of fire ' like those 'on Harlech gleaming' as the poet writes." 
 
 " Roast tongues is one-and-twopence a pound," interposed 
 Sally. 
 
 " The fiery tongues I mean are worth more than that, my girl," 
 replied the voice. 
 
 "Then they must be very long. Missis's 'usband used to say 
 that cooked tongues is the only ones as are the better for bein' 
 longer !
 
 270 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 A boisterous laugh ensued ; but the owner of the voice did not 
 feel with the crowd. 
 
 " This is the abode of genius,' 1 he said in hushed tones, when 
 the guffaw had subsided. " I remove my hat in awe and reverence." 
 
 " If you took my advice you'd never put it on again, old man," 
 cried another voice. 
 
 A second burst of laughter was interrupted by the entrance of 
 the master of the shop. 
 
 The painter-purveyor's eyes took in the group in a second. His 
 eyes rested, moist with emotion, upon the keen, fearless face of the 
 Socialist,, pathetically set-off by his threadbare garments, both 
 seeming to have frayed themselves away with enthusiasm. Then 
 they turned and shot a bolt of honest indignation upon the un- 
 wavering countenance of Eliza. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said the Socialist, his face lighting up with 
 joy. " Here I am, back again, like a bad penny, or the Fair Trade 
 fallacy. You will have guessed why I have returned ! " 
 
 Jack quailed before the clear glance which the man fixed upon 
 *him. Blushing at the recollection of his momentary suspicion, and 
 at the necessity of white unveracity if he would not put the man to 
 tshame, he replied : 
 
 " To continue the argument ? I assure you I have learnt some- 
 thing from the discussion." 
 
 ' ; So have I always to settle the s. d. before coming to the 
 Q. e. d." said the man, turning the disagreeable corner with a dex- 
 terity that aroused Jack's envy, and with a philosophic smile that 
 -Avon his heart. " When, ah ! when, shall we have a state of society 
 in which the Q. e. d. shall come before the ^ s. d., where intellect 
 .shall have the precedence over wealth, where Pluto shall yield to 
 Minerva ? At present, sir, the political fabric is based neither upon 
 the twelve tables of Rome, nor upon the two tables of Sinai but 
 -upon the interest tables of the ready reckoner. Were not this the 
 case, we should be not misled by a plutocracy, but guided by a 
 brainocracy, as in Fourier's scheme. We should not in all candour 
 be it spoken have men like you languishing in the uncongenial 
 atmosphere of a cook-shop, while men like Floppington are allowed 
 :to imperil the destinies of so many millions of their fellow beings. 
 . . . Nay, sir, I hope you are not offended by plain-speaking. 
 'Truth, unlike murder, will out ; and, if I have been rightly informed, 
 I but re-echo sentiments which you have expressed with a commend- 
 .able absence of that false modesty which is the bastard child of 
 Tpride. I rejoice, sir, to see the torrent of ambition plunging even 
 more restlessly not that I wish to reproach you with want of 
 .ardour out of its ancient course, and if Heaven would give me 
 strength to turn its stream in the direction of justice, I shall die 
 not all unhappy." 
 
 There was a thrill in his voice and a tear in his eye as his 
 solemn accents died away. 
 
 Jack's hand was over his throbbing eyelids and his worn figure 
 was bowed over a vegetable tureen.
 
 A SOCIAL SOCIALIST 271 
 
 " No," he decided. " How could he mean it as a reproach ? 
 Thus, then, all the world says I was right (in that respect at least) 
 either directly or by implication. Opinione regiiia del inondo, have 
 I anticipated thy commands ? . . . I have known the incense 
 of adulation wafted from the happy isles as I swam the sea of 
 thought. Yet, what am I but a child amid its depths and cur- 
 rents ? And if a fellow-swimmer has made for himself a chart by 
 which to steer his course shall I not profit by it, instead of drifting 
 aimlessly by the light of the Will-o'-the-wisp of my own reason? 
 . . . 'Tis no wonder that he is right, as the vox populi declares. 
 ' Truth hath he found in huts where poor men lie.' Is it not. then, 
 the decree of Providence that I am now destined to come to the 
 end of my search, after much buffeting? At last I recognise the 
 Etzbah Elohim that pointed my path hither. Let me then refuse 
 welcome to no soul-guest, lest Wisdom be among them." 
 
 Having come to this determination, he begged the stranger, if 
 he could spare the time, to favour him with his company within, 
 for the purpose of discussing matters too weighty for a popular 
 assemblage. He felt that a great argument could be raised 
 neither from the vapours of soup, nor from the fumes of cabbage. 
 The offer was accepted after some hesitation, and the two, the 
 Iheart of each swelling with solemn joy, quitted the shop amid the 
 mutual winking of the customers and the suspicious looks of Eliza. 
 
 The man dropped into the comfortable arm-chair which Jack 
 assigned to him, nestled within its capacious arms, crossed his legs 
 .and sighed, while Jack lit the gas and opened the window to admit 
 the salubrious breeze from the backyard. 
 
 " You seem to think," began the host, leaning thoughtfully 
 .against the mantelpiece, "that you hold the recipe for Universal 
 Justice. If this be Socialism, I must repeat that you have yourself 
 argued for the impotence of State action. How do you reconcile 
 your views ? " 
 
 " The present impotence is due to the clashing of private in- 
 terest with public expediency, in many departments. (It does not 
 exist to any great extent in the region of crime, for example.) 
 When the former ceases to exist, there will be an unimpeded force 
 working for good." 
 
 This seemed to his hearer a pregnant remark, and it proved 
 itself to be so by being delivered of several fine masculine ideas 
 which kept Jack busily attending to them for several minutes. 
 During th.s interval of silence, his soul-guest surveyed the parlour 
 furtively. The Brussels carpet, the gilded pier-glass, the stuffed 
 .birds, all excited his disapprobation. 
 
 " Ah, sir." he said suddenly, " you're too comfortable here. 
 It's not amid its luxuries that one can see the miseries of our civili- 
 sation the very chairs and tables fight against reform. In fact, if 
 luxury were thus to penetrate into the lowest strata of society I 
 should see very little hope of its reconstruction." He heaved a 
 despairing sigh. 
 
 "Am I not yet in huts where poor men lie?" murmured
 
 272 THE PREMIER AND THE PAL\ 7 TER 
 
 Jack. " I am sorry, sir, I have no worse accommodation to offer 
 you. Perhajjs your own apartments will be more congenial to un- 
 prejudiced thought. Or, shall we adjourn to the backyard ?" 
 
 The man darted a curious look at him from the corner of his 
 right eye. 
 
 " 1 am afraid we must manage to make this do," he replied 
 after a pause. "Luckily, the true philosopher is indifferent to his 
 surroundings, easily content and apt to make the best of every- 
 thing. As for my apartments, I have no residence of my own to 
 which I could invite a friend may I venture to call you a friend ? 
 Thank you, sir. Nor, even if I had the space, have I any means 
 of entertaining him in a fitting manner ; my own meals being taken 
 in public, as you are aware." 
 
 Jack started, and his hand wandered involuntarily about as if 
 in search of something. 
 
 " Can I help you ?" inquired the guest anxiously. 
 
 " Pray forgive me for my inattention," said Jack in remorseful 
 tones. ' You will take a glass of wine. I have some very fine 
 Johannisberg, a present from Prince Bismarck." 
 
 A lightning gleam lit up the Socialist's eyes, and died away 
 immediately. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! " he answered vehemently, just as Jack desisted 
 from his search and looked blankly around. " I could not, thank 
 you. I do not want anything after my supper which you saw me 
 take. Blessings on those mashed potatoes which were the means 
 of uniting our lives." 
 
 " How Nature utilises the animal instincts for nobler purposes," 
 Jack was thinking as he answered with a pathetic remembrance of. 
 the meagre meal : " You will at least join me in my supper ? " 
 
 The man shook his head. 
 
 "You are very proud," said Jack with a winning smile ; "and 
 not content with rejecting the classical principle of the symposium 
 in vino veritas you violate the still more popular axiom that man 
 was not born to eat alone." 
 
 " Say no more. No one shall call me proud," was the proud 
 response. " Command me as you please." 
 
 "Then I command you to command what you please," said 
 Jack gaily. "Bread is more than the staff of life, it is the cement 
 of friendship. It is thus that the material universe subserves the 
 spiritual ; nay, even symbolises it, as Swedenborg perceived. Though 
 I must confess that his efforts after perfect parallelism seem to me 
 as useless as Hegelian attempts to deduce inanimate Nature. These 
 magnificent conceptions are but depoetised by detail, like the 
 similes of Donne, which even Johnson " 
 
 An exclamation of alarm from his guest interrupted him, and he 
 stopped. 
 
 " Oh pray, continue," cried the man. " I merely thought the 
 pirl was going to drop a cauldron of soup as she passed through 
 t lie kitchen. She seems very reckless. It would be a pity to waste 
 such odorous soup."
 
 A SOCIAL SOCIALIST 273 
 
 "Sally!" cried Jack. In a second the girl was at his side, 
 looking mutely up to him like a faithful dog. Her face was flushed 
 and perspiring, and cross-barred with black ; but it grew almost 
 white with indignation when Jack administered a mild rebuke and 
 begged her to be more careful. 
 
 " He's a liar ! " she shrieked. " Everybody's agen me. I ain't 
 bin near the kitchen for the last five minutes." This shameless 
 mendacity provoked a second reproof, which, in its turn, provoked 
 further protestations, until at last, the question at issue having 
 gradually been transformed into another, he pacified her by assuring 
 her that he had every confidence in her good intentions, and she 
 returned as light-hearted as she came. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for this interruption," resumed Jack. "You 
 were saying, I believe, that Dr. Johnson 
 
 The man stared, but answered as he buttoned his coat : " My 
 observation will keep for another time. I will not detain you any 
 longer from your supper. Good night, sir." 
 
 Instead of taking the proffered hand, Jack dashed his own to 
 his brow and ran frantically into the shop. 
 
 " Sally ! " he cried. " Lay supper for two inside. Bring the 
 best you have." 
 
 "We ain't got no best," whispered Sally. "I must cook it 
 'specially. But I ain't a-goin' to cook for '/;." 
 
 " Don't be obstinate, Sally," he pleaded. Sally melted im- 
 mediately. 
 
 " Well, mind you gives 'im the bones," she murmured. 
 
 Jack returned to his guest, and, after profuse apologies, suc- 
 ceeded in reseating him in the arm-chair. The little tussle with 
 his host seemed to rouse the man's spirit, for, from this moment 
 till supper was brought in, he was unflagging in rhetoric, reasoning, 
 and repartee. And if he was silent during the meal it was only due 
 to the length of his host's monologues, which politeness forbade him 
 to interrupt. Once, indeed, his otherwise mental commentary took 
 the form of a whistle stifled in its birth. This was when Jack ex- 
 pounded his views on the German criticisms of Genesis. It subse- 
 quently transpired that his own opinions on those points were almost 
 identical, and he sneered at Natural Selection (as became a 
 Socialist and a Christian), to find himself gently rebuked for in- 
 tolerance of what might be a partial truth. 
 
 Jack was delighted to discover that his guest was no secular 
 Communist, but one of the school of Maurice and Kingsley. He 
 got down his long, gleaming clay pipes from the rack in his bedroom 
 where they had lain unsmoked for weeks, despatched Sally for a 
 packet of Old Judge (a tobacco recommended by his friend), and 
 the curiously-assorted pair passed a most convivial and argumenta- 
 tive evening in nubibus. Each appeared to find the other charm- 
 ing, and there was a reciprocal influence of thought on thought, a 
 common flexibility of opinion, and a mutual modifiability which 
 was as enjoyable as it was rare. On the whole, however, the 
 Socialist maintained a conscious and oracular superiority over his
 
 274 
 
 friendly opponent. His utterances were more ex cathedrA, literally 
 as well as metaphorically, for Jack walked about the room for the 
 most part, while he remained plumped in the soft recesses of the 
 arm-chair. Just when the conversation had reached the apogee of 
 interest, he looked at the gilt clock ticking brazenly with loud in- 
 accuracy and declared that he had vastly overstayed his time. 
 Despite Jack's entreaties he buttoned himself up resolutely, and the 
 last few moments were spent in strangling conversation on various 
 topics. The beauty and intelligence of the oil-painted faces of his 
 host's progenitors came in for a meed of praise, and the news of 
 the mother's illness was received with becoming regret. A light 
 allusion to the nobility and unselfishness of countenance of the head 
 waitress developed into a lengthy appreciation under the warmth of 
 Jack's smile of assent. 
 
 " I cannot promise to come again for sometime," he said at last, 
 "but as you say you are always at home in the evening, I shall 
 endeavour to form your mind whenever I can. I wish you a very 
 good night, sir." He made a few steps into the shop, plunged his 
 hands into his pockets and straightened his shoulders for the home- 
 ward walk. Then he stopped with a jerk and turned on his heels. 
 
 " How stupid ! " he cried, coming towards Jack with an annoyed 
 air. " I find I've unconsciously put the rest of the Old Judge into 
 my pocket. Yours is the proper place for it." 
 
 " You are welcome to it, my dear sir,' ; returned Jack. " I am a 
 poor smoker myself." 
 
 " Nonsense, sir," cried the Socialist with equal heartiness. "It 
 would be inconsistent with my convictions to keep it all. No, sir, 
 we share and share alike." 
 
 With these words the Socialist drew out the mass of sweet- 
 smelling weed and proceeded to divide his friend's properly with 
 the utmost conscientiousness. So strict was his sense of justice, 
 that there was not a fibre's breadth of difference between the two 
 portions. Jack watched the progress with an ever-growing admira- 
 tion of his guest's scrupulosity, and he allowed the man to ram his 
 share into his pocket without further protest. Then the Socialist 
 stowed away his own half hurriedly (for it was now eleven o'clock), 
 and bade him a hasty adieu, almost overturning the shutter-bearing 
 Sally in his exit. 
 
 Eliza came into the parlour, fagged and dead-beat. 
 
 " Oh, Jack," she cried, " what a roaring trade you do do ! I am 
 glad for your sake ; but the work is dreadful. It is wonderful how 
 you can do for love what you would not do for money." 
 
 " Poor girl," said Jack, passing his hand over her hot forehead. 
 " Have you, too, discovered that barter is not the one principle of 
 existence? But a noble-minded man, a seer indeed, has set me 
 hoping that the reign of universal love is at hand. Nay, Sally, why 
 march you like a regiment of cavalry? Fie, fie, unknit that 
 threatening, unkind brow.'' 
 
 " You are too kind to her," murmured Eliza, leaning back with 
 closed eyes on Jack's shoulder. " Oh, I am so tired."
 
 A SOCIAL SOCIALIST 275 
 
 " Serve ye right," snapped Sally. " I could a-done everything 
 without ye. One pair of 'ands is enough." 
 
 " Then you are not wanted," retorted Eliza, " and the quicker 
 you take your departure the better.'"' With these words and a dis- 
 dainful glance she went upstairs to say good night to Mrs. Dawe 
 and to put on her things. 
 
 At the sight of the proudly-mounting symmetrical back Sally 
 put her oleaginous apron to her eyes. 
 
 " Don't cry," exclaimed Jack. " You shall not be dismissed, so 
 you may disregard her inuendoes. Now you are crying. Oh 
 dear, this is very annoying. I wish I could promote a better 
 understanding between you. There, do calm yourself, my child. 
 All quarrels are the result of misconceptions, I assure you, whi!e 
 hearts are longing for each other. Moreover, remember that your 
 little troubles are but a grain to the misery of humanity." 
 
 "Suppose it is a grain," sobbed Sally. "Ain't I a grain too?" 
 
 The astonishing profundity of this remark (spoilt though it was 
 by the subsequent addition of " and as good a grain as 'er any day) 
 staggered Jack. 
 
 "Said I not there were wondrous potentialities in her?" he 
 thought. " I must set to work upon her education without delay. ' 
 
 Sally, being informed of this determination, dried her eyes. 
 ' And you mustn't believe the lies she tells ye when yer seein' 'er 
 ome," she postulated. 
 
 " Of course not," said Jack, putting on his overcoat in a flurry 
 and looking somewhat dazed. 
 
 Eliza came down equipped for the walk, veiled, gloved, 
 parasoled, ladylike. An interesting languor pervaded her, and her 
 liquid eyes swam lustrously. She took Jack's arm and moved 
 gracefully through the shop and conducted him into the street. 
 Then, without a word to Sally, who stood at the door looking 
 after them with little thrills and shivers and shudders and eye- 
 dartings, she walked down the deserted road, with slow, mincing 
 steps, leaning proudly on her lover's arm. 
 
 That night she slept with great perseverance, and would not be 
 turned aside from the thorough performance of her nocturnal 
 functions, even by the most tempting dreams and there were not 
 a few of Love's young ones hovering about her pillow. This sound 
 practice is much to be commended indeed, the unflagging ardour 
 with which Eliza carried on any sleep which she had once begun, 
 never giving over till she had completely finished it, howsoever long 
 it took her, made her a model of sturdy resolution. Still, to prevent 
 discouragement to many a struggling aspirant, it must be admitted 
 that the heroine was, on this occasion at least, greatly aided by 
 circumstances. The hour came, and the woman. But had Fortune 
 not provided her with the opportunity of earning Mrs. Davve's bread 
 literally by the sweat of her brow, it is not improbable that her 
 rare force of spirit, her unique talent for slumber, would have 
 effected a similar result. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT. 
 
 ELEVEN o'clock, and a glorious night ! Windy withal, and sombre 
 when sputters of inky cloud spread over the sky as over a firma- 
 ment of blotting-paper hiding the pure, argent disc of Heaven's 
 own mintage. Free of Eliza, Jack once more had eyes for the 
 beauty of wild skies, and the dusk sadness of streets. An afterglow 
 of the evening's enthusiasm warmed his heart, and with quick 
 thoughts, and slow steps, he paced the almost deserted pavements 
 that coiled round and then slunk away from the sleeping Victoria 
 Park. He forgot the flight of time and the want of a latchkey ; and 
 the landscape, with its twinkling perspectives and reeling figures,. 
 often tempted him out of himself. 
 
 Crouched beneath the tangled jungles of Night, the serpents of 
 streets lay numb and torpid. Yet were many alive at fanged head 
 and poisonous tail, and occasionaHy a central ganglion quivered; 
 with vitality. For the demon of alcohol had galvanised them witli 
 his electric thrill, and touched them with unholy fire. The public- 
 houses were full, and many a one vomited brawling choruses. 
 Before the glistening bars, Disease held his ghastly revels, while 
 Death grinned in the corner and rubbed his hands. 
 
 Mushrooms in growth, and toadstools in operation, they studded 1 
 the meadows of stone, flaunting and bright-eyed as poppies, and,, 
 like them, offering to drowse the wakeful care. Without, waited 
 frequently meek-eyed women or children, or more rarely, meek- 
 eyed men. The attitude of unconscious martyrdom was eloquent 
 of the Past, and in the multiplying mirror of Jack's consciousness,, 
 their patient figures stood watching in wistful silence through how 
 many nights and years. . . . 
 
 There was a slimy canal trailing away in phosphorescent black- 
 ness. By day it did its dull, tedious work it was something in 
 the coal trade but at night it put off all restraint, and came out in 
 its true colours as a ghoul, a vampire, that sucked the blood out of 
 a man's face, and made the pale wretch shudder with superstitious 
 awe and foreboding. Yet malarious, grimy, and loathsome as it 
 appeared, many a mortal had found its sluggish breast the sweetest 
 resting-place. The fascination of silence, dreariness, and depth 
 took hold of Jack, and he leaned over the parapet and gazed into 
 the slumbrous waters. 
 
 But no East End canal could be serious long. Whatever look 
 of solemnity and barren forlornness it endeavoured to assume, its 
 terrors were lost on a gang of noisy revellers who now passed over 
 it. In vain its shadows folded their arms austerely, and drew their 
 togas round them. It could not keep its countenance before men 
 for whom Earth had neither weirdness nor mystery. The awful 
 despair and melancholy died out of its eyes, its sombre vitality 
 vanished, and it returned to a dull and muddy blankness.
 
 THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT 277 
 
 " They are happy, these beatified oysters," said Jack. 
 
 They were, these sponges of a larger growth, and more delibe- 
 rate imbibition. " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we work.'' 
 
 " Thus," says an essayist of the period, " runs the unspoken 
 motto of many a British workman, who lengthens his days by honour- 
 ing his father and mother, and stealing a few hours from the night 
 as they did. And if he cannot sip Falernian with Horace or 
 champagne with Tom Moore, he can swill beer with fellows as jolly 
 as either. Then he sings light, laughing lyrics of love, with un- 
 metrical choruses, where the syllables must form improper liaisons 
 to come under the tune an evil that philosophers tell us always 
 arises from overcrowding and where grammatical forms that can 
 never agree in more polite society dwell together in friendliest con- 
 cord. His notions of musical harmony are confined to singing the 
 melody an octave lower than his companions, or in a different key 
 from theirs ; and should he by any chance attempt a few chords, 
 he proves all the rules by supplying all the exceptions. Notes that 
 live, like husband and wife, in too intimate connection to harmoniie 
 together, make ineffective attempts at fraternising, while consecu- 
 tive fifths tread on each other's heels." 
 
 With the passing of this cheerful, straggling procession the 
 Canal reasserted itself, and tried to brazen out its momentary lapse 
 into prosaic griminess In the warm air it breathed out its soul in 
 strange sepulchral scents, while overhead, dull, bloated, bedraggled 
 clouds lay like ghastly corpses lazily drifting on aerial tides. 
 
 Jack shuddered. The silence and loneliness were intensified 
 by the dying away of the rough notes and the tramp of feet. His 
 nerves were overstrung by the incidents of the last few days. 
 There was oppression in the heavy air, and the lurid darkness was 
 filled with shapes, and impalpable forms in his rear closed around 
 him. The Universe was a charnel-house, and he the only living 
 person in it. Everywhere was corruption, putrescence, death. He 
 made a step forward. That faint glow far ahead, how welcome it 
 was with its suggestions of life and cheerfulness ! And if it 
 suggested boisterousness too, why, aggressive vitality was better 
 than none at all. Even under the pressure of formless awe, he was 
 not unconscious of a new insight into the motives which drove the 
 men he had just sneered at to the public-house. The dreariness 
 of his surroundings might well symbolise the misery of their home- 
 lives, and the plaintive thought stirred him like a dying cadence of 
 music to noble remorse and larger sympathy. The sound of 
 distant footsteps arrested his own. He peered through the gloom, 
 and lo, advancing fearlessly in the midst of all these terrors, was a 
 small, barefooted maid. On she came with steady stride, an image 
 of purity and innocence, like Una in the Enchanted Forest, and 
 in her hand she swung a beer-can. 
 
 "A little child that lightly draws its breath what does it know 
 of death?" murmured Jack. Her clear eyes returned his glance 
 unabashed. She was very, very little, and had an old-fashioner) 
 .air. Her dress, like " the clouds in the night rack," was " ragged
 
 278 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and brown." The quaint candour of her interrogative scrutiny 
 amused Jack, whose heart had already gone out to the dear little 
 thing who walked unmoved where he had feared to tread. 
 
 " How old are you, my child ? " he inquired kindly. 
 
 " I'm more than seven," sharply replied the little maid, tossing 
 her head. 
 
 " Do you go to school ?" he asked, laying a gentle hand upon 
 her shoulder. The small figure palpitated under his touch. 
 
 " Us ont le tremblement des feu i lies" thought Jack. "It is 
 infinitely suggestive that men so diverse as Victor Hugo and 
 Wordsworth should find their point of contact in reverence for the 
 child. It is not enough for the races to feminise themselves as 
 Renan says. They must become as little children." 
 
 All the arch roguery was gone out of the girl's face. 
 
 " Oh, please, sir," she screamed as soon as her breath came 
 back. " I was only larkin'. I ain't five yet. I didn't know as 
 you was the School Board. Five next Chrismus, 'onner bright." 
 
 She jerked herself from under his arm, but Jack caught her 
 with a quick action. 
 
 " My poor child," he said, " do not be frightened of me. 
 Will your mother buy you a pair of boots if I give you the 
 money ? " 
 
 The barefooted maid looked up, still fluttering. 
 
 " D'ye mean it ?" she asked cautiously. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "'Onner bright?" 
 
 " Honour bright." As he said the words a pang traversed his 
 heart, and somehow the words sauf rhonneur tingled in his ear. 
 " What will your boots cost ? " he added abstractedly. 
 
 " May be fifteen bob, may be a quid," replied the child 
 promptly. 
 
 Jack put his hand into his pocket. For some time he fumbled 
 amid meshes of tobacco. Then gradually a look of astonishment 
 came over his face as he realised that his purse was gone gone 
 under the very nose of the Old Judge. But amidst all the con- 
 sternation of the discovery, the disappointment of the little girl 
 was vividly present to him. 
 
 " Don't fret, child," he said, smoothing her tangled locks ; " I 
 have mislaid my purse, and have nothing with me but paper ; but if 
 you will come with me to my house " 
 
 " Now what little game are you up to, eh?" cried a rough voice. 
 At the same moment Jack's arm was rudely seized by a helmeted 
 apparition in blue that seemed to have just been solidified out of 
 the environing darkness. 
 
 Angels and Ministers of grace defend him ! 
 
 An electric shock of repulsion thrilled through his being as the 
 bull's eye flashed full in his face. His eyes darted indignant 
 lightnings. 
 
 " How dare you ? " he exclaimed haughtily. " Unhand me ! "
 
 THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT 279 
 
 The policeman flinched before his angry scorn. But he had not 
 tramped a London beat ten years for nothing. 
 
 " Lor' bless you," he said good-humouredly ; " It's no pcod 
 coming that dodge on me. I've had my eye on you for some time, 
 and when I hear a female screamin' at this hour and come up and 
 find it's you, why it looks a bit suspicious, don't it now ?" 
 
 The violent shock of horror and antipathy at this, his first 
 contact with the dread majesty of the law, subsided even as the 
 constable was addressing him, and never, henceforward, did his 
 pride shrink up in all its pores with such unutterable disdain as 
 on this occasion. // ifest que le premier pas qni coute. 
 
 " From your point of view," he replied mildly, " I admit that 
 it does." 
 
 " This is a soft-sawdery chap," reflected his captor. 
 
 "But," continued Jack, "now that I tell you that you have made 
 a mistake, you will please move on." 
 
 " Me- move on ! " gasped J 30. " Not till I know more about 
 this affair anyhow. Tell me, my little dear, what's he been sayin' 
 to you? Has he been trying to take away your change?" 
 
 The little dear spoke up sharply. The unworthy trick of 
 dangling a visionary pair of boots before her glistening eyes had 
 cut her to the heart. 
 
 "As I was a-goin' 'ome with the supper-beer," she said, " 'e 
 stopped me and wanted to know 'ow old I was." 
 
 He turned his lantern on Jack with fresh interest. 
 
 ' What a sickly debauched-looking fare," he thought. " I 
 shouldn't like to have his sins to answer for." 
 
 " So then," proceeded Una, " 'e arxed me if I went to school, 
 and if I would like a pair of boots, and wen I ses ' yes,' 'e ses 'e's 
 'lost his purse.'" The disappointment was too keen, and she broke 
 down and sobbed bitterly, and diluted the Barclay and Perkins. 
 
 " My poor child ! " said Jack, much affected. " If you will give 
 me your name and address you shall be amply compensated. The 
 child has spoken the exact truth," he added, turning to the police- 
 man. "Truth is the natural instinct of the young soul, which comes 
 trailing clouds of glory. You see, therefore, that you are guilty of 
 a misapprehension." 
 
 J 30 was not inclined by any means to admit this either 
 in its mental or its physical sense, but before he could speak, 
 Jack went on : "But, although you are mistaken in this instance, I 
 rejoice to have had this practical testimony of the zeal of an often- 
 abused body of men. I shall remember your number and recom- 
 mend you at head-quarters for promotion." 
 
 J 30 had had many a strange experience but never such a one 
 as this. He stared, he dropped his hold of Jack's arm, he grew 
 frightened and confused. Surely, here was something more than 
 chaff, or the stratagetics of injured innocence. The sincere and 
 authoritative ring of the words carried alarmed conviction even to 
 prejudiced ears. Nay, as he looked again, was there not a noble
 
 23o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 dignity in the pale face, a condescending majesty in the bent 
 figure ? What a fool he had been ! But Fortune favours fools, and 
 surely there was no cause for remorse rather was there reason for 
 rejoicing. The mystei ions stranger seemed to recognise that he 
 had done his duty, and had even promised him advancement. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," he faltered. "Even a policeman is 
 liable to mistakes now and then." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," said Jack fervently. " You have 
 done your duty. Would we could all say as much ! '' 
 
 " As for promotion, sir, I never expected it," he responded with 
 truth. This non-expectancy was, of course, the natural state of 
 mind in one who was conscious of having always deserved it. 
 How, indeed, could he anticipate that he would blunder into it like 
 Shadwell into sense ? 
 
 " There is nothing certain but the unexpected," said Jack 
 musingly. 
 
 "Well, I shall be glad of it, for the sake of my wife and 
 children, if it does come. Much as I should value the honour, I 
 needn't tell you that, as a family man, I shall value the rise more. 
 Twenty-eight shillings a week is hardly enough to keep ten bodies 
 and souls together." 
 
 "Twenty-eight shillings a week," muttered the painter bitterly, 
 " for guarding the commonweal in the concrete. And for neglecting 
 the commonweal in the abstract the first Minister of the Crown 
 gets He paused suddenly, perceiving that the policeman had 
 overheard his reflections. 
 
 " With all due respect, sir," observed the officer, " it would be 
 ungrateful in a policeman to admit that Floppington, God bless 
 him, has been neglectin' his duty, after that Bill of his." 
 
 Jack's eyes filled with tears, but he replied warmly : " Honour 
 where honour is due. Floppington had little to do with the Act 
 you refer to. Because he happened to be Prime Minister, you 
 must not suppose that all the good was done by him." He paused, 
 and added with bitterness: "As for all the evil, that of course 
 is his work only." Then, taking Una's name and address, he patted 
 her kindly on the head and sent her home with fresh hope. He 
 watched the little form tripping gaily along the cold stones till it 
 was lost in the gloom, and his heart swelled with emotion at the 
 vision of Truth and Cheerfulness incarnate. He pictured the 
 squalid home lit up by her presence, the rough father and mother 
 softened by her innocence. But had he foreseen the " whacking " 
 she got for "bein' so long with the beer and spilin' the supper, 
 and then tellin' a 'cap of crackers to get out of it," he would, perhape, 
 have found it of a piece with his previous experience, and might 
 have indulged in philosophical reflections. 
 
 The voice of J 30 broke the silence. 
 
 " You said something about missing your purse. Can you think 
 of how it went? I mean for instance, did you notice any one 
 brushing near you ? " 
 
 " It does not matter," interrupted Jack.
 
 THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT 281 
 
 " Excuse the presumption, sir. I do not wish to inquire who 
 you are, but if you want to explore these regions you should provide 
 yourself with an escort. By applying to our inspector ;; 
 
 " Thank you," replied Jack abruptly, " I prefer to go alone. Gocd 
 night ! " 
 
 "Good night, sir,'' cried the policeman. "Beg pardon, sir, 
 and thank you. Good night, sir ! " 
 
 With these words the functionary resumed his measured trainp, 
 having supplied a noteworthy disproof of the caviller's assertion 
 that the Force is no remedy. And in the exuberance of his heart, 
 (or the rest of the night he rattled windows and shook doors like a 
 small earthquake. 
 
 Jack did not go far. The same public-house still beckoned 
 invitingly ahead, but it had lost its attractions. That temporary 
 irrational fit of superstitious dread whitfc occasionally seizes on the 
 strongest intellect was over now, and somehow the last words 01" 
 J 30 had sent his thoughts into retrospective channels and raised 
 emotions of such depth that fear was swallowed up and drowned. 
 As quick thoughts came and went, carne and stayed, poisoning his 
 very blood and setting his veins on fire, he seemed for the first 
 time to realise his own misery. 
 
 The scene in Parliament, which had so occupied his mind on 
 the previous night, was again present to his fevered brain, but witli 
 increased vividness ; and as that picture faded, others associated 
 \uth it flashed and flamed, and burnt themselves in fiery images on 
 the night. He staggered, and had to support himself against the 
 railing of a house. The minutes passed, and still the pictures 
 flashed and waned. 
 
 On the other side of the road the shrouded Park stretched away, 
 the trees linked by darkness to fictitious unity, and the sombre 
 leafage stirring restlessly. The firs bent solemnly towards the 
 poplars in the opposite gardens, as if to catch the whispers of their 
 leaves. The tall poplars drew back before them, disturbing the 
 lung gaunt shadows with which they had trellised the facades. A 
 gay chorus, that issued from the glow of light at the end of the 
 btreet, took sadness and mystery from distance, and the rustle of 
 the wind mingled mournfully with it. 
 
 And now the visions changed. Surely this was not the pano- 
 rama of his own life, these scenes of pain and disease and death ? 
 Rather were they phantoms conjured up by the words of the 
 Socialist, these miserable interiors where human beings huddled 
 and quarrelled till they were carted away to wider quarters. What 
 else, in sooth, was that monotonous series of buildings, high or low, 
 broad or narrow, where morn or eve, in sunshine or fog, by daylight 
 or gaslight, hasting, unresting, iron wheels were turning, grinding 
 out young lives ? Was it the blood throbbing in his veins that 
 made him hear the ceaseless whirr of the machinery, or did the 
 notes of the distant chorus and the restless rustle of the wind shape 
 themselves into its remorseless pulsations ? 
 
 Midnight announced by the brazen tongues of di\inken woir.cn,
 
 282 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and trolled from the beery mouths of reeling men staggering from 
 their lost paradise, whose gates closed behind them. They were 
 coming his way, these fallen mortals, with clamorous laughter and 
 ribald shouting. On they straggled, like the rout of Comus, without 
 a leader, the enchanter being left behind, yawningly contemplating 
 his crowded tills. 
 
 Frowsy, with dishevelled tresses streaming on the wind, two 
 girls, quite young, but with a debauched, womanly expression, 
 danced along before the rest, hoarsely chanting a doggrel music- 
 hall ballad. As they came near, Jack recognised in them the stuff 
 of which his dreams were made. He had often seen them going to 
 work in the morning, carrying their dinners wrapped up in sheets 
 of fiction. These, then, were the factory girls, the victims of the 
 Juggernaut Car of the modern religion of Supply and Demand, 
 ground beneath its wheels without the hopes that soften the anguish 
 of the Hindoo. Was it to be expected that they should " live with- 
 out opium," or seek purer sources of joy in their scanty moments of 
 leisure ? 
 
 Emotion overpowered him. The whole scene with its rowdy 
 figures became one blur to his eyes ; he raised his hands in suppli- 
 cation and blessing. Blinded by tears, through the surging words 
 of unspoken prayer, he heard them calling to him with coarse, 
 reckless laughter. And then he felt their hot. panting breaths close 
 upon him, reeking in the heavy air, and they seemed to have 
 recognised him, for, as he brushed the tears away from his eyes, a 
 jeering cry broke upon his ears : 
 
 " Mad Jack ! " 
 
 He turned and gazed into their flushed, dissolute faces with a 
 look of ineffable pity.
 
 BOOK r. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 RUMOUR'S HUNDRED TONGUES. 
 
 THE Bobo difficulty was approaching solution. After some weeks 
 of ceaseless telegraphing, questioning, vapouring, ranting, reason- 
 ing, and manoeuvring, fluttering half the embassies of Europe, 
 it began to leak out that the island in dispute had no material 
 existence, and as no nation had as yet committed itself to insolent 
 despatches, manifestoes, or ultimatums, there was at least a 
 reasonable hope that the diplomatists would bring their negotia- 
 tions to an amicable issue. 
 
 Meantime, the Reform Bill, amended as the Prime Minister 
 had promised, had received the signature of the Sovereign. Every 
 man or woman, not a criminal in confinement, nor a lunatic, was 
 now seised of a vote as soon as he or she had attained the age of 
 twenty-one; though, as an illustration of how Nature disposes what 
 statecraft proposes, it may be pointed out that only a small 
 minority ot unmarried women laid claim to their new privilege. 
 The triumph of Floppington in piloting into port so vast a measure, 
 though his party was in a helpless minority, and though he had had 
 to contend with an envenomed and splendidly-organised Opposition, 
 raised him immensely in the eyes of the country. Moreover, the 
 threatened disintegration of trie Ministiy had not taken place. 
 The Ministers, who had temporarily wavered in their allegiance, 
 owing to the disturbing influence of Mountchapel, were conscience- 
 stricken when they discovered that Floppington was a rising and not 
 a waning force. They thought almost with tears of their long attach- 
 ment to that noble-minded man, and penitently resolved to have 
 nothing more to do with the late Foreign Secretary, at least for the 
 present. Bardolph's political fortunes were for the moment despe- 
 rate. His faction had hopelessly broken down. After its defeat, one 
 part of it had gone back to the right and the other to the left, and 
 its leader was left stranded. The young and vigorous Conservatives, 
 who had not very long ago looked upon him as the only man who 
 could give new life to the cause, and upon the Premier as the
 
 284 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 personification of incompetence, saw that they had under-estimated 
 the subtle transforming influences of power, and recognised with 
 joy that the new Floppington had out-Bardolphed Bardolph in 
 audacity. The desertion of the Ex-Minister by the Old Tories 
 was, if possible, even more complete. Though they had temporarily 
 allied themselves with him to oppose the promised amendment, their 
 motives were not his motives, and even at the moment of their 
 common defeat they experienced a secret joy at the downfall of the 
 whippersnapper, the arrogant bantling against whom they had 
 always cherished a deadly hatred; and the recurrent attacks upon 
 him in their evening paper marked the venting of their long- 
 repressed rancour. Worst of all, the causes of the split in the 
 Tory camp having ceased to exist, they were now ready to lend a 
 loyal support to Floppington. 
 
 Thus the only results of Bardolph's political intrigues had been 
 first to make the Cabinet, and then the party, thoroughly unanimous. 
 To have been entrapped when he thought he was setting gins for 
 his rival, to have taken no single step that did not contribute to the 
 popularity, influence, and resources of that rival, these were surely 
 the bitterest drops in his cup of humiliation. In one point alone 
 he had beaten the Premier; but it was a success that, in his opinion, 
 counterbalanced all his defeats. Gwendolenwastobehis. Thevictory 
 he had won was irrevocable, while the triumphs of his adversary 
 were infinitely precarious, and perpetually liable to reversal. But 
 still there was no getting over the fact that for the moment at least 
 his star had paled before Floppington's. 
 
 The immense interest excited by the Premier in the con- 
 temporary" mind was not due simply to his political career. The 
 audacity with which he seized on the ideas which were " in the air," 
 where their original owners had allowed them to escape ; the 
 stability of his Cabinet, despite the loss of its strongest member; 
 the thoroughness of his reorganisation of the Conservative party, 
 now more compact than at any previous period since the retirement 
 of Beaconsfield ; these topics, interesting as they were, were not 
 so eagerly canvassed as the more dubious items that hovered from 
 lip to lip. 
 
 Rumour had indeed been very busy with the name of Flopping- 
 ton during the last six weeks or so. Far and widespread the news 
 she told, for she has the largest circulation in the world as well as 
 the greatest inaccuracy. She said he was developing various 
 small idiosyncrasies, though she whispered the particulars of them 
 to a select coterie only, putting off the world at large with the hint 
 of a general diffused eccentricity. She said that his new activity 
 in the House was paralleled by his restless participation in the life of 
 society. She said that he was engaged to Lady Harley, that the 
 match had been broken off, that he had never been engaged to her 
 at all, and that the lady in question was about to wed Lord Bardolph 
 Mountchapel. This last item, being confirmed by the silence of the 
 parties interested, profited Bardolph not a little A reflex of the 
 popularity of the charming lady he was going to lead to the altar
 
 RUMOUR'S HUNDRED TONGUES 285. 
 
 irradiated the partially-eclipsed statesman. He had been further 
 damaged by the good faith displayed by Floppington, which made- 
 his own vaunted unfaith in the Premier appear the result of spite, and 
 weakened the belief of the millions in the sincerity of his advocacy 
 of the cause of woman. But the manifest confidence of Lady 
 Harley in his earnestness restored that of the world at large. 
 Gwendolen's many gracious acts of kindness had endeared her to 
 the masses, and her successful struggle for Female Suffrage lent 
 additional piquancy to her union with its noble champion. 
 
 Thus far Rumour for the present. But the gods were busily 
 nursing on their knees (poor henpecked Olympians ! were the god- 
 desses gadding about in fashionable spheres ?) young events soon to 
 be let loose on the world and fated to electrify it with a series of 
 sensations, the like whereof hath been granted to no generation 
 before or since. 
 
 From the rise of this sun to power even to the going down 
 thereof, the political and social barometer portended lively weather, 
 occasionally culminating in earthquake with shocks neither few nor 
 gentle. Never before had editors such a good time ! Had he 
 remained in the zenith, the silly season would have disappeared, 
 from the journalistic almanac. For in the sale of newspapers he 
 was a most valuable element, even before certain suspicions fell 
 upon him. To use the language of the chemists, he was equivalent 
 to a large number of atoms of crime and to a small number of 
 atoms of divorce. He was even capable of displacing one molecule- 
 of indecency. 
 
 It was on the Premier's love affairs that Rumour's hundred- 
 tongues were wagging most busily, each in contradiction of the rest, 
 and so many were the theories that it seemed as if the goddess had 
 " taken on " a few extra tongues for the occasion. 
 
 The simple facts were interpreted as variously as if they had 
 been parts of the life of Hamlet, and had never happened at all 
 'l he morning papers, as was their wont, preserved a discreet silence 
 when all the world was longing for a word of comment. The: 
 Society journals allowed enough traces of their ignorance to be 
 visible to persuade everybody that their information was complete. 
 Hut at last the general journalistic reserve was rudely shaken off by 
 City Gossip, which came out with an accurately false account of the 
 whole affair, headed " Immorality in the Cabinet." It demanded 
 
 the reason why the lovely E B had been dismissed from 
 
 her situation at Lady G H 's ? The number, being instantly 
 
 suppressed, had asaleequallingthat of the recently-completed Revised 
 Version, besides similarly varying in price from a shilling to a 
 guinea ; and the purchasers of the two were not so distinct as the 
 present-day reader might imagine. The bad thought it was too 
 good to be true, and the good that it was too bad to be false. It 
 was felt with joy by many Liberals, with sorrow by many 
 Conservatives, that the Premier had supplied a powerful argument 
 for Liberalism. 
 
 But it was reserved for a later generation to know the truth, or
 
 286 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 what is still considered such by flippant magazine writers ; for was 
 not the notorious Mr. Postscena engaged on those posthumous 
 memoirs which he intended to bring out as soon as he was old 
 enough to know better? Does not this chronique scandaleuse bid 
 us eschew the crude theories of the vulgar in favour of the subtler 
 .scandal which appeals to the educated palate, and which runs that 
 the Premier, who had lately grown fond of power, had entered into 
 a secret arrangement by which Lady Harley was given up to Lord 
 Bardolph, on condition of his retiring from the Cabinet, and that 
 the Litter's attack on Floppington was purely Jesuitical ? 
 
 This hypothesis has the merit of connecting several disparate 
 events; but as it does not readily square with the sequel, the present 
 writer has reluctantly abandoned it as untenable, preferring the 
 methods of the shoals of reviewers who have explained everything 
 on purely natural grounds without the deus ex macJiina of a secret 
 treaty. With the most painfully precise psychological analysis, 
 many of these have irrefutably demonstrated that the changes in 
 the Premier's attitude towards political problems were necessary 
 points in the evolution of his personality, and that they might have 
 been predicted by the philosophic observer. 
 
 With equal profundity it has been shown by others that the 
 development of Conservatism during the latter period of the 
 Ministry of the elder Floppington was not due to the man at all, 
 but was the inevitable result of the antecedent state of Anglican 
 factions, foreign relations, society, religion, ideals, and other ab- 
 stractions. It was rightly pointed out by Professor Seeley that to 
 .attribute this expansion to Floppington (the mere exponent of the 
 .progress) was to mistake the shadow for the substance. All right- 
 thinking, that is, all scientific minds would admit that had this 
 particular Premier never been born, English Conservatism would 
 have had a similar history. Thus the then chief of the prophets 
 who never prophesy until they know. 
 
 But for a marvel of constructive skill the curious reader must go 
 -to the Life of Flopping ton, by M. N. Backs. It is as ingeniously 
 put together as any of Fanton's fictions. Wonderful as is the first 
 volume, it is utterly eclipsed by the second, in which the writer's 
 inventiveness, far from being exhausted by a first flight, is fresher 
 than ever. The brilliancy of the book is at its maximum at the 
 present point of the Premier's history, despite the entire failure of 
 documentary evidence, except letters of the most formal description 
 merely signed by the Premier. Hardly the smallest scrap in the 
 Premier's handwriting during this period has been forthcoming ; 
 the pressure of extraordinary public business would seem to have 
 prevented familiar and unreserved epistolary intercourse of any 
 description ; yet, for all that, the biographer has been able to give 
 the world a highly consistent account of a period of inconsistency. 
 Though the present historian cannot agree with even one of Mr. 
 Dacks's conclusions, he cannot refrain from paying his humble 
 -.tribute to the fine qualities of style that characterise this ever- 
 -memorable production.
 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 287 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA. 
 
 GRATITUDE is not only a lively sense of future favours, it is also 
 frequently a dismal sense of past benefits. The more the donor of 
 them is likely to feel the burden of ingratitude, the more the 
 recipient feels the fardel of gratitude. Poor conscientious proteges 
 and protegees, who have taken the cross upon your shoulders, and 
 totter along ; how many of your careers have been ruined by being 
 made ! 
 
 Should there be any one in the world who doubts that gratitude 
 is a burden, he or she may be asked to explain why it is that people 
 are so anxious to get rid of it ? The present of to-day is redeemed by 
 the present of to-morrow ; the dinner of yesterday is balanced by the 
 dinner to come ; the butter of the propober of the toast is repaid 
 by the butter of the responder. 
 
 The working of this speedy compensation principle was seen in 
 the promptness with which the Women of England endeavoured to 
 pay off their debt to the man who had given them the Suffrage. 
 And just as in our last instance one might in those days have got 
 oleo-margarine as an equivalent for his best Devonshire, so Flop- 
 pington, in return for his great exertions in Committee, got nothing, 
 in the first instance at least, but a pair of magnificently-embroidered 
 slippers (a fragment of the crewel-work having been done by the 
 most cunning female artists of every town in the kingdom) together 
 with a gorgeous gold-tasselled night-cap of surpassing splendour 
 and Oriental magnificence, wrought by a like plurality of fair 
 workers, and accompanied by sumptuously-bound copies of the 
 works of every great woman writer of the century ; the whcie pur- 
 chased by means of a penny subscription throughout the country, 
 without distinction of rank or aught but sex. For of course no one 
 who could not make out a claim to femininity was allowed to con- 
 tribute, though the needy fathers of many daughters grumbled a 
 little all the same. The total amount collected was far in excess 
 of the cost of the gifts, and the surplus was to be devoted to 
 founding a Floppington Scholarship for Women in the London 
 University, which, it must be remembered, was at that period the 
 only University that had thrown open its degrees unconditionally 
 to women. This scholarship was to be held by the female candi- 
 date who stood highest in the honours list of the matriculation 
 examination. 
 
 The presentation was arranged to take place in Floppington's 
 own constituency, where the idea had originated. The occasion 
 was expected to be memorable. A great speech was anticipated 
 by the townsmen from their illustrious member, whom they had not 
 seen since his re-election on taking office. His success had ex- 
 ceeded their wildest expectations, and they were prepared to give
 
 288 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 him a royal welcome. Never before had Floppington met with 
 even a tithe of the enthusiasm which now attended him. 
 
 His progress to the rendezvous was one long triumph. At every 
 station deputations awaited him from the newly-enfranchised 
 women of the town, and his few words of reply were cheered by 
 closely-packed thousands. Miles upon miles of his route were 
 lined by enthusiastic, excited throngs, who shouted themselves 
 hoarse. Men and women risked their lives in the desire to be an 
 inch nearer to him. From passing engines, drivers and stokers 
 huzzahed and waved their handkerchiefs. Grimy pitmen ascended 
 from the under-world to greet him as he flew past in his luxurious- 
 saloon carriage. Stone and iron bridges seemed in danger of col- 
 lapsing under the weight of countless multitudes. Wherever there 
 was a locus standi, the whole population turned out to catch a 
 glimpse of the man whose name but a few brief months ago had 
 been a by-word for weakness, and who appeared to have finally 
 extinguished all the bright hopes ever entertained of him. Such 
 are the unforeseen turns in the tide of popular opinion. 
 
 Floppington arrived at his constituency an hour behind time 
 No one had bargained for the unparalleled enthusiasm on the 
 route. Despite the immense strain he had undergone, he appeared 
 bright and smiling, and not at all fatigued. The penalties of power 
 must have weighed lightly upon him. An exultant glow suffused 
 his finely-moulded features. The only drawback to his happiness 
 was the knowledge that Lady Harley would be absent on the plea 
 of illness. The papers had commented on the cruel irony of Fate, 
 which was keeping away from the great occasion the lady who had 
 perhaps most to do with the creation of its raison d'etre. The 
 Premier agreed with the sentiment, but to him the cruel irony of 
 fate had another signification and a wider meaning. He knew, too, 
 that Lady Harley's absence was due to her desire to avoid him. 
 But, happily, the contagion of the universal exhilaration temporarily 
 banished his sadness, and the last vestiges of melancholy were 
 removed, strange to say, by his perusal during the route of the 
 comic papers, whenever he had the opportunity. The fact was, that 
 the great statesman found acute enjoyment in reading Aunt 
 Towzer's or Mr. Punch's reports of his doings, or seeing himself 
 satirised in half-a-dozen cartoons. His delight in these things was 
 second only to his keen pleasure and amusement in reading the 
 equally funny caricatures of his conduct which appeared in the 
 serious journals. He even began to resume his readings of the 
 Church organs (to which he had, indeed, always subscribed), to see 
 how he affected the worlds of Orthodoxy and Dissent. He was neve r 
 happier than when following a grave exposition of his motive?, 
 whether in the civil or uncivil (or rather the religious) press. At 
 such times a saturnine and mysterious smile would cross his 
 countenance, and occasionally he would burst into a roar of 
 laughter, hearty, but with a ring more or less bitter. 
 
 The delay in the Premiers arrival only intensified the en-
 
 FLOPPL\GTON'S APOLOGIA 289 
 
 thusiasm of the expectant multitude. The town was en fete. As 
 soon as the express was signalled, the band struck up " See the 
 Conquering Hero comes." The crowd pressed forward with 
 tumultuous billows of applause, and the Premier's carriage was 
 drawn by horny-handed constituents to his hotel, amid a scene of 
 indescribable excitement ; beneath triumphal arches and past 
 Venetian masts, through streets gay with flowers, and flags, and 
 streamers, and embroidered mottoes, throbbing with the thunder of 
 ten thousand throats and alive with the flutter of hats and hand- 
 kerchiefs. All remarked the new strength and determination in the 
 face of their Member as he passed slowly onwards, raising his hat 
 ever and anon, and dispensing affable smiles to every quarter of 
 the compass. 
 
 Though the day was a public holiday, and the whole populace 
 was abroad, recruited by an inflow from the metropolis and from 
 every town for miles around, the Premier ventured into the streets 
 in the interval before the great event, leaving the hotel by a back 
 door. For a few moments he wandered curiously about, examining 
 the town as if, as Tremaine said to him. he had never seen it 
 before in his life. But he was soon recognised and mobbed. He 
 stood the crush till it became physically unpleasant. Then he 
 jumped into a passing tram-car with the natural air of a man who 
 had been accustomed to patronise that species of conveyance. 
 Tremaine and the Mayor, who accompanied him, were horrified; 
 but the great man only smiled grimly, and took occasion to whisper 
 to h\sjii/tts Achates ; 
 
 " The Democracy dodge, my boy." 
 
 As for the lucky occupants of the vehicle, they were, of course, 
 instantly transported to the seventh heaven a journey not often 
 made for twopence. The conductor insisted on paying for the 
 hero's ticket, and an old beldame, who sat at his side, surrep- 
 titiously snipped off a fragment of his coat-tails with a pair of 
 scissors. Around the triumphal car seethed a mass of humanity 
 impeding and alarming the astonished horses, unconscious of the 
 honour thrust upon their haunches. But Floppington betrayed no 
 sign of impatience. He sat listening to the roar of the multitude and 
 surveying the gay streets, where the preparations for the evening's 
 illuminations were in progress. He re-entered his hotel still 
 unexhausted, still with the same bright smile on his face, and, after 
 sitting some time on the steps in the face of an admiring crowd, he 
 mounted to his rooms. 
 
 His reception by the great assembly of the afternoon was, if 
 possible, even more magnificent. The vast hall in which the 
 proceedings took place was crammed in every corner. One 
 thousand five hundred ladies and one thousand five hundred 
 gentlemen sat in reserved seats. For the other thousand seats no 
 tickets had been issued. These, and standing room for a thousand 
 more, had, at Floppington's express desire, been left open for free 
 competition, and from early dawn, dense masses of men vibrant
 
 290 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 with emotion had surged patiently to and fro. As the Premier 
 drove slowly towards the door he saw that the building was sur- 
 rounded as far as the eye could reach. 
 
 The audience had been in their places for hours. They had 
 sung all their national songs twice through before the distant 
 muffled roar of the thousands without announced the advent of 
 the Premier. The sounds grew and grew in volume, till at last 
 they swelled to a mighty organ-roll of sound, and Floppington 
 entered the hall. Immediately the vast assemblage rose to their 
 feet as one man, waving their hats and handkerchiefs, and cheering 
 till the rafters rang again. As the great Minister, sporting a huge 
 bunch of primroses at his button-hole, took his p'ace on the platform, 
 five thousand voices burst out singing " For he s a jolly good fellow." 
 The sweet tones of the women mingled with the rumbling bass of 
 the men, and the effect was sublime. 
 
 Floppington was visibly affected. As the homage ofthemulti- 
 ude fell upon his ears, as he saw every eye fixed reverently upon 
 his, it was borne in upon him that monarchy was a sham, and that 
 republicanism was the only satisfactory form of government. He 
 gazed around, and his heart swelled and his eyes grew moist with a 
 rush of unselfish emotion. Vast projects of reform, vast schemes 
 for benefiting so appreciative a humanity surged within his brain, 
 as he took in the grandeur of the scene. On the platform, at his 
 side and behind him, were ranged the noblest of England's titled 
 or untitled aristocracy (many of whom, as he knew, had intrigued 
 for the honour of appearing upon it), and the most illustrious 
 leaders on both sides. 
 
 Knights and ladies, squires and dames of the Primrose League, 
 wore their orders on their breasts, and the picturesque effect of 
 the ensemble was intensified by the preponderance of the gentler 
 sex, which made the platform flash with a continuous galaxy of 
 fair women, the soft sheen of whose white dresses reposed the eye 
 and gave a cool tone to the picture. The hall itself, aflame on 
 all side-5 with perspectives of excited faces, was fragrant with 
 floral decorations, and in niches along the walls stood statues of his 
 most illustrious predecessors, gilded by the bright sunshine that 
 streamed lavishly through the open windows. 
 
 The proceedings commenced with the recital of a fine nebulous 
 ode, written by Mrs. Pfeiffer for the occasion. 
 
 This over, a beautiful, blushing school-girl advanced, bearing a 
 magnificent bouquet, which she presented in the name of the adoles- 
 cent generation of women; declaring, in the course of another 
 poem, that the girls would endeavour to live up to their vote, 
 and to acquire a finished political education in all its branches. 
 
 The Premier replied that he was deeply moved by the confidence 
 of the school-girls of the nation, and that he in his turn would 
 endeavour to live up to that confidence. (Cheers.) When in 
 future harassed by the weighty cares of the Empire, he would 
 think of all the dear little girls in their white pinafores (cheers) 
 whose hearts were beating in sympathy with his, and whose heads
 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 291 
 
 were throbbing with the same momentous problems; and he bad 
 no doubt he would be solaced, braced, and stimulated by the 
 thought. (Loud and prolonged cheers, and much wiping of eyes.) 
 He trusted that the school-girls of England would not live in con- 
 tented apathy because they held the true political faith themselves ; 
 he hoped that they would not rest night or day till they had con- 
 verted their mothers and fathers to their own views (cheers) till 
 they had uprooted the immature fallacies of their uncles and aunts 
 (cheers) till they had utterly annihilated the crude convictions 
 of their grandfathers and grandmothers. (Immense applause.) 
 Should they shrink from the task as difficult, as impossible, he 
 would direct their eyes to the bright example of the Temperance 
 tracts (cheers) to the illustrious models of the Sunday story 
 books. (Cheers.) Their holy religion taught them that nothing 
 \vas too miraculous to have happened (cheers), and that they would 
 find that little children had redeemed their parents from evil 
 (cheers), and why should they not exert the same beneficial influence 
 on politics ? (Cheers.) Indeed, he would venture to say, if the 
 profanity were excused him, that the motto of Conservatism 
 might in future be : " Unless ye become as little children ye shall 
 not enter the kingdom of Toryism." (Cheers.) " For are not the 
 articles of our creed within the comprehension of a child ?" asked 
 the Premier. "Is it not the adult mind that refines and obscures its 
 beautiful and elementary character? Are we not all Tories at our 
 mothers breast ? (Cheers.) To adapt the phrase that the poet applied 
 to heaven, does not Toryism lie about us in our infancy ? (Cheers.) 
 Does not Toryism lie about everything in heaven and earth ? 
 (Loud cheers.) I say that Toryism is the belief taught by Nature 
 herself, the belief evidenced by every act of the young before the 
 veneer of education masks the elemental instincts, the belief of all 
 that is simple, of all that is childish, of all that is unsophisticated. 
 (Cheers.) But, alas! the child grows up ; the beautiful innocence 
 of his soul dies away, his primeval and touching simplicity vanishes, 
 and he becomes wise with the wisdom of the Radicals. (Loud 
 hisses.) It is for this reason that I say unto you, school-girls of 
 England, and I bid you make it known to the school-boys of 
 England I cheers), that on you is laid the sacred and mighty task of 
 forming the aging intellect of the nation, that on you rests the 
 divine duty of implanting the seeds of truth in hearts hardened 
 and turned away Irom it by the cruel experiences of adult life, that 
 to your hands is confided the solemn function of recalling your 
 elders to the ancient purity of their faith, of making them innocent 
 as you are innocent, simple as you are simple, unsophisticated as 
 you are unsophisticated."'' (Loud and prolonged cheering). 
 
 The great presentation of the day now took place in the name 
 of the Women of England, who begged him to accept some slight 
 marks of their gratitude for they could never hope to adequately 
 repay his exertions in their cause to the most noble-minded and 
 large-hearted Minister of the century (cheers) ; to the statesman 
 whom the world honoured for the comprehensiseness of his views, 
 
 U 2
 
 292 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 the depth of his loyalty and patriotism (cheers), the thoroughness 
 of his reforms (loud cheers), and the staunchness of his Conserva- 
 tism. (Immense enthusiasm ) 
 
 The night-cap, the slippers, and the books were then handed to 
 Mr. Fluppington amid the plaudits of the mighty assembly. The 
 Premier, in reply, said : 
 
 " Words cannot tell how deeply I am moved by this present") - 
 tion to my unworthy self, of such valuable specimens of the work 
 and the works of the women of my country (cheers), and by the 
 kind language of the address which accompanied it. I don't know 
 why the millions of donors have chosen me for this great honour. 
 I am sure I have had little to do with the extension of their 
 privileges. (No, no.) I have carried the measure it is true 
 (cheers), but it is to the pioneers of the movement that all the 
 honour is due. When I recall to you the labours of the noble lady 
 whose unfortunate absence from our midst on this interesting 
 occasion no one can regret more than I (loud and prolonged cheer- 
 ing), when I remind you of the herculean as well as lor a long 
 time the Sisyphean labours of all connected with the Female Suf- 
 frage Society (cheers), you will understand that it is not an excess of 
 modesty that prompts my disclaimer of merit, but a right measure 
 of appreciation of the efforts of others. (Hear, hear.) I trust 
 I shall not be considered boastful in claiming to possess the latter 
 quality. As a true, and, I fervently hope, a typical Tory, it is my 
 pride- that I am not indifferent to the good points in the policy even 
 of our opponents. (Cheers.) But you have not been of my 
 opinion in regard to the smallness of my merits, and I cannot 
 grumble at being in a minority. (Laughter.) Far be it from me 
 to accuse the fair sex of unfairness. (Laughter.) No doubt the 
 ladies have delights in store for all who deserve them. When 
 I survey the contents of this Surprise Packet (laughter), this 
 gorgeous night-cap, these voluptuous slippers "holding them up 
 " I am overcome with emotion ; I don't know whether I am on 
 my head or my heels (laughter), and, consequently, in doubt as to 
 which article goes north and which south. (Loud laughter.) But 
 crowned with this magnificent work of art whichever of the two 
 it be (more laughter) and shod with the other whichever that 
 other be I may proudly claim that woman's love has armed me 
 from head to foot, and thus accoutred I am ready for the fniy. 
 (Cheers and laughter.) And now, as my emotion subsides, and 
 my sight begins to clear, I feel that with these slippers" holding 
 them up" I shall be able to beat my enemies (laughter) I mean 
 the thought of these slippers will enable me to inflict a moral 
 thrashing on my adversaries. When I survey their wondrous 
 workmanship if the masculine substantive be permissible 
 (laughter) and when I look at these rows of intellectual volumes, I 
 feel that this presentation of the Women of England does equal 
 honour to their head and heart (Laughter.) And what shall I 
 say of this gorgeous and tropical vision" holding up the night-
 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 293 
 
 cap " which only language like Mr. Swinburne's could adequately 
 describe ; this 
 
 1 Narcissus-like nimbus round my nightly nepenthe.' 
 
 Surely it was by prevision of its loveliness that Keats wrote 
 (laughter) : 
 
 ' A thing of beauty is a joy for ever, 
 Its loveliness increases ; it will never 
 Pass into nothingness but still will keep 
 A bower quiet for us (examining the interior'] and a sleep 
 Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.' 
 
 Loud laughter.) I hope the prediction of the poet will be realised. 
 (Laughter.) I shall certainly try to bring it about by wearing the thing 
 of beauty, though, at first sight of it, I must confess I felt tempted 
 to exclaim what the countryman exclaimed at the first sight of a 
 cathedral : ' That ! why, dang it, that's too magnificent to sleep in.' 
 (Laughter.) But, while lost in the magnificence of my present, I 
 must not forget to thank this magnificent assembly for its kind ap- 
 preciation of the little I have been able to do for the removal of 
 inequality and injustice in the past (cheers), and were it not for the 
 fact that the bright sunshine woos you without (no, no !), I might 
 be tempted to say a little about the future. (Hear, hear, and 
 cheers.) Well, if you wish to expose yourself to the heat of 
 political oratory in addition to that of the weather, I trust you will 
 not blame me too much in the sequel, and though 1 may be held 
 responsible for the former, I hope 1 shall not be deemed respon- 
 sible for the latter. (Laughter.) I have no wish to trench upon 
 the privileges of Her Gracious Majesty, whose use as a cloud-dis- 
 peller the most ardent Republican must admit. (Laughter.) And 
 while I am on the subject of Her Majesty, a theme inexhaustible 
 to all the other subjects of Her Majesty, I cannot refrain from re- 
 marking upon the monstrosity of the fact that the sex which pro- 
 duced the sovereign of an empire on which the sun never sets 
 (cheers), a sovereign, than whom none, I make bold to say, has ever 
 bean dearer to the people of this great country (cheers), a sove- 
 reign who has moreover added to the wealth of English literature 
 by works that would immortalise her did she not immortalise 
 them, and which, I am not surprised to see, have been considered 
 indispensable to this collection of volumes representative of the 
 female intellect of England (loud cheers) that the sex which 
 counts among its members such women as this should be devoid 
 of a vote, and that Victoria herself, had this been a country where 
 power sprang not from birth but from intellect, would have been 
 debarred from the slightest voice in the affairs of the nation. I say 
 that in rejecting this barbarous Salic law of suffrage we have got 
 rid of a national scandal. (Loud cheers, the audience rising and 
 waving hats and handkerchiefs.) But it will be said, nay, it has 
 been said, with what venomous rancour you all know, ' How was 
 it that your convictions on this point were a short time ago the
 
 294 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 exact reverse of what they are now ? ' I have hitherto been silent. 
 Stiong in my integrity, I have allowed the stream ol indictment, 
 not only on this but on other subjects, to flow by. But the Women 
 of England have had confidence in me (cheers), and my silence 
 has said to my revilers, ' a man trusted by the unerring instinct of 
 the Women of England, a man in whom the pure and holy heart 
 of womanhood has faith, has no need to defend himself against 
 your infamous charges.' (Loud cheering.) But, though I was re- 
 served with my enemies, I will be open with my friends. (Hear, 
 hear.) They shall know the grounds on which I have based and 
 shall continue to base my political conduct. 
 
 " And let me premise my remarks by pointing out how easy 
 and obvious a reply I could make to my detractors, were I not 
 more concerned to lay down general principles of political action 
 than to undertake a personal and perhaps unnecessary defence. 
 (Hear, hear.) I might make much of the fact that the measure of 
 female suffrage granted by the present Government is infinitely 
 wider than the meagre concessions of the Liberals. (Cheers.) I 
 might accentuate the contrast generally, by a review of the centuries 
 of tinkering Radical legislation ; I might point out to the Radical 
 party that in political arithmetic two half-measures are never 
 equal to a whole. (Cheers.) But although I might shield myself 
 behind the aegis of the great Conservative principle of 'Thorough,' 
 I will never allow it to go forth to the world that I wrested the 
 control of this great measure out of the hands of the Liberals, 
 because, and merely because, their reforms did not go far enough. 
 Let me tell the Women of England, that the Conservative party 
 lias been influenced by higher considerations than even the justice 
 of their cause. It is an open secret of practical politics that the 
 principle of a proposed reform is not the all in all that it ap- 
 pears to weak-minded enthusiasts the party which achieves that 
 reform is of equal, if not of greater importance. A Bill passed 
 by the Liberals is quite a different thing from the same Bill passed 
 by the Conservatives. I opposed the men, not the measures. 
 (Cheers.) Was it well that the Liberals should be allowed to bolster 
 up their decaying power by grudged concessions, or was it not better 
 that the great boon of suffrage should be generously granted by 
 the Conservative party a party that, strong in its wealth and in 
 the support of the Upper Chamber, can afford to maintain in- 
 dependence of thought ; can afford to despise the solicitations of 
 the hour ; can afford to take its stand upon eternal truth, and so 
 stamp its reforms with the signet of permanence. (Cheers.) For 
 it is our proud boast that we never carry a measure with the raw 
 haste of the Radicals, that we never yield to a demand for reform 
 before we are thoroughly convinced of the necessity ; so that when 
 we do set our minds upon a thing, the world feels it is consecrated 
 by the approbation of unprejudiced minds, and it is done at once, 
 and once and for ever. (Cheers.) When, on the contrary, the 
 Liberals carry reforms, all is different ; and to so intelligent an 
 audience I need not point the contrast in detail. (Hear, hear.)
 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 295 
 
 Honourable gentlemen, whom I rejoice to see on the platform, and 
 whose conscientiousness I admire though their political faith may 
 not be mine, may be grieved to hear me talk of grudged concessions. 
 They will ask : ' Have we not willingly enrolled ourselves under 
 your banner?' But let me sketch briefly the history of that 
 measure to these gentlemen, and they will see that I use no empty 
 phrase. When did this measure first come on the tapis? Was it 
 introduced by a Government in the flush of youth and the pride of 
 life, or by a Ministry in the decrepitude of old age, and in the 
 agonies of approaching dissolution ? (Cheers and laughter.) Was 
 the Cabinet prompted by the love of justice or by the fear of defeat? 
 Were its ears open to the appeal of the downtrodden or inclined 
 eagerly to catch the first whispers of the polling booth? Were the 
 tears it shed over the fate of the voteless, genuine salt, or were they 
 only a good election cry ? (Laughter and cheers.) For my part I 
 believe they were the drops that stand in the oleaginous optic of the 
 pachydermatous crocodile. (Laughter.) I determined that I would 
 not suffer them to go to the country with the boast of recent un- 
 selfish reforms ; and though I had grown convinced of the righteous- 
 ness of the cause (loud cheers and sensation), it seemed to me to be 
 made unrighteous by being upheld by Ministers whose only chance 
 of supporting themselves was to support it. (Laughter.) I resolved 
 not to permit the Liberals, now that their tenure of power was well- 
 nigh over, to mount into office again on the shoulders of a popular 
 measure which ought to be passed indeed, but which, if passed by 
 them, would probably lead to another septennium of Radical mis- 
 rule, another season of successful incapacity for their leaders, and 
 another period of political purgatory for ours. For these and other 
 reasons which I need not mention, I saw that while my own heart 
 and my perception of the wrongs of women were impelling me to 
 vote with the Liberals, a truer instinct, and a higher duty, and a 
 wider view of the interests of the country as a whole, demanded 
 that I should impede, and not help on, the desirable reform. 
 
 "It behoved me to obey the higher law. It behoved me to save 
 my country, though individual measures perished. It behoved me 
 to put myself at the head of an Opposition. But, alas ! the lower 
 instinct of temporary and partial, rather than permanent and 
 universal interests, was strong within me. It would not permit me 
 to oppose a measure with which I agreed. After all I am weak and 
 human, and the lower instincts prevailed so far as to force me to 
 examine the objections to the measure, to penetrate myself with the 
 conviction of its defects and to be ruthless towards my personal 
 prejudices. It was a hard task, but I succeeded. The persistent 
 adoption of a hostile standpoint had at last blinded me to the 
 strength of the arguments for the measure. I had kept my eye 
 so long on the silver shield, that I had forgotten there was a golden 
 side to it. Well, as you all know, I organised the drooping Con- 
 servatives, most of whom have proved they viewed their conduct 
 as I did mine, by voting for it now; the Parnellites voted with us to a 
 man, and we were joined by just enough independent or revolted
 
 296 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Liberals to convert the already dwindling Liberal majority into a 
 minority. Our success surprised no one more than myself. 1 felt 
 sure the Government could have made a stronger fight. Probably 
 they were not sorry to retire and throw on us the onus of our un- 
 popular victory, and the responsibility of administering affairs for 
 a few months before the General Election, and thus to give us the 
 opportunity of obscuring their mistakes by our own. They did not 
 foresee that they were falling into their own trap, and that they 
 would be called upon to aid us in passing the very reform they had 
 failed to carry. (Cheers.) When Her Majesty did me the honour 
 to send for me to Balmoral, I was still astonished by my victory. 
 I had no definite plans. I was unwilling to hold office at the will 
 of the late Premier for my faction would, of course, be disorga- 
 nised by the re-gravitation of the Liberal atoms to their original 
 sphere, and my own party would be in that hopeless minority in 
 which it has been during the whole of this Parliament. I therefore 
 declared my inability to form an Administration. It had not as yet 
 occurred to me that if I now introduced a Female Suffrage measure 
 the Liberals would, for the sake of consistency, be compelled to 
 give it their support. You all know what happened. Various 
 combinations were tried ; a coalition Ministry was suggested, but 
 ultimately I consented to do my best and brave the consequences. 
 I first introduced a comprehensive measure to do away with the last 
 injustices of male suffrage, with the idea of following it up by an 
 equally comprehensive measure dealing with the female franchise, 
 for I was now able to see the reverse side of the shield. Finding, 
 however, the world and the House eager for an immediate settle- 
 ment of the latter question, I made it known that the Government 
 would bind itself to accept a clause for that purpose as an amend- 
 ment in Committee, so that the Bill should receive the support of 
 all classes of politicians. And now comes my justification of the 
 phrase, 'grudging concessions.' 
 
 " Many of the Liberals not all, I am happy to say, as, indeed, the 
 presence of Liberals on the platform will testify (cheers) the very 
 men who had professed to be moved by the wrongs of one-half the 
 human race, either voted against the Bill, or abstained from voting 
 altogether. (Groans and hisses.) And what was their plea ? Why, 
 nothing but the miserable excuse put forth, I am sorry to say, by 
 my late colleague, Lord Bardolph Mountchapel (hisses and cheers), 
 nothing but the shuffling pretext that they were afraid I was only 
 trying to entrap them into voting for the second reading, that it 
 was only another case of 'Will you come into my lobby, said the 
 spider to the fly ? ' (Laughter.) 
 
 " I trust that my earnest efforts in the House have given the lie 
 to the base suspicion. (Cheers.) These gentlemen remind me of 
 that other gentleman in a book which will be known to most of you 
 I mean the New Arabian Nights, which you should read if you 
 haven't the gentleman who assiduously cultivated the emotion of 
 fear. (Laughter.) Nelson, according to the poet, \\as afraid of 
 naught save fear; but the only fear of the Anti-Suffragists was lest
 
 FLOPPINGTON'S APOLOGIA 297 
 
 they should have none. (Laughter.) I can imagine Lord Mount- 
 chapel, like the great Turenne before the huttle, ejaculating: 'Ah, 
 body of mine, thou tremblest; but thou shalt tremble still more 
 before I have done with thee.' (Loud laughter.) However, though 
 the noble lord stole some of my old Tories who were opposed to 
 my measure and I hope he will return them, now that he has no 
 further use for them (laughter) and added them to his fearful and 
 terror-stricken troops, yet his ranks fell off day by day, and the 
 poor survivors had to exhort and, encourage one another to keep 
 up their fear. (Loud laughter.) Still the Mountchapel phalanx 
 was pretty strong, despite its state of chronic panic. My Anti- 
 Suffragist Liberals deserted me, but as their place was supplied by 
 an almost equivalent number of Suffragists, that didn't matter. 
 The revulsion of the Parnellites from their recent antagonism 
 retained them in their adherence to our party, and thus we were 
 enabled to score a decisive victory over an Opposition made up of 
 all those who feared that I would carry Female Suffrage, and of 
 all those who feared I wouldn't. (Cheers and laughter.) As you 
 all know, we had a majority of thirty-nine on the second reading, 
 and shortly afterwards the measure, amended as 1 had promised, 
 became law. (Loud and continued cheering.) And now, after this 
 historical resume, let us see what other reforms have come within 
 the range of practical politics since I took office. I have spoken at 
 length on the past, and I hope I have not said too little on the present 
 {laughter); but I can only say a few words on the future. The 
 s ands of the session, of Parliament itself, are fast running out, but 
 to me the few grains that remain glisten and glitter with golden 
 opportunities. (Loud cheers.) I thank you for those sounds, they 
 cr.eer me in more senses than one. (Laughter.) I rejoice to be 
 thus strengthened at almost the beginning of my ministerial career, 
 lor I have much to do, many battles to fight (cheers), and perhaps 
 rot even the fag-end of the session to fight them in. (No, no.) 
 You say ' No, no ! ' but no one can feel more deeply than I do 
 that it is only by the will of the late Premier that I hold office. I 
 felt that it would be so when I accepted it. I know there is nothing 
 that gives me the right to retain my proud position but his consent. 
 And never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that he would 
 ever give it in the first instance. Perhaps I wronged him in fearing 
 that he would withdraw his support from me before the dissolution. 
 He has not lifted up his voice against me as yet, and I hope he 
 will not do so for some time. It may be that he has taken an oath 
 of silence. (Laugfhter.) It may be that he has determined to give 
 me rope enough to hang myself. (Laughter.) It may be that I 
 shall use that rope to drag his reluctant party along the path of 
 true reform. (Loud laughter.) It may be that his indignation at 
 the sublime use to which a hempen cord may be applied will 
 induce him to take the dangerous weapon out of my hands too soon, 
 though I promise him some trouble if he attempts it. (Laughter.) 
 But should I be permitted to hold my place longer than I anticipate, 
 every extension of my term of power shall be an extension of the
 
 298 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 privileges cf the oppressed. (Cheers.) I know none better the 
 tendencies of modern Conservatism, and, as it has fallen upon me 
 to interpret them and to give them full and uninterrupted course, I 
 look forward to a career, brief it may be, but long enough to show 
 that chivalry and generosity are not the exclusive possession of the 
 Radicals. The Liberals promise, but do not perform. The world 
 shall find that the Conservatives perform without promising. 
 (Cheers.) We do not come into office under pledge to carry 
 reforms (cheers), we do not stir up the cupidity of the masses and 
 secure their votes by promising to improve their condition, but if 
 we feel that it is desirable to do so, we do it and there's an end of 
 it. (Cheers.) The Conservative party, ' on evil days though 
 fallen and evil tongues,' will not pause in the good work for fear 
 of gibes, and flouts, and sneers, such as the young lions of 
 debating rooms or the younger lions of journalism have assailed 
 me with, but which I am sorry to tell them were wasted on me,, 
 possibly because I have not wit enough to feel their point. 
 (Laughter.) No ; the great Conservative party is not to be turned 
 aside by the shafts of ridicule. The Laureate has denounced ' the 
 craven fear of being great,' but there is a worse fear than that, and 
 that is the craven fear of doing right. (Cheers ) 
 
 " We have righted the wrongs of the female sex, but there is a 
 nation that has been treated like too many unhappy women, a nation, 
 whose wrongs are yet to right I mean Ireland. (Sensation.) 
 Sold without her own consent, bartered for the gold of her un- 
 welcome spouse, betrayed into a marriage of convenience, and,, 
 worst of all, after the union treated with barbarous harshness and 
 contumely the very cruelty she has been subjected to would alone 
 entitle her to a judicial separation. (Immense sensation.) It is 
 time that the scandal of an unhappy wedded life be blotted out from 
 the sight of this pure and moral age. (Liberal cheers.) That justice 
 which Ireland could not get from the ranting Radicals she shall get 
 from the calm and composed Conservatives. (Loud and pro- 
 tracted cheering, the whole audience standing.) 
 
 " Knights and dames of the Primrose League whom I see 
 around me, it is one of the objects of our society to preserve our 
 holy religion from the attacks of modern thought. (Cheers.) 
 And how can we best defend our threatened creed ? Is it by rhe- 
 toric, or reasoning, or intellectual refinements ? No ; they are- 
 bullets that shatter themselves on the dense mail of rational scepti- 
 cism, arrows that impinge and glance off. Let us not be Christians 
 in words but in deeds. (Cheers.) Were the dogmas of our 
 faith impotent to resist the army of infidelity, concrete Christianity 
 would still keep it at bay. (Cheers.) It is not our creeds that 
 ennoble our lives, it is our lives that ennoble our creeds. (Cheers.) 
 We cannot be Christians while we suffer injustice. (Cheers.)' 
 We cannot be Christians while we would put together those whom. 
 God hath put asunder. We cannot be Christians while we retain 
 under our yoke a nation that cries aloud for justice and for 
 independence. (Loud and protracted cheers.) We may have
 
 299 
 
 wandered from the path of righteousness, nay, I believe we did 
 desert our principles and act alter the manner of the crude Radical 
 reformer, when we united England and Ireland instead of leaving 
 them in statu quo. (Hear, hear.) But if we have wandered 
 from the path on this and other occasions in the past, no one can 
 say we have perversely refused to re-enter it. We may have 
 been, perhaps, a little obstinate at first, but we can honestly claim 
 that in the end we have always yielded to the influence of what has 
 been eloquently termed ' the power, not ourselves, that makes for 
 lighteousness.' (Cheers.) Liberals who hive worked with us 
 in reforming a great abuse, help us in reforming a greater. You 
 have never concealed your sympathy with Ireland, you have made 
 concessions, some of you are known to be in favour of an extension- 
 ot her local privileges, but you have one and all shrunk from going 
 to the root of the matter. You have, perhaps, mistakenly feared! 
 our opposition. But now I appeal to you to follow us in our de- 
 termined attempt to rid the earth of this gigantic wrong. (Cheers. ) 
 And I call upon the women of England to aid us in our sacred! 
 cause, to let the first use they make of their new powers be a noble 
 and generous use to do unto others as they have been done by 
 to prove to mankind that the heart of woman is the seat of justice 
 to tell the world that, where woman has a voice, there the allure- 
 ments of injustice and oppression can no longer make themselves 
 heard ; to show to the universe that the selfish excuses of dishonour 
 shrink away ashamed before the scorn of her generous spirit, and 
 the stainless purity of her soul. (Immense applause.) Women 
 of England ! You have said that you could never adequately repay 
 me for my exertions in your cause. Exert yourselves in the cause 
 which I make mine the cause of Liberty, Justice, and Progress. 
 Listen to the voice of Liberty, which we have heard thrilling from 
 the snowy summits of Switzerland and the desolate plains of 
 Poland, and which now again calls to us across the sea from the 
 green pastures of Ireland ; help me to restore its freedom and its 
 happiness to a captive and oppressed nationality, and you will have 
 repaid me to the full, and with interest." (Loud and prolonged 
 cheering, during which the right honourable gentleman resumed 
 his seat.) 
 
 The sensation caused by this speech throughout the United 
 Kingdom of England and Ireland is indescribable. Every day,, 
 for weeks, every journal had a leader upon it, or alluding to it. 
 Although it was nicknamed Floppington's Apologia, the discussion, 
 of it was almost confined to the promise of its impassioned close. 
 The announcement of the Conservative desire to give "Home Rule" 
 to Ireland, came upon the country like an unexpected bombshell. 
 In a few days, however, it began to be discovered that the bomb- 
 shell might have been foreseen ; the magazines began to certify 
 that after all it was made of inexplosu-e materials, and it was- 
 generally agreed that it would save England from any more dyna- 
 mite. At the same time, plenty of hints were forthcoming to the 
 effect that the Parnellites, who had obviously joined Floppington.
 
 300 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 in his Anti-Suffrage agitation out of sheer abstract opposition to 
 the party in power, had been gained over to help the Conservative 
 Ministry by means of a secret understanding. Surprise was no 
 longer professed at the astounding inconsistency of the Irish party. 
 Some were prepared to specify the time, and even the scene, of the 
 secret treaty. 
 
 In less than a fortnight the topic of Home Rule had grown old, 
 and a very wide-spread persuasion had grown up that Floppington 
 might be trusted to know what was best for the country. His 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Stanley Southleigh, resigned, 
 indeed ; but everybody knew he had no spirit in him, and the 
 other members of the Cabinet at any rate, seemed to stick to their 
 chief. The world did not know that they had, as a body, -with 
 infinite timidity ventured to reproach the Premier with " springing 
 a mine upon them ; " that the Premier had asked them to hand 
 him in writing their objections and their alternative plans for the 
 pacification of Ireland, and that he had pigeon-holed their manu- 
 scripts very neatly for consideration in the dim and distant courses 
 of the future. 
 
 As for the Liberals, they refused to commit themselves either 
 to opposition or toacquiescence before they had the proposed measure 
 .before them. This extreme guardedness and reserve was not 
 maintained by Screwnail and a few Radicals, nor by Lord Bar- 
 dolph Mountchapel ; but their respective policies will be indicated 
 .later on. Meantime Floppington had added to his reputation for 
 statesmanship and Parliamentary prestige, and was now become 
 the most popular Premier since Pitt; in short, as he had prophesied 
 to Tremaine, he had become "The People's Minister." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FAMILY GROUP. 
 
 "" IF I only had one of them stalls," observed Mrs. Davve, casting a 
 longing glance in an oblique direction, " I should be as 'appy as 
 you, Jack.'' 
 
 The corpulent old lady, looking little the worse for the medicine 
 which had been poured into her during her recent illness, sat with 
 lier son on Ramsgate sands, and no one who had been asked 
 Avhich of the two was the convalescent would have hesitated to 
 point to Jack. Haggard, emaciated, by reason of the terrible 
 anxieties and burdens of the week of his mother's illness, the poor 
 painter was listening vacantly to her remarks, the lapping of the 
 waves, the confused murmur of hundreds of tongues, abrupt peals 
 of laughter, youthful shouts, the distant strains of a comic chorus, 
 and the softened blare of a brass band. Yet the despairing, reck- 
 less look was gone out of his face ; the unspeakable magic of the 
 ocean, the calm of summer skies, the sacred splendour of sunsets 
 .had not lost their old power over his troubled spirit. Imbibing
 
 A FAMILY GROUP _ 301. 
 
 these subtle influences, as softly as a flower absorbs the sunlight,, 
 his soul was gradually soothed to chastened resignation, and filled 
 with a patient trust in the ultimate rectification of his petty affairs.. 
 The resolute abstention, during the whole of his holiday, from any 
 contact with the world through the medium of the Press, had also 
 contributed not a little to his new placidity. He did not think the 
 juxtaposition of Nature and the newspaper at all happy, and he 
 feared, moreover, that acquaintance with the course of politics- 
 would make him a confirmed cynic. 
 
 "As 'appy as you," repeated Mrs. Dawe, "though old folks 'as 
 no right to expect to be as lively as young 'uns, 'specially when 
 they're earnin' nothing, and bein' robbed from top to bottom by 
 landladies, and lettin' their businesses go to the dogs, and 'avin' 
 sons that gives away sixpences to niggers and organ-grinders, and 
 blind beggars, and performin' dogs, and Punch and Judy men, and 
 comic singers, as if they was tax-collectors, when, exceptin' the 
 chairs, ye can see everything for nothing. Now, a stall for'ct. 
 peas and 'am sandwiches, just in between that ice-cream stall and 
 that fruit-stall, would do a Saturday night trade all the week, besides 
 improvin' the view and givin' a better smell to the air ; and if I had 
 been blessed with a dootiful son he might marry 'Lizer and open a 
 branch business on the sands. But I suppose ye're too proud to 
 do anything except break yer poor mother's 'art. And to think 
 that the last time I was 'ere ye wasn't thought of! We was on 
 our 'oneymoon, and I well remembers buryin' yer late father in 
 the sand up to 'is neck, poor fellow. He's buried further up now. 
 It was years and years ago ; but there was just as many fools 'ere 
 wastin' their money, and the sands looked, said yer father, like a 
 successful fly-paper. Look out, Jack ! If ye don't move up a 
 little 'igher you'll get the sea-water over yer shoes and make 'em 
 tight. Don't sit on that chair, Jack, they'll charge ye a penny for 
 it ; they thinks visitors is reg'lar gold minds." 
 
 Jack moved mechanically to the higher spot to which his 
 mother had cautiously retreated, threw himself on his back 
 plunged his hands into the sand, letting it slip through his fingers, 
 and closed his eyes. It was a peifect day. The heat of the sun 
 glowing ardently in an intensely blue sky was tempered by a cool 
 breeze that fanned his weary brow. 1 he murmurs of the crowd 
 sounded far off and peaceful to his tired b^ain, that, heedless even 
 of Mrs. Dawe, wove the dreamy web of reverie. 
 
 By his mother's desire for she averred she could not enjoy the 
 seaside without the local co'our in dress he was attired in a light 
 check suit, beach shoes, and a broad-brimmed straw hat, that 
 metamorphosed him so completely as to render the hitherto sedately- 
 clad painter almost unrecognisable. She herself distended a 
 simple, maidenly dress of spotted muslin, a white chip bonnet with 
 a salmon-coloured aigrette and very broad strings, high-heeled 
 boots of French kid, and a gorgeous red sunshade. 
 
 "That's right, Jack!'' she exclaimed, " yer shoes are safe for 
 ; arf an hour now."
 
 302 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Are not those souls wiser," soliloquised Jack, "that withdraw 
 themselves from the advancing tide of scepticism which they know 
 will but contract their hearts as these on-coming waves one's boots, 
 or sap the sand castles they find such pleasure in constructing?" 
 
 "Won't ye 'ave a sandwich?" asked Mrs. Dawe suddenly, 
 producing a small paper parcel. " It wouldn't do leavin' the cold 
 meat from yesterday in the cupboard, when I'm sure the landlady's 
 got another key. As yer father said though to be sure he wasn't 
 yer father then and wouldn't be if he knew what ye were if ye 
 put in a fowl you find a skeleton in the cupboard." 
 
 "No," decided Jack, " wiser are they who have not shrunk, but 
 have dared to survey the skeleton in the cupboard of the Universe. 
 For a time theysee the world by the unearthlylight of its phosphores- 
 cence, a light worse than darkness ; but at length the old sunshine 
 comes back, if not with the freshness of yore, yet with a sacred 
 calm in its rays. Happiness, Love, are henceforth impossible to 
 me, but Peace may be within my grasp. Peace it was I sought, 
 and perhaps I have at last found it. In this quiet brooding by 
 the shore of the great sea, I possess my soul once more. Dreamer 
 of dreams, born out of my due place, if not time, I yet strove to 
 set the crooked straight. I will return to poetry, leaving more 
 practical men to do the work I once thought to do. A miserable 
 failure in action, be the form politics, painting, love-making, or 
 sausage-selling, perhaps I shall be able to teach in song what I 
 have learnt in suffering ; though I hardly see how to find fit lyrical 
 expression for my experience in the last particular." Smiling 
 mournfully at the idea, he opened his eyes for a moment at a splash 
 made by a stone which his mother had thrown into the water to 
 illustrate some point in the long anecdote she was telling him. 
 After a moment's survey of the beautiful glittering expanse of 
 ocean he closed them again, sun-dazzled. 
 
 "If this divine calm only lasts!" he thought, with a strange shiver 
 of foreboding, " but I fear that man's happiness in its highest mo- 
 ments hangs like yonder diamond-crested wave, ready to break and 
 be shattered." 
 
 " ' And it's just the same with yer argyments,' ses your father, 
 1 they goes to the bottom, and arter a few moments there ain't a 
 mark left.' But the parson went on jawin' and yer father a-ya\vnin' 
 till the parson ses : ' No, sir, this is all pretendin' on your part. A 
 man as lives in a civilised country must believe in the Scriptures.' 
 'Reason why he just needn't,' ses yer father, ' 'cos there he can 
 get blankets and rum without dealin' with your people.' Still the 
 parson 'eld out that it was impossible as he shouldn't believe in 
 'em, and yer father quite got into a temper and offered to take his 
 Bible oath on it." Mrs. Dawe paused to wipe the crumbs off her 
 mouth, and freed thus momentarily from the sound of her own 
 voice, she was able to detect the regular breathing of her son, 
 blent with the slightest soupcon of a snore 
 
 " Why, bless the boy ! " she exclaimed. " They'll say Put a 
 parson next."
 
 A FAMILY GROUP 303 
 
 " Oh, my dear Mrs. Dawe !" cried a sweet feminine voice, the 
 owner of which was making for the old lady with extended arms. 
 
 Perceiving her advance, Mrs. Dawe presented her red sunshade 
 like a bayonet to keep her at bay. 
 
 ' Stand there ! " she cried, " and don't move for'ard as ye 
 vally my life. Answer me truly, like a confessor, and, mind, no 
 lies, 'cos my mem'ry's better than yourn. Is it on our side of the 
 road ? " 
 
 " No signs of it, Mrs. Dawe. There's not the least danger 
 in living at our place, I assure you," said Eliza, with great vehe- 
 mence; and extended her arms anew. ^* 
 
 " Not yet ! Is it on the other side ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the garret let out over Mrs. Prodgers' shop." 
 
 Mrs Dawe's face expanded with a smile of joy. 
 
 " Then she's shut the shop, I suppose." 
 
 " She still struggles on, though custom is bad." 
 
 "The murderess!" Mrs. Dawe cried in a burst of honest in- 
 dignation. " Per'aps, though, she thinks things can't be worse than 
 before, for I'm sure she sold pison." Then her brow darkening, 
 "And I ain't there to take a opportunity that don't 'appen once in a 
 lifetime." 
 
 "Don't think of it," pleaded Eliza. "You mustn't risk the 
 danger. What would Jack do without his mother?" 
 
 " Well, it's only for 'is sake. I ain't afear'd o' the danger," said 
 Mrs. Dawe relenting. "And it's only for ; is sake that I consented 
 to go where there was no small-pox, and try to get back my 
 'ealth." 
 
 "Oh, if all mothers were like you !" murmured Eliza, manoeu- 
 vring round the sunshade to embrace the unselrish matron. 
 
 "Wait a minute, 'Lizer," said Mrs. Dawe, bringing her weapon 
 to bear on the newly-attacked quarter. "What makes ye fidget 
 about like a 'ungry flea on a statue as can't get a bite nowhere? 
 Is it in any of the turnin's near us ? " 
 
 " It's no nearer than the courts near the Free Library." 
 
 "Are ye tellin' me the truth, 'Lizer ? On yer word." 
 
 " On my honour as Jack's intended," replied Eliza earnestly. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe silently lowered her sunshade, and for the next few 
 minutes Eliza hugged and kissed her steadily with affectionate 
 pity. " You do look ill ! " she cried. 
 
 " I've got enough to make me, 'Lizer," replied Mrs. Dawe self- 
 compassionately. 
 
 " And don't Jack look the picture of health ? And no wonder, 
 while he can be at this lovely place while others have to work hard 
 in town. Happy man, endowed by Providence with every 
 blessing ! " 
 
 " Not forgettin' you," said Mrs. Dawe, looking admiringly at 
 her intended daughter-in-law, who did not blush, but whose face 
 grew even more radiant with delight than before. 
 
 Never had Eliza looked more piquant ; the stormy passion of 
 her Southern beauty was softened to a charming and provoking
 
 304 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 archness, and her stylishly-cut costume enhanced, if it did not 
 produce, the coquettish effect. The tight-fitting dress of navy-blue 
 serge, trimmed with white braid, brought out the exquisite curves 
 of her figure, and the smart sailor's hat, adjusted with careless 
 grace, invested her with the saucy charm of nautical suggestion. 
 Happy Jack! 
 
 "Ye found us quick at the spot we agreed upon last week," 
 observed Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 " Yes," replied Eliza, " the train has only been in about five 
 minutes, and of course I flew straight to see your beloved forms. 
 Poor Jack ! Asleep with the sun right on his face ! How he will- 
 be surprised to find me here when he wakes up." 
 
 She sat down between the two, shaded Jack's face with her 
 parasol, and under this cover smoothed it with her gloved hand, 
 and then suddenly stooped down and pressed his lips lightly. 
 " My darling ! " she murmured. 
 
 " My darling !" responded the sleeper, a bright smile irradiating 
 his face. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe and Eliza looked at each other meaningly and 
 beamingly. 
 
 " He's a-dreamin' of ye," said the former, her broad face 
 glowering with delight. " I know he suspected ye was coming, 
 'cause every inornin' we goes up over there to 'ear the comic 
 singers, and when I said I wanted to come this part o' the beach,. 
 he was as glad as can be, although he's dreadfully fond of comic 
 singers, and once dragged me to the Foresters' when I didn't want 
 to go. And, besides, the fust part of the week when he left ye he 
 was as miserable as a mute, but as the time come near for ye to 
 come, he brightened up like a saucepan when Sally's rubbin' it, 
 and I'm lookin' on." 
 
 " He's a dear, good fellow !" exclaimed Eliza enthusiastically. 
 "Isn't he. Mrs. Dawe?" 
 
 " Well, he could be if he liked," returned the old woman, in a 
 tone milder than usual ; "if he only made up his mind to be a litt'e 
 more like his father, whose taste in wives not as I wish to flatter 
 him 'cause he was my 'usband was as good as mine in puddins ; 
 and I can't say more for it than that not as I wish to flatter 
 myself on my knowledge of cookery ! " 
 
 The subtle implications of this speech bewildered Eliza, so she 
 smiled sweetly. 
 
 "And when," continued Mrs. Dawe, smiling back to her, "Jack 
 took up with you I ses, ses I, that's the girl for my money ; and 
 there is a decent bit o' money, as I've told ye ag'in and ag'in. 
 And when in a little time I turns up my toes, and the sexton turns 
 up the ground, why, there ye are in as fine a cook-shop as ye 
 could smell for miles round." 
 
 " Oh no ! " protested Eliza, putting her arm round the old 
 woman's neck. " Dear mother (may I call you mother ?), don't talk 
 of dying. You'll live to be an old woman yet." 
 
 " Well, my father and mother did, certainly," said Mrs. Dawe,
 
 A FAMILY GROUP 305 
 
 " so, p'raps, if my son don't worry me, I may 'ave a chance too. 
 But you shan't regret it, my dear." 
 
 Eliza made no reply in words, but she pressed Mrs. Dawe to 
 her side till the head of that worthy personage reposed on her 
 lovely bosom. Then, transferring the parasol to her right hand, 
 the affectionate creature toyed with Jack's hair with her left. 
 
 It was a beautiful family picture, fitted to stir the noblest chords 
 of emotion in the photographic breast. Framed 'mid air of golden 
 glow, 'twixt sleeping sea and sky, it was a poem in human 
 characters an idyll of Peace. 
 
 So lovely was the tableau, so harmonious the colours, so 
 artistically distributed the light and shade, so graceful the atti- 
 tudes, so well contrasted the figures, that a peripatetic photographer 
 was riveted to the spot with admiration and reverence. And so 
 thrilled was his soul, that he felt there could be no outlet for the 
 waves of feeling save by transferring the high and holy vision to 
 sensitised paper, and thus giving permanence to an otherwise fleet- 
 ing dream of beauty. Treading softly, so as not to disturb the 
 pictorial postures of natural instinct, he appeared suddenly at Mrs. 
 Dawe's side, bending obsequiously to her lower level, and spreading 
 out in his hand a small collection of masterpieces. 
 
 " Beautiful day, ladies, for your portraits. The weather is per- 
 fection. You'll never get such a chance again." 
 
 Photographers, it may be pointed out, are the most contented 
 people on earth ; indeed, their content is almost saint-like. For 
 who, even in England, has ever heard one of the fraternity give the 
 ghost of a grumble about the weather ? When has the day been 
 other than perfect ? The divine no less than the layman may well 
 take a lesson from their infinite capability of seeing the bright side 
 of things. If the day is cloudy, the light falls better ; if cold, the 
 sun dazzles less, and so ad infinitum. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe shook her head, seeing which Eliza just managed to 
 suppress an eager cry of assent. 
 
 " Til take the whole group for a shilling as you are, and without 
 waking the gent.," urged the persuasive artist "The three for a 
 bob only, frame and all. It'll make the most beautiful domestic pic- 
 ture you ever saw, with your lovely young sister in the middle, and 
 her sweetheart, I presume, on the left." 
 
 "A shillin' !" exclaimed Mrs. Dawe. "A shillin' for what ye 
 can see in the looking-glass for nothing ! All you people down 'ere 
 ain't satisfied with a reasonable profit, which, as a business womnn, 
 I don't mind ye getting. As my late 'usband said, 'the natives o' 
 the seaside are like them animals that get fat in summer, and sleep 
 and live on their fat all through the winter.' When ye takes our 
 likenesses, I don't see that you do any work to be paid for, the sun 
 does it. Now, when my son, there, draws a animal, he does it all 
 with his own 'and." 
 
 " Well, madam, I'll throw you in a foreground of sea, and a 
 background of cliff without any extra charge. I can't speak any 
 fairer."
 
 306 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Oh do, mother," whispered Eliza impulsively. " You know I 
 haven't got a likeness of Jack. I'll pay for it." 
 
 " 'Lizer !" said Mrs. Dawe severely, " if I want a likeness I can 
 pay for it myself. When me and my late 'usband was done, we was 
 done in oil, as became keepers of a cook-shop. But ye know that 
 Jack's neter 'ad 'is likeness taken, and wouldn't allow it to be done 
 now, and I makes it a pint allus to give in to his wishes." 
 
 " Well, ladies, I shall wish you good morning. But you don't 
 know how it distresses me to see such a good opportunity lost. 
 Why, you'd make more than a picture- you're an allegory, that's 
 what you are ; age, youth, and middle age entwined harmoniously 
 in loving concord." 
 
 " Well, if I'm a allegry," said Mrs. Dawe, relenting, "ye may 
 'ave it done, 'Lizer, if ye like. I shan't tell Jack. But, remember, 
 if he finds it out, you're responsible. I won't pay for it or 'ave no- 
 thing to do with it." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, dear mother !" exclaimed Eliza. 
 
 The photographer brought his camera in front of the group, 
 perilously near the waves, and the ladies underwent the trying pro- 
 cess with their breasts filled with a pleasing anxiety lest the 
 recalcitrant member should awake. For an instant this crisis 
 seemed at hand, for Jack yawned heavily. But his drowsiness was 
 too strong, and once more he slumbered peacefully. 
 
 "As I predicted, ladies," said the artist, coming towards them 
 with a carte in his hand, " it's simply exquisite, and I'll take another 
 copy to show to all future parties, if you don't object." 
 
 " I don't object to all the world and his old woman seein' my 
 allegry," replied Mrs. Dawe ; " but, since we're a-doin' good to your 
 business, you ought to pay us instead of us payin' you." 
 
 "Isn't there something wrong about Jack's expression?" ob- 
 served Eliza anxiously. 
 
 The remark was not uncalled for, seeing that Jack's yawn had 
 occurred just at the critical moment. 
 
 " Wrong ?" echoed the artist. " Can the sun go wrong ?" 
 
 "That's the way," said Mrs. Dawe. " Blame everything on to 
 the sun, like the niggers do their dirty faces. There is something 
 wrong for all that." 
 
 Before theartist could make a reassuring reply Jack yawned again. 
 
 " Never mind," cried Eliza hastily. " Frame it quickly.'' 
 
 In a minute more the portrait was mounted, and the photo- 
 grapher gone. For a second the ladies surveyed the stout, girlish 
 form in muslin, the elegant womanly figure in serge, and the some- 
 what distorted countenance of the philosophic painter. 
 
 Then Eliza kissed the image of her lover, hurriedly concealed 
 the photo in her breast, and, bending down, embraced the original. 
 
 Jack opened his eyes sleepily. 
 
 "Oh, my own darling ! " cried Eliza. " Did you think I would 
 let you pine here alone ? Now you will enjoy yourself, my love j 
 oh. how we will enjoy ourselves together, as in the olden times when 
 we first met ! I was here once, some years ago, with my brother,
 
 A COCKNEY COURTSHIP 307 
 
 and I know exactly what to do. You shall row us out in the morn- 
 ing, and, while I'm bathing, you can hire a bicycle, and in the 
 afternoon we can go for a long walk over the cliffs, or on the sands, 
 or for a drive, and at night we can go to the theatre, or promenade 
 on the new pier where there's lots of girls and fellows courting like 
 us, and we can go for lovely excursions to Margate and the Hall by 
 the Sea, and we can go to Pegwell Bay and have tea with shrimps., 
 
 and we can go " 
 
 The painter listened, and his eyeballs dilated with horror. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A COCKNEY COURTSHIP. 
 
 THE subtly pertinacious Eliza carried out her programme almost 
 to the letter. A proposal that he should return to look after the 
 business, leaving his mother under the care of Eliza, brought down 
 on Jack's head a maternal wail to the effect that her own flesh and 
 blood was deserting her in her illness. Mrs. Dawe, with sublime 
 self-abnegation, managed to efface herself for the most part, probably 
 with a sympathetic remembrance of her own goings-on in the 
 halcyon days of courtship. She often pleaded fatigue and old bones 
 when Eliza wished to go on an excursion, and till their return re- 
 mained on the sands profuse of admiration of the blackened 
 minstrels, if sparing of money. 
 
 Jack first resisted Eliza's monopolisation of his attentions and 
 the arrangements she proposed, then grew tired of struggling, and 
 ended by proving himself in the wrong. Each stage of thought, 
 unconsciously changing into the next, summed itself up by a formula 
 which sprang like a wise Minerva out of Jack's head at the stimulus 
 of an appropriate simile. 
 
 On the second day Eliza dragged him to Pegwell Bay, before 
 he had time to recover from the shock of her arrival. As he had 
 determined not to go, he went. The endearments of the route, 
 combined with Eliza's lavish admiration of the scenery, as gushing 
 as if Nature were a third-rate Academy picture, completely destroyed 
 Avhatever beauty it might have possessed for the finer eye of the 
 painter. 
 
 " You do what you like with me," he groaned, apostrophising 
 Eliza and rejecting the plate of shrimps. " My will, like yon strong 
 wave, advances white-crested, threatening, and dashes itself to pieces 
 on the first rock." 
 
 " Oh, how lovely ! " exclaimed his fiancee. " It's as good as any- 
 thing in the London Reader. But do have a shrimp. Here's a nice 
 fat one I've picked off the beard and the tail for you. There, you 
 must have it ! " and she tried to cram it into his mouth. 
 
 " Thus have I mutilated myself/' spluttered Jack. 
 
 It was while he was promenading on the pier with Eliza hanging 
 
 X 2
 
 308 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 on his arm that calmness once more entered his soul. Immersed 
 in the massive harmony of " The Lost Chord," he forgot temporarily 
 his chattering companion. What music began, a cork completed. 
 Floating from the moonlit water on one side of the pier across the 
 dark masses underneath, and emerging into the sparkling waves on 
 the other side, it encouraged him to drift passively with a similar 
 hope of final emergence. 
 
 Henceforth, the torture of this pleasure-week grew less exquisite 
 in proportion as he succeeded in projecting his astral spirit, if not 
 his astral body, into space other than that which surrounded him. 
 This feat was not difficult to one who could utilise the most ordinary 
 remark or object as a spring-board to the empyrean. 
 
 Another escape from the apparent blind alley of Eliza's presence 
 he found in the objective pursuit of rowing. Mrs. Dawe professed 
 fears of drowning or, what was worse, sea-sickness. Eliza, who- 
 alone accompanied him, he taught to steer, and the novelty, 
 combined with the perils of the occupation, kept her pretty quiet. 
 
 The lovers were blessed with the most marvellous weather, 
 whose fairness reached its climax on the last day but one of their 
 holiday. The azure of the sky was tenderly set off by golden-edged 
 dots of white clouds, and the boat glided gently over small diamond- 
 crested waves in a far-flashing track of shimmering light. The 
 faint splash of Jack's oars as they lazily dipped into the beautiful 
 blue water suddenly ceased, and Eliza, who was unnecessarily busy 
 at the tiller, turning round found that he had fallen back upon his 
 oars in meditation. Soft currents of air brought to him a message 
 of delicious peace and wafted to his ears a vague, murmurous 
 harmony of sweet, far-off sounds that filled him with pleasurable 
 sadness. Once more the old weak craving for rest gently stirred 
 his soul under the brooding tranquillity of the sleeping sky. Eliza, 
 too, was silent. She did not feel the tender melancholy that affected 
 Jack ; to her the scene was gay and her emotion was one of pure 
 delight, polishing her faculties to a brightness like that of Nature 
 herself. 
 
 " Why do we examine our sorrows under a microscope," Jack 
 asked himself, "or shrink at each prick of a rose's thorn, neglecting 
 the flower? The girl is right. I have promised to marry her in two 
 months. Having accepted this situation, it is just that I should 
 take all its consequences, all its responsibilities. Do I not now 
 enjoy a balsamic calm? If I enjoy the blessings of my position, 
 what right have I to complain of its evils? Poor Eliza ! Her fate 
 is indeed cruel ! What a travesty I have caused of the golden 
 season of Light and Love ! No wonder that the tender lambent 
 glory, which should play in the dark eves of one who stands with 
 reluctant feet where the brook and river meet, occasionally changes 
 into the masterful flash which awes ire when : 
 
 Moil genie etonne tremble devant le s-'en." 
 
 " Look out, Jack ! " screamed Eliza. " Pull awav for your 
 life." 
 
 Jack looked up quickly and smiled.
 
 A COCKNEY COURTSHIP 309 
 
 " There's no danger, my dear child ! " he said kindly. " It's too 
 far off." 
 
 For there came dashing into the shimmering light, and cutting 
 it furiously and sending the diamond drops flying all round it, a 
 i.uge steamer with a great puffing and snorting and vomiting of 
 dark smoke. Standing out clear-cut in the transparent air, with 
 rude, savage impulse it cleft its way through the huge, watery 
 masses, ploughing up the lazy, soft-curling waves in fierce, barbaric 
 splendour, and communicating to them its own fiery restlessness. 
 The sadness of the tender calm of the azure sky was dispelled by 
 the mighty vitality of the monster, that brought a picturesque 
 roughness into the scene, and a suggestion of healthy life and 
 honest work ; of life that does its duty without weak questionings, 
 and vain, querulous repinings. 
 
 Drawn by the magnetic attraction inherent in all manifestations 
 of gigantic force, the lovers' eyes followed it till it diminished to a 
 speck. On went the glorious vessel in a beautiful straight line, 
 without the slightest apparent pitching. On, as with a rude, con- 
 scious life. On, rejoicing in the wild exercise of its own strength. 
 The great wheel went round, and the white water flashed in the sun, 
 .and the delicate machinery throbbed with Titanic throes, 
 
 Eliza shuddered. 
 
 " Didn't the people look sick ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Jack made no reply ; but, his heart throbbing with the hurtling of 
 mighty thoughts, he dashed his oars into the water and rowed 
 furiously along. 
 
 "Is not that a nobler type of life ? '' ran his reflections. " Why 
 have I deserted my post? I, who once left my books, moved by 
 the passionate impulse I now again feel to guide my country in 
 the old paths, by the old stars, that it be not lost i-n the dim ways 
 of the unknown to which I see it hastening. Was it to loll here 
 that I exchanged Wordsworth and Plato for Statistics and Blue 
 Docks? Shame on me to have turned aside from the holy vision 
 of the perfect state, too soon, too weakly abandoning it as a 
 mirage ! '' 
 
 He began to sketch out anew an ideal commonwealth. 
 
 A shriek of Eliza, followed by a crash that threw them both on 
 their backs, put an end to the reverie of the imaginative painter. 
 The incompetent hand at the helm had allowed the boat to strike 
 heavily on a miniature reef, bordering part of the coast of Thanet. 
 A plank was staved in and admitted the water slowly. 
 
 Eliza was the first to struggle to her feet, and, seeing that there 
 was no danger, she exclaimed : 
 
 " Good-bye, my love. We are lost ! But, thank God, we shall 
 die together." 
 
 " Cling to me. I can swim,'' cried Jack, rising. "Keep nothing 
 but your head above water, and commend yourself to God who 
 why, we can walk to shore ! " 
 
 " Impossible! 3 ' said Eliza. "I should be sure to slip, and all 
 .my petticoats would get wet."
 
 310 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Nonsense ! Lift them up." 
 
 " Oh, Jack, I told you once before not to be so vulgar. Don't 
 you see that party of tourists on the sands looking at us ? 1 
 wonder where we are ! " 
 
 " That queer wooden pier along way to the right must belong to 
 Broadstairs," replied Jack. " But how are you to get on shore, 
 then?" 
 
 " You must carry me," said Eliza decisively. " I am as light 
 as a feather ! " 
 
 Jack looked despairingly at the long expanse of black, slimy, 
 moss-covered, slippery rocks whose frequent clefts and interstices 
 held pools of salt water, and whose jagged slopes required the foot 
 of a chamois. 
 
 Then, smiling mournfully, he repeated : 
 
 " It is just that I should take all the consequences of the 
 position." 
 
 " Well, make haste then ! '' cried Eliza sharply, "for the water 
 is getting up to my ankles. My best boots are spoiled, and 
 
 Jack seized her manfully by the waist, lifted her up as high as 
 he could and stepped upon the reef. With infinite patience and 
 trouble he picked his tired way towards the shore, his tendencies to 
 reverie being all but destroyed by the dangers of the path and the 
 heavy weight of Eliza. Yet, when he had accomplished half the 
 task safely, he found himself inquiring whether in politics, too, 
 his powers, hitherto inadequately tried, might not rise to a perilous 
 occasion, and whether marriage, with the consequent sobering 
 weight of a wife, and the responsibility of acting for the happiness 
 of two, might not be the best condition for a man. A sudden slip 
 and a convulsive grasp on his throat warned him that analogies 
 were dangerous. Recovering himself, in a very muddy condition 
 as to his extremities and covered with black tangled seaweed, he 
 proceeded with greater caution, planting his feet firmly, and steady- 
 ing himself at each step. To add to his difficulties the wind hud 
 by this time freshened, and blew with some force against him in a 
 horizontal direction ; nor did the heat of the sun decrease his 
 discomfort. 
 
 At last, to his delight, a young man, who had been watching 
 them, set forwards to meet them, just about the time that Eliza's 
 loveliness began to be visible to a naked eye on shore. With her 
 own permission he had white teeth and a beautiful blond mous- 
 ache Eliza was transferred to his fresher muscles, and in a few 
 minutes the three were safe on the sands. The chivalrous rescuer 
 then left them, gracefully lifting his hat to Eliza, who gave him a 
 fascinating smile of thanks. He only moved a few feet off, how- 
 ever, and remained scrutinising Jack's face with a puzzled air. 
 
 Jack sat down on the shore, panting for breath and aching in 
 all his limbs, which were covered with perspiration so profuse that 
 his clothes stuck to him. 
 
 " The boat ! " cried Eliza, " we shall have to pay for it as it is I 
 It must be towed in ! "
 
 A COCKNEY COURTSHIP 311 
 
 A sudden startled look flashed into Jack's eyes ; his brow grew 
 dark. 
 
 " Let it drift!" he replied moodily. 
 
 " But, Jack," exclaimed Eliza in horrified admiration of a reck- 
 lessness that put her lover on the level of the Life-Guardsman of 
 feminine fiction, " it'll ruin you ! " 
 
 " Ruin ! " he laughed bitterly and scornfully. " Whose fault is 
 it," he burst forth, "if I 
 
 " It wasn't mine," whimpered Eliza. "I'm sure I tried to turn 
 it the other way." 
 
 " No, no ; it wasn't yours," said Jack kindly. Then he added 
 grimly : " If I put an ignorant man at the helm, after giving him 
 none but the slightest instruction in steering, knowing, too, that he 
 is reckless and loves to steer amid rocks, who can wonder if de- 
 struction ensue? And whose is the fault, whose is 
 
 The last two words were cut off in a singular manner. The world 
 is aware that the Parcas are not above playing a prank now and 
 again, and holding their sides as they think of the grimly fantastic 
 results of their little joke. Waggish old maids ! 
 
 It has been already remarked that Jack's clothes stuck to him. 
 But an exception must now be made. His straw hat did not. That 
 light and frisky article having politely waited to almost the termina- 
 tion of its owner's speech, now bounded off on an aerial voyage, 
 upborne by a puff of wind that blew it in the direction of Rams- 
 gate. For a moment Jack gazed after it in mute horror. No one 
 of the small crowd of holiday makers, that had gathered round, 
 stirred. An anticipatory grin spread over every face. Starting up, 
 Jack walked after it in leisurely pursuit, for it was nearing the 
 ground. It rested. He stooped to pick it up, and it flew from 
 between his fingers, and the irrepressible laughter of the group 
 reached his ears. Reddening indignantly, he quickened his pace 
 to a run and panted along the hot sands. But the hat could have 
 given odds to Atalanta, and, like Goldsmith's horizon, fled as he 
 pursued. 
 
 ' It is thus," he thought bitterly, "that the philosopher pursues 
 the Ideal amid the laughter of the jeering crowd." 
 
 By this time the hat had reached a point where the cliffs 
 stretched out, forming a small headland, and Jack hoped that 
 here its career would be ruthlessly barred. Alas ! it was not so. 
 Skirting dexterously around the base of the cliff it was lost to view 
 on the other side. Jack paused for breath and looked back. The 
 group was barely visible in the distance. 
 
 " Shall I give up ?" he muttered. " But what do I say ? Give 
 up on the very day when I have determined no longer to be con- 
 quered by difficulties, when I have found my long-lost resolution. 
 And shall I not find my hat ? On, man ; on !" 
 
 He turned the corner. 
 
 We are often told that if we follow our noses we shall be right. 
 Jack did follow his nose, which followed his hat, nnd the pursuit 
 led him into one of the oddest positions imaginable, and resulted
 
 312 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 in consequences absolutely incapable of being divined by the 
 shrewdest reader ; in consequences at which the present historian 
 has never ceased to be surprised. What ultimately happened to 
 Jack from the chase of his errant head-gear never occurred to any 
 human being before, and will, in all mathematical probability, never 
 occur again till the universe dissolves like the baseless fabric of a 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE VAGARIES OF A HAT. 
 
 JACK toiled along the shore, his eyes bent upon a light, volant 
 object that respectfully "kept its distance.' He was as much 
 impeded as helped by his feet, for they stuck every now and again 
 into the viscous sand. Such little accidents passed almost un- 
 perceived by a man who was busily investigating the subtleties of 
 the ancient puzzle of Achilles and the Tortoise in relation to 
 Eleatic monism generally. But suddenly a negative consciousness 
 that the quarry was invisible caused him to stop. Raising his eyes 
 he beheld the hat descending after a lofty rise. He was still 
 watching it as it described an irregular curve, almost grazing the 
 side of the cliff, when hey presto ! it disappeared with spectral 
 rapidity. The paintei rubbed his eyes, but the hat did not re- 
 appear. In ni/iil niJiilfit; he rushed to the vanishing point of the 
 curve and discovered the solution. At about four feet from the 
 ground he saw a large gap in the chalk, which turned out to be the 
 mouth of a greenish cleft that got narrower and narrower inter- 
 nally till one could barely pass an arm through it, and ended exter- 
 nally in a perpendicular surface. Nearly two and a half feet to the 
 left he noticed a strangely-formed cleft, smaller than the first, but 
 ending in a similar abrasion, and at the same distance above was a 
 rough, narrow split connecting laterally the upper extremities of the 
 two clefts. How far the cliff was hollowed out by the action of the 
 waves he could not determine. Peering into the cavity, he en- 
 countered thick darkness ; but this was of course explicable as the 
 effect either of an ultimate snapping-together of the jaws of the 
 crevice or of a bend in its formation. The recovery of his head- 
 gear was evidently hopeless it would lie entombed till the rare 
 opportunity should occur of taking the tide at the flood, and rising 
 into the daylight on the crest of mighty waves such as had 
 originally carved out the curiously jagged mouth of its prison. 
 Failing this, or in the event of new geological changes such as subsi- 
 dence of portions of the cliff, what aeons might it not remain buried ? 
 And what revolutionary effects upon the biology of the dim future 
 might not be pr >duced by the discovery of its fossilised remains ? 
 
 " One more failure,'' sighed Jack. ' Thus sinks the Ideal in the 
 depths of modern materialism. Is this an omen that I shall fail 
 always that action is impossible to me? Would Bruce have
 
 3'3 
 
 tried again if he were in my position ?" He leaned upon the cliff, 
 which sloped at an angle of sixty, and inserted his right hand 
 with an infinitesimal hope that he might yet find his hat wedged 
 lower down in the rock. His progress was soon arrested by the 
 narrowing of the cleft, his bare arm being unable to penetrate 
 farther than an inch above the elbow on account of the bulging of 
 h;s coat-sleeve at that point. While he was in despair, a sudden 
 gust of wind that sported with his uncovered silky locks reminded 
 him afresh of the many discomforts of the inevitable journey to 
 Broadstairs, where he would probably find hatters existing to serve 
 as a standard of insanity, and for other useful purposes. With a 
 doggedness worthy of better hats he threw off his coat, as if for a 
 bout with Fortune. Placing the stylishly-cut garment of light 
 tweed on one side, he made another attempt. To insert his arm to 
 its full extent, it was necessary to lie flat upon the calcareous 
 declivity. The hand was thus just enabled to make the vermicular 
 bend which the conformation of the tunnel rendered necessary, and 
 the long, taper fingers groped about in the rock like so many small 
 serpents. 
 
 It was the position of one who, with bated breath, draws the lot 
 which means to him Life or Death. 
 
 Pause, O unconscious Jack, and desist from thy hopeless task 
 while there is yet time ! Better were it for thee to return hatless 
 or shoeless, nay, it were even better for thee, disciple of Burke 
 though thou beest, to return a Saus-culotte than to stay and face 
 thy swift-advancing fate. 
 
 Let the reader who doubts the desirability of this last alterna- 
 tive remember that the present historian is a Cassandra who never 
 prophesies unless he knows. 
 
 For suddenly a strange click was heard, followed by a mysterious 
 rumbling. The whole cliff seemed to Jack's excited imagination to 
 be whirling round. He grew dizzy and blind. After what appeared 
 an age of confused consciousness, his brain grew clearer and he 
 felt a vague, heavy pain in his right arm. He moved it, and it 
 slipped along a rough surface, grazing the skin and drawing blood 
 in places. An instant afterwards he found himself falling down a 
 frightful abyss. The descent occupied about one-twentieth of a 
 second ; and much to his surprise he alighted safely on his feet with a 
 soft splash. Looking about in a dazed fashion, he discovered rays of 
 light streaming through two irregular, but somewhat funnel-shaped 
 openings, the larger being on his left. Behind him the walls of the 
 small cavern drew together, curved round to the right, and ended 
 in total darkness. In a moment the honible truth burst upon him. 
 By some inexplicable convulsion of Nature, the cliff had opened 
 and closed again upon him, and he was buried alive till tiic tu:e 
 should enter the cavity. At the same instant he trod upon 
 his hat. 
 
 ' Fit emblem of human life, of the Victor conquered by Death, 
 of the vanity of human wishes," he murmured with pale lips, 
 which, however, did not tremble. " The only time in my life I have
 
 314 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 been successful in Action, comes Death on my track. ... I 
 would have chosen a less lingering death. Yet, I shall have time 
 for meditation before passing into eternity, and soon enough the 
 tide will cover me." He spread his hands over his eyes. 
 
 " Is this the end of all my life of struggle of all my search 
 for Truth to die in this cave ? What, if from this cave I find Truth 
 at last with Plato, after my lifelong seeing of shadows ? My place 
 on earth will soon be filled . . . soon be filled ? . . . " 
 
 He smiled sadly. " May he be happier in it than I. ... 
 I am quite resigned. . . . No one will ever know what has 
 become of me. Poor Jack Dawe ! No one will grieve for me. 
 No one ever cared for me Gwendolen ! " 
 
 As the last name issued from his lips, the painter, inconsistent 
 to the last, made a furious rush at the rocky wall of his prison and 
 dashed himself against it with all his might. Alas, the stony mass 
 gave not the slightest quiver. 
 
 A sharp cry broke from the hapless man : 
 
 " I die unforgiven, I die unforgiven, the death of a coward in 
 dishonour ! " 
 
 He fell upon his knees. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN THE LIONS' DEN. 
 
 THE unfortunate Jack Dawe had barely assumed the humble atti- 
 tude of genuflexion, accompanied by closed eyelids, when he heard 
 a repetition of the rumbling sound. Instantaneously, conflicting 
 possibilities set his brain in a whirl. Evidently the landslip or the 
 internal struggle of pent-up forces, or whatever geological change 
 was taking place, had not yet ceased. He would be overwhelmed 
 by falling masses, or wedged between contracting portions of cliff. 
 Well, perhaps it was better to die at once than to endure the pro- 
 tracted agony of an Andromeda. But what if the cliff in labour gave 
 birth, not to a mouse but to a painter, and hurled him into free 
 space ; or created a new and broad opening ; or widened the exist- 
 ing fissure sufficiently to allow of his escape ? 
 
 Before he had time to open his eyes fairly or rise to his feet, he 
 was almost stunned by the occurrence of the first of the alterna- 
 tives which, subdivided as it was into two variants, came to pass in 
 both forms contemporaneously. He experienced simultaneously 
 the shock of a heavy body falling upon him and the feeling of 
 compression as in a vice between two firm masses. He fell back- 
 wards, giving himself up for lost. His head struck against the 
 wall of the cave with that deadened concussion caused by the 
 transmission of force through some intervening medium ; which, in 
 this case, was singularly soft. 
 
 "Cuise ye for an awkward divil, whoever you are!" cried
 
 IN THE LIONS' DEN 315 
 
 the medium, which possessed a hoarse voice and a strong Irish 
 brogue. 
 
 Jack's heart beat furiously and he opened his eyes. 
 
 The medium had risen to its feet, and Jack caught a momentary 
 glimpse of a coarse, pock-marked, but not ill-dressed man of about 
 fifty, with a red scarf round his throat. 
 
 "Is there a way out," cried Jack eagerly, "or are you lost too?' r 
 
 The man whistled reflectively and turned pale. " What's the 
 time ?" he inquired. 
 
 " The time ? " repeated Jack. " Is the tide " 
 
 Quick as lightning the man whisked the red scarf off his throat 
 and tied Jack's arms tightly to his sides. Before the astonished 
 painter could remonstrate,he found himself gagged and blindfolded. 
 He had only time to draw a few laborious breaths through the un- 
 accustomed channel of his nose, when the mysterious sounds, 
 already twice the herald of the unexpected, were heard a third 
 time. With a rough turn and a growl of " Get out of the way, ye 
 omadhaun ! " his captor whirled him round and sent him stagger- 
 ing along for what seemed a far greater distance than the entire 
 length or breadth of the cave. Still he retained as much calmness 
 as was compatible with the rapid changes in his situation. 
 
 " Is it possible that I have fallen into a den of smugglers ? " he 
 thought. " It would seem that this is an artificial cave, or one with 
 an artificial entrance. But I don't suppose I've fallen from the 
 frying-pan into the fire. They will merely exact an oath of secresy, 
 I suppose. They won't murder an inoffensive stranger. Poor 
 Southleigh, I know how the revenue worries him. Ought I to' 
 take this oath ? 'Tis wrong ; but it would be in self-defence. And 
 what says the honourable Cicero, after Pancetius, in his 'De Ofnciis'? 
 Ah, Casuist, Casuist, thou knowest how thou wouldst dull thy 
 moral sense to see her once more." He ceased from all definite 
 reflection, overpowered by a rush of delirious joy that scattered 
 reason, delicate conscientiousness, and everything else to the 
 winds. 
 
 " Here's a go," he heard the man whisper, evidently in the ear 
 of a new-comer. " Pat Malone he lived before your time, a very 
 clever fellow, executed in '48 he always used to say it would 
 happen some time ; but he never lived to see his prophecy come 
 true." A chuckle followed these words. 
 
 " See hwat come true ? " asked another voice in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " Why, didn't oi tell ye ? Some poor divil iv a tourist has 
 dhropped in." The application of the term "poor divil" to him, 
 seemed to Jack to indicate a fund of rough tenderness in the 
 heart of the pock-marked smuggler. But the reply of the hoarse 
 whisperer was not equally reassuring. 
 
 " Och, the powers ! The Sassenach has fallen into our hands." 
 
 " Sure it was me that fell on the head of the Sassenach," said 
 the first comer, with a crescendo chuckle that seemed to increase 
 in volume till it became a regular rumble. A gust of cold air blew
 
 .3 1 6 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 into Jack's face, and he heard the men rapidly shuffling nearer to 
 him. The next instant a clear, musical voice exclaimed : 
 
 " Which scoundrel of you all has been leaving his coat about? 
 I never had to do with such a set ; they invite discovery ; they are 
 as careless as so many detectives." 
 
 " Sure, discovery's come without being invited," laughed the 
 first voice. "And oi was the first to dhrop on him, and in a moighty 
 unpleasant fashion, too, knaling on the ground as pale as his 
 shirt-sleeves, and we both tumbled over, and by St. Pathrick my 
 spine feels as sore as your timper." 
 
 " D n you for a fool," cried the clear voice angrily, " what 
 are you jabbering about ? " 
 
 " Begorra, and it's thrue," put in the hoarse whisper. " One iv 
 the cursed Sassenachs has fallen into our cave," interpolated the 
 chuckling whisper. 
 
 Jack heard the rapid decisive tramp, deadened by sand, of ad- 
 vancing footsteps. Then an oath made him shudder, and he was 
 rudely whirled round by the shoulders. A match was struck and 
 .brought in unpleasant proximity to his face. 
 
 " What the devil do you mean by poking your nose into other 
 people's affairs?" inquired the voice whose musical timbre he 
 could not help admiring. 
 
 Jack tried to explain, and produced an inarticulate gurgle. 
 
 " What's the use of gagging him, Murphy ; why didn't you 
 -despatch him at once?" cried the voice sharply. Jack's blood ran 
 cold. The last comer, who was evidently in authority, seemed to 
 be the most bloodthirsty of all. He could not quite understand 
 for what purpose they were assembled. Could they be a gang 
 of Irish conspirators ? But then the leader was certainly an 
 Englishman. 
 
 "Sure, and hwat would oi do with the dead corpse?" replied 
 Murphy. 
 
 " I'd know what to do with yours, you white-livered scoundrel!" 
 was the reply. 
 
 " None iv your names, ye infernal omadhaun, or oi'll split your 
 skull and the whole concern too, bedad oi will/' growled Murphy, 
 with sudden anger. 
 
 " Och, praise the Holy Mother, oi'm out o' this ! " interjected the 
 hoarse voice. Jack wished he was too. It is noi. pleasant to listen 
 to a quarrel about the disposal of one's body ; but a faint hope 
 dawned within his breast that pnrt of the drama of the " Babes in 
 the Wood" would be re-enacted for his benefit. Unfortunately, how- 
 ever, or perhaps fortunately, the leader seemed to display the tip of 
 the white feather, for his next remark, though delivered with the 
 same arrogant harshness, ignored the point at issue. 
 
 " Where's Jim and Jacques ? Late again, I suppose." 
 
 " You're glad iv it, ain't you ? Another opportunity to show 
 your authority by blowing them up now the Captain's away." 
 
 " Holy Moses ! don't talk iv blowing our men up," interposed 
 the hoarse voice.
 
 IN THE LIONS 1 DEN 317- 
 
 A loud laugh, evidently from Murphy, fell upon the horrified 
 ears of the captive like the sound of a "brazen canstick turned 
 on edge." 
 
 " Curse you ! " hissed the leader. " Do you want to be heard 
 outside ? Take this coat, one of you, and get inside." 
 
 Seizing Jack tightly by his collar, he vented his angry feelings 
 by pushing him forward with unnecessary vigour. Every now and 
 again the painter felt himself splashing about in a pool of water, or 
 getting entangled in seaweeds, while his companions skirted round 
 such uncomfortable spots with a complacent sense of superior 
 vision. Once he was propelled against the rocky wall, and then 
 asked with an oath why he did not stoop. Happily, the broad, 
 thickly-folded bandage over his eyes deadened the shock. He 
 crawled on all-fours (if the term be applicable to one whose arms 
 are bound to his sides) through a narrow aperture, reflecting that 
 he had all his life been trying to get through a dead wall without 
 success, while the men who prospered were those who crawled 
 under it. He rose to his feet half-suffocated, the blood surging in 
 his ears, and his head bursting. The upright position relieved him 
 somewhat, and he was able to mount five or six rough steps without 
 falling. 
 
 " There you are stand there ! " cried the leader, with a final 
 propulsion that sent him staggering along. His foot tripped over 
 something soft, and, with a thrill of horror, he fell upon a prostrate 
 body, and shuddered in all his limbs at the contact of the ghastly 
 thing. The recumbent form shook him off with angry vigour, and 
 he rolled helplessly over on his back, and lay panting. Whoever 
 it was, was not dead, but sleeping a remark which, for several 
 reasons, would have been more in place on his tombstone. 
 
 " What, Captain, you here ? " exclaimed the musical voice. " I 
 really beg your pardon." 
 
 "You usually overwhelm me with such politeness," said the 
 Captain sneeringly, with the exaggerated brogue of the stage-Irish- 
 man, into or out of which he seemed to slip capriciously, "that this 
 overwhelming me with impoliteness, in the form of some dhrunken 
 scoundhrel, is a little relief. Let's have lights." 
 
 Jack heard the striking of more matches, and presently a dull 
 glow penetrated vaguely through his bandage. He wondered 
 what sort of man the Captain was, and whether he would gain 
 by his presence, and he waited anxiously for the inevitable 
 inspection. 
 
 "That's better," said the Captain. "Now then, what's this 
 object?" He spurned Jack with his foot. "But stop! Don't 
 answer me. You are dying of curiosity. So am I. Like Sir 
 Philip Sidney at Zutphen, I allow your thirst to be satisfied first. 
 I have seen the Old Chief; he is in ecstasies. Dreams of nothing 
 but courts and diplomacies and the Irish flag. Rewards certain in 
 that direction, come what may, should the present plan miscarry. 
 Mission over, came back in time for meeting too early, in fact. 
 Went to sleep, and was sleeping the sleep of the just, when I
 
 318 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 dreamed I was struggling with satyrs, like St. Patrick, and I awoke 
 to find this miserable cratur rolling over me." 
 
 " What d'ye say, Cap'n, to a good pull o' the cratur now ? " said 
 Murphy. 
 
 Hearing this, Jack, who, on the mention of the Old Chief, had 
 given himself up for lost, prepared for further indignities. But 
 nothing happened except an exclamation of, " Don't mind if I do" 
 from the Captain, followed by a gurgling sound. 
 
 " There, no one can say that that cratur's miserable ! " exclaimed 
 Murphy. 
 
 " How is it Jim and Jacques haven't turned up ? " inquired the 
 Captain. 
 
 "Don't know," replied the lieutenant; "unless they're nailed 
 for some private prank." 
 
 "Hang it all! that's what I can never stand preferring in- 
 dividual interest to the good of the public, and, when on a big job, 
 getting nabbed for some trifling affair. It's not gentlemanly, it's 
 not honourable. However, let us wait and see ; undue haste is to 
 be deprecated, so is curiosity. Let us make ourselves comfortable, 
 and then we'll dispatch this beggar, and lastly, pleasure over, we'll 
 come to business." 
 
 A strong odour of tobacco-smoke began to be borne to Tack's 
 nostrils, and simultaneous or consecutive gurglings and smackings 
 of lips to be heard in different directions. 
 
 " Now then, Patrick Donaghue O'Connor," said the Captain in 
 a tone of enjoyment, " produce the prisoner ! '' 
 
 Jack was suddenly pulled to his feet with a violent tug, and 
 jerked forwards. 
 
 " Come closer," said the Captain. " I hear you came to see me. 
 We didn't expect you ; but accidents will happen in the best- 
 regulated caves." 
 
 His words proved true ; for, as Jack was obediently advancing, he 
 lost his balance and fell off the ledge of what seemed to be a small 
 platform, descending with all his weight upon some hard object. 
 The Captain uttered a cry of horror. 
 
 " Murderer ! " he shrieked, apostrophising Jack. " Our blood be 
 upon your head ! " 
 
 The last words reached Jack's ears with the feebleness that 
 comes of distance, for at the terrible cry of their chief, the men 
 dropped their bottles, bounded down, and fled with him like hunted 
 hares. In less than half-a-minute the last echoes died away, and 
 Jack, divining what had happened, was left calmly recumbent on 
 one of the two black bags which stood opposite each other on 
 narrow ledges; waiting for the explosion that would blow the cave 
 and himself to smithereens. So many rapid vicissitudes, each with 
 its alternations of hope and fear, in one day, had almost exhausted 
 his capacity for emotion. Danger had by this time lost its flavour 
 an grown monotonous to his palate. He had been shivering too 
 long on the brink of death, and now lay in passive expectation of 
 :he final pus>h into the icy waters.
 
 A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR 319 
 
 "After all," he thought, " what is Life but a blind groping after 
 Truth ; missing which, man stumbles upon destruction ? Would 
 those wretches were in reality chained to the cave as Plato figura- 
 tively imagined, that they might at least share my fate." 
 
 CHAPTER VII.. 
 
 A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR. 
 
 IT is rather irritating when a man has resigned himself to dying by 
 dynamite to find things not going off as he expected especially 
 when, as an honest man, he is unfamiliar with the habits of that 
 disreputable substance. As it failed to blow Jack up at once, he 
 wondered whether, as with some human beings, a long antecedent 
 smouldering were necessary to an explosion. Live and learn, says 
 the proverb, but in this case to die was to learn if this were so. In 
 momentary anticipation of the bitter lesson, he remained for ages 
 (to use the common hyperbole) in a state of tension that would 
 have turned the average hero's hair gray. But, in harmony with 
 the rest of his life, in which nothing ever turned out as he had fore- 
 cast it, he was disappointed once more. The " mute, inglorious " 
 black bag rested there, "guiltless of" the painter's " blood," nor 
 ever woke the echoes to find itself famous. At length he grew 
 convinced that the present sample of the deleterious compound 
 which no conspirator should be without was like the village idiots, 
 the purgative pills, and the martial implements of the period, 
 " perfectly harmless." The ruffians had vanished, and for a 
 moment he thought he was saved. But only for a moment. He 
 had already escaped death thrice, but now the vision of its imminence 
 a fourth time drew from him as near an approach to a groan 
 (necessarily muffled), as he could produce under the new conditions. 
 The method of his final exit would be similar to the first, but with 
 all its horrors aggravated. Already he felt the cruel waters mount- 
 ing higher and higher, while he, gagged, blindfolded, his arms tied to 
 his sides, lay like the trunk of a tree, falling and rising with the ebb 
 and flow of the slowly-mounting waves ; inanimate to all appearance, 
 but, like the trees of the enchanted forest described by Dante, alive 
 and quivering with pain. 
 
 He made an effort to rise, with a vague hope of reaching the 
 entrance and discovering a way out ; but for a man in his situation 
 to rise to his feet, the muscles of the calves must have gone through 
 a preparatory course of gymnastics. The utmost exertion, together 
 with the use of the head as a propeller, could only push him a few 
 inches backwards. He ceased from the vain attempt. A few 
 minutes afterwards he heard the conspirators returning. His heart 
 leaped with hope. A drowning man catches at a straw, and 
 similarly Jack Dawe clutched at the very chaff of society. 
 
 It is at this point that the present historian for the first time
 
 320 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 regrets his office, and envies the more brilliant functions of the 
 novelist, and it is only the consoling reflection that his labours are 
 more likely to be durable that induces him to proceed with so com- 
 paratively tame a narration. Unable to choose his hero, or at 
 least, to change him when chosen, he is compelled to see him 
 wasting the most sensational opportunities, and he cannot stir a 
 finger while his best chapters are spoiled by the demands of a dull 
 veracity. 
 
 For let us make the impossible supposition that this history is a 
 mere figment of the imagination do but see what could be done 
 with Jack Dawe. It would be the easiest thing in the world for 
 him to set free his arms by wriggling or by persistent rubbing of 
 the red scarf against the jagged wall, combined with violent burst- 
 ing of the frayed texture. This done, the gag and bandage are 
 removed with facility. Again he breathes freely, again he sees the 
 light of day. He perceives some steps hewn in the chalk, ascend- 
 ing beyond the green tide-mark that half lines the walls. He 
 mounts the platform where, like an experienced orator, he feels 
 safe He then winds his way through tortuous passages to the 
 entrance of the cave, but fails to find the secret spring. However, 
 he is sure that accident will befriend him sooner or later. Mean- 
 time he improvises a flag of distress out of the red scarf and a stick 
 left behind by one of the men. This will be seen by some 
 pedestrian on the sands he will be extricated, or, this failing, he 
 will be supplied with food. Nature will thus have furnished all the 
 externals of that anchorite's life for which he is best fitted. Pilgri- 
 mages will be made to the cave, the palmers being laden with 
 reverence, compassion, food, and the other essentials of existence. 
 Through the chinks he can publish to the world the fruits of his 
 meditations in the shape of poems and essays and Eliza Bathbrilf 
 will be on the wrong side of the cliff". En attendant, the tide brings- 
 to him shell-fish, edible seaweed, and occasionally a few dainties 
 may be introduced. Or better still, he might be cut off entirely 
 from human aid ; and the same tide could be utilised for washing 
 into the cave whatever was wanted for his comfort a complete 
 battcrie de cuisine, wooden pails floated out of the grasp of careless 
 children, fragments of furniture, saws, and nails, and glue, waifs 
 and strays, and flotsam and jetsam of every description. Even 
 the great difficulty of fresh water might be solved by the entrance 
 of a small chemical apparatus for extracting it from the sea- 
 water. 
 
 " But the conspirators will return ! " cries the carping reader,, 
 "and escape is impossible all the same. I have you on the hip ! 
 Your romancing powers cannot cope with this difficulty, and 
 so you have avoided it ! " 
 
 Stay a minute, dear reader, it is just at this point that the 
 Pegasus of the writer longs to make its highest flight. You have 
 forgotten the second black bag. This, and not the first, contains 
 the dynamite. Armed with it, Jack, freed from all his bonds, meets 
 the returning scoundrels. " Let me out, or I cla^h this down and
 
 A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR 321 
 
 we die together. Attempt to escape and to leave me here, and I 
 do ditto." Fury of the baffled ruffians. " Promise, at least, not to 
 betray the existence of the cave." " I promise nothing, and give 
 you five minutes to let me out. I am reckless." What a scene for 
 melodrama ! The rugged cave, lit by weird limelight ; the over- 
 turned flasks of whisky ; the platform littered with inchoate wheel- 
 work; the picturesque, scowling band ; the hero in his shirt-sleeves, 
 his right arm, which is bare to the shoulder, and displays a long, 
 bloody graze, waving a black bag of terrible suggestiveness ; the 
 short, fierce parley ; the helpless submission of the gang, and the 
 triumph of the right. As the rocky door swings open, and Jack 
 steps out into the air, a free man, the ear of fancy is stunned with 
 the roar of a many-sounding sea of applause. Cut tain -treble 
 recall ! 
 
 But Jack was not the man to do anything so sensible. He had 
 at last given in his adhesion to the principle of laissez faire. 
 
 " Said I not undue haste was to be deprecated ? " he heard the 
 returning Captain remark. " Had you scoundrels not upset my 
 equanimity by the rapidity of your flight, a moment's calm reflec- 
 tion would have convinced me that the portraits were in that bag 
 and the dynamite in the other." 
 
 " Mafoi /" laughed a new voice, evidently belonging to Jacques. 
 "If it had been de oder vay, it was happy that I was late. De 
 early bird catches de dynamite, hein ?" 
 
 " Ha, here's that infernal fool again ! " burst forth the lieu- 
 tenant. " I'm afraid, if we don't get rid of him at once, he'll be 
 doing some more mischief." 
 
 " Command yourself, Patrick Donaghue O'Connor, sor ! " said 
 the Captain. " It's not his fault. Hoist him up. We will pursue 
 the investigation." 
 
 " Och, awirra, awirra ! " gasped Murphy. "All the cratur's 
 spilt." 
 
 " Remove the gag," said the Captain, when Jack stood once 
 more before him on the platform where Murphy had rapidly 
 heaped up in one corner the litter of half-finished mechanical 
 contrivances. '* Now, me friend," he continued affably, " your 
 name ? : ' 
 
 Jack hesitated. He heard the click of a revolver. 
 <l Jack Dawe," he replied hastily. 
 " Your occupation ?" 
 
 " I am at present a house-and-sign painter." 
 " Your address ? " 
 " I live in London." 
 
 " Sor," said the Captain solemnly, "as ye value your life and 
 me time, no prevarrication. I am a man of Action and not a 
 man of Words. 1 ' In substantiation of this statement, Jack felt a 
 cold steel barrel pressed against his cheek, and with a shrinking 
 at heart he felt that although he had never been entitled to make 
 the same boast, he was now more than ever restricted to words and 
 debarred from action.
 
 322 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "My present address," he replied, "is in the Bethnal Green 
 Road, at the Star Dining Rooms." 
 
 "How came ye here?" was the next question. "Are ye a 
 Government official ? " 
 
 " I assure you that I came here by pure accident. My hat 
 Mew into a gap in the cliff. I inserted my hand in the hope 
 of " 
 
 "Enough," interrupted the Cap'ain. "It's an ill wind that 
 blows nobody any good, and we're in want of recruits. We don't 
 want to kill you if we can help it: in the first place, because we 
 shan't get paid for the job; and in the second, because we have 
 something big on hand, and we can't afford to run unnecessary 
 risks that might spoil what I hope to make an artistic success, and 
 a chef-cfauvre for the imitation of posterity. You see I am plain 
 with you because you will leave this place a member of my highly- 
 piid travelling company, or not at all. Aie ye handy with your 
 fingers?" 
 
 "N-o-o," stammered Jack wonderingly. '' At least, I can't say 
 till I try." 
 
 " Sensibly answered," said the Captain. " Know anything of 
 clockwork, now ? '' 
 
 " No," replied Jack abstractedly. The question set a stanza of 
 " The Cuckoo" buzzing in his brain : 
 
 " No bird, but an invisible tiling, 
 A voice, a mystery." 
 
 A sudden vision of sunny fields and of the days that were no 
 more, filled his eyes with tears. 
 
 " That's a pity," said the Captain. " But your fingers are cut 
 out by Nature for the purpose, they're long and delicate. Under 
 my tuition you'll soon be able to construct one, won't you ?" 
 ' " Eh ? " cried Jack with a start. " Construct what ?" 
 
 "An Infe-r-r-nal Machine, ye spalpeen, of course!'' growled 
 Murphy. 
 
 <: An infernal machine !'' gasped Jack. "I make an Infernal 
 Machine ! Never ! " 
 
 "Sor," said the Captain severely, "you're an Englishman, and 
 if your breast is swayed by pathriotic motives, belave me ye cannot 
 serve your counthry better than by jining us.'' To clench this 
 argument, he pressed the pistol with greater force against Jack's 
 cheek. 
 
 " Sir," replied the piinter with equal severity. "Above all, let 
 us clear our minds of cant. Retro me, Sat/iana, with thy casuistry ! 
 Even were my sense of honour to permit me to construct an infernal 
 machine as a legitimate instrument of warfare, my conscience 
 would not allow me to use it in your service. Sir, my politics are 
 radically opposed to those of that large and not uninfluential 
 section of mankind of which you are the temporary representative. 
 1 do not, sir, question the motives of the upholders of those opinions,
 
 A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR 323 
 
 nor do I deny their right, or rather, I willingly concede their right 
 to come to such conclusions upon imperial questions as are forced 
 upon them by those data, not, I venture to think, uncont animated by 
 prejudice, which are apparent to what I cannot refrain from calling 
 the superficial glance; but, however I may tolerate them, I desire 
 it to be distinctly understood, sir, that I am not in harmony with 
 opinions which, if carried to their logical extreme, would lead to the 
 entire disruption of the empire, the fruit of so many centuries of 
 self-sacrifice, so vast an expenditure of the treasures of industry and 
 of the blood of heroes. Far from concurring in schemes at once 
 so impracticable and so un-English, it is with extreme disfavour 
 that I view the attempts of the Parnellites, and I would do any- 
 thing in my power to hinder that repeal of the Union which, sir, is 
 the aim of your own efforts. Judge, then, what assistance you can 
 expect from one who prefers death to dishonour. Sir, I thank you 
 for the patience with which you have listened to these few remarks. 
 I have done. Loose your trigger, I pray you, and torture me no 
 more." He ceased, and drawing himself up to his full height, 
 awaited Death for the fifth time. 
 
 A moment's solemn silence followed the bold speech of Jack 
 Dawe. 
 
 It was broken by a hoarse exclamation of "A plucky boy, by 
 me sowl ! That's the man for us." 
 
 "Hold your pace, Mick!" cried the Captain. "Jack Dawe, 
 d'ye mane what you say ?" 
 
 " Do not seek to tempt me further," said Jack. " You are 
 already in possession of my views." 
 
 " You would do everything in your power to hinder the repeal 
 of the Union, eh?" 
 
 " Sir, do not sneer at a fallen foe. Alas, I know too well, that 
 iny threat must remain a threat, and nothing more. If you have 
 any chivalry in you, kill me at once." 
 
 Evidently this appeal to the Captain's delicacy touched the 
 right chord, for Jack felt a sudden relaxation of the pressure on 
 his cheek and a burning rush of blood to the empty capillaries. 
 
 " Sor, I admire your courage," said the Captain, "and it shall 
 never be said that a man of the wor-r-ld like meself refused to 
 make concessions. Ye have a conscientious objection, say ye, 
 to constructing an infer-r-nal machine. Very well, [ acctde 
 to your own terms. A conscientious objection is a thing so rarely 
 met with that one can afford to respect it when he does come 
 across it." 
 
 " I have not mentioned any terms/' began Jack. " I altogether 
 refuse " 
 
 "Softly, softly ; I can't afford to lose a man with the sperrit of 
 Brian Boru, and a gift of the gab like O'Connell's. A Ja: k .< f 
 Hearts is a useful card in a pack, eh, my boy ? Ye'll listen to a 
 little gintle persuasion ; ye're open to argument, aren't ye ': '" 
 
 "Alas, tco much so," groaned Jack, with a vivid retv:e;nbiance 
 of the afternoon when he read the fiagments of the Frc'c:nin!:-;r 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 THE PREMIER AA'D THE PAINTER 
 
 and with a vague fear that if he listened too attentively he might 
 be converted in this case too. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said the Captain eagerly. " But be r ore t 
 let you further into our secrets, as I must do in the course of the- 
 argument, you will at least take an oath not to betray anything you. 
 learn or have already learnt." 
 
 " I warn you, you are wasting your breath. However, your de- 
 mand is reasonable, and I give you my word not to give any infor- 
 mation ; but I have an objection to swearing on such occasions. 
 Moreover, an honest man has no need of oaths ; as La Bruyere- 
 excellently said, his character swears for him." 
 
 "Are ye an Atheist, sor?" 
 
 "God forbid," cried the horrified Jack. "But I respect the- 
 third commandment." 
 
 "That is right," said the Captain warmly. "We'll have no- 
 Atheists in our society, sor. Shall we be less exclusive than the 
 House of Commons ? That's a very worthy model, sor, a very 
 worthy model. And sure, it's not taking the Lord's name in vain,"" 
 he added, baring his head reverently, "when I'll blow yer brains 
 out if you don't take it at once. So none of your gammon. Give 
 me the Bible, Mick. Murphy, untie your dirty scarf." 
 
 Both orders were instantly obeyed. Mick, who was the hoarse 
 man, produced a small well-thumbed Bible, which he kissed and 
 thrust into the cramped hand just set free by Murphy. The latter 
 was also proceeding to divest Jack of that wide bandage covering 
 his eyes and half his face which made him appear like an image of 
 Justice, when the Captain repeated his favourite adage anent undue 
 haste, adding a sarcasm to the effect that Murphy's beauty, like a 
 magic-lantern, could be better appreciated in the dark. So Jack re- 
 mained blind while he swore never to reveal the mysteries of the 
 cave and of the wild beasts who used it. 
 
 " Before I begin," said the Captain, when the ceremony was 
 over, "ye'll have a dhrop of stuff to wash down ray persuasions, 
 ye know. Sorry the whiskey's spilt, but I've got a flask ot 
 brandy." 
 
 " No, thank you ; I'd rather not," faltered Jack, who, however, 
 was almost fainting. 
 
 " Hang it all, me boy. I can't respect any one who won't drink 
 with me." 
 
 Jack yielded, but the thought that he was accepting hospitality 
 at the hands of Irish dynamiters and Anti-Unionists almost choked 
 him. Nevertheless, truth compelling him to reply in the affirmative 
 to the complimentary question of whether he smoked, he was forced 
 to accept a cigar, which he found of the finest quality. He was 
 given a seat on a projecting piece of cliff, and the puffings and 
 gurglings recommenced all round him. 
 
 "Now that we are all comfortable," began the Captain, accentu- 
 ating his cynical phrases with cool enjoyment, and pausing every 
 now and then to smoke his regalia, " I pray ye, Jack Dawe, to lend 
 me your ears, and the rest of you won't lose b/ taking a lesson in
 
 A CLASSICAL CONSPIRATOR 325 
 
 the art of political persuasion. And I ought to have no difficulty 
 in making ye change your occupation, if it is true, as Horace 
 rsays : 
 
 'Qui fit Maecenas ut nemo contentus vivat 
 Laudetque diversa sequentes?' 
 
 A buzz of admiration went round the group. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Jack, removing his cigar from his 
 mouth, "you have omitted a line and a half 'Guam sibi 
 sortem ' " 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the Captain. "We shall make something 
 of you. A tincture of the humanities ennobles the profession. 
 But hang it all me boy, ye can't be a house-and-sign painter. 
 I suspect you've already gone wrong. All the better. I flatter 
 'meself, there's no conspirator like a classical scholar gone wrong. 
 And, as ye may have already noticed, we are conspirators." 
 
 "We are," cried Murphy and Mick enthusiastically. "God 
 save ould Ireland." 
 
 " But," interposed Jack, "how can I join an Irish gang? I am 
 an Englishman." 
 
 " Have the Irish a monopoly?" asked the Captain indignantly. 
 " No, sor. Free trade, sor, in conspiracy, as in everything else. But, 
 bless your innocence, I am an Englishman meself, although I 
 spake the brogue to perfection. I am an Oxford man, sor, and 
 J cornpated for the Newdigate in the same year that Flopping- 
 ton gained it. He was a very quiet, religious chap in those days 
 \vho took no interest in politics, keeping away from the debates 
 of the Union, and I never thought his career would be what i 
 has been, or that he and I would be situated towards each other 
 as we are at the present moment. But business is business. My 
 second in command is a Scotchman without my linguistic faculties, 
 so he took the long name of Patrick Donaghue O'Connor to make- 
 up for his inability to acquire the brogue. Jacques is, of course, 
 a Frenchman, who appreciates Victor Hugo and thinks a Parisian 
 should be out of no intrigue that amuses him and relieves suffering; 
 humanity. Murphy is a true Irishman, because otherwise I do 
 not think he has intelligence enough to make bulls. Mick is a 
 more suspicious case he is too profuse of superficial Irishisms. 
 Jim, who hasn't turned up, is a Cornstalk. Finally, were you out- 
 side and Murphy's handkerchief off your eyes, you would perceive 
 a man stolidly rowing up and down in a large boat, in case of the 
 tide giving us any inconvenience. That is a Dutchman. The 
 cause enlists free lances from all nations. Thus, you will perceive 
 that there is only one undoubted Irish specimen among us. We 
 have tried to get more at Rossa's desire ; but, if I had my own 
 way, I would say to unemployed conspirators, ' No Irish need 
 apply.' We have the entree of several caves similar to this along 
 the English coast. They belonged to the old smugglers (many of 
 whom were thrown out of work by Free Trade). The one in which 
 you stand is rich in tradition, and if you have anything of the
 
 326 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 historical spirit, the genius loci should inspire you to deeds of 
 heroism. Among others, it once passed into the hands of the 
 celebrated O'Mulligan, and Cork Soles spent several days here 
 while England was scoured from north to south and a reward 
 of ,1,000 was offered for her alive or dead Should you ever be 
 in a similar predicament, flying from injustice, remember this 
 cave. It is, as you will presently perceive, lighted by the best 
 wax candles ; but it is my ambition to keep pace with all the 
 modern improvements and to introduce the electric light here. As- 
 for the ventilation, you need have no fear, it is managed on the 
 best scientific principle, that of the double shaft used in mines,, 
 one of the gaps being for the entrance of the fresh air, and the 
 other for the exit of the foul. At the same time, these gaps 
 permit one to press the ingeniously-constructed springs which 
 have never before to-day yielded to the finger of an outsider. 
 Without a knowledge of the exact method, no ordinary force willi 
 suffice to open the entrance it resists the strongest waves. You 
 will readily see how much safer this is than a house. No house,. 
 in fact, is safe for the constructor of those beautiful instruments 
 of justice known as infernal machines; not to speak of the pri- 
 vacy of meeting attainable here. So much of ourselves and our 
 marine residence. But you have allowed your cigar to go out p 
 permit me to re-light it. Another drop of brandy ? No ! Well,, 
 it's true you haven't been talking. I'll take a mouthful myself. 
 Youi health, sor ! To proceed Where was I ? '' 
 
 4i I still do not understand exactly your functions," replied; 
 Jack. "Do you merely manufacture the machines, or do you ?"' 
 
 " Oh, no ; I go further, and others fare worse. To cut the 
 matter short, I am the only authorised agent for England of the 
 great O'Donovan Rossa, the sharer in all his secrets, the partner 
 in all his anxieties. And me literary powers, I flatter ineself, 
 have done him substantial service by me leaders in the Pilot' 
 and other publications. He is a man of the purest and noblest 
 character, and I can give you an instance of his heroism and 
 self-sacrifice \\ithout parallel in ancient or modern history. It 
 \v:>s on his suggestion that I sent out Mrs. Dudley to shoot him.. 
 1 have established a branch firm in this country of which I am 
 manager. The partners being limited to a few, though with power 
 to add to their number, the profits are exceedingly high to make 
 \p for the liability being unlimited. These gentlemen for as 
 general, I, of course, like Wolseley, cannot afford to undergo any 
 danger are prepared to undertake, at a moment's notice, and with. 
 t'le utmost punctuality, explosions of all types, from the minatory 
 Millborn explosion if the term be allowed that accidentally fails 
 lo take place, through all degrees up to the recent gigantic pyro- 
 technic display in the House of Commons, Westminster Abbey,. 
 and the Tower of London, simultaneously. When trade is slack,, 
 you will find them all here, producing a store of triumphs of manual 
 dexterity for use when the season sets in. But at the present 
 ii.oment \ve are maturing an explosion that will shake Europe,
 
 "FOR AULD LANG SYXE n 327 
 
 nay, the world to the centre, as it has not been shaken since our 
 Russian friends thrilled it with that magnificent cviip de theatre, 
 that hurled Alexander II. out of it. Our plot is still in its infancy. 
 To-day we arrange the details : Mick and Jacques shall watch the 
 house, and find means of discovering the disposition of the inte' ior ; 
 Murphy and Jim shall acquaint themselves with the habits of the 
 victim abroad ; and Patrick Donaghue O'Connor shall keep an eye 
 on them all. I shall have much to do to allay the suspicions of 
 Parneil by adroit intrigue, and to you, sor, shall be allotted boih 
 as an initiatory ceremony and aa a special mark of honour the 
 final task of placing in position the infernal machine. No, s<>r, 
 don't disclaim the honour, or ye are a dead man. I let you off all 
 share in the construction of the machine, and you will simply have 
 to put it down on a spot that will be indicated to you. There's 
 nothing in the world simpler, 'asier, or more innocent. Don't in- 
 terrupt me, sor ; I'll be done in a moment. Gintlemen, I have 
 brought for each of you a photograph as I promised, so that there 
 shall be not the slightest difficulty in identifying the man. Jacques, 
 bring me that black bag in the right-hand corner. There you are. 
 Take one each. Murphy, remove the new recruit's bandage, and 
 give him a photograph to look at." 
 
 Jack stood for a moment dazzled by a flood of light and unable 
 to see the portrait he held in his hand. As his vision cleared, he 
 gazed anxiously upon it. His worst suspicions were confirmed. 
 The face was that of the Right Honourable Arnold Floppington, 
 Prime Minister of England. He could not refrain from utteiing a 
 slight cry of horror. At the same instant a unanimous exclamation 
 of surprise and delight burst from the Iip5 of the gang. 
 
 Jack turned deadly pale, overwhelmed by a rush of thronging 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he panted, " in God's name, abandon your cruel 
 plan of assassination ! For Heaven's sake, don't make me thp 
 murderer of an innocent man ! " 
 
 For the sixth time that day the painter was within a h' ' 
 breadth of death. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " FOR AULD LANG SYNE." 
 
 A DERISIVE burst of laughter greeted this petition, delivered in the 
 most heart-rending tones. The brave Jack had become suddenly 
 abject in supplication. 
 
 " Mercy ! " he pleaded wildly. " Mercy, sir; you do not mean 
 it you will not kill an innocent man." 
 
 " Och, the Holy Virgin be praised !" cried Mick, looking altrr- 
 nately from Jack to the portrait. "The saints have delivered the 
 Sassenach into our hands. Let us give thanks to the Almighty." 
 
 He knelt down, the open Bible in his hand.
 
 328 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Oui, oni, rendons grtices an Dieu des bonnes gens? cried 
 Jacques, following his example with a sneer only visible to Jack, 
 who shuddered at the man's profanity. 
 
 Instinctively, the rest fell on their knees, silently, with bared 
 heads ; and the praise of God went up from the secret places of the 
 earth, and harmonised with the distant organ-roll of the mighty 
 ocean. Hat in hand, the men listened devoutly while the Captain, 
 with a solemnity that was heightened by the ruggedness and 
 mystery around, offered up a spontaneous prayer, the effusion of a 
 grateful heart. With expert use of Scriptural idiom for, unfortu- 
 nately, the received liturgy did not provide for occasions of this 
 kind he thanked God for saving him and his servants from the 
 many perils that would have attended the performance of their 
 duty, and for being graciously pleased to make the light of the 
 Premier's countenance shine upon them at the present juncture. 
 
 Jack gazed curiously around him, but found that although sight 
 had been wanting the report of his other senses had been suffi- 
 ciently accurate. He stood on an artificially-formed platform 
 surrounded by kneeling conspirators, all of gentlemanly appearance, 
 well dressed, and not to be distinguished from a congregation at 
 All Saints', except by their air of piety. 
 
 A commodious arm-chair, in the best Early English style, 
 occupied the right-hand corner, its indented seat pointing to its 
 recent evacuation by the Captain. A few stools were scattered 
 about for the use of his inferiors. In the left-hand corner stood a 
 heap of embryonic infernal machines together with the necessary 
 tools. Stuck in narrow niches along the curving, dentated walls 
 were a dozen or so wax candles of different sizes, corresponding to 
 the conformation of the holes. The altitude of the ceiling varied 
 considerably, but in no part did it fall below eight and one-third 
 feet. The walls, which were covered with the incrustations of ages, 
 amid much irregularity ran together till they formed a rude dome 
 at the extreme summit, and Nature had cunningly carved out on 
 their surfaces grotesque protuberances that here and there bore a 
 rough resemblance to the quaint gargoyles of the mediaeval 
 builders. 
 
 To remove the cheer'essness and chilliness of the place, the 
 centre of each wall bore one of those innocent little girls with 
 which Millais used so constantly and successfully to appeal to the 
 philoprogenitivenebs and the pockets of his fellow-men. Fallen on 
 the ground beside the arm-chair was a small red volume, the Captain's 
 favourite vade-mecum. Had Jack looked at it he would have found 
 it to be the popular edition of Carlyle's lectures on heroes, opening 
 spontaneously on "The Hero as King." The exit of this furnished 
 part of the cavern was marked by a low, dark archway. 
 
 When the service began, Jack ceased respectfully from his 
 entreaties. 
 
 " Even in these men," he thought, " the spiritual instinct shines 
 as these pure, white tapers in this otherwise Stygian cave. Perhaps, 
 as they pray, God will melt their hearts."
 
 "FOR AULD LANG SYNE* 329 
 
 Now or never was the time for Jack to seize the bag of dyna- 
 mite ; but, far from being alive to the possibilities of the situation, 
 he was not even conscious of its realities. Only when he heard the 
 fervent gratitude of the Captain for the capture of the Premier, did 
 he begin to realise the terrible mistake the conspirators were 
 making. If they murdered him they would soon discover the in- 
 utility of the deed. To sacrifice himself by allowing them to 
 remain under the impression that he was the Premier would be 
 useless. No, he must live at any cost, live long enough to warn 
 their intended victim. He wrestled with his scrupulosity what he 
 would not stoop to do to preserve his own life, must be done to 
 save that of another. After all, were those who had put them- 
 selves outside the pale of society entitled to that maintenance of 
 compact on which society was based ? Would he not be justified, 
 then, if no other way of escape presented itself, in acknowledging 
 himself to be Floppington, recanting his former opinions, and 
 promising, or even sweating, to give self-government to Ireland? 
 By this pardonable ruse he might persuade the Captain to release 
 him, and the real Premier would in all probability be saved. 
 
 Revolving feverishly the arguments pro and con, and rapidly 
 running over the opinions of the casuists and ethical writers of all 
 nations, with the Categorical Imperative of Kant all the while 
 droning an uneasy under-song, he heard the conclusion of the 
 Captain's thanksgiving and mechanically intoned a fervent Amen. 
 
 " Cheeky and ironical to the last ! " laughed the Captain. 
 " Floppington, me boy, when ye blushingly read your prize poem 
 of ' Sinai ' to a distinguished audience cujus magna pars fui, at 
 least to judge by noise, I niver thought that ye'd come to this. 
 Why, ye'vegot the silf-possession of meself ; and knowing ye would 
 ultimately be discovered, you took it out in satire. Ye want to 
 maintain the Union eh ? Your name is Jack Dawe because ye 
 are a jackdaw in borrowed plumes, eh? Ha! ha! ha! Bejabers, 
 I can hardly belave my eyes yet that I have got you. The 
 wonderful method of your capture is enough to confute Lucratius 
 and his atoms, and demonstrate Providence to that irriverent 
 rascal, Bradlaugh. I assure ye I was much affected just now by 
 me own iloquence. Knaling in this sacret underground cave, I 
 felt like one of the early Christians, forgetting temporarily that I was 
 a modern one. Teinpora mntaniur, Floppington. Cut out by 
 nature as I was for canonicals, my canonicals were never cut out 
 for me. We were both mint for archbishops ; but I became a 
 dynamiter; and you, after narrowly escaping a cardinal's hat, a 
 Prime Minister ; and I'm sure of the two you do the more harm. 
 Saul hath slain his thousands and David his tens of thousands. 
 That little war " 
 
 " Sir," interrupted Jack with sudden decision. " I will make a 
 last effort to persuade you to desist from your designs. You are, 
 alas, an educated man- " 
 
 " Stay, sor, do not deprecate education. Remember, that you 
 are endeavouring to give the masses free education " Tack
 
 330 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 was about to interrupt him again, but he waved him aside im- 
 pitiently and went on. " Let me tell ye, sor, that ye are doing my 
 work for me. A conspirator who can't rade, and write, and cipher,. 
 can niver take high rank in his profession, nor commmd more 
 than an eighth of the ordinary wages. Me blessings on the School 
 Board." 
 
 ' If you or your Chief, Mr. O'Donovan Rossa," resumed Jack,, 
 " have views different from the Premier's, that is to no logical mind 
 a reason for assassination. The man dies, but his arguments you. 
 cannot kill. We fight nowadays bv reason and not by force.'' 
 
 " Sor, reason is scarce and fighting presses. An ounce of 
 dynamite is worth a ton of argument ultima ratio regum eh ? " 
 
 Despite this dogmatic assertion, the two men, strange as were- 
 their relations, being both "argumentative cusses," went into an 
 elaborate discussion of the question, the dynamiter and his intended 
 victim maintaining all the amenities of debate. Verily is Truth, 
 stranger than Fiction. This logomachy, that would have been, 
 ludicrous if it were not so tragic, resembled nothing so strongly 
 (except that it was quite different from them) as those refinements 
 of wit uttered in moments of intensest passion by Gallican lovers, in 
 that age of pseudo-chivalry, the period of the Fronde. 
 
 " Sor," said the Captain, after a quarter of an hour's fierce fight- 
 ing, throughout which he had maintained an air of raillery, andi 
 his opponent an air of despairing doggedness, " in conclusion, I 
 must point out to you the immense assistance we have been to the 
 novelists, and the consequent advantage to the whole of civilised 
 mankind. When you remember, sor, how every mithod of murder 
 was played out, how weary the public was of the damnable iteration 
 of dagger, and bowl, and gun, you will see what an immense debt 
 is due to the dynamiter. He is to the story-teller what a new note 
 would be to the musician, a new colour to the painter ; the founda- 
 tion of a new series of effects inexhaustible in a century. Tell me, 
 sor, is there any recent novel of merit without dynamite ? '' 
 
 " Sir," replied Jack, '' there is no recent novel of merit even 
 with it. But surely you cannot be unconscious that your arguments, 
 however they may take the crowd, are baseless, like those Indian 
 conjurors who are seen suspended from nothing." 
 
 ''Well, you at least will niver live to see me suspended from 
 something!" cried the Captain, beginning to tire of the feline 
 amusement of playing with his prey. And as a cat that condescended 
 to bandy words with a mouse concerning the right of consumption 
 would probably summarily put an end to the argument, especially 
 if aware of the weakness of its own reasons, so the Captain now- 
 added : 
 
 " Enough, sor ! As I said before, I am a man of Action and 
 not a man of Words having got you, I've the best of rights to 
 kape you possission is nine points of the law. Besides, the tide 
 will soon turn time and tide wait for no man, you know. You are 
 a brave man, Floppington, ye shall have a soldier's death gintle- 
 inen, charge your pistols. I give you five minutes to make your
 
 " FOR AULD LANG SYNE" 33 P 
 
 pace with Heaven ; or, stay, as ye have much to answer for, I'll- 
 make it ten." 
 
 Each man produced a small revolver from an inner breast-pot.ket 
 and loaded it. 
 
 " In the multitude of shots there is sureness," observed the 
 Captain grimly. He took a heavy gold watch out of his pocket, 
 and held it in his hand. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Jack, " I pray you to set me free. I have- 
 already promised to hold your secrets inviolate. You will bitterly 
 regret my murder. You may assassinate the Premier to-day, bur 
 to-morrow you will find your work yet to do. You are making & 
 grievous mistake. I am not the Premier." 
 
 This daring assertion took away the Captain's breath. A broad< 
 grin appeared on the countenances of his men. 
 
 " Not the Premier, eh ? " he inquired, with good-humoured^ 
 toleration of the joke. " Who the divil are ye, then ? " 
 
 ' That I have already told you. I am the most unfortunate mart 
 that ever lived. Fate for years has never wearied of pursuing n.e.- 
 Not content with the sufferings of a lover of literature in an uncon- 
 genial sphere, it created in the person of the present Premier, a mart 
 who (in all external characteiistics) is an alter ego. If it were not 
 for this terrible misfortune, for such I must call it when I look at 
 its dire results, I should not be in my present plight. It is this 
 strong resemblance that has ruined my future." 
 
 " The resemblance of total identity," said the Captain with 
 smiling incredulity. " Ye have wasted two minutes praying to me 
 instead of to your Maker." 
 
 " I am not the Premier," repeated Jack. " I swear to you that 
 if I were I should ask no mercy at your hands. Consult your own 
 common sense is it not utterly beyond the bounds of probability 
 that I should venture to palm off such an incredible tale upon an 
 intelligent audience, if I were not supported by the consciousness 
 of its truth?" 
 
 "You are a divilish clever fellow, Floppington, but ye have to 
 deal with a cliverer. Two-and-a-half minutes. Rape a still tongue,, 
 and don't forfeit my respect before ye die. I always had a high 
 opinion of your honourableness, even when rumour was loudest 
 against you. I still remember that little affair at College, and I 
 should regret to change my opinion at the last moment. I cannot 
 bear to have all my Ideals shattered. Three minutes." 
 
 " Too late you will find I have spoken the truth. It is not from- 
 fear that I ask for Life. Death has no terrors for me I am weary 
 tf Life, but I would wish my end to be useful to my fellow- 
 creatures." 
 
 "There I have the advantage of you," sneered the Captain, 
 " Aly end cannot but be so. But you are unreasonable, Flopping- 
 ton, to object to assassination. Don : t ye care for fame, non oumis 
 nwriar and the rest ? Ye are destined to be one of those men, 
 Floppington, who are only remimbered in the world by the manner 
 of their laving it. Your late accession of energy, the lape of a.
 
 332 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 dying flame, will be misinterpreted as the first flaring up of your 
 rale political life. You will be pitied, sir, throughout the wor-r-ld ; 
 your faults will be forgotten, washed away in your blood ; you will 
 have a monument ; and hospital wings will go by your name. 
 Heritor of unfulfilled renown, you will almost be another case of 
 omnium consensu capax imperil, nisi impel asset." 
 
 " It wanted but this," said Jack in a choking voice, " that even 
 by my death I cannot save other lives from ruin poor mother left 
 desolate in her old age, poor sweetheart deprived of her lover. If 
 you must kill me, I will beg for my life no longer. But 1 have 
 much to do before I die. Release me, I pray you, and I promise 
 to return to this spot in a week's time, having betrayed none of 
 your secrets." 
 
 A hearty burst of laughter greeted this naive proposal. The 
 Captain was the only serious member of the gang. 
 
 "Silence," he cried, "ye don't know the man. Have ye never 
 'heard of Regulus, ye scoundrels ? That's the disadvantage ot not 
 having a classical education. I belave ye mean what ye say, 
 Floppington, and at the present moment you fully intend to return; 
 but as one who has followed \our career with the interest inspired 
 by the foreboding that ye would some day supply me with a job, I 
 fear that, when ye are at home, ye will see the other sides of the 
 question. I regret not to be able to oblige ye for the sake of auld 
 lang syne. Nay, more, I regret I undertook the business. I niver 
 thought I'd fale it so much. I niver thought I should be in at 
 ithe death, ye see, nor that ye would partake of my hospitality. 
 For the sake of old associations I would let you go. But, like 
 >Cato, I stifle my falings and give the order lor your execution. 
 What I have undertaken, my conscience as a business man will 
 aiot allow me to dhrop. Ye are a brave man, Floppington, and 
 honourable. I admire ye, I fale for you ; I am graved at the 
 necessity; but Rossa expects every man to do his duty. Ye have 
 four minutes to live. Gintlemen, cock your pistols." 
 
 " For the last time I ask you to spare me," cried Jack. 
 
 " I have a mission to perform. If you remain in power, all my 
 Chief's hopes will inevitably be blasted. You must be got rid of. 
 You are in his way." 
 
 " And is there no mode of getting me out of his way except by 
 murdering me ? " 
 
 " There is one," said the Captain reflectively, " a way which I 
 should prefer for various reasons. But, knowing your sense of 
 honour, I have not ventured to put it to you. But, to s itis'y meself, 
 I will. You must take an oath to abandon your Irish policy." 
 
 "Never!" cried Jack impulsively. 
 
 " Said I not so ? I repeat, Floppington, ye are a brave and 
 honourable man. Gintlemen, take steady aim, and when I give the 
 word, fire simultaneously." 
 
 Immediately Jack was covered by the four pistols. A terrible 
 silence ensued, broken only by the loud tickings of the Captain's 
 watch.
 
 THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH 333- 
 
 Jack tried to think, to make another review of ethical systems, 
 but his brain was in a whirl. 
 
 " One minute," cried the Captain. Each man ran his eye care- 
 fully along the barrel and awaited the word of command. "In one 
 minute, gintlemen," said the Captain, " our task will be over and 
 you will receive your fifties, never before earned so easily. As for 
 Jim, I shall see. Good-bye, Floppington. I won't ask you to 
 shake hands with me. The Lord have mercy on your sowl." 
 
 For the seventh time that day the truly unfortunate painter 
 had given up all hope of life, and, if there be any truth in the 
 Pythagorean instincts of popular philosophy, escape was at length 
 impossible. 
 
 The Captain closed his watch with a snap. 
 
 "Stay!" cried Jack frantically. " Supposing for the moment 
 I am the Premier, what is it you want me to do for Ireland?" 
 
 " Do for Ireland ! I don't want you to do anything for Ireland. 
 I want you to let it alone, of course." 
 
 " Let it alone give it autonomy, you mean ? " 
 
 " How a man in your situation can quibble with words is sur- 
 prising,'' said the Captain sternly. "To put the thing in a nut- 
 shell, you must give up all your new-fangled plans and return 
 to the sound policy of Beaconsfield, and every other English 
 Minister. . No cursed English statesman shall take the bread 
 out of the mouths of honest men with impunity. My Chief, 
 O'Donovan Rossa, is determined to blow to smithereens every 
 statesman that shall dare to try to restore Ireland to Indepen- 
 dence. And you, sor, have been the first English politician to 
 throw yourself into the lion's mouth. Recant instantly, sor, or 
 I give the word ; and every villain that ventures to follow you, 
 in your attempts to repale the Union, shall share your fate. 
 Three cheers, gintlemen, for Ireland, the Union, and our glorious 
 leader." 
 
 "God save Ireland! Hoorah for the Union! Long live 
 O'Donovan Rossa ! " cried the men, waving their hats with their 
 left hands, and covering Jack with the revolvers they held in 
 their right. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH. 
 
 " SIR," said Jack, passing his hand feebly over his forehead, "I am 
 afraid I do not quite understand will you please explain yourself 
 further?" 
 
 " Oh, you know very well what I mean," replied the Captain 
 testily. " You have lived two minutes beyond your appointed time 
 already. Am I to understand that you are willing to accept the 
 conditions ?" 
 
 " I am open to argument," said Jack, still dazed.
 
 334 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Lower your pistols, gintlemen ; but keep them ready for use. 
 1 will try my persuasive powers once more. Know then, sor, that 
 toy your racent departure from the healthy instincts of English 
 statesmanship, ye have imperilled the fortunes of a great organisa- 
 -tion, and more particularly of its directors. When the first news of 
 your great spache at Chester reached America, the Chief tele- 
 graphed to me at once to prepare to blow ye up in case ye were in 
 earnest. Yerepated your intentions of making Ireland independent 
 only yesterday. I have the Standard in my pocket. Three months 
 .ago, sor, we should have had no fear of your passing such a Bill. 
 But now ye seem to have changed from a political Hamlet to a 
 fiery Othello that carries everything with a rush ; ye have a great 
 following, and your expressed intentions spread dismay through 
 the length and breadth of the States. Think, sor, of the thousands 
 f of men editors, lecturers, orators, journalists, publishers, com- 
 .positors, spies, standard-bearers, dynamiters, leaders, poets, di- 
 rectors, agents, clerks, treasurers, and employes of every description, 
 -whose existence depinds on the Cause, and whom ye would throw 
 out of work marely for the gratification of your own sinse of what 
 is right. (Shame.) Ye take the bread out of the mouths of honest 
 men, from O'Donovan Kossa himself down to the poorest printer's 
 divil. (Applause.) What mercy had you on these men, sor ; and 
 what mercy can you expect at their hands? (Loud applause.) 
 That you should want to give the Irish what they ask for was to be 
 expected from a Utopian dreamer such as you. Had you known 
 -the wor-r-ld, sor, as I know it ; had you known human nature as you 
 know books, you would have seen that you were taking measures 
 to destroy the happiness and prosperity of Erin. Learn, sor, that 
 .a nation loves to be oppressed. Oppression is the finest national 
 cement ; oppression develops patriotism, self-sacrifice, bravery, the 
 love of song, and all the noblest instincts of humanity. It even 
 conquers the passion which is the strongest in the human breast 
 .auri sacra fames j the poorest Irishman sends in his subscription 
 to the fund wrh the cheerfullest alacrity. And you, sor, would 
 remorselessly crush these beautiful traits benevolence, self-sacri- 
 fice, the martial spirit, the love of country, the passion for heroic 
 poetry, under your administrative heel ! (Hear, hear.) Do you 
 not understand that the two chief ingredients of human nature are the 
 love of grumbling arid hope ? Your melancholy Jacques grumbled 
 .at having to share the privations of the banished Duke ; but would 
 he return to Court when the opportunity came ? (Pas si bte, from 
 Jacques.) Faith, sor, the fact is that Englishmen who have the 
 weather cannot understand the feelings of a nation that has no 
 such theme of complaint. ' But Nature,' says Goldsmith, the pride 
 of Erin, ' is a mother kind alike to all,' and so she gave Irishmen 
 the Union. You, who are in no danger of ever losing the weather, 
 cannot sympathise with those whom you would calmly rob of all 
 that makes life best worth living for. Monster ! would ye give the Irish 
 what they want, and thus at one fe!l blow destroy their hopes for 
 :iver? Ye want to reform all abuses, and so, cruel as hell, ye in-
 
 THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH 335 
 
 scribe as your political motto, Lasciate ogni speranza. And hope, 
 sor, is the telescope by means of which we see beyond the horizor, 
 narrow or distant, of our every-day life ; take away that, and we 
 are poor indeed. The perfect man will hope to return to monkey- 
 hood. Man prefers the indefinite to the definite ; he would rather 
 hope for two birds in the bush than have one in the hand. Now, 
 sor, what Irishmen want, is not the Repeal but the Hope of it. 
 The demand creates the supply, and the Society to which I have 
 the honour to belong (applause from Murphy and Mick) has under- 
 taken to supply that hope. It sustains it by the repeated conces- 
 sions it forces ; but to succeed entirely would be to fail miserably. 
 We shall never reach our professed object we are asymptotical 
 to it, eh, Floppington ? How's that for high ? An asymptote, ye 
 ignorant scoundrels, is a line that gets nearer and nearer to a 
 curve, but never touches it. I will not insist on the reflected lustre 
 cast by England's prestige on the Sister Isle a lustre that it would 
 lose by the severance of governments nor on that greater loss to 
 England itself which would ensue from the beginning of the break- 
 ing up of her mighty empire. In giving Ireland independence, sor, 
 you are a traitor to your counthry. Now, sor, have I convinced 
 you or not of the folly, the cruelty, the treachery, the brutality, the 
 .asininity, and the impossibility of your obstinate desire to repeal 
 the glorious Union of 1800? (Immense applause.) Make your 
 final choice, Floppington. We have fought you as you desired, by 
 the fair weapons of iloquent argument ; so be persuaded or die. I 
 prefer that ye should yield, not only because it will be a tribute to 
 me powers, but also, because although we shall have had the 
 triumph of killing you our motives will be impugned, even if the 
 deed is pat down to our credit. Yet it is something that you at 
 last know our real motives. I have done." 
 
 Jack had listened to this long address with ever-increasing 
 ^bewilderment. But amid the farrago of pseudo-philosophic axiom, 
 raillery, and cynical candour, curiously blent with self-deceptive 
 apologetics, one thing was clear. He could honestly recant opinions 
 that he had never professed, and he thanked God that he would now 
 be enabled to save the life of the threatened Premier. At last he 
 had something to live for. 
 
 So when the Captain concluded, he replied eagerly : 
 
 "Enough, sir, you need say no more to convince me of the 
 dangers of Repeal. I will take the oath you require, and you may 
 xely on my not divulging any of your secrets." 
 
 A bright smile illuminated the handsome but dissipated counte- 
 nance of the Captain. 
 
 "Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Gentlemen, ye have earned 
 your money even more 'asily than ye expected. Put up your shoot- 
 ing irons. Great is the power of iloquence ! Floppington, I rejoice 
 that ye have spared me the pain of not sparing ye. I always!, iked 
 ye, from College upwards; but our paths in life diverged, and our 
 acquaintanceship, which was always of the slightest, flickered out. 
 .So I am glad to have had this opportunity of renewing it in a
 
 336 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 manner fraught with good consequences to yourself, who are saved 
 from folly and unwarned assassination ; to meself, who am saved 
 from throuble and expinse ; to England, which is saved from de- 
 struction ; to Ireland, which is saved from unhappiness ; and last, 
 but not laste, to me Chief, O'Donovan Rossa, who is saved from 
 total ruin. Mick, your Bible ! " 
 
 Jack received the Bible a second time. 
 
 " What do you wish me to swear ?" 
 
 " Repeat these words after me : ' / hereby swear to abandon for 
 ever all measures for giving self-government to Ireland, and to use 
 all my personal and family influence to oppose any such measures 
 proposed by statesmen during my lifetime. I also swear to advocate 
 on all occasions, and to the -utmost of my power, (he opposite policy, 
 maintaining the Castle and all the old traditions of English rule 
 intact, and leaving it to others to obtain such slight concessions as 
 must be made at long intervals. And I will never use my know- 
 ledge of O' Donovan Rossefs Society, or of this Cave, for any purpose 
 whatever, so help me Cod.' " 
 
 "Now business is over," said the Captain, when Jack had un- 
 hesitatingly repeated this oath, " I should like a little pleasant 
 chat. Murphy, ye rogue, fork out your whisky ; I'm sure you've 
 got another bottle. There, I thought so. Ye won't dhrink, 
 begorra ! Well, let me help ye on with your coat. What a state 
 your right arm is in ; ye've scratched it in a dozen places ; and I 
 see at one spot the blood is trickling slowly. Ha, ha ! Excuse 
 me laughing ; a curious idea has just struck me. I will write down 
 the oath, and you shall sign it in your blood. It will be something 
 to show to the Chief in corroboration, something to treasure among 
 the archives of the Society." 
 
 Hastily scribbling off the words, he wiped the pen carefully,, 
 dipped it into the wound, and handed it to Jack, who s-tood 
 perplexed. 
 
 *' What name must I put?" he asked. 
 
 " Floppington alone will do," answered the Captain. 
 
 "Very well," replied Jack Dawe, ''if you wish me to sign in 
 that fashion, I will do so. :> 
 
 No sooner had Jack's pen formed the final flourish, after pro- 
 ducing a not inaccurate imitation of the Premier's well-known 
 autograph, than the Captain snatched the paper out of his hand 
 and examined it with fiendish glee. 
 
 " Ye have sold your sowl ! " he exclaimed. "Tis fitly signed in 
 blood. Ye have bartered your honour, and tampered with your 
 conscience. Right Honourable Floppington, prize-poet, author of 
 'Sinai' and other sacred poems, nineteenth -century Bayard, 
 exemplary church-goer and reader of lessons, ye are no better 
 than meself." He laughed a sneering, devilish laugh, in which 
 the gang joined with much conscious superiority. 
 
 "There is one point about which I am still not clear," observed 
 Jack. "If the Premier gives Ireland its independence, you 
 threaten to blow him up?"
 
 THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH 337 
 
 " That is so." 
 
 "And if he does not do so, you equally threaten to blow him 
 up?" 
 
 " Quite so. You have it to a T." 
 
 " Now, sir, let me ask you if that is not illogical ?" 
 
 " Illogical ! Not a bit of it. Bless ye, the second blowing-up 
 is only a threat the assassination of a Premier is one of those 
 commodities of Hope, which, I told you, are the speciality of our 
 firm. It is the first blowing-up that would be genuine ; and we 
 are glad, as I said before, to avoid the necessity, from the danger 
 of our motives being misunderstood." 
 
 "Thank you," said Jack, "for your polite explanation, and now 
 I should like to terminate the interview." 
 
 "Ye seem in a hurry to go," replied the Captain. "Well, I 
 will not detain you. Drop in here any time you feel inclined 
 whistle 'Auld lang syne,' and you shall be admitted. Sorry I 
 haven't a card about me, but it reads ' Frederick Langley St. 
 Clair, M.A., Practical Mechanician.' Charming our knowledge 
 of each other, isn't it, recalls the days of Jonathan Wild, doesn't 
 it? You don't invite me in return, I see. Delicacy that fears 
 a refusal, 1 suppose. Of course, ye are aware that should you 
 break the oath (though, I belave, as gintlemen, we can rely on 
 each other without fear) it is impossible to escape our Organi- 
 sation, whose networks ramify through England. Sooner or later 
 ye will be hoist with the Irish petard." He touched a spring 
 a rocky door flew open, above the archway through which Jack 
 had crawled. 
 
 The painter gave a last look around the cave he saw the plat- 
 form, the two black bags, the pile of wheelwork, the candles, the 
 innocent little girls, the quaint dome-like roof, and the grotesque 
 natural carvings on the walls, the damp floor, with here and there 
 a glossy brown strip of seaweed, the Captain's arm-chair, and the 
 gentlemanly-dressed figures of the gang, some seated on stools 
 and some on projecting bits of cliff; all their faces radiant, but the 
 pock-marked countenance of Murphy, who was vulgarised by his 
 red scarf, beaming with especial complacency. He waveu a polite 
 adieu to his hosts, and the door closed behind him and the Captain, 
 shutting out what he was to see how often in fevered visions of the 
 night. 
 
 The dynamiter and his whilom intended victim wound their 
 way along narrow passages till they reached the spot which Jack 
 remembered to have knelt in years ago. Here he observed his 
 once smart straw hat, now muddy, trampled upon, and battered. 
 He picked it up ruefully, reflecting on all he had gone through for 
 its sake and asking why, since he was to biv.ve peril like a knight 
 of old, it was not given to him to do so for a more glorious object, 
 iay, for the sake of a fair lady; and also whether when the Ideal 
 was finally, after infinite suffering, rescued from the depths of mate- 
 rialism, it would bear equally indelible traces of its fall. 
 
 The Captain whistled. Two answering notes were heard. He
 
 338 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 pressed another spring, a whirring sound followed and the cliff 
 shot open. He touched a third spring and it remained yawning. 
 Jack stepped out into the bright, fresh air the last sight he saw 
 was the Captain waving the bloody document with malicious glee, 
 and, as the rock closed, he heard the mocking ring of his sardonic 
 laughter. 
 
 But the laughter did not last long. Scarcely had Jack, con- 
 scious of being curiously scrutinised by a stout gentleman who 
 was resting on his oars near the shore, turned the bend in the 
 cliff, intending to walk to Broadstairs, when a slim, elegant young 
 man with white teeth and a beautiful blond moustache burst into 
 the cave. He was astonished to hear the passages echoing with 
 joyful exclamations, snatches of song and bursts of Homeric 
 laughter. 
 
 " What, Jim ! " was the unanimous cry as the door above the 
 archway swung open. 
 
 " You're divilish late, Jim ! " cried the Captain. " But I 
 haven't the heart to scold ye, or to keep ye out of your salary. 
 Here's your fifty. We're off to fresh woods and explosions new." 
 
 Jim with a bewildered air took the money, which he buttoned 
 up in an inner breast-pocket beside his revolver. Then he ex- 
 claimed : " I've had such an adventure, boys, such a lovely creature 
 too. Her boat smashed on that reef to the left, and a middle-aged 
 gent, who was with her, had to carry her over the rocks. Quiet 
 chap he was, looking half-asleep, and the very picture of misery. 
 When I saw what a splendid cargo he was carrying none of 
 
 your d d creamy babies, but a dark-eyed brunette full of fire 
 
 and passion thinks I, ' I can do the chivalrous with profit here.' 
 In a word I went to meet her and relieved the gent. As I was 
 carrying her, as slowly as I could, for it was a ticklish situation, 
 ha ! ha ! ha ! half my pleasure was spoilt by my brain worrying 
 about her companion. I was sure I knew his phiz well, and he 
 looked a bit like a hunted conspirator. He sat down on the 
 sands, and I kept looking at him, but for the life of me I couldn't 
 remember. All at once his hat blew off, and he ran after it, and 
 then I knew him by this week's caricature in Punch of Flop- 
 pington running away from his old opinions. Captain, if you had 
 seen him you'd have sworn, as I did, that he was the Premier." 
 
 The gang broke into a roar of enjoyment, and winked sugges- 
 tively at one another. 
 
 "W T ell," proceeded Jim, "I waited for him to return, but a 
 quarter of an hour passed without sight of him. I saw the girl 
 ready to cry, and, anxious to find out the truth, I spoke to her. 
 She called her lover for such she said he was a brute, and said 
 he'd run away on purpose. I offered to see her back to Ramsgate 
 where she was staying. She consented. I went, and returned as 
 quickly as I could ; but I've got her London address which I mean 
 
 to keep to myself, unless the Captain " 
 
 " Well, and the lover?'' interposed the Captain with a knowing 
 grin
 
 THE PAINTER TAKES A REMARKABLE OATH ^y) 
 
 " Oh, I made a mistake, that was all. The girl's name is Eliza 
 Brithbrill, and his name is Jack Dawe. He is a house-and-sign 
 painter, and the girl told me, proudly, that he was said to resemble 
 the Premier. I saw the old woman his mother a fat, old widow 
 lady, full of queer sayings, who keeps a cook-shop in the Bethnal 
 Green Road, London ; and left her, mad with anxiety, as to what 
 had become of her only son. Fancy a Premier living in a cook- 
 shop ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! But what's the matter with you all ?" 
 
 For the Captiin had turned livid, and his speech was momen- 
 tarily paralysed, while a look of dismay spread over the faces of all 
 the gang. 
 
 " What in the do you mean, d you ?" he cried as soon 
 
 as he could speak. " It was the Premier !" 
 
 ' Hullo, what's up, Captain ? How could it be the Premier? '' 
 The young man took out his watch, " Don't you know Pd for- 
 gotten it myself for the moment, of course that at the present 
 momentthePremierislayingthe foundation-stone of the Eno Hospital 
 for dyspeptics, a hundred miles off?" 
 
 The gang broke into a roar of disappointment. It was too 
 true. 
 
 " Scoundhrels, divils, rogues ! " cried the Captain, mad with 
 rage. " Give me back that money ! " 
 
 A low, fierce cry of determined dissent warned him not to 
 arouse any further the wild-beast instincts of his men. It was a 
 dangerous topic. 
 
 The Captain flung himself into his arm-chair with a crash. 
 
 'Duped by a house-painter!" he shrieked, convulsively 
 crumpling up the bloody document. "With my own help 
 tricked, baffled, betrayed ! ' 
 
 z a
 
 BOOK FA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 A MAN'S HEART. 
 
 THE Dog Days were come, and without the permission of the 
 almanacs. Before them, loosed (unmuzzled) from the kennels of 
 the Year, what mortal could stand ? Now set in the glacial epoch 
 of culinary chronology ; now the City gentleman fanned his brow 
 with the penny Japanese fan, and dreamed of hammocks and hour is; 
 now the prosperous bourgeois pored o'er his Bradshaw and con- 
 sulted with the wife of his bosom. 
 
 The sun was too much with and for the emasculated men of 
 that age, and they might have been excused for echoing an old 
 complaint of Mrs. Davve's, that it would have been better for him 
 to reserve his energies for the winter, when they were more needed. 
 It was not merely the discomfort occasioned by the warmth of his 
 attentions that the old lady grumbled at. Her great grievance was 
 the impossibility of getting the due quantum of work out of the 
 machinery which constituted herself and Sally. Work, indeed ! 
 Nature would have none of it but her own. She invited you to 
 lounge in the shadow of sun-glinted leafage, to part the glassy 
 wave, to watch in delicious drowsiness the white cliffs and clouds 
 sailing past you as in a dream, to land the leaping salmon, to 
 organise the laughing picnic. She offered you rich largess of sunny 
 air, and golden sky, and cool, clear water, and verdurous arcade. 
 At your peril reject the offerings of the gods ! 
 
 Work ! Sturdy Scotsmen lay prostrate 'neath Apollo's glittering 
 shafts, unable to move hand or foot, though their banking accounts 
 depended on it; German Celehrien snored in their library chairs ; 
 French philosophers moderated the warmth of their rhetoric ; and 
 Irish insurgents drank more and said less. Even the British Pavior 
 occasionally paused in his task.
 
 A M AIM'S HEART 341 
 
 But amid the universal supineness there was left one body of 
 men, whom nor heat nor cold could daunt ; one corps of the army 
 of humanity to show to the world that the ancient traditions of 
 England were not a dream ; one house ot" Hellenic heroes, blind 
 to the witching splendours of sea and sky, and to all but the page 
 of Duty, and deaf save to the call of Glory. Spartans, fighting 
 under the shadow of their own speeches, heavy, sun-darken- 
 ing, they alone trembled not before the mighty Sovereign of the 
 Orient. In their ancestral parks the deer drank in the ambrosial 
 air with proud swelling nostrils, and tossed their antlers skywards ; 
 the butterflies flitted lazily ; the fish leaped in the sunny streams ; 
 the flowers and birds filled the air with perfume and song, and all 
 the young world rejoiced in its strength. But they, " the masters 
 of things," impelled by motives understanded not of the baser 
 creation, under the sway of ethical imperatives unknown to the 
 animal world, sat on benches and made articulate and inarticulate 
 noises. 
 
 Noble Six Hundred ! 
 
 At their head, the great Floppington worked like a modern 
 Herakles. Ever at his post in the House when his presence was 
 necessary, he showed himself as cunning in debate as in pure 
 oratory. Triumph trod on the heels of triumph ! The masterly 
 vigour of his rhetoric, the largeness of his views, the clearness of 
 his expositions, the trenchancy of his sarcasm, which disdained not 
 the idioms of the people, enshrined every speech, as soon as made, 
 among the classics of oratory. Almost entirely abandoning the 
 jejune and puerile pseudo-poeticism of his earlier efforts, the 
 Minister seemed at last to have found his right manner ; vague 
 splendour of metaphor was exchanged for lucidity, and barren 
 spiritual and emotional appeals gave place to facts and figures. 
 
 It was not surprising, then, that the Premier's popularity showed 
 no signs of falling from the height to which it had so unexpectedly 
 attained. On the contrary, it went on steadily rising, every by- 
 election going steadily in his favour. The gratitude of the masses 
 for what he had already done, and their lively expectation of future 
 favours, sowed the seeds of quite a novel affection for him which 
 was fostered by the pertinacious activity with which he kept his 
 promises before their eyes. 
 
 The philosophical historian, however, must needs direct atten- 
 tion to another cause, whose action upon himself no one would, 
 probably, have confessed. The paradoxical world loves equally to 
 rind its heroes divine or human ; with the proviso, in the latter case, 
 that the humanity is not glaringly obtruded, but remains in shadow, 
 dending a d ,-licious vagueness to the picture. The alleged galanterie 
 of the Premier interested the people ; and between notoriety and 
 popularity, as between genius and insanity, the partition is slight. 
 Only the pen of a Tacitus could do adequate justice to this part of 
 ;the subject. 
 
 But whatever the reason of the fact, it is certain that never had 
 Prime Minister been more popular in the House or out of it : nnd
 
 342 THE PREMIER AND 7'HE PAINTER 
 
 consequently never had Prime Minister been more despotic in the 
 management of his party and his Cabinet. It is not too much to- 
 say that, from the date of his address to the Women of England, 
 if not from even an earlier period, his career was watched with 
 bated breath by the whole civilised world. The marvellt-us- 
 manner in which he performed the dual functions of Premier and 
 of Foreign Secretary (to set aside the Treasury as a sinecure), the 
 vast and complicated reforms he was projecting in every branch of 
 Government, and the way he found time under all the pressure of 
 these gigantic tasks to take part in social gaieties which he bright- 
 ened by the lightning of his wit, excited the respectful or enthusiastic 
 admiration of the human race. 
 
 Yet this man, the beheld of all beholders, the autocrat and 
 spoilt child of England, the hope and darling of Ireland, the ad- 
 miration of the world, was as unhappy as the least among the 
 millions whose destinies he swayed. For often, when the air 
 resounded with the clamour of applause, the memory of a voice 
 full of sweetest music filled his eyes with tears. A sensation of void 
 and emptiness traversed his heart. He would have given the 
 world's praise for one word of approbation in those tender tones. 
 Wistfully, yet hopelessly, his eyes wandered round in search of a 
 divine face, for ever flashing before him yet for ever vanished and 
 lost. That beloved form, the flower of womanhood, the delicate 
 essence of all beauty, of all tenderness, of all subtle emotion r 
 which had swayed his soul like some new planet, had gone out of his 
 life, and had become naught but a refining memory and an aching 
 regret. 
 
 The indiscretions of earlier years had borne bitter, too bitter, 
 fruit. But for them he knew that he might still have felt the pres- 
 sure of her hand, and looked into the tremulous brightness of her 
 eyes. 
 
 He sought for her in the salons she was wont to illumine. He 
 <vas indefatigable in attending wherever there was a shadow of a 
 chance of seeing her. He was among the first-comers at the 
 Lyceum premiere, where he was recognised and enthusiastically 
 received, but where she he came to see was not to be found. In 
 vain from his place in the fourth row of the stalls he swept the 
 frescoed horizon with the opera-glasses of the Duchess in the next. 
 fautenil ; lovely faces there were in plenty, but not the lovelier one 
 he sought. He was prominent at the Browning performance, and 
 at the Greek play, but in the rows of spectacled eyes he caught no- 
 glimpse of tiers, shining in mute, eloquent contrast. 
 
 Disappointment followed disappointment. Lady Harley ap- 
 peared no more in public, and only a few chosen friends dared 
 intrude upon her seclusion. Yet, after each failure, his conversa- 
 tion was only more brilliant, his wit more mordant than before. 
 Society congratulated itself on his final disclosure of his real 
 cynical self, always so carefully veiled before his disappointment 
 in love. His bans mots were quoted on every hand, and a goodly 
 share of the floating capital of jest was assigned to him, and he was
 
 A NOVEL DILEMMA 343 
 
 enrolled among the noble society of wits, among whom the humble 
 author divides his best jokes. It was only by this bitter flow of 
 satire, and by the enormous tasks which he set himself, that he was 
 able to relieve the intensity of emotion, the ardency of longing, the 
 gnawing dissatisfaction. For he was dissatisfied. 
 
 What was it all worth to him, this power, this fame, this rest- 
 less luxury, this constant companionship of beauty and intellect, 
 this free interchange of thought, and gladiatorial display of wit ? 
 How old all this had grown to him, how stale, how everyday ! Oh 
 for the holiday romance and glamour of the land of dream ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A NOVEL DILEMMA. 
 
 MRS. DAWE'S voice sank to a solemn whisper. 
 
 ' Can ye keep a secret, 'Lizer, and bear a blow till I give yer 
 leave ? " 
 
 " Oh ! do not keep me in suspense. Tell me at once what is the 
 matter with my dear, dear Jack, that I may fly to him. I can bear 
 anything, even a secret." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe borrowed Eliza's ear, without asking leave, and 
 adjusting it into close relations with her own mouth breathed into 
 it one tenible dissyllable. 
 
 Eliza's body recoiled from it with such horror, that her ear was 
 removed to the furthest corner of the shop. At the same time the 
 roses and raptures of Ramsgate fled from her cheek, and were 
 replaced by the lilies and languors of Bethnal Green. 
 
 " It can't be ! " she gasped. " You are mistaken ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dawe frowned. 
 
 " How dare ye contradict, you ungrateful hussy ! " she cried. 
 "To everybody else it's brain-fever, but to you, as a special favour, 
 it's sinull-por. And that's what I get by my kind 
 
 Mrs. Dawe ceased suddenly, darted a warning look at Eliza, 
 and weighed out some smoked beef. 
 
 " Yes," she resumed, when they were once more alone. "To 
 my customers it's brain-fever, but to you, as a friend, it's small-pox. 
 I know'd 'ow it ! ud be. 'Jack,'ses I, 'if ye will drag yer poor 
 ailin' mother away from these 'ere lovely sands, as is doin' her a 
 power o' good ; though landladies is as greedy as pigs, and every 
 blessed thing rises out o' respect to the visitors, and ye can 
 run through a small foitune on the backs of donkeys as don't want 
 to go ; and want to go back to Bethnal Green, and throw chloriddy 
 lime into your sinks, Jack,' ses I, 'yer poor old mother won't 
 be 'ere much longer.' But what did he care for wy'ealth? He
 
 344 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 knowed the papers said they were dyin' off all around 'ere more 
 and more every day, yet for all that he ses he must go back, and 
 we might stay there ourselves, two unpurtected females, for all he 
 cared. And I could no more stop 'im than I could stop the express 
 we travelled in ; and by a mist ike he took fust-class tickets, and 
 they wouldn't change 'em. But I would 'a made 'em, only the bell 
 was a-goin' ; and we 'ad to sit on sofas and lookin'-glasses all the 
 way, which made me that miserable that I 'ad no 'eart to look at 
 the cows. And now, sure enough, every word as I sed to 'im 'as 
 come true, and he's down with the small-pox, though vaccinated by 
 Dr. Thomas (old Dr. Thomas, not the young ! un), and the matter 
 given to all the babies, and the marks on 'is arm is there to prove 
 it to this day. You was lucky, ''Lizer, that when we was comin' 
 'ome from the station yesterday, you could get out o' the bus at the 
 top o' this dreadful road, where there's papers in every window 
 warnin' you to muzzle yerself up as if ye was a mad dog ; though, 
 to be sure, I did think ye was comin' 'ome with us instead of 
 boltin' off at once to see yer brother, not as you could be expected 
 to chance it, after what that woman in the bus was a-tellin' us about 
 everybody running to be vaccinated as if they was babies in arms, 
 and catchin' it afore they could get there." 
 
 "My poor, dear Jack!" sobbed Eliza. "Give me that 
 vinegar." 
 
 "You ain't a 'ot pea," snapped Mrs. Davve. "Theie's no call 
 to be frightened. If yer conscience is clear, and you've got 'oles 
 in your arm, ye won't get 'em in your face. 'Tain't them as makes 
 cruet-stands of themselves as escapes. Sally wouldn't drink vinegar 
 if she was paid a pound a pint she's too fond of sugar, the extra- 
 vagant minx but she ain't the least bit afraid, and just like 'er 
 imperence, for she never was vaccinated in all her borned days. 
 She sits patiently by the bedside, covenn' 'im up, and givin' 'im 'is 
 medicine like a dog." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Eliza. " You let Sally nurse him ! " 
 
 " She wanted a 'oliday, poor thing," Mrs. Dawe responded com- 
 passionately. ''Ye see she'd really been workin' 'aid while I was 
 at Ramsgate, and done a tidy stroke of business, except two 
 '"apennies with Pears' soap marked on 'em, which no one ; ud take 
 back. When she begged me to let 'er nuss 'im I 'adn't the 'art to 
 refuse, 'specially as I couldn't trust 'er without my eye on her. It's 
 'ard to be parted from my Jack ; but I mustn't think o' meself, 
 when my only boy is in danger, and can be best nussed by them as 
 ain't too anxious to do it properly, nor ain't got the shop layin' on 
 their 'eads. Oh, my poor boy, to think that arter all the schoolin' 
 ye've 'ad, ye should 'a made your old mother miserable like 
 this !" 
 
 A tear stood in the good woman's eye as she concluded. Then, 
 presumably tired of standing, it fell and buried itself in a basin of 
 soup. 
 
 ' How is he now? "sobbed Eliza, whom faintness had driven 
 to the door in search of fresh air.
 
 A NOVEL DILEMMA 345 
 
 " He's unconscionable," returned Mrs. Dawe, mournfully watch- 
 ing the widening circles in the soup-basin, " he don't know nothin", 
 he don't he's talkin' politics all the while." 
 
 " Then, I could do no good by seeing him, unhappy girl that 
 I am!" 
 
 " Not a bit. When a man's delirious he looks at everybody as 
 if they was poor relations, my late 'usband used to say, not that 
 poor relations 'as any right to be sich. He'd only make yer flesh 
 creep by cryin' out about a lot of devils murderin' 'im, not as I be- 
 lieve it's anythin' but blue ones. Sometimes, he shrieks out that 
 he won't sign the pledge not to touch Irish whisky, no, not if he 
 dies for it." 
 
 Eliza shuddered. " If you think I ought to command mysjlf 
 for his sake, I will obey and will not go near him. For his sake, 
 Mrs. Dawe. Good-bye ; if I can I will come soon. Good-bye." 
 
 Eliza stepped out into the street, but turning back somewhat 
 :shamefacedly, she bent her head over Mrs. Dawe's face and, rapidly 
 interposing her gloved hand, she administered a loud kiss to the top 
 of her thumb, which rested lightly on the oily membrane that served 
 the old lady for skin. Then she glided gracefully through the open 
 .portal gracefully, although her heart was almost broken. 
 
 Her poet lover, her painter hero, attacked by the small-pox ! 
 What ruder shattering for a maiden's day-dream ! Their long- 
 . delayed marriage was at last at hand ; and lo ! death, or, worse still, 
 distortion awaited him. Love may survive the death of the object 
 ot its flame, but when that object becomes an object in another 
 .sense, a pity which is akin to hate swells the tender bosom. 
 
 The weather was glorious. Even the squalid road seemed to 
 breathe a quiet, restlul air, and to lie in a holy calm, under the 
 lovingly o'er-arching blue of heaven. But Eliza had not the Words- 
 worthian eye of her lover, and, instead of musing on the benefi- 
 cence of Nature, she hurried along, her brain whirling under dread 
 possibilities. The sanitary instructions displayed in many of the 
 windows seemed to blaze with ominous meaning, and the passage 
 of a ghastly-looking small-pox conveyance chilled her blood. The 
 face of her lover swam before her, scarred, and seamed, and pitted! 
 And what if she were attacked herself, and all that exquisite tex- 
 ture of skin, which had been the care of years, destroyed in a 
 moment? Perhaps, even now, she was bearing with her the germs 
 f disease. The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She 
 liad kissed Mrs. Dawe on her entry, she had touched her on her 
 exit. With a trembling hand she drew off the suspected glove 
 .and hurled it away. 
 
 '' I accept the challenge, Miss Bathbrill," cried a musical voice, 
 the owner of which immediately precipitated himself into the road, 
 picked up the glove, and stuck it jauntily into his breast. 
 
 Eliza looked up. A tall, handsome young man, with a blond 
 moustache and very white teeth, stood before her, hat in hand, 
 bowing in a most elegant fashion. Eliza gave vent to an exclama- 
 ii on of pleased surprise.
 
 346 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Mr. Mowbray ! " she cried with a delicious smile of welcome. 
 Then suddenly the smile gave place to a look of horror, as she 
 caught sight of the glove dangling in his vest. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, beware !" she cried impulsively. 
 
 "Of what?" queried the stranger, devouring her with his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Of the glove! Throw it down instantly as you value your 
 life ! " 
 
 Mr. Mowbray's face lit up with an amused interest. " By St. 
 Patrick," he said, "this is an unexpected adventure. Sweet Miss 
 Bathbrill, I will beware of nothing that comes from thee. Come 
 what may, this glove shall be mine for ever." 
 
 With these gallant words he drew out the glove and pressed it 
 to his lips. 
 
 Who can paint the tumult in Eliza's breast ? Horror, perplexity, 
 pleasure, shame, and a certain impersonal delight in the sensational 
 and unexpected manner in which Fate had twice, within a few days,, 
 intertwined her life with that of the stranger, agitated her bosom. 
 Their first meeting had been on the shore of the mighty sea, and 
 lo ! coincidence of coincidences they came together again in the 
 heart of the great city. Was their third meeting to be within a 
 hospital ward ? Yet full of solicitude as she was for the fate of the 
 daring stranger, she could not bring herself to degrade the poetry 
 of the situation by the introduction of the horrible word "small- 
 pox."' In a confuted manner there flitted through her mind the 
 rencontres of recent fiction the mad bull, the fierce dog, the run- 
 away horse episodes of salvation, the genus of accidental meetings 
 in woodland recesses, the lost traveller variety, and the other natural 
 and unnatural classes known to every reader but nowhere could 
 she find a precedent to guide her. Here was emphatically a new 
 and original situation with quite a novel series of effects. Here 
 were all the elements of the illustrations on novelette covers 
 gallant youth, beauty in distress, fear for the life of the hero, 
 avowed admiration of the heroine, lips, glove, and all the neces- 
 sary properties yet the kaleidoscope of li'e had arranged them in 
 permutations hitherto undreamed of by the novelist. 
 
 But Eliza rose to the occasion, and cut through all the com- 
 plications of the situation with one clean sweep. With an 
 instinctive savm'r faire, that amounted to dramatic genius, she 
 exclaimed : " You saved my life ! Shall I destroy yours ?" 
 
 Then as his face grew serious and perplexed under her earnest- 
 ness, she added : " You are nursing a viper in your bosom." A 
 startled look of comprehension rlasl.ed into the yuung man's eyes. 
 He plucked forth the viper, which in a moment had sucked the 
 blood out of his cheek, and hurled it down a side-street. Readers 
 interested in its fate may be told that it led a single life ever after,, 
 having been picked up by a young girl who wore it on state 
 occasions, no one suspecting that this innoceiit-looking article had 
 already been divorced, and that its whilom partner was not to be 
 found in its owner's pocket.
 
 A NOVEL DILEMMA 3 7 
 
 The fatal glove gone, an embarrassing pause ensued. Eliza 
 resumed her walk and the stranger walked beside her. The latter 
 was the first to break the silence. " I trust that after I left you, you 
 found Mr. Dawe safe," he remarked. 
 
 This dexterous and delicate change of subject, showing as it did 
 that the stranger comprehended the subtlest emotions of the inner 
 life, moved Eliza to the quick. She thanked him with a look. 
 
 " Safe enough, thank you,'' she said. " But he had evidently 
 hurt himself among the slippery rocks, for his arm was wounded ir 
 several places." 
 
 "Indeed,' 1 observed Mr. Mowbray, much interested, "I am 
 sorry to hear that. And how is he now ? '' 
 
 Eliza shuddered. Must the word be spoken after all ? 
 
 " He has been attacked by the the epidemic which is raging 
 in the neighbourhood. I have just come from him." 
 
 The stranger edged imperceptibly away from his lovely 
 companion. 
 
 " Did you find him very bad ? '' he inquired. 
 
 ''Very ill indeed, I was told. I did not see him myself, as the 
 sight of me would only have distracted him." 
 
 " No wonder. It would distract a dying saint." Eliza acknow- 
 ledged the compliment with a smile. 
 
 " Much less a living sinner like myself," continued the chivalrous 
 
 tranger, imperceptibly edging neartr to his lovely companion, who 
 
 had now grown calm enough to remember to open her dainty 
 
 parasol. " I hope it will not prove serious, and that he may scon 
 
 be restored to health and you." 
 
 Eliza cast down her eyes. " I hope so," she murmured. There 
 was she knew not what of irritation in the tone in which he uttered 
 the last two words, something of calm looking down as from a 
 height upon her and her poor affairs that made her add : " For his 
 mother's sake." 
 
 The stranger's eyes kindled, and his mouth twitched with 
 suppressed enjoyment. "Poor old lady!" he said. "She has 
 much to suffer. I remember the state she was in at Ramsgate 
 only because he was away a couple of hours. She must have been 
 a good deal frightened when he returned wounded, and told her 
 what had happened." 
 
 ' She had no time to be frightened," Eliza replied simply. 
 " Because the moment he entered he astounded her by telling her 
 he was going back to London by the next train, and that he dared 
 not stay a moment longer in the place." 
 
 The stranger looked thoughtful. "And he did not tell her 
 why ? " he asked. 
 
 " He told her not a word about anything, but she could see 
 that the accident had frightened him and disgusted him with the 
 place." 
 
 "Poor old lady!" repeated the stranger. "To think of the 
 torture this mysterious silence must have cost her, palpitating with 
 anxietv as she was. I wonder she did not m-ike him sneak."
 
 348 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " She tried," remarked Eliza with a faint smile. " But she had 
 to give it up he's very obstinate, as she knows by old experience; 
 and if he determines to do anything, or keep a secret, nothing in 
 the world can make him break his resolution." 
 
 " A very admirable trait ! " cried the stranger heartily. " For 
 as a friend of mine is in the habit of saying, 'A man that can 
 keep a secret is as rare as a detective that can discover one.' Not 
 that, of course, it can be a secret of any real importance. I suppose 
 lie was more communicative to you than to her." 
 
 Eliza looked vexed. " Hardly,'' she replied. " But, if you ask 
 me, there was no secret to communicate. The plain truth of the 
 matter is that he wanted to go, so, having no reasonable excuse 
 for going, he remained silent. What, I should like to know, could 
 liave happened to make him want to go? It's absurd on -the face 
 of it." 
 
 " On the face of it ! " echoed the stranger. " When he went off 
 in pursuit of his hat, he had no intention of returning to London 
 that day. When he came back to Ramsgate, he was mad, you tell 
 me, to catch the next train. Now does he expect you to believe 
 ihat melodramatic incidents occur in the light of day between 
 i3roadstairs and Ramsgate? It's ridiculous. It was a mere whim 
 of his, as you say. Stay ! " he continued thoughtfully, " can my 
 .presence have had anything to do with his resolution ? '' 
 
 " Your presence," exclaimed Eliza. "What do you mean, Mr. 
 ^Mowbray ?" 
 
 Mr. Mowbray appeared embarrassed. He looked down at the 
 ground and looked up timidly at Eliza. 
 
 "Never mind!" he said in evident confusion. "Just an idea 
 that flashed across my mind. Of course it would have been absurd 
 of him to think anything of the kind." 
 
 'Anything ot what kind?" murmured Eliza, blushing beneath 
 Jier parasol. 
 
 " Still it's natural," soliloquised Mr. Mowbray absently. "When 
 a man, no longer young, has a precious jewel to guard but no, it 
 could not have been that." 
 
 At this point he gazed up thoughtfully and met the down-drop- 
 ping glances of his lair companion, and, for a moment, they looked 
 into each other's eyes. Then Eliza turned away with a petulant 
 gesture, blushing more deeply than before. 
 
 ' You are not angry with me, I hope, for answering your ques- 
 tion," Mr. Mowbray said tenderly. 
 
 ' Why should I be angry with you?" murmured Eliza. 
 
 They walked on together. 
 
 ' The Captain was right," reflected the young man, stealing ad- 
 miring glances at the charming brunette at his side. " He fled, 
 fearing our vengeance should we discover his trickery. And he is 
 a man who can keep a secret ! And, to prevent any immediate 
 danger, he is down svith the small-pox ! And perhaps he may die! 
 Is Providence playing into our hands?"
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 349- 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM. 
 
 SALLY'S tears rained down on the white, helpless face of her master.. 
 Suddenly, hearing the voice of her mistress, she snatched up a soup' 
 ladle that stood in the corner of the room, and ran out on to the 
 landing. Descending a few stairs, she stretched the ladle down- 
 wards in the direction of the parlour. 
 
 "Asleep agen," a voice exclaimed. "Allus a-spillin' the ice 'cos- 
 it don't come out of your pocket though why water in lumps should 
 be dearer than water in pumps, and as expensive as if ye could get 
 drunk upon it, I never could understand. Ain't I told ye as this 
 cook-shop melts the coldest ice in a minute, not to speak of the sun, . 
 and it's a wonder 'ow I've stood it so long. Lift the ladle steady 
 now, or ye'll slop the stairs and pay for the ice out o' yer next 
 'oliday ; though it's only 'cos doctors is fools and their patients 
 idiots that they swallows all the doctors tells 'em and gives 'em ; and 
 what good ice on 'is bald 'ead can do a boy who's got the small-pox 
 is a riddle-me-riddle-me-ree." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe's medical scepticism was grounded on the assump- 
 tion that the feverish symptoms of the invalid were those of the first 
 stage of small-pox. 
 
 " D'yer think I'm a baby," she said to the doctor when he in- 
 formed her of the nature of her son's illness, "as is afraid to 'ear 
 the truth ? What's the use o' yer tellin' me lies as if ye was paid 
 for it like a lawyer ? If ye'd charge me less for brain-fever, I 
 should be glad if 'e 'ad it ; but the odds are ye'll send me in a bill 
 as long as yer face 'ud be if I didn't pay it. When the whole of 
 Bethnal Green is laid up with small-pox, d'ye think it likely that 
 just my boy has been and gone and got the brain-fever ? We ain't 
 that sort of people. No one in my family ever 'ad anything o' the 
 kind, and we ain't used to 'avin' our 'air cut off as if we was sen- 
 tenced to 'ard labour ; and a 'ard labour enough it is to live now- 
 adays, without 'avin to pay for dyin', besides bein' charged for 
 brain-fever instead o' small-pox, when I'm sure it's nothing o' the 
 kind. And 'ow can you know better than me as knowed 'im when 
 you and 'im was as small as that 'ere big saucepan?" But even when 
 a week had passed without the eruption of a rash, the obstinate 
 old lady would not utterly abandon her thesis, and she still held 
 out for a latent element of small-pox compounded with the brain- 
 fever. 
 
 As Mrs. Dawe repeated herself as much as she repeated her 
 late husband, the doctor soon got to know the gist of her criticisms 
 by heart, and they fell on his ears with as little effect as the stereo- 
 typed phrases of a liturgy. In Sally he found an embryonic nurse, 
 who rapidly developed under his instructions and the intensity of 
 her interest in the issue.
 
 350 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Mrs. Dawe, though she soon got over her dread of infection, 
 considered herself indispensable to the business; and, as she shrank 
 from hiring a professional attendant, Sally was allowed almost to 
 mionopolise the ancillary functions. 
 
 She sat at Jack's bedside, listening to his ravings with the 
 terror of semi-comprehension. What always darted a superstitious 
 thrill through her whole being was to hear him address an imagi- 
 nary third person, and expostulate with him on what he had been 
 doing; especially when, identifying himself with that third person, 
 he seemed to be justifying himself and triumphantly demolishing 
 the arguments he had used in his own character. Then the first 
 :self would say : "Your logic is unassailable. Aiea cnlpaV 
 
 Sometimes he became more insistent, with alternations of en- 
 treaty. At others, he seemed to be haranguing a man whom he 
 contemptuously called Mr. Speaker, and then he would talk for 
 ihouis in a polysyllabic jargon of which Sally could only understand 
 a word here and there. 
 
 Of other scenes which he enacted the girl could make still less; 
 they seemed to refer to passages of his life which lay utterly beyond 
 'htr ken. The doctor was none the less puzzled by the delirious 
 utterances of his patient, on the few occasions when they took place 
 in his presence. He mm mured something about overwork, and, 
 learning that Jack had been very active as a propagandist of 
 Radical doctrines, he warned his mother against allowing him to 
 'mingle in political strife ; which was, to her, so striking a proof of 
 the doctor's sapience, that she began to think that the proportion of 
 small-pox must be very small indeed. Once, he pried into Jack's 
 books, and after that he wondered no more. For, being an excep- 
 tion to the proverbial induction anent doctors, and retaining a belief 
 in Providence, despite the nastiness of his own medicines, he made 
 the following note on the case : Overheated imagination brought 
 on by drink and irreligious fanaticism. 
 
 Nursing was not the only field in which Sally gave signs of 
 latent talent. The rapidity of her progress in reading and writing 
 would have gladdened a Board School teacher as much as it would 
 have depressed some Inspectors of Schools. All Jack had been able 
 to do for her before leaving town was to make her a copy of the 
 letters of the alphabet, and to teach her to call them all by their 
 <names. 
 
 Sally had likewise purchased a little halfpenny reading book 
 with pink covers, lull of monosyllabic and unmethodical statements 
 .about domestic quadrupeds, and when the rest of the household 
 was disporting itself at the seaside, Sally was content if, after a tre- 
 mendous day's work, when she had shut up the shop late at night, 
 she could exchange some of her hours of sleep for the knowledge 
 of alphabetical formations, or the rudiments of reading. When 
 she could no longer hold the pen, or peruse the puerile sentences, 
 she retired to bed ; treading very softly from an irrational fear that 
 Mrs. Dawe would wake up and want to know what she meant by 
 '.burning the gas till that hour of the niyht. A beautiful picture she
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 351 
 
 made, stalking noiselessly upstairs, her hair falling wildly over her 
 shoulders, her dress loosened on account of the oppressive heat, 
 and all of her body that was visible one mass of ink the result of 
 her midnight studies in the black art. It was a pitiful waste of 
 energy, the poor girl's patient striving to imitate every whirl and 
 convolution, every flourish and blot of her master's copy. But 
 Sally's eyes were unused to accurate perception of form, and so, 
 failing to produce a thorough imitation, she acquired a much better 
 chirography than she would have obtained by achieving what she 
 considered perfection. And therein lies a moral which the trans- 
 cendentalist is at liberty to discover and patent. 
 
 What times Jack lay in a heavy sleep and nothing could be 
 done for him, Sally would take the pen and ink off the mantelpiece 
 and smear herself industriously, making two marks on her person 
 to one on her paper. But she did not mind bedaubing herself so 
 long as she could keep her manuscript fairly clean, a task for which 
 her kitchen education had unfitted her. 
 
 It was while she was thus engaged that Jack awoke one day 
 from his long, delirious dream. 
 
 Suddenly, with the curious feeling that somebody's eyes were fixed 
 upon her, she looked up and found the patient staring at her with 
 a new light in his eyes. 
 
 Uttering a cry of joy she threw down the pen and bent over 
 him. 
 
 He looked up into her face with an expression of piteous in- 
 quiry. His lips opened tremulously as if to speak, and closed again 
 with a quiver. Then his eyelids shut, too, and he remained quite 
 still. After a little he fell into a quiet sleep. This calm slumber 
 lasted a long time, but all the while Sally never ceased to watch 
 his face. 
 
 Despite her gladness she felt a lump rising in her throat at the 
 thought of the change that had come over it. The lines of melan- 
 choly humour round his mouth were more deeply graved, and 
 transformed into lines of pain. The thin, worn, bloodless counte- 
 nance still retained its nobility of aspect, or rather, its spirituality 
 was intensified, as if the high endeavour of the soul and not the 
 harpy of fever had been struggling with the hues and traits of 
 health. 
 
 At last he stirred, and awoke once more. His perplexed eyes 
 wandered about the room, hither and thither, resting for an instant 
 on the bookstand, or the pipe-rack, or the pot of mignonette, but 
 seemed to recognise nothing. All at once they kindled like a flash 
 of lightning. 
 
 " I'll look at it now," he said gently. 
 
 " Thank Gord \ " Sally ejaculated. " ' knows me ! " 
 
 He was stretching out his poor, wasted hand. "Bring it over, 
 please, Sally," he said. 
 
 " Yes, master ; yes, master," cried Sally, sobbing and laughing. 
 " But you needn't look at it now." 
 
 4i Needn't look at it now ! " he repeated slowly, taking the
 
 352 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 alphabetic MS. from her. "Why, Sally, you've lost enough time- 
 already while I was away. Now that I have returned we must 
 work hard. Mirum est ! This is a wonderful improvement ! You 
 have a positive genius, child. Dominum superasti, thou hast 
 excelled thy master. Will you teach me in return, Sally?" 
 
 Sally smiled in tolerance of this nonsense, and whispered glee- 
 fully to herself: "'E don't not know nothing no more ! 'E don't 
 not know nothing no more ! " 
 
 " And you have found time to do all this in a week?" he said,, 
 turning over the copy-book with smiling incredulity. " I am 
 afraid you must have got some of the pixies to do it for you while- 
 you were asleep." 
 
 Sally turned an indignant scarlet, and tears of outraged woman- 
 liness came into her eyes. " May I never move," she cried 
 earnestly, "if I arxed one on 'em to do it for me. D'yer think 
 I'd tell yer a whopper to make yer think I could write as well as 
 'Lizer ? I leaves that to 'Lizer ! Why, there wasn't 'ardly a day 
 that I didn't do 'em twice over when you was away, and three 
 times night or day when you was ill. Seven twos is fourteen, one 
 and tuppence ; and three tens is thirty, is 'arf-a-crown ; is three 
 and eight. No, I mean is is " 
 
 Here Sally lost herself entirely, and gazed in head-splitting,, 
 dumbfoundered bewilderment at the copy-book, feeling, with bitter 
 shame, that she had failed to make good her case. But in Jack's 
 face, the obverse expression of triumphant conviction was not to- 
 be found. He was staring at Sally in a painful perplexity. He 
 put his hand to his brow, and, feeling the ice there, a gleam of light 
 began to pierce through the clouds of dubiety. He struggled to 
 sit up. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " he exclaimed ; " I'm in bed ! " 
 
 "In course ye are," said Sally, somewhat sullenly, "/knows- 
 that, even if I can't write without pixies." 
 
 "In bed!" repeated Jack, looking round the room afresh. "I 
 was half-conscious of it ; but it never struck me as strange. It is- 
 thus perhaps that the new-born infant wakes into a universe which 
 it takes as a matter of course, and when it grows up lives among 
 mysteries, mistaking the Everyday for the Absolute. What's the 
 time. Sally?" 
 
 " Don' know." 
 
 *' Look at my watch on the mantelpiece." 
 
 " Don' go." ' 
 
 "Don't go!" echoed Jack. "Nonsense! Bring it here.. 
 There is no effect without a cause, Sally." 
 
 Sally brought the watch with a half-suppressed, revengeful grin,. 
 and held it to his ear. A suspicion of a sad smile played round the 
 patient's mouth. 
 
 " I am always wrong," he said. " It has indeed stopped, as the 
 Universe, to which Paley compared it, may fall some day into 
 eternal stagnation. Half-past ten, eh, Sally ? Is that right, by any 
 chance ? "
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 353 
 
 "What rot!" retorted Sally. " 'Ow can it be right if it's 
 
 wrong 
 
 "A crude question that, my child," replied her master, "and 
 unworthy of the philosopher I thought I had discovered in you. Is 
 it not half-past ten twice a-day ? Why, Sally, you are denying the 
 principle of the old Conservatism. A watch that stands still is 
 more often right than one that goes too fast. But all this does not 
 explain the change in the habits of this usually precise mechanism. 
 I remember winding it yesterday morning in the train. Have you 
 been playing with it?" 
 
 Sally, whose mouth had been wide open from astonishment, 
 kept it open from speechless indignation. The series of dagger- 
 thrusts she had been receiving and at such a moment, too would 
 have made her black in the face, had not the coating of ink been 
 first in the field. She felt that the delusion under which her 
 master was labouring did not warrant his suspicions of frivolity on 
 her part. Sally's world was very real to her she had a hard grasp 
 of the facts of life, and playfulness and lightness of touch she ap- 
 prehended but dimly. So, when she did recover her breath, she 
 somewhat paradoxically burst forth : " Well, I'm blowed ! U'yer 
 expect a watch to work for ten days, when there's nobody to look 
 arter it ? 'Ow could I wind it ? 1 never 'ad no watch in all my 
 borned days. I should a' made it go wrong in its inside. I know 
 I should, and a jolly good job if I 'ad. There ! " 
 
 This last adverb seemed to have little connection with space, 
 but to be the jerky prelude to an outburst of sobbing and a storm 
 of rainy tears falling through the drudge's face-clasping, extended 
 fingers. 
 
 " Ten days ! " breathed Jack, and then there was nothing heard 
 in the room but the crying of Sally. 
 
 Presently the girl felt a hot hand smoothing her tangled hair 
 and passing gently over her dewy countenance. She did not move, 
 but a thrill ran through her. 
 
 " Forgive me, Sally," pleaded a low, tremulous voice. " I did 
 not mean to hurt you." 
 
 Sally pressed her hands convulsively to her face, as if en- 
 deavouring to keep down her sobs which subsided into a spasmodic 
 panting. 
 
 " God knows I should be the last to cause you pain," continued 
 the trembling tones. " I understand what has happened. I have 
 been sick unto death, with no one in all the world to care for me 
 but you no one in all the world." 
 
 Sally raised her head for the first time, and for an instant her 
 grimy face was close to his. Then, covering it again with her 
 hands, she burst into another fit of sobbing, so violent that it racked 
 her whole frame. 
 
 Jack uttered a low cry of pain. "Must I indeed bring sorrow- 
 wherever I go?" he murmured. 
 
 But now words began to be interjected in the middle of the girl's 
 wild sobbing. " What rot ! There's lots of other gals as cares
 
 354 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 for you and thinks ye cares for them and send boys with 
 red caps to know 'ow ye was when they ought to 'a come 
 themselves and a jolly good job too ! !> 
 
 Here Sally raised her head defiantly and found the tears run- 
 ning down Jack's cheeks. He brushed them away quickly. 
 
 " Illness has left me weak," he said, gazing with quivering lips 
 into empty air. 
 
 "Master!" exclaimed Sally. "Don't cry! She ain't worth 
 it ! Don't cry, or I shall burst ! If she cared two 'ot peas for yer, 
 she wouldn't 'a let yer lay 'ere, dyin' alone ! " 
 
 " She did not know,'' murmured Jack. " She did not know. 
 But, indeed, 1 did not deserve that she should come. Oh, my 
 lost love my lost friend with whom I spoke as soul to soul." 
 His eyes filled with tender light. "You did not know or you 
 would have come to forgive me after all you did not know." He 
 extended his arms as if to grasp some unseen form and fell back, 
 his hands still groping. 
 
 Sally gave vent to a sardonic, semi-hysterical laugh, and placed 
 her arms akimbo. 
 
 "Right ye are, Mr. Dawe ! She didn't know! In course 
 not ! She don't know nothin', she don't ! Then we're plums o' the 
 same pudden. 7 don't know nothin', I don't neither, ye know, and 
 if yer don't know yer ought to for ye said it. Oh, crikey ! ain't 
 she a warm member! and ain't you a flat ! Why, the fust day as 
 ye was taken bad she come 'ere" Jack looked up " and missis 
 was quite mad 'cause she wouldn't believe you 'ad the small-pox. : ' 
 Jack put his hand to his head. "And missis ses to me, "Lizer 
 fancies she knows everything.'" Here Jack flushed violently. 
 " ' If there's one person more than another,' ses missis, ' as I can't 
 abear, it's a disbelievin' one.' But 'Lizer did believe 'er, 'cause she 
 never come since, and only sent boys, and said she couldn't wait 
 for letters, and must 'ave 'em run back to save missis the 
 stamps." 
 
 "But I did not have the small-pox, did I?" said Jack, 
 perplexed. 
 
 " No," snapped Sally. " I didn't know at fust, 'cos missis said 
 ye did, and the doctor said it was brain-fever. There was rows. 
 I didn't know, so I could only nuss yer." 
 
 Jack smiled sadly. 
 
 " : Tis a picture of life, Sally," he said. "Proud Science puts 
 its finger on the pulse of humanity and says : This ails you. 
 Proud Ignorance says : This ails you. So they wrangle. Mean- 
 while Love says nothing, but cools the burning forehead, and 
 moistens the parched tongue. And did the doctor convince missis, 
 or vice-versa ? " 
 
 " Yes, missis sed ice were worser than anythink for small-pox, 
 and that if ye died, it was along of 'im." 
 
 Jack smiled faintly. 
 
 " Was she grieved about me ?" he inquired gently.
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 355 
 
 'Oh, Jemima ! warn't she !" responded Sally, softened, in spite 
 of herself, by his pathetic accents. " Why, the fust two days she 
 went about like a mad thing. She was so miserable that she didn't 
 know what she was about. I 'card all the customers grumblin' as 
 they was a-gettin' short measure. She used to cry a good deal the 
 fust two days to think that you'd caught the small-pox, and that 
 she daren't go nigh ye 'cause you'd got it very bad, and if she was 
 to catch it and die there 'ud be no one to look arter yer. But 
 arterwards she used to come and nuss ye a little instead o' me ; 
 and when ye shrieked at 'er she used to cry a lot more, and blow 
 me up 'cause I couldn't get through the washin', and she 'ad to 
 wring the tears out o' the 'ankerchers and let 'em dry 'erself." 
 
 The sudden silence that ensued upon the termination of this 
 speech aroused Jack from a reverie into which he had fallen. 
 
 " And no one else called ? " he inquired, with a strange, mocking 
 expression. 
 
 " Only the customers. At fust they was frighten', but missis 
 got old Boler to write a bill in large letters (she didn't know as I 
 could a done it, if it was spelled), and she got the doctor to sign it, 
 and she put it in the winder : BRAIN-FEVER WITHIN. But she 
 was that worried by higgerant, huneddicated gals and chaps a- 
 wantin' places, that she sed she wished there was a devil for 'em to 
 go to, instead o' comin' to 'er." 
 
 " Only the customers," repeated Jack, still with. the same strange 
 smile. " No bulletins no theatrical dying in the sight of the 
 public with the lights low no anxious inquiries from all lands 
 only one from a housemaid were it not better so ? One half of 
 the world does not know how the other half dies. Nor does it 
 matter aught, for, whether in solitude or amid crowds, we must all 
 die alone." 
 
 " What rot ! " Sally interrupted roughly. " Ye make my flesh 
 creep. If ye was dead ye might talk like that, but ye ain't. 
 You're a-gettin' better, and you'll soon be up and doiif, and ye can 
 go away to Margate agen as ye was invited." 
 
 " Invited ! " 
 
 " Yes. I forgot to tell yer there was another caller arter all, so 
 ye needn't a-bin so down in the mouth. Three days ago it was, 
 and 'e axed to see ye 'cos 'e 'ad met ye at Margate, and when 
 missis sed ye 'ad the brain-fever, 'e pulled a long face and was 
 very sorry to 'ear about the devils as was a-killin' yer, and sed as 
 we was to give ye a invitation from Captain somethink, to 'is wilier 
 near Widestairs or somethink Master, master, what is it ? " 
 
 For Jack's face had become ghastly, he was trembling in all 
 his limbs, and his eyes gleamed with a wild light. He tried to 
 speak, but no sound came from his lips. His head drooped help- 
 lessly on the pillow, and beads of perspiration covered his brow. 
 Sally, trembling little less, lifted up his head and put a glass to his 
 lips. He clenched his teeth and turned feebly away. Then his 
 lips began to move and he muttered : " Oh, my God ! am I his 
 
 2 A 2
 
 356 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 murderer? I dread to know." He closed his eyes and lay so 
 still that Sally thought he had fainted. She ran to the window and 
 opened it more widely, admitting larger draughts of the rich 
 summer air. Afar off a barrel-organ was jingling thrrv?-h the 
 airs of the Mikado, a popular comic opera, and distance lent a 
 drowsy enchantment to its metallic tones. Along the road an 
 omnibus was rumbling; the alluring cry of "Strawberry Ice" 
 resounded at intervals ; the flies buzzed round the window panes ; a 
 dog barked now and then, arid all the low hum of a sunny after- 
 noon was wafted in through the window. The dread intensity of 
 Jack's thought seemed suddenly to have lost its definiteness. It 
 became a mere tortured whirl of vague tumult ; baseless, shifting, 
 and with a nightmare-like unconsciousness of the reason of its 
 existence. Then this, too, subsided, and his overwrought brain fell 
 into a strange, meaningless peacefulness, and he found himself 
 listening dreamily to the sounds of the quiet sultry afternoon, and 
 floating along the musical current of 
 
 " The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la, 
 Have nothing to do with the case." 
 
 A vigorous shake aroused him from his trance. With a feeling 
 of vague irritation he opened his eyes and found that Sally was 
 bending over him in agitation. The sight of the girl reknit the 
 snapped thread of thought, and the old look of horror flashed into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " You are right, Sally," he cried. " I am mad to shirk the 
 question. Every moment is precious. Tell me, have they murdered 
 him ? " 
 
 Sally stared at him in speechless astonishment. His wild, 
 appealing gaze froze her blood. It was plain that his reason was 
 once more tottering. 
 
 " Why are you silent?" he cried, seizing her arm with a 
 convulsive grasp. " Speak ! " he commanded almost fiercely, 
 "speak and spare me not." 
 
 "Oh, master," gasped Sally, "don't excite yetself. It'll only 
 make ye ill again." 
 
 " My God !" he cried in piercing tones. His jaw relaxed, his 
 eyes took a glazed look. " Too late ! '' he moaned. "Too late ! 
 Better to have died than have waked to hear this." He broke 
 into a torrent of wild exclamations. Sally wrung her hands in 
 despair. The moment was terrible for both. 
 
 " For I'm going to marry, Yum Yum, 
 
 Yum Yum," 
 
 rattled the barrel-organ; the bluebottles droned in the curtains ; am? 
 the cry of "Strawberry Ice "still resounded at intervals, like the 
 note of a cuckoo. 
 
 " Ye didn't, master, ye. didn't ! " Sally cried frantically. " What 
 rot ye does talk. Ye didn't murder nobody, ye' wouldn't do no such.
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 357 
 
 thing ; ye wouldn't murder a fly, except ye was in yer temper, 
 which ye ain't bin since ye thrown me downstairs, and I jolly well 
 deserved it." She thrust him gently from his half-sitting posture, 
 and laid her hand lightly, but firmly, on his head. " Lay down," 
 she said in a tone between coaxing and command, " lay down, that's 
 a good boy, and 'ave a jolly good snooze. It's all my fault. The 
 doctor's orders was that if ye wanted to talk when ye was gettin' 
 better, I wasn't to let ye, and 'ere I've been a-jabberin' away like 
 one o'clock. Go to sleep and forget all about that rot." 
 
 " Forget ! '' murmured Jack bitterly. "To sleep, perchance to 
 dream ay, there's the rub." 
 
 " Yes," said Sally, stroking his face as one humours a fretful 
 child. " It'll rub off all the rubbidge." He shook off her arm and 
 covered his face with his hands. " Ye're beginnin' agen ! " cried 
 Sally, with the petulance of an amateur nurse. " Go to sleep. Ye 
 can dream about it, can't ye, if ye must think about it. Dream 
 that yer caught and get hung for it, and then ye can wake up 
 a new man." 
 
 *' Leave me, Sally. You don't understand," moaned Jack. 
 
 "Oh, no, in course not! It's only 'Lizer as can understand, 
 ain't it ? When you talks nonsense and I talks sense, ye allus 
 makes out that I'm in the wrong. Ain't ye got sense enough to 
 know ye're mad ? You've bin 'avin' bad dreams for days and days, 
 and now ye fancy it's all true. Why, if I was to believe all I 
 dreamed, I should be ten times as much a lady as 'Lizer, and know 
 everything in the world, and 'ave a carriage like the Lord Mare, and 
 millions o ! pounds, and a gal of my own to 'elp me in the 'ousework, 
 and marry somebody ; but I wakes up and finds it all rot, like the 
 poor man as ye once read about to missis, five years ago come 
 Christmas Eve, which was changed for a lark to a Sultana, and 'ad 
 everythink o' the best, and ordered everybody about, and woke up 
 at last like a fool, and that's what's a matter with you." 
 
 As Sally paused to take breath, she found Jack gazing at her 
 with new hope in his eyes. 
 
 "Would to God you were right," he said. " Can I, indeed, have 
 dreamed all this ? Has it all been a fevered vision ?" 
 
 " In course it is," replied Sally cheerfully. " Shut up now and 
 go to sleep." 
 
 " If it be a dream," continued Jack, evidently struck by the new 
 view, " I wonder if the dream dates back even further, as in Abou 
 Hassan's case. Perhaps I am dreaming even now." 
 
 " In course y' are," again assented Sally. " Yer like Abey 
 Hassan, I didn't remember the name afore. Go to sleep and wake 
 up yer own self again." 
 
 For an instant the ecstasy of the idea overpowered Jack. The 
 dull curtain of misery was rolled away for a moment and he felt an 
 indescribable sensation of joyous freedom. The terrible scenes 
 that haunted him were phantasies, product of the dream-imagi- 
 nation ; he had not pledged himself to Eliza Bathbrill, the great
 
 3$8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 possibilities of life were still before him. His eyes filled with tears. 
 But the illusion could not long continue. The pictures of memory 
 were too vivid. He sat up. 
 
 " Why do you deceive me ? " he cried. " It is not a dream. He 
 is dead." 
 
 " So is Queen Anne," snapped Sally. " There's nobody else 
 dead of your acquaintance 'Ow can I deceive yer if I don't know 
 what yer talking about ? " 
 
 Again Jack's eyes lit up with a gleam of hope. 
 
 " Sally," he said piteously " tell me the truth. Is the Premier 
 yet alive ? " 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 " The Prime Minister ! " 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Floppington ! The Right Honourable Arnold Floppington." 
 
 Sally looked puzzled. The gleam of hope in Jack's eyes became 
 a steady glow. He must have jumped to a too hasty conclusion. 
 Surely had the Premier been assassinated, his name would have been 
 dinned in every one's ears. But he had been too often deceived to 
 trust the voice of hope. 
 
 " You must have heard of Floppington," he repeated anxiously. 
 
 Then with a burst of inspiration he added, "The man that they 
 say looks like me." 
 
 Sally's face expanded and her mouth opened in relief. " D'yer 
 mean Floppy ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Jack eagerly. " Is he alive ?" 
 
 " Oh, 'im ! " replied Sally contemptuously. " The man that 
 gives away French cheese to women and spiles all the English 
 trade. I s'pose 'e is. I 'eerd Pat Murphy argyfin' about 'im 
 as if 'e was alive the other day in the shop, and singin' ' For 
 'e's a jolly good feller,' but 'e was drunk." 
 
 " Then he has not been murdered ? " he panted. 
 
 " Not as I knows on," responded Sally. The revulsion was too 
 great. He sank back exhausted. 
 
 " Thank God,'' he exclaimed. Then suddenly sitting up again : 
 "But you have been secluded from the world; perhaps the news 
 has not yet reached you. Is there a newspaper in the house ?" 
 
 " Not as I knows on.'' 
 
 " Then get one ! Any one will do." 
 
 Sally looked dubious. " I shall have to bolt through the shop 
 oth ways, or else " 
 
 " Then I'll go for one myself," he said. Sally quickly drew the 
 coverings over him. 
 
 " Lay down," she said. Then adding tenderly, " I don't mind 
 boltin' for you," she darted out of the room and into the streets 
 before the shrill cry of " Sally" was borne to the sick man's ears. 
 For some minutes Jack lay tossing in uneasy suspense, though the 
 keenness of his mental anguish had largely subsided. 
 
 " Even if they have not murdered him yet," he muttered sud-
 
 SALLY WRITES A TELEGRAM 359 
 
 denly, "the sword is suspended over his head, and may fall at any 
 instant. I must go to him and tell him all." 
 
 He endeavoured to rise, but his brain was dizzy and a mist 
 swam before his eyes and he fell back. He lay quite still with 
 closed eyes. Presently a shock traversed his frame. " My God ! " 
 he murmured. " I've sworn not to divulge their secrets." 
 
 At this moment, Jack heard a click in the street beneath. His 
 terrible situation in the Cave, when the Captain gave the order to 
 cock pistols, was instantly recalled to him, and he lived again 
 through those long moments in the few seconds which elapsed 
 between the click of the barrel-organ and the bursting forth of a 
 popular waltz. Immediately afterwards the music ceased, and he 
 heard his mother's voice exclaiming : " Ye miserable furriner, not 
 as 1 believe you're a native-furriner, what d'yer mean by turnin' up 
 'ere ? Just read that 'ere Bill, will yer?" 
 
 " I don't care for your Bills," a sullen voice exclaimed. " I don't 
 see why I shouldn't earn a honest penny 'cause you write in your 
 window ' Brain-Fever Within, the best in Bethnal Green.' " 
 
 ' Ye won't get anythin' by mixing up the brain-fever and the 
 soup. Ye won't earn a 'onest penny or turn a 'onest penny 'ere. 
 Don't grin, ye aggrawatin' monkey ! You're a monkey, that's 
 what ye are, and ye ought to sit on yer own organ. Clear off 
 d'yer, or I'll lock yer up for pretendin' to be a furriner when ye 
 can read English as well as Sally ! What's that \ e're 'idin' ? as 
 well as the Queen. You're no more Italian than a ice " 
 
 Three bounds on the stairs, and Sally was once more in the 
 room, leaving Mrs. Dawe still wrangling with the unfortunate 
 musician. Jack clutched the paper with tremulous hand, but the 
 letters swam before him. After a while they steadied a little. He 
 ran his eye rapidly along the columns, and, luckily, soon lighted 
 on the following words : " The Press Association understands 
 that at yesterday's Cabinet Council the details of Mr. Flopping- 
 
 ton's " he uttered a cry of joy "measure for giving Home 
 
 Rule to Ireland " The paper fell from his hand. 
 
 "The madman persists !' he groaned. He made another effort 
 to rise, but a horrible sensation of faintness warned him that he 
 had already overtaxed himself, and that if he would not lose the 
 chance of rescuing the threatened Premier, he must husband his 
 strength. " A telegraph form quick ! '' he cried. 
 
 " Got none," said Sally, staring at him. 
 
 " A piece of paper, then ; the clerk shall re-write it." 
 
 Sally tore a leaf out of the copy-book and gave it to him. Then 
 she dipped the pen in the ink and made a blot on her dress. Jack 
 took the pen, and bitting up, supported by Sally, put it to the paper. 
 But his hand shook, and after he had made a trembling, amorphous 
 stroke, the quill dropped from between his ringers. 
 
 " I knowed it," cried Sally, half weeping with compassion. 
 "Ye're worryin' yerself for nothin'." 
 
 " Give me the pan again," said Jack.
 
 36o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " I won't ! " said Sally, snatching it away. "Ye ain't fit to write." 
 
 " God forgive you, Sally," said Jack solemnly, "for the mischief 
 you are doing. Give me the pen." 
 
 " It'll killyer!'' said Sally, bursting into tears. "There, take it. 
 
 But this time Jack's sight failed entirely, and the pen groped 
 piteously in the air. 
 
 "What shall I do?" he cried in agonised tones. Tears born 
 of weakness coursed down his cheeks. 
 
 " Master ! '' Sally exclaimed wildly ; " can't I write it ?" 
 
 " You ? Heaven be thanked ! Yes, you can write now. How 
 lucky I taught you! There is a Providence that shapes our ends. 
 But you only know the letters ! Alas ! my joy was premature 
 my last hope is gone ! " 
 
 " What rot, master ! Can't ye spell all the words to me ? " 
 
 Jack's face lit up with joy and admiration. 
 
 "You are my good angel my active impulse. You nre a 
 "Wellington, a Napoleon ; while I am : 
 
 "Look sharp!" interrupted Sally. "I'm ready. Thought ye 
 was in a hurry." 
 
 " Said I not you were a Napoleon ? But I must think." He lay 
 back and shut his eyes. 
 
 "What for?" queried Sally. 
 
 " I can t write without thinking," Jack explained. 
 
 "But writin' is like talkin', ain't it?" expostulated Sally. " No- 
 body thinks when they talks, and I don't see why they should 
 when they writes." 
 
 "They do in a few instances, nevertheless," said Jack almost 
 lightly, so comparatively buoyant were his spirits now. " Capital 
 A-s y-o-u v-a-1-u-e y-o-u-r 1-i-f-e stop a minute, I mustn't tele- 
 graph that, it will raise suspicion in the office. Tear that up. I 
 beg your pardon for troubling you so much. Now, capital R-i-g-h-t 
 H-o-n. F-1-o-p-p-i-n-g-t-o-n, D-o-w-n-i-n-g S-t. Capital A-b-a-n- 
 d-o-n Capital I-r-i-s-h p-o-l-i-c-y a-t o-n-c-e. Capital B-ew-a-r-n-e-d 
 i-n t-i-m-e. D-o n-o-t s-t-i-r a s-t-e-p t-i-1-1 I w-r-i-t-e m-o-r-e 
 f-u-1-l-y. There ! Run at once ! You will find some money in my 
 waistcoat pocket." 
 
 " There's no capital J.D.," protested the amanuensis. "There 
 ought to be a capital J. D., 'cause it's on your 'ankerchers/' 
 
 " He will know whom it is from by the name of the office," he 
 said wearily. " I am parched. Have you anything to drink?" 
 
 Sally hastily squeezed a few drops of lemon into a glass of 
 water, and gave it to him. He drank it eagerly. 
 
 " I'll go to sleep," he murmured, " and try to find strength to 
 write. Run now, my dear child.'' 
 
 Sally covered over his hand that was lying bare, touched the 
 superimposed blanket with her lips, and fled downstairs ashamed, 
 and blushing through her ink. 
 
 " Who sends this ?" said the clerk, staring at the caligraphy. 
 
 " I does, in course," said Sally, with a grin of complacency.
 
 CALM CONVALESCENCE 361 
 
 " Well, of all the cheek ! " gasped the clerk. He called the 
 post-office employes, and they gathered round it and perused and 
 reperused it, and looked from the message to Sally and from Sally 
 to the message. 
 
 " Perhaps ye'll know me when ye sees me," cried Sally. " I've 
 got summat to do, young man, if you ain't." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are sending this to Floppington : 
 ' As you value your life, abandon Irish policy at once. Do not stir 
 a step till I write more fully.' Did you make this up yourself?" 
 
 "In course not, ye fool!" Sally replied composedly. "I've 
 got nothing to do with Floppy, and a jolly good job too. I'm a 
 respectable gal, and can choose my company, and I wouldn't be 
 'ere neither, if master 'adn't sent me." 
 
 " Who's master ? " 
 
 " Mr. Dawe ! " said Sally proudly. " Mr. Jack Dawe." 
 
 The employes looked at one another, and winked and smiled 
 suggestively. 
 
 " So that's how the wind blows," said the telegraph clerk. " We 
 have heard of your master, my dear." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CALM CONVALESCENCE. 
 
 u HOORAY, master ! " cried Sally, rushing into the parlour with 
 a letter. " I can read all the invelope and write a jolly sight better, 
 too. Look at that capital J puffin' out its belly like a crinoline, and 
 there's a capital D Oh, lor ! " and Sally laughed with good- 
 natured superiority. 
 
 "At last!" exclaimed Jack. He broke open the seal, read 
 the words in an instant, looked bewildered, read them again, looked 
 alarmed, and let the paper flutter to the ground. 
 
 Sally, looking anxious, picked it up and inquired : " Will ye 
 want me to copy the answer ? " 
 
 ' Xo, thank you, I do not think I can say anything in answer 
 to this." He heaved a sigh, and the sympathetic slavey took up the 
 burden and sighed even more deeply. 
 
 ''Drat that girl!" exclaimed a voice. "It takes 'er 'ours to 
 walk from the shop to the parlour like a funeral. Oh, 'ere y'are, 
 my lady ! Peel them taters, will yer, and do it as if the skin was 
 yer own don't take more off than necessary." 
 
 " Perhaps he has other information," Jack soliloquised. Then 
 he looked doubtful and read the letter again. It ran thus :
 
 362 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 'In reply f> a telegram and to a communication marked 
 ' private,' I am instructed to inform you that Mr. Floppington has 
 had them under his careful consideration. So far as he can under- 
 stand your meaning from your cunningly-worded and intention- 
 ally vague statements, he regrets t be unable ""o give any credence 
 to them. He has on the contrary reason to believe, and is of 
 the firm opinion that this is but another ruse. Mr. Floppington 
 begs that you will not favour him with any more such com- 
 munications. 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient Servant, 
 
 "JOHN TREMAINE." 
 
 "He has reason to believe that this is but another ruse I re- 
 peated Jack. " Can it be a ruse after all ? Perhaps he knows more 
 than I do of the matter. He has reason to believe what can that 
 refer to ? Another ruse, he says. Evidently he has been experi- 
 mented upon by others. He must have special knowledge. I 
 u iderstand now the fearless calmness with which he has gone 
 on preaching his revolutionary doctrines, just as though I had not 
 warned him, while I have been sitting on thorns dreading that he 
 might not have received the letter, unable to go to him and forced 
 to think deeply at the risk of the recurrence of the fever, in order 
 to avert the pangs of suspense which were certain to bring it back. 
 A ruse ! The view never struck me. But a ruse with what object ? 
 They certainly seemed in earnest with me. Merciful Heavens ! 
 what if misled by fancied knowledge, scorning their threats, he is 
 going recklessly to his doom !" 
 
 It was only metaphorically that Jack had been sitting on thorns 
 during the fortnight that elapsed between his dictating the letter to 
 Sally for that, too, he was unable to write and the arrival of the 
 response. In reality he had not been sitting at all for almost a 
 week of it, and the rest of the time his seat had been the comfort- 
 able arm-chair whose silent eloquence had been denounced by the 
 socialist. He was sitting there now, surrounded by all the sensual 
 and intellectual luxuries of the bloated capitalist a bottle of iced 
 lemonade, copies of the Times, the Standard, and the Daily News, 
 a box of cigars, and a number of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 Enthroned in this curule chair the master daily sat during the 
 sweet season of convalescence, dreaming away the hours in high 
 speculation as his slothful soul loved, and only now and then 
 awaking to the cruel realities of the situation ; and Sally or his 
 mother darted in occasionally to supply his wants, or to suggest 
 those he did not feel. 
 
 Mrs. Dawehad by this timesilently abandoned her small-pox theory. 
 Perhaps having so long maintained to her customers the delusion 
 that her son was guilty of brain-fever only, she began at last to 
 believe in her own doctrines. Ecclesiastical history would supply
 
 CALM CONVALESCENCE 363 
 
 many a parallel to her psychological condition. But, however con- 
 ditioned, it was certain that she had undergone a change of faith ; 
 for if, as some metaphysicians have maintained, action is the test of 
 belief, how otherwise can we explain her quibbling refusal when the 
 doctor triumphantly told her, after Jack had left his bed, that, to be 
 consistent, she ought to burn the bedding ? 
 
 For one moment she stared aghast to Mrs. Dawe, good ortho- 
 dox economist, property was sacred, and the thought of incendiary 
 attacks on it filled her soul with horror. Then she burst forth : 
 
 " Burn the bedding ! ye Irish assassin ! What for?" 
 
 " G-g-erms ! " gasped the poor doctor, retreating before an> 
 uplifted frying-pan. 
 
 "Who cares for yer germs!" Mrs. Dawe shrieked con- 
 temptuously, "or yer worms either? Don't come yer tricks over 
 me. I shouldn't wonder if ye was uncle to a blanket shop, or fust 
 cousin to a bed business. What's it done to be burnt ? Don't it 
 go to church ? " 
 
 The doctor winced at this unexpected attack on his theological 
 principles, and bitterly regretted his mad endeavour to tie Mrs. 
 Davve's genius down to the reasonings of formal logic. " I don't 
 want to burn it, madam," he explained deprecatingly. " I only say 
 that if you really believe that Mr. Dawe was suffering from small- 
 pox you ought to burn it. Small-pox is catching." 
 
 "Sense ain't, or ye wouldn't talk like that before the picter o' 
 my late 'usband. Who : s to catch it, I should like to know ? No- 
 body sleeps in his bed but hisself, and everybody, except a 
 doctor, knows that no one can get the small-pox twice." 
 
 '' Indeed ! And will the bedding never be washed ? " 
 
 '' How dare ye," Mrs. Dawe interrupted wrathfully, " how 
 dare ye hask such a question to the cleanest cook-shop in Bethnal 
 
 Green? Why, I But I'm busy. / can't send in a long bill for 
 
 lookin' at a long tongue. Besides, even if somebody else could 
 catch it they couldn't from such a slight attack as my son' 
 were ! '' 
 
 " A slight attack, indeed ! How do you know it was a slight 
 attack ? " 
 
 "'Cause you cured ; im," retorted the old lady. And the doctor 
 collapsed. 
 
 With her son Mrs. Dawe was less fiery. The danger in which 
 he had been had thrown a sacred halo round him. She wa 
 heartily rejoiced to see him down again in the old, cosy parlouiv 
 After all he was the only child she had ever had, and the beautiful 
 instinct of maternity reasserted itself with tenfold power after its 
 brief dormancy during the early dubious stages of his illness. I 
 Mrs. Dawe had little self-sacrifice in her nature, she had plenty of 
 affection and she shed tears profusely over her boy, calling him 
 her darling and her favourite child, and offering him pancakes. At 
 first, indeed, she ventured to condemn his reading so many morning 
 and evening newspapers. One day, however, the doctor, finding
 
 364 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Jack engaged in their perusal, protested against her permitting him 
 :this indulgence. 
 
 " My dear madam," the doctor said, " reading is hurtful." 
 
 "The Bible, too?" said Mrs. Dawe slily. 
 
 The doctor did not perceive the implied sarcasm. " Not so 
 much as other literature," he said hesitatingly ; " and, if he must 
 -read, that (although I doubt whether he will care for it) is most 
 fitting for his condition." 
 
 " Would it do him good to sleep durin' the day ? " was the next 
 jnnocent question. 
 
 " By all means. Let him have as much sleep as possible." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe could contain herself no longer. Her fat sides 
 shook and her plump shoulders quivered with enjoyment. The 
 doctor looked at her. 
 
 " D'yer know what I should do if I saw 'im readin' the Bible ? 
 J wouldn't pay ye a penny." 
 
 " Why not ?" gasped the startled doctor. 
 
 "'Cause I should say ye 'adn't cured him o' the brain-fever ! " 
 
 After this, Jack was allowed to read his papers in peace. He 
 was even detected writing,without undergoing a verbal shower-bath. 
 
 The painter read the letter of the Premier a third time. His 
 agitation diminished. 
 
 " He seems so dogmatic, so positive," he murmured. " He 
 must have good reason, as he says, for refusing to be alarmed by 
 my letter. His cold dogmatism is reassuring. Perhaps I am 
 troubling about a trifle. But then, where is the ruse? .... Can 
 they be merely trying whether his Irish policy is disinterested 
 before giving him their cordial support ? . . . . Perhaps they would 
 not have murdered me after all. Threatened men live long." 
 
 The painter lit a cigar and smoked it reflectively. When he had 
 got half through it he murmured : "He has not attended to the 
 rest of my letter. Unless it be a reply to say : ' Mr. Floppington 
 begs that you will not favour him with any more such communica- 
 tions.' The snub is deserved." He laughed bitterly. " The snub 
 is deserved," he repeated. 
 
 He took up a newspaper at random, and soon became immersed 
 iin its contents. Ever and anon exclamations burst from him ; of 
 surprise, of bitterness, of sarcasm, of pure rhetoric, of scorn, 
 or of humility and self-reproach. Gradually the last species began 
 to predominate. " The people wish it," he cried. u Le roi le -vent" 
 He threw down the paper. " What profits it to read more ? I was 
 wiser at first in eschewing the newspapers. To immerse myself 
 .again in politics would be to destroy what raison d'etre there was in 
 .my unhappy resolve. If the fear did not still haunt me that every 
 Jiour may bring terrible tidings, I would withdraw from the contem- 
 plation of a world in which I have no part. That fear is happily 
 growing less the lapse of time, the absence of any fresh incident, 
 the security and confidence of the Premier himself, all have con- 
 tributed to render the once vivid images of danger shadowy and
 
 CALM CONVALESCENCE 365. 
 
 dim. There is yet time to carry out my intention of cutting my- 
 self temporarily, if not entirely, aloof from the logomachy of poli- 
 tics, and retiring into philosophic meditation. I am afraid the 
 subjects of my meditation have been very often far from philo- 
 sophic." The smile that verges on tears hovered pathetically 
 around his mouth. The panorama of his recent life shifted before 
 him. He closed his eyes and let the scenes flit along, and his mobile 
 face changed as often as they. 
 
 " Enough," he cried suddenly, as though the representation of 
 the tragi-comedy was due to another's volition. " I cannot bear it." 
 
 He turned his chair to the table, took up a sheet of paper half- 
 covered with sprawling sentences, and, thanking God that this was- 
 yet left to him, began to read : 
 
 " The indubitable living impulse of Faith it is that I demand 
 attention for, and the argument is one which agnostics, despite 
 their elaborate display of analysis, have rather turned away from 1 
 than met. The Christian talks of the spiritual man, the biologist 
 retorts by dissecting a spider. This as a caveat to my scientific 
 antagonists. By the living impulse of Faith, I mean that influx of 
 moral strength accompanied by an inspired clearness of perception, 
 
 wherein the petty miseries of life " He paused suddenly, 
 
 affrighted by a wild uncontrollable burst of laughter that issued 
 from his lips. 
 
 He threw down the pen, and leaned his head on the table. 
 
 " The illusion of manhood succeeds to the dreams of youth. 
 What is life but a worthless bauble encased in manifold wrappings 
 of illusion ? Slip one oft", and lo ! another is found in its stead. 
 Why do I deceive myself? A failure in Action, a failure in 
 Thought, bringing misery to all I love or pity, there is naught 
 left for me naught." 
 
 He lay there muttering brokenly, and the dusk closed in around 
 him. 
 
 The shop was full of the first batch of supping customers, but 
 the bustle and clatter sounded far off, as if belonging to some world 
 of dream. The faint, cool breath of evening stole through the 
 window, but could bring no calm to his throbbing brain. 
 
 " Naught .... Except to marry Eliza." 
 
 He burst into hysterical laughter. 
 
 " Poor, patient girl. . . 1 pity thee. Thy fate is dark as my 
 own." 
 
 Meanwhile the darkness of the room grew deeper, and the veil 
 of night hid the secret of his pain from mortal eyes. Only a thin 
 line of moonlight rested upon the bent form. 
 
 When the last rays of day were quite dead, the gas in the 
 kitchen was lit ; and the light falling through the glass of the 
 parlour, a dreamy semi-obscurity reigned in the room, and there 
 was a strange division of light and shadow. The half-light fell 
 upon the bowed head of the painter, but within his- soul there was 
 the same terrible darkness.
 
 j66 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Suddenly he felt the light caressing touch of a gloved hand 
 upon his feverish cheek. He started up with a wild throbbing of 
 the heart. A woman's face, sad and sweet as the summer night, 
 looked into his through the gloom. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TOUT PASSE, TOUT CASSE, TOUT LASSE. 
 
 "THE air was thrilled with the music of tender tones. 
 
 " Are you better, Jack ? " 
 
 The painter started back before the beauteous apparition. 
 
 " I am better, thank you," he said wearily. 
 
 Then there was silence in the room. The woman stood there 
 like a spirit, her loveliness breaking the dark to beauty. But the 
 man's eyes were cast down, and he watched the shadows on the 
 floor. Presently, seeing that he remained motionless, she mur- 
 mured in reproachful accents : 
 
 "You do not ask me to sit down." 
 
 Her words seemed at last to affect him, for he raised his head 
 -quickly. 
 
 " A thousand pardons," he said in pained tones. " Will you 
 take my seat ? You will find it very comfortable." He was rising, 
 but she stopped him. 
 
 " No, thank you. I do not want to be comfortable. I will sit 
 on the sofa." 
 
 There was a world of pathos in the simple words, that moved 
 the hearer more than the most passionate rhetoric. He tried to 
 speak, but knew not what to say. He bent his head once more 
 and fell into a mournful reverie whose bitterness was intensified 
 by the consciousness of the sad, still face beside him. 
 
 So they sat side by side, and between them yawned the gulf 
 of silence. Constrained silence was between these two, once 
 Jinked by the golden bridge of loving speech. Was the old love 
 gone so utterly that no remembrance of what had been could come 
 to soften the cold rigidness of their meeting? Did no picture of 
 -what the silver moonlight had oft looked upon frame itself anew in 
 the dreary dusk of the chamber? Did no memories of sweet 
 kisses, or woodland walks, or summer mornings in the Park, at the 
 side of the lake, or on its glassy bosom, shed some dying fragrance 
 over the hearts they had once gladdened ? 
 
 The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away the seconds the 
 seconds they had so often passed in delicious converse but the 
 man and woman sat, each in mute loneliness. It was as though
 
 TOUT PASSE, TOUT CASSE, TOUT LASSE 367 
 
 the ghost of their old love hovered between them and froze their 
 once warm lips to silence. 
 
 In the shop the nightly bustle v/as at its height the clatter of 
 plates, the bursts of laughter, the exclamations of all kinds and of 
 all pitches brought to their ears the busy life of unromantic 
 humanity. No, not utterly unromantic ; for was it not the omni- 
 present, omnipotent element of Love that gave occasion to those 
 very guffaws, prompted as they were by rough, playful sarcasn on 
 somebody's young man. And in the road itself, where the stars 
 throbbed in the unclouded sky, and where the lamps shone like the 
 glowworms of some voluptuous tropical clime, were there not 
 couples on couples promenading in ecstatic silence ? Truly are 
 there silences and silences, and to the couple in the little back 
 parlour the silence was oppressive beyond the sharpest speech. 
 The woman was the first to speak. 
 
 " Shall I light the gas ? " she asked, in tones of ineffable 
 sadness. 
 
 "As you like." She listened eagerly to catch the slightest 
 tremor in his voice, but there was no lingering trace of emotion, 
 naught but a cruel, hard indifference. She made a movement 
 towards the mantelpiece and groped for the matches. Her com- 
 panion did not follow her with his eyes a pang traversed her 
 heart the graces of sinuous movement and of statuesque 
 posture thrilled him no more, for him the old feminine charm had 
 evidently died with his love. He seemed carved in stone. She 
 found the matches and struck one. It flared up for a moment and 
 went out. She made no attempt to strike another. She reseated 
 herself listlessly. Perhaps she thought that the dreariness of the 
 room was more in harmony with the weariness of their spirits. 
 
 The momentary flare-up of the match had illumined the bowed 
 head of her whilom lover. It seemed to her that he had never 
 looked so old. Surely the worn, bent figure was not that of a man 
 in his prime, rather of one whose thoughts are no longer of love 
 because they are no longer of life. 
 
 And still no words came from his lips and he never knew how 
 she was longing for him to begin, never understood that she whose 
 syllables were once his sweetest music feared to break the silence. 
 
 Ah ! happy lovers that arm-in-arm saunter in the road, it is 
 well that your bright eyes look not in upon this spectacle. For to 
 this complexion must Love come at last. Now your love glows 
 like some planet new-create, but soon ah, soon ! it will grow 
 cold ; its birds dumb, its verdure dead, its living fountains frozen 
 into eternal silence. Gather the roses while ye may, for not Time 
 but Love is flying, and soon there shall be no harvest to reap but 
 ashes and Dead Sea fruit. 
 
 Presently the woman spoke again, and in her voice was the 
 concentrated anguish of a lifetime. 
 
 " Have you nothing to say to me ?" 
 
 " Nothing." The word seemed to resume all the flatness and
 
 368 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 deadness of the situation, all the dull aching blank of lives whence 
 Love had flown. Some consciousness of this was borne in even 
 upon the coarser perception of the man, for he shuddered drearily. 
 All the delicate quintessence of passion that saturates with subtle 
 perfume the commonplace details of everyday life was evaporated. 
 Even the soft ray of moonlight that streamed in from the backyard 
 fell garishly upon the horsehair of the sofa. 
 
 The silence was intolerable to the woman. 
 
 " Mowbray warned me to be cautious," she thought. " But it 
 seems that two can play at that game." 
 
 She began nervously picking at the rose she wore in her bosom. 
 She was not unaware of the picturesqueness of the action, and the 
 fragrant petals, as they fluttered to the ground, might well seem 
 emblems of a wasted youth. Amid all her embarrassment from 
 the difficulty and delicacy of the situation, there was in her at the 
 commencement of the interview a delicious over-consciousness of 
 its pathetic dreariness, that made her not averse from prolonging 
 it. But at length the charm paled. It would not do at all that 
 Jack should have nothing to say to her. His neutrality would 
 leave the position in statu quo. And the status quo was eminently 
 unsatisfactory. So she made a plunge. It is the peculiarity of 
 conversation that a subject may be led up to from any commence- 
 ment whatever, and Eliza's first words were random, though not 
 purposeless. 
 
 "Jack dear," she said sweetly, "do you remember the night 
 when we went to see ' The Private Secretary' ?" 
 
 " I beg pardon," he said, starting up. " You want to see my 
 private secretary?" 
 
 She bit her lips. He might have had the decency to refrain 
 from stupid jokes. It was evident he could not rise to the senti- 
 ment of the occasion. A moment afterwards he was even smiling, 
 which made the dereliction from the code of romance graver 
 still. 
 
 " Good, faithful Sally," he muttered. The sweetness of Eliza's 
 tones grew intensified. 
 
 " Don't be absurd," she pleaded. " You do remember that 
 night." She bent her beautiful face close to his, and in her eyes 
 was the light of tender memori-es. 
 
 " What night ? " he asked coldly. 
 
 "The night we saw 'The Private Secretary,' and came home in 
 
 a cab because it was raining cats and Oh ! such a fearful 
 
 storm don't you remember?" 
 
 " No ! " At the brutal reply the lovelight died out of her eyes. 
 She turned her head away. All the woman in her revolted against 
 this forgetfulness, whether it were feigned or real. Then suddenly 
 she broke into a smile of triumph. 
 
 " You are very cruel to me," she murmured sadly. 
 
 Jack flushed deeply. " My dear child !" he exclaimed in much 
 agitation. " Cruel ! God forbid ! But you are right. I h ive
 
 TOUT PASSE, TOUT CASSE, TOUT LASSE 369 
 
 been cruel, through my terrible want of forethought. Thought'ess, 
 Eliza, I have bern, but not intentionally cruel." 
 
 " Oh, you have, Jack, you have .'" she said in a choking voice. 
 
 His tones took a sympathetic tremor. " God knows I have 
 tried to do my best. You do not know all, Eliza, or you would 
 pity me." 
 
 She looked at him with a strange, hard glitter in her eyes. 
 
 " I do pity you, indeed I do. When you were ill I could not 
 rest. The shock prostrated me. I kept my bed, though I did not 
 add to your mother's anxieties by letting her know my condition ! 
 But you have no pity for me." 
 
 " You wrong me, Eliza," he said in a pained voice. " Have I 
 been unkind to you in aught?" 
 
 "Unkind?" Eiiza repeated with bitter scorn. "I do not ask 
 for kindness. I would rather die than take kindness from the 
 hands which have once tendered me love." 
 
 The passionate outburst moved Jack even as it had moved I'.liza 
 herself in that week's London Journal. His eyes filled with tears 
 of compassion. 
 
 " Poor child ! " he said. " You loved me so much then ?'' 
 
 " Never heart beat truer than mine, Jack. To think that but a few 
 short months ago we were happy in our mutual love and now I 
 am so wretched oh ! so wretched." She burst into tears. 
 
 Overpowered by emotion, Jack rose from his seat and began to 
 pace the narrow room. 
 
 " Don't cry,'' he said in fierce entreaty. " You madden me. 
 Great God ! am I responsible for this misery, too ? " 
 
 "Responsible!" she cried in heartrending tones. " Why, oh 
 why did you ever come into my life ? Would I had never seen 
 you." 
 
 Jack groaned. " We cannot recall the past," he said bitterly. 
 
 " Oh ! that we could ! 1 should still be a happy light-hearted 
 girl. Now I feel so old so old and weary. What had I done to 
 you that you should rob me of my innocent happiness ?' ; Emotion 
 checked her utterance. She buried her face in her dainty cambric 
 handkerchief, and sobbed convulsively. 
 
 The painter cienched his fist in agitation. 
 
 "At first,' sobbed Eliza, recovering herself with an effort, "I 
 was so happy because I believed in you and looked up to you, oh ! 
 so much. You were so good to me, so tender and true. Now you 
 are another man altogether." 
 
 The painter stood still suddenly. " Another man ! " he said. 
 
 " You are so cold, your very kindnesses stab me to the heart. 
 Oh ! I cannot bear it. You have made my life a burden to me. I 
 cannot, cannot bear it. Why prolong my torture by feigned gentle- 
 ness ? Complete your work at once. Say you hate me." Exhausted 
 by this wild appeal, the woman broke down once more. 
 
 "Hate you!" the unhappy painter exclaimed desperately 
 " You are not logical, my poor child. If you believe that 
 
 2 B
 
 370 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 wrought you misery, it is you that should hate me. Say you do 
 hate me, and I confess I deserve your hatred. But why should I 
 \a\tyou ?" 
 
 Eliza drew a deep breath and clenched her teeth, and could her 
 companion have looked beneath the delicate cambric, he would 
 have seen a face distorted, not by weeping, but by an expression of 
 angry resolution alternating with one of anxious cunning. 
 
 " Hate you ! " she cried, accentuating the pronoun with in- 
 expressible tenderness. "Do you think I could ha.teyou? Ah! 
 you little know the heart of a woman. Why should I be ashamed 
 to own it ? It is our nature. But you are a man and cannot under- 
 stand. With us, love never dies but with life. Strike me dead at 
 your feet, and with my last breath I will confess I love you, and I 
 would rather die by your hand than live without you." 
 
 The intensity of Eliza's emotion bewildered the painter. He 
 put his hand to his brow. 
 
 " Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of woman," 
 he murmured dubiously. " Surely not, if this be woman's love .... 
 I am a man and cannot understand; yet, oh ! my lost love, it would 
 seem that I have sounded greater depths than you. Alas, for the 
 man and woman whom Fate has once dissevered. Always it 
 would seem the love of one God help that one remains un- 
 changed, undestroyed even by cruelty, while the other turns lightly 
 to fresh woods and pastures new." 
 
 Out of the corners of her eyes Eliza watched the painter, 
 though she could not catch his mutterings. The absence of any 
 direct response to her last tragic outburst emboldened her to make 
 the supreme experiment. It was a critical moment. She turned 
 pale at the thought of how much depended upon what would happen 
 in it. Never did mortal stand with clearer consciousness at the 
 parting of the ways. She rose wildly from the sofa and stood before 
 him with arms extended. 
 
 " Jack ! " she cried in tones of piercing pathos, " do not desert 
 me! You will not leave me for ever ? Come back to me, come to 
 my arms again and be my old lover once more." 
 
 The painter gazed at the lovely face wet with tears, and felt 
 himself trembling. 
 
 Meanwhile within the shop the hubbub of gorging humanity 
 went on as though no tragedy was being lived through a few feet 
 off, and the mistress and her handmaid darted about unconscious 
 of how strangely their lives were to be affected by the issue. 
 
 The painter made a gesture of determination. " Why should I 
 deceive you ?" he cried. His tones grew solemn. " My poor girl, 
 you have cost me more thought than you imagine. Your old lover 
 will, 1 fear, never return to you again." 
 
 " Oh, my heart !" gasped the poor girl. She fell back on the 
 sofa with her hands on her bosom. After a moment she raised 
 herself feebly on her elbow, and in the faint light Jack could see 
 that her teeth were set and her face was rigid. She did not burst
 
 TOUT PASSE, TOUT CASSE, TOUT LASSE 371 
 
 into wild hysterical exclamations as he expected ; now that the blow 
 had fallen, she seemed to be summoning all her strength to bear it. 
 "Is this your boasted sense of honour ?" she asked in a low tone of 
 scorn that made her hearer wince. " Is this the fulfilment of even 
 your recent promise to marry me in three months ? " 
 
 " I did promise, but it was unthinkingly," he pleaded humbly. 
 " I had no right to make the promise, indeed I had not. I might 
 have foreseen how circumstances would kill love. It was human." 
 Then in a burst of uncontrollable emotion, he exclaimed : " I have 
 ruined two lives by my folly." 
 
 Eliza started up, her eyes darting fire. " How dare you tell 
 me that the love you once bore me has ruined your life ? You 
 were never worthy of me, you miserable sign-painter ! " She 
 stopped suddenly and bit her lip. " Forgive me, my own," 
 she said. "Misery has driven me mad. Oh, this is some awful 
 dream ! It is not true, my darling. Tell me that your heart is 
 still mine." 
 
 ' I pity you from the bottom of my heart. If I can promote 
 your happiness in aught, you will find me a sure friend. Turn your 
 love elsewhere, my dear child, for, as you say, I was never worthy 
 of it. Forget me and be happy." 
 
 " Forget ! " Eliza exclaimed bitterly. She leaned against the 
 mantelpiece, pale and statuesque. " Heaven forgive you. Do you 
 know what you are asking ? " 
 
 The sadness of his face grew deeper. He bowed his head. 
 " Heaven help me," he cried. " I do ! " 
 
 Something in the tones made her pale face flush violently. She 
 stretched out her hand and caught hold of his arm. " Oh, why do 
 you desert me thus?" she exclaimed. ''There is some strange 
 reason some secret you are hiding from me." 
 
 He struggled to free his arm, but she clung to him. " I will 
 kno\v. ;: she cried. 
 
 " Be silent," he said sternly. " You must bear your pain even as 
 I bear mine." 
 
 Eliza uttered a shriek. " You love another ! " 
 
 He did not answer, but she read the admission in his eyes. For 
 a moment Eliza's breast was the arena of contending passions 
 jealousy, indignation, scorn, joy, loathing of her past love, were 
 uppermost by turns ; but it was jealousy that recurred oftenest in 
 the lightning play of impulse. She could not trust herself to speak. 
 She gave him one glance of ineffable disdain, and swept towards 
 the door. The painter was moving to open it, but she waved him 
 back and threw it open with a superb gesture of wounded pride. 
 She stopped suddenly on the threshold, arrested by a singular 
 sight. Sally, black as the devil with ink and soot, was dancing an 
 Irish jig in a corner of the kitchen. In one hand she balanced a 
 heavy saucepan, while the other waved a greasy ladle. Pit patter, 
 pit patter, pit pat, pit pat, went her feet on the floor in a Bac- 
 chantesque ecstasy of furious motion, and she acccompanied her- 
 
 2 B 2
 
 372 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 self by hoarse whispers of "he loves me, he loves me, he loves me 
 true." 
 
 Eliza passed through the kitchen, bestowing a vindictive glance 
 rpon the light-hearted and light-footed drudge, who halted on one 
 leg on perceiving herself observed, and brought the other gradually 
 to the ground with the air of one who is performing an ordinary 
 series of motions. Then she stuck out her tongue and grinned in 
 saucy triumph. 
 
 But Eliza's breast was in too great a tumult to be much moved 
 by these insults. To one who had just gone through a tense scene 
 of passion, they were infantile. So, carefully avoiding any contact 
 with the girl, or her appurtenances, she glided into the shop. 
 
 "Two twos is four, three 'aypence change. Going already, 
 'Lizer ?" exclaimed Mrs. Dawe. 
 
 "Yes," answered Eliza loudly. "Never more will my foot cross^ 
 this threshold." 
 
 "Good gracious, 'Lizer! No I 'aven't got to give ye twopence 
 change, 'cos ye owes me 'aypenny. If yer memory's short, I 
 don't see why my till should be. What's a-matter with you,. 
 'Lizer ? Got the sulks ? " 
 
 By this time the customers were interested in what seemed the 
 tit-bit of a family quarrel. They even ceased masticating the 
 material morsels for a moment. 
 
 ' Ask your son," the injured girl replied. Then, with quivering 
 lips (for what it cost her to sacrifice her pride, no one knew but 
 herself), she said in a lower tone, though still distinctly : ' We 
 have parted for ever. He loves another." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe staggered, and all but dropped a plate. When she- 
 recovered herself, Eliza was gone. Murmurs of " Shame ! " arose 
 from the assembly, most of whom knew how long the two had kept 
 company. Mrs. Dawe rushed into the parlour to expostulate with 
 her son, leaving the customers to discuss the romantic story with 
 ever-growing interest, as new perspectives unrolled themselves, and 
 new points of view appeared. It was universally agreed that 
 nothing else was to have been expected from such a man, and 
 that, indeed, they had all said so on various occasions to other 
 people who were not present on this. By the next afternoon all 
 Bethnal Green Road knew that Jack was involved in a low intrigue 
 with some girl, who had insisted on his getting rid of the clog of 
 Eliza, and that by a blackguardly course of treatment he had at 
 last succeeded in doing so.
 
 THE HALL OF FLIRTATION 373 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HALL OF FLIRTATION. 
 
 ELIZA walked quickly to the bottom of the road, and entered the 
 Bethnal Green Museum, where a mechanical contrivance ticked 
 her off as one of the East End toilers, whose leisure was ennobled 
 by its treasures of Art and Science. Here she found a young man 
 impatiently walking up and down amid the cases on the ground- 
 floor. The vast hall was almost deserted. A little flirtation was 
 going on in corners, and the spectacle of a couple in earnest colloquy 
 .attracted no attention. 
 
 " Well !" exclaimed the young man. " Is it over?" 
 
 She gave him one pathetic glance, then averted her eyes and 
 sank clown into a seat behind an exquisite Indian vase. 
 
 Mowbray hovered over her uneasily. 
 
 " What is it, my darling?" he whispered. 
 
 The girl looked up with piteous reproachful gaze. 
 
 " You are overcome," he said anxiously. " Compose yourself, 
 Bes*. You shall tell me at your leisure." 
 
 The composing took a long time, during which Mowbray, sur 
 rounded as he was by masterpieces of art, had eyes for nothing but 
 the beauties of nature. His companion sat as silent as a statue, 
 and might have been taken for one, did not the members of that 
 apathetic race habitually appear wholly in white, or in an exaggerated 
 -evening-dress for ladies. She wore gloves, too a barbarous custom 
 adopted by no self-respecting statue. Of one of these gloves 
 -with its contents Mowbray managed to possess himself, and he 
 caressed it as though it were his own moustache. 
 
 " I am better now, Lionel," the girl says at last. " Oh ! it was 
 vcruel to make me suffer so." 
 
 ' Suffer so ! " he repeats with an indignant gesture. 
 
 She smiles sadly. 
 
 "You do not understand," she says in a low tone. " I loved 
 him once." 
 
 As she makes the confession her thick, voluptuous eyelashes 
 fall over her dark eyes. His grasp tightens convulsively. 
 
 " But you love him no longer ? " he asks in passionate tones. 
 Her head droops. She is silent. " My own Bess," he cries, 
 " what change is this ? Would you had never met again ! " 
 
 His grasp hurts her now, but no sound of pain escapes from her 
 Jips. 
 
 ' I went to him you know with what purpose " 
 
 " Don't say you have repented, Bess!" he interrupts pleadingly. 
 " You carried it out, did you not ?" 
 
 But she continues, as though she has not heard : " I found him
 
 374 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 sitting in the twilight on a low chair, looking so pale and feeble, 
 that the love I had thought killed by a new affection revived. My 
 heart grew full of pity and self-reproach. It seemed to me that I 
 was about to blast his life. He was buried in reverie, and for a 
 little time I stood still, overpowered by emotion. At last I put my 
 hand to his feverish cheek he turned, and, at the look of joy that 
 lit up his eyes, mine filled with tears. He caught me in his arms 
 and kissed away my courage." 
 
 The listener makes a passionate movement, but she goes on : 
 " ' My love,' he cried, ' I thought you had left me for ever ! In the 
 gloaming, oh, my darling. I have been thinking of you.' At these 
 words all the tender memories of the Past overwhelmed me. I 
 thought of all our happy hours together, and I felt myself 
 yielding." 
 
 " But you did not yield," he bursts forth. 
 
 For the first time she raises her eyes to his, and in them is the 
 light of love which banishes all his alarm. 
 
 " No, darling," she says, " I did not yield." 
 
 He bends down suddenly, and presses a kiss on the warm lips. 
 Only the quaint figures on the Indian vase saw the action ; but the 
 rajahs, and the Begums, and the nabobs, and the Nautch girls were 
 used to the sight. 
 
 " Among the recollections which flooded my soul were the 
 delicious days we spent at Ramsgate. But unfortunately for Jack, 
 with the thought of them came the thought si you." 
 
 He pats the gloved hand affectionately. 
 
 " Yes, dearest," he murmurs. " Shall I ever forget the day I 
 took you back to Ramsgate ? And you had not forgotten." 
 
 " No," she answers simply, " I had not forgotten. The thought 
 of you made me strong again. I felt that though I loved him well, 
 I loved you better." 
 
 He would have folded her in his arms, but the passing of a 
 policeman prevented the ecstatic movement. There was a pause 
 till the functionary had vanished. 
 
 " And have you entirely broken off with him yet ? " he asks 
 more calmly. " I do not want you to meet him again." 
 
 " I shall never meet him again." 
 
 " But you didn't manage to make him back out of it ?" he says, 
 with a recurrence of anxiety. " After that welcome he gave you I 
 don't see how you could. And, to tell you the truth, I did not 
 expect that you would. It isn't so easy to change an ardent lover 
 into an enemy in a few moments." 
 
 The girl breaks into a low laugh of triumph. " I did, though ! " 
 
 " You little Machiavelli ! " he cries. " I must tell the Captain." 
 
 He stops suddenly. 
 
 "Who is the Captain?" she inquires curiously. 
 
 "An old friend of mine. And I hope he'll be my best man," 
 he adds. " When he sees you, and hears of this, he will confess 
 that you are an acquisition. And you will be ! "
 
 THE HALL OF FLIRTATION 375 
 
 Is he in the army, or in the navy?" 
 
 " A military man, Bess, who has often smelt gunpowder." 
 
 " He must be a brave man ! " she exclaims enthusiastically, her 
 dark eyes flashing. " I think if I were a man I should love 
 danger." 
 
 " Bravo ! " he cries. " You shall be our Queen our good 
 Queen Bess. I am a man, but I confess I love you better than I 
 love danger." 
 
 '' But you are brave," she remonstrates. " You do not shirk 
 danger. Do I not remember that day ? Jack, Mr. Dawe, had 
 none of that devil-may-care heroism. He painted signs from 
 morning to night, and never fell from the ladder in his life." 
 
 " You will be happier without him," he says sympathetically. 
 " But tell me how you managed to make him cut the knot." 
 
 " The plan was simple." 
 
 " Or he was," he interrupts. " From the way he played his 
 cards, I should have expected him to see through it," he thought. 
 " Suppose I am the Premier." 
 
 His face broadened with a smile of admiration. 
 
 " And it was you that suggested it." 
 
 " I ? The only plan 1 could think of was to commence a 
 quarrel somehow, and then keep cool and let him make all the 
 running." 
 
 " I mean the thought of you," she says with a smile. "And of 
 our first meeting. After some loving conversation I turned the talk 
 on the events of that day. As I have always told you, he is a most 
 passionate and obstinate man, and he cannot bear to be crossed. 
 When I recalled the way he had deserted me, and said in an 
 injured tone that he owed me an explanation, he grew dumb of a 
 sudden." 
 
 Mowbray hangs eagerly upon her words. " Did you make him 
 tell you anything ? " he asked. 
 
 " If he had. I should not have known what to do. Remember- 
 ing his reluctance to be questioned, I hoped to irritate him, and I 
 did." 
 
 Mowbray nods his head in approval. " You had only one card, 
 but that was trumps." 
 
 " Seeing that he did not answer, I gently but firmly insisted on 
 knowing. He was silent for a long time, but all at once he started 
 up with a face whose horrible expression I shall never forget. 
 ' Woman,' he cried savagely, ' why do you torture me thus ? ' 
 'Torture you, my darling,' I said reproach ully. 'You must have 
 a good deal to be ashamed of, if a simple question tortures you. 
 It is your conscience that tortures you, not my question.' 
 ' Hold your tongue,' he shouted, 'mind your own business.' ' It is 
 my business,' I answered indignantly. 'As your future wife, I 
 demand to know this dread secret.' I could not have made a better 
 remark ; for, as he did not know what to reply, he lost his head com- 
 pletely. 'My wife shall only know what I choose to tell her,' he
 
 376 THE PREMIER AND THE PAL\TER 
 
 screamed, hoarse with passion. ' And if that doesn't suit you, find 
 a husband who will tell you all the girls he's flirted with in his 
 life.'" 
 
 " By St. Patrick, he's a trump to keep a secret ! " mutters the 
 listener. " If he were only a little less virtuous, what a good fellow 
 he would be." 
 
 " His last words stung me in spite of myself," continues Eliza. 
 " 'All the girls he has flirted with,' I exclaimed bitterly. 'And have 
 you, pray, flirted with anybody else ?' ' What if I have ! ' he shouted. 
 ' Perhaps you still flirt,' I said coldly. ' Perhaps I do,' he answered, 
 which I knew was a deliberate He. I uttered a shriek. ' You love 
 another,' I cried, and stayed to hear no more. On my way out I 
 took care to let Mrs. Dawe know that her son loved somebody else. 
 All the customers heard the statement and saw me leave the shop 
 with an injured mien, so that there will be no lack of witnesses." 
 
 The delighted admiration of Mowbray can no longer be re- 
 strained. He clasps her passionately to his breast. 
 
 "You little Machiavelli ! " he repeats. "And jou say he is 
 well off?" 
 
 "When we were first betrothed, two years and five months ago, 
 he had a couple of hundred in the Moorfields Bank, I know," she 
 says. 
 
 He kisses her again. ' Two years and five months ago ! " 
 he says with a twinkle in his eye. " He has treated you shame- 
 fully." 
 
 An expression of revengeful hatred flits across her face. "That's 
 the trick," he cries, smiling. "That will fetch the jury." Eliza 
 looks up, half indignant, but meeting the silken moustache, the 
 bright eyes, and the white teeth of her smiling lover, the cloud on 
 her brow gradually dissipates. " 'Pon my word, Bess!" tays 
 Mowbray, "one would think you loved him still." 
 
 ''Not after what he said to-day!" she cries with sudden 
 intensity. " I hate him ! " She stamps her dainty foot. 
 
 "That's right!" he says. "He shall pay dearly for his 
 whistle." 
 
 " I should like to ruin the scoundrel," she hisses through her 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 'May I be hanged," he mutters, "if the copybooks aren't 
 right after all. Honesty is the best policy, for you can steal more 
 by law than against it."
 
 THE PAINTER IS DISOWNED 377 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PAINTER IS DISOWNED. 
 
 JACK was up early the next day, and never did day open with 
 brighter auguries. He awoke with an indescribable sensation of 
 exhilaration. The sun was shining through the slightly-opened 
 window of his bedroom in the intense silence of early morn, and 
 there was a suggestion of freshness and purity in the yet cool 
 atmosphere. Moreover he had gone to bed early and had slept 
 soundly. But this exhilaration was not entirely due to the effects 
 of physical causes upon a sensitive organisation. A mental load 
 had been lifted from his oppressed soul. Eliza, his mother had 
 reproachfully told him, would in all probability come to see him 
 no more. 
 
 He got up and dressed, feeling almost young again. Then he 
 walked buoyantly to the window and threw it open to its fullest 
 extent. He stood there, looking up dreamily at the long perspec- 
 tive of red chimney-pots, and the terraces of sunny tiles. 
 
 " Dear God, the very houses seem asleep, 
 And all that mighty heart is lying sti 1." 
 
 As he said the words, a delicious calm stole upon him. The 
 evils of life vanished in the contemplation of the eternal silence. His 
 querulousness of the day before recurred to his memory as a 
 disordered dream, or as the fretfulness of a feverish child. " I have 
 found peace at last," he cried. " Henceforth, I will repine no 
 more. In man's life, too, there should be a central calm subsisting 
 at the heart of endless agitation." 
 
 He leant on the window-sill, and abandoned himself to the 
 ecstasy of speculation, till the air began to be obscured by the 
 smoke of a hundred chimneys. 
 
 " No, it is not a fiction," he cried suddenly, " this living impulse 
 of faith, this influx of moral strength accompanied by an inspired 
 
 clearness of perception, as it has been denned by ?" he 
 
 paused to search his memory. Suddenly he struck his brow with 
 his hand. " It's my own definition/' he cried. ' 1 should have 
 used the morning for writing." 
 
 He hurried downstairs into the parlour and took up his MS. His 
 mother and Sally were up, but they were busy in the kitchen and 
 did not disturb him. After reading what he had already done, and 
 making only a iew verbal alterations in it, he continued his paper. 
 For more than an hour he wrote steadily, his hand firm, his 
 brain clear, and his heart full of satisfaction. 
 
 The voice of the drudge recalled him from his intellectual 
 excursion.
 
 378 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " 'Ere's another one ! " it cried. " With all the letters pointy 
 like Mother Shipton's nose." 
 
 " Put it down, Sally,'' he said, without looking up. " Was not 
 evolution known to St. Paul ?" 
 
 " Dunno," said Sally. " I'll arx missis." 
 
 "There! I have lost the thread and must re-read it. Is not 
 Hegel's intuitive idea of evolution nobler ?" 
 
 " Shall I fry ye some eggs, master ? " 
 
 Jack groaned and threw down the pen. " Do what you will 
 with me," he cried with humorous resignation. Even the loss of 
 the thread could not depress his mercurial spirits. He took up the 
 letter, looked curiously at the envelope and opened it. Sally, who 
 watched his face, saw a smile appear upon it, but a moment after- 
 wards he turned deadly pale. The epistle, which was from Eliza, 
 ran as follows : 
 
 " DEAR JACK, 
 
 " I write you these few lines, hoping to find you in good 
 health, as, thank God, it leaves me at present. You heartless 
 scoundrel ! You shall not, with impunity, play with a girl's heart. 
 For almost two and a half years you have been destroying my 
 youth. Again and again you have postponed the ceremony at the 
 hymeneal altar, and only lately I left an excellent place in order to 
 prepare for our union. You have ruined my career in every respect. 
 All the bright hopes of my life are faded and gone. I sit mid the 
 ashes and mourn. In my desolation I solace myself by reading 
 your letters. Oh ! how they glow with the fire of Love for your 
 supple Sacharissa, your voluptuous Venus, your clinging Cleopatra. 
 And the poetry is so beautiful I cry over it Do you remember 
 that serenade ? 
 
 1 Everything sleeps but the stars, love, 
 
 The white moon and me. 
 Waken thou, too, my beloved, 
 Moon of Love's sea, ' 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Ever your Loving Lass, 
 
 " ELIZA. 
 " P.S. I shall claim ,2,000 damages." 
 
 The painter ate no breakfast that morning. The theological 
 article lay untouched by its author. The delightful sensation of 
 exhilaration died away. He stretched himself on the sofa in a 
 state of utter prostration and tried to think. He did not as yet 
 realise all the horror of his position. He simply felt that his peace 
 of mind had fled once more, and that innumerable anxieties and 
 embarrassments loomed vaguely in the fog. In this condition he 
 was found by his mother, with the fatal missive crumpled up in his 
 hand.
 
 THE PAINTER IS DISOWNED 37? 
 
 "What's a-matter, Jack ?' she cried. " Y'ain't took bad again 
 I hope. It's all yer own fault, readin' and writin' all day long, as 
 if ye was a Board School." 
 
 For answer he opened his hand and displayed the letter. 
 
 " The vagabond ! " she ejaculated. " I should like to know what 
 'e means by sendin' in 'is bill already, what with ircome taxes and 
 Queen's taxes a-worritin' me into the grave, not as I could ever 
 understand why we should pay the Queen's taxes for 'er. Just you 
 see that 'e ain't been puttin' it on and " 
 
 " It is from Eliza," he interrupted feebly. 
 
 " From 'Lizer ! I thought she'd be lettin' ye have a piece of 
 her mind, and ye deserve it, for the way ye've treated that 
 sweet, god girl, is enough to make her turn in her grave, and so 
 lovely too. Ye've been 'umbugging 'er about for years, poor thing. 
 When she came into the shop last night, she was as white as the 
 best flour, it made my 'art bleed to see 'er. Take my word, Jack, 
 you will be sorry for this." 
 
 " I am sorry I ever had anything to do with her. She is bring- 
 ing an action against me for breach of promise of marriage. She 
 claims .2,000 damages." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe staggered. Her breath forsook her. She turnerf 
 " as white as the best flour." There was a moment of dread silence 
 in which the beating of the old woman's heart was the only sound 
 to be heard. 
 
 ",2,000 damages!" she shrieked. "The hungrateful thief, 
 the highway robber, the hextravagant hussy. So that's how ye 
 gets yer gloves, and parasols, and fallals, ye howdacious pick- 
 pocket ! Did yer think I didn't know yer character all along, 
 settin' up for a lady ? As if yer could deceive the old woman, ye 
 sly, ugly, little cat." 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Dawe," said Jack, rising up in excitement, andt 
 striving to stem the torrent ; " you don't do her justice, indeed you 
 don't." 
 
 " I wish I could she'd be breakin' stones at Portland in a week's 
 time. She's no better than a common thief." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Jack sharply. " She is a highly respect- 
 able girl." 
 
 Mrs. Uawe burst into tears. " Sally ! " she shrieked in agonised 
 accents : "Is there no one in the world to stand by me? 'Ere's 
 my own son turnin' agen me and takin' the part of a 'ighway robber 
 as I nussed in the small-pox and the brain-fever. Oh my dear late 
 'usband, why did ye leave yer poor lone widder ?" 
 
 Jack sprang from the sofa in bewilderment. The vagaries of his 
 mother irritated even the usually mild painter. Despite his late 
 experiences, she was still to him nne femme incoviprise. " For 
 Heaven's sake be logical," he cried. " If she thinks herself injured, 
 as I confess she has reason to do, she has every right to seek 
 compensation." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe uttered a groan, and seizing the lid of a saucepan,
 
 380 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 she hurled it at the unfortunate Sally who had come at her call. 
 ^Madman!" she cried, ''why ye'd 'ang yerself if ye 'ad the 
 chance. Perhaps ye'll go into Court and teil a bushel of lies to 
 ruin me. Yes, that's it. Ye're in a plot with her to rob me, that s 
 what ye're after, ye good-for-nothing vagabond, and then ye'll 
 fly to America and enjoy the damages together. But I'll stop yer 
 kittle game. I'll let trie jury know the truth. 'E never was engaged 
 to 'er at all, yer 'ighness. 'E never was a-courtin' 'er at all, yer 
 ludship. It was'er as was a-courtin' him the 'ole time, yer wusship, 
 and ye ought to make her pay the damages for desertin' 'im, yer 
 honours. ; E never injured 'er at all, yer 'ighness, and even ir 'e 
 did, 'e didn't do more than twopennorth of damages. Why even 
 if 'e broke 'er 'art, is any woman's 'art, yer ludship, worth ,2,000? 
 Is it a 'art of gold, my luds and gentlemen ; is it a 'art that can't be 
 replaced under ,2,000? The Salvation Army'll give 'er a new '"art 
 for nothin' ; and, besides, she never had none to break. And if ye 
 mend ''ers, yer wusships, ye breaks mine, so where's the justice, 
 my luds, where's the justice?" 
 
 "There does seem to be something in Gallon's doctrine of 
 hereditary genius," murmured Jack, overcome by this long harangue. 
 *' But while the son has the gift of Parliamentary eloquence, the 
 mother has forensic ability of a still higher order. That defence of 
 hers is surely an epitome of much special pleading. Whatever you 
 may tell the jury," he said aloud, "you will gain nothing by 
 defaming an innocent girl, you will only make the damages 
 heavier." 
 
 " An innocent girl ! Why she ain't fit to come into a decent 
 'ouse," she interrupted. "Ye must marry 'er, Jack," she cried, 
 whilst the big round tears ran down her smutty face. 
 
 " That is impossible ! " 
 
 "'Ow can it be impossible? There's you, ain't ye? There's 
 'Lizer, ain't there ? There's a Register to marry ye, ain't there? 
 Then what are ye talkin' about ? And where ye could get a 
 'andsomer gal, or a sweet-tempereder, I'm sure I don't know. 
 Don't tell me ye loves another. No man ever loves another ! 
 Did I ever marry again ? Though I'm sure I could 'a had offers as 
 thick as pea-soup. Ye know ye was dead nuts on 'er, and ready 
 to kiss the boc t she walked on." 
 
 " I will nt\Ci' marry her," he said. 
 
 There was the old obstinacy in his tone that Mrs. Dawe knew 
 so well. In her own phraseology you might just as well knock 
 your head against a brick wall, unless it was in a new villa, as try 
 to make him say yes when he had said no, or no when he had 
 said yes. 
 
 " Then I'm done for ! " she cried distractedly. " I can't go 
 bankrupt (I never 'ad no 'ead for figures), and I'll be ruined 
 "What's to be done ! Oh, what's to be done ! " 
 
 She wrung her hands. Jack made a gesture of helplessness. 
 
 " How should I know! I have never been summoned before," 
 he said.
 
 THE PAINTER IS DISOWNED 381 
 
 " Don't tell lies, Jack ! " she observed reproachfully. "If ye've 
 forgotten the five bob ye 'ad to pay for overturnin' the old app'e- 
 woman's stall with yer bicycle, 1 'aven't, and I never shall. It's 
 lucky I didn't get a lawyer, for, as my late 'usband said, a woman 
 should beware of a lawyer, except 'is intentions is 'onourable, and 
 then he's a good match ; and if that's what they charge for a dozen, 
 apples as skinny as 'erself, I can understand them chargin' two> 
 thousand quid for a woman's "art." 
 
 " You have suggested the right course. I must have a lawyer.. 
 Everybody does, and the common customs of mankind point on 
 the principle of utilitarianism to a long-tested usefulness." 
 
 "Jack," said Mrs. Dawe sternly, "ye may talk big words to 
 the public, but pray remember as I knowed ye from a baby. With 
 that tongue o' yourn, I don't see why ye shouldn't be yer own 
 lawyer, and save a little from the wreck, any'ow. Ye oughtn't to 
 care a rap for the law, and never be locked up, like a M.P." 
 
 " Even an M.P. may be summoned before the dread majesty of 
 the law," he observed grimly. 
 
 " Ye're a-contradictin' yerself ! Why didn't ye allus use to 
 say, ' M.P.'s 'ave to make the laws, not to keep 'em.' I should like 
 to see myself orderin' wyself about. But y'ain't goin' to get out of 
 it by talkin' about M.P.'s. 'A lawyer is a luxury,' yer late father 
 used to say, and honest folk can't afford it. The worse yer con- 
 science is, the better lawyer ye want." 
 
 "And as my conscience is very bad " he murmured 
 
 feebly. 
 
 " Ye've got no chance, and it 'ud only be throwin' good money 
 arter bad," she retorted. 
 
 He made a gesture of weariness, and threw himself on the sofa. 
 again. 
 
 '' Wait," he said. " Perhaps it is only a threat. The worst 
 evils of life are those that never come." 
 
 " Those that never come ! " she repeated, staring at him. " Ye 
 mean those that never go. You make no mistake, my son. 'Lizer 
 is a girl as obstinate as yerself. If 'Lizer says she'll damage ye 
 for breach o' promise, damaged ye is ; and if 'Lizer says she'il 
 marry ye, consider it done." 
 
 Flushed with indignation, as well as the heat of argument, she 
 flustered out of the room to attend to a customer, leaving Jack to 
 meditate upon the latter hypothetical case. 
 
 The customer in question was not of the type that affected the 
 dingy eating-house, being a dapper little swell in a light tweed suit. 
 Nor was the time of day too early for dinner, and too late for 
 breakfast that selected by the devotees. Still it was possible that 
 the stranger had come for a snack between meals. Mrs. Dawe, 
 feeling very upset and hysterical, furtively wiped her eyes with the 
 corner of her greasy apron, and looked inquiringly at the stranger, 
 with that air, peculiar to shopkeepers, of holding in with difficulty 
 an ardent desire to flv all over the establishment.
 
 382 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Good-morning, ma'am," said the swell politely. " Have I the 
 honour of speaking to Mrs. Davve ?" 
 
 " Ye ; ave," said Mrs. Dawe. " What can I serve ye with ? " 
 
 " It is mine to serve," returned the swell, smiling. " I am your 
 slave, madam." 
 
 At these enigmatic words Mrs. Dawe's heart began to flutter. 
 It could not be a declaration of love, she felt that her affection for 
 her late husband precluded that possibility. But then, what meant 
 those gallant words ? 
 
 " Will you kindly ask your son to step in here? " he continued. 
 
 ' What d'yer want of him ? Ye can talk to me, can't yer ? I 
 don't allow 'im to interfere in my private affairs." 
 
 " Quite right ! " said the swell cheerfully. " But this isn't 
 private. Your son is in, isn't he ? " 
 
 "Well, you've got a lot of sense, ain't ye?" cried Mrs. Dawe 
 angrily. " D'yer suppose a man as 'as just come out of small-pox 
 .and brain-fever by the skin of 'is teeth can walk about like you, as 
 never 'ad a face worth sp'ilin', nor a brain worth feverin' ? Y'ought 
 to be ashamed o' yerself arxing sich questions ! " 
 
 " Then I wish to speak to Mr. Dawe," said the swell, raising 
 his voice. 
 
 " I ham Mr. Dawe," she cried. " And worth two of 'im any day.'' 
 
 At this moment, Jack, who had overheard the conversation, 
 appeared at the kitchen door. He darted an anxious look at the 
 -stranger, but, failing to recognise him, his face resumed its 
 expression of vague worry. The swell quickly drew a document 
 uom an inner breast pocket, and made a dash towards the painter. 
 But Mrs. Dawe, rushing round the edge of the counter, intercepted 
 him, and interposed her bulky form between the intruder and 
 his prey. 
 
 "No, yer don't," she cried, panting heavily, with her hand to 
 her heart. " Y'ain't goin' to break into a honest woman's 'ouse 
 like that. My son ain't in " 
 
 " Nonsense ! That is your son. You said he couldn't go out 
 through illness." 
 
 '* Nothing o' the sort. I arxed ye if ye thought he could walk 
 about like you ? Ye wouldn't think it but 'e can. D'yer expect a 
 man as 'as 'is bread to earn can afford to lay up like you ? Y'ought 
 to know better." 
 
 " 1 know better than to believe you," he muttered. '' I speak 
 to Mr. Dawe, do I not? 1 ' he said, craning his head over the old 
 lady's shoulder. The painter hesitated. 
 
 " Don't y' answer, Jack," she cried magisterially, rising on tip- 
 toe to intercept the stranger's view of her son. 
 
 With a smile of triumph, the stranger slipped the paper through 
 the arch of Mrs. Dawe's right arm. Jack, overcome by the rush 
 with which the swell carried the position, accepted it passively ; and, 
 before his mother could turn round, the document was in his hand 
 and the deliverer thereol gone.
 
 A COOL TWO THOUSAND 383 
 
 "Ye unilateral villain!" she shrieked, staggering against the 
 counter. " Ye're no son o' mine. I disowns yer. Get out o' my 
 'ouse or I'll brain yer ! " 
 
 She seized a frying-pan and flourished it frantically. The 
 painter took his hat meekly and tottered into the street. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A COOL TWO THOUSAND. 
 
 PEOPLE stared at the strange figure walking feebly along the 
 Bethnal Green Road, absorbed in the perusal of a double sheet of 
 paper, folio size, the outside of which, carelessly displayed by the 
 unconscious reader, bore the insignia, 
 
 QUEEN'S BENCH DIVISION. 
 BATHBRILL 
 
 V 
 
 DAWK 
 
 .1 
 
 <L2irtt of Summons. 
 
 and the inside of which informed him that VICTORIA, by the 
 Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, 
 Queen, Defender of the Faith, commanded him to cause an 
 Appearance to be entered for him in an Action at the suit of 
 Elizabeth Bathbrill. within eight days after the service of the Writ 
 upon him. He was also bidden take notice that in default of his 
 so doing, the Plaintiff might proceed therein, and judgment might 
 be given in his absence. 
 
 Such of the passers-by as knew him of old hardly recognised 
 him. To them, as to Eliza, he seemed the shadow of his former 
 self. His head was almost bald, and his light sombrero sank down 
 over his eyes. His eyes alone retained their brightness, offering 
 a startling contrast to the deadness of the rest of his countenance. 
 He wore his white work-a-day coat, smeared with red and blue 
 stains, and his feet were clad in gaily-embroidered slippers. His
 
 384 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 acquaintances turned aside from him as from a being of another 
 world ; some, who were willing to forgive the cut direct with which 
 he had lately treated them, would have spoken, but an unaccount- 
 able repulsion from this ghastly, muttering form froze the words 
 on their lips. 
 
 Half-way up the road he came to a standstill, at the corner of 
 a street. " How can I engage a lawyer," he cried, " when the girl 
 is right? Surely I ought rather to engage one for the plaintiff." 
 This revolting heresy, which if it were to spread would soon cause 
 Justice to disappear from the earth, was no whimsical play of fancy, 
 and he paused to consider it. 
 
 Opposite to him was a waistcoatless man leaning against a 
 post, with his hands in his pockets and an extinguished clay pipe 
 in his mouth. The unconscious force of example induced Jack to 
 adopt a similar posture, and the two men stood at their posts like 
 sentries guarding the entrance to the dingy defile. 
 
 For some time each was silent, immersed in his own reflections. 
 At last the bare -chested idler looked up and perceived the 
 slippered lounger. The affinity of vagabondage drew their eyes- 
 together. 
 
 " Got a light, mate ? " inquired the man. 
 
 Jack thanked him with a glance for the sympathetic remark. 
 "Only a feeble glimmer," he replied. "And, like the dying 
 Goethe; I crave for more. Unfortunately, you cannot tell me what 
 to do." 
 
 " Can't I ? " replied the man with a stare. 
 
 " You do not know the circumstances," he continued sadly, " so 
 you certainly can't tell me what I ought to do." 
 
 '' I don't want to know the circumstances," answered the man, 
 with good-humoured tolerance, " but the fust thing ye've got to do 
 is to chuck over the bloomin' match." 
 
 It was now Jack's turn to stare. He left his post and went over 
 to his fellow-faineani. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said. " How do you know my affairs ? " 
 
 The man winked mysteriously to himself, as if to apprise him- 
 self that he was going to have some fun. 
 
 " Arx no questions, and ye'll hear no lies," he responded with 
 a chuckle. 
 
 There was a sense of power in the quiet chuckle that made Jack 
 uneasy. The man with his hairy breast seemed to have grown 
 strange in the sunlight, and his smokeless p : pe to be charged with 
 the secret things of destiny. 
 
 " I have already taken your advice," said the painter. " I have 
 thrown over the match not blooming now, as you metaphorically 
 express it, but withered and leafless and now my perplexities have 
 only increased." 
 
 " Off his chump !" muttered the man. "Ye must 'umour them 
 beggars." 
 
 " Never mind, mate !" he said cheerfully. "A pint o' bitter 11 
 put ye right."
 
 A COOL TWO THOUSAND 385 
 
 Jack made a gesture of disgust. " Retro Horatil " he cried, and 
 walked on quickly. 
 
 " Could he have known ? " he reflected. " Was it not rather a 
 deduction from my manifest trouble, that I was involved in some 
 distressing affair, and not improbably one connected with love? 
 Yet there was an air of sincerity in the man, and it is regrettable that 
 lie has embraced the principles of Horace. To whom can I noxv 
 look for light ? My own conscience is the only oracle, and it tells 
 me that the responsibility for all this suffering is mine, and mine 
 only. And as far as possible I ought to rerredy it without calling 
 on anybody else. And if one of the victi.ns can be solaced by 
 money, I ought to be grateful for the opportunity of plastering her 
 wounds with bank-notes. Would to God all the other wounds 
 could be healed as easily. But do I say easily ? I foresee some 
 difficulty in getting the ^2,000, but I shall manage it if she will 
 only wait a little, and 1 sincerely trust it will bring her more 
 happiness than it would have brought me." Arriving at this 
 determination and the post office simultaneously, he turned into 
 the latter to carry out the former. 
 
 He took a telegraph form and began to write upon it with an 
 unsteady pen. 
 
 Miss Eliza Bathbrill, 
 
 n, Beech Street, Old Ford. 
 " Stop proceedings at once " 
 
 He paused. " Man is at once the cunningest of knaves and 
 the most credulous of fools," he cried. "He perpetually deceives 
 himself, yet never learns to distrust himself. Did I not persuade 
 myself a moment ago that I was acting from a pure sense of justice, 
 though my real motive now reveals itself as an invincible re- 
 pugnance to publicity ? " A shudder traversed his frame, and he 
 went on writing. 
 
 " You shall receive the .2,000 when Parliament dissolves, 
 at latest. Jack Dawe." He handed it to the clerk, who 
 read it, looked curiously at the sender, and whispered something 
 t ) one of his fellows, who passed the whisper on till the eyes of all 
 the employes were bent upon the painter with amused pity. 
 
 " He's got Parliament and Politics on the brain," whispered 
 one. 
 
 " He's always ordering things in a hurry," smilingly replied 
 another. "Abandon Irish Policy at once stop proceedings at 
 once I wonder what the next message will be." 
 
 " How long has he been like that ?'' inquired the first. 
 
 "You are a Rip Van Winkle, Johnny. I thought all the world 
 knew all about it. He used to be a decent sort of chap till lately, 
 full of life and fun a sort of pal of my brother Tom ; they use;! 
 to bike together, don't you know ? but the first thing that ruined 
 him was getting engaged to this Eliza Bathbrill (and it's as p!a;n as 
 
 2 (J
 
 386 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 a pikestaff that there's a breach of promise on didn't you see the 
 writ in his hand?) At first he was cle.in gone on her (you could 
 see with half an eye it was too good to last), and then he cooled a 
 bit and tried to back out and he couldn't, and he went in for politics 
 ten times worse than before, but it was no po. He was as miser- 
 ab e as ever, and at last he took to drink, and it gained upon him 
 so much that after a bit he chucked up work altogether ain't you 
 jealous, Johnny ? and boozed all daylong. He's lost all his old 
 customers lucky for him the old woman don't know it or there'd be 
 the devil to pay. The scamp used to go out with his paint-pots in 
 the morning, leave 'em somewhere all day, go on tlie spree, or moon 
 about ; and I wasn't a bit surprised the other day that he had been 
 laid up with D.T. And now the girl is bringing an action against 
 him and serve him right, though it's a dam cheek of her to ask for 
 ^"2,000. And mind you the vagabond offers her it, though if he's 
 got 200 I'm a Dutchman. And what the devil the money 
 
 can have to do with the Dissolution of Parliament " 
 
 " Confound it, sir ! Am I to wait all day for that post office 
 order ? " growled a choleric old gentleman who had written a 
 pamphlet on Liberal Organisation in Bethnal Green. " The in- 
 capacity and imbecility of these Government officials is something 
 astounding. That's what comes of having a Tory like Floppington 
 in power ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A HOMELESS PAINTER. 
 
 WITH a lighter heart the notorious lounger in the embroidered 
 slippers began to retrace his steps. Temporarily free from the in- 
 cubus of the lawsuit, his thoughts turned again to his almost 
 finished article. He remembered with pleasure the progress he 
 had made that morning and he promised himself that he would 
 work steadily for the rest of the day, and the prospect filled 
 his soul with a calm delight. He even began to feel hungry, 
 which reminded him that he had eaten no breakfast. In this in- 
 ternal condition, the fleshless cheeks and trembling palm of an un- 
 picturesque beggar-woman who held up three boxes of " lucifers," 
 appealed more intensely to him. 
 
 " Four a penny," she chanted in hoarse, cracked tones. 
 
 " Your stock is very small,'' he observed, fumbling in his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Oh, sir," pleaded the woman, " I ain't 'ad a bit o' bread for 
 three days, and five famishing little 'uns, and a widow." 
 
 " Well, I will purchase all your stock."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A HOMELESS PAINTER 387 
 
 The woman looked up affrighted. " For the love of God, sir," 
 she cried, " don't rob me ! " 
 
 "Rob you!" he said, startled. " Why, here's half-a-crown for 
 them." 
 
 " God bless you, sir, and your children, and may you never come 
 to want. But, please, sir, only take two, 'cos the bobby '11 drag me 
 afore the magestrate for beggin' ! and my 'usband's doin' two 
 months already." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the astonished painter. " Then these matches 
 are only for show ! Do you know, my good woman, you strongly 
 remind me of those sceptical philosophers who, under cover of 
 arguments, cunningly beg the question ? And you are asking me 
 to help you to evade the law." 
 
 The woman clutched hold of his sleeve. "Don't, sir!" she 
 gasped. " Don't give me in charge ! Oh, my poor, starvin' 
 children ! 'ouseless and 'omeless 'cos I can't pay the rent." 
 
 Jack shook her off gently. " Have no fear," he said, taking 
 one box. " There is no law to prevent me paying more than 
 the market price." And he left her croaking frantic expressions 
 of gratitude. 
 
 But no sooner had he done so than his conscience smote him. 
 " Despite my quibble," he thought, "have I not made myself the 
 accomplice of dishonesty ? And even if I had given the half- 
 crown in charity, of what avail the pecuniary gift? Do I not know 
 the theories of philanthropists as to how real help should be given ? 
 And what of real help have I ever given in Bethnal Green ? Spasm 
 in benevolence is of no more value than spasm in poetry ; and when 
 has my interference been other than spasmodic ? I thought to 
 play Providence, but Providence has played with me. Wherever I 
 wished to help, there have I brought misery ; and what opportunities 
 of non-injurious beneficence I have had, I have dreamed away. 
 Great God ! why didst Thou not show all this ignoble suffering to 
 one whom it would have inspired to noble action?" He turned 
 back with the determination of interesting himself thoroughly in 
 the case of the poor widow and her five famishing children, and 
 just caught a glimpse of her ragged, stooping back, vanishing 
 through the swinging-doors of a public-house. He made a gesture 
 of horror and despair, took a lew hesitating steps forwards and 
 came to a standstill. After a moment he walked up to the public- 
 house and pushed the door open ; then giving one glance at the 
 half-filled bar with its frowsy denizens and its sloppy counter, he let 
 the door fall to. 
 
 " 1 cannot, oh, I cannot !" he murmured, shrinking in physical 
 and mental disgust. " Honour to the men and women who work 
 amid such grossness. Why do we not ennoble these men whom 
 their deeds ennoble? In vain I would emulate their zeal, I, who 
 can never be more than a philanthropist in kid gloves. I could 
 help honest poverty, but with poverty that is vicious and cunning 
 how could I deal ? ' Houseless and homeless ' she said she was 
 
 2 c 2
 
 388 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and yet she spends her money on drink. Houseless, and 
 homeless ! " 
 
 The repetition of the words suddenly diverted his thoughts 
 from the recent incident and from the prospective exposition of 
 the spiritual principle in man, and resuscitated the vision of a 
 globular face full of passion and perspiration set with ai ;_ : black 
 beads, the swishing of a wildly-working frying-pan, and the voci- 
 ferations of a woman's lungs disowning her only kith and kin. 
 
 " It is I that am houseless and homeless !" he thought. "I 
 am forbidden the house, and I was thoughtlessly returning to the 
 lion's den. Well, there's an end of it. I am done with my mother 
 (and bride too) rather sooner than I expected, and from no attempt 
 of mine. Whither shall I go now? Anywhere, sooner than to that 
 dreadful shop. I could sooner bear the jeers of the Parnellites, the 
 scorn of the Reviews, the anger of a riotous mob than the excori- 
 ating criticisms of her cutting tongue which I wince under and 
 cruel paradox feel to be equally merited and unmerited. But I 
 am a free man once more, and fate can have little further in store 
 for me. She must have emptied her quiver." 
 
 He drew a sigh of relief and looked up at the blue sky in that 
 transitory ecstasy to which he was peculiarly susceptible. In the 
 midst of this exaltation of spirit the remembrance of the beggar- 
 woman obtruded itself upon his consciousness, and he felt a strong 
 rash of active impulse conquering the aversion of his delicate 
 sensitiveness. He threw open the public-house door and entered 
 boldly. 
 
 " Yer right, old man," the cracked voice of the chanting match- 
 seller was saying to a slim potman in his shirt-sleeves. " I am in 
 luck's way for I met a cracked painter chap leastwise, he looked 
 sich and he giv' me ; arf-a-crown for a box o' lights." 
 
 " She makes me the personification of luck," he thought 
 bitterly. 
 
 The female as her biographers used to call her was raising 
 the half-emptied tumbler of Irish cold to her withered lips with the 
 easy enjoyment of the connoisseur, when a curious expression on 
 the potman's face made her turn her head in the direction of the 
 new comer. At the sight of Jack's benevolently-beaming counte- 
 nance she uttered a cry, and the whisky fell from her hand and 
 mingled with the heterogeneous beverage that moistened the 
 counter. He had followed her, the spy, the detective in plain 
 clothes who lured poor women on to their ruin. Before he could 
 say a word, she brushed past him and darted into the street. At 
 the same moment a man, who had been imbibing the ale recom- 
 mended by the lounging disciple of Horace probably on the 
 homoeopathic principle of combating bitter with bitter set down 
 his unexhausted tankard hastily, and, drawing his hat over his eyes 
 and mopping his fiery-blushing countenance with a moral pocket- 
 handkerchief, endeavoured to shuffle out on the traces of the 
 female. Nor were these the only effects of the painter's entry
 
 ADVENTURES OF A HOMELESS PAINTER 389 
 
 which seemed to be almost as wonder-working as the passing 
 of Pippa for the venerable vicar, who was walking by at that 
 instant, leaned on his staff and shook his head sadly. " 'Tis as I 
 heard," he muttered ; "he goes from bad to worse. So early in 
 the day too ! Once, at least neat and sober, he is become the very 
 type of the slipshod sensualist, who flits from bar to bar sipping the 
 sweets of each. God have mercy upon him ! " 
 
 Unconscious of the prayer on his behalf, Jack turned towards 
 the door as if to pursue the woman, but immediately recognising 
 the inutility of such a proceeding he stood still, rendering it im- 
 possible for the man to make his exit unperceived. While the 
 latter was hesitating in much confusion, Jack put his hand on the 
 door and the man began to breathe freely and edged into a corner. 
 But he was not destined to escape thus, for the publican, doubtless 
 pitying the unquenched condition of the painter's thirst, called out : 
 "" Did you say bitter, Guv'nor ?" and made Jack turn his head in 
 the direction of the voice. He at once espied the man, and his face 
 lit up with joy. The man perceived the expression and turned 
 deadly pale. He gathered himself up for a rush ; but before he 
 could carry out his intention Jack was at his side, holding out his 
 hand. In a stupefied fashion he extended his own, and the painter 
 shook it heartily. 
 
 " I thought I should never meet you again," he cried. " Yet 
 you promised to come to see me. How is it you have not 
 done so ? " 
 
 The man looked at him suspiciously. " I I have been so 
 busy," he stammered. " But I intended calling on you soon." 
 
 " Do, there's a good fellow," replied Jack. "And let me have 
 the pleasure of looking forward to another delightful evening." 
 There was no mistaking the genuineness of the invitation, and the 
 man wiped his brow with restored composure. 
 
 " That pleasure will be mine," he said, bowing gracefully. 
 
 "We will not quarrel," responded the painter smiling. "On 
 your own principle meitm is tuum." The Socialist acknowledged the 
 /not with another bow, hiding thereby the renewed blush. He was 
 little changed. His garments and his countenance had grown more 
 worn, as if the process of fraying away with enthusiasm had been 
 continuing steadily in both- and that was all. 
 
 "What do you drink ?" he inquired dubiously. 
 
 " Nothing, thank you." 
 
 "Oh, do have something, old fellow, or I shall be offended. 
 You were going to have a drink, you know you were, and it's so 
 confoundedly hot that a man gets thirsty before he walks a quarter 
 of a mile. At least I did, so I dropped into the first pub. Besides, 
 old Jones expects it." So saying he called for a glass of bitter, 
 which was accordingly set before the feebly-protesting painter. 
 He could not help reflecting on the tangled web of Fate, and on 
 the strange route by which this glass of bitter had travelled to him 
 despite the indignant "Rctio Horali" of a few minutes ago.
 
 3QO THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " There is a Providence that shapes our ends,'' he muttered, 
 taking a bird-like sip of the liquid. 
 
 " Say rather an improvidence," said the Socialist, casting a 
 meaning glance in the direction of two half-tipsy women who were 
 treating each other alternately. 
 
 Jack shuddered at the aspect of their bloated, besotted counten- 
 ances. He turned away hastily ; and crying, "Come into the fresh 
 air," hurried into the street. His companion stared and followed him. 
 
 " Which is your way ? " the man inquired. " Going home ? " 
 
 The painter stopped. " Home ! " he cried. " I have no home 
 and I have invited you to it !" 
 
 "No home !" echoed the Socialist, surveying his friend from 
 sombrero to slippers. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Circumstances have compelled me to leave the cook-shop, and 
 I have not yet found another residence." 
 
 "You are not out of work or money?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 " I have money, but not all I require," Jack said smiling. 
 " However, I have quite enough to live on for the present." 
 
 "Then come and share my humble apartment and make me 
 happy,'' he cried. " I will take no refusal. Or as the accommo- 
 dation is scanty, come and take the first floor and make Mrs. 
 Jenkins happy, and we will take our meals together.'' 
 
 Jack hesitated. "Did I grudge to receive your hospitality ?" 
 the Socialist said reproachfully. 
 
 "Where do you live ? " queried Jack. 
 
 " In Hoxton." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 "You don't know Hoxton ! Not a quarter of an hour's walk." 
 
 "That will do then. I prefer this neighbourhood." 
 
 " I can't say I do. The cries of famished humanity ring in 
 my ears." 
 
 " I must have imbibed the genius loci, for I am terribly hungry. 
 I have been too busy to breakfast." 
 
 " How lucky ! Then we shall be able to breakfast together. I 
 know a very decent restaurant in Bishopsgate." 
 
 The painter needed little pressing, and his companion led him 
 to a well-appointed establishment, apologising on his entry for the 
 \\hiteness of the napery and the servility of the waiters, as con- 
 cessions to Jack's want of socialistic principles. The servility of the 
 waiters was not so apparent ; for they stared at the shabby couple, 
 the painter in his piebald coat and flowery slippers, and the Socialist 
 in his threadbare, rusty black. The proprietor eyed them suspi- 
 ciously, thinking that the respectability of the house was at stake. 
 However, it was an hour in which custom was infrequent, and there 
 was such a look of terrific hauteur about the less picturesque man 
 of the two, and such an expression of easy dignity in the countenance 
 of his companion, that the man began to fancy he saw before 
 him some disguised Prince and his faithful vizier, or at least two 
 gents on a spree a possibility that was turned into certainty when
 
 ADVENTURES OF A HOMELESS PAINTER 391 
 
 Jack, in paving the bill, gave the waiter a florin. Nevertheless, he 
 was glad when they went off, unseen by any of the habitues. The 
 supposed vizier now bundled his master into a tram-car, and the 
 painter sank into a corner seat with a feeling of gratitude at having 
 fallen into such good hands and being spared the unpleasant 
 necessity of spontaneous action. But the emotions of the vizier, as 
 he, too, dropped into his modicum of dingy, crimson velvet were 
 not equally agreeable. He had all the air of having fallen into a 
 wasps' nest; the wasps consisting of half-a-dozen girls in poke 
 bonnets, who were hymning the delights of heaven, and expressing 
 in soprano and contralto tones their ardent desire to suffer for the 
 sins of their neighbours (perhaps in the hope of profiting by the 
 exchange). For the moment they were causing suffering rather 
 than bearing it, for the vizier seemed as uncomfortable under their 
 glances of recognition and surprise as a mediasval man in the 
 stocks. In vain he sought distraction in silent, exciting, though 
 melancholy reminiscences of recent gambling transactions ; he 
 could not divert his thoughts into forgetfulness of the presence of the 
 altruistic crew. The leader of the party, a rather pretty girl, sharp-cut 
 of features and oldish in expression, was particularly indefatigable in 
 producing almost imperceptible winks, especially when she was sing- 
 ing a high note with the transcendent ecstasy of a saint. Jack, 
 however, did not notice this by-play, being filled with reverence for 
 the fervent aspirations of these vestal virgins, and he was quite 
 shocked when the conductor in clipping his ticket observed confiden- 
 tially, " Jolly girls, ain't they ? 'Livens up the journey, don't it, sir ? "" 
 
 When one rollicking tune was finished, the singers started on 
 another with the mechanical regularity of so many musical-boxes, 
 but without even the momentary pause and preliminary tick of 
 those ingenious contrivances, and their repertoire was not yet 
 exhausted when they arrived at a pretentious structure of red brick 
 placarded with announcements of an approaching assault against 
 the devil and his imps. Here the tram-car and the concert stopped. 
 The girls got down, several of them shaking hands with the vizier 
 (as if they had only just become conscious of mundane relations) 
 and addressing him as Captain. The Princess Ida, if the leader of 
 the female brigade may thus be denominated, furthermore inquired 
 " Whether he had put his togs up the spout ?" 
 
 "What did she mean by that expression?" exclaimed Jack 
 curiously. 
 
 " It's only her jokes,'' returned the Socialist, blowing his nose 
 violently. 
 
 " She looked very serious, though. Why do they all call you 
 Captain ? " 
 
 "Because they love truth. They are my sisters, in a spiritual 
 sense I mean, and I am a Captain in the great army of Ormuzd." 
 
 " You surprise me ! By Ormuzd you mean General Booth, I 
 presume." 
 
 " 1 d; . He seems to me one of the few earnest men that
 
 392 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 preserve the country from corruption. I will introduce you to 
 him." 
 
 " Thank you," was the cold reply. " I have not yet settled my 
 opinion of him. It is not enough for a man to be earnest. The 
 Premier is in earnest, yet he is doing deadly mischief." 
 
 " By his reported Home Rule project, you mean?" 
 
 " Yes, that is the worst. But the whole period of his tenure cf 
 office has been a Saturnalia, turbulent with wild license, and he a 
 veritable Lord of Misrule." 
 
 The painter became animated, his voice took an indignant ring. 
 
 " But he only interprets the wishes of the country." 
 
 " That is the only consideration that consoles me." 
 
 " Consoles you ! For what ?" The painter hesitated. 
 
 " I could not bear to think that one man should have the power 
 of ruining his country." 
 
 " But if the country wishes to be ruined as you call it 
 
 "That is the result of your miserable ballot-box principle. As 
 100 is to 99, so is Wisdom to Folly. When I think of the effects 
 of indiscriminate suffrage, even when limited to males, I cannot 
 help regretting that I should have been led by specious logic ii.to 
 supporting it. But how the Premier with such principles has been 
 able to retain office for a month in sober England, is to me a 
 mystery. Were there any of the old spirit left among the old 
 
 Conservatives Oh that 1 could lead the Opposition and prick this 
 
 empty windbag, and denounce with prophetic fire the iniquity of 
 his measures ! " 
 
 The Salvationist suppressed a smile. 
 
 "Were your ambitious wish gratified, I doubt whether you 
 would be as successful as you imagine. To me all forms of 
 Government are equally futile that do not concern themselves with 
 a reconstruction of Society. But if Floppington has not re- 
 constructed Society, I must admit that he has reconstructed the 
 Conservative Party." 
 
 " If by reconstructing you mean rebuilding, so that not a trace 
 of the oiiginal architecture is left, I agree with you," replied the 
 painter bitterly. 
 
 "No one expects honour among politicians. He saw that 
 Toryism was played out, and that if he did not carry Radical 
 measures he would have to give place to those who would. Would 
 not the task of repealing the Union have inevitably fallen to Screw- 
 rail, if Floppington had not suddenly changed his whole policy ? 
 Would not his Ministry have gone to pieces in a week? Tie 
 progress of reform is not to be resisted. The individual who heads 
 it is of little importance." 
 
 " The individual withers, and the world is more and more," 
 mused Jack, brightening up under the influence of these con- 
 siderations. He sat silent for some time, and then observed : 
 " This movement that you have joined does it not interfere with 
 yjur propagation of Socialism ?"
 
 A 7 THE LATIN PLAY 393 
 
 " Not at all. I have always been a Christian Socialist. As a 
 Salvationist, I would rescue the soul ; as a Socialist, the body. But 
 we get down here ! " 
 
 Socialism, that bugbear of the era under consideration, that 
 bogey whose harmless nature becomes daily more apparent, could, 
 in the painter's lifetime, count some of the noblest of mankind 
 airong its adherents, exponents, or sympathisers. But these were 
 only amateurs. There were men who made a profession of Socialism 
 in more senses than one. 
 
 The philosophic painter was fully aware of both these facts in 
 the abstract. But the concrete Socialist with whom he was now 
 brought into contact seemed to him to be animated by the dis- 
 interested ardour of an apostle. That he had joined the ranks of 
 the much-abused Salvationists was only another sign that he was 
 willing to undergo martyrdom for his principles. So when Jack 
 had paid Mrs. Jenkins a week's rent in advance, and the door 
 cl ;sed behind her spare form, and he was left in possession of his. 
 sr.ting-room and his bed-room, his heart swelled with gratitude to 
 Providence for its kindness in removing him from the uncongenial 
 atmosphere of the Star Dining Rooms, and putting him down 
 master of his words and actions in the society of an intellectual and 
 noble-minded man. The latter had retired to don his regimentals, 
 so that the painter now found himself alone. Mingling with his 
 new feeling of independence was a certain mournful consciousness 
 of absolute severance from the common ties of humanity, th.'t 
 feeling of solitude in the inidst of roaring crowds, whose tragtdy 
 has only in our own century found in the great romance of Martnty 
 that triumphant expression in literature which the cruder tragecy 
 of physical loneliness had long ago found in the immortal work i f 
 Detoe. He could not help thinking with how little fuss he might 
 slip out of existence. 
 
 But away with all despondent thoughts. Was not a new life 
 about to dawn upon him ? Had he not at last found rest? And as 
 he had been voluntarily dismissed from his filial duties, would he 
 not be able to enjoy it \\ith a clear conscience? 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AT THE LATIN PLAV. 
 
 WHEN the Chartreuse schoolboys resuscitated Terence's Andria, 
 long buried in the cemetery of the dead languages, Flopping ton 
 took his seat before the curtain with feelings of liveliest anticipation. 
 It was not so much that he looked forward to the pleasurable
 
 394 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 revival of youthful impressions. His emotions were more stirred 
 by the knowledge that at last there was a reasonable hope of seeing 
 the woman he had simultaneously loved and lost. For a brother 
 of hers was going to clad his boyish innocence in the skin of that 
 Davus of many wrinkles, who is the chief personage of those olden 
 comedies where, so to speak, the valets are heroes to their masters. 
 He had little doubt but that her combined interest in the slave and 
 in his modern representative would induce her to be present. As 
 visitor after visitor arrived, and the hall filled, Floppington's anxiety 
 grew intense. If to see her would give him a pang, not to see her 
 would be torture. The feverish excitement, halt pain, half pleasure, 
 seemed, now that there was little chance of her arrival, to have 
 been wholly one of joyful expectation, and for the moment the 
 awful gulf between them seemed to be bridged over, and they were 
 lovers again. Lovers again, as when amid the moon-silvered 
 greenery on that May night, she had charmed him with sweet and 
 arnest converse. Allured and softened by the magic of memory 
 he let the troubled emotion of the present melt into the calm 
 rapture of the past. He saw her again under the shadows of the 
 luxuriant ferns, a living and breathing shape, fairer than all the fair 
 shapes that gleamed in stone around them. He lived over again 
 those few brief moments, even more delicious in retrospect than in 
 reality. What mattered it to him, absorbed in the consciousness 
 of that divine vision, that, outside the world of shadows, the pro- 
 logue was commencing, and that his less learned neighbours were 
 eagerly watching his face? For who has not heard of the fun and 
 wit, so perfect both in quality and quantity, that marked the 
 Chartreuse political resume of the year?* And. just as the new 
 comer in the terra incognita of society watches the old inhabitants 
 to see when to use his fork, so did the people who were old enough 
 to have forgotten their classics, or ignorant enough to quote them, 
 watch the Premier and a few other savants to know when to use 
 their risible muscles. 
 
 But no smile appeared on the Minister's countenance. Point 
 after point was made, but still Floppington sat in silence, immersed 
 in other scenes than that around him. And his face grew full of a 
 saintly sadness, born of the tender regret whose unsuspected 
 presence gives sweetness to our most precious memories. The 
 cheers and laughter of the audience fell upon his heedless ears as 
 the swirl of the wintry storm without falls on one reading olden 
 pictures in the glowing grate. Again and again hundreds of 
 curious eyes turned involuntarily towards him, but fell back abashed 
 before that impassive demeanour, that pensive calm. 
 
 And now the play commenced, and Simo and Sosia began their 
 duologue. But not even the charm of hearing Latin as she was 
 never spoke could woo the Premier from the cool conservatory. 
 Why could not the tete-a-t^te have lasted for ever? Or, at least, 
 
 * The Chartreuse schoolboys did not save their satire for the Epilogue (as 
 Ci.keton, confounding them with the Westminster hovs, a<=sert).
 
 AT THE LATIN PLAY 395 
 
 why should he not now prolong the delicious dream at will? But r 
 alas, the remorseless train ot association whirled him away, and 
 hurried him through tunnels of politics where no light of day ever 
 penetrated. The interview with Bardolph, the Cabinet Council, the 
 precipitate resignation of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, all 
 these were passed over. His face broadened into a smile, a low 
 laugh of triumph broke from his lips ; and a loud shout of merri- 
 ment arose from those in his vicinity. The first act was trium- 
 phantly tending to its affecting close. 
 
 " Mentor essem ? O Myst's, My sis. ..." 
 Poor Pamphilus paused in his pathetic reminiscences and 
 turned as red as fire. Those trembling, earnest tones, those 
 eloquent gestures, the task of so many months, were they only to 
 expose him to mockery and shame? And then, worst sting of all,, 
 there was the prompter loudly supplying the words he had so often 
 spoken even in sleep. He faltered through the rest of the scene, 
 and retired indignant and almost heartbroken ; and nothing but the 
 authoritative persuasions of the Principal could induce him to go- 
 on in the next act. But a fair proportion of the audience was now 
 convinced that his was a comic part, and they received all his 
 attempts at pathos with the suppressed enjoyment with which one 
 listens to burlesque declamation. 
 
 Meanwhile, Floppington, soothed by the soft summer's night in 
 which his imagination had been roving, gradually reconciled 
 himself to the disappointment of Lady Harley^s absence. He fol- 
 lowed the play with some curiosity, but it took little hold of his 
 thoughts, for in a little time they were wandering again. 
 
 He was in Gwendolen's study. The rays of sunlight streamed 
 upon the cheerful shelves, and artistically gilded the backs of the 
 books. And a face brighter than sunshine smiled upon him. The 
 memory of that smile thrilled him now, as it had not thrilled him 
 when, only half-conscious of its subtle effects, he had answered it by 
 gay cynicism or almost brutal epigram. Why, oh why, had he 
 not profited by the opportunity and given vent to the more tender 
 emotion which was agitating his breast ? His unavailing remorse 
 was not checked by any suspicion that the tender emotion in 
 question had not been agitating his breast,at least not with its present 
 intensity. Knowing that he loved her now, he could not believe 
 that he had not loved her from the first. He thought that love had 
 merely come to him by a route new to his experience, and in the 
 shape of what seemed a purely intellectual attraction. But he did 
 not know that it was only at the sudden juxtaposition of Eliza, 
 with its irritating recall of the vanity of earlier and earthlier senti- 
 ment, its sharp contrast of ignoble and noble charm, that the latent 
 passion had risen into higher life and into full consciousness of 
 itself. 
 
 The Minister knit his brows and frowned. The sense of wasted 
 opportunities made him angry with himself. But this phase of 
 emotion was evanescent he could not long remain the object of his
 
 396 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 own indignation. After all, how was he to know that that d d 
 Eliza would turn up, by a sort of dramatic injustice, to wither his 
 hopes in the bud ? Was it his fault that the vain little minx had 
 caused such cruel and unmerited suspicions to fall upon him ? To 
 think that he must, by her silly sentimentality, for ever be 
 banished from the presence of the woman without whom life, how- 
 ever momentarily intoxicating, was at bottom hollow and vain ! 
 
 He clenched his fists and drove his nails into the flesh. It was 
 well for Eliza that she had not been tempted to witness the Comedy 
 of Terence. Had she encountered the Premier at this instant, 
 there would have been enacted a comedy far more piquant, and 
 not likely to be less classical; one that the world would "not 
 willingly let die." 
 
 But Eliza was not there any more than Lady Harley, and so 
 Tiis wrath wasted itself on the empty air. After diffusing itself 
 among the People, of whom in their general commonness and 
 " cussedness " she seemed to his distorted thinking to be the type, it 
 gradually died away. 
 
 There was nothing for it now but to look at the play. '' The 
 play," says an old dramatist, whose works every one edits and no 
 one reads, " the play's the thing wherein Pll catch the conscience 
 of the king ;" and that it had such an effect on the uncrowned king 
 of England was shown by copious yawns, which may be taken to 
 .be a sign of a conscience-stricken condition from their constant 
 appearance during sermons, when the conscience may be supposed 
 to be most fully aroused. 
 
 Yawning is the most contagious of facial contortions, and Friar 
 Tuck, the eminent Scotch dramatic critic, yawned even more widely 
 than the Premier as the fourth act came to a close. He took out 
 Jhis note-book and glanced through the criticism in which he 
 :had just been filling up the gaps all that his careful prepa- 
 ration the day before rendered necessary. " Schiller," he muttered, 
 '" Schiller, with his usual aesthetic insight, has remarked that the 
 .higher emotional arts have their origin in the play impulse. Re- 
 membering, too, that Lessing. . . . H'm, I think all that part will 
 keep. ... As for Terence's obligations to Menander, we are con- 
 fronted by the old question of what constitutes originality. Is there 
 not, in short, an esemplastic as well as an energising originality? 
 .... So far so good. It goes without saying that all the actors 
 ,have been thoroughly trained ; and there was in some instances 
 something visible over and above what training can bestow. First 
 of all must be mentioned Mr. Greviile, whose Davus is as fine a 
 creation of genuine comedy as one could wish to see. The cunning 
 but humorous shiftiness of the old slave, his alternations of fidelity 
 and self-seeking, were depicted by a' hundred subtle touches. A 
 hypercritical student might perhaps object to some of his gestures 
 as too modern ; but we for our part are content and thankful to 
 the gods (and surely one may address the deities in dealing with a 
 classical play). Mr. Balden made an earnest and manly Pam-
 
 A T THE LA TIN PLA Y 397- 
 
 pliilus. . . . Hum ! . . . another proof if any were wanted, that 
 the old Roman drama, if only represented with conscientious care 
 for accessories, can still please a nineteenth-century audience." 
 
 Mr. Tuck shook his head in compassionate remonstrance with 
 himself, and drew his pencil through many of these passages and^ 
 altered others. The second edition of the last, for instance, contra- 
 dicted the first just as if it had been an evening paper. "Another 
 proof," it ran, " if any were wanted, that the old Koman drama, even 
 when presented with the most conscientious care for accessories, 
 cannot please a nineteenth-century audience. The connoisseurs, 
 notoriously the Premier, were visibly bored. The whole thing was 
 flat, dead, and heavy. Nor is this to be wondered at The senti- 
 ment of Terence's day is opposed to the modern spirit not in that 
 nobler sense in which, as Hegel puts it, opposition fuses into larger 
 agreement ; we still enjoy the Epic of Dante, for instance the 
 sexual and servile relations with the emotions generated by them 
 are twenty centuries ahead. . . . Mr. Greville did his best with the 
 ungrateful part of Davus ; but there is little to praise except his 
 really comic gestures, which were too few and far between to redeem 
 his wooden delivery. To tell the truth, Mr. Balden could make 
 little of the more promising Pamphilus. ... Of course we are 
 fully prepared for a deluge of uncritical praise and insincere 
 admiration, but let the reader refuse to be misled by it. No honest 
 man who witnessed the performance can pretend to have been 
 edified thereby, and perhaps the archaeological ghouls who have 
 temporarily galvanised Terence, will now allow him to rest in peice 
 in the shadow of his royal Aldines, and in the tomb of his precious 
 Elzevirs." 
 
 Hurriedly scribbling off these remarks, the critic made his way 
 to the Premier, carrying with him a bland expression of deprecia- 
 tion which was much noticed and admired. 
 
 ' I hope I am not over-creetical," he remarked after the first 
 greeting, "but I certainly find this verra depressing." 
 
 " Sickening ! " said Floppington, with a gesture of weariness. 
 " Who the devil can understand it ? " 
 
 " You are right. Tempora mutantur. What does the nineteenth- 
 century man know of the Romans as they really lived, of the 
 Romans in the flesh ? " 
 
 "True. He knows them only in the dry Bohns," Floppington 
 interrupted. 
 
 " The verra metaphor I intended." 
 
 " I thought so," said the Minister, with a diplomatic smile. "As 
 for the actors, I've seen better ones at the Brit " 
 
 "At the Brit ? '' gasped Mr. Tuck. 
 
 " ish Museum," concluded Floppington calmly. "The 
 
 Mummies, you know. There isn't that superabundance of 
 gesture." 
 
 " Ha-ha-ha! " laughed the critic. "You've heet the verra flaw 
 that distressed me. Perhaps one might make an exception in favour
 
 -398 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ,of Davus?'' he continued cautiously, hoping to profit by the 
 Premier's well-known powers of delicate psychological analysis. 
 
 " Not at all," replied the Premier. ' One must expect that 
 .character to be the worst represented, for, as a matter of fact, no 
 Englishman can represent it." 
 
 This dictum the critic received with a respect as profound as he 
 -thought it was itself. He shook his head sagely, but before he 
 could elicit the grounds of the opinion, the curtain drew up on the 
 fifth act, and he picked his way to his place with pondering, corru- 
 gated brow. The result of his meditations appeared next day some- 
 what as follows : 
 
 "And if Mr. Greville errs by defect of fun, he errs none the less 
 by excess of gesture. So lavish is he in this respect that we are 
 convinced that it he had to enact the part of a mummy, he would 
 wink at least three times. Perhaps, however, he has attempted the 
 impossible. As Coleridge remarked (and who but the subtle analyst 
 of Othello and Leontes could rise to such accurate and unfaltering 
 visualisation?), the character of Davus is intrinsically unactable by 
 an Englishman. The more one ponders this dictum, the more one 
 confesses its truth. For is not the personage absolutely unrealiz- 
 able by the Anglican mind ? The lighter spirit, the less stringent 
 .moral relations of the Frenchman might, haply, overcome this 
 initial difficulty, but for the thorough perception of the canny and 
 .quaint humour of Davus, his shrewd worldliness, and his mingling 
 of self-reliant and servile impulses, one must turn to America. 
 The ideal Davus would be a liberated American slave of the better 
 sort. But a black Davus is, as Lamb would say, not a man to like; 
 and so, we fear, the ideal Davus must remain, like so many other 
 ideals, but the dream of the visionary." 
 
 " I don't believe he saw the joke," soliloquised the Premier when 
 -the critic left him. " Not that it was a very good one for me. Still 
 \ don't suppose Punch will find anything better to say than that 
 Britons can't be slaves. And, by the way, good Mr. Thomson with 
 ) our Rule Britannias, it seems that I can turn your Britons round my 
 finger pretty much as I choose." 
 
 The Premier's behaviour at the play was, during the next few 
 days, the theme of universal comment. He knew it, and gloried 
 in his notoriety. As an example of how the critic was criticised, 
 we make the following extract from an article in the World, entitled 
 " Ministers in the Pillory:" 
 
 "It was said of a certain Government that its members had 
 . every virtue under the sun except resignation, and in another sense 
 this saying might, with one conspicuous exception, be applied to 
 the Ministers of the present Cabinet. Instead of emulating the 
 serene dignity of the rmstiff of Landseer's picture, they have always 
 winced before the yelping of any puppy, however insignificant, and 
 have not hesitated to wield tooih and claw in reply. It is to be 
 hoped, however, that the quiet contempt with which the Premier 
 treated the savage, if wily attacks of the Chartreuse wags, will have
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 399 
 
 some effect in restraining the ebullitions of temper of those who 
 serve under his banner. Whether it was good taste on the part of 
 the youthful politicians to let fly their keen-tipped arrows at the 
 actually present form of the Minister (and some of the lines might 
 well have been omitted for other considerations), is questionable ; 
 but there can be no question as to the polished propriety of trie 
 Premier's bearing under fire. Where the Irish Secretary would 
 have visibly quivered with suppressed passion, the keenest observer 
 could see nothing but a saintly smile on the face of Mr. Floppington. 
 Nor will those who were present soon forget the exquisite because 
 silent causticity of the Premier's reply. Mr. Floppington's true 
 vocation is the stage. Cynics will probably exclaim that even body 
 admits he is a great actor, so we venture to forestall the tiibe 
 of Diogenes by informing them that we refer to his greatness in 
 facial expression. Lord Thespis, whose attention was early directed 
 to the remarkable by-play off the stage, remained fascinated. He 
 asserts that as the play proceeded, the Premier (than whom no one 
 has enjoyed Terence more in previous years) managed to mould 
 his features to every nuance of non-enjoyment ; running through 
 the whole gamut with the most delicate half, and even quarter 
 notes. Indifference, ennui, boredom, sleepiness, annoyance, dis- 
 gust, sense of the ridiculous, sneering contempt, flitted with subt'e 
 transitions over the countenance of the pantomimic critic. 
 Mephistopheles himself could no more. Perhaps the old gentle- 
 men who grumble that Floppington has gone to the devil, are right. 
 But if so, it has been for the innocent purpose of taking lessons in 
 the dramatic art." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 THE painter trudged silently at his mother's side through the 
 sleeping streets, and wished himself dea f . Yes, Mrs. Dawe had 
 regained possession of her truant and recreant son, and the method 
 of re-capture was characteristic of her. She had stolen him from 
 under the very guns of the enemy, and this is how she did it. 
 The perpetual interrogatories and reproachful accusations of the 
 keeper of the cook-shop having apprised her numerous circle of her 
 son's desertion of her, their curiosity caused unofficial inquiries to 
 be set on foot in all the quarters of London in which any of them 
 had friends or acquaintances. No surprise was expressed that the 
 peripatetic painter should have flown off at a tangent from his 
 usual orbit ; the quidnuncs even essayed to console Mrs. Dawe by 
 the reflection that it was lucky she wasn't his wife, for it wouldn't
 
 400 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 have weighed a pin with the heartless runaway. At last Mrs. 
 Dawe learnt from one person that a gentleman resembling her son 
 had been seen at an open window in Hoxton, and from another, that 
 a speaker named " The Converted Painter " was advertised to 
 appear the same night at a midnight meeting at a Salvation Hall 
 in the same district.* Obeying the impulse of instinct, the horrified 
 dame repaired to the place of assembly as soon as the stress of 
 business would permit, and sure enough found her backsliding son 
 exhuming the lesson of his spiritual experiences for the benefit of a 
 motley crowd. The presence of the painter on the platform needs 
 no explanation beyond the fact that he had never had any 
 intention of appearing there. Captain Bertram, " The Reformed 
 Rake," as his friend was called, had inveigled him into his some- 
 what ambiguous position by enticing him to witness one of his bat- 
 talion's pitched fights with the devil, and, relying upon his weakness, 
 had taken upon himself the responsibility of announcing him with 
 flourish of trumpet. The painter had already refused the tempting 
 offer of a Lieutenancy with the privilege of adding to his income 
 by a percentage on the sale of copies of the War Cry, Tlie 
 Little Soldier, and other publications of the Army, and he felt that 
 it would be ungracious as well as unworthy of a student of life to 
 refuse the simple invitation to be present at a prospective destruc- 
 tion of the citadel of the Fiend of Darkness. This last phrase 
 was the very language of the heralding placard, for the most illite- 
 rate private was strongly impressed with the idea of preserving 
 consistency of metaphor, and proudly spoke of such things as 
 "volleys," "knee-drills," "cannonades," "fusillades," and "colours;" 
 though, in curious confusion with these blood-and-thunder figures 
 of speech, there ran through all the literature and oratory of the 
 Salvationists threads of Scriptural tropes and of every-day popular 
 and even vulgar idiom ; the various filaments blending into a tissue 
 of equal profanity and absurdity. Indeed, the audacious blasphem y 
 of the writings of the members of this commercial, musical, and re- 
 ligious association transcended even the hob-nobbingfamiliarity with 
 the supernatural displayed in all civilised ages by a concrete-loving 
 peasantry. That sermonette of Jack Dawe's, which his mother 
 peremptorily cut short, was far from orthodox in its vocabulary; as 
 was painfully felt by washerwomen fresh from the inspiriting ad- 
 dresses of Black Pudding Lucy and the Redeemed Knife Grinder, 
 and from the sensuous images of the latest hymn. It would pro- 
 bably have moved few to weeping, and howling, and gnashing of 
 teeth, and still fewer to frenzied prostration at the penitent-form ; 
 so that when the Converted Painter was interrupted by the slap- 
 dash entrance of a red-shawled personage, who must have seemed. 
 
 * For a good historical and descriptive account of the picturesque move- 
 ment headed by GenerHl Booth, see a German monograph on the Salvation 
 Army, of which a taith'ul, though unidiomatic, translation has just been 
 brought out by the State Press, and which is responsible for the siatemerus 
 here reproduced.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 401 
 
 a very avatar of the Spirit of Evil, few of the auditors regretted 
 that he had not been allowed to finish his subtle illustration of 
 regeneration by reference to the political career of Floppington. 
 They enjoyed more the eerie humour of the farce which followed 
 the arrival of Mrs. Dawe the assemblage thrown into inextin- 
 guishable laughter and hopeless confusion by the relaxing sight of 
 the imperious old lady fighting her way sternly to the platform, re- 
 calling her errant son to his duties in her own grotesque fashion, 
 lecturing him publicly on his sins of omission and commission, and 
 marching him off home after a dignified rebuke to the body-stealers 
 present, and a sternly contemptuous denunciation of their theo- 
 logical teachings and the immoral tendencies of their nocturnal 
 gatherings. 
 
 The night was divinely beautiful ; and, as Jack Dawe walked 
 along, he endeavoured to lose himself in the celestial splendours. 
 He tried to look up at the far-sparkling heavens and concentrate 
 his thoughts on the calmness of the planetary system that had 
 assembled in its millions for a midnight meeting in the firmament, 
 where all the stars sat together in mute communion, wrapt in 
 golden silence like the Quakers of Elia. But the attempt was 
 vain. The discordant voice of Mrs. Dawe broke the music of 
 the spheres. The infinite Universe was at rest, but this woman 
 was a central agitation subsist ng at the heart of endless calm. 
 Her invective flowed along in one everlasting flood, not weak 
 and washy, but strong and fiery. It was like Sheridan's impeach- 
 ment of Warren Hastings for length and passion, and every now 
 and then it was emphasised by the irresponsible whirl of the huge 
 umbrella which she carried as a protection against burglars, gallants, 
 mad dogs, and rain. The painter shivered under the amused glances 
 of the policemen and the few belated pedestrians ; but he was be- 
 coming hardened. By his public humiliation he had sounded the 
 bitterest depths of degradation. Nevertheless, he was not sorry 
 when the well-known Liliputian cook-shop, like a sunken valley in 
 the heart of its Brobdingnagian neighbours, hove in sight. The 
 door was open, and Sally stood outside it, slipshod and unkempt as 
 ever. She was looking anxiously the other way, but hearing the 
 sound of footsteps, she turned round, uttered a cry of joy, and ran 
 to meet the wayfarers. 
 
 " Ye've found him ! " Sally ejaculated. 
 
 " Yes, I've found him ! " Mrs. Dawe replied in hysterical tones, 
 viciously pushing the unresisting painter before her, and bundling 
 him into the shop. " I little thought a son o' mine would ever 
 grow up to be a foundlin' ! " 
 
 This new view of the case so overcame the highly-wrought mind 
 of the old lady that she sat down on the counter and burst into 
 tears. Her son made no attempt to kiss them away. Shuddering 
 at the contrast between his old home and the comfortable apart- 
 ments he had just quitted, he dragged his faltering limbs into 
 the parlour and threw himself on the sofa in blank, apathetic 
 
 2 D
 
 402 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 despair. A moment afterwards a hand was placed timidly on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "What is it, Sally ? '' he asked, looking up. 
 
 " Never mind, master," said the girl. " Sit up and 'ave yer 
 supper." 
 
 The sympathy of the drudge was to his spirit as a fresh well in 
 a desert of dreary misery. 
 
 " No, thank you," he said, much moved. " I have no appetite." 
 
 Sally began to whimper : 
 
 " Alter I've gone and fried the loveliest sausages ye ever smelt 
 in 'onour o' yer comin' 'ome." 
 
 "If the prodigal son has no appetite he cannot eat the fatted 
 calf." 
 
 " But it ain't calf,' 1 protested Sally. 
 
 " Y'hextravagant hussy ! " interrupted the dreaded voice of the 
 mistress. "So I've caught yer givin' a party, and a ball, and a 
 swarry, when the cat's away, 'ave I ? All the two gases a-blazin', and 
 the table laid for supper. And where's all the company bolted to? 
 Or was it a case of two's company and three's none a young man 
 or a bobby to keep off other thieves ?" 
 
 She was glancing suspiciously around, lifting up the covers, and 
 peering into the sugar-basin and the milk-jug. 
 
 " Ye're a liar ! " screamed Sally, stirred to her depths by the 
 last insinuation. " The company is on the sofa." 
 
 " What, that vagabond company ? He's no company o' 
 mine." 
 
 " What rot ! Ain't you 'is mother ? " 
 
 " Don't you try to bamboozle me, 'cos ye might as well try to 
 catch a bullock on that 'ere fly-paper. When that supper was laid 
 out, 'ow did ye know that Jack 'ud be a foundlin' ?" 
 
 " Summat inside 'ere told me," said Sally earnestly, laying her 
 hand on her breast. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! I didn't know as ye nourished a parrot in yer 
 bosom. P'raps that's where all the sugar goes ! " 
 
 " P'raps it is," Sally cried defiantly. 
 
 " No wonder ye've got a sweetheart then," retorted Mrs. 
 Dawe. 
 
 Tears of vexation came into Sally's eyes. 
 
 " I ain't got no svveet'art," she protested, " and ain't going to 
 get married never ! " 
 
 " Coin' to be a old maid, eh ? " 
 
 "If I lives so long !" 
 
 "Ye don't expect me to swallow that !" said Mrs. Dawe dis- 
 dainfully. 
 
 " No, it's for Jack," replied Sally innocently. 
 
 " Don't twist my words, or I'll twist yer nose for ye. No 
 woman 'ud be a old maid if she could help it. I've been married 
 myself, and, though I'm a widder now, do I regret it ? Not at all 
 But a old maid is a widder afore 'er time. But, old maid or no old
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 403 
 
 maid, yer don't catch the old woman goin' to Salvation meetin's 
 any more, leavin' ye to lay suppers for strange gents." 
 
 ' Is Master Jack a strange gent? Can't 1 lay supper for 'im ?" 
 
 " Lay supper for 'im ! " repeated Mrs. Davve scornfully. " Teach 
 yer grandmother to lay eggs." 
 
 At this point, there being a failure of repartee on the part of 
 Sally, the prodigal son was able to interpose. " The supper was 
 prepared for me, but I have no appetite." 
 
 "That's you all over !" replied Mrs. Dawe, turning upon him. 
 " When people goes to the trouble of fryin' the best sausages for 
 ye, ye've got no stomach for 'em. All you've got a appetite for is 
 'owlin' 'ims all night as if ye 'ad the nightmare, and draggin' 
 yer poor old mother out o' bed to run about like a fire-engine, and 
 if ye ain't goin' to eat 'em 1 will." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Davve sat down and devoured the succulent 
 viands, Sally watching her with ill-concealed indignation. 
 
 "Just you get up to bed," her mistress exclaimed, pausing with 
 uplifted fork. " Ye'll be fit for nothin' in the mornin'/' Sally 
 obeyed sulkily, and mother and son were left alone. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe finished her meal leisurely. Then she went to a 
 drawer and took therefrom a letter. "Anger is short madness," says 
 the great classical author, Delectus; and on this occasion Mrs. 
 Dawe's anger conformed to definition, for its fury was now giving 
 place to the soothing influences of the sausages. 
 
 " 'Ere's a letter from 'Lizer," she observed more gently. " Yer 
 a nice son to run away, and leave me all the trouble of this 'ere 
 lawsuit as if it was me that breach o' promised instead o' you. I've 
 arxed all about it for ye." 
 
 Jack sat up immediately much interested, and took the letter. 
 He had almost forgotten Eliza during those three days he was 
 living in the philosophic calm of the gods of Epicurus ; but now 
 some of the old anxiety revived. ' And what was the result of 
 your inquiries ? " he asked. 
 
 "Things ain't so black as 'Lizer painted 'em. I don't think 
 there'll be any need for ye to appear at all." 
 
 " Thank God ! How is that ? " 
 
 " 'Cos I think we'll be able to settle it. She ain't the fust gal 
 as arxed for 2,000 and got a farden. I've been to 'Lizer's 
 brother, for 1 couldn't talk to 'Lizer without fly in' in her face, and 
 let 'em know that the jury ain't such fools as they look for. And 'e 
 promised to 'ave a talk with 'er and let us know what she said, and I 
 think she'll be glad to square it without the bother and the disgrace 
 of going into Court ; and yesterday this letter came for ye, so I 
 want ye to read it to me, and I'll warrant she won't talk so big now." 
 
 The painter took the letter and read aloud as follows : 
 
 " DEAR JACK, 
 
 " I write you these few lines, hoping it will find you quite well 
 as thank God it leaves me at present. Your cunning attempt to 
 
 2 D 2
 
 404 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 overreach me shall not succeed. Thinking that I had been persuaded 
 by you to stop proceedings, you then sent your mother to endeavour 
 to comoromise for a paltry sum. But you will find you have only 
 overreached yourself. The telegram you sent me is worth its 
 weight in diamonds. When the jury see that you have actually 
 offered the two thousand pounds, they will know that I am entitled 
 to them at least; so, by the advice of my Solicitor, I shall demand 
 three thousand." 
 
 Mrs. Dawe was struggling to speak black in the face with the 
 effort. 
 
 " You offered her 2,000 ! " she burst out. 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, trembling with apprehension of the coming 
 storm, and feeling that he had really made a fool of himself, and 
 put himself at the mercy of an unscrupulous girl. 
 
 " Then ye've brought me to the workus' ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dawe, wringing her hands. And she unchained upon him a leash 
 of biting epithets. His character for intelligence was torn to pieces. 
 He had no more brains than an apple-dumpling, he was as destitute 
 of common sense as Mrs. Prodgers' pork-pies of pork ; she would 
 rather have had an elephant for a son in a lawsuit. Further 
 aggravated by Jack's silence, she discovered that he was as black- 
 hearted as an old frying-pan, and had no scruple in smashing up 
 an old-established business, for the sake of enriching a good-for- 
 nothing girl, who had hooked him by her pretty face, despite his 
 mother's warnings, and whom he loved still. Did he think that the 
 old woman hadn't all along known that disgraceful plot to get up a 
 sham breach of promise case, and pay the damages out of her hard- 
 earned savings and elope to America, and leave her to lay her 
 weary bones in a pauper's grave ? 
 
 " You are talking very absurdly," said Jack, with some dignity 
 " And in any case I do not see that the money would come out of 
 your pocket." 
 
 " It's all one, y' idiot ! This is Dawe and Son, ain't it? Ye 
 don't forget to arx for yer arf profits ! The business is the 
 business." 
 
 "We will waive that point," said Jack, taken somewhat aback 
 by this reasoning, "I can only repeat that in offering Eliza what 
 she demanded I was guided principally by a strong objection to 
 appearing in Court." 
 
 " Then see what ye've done for yerself. If ye 'ad left it to 
 me, I would a' got ye out o' that pickle. But in course ye don't 
 arx nobody's advice but yer own. Now ye're in for it. Ye'll have 
 to appear and be the laughin' stock of the country." 
 
 " But I will not appear, come what may," replied the painter 
 firmly. 
 
 Mrs. Dawe grew white with alarm. Was her son once more 
 enunciating one of those olden resolutions from which he never 
 departed ? Her tore became more conciliatory.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 405 
 
 " Now just you listen to reason, Jack. Let me tell ye what 
 I've found out about the law. If ye don't take any notice of 
 the writ, the case will go by the fault, and it'll be tried afore the 
 Sheriff's Court, and there'll be nobody there to speak for ye, and 
 'Lizer'll 'ave it all 'er own way, and set up a carriage out of our 
 blood and sweat ; and if ye do take notice and send up a lawyer, 
 the jury will think ye dare not stand cross-examination, and you 
 are a devil and 'Lizer a angel, and they'll damage ye according." 
 
 "Cross-examination!" As the horrible potentialities of the 
 process flashed upon him, a cold tremor ran through all his mem- 
 bers. " They may think me devil as much as they like," he said, 
 " I will not appear." 
 
 "And yet they say, talk o' the devil and he's sure to appear !" 
 groaned Mrs. Dawe. " 1 ailus knowed ye'd be the ruin o' me ; but 
 that's the way of children : they makes ye ill the day they're born, 
 and worrits ye till the day ye're dead. Oh, why did ye interfere ! 
 I f ye 'adn't put yer finger in the pie, 'Lizer wouldn't 'a got such a 
 big plum !" 
 
 " You mistake in supposing you could have settled it," said 
 Jack, who had been glancing over the rest of the broken-hearted 
 girl's letter. " She says that she might have been willing to com- 
 promise had I not had the cruel audacity to tell her that I loved an- 
 other. The spirit of revenge burns in her breast, and she says that no 
 earthly consideration shall prevent her dragging me into Court. I 
 believe she means it. She always appeared a passionate girl, and 
 the poets have taught us how lar the spretie injuria formce can 
 lead one. If Virgil could exclaim, ' Tantane ira ccelestibus animisj 
 is it surprising that a woman of volcanic temperament should de- 
 termine to avenge herself by any means in her power?'' 
 
 " I've already told ye to keep yer fine words for them as didn't 
 know ye from a baby, when ye could only say ' Mummy.' 1 don't 
 know what ye told 'Lizer a he for ; as yer late father said, ' lyin' is 
 never so bad as when it's no good.' If ye loved another gal, ye 
 could no more 'ide it from me than ye could your brain-fever, and 
 I've seen no marks of it. And I don't see that 'Lizer is a volcanic 
 woman she don't smoke, does she ? If ye called 'er a earthquaky 
 woman, upsettin' the oldest cook-shop in Bethnal Green, ye'd be 
 about right. And if she says ye must go to Court, to Court ye 
 must go." 
 
 " Only one woman can command that," said the painter, with a 
 melancholy smile. 
 
 ' Then I am that woman," exclaimed Mrs. Dawe, rising in regal 
 majesty. "To Court ye shall go if I 'ave to drag ye there in a 
 wheelbarrow, and ye shall say exactly what I tells ye." 
 
 " An end to this !" said Jack, also rising. "The judgment must 
 go by default, and I will pay the damages." 
 
 " And let 'Lizer 'ave all the lies to 'erself/' hissed Mrs. Dawe 
 fiercely. 
 
 "Well, at most, I shall send up a lawyer to represent me," he
 
 406 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 said good-humouredly, glad to find he was not giving way. 
 " Perhaps there should be no taxation without representation. But 
 you will never get me to appear in person." He was not prepared for 
 the reception of this effusion of independence. The old woman lost 
 her head entirely. After the wild revel of maternal power she had 
 been enjoying that night, to be defied at all was unspeakingly gall- 
 ing. But to be defied in a matter of such vital importance was 
 to lose more than authority. The timid barn-fowl will fight for its- 
 young ones, and Mrs. Dawe. who was by no means timid, abandoned 
 herself to a seizure of verbal pugnacity, shrinking at nothing to 
 defend her solitary young one against himself; to say nothing of 
 her own interests. 
 
 Drawing he: self up with the prophetic fury of a Cassandra, she 
 launched into rhapsodical objurgations and demoniac denunciations 
 of the evils to be. The painter's hair stood on end as he listened in 
 awe-struck silence to the tale of the intolerable days he would be 
 mnde to endure before the trial. Shaking her gray hair, quivering 
 with electric passion, unresting and maniacal of gesture, and lavish of 
 rough metaphor and uncouth simile, the old sibyl declared that she 
 would not fail to be present, and that if he did not accompany her, 
 he was no longer to look for peace till the sexton's spade battened 
 down the clods over his early grave. It was a weird and unholy 
 scene and the clock of the church of St. John, mournfully striking 
 two, intensified the nocturnal stillness which was being so impiously 
 disturbed. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A NOCTURNAL VISITOR. 
 
 AT last his mother was gone to bed. The striking of two had 
 warned her that only a few hours of sleep remained, and she pre- 
 sently departed with a final burst of invective that would have done 
 credit to the author of the epistle against the Ibis. Jack sat for 
 some time rigid and silent, his hands pressed to his aching brow. 
 After a while, muttering "There is no help for it," he rose, opened 
 the drawer of the table, and, after some search, discovered a sheet of 
 1 'tier-paper and an envelope. Then, re-seating himself, he began 
 10 write. 
 
 So deep a stillness now reigned within and without, that had he 
 not been engrossed in his task, the silence would, by contrast, have 
 been almost oppressive. The scampering of a mouse across tne 
 floor gave him a little startled thrill. His nerves were unstrung, for 
 hardly had he resumed his momentarily-interrupted writing when 
 he felt himself falling under the spell of a strange,, eerie sensation
 
 A NOCTURNAL VISITOR 407 
 
 the consciousness of another presence in the room. He tried to 
 shake off the feeling and concentrate himself on his letter; but, as 
 he was under the temporary sway of an unconquerable aversion 
 from looking round, his whole soul became more and more im- 
 pregnated with the perception of an alien existence. He seemed 
 even to catch the rhythmic sounds of light breathing. Agitated by 
 a confusion of shifting ideas, he made an effort and turned his head, 
 and immediately his heart almost stopped beating, while his brain 
 began to whirl under a rush of conflicting hypotheses and emotions. 
 At his side stood a female figure draped in black. The face was 
 quite strange to him. It was young, but there was a sad, grave 
 look in the brown eyes ; and it wore a fatigued, oldish expression. 
 Nevertheless, the features were well formed, and the whole counte- 
 nance full of a pensive, melancholy charm. The hair was arranged 
 in bands with Grecian simplicity. 
 
 The apparition stood surveying him in silence, and in its ex- 
 tended hand it held a roll of manuscript, covered with hieroglyphics 
 and cabbalistic inscriptions. As it seemed to be tendering tnis to 
 him, he put out his hand boldly and took it. At the first glance 
 the apparent hieroglyphics resolved themselves into his own crabbed 
 caligraphy. It was his neglected essay " On the Spiritual in Man," 
 and, in a flash, a wild half-explanatory theory took possession of 
 his mind, and his eyes lit up with sacred, awed rapture. 
 
 " Speak ! " he cried solemnly. " Reveal to me the mystery of 
 thy being, and of man's." 
 
 The apparition put its finger on its lips. 
 
 " Say not thy lips are sealed. Whence and wherefore comest 
 thou?" 
 
 1 he figure opened its mouth for the first time, and breathed the 
 strange words: 
 
 "Hush ! Ye'll wake missis ! " 
 
 "Wake missis!" gasped the painter, in tones of acute dis- 
 appointment mingled with surprise. " Why, who are you ? " 
 
 The sad face of the apparition was irradiated by a beautiful 
 blush, the melancholy eyes sparkled with joy, and a low laugh of 
 triumph broke from its lips. 
 
 " 'E don't know me ! " it muttered to itself ecstatically. 
 
 And it began to prance about in silent irrepressib'e joy, with 
 light, graceful twirlings. As the painter watched the sinuous un- 
 dulations and frolicsome movements of the grave Grecian ghost, 
 his irritation began to give way, though his perplexity remained 
 undiminished. 
 
 ' Surely you are not Sally ? '' he exclaimed. 
 
 "Ain't I ?" inquired the apparition, grinning with fresh delight. 
 " Who d'yer suppose I've been and swopped with ? Ye don't 
 know me, then, but only my clothes." 
 
 " But how is it I have never seen you dressed thus before?" 
 
 " Ye 'ave, master ! It's my goin' out dress. I wears it on my 
 d iy out every Chris'mus, not Chris'mus Day ye know, 'cause we're
 
 408 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 busy, but the week arter when everybody s spent their money. But 
 ye never used to look at me then" she added with arch reproach. 
 
 " And why have you put it on now ? " 
 
 The drudge was silent, but her cheeks were eloquent. The 
 painter could not read the message written in letters of fire, and he 
 continued good-humouredly : 
 
 " Did you dream it was Christmas and your day out, and get up 
 and array yourself in your splendours, and come down to find it the 
 middle of the night?" 
 
 " No, master ! " s:iid the girl, instinctively seizing on the last 
 question. " I come down to give ye yer mess." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right,''' said the painter ruefully. 
 
 ' Ye see," she added in a mysterious whisper, " I 'ad to 'ide it 
 for fear missis should wrap up pies in it." 
 
 *' It is in vain to struggle against Fate. Perhaps it were better 
 to let it fulfil its destiny at once. But you were wrong to disturb 
 your rest. Could you not have given it to me by day ?" 
 
 " There was no chance to give it yer while missis was in 'ere 
 with ye," replied Sally glibly. "And I thought if ye didn't 'ave 
 it to-night, ye might worry over it, 'cause I see ye takin' so much 
 trouble over it, and I thought ye might 'a thought ye'd lost it, and 
 while I was waitin' for missis to go to bed, I thought I might as 
 well 'ave a jolly good wash, and when I was clean it seemed a pity 
 to waste all that clean on my old clothes, so 1 ups and puts on my 
 grand dress, and just as I were a-doin' up the last 'ook, missis took 
 hers, and so I took the hopportunity." 
 
 '' Thank you for your trouble," said Jack, who had been scepti- 
 cally skimming a page of the essay while this explanation was going 
 on, and who appeared shaken by the force of his own reasonings 
 at the close. " And now, as it's so late, you had better go to bed, 
 and for the same reason I had better remain up and finish this 
 article." 
 
 Sally's face fell. 
 
 " I ain't a bit sleepy," she urged. "Can't I stay up and wait 
 upon ye while ye writes ? " 
 
 " You are very obliging, Sally," he said. " But really I have no 
 need of your services. Go to rest, there's a good girl." 
 
 " I can't rest ! " Sally cried in a sudden burst of anguish ; then 
 she stopped, affrighted by the sound of her own words. 
 
 Jack, catching her anxiety, listened for any signs of activity 
 overhead ; and there was a pause, in which they could hear the 
 beating of each other's hearts. 
 
 '' Can't 1 make you a cup of cawfy ? " persisted Sally in low 
 tones. "You're sure to want some cawfy." 
 
 " No, thank you," he replied. " Now, Sally, go to bed, and 
 leave me to my work. I must finish this letter ; and, by-the-by, 
 you had better copy it to-morrow. I shall leave it for you in its 
 envelope on the mantelpiece. Good-night, Sally." 
 
 The girl gulped down a lump which had formed in her throat.
 
 A NOCTURNAL VISITOR 409 
 
 " Good-night, master ! " she whispered. Then suddenly turning 
 back with plaintively-brimming eyes : " Y'ain't angry with me for 
 puttin' on my new togs ? " she asked. 
 
 "Angry, my child? On the contrary, I am pleased to see that 
 you are not so black as you generally paint yourself. Henceforth 
 the picture of you which I shall carry with me will be one pleasanter 
 to the material eye." 
 
 A burst of sunshine dispelled the shadows on the drudge's brow. 
 
 "'E's going to draw a picter o' me," she told herself rapturously, 
 " and carry it in 'is buzzom." 
 
 '' Then ye like me better clean ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Decidedly," he responded, looking at the eager little drudge 
 with an amused but sympathetic smile. " You have convinced me 
 that plainness is but dirt-deep, for, under the influence of a clean 
 skin and a neat dress, you have improved vastly. Upon my word, 
 you are really good-looking, and if you don't take the greatest care 
 of your person after that, you are no true woman. But I am 
 falling into the platitudes of shallow cynics ; the true woman knows 
 well that 'The soul is form, and doth the body make."' 
 
 Sally was attitudinising before the glass, her face wreathed in 
 smiles. 
 
 "And 'ow do ye like my dress? 5 ' she said, turning towards 
 him with a new feminine expression in her countenance, that look 
 which, after so many years of dormancy, was at last awakened. 
 
 "Very nice," said Jack abstractedly, his fancy wandering amid 
 the deserts and enchantments drear of the " Faerie Queene." 
 
 The girl could restrain herself no longer. The long-repressed 
 thought burst forth into passionate speech : 
 
 " Ain't I a lady now ? " she demanded. " It's only 'cause 'Lizer 
 could afford it, that she used to look so nice. Ain't I as good as 
 er now?" She was touching his coat timidly, and looking up into 
 his face with her large, pathetic eyes. 
 
 " God forbid, Sally ! I hope you are an honest girl. But 
 perhaps I wrong her," he added musingly. " She admits she has 
 ..cted by the advice of her lawyer, and 1 ought to forgive her, for 
 she loved much." 
 
 " Much what ? " queried Sally in a hoarse whisper. " Rhino ? 
 Oh, she's a sly old cat is 'Lizer. And she's been and gone and 
 summonsed ye as if ye was a murderer, is she ? I'd like to 
 murder 'er ! " She clenched her fists viciously. 
 
 " You should not harbour such desires, Sally ; the girl is right 
 I'rom her point of view. She is honestly entitled to damages." 
 
 " And I'd like to give 'em 'er, blowed if I wouldn't 1 I'd spile 
 3 er beauty for 'er." 
 
 "Hush, Sally!" 
 
 " Ye've allus taken 'er part," grumbled the girl. M Even arter 
 she's summonsed ye.'' 
 
 " Sally," said Jack solemnly, "you have yet to learn the duty of 
 ii Christian."
 
 410 THE PREMIER AND THE PALTER 
 
 " What's that?" snapped Sally. 
 
 " If you are smitten on one cheek " 
 
 " Ye smack 'em on the other." 
 
 " You must turn the other." 
 
 " What for? To see who's up to larks ?" 
 
 " To be smitten." 
 
 Sally laughed contemptuously. " What rot ! I never see 
 anybody do that except Judy when Punch whacks 'er. And jet 
 this is a Christen country, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Well ?" said the painter dubiously. 
 
 u Well, what's the bobbies for then?'' asked Sally triumphantly. 
 
 " Perhaps you are taking the maxim too literally. I had better 
 give you the more abstract precept. ' Do unto others as you would 
 that they should do unto you.'" 
 
 " There's more sense in that," she muttered, " and I wish I 'a I 
 'er 'ere to claw," she whispered ferociously. 
 
 " You don't understand." 
 
 " Oh yes, I does. If I summonsed ye, I couldn't rest till 1 \v as- 
 clawed all over for I'd know I deserved it." 
 
 This singular argumentum ad feminam was uttered with such 
 earnestness that the painter scarcely knew what to say. He could 
 not but be touched by the faithful servant's attachment to his cause 
 and by her unselfish, if mistaken, zeal. 
 
 " You would not deserve it," he said, evading the point at issue,. 
 " if you had been deserted as she has been." 
 
 " S'pose she were deserted ! She oughter consider 'erself lucky 
 to 'ave been loved at all." 
 
 The painter looked at her in amaze. " What would Tennyson 
 say to this?" he thought. "Is originality but the appropriation 
 of the common sentiment ? This girl is, undoubtedly, full of 
 latent genius, and if I did nothing else of good it ought to be 
 my task to educe it. I have long recognised this. Yet what have 
 I done ? Almost nothing ! " 
 
 "Is I a-goin' to be a witness in the trial?'' inquired Sally 
 musingly. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 '"Cos I should swear blind that it ain't your fault, don't ye 
 see ?" she said with a movement of cajolery. 
 
 "What do you mean ? How could you show that?" 
 
 " I ain't found out yet, but I'd think." 
 
 " Surely, you don't mean you would swear untruths ? " 
 
 "Oh no, in course not!" said Sally, imitating his tone of 
 pious horror and bestowing a wink on the canvas countenance 
 of Mrs. Dawe's late husband. " I wouldn't tell a lie to save my 
 life." 
 
 "My dear child !" exclaimed Jack, much relieved. " I rejoice 
 in the soundness of your moral intuitions, and that they should be 
 present when moral instruction has been nbsent is a strong proof
 
 A NOCTURNAL VISITOR 41 r 
 
 of their innateness. Your master never did give you any moral 
 instruction, did he?" 
 
 *' Ye give me instruction in copy-books, don't ye remember ? 
 Is that moral?" 
 
 "Well, copy-books are usually moral," replied Jack with some 
 embarrassment. " And speaking of copy-books, how have you 
 been getting on in my absence ? " 
 
 " I couldn't do nothin'," answered Sally with a pathetic glance. 
 " I was so miserable. 1 would a-runn'd away if ye 'adn't come 
 back." 
 
 ' Poor child ! " he said. " It must have indeed been terrible 
 to be left alone with that angry old woman," he thought. The 
 compassionate remark raised Sally's self-pity to a higher pitch and 
 the tears came into her eyes. 
 
 " If ye was to go away agen, I should take pison," she cried 
 desperately. 
 
 " Hush ! You must not talk like that," he said, alarmed by the 
 thought that the first part of the hypothesis was not unlikely to 
 occur. 
 
 " Why not ? Yer said just now I must tell the truth, didn't yer? 
 And I feeled like pisonin' myself last time." 
 
 " But you must not feel like that" 
 
 "'Ow can I help what I feels ?" 
 
 "Sally," said the painter sternly, "guard your spirit against the 
 necessitarian doctrines. They are paralyzing." 
 
 " I wish I was paralyzed," Sally exclaimed recklessly. " May I 
 never move if I don't." 
 
 " Calm yourself," said her master gently. "The suicidal state 
 of mind is sinful." 
 
 " Can't I do what I like with myself?" said she sullenly. 
 
 " Decidedly not ! Man may mend, but not end himself. Go on 
 cultivating yourself, my child, and you will have no wish to root 
 yourself out, to continue the metaphor. You have been neglected, 
 but it's never too late to mend." 
 
 "It's never too early to end!" she retorted. "I wish I was 
 borned dead ! " 
 
 " You grieve me, Sally. It is sinful, I tell you, to entertain such 
 thoughts." 
 
 " D'yer mean to say that I mustn't kill myself? " 
 
 " I do. No man liveth to himself alone. We are all bound by 
 infinite ties to the rest of humanity." 
 
 " But nobody wants me ! " Sally burst forth ; "and I don't want 
 myself neither ! " She burst into tears. 
 
 " Your condition is morbid, my dear child,'' said Jack, greatly 
 distressed. She sobbed silently for some time, and every sob was 
 a stab in the painter's sympathetic heart. At last he went to her 
 and took her hand gently to calm her, and her fingers closed con- 
 vulsively upon his.
 
 412 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Speak no more of death," he said. "More life and fuller 
 that you want. You must get wider interests. Live in the 
 world of books that pure, substantial, and good world of 
 which Wordsworth speaks, and you will never be alone any 
 more." 
 
 " Books is rot," Sally said, wiping her eyes with her disengaged 
 knuckles. " What's a good of readin' that a dog sat on a log, or a 
 fat cat is not a 'at. I never see a dog on a log, and I never supposed 
 a fat cat were a 'at." 
 
 "Poor child !" said the painter, his eyes growing humid. " Is 
 then Literature divine Literature nothing to you, but a con- 
 geries of propositions concerning cats and dogs ? Be it my task to 
 reveal to you a new heaven and a new earth." 
 
 " I ai'nt 'ad a old 'eaven yet, :> murmured Sally. 
 
 " Indeed you have not," he said compassionately. " But the 
 future is before you." 
 
 "That ain't much consolation. It can't be be'ind me, can 
 it?" 
 
 " No, Mistress Critic ; but I mean a bright future." 
 
 "That's better. But as for books, I don't see 'ow books '11 make 
 me less alone," she continued slyly. " I'd rather keep company with 
 you than with a million books." 
 
 " You may think so now ; but you will soon, I trust, know 
 better." 
 
 She shook her head archly and pressed his hand. "Is that 
 rheumatic old man 'appy that keeps the bookstall over the way ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 ' : Certainly, if he sips his own sweets. Believe me, there are 
 people who would rather have a dead book talk to them than a 
 living man ! " 
 
 Sally would believe anything that came from his lips. She only 
 wanted to sit there, holding his hand. 
 
 "That's nothin', " she said. "Some kids is fond o' playin' in 
 simmitries. Is you one of them people that likes to talk to dead 
 books better than to living men ?" 
 
 " To a large extent. 1 love my books beyond almost everything 
 on earth." 
 
 " Ye loves 'em ! " echoed Sally. " Well, I've yerd o' kissin' the 
 
 book ; but I'd rather kiss the livin' " She left the sentence 
 
 incomplete, as expecting the sense to be taken up, and turned her 
 head away in modest anticipation. 
 
 " Your absurdities are delightful," said the painter smiling. 
 " You have mistaken the exception for the rule. I do not think the 
 greatest book-lovers and bibliophiles they are not the same thing, 
 Sally, though you might think so from the etymology ever kiss 
 t'aeir books. But, bless my soul ! Is that the church clock striking 
 three ? You will get no sleep at all." 
 
 " I don't want no sleep," pleaded Sally, with fluttering heart. 
 " I wants to 'ear about the books." The painter's face filled with
 
 A NOCTURNAL VISITOR 413 
 
 triumph. " Didn't I say you would soon grow interested ? But it is 
 really too late now." 
 
 " Didn't yer say it's never too late to mend ? " she urged. "And 
 I wants to begin to mend now. If yer tells me what to read, I will 
 read 'em all as soon as I can, and be a lady more than ever." 
 
 " That is a good idea." "And when I am gone," he thought, 
 " my spirit will supervise her culture." 
 
 " I will draw up a list of twenty at once," he said. " It won't 
 take long." 
 
 "Oh, do make a longer one," she cried. He smiled at the 
 enthusiasm of the young disciple, and consented to make a selection 
 of the best hundred books. How the drudge was to obtain them 
 neither thought of for the moment 
 
 Sally rose with alacrity, found a sheet of paper, and the 
 painter, laying it upon his half-finished letter, began to write. Sally 
 stood behind his chair watching him, with one hand resting 
 lightly upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Let us be systematic," he said, " and begin with the Ancients." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 " The Greeks and Romans who lived some thousands of years- 
 ago." 
 
 Sally opened her eyes. " What ! Could they write ? I 
 thought there wasn't no School Boards then. And does anybody 
 read 'em now ? " 
 
 " Only a few read them ; but a good many parse the verbs. 
 But of course you must procure the English translations. Of Plato's 
 works, the Republic will be best for our purposes. Aristotle's- 
 metaphysics no, it's too dry." 
 
 " 1 ain't afeared o' dry physic," said Sally. 
 
 " Then you shall have Hegel, too. That will make three ; then,. 
 Epictetus, ^Eschylus, Sophocles, some of Euripides but I am for- 
 getting my limited field. The Georgics that's all in Latin ; Marcus 
 Antoninus and, by the way, I mustn't forget the Vedas. For 
 English, first and foremost, Wordsworth ; then Shakespeare, and 
 a curious, almost-forgotten novel, called, The Mould of Form, 
 containing the truest touches. The Bible of course " 
 
 " But what'll missis say ? " interrupted Sally in awe-struck 
 tones. Their voices had grown loud and unrestrained, and her 
 arm had gradually all but coiled round her master's neck. A 
 pained look came into his eyes. 
 
 "We must not mind what missis says," he replied. "She 
 knows nothing." 
 
 " I didn't / you pair o' wipers ! " shrieked a terrible voice behind 
 them. " But thank Gord I've found it out afore it's too late ! " 
 
 The guilty couple started violently, and the inkbottle was over- 
 turned on the table-cloth. There on the last step of the stairs 
 stood Mrs. Dawe, wild-eyed, like an avenging fury. Her bosom 
 heaved convulsively under her dirty-white nightgown, and beneath 
 her dingy night-cap her gray hair bristled with horror.
 
 4H THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " So this is the gal ye've damaged me for, is it ? " she cried. 
 " But thank Gord ! I've stopped the elopement ! " 
 
 The "gal's" tongue clove to the roof of hermouth. She could say 
 nothing, but clung affrighted to her lover. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AVE ATQUE VALE. 
 
 THE eventful day, on which the Premier was to ask leave to intro- 
 duce a Bill for regulating the Government of Ireland, dawned bright 
 and fresh, and London awoke with the feeling that it would not 
 sleep another night without learning the authentic details of the 
 measure, the prognostication of which had agitated the civilised 
 world. 
 
 The excitement throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland, was 
 almost unprecedented. Never had the struggle for seats in the 
 House been keener, both among the members and the outside 
 world. Intellect, wealth, beauty, rank, intrigued for a few inches of 
 room, and the new Chancellor of the Exchequer was on the point 
 of moving that the House should be farmed to the highest bidder, 
 when he recollected that the suggestion would give more tclat to 
 his forthcoming Budget. The Irish Members held an anticipatory 
 wake all night in the House over the defunct Act of Union, and the 
 morning found them carousing on the Tory benches. Presently 
 :the rows became covered with hats (as empty-headed as some of 
 their owners) which kept watch, some like battered old guards, and 
 others like spruce young sentinels. After breakfast the members, 
 the knowing old stagers in smoking-caps, and the green ones in 
 their own hair or want of hair, repaired to the terrace, where a 
 gymnastic entertainment was in progress. Cunning casuists de- 
 parted in cabs, to return at eve. Those whose consciences were 
 less profound amused themselves as best they could ; some in rilling 
 the hats with Gospel propaganda, others in round games, and others 
 still in negro theatricals. 
 
 Around the House was gathered from an early hour a dense 
 crowd of working-men mingled with sightseers, waiting to cheer 
 the Floppington they idolised. The morning papers were filled 
 with Parliamentary reports, and as people read the exciting details, 
 their excitement multiplied itself on seeing itself in print. Mean- 
 time, the Premier, like a prudent general, kept himself as retired 
 in person as he was reserved in speech. Pressure of business would 
 not \ et permit relaxation. All the world wondered at and applauded 
 -.this herculean perseverance. And what made him *n even more
 
 AVE ATQUE VALE 415 
 
 impressive figure at this critical juncture was the many-sidedness of 
 the man. In the midst of a session, the like of which for external 
 activity and internal intrigue had never been known within the 
 memory of the generation; when the Premier hnd rarely, if ever, 
 failed to be in his place in the House ; when he had delivered great 
 speeches by the score ; when he had passed one great measure and 
 prepared another ; that he should yet find time to meet the scientists 
 on their own ground and demolish their flimsy materialism this 
 raised the world's admiration to its highest pitch. The current 
 number of the Nineteenth Century, containing the article which had 
 extorted the eulogies of theologians of all sects, and which had 
 already set at work the pens of eminent physiologists and physicists, 
 sold by tens of thousands. Nor did the Premier's modest disclaimer 
 of originality, his nai've confession that not one of the ideas was 
 his own, detract from the fame of this admirable piece of work. 
 
 While the Premier was preparing for the great effort of the 
 evening, Jack Dawe was trying to avert his bitter thoughts by the 
 perusal of the morning papers, but the attempt only intensified 
 their bitterness. A wave of custom had borne off his mother on its 
 foaming crest, and he was left in the little parlour in momentary 
 freedom. 
 
 There are periods of anguish which the most circumstantial of 
 biographers is compelled to pass by in respectful silence, and only 
 a literary vivisectionist would venture to lay bare the quivering 
 nerves of the sensitive painter, or calmly anatomise his sufferings 
 since the nocturnal intrusion of Mrs. Dawe. Suffice it to say that 
 his every action was regulated with the most ruthless tyranny. He 
 was never allowed to exchange a word with the poor drudge, grown 
 more unkempt, slipshod, and smutty than ever, who occasionally 
 sent him an appealing look of utter misery that cut him to the 
 heart ; and the persistent invective with which he was deluged, 
 both on account of his presumed relations to Sally and of the law- 
 suit now at hand, prostrated him physically and mentally, so that 
 he had not yet been able to resume his painting (thus affording not 
 the least among the many minor subjects of his mother's unjust 
 reproach). 
 
 What wonder if the idea of flight had been gradually growing 
 more and more definite ; with the under-thought of an after-rescue 
 of his fellow-sufferer. He who runs away may live to run away 
 another day, and the partial success of his first escape, though that 
 was rather an expulsion, emboldened the poor painter to meditate 
 a higher flight. 
 
 This time he should not be recaptured so easily ; he would qu't 
 the metropolis altogether, and bury himself in some obscure village 
 on the coast. The prospect if he remained at home was indeed 
 horrible to contemplate. For to say nothing of the worry and 
 sick hopelessness of this Golgotha in other respects, the bone of 
 contention of the breach of promise suit was forced down his throat 
 till he almost choked. Never was man impaled on the horns of
 
 416 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 a more fearful dilemma. To appear at the trial was impossible. 
 Cold shivers ran through him when he thought of the privacies, of 
 which every life is full, laid bare before the world in that fierce light 
 which beats upon a breach of promise suit ; of the inevitable 
 sneering recital of his own erotic verses and all the endearing 
 inanities of passion ; while he. stood quivering under the cruel 
 laughter of the audience. But then, if he did not appear, he felt 
 that his reason would give way under the old woman's nagging, now 
 at least sometimes tempered by persuasive cajolery. After the 
 damages were assessed it would be impossible to live under the 
 same roof with his mother, and to delay his escape was only to 
 protract his torture. He must allow the case to go by default, and 
 send the damages to Eliza after the trial. For some days he had 
 been coming down in his best clothes with the idea of going away in 
 them, but he had not as yet wrought up his activity to the required 
 tension. The mute appeal in Sally's eyes and the remembrance of 
 her wild threats had always detained him. But that recollection 
 was growing dim; in like manner as the threatened assassination of 
 the Premier had long grown shadowy and dreamlike in his imagina- 
 tion , It was impossible to seriously connect the super-vital Minister 
 or the active little drudge with the idea of mortality. Moreover, a 
 letter received the day before had somehow doubled the strength of 
 his determination. As the painter read of the mad enthusiasm of 
 the country for the disestablisher of the empire, and incidentally 
 for the disestablished';//, he clenched his fists in despair. 
 But as he read on, he felt himself seized by the feverish ex- 
 citement which burned in the common breast. That longing to 
 be present on the great occasion, and to hear the great orator, 
 which had agitated the mind of royalty itself, and which had so 
 possessed him on the memorable night of the Second Reading, 
 again kindled his spirit in a passion of hopeless desire. It was 
 with a bitter smile that he began to reperuse the above-mentioned 
 letter which he now took from his pocket. 
 
 " Mr. Floppington has even asked the Speaker to allow him to 
 place you under the grating of the House; but this could not be 
 conceded. He begs that in future you will make earlier applica- 
 tion " he read. " O gratitude of men ! " he cried, " art thou 
 
 then, in very truth, nothing but a lively sense of future favours !" 
 And, in very truth, he might have expected more courtesy and 
 consideration from a man whose life he had endeavoured to save. 
 He must have repeated his warnings, indeed, to judge by another 
 passage of the letter ; and it was to be expected that the occasion 
 of his demand for a seat would remind him of his olden fears 
 " Mr. Floppington," ran the passage in question, "again begs that 
 you will cease to trouble him with such communications. He is of 
 opinion that the case you now put is yet another ruse, and he 
 absolutely refuses to take the steps you advise." 
 
 But, for the present, Jack's attention was engrossed by the first- 
 quoted fragment. "He begs that in future you will make earlier
 
 AVE ATQUE VALE 417 
 
 application,'' he repeated bitterly. " In future ! No, Right 
 Honourable Floppington, I will make no more applications ! " He 
 thrust the letter into his pocket, and, ignoring his mother's 
 exclamation of inquiry, strode into the street to cool his aching 
 forehead, and dashed against a young man whom he had not met 
 since the Sunday when he encountered him outside the church. 
 The young man looked at him with a curious pity, and put out his 
 hand. 
 
 " What's the hurry, old man ?" he said. 
 
 The painter muttered a few inaudible words and was passing 
 on, but his acquaintance stopped him. 
 
 " If you've got nothing to do you may as well come my way. I 
 see you've got your best togs on. Perhaps you are going to see the 
 show." 
 
 " What show ? " 
 
 " Down Westminster way, you know. I'm taking a half-holiday 
 to see all the big pots going to Parliament, don't you know ? They 
 say the Prince of Wales'll be there. I expect it will be a swell 
 affair. Come along, old chap, and give Floppy a cheer on his 
 way." The young man linked the painter's arm in his, but it was 
 withdrawn with violence. 
 
 " Cheer Floppington ! " gasped Jack. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Cheer the man that for his own vain-glory would ruin the 
 country ! " 
 
 " Oh, come ! I ain't quite sure that I agree with his policy 
 myself. But you can't help admiring the man." 
 
 " I can help it, and I do ! " he said furiously. The young man 
 struck his brow with his palm. 
 
 " What a fool I am ! " he cried. " Of course, Floppy is your red 
 rag. Now look here, Jack. Let me give you a bit of friendly ad- 
 vice. Don't you worry your head so much about Floppington. It's 
 unhealthy, and it'll lead to no good. You got yourself turned out 
 of the Foresters' for hissing him, and then you were satisfied. You're 
 only knocking your head against a brick wall. There's no other 
 Radical so down on him as you. He's a great man ; there's no 
 gainsaying that." 
 
 The calm superiority of this lecture irritated the usually com- 
 posed painter to the pitch of madness. He seemed to lose his balance 
 completely. With a frenzied laugh he bent down and hissed in the 
 lecturer's ears : 
 
 " He a great man ! He is a vile impostor." 
 
 " I dare say," replied the young man with good-humoured 
 tolerance. " Well, ta-ta, if you will be pig-headed." 
 
 " But his career will be over sooner than the world imagines/' 
 the infuriated painter exclaimed. 
 
 " The wish is father to the thought, old chap ! " said the young 
 man, laughing. " Ta-ta ! " 
 
 He had not taken twenty steps when the painter made a gesture 
 
 2 E
 
 4i 8 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 of despair, tottered back into the parlour, and buried his face in 
 his hands. 
 
 " Is all this torture driving me mad?" he moaned. "I dare 
 not stay here another day, or I shall lose my reason altogether. 
 .... Miserable creature of impulse that I am, shall I never guide 
 myself by intellectual principles ? Shame on me to have reviled a 
 great and noble man, any one of whose days is a fiery reproach to my 
 whole life of far niente. ... My God, I repent. The harmonies 
 of the universe are immeasurably delicate. Change the place of 
 any two notes and discord enters into the music of the spheres." 
 ****** 
 
 The Premier ceased. For three and a half hours the flower of 
 English life and the Mite of foreign residents and visitors had been 
 under the spell of the magician as he expounded, in immortal 
 words, his magnificent scheme. It was a wonderful effort of con- 
 structive statesmanship, and, as the great Minister sat down, a 
 wild delirium of applause shook the building to its centre. For 
 the Premier, used as he was to being the focus of enthusiasm, the 
 moment was one which concentrated the rapture of a lifetime. 
 Beyond this he felt that life had now nothing to offer. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The same evening the painter, his cadaverous countenance 
 proving him quite unfit for his enterprise, glided furtively out of 
 the " Star Dining Rooms," and, turning backwards for a moment, 
 he raised his hands towards the peaceful evening sky. 
 
 " Ave atque vafe," he said in low, earnest tones. " Ave atone 
 vale"
 
 BOOK VII. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A NATIONAL TRAGEDY. 
 
 IF the Irish Members had kept their anticipatory wake over the 
 Union on the night before its condemnation, their constituents 
 waited a day longer before abandoning themselves to the perfor- 
 mance of the funeral rites. But when the telegraph offices sent 
 out the news that "the darlint Floppy" had given the lie to 
 rumour by exaggerating its wildest exaggerations ; when they found 
 that they were to be separated from the United Kingdom as cleanly 
 as the members of their national quadruped were cloven asunder by 
 the mechanical contrivances of Porkopolis ; the crowds that seethed 
 around the offices boiled over. And as a child takes hold of a 
 wooden or cardboard man, and, acting upon the mobile anatomy, 
 now moves its legs, now extends its arms, and now opens its mouth ; 
 so did the spirit of joy take hold of Paddy, and cause his legs to 
 leap in triumph, his arms to elevate themselves in blessing, and his 
 mouth to open for the emission of eloquence or the reception of 
 whisky. All night long the streets of the secessionist towns re- 
 sounded with the music of "Erin-go-bragh " and other national airs, 
 and with the tramp of promenading citizens. Effigies of the 
 people's Floppy were carried through the streets, wreathed with 
 laurel and shamrock, and wrapped in green and American flags, and, 
 if an occasional affray diversified the proceedings, this was only 
 what was to be expected in a wake. Morpheus (locally known as 
 Murphy) fled in affright and sought refuge in the lecture halls and 
 churches of the Antipodes. 
 
 Nor was the excitement in the Sister Isle of England much less 
 intense. Preparations were made by the Conservative and a few 
 of the Liberal associations throughout the country to congratulate 
 the Premier on his gigantic and daring scheme ; pens were busy in 
 
 2 E 2
 
 420 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 every newspaper office in Great Britain, describing or evolving the 
 scene in the House, and writing criticisms, more or less worthless, 
 upon the reforms projected ; and so overcome was the English 
 Philistine by the consciousness of his own magnanimity that he 
 could do nothing but compare notes about it with his fellow- 
 feelers. 
 
 All this upwelling and ebullition of enthusiasm was delightful. 
 Politics is the poetry of the average man ; it gives him a wider out- 
 look and lifts him above the sordid cares of every day ; it makes 
 him feel that he is an important unit in a great party in a glorious 
 nationality. And if the Politics a la mode were sometimes devoid < >f 
 rhyme or reason, they only offered a more striking parallel to much 
 of the poetry on which the aesthetic mind was nourished. 
 
 On this occasion the promise of coming excitement was even 
 more enchanting than the actual first-fruits. The Separation 
 Bill would, of course, be carried, but not without the struggle 
 which was the sauce to the titbit. It was, perhaps, even to be 
 regretted that the contest should be such a walk-over for Flop- 
 pington. The fact was that the Minister had thrown a glamour 
 over his countrymen. His influence in the country was, in short, 
 equal to his charm in society; and that is not saying a little. Just 
 as on his coming out of his mistaken reserve and shyness, the 
 magnetism of his presence attracted to him a host of new friends, 
 and linked his old ones closer to his soul by electric chains ; so the 
 parallel transformation of his political personality, the new vigour 
 of his dialectic, the unaffected directness of his rhetoric, anu the 
 democratic tendency of his measures, fascinated the universal 
 heart and created for him an army of disciples that would have 
 followed him to the ends of the earth and the boundaries of 
 common sense. 
 
 Lord Bardolph bade fair to ruin his popularity by his bitter 
 antagonism to the Bill. The last thread that held him to his party 
 was now snapped ; for not even the most Liberal of the old Tories,. 
 not even the Conservative least reverential of the Past, could find 
 anything but approbation for this great measure, undoing, as it did, 
 the ill-advised reforms of 1800, and restoring the good old status quo 
 ante. Nothing had been left to him but to cast in his lot with that 
 hopeless minority which Screwnail was leading, and whose watch- 
 word was the integrity of the Empire. 
 
 It was remarkable, as showing the singular unanimity of the 
 House, that even these few hide-bound Liberals admitted the justice 
 of the main principle of the Bill, and only contended that a clause 
 should be inserted, providing for the immediate construction of a 
 Channel Tunnel to prevent the total severance of the two islands. 
 Bardolph, though he agreed with them in their opposition, did not 
 agree with its raison d'etre. Like a solitary star, he wandered 
 across the political firmament erratic as a comet, but without the 
 slightest vestige of a tail. And as the dire comets of the Mantuan 
 poet foretold the horrors of civil war, so did this fiery meteor thrill 
 the hearts of spectators with dread presages of internecine conflict.
 
 A NATIONAL TRAGEDY 421 
 
 As soon as the first rumours of the coming changes began to circu- 
 late, observers noted the popularex-Minister revolving in hiseccentric 
 path. He was first seen in Ireland calling on the men of Ulster to 
 strike a blow, the echoes of which should reverberate to the utter- 
 most corners of the Universe ; and, wherever he went, he exhorted 
 them with equal vehemence to destroy the Constitution for the sake 
 of preserving the Empire. 
 
 Lord Bardolph was by no means unaware of the danger to his 
 popularity, but a man who plays to break the bank cannot afford 
 to be scrupulous about halfpence. The moment a reaction took 
 place and a reaction the philosophical Bardolph felt was inevi- 
 table Bardolph would stand alone, the only man who had not 
 committed himself more or less to Home Rule, the one far-sighted 
 and lofty-minded statesman in whom the country could have con- 
 fidence. 
 
 A reaction did, indeed, come ; but not in the way Bardolph had 
 imagined. On the morning after Floppington's great speech in the 
 House, the placards of the papers were of course occupied by 
 staring capitals, all connected with the historical proceedings of the 
 evening before. But when the second editions appeared, as on 
 account of the enormous demand they very soon did, the lower 
 portion of the bills was devoted to such titles as "Mysterious Ex- 
 plosion at 5.30 A.M. in Westminster," " Fatal Explosion in West- 
 minster," etc. The third editions followed almost immediately with 
 '' Dynamiters in Westminster blowing up of a stable a man 
 killed." By this time the evening papers were out with equally 
 sensational headings. But this startling piece of news, which 
 would have been a godsend to proprietors and newsboys at 
 another period, fell flat. What the Press throughout the country 
 was saying of the Premier's measure; how Ireland received it; 
 what was the state of feeling in America and on the Continent 
 these were the topics that alone had any interest. Not even the 
 addition to the bills of the fifth editions of " Strange Rumours," or 
 " Startling Rumours," or " Terrible Rumours," had any appreciable 
 effect in increasing the sufficiently extraordinary sales. But when 
 the public of the fifth edition had read what these rumours were, a 
 fearful shock of horror and incredulity traversed its mind. The 
 sixth editions sold at twopence, and were exhausted in five minutes. 
 At the seventh the price had gone up to sixpence, and the bills 
 announced " Rumoured Assassination of the Premier"! At the 
 tenth, announcing "Assassination of the Premier," and edged with 
 black, the reign of fancy prices began. 
 
 Yet even then there were people who, with pale lips that belied 
 their assurance, asserted that the report was nothing but a canard. 
 When with the fifteenth edition of the Pall Mall Gazette, "Escape 
 of the Murderer" was bawled out, it seemed as if London had gone 
 mad. People fought for the journals in the streets, and the 
 thoroughfares were crowded with loitering masses discussing the 
 terrible tragedy with bated breath, or clamorous in invoking ven- 
 geance on the dastardly assassin, a hitherto unknown Mr. Jack
 
 422 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Dawe, who was nowhere to be found, and about whom nothing 
 was even now known but the fact that a reward of .2,000 was 
 already offered for his arrest. 
 
 And now the feverish and breathless excitement of suspense 
 and doubt, tempered by incredulity, began to give way to a settled 
 horror and a hopeless lamentation. Yet there remained that 
 feeling of unreality which so often recurs in the blankness of 
 bereavement. And what added to the dreamlike and phantasma- 
 goric effect was the strange and uneasy mental undercurrent of 
 insecurity, as if an earthquake had shaken the city. 
 
 Beauty had fled from the deep, brooding blue of Heaven. The 
 wing of the Angel of Death had passed visibly over the city, ob- 
 scuring the golden sunlight, and shadowing the mighty, surging sea 
 of panic-stricken faces. The Angel of Death had passed, leaving 
 an empire shuddering with the sense of national disaster, its cities 
 stirring in a fever of restlessness and echoing with delirious cries, 
 its heart thick-pulsing with horror ; leaving a people thrilling with 
 the consciousness of a national tragedy and sublimated by pity and 
 terror, a people awakened to a new perception of national solidarity 
 transcending the petty differences of sect and creed. The narrowest 
 mental horizons were illumined by a dawn of unselfish emotion, the 
 dullest of egoists stirred by the vibrations of the common senti- 
 ment. It was as though a new pledge of brotherhood had been 
 signed with the blood of a nation's hero, and sanctified by a nation's 
 tears. 
 
 Sunset came a rich July sunset but it seemed to flame in the 
 heavens like some unholy stain of blood. And still the same stir, 
 the same agitation, the same hurrying to and fro, the same excited 
 groups and dense masses, the same thirst for vengeance, the same 
 frenzied exclamations, the same eager inquiries, the same ignorance 
 of aught but the name of the murderer and the name of his victim. 
 
 And so the day closed flags everywhere half-mast; every house 
 and shop with blinds lowered or shutters up ; bits of crape already 
 worn on millions of arms as symbols of national mourning; the very 
 street boys sobered ; the omnibus drivers subdued and forgetting 
 their mutual sarcasms; the theatres deserted; two grand society 
 balls postponed ; the Houses adjourned in respect and moved to 
 tears by the solemn eloquence of Southleigh and Mountchapel; the 
 Conservatives haggard and despairing ; the Liberals horrified and 
 sympathetic; the War Office and the Treasury Chambers environed; 
 by a shifting but compact crowd; Little Snale Street, Westminster 
 the scene of the explosion utterly impassable ; and Bethnal 
 Green Road alive with human swarms condensed to impenetra- 
 bility in and around the " Star Dining Rooms ;" Scotland Yard,, 
 with the eyes of the world upon it, harassed and palpitating with 
 feverish activity ; the telegraph offices besieged by the crowd and 
 the officials breaking down under the influx and efflux of messages 
 from and to all parts of the world; the Stock Exchange troubled by 
 the fall of Consols; the journalists toiling at touching up the long- 
 prepared obituaries and working up graphic accounts and sensa-
 
 UNE CAUSE CELEB RE 425 
 
 tional details; every stranger suspected of every other and furtively 
 compared with the photographs and descriptions already scattered 
 broadcast through London and the provinces ; railway stations, 
 ports, and vessels searched, and employes questioned to weariness 
 and cautioned to distraction : and amid all this excitement and 
 emotion a ceaseless buzz of interrogation, hypothesis, conjecture, 
 and comment on the motives that prompted the deed and on the 
 inexplicable presence of the Premier in Westminster at so mys- 
 terious an hour, and the ceaseless dread and mournful tolling of 
 the bells lending sombreness to the falling shadows and dusky 
 splendour of the summer night. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 UNE CAUSE CEL^BRE. 
 
 THE inquest on the murdered Premier seemed to bring the greatest 
 sensation ot the century to its apogee. Had the victim been the 
 humblest peasant, the extraordinary revelations made thereat 
 would have wrought the public interest and curiosity to fever heat ; 
 but the lofty position of the great Commoner, the pitiful tragedy of 
 a splendid career cut short, intensified the excitement of the world 
 and stirred up the least susceptible minds to indignation and com- 
 passion. The Separatist Bill was forgotten. A mighty wave ot" 
 emotion swept before it all thoughts but those of vengeance and 
 lamentation. 
 
 The room in which the inquest was held was as crowded as that 
 other chamber where so few (days ago the lips now dumb had en- 
 thralled the attention of the noblest and the wisest. The streets 
 around were black with people watching the entrance of the cele- 
 brities and the witiu -ses, and eagerly discussing the probabilities 
 of the capture of Jack Dawe. For that Jack Dawe was guilty, the 
 public mind, with its usual instinctive judgment, was fully per- 
 suaded. The evidence before it, when it leapt to this conclusion, 
 was of the most meagre description ; but it was of a character ap- 
 pealing to the popular imagination and satisfying its rude logical 
 ideals. What more damning proof, indeed, of a man's guilt than 
 that, when everybody was looking for him, he should have retired 
 into invisibility ? True, the motive of the murder was yet to 
 find. But there was no doubt that motives would be forthcoming 
 with the plentifulness of blackberries a prevision justified by 
 the sequel and in any case there was always the fanatic 
 theory to fall back upon. Moreover, it was understood that the 
 police had been doing very well indeed, and that revelations of a 
 highly sensational character were to be expected all of which was 
 not calculated to retard the feverish rate of the public pulse. The 
 newspapers, of course, while fully sympathising with the popular
 
 424 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 sentiment with regard to the murderer, maintained an attitude of 
 judicial calm with regard to the suspected person, and refrained 
 from imparting any details of the new information obtained by 
 Scotland Yard, for fear of further biassing the minds of their 
 readers. 
 
 For a complete account of perhaps the most remarkable inquest 
 ever held, by reason of its joint psychological, pathological, dramatic, 
 and political interest, the student must be referred to the journals 
 of the period. The investigation, which occupied three days, is too 
 lengthy to be fully reported here ; but we can promise any one 
 who undertakes the task of perusing the contemporary records that, 
 though he will have to read a score or so of closely-printed columns, 
 he will find no longueurs in them. Every thing is sharp and 
 poignant. So skilfully was the questioning conducted that hardly 
 a superfluous item of evidence is to be found, although, of course, 
 there is some iteration in this case more damnatory than damn- 
 able ; almost every answer fits in with every other like the toothed 
 wheels of some inexorable machine of vengeance ; each reply 
 weaves the woof or warp of the web of criminal story till the ter- 
 rible tale stands out woven as in some ghastly Bayeux tapestry. 
 Even the few flashes of the Comedy that will always mingle with the 
 Tragedy of life seem only like the lurid play of lightning that 
 makes the darkness more horrible, or like the gibbering laughter 
 on a maniac's face. 
 
 But for the average reader, who has neither time nor inclination 
 for diving into the musty records of the past, enough must be repro- 
 duced to explain the verdict of the exceptionally intelligent jury. 
 Such parts of the inquiry as seem worthy of further narration shall 
 be transferred from the Times report, which appears on the whole 
 to be the most accurate, though the editorials on the entire subject, 
 except, indeed, the dignified rebuke of the occasional levity with 
 which so solemn an investigation was carried on, seem somewhat 
 unworthy of the traditions of the leading journal. 
 
 After the somewhat distorted remains of the deceased had been 
 viewed, the inquiry commenced with the formal identification of 
 the body. 
 
 The first witness called for this purpose was Mr. Border of 
 Westminster. He deposed that for the last ten years he had let 
 out traps, bicycles, etc., on hire at 243., Little Snale Street, West- 
 minster. A few months ago, a gentleman came to him who desired 
 to hire a bicycle for two hours very early every morning. He was 
 not in the habit of commencing business so early ; but as the 
 gentleman paid munificently, he used to open his stable specially 
 for him. (By a Juryman). He did not know who the gentleman 
 was at the time. He was not much interested in politics himself, 
 thinking that a man had enough to do to mind his own business, 
 without minding that of his neighbours. (A laugh.) But his stable- 
 boy was a red-hot Radical (laughter), though he was an honest lad 
 enough (more laughter, the recurrence of which from tr. fling causes 
 was perhaps due more to the intense excitement and silence which
 
 UNE CAUSE CELEB RE 425 
 
 prevailed than to any real levity), and some weeks after the boy 
 directed his attention to the strong resemblance between the mys- 
 terious cyclist and the caricatures of Floppy he meant the Hon- 
 ourable Mr. Floppington and further observations had convinced 
 him of the identity of his customer ; but, perceiving that the Premier 
 wished to remain incognito, he had held his tongue, and cautioned 
 the boy to do the same. 
 
 THE CORONER. "Then no one but your two selves was 
 aware of the supposed Premier's visits to your stables ? '' 
 
 MR. BORDER. "The boy confessed to me that he had dropped 
 mysterious hints as to his political connection with the Prime 
 Minister." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER." But you made him drop them ? " 
 
 MR. BORDER. " No ; I made him drop dropping them. He 
 was dumb then." 
 
 THE CORONER." On political subjects too ?" 
 
 MR. BORDER." No ; he talked more than ever, though I think 
 he went over to the Conservatives." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER." He is now in the hospital, I believe ?" 
 
 MR. BORDER. " I regret to say he is." 
 
 THE FOREMAN OF THE JURY." Were the gentleman's visits 
 regular?" 
 
 MR. BORDER. " Pretty regular." 
 
 THE FOREMAN. " But there were gaps?" 
 
 MR. BORDER." Oh, yes." 
 
 THE FOREMAN." Have you kept a record of the dates of his 
 visits ? " 
 
 MR. BORDER. " Well, I can get at them." 
 
 THE CORONER (interposing). "A very good point. Have 
 you your books here ? " 
 
 MR. BORDER. " I keep a note-book in my pocket." 
 
 THE CORONER." On the 22nd of last month the House sat 
 till seven in the morning and the Premier was present till the close : 
 did the gentleman hire a bicycle on that morning?" 
 
 MR. BORDER." He did not." 
 
 A JURYMAN. "The Premier went down to Devonshire on the 
 occasion of the celebration in honour of Sir Stanley Southleigh,and 
 stayed there two days." 
 
 The dates having been ascertained, it was found that no bicycle 
 had been hired on either of those days. 
 
 A JURYMAN (who was a Dissenter and a Deacon). " Did 
 the gentleman ride on Sundays ? " 
 
 MR. BORDER." He rode frequently on that day." 
 
 Continuing his evidence, the witness stated that being in the 
 stable on the morning of the 1 3th instant, he heard footsteps 
 approaching a little before the usual time. He threw open the 
 stable-door, but perceived no one. At the time, he thought it was 
 a policeman, though he now suspected it must have been that 
 cowardly dastard, Dawe, setting the infernal machine. Interrupted 
 and told to confine himself to facts, he said that about three
 
 426 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 minutes after, he having gone into the yard to give an order to the 
 stable-boy who was washing himself under the tap, a terrific 
 explosion took place. The stable was partially blown up, and all 
 the contents destroyed, and the boy was severely injured. He 
 himself escaped with a few scratches. On making his way into the 
 street he perceived the mangled and mutilated body of the deceased 
 lying across the pavement. All the neighbourhood was of course 
 awakened by the explosion, and the police were soon on the spot. 
 He could not positively swear that the deceased was the gentleman 
 who hired his bicycles; still, he considered the face sufficiently 
 recognisable, and the clothing resembled in texture and colour the 
 gentleman's ordinary attire. The build of the body was similar, 
 and the explosion took place at the exact moment of his usual 
 arrival. At first he had refrained from giving vent to his terrible 
 suspicion, merely saying that he believed the victim was one of his 
 customers, but the improbability that a private person had been 
 assassinated in this dreadful fashion, grew upon him, and later in 
 the day he imparted his dread to the Superintendent, who im- 
 mediately appeared convinced. 
 
 The next items of the evidence related to the finding of the body, 
 upon which nothing could be discovered that might serve to identify 
 the deceased except two latch-keys, which were picked up on the 
 pavement. 
 
 THE CORONER.- " What do these fit ?" 
 
 THE WITNESS. " One of them opens the door in Downing 
 Street (sensation), the use of the other we have been unable to 
 discover." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Have you tried the back doors ?" 
 
 THE WITNESS. " Yes, and we have tried all sorts of doors in 
 the Premier's country-houses; but all our efforts have as yet been 
 unsuccessful." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. " Are there no other houses to 
 which the Premier had the right of entree at all hours ?" (Sensation.) 
 
 THE WITNESS." I do not know." 
 
 THE JUROR. " Perhaps you should have pursued your search 
 in the houses of some of the witnesses " 
 
 MR. CORNELIUS DRAT, Q.C., who watched the case on behalf 
 of Mr. Floppington's family, interrupting, protested against the 
 insinuations of this gentleman of the jury. 
 
 THE CORONER. " The point is unimportant. It is enough that 
 one key fits the door in Downing Street. Perhaps the other was 
 dropped by one of the crowd." 
 
 THE JUROR (muttering). "Very likely." 
 
 Some of the Premier's servants, who appeared much affected, 
 then gave evidence as to their master's recently acquired habit of 
 early rising, and taking early walks, his failure to return at the usual 
 hour, and other such details. The groom was then called. His 
 evidence was remarkable as being the first to veer from the 
 uniformity of that previously given. He stated that to the best of 
 his knowledge his master had never ridden on a bicycle in his life.
 
 UNE CAUSE CELEBRE 427 
 
 Every one knew that it was no easy task to ride such a machine, 
 and it required much practice. His master had, however, been a 
 thorough horseman, and, indeed, rode a spirited animal. 
 THE CORONER." Did he ride frequently ? " 
 THE GROOM. " He never rode in the Row more than once a 
 week (though when at home in Chauncey Park he rode daily); but 
 during the last few months he seemed to have given up riding 
 entirely." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Do you mean that he never rode on horse- 
 back once ? " 
 
 THE GROOM. ' He said he would do so once and I got the 
 'oss ready. But he seemed unwell, and had some difficulty in 
 mounting; and then the animal began to rear a little and he 
 scrambled off, saying that he felt out of sorts and would walk 
 instead, and he has never looked at the Colonel (that's the 'oss) since." 
 A JUROR. " How did the Premier mount on the occasion 
 referred to ? " 
 
 THE GROOM could not explain verbally, and was allowed to give 
 a description in pantomime. 
 
 THE JUROR (triumphantly). " Was not that the natural attempt 
 of a man who had for some time been neglecting a horse for a 
 bicycle?" 
 
 THE GROOM (with dignity). " I know nothing about bicycles. 
 
 My master would never have condescended to a bicycle." (Laughter ) 
 
 MR. BORDER, being recalled, testified that the gentleman had, 
 
 from the first, ridden down the street " like a shot," and must have 
 
 been an adept in the art. 
 
 THE GROOM, on re-examination, asserted his belief in his 
 master's total ignorance of the machine in question. 
 
 These directly contradictory statements excited immense 
 interest. 
 
 THE CORONER. " Still, is it not possible that Mr. Floppington 
 had acquired a knowledge of bicycle-riding unknown to you 
 practising in obscure neighbourhoods at early hours, from some 
 anticipation of ridicule and loss of dignity?" 
 
 THE GROOM.- -" A man with a 'oss like the Colonel don't want 
 all at once to ride on a lump of old iron." 
 
 THE CORONER. "But you have yourself stated that your 
 master ceased to use the Colonel. Did not the change in his habits 
 surprise you ? " 
 
 THE 'GROOM (after considerable hesitation)." No.'' 
 THE CORONER (sharply)." What do you mean ? Why not ? " 
 THE GROOM. '' He was so changed all round." (Sensation.) 
 " All of us found him different." 
 
 THE CORONER. " In what respect?" 
 THE GROOM. " In almost everything." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Was it a change of habits, or of his manner 
 of treating you?" 
 
 THE GROOM. " Half and half. He was more jolly in one way 
 and more severe in another."
 
 428 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR (consulting a note-book). "When 
 did this change commence?" 
 
 THE GROOM. " Some months ago. I think it was after a 
 slight illness." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR." Was it anywhere about the middle 
 of May ? " 
 
 THE CORONER. "You need not answer the question. It will 
 be necessary to go into that part of the evidence more fully later 
 on. At present we are concerned with the bicycle question, and I 
 believe that Sir William Lancet and Lady Harley can throw a little 
 additional light upon that." 
 
 SIR WILLIAM LANCET deposed that a few months ago, he could 
 give the exact date if necessary, he was called in to attend the 
 Premier, whom he found suffering from a general vital depression, 
 brought on by excessive work and too sedent try a life. On his 
 second visit he had warned him that if he did not take more 
 exercise his system would break down. 
 
 " I told him I did not consider a hebdomadal, or even rarer ride 
 in the Row sufficient to preserve him in health. I also gave him 
 certain general instructions with regard to mental tone, and warned 
 him against morbidity." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did you, as his doctor, consider him of a 
 morbid disposition ?" 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. " Perhaps morbid is hardly the word. His 
 psychosis was too subjective, his central ganglia concentrated their 
 currents of energy centripetally instead of diffusing them centri- 
 fugally through the neurotic framework." 
 
 THE CORONER. " In plain English, he was too fond of thinking 
 about his own thoughts." 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. "Well, that will do for a rough description. 
 I warned him of the danger of such mental processes to a man 
 who habitually overworked himself." 
 
 THE CORONER." Did you mean that you feared his mental 
 system would break down, too ? " 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. " Well, it is difficult to answer categorically." 
 
 THE CORONER. "The point will no doubt occupy the jury at 
 a later period. Pray continue your testimony." 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. "There is not much to add. I advised him, 
 therefore, to be a little less introspective, and to take things a little 
 less seriously. He promised to follow my advice in all respects." 
 
 THE FOREMAN. "Perhaps this would explain the change in 
 the Premier's manner." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Perhaps so. (To Sir W. Lancet.) And did 
 he take any additional exercise?" 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. " On the contrary, I found that he had 
 stopped his usual ride. I ventured to remonstrate with him, but he 
 asserted, in a joking fashion, that he rode a good deal ; though at 
 the time I thought that the assertion was altogether a jest to turn 
 the edge of my reproach. That is all I have to say."
 
 UNE CAUSE CELEB RE 429 
 
 A JUROR. "Can you remember the exact words he used ? " 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. "I can; but I would prefer not to repeat 
 them." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. "Do you mean to say that they 
 will not bear repetition ?" 
 
 THE CORONER." I think that as the point is important they 
 should be repeated if possible." 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. " He said, ' Oh don't flurry yourself, doctor. 
 I assure you I ride my steed quite as hard as you do your medical 
 hobbies.'" (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Perhaps he meant that you do not ride any 
 hobbies at all ? " 
 
 SIR W. LANCET. "I do not think he meant that." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " It seems to me that the law-books have, 
 neglected to discuss the value of repartee as evidence. I do not 
 think I need detain you any longer." 
 
 MR. JOHN TREMAINE, the private secretary, was next examined. 
 But he had little to add on the point in question, although it was 
 understood that he was subsequently to give evidence of the most 
 important description. 
 
 An irrepressible buzz of interest now arose on all sides, and for 
 a moment there was a most disgraceful confusion, occasioned by 
 the Coroner's calling on Lady Gwendolen Harley. Her ladyship 
 was dressed in deep mourning, and wore a thick crape veil over her 
 face, whose deadly paleness was only made more apparent by it. 
 Her evidence, delivered in faltering tones, proved the Premier's 
 habit of taking bicycle rides in obscure districts in the early 
 morning ; he having confessed the fact to her as a secret. The 
 Coroner seeing her agitated condition did not press her with 
 questions. 
 
 The last witness called for the identification was Policeman 
 
 X 3 5- 
 
 He deposed that on the morning of the I3th instant, while 
 making his rounds about 5.15 a.m., he saw the Premier leave his 
 residence in Downing Street. (Replying to a juryman, he said 
 that the Premier could, at the rate he was walking, have arrived at 
 Little Snale Street at about the time of the explosion ; and the 
 clothes of the deceased resembled those worn by the Premier.) He 
 had on many occasions seen the Premier go out at that hour and 
 return at about 7.30 a.m., and let himself in with a latch-key. He 
 had noticed that these occasions never came after very late sittings 
 of the House, or after the Minister had been indulging in social 
 gaieties till an early hour, and he had naturally come to the con- 
 clusion that Mr. Floppington preferred taking his walks before the 
 gaping populace was abroad. 
 
 THE CORONER. "On the morning of the I3th instant, did the 
 Premier appear at all gloomy ? " 
 
 X 35. " Oh no ! He seemed in the best of spirits, whistling 
 ' Wait till the clouds roll by, Jenny,' and he said ' Mornin' ! ' to me
 
 .430 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ^ery affable, and no wonder, considerin' the wonderful speech he'd 
 -made the night before, and the " 
 
 THE CORONER. "Never mind all that. Was he always in 
 good spirits ?" 
 
 X 35. " Not always. Sometimes he looked in a devil of a 
 temper ; but whenever I saw him coming back he was in a good 
 -temper, and he used to grin to himself like." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. " Do you think a bicycle ride would 
 produce such symptoms of satisfaction ? " 
 
 X 35. " I shouldn't think so. Sometimes he glowered all over 
 with delight, and laughed low to himself, as if thinking of something 
 very enjoyable." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Then you would not think him on the whole 
 .given to morbid thought ? " 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR." Did you ever see another latch- 
 key in his hand, besides the one of his own door ? " 
 
 THE CORONER." I would beg Gentlemen of the Jury not to 
 interrupt witnesses." 
 
 X 35. " No, I only saw his own latch-key." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Have the goodness to answer the questions 
 put to you. You saw no, or at most few signs of gloom in the 
 Premier?" 
 
 X 35. "Only now and then." 
 
 THE CORONER." That will do." 
 
 The inquest was then adjourned till the next day. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS. 
 
 THE strangeness of the revelations made on the first day of the 
 inquest the personal details elicited concerning the Premier, the 
 
 . evident anxiety of the Counsel to keep the questioning off certain 
 lines the curious explanation of the mystery of the Minister's 
 presence in Westminster at so early an hour put the last touch to 
 the feverish interest and morbid curiosity of the public. The 
 contradictory assertions as to the cycling powers of the deceased 
 
 . (assuming the identity of the victim to have been sufficiently 
 demonstrated) caused a not inconsiderable number of people to 
 
 , openly declare their disbelief in his alleged riding, and to hint that 
 Mr. Border had obtained indemnity for his losses in compensa- 
 tion for the value of his evidence. The discussion of the whole 
 topic became a temporary factor of social existence. It was 
 served up at every meal sauce to every goose and gander in the 
 
 , kingdom. 
 
 The crowding on the second day of the inquest was, if possible, 
 greater than on the first, and there was a still larger attendance of
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 431 
 
 ladies the fainting of several of whom interrupted and diversified 
 the proceedings from time to time. Outside, the streets were still 
 blocked : to the great disgust of the reporters, who were thereby 
 impeded in their task of sending on their accounts by detachments 
 to supply the quick succession of the editions of their respective 
 papers. The usually peaceful neighbourhood was further invaded 
 by peripatetic vendors of fruit, sherbet, ice-cream, newspapers, 
 doggerel ballads and pamphlets. Lives of Jack Uawe, the notorious 
 painter, with portrait, and a coloured wrapper embellished with an 
 illustration depicting the "Star Dining Rooms" in Bethnal Green 
 Road, could be obtained in six rival forms for the small sum of one 
 penny tach. 
 
 Biographies of the Premier were on sale in similar shapes, and 
 the latest, just got up under tremendous pressure, represented him 
 dashing along in gaudy colours, and in the full glory of his cycling 
 career. 
 
 The ballads (specimens of which were collected at the time by 
 would-be Macaulays) were for the moment chiefly devoted to a plain, 
 unvarnished, and coldly realistic account of the assassination, and 
 being hoarsely chanted throughout the country by singers prome- 
 nading along streets, or at rest like nuclei of centripetally-attracted 
 masses, they extorted considerable admiration and halfpence. They 
 all began with the majestic simplicity of a Greek drama somewhat 
 as follows : 
 
 " Oh ! listen for a fearful tale unto your ears I bring, 
 It is about a murder dread, that I have to sing. 
 Poor Floppington by wicked hands lias been sent up aloft, 
 But England will see that the ass.issin will pay the cost." 
 
 The poets to whose genius these effusions were due had not yet 
 dismissed their afflatuses, but were waiting to be delivered of other 
 verses in proportion as new matter arose. And on the second day 
 new matter enough arose to inspire a laureate, much less a ballad- 
 monger. 
 
 The first witness called was Mr. John Tremaine, the private 
 secretary. 
 
 He stated that on hearing the terrible rumour of the Premier's 
 assassination, his mind instantly reverted to certain communications 
 which had passed between his revered master and a Mr. Jack Dawe, 
 and he thought it right to make certain representations to the police, 
 which induced them to issue a warrant for the arrest of the said 
 Mr. Dawe. The sequel was known to the world. It was found 
 that the bird had flown, and this additional suspicious circumstance 
 had gaused a large reward to be offered for his apprehension. He 
 then proceeded to relate the history of the Dawe correspondence. 
 He firat became acquainted with the name of Jack Dawe by learn- 
 ing through an inquiry which he had caused to be made at the 
 Bethnal Green Post Office, that the man who bore it was the sender 
 of an extraordinary anonymous telegram addressed to the Premier, 
 which he, as his confidential secretary, had opened.
 
 432 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 THE CORONER. " Do you remember the words of the 
 telegram?" 
 
 .vlR. TREMAINE. "They were unforgettable. 'Abandon Irish 
 policy at once. Be warned in time. Do not stir a step till I write 
 more fully.' " (Sensation.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "Did you show this to Mr. Floppington ?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. "After some hesitation I did." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Why did you hesitate ?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " I was in the habit of receiving three or four 
 letters a day which, in the exercise of my discretion, I tore up, and 
 I hesitated whether to do the same with this. But the tone was so 
 audaciously imperious, that I thought it best to show it to Mr 
 Floppington." 
 
 THE CORONER. "How did he take it?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " He was terribly annoyed, and did not con- 
 ceal his anger." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. " What were his exact words ?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE." I do not remember, but I think he said 
 ' Confound the fellow ! That's the coolest piece of cheek I ever 
 heard of in my life.' " 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. "Are you sure he said 'Confound'?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " I said I think he said 'confound.' I asked 
 him whether I should put the matter into the hands of the police ? 
 But he thought it was not worth while, though he remarked that 
 such fellows ought to be taught their places. Then he walked up 
 and down for some time fuming, with the telegram in his hand, and 
 at last tore it up with much indignation. It was the first threaten- 
 ing letter he had ever received, and no doubt agitated him the more 
 on that account. When he grew calm, he asked me to inform no 
 one of the strange message a rather unnecessary request ; though 
 I thought it within my duty to ascertain the name of the sender, 
 and to communicate my discovery to Mr. Floppington, though, 
 when I did so, he seemed to resent being reminded of so apparently 
 trivial an affair. The next communication from Mr. Dawe was in 
 the form of a letter marked 'private.'" 
 
 THE CORONER. "Did you open that too?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " Yes ; the Premier trusted his correspond- 
 ence entirely to me." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. " Did you open every letter marked 
 'private'?" 
 
 MR TREMAINE. "Yes; but, after the recent telegram from Mr. 
 Dawe, he seemed to be uneasy lest he should receive other com- 
 munications from him. As far as I could make out, he felt, though 
 wrongly, that it was a loss to his dignity that I should read such 
 humiliating messages as threatening letters. He even had the idea 
 of reading all his own correspondence himself; but, as this was im- 
 possible, he exacted from me a promise that I would bring to him 
 all letters, signed Jack Dawe, unread. In consequence of this, I 
 handed him altogether two letters signed in that way, both of 
 which he kept."
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 433 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did he take any steps with reference to 
 these?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. "No ; I could tell from the replies that he had 
 been threatened again ; but he laughed at the fears which I ventured 
 to respectfully express, and said that he had been upset at first, but 
 that he was now sure the man was a harmless lunatic, and might be 
 humoured." 
 
 THE CORONER." Did you write the replies you allude to ?" 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. "At the Premier's dictation." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Cela va sans dire}'' 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " I beg your pardon. It was only a very few 
 letters whose replies were dictated. Many were indicated in out- 
 line ; but most were answered at my private discretion. The less 
 important letters were written by an assistant private secretary. It 
 was only to his own friends or to great personages that Mr. Flop- 
 pington despatched autograph letters." 
 
 THE CORONER. "You did not, I understand, see the con- 
 tents of the two letters. You merely inferred their character ? : ' 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " Quite so. But that my inference was cor- 
 rect was proved by the lucky discovery of the letters in one of the 
 late Premier's coats. (Sensation.) They are now in the hands 01 
 the police." 
 
 The letters being produced, the Coroner read them aloud. 
 
 "The Right Hon. Arnold Floppington. 
 
 " (Extremely Private and Confidential.) 
 " SIR, 
 
 " In telegraphing to you to abandon your Irish policy a policy 
 which I confess seems to me as unpatriotic as it is absurd I was rot 
 giving an idle command. As you value your life you will obey it 
 Retract ptiblicly your promises if you do not wish to make me youi 
 murderer. I can say no more ; but can only pray that obstinacy 
 will not cause you to turn a deaf ear to my warning. 
 " Believe me, Sir, 
 
 '* Ever your earnest well-wisher, 
 
 "JACK DAWE.' 
 
 The reading of this letter produced an intense excitement. The 
 audience felt as if assisting at the first and only representation of 
 some stirring drama. To the imaginative eye the heated room ap- 
 peared a cauldron in which History was visibly making. But the 
 first letter was almost thrown into the shade by the second, which 
 bade fair to make History of the kind not affected by Civil Service 
 Examiners (perhaps because it is too easily remembered). 
 
 "Whether you are right," ran this extraordinary epistle, "to 
 disregard my previous communications, time will show. You have 
 certainly remained safe so far ; but it is, to say the least, very un- 
 wise of you to encounter the risk of being blown up for the mere 
 pleasure of shattering the greatness of your country. But I do not 
 
 2 F
 
 434 'I' HE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 write this to repeat my warnings. Another matter of a very pressing 
 nature causes me to thrust myself again into your busy life, and I 
 assure you that I would not have felt myself justified in doing so 
 were it not forced upon me. A difficulty has arisen about the girl 
 F^liza Bathbrill (sensation), whom I have but lately discovered to be 
 devoid of honour and principle." The Counsel for the family of the 
 deceased interrupting, asked the Coroner whether it was necessary 
 to publish any more of the contents of a private letter than that 
 threatening portion which had already been read. It was 
 evident that the rest of the letter had no bearing on the present 
 case. 
 
 MR. MIDDLETOP, O.C., who had gratuitously undertaken to 
 watch the case in the interests of Jack Dawe (probably for the sake 
 of the splendid advertisement), protested against this assertion, 
 and urged that for various reasons it was necessary that the rela- 
 tions between his client and the late Premier should be exposed as 
 much as possible. 
 
 THE FOREMAN said that the jury thought the reading should 
 be continued. 
 
 THE CORONER ruled that the whole of the letter was evidence, 
 and evidence of an important character, giving a somewhat new 
 complexion to the case. 
 
 The audience breathed freely once more. There was at this 
 critical moment hardly one of them who would have bartered his 
 seat for a five-pound note. Should there by any chance have been 
 a croaking, pessimistic philosopher among them, and had he chosen 
 the moment for propounding his witless conundrum : " Is Life 
 worth living ? " he might have been for ever silenced by the one 
 word : " Ctrcumspice. n " It is a happy world," he would have said 
 with Paley, "it is a happy world after all." Let us hope, however, 
 that there was not, for the discovery would have made him unhappy 
 for life. The reading of the letter was then continued as follows : 
 "1 have had to refuse to marry her for reasons which you will 
 easily understand. It was not till too late that I discovered your 
 relations with her. On this point I was completely uninformed. 
 Bitterly as I have the right to reproach you for the trouble you 
 have thereby brought into my life (and what I have suffered through 
 your ancient love for Eliza Bathbrill is known to myself alone), I 
 have hitherto, as you know, kept silence on the point, nor shall I 
 now waste words of reproach. But she is bringing an action for 
 breach of promise against me, and claims ^3,000 damages, a demand 
 which I have not at present the resources to meet, even if she 
 would consent to compromise the matter. She has already refused 
 ^2,000, and indeed insists on dragging me into Court. If the case 
 comes on, you will of course understand that you will have to 
 appear. There is no need for me to enlarge on the inevitableness 
 of that step. If you shrink from the unpleasantness of the position, 
 you had better try what you can do to conciliate the Plaintiff. You 
 mitrht succeed where I hive failed. Perhaps you misrht induce
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 435 
 
 her to take .2,500. Of course, I leave you to obtain the money, 
 which you will doubtless be able to do without difficulty. 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "JACK DAWE." 
 
 P.S. " I give you carte blanche to expend what you will in 
 averting the scandal. 
 
 P.P.S. " Unless you are afraid of my presence in the House, 
 please send me a ticket for the Speaker's Gallery, for the night 
 when you are to expound your ' Home Rule Bill.' " 
 
 MR. CORNELIUS DRAT begged to express his approval of the 
 overruling of the Coroner. A more shameless and cynical attempt 
 at extortion had probably never been made than the above, with 
 its audaciously nai've postscripts. But he was happy to say that 
 this base attempt to trade on the chance that there was a grain of 
 truth in certain incredible rumours, had met with the success it 
 deserved, as would be evident from the replies preserved by Mr. 
 Tremaine. 
 
 MR. MlDDLETOP protested warmly against this defamation of 
 his client's character. If Mr. Dawe thought that the girl in 
 question was unfit to be an honest man's wife, and if he at the 
 same time realised how difficult and delicate a task it would be to 
 prove to a jury the justice of his rejection of her, it was not to be 
 expected that he should tamely submit to the pecuniary loss brought 
 upon him by the fault of another. " De mortuis nil nisi bomim" 
 cried the Counsel. " With all my heart ! But de vivis nil nisi 
 verum, and the latter surely takes precedence of the former. Fiat 
 justitia mat nomen, let justice be done though reputations fall." 
 
 The opposition Counsel remarked that there was no danger of the 
 fall of any but legal reputations. (Laughter.) His learned brother, 
 disregarding the interruption, went on to urge that no attempt had 
 been made to show that the letters in question were really sent by 
 Jack Dawe. He wished to know whether the handwriting had 
 been compared with that of his client ? 
 
 THE CORONER replied that that had been done by Mr. 
 Undercliff, the Expert. If necessary, that gentleman could be 
 called. 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C., said that he could prove that Jack Dawe sent 
 the telegram to which both the letters referred. 
 
 THE FOREMAN thought that the evidence would be incomplete 
 without the testimony of the Expert. 
 
 MR. UNDLRCLIFF was then called, and deposed that he had 
 compared the two letters with a letter written by Jack Dawe, kindly 
 furnished him by Miss Bathbrill. He began by alluding to the 
 remarkable resemblance of the chirography of this last letter to 
 that of the Premier, the likeness being doubtless due to that strarge 
 similarity of physical and presumably of manual conformation which 
 was said to have existed between the two men. Passing from this 
 
 2 F 2
 
 43') THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 curious but irrelevant fa^t to the actual question, he found that 
 the writing of the letters of the Premier bore in all essential re- 
 spects a great resemblance to that of the letter to Miss Bathbrill, 
 though superficially there was a'good deal of difference. He con- 
 sidered there had been some attempt at disguising the hand, but 
 the disguise was clumsy. Thus did the poor man swear away his 
 reputation ; for, as it presently transpired that Sally had written the 
 letters, the Daily Telegraph came out next day with a scathing 
 article on the pretensions of him and his class. But the reader, 
 who remembers that Sally's chirography was as near a copy of Jack's 
 as she could attain to, will no doubt feel that this is a very com- 
 plicated world, and that to get at the rights of things is a task be- 
 yond the powers of anybody but the present historian. 
 
 THE TELEGRAPH CLERK stated that the telegram had been 
 brought to him by a girl, who, he believed, was the maid-of-all-work 
 in the " Star Dining Rooms." He was, of course, struck by the 
 audacity of the message and showed it to his fellow-clerks. 
 
 THE CORONER said he would not call the servant-girl at this 
 stage of the proceedings unless the learned Counsel wished it. 
 
 The learned Counsel replied that he did not intend to dispute 
 the authorship of the letters. 
 
 The Private Secretary having handed the Coroner the replies, 
 they were next read aloud. 
 
 These the reader is already partially acquainted with, but that 
 he may have all the evidence under his eye, they shall now be re- 
 produced in full. This was the first : 
 
 "MR. JACK DA WE. 
 
 "SIR, 
 
 " In reply to a telegram and a communication marked 
 'private,' I am instructed to inform you that Mr. Floppington has 
 had them under his careful consideration. So far as he can under- 
 stand your meaning from your cunningly-worded and intentionally 
 vague statements, he regrets to be unable to give any credence to 
 them. He has, on the contrary, reasons to believe and is of the firm 
 opinion that this is but another ruse. Mr. Floppington begs that, 
 you will not favour him with any more such communications. 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 "Your obedient Servant, 
 
 "JOHN TREMAINE." 
 
 The second answer ran as follows : 
 
 " MR. JACK. DAWE. 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Mr. Floppington has given your letter all the attention it 
 deserves. He regrets that you should have still thought it necessary 
 to allude to the topic of your first letter. He is of opinion that the 
 case you now put is still another ruse, and he absolutely refuses tO'
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 437 
 
 take the steps you advise. Mr. Floppington again begs that you 
 will cease to trouble him with such communications. With regard 
 to your demand for an order for the Strangers' Gallery, for July I2th, 
 Mr. Floppington regrets that despite all his efforts he has been 
 unable to obtain one for you. Mr. Floppington has even asked the 
 Speaker to allow him to place you under the grating of the House, 
 but this could not be conceded. He begs that in future you will 
 make earlier application. 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient Servant, 
 
 "JOHN TREMAINE." 
 
 MR. CORNELIUS DRAT called attention to the contemptuous snub 
 given by the icy politeness of the latter reply to the clumsy attempt 
 at extortion. That the Premier suspected collusion between the 
 parties to the threatened suit was evidenced from his characterising 
 the demand as a ruse, and he ventured to say that this was the 
 view that would be taken by any unprejudiced mind. The Premier, 
 though probably not unconscious of the lengths to which a woman 
 would go in self-accusation, was not the man to be frightened into 
 paying hush-money by the threat of damaging revelations. 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR." Do you not think it strange that 
 the Premier did not at once put such letters as these into the hands 
 of the police ? " 
 
 MR. TREMAINE. " Not at all. With regard to the second, he 
 no doubt considered it extremely inadvisable to aid in giving pub- 
 licity to even the absurdest of rumours concerning himself. A 
 well-known recent case ought to have made it clear that there are 
 prurient people with whom to be suspected is to be guilty. As for 
 the first, it seems to me (though I confess I do not quite see how 
 the theory explains all its phrases) that he had read the letter as a 
 \\arning and not as a threat a misreading which probably cost 
 him his life." 
 
 MR. MIDDLF.TOP protested against the assumption that it was a 
 misreading. The witness had said that the Premier's misreading 
 had probably cost him his life. He would ask the jury to re- 
 member that a misreading of it on their part would probably cost 
 another life. To assume that the letter was meant as a threat 
 was to beg the whole question. Moreover, it would be observed 
 that the reply to the second letter did not by any means deny 
 the justice of the claim in the event of a breach of promise case, 
 but refused to believe in the reality of the suit ; a disbelief alto- 
 gether mistaken. 
 
 The strange link of connection between the Premier and his 
 supposed murderer afforded by their respective relations to Eliza 
 Bathbrill, supplied a new element of dramatic interest, surcharging 
 what had, at first, seemed a purely political tragedy with a romantic 
 poetry, and lending it that touch of universal human nature which 
 brought it home to hearts incapable of appreciating the sombre 
 }no:if of political fanaticism. In this tense condition oi the
 
 438 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 emotions of the audience, the examination of Mrs. Dawe came as a 
 relief. The old lady was naturally the object of much commisera- 
 tion, despite the gorgeousness and marine character of her get-up, 
 and the complaints which she began to make as she waddled 
 towards the witness-box. 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " I axes all you ladies and gentlemen whether it 
 is right to drag a poor, lone widder and 'er gal from 'er bizness 
 when the shop is crammed with new customers as tight as all of you 
 from mornin'to night, and pr'aps thieves among 'em as'll bamboozle 
 Mrs. Rogers' gal like law\ ers ? " 
 
 THE CORONER." You must not complain to the audience." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. ''I don't complain, yer wuship. I wishes to 
 thank all the gentlemen for puttin' picters of me and the shop in 
 the papers as if we was Pears' soap, but I thinks it very 'ard that 
 Jack, who's as hinnocent as a unborn lamb, should be stuck up on 
 walls and shop-windows as was never stuck up in his life . . . Eh ? 
 Take a oath on that book ! Not if I knows it, young man." 
 
 THE CORONER. "You must do so, madam." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "Who ses so? Ye can take a 'orse to the 
 water but ye can't make him swear." (Laughter ) 
 
 THE CORONER." You must not speak like that. Do I under- 
 stand that you refuse to take an oath ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. ''By the memory of my late 'usband, I dees ! 
 'E used to say : ' Truth lays at the bottom of a well, and a oath is a 
 1,',: ket with its bottom knocked out.'" (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Is the memory of your husband the only 
 objection?" (Laughter.) 
 
 MRS. DAWE." It's my own memory that's the objection. 
 (Laughter.) 'E used to say, ' Darlin', when I am gone, forget the 
 old man if ye likes, but remember ''is principles.' " 
 
 THE CORONER. " And what were his principles ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " He was a Free Thinker and so am I. I don'r 
 believe in nothing, thank Gord, I don't!" (Loud and continued 
 laughter, which was checked by the Ushers with difficulty.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "Surely you were brought up as a Christian ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE (indignantly). " I wasn't brought up as a 
 savage." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Do you mean to say that you don't keep 
 anything now ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Nothin' except a cook-shop." (Laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "She means that she worships the great 
 God Pan." (Loud laughter.) 
 
 MRS. DAWE (angrily). " I didn't come 'ere to be made fun 
 of by a man with more 'air than brains ! (Laughter.) I claims to 
 affirm." 
 
 The Coroner, to put an end to the unseemly levity of the 
 audience, allowed the imperious old lady to have her way, and the 
 investigation proceeded. 
 
 MRS. DAWE then deposed (with much irrelevancy, much 
 independence, much confusion of metaphor, and much grotesque-
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 439 
 
 ness of simile) that her son was a house-and-sign painter, and a 
 
 bachelor, living with her and having a share in the business, and 
 
 that she had never seen or heard of him since the evening of the 
 
 1 2th instant. 
 
 THE CORONER. "When did you first miss him ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. ''The next mornin' when 'is bacon got spiled, 
 
 not as 'e cared much lately for my best dishes and titbits like a 
 
 Irish Priest as reduces 'is flesh for the race 'Eavenwards, as my late 
 
 'usband said." 
 
 THE CORONER. " He might have come home late without 
 
 your knowing it, and gone out early again, might he not ?" 
 MRS. DAWE. " If he was a liar he might, not without." 
 THE CORONER. " Have the goodness to explain yourself." 
 MRS. DAWE. " ' told me some time ago Vd lost 'is latch-key, 
 
 and 'e couldn't get in through the key'o'e like a mouse, could 'e ?" 
 THE CORONER." You evidently don't believe in the loss." 
 MRS. DAWE. " I wish it was true, it 'ud be a profit." 
 THE FOREMAN. " Has the mysterious latch-key been tried on 
 
 the door of the witness ? " 
 
 The question being put to the police was answered in the 
 
 negative. It had not occurred to any one to do so. 
 
 THE CORONER." Would you know the key if you saw it ? " 
 MRS. DAWE. " I should 'ope so. Why I never forgets a face." 
 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 The key was then handed to the witness who recognised it as 
 
 hei ?cns. (Sensation.) 
 
 THE CORONER remarked that the possibility of its having been 
 
 dropped by the suspected person ought to have suggested itself to 
 
 somebody. 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. " 1 suggested, yesterday, that the 
 
 doors of some of the witnesses should be tried." 
 
 THE CORONER (coldly)." Your ingenuity does you credit." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. '' I know'd that latch-key 'ud be the ruin of 'im." 
 
 THE CORONER." Was he often out late ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE (glancing uneasily around)." Dunno." 
 
 THE CORONER. "What do you mean ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Dunno, I tells ye." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "Why don't you know?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "'Cos I was often abed and asleep long afore 'e 
 
 come in." 
 
 THE CORONER. "What time do you go to bed ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "We shuts up at eleven and afore I gets a little 
 
 supper I can't find time to eat it afore, 'cos I'm as busy as a bull 
 
 in a chiney shop " 
 
 THE CORONER. "What kept him out so late?" 
 
 MRS DAWE. " Politics mostly." 
 
 THE CORONER. "What; was he an M.P. ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE " I wish 'e was. the vagabond ! (Laughter.) 'E 
 
 used to waste 'ours and 'ours jabberin' away like one o'clock." 
 
 (Laughter.)
 
 440 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 THE CORONER. " Till one o'clock you mean." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " No, I don't. Ye don't pump me like that." 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. <: He was a red-hot Radical, I believe?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "Was 'e?" (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " You must answer the question." 
 
 MRS. DAWE." I wants to know whit a red-'ot Radical is afore 
 I commits myself." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Oh, a man who wants a lot of changes, you 
 know." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "Well, 'e was very particklar about 'is under- 
 linen (great laughter), and lately more so than ever. 'E wanted a 
 clean shirt a day, only I stood out that it 'ud ruin inc." 
 
 MR. DRAT, O.C. " She wished to live dirt-cheap." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Come, come, Mrs. Dawe, don't pretend to 
 misunderstand. You say that he took great interest m polii.rs. 
 You must have heard him talk on the subject at home." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " 1 ain't deaf." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Did you ever hear him violently denounce 
 the late Premier?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "No." 
 
 THE CORONER. " On your oath, Mrs. Dawe ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE" I ain't taken no oath." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "Well on your word of honour as a lady, 
 have you ever heard your son denounce Mr. Floppington ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Well, if ye puts it in that way, I 'aven't. (Great 
 laughter.) 'E's always been down on Floppy's politics, but 'e'd no 
 more think o' layin' a finger on 'im than I would o' pullin' off. them 
 'ere lovely wigs." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "He was engaged to a Miss Eliza Bath brill, was 
 he not ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " I didn't come 'ere to 'ave salt put on my 
 wounds while a lot of vagabonds might be socialisting the cook- 
 shop." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONKR. "You must not talk like that. You must 
 answer my questions." 
 
 MKS. DAWE. " If ye'd only put proper questions I'd answer 
 ye without a word. (Laughter.) 'E was engaged to 'er, but 'e 
 chucked 'er up, and now she's been leastways she wouldn't 'ave 
 'im, 'cos she wanted to get up a case and damage 'im for life." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Let us have the truth. Who gave whom 
 up?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " I couldn't tell yer if I tried for a year. They 
 was all mixed like." 
 
 THE CORONER. " When was the match broken off?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " I can't remember." 
 
 THE CORONKR. " I thought you had a good memory ! " 
 
 MRS. DA\VE. " D'ye mean to say I'm a liar ? " (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " It is evidently impossible to get anything 
 definite out of this witness. Happily there arc plenty of witnesses
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 441 
 
 to the facts. When the match was broken off, did your son tell you 
 why he gave her up ?" 
 
 MRS DAWE (after consideration). " I gives it up." 
 
 THE CORONER "And so do 1. You may stand dow'n." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " I should like to ask the witness a few ques- 
 tions." 
 
 THE CORONER " I wish you success." (Laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "Miss Bathbrill summoned your son for 
 breach of promise. Yet you say you can't tell which gave the other 
 iip. Now what is your private opinion of the case? Don't you 
 think it was got up between them ? " 
 
 M RS. DAWE " D'ye mean for the sake o' the lawyers ? " 
 
 MR. DRAT, O.C. '* No ; for their own. Supposing only sup- 
 posing, Mrs. Uawe they thought they mi^ht get the nuney from 
 some other person ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. ''The vagabonds ! I guessed as much." 
 
 MR. DRAT, O.C. (triumphantly). ' \Ve will leave that now 
 Mrs.Dawe. Your son, I gather, did not always treat >ou with the 
 respect due to your age and position. He declined to follow your 
 advice, for instance ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " He were certainly as obstinate as a customer 
 with a bad 'aypenny. If 'he said 'e'd do a thing, 'e'd do it if I 
 stood on my 'ead and begged 'im not to, and he always 'ad 'is own 
 way, like a tram." (Laughter.) 
 
 'MR. DRAT, Q.C. " Indeed ! If he said he'd do a thing, he'd 
 <lo it ! What things for instance has he done?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "Ye wouldn't understand." (Laughter. ) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "Yes, I would." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Ye're very inquisitive. (Laughter.) If my 
 son and me ain't lived like Darby and Joan, what's it got to do 
 with you ? I might as well ask when ye give yer old woman a 
 l:lack eye last ?" (Loud laughter, which was instantly suppressed, 
 the Coroner threatening to clear the Court.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "You must bridle your tongue, my good 
 voman, and answer the questions that are put to you." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. '"Ow can I answer the questions if I've bridled 
 my tongue." (Laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT. Q.C. "Attend to me if you please. Your son is 
 said to resemble the Premier. Did he ever refer to this re- 
 semblance?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " Several times, but mostly in joke." 
 
 THE FOREMAN asked whether the photograph on the bills was 
 authentic ; because, if so, he failed to see any great resemblance. 
 
 THE CORONER. " That photograph is, I understand, an en- 
 larged copy of a single figure in a iamily group belonging to Miss 
 Bathbrill, and now in the hands of the police. This portrait of 
 Mr. Dawe, which was taken at Ramsgate, is the only one in e ist- 
 tnce. The jury may see the original if they hk'. 
 
 THE FOREMAN (after the ponrait had bee;, minded round.) 
 "The jury do not think that any one would see the resemblance in
 
 442 THE PREMIER AND THE 
 
 the face if they did not know it existed. The figure is certainly 
 similar." 
 
 THE CORONER. " A slight resemblance to so celebrated a 
 personage would naturally be exaggerated. But we shall presently 
 have the evidence of eye-witnesses on the point." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " Now, Mrs. Dawe, can you remember any 
 of the jokes your son made on the subject ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "'E said they was as like as two peas, only 'e 
 'oped ! e wasn't as green as the other." (Laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "There's many a serious word spoken in 
 jest. Mr. Dawe evidently thought himself more capable than the 
 Premier." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "In course 'e did. 'E said once, 'e wouldn't be 
 Floppy for .100,000, and I know'e meant it,'cos'e smashed a plate 
 with 'is fist." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "Then he did get excited about the Premier ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " 'E was a good deal cut up over 'im (laughter) - T 
 but 'e despised 'im too much to be excited about 'im, and so did I. 
 If my pea 'ad been born in a gold plate instead of a chiney one, it 
 'ud a-made a better Pry Minister than the other by long chalks. ' 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " How long ago is it (as nearly as you can 
 remember) since your son began to abuse Mr. Floppington so 
 violently ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "'Ow long ago is it (as nearly as ye can 
 remember) since I told ye that my son never abused Mr. Flop- 
 pington violently at all ? (Laughter.) Lawyers should 'ave good 
 memories." (Great laughter.) 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " Well, carry your good memory back to the 
 day when your son left home. Had he been talking about the 
 Premier at all ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "Who was there to talk to ? I've got too much 
 sense to talk politics, and I'm sure 'e didn't have no conversation 
 with Sally." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " How could you be sure of that ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. '"Cos I didn't allow 'im to say a word to 'er." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C." Why not?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "'Cos she was goin' to be a witness in the breach 
 o' promise case, and I didn't want 'im to prejudice 'er." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "What was he doing during that day? 
 Didn't he go to work ? " 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " No, he sat nearly the 'ole day reading every 
 blessed paper." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. ' He certainly took great interest, then, in 
 public events, if he neglected his work and did nothing but read 
 all the papers. Did you say nothing to him about his idleness ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " 'E wasn't fit to go out, 'cos 'e'd 'ad the brain- 
 fever, haggravated by grief, 'cos the whole time 'Lizer didn't come 
 to see 'im once, not to speak of a touch o' small-pox." 
 
 MR. DRAT, O.C. " Who is 'L : zer ?"
 
 SENSATIONAL REVELATIONS 443 
 
 MRS. DAWE. " The gal as wants to damage 'im. ;) 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "I see. But if he was in a state of con- 
 valescence, as you describe, his disappearance must have frightened 
 you a good deal." 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "No, it didn't, 'cos 'e disappeared a few days 
 afore that, only I dragged 'im back by the 'air of 'is 'ead." 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. " Where did you find him ? " 
 MRS. DAWE. "At'Oxton, at a midnight meeting." (Sensa- 
 tion.) 
 
 MR. MIDDLETOP. " Of Orangemen ? " (Sensation.) 
 MRS. DAWE. " No ; nor applewomen neither. It was Sal- 
 vation chaps and their gals a 'avin' a little fun." 
 
 MR. DRAT, Q.C. "And what was your son doing there?" 
 MRS. DAWE. " Preachifyin', the wagabond, fit to make 'is 
 late father's 'air stand on end in 'is grave. What's the good of 
 eddication if it only makes children think they know better than 
 their elders ? 1 don't believe in nothing, thank Gord, I don't ; but 
 them School Boards is unsettlin' everything." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " According to you, he was ill and in a state 
 of religious fanaticism combined with an intense interest in politics. 
 Did you suspect he wasn't quite right in his head ?" 
 
 MRS. DAWE. "D' ye mean ''cos 'e was religious? (Laughter.) 
 If 'e gets into a scrape it'll be Gord's punishment on 'im for de- 
 sertin' the faith of 'is fathers and mothers." (Laughter.) 
 THE CORONER. " I think you had better stand down." 
 MRS. DAWE. " I 'opes the Queen will pay me for my two days 
 wasted." 
 
 THE CORONER. " You must settle that with Her Majesty." 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 MRS. DAWE (angrily). "All right, I'll take it out of the Queen's 
 taxes. (Laughter.) As for Jack, 'e's as innocent as a sheep, and 
 though ye've lost 'im and don't know where to find 'im, let 'im 
 alone and 'e'll come 'ome with all 'is tail be'ind 'im." (Laughter.) 
 
 Mrs. Dawe then withdrew in considerable indignation, and the 
 Court adjourned for lunch. On the resumption of the sitting, Sally 
 appeared, attired in her Christmas costume, but red-eyed and pale. 
 She repeated the oath with fervour, making only one slip by sub- 
 stituting "S'elp me, Bob !" for the customary formula, and in the 
 intensity of her earnestness, throwing in an additional "May I 
 never move, if I don't," at the finish. 
 
 She began her answers by an irrelevant and indignant protest 
 against the shameful accusations made against her master, who, 
 she declared with tears, was dead. This last sentence, being at 
 once subjected to severe criticism, turned out to be merely in- 
 ferential. She had last seen her master on the evening of the I2ta 
 instant. Her account of how he had spent the day tallied with 
 that of her mistress, except that the latter had not referred to a 
 short walk in the afternoon. He had not spoken to her during the 
 day because her mistress had forbidden it ; she did not know why. 
 (Master Jack was frightened of "missus," she thought, though till
 
 444 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 lately it used to be "the other way on." That was probably because 
 Master Jack had been ill a good deal, though to be sure "missus" 
 had been ill too.) " But just when it was beginning to get dark," pro- 
 ceeded the girl, ' : he come into the kitchen dressed to go out, and 
 ses to me, ' Remember what I ses to ye the other night. Keep 
 up yer courage.' 'Oh master,' ses I, 'don't worry aboul me ; it's 
 only you that I'm troubled about.' He smiled so sad and soft, it 
 aimost made me cry. ' I shall soon be out o' all my troubles, 
 Sally'! ' 'e ses. With that he went out quick, and I never see 'im 
 no more, and I knows 'e's been and drownded 'isself." A burst of 
 sobbing concluded this sentence. '' It's all 'Lizer's fault," Sally 
 moaned, " it's all on account o' 'Lizer." Interrogated as to her 
 meaning, she stated that'Lizer Hathbrill was the cause of her master's 
 wretchedness. He did not love her a bit she wouldn't say he 
 hadn't once loved her but now he hated her like pizon, because he 
 had found out what sort of a girl she was. (The witness had to be 
 stopped in her enumeration of epithets.) Though she knew his 
 feelings, Eliza was always coming and worrying him, and at last he 
 told her plain out that he loved another. (The witness had over- 
 heard some of the final interview.) And then she brought an action 
 Against him for ^2,000, and " missus " worried him about it so 
 much that he went and drowned himself, after leaving the witness 
 in the way already described. 
 
 THE CORONER. " What was it he told you to remember the 
 other night?" 
 
 SALLY. "I told 'im I was miserable and I wanted to kill my- 
 self, so 'e give me a piece of advice." 
 
 THE CORONER. " What was the advice ?" 
 
 SALLY. " 'E told me, whenever I wanted to kill myself to go 
 and read a book (laughter) ; so 'e made a list of a hundred books 
 for me, 'cos he was learnin' me to read like a lady." 
 
 THE CORONER. "That was certainly very kind. Have you 
 the list ? 
 
 SALLY. "Missus burnt it ; but I remember some on it. One 
 on 'em was 'Arry Stottel's ' Physics,' and then, when 'e see I could 
 swallow that, he chucked in 'Eagle.' 'E was very good tome 'ewas. 
 And then there was the Bible and ' Bunch of Keys.' " (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER.'- Who ?' ; 
 
 MR. DRAT, O.C. " Perhaps she means Sophocles ?" 
 
 SALLY. "Yes, that was the gentleman. And there was some 
 widows as well." 
 
 MR. MIDDLETOP. "The Vedas, perhnps?" (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " No wonder your master gave you that 
 r.clvice. (Laughter.) I should think that the mere presumption on 
 the part of any man that he could draw up a list of a hundred 
 books to constitute the bulk of the reading of any one else would 
 be proof positive of insanity. (Laughter.) Did he teach you to 
 write too ?" 
 
 SALLY. "Yes, and I wrote two letters for 'im." 
 
 THE CORONER. "To whom?"
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 445; 
 
 SALLY." To Floppy." (Sensation.) 
 
 The two letters being handed to witness, she recognised them. 
 as those she had written. 
 
 THE CORONER. " Mr. Dawe's tuition was not as disinterested 
 as it appeared." 
 
 Continuing his examination, the Coroner elicited further details 
 of the highest importance. She had written the first letter fiom 
 his dictation, the second she had copied. 
 
 The witness then related with as much precision as she could 
 command, the details of Jack Dawe's illness, his delirious outcries 
 that devils were murdering him, and his rambling monologues com- 
 mencing with Mr. Speaker; his return of consciousness followed by 
 wild inquiries as to whether the Premier was alive, and by the de- 
 spatch of the telegram. This evidence excited immense interest ; 
 and, as the drama unfolded, so the extraordinary complexity of 
 motif and incident began to reveal itself to the obtusest spectators. 
 In addition to the usual display of conventional character produced 
 by juridical analysis, to the laying bare of stock emotions and time- 
 honoured passions, in addition to the antediluvian motif already 
 apparent, there began to loom in the distance the shadow of a 
 motif of a kind unknown alike to fiction and to history. 
 
 " Did Mr. Dawe refer to Ireland?'' the Coroner asked, a moment 
 before the inquest was adjourned. 
 
 And Sally answered in those remarkable words which formed a 
 fitting close to the second act of the great Tragi-Comedy : " E 
 used often to say when 'e was mad, ' Ireland shall not have Home 
 Rule though I die for it.' " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS. 
 
 SLOWLY but surely light had been growing, and now a steady 
 glare illumined the depths and abysses of the tenebrous tragedy. 
 But by the end of the investigation every nook and cranny was 
 flooded by the shadow-dispelling rays, and the eye of the world 
 looked long and lingeringly on strange, psychical secrets. 
 
 That the interest of the inquest would be maintained at the 
 same high level till the finish was hardly to be expected ; the 
 first two acts had been so full of sensations and surprises that one felt 
 that the Fates must have exhausted themselves, and, like impru- 
 dent authors, had so injudiciously distributed their fat as to leave 
 little or nothing for the finish. But whoever expected a collapse 
 was agreeably disappointed ; if the dialogue was less pungent, 
 and the setting more sombre, the action was more bustling and 
 the points more frequent ; and with not an instant's flagging, the 
 unrehearsed drama went on to its triumphant conclusion. The
 
 446 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 guilt of Jack Dawe was, it will be remembered, patent to an 
 immense majority from the very first ; but by the time this stage 
 of the proceedings was reached, the minority had been reduced 
 to a handful of paradoxical people ; one of whom rushed into 
 print. In the number of the Times, from which the contents of 
 the last chapter have been taken, there is a curious letter signed 
 " Fair Play."* A copy of it may not be uninteresting : 
 
 " Verily there is nothing so benumbing to calm common sense 
 as the irresponsible chatter of the multitude. Let them once get 
 a theory into their stupid heads, and it is as difficult to dislodge it 
 as it is to convince critics that their own petty experiences of life 
 are not a sufficient test of the possibility of incidents or of charac- 
 ters. When I hear the silly clamour of the crowd, on this and 
 other subjects, I am tempted to exclaim (to misapply the already 
 proverbial words which will appear in your issue of to-morrow, 
 and which to me, at least, seem to hit off the spirit of modern 
 materialism and positivism to a T), ' I don't believe in nothing, 
 thank God, I don't.' I venture to say, sir, that the questions 
 put by the Coroner to-day showed an utter misconception of 
 the real bearing of the evidence. There was only one man 
 who seemed to have any glimmering of correct apprehension, and 
 even with him the glimmer died away as soon as it appeared. The 
 question of Mr. Dawe's Counsel, ' Of Orangemen ? ' combined with 
 his contention that the messages were intended as warnings, and 
 not as threats, shows that his theory is substantially one with that I 
 am about to indicate. But, as he has not thought fit to put his two 
 utterances together, I venture to assure him that his unfortunate 
 hypothesis is not so wild as to have suggested itself to no one but 
 the professional champion of a losing cause. On the contrary, only 
 by a prejudiced misreading can the letters of the suspected man 
 be regarded as threats. They are warnings, and warnings alone. 
 Who, that listened to the girl Sally's account of her master's 
 .agonised inquiry on awaking from his long fever, of his immediate 
 despatch of a telegram, and then of a letter, can doubt of the fact? 
 Note the irony of fate. The poor house-painter has somehow dis- 
 covered a project against the Premier's life ; he is bound over, by 
 oath, to keep the secret on peril of his life. The horror of the 
 situation prostrates him with brain-fever, and he babbles of the 
 devils who were about to kill him. He wakes, and his first thought 
 is of the threatened man ; he telegraphs ; he writes in veiled 
 oracular phraseology, almost grazing the breaking of his oath. 
 Mark the expression, ' You will make me your murderer,' i.e. by 
 not changing your Irish policy. Now, who are interested in the 
 abandonment of his policy ? The Ulsterites ; and the plot in ques- 
 tion has been hatched by a few desperadoes among them. 
 'Absurd,' I hear the sapient vox populi cry. No, my friends, it is 
 
 * From a little-known, miscellaneous volume in the Brit.sh Museum, in 
 which the letter is reproduced with a commentary by the author, it would 
 seem that "Fair Play" was the pseudonym of a popular novelist of the 
 .period.
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 447 
 
 you that are absurd. Have you, then, heard nothing of the feeling 
 in Ulster, of the revolution already threatening ? 
 
 " Charmed by the magic eloquence of the great statesman whom 
 Providence has taken from us, have you no ears for the growing 
 murmurs of discontent a discontent that might lead misguided 
 men to fancy that in murdering the Premier they were putting into 
 action the unexpressed sentiment of the community ? Lingers 
 there in no one's memory it is fresh in mine the spirit-stirring 
 address of a young politician, who may learn from this unexpected 
 result the danger of rash and indiscriminate rhetoric, 'A blow will 
 have to be struck ; a blow will be struck, the sound of which,' etc. 
 
 "Well, sir, a blow has been struck, the sound of which has, etc. 
 
 " To conclude, I assert that the above is the only theory that 
 will fit all the facts. On any other hypothesis how can you explain 
 the words frequently uttered in delirium, ' Ireland shall not have 
 Home Rule though I die for it' ? What, in Heaven's name, could 
 have made an Englishman willing to die for the sake of Ireland ? 
 The sentence is evidently a repetition of one made use of by a con- 
 spirator, which engraved itself on the memoiy of the unhappy 
 house-painter. 
 
 " But I know well I am crying in the wilderness. The force of 
 public opinion has made the verdict a foregone conclusion. The 
 cry for vengeance is natural, but in the nineteenth century we can- 
 not allow Justice to be as blind as those who invoke her. 
 
 " P.S. A medical friend of mine, who has read over ihis letter, 
 i ells me that it has partially converted him. He suggests, how- 
 ever, an alternative theory. Rejecting the idea of Jack Dawe's 
 having discovered a plot against the Premier as being utterly im- 
 probable (and I admit that I cannot even imagine the circumstances 
 of the discovery), he thinks that the man may have been under the 
 delusion that he had done so, conceiving the idea in that excited 
 state of his brain which led to his attack of cerebral fever. Such 
 cases are not rare in Mental Pathology. Hence the telegram, etc. 
 However this may be, it is satisfactory to find that on the question 
 of the intention of the messages, he is at one with me." 
 
 That this letter attracted some attention is obvious from the 
 Coroner's reference thereto ; but the general opinion of the de- 
 spised public was that the new theory was rather too ingenious to 
 be true. And the public had very soon occasion to pride itself on 
 its discernment, and to pay back flout for flout. For not only did 
 the vaunted hypothesis of " Fair Play" fail altogether to cover the 
 nakedness of the broad, bare facts elicited on the last day, but the 
 popular theory very much modified, but still claimed by the 
 public was able to cover every atom of them, and, in fact, every 
 particle of the whole body of evidence, twofold, and even three- 
 fold. 
 
 It would appear that on the evening of the second day there 
 was a widely -disseminated report that Jack Dawe had been 
 captured. The savage joy that was loudly expressed in all quarters 
 was no slight indication of the state of public feeling, and acute dis-
 
 448 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 appointment was felt when it was discovered that the report \\ns a 
 hoax, and that, in spite of the most determined vigilance on the 
 part of the police, no traces had yet been obtained of any one 
 lesembling the portrait of the fugitive. The telegraph offices were 
 kept busy with inquiries from all parts of the kingdom and the 
 Continent. Much excitement prevailed till a late hour. 
 
 The first witness called on the last day of the investigation was 
 Eliza Bathbrill. As the elegant form of the quondam housemaid 
 advanced gracefully into the witness-box, the dense, variegated 
 mass of human beings stirred as with the passing of some mighty 
 breeze. The marvellous loveliness of the girl seems to have thrilled 
 every heart. Even in that material age the worship of beauty was 
 not dead ; the audience rose in reverence and stood on the benches 
 in awe. An impromptu service took place after the fashion of the 
 period. Opera-glasses, which had long superseded psalters for the 
 expression of adoration, were devoutly produced on all sides. It 
 was some time before the overcharged emotions of the crowd could 
 allow the purely secular business to proceed. 
 
 But, alas ! never did the true historical spirit (carefully brought 
 with them by the audience) -never did the ardent desire To Know 
 (dominating the breasts of the gloved Eves and eye-glassed Para- 
 celsuses) meet with a severer check. Not only did Eliza swear that 
 she had never seen the Premier in her life, but she swore it so 
 positively, that the gladness which people might have felt at the 
 redemption of the Minister's reputation, was neutralised by the 
 dread lest the girl should be perjuring her soul and perilling her 
 salvation. 
 
 Outside, indeed, by the rude millions who were cut off from the 
 higher emotions, the exculpation of their idolised and martyred 
 Floppington was received with no such modified joy. In Ireland, 
 where he had already been canonised, the news only sharpened the 
 deadly desire for vengeance. The rest of Eliza's evidence would 
 have little novelty ; and even at the risk of violating the good old 
 literary canon that history repeats itself, we must content ourselves 
 with assuring the reader that Eliza gave as true a version of the 
 facts as was possible to so romantic an artist ; excepting, perhaps, 
 her assertion that uninterrupted tenderness had reigned between 
 her and her lover till the day of the mysterious and peremptory 
 return from Ramsgate. 
 
 Some amusement was created by the surprise manifested by the 
 witness on first hearing that Mr. Dawe had not suffered from small- 
 pox after all. Was it the memory of a wasted glove that touched 
 her eyes with dreamy softness ? 
 
 But not even the charm of Eliza's artless genre picture not the 
 interest of her ingenuous and realistic story could dissipate the 
 clouds of disappointment. It was true that in one particular, public 
 expectation had been more than fulfilled. But what if Eliza was 
 
 beautiful as a Houri ! Beauty is but skin-deep ! Then, again, 
 
 it was painful to the refined moral intuition 10 discover that the 
 Coroner had not the interests of Justice at heart, and that the dis-
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 449 
 
 senting juror was rudely suppressed, and the cross-examination of 
 the witness conducted on lines important only to the real question 
 at issue. The result of this jar to delicate susceptibilities was to 
 make not a few of those who had taken part in the late impromptu 
 service orthodox enough to disbelieve in the object of their adora- 
 tion. Eliza's denial was looked upon as the result of a false 
 modesty ; and they loftily refused to permit the Indignity of 
 History to suffer by the mistaken humility of a housemaid. 
 
 " Non omnis moriar" Eliza might have proudly sung as she left 
 the scene of her latest triumph. " I, too, shall join the choir in- 
 visible, whose scandal is the gladness of the world." And more than 
 a place in the choir invisible awaited her, for has not every reader 
 seen her niched amid the very visible choir at Madame Tussaud's, 
 blooming in waxen immortal beauty not far from the cerated 
 countenance, sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, of the 
 Right Honourable Arnold Floppington ? Well, indeed, had she 
 merited the immediately-granted distinction of a pedestal in our 
 national pantheon (a pantheon where the gods are the positivist 
 deity of humanity, vermicular in his power of being chopped up 
 into fragments, each a god in itself). Who, forsooth, could claim 
 admittance into our Catholic Academy, if it were denied to the 
 fiancee of a murderer and the alleged mistress of a Premier? 
 The management knew better than to discourage budding talent in 
 that fashion. 
 
 A motley procession of figures unknown to fame brought up 
 the rear of the irregular army of witnesses. 
 
 MR. LEGGE, a retired barrister and an habitue" of the Cogers' 
 Hall, deposed that he had known Jack Dawe for some time. The 
 man was one of the most uncompromising Radicals whose tirades 
 the walls of the ancient hall had ever echoed. He was also an 
 atheist, and very fond of his joke. He (the witness) had always 
 found him a very nice fellow, well-informed, and looked up to by a 
 little clique at the Cogers over which, being naturally of a domi- 
 neering temper, he had acquired a certain authority. Indeed, on 
 account of a somewhat striking resemblance to the late Premier, he 
 was familiarly called " Floppy," by which nickname only, many of 
 the frequenters knew him. 
 
 THE CORONER. "Did you ever see the late Premier ? " 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " Once or twice." 
 
 THE CORONER. " What were your own impressions as to the 
 resemblance ? " 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " It was a general resemblance so to speak. I 
 don't suppose it held in detail. Then again the difference of costume 
 gave the two men quite a different air." 
 
 THE CORONER. "Do you think his own and the general con- 
 sciousness of this resemblance had some subtle effect in inflating 
 Mr. Dawe and making him sometimes pose as if he were the 
 Premier ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. '' I scarcely think that. He had too much 
 sense for that." 
 
 2 G
 
 450 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 THE CORONER. " You see, a feeling of that kind influences a 
 man unknown to him. Might it not have contributed to strengthen 
 his natural desire to rule, if even only a small clique ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " I should say there is something in that view 
 of the case. It is likely enough." 
 
 THE CORONER. " You say he had much sense. But for all that, 
 was there any feeling in your debating society that he was not 
 altogether right in his head ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " It never struck me that he wasn't." 
 
 THE CORONER. " I don't doubt for a moment that he was 
 sane in one sense. But in all his brilliant wit, all his fiery 
 eloquence, wasn't there something feverish, something unhealthy? 
 Was there any feeling, anyhow, that the man was to be humoured 
 somewhat ? " 
 
 M'R. LEGGE. " Well, there was. The very fact that he was 
 ' Floppy' caused us to pay him a certain half-mock deference, not 
 after all much unlike that which one pays to a man slightly weak 
 in the upper storey. And I do think that casual debaters who 
 knew not ' Floppy ' used to get this view of him." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did not the contrast between the politics of 
 the two ' Floppingtons ' attract attention ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. "Of course. It was even said that Jack Dawe 
 consciously aimed at being as much unlike Mr. Floppington in the 
 spirit as he was like him in body. And really it seemed as if 
 a measure had only to be introduced or advocated by the latter to 
 be instantly violently denounced by the former. We used to 
 reproach him with allowing the Premier to make up his mind for 
 him." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Then he seems to have regarded the 
 Premier as a kind of bete noire ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " I don't say that, though I admit he seemed to 
 feel a sort of personal antagonism to Mr. Floppington and a sort 
 of personal triumph in demolishing him, especially since he came 
 into office last year. But he seemed sincerely to be of opinion that 
 Mr. Floppington was the worst type of Minister,y?V//a/', devoid 
 of principle, and inheriting all the worst principles of Toryism, 
 religion among them. I need not add I do not share these 
 opinions." 
 
 THE CORONER. "The peculiarity of his always attacking Mr. 
 Floppington must have added to the feeling that he was a little off 
 his mental balance." 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " Perhaps it did." 
 
 THE CORONER. " I suppose he was convinced he could 
 govern the country better himself?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. ' ; Who is not in his secret heart ?" 
 
 THE CORONER. " Well, but perhaps he wore his heart upon 
 his sleeve ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " For other Dawes to peck at? (Laughter.) 
 Well, all I know is this, it got to be a favourite bit of chaff to 
 interrupt him in the middle of a diatribe by calling out 'Hooray
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 451 
 
 for the Premier,' and then he would bow gracefully; or 'You could 
 do it better,' and then he used to draw himself up and say, ' I 
 should think so ; ' but whether it was chaff for chaff 1 couldn't say, 
 for it was often hard to tell whether he was in earnest or not." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Your debates would seem to be rather free- 
 and-easy ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " Yes ; we ape the House a good deal." 
 (Laughter) 
 
 THE CORONER. "When did you last see Mr. Dawe ?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " On the evening of the second reading of the 
 Reform Bill. He had been absent for some time, and his re- 
 appearance was welcomed." 
 
 THE CORONER." Did he speak ? " 
 
 MR. LEGGE. "Yes; and I shall never forget it. Naturally, 
 the subject of debate was the Reform Bill. (I must premise that 
 my previous answers were based on my general experience of Mr. 
 Dawe, and that his behaviour on this evening was quite exceptional.) 
 He came in flushed and evidently labouring under great excite- 
 ment. There was a man on his legs, and Mr. Dawe could hardly 
 restrain himself from jumping up. The audience, seeing his im- 
 patience, cried 'Time!' (our method of cloture) and then Mr. 
 Dawe got up, trembling with concentrated emotion. As usual, he 
 received an ovation, and we were all prepared for a magnificent 
 oratorical effort. What was our surprise to find that he made not 
 a single sarcastic reference to the last speaker ; that he said not a 
 word for or against the Bill which he had always been advocating ; 
 but that he exhausted invective in a purely personal abuse of the 
 Premier. It almost seemed as if the conversion of the Premier to 
 his own views, by removing the raison d'etre of the attacks which 
 were the delight of his existence, had driven him mad. He was 
 like a tiger robbed of its young. He said, inter alia, that the 
 Premier had not a scrap of principle, that he was the very soul of 
 jealousy and meanness, that he stole their glory from those to 
 whom it was due by appropriating at the last stage the reforms 
 due to their labour, that he had all the cunning of insanity, etc., etc. 
 Even his friends cried ' Shame ! ' and hisses ran rouim the room. 
 At the unexpected sounds he stopped short, and dashing his fist 
 violently on the table he exclaimed furiously : ' Yes ; shame on the 
 cruel trickster. Mark my words, if he persists in remaining at the 
 head of affairs, I will hound him from the House.' An uproarious 
 burst of laughter followed this bombastic threat. He glared round 
 madly and then strode out of the hall with an air of passionate 
 contempt ; and he has never shown his face there since.'' 1 
 
 THE CORONER. "Do you think he was drunk?" 
 
 MR. LEGGE. " I can't say. He was such a moderate drinke 
 usually." 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR. "Is it possible that he had just 
 become acquainted with his intended's intrigue?" 
 
 THE CORONER." With the alleged intrigue ! That is hardly- 
 likely, considering that the engaged couple took a seaside holiday 
 
 2 G 2
 
 452 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 together after that date. The affair strikes me as an exaggerated 
 phase of his usual antagonism." 
 
 The sitting was temporarily suspended at this point. On the 
 resumption of the investigation, MR. WILL COMBE, manager of the 
 Foresters' Music Hall, deposed that one evening about the middle 
 of May, he had been forced to give orders to his " chucker-out " to- 
 eject a person (who appeared to be half drunk, and whose name he 
 learnt was Mr. Dawe), who disturbed the performance, and almost 
 caused a commotion among the audience by persistently hissing 
 references to the late Premier, in opposition to the sense of the 
 house. 
 
 MR. WILLIAM BROWN (a man who attracted attention by the 
 deformity of a full-grown rat on his cheek), said that he was a 
 frequent customer at the " Star Dining Rooms." Mr. Dawe had 
 always been down on the Premier, but never so much as lately. 
 One day, he remembered, the painter was particularly bitter; there 
 was an argument in the shop, in which the witness took Mr. 
 Floppington's part. (Laughter.) He would swear that Mr. Dawe 
 had made use of the words : " Whatever Floppington does is 
 wrong." This witness thought Mr. Dawe bumptious, conceited, 
 and feeble-witted, and not a bit like the Premier. He was a 
 drunken vagabond, and almost broke his poor mother's heart. 
 
 MR. THOMAS WILKINS deposed that he had known Mr. Dawe 
 for some years, he (the witness) having been Foreign Secretary in 
 his Cabinet at a local Parliament, and had been rather intimate 
 with him till a few months ago ; when he, in common with the rest 
 of the neighbourhood, had found a marked change for the worse 
 in the man. The house-painter had grown reserved and moody, 
 and rarely deigned to take any notice of his numerous acquaintances. 
 He used to walk the streets with an air of gloomy meditation; and 
 in fact he had obtained the nickname of" Mad Jack." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Mad Jack ! Then the impression he produced 
 on observers was that he was insane." 
 
 MR. WILKINS. " Not quite on me. I always thought the 
 reason was he had something on his mind. I remember, for instance, 
 a day when he was serving in the shop because his mother was ill. 
 Well, by the way he served, it was as plain as a pikestaff that he 
 was only awake by fits and starts. He gave me sixpenn'orth of 
 peas for a penny." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "At that rate he would have attracted more 
 customers than any shop in the kingdom." 
 
 MR. WILKINS. "Yes, and ruined himself quicker." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did he ever deliver invectives against Mr. 
 Floppington in your presence ?" 
 
 MR. WILKINS. "Oh, yes; I remember telling him as I was 
 eating those very peas, that he'd have a good opportunity of sling- 
 ing into of attacking Mr. Floppington, if he'd only come up to 
 the Cogers' as he used to do. He took my advice, and came up 
 the same night ; but I never bargained for the terrible onslaught he 
 made."
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 453 
 
 THE CORONER. " Do you remember when this was ?" 
 
 MR. WILKINS. " Very well, because it was the evening of the 
 second reading of the Reform Bill." 
 
 THE CORONER. "That onslaught, then, has already been 
 described to us. Do you remember any other ? " 
 
 MR. WILKINS. "Yes, I do ; but before I tell the Court about 
 it, I should like the jury to know that I had irritated him by waving, 
 so to speak, a red rag before him. Meeting him in the Bethnal 
 Green Road on the day of the Premier's exposition of his Irish 
 policy, I asked him whether he would come and cheer him on his 
 way to the House. Of course I ought not to have said it, after that 
 scene at the Cogers', but as I was on the way myself, it was 
 natural to unthinkingly ask him to accompany me. When he 
 indignantly refused, I further irritated him by lecturing him on his 
 foolish antagonism to a great man. ' He a great man !' he hissed 
 in my ear. ' He is a vile impostor ! ' I said something, I don't 
 remember what, and then in furious tones he added these words: 
 * But his career will be over sooner than the world imagines.'" 
 {Sensation.) 
 
 A few further questions bearing reference to the alleged resem- 
 blance between the Premier and the painter added nothing to the 
 evidence already elicited. 
 
 POLICE CONSTABLE J 9, who was next called, gave it as his 
 opinion that Mr. Dawe was a bit cracked. He particularly 
 remembered an occasion when, his mother being ill, the painter 
 was serving in the shop. He (the witness) caught a boy with eight 
 saveloys in his pocket, stolen from the cook-shop. Mr. Dawe had 
 not only ordered the vagabond to be released, but given him some 
 cold potatoes ; talking like a madman to explain why he did so. 
 
 A BROTHER CERULEAN deposed that when going on his 
 beat about 11.30 p.m. on the 25th of May (he remembered the date 
 because it was the first time he had gone on that beat), he noticed 
 a suspicious-looking individual, whose identity he discovered by 
 accident afterwards, sauntering along in the neighbourhood of 
 Victoria Park. Shortly afterwards, hearing cries of distress, he ran 
 in the direction of the sounds. The witness then proceeded to 
 relate apologetically the Una episode already known to the reader. 
 
 The chief force of the evidence lay in its revelation of the never- 
 slumbering antagonism to the Premier, evinced by the man's being 
 unable to bear even at a moment of personal danger the slightest 
 <:asual tribute to his enemy. " Floppington had little to do with 
 the Acts you refer to. Because he happened to be Prime Minister 
 you must not suppose that all the good was done by him. As for 
 all the evil, that, of course, is his work." Almost equally remarkable 
 was the tone taken by the man throughout, especially in his promise 
 of promotion to the credulous policeman. 
 
 THE VICAR of Bethnal Green, a venerable-looking old man, 
 stated that he had known Mr. Dawe by sight and hearsay for many 
 years, though he had never spoken to him till recently. Like his 
 father before him, the painter was the evil genius of the parish,
 
 454 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 being at the head of the Atheistic clique. The witness then 
 described the sudden appearance of the Atheist at church, and the 
 sermon with which he had attempted to move him ; the man's 
 apparent emotion, and his congratulation at the finish. 
 
 THE CORONER. " From your manner you seem to disbelieve 
 in the genuineness of the conversion.'' 
 
 THE VICAR. " Alas, yes ! For he ended his congratulations by 
 promising me a deanery." (Sensation.) 
 
 THE CORONER. "I do not admit the soundness of your 
 inference. Surely he would never take the trouble to go to church 
 merely to annoy you in that way." 
 
 THE VICAR. " I believe he entered the chnrch by accident,, 
 having given his arm to an old lady who had fallen down. But, 
 once there, he thought he might as well get some fun out of it, 
 though I must say I brought the infliction down on myself by ask- 
 ing him to remain. It seems that he was very fond of practical 
 jokes, and that nothing was sacred to him. Mr. White, an under- 
 taker and a most estimable man, has assured me that he hoaxed 
 him into a belief that Mrs. Dawe, his own mother, was dead, merely 
 to enjoy the poor man's discomfiture. Moreover, I have other grounds 
 for disbelief. To carry the joke further, the painter attended 
 church on the next Sunday, and even several other Sundays ; 
 till, finding that I was not to be caught, he dropped the bad habit. 
 (Laughter.) On the second Sunday, in the renewed hope of effect- 
 ing some good, I made up my mind to pay him a domiciliary visit. 
 I .found Miss Bathbrill had preceded me, and I inadvertently 
 intruded upon a scene of tenderness." (Laughter.) 
 
 THE DISSENTING JUROR." Do you mind explaining what is 
 your idea of a scene of tenderness ? " (Laughter.) 
 
 THE VICAR. " I am not good at explanations of that sort, the 
 vivid imagination of the Juror will probably supply the deficiency. 
 (Laughter.) After some conversation, in the course of which 
 Mrs. Dawe blurted out some libellous accusations against the 
 Premier, which her son disingenuously declared he had no remem- 
 brance of making, Miss Bathbrill took an affectionate leave of her 
 betrothed." 
 
 THE CORONER. "What were the accusations you speak of?" 
 THE VlCAR. " Oh, de omnibus rebus et quibnsdam aliis. I 
 recollect in particular that he charged him with being the cause of 
 all the Irish murders, and with changing his politics as frequently 
 as his shirts. (Laughter.) After Miss Bathbrill had gone, I had a 
 long talk with Mr. Dawe, who told me that he had been at last led 
 to doubt the faith, or rather the unfaith, of his childhood, and 
 acknowledged himself grateful to have my help at such a crisis. 
 All the while I had an undercurrent of suspicion that I was being 
 hoaxed. Certain barbed phrases ought to have convinced me of 
 that, not to speak of an audacious claim on the part of Mr. Dawe 
 to an intimate acquaintance with mediaeval theology, and Patristic 
 literature. (Laughter.) I can understand the laughter of the 
 audience, but even this risky statement I swallowed, doubtless
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 455 
 
 much to the delight and much to the surprise of the joker, whose 
 heart, I fear, is wholly perverted." 
 
 THE CORONER. " But surely a layman may read the Fathers. 
 Mr. Dawe is, I believe, a well-read man ; but even supposing he 
 was exaggerating (as we all naturally do) a little knowledge he 
 may have possessed, a knowledge perhaps acquired on purpose to 
 refute defenders of the faitri, you have still not satisfied me that the 
 man's conversion was not genuine." 
 
 The disbelief of the Coroner in the disbelief of the painter 
 caused some sensation, but the drift of his scepticism was not as 
 yet apparent. 
 
 THE VICAR." Well, to put the matter briefly, I made the dis- 
 covery that the man was in the habit of contributing blasphemous 
 articles to the Freethinker? 
 
 THE CORONER. " But the point was, had he written any since 
 he had come to church ?" 
 
 THE VICAR (after a long pause). "God forgive me if I have 
 wronged him and turned away a soul seeking light ! (Sensation.) 
 Indignation overmastered me, I hurried away without thinking of 
 anything but my hurt dignity." 
 
 The Vicar appeared much affected. Was he indeed responsible 
 for all the evil that had followed ? After he had somewhat recovered, 
 he continued his statement in a sad, subdued voice. 
 
 But the rest of his evidence the reader has in great part alreadv 
 heard at first hand from the lips of inhabitants of Bethnal Green, such 
 as those whom the Vicar confessed he had drawn his information 
 from. The Vicar of course came into contact with almost all shades 
 of public opinion, and had, without active inquiry on his own part, 
 gathered from mutually-corroborative witnesses that Mr. Dawe had 
 given up work altogether, unknown to his mother, as he went out 
 with his paint-pots every day, depositing them at a shop all day, 
 and that he spent the day in aimless mooning about the neighbour- 
 hood. The Vicar's own observation tallied with these reports. He 
 had several times seen him wandering about with a pale, dissipated 
 look, though he did not appear to be intoxicated. On one occasion, 
 however, he had seen him enter a public-house at a very early hour 
 in the day, when he should have been going to work. The painter 
 had lately been prostrated by an attack of brain-fever, which was 
 currently believed to be due to drink. 
 
 MR. DREW, publican, deposed to the strange painting of the 
 legless lion, the very last piece of work done by the painter. 
 
 MR. WILLIAM BERTRAM deposed that he was a Captain in the 
 Salvation Army. He had belonged to the Army for about a month. 
 His first acquaintance with Mr. Dawe dated from about two months 
 ago, when his conversation seemed to have interested the house- 
 painter, and he was invited to sup with him. He soon discovered 
 that his host was a very educated man and a kindred soul. He 
 agreed with the witness in taking a highly spiritual view of the 
 universe and of the nature of man, delivering a long monologue 
 on the education of the soul by suffering.
 
 456 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did he appear sincere in his views ?" 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " I don't think I ever met a more earnest man 
 in my life excepting General Booth. He spoke as one inspired." 
 (Sensation.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Was there a note of repentance in what he 
 said?" 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. "Well, yes, there was. He seemed as if he 
 was just realising for the first time the life in Christ." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did you observe anything strange about 
 him any signs of a hysterical, perfervid condition ! " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. "To say the truth, I did think he was just a 
 little off his balance. When I afterwards learnt that he had once 
 been first in the ranks of the godless, I thought the shock of the 
 change had temporarily unsettled him somewhat." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Was your impression gained from his whole 
 conduct or from anything in particular ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Both. He startled me by asking me, I don't 
 think in joke, to take a glass of some Johannisberg, presented to 
 him by his friend Prince Bismarck." (Sensation.) 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did you notice his alleged resemblance to 
 the Premier ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " I saw some resemblance.'' 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did it not strike you that he was, consciously 
 r not, aping the Premier ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " It did not then, but it does now. I remember 
 his speaking of the Short Hours' Bill as though he had done more 
 than advocate it in debating rooms, almost as if he had carried it 
 through Parliament." 
 
 THE CORONER. " Did he ever speak against the Premier in 
 your presence ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Oh yes ! Once when I was in a tram with 
 him." 
 
 THE CORONER. " When was that ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Less than a fortnight ago. I had lost sight of 
 him for some time, and we met by accident. He told me that cir- 
 cumstances compelled him to leave home, and so I asked him to 
 share mine. He accepted the offer and we took the tram to my 
 place." 
 
 THE CORONER. " What do you think caused him to leave 
 home ? " 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " I don't know. I could only elicit that his 
 home life was intolerable." 
 
 THE CORONER. ''Doesit not seemthen that religious differences 
 were at the bottom of it ? Mrs. Dawe would seem to be beyond the 
 reach of grace, while he had become an ardent Christian." 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Your supposition is extremely probable, and 
 doubtless the fact that I had enlisted in the Army of the righteous 
 helped to influence him to share my home." 
 
 THE CORONER. " May I ask what had induced you to enlist in 
 that Army ? "
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 457 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " I had always been of a religious turn, and 
 Mr. Dawe's inspired eloquence worked upon me a good deal. I 
 believe it was through him that the thought of joining the Army 
 suggested itself to me, and I bless Providence that " 
 
 THE CORONER. " Was this denunciation in the tram-carat all 
 violent?" 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Extremely so. He said the Premier was 
 doing deadly mischief, that he was a Lord of Misrule, and so on. 
 And he wished to God he could lead the Opposition and hurl him 
 from his place. ' Prick this empty windbag,' I think he said." 
 
 THE CORONER. " How long did he live with you?" 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " Three days." 
 
 THE CORONER. " How came he to leave you ?" 
 
 MR. BERTRAM. " He was taken back by his mother. He 
 seemed helpless in her hands." 
 
 The witness then described, amid much amusement, the scene 
 at the Midnight Meeting, and the events that led to it ; not forgetting, 
 too, the ingenious and contemptuous allusions to Floppington which 
 were dragged in with, said the witness, the constancy if not with 
 the total irrelevance of King Charles' Head into Mr. Dick's 
 manuscript. 
 
 DOCTOR THOMAS deposed that he had been called in to attend 
 Mr. Dawe in an attack of brain-fever which his mother, equally at 
 fault in religion and medicine, had at first contended to be small- 
 pox. The doctor corroborated Sally's testimony as to the delirious 
 utterances of the patient, though he had heard only a few of them. 
 On looking over his notes on the case, he found that he had com- 
 mented thus : Cerebral fever induced by drink and irreligious 
 fanaticism. Sharply interrogated as to the latter phrase, he con- 
 fessed that he had been guided by the contents of the patient's 
 book-case, but he saved his credit by asserting that his experience 
 told him that it was fanaticism connected with religion. Discover- 
 ing, however, the patient's infidelity, it had struck him that irre- 
 ligious fanaticism had not been adequately recognised as a force of 
 aberration. He was willing to admit that the fanaticism might 
 have been religious. 
 
 The last witness called in this never-to-be-forgotten investigation 
 was DR. MAUDSLEV, a writer of some mark in physio-psychology 
 and an authority on lunacy. He was asked what, in lace of the 
 whole body of evidence, was his view of the man's sanity ? In the 
 course of a lengthy reply, the witness said that the case was 
 the most extraordinary he had ever met with, and as pregnant of 
 meaning to the mental pathologist as it was bewildering and 
 inexplicable to the idealist-psychologist, and that he intended to 
 incorporate a minute study of it into the next edition of his 
 " Pathology of Mind." There was nothing wonderful in the 
 sudden change of belief ; the boxing of the intellectual compass. 
 There was a class of mind, which he had thoroughly analysed, 
 which lived in a pendulous swing from extreme to extreme. (The 
 learned doctor then went on to expound some abstruse theory
 
 458 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 concerning polar opposites which the reporters seem to have 
 muddled, for the present writer can make nothing of it.) The 
 further dissection, being reproduced by the Coroner in his summing 
 up, will be best read in that connection. 
 
 In answer to the counsel for Jack Dawe, the doctor said that it 
 was an absurd and a far-fetched hypothesis to suppose that a man 
 would blow himself up to avoid the appearance of suicide, and that 
 the suggested causes of suicide, viz. : the turning of the Premier's 
 brain through the great success of the previous night, or over- 
 work, or grief at the alleged rupture between him and his old love, 
 Lady Gwendolen, or worry caused by the reports circulated con- 
 cerning him, or all these causes combined were almost cut off 
 even from the need of consideration by the manner of his death ; 
 that such indomitable mental and physical energy as that displayed 
 by the Minister on the day before his death was not usually 
 associated with suicidal mania ; and that a man engaged in the 
 exhilarating work of carrying a Bill was of all men least likely to 
 hand over the task to his rivals. 
 
 THE CORONER, in the course of a most remarkable and lucid 
 summing-up which is here of necessity much condensed, said : 
 " Passing from the question of the identity of the deceased to 
 the question of how he came by his death, I find that the date on 
 which this strange story, whose latest chapter a whole nation 
 deplores, began its tragic course, seems to be Sunday the 3rd 
 of May. On that day, by the inexplicable decree of destiny, 
 the first link in the fatal chain of circumstance was forged 
 by the apparently trivial incident of the fall of an old woman 
 upon the pavement. Jack Dawe, a man of blameless character, 
 but an Atheist and an advanced Radical, eloquent, and by all 
 accounts intellectual and well-informed above his station, a 
 moderate drinker, a steady workman, prosperous, and intending to 
 make a marriage of love in three months' time, Jack Dawe passes 
 by ; and, yielding to a natural impulse of generosity, picks up 
 the old woman and furthermore conducts her into church. He 
 is about to retire, but unfortunately as the lamentable results 
 proved the Vicar, to whom it is superfluous to say not the 
 slightest blame attaches for the mischief wrought through 
 his zeal, begs him to remain. The reverend gentleman then 
 brings to bear all his eloquence upon the impressionable 
 and intelligent Freethinker with the result of convincing alike 
 his reason and his heart. Be it remembered that the man had 
 probably never entered a church in his life, that all the subtle 
 influences of public worship were felt for the first time by a 
 chivalrous and lofty soul, brought up in an absolutely godless 
 fashion, and habituated from infancy to despise the doctrines of 
 our holy religion. The solemn roll of the organ, the sweet voices 
 of the choir, add their effect to the impassioned address of the 
 preacher, and the Freethinker leaves the sacred edifice a changed 
 man. But, strange to say, the very man who has wrought this 
 wonderful conversion refuses to believe in it, because the convert
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 459 
 
 tells him that he shall have the next vacant deanery at his disposal. 
 Now let us see whether this scepticism was justified, and the 
 question leads on to a new fact of unprecedented interest. Jack 
 Dawe, strange to say, resembled the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington. However slight the resemblance may have been (and 
 on this point witnesses differ), it was certainly great enough to cause 
 him to be familiarly dubbed ' Floppy.' That resemblances of 
 this sort do exist, is shown by the numberless cases of mistaken 
 identity ; while from an abstract point of view, it would seem that 
 partial resemblances, at least, must occur. A friend of mine, who 
 was Senior Wrangler of his year, has even calculated that the 
 possible combinations of appreciably different human physical 
 characteristics are less than the total number of human beings in 
 the world ; and that, therefore, there must be some cases of absolute 
 identity. The consciousness of the resemblance seems, as soon 
 as the political prominence of Mr. Floppington evoked attention to 
 it, to have given, in some degree at least, a desire to emulate the 
 influence of that eminent man. Mr. Dawe had even been the Premier 
 in a local parliament, and the feeling that man for man he was as 
 good as his quasi-rival naturally caused him to mix a certain 
 amount of personal antagonism with that antagonism to his prin- 
 ciples which was, perhaps, equally natural to a working man and a 
 Freethinker. Whether ultimately, in an already unhealthy state of 
 mind, the brooding on this physical resemblance produced the 
 remarkable illusion that he was the Premier, is a question which 
 has naturally suggested itself to the minds of all who heard the 
 evidence. But Dr. Maudsley has replied to it by a decisive 
 negative, and I certainly do not venture to disagree with so great 
 an authority. But there is a question of detail on which I may, 
 perhaps, be allowed to hold an opinion even against him. Dr. 
 Maudsley has explained the items of evidence relating to the pro- 
 mised promotions, the offer of the Johannisberg, and the occasional 
 authoritative tone of the man, on the theory of a humorous re- 
 ference implied by it to his resemblance to the Premier; a momentary 
 makebelieve that he was the Premier, which the observer was 
 supposed to be mystified by or to enjoy, according as he was in 
 
 Eossession of the key or not. But, while this satisfactorily accounts 
 >r the other cases, it seems to me that, taken alone, it is inadequate 
 to explain why Mr. Dawe, who on Dr. Maudsley's own theory was 
 really converted, should at such a solemn epoch resort to his well- 
 worn jocular method. The explanation lies deeper. Mr. Dawe 
 has been visibly overcome by emotion during the sermon. But 
 when the service is over and the audience begins to leave the 
 church, the charm fades and he awakes to find that he, the self- 
 appointed leader of free thought, the man who has set the table on 
 a roar with jests aimed at the delusion of the Christian and the 
 hypocrisy of the clergy, has been seen shedding tears in the very 
 citadel of the enemy. A momentary revulsion overpowers him. 
 Ashamed of his weakness, he thinks to pass off the affair as a 
 satirical joke. After loudly complimenting the preacher, he
 
 46o THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 ironically exclaims : ' I promise you the next vacant deanery at 
 my disposal ! ' that is to say, ' I promise you what you deserve, 
 viz., nothing.' But this is a minor detail. It is at any rate clear 
 that the conversion was genuine. The effects of the churchgoing 
 remain, despite his endeavours to laugh them off. The whole week 
 he thinks of it. He endeavours to paint, but he cannot concentrate 
 his thoughts on the painting. For the first time in his life he botches 
 his work and produces a shapeless lion. The same evening, still 
 under the burden of deep thoughts and saddled with the conscious- 
 ness that, unless he settles his doubts, he cannot even do his work, 
 he accompanies his mother to the ' Foresters' Music Hall,' having, 
 perhaps, taken an extra glass to drown his new cares. The constant 
 eulogiums of Mr. Floppington bring vividly before his mind the 
 contrast between the gratified ambition and fancied perfect 
 happiness of the Premier and the unhappy and restless condition 
 of one not unlike him in form. The thought is one that henceforth 
 often recurs to the hitherto contented sign-painter, and each time 
 with additional intensity, till at last a jealousy amounting to mania 
 fires his soul. Anyhow, on the night in question, his disapprobation 
 of the Premier's policy, combined with the nascent jealousy which 
 was ultimately to master him, caused him to hiss the singer and to 
 be ejected from the hall. The expulsion no doubt rankled in his 
 breast and increased his resentment against the unfortunate Premier. 
 He refuses all work, and walks about the streets meditating upon 
 the doctrines of Christianity and his own blindness. Sunday comes 
 round and he goes to church once more, penitent and believing, and 
 thus courageously confesses his changed views. The Vicar goes to 
 see him ; but, from a lamentable misapprehension, quits his house 
 in disgust, leaving the poor man to wrestle with his own soul, 
 abandoned even by his own clergyman. As Dr. Maudsley has told 
 us, his was one of those minds which know no half-beliefs ; passionate 
 alike in love and hate, in faith and unfaith. He thinks this 
 spiritual solitude a fit punishment for his years of incredulity, and 
 horror seizes him at the thought of the life he has lived and of the 
 life his mother still lives. He abandons his work, roams about, 
 struggling with the sense of sin, brooding over the idea of his and 
 her and his father's damnation. Domestic dissension naturally 
 ensues ; his mother cannot understand him, and there are quarrels. 
 Mark the pathetic statement of the servant : ' Master was afraid 
 of missus, though it used to be the other way on.' The spiritual 
 influence of Christianity makes him more subservient to his 
 mother, though her coarse Atheism wounds him to the quick by the 
 vivid suggestion of his former unregenerate state. Full of the 
 fanatical ideas of the ardent convert, he even attempts some 
 penances ; eating little, and rejecting his mother's dainties. In this 
 hysterical condition, says Dr. Maudsley, cut off by his new con- 
 sciousness from his old friends, and by his old faith from any nevr 
 ones, the poor man naturally takes to drink ; and what wonder if 
 his animosity to the Premier mingles imperceptibly with his whole 
 consciousness, and colours the very current of his thought, so that
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 461 
 
 the mere name drives him to furious invective. It is easy to- 
 understand the impression made by this great and sudden change 
 on al! who knew him ; nor is it at all surprising that he should, 
 soon come to be known as ' Mad Jack.' 
 
 " Occasionally, of course, he has what may fairly be called 
 intervals of sanity, and in one of these he impresses one of the 
 witnesses as a most earnest man ; and so far is his conversion 
 from being a joke that he edifies the stranger with a spiritual 
 discourse so inspiring that the hearer is ultimately led to join the 
 Salvation Army. He has abandoned all his former pursuits, has 
 given up politics ; but a notorious change of policy on the part of 
 the Premier affording him an opportunity, he takes the suggestion 
 of a former friend and re-appears at 'The Cogers" for the last time, 
 and excels all his previous efforts in the line of denunciation. At 
 this stage he goes out of town, and the change seems to do him 
 good. He spends a happy week with his sweetheart, and there is 
 some chance that his mental equilibrium will be restored, when, lo ! 
 a fresh shock of tenfold power prostrates him once more, and. 
 hastens on the tragedy to its terrible conclusion. What this shock 
 was is unknown ; but there are strong grounds for believing that it 
 was in Ramsgate, while accidentally separated from Miss Bathbrill,. 
 that the report (true or false) of her liaison with the Premier first 
 reached his ears. 
 
 " It is not necessary for the purposes of the present inquiry to- 
 know whether there was any truth in the rumour which it were 
 prudish to pretend ignorance of. I may, perhaps, be allowed to 
 declare my own belief in the absolute innocence of the Premier; 
 the positive statement of a witness on oath must take precedence 
 of the vague reports of ignorance, and it is not to be regretted that 
 the base scandal was brought to so sharp a test. Would all false 
 reports were as easily, so to speak, corroded and detected by the 
 acid of an oath ! Miss Bathbrill is living, and has sworn that she 
 never saw the Premier in her life. The Premier is, alas ! dead, 
 but his whole life swears for him. Although, therefore, the report 
 was absolutely without foundation, unfortunately its effects were as 
 great as if it had been Gospel truth. Imputed evil finds a readier 
 ear than imputed goodness ; and Mr. Dawe seems, for one, to have 
 thoroughly believed it. The blowing-off of his hat at the seaside 
 assumes the proportions of a tragic event when we consider its 
 consequences. The pursuit leading him beyond Miss BathbrilFs 
 ken, he fell in with somebody from whom, in some way or other, 
 he first learnt the report. He was probably taunted with it, and 
 the horror of the news, combined with the natural irascibility of 
 his temper, caused incredulous excitement and indignation which 
 vented themselves in a fisticuff encounter; as was evidenced by the 
 existence of slight wounds on his arm, caused, doubtless, in a 
 struggle in the neighbourhood of cliffs, and showing that his coat 
 iiad been off. But he seems to have been convinced, despite him- 
 belf ; for, on re-appearing at his lodgings, he behaves in an insane 
 fashion, declaring he must return to London at once, and brutally
 
 462 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 exclaiming, when met by the reluctance of his mother and his 
 sweetheart, that they may stay by themselves for all he cares. He 
 utters no word of reproach to Miss Bathbrill ; he is wounded to the 
 soul ; his grief is too great for vulgar quarrels. With the fierce 
 determination which was at the root of his character, this fiery, 
 wayward, emotional being rushes back to London by the next 
 train, madly projecting an instant revenge on the fancied destroyer 
 of his happiness. That the Premier, whose form was almost his 
 own, but whose fortunes were so different, who had the world at his 
 feet, who lived in the gratification of every ambition, blissful, self- 
 satisfied, smugly religious, not torn to his vitals by feverish 
 alternations of faith and scepticism ; that this man, of all men in 
 the world, should have robbed him of his one ewe-lamb, this 
 reflection, says Dr. Maudsley, must have filled his heart with added 
 bitterness and heated his brain to delirium. Already, though they 
 had never met, their lines of life had crossed, and unpleasantly for 
 the poor, ambitious house-painter ; already they seemed to his dis- 
 satisfied spirit to be almost rivals, and now the pampered minion 
 of fortune had by the cruel favouritism of destiny stolen the only 
 treasure which made the poor man's life worth living. Surely 
 never were two men in stranger relations. To the humbler of the 
 twain it must have seemed as if the other were his evil genius. 
 
 "He returns to London thirsting'for vengeance. It is a significant 
 fact that he indulges in the unwonted luxury of a first-class 
 compartment. He has done with life now, and all the small 
 economies of his position. He will kill this man, though his own 
 life pay the forfeit. As he sits brooding in the train on these 
 dark thoughts, his companions endeavour to extract the reasons 
 of his return ; but he maintains a gloomy silence. He will say 
 nothing that may warn them of his deadly intentions, and perhaps 
 thwart his vengeance. They arrive home, but overtaxed Nature 
 postpones the deed. He is attacked by brain-fever, brought on, 
 according to medical authority, by drink and religious fanaticism. 
 How, indeed, was Dr. Thomas to divine the third factor, perhaps 
 more potent for the moment than the other two together? And 
 now a new element is found to have mingled with the malarious 
 current of his thoughts. The pages of fiction offer us no more 
 terrible figure than this living and breathing Jack Dawe, this 
 ' Mad Jack,' tossing and raving in the little bedroom in the 
 Bethnal Green Road. Once a steady and unusually intelligent 
 workman, a moderate drinker, a happy lover, with heaps of 
 friends, he has, in a few short weeks, become a lounging, slip- 
 shod idler, drinking from early morn to late eve, to drive away 
 the thoughts of his damnation ; alone with his own tortured soul, 
 suffering from his unhappy imagination in some such fashion, says 
 Dr. Maudsley, as Bunyan and many others have suffered, believing 
 himself wounded in devilish sport by his evil genius, and thirsting 
 for his blood. But though all these elements manifest their exist- 
 ence in his delirious outcries, there are some which are not 
 explicable by any of them, nor by any facts of his past life known
 
 A PIECE OF SYNTHESIS 463 
 
 to us. To understand these, we must remember that just before 
 Jack Dawe went to the seaside, the Premier had promised 
 the Parnellites a thorough measure of reform, which rumour 
 (for once correct) instantly pronounced to be nothing less than 
 total separation. It is almost certain that Jack Dawe would, under 
 any circumstances, have been violent in opposition to this scheme 
 of his quasi-rival. But now that the Protestants of Ulster began 
 to complain in their alarm that they would be left at the mercy 
 of a Catholic majority, the painter, with all the ardour of a convert, 
 was convinced that his enemy was insidiously aiming a blow at 
 the true religion ; ,and the conviction added one more drop to 
 the already overflowing cup of bitterness. It was the thought of 
 this that was most present with him before the shock, and that 
 mingled most indisseverably with the image of the Minister; and 
 in his delirium, to quote the subtle analysis of Dr. Maudsley, 'amid 
 the cries of the victim of drink, that devils wanted to murder him, 
 agonised cries for his lost love, and the living over again of his 
 oratorical and other experiences, the frequent recurrence of such 
 exclamations as " Ireland shall not have Home Rule, though 
 I die for it ! " finds its explanation in the well-known psychological 
 fact that the deeper-grounded, because older, cause of animosity 
 predominated in his feverish remembrance, and transferring to 
 itself all the new force of hatred, it presented itself to his delirious 
 consciousness as the sole motive of his confusedly-remembered 
 intention of assassinating the Premier.' So far Dr. Maudsley ; 
 though I may perhaps remark in answer to an assertion in a 
 notorious letter that the phrase is inexplicable, that it might even 
 be explained as a grim exclamation of triumph, in the fact that 
 his enemy's reforms, too, and the fame to be got by them, would 
 be put an end to with his life ; though I do not pretend that this 
 would explain the sequel as it has been explained in the masterly 
 fashion of the great authority just quoted. 
 
 " One day the patient wakes, and his first thought is of the 
 Premier. Has he assassinated the Minister ? What has happened? 
 These are the questions he puts to his nurse. Finding that 
 his foe is still alive, he endeavours to rise ; but, weakness over- 
 powering him, he dictates a threatening and imperious telegram, 
 forgetting in the imbecility of his yet feeble brain that he is 
 betraying himself, and, in accordance with Dr. Maudsley's theory, 
 forgetting, too, everything but the fancied and much-magnified 
 danger of the Protestants of Ulster, and his own deadly enmity. 
 
 "A few days after, he dictated a letter to the same effect. It is 
 to be observed -that in both these messages the tone is one of 
 impotence. The prostrate man resigns himself to stopping, if 
 possible, the Irish measure by threats, though determined to carry 
 them out when he can, if they are unheeded. With convalescence, 
 however, comes a temporary return of the mental balance and a 
 reaction against his fit of dementia ; and though he, of course, 
 remembers the terrible news that drove him back to London, he 
 remains quiescent, contenting himself with abusing the unfortunate
 
 464 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 Miss Bathbrill to the girl Sally, and throwing off the poor innocent 
 creature, when she comes to see him, by the terribly ironical avowal 
 that he, too, loves another. He has received in the meantime an 
 enigmatic answer from the Premier, evidently the result of mis- 
 conception ; but, though still nursing his many grievances in the 
 calm hours and the enforced temperance of the period of con- 
 valescence, his better reason and his new religious consciousness 
 tell him that he has fortunately escaped a terrible temptation. He 
 passes his days peacefully in reading and writing, and it seems as 
 if the much -tried mental system of the man has, by a temporary 
 breakdown, been saved from overthrow. But, lo ! when all is going 
 well, Miss Bathbrill, justly enough, summons him for breach of 
 promise. The hypothesis of a got-up case cannot for a moment be 
 entertained. Mrs. Dawe did not understand her son she was 
 evidently trying to shuffle out of the fact that he had given up 
 Miss Bathbrill, just as she tried to shuffle out of the admission that 
 she did not get on well with him. The demand for damages seems 
 to the defendant to be adding insult to injury, but on reflection he 
 rejoices thereat. Still in the ironical mood which prompted the 
 confession of love, he offers 2,000, a sum he did not possess, but 
 which she, angered by that confession, refuses. Directly, then, the 
 summons seems to have had no ill-effect. But indirectly it has led 
 to dissension with his mother which, combined doubtless with 
 religious differences, renders his home intolerable. The poor 
 convalescent flees, no doubt putting this misfortune, too, to the 
 score of Mr. Floppington, whom he denounces to Mr. Bertram, 
 and whom he attacks even in a discourse which his fanaticism has 
 prompted him to give at a midnight meeting of the Salvation 
 Army. 
 
 *' Taken home by his mother, ' The Converted Painter,' as he 
 was styled on the bill, writes a cold and sneering letter to his 
 enemy, full of studied politeness, icily informing him that he, the 
 Right Honourable Arnold Floppington, will be subpoenaed in a 
 vulgar breach-of-promise suit, gloating in anticipation over the 
 writhings of the hypocritical Minister, ironically suggesting that he 
 should buy off the girl, and giving him carte blanche to do so. 
 Feeling that he has the Premier under his thumb, he even im- 
 periously demands an order for the Strangers' Gallery. 
 
 " With these voluptuous expectations of a more refined and a 
 crueller revenge than that suggested in a moment of passion, what 
 must have been his disappointment and frenzy to receive a letter 
 no less icy and scornful than his own ! No prospect of cross- 
 examination terrifies the blameless Premier; but to Jack Dawe it 
 seems as if he is powerless before the defiant hauteur and im- 
 penetrable armour of the great Minister before whom Law itself 
 will bend in respect. There is no revenge but that in his own 
 hands. 
 
 " The old, long-buried torrent of animosity bursts forth once more 
 in tenfold strength. So overpowered is he by angry emotion that 
 he cannot refrain from openly predicting that the Premier's career
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 465 
 
 will be over sooner than the world imagines. To add fuel to the 
 flame, the very day of the receipt of the letter happens to be that 
 of the declaration of the long-threatened Home Rule policy. The 
 detested libertine Minister is the focus of a nation's enthusiasm^ 
 and, when he sits down after his great speech, princes applaud hfs 
 mighty eloquence and wondrous statesmanship. 
 
 "During the day Jack Dawe feeds his determination on the 
 eulogies and enthusiasm of the newspapers, leaves home at night, 
 after a few significant words to the servant, and has not been heard 
 of since. The discovery of his latch-key on the pavement of 
 Little Snale Street, however, marks one point of his course, and 
 leads to the suspicion that he had hung about Downing Street 
 during part of the night, and followed the Premier in the morning. 
 No evidence has indeed been forthcoming to show by what means 
 he obtained the dynamite, nor was such evidence to have been 
 expected ; but there was an interval long enough to enable him to 
 do so between his leaving home and the assassination of the 
 illustrious victim, which has caused the strangest and saddest 
 investigation that it ever was my lot to undertake." 
 
 At the conclusion of this wonderful piece of synthesis, as the 
 Telegraph called it, the jury retired ; and, after an absence of six 
 minutes, returned a verdict to the effect that the deceased was the 
 Right Honourable Arnold Floppington, and that he had been 
 assassinated by Jack Dawe. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES. 
 
 LORD BARDOLPH MOUNTCHAPEL was angry with the editor of 
 the Times. 
 
 " How, in Heaven's name," he asked him, "did you come to in- 
 sert that fool's letter this morning? I've no doubt it has set some 
 people seriously wondering what I really meant by telling the 
 Orangemen to strike a blow, and fancying my words have influenced 
 this miserable Jack Dawe's mind. Especially when everybody 
 thinks that I owed the unfortunate Premier a grudge, and when 
 everybody knows that sooner or later I must step into his shoes. 
 The Ministry will inevitably go to pieces. It has every element of 
 disunion, and but for Floppington would not have held together a 
 day. He really seemed to have bewitched the Party. Goodness 
 knows how this may damage me in the country. But I have every 
 hope in the coming election. The principles of the Fourth Party 
 will triumph ! " 
 
 The Fourth Party was Mountchapel, and Mountchapel alone. 
 But though its organisation was far from perfect, disagreement and 
 internal dissension being not unfrequent, it counted a not incon- 
 
 2 H
 
 466 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 siderable following in the country, and Bardolph's pleasurable 
 expectations were not entirely without foundation. 
 
 His Lordship had dropped into the Thunderer's sanctum on his 
 way home from the inquest just concluded. After a few minutes' 
 conversation with the harassed editor, dealing with the extremely 
 delicate question ot the precise tone to be used in any references to 
 him at this critical juncture, and the frequency of such references, 
 he jumped into a hansom and ordered the man to drive to Harley 
 House. 
 
 Gwendolen had not found the prospect of her approaching 
 union by any means so delightful as it appeared to Bardolph, nor, 
 although it was indefinitely postponed, did even distance lend 
 enchantment to the view. 
 
 Impulse is as good a guide as Reason, for there is as much chance 
 of going wrong by obedience to one as to the other. Gwen could not 
 regret her dismissal of the Premier, but she could not altogether 
 suppress a doubt as to whether she had acted wisely in linking 
 her life with that of his rival. Lord Bardolph indeed played the 
 part of lover to perfection. He insisted on no privileges, made 
 no attempt to regulate her life by ante-nuptial advice, and never 
 insinuated the smallest reproach on her avoidance of Society. So 
 far in fact from rebuking her avoidance of Society in general, he 
 even bore patiently her neglect of his own in particular, and her 
 preference of that of Miss Octavia Hill and the other noble women 
 at whose disposal she had put her purse and almost all her time ; 
 and he refrained from parading his scepticism upon the subject of 
 philanthropy, or, indeed, of any other supposed virtue. In short, he 
 displayed in the pays de I'amour all those good qualities of humility 
 and patience, politeness and tolerance, which he could find 
 no market for in the world of politics. Bardolph might, had he 
 reflected thereupon (which he didn't), have come to the orthodox 
 belief that virtue is its own reward, ^so happy and confident did 
 he now feel. 
 
 Gwendolen was duly grateful. She appreciated the delicacy 
 and the tender reserve of his conduct, and she felt that her intuition 
 on the terrace was justified that in his case more intimate know- 
 ledge revealed his better aspects and showed the true nature that 
 underlay his superficial cynicism, as it had done the opposite in the 
 case of his rival. Yet, strange to say, neither perception gave her 
 an unmixed emotion. She did not love Bardolph nor hate the 
 Premier as much as intellectual reasons demanded. In the ocean 
 a surface-current may rush with much velocity northwards, while 
 all the while the great stream is calmly gliding to the south. 
 Gwendolen would not look below the surface of her mind's ocean ; 
 if she occasionally hazarded a peep she instantly drew her eyes 
 away incredulous and horror-struck. It was not till a great storm 
 arose and the waves were tossed heavenwards and the sea was 
 sundered to its depths that she awoke to a full consciousness of the 
 direction of its current. 
 
 For the phantom of the Ideal refused to be laid. Not without
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 467 
 
 a struggle could she resign herself to lose touch for ever of the 
 aspirations and the unworldlinesses of youth and to settle down 
 into the spiritual limitations of average matronhood. The one man 
 with whom she had hoped to live 
 
 Twin-halves of a perfect heart made fast, 
 Soul to soul as the years flew past ; 
 
 this man was, on his own confession, a cynical hypocrite and a 
 degraded sensualist. Yet, despite his unblushing avowals, there 
 were moments when a curious feeling of unreality and hallucination 
 came over her ; she sometimes awoke with a start and angry with 
 herself from a reverie in which the delicious Past lived over again ; 
 and, in dreams, she wandered with him in dewy gardens where his 
 face shone, transfigured with a spiritual light. Visions and reveries 
 left their traces on her waking life, gleams of muffled splendour, 
 dim echoes of buried music that by contrast provoked an ever- 
 present sense of blankness : the same gnawing emptiness that fed 
 on the Premier's heart and which she endeavoured to forget in the 
 bustle of philanthropy, he in the bustle of politics. But if he had 
 completely lost sight of the woman he loved, his doings were not 
 equally hidden from her. With a strange fascination she followed 
 every detail of his marvellous career, pleading to herself that there 
 was no reason why she should shut her eyes to modern history. 
 Floppington was only a name to her the name of a public man 
 who would leave his mark on the age, and in whom a contemporary 
 <;ould not but be interested. She had a half-feeling that he would 
 at some time or other betray himself to the deluded world, but, in the 
 eminently respectable newspapers that she read, no breath of 
 scandal ever touched his honoured name. At first the statesman's 
 success seemed to her to stamp with truth the cynical maxims she 
 had learnt from Mountchapel, but after a time it went on intensifying 
 her vague, unconfessed dissatisfaction. Between her and Bardolph 
 his name had never been mentioned but once ; when the Ex-Minister 
 had with culpable carelessness allowed it to slip in, in the course 
 of an unrestrained conversation. He had been telling her of his 
 prospects and she was trying to identify herself with his ambitions, 
 when he grumbled that the Premier was trying to run with the hare 
 and hunt with the hounds by giving away the pickings of office to 
 the Liberals and dispensing ecclesiastical and other patronage on 
 the unfair principle of impartial justice. To her surprise, Gwendolen 
 felt indignant at the imputation of Machiavellian motives to the 
 Minister, but she managed to restrain herself. The Press had, 
 indeed, been eulogizing his purity and impartiality ; but she, who 
 had special knowledge, ought not to have been carried away by the 
 enthusiasm of outsiders. Yet, on the other h;id, did not her 
 special knowledge force her to interpret even more favourably than 
 the outside public certain dubious episodes in the Premier's career? 
 When she read his "Apologia" for instance, with its earnest pro- 
 clamation of the political maxim that the righteousness and the 
 utility of a reform depended largely upon the party which proposed 
 
 2 H 2
 
 468 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 it, the nobility of its apophthegms, and the cry for a practical 
 Christianity and a reign of justice, made her doubts of his sincerity- 
 waver. Perhaps he had been consistent right through. His 
 opposition to Female Suffrage had really been induced by his be- 
 lief in the principle he had enunciated, together with anothei cause 
 hinted at in his speech, but unintelligible to anybody but herself,, 
 namely, the dread of having been too much influenced by his love 
 for her. What else, indeed, meant the words, " My own heart and 
 the perception of the wrongs of women were impelling me to vote 
 with the Liberals," and had she not been wrong to suspect that he 
 was going to revenge himself on her by backing out of the promise 
 of a Female Suffrage Clause ? Had he not on the contrary exerted 
 all his strength to carry that particular clause ? 
 
 So the fateful days went by with their burden of perplexities and 
 duties. Her old gaiety was gone, the old rippling laugh and the 
 old brightness had vanished, but sorrow, and the sweet sad pleasure 
 of bringing light and laughter into the eyes of her stricken sisters, 
 had left behind a saintly tenderness that had, perhaps, no less 
 charm. 
 
 She never went to the House now. Ardently as she would have 
 desired to be present on the historic " Home Rule" night, she did 
 not dare trust herself to see his flashing countenance or to listen to 
 his ringing eloquence. But she could safely read the speech next 
 morning and study the masterly project as it unfolded itself in all 
 its marvellous lucidity, from the few pregnant words of introduction 
 to the sublime proclamation of eternal justice that rounded off the 
 dry details with a burst of organ-music. 
 
 It was from the lips of the housemaid, who had replaced Eliza 
 Bathbrill, that Gwendolen learned the fatal news. The girl had 
 been out for something, and she looked so white and agitated that 
 Gwendolen, who saw her passing through the hall, sympathetically 
 inquired what was the matter. 
 
 " Oh, your ladyship," gasped the girl, " the man that was blown 
 up early this morning in Westminster near the bicycle stables 
 turns out " excitement stopped her breath. 
 
 " Poor thing ! " thought Gwen. " Her lover, perhaps ! " 
 
 " They say it's Mr. Floppington ! " 
 
 Though the hall, and the tall tropical ferns, and the broad oak 
 staircase surged and rocked as with an earthquake, Gwendolen did 
 not immediately lose consciousness. The " abysmal depths of 
 personality" were laid open under a flash of lightning. In that one 
 instant of terrible introspection, she understood that for her the 
 world was for ever changed ; that from evanescent glimmerings of 
 brightness, it had grown dark again with the darkness of the day 
 on which she had mourned for his dead honour ; that the calm,, 
 passionless future to which she had been striving to reconcile 
 herself was impossible. 
 
 She was put to bed, but she refused to obey her doctor's 
 directions. She insisted on seeing all the evening papers and read- 
 ing every line of the terrible tragedy herself. She never for a
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 469 
 
 moment felt the glimmer of hope that some of the editors professed 
 to entertain. She, if no one else, knew what had taken the 
 murdered Premier to Westminster. An unreasoning passion of 
 love and regret that she need hide from herself no longer, a rush of 
 tender recollections, and a great pity stirred her soul before that 
 sudden and awful close of a great career almost at its apogee, that 
 consecrated the man's imperfections and purified his memory with 
 a baptism of blood. 
 
 The fiery cry for revenge, that succeeded the first shock of horror 
 and that found its immediate echo in the Press, thrilled the pulses 
 of the invalid. Oh that she might play some part in the discovery 
 of the perpetrators of the foul deed ! But when, in a later edition 
 she read the name of the suspected murderer, the doctor's warnings 
 seemed to be justified, for she fainted again. What dreadful 
 mystery was this ? Who was this Jack Dawe, whose fatal name had 
 been burnt into her brain, searing and withering the happiness 
 of her life ? Was she to be so cruelly reminded of the drear past at 
 the very moment when death had softened it to her memory? Was 
 it only the merciless irony of Fate that the name under which he 
 had chosen to masquerade should be that of his future assassin, or 
 was some terrible secret involved in the fact ? 
 
 Still in spite of medical prohibition, she insisted on going in 
 person to give her evidence at the inquest. Full of a feverish 
 restlessness, she would not have her evidence taken down at home. 
 On her return she refused to succumb ; and sat in her study, 
 receiving no one, not even Bardolph, and engaged in studying 
 every item of the evidence and devouring every morsel of news 
 and every scrap of rumour. 
 
 The relationship between Jack Dawe and her late housemaid, 
 which the proceedings of the second day revealed, coming as it did 
 with the fact of the resemblance between the assassin and his 
 victim, was a fresh shock that set her tortured brain whirling with 
 new possibilities. The motive of the murderer was now becoming 
 plain. Apparently the world had long known the disgraceful stoiy 
 she had thought locked in her own breast. Yet the dark story was 
 not growing so luminous to her as to the journalists. Jack Dawe 
 a real independent entity with a physical resemblance to the 
 Premier, the Premier as Jack Dawe carrying on an intrigue with 
 Eliza Bathbrill, Eliza Bathbrill bringing an action for breach of 
 promise against the real Jack Dawe, the false Jack Dawe murdered 
 in jealousy by his real namesake after a strange correspondence 
 between the two men. What, merciful Heaven, did it all mean ? 
 
 Definite thought failed her as she struggled with these 
 complications, one factor of which, unknown as yet to the world, 
 would doubtless 'bz elicited in the approaching examination of the 
 girl in question. In sleepless anxiety she awaited the next 
 morning. At one moment she was on the point of ordering 
 her carriage and going off to the scene of action ; but, her own 
 evidence given, she could not bear to meet the scrutiny of the 
 world again. Luckily Eliza Bathbrill was to be called first,
 
 470 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and poor Lady Gwen tried to wait in patience till the first batch of 
 evidence could reach her. Eliza's evidence was in print almost 
 as soon as it was delivered, and editions of the rival evening; 
 papers were sent post haste to her ladyship, as ordered, within 
 a few minutes of one another. In an instant her eager eyes 
 had skimmed the report, and had fastened upon the critical 
 question put by the dissenting juror : " When did you first 
 become acquainted with Mr. Floppington ? " A mist swam before- 
 her, but with frantic impatience she brought the wet sheet 
 close to her aching eyes and made out the vaguely looming 
 words. "Mr. Floppington! I never saw Mr. Floppington in 
 my life except on pictures, and then he did look something 
 like Mr. Dawe." A dreadful feeling of sickness came over 
 her, and she thought she was going to faint once more, but 
 she did not. She remained only too conscious of a dull physical 
 anguish and of the sharper thrusts of mental pain. Eliza's denial 
 seemed to pierce and run through her like a stream of electricity,. 
 and at the first flash the conviction of the murdered man's 
 innocence filled her soul, not with joy that might come later 
 but with an awful despair. 
 
 She laid her head upon her desk in a very agony of remorse 
 and hopeless longing. "Arnold ! May God forgive me. My 
 poor murdered Arnold ! " she moaned, in a woe too deep for 
 tears. 
 
 But soon memory brought a touch of barren consolation, 
 if, indeed, the bitter reflections it induced could be deemed 
 consoling. No, she had not made so tragic and irremediable- 
 a mistake. Fate could not be so cruel. The girl might have 
 meant to tell the truth, for it was certainly possible that she 
 had mistaken the Premier for her lover ; but then had not the 
 Premier admitted his guilt and begged her to keep the secret ?' 
 But, again, was there no further mystery, nothing but a coin- 
 cidence in the concordance of the two names ? She tried to> 
 recall the past in precise detail. She saw the Premier shrinking 
 back before the threatened embrace of the housemaid ; but 
 was this horror simulated as she had thought at the time, or 
 had he really been unconscious of her own presence ; or even 
 if the disgust had been real, had it been due to innocence or 
 to weariness of an old and forgotten amour ? And if he had 
 known nothing of Eliza, what could he have known of Jack 
 Dawe? How else explain the exclamation of "Good God, 
 you know!" when she mentioned that ominous name? How 
 else understand the series of confessions or the shameless apolo- 
 getics that followed ? Perhaps some other and subtler link 
 connected him with Jack Dawe than their common relationship to 
 Eliza Bathbrill ? But, no ! That was impossible ! The more- 
 vividly her excited brain recalled that tragic scene, the more 
 she grew convinced that the actors had not been playing at 
 cross-purposes. Surely it had not been a ghastly farce? There 
 were misunderstandings in farces, in comedies, in novels, resting
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 471 
 
 on the double meaning of a word, or on some slight mistake 
 flimsy and improbable misunderstandings that argued a want 
 of common sense in those who fell into them, and that could 
 not have stood the test of five minutes natural and unforced 
 conversation. But that in real life two intelligent persons could 
 have been at cross purposes for much longer than that the one 
 accusing in detail, and the other confessing and excusing himself 
 with equal detail, and both looking at the subject from all 
 points of view, individual or national this appeared absurd and 
 utterly incredible. 
 
 Yet there, on the other hand, staring her in the face, was 
 the emphatic denial of the person most implicated ; couched in 
 language which, if feigned, was of an ingenuousness almost beyond 
 the invention of a housemaid. 
 
 Once more the cry burst from her lips : " Merciful Heavens ? 
 What does it all mean ?" 
 
 She began to pace the room restlessly, with hurried, aimless 
 movements that symbolised the heaving chaos of her thoughts. 
 And now the intellectual puzzle was giving way to the emotional 
 problem of her future life. For her, in all the freshness of youth 
 and beauty, there was nothing now but the gray horizon of 
 renunciation. Well, she could renounce ! Nay, was it even 
 renunciation this exchange of worldly and selfish happiness, this 
 soul-narrowing e'goisme a deux, for the ecstasy of noble action that 
 would not rest till every wrong of her sisters was washed away. 
 A union, even with the most spiritually-minded of men, would 
 inevitably have for ever brought separation from the larger objects 
 of life. The thought steeled her to endurance. She sat down 
 again at her desk and dashed off page atter page of feverish 
 eloquence. How long she wrote she never knew, but gradually 
 the pen began to falter and move slowly over the paper, till at last 
 it fell from between her fingers, and she burst quite suddenly into 
 hysterical sobbing. She could not understand why she was crying, 
 she only felt a drear burden of numb and raw misery, and a vague 
 consciousness of irrational self-pity. 
 
 A reverberating ring at the bell roused her. Something told 
 her who the visitor was, and the verification of her instinct gave 
 her no surprise. She could not think of seeing Lord Bardolph in 
 the state in which she was. But, after she had instructed the 
 servant to say that she was too unwell to receive anybody, she 
 suddenly recalled him and told him to ask his lordship to wait 
 in the drawing-room. 
 
 No sooner had the servant left the room than he was again 
 recalled. Gwendolen was, indeed, in a pitiable condition. The 
 reflection that Bardolph had a right to see her ; the knowledge 
 that, except for a few moments at the inquest, he had not spoken 
 to her for many days, made her feel humble as a child before his 
 long-suffering gentleness. The refusal of the interview had come 
 to her lips as a matter of course, and when it was uttered a pang of 
 self-reproach shot through her, and she conquered her reluctance.
 
 472 
 
 But immediately afterwards the old shrinking from the meeting 
 seized upon her, and she stood now in tremulous hesitation press- 
 ing her hands nervously together. After an instant of concentrated 
 thought, which was, however, more a rapid play of emotion than 
 an intellectual balancing of motives, she made a gesture at once of 
 resolution and of abandonment to impulse. 
 
 Few human beings behave in the analysable fashion of historical 
 personages, and Gwendolen, when she finally determined to 
 receive her lover as she was, and in the old study where he had 
 first declared his love, could of all persons least have given a clear 
 and definite statement of her motives. 
 
 He came in, quiet and subdued, and saw the traces of tears she 
 made no effort to conceal. She was dressed in black, .without a 
 single ornament, and her white face glimmered ghostlike. Gloom 
 and pallor were alike out of harmony with the rich sunlight that 
 flashed without the darkened chamber. To Mountchapel, fresh 
 from the bustle of outside life, it seemed a pale, cloistered, but 
 beautiful saint that held out her hand and flashed a pathetic 
 welcome from her sweet, sad eyes, and essayed to mould her 
 quivering lips to a smile of tenderness. 
 
 He took her soft, white hand, burning with inward fever, put it 
 gently to his lips, and held it there for a moment. 
 " You are ill, Gwendolen," he said tenderly. 
 "No, indeed, I am not," she said trembling. "Is the inquest 
 over ? " 
 
 He had pretended not to notice the mourning she wore. 
 Kindred nobility of soul had taught him both to understand and be 
 silent. She was deeply touched by his delicate reserve and 
 strangely affected in a different way by the slight caress. A prey 
 to contending emotions, she regretted too late that she had 
 exposed herself to the anguish of this meeting. She felt that she 
 ought to ask after his own health, but the trite phrase died upon 
 her lips, and, half to her own surprise, she found that the ever- 
 present subject of silent thought had risen into speech. 
 
 " I have just come from it," Bardolph replied, with a faint accent 
 of dissatisfaction. He understood well enough the mute confession 
 of that simple black dress, the meaning of those swollen lids ; but 
 prudence, no less than generosity, demanded generosity. Gwen, 
 iie thought, was too high-spirited to brook the smallest remark on 
 her unconventional behaviour. He had not enough insight to feel 
 that she would have taken even bitter reproach with childlike 
 humility. But he knew that he could afford to be generous. 
 
 He had long seen traces of thecomingreactiontowarclsherold love 
 (and they had made him uneasy), and when Floppington was assassi- 
 nated it was natural that the reaction should reach its zenith. But 
 it was equally natural that his uneasiness should fall to its nadir. Nor 
 did the visible intensity of Gwendolen's grief cause him any alarm, 
 as the consciousness of it was borne in upon him at the first glance. 
 He himself had felt greatly shocked at the tragic end of the man ; 
 his own rccoliec'.ion of their old rivalry, political and amorous, had
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 473 
 
 been strangely softened by it, and he could dimly divine how one 
 who had once loved him would be affected. Moreover, her afflic- 
 tion would only give him the chance of wooing her tenderly back 
 to him. But as he felt the feverish throbbing of the blood in her 
 veins, and the trembling of her hand in his, a genuine alarm seized 
 upon him. She did not take enough care of herself. Her transient 
 grief must not be allowed to leave permanent effects upon her 
 health. She was his own this pale, fragile, grief-worn creature 
 who stood before him in all her delicate loveliness nothing could 
 come between them any more. Sooner or later she would share 
 his hearth and home. He knew this, and yet the eager demand 
 which at once turned the talk so abruptly away from their two 
 selves jarred upon him. He would disburden himself of his news 
 as quickly as possible. 
 
 " The coroner summed up wonderfully," he continued. "It was 
 as interesting as a novel." 
 
 "And the verdict?" she broke in breathlessly, too excited to 
 resent the doubtful taste of the comparison. 
 
 "Oh, that was a foregone conclusion. Even yesterday, Jack 
 Dawe's guilt was as plain as a pikestaff. But after to-day's evidence, 
 it was as plain as well, as a mountain. Poor Floppington ! " 
 
 Gwen covered her face with her hands. "No traces of the 
 murderer yet, I suppose ? " she said, in a low tone. 
 
 " No ; and yet he must be in London. No such man seems to 
 have left the metropolis on or after the I3th. He must be a clever 
 fellow. It bears out Maudsley's opinion that he wasn't really 
 insane ; at least, not to the point of irresponsibility. By Jove, it 
 requires a cool head to baffle a nation of detectives. If he can 
 only lie perdu a little longer, he may escape altogether. The 
 public voice is clamorous for vengeance ; the public eye is on the 
 alert ; but you know how soon enthusiasm grows cold. After a bit 
 things will begin to go on as usual." 
 
 Gwendolen uncovered her face and he could see that her eyes 
 flashed fire. " Oh no, God will not let him go unpunished ! " she 
 cried with clenched hands. 
 
 Bardolph scarcely noted her words. How beautiful she was in 
 her indignation, her pale cheek flushed with passionate crimson ! 
 
 " I cannot believe that he will escape," she cried. " Shall a 
 great nation leave unavenged the dastardly murder of its First 
 Minister ? Bellingham was executed within a week of the assassina- 
 tion of Perceval." 
 
 "Yes; but Bellingham shot the Premier in the lobby of the 
 House a very different matter from dynamiting him in Westmin- 
 ster. By-the-by, none of the papers seems to have noticed the 
 curious coincidence that the foreign secretaries of both Cabinets 
 resigned shortly before the assassination of their chiefs. Marquess 
 Wellesley then, and I now. I wonder," he continued reflectively, 
 "whether the coincidence is going to hold further. All the 
 Ministers resigned and a new administration was formed." 
 
 But Gwendolen was no longer listening. She had gone to her
 
 474 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 desk and taken from it the illustrated handbill that Scotland Yard- 
 had issued in tens of thousands. She was scanning the wretched 
 painter's features, although the face had haunted her since she had 
 firstseen it, and she wondered that amid so much of difference it should 
 still dimly suggest a resemblance to the countenance of the victim. 
 
 " With that in every house in the kingdom," she said, " is it 
 possible that he can lurk long undetected ? And if, as you fear, the 
 public heart should cease to beat with sympathetic wrath, I will 
 appeal to its mercenary instincts." 
 
 " The Government has done that sufficiently," replied Bardolph. 
 " But if you think it will do any good I will offer another thousand 
 myself." 
 
 " Oh no ! " she cried impulsively. " Why should you do more 
 than any other private person? It is very generous of you ; but, 
 while I have a penny of my own, there is no need for a stranger to 
 interfere." 
 
 " Oh, Gwendolen," he said reproachfully, " I honour you for 
 your unconcealed devotion to the dead, indeed I do. But surely 
 you must know that whatever interests you, interests me. And, 
 moreover, is not my fortune yours ? " 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but she moved away slightly and 
 replaced the handbill in her desk. Her face was hidden from him, 
 but it had grown white once more. She stood thus a moment,, 
 drawing breath painfully. Then she turned to him again with 
 compressed lips and palpitating heart. In the turn the conversa- 
 tion had been taking, her nervousness had vanished, and her 
 access of indignation, the expression of which gave in reality an 
 outlet to the pent-up fervour of her love and longing, seemed to 
 have given her firmness and courage. But now her strength 
 began to leave her once more. 
 
 "No, Lord Bardolph," she managed to say, "do not think 
 any more of it." She made an effort at lightness. " I won't let 
 you rob the election fund at the Carlton." 
 
 " It would serve the Club right," he said bitterly, " if I treated 
 it as shabbily as its members have treated me ; but a day of 
 reckoning will come." 
 
 " When they will groan at the smallness of the total, do you 
 mean ?" she asked, with a miserable attempt at a smile. 
 
 Bardolph laughed softly, and, encouraged by this new gaiety 
 a clear symptom, by the way, of the transitory and superficial 
 nature of her grief he bent tenderly towards her, and laying^ 
 his two hands upon her shoulders, he looked lovingly into her 
 eyes, murmuring : " That is how I like to hear you talk. You 
 looked so unwell before, I was really frightened, darling. I am 
 afraid you have been worrying too much. I know how terrible 
 the shock must have been, but you must not give in to it. I'm so 
 glad you're trying to rally. You must get it out of your mind, 
 darling, for your own sake and mine." 
 
 She had half turned away her head, but she now met his 
 glance with sorrowful, unflinching gaze.
 
 DEAD MEN'S SHOES 475 
 
 " I shall never get it out of my mind," she said slowly. 
 
 " Oh yes you will," returned Bardolph cheerfully, " if only you 
 don't brood over it so much." 
 
 " I have no wish to forget it," she whispered, lowering her eyes 
 once more. 
 
 "The wish is not always father to the thought," he replied 
 reassuringly. " Time will cure you of the remembrance. Time 
 is the great anodyne that you must take. It is the illusion of 
 mourning to think itself immortal. Moriendum est omnibus. 
 Your grief will die like everything else under the sun." 
 
 Gwendolen raised her eyes to his in mute, pathetic appeal. 
 Would he never understand ? 
 
 " Except love ! " she breathed. Then with a sudden access cf 
 strength, she shook herself free from his touch, and faced him 
 with flashing eyes and quivering lips. " Oh, Lord Bardolph." 
 she cried, " it is unfair to you to hide from you the change that 
 has come over me." 
 
 " I know, I know," he replied soothingly. " Of course such a 
 tragedy has moved you. But it will pass, and I will do my best to 
 make you happy, my darling." 
 
 Gwendolen shook her head. " It is of no use deceiving myself 
 or you. We have both made a mistake. Oh, why did you not 
 leave me in my misery ? " 
 
 " I have made no mistake, Gwendolen. I love you. I shall 
 never regret that I have asked you to be mine. The mistake 
 is yours ; you are misreading your own heart. It is full of a vast 
 pity at the blighting of a great career, and pity is akin to love. :) 
 
 The impressive tone in which Bardolph analysed her from a 
 standpoint of calm confidence had a momentary effect, which was 
 intensified when he added earnestly : 
 
 " My affection is too deep to be disturbed by any surface 
 changes on your part. I have more trust in your inmost soul than 
 you have yourself. I have strength for both. Have I not been 
 content to wait in patience ? And I am content to wait in patience 
 still." 
 
 Gwendolen's eyes filled with tears. How hard his chivalrous 
 faith in her was making her painful task. 
 
 "Would to God you read my heart aright," she exclaimed, and 
 her tremulous accents fell upon Bardolph's ears like a strain of 
 music. " For there is no man to whom I would more willingly 
 trust it, were it my own to give. Dear Bardolph, you have 
 taught me the true nobility of nature that underlies your 
 superficial cynicism ; you have taught me to honour and to look up 
 to you. Your wife should never have one thought for another, one 
 
 regret for the past And I " her voice was choked with 
 
 suppressed sobs. The tears fell freely from her eyes. She was 
 distractmgly lovely. 
 
 " You are an angel, Gwendolen ! " he cried. " Do you think 
 my love is to be daunted by these delicate scruples? You 
 exaggerate your own fears. You know well that you are the only
 
 476 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 woman in the world to me." He took her hand, and she let it rest 
 in his. She was moved beyond expression. 
 
 " My darling ! " he went on passionately, thrilled again by the 
 touch of her burning palm, "do not sacrifice my happiness to 
 a delusion." 
 
 It wounded her to the quick to hear her affianced husband 
 plead thus humbly, as though she had never consented to be his. 
 His generosity added an extra sting to her self-reproach for all the 
 misery her weakness had wrought. 
 
 " You would not be happy," she faltered, " I should only make 
 you as wretched as myself. I have made you unhappy enough by 
 my folly." 
 
 " If that is your only fear, dismiss it. It is only when I am 
 with you that life seems worth the living. It is you that have 
 called into being whatever good qualities you may now recognise 
 in me. Will you cast me back into my dreary scepticism? No, 
 no, Gwendolen. You will have pity on me. You will not undo 
 your work, or unmake your promise." 
 
 A great wave of pity overwhelmed Gwendolen, overwhelmed 
 the consciousness flashed upon her in that terrible moment in the 
 hall, overwhelmed all but the remorseful sense of her own cruelty 
 and the sublime promptings of self-abnegation. 
 
 " It is true," she breathed, " I have promised to be your wife 
 and I will do my duty." 
 
 Bardolph's eyes glittered with triumph. He bent down to take 
 her in his arms ; but suddenly, as if moved by an inspiration, he 
 dropped her hand instead and drew himself up to his full height. 
 
 " No, Lady Gwendolen," he cried in passionate accents. 
 *' Because I love you so much I will not accept the sacrifice. I was 
 wrong to press you. I did not think your regret your love was 
 so deep as to make your marriage only a sacrifice to duty. Forgive 
 me ! I will no longer intrude my presence upon your grief. Till 
 you can tell me with your own lips that it is no longer a sacrifice, 
 let us be strangers." 
 
 Gwendolen looked up to him humbly, with a grateful admiration 
 that made him long to clasp her in his arms and kiss away her 
 tears, but he restrained himself. 
 
 "Forgive me !" she cried in her turn, " I was wrong to offer 
 you a heart without love, and you acted nobly in rejecting it. Your 
 intuition is clearer than mine. May God give you strength to 
 conquer your unhappy love for me. But let us not be strangers, 
 dear Bardolph. There is no danger of. our forgetting ourselves 
 again. We have sounded the depths. We know there can be no 
 true union between us -none that could satisfy our better selves 
 except that of friendship." 
 
 ' No, Gwendolen," he said with confident tenderness. " I dare 
 not trust my better self. I should, perhaps, worry you again 
 by my importunities. Let us remain apart till till all this has 
 vanished like a bad dream, and I can hope to make you love me 
 a little."
 
 A' ON OMNIS MORIAR 477 
 
 He saw fresh tears upwelling in her softly flashing eyes, and felt 
 that that time would not be long in coming. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," she said gently, "it will be best to try 
 neither to meet nor to avoid each other. And should should I 
 change," she caught her breath, " I will be as candid as to-day. 
 Believe me, oh believe me, I am no coquette to play with your 
 happiness. No false shame shall keep me silent. But oh, do not 
 hope too much. I will try yes, I will try to forget, for your sake, 
 my dear, dear friend." 
 
 A strange feeling of admiration of his own highmindedness, and 
 a delicious rapture in the suppliant and apologetic humbleness of 
 this beautiful creature, sent the blood coursing ecstatically through 
 his veins. 
 
 " Whether you change or not," he said, in tones vibrating with 
 emotion, " you will find me unchanged ever longing for your love 
 ever waiting patiently. And so good-bye." 
 
 He put his hand into hers, and, abandoning herself to a sudden 
 impulse of gratitude, she touched it softly with her lips. Stirred by 
 an equally irresistible impulse he folded her in his arms and kissed 
 her on the mouth twice. She made no resistance, but he put her 
 down immediately and hurried from the room, trembling with the 
 conviction that their love had been sealed beyond all severance. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 NON OMNIS MORIAR. 
 
 THE preparations for the funeral of the Premier, which was to- 
 take place in Westminster Abbey, had been rapidly pushed 
 forwards, and all was in readiness by the time the inquest was 
 over. The day broke dull and windy, but about nine o'clock 
 the sky cleared, the sun leapt out in triumphant glory, and 
 one of the loveliest of summer days clad itself in all its 
 bright vesture to welcome the melancholy but majestic procession 
 that was soon to defile through the black-draped streets of the 
 great city. For obvious reasons there had been no lying-in- 
 state. The murdered Minister lay in his magnificent coffin at 
 his own official residence at Downing Street, \vhere a few of 
 his distant relatives (for his sister's yacht was at the other side of 
 the globe) had helped Tremaine in superintending the last sad 
 arrangements. The oak of the coffin was invisible under a mass 
 of fragrant flowers wreaths from the Queen and other European 
 sovereigns, from Ministers of every nation, from the noblest 
 families, from every party of politicians, from schools and institu- 
 tions, from the working men of England, from the women of 
 England, and a huge floral structure from the whole Irish nation, 
 with artistic and emblematic interweaving of sprays of yew
 
 478 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 with roses and shamrocks. Poor Floppington, cut off after so 
 short a time from the triumphs of ambition and the selfishly 
 unselfish delights of historic action, what matter to thee the 
 honours heaped over thy unconscious form ! Alas ! not in 
 life wast thou surrounded with the sweetness and loveliness which 
 encompass thee now. If thou hadst some moments of perfect 
 happiness, how poor, and mean, and bounded must thine earlier 
 life have been to thy restless spirit, pluming for the eagle-flight 
 it was only permitted to begin ? After all, was it worth while 
 to live, bereft of the love of her whose face haunted thee in dreams 
 of the night a vision of angelic purity and high thought im- 
 palpable as a mirage, unattainable as the distant heavens, alter- 
 nately darkening thy soul with hopeless longing and stirring 
 it to lofty endeavour? Nay, were there not moments when, 
 looking down the barren stretch of the future, it seemed better to 
 thee to die and be saved from the fever and fret of existence? 
 Well, wished for or not, Pallida Mors has knocked at thy door to 
 point anew the olden lesson that the mighty of this world are 
 as shadows on the stream and the glories of their lives as transient 
 as the hues of a soap-bubble. 
 
 Outside, in the sunlight that would never more gladden those 
 poor, blind eyes, the procession was forming. Ever since early 
 dawn the great city had been pouring out from its reeking courts 
 and lanes, from streets and roads and squares, dreary or pleasant, 
 from its million haunts of luxury or squalor, from the great termini 
 of its railway lines, a restlessly-surging crowd that pressed into 
 every available nook and cranny of the streets along the route. The 
 continent and the provinces, Wales, and Scotland, and, above all, 
 Ireland, had sent contingents to swell the closely-wedged throngs 
 over and above the official delegates. London, aflame with the 
 splendour of the morning sunlight, alert and astir with an eager and 
 feverish life, was in curious contrast with the darkness and the calm 
 that reigned within the narrow house of the poor dead Premier. 
 
 And now the vast procession set out on its slow and solemn jour- 
 ney through streets, lined with human beings along the footpaths, 
 swarming with heads at windows, black with forms on roofs and 
 galleries and scaffoldings, tier upon tier, and gloomy despite the 
 sunbeams with vistas of crape ; past clubs and mansions ; along busy 
 thoroughfares whence death had banished their wonted traffic ; till 
 the great Abbey came in sight and the great river where the flags 
 were lowered on the myriad masts and where from afar boomed 
 sullenly in the sultry air the cannon which the gray old Tower was 
 firing off from its weather-beaten ramparts. It was an unforgettable 
 spectacle this funeral pomp, relieved from vulgarity by the sin- 
 cerity of the emotions which found expression in it, and by the awed 
 silence of the dense multitudes; this procession which took an hour 
 and a half defiling past any given point, with its magnificent bodies 
 of troops, its glittering cavalcade of officials, its hundreds of depu- 
 tations, its long files of working men, its waving banners, its almost 
 endless array of mourning coaches filled with the tlite of society.
 
 NON OMNIS MORIAR 479 
 
 The steady, mournful tramp of thousands of feet, mingling with the 
 wail of the music and the tolling of the bells from twenty neighbour- 
 ing spires, was indescribably affecting. As the colossal car ap- 
 proached, containing the coffin under its mountain of flowers, every 
 whisper was hushed. Amid a profound silence, every one that 
 could get his hand to his hat removed it, and there was a moment 
 of intense sublimity while the body was slowly passing onwards. 
 But there were grander moments when the corpse reached the 
 venerable Abbey that offered it the inviolate shelter of its sanctuary 
 and the companionship of the noble dead who had preceded it, and 
 the body of clergymen in their snowy surplices met it with solemn, 
 simultaneous chanting ; or when the vast congregation audibly 
 joined in the Lord's Prayer, while the liberal sunshine streamed 
 through the painted glass and dappled nave and choir and transept, 
 or fell in lines of gold through the glazed glories of the marygold 
 window ; or when the great organ trembled with dirge-like moaning 
 or swelled high in triumphant rapture, till groin and vault and pillar 
 re-echoed the sacred ecstasy and the whole mighty Abbey throbbed 
 with the passionate proclamation of immortality, and every cheek 
 was wet with tears. 
 
 The service was almost over the choir was singing the last 
 hymn when an incident occurred outside that attracted little 
 attention. The entrance to the Abbey had been kept comparatively 
 Iree from the crowd by the police. All of a sudden a man was 
 seen struggling through the press, and making his way towards the 
 building. Those who saw his face never forgot its ghastliness to 
 their dying day. His hat had fallen off in the struggle, and his 
 scanty, rough, unkempt hair intensified the grim uncouthness 
 and the corpse-like pallor of his appearance. For the rest, he was 
 respectably dressed, and he had a wild expression which did not 
 seem to be the result of ordinary intoxication. He was evidently 
 labouring under strong excitement of some kind. A jovial-looking 
 policeman laid his hand good-naturedly on his shoulder. 
 
 " It's no use, my man," said the genial functionary. "All full 
 inside." 
 
 The man shook the arm off roughly, and dashed forwards, but 
 the policeman caught him with his outstretched hand. " Let me 
 go ! " gasped the man. " I must go in I must see him to beg 
 his pardon and kneel to him before he is buried. For God's sake, 
 do not stop me." 
 
 " Oh, come ! " said the policeman irreverently, " you've had a 
 drop too much. You had better go home and get to bed." 
 
 " Bed ! " cried the man wildly. " If I had stopped in bed when 
 I heard it this morning I have been riding all day, though I have 
 been ill all day flying to his corpse on the wings of steam and 
 would you stop me now ? Oh, God forgive you for your cruelty ! " 
 
 The policeman shook his head pityingly. " You ain't the sort 
 of chap to be let go inside," he soliloquised. " Look 'ere," he said, 
 " there's something queer about you. I shouldn't wonder if you've 
 escaped from Colney Hatch. What's your name and address ?"
 
 480 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Ah ! you will let me go in when I tell you who I am." He 
 bent down and whispered, " I am the Right Honourable Arnold 
 Floppington." 
 
 The policeman's brain whirled, but he retained his hold on the 
 man, who had drawn himself up in momentary dignity. An idea 
 flashed upon him that made his breath come thick and fast, and 
 called up a dim perspective of wonderful visions. He collected 
 himself with an effort, and peered into the face of the stranger. 
 Trembling with agitation he tightened his grasp. 
 
 " Come round the other way," he said in a low tone ; " I'll let 
 you in through a private entrance." 
 
 He led the man through the crowd, retaining composure 
 enough to wink meaningly at those of his fellows whom he passed, 
 and conducted him quickly into a deserted back street. 
 
 Then he turned upon him suddenly. 
 
 "Jack Dawe," he said sternly. 
 
 The man shuddered and his cheeks flushed with crimson. 
 
 " He was mad, after all, and he's more like Floppy than like 
 his own picture," reflected the policeman, with gleaming eyes, and, 
 slipping the handcuffs on his wrists, he cried triumphantly : 
 
 "Jack Dawe, I arrest you for the murder of the Right 
 Honourable Arnold Floppington." 
 
 The man burst into hysterical laughter so wild and ghastly that 
 his captor shuddered. 
 
 "Yes, yes," he cried, " I read that this morning. But, you sec r 
 it's all a mistake. / am the Premier, I tell you. Where is the 
 private entrance ? I must go in. Unloose me at once, for the love 
 of God." 
 
 He made a dart in the direction whence they had come, his 
 handcuffs clanking dismally. The policeman gave instant chase, 
 and re-captured him at the very corner of the street where a 
 moment's more running would have brought them full in view of 
 the dense multitude that seethed around the Abbey and all about 
 the trailing array of coaches. 
 
 With an imperious hand he dragged him peremptorily back a 
 few yards, and held him tightly by the collar. Captor and prisoner 
 stood for an instant glaring at each other and panting for breath. 
 
 " You're lucky," gasped the policeman, '' that 1 caught you 
 before you had turned that corner. You'd have been a dead man 
 by now, very likely." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " gasped the man, evidently sobered b/ 
 the violent treatment he had received, and impressed by the 
 alarmed accents of his captor. 
 
 "Mean? Why you'd have been torn to pieces, and all the 
 corps in London couldn't save you. Why, they think boiling oil 
 ain't good enough for you ! No, my man, if you've got the least 
 bit of sense left in you, you'll come along o' me like a lamb, and 
 take care not to let out who you are. We'll getagrowltr in a 
 minute, if you'll be quiet, and I'll do my best to get you safe into 
 Newgate without any riot."
 
 NON OMN1S MORIAR 481? 
 
 " Into Newgate?" cried the murderer, his face lighting up with, 
 horror and indignation. " I go into Newgate ! " 
 
 " It's no use crying over spilt milk, my beauty," said the 
 policeman grimly, " you should have thought of that before." 
 
 "Good God !" the prisoner exclaimed hoarsely, "this is beyond 
 a joke. There, do you hear those sounds ? The funeral is over. 
 He is buried buried, and you have stopped me from going in. 
 On you lies the responsibility. It is too late now." He groaned 
 aloud. 
 
 " Stow that," said the policeman impatiently, but not brutally,, 
 for his heart was light, and something sang within his brain, and 
 he was thinking of his wife and children. He had been dragging 
 his limp and helpless victim along, and they had reached a 
 thoroughfare out of the route of the procession, but still crowded 
 with loiterers. 
 
 " Now then, Jack Dawe, keep a still tongue if you value your 
 life," he whispered. He hailed a cab, and bundled his prisoner 
 into it. 
 
 "Where to?" asked the driver, flicking his whip at the little: 
 crowd that had gathered round. 
 
 " Downing Street," cried the prisoner. The policeman clapped 
 his hand over his mouth. "Anywhere," he shouted, in an agony of 
 anxiety. " Drive out of this keep clear of the crowd." The 
 vehicle started off. When they were rolling rapidly along, the 
 policeman withdrew his hand, pulled up the windows, and drew 
 down the blinds. 
 
 " For God's sake," gasped the almost choking prisoner, " don't 
 direct him to Newgate. I could not bear it ! Listen to me. Am 
 I not speaking calmly ? I tell you I am Floppington, yes, the 
 Premier himself. Look at me. You have eyes ; in Heaven's name,, 
 look at me. I have not been murdered. You laugh at me. Great 
 God, you laugh at me ! 'Tis thus that Truth is always received 
 with ridicule and scepticism. I tell you again I am the Prime 
 Minister." 
 
 "Then you're dead and buried, so shut up," said the policeman 
 grinning. " Why, don't you see I'm in mourning for you ?" 
 
 He put his hand to the checkstring to summon the driver, but 
 something in the agony of the prisoner's countenance, down which 
 the cold sweat was trickling, made him pause a moment in pity. 
 The murderer caught the changed expression. 
 
 " In the name of your wife and children," he entreated, " I beg 
 and pray you to believe me. I have not been murdered." 
 
 " I can see that," muttered the policeman, beginning to smile 
 afresh. 
 
 "Do not mock at me. I am Mr. Floppington Mr. Flopping- 
 ton, do you understand ? I am alive. It was Jack Dawe that was 
 murdered, not I. Oh ! my God, not I. Do you suppose if I had 
 been Jack Dawe I should have come to the funeral ? Drive to 
 Downing Street at once. I must see Tremaine Tremaine, my 
 secretary. He will soon tell you the mistake you are making." 
 
 2 I
 
 482 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 "Well, this is a rum start," soliloquised his captor uneasily. 
 
 " He will reward you for your kindness Tremaine. I honour 
 your obedience to duty, but it is all a mistake ; I know there is a 
 large reward offered for Jack Dawe I saw it in the train ; but you 
 shall not suffer. I am the Premier. I will see that your zeal is 
 rewarded. I pledge you my word." 
 
 The policeman shook his head compassionately. " The nearest 
 police-station ! Full speed ! " he cried to the Jehu. 
 
 " Right ! " The driver whipped up his horse, and the cab rattled 
 along with extra rapidity. 
 
 The murderer had sunk back on his seat, and was staring at 
 his -jis-d-ms in stony resignation. " Policeman," he said in cold, 
 proud accents, " I will no longer deign to beg. If you are 
 determined to subject me to this further indignity I can do nothing 
 but submit. But when it is known as within half-an-hour it will 
 be known that you have brought the head of Her Majesty's 
 
 Government to a police-court in manacles " He relapsed kito 
 
 gloomy silence which was unbroken for some minutes. 
 
 " Look here," cried the policeman suddenly, " what is it you 
 want me to do ? It's no use asking me to let you go, you know ?" 
 
 ' My demands are of the simplest. Drive to Downing Street. 
 Let Mr. Tremaine know I wish to see him. Bring him down to 
 me and you will discover your mistake in a moment." 
 
 " Well, there's no harm in that,'' grumbled the policeman. " I 
 dare say Mr. Tremaine will be glad enough to see you. But I warn 
 you the longer you are in getting safely within strong stone walls, 
 the more risks you run and I with you. But I don't mind doin' it 
 if it'll ease your mind, on condition that you keep dumb when there's 
 any stranger to hear you." 
 
 " Thank you," said the prisoner, much affected. " You are a 
 good and noble man. It is thus that Truth makes its way even 
 through the mists of prejudice." 
 
 "Not the police-station!" cried the policeman, "Downing 
 Street." The cabby growled an inaudible reply, and lashed his 
 horse savagely. 
 
 " I suppose I've made a fool of myself," the policeman grumbled 
 as he seated himself anew. For some moments the two sat silent, 
 jolted and bumped by the comfortless vehicle, and dazed by its 
 rattle and din. Both were rapt from the land of reality and 
 absorbed in dreams, and the prisoner's visions were not the 
 pleasanter of the two. Ever and anon his lips moved, and his 
 mobile face flashed and darkened with emotion. 
 
 " Well, Jack Dawe," said the policeman, starting up and peeping 
 under a raised corner of the blind, " in another few minutes you 
 will have an interview with your secretary ; and when he has 
 assured you that you are dead and buried, perhaps you will be 
 satisfied." 
 
 "My secretary!" cried the prisoner. "Are you driving to 
 Downing Street ?" 
 
 " Well, that's good ! " the policeman burst out with a laugh.
 
 NON OMNIS MORIAR 483 
 
 " Was it to Downing Street I told you to drive ? No, no ; I did 
 not mean Downing Street. Tremaine knows nothing. He knows 
 no more than you. He will laugh at me, like you, and refuse to 
 believe me. How can I explain ? How can I make him under- 
 stand ? Perhaps they will think I am mad. My God ! No, you 
 must drive to Lady Harley's, in Piccadilly. She will undeceive 
 you. Take me to her. She will not refuse to see me for this 
 once the only person in the world who knows. Trust me a -little 
 longer. Drive to Harley House." 
 
 The wretched man's hands shook with emotion. His handcuffs 
 clanked in mournful cadence. 
 
 "It strikes me you're making a fool of me," said the policeman 
 sternly. "A nice thing, to go and frighten Lady Harley with the 
 sight of a object like you." 
 
 " I shall not frighten her. I tell you she will not be surprised 
 to see me." 
 
 " I dare say not, but I've only your word for it. Her ladyship 
 won't thank me for bringing the scum of the earth to see her, and 
 upsetting her in return for all her kindness to my little Poll. Why, 
 she came every day for a fortnight to nuss that gall, and now she's 
 sent her to the seaside, with heaps of others." 
 
 " God bless her!" cried the murderer, his eyes filling with tears. 
 " She's an angel." 
 
 " Piccadilly, Harley House quicker ! " shouted the policeman 
 desperately. " Blowed if this ain't the rummest go I ever heard of." 
 A vague alarm was beginning to fill his breast. The man was not 
 Floppington, that was unquestionable. But what if he were nnt 
 Jack Dawe after all ? The thought was too horrible to contemplate. 
 It must be put to the test at once. Had his fare been other than 
 one of the force in charge of a prisoner, the driver would have 
 suspected his sanity. As it was, he merely rapped out an oath, 
 and whipped his animal to an increased velocity. A few minutes 
 more, and the vehicle came to a standstill behind a carriage 
 which stood in front of the house. The policeman jumped 
 out at the door, and called to the driver to dismount and keep 
 guard for a moment. He had caught sight of Lady Harley, just 
 about to pass through the open door of the mansion. He dashed 
 up the steps. " Lady Harley ! " he said breathlessly. 
 
 Gwendolen turned her head, and through the thick black veil he 
 could see the traces of tears. His own eyes filled with sympathetic 
 moisture. 
 
 "Ah, Parker !" she exclaimed, with a gracious smile. Then 
 her face grew anxious. " I hope there's no bad news from Polly?" 
 
 " No, thank God, your ladyship ; it's not that." 
 
 " Well, what can I do for you, then? " 
 
 He glanced round uneasily. " Might I have a word with you 
 in private ?" 
 
 ' ; Certainly, Parker. Come inside." 
 
 " Oh, your ladyship," he faltered, " I dare not leave that cab. 
 It's only two words I have to say." 
 
 212
 
 484 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 " Brown, Saunders," said Gwendolen, " you need not wait." 
 The domestics retired in disgust. Gwendolen stepped into the 
 hall, and Parker followed her, darting furtive glances in the 
 direction of the vehicle. 
 
 "Well, to put it in a nutshell, in that cab I've got Jack 
 Dawe ! " 
 
 Gwendolen turned white. Her eyes flashed with excitement,. 
 and she glanced towards the vehicle. Somehow she could not feel 
 very exultant. Since she had read the summing-up, her eager 
 desire for revenge had died away. She had begun to feel that life 
 was a hopeless jumble, and that fate was stronger than volition. 
 " Poor creature !" she murmured involuntarily. '' Miserable sport 
 of destiny ! " 
 
 "Well," she said aloud, "and why have you brought him, 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Because he begged of me so to bring him here before taking 
 him to prison, that I hadn't the heart to refuse." 
 
 "To bring him here ?" repeated Gwendolen, her heart beating 
 quickly under the thought of coming revelations, possible solutions 
 to the terrible enigmas that had been harassing her night and day. 
 "Did he say why?" 
 
 "Well, you see, he's madder than the coroner thought. He's 
 been trying to persuade me that he is Mr. Floppington, that he- 
 never was murdered at all, that it was Jack Dawe that was murdered 
 and a lot of stuff like that.'' 
 
 " Well ? " Gwendolen was trembling as with ague. She caught 
 hold of the door to support herself. 
 
 ''And he insisted that your ladyship could prove it that you 
 knew he wasn't dead. My God, I have killed her." The faithful 
 policeman caught her in his arms as she swayed forward. 
 
 But it was not the policeman's words that had wrought this 
 effect it was a ghastly face, that suddenly appeared behind the 
 glass of the vehicle on which her eyes had been fixed. 
 
 " No, it is nothing, Parker," said Gwendolen, recovering herself 
 with a piteous smile. She looked again towards the window of the 
 cab. The face had vanished. " Your words conjured up a vision. 
 to my heated fancy, and for a moment I thought it was real. Go 
 on." 
 
 " That's all, your ladyship. I knew the scoundrel would frighten 
 you." He clenched his fist. "But I'll say this for him, it's no 
 wonder he drove himself mad, for when you look at him close, he's 
 really like poor Mr. Floppington, though I shouldn't advise your 
 ladyship to look at him. He's got a look on him that 'ud frighten 
 a delicate person out of their wits." 
 
 Gwendolen's tremblings had recommenced. Her whole frame 
 was agitated. Her lips twitched nervously and her eyes shone 
 with unhealthy light. 
 
 " I am not afraid. I will see him if he desires it. There can 
 be no danger." 
 
 "No, except he may frighten you," admitted the policeman.
 
 NON OMNIS MORIAR 485 
 
 " He's handcuffed, and it's a tight fit too. Not that any one would 
 wish to harm a angel ! " 
 
 Gwendolen made an immense effort of will. She ceased to 
 tremble. Her voice was almost calm. 
 
 " Does any one know of your capture?" 
 
 " No, your ladyship, I " 
 
 " Very well. Don't say anything till I have spoken to him. I 
 shall be in here alone." She opened a door on the right of the 
 hall. " You will send him in and wait outside. Perhaps he may 
 really have something to tell me. You will do this for me, I know." 
 She gave him a pathetic smile, and, without allowing him time to 
 reply, entered the room indicated. A moment afterwards the bare- 
 headed prisoner, with a strange flush of excitement lighting up his 
 wan features, knocked at the half-opened door with his forcibly- 
 linked hands, and, receiving an invitation to enter, he walked softly 
 forwards with bowed, contrite head, and trembling in all his limbs. 
 
 For half-an-hour the policeman walked up and down in intense 
 excitement, ready to dart in at the slightest cry of alarm, ruthlessly 
 repressing the curiosity of the impatient cabby, but his own heart 
 a prey to a very fever of anxiety. Now and then he saw a lootman 
 or a housemaid come into the hall and look about, but at the mute 
 rebuke of his stern glance they walked away uneasily. Up and 
 down, to and fro he paced, chafing. What did it all mean ? Had 
 he not, then, made himself a name in history by effecting the capture 
 of the assassin for whom England had been scoured in vain ? But 
 if it was not Jack Dawe, who in Heaven's name was it ? The 
 suspense almost drove him mad. At last, the door of the room 
 opened and Gwendolen appeared on the threshold. There was a 
 new and indescribable expression in her face a strange blending 
 of wonder and pity, and ecstasy and bewilderment. 
 
 " Parker," she said, with her beautiful smile, " will you trust me 
 with the key of your handcuffs ? And will you take this message 
 to Mr. Tremaine, at No. 10, Downing Street, and bring him 
 back immediately in your cab ? And I know I can rely upon your 
 discretion to breathe not a word till I give you leave." 
 
 Parker groaned. His bright visions paled and vanished. He 
 pulled out the key like a man in a dream, and jumped into the cab. 
 Jt mattered little now what was the meaning of all this incoherent 
 nightmare. Yet there was one delicious episode in it which made 
 it impossible to him to regret his strange adventure. In some 
 mysterious way or other he was helping Lady Harley. Not for 
 worlds would he infringe her slightest command. As the cab 
 jolted along, its whirr shaped itself into the prattling of Polly. The 
 poor policeman held her wasted hand, and looked into her large 
 brown eyes.
 
 486 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY. 
 
 IT was the evening of the day after the funeral, and the House 
 of Commons was again crowded from roof to floor. Not an inch 
 of space was to be had in or under any of the galleries. The dis- 
 tinguished strangers who had come over to assist at the state 
 ceremonial were with difficulty accommodated. The Heir Apparent 
 occupied his usual place over the clock, and his sons sat on either 
 side, looking curiously down on the sombre scene with the 
 penetrating glance of the literary artist. 
 
 It was curiosity that was responsible for the great gathering. 
 " What will the Ministry do ? " was the question canvassed at every 
 dinner-table, after the great topics of the inquest and the funeral had 
 been drained to the dregs. In the smoking-room at the National 
 or at the Reform, the talk savoured of discontent with their old 
 apathy. A spirit of opposition was creeping up. It was argued 
 that the Liberals had committed themselves to very little on the 
 Separation Question. A few of their prominent members had, 
 indeed, while reserving their opinion till Floppington's measure 
 was before them, not cared to disavow their sympathy with the 
 proposed reforms in the abstract. Had the Bill been permitted to 
 advance to a later stage, it was even possible that they might have 
 been definitely entangled in the bonds of acquiescence ; but as 
 it was, they were at perfect liberty to unite with that section 
 of extreme Radicals under Screwnail which had from the first 
 refused to lend itself to such revolutionary measures as the 
 administrative disjuncture of England and Ireland, without the 
 proviso of a physical tunnel of connection. It was chiefly the 
 very old and the very young members of the party who were 
 uneasy. The former grumbled, the latter chafed at their political 
 annihilation. Both felt that the deceased Premier had been 
 an incubus that had prevented them from breathing freely. 
 
 The astute Screwnail had perceived his opportunity. He had 
 that very day called a meeting d huis cfas, in one of the Committee 
 Rooms, inviting every section of Liberalism to a purely friendly dis- 
 cussion of the situation. There had been a large attendance, and 
 it was whispered that a programme of common opposition had been 
 drawn up with a view to precipitate the dissolution. At the Carlton 
 the talk was depressed and anxious. Apart from the personal 
 gloom into which the loss of their leader had plunged them, the 
 members seemed to be weighed down by the intuition of the 
 coming defeat of the party. Although the Conservatives were, by 
 the adhesion of the Parnellites, stronger in numbers than ever, it 
 was felt, and tacitly admitted, that their fortunes were almost at as 
 low an ebb as they had been in the period immediately following 
 the first reading of the Reform Bill. Floppington, by an miix-
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY 487 
 
 pected development of volitional power, had galvanised a moribund 
 party. The magnetism of his imperious personality had subdued 
 the Opposition to infantile impotence. But now the spell was 
 broken. Like the mesmerised corpse in Poe's weird story, it 
 would crumble into dust as soon as the will of the operator was 
 removed. There was no master-mind to take his place ; no great 
 Parliamentary leader, with or without insight, to breathe life into- 
 its failing members. Mountchapel, had he remained on the Minis- 
 terial benches, had he even done anything less than endeavour 
 to incite the Ulsterites to rebellion, would have been invaluable at 
 this juncture. He would have reigned without a rival. 
 
 But Mountchapel had become a partyto himself, doingthat which 
 was right in his own eyes. He had not been able to foresee the 
 early disappearance of Floppington. He could predict the fate of 
 nations, but that of individuals was beyond his ken. Moreover, he 
 had staked his all, as has already been explained, on the reactiort 
 against Home Rule. That reaction was at hand; but, lo and 
 behold ! by an unfortunate conjunction of events, here was 
 Screwnail wresting the agiiation out of his leadership that very 
 day, and by all accounts, already at the head of a large force of 
 adherents. Bardolph, in his character of Fourth Party, had not 
 attended the meeting. The announcement of it had blanched his 
 cheek, and when he heard its rumoured results a deadly sickness 
 overcame him, as he realised that his political career was all but 
 crushed for ever. 
 
 The course of events seems often enough erratic and arbitrary,, 
 but occasionally the philosophic historian is able to trace the 
 unerring action of some guiding finger ; perhaps no stronger 
 instance of this exists in our national history than the career 
 of Mountchapel. The great opportunist appears never to have 
 made a move on the Parliamentary chess-board that did not 
 promise victory, speedy or remote ; yet Fate always had some 
 subtle and unforeseen reply which upset all his strategic calcula- 
 tions. It almost seemed as if, had there been only a single pawn, 
 left to the enemy, he would have been mated with that. 
 
 He sat now in his new place below the gangway, gnawing his 
 moustache savagely and glaring at the impassive Screwnail, and, 
 despite his mercurial disposition, unable to rally from the shock. 
 Only the consciousness of Gwendolen's love sustained him at this 
 crisis and saved him from utter collapse. Not the least part of the 
 curiosity of the vast audience hovered about the attitude of the 
 Fourth Party. A ruthless and scathing speech was expected from, 
 it, and its moustache was the focus of a thousand eyes. 
 
 Ministers looked worn and haggard. Anxious consultations 
 had taken place among them. They endeavoured to disguise 
 from themselves the feeling that it was only the superhuman energy 
 of their late chief that would have enabled them to pass the Bill 
 at all, and that Floppington, and he alone, would have dazzled 
 the country into accepting its principle ; but the resolution they 
 finally arrived at was based upon that unspoken conviction. The
 
 4 88 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 perspective was the more deplorable from the feverish visions of 
 blessedness which it had displaced. They had sailed the seas of 
 office six months. At first the weather had been rough ; but soon 
 their bark had righted itself, and everything promised a glorious 
 voyage. There would be a disembarkation in the autumn (when 
 a general election was due), but immediately afterwards they 
 would resume their triumphant progress. It was very hard. The 
 Liberals had ruled the waves for all the septennium except those 
 meagre six months, and now the poor Conservatives were con- 
 demned to see their admiral fall and all their hopes perish with him. 
 
 To the eager assembly it seemed an age before the Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer rose to make the Ministerial statement. But at 
 length the usual preliminaries were got through, the last question 
 was answered, and amid breathless silence the statesman who had 
 succeeded Sir Stanley Southleigh rose to address the House, and 
 every face turned to his. The House at this moment presented a 
 thrilling but, withal, a gloomy spectacle. The scene was very 
 different from that of a few nights ago, when the great Minister 
 had unfolded the details of his Irish measure. Then, all was 
 pleasurable exhilaration and excitement. The galleries were gay 
 with bright colours and sparkled with jewels, and buttonholes and 
 corsages were adorned with flowers. Now, monotonous rows of 
 black fatigued the aching vision. Gloom sat upon every counte- 
 nance. The whole scene was sombre to the last degree. 
 
 The Chancellor commenced by some remarks on the funeral of 
 the day before. He spoke eloquently of the admirable behaviour 
 of the multitude, and the sublime effect of the ceremony on the 
 heart of the nation. Touching next on the other political aspects 
 of the ceremony, he spoke of the sympathy of the Continent as 
 manifested by the sending of representatives. It was a consolation 
 in their suffering to see that the hostile tone of a part of the 
 English Press during the recent Bobo difficulty had not disturbed 
 the good feeling of Germany. After a brief reference to the great 
 assembly, which had met that morning at the Mansion House 
 to determine on the form of the national commemoration of the 
 late Premier, he proceeded in a voice broken with emotion to 
 explain that, owing to the unsettling of the public mind by the 
 tragedy deplored by the world, and also in view of the lateness 
 of the season, it had been thought advisable to shelve the Separation 
 Bill for that session (Irish groans), and the question would thus 
 be left for the consideration of an entirely new Parliament. 
 Following the only precedent happily only one existed the 
 Ministry would have resigned ; but, as a dissolution was already 
 at hand, they had resolved to remain in office, and to wind up 
 the affairs of the session as rapidly as possible, so that members 
 might recruit themselves for the arduous period of the general 
 election. 
 
 The right honourable gentleman resumed his seat amid a 
 feeble rumble of hear, hears. The programme was exactly what 
 everybody had expected. The audience breathed deeply after
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY 489 
 
 the effort of attention. There was an instant's pause before the 
 buzz of conversation would break out. The Speaker looked round. 
 None of the members had risen immediately. At this moment he 
 felt a Presence passing behind him, he saw a fearful change come 
 over the faces about him, and a second afterwards something 
 caught his eye that caused it to dilate with superstitious horror. 
 In another instant the electric thrill had travelled to the furthest 
 extremities of the Chamber. An awful and mysterious shudder 
 traversed the House. Men grasped each other convulsively. 
 Some of the ladies in the foremost row fainted. For one terrible 
 and unforgettable moment, an awestruck silence reigned dead, 
 unearthly silence, in which the universal heart had ceased to beat 
 There, just emerged from behind the Speaker's chair, stood the 
 murdered Premier, ghastly in death, his cheek pale with the sickly 
 hue of the grave. Every brain throbbed with tumultuous thought. 
 Every eye was glazed and fascinated by the weird and unholy 
 sight, as, bowing to the Speaker, the Minister seated himself upon 
 the Treasury Bench, addressing a smile of infinite sadness to his 
 colleagues, who fell away from before his advancing form. 
 
 The next instant a cry burst from a thousand throats, mingled 
 with shrill shrieks from above. The House started to its feet as 
 one man. A scene of wild and indescribable confusion arose. 
 The Sergeant-at-Arms rushed forward, followed by his men. The 
 Speaker in his flowing robes darted from his chair, to find himself 
 inextricably wedged amid a solid block of members who fought 
 their way steadily to the Treasury Bench ; and from all parts 
 of the House members were bounding frantically over the seats, 
 and struggling in the same direction. The immense physical 
 strength of the member for Queeropolis (who had an awful fore- 
 boding that it was a real apparition, and that his influence with the 
 masses would be gone) stood him in good stead, and those who 
 had prudently followed in his wake were among the first to 
 ascertain that the form was solid flesh and blood. In the galleries 
 the excitement was, if possible, more intense from the difficulty 
 of getting to the spot. The Prince of Wales was hanging over 
 the balcony, just saved from falling by the exertions of the 
 young princes. The reporters had mounted on one another's 
 shoulders. The peers were invading the ground-floor itself. The 
 foreign diplomatists were shrieking with vivid gestures in a very 
 Babel of languages. The strong-minded ladies stared through the 
 bars and left their feeble neighbours to themselves. The people 
 in the back rows had poured out into the lobbies, and were 
 pressing irresistibly in the direction of the forbidden Chamber. 
 It seems marvellous that no serious accident should have oc- 
 curred. To add to the din and consternation, the division 
 bells had somehow been set ringing, and a few members 
 who had slipped out to write letters just before the end 
 of the Chancellor's speech, ran from the library or the reading 
 room, and combated desperately with the crowd ; alarmed, and 
 unable to divine what possible division could have been called.
 
 490 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 A stately old Tory, who was almost suffocated and well-nigh 
 mangled to a jelly, called out : " I spy strangers," but his voice 
 was drowned in the roar and jangle of voices. The poor Speaker 
 who was near, panting for breath, heard him, and cast him a 
 pathetic glance. The Sergeant-at-Arms from afar looked at 
 the Speaker in wild appeal, as though imploring to be allowed 
 to put the House under arrest He saw the mace trodden under 
 foot and the sacred sand-glass shivered to atoms, and he felt that 
 the end of the world was come. Meanwhile, the miraculous 
 report had spread that it was really the Premier come back 
 to life and bewildered interjections and interrogations flew 
 about over the heads of the dense assembly. The throng around 
 the Premier shouted it to distant members, and these shrieked it 
 to the galleries, and the front rows passed it on to those behind, 
 and amazement and incredulity reigned supreme. Energetic 
 reporters flew into the streets, and, silent as the grave, dashed to 
 their offices. And now the Irish members, fighting shoulder 
 to shoulder, had at last arrived at the Treasury Bench where 
 the Premier, his hand shaken violently by every one who could 
 seize upon it. his body felt and handled by the rest, sat dumb amid 
 a storm of questions. 
 
 O'Rorke was the first to touch the Minister, and he burst 
 into tears of joy. The exultant clamour of the Anti-Unionists 
 doubled the hubbub and din. An instant after, there was a 
 momentary lull ; but, when the Speaker called for Order, a 
 derisive roar broke from the Parnellites, and there was confusion 
 worse confounded a chaos of inarticulate cries interspersed with 
 bursts of tremendous cheering. The House had gone mad. 
 Never before or since have our parliamentary records been dis- 
 graced by such a scene. Happily it is improbable that a similar 
 episode will ever occur again. 
 
 At this juncture it was only a few minutes after the re- 
 appearance of the Premier the member for Queeropolis jumped 
 upon a bench, and exerting all the herculean force of those sten- 
 torian lungs which had done such service in great outdoor demon- 
 strations, called out : " Gentlemen, the ladies are in danger." His 
 high-pitched tones dominated even the roar of the frantic assembly. 
 A wild round of cheering followed. Then the House grew 
 suddenly silent. Many of the members shamefacedly sat down 
 wherever they found themselves others rushed into the lobby 
 and aided in restoring order. The peers and the strangers, 
 distinguished and undistinguished, were violently repelled, and 
 hastened back to their respective galleries to secure places. A 
 third contingent of members hurried to the door of the ladies' 
 gallery, where by this time those who had fainted had been 
 conveyed. Five minutes afterwards a semblance of order had 
 been obtained. The Speaker, smoothing his crumpled robes, had 
 got into his chair, the mace had been picked up, and the members 
 heaped promiscuously friends and foes, political parties blent
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY 491 
 
 into a delightful medley were amid all their excitement ruefully 
 conscious of their shapeless or hopelessly strayed hats. 
 
 Then all at once the Premier was seen to rise. A breathless 
 hush fell upon the restless assembly, to be broken immediately 
 by a shrill cry from Sacristan of " Long live Mr. Floppington." 
 An almost hysterical roar of laughter followed, and then the 
 whole audience, moved by a simultaneous impulse, rose to their 
 feet and cheered and cheered till they were hoarse. Tears 
 streamed down many a cheek. The enthusiasm was sublime. 
 
 The Premier opened his lips to speak, and immediately a 
 dead calm prevailed once more. " Sir," began the Minister in 
 low tones which, however, in the almost painful silence could 
 be heard in the farthest corners, " in rising to move that the 
 House do now adjourn, I have to apologise to you and to 
 the House (' No, no,' in a vast shout, and the Irish members began 
 to sing, ' For he's a jolly good fellow,' but were roared down by 
 the indignant cries of the expectant audience. Never probably 
 since language had been given to politicians had a speech been 
 listened to with such an agony of curiosity) I have to apologise 
 for the shock which I have given the House. (Cries of ' No, no I 
 You were quite right,' and cheers.) Had I foreseen the intensity 
 of that shock I would not have chosen that way of demonstrating 
 my existence. (Laughter, followed by tremendous and protracted 
 cheering.) I returned to life, so to speak, yesterday, a little 
 before my funeral. (Cheers and laughter, which the orator did not 
 appear to share, for his countenance retained a look of intense 
 melancholy.) My condition was known only to a few friends, 
 and on consultation with them it was decided that to avoid any 
 danger of being suspected of lunacy, and to spare the world 
 the infliction of another Tichborne trial (laughter), it was best to 
 boldly take my rightful place in the abrupt and decisive fashion 
 you have witnessed. (Cheers. A voice : ' God bless you,' and 
 more cheers.) I did not think, sir, that I should have the same 
 effect on honourable members as on the officials of the House, 
 who fled on all sides at my approach. (Loud laughter.) 1 am 
 sorry to have disappointed gentlemen who may be members of 
 the Psychical Society. (Immense laughter.) I regret the good 
 old law of metaphysics which makes it impossible for me to 
 doubt my own existence. (Laughter.) Although it is open 
 to any one else to assure me that my consciousness is mistaken." 
 (Much laughter.) 
 
 The Premier made a slight pause. The old smile of melancholy 
 humour played about his mouth, in place of the cold and saturnine 
 sneer alternating with irritating and mysterious smiles, or with 
 haughty superiority and conscious power, which had of late been 
 the dominant expressions on his countenance. At instants there 
 had even been visible traces of weakness, a wavering, uncertain 
 gleam in the eyes, a faltering in the silvery tones, and a rapid 
 passing of waves of emotion over the face as cheers on cheers rose
 
 492 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 and swelled in majestic volume ; but now, as soon as the first 
 sentences were over, the orator had got into touch with his audience. 
 His tones began to grow louder and firmer, his eyes to light up 
 with resolution, and his haggard face to lose its marble paleness. 
 And now, when the laughter was dying away, he drew himself up 
 with a sudden gesture of confident strength, and faced the House 
 with a strange, solemn expression which awed the audience to rapt 
 silence. " God knows whether it would have been better had I 
 indeed been, as the world imagined, hurled into eternity, and that I 
 were now lying at rest under the slab of the great Abbey whose 
 ancient aisles are sleeping in the sacred stillness of the summer 
 afternoon. Perhaps it were to be wished that my life had not 
 contradicted the mournful lines of the Roman poet : 
 
 Soles occidere et redire possunt : 
 Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux, 
 Nox est perpetuo una dormienda." 
 
 A shiver ran through the House at the ineffable melancholy of 
 the Premier's intonation. The resumption of his habit of Latin 
 quotation did not appear strange. All surprise was swallowed up 
 in the feeling that he had fallen again into his old vein of stately 
 eloquence, under the stimulus of the great opportunity. Parlia- 
 mentary veterans held their breaths in a spasm of curiosity and 
 expectation. 
 
 " Perhaps it were better that my light had gone out for ever. I 
 have returned, however, and my reappearance among men is no 
 miracle, there is nothing in it but what is capable of the simplest 
 explanation. But that explanation I cannot give, and I throw 
 myself on the indulgence of the House." 
 
 There was a moment of dead silence. The vast audience looked 
 blankly at one another. Then suddenly a tremendous thunder of 
 cheering rose from the Irish members, who, being dispersed through- 
 out the House, communicated the infection to their neighbours, and 
 the cheering was taken up by the other parties and flew to the 
 galleries, and was echoed and re-echoed on all sides, dying away, 
 and ever renewed, sinking and springing up again till everybody 
 was hoarse and black in the face. At last the Premier made a 
 gesture and the sounds subsided and ceased. But, as the interior 
 of the House grew silent, a dull and inarticulate murmur, like the 
 roar of a distant ocean, became audible from without. It was the 
 People in their tens of thousands come to cheer their idolised 
 Minister, and, as the perception of the fact dawned upon the 
 audience, enthusiasm seized them anew, and the din of the multitude 
 within answered the tumult without. As the Premier's ear caught 
 the distant roar, a shade of sadness, almost of bitterness, was 
 observed to pass over his face ; but, when order was at length 
 restored, he went on in tones quivering with suppressed emotion : 
 
 " From the bottom of my heart I thank the House for its loyal 
 trust. But I shall not put its generosity to the severe test of 
 unqualified reticence. (Cheers.)
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY 493 
 
 " On one fundamental point, indeed, my lips are sealed, t 
 have taken an oath never to divulge what has led to my absence 
 from my place in your midst. (Immense sensation.) I have,, 
 indeed, inadvertently revealed the cause to one person, but my 
 conscience acquits me of intentional violation of my oath, and I 
 have every reason to believe that the secret will for ever remain 
 locked in her breast. But this I am permitted to tell the House, 
 that the mystery is very transparent and cannot long baffle the 
 trained intellects of a nation. I do not expect that it will long 
 remain undiscovered ; though the world will, of course, never know 
 from me that its conjectures are just. It is true that experts have 
 hitherto been thrown off the scent. But that was owing to the pre- 
 supposition of my death, and, when I have revealed all I can, there 
 will remain little that is not patent. To-day, for the first time, I 
 was enabled to study all the evidence that had been forthcoming at 
 the inquest over my supposed remains. I discovered that it was 
 an inquest not only over my destroyed physical organisation, but 
 over my shattered moral character. I thank God that both are 
 equally unharmed. (Tremendous cheering.) But there is another 
 reputation which has been attacked that of a man who is, alas,, 
 dead, who cannot refute the calumny that makes his name loathsome 
 in the annals of the human race, but whose fame I will defend with 
 my last breath, whose memory I will hold in reverence till my 
 dying day, whose unhappy fate will torture my soul with the pangs 
 of remorse till my spirit joins his in the awful realms of the un- 
 known. I mean the murdered painter Jack Dawe. (Immense 
 sensation). 
 
 "I do not know whether he will forgive me; I cannot forgive 
 myself, for being the cause, though, God knows, the innocent cause 
 of his death. Some malevolent demon must have forged that un- 
 happy resemblance to me which led to his assassination in my stead 
 by mercenary wretches, brutal and debased as the ancient troglodyte 
 races whom they are forced to imi " 
 
 The Premier paused and looked alarmed, and the House broke 
 into half-amused cheering, while a look of relief and intelligence 
 began to spread over hundreds of puzzled faces. Rapid remarks 
 and knowing glances were cast on all sides, followed by a general 
 stir of amazement and excitement ; and the roar of the myriads 
 without made itself heard again like the booming of distant cannon. 
 The Premier resumed : " I regret the more that my oath should 
 necessitate silence because it precludes me from paying that tribute 
 to his great qualities which must now remain for ever unspoken. 
 But it is my consolation to foresee the not distant homage and 
 admiration of the world, when the last veil of secrecy shall be rent 
 asunder by the impatient hands of a million investigators. As for 
 me, Heaven knows how willingly and humbly I would bare my in- 
 most soul before this mighty assembly. But I would ask it, as I would . 
 ask all that shall hereafter find me not altogether guiltless of the 
 death of a noble-minded man, to remember what I, too, have suffered 
 exiled from the sight of the dear faces of my friends, and from all
 
 494 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 the luxuries of existence, and buried in a human hell where crime 
 and pain wandered in lurid darkness and the undying worm of 
 drink gnawed at the bestial heart, where the material instincts of 
 humanity clogged the grovelling soul, where religion had little 
 power and the spiritual had vanished from man." 
 
 The Premier's eyes were filled with the old dreamy reverie 
 and fixed on an inward vision. The fascinated assembly hung 
 upon his lips. There was an instant's profound silence. Then the 
 great orator, with a wild gesture that thrilled the House, and with a 
 sublime audacity that only he could command, burst forth : " O 
 God, fathomless ruler of the fathomless universe, when wilt Thou 
 suffer all this evil to vanish as the morning mist and bare to us the 
 unclouded splendour of the firmament? We cry, but is it not 
 ourselves that suffer these abominations ? Is it not ourselves that 
 we arraign at the bar of divine justice ? We cry, and crying see 
 our sands of life run out and nothing done. When from the long 
 travail of centuries a Christlike soul is born, it drifts back into the 
 eternal silence whence it came, defeated by the world's disbelief in 
 its mission or by its own. Let every man who cares to make the 
 world brighter and better learn the lesson taught by the failure of 
 so many noble spirits, living and dead. Not by debates nor by 
 empty words, not by windy projects nor by unrealisable visions, 
 shall we banish misery and vice from the earth. There are 
 doctrinaires among us, spirits pure and lofty, but blinded by the 
 light of their own ideal, who, in the pursuit of justice and happiness, 
 would defy the inviolable laws ofNature,and setat nought.the deepest 
 instincts of humanity. To these men and to all men whose lives 
 are sanctified by the dream and inspiration of a Perfect State, I would 
 say : Keep your aspiration and your dream, but abandon your wild 
 and for ever impotent attempt to cut your fragment of Time asunder 
 from the centuries before it ; from that Past which is linked to us by 
 electric bonds, by the thrill of ancient heroic deed and purpose, and 
 by the noble treasures, material and spiritual, that it has bequeathed 
 to us. Abandon your attempt, I say, and do not suffer the energies 
 of unselfishness, the water of life, to be spilt and wasted. Abandon 
 it, and unite with us who would seek our inspiration not in idealised 
 prospect, but in idealised retrospect, not in a godless Future but in 
 a believing Past ! Again I see order, subservience, control the 
 world knit by a million golden bands of mutual gratitude, the 
 affection of master for man, of man for master, the great social 
 machine whose motor shall be love, weaving, with its myriad 
 dovetailed complexities of detail, with its myriad differing powers 
 and the delicate adjustment of its myriad wheels and pins and 
 pulleys and bars one web of happiness. So shall be heard in the 
 universe the rich harmony of varying chords, not the one dull note 
 of the infinite paroquet to which Xenophanes compared Nature. 
 I see Peace on earth to all men of goodwill that once more listen 
 to the message of the Church bells, and of the grassy sun-lit graves 
 of their forefathers. I see a world, wherein Art is again the hand- 
 maid of Religion. I see thousands of peaceful firesides ennobled
 
 A SLEEPLESS CITY 495 
 
 by Music and Poetry and Painting ; with the old household gods, 
 and the wife at the hearth, emblem of the purity and delicacy of 
 home, pleasanter to see than the fire in winter. This is the dream 
 wherewith I would replace the sombre reality ; this is the spiritual 
 and material blessedness with which I would replace the spiritual 
 and material poverty of the people. This is the imperishable 
 aspiration that I cherish ; this is the only vision that is not a mirage ; 
 this is the only ideal which is not beyond our grasp." 
 
 The Premier stretched out his hands as if to grasp that ideal ; 
 a convulsive shudder of emotion agitated his frame. He resumed 
 his seat without another word. Not till the solemn tones ceased 
 to vibrate in their ears did the pent-up feeling of the audience find 
 vent in a delirium of applause, amid which, a member catching the 
 Speaker's suggestive glance, got up and seconded the adjournment, 
 which was carried nem. con. amid an irrepressible buzz of excite- 
 ment. Then O'Gormandy called for three cheers for Floppington, 
 which were given by the whole audience, standing and waving hats 
 and handkerchiefs. Then three more cheers were given, and then 
 three more, the members by this time mounted on the seats and 
 in a state of indescribable excitement. 
 
 The hurried exit of the Minister to escape the attentions of .his 
 friends caused the break-up of the most memorable scene in our 
 Parliamentary annals. Floppington made his way with difficulty 
 to the door of the ladies' gallery, where he found Gwendolen, pale, 
 with tears in her eyes, but wonderfully changed and with almost 
 the old brightness now and then flashing into her face. No one 
 ever knew not even herself how narrowly she had saved the 
 Premier from mental and physical collapse ; by what unwearied 
 exertions, and what exhaustless courage she had though almost 
 prostrated by the shock herself, soothed his remorse, conquered 
 his scruples, and nerved him to encounter the House. But what 
 would not her mere presence, her acknowledged love, have done ? 
 Audacity had carried the day, but the heat of the struggle was not 
 over yet. The deluge of criticism was yet to come. For the 
 moment, however, the difficulty was how to get the exhausted 
 Premier away. The lovers went out on the terrace to think it 
 over, and lo, the river was thronged with steamers, and boats, and 
 barges, all black with people gazing eagerly in the direction of 
 the House, and apparently excited by the monotonous task. They 
 hurried down through passages and courtyards, and met the Prince 
 of Wales, who was hearty in his congratulations and who com- 
 plained that he, too, couldn't get out. Hardly any of the members 
 had yet left the building they were scribbling letters or telegrams, 
 or gathered in animated groups. Lord Bardolph Mountchapel 
 was one of the first to go and his face was livid. 
 
 It was impossible to tire out the waiting multitudes. They were 
 determined to see the resuscitated Premier with their own eyes, 
 and nothing would baulk them of the sight. So the Premier si^b- 
 mitted at last, and was greeted with a royal welcome, with a fir- 
 reaching and crashing and pealing thunder which was sublime by
 
 496 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 its volume; and he said a few words while the toiling millions 
 pressed to touch his garment ; and he was cheered again and 
 again ; and then, still amid cheers, the horses were taken out, and 
 he was drawn home through streets whence every sign of mourning 
 had vanished ; through streets echoing with cheers, and thronged at 
 door and roof, and window and balcony, on pavement, on vehicles 
 and stands, gay with the flutter of hastily-adjusted bunting and the 
 streaming of improvised flags, and restless with the delirious 
 clangour of joy-bells. 
 
 And how the placards flamed with " Resurrection of the 
 Premier," long looked back upon with a voluptuous sigh by editors 
 as the Ultima Thule of attractive headings and the tie plus ultra 
 of Catchhalfpennyism ; and how the evening papers reached their 
 hundredth editions ; and how the whole journalistic world, writers, 
 compositors, and devils, was almost thrown out of gear by an 
 epidemic of illness due to overwork; and how scores of Star news- 
 boys retired and set up public-houses ; and how Ariel's girdle, flash- 
 ing the news over head and under sea, awoke answering flashes of 
 congratulation from nations and sovereigns ; and how the financial 
 world was agitated by the immediate rise in Consols ; and how the 
 two hemispheres could talk of nothing else for a week and two 
 days ; and how through the length and breadth of merry England 
 and of merrier Ireland the night of the Premier's resurrection 
 resounded with music, and blazed with bonfires that flashed their 
 yellow glare up to the golden stars ; and how the great metropolis 
 could not sleep for joy and excitement ; and how soon afterwards 
 there was a national holiday; and how the Te Deum was sung in 
 St. Paul's Cathedral is it not written in the Chronicles of the 
 Angli ? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 
 
 THE Premier was right. So simple a mystery could not long baffle 
 the trained intellect of England. The strange, powerful oration of 
 the Minister was made to yield up all its latent secrets. The Press 
 teemed with hypotheses. Analysts trained in the school of Wilkie 
 Collins, amateur Lecoqs of every age, grade, and occupation, 
 professional detectives, and omniscient journalists all tried their 
 hands. 
 
 But with all their efforts, no substantial addition was made 
 to the solution discovered at an early stage by "Fair Play" and 
 published in the Times. "Fair Play" began his letter by a pardon- 
 able display of exultation. There is no keener pleasure than to 
 hear the world confess that it was not wiser than any single man, 
 provided that single man be oneself. Magna est veritas et pra-
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER 497 
 
 valebit. Ought not the world to go down on its knees to the 
 outraged manes of the martyred painter ? 
 
 After this preliminary skirmishing the distinguished novelist 
 came to the point. It was evident from the Premier's speech that 
 the bookish Minister had come more directly into contact with the 
 horrible realities of life, with crime and brutality and degraded 
 manhood, than ever before, and they had moved him to im- 
 passioned invective. Kidnapped by a gang of Ulsterites (and that 
 Ulsterites were at the bottom of the business he had maintained 
 all along, for who but they had any interest in his removal from 
 the scene of legislation ?), he had been imprisoned in a cave (vide 
 his inadvertent allusion to debased troglodytes), which he had so 
 graphically and poetically described, " a human hell where crime 
 and pain wandered in lurid darkness." Here in the company of 
 " mercenary wretches " he had spent some days of incarceration, 
 loathing his fellow troglodytes and gathering from their talk, or 
 guessing, what the world was thinking of his disappearance. " We 
 must now turn from the denizen of Belgravia to the denizen 
 of Bethnal Green. Here lived a man named Jack Dawe, whose 
 moral character presents a curious mixture of diverse attributes 
 But, now that he is cleared of the imputation of murder, we are 
 not concerned with any deep analysis of his character. He played 
 a remarkable but still a subordinate part in the tragi-comedy, and 
 the questions of his exact feelings towards Mr. Floppington and 
 of his resemblance to him, however interesting, are of little import. 
 
 " Dr. Maudsley was probably right in holding that he had been 
 converted; but there has no doubt been a good deal of exaggeration 
 both of his fanaticism and of his antagonism to the Premier. 
 Though it was absurd to believe that his ardent Protestantism had 
 had all the effects attributed to it, it might and probably did cause 
 him to neglect his work, but hardly to cherish homicidal intentions; 
 and as for the personal hostility, how deep that was, was shown by 
 the generous warnings he gave to his enemy, though suffering, as 
 he thought, the greatest wrongs at his hands. It was doubtless the 
 Premier's consciousness of the painter's nobility, combined with 
 the feeling that had he not treated him as a maniac and scornfully 
 rejected the man's warning he might still have been alive, together 
 with his evident knowledge that he had met his death through 
 endeavouring to save him, that was responsible for that emotional 
 outbreak in the House, that eulogy of the man, and that unconcealed 
 and bitter remorse. That the letters were meant as warnings no 
 one now denies. Jack Dawe had fallen into the hands of the con- 
 spirators, somewhere between Ramsgate and Broadstairs (where it 
 strikes me they possess a cave in which the Premier was kept, and 
 for which diligent search ought to be made). 
 
 "The scuffle to which Jack Dawe's wounded arm testified was a 
 scuffle, not with a candid friend, but with some of the gang. It is 
 almost certain that he had been mistaken for the Premier and that 
 he had been let go when the mistake was discovered. But first a 
 terrible oath of secrecy had doubtless been extracted from him
 
 498 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 similar to the oath afterwards taken by the Premier. Something 
 of this I divined from the first ; though as the facts of the mysterious 
 return from Ramsgate only came out after my letter was in print, I 
 could not connect it with my original theory ; and the apparently 
 overwhelming weight of evidence on the other side temporarily 
 crushed my conviction of the man's innocence. The gloomy 
 reticence of the painter, as he hurried back to London distracted 
 by the necessity of making some effort to save the Minister without 
 violating his oath (which would be so binding to a recent convert 
 to religion), the brain-fever induced by the awful scenes he had 
 gone through all find a perfect explanation from this view. How 
 puerile and forced now appear the motives formerly assigned for 
 his obstinate silence on the homeward route and his failure to 
 repro ich Miss Bathbrill. There is no need to follow the story in 
 detail. 
 
 "The dullest reader can now understand the feverish exclama- 
 tions, the waking, the agonised inquiries, the despatch of the 
 cautiously-worded telegram and letters (in the last epistle the writer 
 for the first time referring with infinite pathos and touching resig- 
 nation to the Premier's supposed intrigue, and not unjustly demand- 
 ing that he should endeavour to free him from the presumably 
 audacious attack of his discarded betrothed, of whose misconduct 
 he had probably read during his convalescence when as witnesses 
 have told us he hardly did anything but read). The Premier 
 rejected warnings and suggestions alike, and the painter, having 
 done all he could, was compelled to wait the course of events. 
 Unfortunately the conspirators had got to know of his attempts. 
 It was natural that they should keep some watch on his movements. 
 In yesterday's Pall Mall Gazette, in the account of the interview 
 with Mrs. Dawe and Sally amid much irrelevant matter, amusing 
 enough in its way though occurs a proof of this. 
 
 "The emissary no doubt called at the Telegraph Office we 
 know how amused and excited the clerks were about the extra- 
 ordinary telegram and by keeping his ears open learnt enough to 
 make him suspect they were being betrayed. They determined to 
 take their "revenge. And now mark the Diabolical ingenuity 
 and audacity of the conspirators' conception. They had already 
 arranged to assassinate the Premier, but his resemblance to their 
 other intended victim, the painter, led to the adoption of a subtler 
 scheme. To capture the Premier, to hold him unharmed, yet to 
 make the world believe he had been murdered, was a master-stroke 
 which would demonstrate their immense power and strike terror 
 into every heart. The Minister could be graphically shown what 
 awaited him if he persisted in carrving his Home Rule Bill ; he 
 could be bound over to reveal none of their secrets under threats of 
 actual assassination, and then, convinced he was a mouse in the 
 paws of a cat, he could be let go. At the same time there was a 
 grim and grotesque humour in the idea which must have appealed 
 irresistibly to the minds of its originators ; and when I reflect on the 
 sensation caused by the death of a house-painter, the eloquence
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER 499 
 
 wasted thereon, and the magnificence of his obsequies, I for one 
 cannot help being tickled, though, God knows, not oblivious of the 
 tragic side of the affair. That this aspect was not unimportant is 
 shown by the ghastly joke of releasing their captive just in time to go 
 to his own funeral. How the wretches must have enjoyed, too, the 
 additional sport of their poor, dead victim being hunted all over 
 England for his own murder. The conception was a flash of 
 genius, and, like all great ideas, it was carried out by the simplest 
 means. 
 
 " The modus operandi was probably as follows : On the morning 
 of the 1 3th of July Mr. Floppington was captured on his way to 
 the stables in Westminster. Jack Dawe had been seized the day 
 before. The Premier was taken into a house in the neighbourhood 
 of the stables, where he found the painter. N'o stranger and 
 weirder rencontre is to be found in fiction than the first and last 
 meeting of these two men so like each other in form, so different 
 in all else, connected by such curious relations, both unconscious 
 of what was to be done with them, the one about to die, the other 
 about to vanish into the bowels of the earth. With what remorseful 
 thoughts must the Premier have beheld the painter he had 
 despised ! With what blended emotions must the painter have 
 gazed upon the Premier who had robbed him of love and liberty, 
 if not of life ! The two men were made to change clothes an 
 exchange which, on my hypothesis, would be absolutely necessary; 
 and the fact that it did take place is, d posteriori, an almost 
 convincing proof of the truth of that hypothesis. For we know 
 that the clothing worn by the deceased belonged to the Premier ; 
 and it has just leaked out that when Mr. Floppington reappeared 
 on the scene he was habited in the Sunday garments of the defunct 
 house-painter. After the exchange, Jack Dawe was drugged and 
 then driven in a closed conveyance to the corner of Little Snale 
 Street. Here he was taken out and noiselessly conducted towards 
 the stable, supported between two of the conspirators as though 
 he were drunk. At the stable-door he was dropped, the train of 
 the explosion was laid, and the scoundrels took to their heels. The 
 Premier's latch-key hnd, of course, been transferred to the painter 
 in the change of clothes, and the latter seems to have managed to 
 retain his own in addition. I don't give the assassins credit for 
 putting their victim's latch-key near the body on purpose, although 
 that is a possible supposition, considering how thick-spun the 
 farcical tissue was already. Such, it seems to me, is the only 
 possible explanation of the most sensational incident of modern 
 history, and the wildest inventions of fiction pale before the bare 
 facts (as facts they must be) elicited by this impartial survey of all 
 the evidence at our disposal." 
 
 The accuracy of this solution may be gauged from the fact that 
 it has been incorporated into English history ; while the original 
 verdict has become a stock argument against circumstantial 
 evidence. For some years, indeed, no jury dared convict a 
 murderer. The stronger the apparent case, the more probable
 
 500 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER. 
 
 appeared the existence of improbable circumstances which would 
 give an entirely different complexion to the facts. 
 
 The reaction in favour of Jack Dawe led to a subscription list 
 being opened in every newspaper for the benefit of his poor mother, 
 who was stated to be almost penniless. Several thousands were 
 immediately collected, Lady Harley and the Premier heading the 
 list with independent contributions of ^500. The remains of the 
 painter were also removed from the Abbey and buried privately in 
 the churchyard of St. John's, where the monument erected by the 
 Premier to commemorate his virtues may be seen to this day. 
 
 After his death his works rose immediately in value. The 
 famous lion, in particular, was acquired by a local show at the 
 price of twenty pounds. 
 
 The setting up of the memorial was not the only graceful act of 
 the Premier, tor he managed to obtain a deanery and a sergeantship 
 respectively for the Vicar and policeman who had been promised pro- 
 motion by Jack Dawe, and the world approved the happy thought. 
 
 Lady Harley went down to soothe Mrs. Dawe as best she could. 
 At the same time she purchased Sally (for the old lady made a 
 sort of claim to the possession of her, and utterly bewildered Gwen 
 by her arguments) and took charge of her future. She was educated 
 privately, and she took to study Mrs. Dawe used to tell her 
 neighbours like a fish to oil. No one knew that her uncon- 
 querable ardour was due to the cherished words of her dead 
 master. She soon displayed remarkable powers of intellect, and 
 at last, though late in life, she matriculated at the London 
 University, coming fourth in honours, and was only disqualified 
 by age from taking the Floppington Scholarship for Women. She 
 did not graduate, but, obtaining a situation as head mistress, she 
 displayed great interest in philosophy, in which she was a staunch 
 admirer ol the common-sense English school, and she wrote many 
 contemptuous articles in various minor periodicals to refute the 
 bastard theology of Floppington. Altogether a dreadfully 
 materialistic person, shrewd and business-like, but with a vein of 
 tenderness at the bottom. She never married, though she had 
 many offers, but for years used to go down on Sundays to 
 St. John's Churchyard, to the grave of Jack Dawe, in which her 
 heart lay buried. The monument and the grass around were kept 
 in good order at her expense. This was the only sacrifice of 
 political economy that Sally made to sentiment. 
 
 With regard to her former rival, the Pall Mall interviewer, on 
 calling upon her, found her brother almost disconsolate. Eliza 
 Bathbrill had eloped to America with a young Australian on the 
 day after the resurrection of the Premier, leaving a letter stating 
 that her resolution had been come to suddenly the evening before, 
 as her lover had to start immediately to claim an inheritance which 
 fell to him by the death of a relative, of which he had just heard. 
 He, John Bathbrill, believed the story was true, for the young man 
 had come in on that evening with a very white face. His sister 
 said in her letter that since there was now no chance of getting any
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 501 
 
 damages from the defunct Jack Dawe, there was nothing to lose 
 by going abroad. The honest fellow added that he sometimes 
 felt half glad of her departure, because since the inquest had made 
 her generally known, and her portrait had been exhibited in the 
 shops, he had had great difficulty in keeping off the swells, old and 
 young, who haunted the neighbourhood. 
 
 As for the Premier himself, he was compelled to acquiesce in 
 the shelving of the Home Rule Bill, or at least he made no effort 
 to proceed with it during the remainder of the session. Very soon 
 the light on the pinnacle of the Clock Tower went out, and with 
 it the star of Conservatism. The shock which the Premier had 
 undergone (if not indeed, as some hinted, physical fear), made him 
 singularly apathetic on the subject of Ireland during the electoral 
 campaign. Indeed, he seemed to be almost a shadow of his late 
 self. Moreover, after the first gush of joy, there was an undefined 
 feeling that the Premier should be contented with mere existence. 
 This was probably why many of his quondam friends, such 
 as Sir Hugh Erlyon, Mr. Dagon, and Mr. Alderney Lightfoot, 
 had no scruple in working against him when the crisis came. 
 Mr. Dallox, however, who now denounced him in a private 
 letter to a friend which only accidentally saw the light 
 through the recipient's sending it to the Press, was probably 
 actuated by a little rancour against the minister for coming 
 to life again, and so spoiling the already fulfilled prediction 
 of the superstition anent thirteen at table. But, all the 
 same, the reaction would have come ; and, whatever his intentions 
 were, he never more had the opportunity of carrying them out. 
 For Screwnail brought in the reactionary Radicals and Liberals 
 with an immense majority after a somewhat unexciting election, 
 relieved only by the amusing inconsistency and foaming incoherence 
 of Lord Bardolph's electoral address a mass of ruthless 
 vindictiveness explicable only as the work of a man robbed 
 alike of the woman he loved and of the place he coveted, 
 conscious of his ruin, and abandoning himself to the recklessness 
 of despair. It characterised the Separation Bill as a monstrous 
 mixture of imbecility, extravagance, and political hysterics, a 
 striking tissue of absurdities such as the united and concentrated 
 genius of Bedlam and Colney Hatch could not excel, the work of a 
 middle-aged man in a hurry to get married, who based all his hopes 
 on the suffrages of that giddy-headed and brainless sex which he 
 had added to the electorate. Yes, the Fourth Party was smashed, 
 pulverised, and destroyed. The only drop of joy in its cup was 
 the defeat of Floppington, who resigned forthwith, and shortly after- 
 wards accepted a peerage on his marriage with Lady Harley. For 
 some time he was great on philanthropy and the Slums Question. 
 But he had no practical suggestions to offer beyond the conversion 
 of the masses to their nominal religion. And gradually his 
 enthusiasm waned, his magic eloquence flashed out at intervals 
 fewer and farther between, and he settled down again into the 
 study of musty Coleridgean metaphysics.
 
 502 THE PREMIER AND THE PAINTER 
 
 In his later years he was much interested in Lotze and in James- 
 Hinton. He occasionally wrote a poem which achieved a succes 
 tfesttme, but he was painfully aware of the truth of the literary 
 critiques which had appeared in the Academy and Athenceum at 
 his supposed death. He had no originality, and was always the 
 weak echo of greater minds. His unhappy habit of reflection, too, 
 induced too much self-scepticism to enable him to attempt any great 
 work. But he and Lady Harley were happy in their children ; and 
 when, in the course of years, he died in the sure and certain hope 
 of a glorious resurrection, his former assassination and his one 
 short display of administrative capacity almost forgotten, he had the 
 satisfaction of knowing that his eldest son was a power in the 
 nation. 
 
 A few years after his death there was a great storm, followed by 
 a fall of cliff between Broadstairs and Ramsgate, and there was 
 revealed to the world a cavern full of winding and intricate 
 passages leading to an inner domed chamber, whose rocky walls 
 were strangely adorned with a series of illustrations depicting a 
 number of little girls bearing a strong family likeness to one 
 another. An Oxford professor, who happened, strangely enough, 
 to be familiar with recent history, recalled to the public mind the 
 unique incident in the life of the Elder Floppington, and, for once, 
 a new discovery was seen to corroborate olden records. And from 
 that time to this no one has ever doubted the traditional version of 
 the great events, the narration of which has engaged the pens of 
 our most illustrious historians and biographers, and which the 
 present writer, trembling a little at liis own audacity, has 
 endeavoured to recount afresh. 
 
 THE END
 
 SELECT LIST OF AUTHORITIES 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN 
 
 I. Works of Dickens, Beaconsfield, Justin McCarthy, Trollope, Besant, 
 etc., etc. 
 
 II. Hansard, Times, Pall Mall Gazette, St. James's Gazette, Daily News, 
 
 Standard, Daily Telegraph, Punch, Truth, World, Referee, Pilot, 
 Freeman's Journal, East End Observer, Bethnal Green Standard, 
 City Gossip, Freethinker, War Cry, Justice, Nineteenth Century, 
 Progress, etc., etc. 
 
 III. A House-painter's Love : A Romance of History (Losta), 
 Ancient Pastimes (Slumming, p. 33). 
 
 Before the Western Revolution : A Study of Origins (Sayere). 
 
 Causes Celebres (Bruno). 
 
 Cockney Cookery (Enricus). 
 
 Diary of a Private Secretary (John Tremaine). 
 
 Dictionary of National B'ography. 
 
 Did Jack Dawe exist? (by Scepticus). 
 
 Dynamite, the Civiliser (Anger). 
 
 East-End Folk-Lore, and Whitechapel Slang (Prof. Maxilla). 
 
 Eliza Bathbrill ; or, Mistress and Maid (Author unknown). 
 
 Essays and Speeches (Lady Gwendolen Harley). 
 
 Expansion and Self-Negation of Conservatism : A Study in Hegelianism 
 
 (Southleigh). 
 
 Female Suffrage (by a Female Sufferer). 
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 REMBRANDT: 
 
 HIS LIFE, HIS WORK, AND HIS TIME. 
 
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 EDITED AND PREFACED BY 
 
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 THE WORKS OF HEINRICH HEINE. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, M.A., RR.L.S. 
 
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 A MODERN MARRIAGE. By the Marquise CLARA LANZA. 
 
 popular Sbilling Boofcs. 
 
 MADAME VALERIE. By F. C. PHILIPS, Author of "As 
 in a Looking-Glass," &c. 
 
 THE MOMENT AFTER: A Tale of the Unseen. By 
 
 ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 CLUES; or, Leaves from a Chief Constable's Note-Book. 
 By WILI IAM HENDERSON, Chief Constable of Edinburgh.
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 IDramatfc ^literature. 
 
 THE MASTER BUILDER. A Play in Three Acts. By 
 HENRIK IBSEN. Translated from the Norwegian by EDMUND Gosss 
 and WILLIAM ARCHER. Small 410, with Portrait, $s. Popular Edition, 
 paper, is. Also a Limited Large Paper Edition, 211. net. 
 
 HEDDA GABLER : A Drama in Four Acts. By HENRIK 
 IBSEN. Translated from the Norwegian by EDMUND GOSSE. Small 410, 
 cloth, with Portrait, 5.1. Vaudeville Edition, paper, is. Also a Limited 
 Large Paper Edition, 2is. net. 
 
 THE PRINCESSE MALEINE: A Drama in Five Acts 
 (Translated by Gerard Harry), and THE INTRUDER: A Drama in- 
 One Act. By MAURICE MAETERLINCK. With an Introduction by HALL 
 CAINE, and a Portrait of the Author. Small 410, cloth, $s. 
 
 THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT: A Comedy in 
 Four Acts. By Count LYOF TOLSTOY. Translated from the Russian by 
 E. J. DILLON. With Introduction by A. W. PINERO. Small 410, with 
 Portrait, 5* . 
 
 THE DRAMA, ADDRESSES. By HENRY IRVING. 8vo, 
 
 With Portrait by J. McN. Whistler. Second Edition. Fcap. 3-r. 6d. 
 SOME INTERESTING FALLACIES OF THE 
 
 Modern Stage. An Address delivered to the Playgoers' Club at St. 
 James's Hal!, on Sunday, 6th December, 1891. By HERBERT BEERBOHM 
 TREE. Crown 8vo, sewed, fui. 
 
 THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO. With Intro- 
 ductory Notes by MALCOLM C. SALAMAN. i6mo, Paper Covers, is. 6d. ; 
 or Cloth, 2S. 6d. each. 
 
 I. THE TIMES : A Comedy in Four Acts. With a Preface 
 by the Author. 
 
 II. THE PROFLIGATE : A Play in Four Acts. With. 
 Portrait of the Author, after J. MORDECAI. 
 
 III. THE CABINET MINISTER: A Farce in Four Acts. 
 
 IV. THE HOBBY HORSE : A Comedy in Three Acts. 
 V. LADY BOUNTIFUL: A Play in Four Acts. 
 
 VI. THE MAGISTRATE: A Farce in Three Acts. 
 VII. DANDY DICK : A Farce in Three Acts. 
 VIII. SWEET LAVENDER. 
 
 To be followed by The Schoolmistress, The Weaker Sex, Lords and 
 Commons, and The Squire.
 
 41G.OO
 
 Photograph copyrighted, 1893, ny Rock wood, N. Y. 
 
 ISRAEL, ZANGWILL.