CHAPTER XXIVIS OF A POLITICAL NATURE
Granny’sfortnight at Brighton was so successful that it ran to a month. In the latter part of the period Philip and Mary paid several flying visits to the metropolis to see if the little flat in Knightsbridge was coming up to expectations. The furniture also had to be considered, and a very pleasant occupation it was to collect the household gods.
Everything in the new house delighted them; the color of the walls, the light in the pictures, the hang of the curtains, the disposition of the chairs. It was about the first week in April when they started housekeeping for themselves. They had found a very warm and cozy little nest, rather high up perhaps, yet a nest is none the worse for that as a rule. It overlooked the park in which the birds were building, and in which Philip, who had turned over an entirely new leaf, used to ride before breakfast.
Mary’s first cross in her new life was that she couldn’t accompany him. But she had never been on a horse in her life; and she very much regretted now that this branch of her education had been neglected. Theymust be pals in everything. Wherever he went and whatever he did, she must be at his side—that is, if he wanted her, and she was quite sure he did.
As became a very practical-minded young woman, she soon came to grips with this important subject. It was one day after lunch, while the world was still seeming a truly magnificent place to be in, and life still appeared a truly noble and glorious invention.
“Phil-ipp, there is only one cloud so far.”
“What is it, old girl?”
“I want to ride, Phil-ipp, and I don’t know how. I think I shall learn. Come with me and order a habit, although at a really economical shop, because I’m not earning no money and I’ve broken all my contracts and this is going to be a dreadful Expense.”
Philip was delighted and praised her pluck; but, in strict confidence, young ladies of Newnham and Girton, she didn’t exactly overflow with that valuable commodity when she made her début a week later at the school. Her second and third appearances were hardly more inspiring; indeed, she had never felt so uncomfortable, so nervous, so hopelessly incompetent in the whole course of a life which had been a brilliant success so far. But she stuck to her resolve with the whole-hearted determination that goes with her type of countenance; and ere long virtue began to reap its reward.
It was a very proud moment when, after severalweeks of travail, she ventured forth into the Row with her Philip, about a quarter-past eight of a summer’s morning. Philip felt awfully proud of her, for, making due allowance for a little inward trepidation which was uncommonly well concealed, she really did very well indeed. She vowed, moreover, though in no spirit of vainglory, that she meant soon to do much better.
Friends of the Family had shaken their heads, and were shaking them still, over the Unfortunate Occurrence, but at present the glamour had shown no signs of wearing thin. Mary had definitely retired from the theater, except for the promised appearance at Harry Merino’s benefit, which had yet to take place, but in the most whole-hearted way she was devoting herself to Philip and his interests. It was her ambition “to be a pal in everything.” The sitting of a horse was only one instance of her determination to live up to her ideal.
An Ex-Ambassador had asked her to call in Mount Street. No time was lost in taking him at his word. Moreover, she chose a day and hour when the old diplomatist was accessible. And her recent study of the art of equitation came in uncommonly useful, inasmuch that without much difficulty she contrived “to keep him up to the bit.” That is to say, about ten days after her visit Philip received an invitation to lunch at the Helicon, to meet a chief wire-puller of the party to which theEx-Ambassador did not belong. It is not every young married woman of limited social experience who would have been able to manage it.
To be quite candid, Sir Joseph Huffham, Bart., M. P., was not exactly overpowered by the sense of Mr. Philip’s ability. To that shrewd and stern judge of mankind, the son and heir of that old fool Shelmerdine was very much what one would have expected him to be. Except that he was not pompous. On the contrary, there was a most agreeable modesty about the young chap. It was evidently sincere, and as such was entitled to respect. As far as promise was concerned, though there was doubtless a good deal of it—a worldly-wise man had said so—whatever he might attain to in the way of performance would be in the distant future.
What had Warlock in his mind? was really the question of questions for Sir Joseph Huffham, Bart., M. P. What Machiavellian subtlety lurked in the bringing forward of this very dark horse for the purpose of helping a party in which Warlock was not interested? What private axe had he to grind? To be sure, there was that little business of the vacant Thistle, which all the world and his wife had smiled over. Then there was also the fact that this not particularly bright young man had disappointed the expectations of two families. Whatgame was the old Jesuit playing? was the question that Sir Joseph felt constrained to ask.
Sir Joseph found the question by no means easy to answer, and we must confess that we share his difficulty. It would be idle, my lords and gentlemen, for us to pretend to illuminate the official prescience. But candidly, we feel that the question might have been addressed to young Mrs. Philip without impropriety, although, of course, Sir Joseph could not be expected to know that, and he would have thought it ridiculous had anyone ventured to make the suggestion. Things don’t happen in that way, he would have said.
Maybe, Sir Joseph; yet perchance in that case you would have affirmed but half a truth. It takes a pretty bold man these days to say exactly how things do happen, Monsieur Bergson seems to think.
Still, Sir Joseph certainly thought it was piquant that the son of S. of P. should desire to help the Party. His qualifications for public life appeared to be rather obscure, but being the eldest son of his father he was not without a face value for the enemy.
“And so, Mr. Shelmerdine,” said the illustrious man, smiling over the club claret, “you think, with your wife’s assistance, you might be able to win a seat like South-West Blackhampton for the party of progress.”
“My wife is sure she could win it for me,” was the answer of Philip.
It was not, perhaps, the answer to be expected from a champion of the democracy; and the illustrious man looked rather quizzically across the table at his host. Were he and his party going to have their legs pulled in company with Van and the other side? Never trust an Irishman on principle, was one of Sir Joseph’s axioms; and in this case he rather felt like living up to it.
All the same, the exigencies of the situation called for a man somewhat out of the ordinary for South-West Blackhampton. At present that large and important industrial constituency was represented by a man of independent mind who owed allegiance to none. The power of his personality had carried him to the top of the poll in a three-cornered contest, in spite of the fact that he had an official Rag and an official Wagger, able men both, against him.
Good, sound, conventional candidates had failed against this Rawhead and Bloodybones. It was just possible that the husband of a favorite actress, and a famous footballer to boot, might be successful where his betters might fail. That, at least, was the local opinion.
“I presume, Mr. Shelmerdine,” said Sir Joseph Huffham, “in the event of your being adopted as a candidatefor South-West Blackhampton, you would have no objection to signing a—er—” Sir Joseph paused while he took a type-written document from his pocket-book and adjusted his pince-nez—“a football league form for the Blackhampton Rovers?”
Mr. Shelmerdine was quite prepared to do that.
“And of playing for them occasionally, I presume, if your services were called upon?”
Mr. Shelmerdine had no objection to doing that, either, although he was rather short of practice these days.
“I am informed, Mr. Shelmerdine, that you kicked three goals against Scotland in an International match.”
With excellent modesty the young man admitted this impeachment.
“Well, I think I am entitled to say, Mr. Shelmerdine,” said Sir Joseph, who was himself a pretty shrewd Lancastrian, “if you can kick three goals against Liverpool or Manchester City in an important League match, you are very likely to be returned at the top of the poll.”
Very simply and seriously, and quite sincerely, Mr. Shelmerdine promised to do his best in this matter, and that when the time came, if South-West Blackhampton did him the honor of adopting him as their candidate, he would go into strict training for the purpose.
Sir Joseph had the reputation of being the possessor of a sense of humor, and the Ex-Ambassador had a few ideas also upon that recondite subject; but each of these gentlemen smiled very warily at the other, as though he was not quite certain whether it would be safe in the circumstances to allow his mobile fancy to play around that which had rather the appearance of a jest on the surface. Had they not mistrusted one another so sorely, they might have been tempted to do so; but the odd thing was that the prospective candidate for South-West Blackhampton respected theirbona fidesso immensely that he remained a perfect image of gravity.
“I will do my best, sir, to kick three goals against Liverpool or Manchester City,” said the young man as he shook hands and took his leave.
“Then I think you may be returned to Parliament,” said the shrewd Lancastrian cordially; “that is, if you never hold a meeting without having your wife on the platform; and you let her do most of the talking, you know.”
It was frankness, certainly, on the part of Sir Joseph Huffham, Bart., M. P.; but that illustrious man owed much of his eminence to the fact that he had a pretty sound working knowledge of things in general.
“I will certainly do that, sir,” said the young man.
Whereupon he thanked Sir Joseph and the Ex-Ambassadorwith great sincerity, and went his way along Pall Mall; and as he did this he was just the happiest young man in all the great Metropolis. It was a genuine inspiration that Mary should make the speeches. He would attend to the goal-kicking department all right. He would go into strict training, knock off tobacco, lead the life of an anchorite. And when he found himself in Parliament as a full-blown Rag, he would be able to say that she had done it all.
Hitherto Mr. Philip had not been encumbered with anything so superfluous as political convictions. He had known in a dim kind of way that the friends of his youth had been Waggers. Without the Waggers, he had always been given to understand there would have been no turn-up with the Boers in South Africa. He had borne a humble part in that little affair, along with the rest of his friends; and the best he could say for it was that he had found it rather an overrated amusement. But without the Waggers, so he understood, there would not have been fair play for everybody.
However, this was the only good thing he knew about the Waggers. His father was a Wagger, of course, like everybody else’s father was; but if you have quarrelled with your father, there is all the less reason to stick to the same school of political thought. But Mary it was who had really converted him, and had madehim go into Parliament. She declared herself to be an absolutely ferocious Rag-Tag-and-Bobtail, and that, of course, in the present state of the domestic firmament, was quite enough for Mr. Philip.
The Rags, as Mary expounded their faith, were the party of Progress and the friends of the People. And now that he was enlisted in their ranks, he felt it behoved him to live up to their exalted principles. Therefore he gave a shilling to the crossing-sweeper at the bottom of Saint James’s Street, and, like a true democrat, proceeded on foot to the little nest in Knightsbridge, instead of going like the son of a lord in a taxi.
Mary was buried in a delightfully comfortable chair with her toes on the fender. She was also reading a novel; and out of our love for her we must really withhold the name of the author.
... No, young ladies of Newnham and Girton, the name of the author was not Monsieur Anatole France.
“I’ve done it, old girl,” said Mr. Philip, bursting in upon her and saluting her, of course, in the manner ordained by custom for newly-married people. “I really think they are going to take me on.”
Strictly speaking, young man, you had not done it. It was Mary who had done all the doing so far;although, of course, you could hardly be expected to realize that.
“Oh, how splendid!”
“Yes, old girl; and old Sir Joseph Thingamy—nice old boy—says you are to attend all the meetings and make most of the speeches, and I’m to sign a League form for Blackhampton Rovers and kick three goals against Liverpool, and everything will be as right as rain.”
“Why, of course it will, Phil-ipp, when I’ve got dear old Blackhampton in my pocket.”
And Mary flung away her novel, and rose with the light of battle in her eye in order to confirm this startling announcement.
A general election was expected in October. The head office said things must be put in train at once. Communications had, of course, to pass between the constituency and Westminster, but within a month Mr. Philip had received an invitation from the Chief Tribesmen of South-West Blackhampton to come forth and make the acquaintance with his views.
Then it was that Mr. Philip found himself in a bit of a funk. The fact was that he hadn’t any views—at least, any views to speak about. Party of progress; government of the People, by the People, for the People; greatest good of the greatest number, and so forth.That was all he knew, and you couldn’t very well make a speech out of that, could you?
With this, however, Mary didn’t quite agree. She seemed to think you could. She had been reading up the subject lately. Therefore she sat down at once, pen in hand, and began to collect her ideas upon the subject.
In common with other ready-witted people, she had the useful faculty of being fluent on paper. By lunch-time she had covered ten pages of foolscap, writing on one side of the paper only; and after lunch, when over the cigarettes and coffee she read the result of her labors aloud to the future member for South-West Blackhampton, the young man found it hard to repress his enthusiasm.
“I shall have ’em absolutely stiff,” said he; “that is, if I can only remember it all. But I say, old girl, what if they begin to ask questions?”
“Tell them, Phil-ipp, that you believe in Mr. Balsquith; and that anything he votes for you’ll vote for, because you know thathecan’t go wrong.”
“Yes, that’s all right, old girl, but a chap is expected to have a bit of a mind of his own, ain’t he?”
“Dear, no—praywhyshould he have?” And this worldly wise young wife started on cigarette the second, we are rather sorry to say, because one should sufficeafter lunch even for a young married woman. Still, the circumstances were exceptional.
“Trust Mr. Balsquith, and South-West Blackhampton will trust you. Now start learning your speech, like a good boy; and you must repeat it to me word for word every morning from memory, so that you’ll be all right on the night and absolutely word perfect.”
As an instance of Providence in one of its less atrabilious humors, it befell that Philip was invited to meet the local committee in the evening following the one in which Mary was to appear at the Royal Italian Opera House for the benefit of Harry Merino. Thus they were able to stay together at the best hotel in Blackhampton, and to feel that they were killing, as it were, two birds with a single stone.
It was perfectly true that at Blackhampton the name of Mary Caspar ranked high with the population. It was in the largest type on every hoarding; her portrait appeared in the window of every other shop; her wonderful smile that wouldn’t come off was to be seen on countless picture-postcards; an illustrated interview with the general favorite was printed in theBlackhampton Courier.
When she walked down Market Street to do a little shopping on the afternoon of her arrival in the borough, she caused almost as much commotion as if she hadbeen Royalty itself. And in the opinion of her escort, a very nice-looking, well-grown and well-groomed young man in white spats and a blue suiting, the last word in neatness, and a bowler hat, of course the last word of fashion, she was indeed the Queen of Blackhampton. Moreover, a large percentage of the passers-by concurred with the nice-looking young man in so thinking.
Yes, she was the acknowledged Queen of Blackhampton; in the eyes of the passers-by the fact was stated. It was perfectly true that she had got this constituency in her pocket; and Blackhampton, although hardly aware of the fact, was mightily proud to be there.
They came in their thousands to welcome her back to that sphere of life she ought never to have deserted. Their reception almost brought tears to her eyes, it was so spontaneous, so hearty, and so genuine. The Royal Italian Opera House could have been filled ten times over; not, of course, that this was due to Mary alone. Other stars were giving their services; and Harry Merino, upon whom evil times had fallen, was as good a comedian as ever colored his nose and delighted the world with irresistible natural humor.
It was at the Royal at Blackhampton that she had really begun her great career. Blackhampton had been the making of her, said Mr. Byles, the famous Lessee and Manager of the Royal, and that great man was accustomed to deal with hard facts. Blackhamptonbelieved it, anyway; and Mary believed it also. At least, she confessed as much to Mr. Byles, while the chest of the lessee grew so large that it seemed that his watch-chain of twenty-two carat gold must really break from its moorings.
“Polly, my gal, I’m proud o’ you!”—there was deep emotion in the manly voice of the Lessee and Manager; and if “the Young Pup” had not been present, it is most likely that Mr. Byles would have hugged the future peeress publicly.
Yes, they were very hearty, genuine people at Blackhampton. The Principal Girl of three Royal pantomimes was to them an imperishable memory. In the divine order of womanhood the Queen of England ranked first in their estimation; Mary Caspar ranked second; and the third place was reserved for the Duchess of Dumbarton, although local opinion was rather averse from the peerage merely as such.
It was probable that one such as Mr. Philip would find a difficult row to hoe in Blackhampton. They hadn’t much use for frills as a general thing. If the young man was going to stand for Blackhampton, it was by no means clear that those white spats were not an error of judgment. But the general opinion was that even a future hereditary legislator might be returned for Blackhampton if he happened to be Mary Caspar’s husband, and that he signed a league formfor the Rovers, and kicked a few goals against Aston Villa.
He was a nice-looking young gentleman certainly, said feminine Blackhampton; a little too fine for the district, perhaps, and yet they were by no means sure of that. Good looks, a good tailor and easy, natural manners tell even at Blackhampton among the ladies; and even there, as in more sophisticated places, public opinion is susceptible to their judgments.
Alderman Slocock, J. P., the leading Rag statesman for twenty miles around, presided at the meeting of the executive committee at the Gladstone Club. The proceedings were of a strictly private character; ladies were not admitted; Mary could not be present; and in consequence The Pup longed for his coffin even before the proceedings started.
Alderman Slocock made a very long speech from the chair. The prospective candidate would be given every opportunity to express his views at length; but before coming to that part of the programme, Alderman Slocock, a master-hairdresser, with no fewer than twenty-four shops spread over the district, spoke for nearly an hour.
It was not a very opportune beginning, since the longer the master-hairdresser went on, the more intense grew Mr. Philip’s desire for a speedy burial; moreover, the other members of the committee were growingdecidedly restless. But at last came the fateful moment when the Candidate was called upon to express his views; and then arose the question for gods and men, would the Candidate be able to remember them?
For three solid weeks, every morning and every night, from memory had he repeated to Mary his speech. There must be no doubt as to his ability to cope with this great ordeal. When he entered the Gladstone Club he would have wagered that he was absolutely word perfect; but as soon as he got on his legs he was paralyzed with the knowledge that he couldn’t remember a syllable.
To begin with, his throat was so terribly dry that he was bound to have recourse to a liquid aid to eloquence before he “could come to the horses.” But there were broad-minded men and advanced thinkers on the Executive Committee who rather approved this weakness because it showed that the Candidate was human like themselves, and they thought none the worse of him for it. On the other hand, there were representatives of Little Bethel in this august assembly who deplored the Candidate’s early recourse to whisky and water.
Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, began the wretched Philip, in a thin, small voice. Oh, joy! at the instance of those familiar words the speech suddenly began to flow automatically into his mind. Members of theGladstone Club, Electors of Blackhampton—the cunning young minx had said that this style of address was bound to sound well in the ears of the Committee—I have followed with the closest attention and I may say with deep admiration, the speech from Alderman Slocock to which we have just had the pleasure of listening. I cannot understand how it is, gentlemen, that having a man like Alderman Slocock in your midst, you should go outside your fine old city, of which I am sure you must be awfully proud, to look for a man worthy to represent it in Parliament. (Loud applause which bucked up the candidate considerably.)
Let us pay no idle compliment to the authoress of the speech, but we are by no means clear that the young madam did not know more about the rules of the game than augurs well for the peace of mind of the coming generation which may have to cope with her sex on the green benches.
Certainly this felicitous opening seemed to put the candidate on good terms with his audience. Things began to go very well. The voice was good; the manner, of course, what you would expect from the Twin Brethren; the matter was sound so far as it went, and very wisely it did not go further than amiable generalities. He was the son of a lord undoubtedly, but it was clear that he was much above the average of his class.
The end of his ordeal was not yet, however. Alderman Slocock had a few questions to ask.
Would the Candidate be good enough to enlighten the Committee as to the nature of his views upon the subject of Free Trade?
Sir, I shall be most happy, said the Candidate, smiling graciously. Gentlemen, my views on the subject of Free Trade are those of Mr. Balsquith, and it is a matter upon which I trust his judgment implicitly.
The Committee was much gratified by this statesmanlike reply.
And the question of the House of Lords? said Alderman Slocock. The Committee would be happy to have the Candidate’s views upon that vexed subject.
The views of the Candidate in respect of the House of Lords were those of Mr. Balsquith; that also was a subject upon which he trusted Mr. Balsquith’s judgment implicitly.
This answer was equally successful; and as it did duty for all the questions that followed, the Candidate was guilty of nothing that was likely to efface the highly favorable effect he had already created. Therefore he was able to return to the best hotel in Blackhampton reasonably secure in the conviction that he was about to be chosen as the official representative of the Rags.
Of course he would be, he was promptly informed byMary, who was sitting up for him, if he had remembered his words.
“Fact is, old girl,” confided Mr. Philip, “I knew I’d got ’em fixed up before I’d got half through my bally speech.”
“Why, of course, Phil-ipp, you were bound to have.”
And she was far too good a sportswoman to remind the vainglorious orator that it was not his speech at all. But don’t let us praise her too much. For the simple fact was that it pleased her mightily to think that it really was his speech that had carried the day, and that she had nothing whatever to do with it. Moreover, she was perfectly willing for him to believe that it was his speech; and certainly, so high had success lifted her lord just now that it didn’t really seem very difficult for him to do so. And for our own poor part, we have never been able to determine which phenomenon is the more curious: whether Man should plume himself beyond his deserts at the expense of Woman or whether Woman should derive a keen pleasure from aiding and abetting him in the deception.
Howbeit, so deep was the impression that Mr. Philip Shelmerdine’s signal ability, in combination with his air of manly sincerity and straightforwardness, made upon the Committee, that no time was lost in inviting him to stand as a Rag, Tag and Bobtail for South-West Blackhampton.