CHAPTER XXVIA CONSTITUTIONAL CRISIS
Whypeople should be so vexed by things that other people, equally serious of mind, don’t care twopence about is one of the enigmas that is best left to the philosophers.
Father and Mother were much upset by Mr. Philip’s act of treachery. Yet there was really no need for them to take it so tragically. The heir to the barony had attained the age when a man is allowed to do a little private thinking. But neither Father nor Mother was in sympathy with that point of view.
Something must be done in this national crisis. Energetic action must be taken. Mr. Vandeleur would never forgive it; the Party would never forgive it; the Country would never forgive it; the Empire would never forgive it.
If you make a practice of thinking imperially, you must view things on a comprehensive basis.
By the irony of circumstance, Mother and Father were dining out that evening in the Inner Circles of the Party. It was a small and quite unofficial occasion; but several of the Heads would be there.
“Agatha, it is the deuce,” said the Proconsul, wrestling with his white tie.
“It is that Woman, I am convinced. Phil-ipp has been led on to this.”
“I don’t know what Vandeleur will say, I’m sure. And such a supercilious fellow when he gets reallycross. Of course, I dissociate myself entirely from a step so subversive.”
The Heads certainly received Father somewhat askance that evening. In parenthesis, it may be remarked that the world at large considered S. of P. as being by way of a Head himself. But things are not always what they seem, as Monsieur Bergson said of the Nebular Hypothesis. A Head he was, of course, in ordinary assembly; but this assembly, small though it was, was by no means ordinary.
It was the Hostess, a massive daughter of Caledonia, who first referred to the Vexed Subject, just as Father, with a rather poor appetite, had begun upon his bird.
“Lord Shelmerdine, what is this one hears about your son standing as a Rag?”
No; it was not exactly kind of Caledonia’s daughter. The pause was awkward, particularly as Mr. Everard Vandeleur was seated on the right of his hostess.
“I have no need to say that I dissociate myself entirely from this ill-considered action,” said S. of P. at length. “Beyond that I say nothing.”
“But you must say something, Shelmerdine,” thought the Front Bench, of which Two were present in addition to Mr. Everard Vandeleur. “It will create a most unhappy impression in the country.”
“I can only attribute it to a mental aberration,” said S. of P.
Mr. Everard Vandeleur shook his Jesuitical gray curls.
“Shelmerdine, my dear fellow,” he said in tones vibrant with emotion, “I would rather have lost five seats in the country than this should have occurred.”
“I had rather you had done so, Vandeleur, than that this should have taken place.”
“Can you impose no check?” said Mr. Vandeleur. “Can you not refuse supply?”
“Unfortunately, no. The young scoundrel has a private income. But I hold his wife responsible for this.”
“His wife?” said Mr. Vandeleur.
“The root of an evil,” said the Husband of the Hostess, who, to be sure, was right at the other end of the mahogany.
“Your boy has married a wife, has he?” said Mr. Vandeleur, with the air of one who asks politely for information.
And who do you think, my lords and gentlemen, was seated opposite the Great Man? No less an individualthan his Britannic Majesty’s former Ambassador to Persia.
Not a living soul saw the glance that may or may not have passed between them.
“A great deal of marrying and giving in marriage these days, apparently,” mused Mr. Everard Vandeleur.
“Your turn next, Van,” said a Privileged Individual, whose brilliant sally, of course, set the table in a roar.
“Married a wife, has he?” mused Mr. Everard Vandeleur. “Good for the state, although not always good for the state of Denmark. And she has brought him to this. Well, well.”
“It is revenge, of course,” said S. of P.
A word so sinister caused the whole table to cock its ears.
“Revenge, Lord Shelmerdine!” said Caledonia’s daughter.
“She is not received in the Family at present, and we get this stab in the back in consequence.”
Two persons round the opposition mahogany were as grim as griffins. One was Father and the other was Mother. For the rest of the company it would be unsafe to answer.
“Why isn’t she received in the Family?” said Caledonia’s daughter, as blunt a woman as you would find in a long day’s journey.
“He married contrary to the wishes of his parents,” said Mother, preening her plumage at the hostess in a way which said quite clearly that she would thank her to be careful, as the ground was rather delicate. “Old-fashioned ideas, perhaps, but such marriages can only end in a general weakening of responsibility.”
“I am out of my depth,” said the plaintive Mr. Vandeleur. “But the position as I envisage it, is this: Your son’s wife, out of favor at Court, plots against the dynasty. The dynasty trembles—”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Vandeleur, it does nothing of the kind,” said a very significant factor in the dynasty.
“Metaphorically, of course, Lady Shelmerdine. I speak in metaphor. The dynasty trembles because a bombshell has been thrown in the country—nothing less than a bombshell, as I unhesitatingly affirm—and to avert ruin one course only appears to be open to it.”
“What is that course, Mr. Vandeleur?” said Lady Shelmerdine.
“To compose this internecine quarrel, and avert a further sanguinary conflict,” said Mr. Vandeleur.
A great man had spoken. Consols fell habitually at hisObiter Dicta. French Rentes and Russia Fours lost a whole point when he tore up his card in a medalround. No wonder that his outline of Imperial policy received the most respectful attention.
“Let the Family receive her, and pray let us have no more of it,” said Caledonia’s blunt daughter.
A suggestion of a great man in the interests of international comity is one thing; but untimely interference from one who has nolocus standibeyond the fact that she has three addresses and more diamonds than are good for her, is quite another. Mother’s eyes sparkled with the light of battle.
“Will itreallymake any difference to the Party, Mr. Vandeleur, his standing for Blackhampton?”
“Bound to convey an unfortunate impression, Lady Shelmerdine.”
“But he can’t possibly get in.”
“One is glad to know that. But, being the son of his father, think of the weight he will carry with the Rags!”
The compliment was a little double-edged, perhaps, to some minds, but happily only one aspect of it was visible except to the Cynical, with whom, of course, this narrative has nothing to do.
“Why can’t he possibly get in?” inquired the Hostess.
“No brains,” said Father.
“At least, not many,” corrected Mother.
“All the more likely to be returned as a Rag by Blackhampton,” said Caledonia’s daughter. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Vandeleur?”
Mr. Vandeleur being a wise statesman, and the question being rather technical, he ignored it blandly.
“Shelmerdine, I think you ought to realize that we can’t have him standing for Blackhampton as a Rag in any case, when we have barely enough candidates of our own to go round.”
“Yes, I do realize that, my dear Vandeleur. I realize it most fully. Steps shall be taken. Steps shall be taken at once.”
“Receive the girl in the Family—a nice girl, too, I’m told—and let us hear no more of it,” said the Hostess to Mother, who would not have been averse from striking her for her effrontery.
What a pity it is that diamonds in excess are so demoralizing.
Full and ample forgiveness on the part of Grosvenor Square seemed to be indicated, provided that a proper humility and a reversion to thestatus quo antewas forthcoming on the part of the erring. Let the young woman be received in the Family, provided that the heir to the barony withdrew his odious candidature for Blackhampton, had said in effect the Leader of the Opposition; and a tolerably easy constituency should be provided for the young man. He might thenemerge as a full-blown Wagger after a period of grace in which to atone for his naughtiness.
Father and Mother drove home in the electric brougham pondering deeply the wisdom of the sage. It would mean a considerable sacrifice of personal dignity thus to bargain with Her. They were a little surprised and even a little grieved, perhaps, that the Great Man had shown so scant a consideration for their domestic feelings; but then it was a familiar trait of his that he was ever ready to sacrifice the individual upon the altar of Party.
It looked like Humble Pie, and patrician stomachs are not very fond of that dish. But there did not seem to be any way out of it. The ukase had gone forth from the Chief that this wicked and immoral candidature must not proceed. It was bound to create a most unfortunate impression in the country. It only remained for them, in the opinion of that wise and far-seeing statesman, to swallow the bitter portion and make peace on honorable terms.
“One thing, Agatha, we may congratulate ourselves upon, at any rate,” said the Proconsul. “Vandeleur took it much better than we had reason to expect.”
“That is very well, Wally. But don’t let us congratulate ourselves too soon. It may not be so easy to get him to withdraw as Mr. Vandeleur supposes.”
“But if we offer a clean slate?” said the Proconsul.
“When a man is clearly infatuated,” said Mother, who was often inclined to sententiousness about this hour of the evening, “you can count on nothing beyond the fact that She will make herself as disagreeable as possible.”
In what manner should the olive-branch be conveyed by the dove of peace? Delicacy was called for. Was Mother or was Father the better qualified to exercise it? Mother had not been altogether a success in the rôle of the diplomatist at large. It was idle to shut one’s eyes to that fact, wasn’t it? But then, had Father? Really, if it came to that, neither had much margin for self-congratulation. And when all is said, Humble Pie is not a very eupeptic form of diet.
“Wally,” said the Colthurst of Suffolk at the breakfast table on the following morning, “I have given the matter most anxious consideration, and I think, having regard to everything, it is, perhaps, best left in my hands.”
The Proconsul looked just a little dubious as he removed the top of a hard-boiled egg.
“You are quite sure, Agatha, that you feel competent?”
“Quite, Wally.”
“Well, perhaps you are right. I hope so, at all events.”
It was decided that Mother should call in Knightsbridgethat afternoon upon Daughter-in-law, in spite of the Danger.
“That I will risk,” said Mother, who at heart was an Amazon. “Only once have I seen her, and that was in Bedford Gardens, and she opened the door to me holding a potato in one hand and a knife in the other.”
As the case had been represented to Father, he was quite prepared to believe even that.
“If you would like me to accompany you, Agatha,” said the Proconsul gallantly, “I will cut the Select Committee this afternoon.”
But Mother seemed to feel quite competent to take care of herself; and, after all, Father saw no real reason to doubt her ability.
Accordingly, at the punctual hour of half-past four that afternoon, Mother entered the lift at Park Mansions, and was hoisted in a patent elevator to the threshold of the Guilty Pair.
Happily, on this occasion her ring was answered not by a damsel, a knife and a potato, but by an undeniably smart young parlor-maid, who was quite trim enough to please the most severely critical.
Was Mrs. Shelmerdine at home?
The S. Y. P., who had charming natural manners, smiled a really very nice affirmative.
As Mother entered the domain of the Guilty Pair, it seemed to her that everything in the little vestibule,and there was hardly anything in it to speak of, was, considering all things, in surprisingly good taste.
“Why, Mater, this is awfully sweet of you,” said the manly voice of Mr. Philip.
Salutations of a filial and unaffected character. The young man was really not deep enough to be wary. All was about to be forgiven, evidently, else the good old mater would not be calling upon ’em. Nevertheless, a little surprise was in store for this optimist. Mary, whose amiable custom it was to meet the whole world a little more than half way, did not exactly throw herself into the arms of Mother.
Mother, moreover, did not exactly cast herself upon the neck of Mary.
They chose to shake hands rather than have recourse to any less formal style of reception.
“So nice of you, Lady Shelmerdine, to find your way up to our little foot in the air.”
It was said very cool and smiling, but if the young minx had left it unsaid it would have been just as well, perhaps, since somehow it didn’t seem to help things particularly.
“The art furniture is more comfortable than it looks, Lady Shelmerdine,” said the young Madam archly. “Try this one. Don’t you like our yellow wall-paper? Phil-ipp’s taste is so wonderful. Will you have some tea?”
Mother would be pleased to have some tea, but it was by no means clear, for all that, that Mrs. Philip was yet in the Family.
The young Madam poured out tea as though she didn’t mind very much whether she was in the Family or whether she wasn’t. Young ladies of Newnham and Girton, we can’t help thinking, although it grieves us terribly to criticize the Heroine, that this was very wrong of her. Mother was eating Humble Pie, and she ought to have been trying a little as well.
The Twin Brethren handed the tea to Mother in quite their ablest manner.
“Have some muffin while it’s warm, Mater.”
Mother preferred bread and butter, thank you.
Conversation seemed to languish rather, until Mother made the important discovery that you got quite a nice view of the park.
“Toppin’!” said Mr. Philip.
“I’m afraid these flats must be dreadfully expensive,” said the Maternal One.
“Not for the position, Mater.”
Mother hoped not, at any rate.
“I hope you have noticed our Whistler, Lady Shelmerdine?” said Mary the demure.
Oh,wherewas the Whistler? Mother wassofond of canaries.
Calamity nearly overtook the muffin of Daughter-in-law. Happily it stopped at very nearly.
“The little picture opposite, Lady Shelmerdine. But you can’t really see it now the sun has got round to the west.”
Mother had to examine the gem, of course, like any other art critic. Glasses did great execution. Which was the Whistler? Ah, yes, to be sure, the name of the artist. An artist with a name so original was bound to be rated highly. A present from Sir Herbert Forrest, the famous actor-manager. Yes, Mother had seen him as the Woodman inTwelfth Night. How interesting to have such a memento from such a famous man. And howwellyou could see the park. And she didhopeit was not too expensive. And everything in suchgoodtaste, although yellow for a wall-paper was a rathermoderncolor. And suchdelicioustea. And whatcharmingcups. A present from Mr. Vandeleur. How kind—a memento, of course, of his respect and admiration for dear Phil-ipp’s father.
“It didn’t say so on the card, though, Mater,” said dear Phil-ipp with a clumsiness for which, perhaps, he is to be forgiven. “It said on the card, ‘To Cinderella, from a Humble Admirer who wishes her every happiness.’”
So nice of Mr. Vandeleur to be so tactful. Could there be a clearer indication of Mr. Vandeleur’s esteem for a friend and colleague?
It hadn’t occurred to Hubby, though, that this really charming china tea-set was in any way connected with the great Proconsul.
Mother was a little hurt by this unfilial obtuseness. As though there could be any other reason. Mr. Vandeleur was so able, so responsible. However, the tea-service was charming—and blue china, too.
These were elegant preliminaries, but Mother’s mission was both high and delicate.Enormoustact was needed, you know.Suaviter in Modothis time at least.
Was it correct that Philip was standing for Parliament?—Oh, yes.
But as a Rag, Tag, and Bobtail, according toThe Thunderer?—Yes, the Leading Morning Journal was correctly informed.
Somehow that seemed merely to leave matters in a state of suspended animation. Philip was pleasantly frank, yet without being particularly communicative. Mrs. Philip seemed wholly absorbed in the vernal prospect.
“I am sure, dear Phil-ipp, you will be sorry to know that your father is upset.”
Like a dutiful son, Phil-ipp wasawfullysorry.
“And Mr. Vandeleur, of course. Your father was the last peer made by his Gover’ment. So wounding to a man as sensitive as Mr. Vandeleur!”
Mr. Philip was awfully sorry that his little adventure was being taken so seriously by people whom he would not have supposed would have paid it any attention.
“But, dear Phil-ipp,” said Mother, “your father holds such aspecialposition in public life. He issoupset. A real grief to him, with the affairs of the country in their present deplorable state. The Constitution, you know—!DearPhil-ipp, have you fully considered the question?”
Oh, yes, dear Phil-ipp had considered the question—that is, as well as he was able to. He didn’t pretend that he knew very much about it; but Polly rather thought—the prophetic soul of Mother!—but Polly rather thought that a man of means and leisure ought to go into Parliament, and try and make himself useful to the world. Not that personally he felt he would be of any use at all.
“I can only say, dear Phil-ipp,” said Mother, “that your father is much upset; Mr. Vandeleur is much upset; the Party is much upset; and we have all talked about you quite anxiously. Don’t you realize what an amount of political capital will be made of your standing as a Rag by the enemies of the Empire?”
“I shouldn’t have thought anybody would have caredtwopence about it, Mater. It isn’t as though I had any ability.”
“It is notyou, of course, who matters so much. It is your dear father who carries so much weight in the country.”
But Mr. Philip supposed, though not at all disrespectfully, that a chap of twenty-eight was entitled to have views of his own.
Mother didn’t quite agree with that general proposition. There were some things, for instance, Religion and Politics to name only two, although there were others she could have mentioned, in which it was only right for a well-born and expensively nurtured Englishman to defer to the more matured wisdom of his ancestors.
Mr. Philip was awfully sorry, but he rather believed in Progress.
Mother was a little inclined to snort at Progress. What, pray, did one who had got as far as he had want with Progress! As far as Mother could see, the current idea of Progress was to take money out of the pockets of those who were better off than yourself, and put it into your own.
“And there is no reason foryouto resort to that, Phil-ipp,” said Mother, with a sudden effusion of Inspired Commonsense; “because you have more than the majority.”
Daughter-in-law, still looking through the window, and wholly absorbed in contemplation of the vernal prospect, was suddenly overwhelmed by a dreadful fear lest the histrionic temperament, which was her own private and particular cross, should make an exhibition of itself.
Mother was fearfully good at argument, and always had been. Phil-ipp, of course, was the merest child at it, even though he had been selected by the Party of Progress to fight their great cause. Mother in her inmost heart thought it was the clearest proof of the contemptible level of Rag intellect, that any body of registered voters should have brought themselves to confide in any such candidate. And Mother nearly boiled over when Mr. Philip made an even more abject confession of his impotence.
“Come and argue with the Mater a bit,” said he to fair Nature’s admirer, still at gaze upon the vernal prospect. “She’s much too clever for me.”
Should Mother take off the gloves? No, decidedly more Politic not to remove them. Mother’s third chin advanced a little, though, in spite of herself. This daughter of the people was likely to know more about the peeling of potatoes than of the conduct of high politics.
At the summons of her lord, however, the young minx controlled her mobile features as well as in herlay; and in that designing mind was the question, Should she toy a little with this Victorian Mamma? Or should she exercise her arts and blandishments?
“It is so wrong of Phil-ipp,” said Mother, “and I thinkyouought to exercise the influence that every wife—that is, if she is good and worthy—has with her husband, and dissuade him from this course. You do see, do you not, that it is most injudicious for a man in his position?”
“Well, Lady Shelmerdine,” said Mischief, having decided in favor of the broader way, “Phil-ipp looks at it like this—don’t you, Phil-ipp? The Rags do get on a bit, but the Waggers are generally going backwards.”
Followed an academic discussion of the Situation. A most immoral proceeding, Mother was bound to believe. Ingratitude could not further go than for the eldest son of the very last peer created by Mr. Vandeleur’s Gover’ment to go over horse, foot and artillery, to the foe.
“To what extent ought a son to suffer for the indiscretion of his father?” inquired Mischief solemnly.
Mother begged pardon; she didn’t understand. Daughter-in-law seemed unable to render the question any clearer.
At this point the Conference seemed to take a turn for the worse.
Did Mrs. Shelmerdine really suppose, said Mother in crystal tones, that young men in the position of her husband had no responsibilities to society?
Oh, yes, Mrs. Shelmerdine was quite sure they had, and that was why personally she was so glad he had decided to throw in his lot with the party of Progress.
Progress, said Mother—What, pray, is Progress?
The question was rather difficult for a young married woman to answer. But fortunately it appeared that Phil-ipp was not depending wholly upon dialectics in the coming battle.
“I am sorry to hear it,” said Mother.
Yes, that was rather subtle for Mother.
“I suppose you feel, Lady Shelmerdine,” said the young wife, “that if he depended entirely on his mental powers he would have no chance of getting in.”
Mother ignored the question, perhaps a little pointedly.
Well, it seemed that Phil-ipp had several other strings to his bow.
Mother had implicit faith, however, in the essential good sense of her countrymen in the Midlands. They were such shrewd people in the Midlands; and Mother hoped and believed they would demand qualities more positive than those guaranteed by the fact that the Rag candidate was the eldest son of a distinguished father.
Mischief agreed; but if the Candidate was able tokick three goals against Aston Villa, which he was quite capable of doing if he went into special training for the purpose, in the opinion of the local experts, there was no power on earth that could keep him from the head of the poll.
This, of course, took Mother out of her depth completely. She herself was something of an old parliamentary hand; and she had gained first-hand experience in the days when the Proconsul was merely Sir Walter and a light of the House of Commons. But this was beyond her.
Mother had never heard of Aston Villa; and when Daughter-in-law took pains to explain who Aston Villa was, somehow Mother didn’t seem much enlightened. But of one thing she was sure. To fight a parliamentary election upon any such basis was subversive of the Constitution.
No, somehow the Conference didn’t seem to prosper. Nevertheless, Mother was there with the olive-branch; but really, in the circumstances, she didn’t quite see what use could be made of the floral emblem. Still, an effort would have to be made.
To do justice to Mother, she was quite prepared to eat Humble Pie. It was most unlikely that any good would come of the act of deglutition; still, desperate remedies were called for.
“To be perfectly candid, Phil-ipp,” said Mother,really getting to business at last, “your father has taken counsel of Mr. Vandeleur—most anxious counsel; and, acting upon his suggestion, he is fully prepared to offer a warm welcome to you both in Grosvenor Square; and he very much hopes you will allow your name to be withdrawn, and sometime, quite soon, Mr. Vandeleur himself will find you a constituency, because he is really concerned that a young man of such promise should be lost to the party.”
Thus did Mother grapple right nobly with the unsavory cates. Perhaps her table manners were not quite so delicate as some people’s might have been; but let none be so heartless as to criticize her when she is wrestling so nobly with her Cross.
Phil-ipp and Mary were touched, of course, by the liberal offer; touched very deeply, although they didn’t quite see how it would be possible for the former to go back on his principles, even allowing for the fact that the fatted calf is such delectable fare. They were awfully nice about it, though, which is, of course, what you would expect them to be; very gentle and polite and even affectionate with Mother, who was doing her best in circumstances quite foreign to her nature.
All the same, the conclusion of the Conference was by no means all that could have been desired. The guilty pair had involved themselves so deeply with Blackhampton that they couldn’t very well draw back. Besides,it was not wholly clear that they wanted to. After all, a man who had attained the ripe age of twenty-eight might aspire to a few convictions. Phil-ipp felt so strongly that the future lay with the party of Progress.
Mother failed undoubtedly in her diplomatic errand. And no doubt the measure of her failure was in her parting words that dear Phil-ipp would never be forgiven by his father if he persisted in going to the poll.
Mother took an affectionate leave of her peccant son, but her leave of Daughter-in-law was very guarded.