And Mr Phineas Finn knew that his enemy had also considered the nature of the matters which he would have been able to drag into court if there should be a trial.Allusions, very strong allusions, had been made to former periods of Mr Finn's life.
And though there was but little, if anything, in the past circumstances of which he was ashamed,--but little, if anything, which he thought would subject him personally to the odium of good men, could they be made accurately known in all their details,--it would, he was well aware, be impossible that such accuracy should be achieved.And the story if told inaccurately would not suit him.And then, there was a reason against any public proceeding much stronger even than this.Whether the telling of the story would or would not suit him, it certainly would not suit others.As has been before remarked, there are former chronicles respecting Phineas Finn, and in them may be found adequate cause for this conviction on his part.To no outsider was this history known better than to Mr Quintus Slide, and therefore Mr Quintus Slide could dare almost to defy the law.
But not the less on this account were there many who told Phineas that he ought to bring the action.Among these none were more eager than his old friend Lord Chiltern, the Master of the Brake hounds, a man who really loved Phineas, who also loved the abstract idea of justice, and who could not endure the thought that a miscreant should go unpunished.Hunting was over for the season in the Brake country, and Lord Chiltern rushed up to London, having this object among others of a very pressing nature on his mind.His saddler had to be seen,--and threatened,--on a certain matter touching the horses' backs.A draught of hounds were being sent down to a friend in Scotland.And there was a Committee of Masters to sit on the moot question concerning a neutral covert in the XXX country, of which Committed he was one.
But the desire to punish Slide was almost as strong in his indignant mind as those other matters referring more especially to the profession of his life.'Phineas,' he said, 'you are bound to do it.If you will allow a fellow like that to say such things of you, by heaven, any man may say anything of anybody.'
Now Phineas could hardly explain to Lord Chiltern his objection to the proposed action.A lady was closely concerned, and that lady was Lord Chiltern's sister.'I certainly shall not,' said Phineas.
'And why?'
'Just because he wishes me to do it.I should be falling into the little pit he has dug for me.'
'He couldn't hurt you.What have you to be afraid of? Ruat coelum.'
'There are certain angels, Chiltern, living up in that heaven which you wish me to pull about our ears, as to whom, if all their heart and all their wishes and all their doings could be known, nothing but praise could be spoken; but who would still be dragged with soiled wings through the dirt if this man were empowered to bring witness after witness into court.My wife would be named.For aught I know your wife.'
'By G-, he'd find himself wrong there.'
'Leave a chimney-sweep alone when you see him, Chiltern.Should he run against you, then remember that it is one of the necessary penalties of clean linen that it is apt to be soiled.'
'I'm d-d if I'd let him off.'
'Yes you would, old fellow.When you come to see clearly what you would gain and what you would lose, you would not meddle with him.'
His wife was at first inclined to think an action should be taken, but she was more easily convinced than Lord Chiltern.'Ihad not thought,' she said, 'of poor Lady Laura.But is it not horrible that a man should be able to go on like that, and that there should be no punishment?' in answer to this he only shrugged his shoulders.
But the greatest pressure came upon him from another source.He did not in truth suffer much himself from what was said in the "People's Banner".He had become used to the "People's Banner", and had found out that in no relation of life was he less pleasantly situated because of the maledictions heaped upon him in the columns of that newspaper.His position in public life did not seem to be weakened by them.His personal friends did not fall off because of them.Those who loved him did not love him less.It had not been so with him always, but now, at last, he was hardened against Mr Quintus Slide.But the poor Duke was by no means equally strong.This attack upon him, this denunciation of his cruelty, this assurance that he had caused the death of Ferdinand Lopez, was very grievous to him.It was not that he really felt himself to be guilty of the man's blood, but that anyone should say he was guilty.It was of no use to point out to him that other newspapers had sufficiently vindicated his conduct in that respect, that it was already publicly known that Lopez had received payment for those election expenses from Mr Wharton before the application had been made to him, and that therefore the man's dishonesty was patent to all the world.It was equally futile to explain to him that the man's last act had been in no degree caused by what had been said in Parliament, but had been the result of continued failures in life and the final absolute ruin.He fretted and fumed and was very wretched,--and at last expressed his opinion that legal steps should be taken to punish the "People's Banner".Now it had already been acknowledged, on the dictum of no less a man than Sir Gregory Grogram, the Attorney-General, that the action for libel, if taken at all, must be taken, not on the part of the Prime Minister, but on that of Phineas Finn.Sir Timothy Beeswax had indeed doubted, but it had come to be understood by all the members of the Coalition that Sir Timothy Beeswax always did doubt whatever was said by Sir Gregory Grogram.'The Duke thinks that something should be done,' said Mr Warburton, the Duke's private Secretary, to Phineas Finn.
'Not by me, I hope,' said Phineas Finn.
