The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 122: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ee a eee een Sc SE A A EP OI LAL LDA TOO OD CEILI DELLA LE EL TO LELD ELL DAI LEP EDEL LEP ILD AID 116 “Ah, Mr. Hyde,” said the Duke, as he glanced at the card. “I sent for him yesterday. Let him come in.” The footman withdrew; and Christian, think- ing that the business might be private, rose from his scat and was about to retire also—but the Duke made a motion for him to remain, observing, “ There is no necessity for you to leave. On the contrary, I wish you to pay attention to what is about to take place—so that immediately after Mr, Hyde has departed, you may make notes of our conversation. He is a slippery kind of fellow, and I must nail him to his pledges—or else never again shall he represent a pocket-borough of mine.’ Then, after a brief pause, the Duke ob- served for the information of his secretary, “ This Mr. Hyde, you must know, is a Member of Par- lament.” The door opened; and the footman announced the visitor in a loud voice. Mr. Fenwick Finni- kin Hyde, M.P. for the borough of Viviandale, was a gentleman about forty—of middle height and spare figure—affected in his looks and speech —smirking and obsequious in his manners. He was exquisitely dressed, in a blue surtout coat, a figured silk waistcoat, black pantaloons, and patent leather boots. His cravat was tied in a most un- exceptionable manner; a massive gold chain fes- tooned over his waistcoat; and his kid gloves fitted so tightly that he had some difficulty in drawing off the one from the right hand, as with divers bowings and scrapings he extended that same right hand in the evident expectation that it would be taken by the Duke, towards whom he advanced with a sort of skipping, mincing gait. He was by no means good-looking, notwithstanding all the pains lavished upon his toilet, the wavy curls of his long dark hair, and the artificial gloss of his whiskers. He was every inch the time-server and the parasite,—feeling himself to be dependent upon the breath of the great man to whose pre- sence he was thus summoned, yet endeavouring to carry off the consciousness of his servile condition by a jaunty air of smirking familiarity, which would doubtless impress an inexperienced stranger with the idea that he felt himself to be on a toler- ably friendly if not altogether equal footing with his Grace. But the Duke of Marchmont, bowing distantly, affected not to perceive Fenwick Finnikin Hyde’s outstretched hand; and coldly motioned to a seat, —which that gentleman, endeavouring to look surprised at this reception, at once took. Then, as he held his well-brushed glossy hat upon his knees, he said in a weak affected voice, “ Glad to see your Grace looking so well. Never saw your Grace looking better. Quite astonishing—’pon my honour!’ The Duke simply inclined his head in acknow- ledgement of these compliments; and then ob- served in a cold severe voice, “I requested you to call upon me, Mr. Hyde, that you may give some little explanations se “ Quite right, my lord! Always glad to wait upon your Grace to explain what is going forward in the political world. But ” and he glanced towards Christian. “This young gentleman is my private secre- tary,” said the Duke; “and we may speak in his presence. Indeed, he will not pay any attention THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. to what we may have to say: for, as you perceive he is busy in answering letters.” “ Oh, very good, my lord!” exclaimed Mr. Fen- wick Finnikin Hyde, bestowing a patronising smile upon Christian. “Of course, if your Grace has no objection to the young gentleman being present, I can have none. Seen this morning’s papers, my lord? Astonishing how they are turning against the Ministry—astonishing, ’pon my honour!” “ And I could wish, Mr. Hyde,” said the Duke, with a voice and look of severe meaning, “ that certain gentlemen belonging to the House of Commons would be equally firm in their opposition to that same most despicable Cabinet. I think, Mr. Hyde, that you addressed your constituents at Viviandale a few days back P” “Quite right, my lord,” exclaimed the honour- able gentleman. ‘“ Public dinner given to me by the free and independent electors—exceedingly sorry that your Grace was not in the chair. As- tonishing enthusiasm nevertheless,—astonishing, *pon my honour!’—and Mr. Fenwick Finnikin Hyde caressed his whiskers with an assumed look of complaisance; though a very close observer might have seen that he was sitting somewhat uneasily on his chair, like a school-boy who has committed a fault, and being summoned into the presence of his master, is dreading the moment when he will be charged therewith. “Yes, Mr. Hyde,’ resumed Marchmont, still speaking severely, ‘“ you did attend a public dinner at Viviandale—a dinner, sir, at which there were one hundred and thirty-three electors present —being the Tory majority of the two hundred and nine freemen of the borough. And that Tory majority as a matter of course looks to me as the lord and master of their opinions, their consciences, and their souls. There is no mistake about the matter, Mr. Hyde: the borough is mine —and no gentleman can continue to represent it if once he forfeits my confidence.” “Quite right, my lord—certainly not !” ejaculated the Member for Viviandale: and then he smiled with a forced complacency, as if he meant it to be inferred that Ae had not by any means forfeited his ducal patron’s confidence. “Tf you consider that I am right, Mr. Hyde,” proceeded Marchmont, “ you will not be astonished if I frankly intimate that unless your conduct un- dergoes a change, you will at the next general election cease to be the representative of Vivian- dale. There were passages in your speech, sir, which unmistakably indicated a tendency towards what is generally known as ratting ‘Astonishing, quite astonishing, *pon my honour !” cried the honourable gentleman, holding up his hands in amazement, “ Really, my lord, if your Grace had only heard the cheers which my speech elicited i. ‘I care nothing for the cheers, sir,” interrupted Marchmont haughtily. ‘There may perhaps be some few of my tenant-farmers as well as of the tradesmen of Viviandale, who are infected with revolutionary notions, and who in their hearts rebel against my authority. They may therefore cheer, sir, what are called liberal sentiments— although they dare not fly in my face and give their votes in the same sense. But I tell you that I care nothing for the cheers so long as the votes are always of the right sort. Your speech, Mr. CONNICLOO© S (C(O)