As we grow old it is a matter of interest to watch how the natural gaps are filled in the two ranks of parliamentary workmen by whom the Government is carried on, either in the one interest or the other.Of course there must be gaps.Some men become too old,--though that is rarely the case.A Peel may perish, or even a Palmerston must die.Some men, though, long supported by interest, family connection, or the loyalty of colleagues, are weighed down at last by their own incapacity and sink into peerages.Now and again a man cannot bear the bondage of office, and flies into rebellion and independence which would have been more respectable had it not been the result of discontent.Then the gaps must be filled.Whether on this side or on that, the candidates are first looked for among the sons of Earls and Dukes,--and not unnaturally, as the sons of Earls and Dukes may be educated for such work almost from their infancy.A few rise by the slow process of acknowledged fitness,--men who probably at first have not thought of offices, but are chosen because they are wanted, and those whose careers are grudged them, not by their opponents or rivals, but by the Browns and Joneses of the world who cannot bear to see a Smith or a Walker become something so different to themselves.These men have a great weight to carry, and cannot always shake off the burden of their origin and live among begotten statesman as though they too had been born to the manner.But perhaps the most wonderful ministerial phenomenon,--though now almost too common to be called a phenomenon,--is he who rises high in power and place by having made himself thoroughly detested and also--alas for parliamentary cowardice!--thoroughly feared.Given sufficient audacity, a thick skin, and power to bear for a few years the evil looks and cold shoulders of his comrades, and that is the man most sure to make his way to some high seat.But the skin must be thicker than that of any animal known, and the audacity must be complete.To the man who will once shrink at the idea of being looked at askance for treachery, or hated for his ill condition, the career is impossible.But let him be obdurate, and the bid will come.'Not because I want him, do I ask for him,' says some groaning chief of party,--to himself, and also sufficiently aloud for others' ears,--'but because he stings me and goads me, and will drive me to madness as a foe.' Then the pachydermous one enters into the other's heaven, probably with the resolution already formed of ousting that unhappy angel.And so it was in the present instance.When Mr Gresham's completed list was published to the world, the world was astonished to find that Sir Timothy Beeswax was to be Mr Gresham's Attorney-General.
Sir Gregory Grogram became Lord Chancellor, and the Liberal chief was content to borrow his senior law adviser from the Conservative side of the late Coalition.It could not be that Mr Gresham was very fond of Sir Timothy;--but Sir Timothy in the late debates had shown himself to be a man of whom a minister might well be afraid.
Immediately on leaving the old Duke's house, the late Premier went home to his wife, and finding that she was out, waited for her return.Now that he had put his own decision beyond his power he was anxious to let her know how it was to be with them.
'I think it is settled at last,' he said.
'Are you coming back?'
'Certainly not that.I believe I may say that Mr Gresham is Prime Minister.'
'Then he oughtn't to be,' said the Duchess crossly.
'I am sorry that I must differ from you, my dear, because I think he is the fittest man in England for the place.'
'And you?'
'I am a private gentleman who will now be able to devote more of his time to his wife and children than has hitherto been possible with him.'
'How very nice! Do you mean to say that you like it?'
'I am sure that I ought to like it.At the present moment I am thinking more of what you would like.'
