Chapter XXV: Act I

SCENE I.—_Committee-room of the Conservatives, Charles-street_; LORD FLUMM; MARQUIS OF FLAMBOROUGH; LORD GEORGE; LORD CHARLES; _other Tory Lords, and_ TRIM. _A table covered with papers_; LORD CHARLES _smoking a cigar_; LORD GEORGE _half asleep in an arm-chair_; TRIM _busy in looking over a list of the House of Commons_.

_Trim._ It will be a devilish close run I see!—yet I think we might manage some of them (_Pause_). Does anybody know _Turnstile_?

_Marquis._ Never heard of him!

_Lord George._ (_Mumbling_). The reform Member for Puddledock, isn’t he?—the author of a book on Pinmaking, and things of that kind. An ironmonger in Newgate-street!

_Trim._ No, no! Member for Shoreditch;—with Smooth, the Colonial Secretary!

_Lord Charles._ (_Taking the cigar from his mouth._) I think I’ve heard something of him at Cambridge: he was Newtonian Professor of Chemistry when I was at College.

_Trim._ Can’t we talk him over?

_Lord Charles._ No, no! he is too sharp for that.

_Trim._ Will anybody speak to him?—and if he won’t vote with us, keep him out of the way.

_Marquis._ Perhaps a hint at an appointment!—

_Lord Charles._ Nor that either; he is a fellow of some spirit; and devilish proud. {278}

_Lord Flumm._ But what are his tastes?—how does he employ himself?—who are his friends?

_Trim._ Why he’s—a sort of a—philosopher,—that wants to be a man of the world!

_Lord Flumm._ Oh!—now I begin to recollect;—I must have seen him at Sir Phillip’s. Leave him to me;—I think Lady Flumm and my daughter can manage to keep him quiet on Thursday night.

_Trim._ But for Tuesday,—my Lord?

_Lord Flumm._ Two nights!—Then I must try what I can do for you, myself. [_Exit._

SCENE IV.—_Grosvenor-square._

_Enter_ TURNSTILE, _musing_.

_Turnstile._ This will never do! They make use of me, and laugh at me in their sleeves;—push me round and go by. That break down _was_ a devil of a business! They didn’t laugh out to be sure; but they coughed and looked unutterably!! And where is this to end? What shall I have to show for it? Confounded loss of time;—to hear those fellows prosing, instead of seeing the occultation last night. And that book of Ls.’; so much that _I_ had begun upon,—and might have finished! It never will do! (_Rousing himself after a pause._) But knowledge, after all, _is_ power! That at least is certain,—power—to do what? to refuse Lord Doodle’s invitation; and to ask Lord Humbug for a favour, which it is ten to one he will refuse! But the Royal Society is defunct! That I _have_ accomplished. Gilbert, and the Duke! and the Secretaries! I have driven them all before me!—and, now, though _I_ must not be a knight of the Guelphic order, (yet a riband is a pretty looking thing! and {279} a star too!—) I will show that I can teach _them_ how to make knights; and describe the decorations that other men are to wear. But here comes Lord Flumm, and I am saved the bore of calling upon him.

SCENE V.

_Enter_ LORD FLUMM.

_Lord Flumm._ Mr. Turnstile, if I do not mistake! My dear Turnstile: how glad I am to see you again! it _was_ kind of Sir Phillip to introduce me. You know that you are near our house; and Lady Flumm will be so happy——

_Turnstile._ In truth, my Lord, I was about to call upon you. After what you were so good as to say last night, I took the first opportunity.

_Lord Flumm._ Well, that _is_ kind. But you did not speak last night. How came that? I don’t find you in the paper, yet the subject was quite your own. Tallow and bar-iron, raw materials and machinery. Ah, my dear sir! when science condescends to come among us mortals, the effects to be expected _are_ wonderful indeed!

_Turnstile._ My Lord, you flatter. But we have reached your door. (_Aside._) [Confound him!—But I am glad he was not in the house. It’s clear he hasn’t heard of the break down.]

_Lord Flumm._ While I have you to myself, Turnstile, remember that you dine with me on Tuesday. I am to have two friends, Lord S—— and Sir George Y——, who wish very much to be acquainted with you. Half-past seven.

_Turnstile._ You are very good, my lord. I dare not refuse so kind an invitation. [_Exeunt._ {280}

SCENE VI.—LADY FLUMM’S _drawing-room_. LADY FLUMM _at the writing-table_. MRS. FUBSEY _at work on a sofa_.

_Enter_ LORD FLUMM _and_ TURNSTILE.

_Lord Flumm._ Lady Flumm, this is Mr. Turnstile, whom you have so long wished to know. Mr. Turnstile,—Lady Flumm.

_Lady Flumm._ _The_ Mr. Turnstile. My dear sir, I am too happy to see you. We had just been speaking of your delightful book. Selina! (_Calling._) [_Enter_ LADY SELINA.] This is Mr. Turnstile.

_Lady Selina._ Indeed!

_Lady Flumm._ Yes, indeed! You see he is a mortal man after all. Bring me, my love, the book you will find open on the table in the boudoir. I wish to show Mr. Turnstile the passages I have marked this morning.

_Lady Selina._ (_Returning with the book, and running over the leaves._) “Lace made by caterpillars.”—“Steam-engines with fairy fingers.”—“Robe of nature.”—“Sun of science.”—“Faltering worshipper.”—“Altar of truth.” It _is, indeed_, delightful! The taste, the poetical imagination, are surprising. I hope, Mr. Turnstile,—indeed I am sure, that you love music?

_Turnstile._ Not _very_ particularly, I must acknowledge (_smiling_); a barrel-organ is the instrument most in my way.

_Lady Flumm._ (_Smiling._) Music and machinery, Mr. Turnstile. Polite literature and mathematics. You _do_ know how to combine. Others must judge of the profounder parts of your works; but the style, and the fancy, are what I should most admire.—You dine with Lord Flumm, he tells me, on Tuesday. Now you _must_ come to _me_ on Thursday night.

_Turnstile._ I am sorry to say, that, on recollection, I _ought_ to {281} have apologized to Lord Flumm. The Pottery Question stands for Tuesday; and I should be there, as one of the Committee; and Thursday, your Ladyship knows, is the second reading of the Place and Pension Bill.

_Lady Flumm._ Oh, we are Staffordshire people! _that_ will excuse you to the pottery folks; and, for Thursday, I _will_ absolutely take no excuse. We have Pasta and Donzelli! perhaps a quadrille afterwards—(you dance, Mr. Turnstile?)—and Lady Sophia C—— and her cousin, Lord F——, have said _so much_ about those beautiful passages at the end of your book, that they will be quite disappointed if I do not keep my promise to introduce them. (_Touching his arm with her finger._)

_Turnstile._ Your Ladyship knows how to conquer: I feel that I _cannot_ refuse. [_Exit._

SCENE VII.—_Grosvenor-square; before_ LORD FLUMM’S _house_.

_Enter_ TURNSTILE, _from the house_.

_Turnstile._ This is all very delightful; but what will they say at Shoreditch?—twice in one week absent from the House, and at two Tory parties.

_Enter_ GRISKIN, _hastily, heated; his hat in his left hand; a pocket-handkerchief in his right_.

_Griskin._ Mr. Turnstile, I’m glad to find you; just called on you, as I came to this quarter to look after a customer—long way from the City—sorry not to hear from you.

_Turnstile._ Why, really, Mr. Griskin, I am very sorry; but I am not acquainted with the Commander-in-chief. And I must say that I should not know how to press for the {282} contract, knowing that your nephew’s prices are thirty per cent., at least, above the market.

_Griskin._ That’s being rather nice, I should say, Mr. Turnstile. My nephew is as good a lad as ever stood in shoe-leather; and has six good wotes in Shoreditch,—and, as to myself, Mr. Turnstile, I must say that, after all I did at your election—and in such wery hot weather—I did not expect you’d be so wery particular about a small matter.—Sir, I wish you a good morning.

_Turnstile._ (_Bowing and looking after him._) So this fellow, like the rest of them, thinks that I am to do his jobs, and to neglect my own. And this is your _reformed_ Parliament.

SCENE IX.—_The street, near_ TURNSTILE’S _house_.

_Enter_ TRIPES _and_ SMOOTH, _meeting_.

_Smooth._ (_Taking both_ TRIPES’ _hands_). My dear Tripes, how d’ye do?—Pray, how is your good lady?—What a jolly party at your house last night! and Mrs. Tripes, I hope, is none the worse for it?

_Tripes._ Oh dear sir, no! Mrs. Tripes and my daughters were _so_ pleased with your Scotch singing.

_Smooth._ And your boys, how are they?—fine, promising, active fellows.—You’ve heard from MacLeech?

_Tripes._ Just received the note as I left home.

_Smooth._ All is quite right, you see, your cousin has the appointment at the Cape. I knew MacLeech was just the man for the details. A ship, I find, is to sail in about three weeks; and (_significantly_) I don’t think your cousin need be _very_ scrupulous about freight and passage.

_Tripes._ You are too good, Mr. Smooth. I’m sure if anything that I can do,—my sense of all your kindness—— {283}

_Smooth._ I was thinking, when I saw those fine lads of yours, that another assistant to my under secretary’s deputy—but (between you and me) Hume thinks that one is more than enough. We must wait a little.

_Takes_ TRIPES’ _arm_. [_Exeunt._

SCENE X.—TURNSTILE’S _parlour_, 11½ A. M. _Breakfast on the table; pamphlets and newspapers. In the corners of the room, books and philosophical instruments, dusty and thrown together; heaps of Parliamentary Reports lying above them._ TURNSTILE _alone, musing, and looking over some journals_.

_Turnstile._ This headache! Impossible to sleep when one goes to bed by daylight. Experiments by Arago! Ah! a paper by Cauchy, on my own subject. But here is this cursed committee in Smithfield to be attended; and it is already past eleven. (_Rising_).

[_Knock at the hall door._]

_Enter Servant._

_Servant._ Mr. Tripes, sir.

_Turnstile._ Show him in. He comes, no doubt, to say that my election is arranged. A good, fat-headed, honest fellow.

_Enter_ TRIPES.

Well Mr. Tripes, I’m glad to see you. Pray take a chair.

_Tripes._ We hoped to have seen you at the meeting yesterday, sir. Capital speech from Mr. Smooth. You know, of course, that Mr. Highway is a candidate; and Mr. MacLeech is talked of;—very sorry, indeed, you weren’t there.

_Turnstile._ A transit of Venus, Mr. Tripes, is a thing that does not happen every day. Besides, my friend, Stellini {284} from Palermo, is here; and I had promised to go with him to Greenwich.

_Tripes._ Almost a pity, sir, to call off your attention from such objects. But in the City we are men of business, you know,—plain, every-day people.

_Turnstile._ It was unlucky; but I could not help it. The committee, I hope, is by this time at work?

_Tripes._ It was just that, I called about. I wished to tell you myself how very sorry I am that I cannot be your chairman. But—my large family—press of business,—in short,—you must excuse me;—and, if I should be upon Mr. Smooth’s committee, I don’t well see how I can attend to both.

_Turnstile._ Smooth!—but he and I go together, you know,—at least, I understood it so.

_Tripes._ I’m glad to hear it; I feared there might be some mistake. And, if Mr. MacLeech comes forward,—being a fellow-townsman of Mr. Smooth, and a good deal in the Glasgow interest;—a commercial man too, Mr. Turnstile;—a _practical_ man—Mr. Turnstile;—I am not quite sure that you can count upon Mr. Smooth’s assistance;—and Government, you know, is strong.

_Turnstile._ Assistance, Mr. Tripes,—from Smooth!—why I came in on my own ground;—on the _Independent_ interest.—Assistance from Smooth!—Besides,—Smooth knows very well that _our_ second votes secured him.

_Tripes._ Very true, sir; but these Independent people are hard to deal with; and Mr. Highway, I assure you, hit very hard in his speech at the meeting yesterday. He talked of amateur politicians,—attention to the business of the people,—dinners with the opposite party. In short, I fear, they will say,—like the others,—that what they want is something {285} of “a _practical man_” Mr. Turnstile.—I’m sorry that I must be going.—Sir, your servant.

_Turnstile._ (_Rising and ringing._) [_Enter servant._] Open the door for Mr. Tripes. [_Exit_ TRIPES.] D——d, double-faced, selfish blockhead!

SCENE XI.—_The street, as before._

_Enter_ TRIPES, _from_ TURNSTILE’S _house_.

_Tripes._ (_Putting on his hat._) He might have been more civil, too;—though he did count upon me for his chairman. But I’ll show him that I’m not to be insulted; and if, MacLeech manages the matter well for Charles, this _Mr. Philosopher Turnstile_, though he thinks himself so clever, may go to the devil. [_Exit._