But there were men, even in the Cabinet, who had other ideas of public service than that of dragging the wheels of the coach.  Mr. Gresham was in earnest.  Plantagenet Palliser was in earnest.  That exceedingly intelligent young nobleman Lord Cantrip was in earnest.  Mr. Mildmay threw, perhaps, as much of earnestness into the matter as was compatible with his age and his full appreciation of the manner in which the present cry for Reform had been aroused.  He was thoroughly honest, thoroughly patriotic, and thoroughly ambitious that he should be written of hereafter as one who to the end of a long life had worked sedulously for the welfare of the people;—­but he disbelieved in Mr. Turnbull, and in the bottom of his heart indulged an aristocratic contempt for the penny press.  And there was no man in England more in earnest, more truly desirous of Reform, than Mr. Monk.  It was his great political idea that political advantages should be extended to the people, whether the people clamoured for them or did not clamour for them,—­even whether they desired them or did not desire them.  “You do not ask a child whether he would like to learn his lesson,” he would say.  “At any rate, you do not wait till he cries for his book.”  When, therefore, men said to him that there was no earnestness in the cry for Reform, that the cry was a false cry, got up for factious purposes by interested persons, he would reply that the thing to be done should not be done in obedience to any cry, but because it was demanded by justice, and was a debt due to the people.

Our hero in the autumn had written to Mr. Monk on the politics of the moment, and the following had been Mr. Monk’s reply:—­

   Longroyston, October 12, 186—.

   MY DEAR FINN,

I am staying here with the Duke and Duchess of St. Bungay.  The house is very full, and Mr. Mildmay was here last week; but as I don’t shoot, and can’t play billiards, and have no taste for charades, I am becoming tired of the gaieties, and shall leave them to-morrow.  Of course you know that we are not to have the autumn session.  I think that Mr. Mildmay is right.  Could we have been sure of passing our measure, it would have been very well; but we could not have been sure, and failure with our bill in a session convened for the express purpose of passing it would have injured the cause greatly.  We could hardly have gone on with it again in the spring.  Indeed, we must have resigned.  And though I may truly say that I would as lief have a good measure from Lord de Terrier as from Mr. Mildmay, and that I am indifferent to my own present personal position, still I think that we should endeavour to keep our seats as long as we honestly believe ourselves to be more capable of passing a good measure than are our opponents.

I am astonished by the difference of opinion which exists about Reform,—­not only as to the difference in the extent and exact tendency of the measure that is needed,—­but