Phineas and His Friends

Our hero’s friends were, I think, almost more elated by our hero’s promotion than was our hero himself.  He never told himself that it was a great thing to be a junior lord of the Treasury, though he acknowledged to himself that to have made a successful beginning was a very great thing.  But his friends were loud in their congratulations,—­or condolements as the case might be.

He had his interview with Mr. Mildmay, and, after that, one of his first steps was to inform Mrs. Bunce that he must change his lodgings.  “The truth is, Mrs. Bunce, not that I want anything better; but that a better position will be advantageous to me, and that I can afford to pay for it.”  Mrs. Bunce acknowledged the truth of the argument, with her apron up to her eyes.  “I’ve got to be so fond of looking after you, Mr. Finn!  I have indeed,” said Mrs. Bunce.  “It is not just what you pays like, because another party will pay as much.  But we’ve got so used to you, Mr. Finn,—­haven’t we?” Mrs. Bunce was probably not aware herself that the comeliness of her lodger had pleased her feminine eye, and touched her feminine heart.  Had anybody said that Mrs. Bunce was in love with Phineas, the scandal would have been monstrous.  And yet it was so,—­after a fashion.  And Bunce knew it,—­after his fashion.  “Don’t be such an old fool,” he said, “crying after him because he’s six foot high.”  “I ain’t crying after him because he’s six foot high,” whined the poor woman;—­“but one does like old faces better than new, and a gentleman about one’s place is pleasant.”  “Gentleman be d——­d,” said Bunce.  But his anger was excited, not by his wife’s love for Phineas, but by the use of an objectionable word.

Bunce himself had been on very friendly terms with Phineas, and they two had had many discussions on matters of politics, Bunce taking up the cudgels always for Mr. Turnbull, and generally slipping away gradually into some account of his own martyrdom.  For he had been a martyr, having failed in obtaining any redress against the policeman who had imprisoned him so wrongfully.  The People’s Banner had fought for him manfully, and therefore there was a little disagreement between him and Phineas on the subject of that great organ of public opinion.  And as Mr. Bunce thought that his lodger was very wrong to sit for Lord Brentford’s borough, subjects were sometimes touched which were a little galling to Phineas.

Touching this promotion, Bunce had nothing but condolement to offer to the new junior lord.  “Oh yes,” said he, in answer to an argument from Phineas, “I suppose there must be lords, as you call ’em; though for the matter of that I can’t see as they is of any mortal use.”

“Wouldn’t you have the Government carried on?”

“Government!  Well; I suppose there must be government.  But the less of it the better.  I’m not against government;—­nor yet against laws, Mr. Finn; though the less of them, too, the better.  But what does these lords do in the Government?  Lords indeed!  I’ll tell you what they do, Mr. Finn.  They wotes; that’s what they do!  They wotes hard; black or white, white or black.  Ain’t that true?  When you’re a ‘lord,’ will you be able to wote against Mr. Mildmay to save your very soul?”