The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

on the list of promoters of their pet schemes. Royalty without stint was to dine at his table. Melmotte himself was to sit at the right hand of the brother of the Sun and of the uncle of the Moon, and British Royalty was to be arranged opposite, so that everyone might seem to have the place of most honour. How could a conscientious Editor of a Morning Breakfast Table, seeing how things were going, do other than support Mr. Melmotte? In fair justice it may be well doubted whether Lady Carbury had exercised any influence in the matter.

But the Evening Pulpit took the other side. Now this was the more remarkable, the more sure to attract attention, inasmuch as the Evening Pulpit had never supported the Liberal interest. As was said in the first chapter of this work, the motto of that newspaper implied that it was to be conducted on principles of absolute independence. Had the Evening Pulpit, like some of its contemporaries, lived by declaring from day to day that all Liberal elements were godlike, and all their opposites satanic, as a matter of course the same line of argument would have prevailed as to the Westminster election. But as it had not been so, the vigour of the Evening Pulpit on this occasion was the more alarming and the more noticeable⁠—so that the short articles which appeared almost daily in reference to Mr. Melmotte were read by everybody. Now they who are concerned in the manufacture of newspapers are well aware that censure is infinitely more attractive than eulogy⁠—but they are quite as well aware that it is more dangerous. No proprietor or editor was ever brought before the courts at the cost of ever so many hundred pounds⁠—which if things go badly may rise to thousands⁠—because he had attributed all but divinity to some very poor specimen of mortality. No man was ever called upon for damages because he had attributed grand motives. It might be well for politics and literature and art⁠—and for truth in general, if it was possible to do so. But a new law of libel must be enacted before such salutary proceedings can take place. Censure on the other hand is open to very grave perils. Let the Editor have been ever so conscientious, ever so beneficent⁠—even ever so true⁠—let it be ever so clear that what he has written has been written on behalf of virtue, and that he has misstated no fact, exaggerated no fault, never for a moment been allured from public to private matters⁠—and he may still be in danger of ruin. A very long purse, or else a very high courage is needed for the exposure of such conduct as the Evening Pulpit attributed to Mr. Melmotte. The paper took up this line suddenly. After the second article Mr. Alf sent back to Mr. Miles Grendall, who in the matter was acting as Mr. Melmotte’s secretary, the ticket of invitation for the dinner, with a note from Mr. Alf stating that circumstances connected with the forthcoming election for Westminster could not permit him to have the great honour of dining at Mr. Melmotte’s table in the presence of the Emperor of China. Miles Grendall showed the note to the dinner committee, and, without consultation with Mr. Melmotte, it was decided that the ticket should be sent to the Editor of a thoroughgoing Conservative journal. This conduct on the part of the Evening Pulpit astonished the world considerably; but the world was more astonished when it was declared that Mr. Ferdinand Alf himself was going to stand for Westminster on the Liberal interest.

Various suggestions were made. Some said that as Mr. Alf had a large share in the newspaper, and as its success was now an established fact, he himself intended to retire from the laborious position which he filled, and was therefore free to go into Parliament. Others were of opinion that this was the beginning of a new era in literature, of a new order of things, and that from this time forward editors would frequently be found in Parliament, if editors were employed of sufficient influence in the world to find constituencies. Mr. Broune whispered confidentially to Lady Carbury that the man was a fool for his pains, and that he was carried away by pride. “Very clever⁠—and dashing,” said Mr. Broune, “but he never had ballast.” Lady Carbury shook her head. She did not want to give up Mr. Alf if she could help it. He had never said a civil word of her in his paper;⁠—but still she had an idea that it was well to be on good terms with so great a power. She entertained a mysterious awe for Mr. Alf⁠—much in excess of any similar feeling excited by Mr. Broune, in regard to whom her awe had been much diminished since he had made her an offer of marriage. Her sympathies as to the election of course were with Mr. Melmotte. She believed in him thoroughly. She still thought that his nod might be the means of making Felix⁠—or if not his nod, then his money without the nod.

“I suppose he is very rich,” she said, speaking to Mr. Broune respecting Mr. Alf.

“I dare say he has put by something. But this election will cost him £10,000;⁠—and if he goes on as he is doing now, he had better allow another £10,000 for action for libel. They’ve already declared that they will indict the paper.”

“Do you believe about the Austrian Insurance Company?” This was a matter as to which Mr. Melmotte was supposed to have retired from Paris not with clean hands.

“I don’t believe the Evening Pulpit can prove it⁠—and I’m sure that they can’t attempt to prove it without an expense of three or four thousand pounds. That’s a game in which nobody wins but the lawyers. I wonder at Alf. I should have thought that he would have known how to get all said that he wanted to have said without running with his head into the lion’s