“And perfectly right,” interrupted Linton. “The Brahmin had only three chances in his favor. Now, your king may die too, and you have any number of asses to be got rid of.”
“Let us be serious, Tom. What are our prospects at a general election? Are the landed gentry growing afraid of the O'Gorman party, or are they still hanging back, resentful of Peel's desertion?”
“They are very conservative,—that is, they want to keep their properties and pay the least possible taxation. Be cautious, however, and you have them all your own. The Irish party being now with you, begin by some marked favor to the Protestant Church. Hear me out. This will alarm the Romanists, and cause a kind of split amongst them. Such as have, or expect to have place, will stand by you; the others will show fight. You have then an opportunity of proclaiming yourselves a strong Protestant Cabinet, and the ultras, who hate Peel, will at least affect to believe you. While the country is thus agitated, go to the elections. Your friends, amid so many unsettled opinions, cannot be expected to take pledges, or, better still, they cannot accept any, subject to various contingencies never to arise.”
“I am sorely afraid of this splitting up the forces,” said Meek, doubtfully.
“It's your true game, depend upon it,” said Linton. “These Irish allies are unwieldy—when numerous. I remember once calling on Tom Scott, the trainer, one day, and while we went through the stables I could not help remarking the fine family of boys he had. 'Yes, sir,' said Tom, modestly, 'they 're good-looking chaps, and smart ones. God Almighty keep 'em little, sir!'”
“Ah, very true,” sighed Meek; “God Almighty keep 'em little!”
“Then,” resumed Linton, “you have never played out that golden game of Irish legislation, which consists in enacting a law, and always ruling against it. Decide for the education system, but promote the men who oppose it. Condemn the public conduct of certain parties, and then let them figure as baronets, or lieutenants of counties, in the next 'Gazette,' and, to crown all, seek out every now and then some red-hot supporter of Government, and degrade him from the bench of magistrates for maladministration! This, which in England would seem rather chaotic legislation, will to Irish intelligence smack like even-handed justice.”
“We have a bad press,” said Meek, peevishly.
“No matter, it has the less influence. Believe me, it will be an evil day for you Downing Street gentlemen when Ireland possesses a really able and independent press,—when, avoiding topics of mere irritating tendency, men address themselves to the actual wants of the country, exemplifying, as they disclose them, the inaptitude and folly of English legislation. Don't wait for that day, Meek. In all likelihood it is distant enough, but in any case don't hasten its coming by your prayers.”
“You mustn't broach these doctrines out of doors, Tom,” said Meek, in a soft, caressing tone; “there is a horrid cant getting up just now against English rule, and in favor of native manufactures.”