son, might be seen as potentially useful to some. He attended the House of Lords because he liked the calm of the library and the company of civilized men. Because there were no women around, it was a place free of troublesome emotion. A man could say what he pleased, not what it pleased a woman for him to say. There would, perhaps, be some friendly antler-locking, but little bitterness.
Robert had no great ambition to improve society. Experience had proved that intervention in any social plan merely ended up with shifting the boundaries of good and badaround. What advantaged some could only ever be to the detriment of others. Give workers a bath and they would keep coal in it. Raise taxes and the wealthy would save money by dismissing their servants. Mostly he kept his opinions to himself, voted for Salisbury, and left it at that. But he was no fool, and well aware that this sudden elevation to the grace of the grand panjandrums’ table meant they wanted something from him. Which, considering his financial plight, could only be to the good.
In the first reading of the Exportation of Arms Bill that morning, a bill which ‘sought to prohibit the export of certain classes of military equipment when it was necessary to prevent such equipment being used against British or allied citizens or military forces’, Robert, though by birth and inclination a natural Tory, had voted with the Liberal Unionists against the Bill. It had been passed by only three votes, not surprisingly because as a bill it had been hasty and ill-conceived, as Mr Baum had happened to point out during the course of breakfast, and had alarmed mining interests. Smokeless coal and its by-products could easily be converted into military equipment, and gold was often used in trade between nations, even when they were in a formal state of war. Mr Baum, for one, would certainly not want this badly constructed legislation to go through in its present state, nor would many of his friends whose prosperity depended upon the free international passage of trade. A vague patriotism must be weighed against loyalty to friends and national advantage against national pride.
As he had listened to the discussion of the Bill with Mr Baum’s strictures in his ears, Robert had decided that for once the Liberal Unionists were in the right: the Bill should not pass. In joining the ‘Noes’ he had become a floating voter, and as afloating voter he must be wooed and won, which was why he now enjoyed the company of anyone who was anyone in the beleaguered Conservative party. The beef was excellent: the Yorkshire pudding light and golden, the gravy excellent, better than any Cook achieved. But she was something of a French cook. Not of the old-fashioned English variety. There was no fancy French cooking in the Lords. He liked it this way.
Conversation was at first light and cheerful: no pressure was put upon him, no reproach on his batting for the wrong side. He hoped they’d get round to suggesting some form of preference, an actual paid job in the administration – hardly a Secretaryship, that required unusual intelligence, let alone a President, which suggested unusual probity: but a junior Ministry, even if only of Fisheries – the trout fishing at Dilberne Court being famous – would claim a good salary, and a good salary at the moment would be more than useful. He wondered briefly how much he had realised that voting ‘no’ would be to his financial advantage and quickly dismissed this from his thoughts. He was a bumbling fellow up from the shires, no sort of wily politician.
He had listened to Baum’s voice, that was all, and responded to it, as was his duty. Baum’s was the voice of an experienced man of commerce. Robert wished he and his family had been more civil to the man. It was the behaviour of a rich man who thought himself unassailable. Now suddenly he was a poor man. It behoved him to change his ways.
‘The war was inevitable,’ observed Salisbury
Robert had no great ambition to improve society. Experience had proved that intervention in any social plan merely ended up with shifting the boundaries of good and badaround. What advantaged some could only ever be to the detriment of others. Give workers a bath and they would keep coal in it. Raise taxes and the wealthy would save money by dismissing their servants. Mostly he kept his opinions to himself, voted for Salisbury, and left it at that. But he was no fool, and well aware that this sudden elevation to the grace of the grand panjandrums’ table meant they wanted something from him. Which, considering his financial plight, could only be to the good.
In the first reading of the Exportation of Arms Bill that morning, a bill which ‘sought to prohibit the export of certain classes of military equipment when it was necessary to prevent such equipment being used against British or allied citizens or military forces’, Robert, though by birth and inclination a natural Tory, had voted with the Liberal Unionists against the Bill. It had been passed by only three votes, not surprisingly because as a bill it had been hasty and ill-conceived, as Mr Baum had happened to point out during the course of breakfast, and had alarmed mining interests. Smokeless coal and its by-products could easily be converted into military equipment, and gold was often used in trade between nations, even when they were in a formal state of war. Mr Baum, for one, would certainly not want this badly constructed legislation to go through in its present state, nor would many of his friends whose prosperity depended upon the free international passage of trade. A vague patriotism must be weighed against loyalty to friends and national advantage against national pride.
As he had listened to the discussion of the Bill with Mr Baum’s strictures in his ears, Robert had decided that for once the Liberal Unionists were in the right: the Bill should not pass. In joining the ‘Noes’ he had become a floating voter, and as afloating voter he must be wooed and won, which was why he now enjoyed the company of anyone who was anyone in the beleaguered Conservative party. The beef was excellent: the Yorkshire pudding light and golden, the gravy excellent, better than any Cook achieved. But she was something of a French cook. Not of the old-fashioned English variety. There was no fancy French cooking in the Lords. He liked it this way.
Conversation was at first light and cheerful: no pressure was put upon him, no reproach on his batting for the wrong side. He hoped they’d get round to suggesting some form of preference, an actual paid job in the administration – hardly a Secretaryship, that required unusual intelligence, let alone a President, which suggested unusual probity: but a junior Ministry, even if only of Fisheries – the trout fishing at Dilberne Court being famous – would claim a good salary, and a good salary at the moment would be more than useful. He wondered briefly how much he had realised that voting ‘no’ would be to his financial advantage and quickly dismissed this from his thoughts. He was a bumbling fellow up from the shires, no sort of wily politician.
He had listened to Baum’s voice, that was all, and responded to it, as was his duty. Baum’s was the voice of an experienced man of commerce. Robert wished he and his family had been more civil to the man. It was the behaviour of a rich man who thought himself unassailable. Now suddenly he was a poor man. It behoved him to change his ways.
‘The war was inevitable,’ observed Salisbury
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