Читать книгу The Knight Of Gwynne (Vol. 1&2) - Charles James Lever - Страница 18

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“Well, Heffernan,” said Lord Castlereagh, as they sat over their wine alone in a small dining-room of the Secretary's Lodge—“well, even with Hackett, we shall be run close. I don't fancy the thought of another division so nearly matched; our fellows don't see the honor of a Thermopylae.”

“Very true, my Lord; and the desertions are numerous, as they always will be when men receive the bounty before they are enlisted.”

“Yes; but what would you do? We make a man a Commissioner or a sinecurist for his vote—he vacates his seat on taking office; and, instead of standing the brunt of another election, coolly says, 'That, differing as he must do from his constituents on an important measure, he restores the trust they had committed into his hands—'”

“'He hopes unsullied,'—don't forget that, my Lord.”

“Yes—'he hopes unsullied—and prefers to retire from the active career of politics, carrying with him the esteem and regard of his former friends, rather than endanger their good opinion by supporting measures to which they are conscientiously opposed.'”

“Felicitous conjuncture, that unites patriotism and profit!” exclaimed Heffernan. “Happy man, that can draw tears from the Mob, and two thousand a year from the Treasury!”

“And yet I see no remedy for it,” sighed the Secretary.

“There is one, notwithstanding; but it demands considerable address and skill. You have always been too solicitous about the estimation of the men you bought were held in—always thinking of what would be said and thought of them. You pushed the system so far that the fellows themselves caught up the delusion, and began to fancy they had characters to lose. All this was wrong—radically, thoroughly wrong. When the butcher smears a red streak round a lamb's neck—we call it 'raddling' in Ireland, my Lord—any child knows he 's destined for the knife; now, when you 'raddled' your flock, you wanted the world to believe you were going to make pets of them, and you said as much, and so often that the beasts themselves believed it, and began cutting their gambols accordingly. Why not have paraded them openly to the shambles? It was their bleating you wanted, and nothing else.”

“You forget, Heffernan, how many men would have refused our offers if we had not made a show, at least, of respect for their scruples.”

“I don't think so, my Lord; you offered a bonus on prudery, and hence you met nothing but coyness. I'd have taken another line with them.”

“And what might that be?” asked Lord Castlereagh, eagerly.

“Compromise them,” said Heffernan, sternly. “I never knew the man yet, nor woman either, that you could n't place in such a position of entanglement that every effort to go right should seem a struggle to do wrong; and vice versa. You don't agree with me! Well, my Lord, I ask you if, in your experience of public men, you have ever met one less likely to be captured in this way than my friend Darcy?”

“From what I have seen and heard of the Knight of Gwynne, I acknowledge his character has all those elements of frankness and candor which should except him from such an embarrassment.”

“Well, he 's in the net already,” said Heffernan, rubbing his hands gleefully.

“Why, you told me he refused to join us, and actually saw through your negotiation.”

“So he did, and, in return for his keen-sightedness, I 've compromised him with his party—you did n't perceive it, but the trick succeeded to perfection. When the Knight told me that he would not vote on the Union, or any measure pertaining to it, I waited for Ponsonby's motion, and made Holmes and Dawson spread the rumor at Daly's and through town that Darcy was to speak on the division, well knowing he would not rise. About eleven o'clock, just as Toler sat down, Prendergast got up to reply, but there was a shout of 'Darcy! Darcy!' and Prendergast resumed his seat amid great confusion. At that moment I left the bench beside you, and walked over to Darcy's side of the House, and whispered a few words in his ear—an invitation to sup, I believe it was; but while he was answering me, I nodded towards you, and, as I went down the steps, muttered loud enough to be heard, 'All right!' Every eye was turned at once towards him, and he, having no intention of speaking, nor having made any preparation, felt both confused and amazed, and left the House about five minutes afterwards, while Prendergast was bungling out his tiresome reply. Before Darcy reached the Club House, the report was current that he was bought, and old Gillespie was circumstantially recounting how that his title was 'Lord Darcy in England,'—'Baron Gwynne in that part of the United Kingdom called Ireland.'”

“Not even success, Heffernan,” said the Secretary, with an air of severity—“not even success will excuse a trick of this kind.”

Heffernan looked steadily towards him, as if he half doubted the sincerity of the speech; it seemed something above or beyond his comprehension.

“Yes,” said Lord Castlereagh, “you heard me quite correctly. I repeat it, advantages obtained in this fashion are too dearly purchased.”

“What an admirable actor John Kemble is, my Lord,” said Heffernan, with a quiet smile; “don't you think so?”

Lord Castlereagh nodded his assent: the transition was too abrupt to please him, and he appeared to suspect that it concealed some other object than that of changing the topic.

“Kemble,” continued Heffernan, while he sipped his wine carelessly—” Kemble is, I suspect strongly, the greatest actor we have ever had on the English stage. Have you seen him in 'Macbeth'?”

“Several times, and always with renewed pleasure,” said the Secretary, gradually recovering from his reserve.

“What a force of passion he throws into the part! How terrible he makes the conflict between a great purpose and a weak nature! Do you remember his horror at the murderers who come to tell of Banquo's death? The sight of their bloody hands shocks him as though they were not the evidences of his own success.”

Lord Castlereagh's calm countenance became for a second crimson, and his lip trembled with struggling indignation; and then, as if subduing the temptation of anger, he broke into a low, easy laugh, and with an imitation at Kemble's manner, called out, “There 's blood upon thy face!”

“Talking of a bloody hand, my Lord,” said Heffernan, at once resuming his former easy jocularity, “reminds me of that Mr. Hickman, or Hickman O'Reilly, as the fashion is to call him: is he to have the baronetcy?”

“Not, certainly, if we can secure him without it.”

“And I think we ought. It should be quite sufficient remuneration for a man like him to vote with the Government; his father became a Protestant because it was the gentlemanly faith; and I don't see why the son should not choose his politics on the same principle. Have you ever asked him to dinner, my Lord?”

“Yes, and his father, too. I have had the three generations, but I rather fear the party did not go off well. I had not in those days, Heffernan, the benefit of your admirable counsels, and picked my company unwisely.”

“A great mistake with such men as these,” said Heffernan, oracularly; “the guests should have been the cream of your Lordship's noble acquaintance. I 'd have had an Earl and a Marquis at either side of each of them; I 'd have turned their heads with noble names, and pelted them with the Peerage the whole time of dinner; when he had taken wine with a chamberlain and some lords-in-waiting, if your Lordship would only address him, in a voice loud enough to be heard, as 'O'Reilly,' referring to him on a point of sporting etiquette or country gentleman's life, I think you might spare the baronetage the honor of his alliance. Do you think, on a proper representation, and with due securities against the repetition of the offence, the chancellor would let himself be called 'Clare'? only for once, remember—because I 'm satisfied, if this could be arranged, O'Reilly is yours.”

“I 'd rather depute you to ask the question,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing; “assuredly I 'll not do so myself. But when do these people come to town?—to-morrow or next day, I suppose.”

“On Friday next they will all be here. Old Hickman comes up to receive something like two hundred and twenty thousand pounds—for Darcy has raised the money to pay off the incumbrances—the son is coming for the debate, and the grandson is to be balloted for at Daly's.”

“You have made yourself master of all their arrangements, Heffernan: may I ask if they afford you any clew to assisting us in our object?”

“When can you give a dinner, my Lord?” said the other.

“Any day after Wednesday—nay, Wednesday itself; I might easily get off Brooke's dinner for that day.”

“The sooner the better; time is of great consequence now. Shall we say Wednesday?”

“Be it so; now for the party.”

“A small one: selectness is the type of cordiality. The invitation must be verbal, done in your own admirable way: 'Don't be late, gentlemen, for Beerhaven and Drogheda are to meet you, and you know they scold if the soup suffers,'—something in that style. Now let us see who are our men.”

“Begin with Beerhaven and Drogheda, they are sure cards.”

“Well, then, Massey Hamilton—but he's only a commoner—to be sure his uncle's a Duke, but, confound him, he never talks of him! I might draw him out about the Highlands and deer-stalking, and the Christmas revels at Clanchattagan; he 's three—Kilgoff four; he 's first-rate, and will discuss his noble descent till his carriage is announced. Loughdooner, five—”

“He's another bore, Heffernan.”

“I know he is, my Lord; but he has seven daughters, and will consequently make up to young Beecham, who is a great prize in the wheel matrimonial. We shall want a Bishop to say grace; I think Dunmore is the man: he is the last of your Lordship's making, and can't refuse a short invitation.”

“Six, and the three Hickmans nine, and ourselves eleven; now for the twelfth—”

“Darcy, of course,” said Heffernan; “he must be asked, and, if possible, induced to come; Hickman O'Reilly will be far more easily managed if we make him suppose that we have already secured Darcy ourselves.”

“He'll decline, Heffernan; depend upon it, he'll not come.”

“You think he saw through my ruse in the House—not a bit of it; he is the least suspecting man in Ireland, and I 'll make that very circumstance the reason of his coming. Hint to him that rumor says he is coquetting with the Government, and he 'll go any lengths to brave public opinion by confronting it—that's Darcy, or I 'm much mistaken in my man; and, to say truth, my Lord, it's an error I rarely fall into.” A smile of self-satisfaction lit up Heffernan's features as he spoke; for, like many cunning people, his weak point was vanity.

“You may call me as a witness to character whenever you please,” said Lord Castlereagh, who, in indulging the self-glorification of the other, was now taking his own revenge; “you certainly knew Upton better than I did.”

“Depend upon it,” said Heffernan, as he leaned back in his chair and delivered his words in a tone of authority—“depend upon it, the great events of life never betray the man, it is the small, every-day dropping occurrences both make and mar him. I made Upton my friend for life by missing a woodcock he aimed at; he brought down the bird, and I bagged the sportsman. Ah, my Lord, the real science of life is knowing how to be gracefully in the wrong; how to make those slips that reflect on your own prudence, by exhibiting the superior wisdom of your acquaintances. Of the men who compassionate your folly or deplore your weakness, you may borrow money, from the fellows who envy your abilities and extol your capacity, you 'll never get sixpence.”

“How came it, Heffernan, that you never took office?” said Lord Castlereagh, suddenly, as if the idea forced itself abruptly upon him.

“I'll tell you, my Lord,” replied Heffernan, speaking in a lower tone, and as if imparting a deep secret, “they could not spare me—that's the real fact—they could not spare me. Reflect, for a moment, what kind of thing the Government of Ireland is; see the difficulty, nay, the impossibility, of any set of men arriving here fresh from England being able to find out their way, or make any guess at the leading characters about them: every retiring official likes to embarrass his successor—that's all natural and fair; then, what a mass of blunders and mistakes await the newly come Viceroy or Secretary! In the midst of the bleak expanse of pathless waste I was the sign-post. The new players, who took up the cards when the game was half over, could know nothing of what trumps were in, or what tricks were taken. I was there to tell them all; they soon saw that I could do this; and they also saw that I wanted nothing from any party.”

“That must be confessed on every hand, Heffernan. Never was support more generous and independent than yours! and the subject reminds me of a namesake, and, as I hear, a nephew of yours, the Reverend Joshua Heffernan—is not that the name?”

“It is, my Lord, my nephew; but I'm not aware of having asked anything for him; I never—”

“But I did, Heffernan, and I do. He shall have the living of Drumslade; I spoke to the Lord-Lieutenant about it yesterday. There is a hitch somewhere, but we'll get over it.”

“What may be the obstacle you allude to?” said Heffernan, with more anxiety than he wished to evince.

“Lord Killgobbin says the presentation was promised to his brother, for his influence over Rochfort.”

“Not a bit of it, my Lord. It was I secured Rochfort. The case was this. He is separated from his wife, Lady Mary, who had a life annuity chargeable on Rochfort's pension from the Ordnance. Cook enabled me to get him twelve thousand pounds on the secret service list, provided he surrendered the pension. Rochfort was only too happy to do so, because it would spite his wife; and the next Gazette announced 'that the member for Dun raven had declared his intention of voting with the Government, but, to prevent even the breath of slander on his motives, had surrendered his retiring pension as a Store-keeper-General.' There never was a finer theme for editorial panegyric, and in good sooth your Lordship's press made the most of it. What a patriot!”

“What a scoundrel!” muttered Lord Castlereagh; and it would have puzzled a listener, had there been one, to say on whom the epithet was conferred.

“As for Killgobbin or his brother having influence over Rochfort, it's all absurd. Why, my Lord, it was that same brother married Rochfort to Lady Mary.”

“That is conclusive,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing.

“Faith, I think so,” rejoined Heffernan; “if you do recover after being hanged, I don't see that you want to make a friend of the fellow that pinioned your hands in the 'press-room.' If there's no other reason against Jos's promotion than this—”

“If there were, I 'd endeavor to overcome it,” said Lord Castlereagh. “Won't you take more wine? Pray let's have another bottle.”

“No more, my Lord; it's only in such safe company I ever drink so freely,” said Heffernan, laughing, as he rose to say, “Good-night.”

“You 'll take measures for Wednesday, then; that is agreed upon?”

“All settled,” said Heffernan, as he left the room. “Good-bye.”

“There's a building debt on that same living of seventeen hundred pounds,” said Lord Castlereagh, musing; “I'll easily satisfy Killgobbin that we mean to do better for his brother.”

“Take office, indeed!” muttered Heffernan, as he lay back in his carriage; “there 's something better than that—governing the men that hold office, holding the reins, pocketing the fare, and never paying the breakage when the coach upsets. No, no, my Lord, you are a clever fellow for your years, but you must live longer before you measure Con Heffernan.”