When Darcy arrived in London, he found a degree of political excitement
for which he was little prepared. In Ireland the Union had absorbed
all interest and anxiety, and with the fate of that measure were
extinguished the hopes of those who had speculated on national
independence. Not so in England; the real importance of the annexation
was never thoroughly considered till the fact was accomplished, nor,
until then, were the great advantages and the possible evils well and
maturely weighed. Then, for the first time, came the anxious question,
What next? Was the Union to be the compensation for large concessions to
the Irish people, or was it rather the seal of their incorporation
with a more powerful nation, who by this great stroke of policy would
annihilate forever all dream of self-existence? Mr. Pitt inclined to the
former opinion, and believed the moment propitious to award the Roman
Catholic claims, and to a general remission of those laws which pressed
so heavily upon them. To this opinion the King was firmly and, as it
proved, insurmountably opposed; he regarded the Act of Union as
the final settlement of all possible disagreements between the two
countries, as the means of uniting the two Churches, and, finally,
of excluding at once and forever the admission of Roman Catholics to
Parliament. This wide difference led to the retirement of Mr. Pitt, and
subsequently to the return of the dangerous indisposition of the King,
an attack brought on by the anxiety and agitation this question induced.
The hopes of the Whig party stood high; the Prince's friends, as they
were styled, again rallied around Carlton House, where, already, the
possibility of a long Regency was discussed. Besides these causes of
excitement were others of not less powerful interest,--the growing power
of Bonaparte, the war in Egypt, and the possibility of open hostilities
with Russia, who had now thrown herself so avowedly into the alliance of
France.
Such were the stirring themes Darcy found agitating the public mind, and
he could not help contrasting the mighty interests they involved with
the narrow circle of consequences a purely local legislature could
discuss or decide upon. He felt at once that he trod the soil of a more
powerful and more ambitious people, and he remembered with a sigh his
own anticipations, that in the English Parliament the Irish members
would be but the camp-followers of the Crown or the Opposition.
If he was English in his pride of government and his sense of national
power and greatness, he was Irish in his tastes, his habits, and his
affections. If he gloried in the name of Briton as the type of national
honor and truth throughout the globe, he was still more ardently
attached to that land where, under the reflected grandeur of the
monarchy, grew up the social affections of a poorer people. There is
a sense of freedom and independence in the habits of semi-civilization
very fascinating to certain minds, and all the advantages of more
polished communities are deemed shallow compensation for the ready
compliance and cordial impulses of the less cultivated.
With all his own high acquirements the Knight was of this mind; and if
he did not love England less, he loved Ireland more.
Meditating on the great changes of fortune Ireland had undergone even
within his own memory, he moved along through the crowded thoroughfares
of the mighty city, when he heard his name called out, and at the same
instant a carriage drew up close by him.
“How do you do, Knight?” said a friendly voice, as a hand was stretched
forth to greet him. It was Lord Castle-reagh, who had only a few weeks
previous exchanged his office of Irish Secretary for a post at the Board
of Trade. The meeting was a cordial one on both sides, and ended in
an invitation to dine on the following day, which Darcy accepted with
willingness, as a gage of mutual good feeling and esteem.
“I was talking about you to Lord Netherby only yesterday,” said Lord
Castlereagh, “and, from some hints he dropped, I suspect the time is
come that I may offer you any little influence I possess, without it
taking the odious shape of a bargain; if so, pray remember that I have
as much pride as yourself on such a score, and will be offended if you
accept from another what might come equally well through _me_.”
The Knight acknowledged this kind speech with a grateful smile and a
pressure of the hand, and was about to move on, when Lord Castlereagh
asked if he could not drop him in his carriage at his destination, and
thus enjoy, a few moments longer, his society.
“I scarcely can tell you, my Lord,” said Darcy, laughing, “which way I
was bent on following. I came up to town to present myself at the Duke
of York's levée, and it is only a few moments since I remembered that I
was not provided with a uniform.”
“Oh, step in then,” cried Lord Castlereagh, hastily; “I think I can
manage that difficulty for you. There is a levée this very morning; some
pressing intelligence has arrived from Egypt, and his Royal Highness has
issued a notice for a reception for eleven o'clock. You are not
afraid,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing, as Darcy took his seat beside
him,--“you are not afraid of being seen in such company now.”
“If I am not, my Lord, set my courage down to my principle; for I never
felt your kindness so dangerous,” said the Knight, with something of
emotion.
A few moments of rapid driving brought them in front of the Duke's
residence, where several carriages and led horses were now standing, and
officers in full dress were seen to pass in and out, with signs of haste
and eagerness.
“I told you we should find them astir here,” said Lord Castlereagh.
“Holloa, Fane, have you heard anything new to-day?”
The officer thus addressed touched his hat respectfully, and approaching
the window of the carriage, whispered a few words in Lord Castlereagh's
ear.
“Is the news confirmed?” said his Lordship, calmly.
“I believe so, my Lord; at least, Edgecumbe says he heard it from
Dundas, who got it from Pitt himself.”
“Bad tidings these, Knight,” said Lord Castlereagh, as the aide-de-camp
moved away; “Pulteney's expedition against Ferrol has failed. These
conjoint movements of army and navy seem to have a most unlucky
fortune.”
“What can you expect, my Lord, from an ill-assorted 'Union'?” said
Darcy, slyly.
“They 'll work better after a time,” said Lord Castlereagh, smiling
good-humoredly at the hit; “for the present, I acknowledge the success
is not flattering. The general always discovers that the land batteries
can only be attacked in the very spot where the admiral pronounces the
anchorage impossible; each feels compromised by the other; hence envy
and every manner of uncharitableness.”
“And what has been the result here? Is it a repulse?”
“You can scarcely call it that, since they never attacked. They looked
at the place, sailed round it, and, like the King of France in the
story, they marched away again. But here we are at length at the door;
let us try if we cannot accomplish a landing better than Lord Keith and
General Moore.”
Through a crowd of anxious faces, whose troubled looks tallied with the
evil tidings, Lord Castlereagh and Darcy ascended the stairs and reached
the antechamber, now densely thronged by officers of every grade of the
service. His Lordship was immediately recognized and surrounded by many
of the company, eager to hear his opinion.
“You don't appear to credit the report, my Lord,” said Darcy, who
had watched with some interest the air of quiet incredulity which he
assumed.
“It is all true, notwithstanding,” said he, in a whisper; “I heard it
early this morning at the Council, and came here to see how it would be
received. They say that war will be soon as unpopular with the red-coats
as with the no-coats; and really, to look at these sombre faces, one
would say there was some truth in the rumor. But here comes Taylor.” And
so saying, Lord Castlereagh moved forward, and laid his hand on the arm
of an officer in a staff uniform.
“I don't think so, my Lord,” said he, in reply to some question from
Lord Castlereagh; “I 'll endeavor to manage it, but I 'm afraid I
shall not succeed. Have you heard of Elliot's death? The news has just
arrived.”
“Indeed! So then the government of Chelsea is to give away. Oh, that
fact explains the presence of so many veteran generals! I really was
puzzled to conceive what martial ardor stirred them.”
“You are severe, my Lord,” said Darcy; “I hope you are unjust.”
“One is rarely so in attributing a selfish motive anywhere,” said the
young nobleman, sarcastically. “But, Taylor, can't you arrange
this affair? Let me present my friend meanwhile: The Knight of
Gwynne--Colonel Taylor.”
Before Taylor could more than return the Knight's salutation he was
summoned to attend his Royal Highness; and at the same moment the
folding-doors at the end of the apartment were thrown open, and the
reception began.
Whether the sarcasm of Lord Castlereagh was correct, or that a nobler
motive was in operation, the number of officers was very great; and
although the Duke rarely addressed more than a word or two to each,
a considerable time elapsed before Lord Castlereagh, with the Knight
following, had entered the room.
“It is against a positive order of his Royal Highness, my Lord,” said an
aide-de-camp, barring the passage; “none but field-officers, and in full
uniform, are received by his Royal Highness.”
Lord Castlereagh whispered something, and endeavored to move on; but
again the other interposed, saying, “Indeed, my Lord, I'm deeply grieved
at it, but I cannot--I dare not transgress my orders.”
The Duke, who had been up to this moment engaged in conversing with a
group, suddenly turned, and perceiving that the presentations were not
followed up, said, “Well, gentlemen, I am waiting.” Then recognizing
Lord Castlereagh, he added, “Another time, my Lord, another time:
this morning belongs to the service, and the color of your coat excludes
you.”
“I ask your Royal Highness's pardon,” said Lord Castlereagh, in a tone
of great deference, while he made the apology an excuse for advancing a
step into the room. “I have but just left the Council, and was anxious
to inform you that your Royal Highness's suggestions have been fully
adopted.”
“Indeed! is that the case?” said the Duke, with an elated look, while
he drew his Lordship into the recess of a window. The intelligence,
to judge from the Duke's expression, must have been both important and
satisfactory, for he looked intensely eager and pleased by turns.
“And so,” said he, aloud, “they really have determined on Egypt? Well,
my Lord, you have brought me the best tidings I 've heard for many a
day.”
“And like all bearers of good despatches,” said Lord Castlereagh,
catching up the tone of the Duke, “I prefer a claim to your Royal
Highness's patronage.”
“If you look for Chelsea, my Lord, you are just five minutes too late.
Old Sir Harry Belmore has this instant got it.”
“I could have named as old and perhaps a not less distinguished soldier
to your Royal Highness, with this additional claim,--a claim I must say,
your Royal Highness never disregards”--
“That he has been unfortunate with the unlucky,” said the Duke,
laughing, and good-naturedly alluding to his own failure in the
expedition to the Netherlands; “but who is your friend?”
“The Knight of Gwynne,--an Irish gentleman.”
“One of your late supporters, eh, Castlereagh?” said the Duke, laughing.
“How came he to be forgotten till this hour? Or did you pass him a bill
of gratitude payable at nine months after date?”
“No, my Lord, he was an opponent; he was a man that I never could buy,
when his influence and power were such as to make the price of his own
dictating. Since that day, fortune has changed with him.”
“And what do you want with him now?” said the Duke, while his eyes
twinkled with a sly malice; “are you imitating the man that bowed down
before statues of Hercules and Apollo at Rome, not knowing when the time
of those fellows might come up again? Is that your game?”
“Not exactly, your Royal Highness; but I really feel some scruples of
conscience that, having assisted so many unworthy candidates to pensions
and peerages, I should have done nothing for the most upright man I met
in Ireland.”
“If we could make him a Commissary-General,” said the Duke, laughing,
“the qualities you speak of would be of service now: there never was
such a set of rascals as we have got in that department! But come, what
can we do with him? What 's his rank in the army? Where did he serve?”
“If I dare present him to your Royal Highness without a uniform,” said
Lord Castlereagh, hesitatingly, “he could answer these queries better
than I can.”
“Oh, by Jove! it is too late for scruples now,--introduce him at once.”
Lord Castlereagh waited for no more formal permission, but, hastening to
the antechamber, took Darcy's hand, and led him forward.
“If I don't mistake, sir,” said the Duke, as the old man raised his head
after a deep and courteous salutation, “this is not the first time we
have met. Am I correct in calling you Colonel Darcy?”
The Knight bowed low in acquiescence.
“The same officer who raised the Twenty-eighth Light Dragoons, known as
Darcy's Light Horse?”
The Knight bowed once more.
“A very proud officer in command,” said the Duke, turning to Lord
Castlereagh with a stern expression on his features; “a colonel who
threatened a prince of the blood with arrest for breach of duty.”
“He had good reason, your Royal Highness, to be proud,” said the Knight,
firmly; “first, to have a prince to serve under his command; and,
secondly, to have held that station and character in the service to have
rendered so unbecoming a threat pardonable.”
“And who said it was?” replied the Duke, hastily.
“Your Royal Highness has just done so.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, my Lord Duke,” said Darcy, with a calm and unmoved look,
“that your Royal Highness would never have recurred to the theme to one
humbled as I am, if you had not forgiven it.”
“As freely as I trust you forgive me, Colonel Darcy,” said the Duke,
grasping his hand and shaking it with warmth. “Now for _my_ part: what
can I do for you?--what do you wish?”
“I can scarcely ask your Royal Highness; I find that some kind friend
has already applied on my behalf. I could not have presumed, old and
useless as I am, to prefer a claim myself.”
“There's your own regiment vacant,” said the Duke, musing. “No, by
Jove! I remember Lord Netherby asking me for it the other day for some
relative of his own. Taylor, is the colonelcy of the Twenty-eighth
promised?”
“Your Royal Highness signed it yesterday.”
“I feared as much. Who is it?--perhaps he'd exchange.”
“Colonel Maurice Darcy, your Royal Highness, unattached.”
“What! have I been doing good by stealth? Is this really so?”
“If it be, your Royal Highness,” said Darcy, smiling, “I can only assure
you that the officer promoted will not exchange.”
“The depot is at Gosport, your Royal Highness,” said Taylor, in reply to
a question from the Duke.
“Well, station it in Ireland, Colonel Darcy may prefer it,” said the
duke; “for, as the regiment forms part of the expedition to Egypt, the
depot need not be moved for some time to come.”
“Your Royal Highness can increase the favor by only one concession--dare
I ask it?--to permit me to take the command on service.”
The Duke gazed with astonishment at the old man, and gradually his
expression became one of deep interest, as he said,--
“Colonel Darcy could claim as a right what I feel so proud to accord
him as a favor. Make a note of that, Taylor,” said the Duke, raising his
voice so as to be heard through the room: “'Colonel Darcy to take the
command on service at his own special request.' Yes, gentlemen,” added
he, louder, “these are times when the exigencies of the service demand
alike the energy of youth and the experience of age; it is, indeed,
a happy conjuncture that finds them united. My Lord Castlereagh and
Colonel Darcy, are you disengaged for Wednesday?”
They both bowed respectfully.
“Then on Wednesday I'll have some of your brother officers to meet you,
Colonel. Now, Taylor, let us get through our list.”
So saying, the Duke bowed graciously; and Lord Castlereagh and the
Knight retired, each too full of pleasure to utter a word as he went.