A few days after the departure of M. de Tourville, Commissioner
Falconer, a friend, or at least a relation of Mr. Percy’s, came to pay
him a visit. As the commissioner looked out of the window and observed
the Dutch carpenter, who was passing by with tools under his arm, he
began to talk of the late shipwreck. Mr. Falconer said he had heard much
of the successful exertions and hospitality of the Percy family on that
occasion--regretted that he had himself been called to town just at that
time--asked many questions about the passengers on board the vessel, and
when M. de Tourville was described to him, deplored that Mr. Percy had
never thought of trying to detain this foreigner a few days longer.
For, argued the commissioner, though M. de Tourville might not be an
accredited chargé d’affaires, yet, since he was a person in some
degree in an official capacity, and intrusted with secret negotiations,
government might have wished to know something about him. “And at all
events,” added the commissioner, with a shrewd smile, “it would have
been a fine way of paying our court to a certain great man.”
“So, commissioner, you still put your trust in great men?” said Mr.
Percy.
“Not in all great men, but in some,” replied the commissioner; “for
instance, in your old friend, Lord Oldborough, who, I’m happy to inform
you, is just come into our neighbourhood to Clermont-park, of which
he has at last completed the purchase, and has sent down his plate and
pictures.--Who knows but he may make Clermont-park his summer residence,
instead of his place in Essex? and if he should, there’s no saying of
what advantage it might be, for I have it from the very best authority,
that his lordship’s influence in _a certain quarter_ is greater than
ever. Of course, Mr. Percy, you will wait upon Lord Oldborough, when he
comes to this part of the country?”
“No, I believe not,” said Mr. Percy: “I have no connexion with him now.”
“But you were so intimate with him abroad,” expostulated Mr. Falconer.
“It is five-and-twenty years since I knew him abroad,” said Mr. Percy;
“and from all I have heard, he is an altered man. When I was intimate
with Lord Oldborough, he was a generous, open-hearted youth: he has
since become a politician, and I fear he has sold himself for a riband
to the demon of ambition.”
“No matter to whom he has sold himself, or for what,” replied the
commissioner; “that is his affair, not ours. We must not be too nice.
He is well disposed towards you; and, my dear sir, I should take it as a
very particular favour if you would introduce me to his lordship.”
“With great pleasure,” said Mr. Percy, “the very first opportunity.”
“We must make opportunities--not wait for them,” said the commissioner,
smiling. “Let me entreat that you will pay your respects to his lordship
as soon as he comes into the country. It really is but civil--and take
me in your hand.”
“With all my heart,” said Mr. Percy; “but mine shall only be a visit of
civility.”
Well satisfied with having obtained this promise, Commissioner Falconer
departed.
Besides his general desire to be acquainted with the great, the
commissioner had particular reasons for wishing to be introduced at this
time to Lord Oldborough, and he had a peculiar cause for being curious
about M. de Tourville.--Mr. Falconer was in possession of the packet
which that diplomatist had lost. It had been found by one of the
commissioner’s sons, Mr. John Falconer; or rather by Mr. John Falconer’s
dog, Neptune, who brought it to his master when he was bathing in the
sea the day after the shipwreck. It had been thrown by the tide among
some sea-weed, where it was entangled, and where it lay hid till it
was discovered by the dog. Mr. John Falconer had carried it home, and
boasting of his dog’s sagacity, had produced it rather as a proof of the
capital manner in which he had taught Neptune to fetch and carry, than
from any idea or care for the value of the packet; John Falconer being
one of those men who care for very little in this world,
“Whilst they have their dog and their gun.”
Not so the commissioner, who immediately began to examine the papers
with serious curiosity, to discover whether they could by any means be
productive of advantage to him or his family. The sea-water had injured
only the outer pages; but though the inner were not in the least
damaged, it was difficult to make out their contents, for they were
written in cipher. Commissioner Falconer, however, was skilled in
the art of deciphering, and possessed all the ingenuity and patience
necessary for the business. The title, superscription, and signature of
the paper were obliterated, so that he could not guess from whom they
came, or to whom they were addressed; he perceived that they were
political; but of what degree of importance they might be he could not
decide, till he heard of M. de Tourville the diplomatist, and of his
distress at the loss of this packet. The commissioner then resolved
to devote the evening, ensuing day, and night, if requisite, to the
business, that he might have it in readiness to carry with him when he
went to pay his respects to Lord Oldborough. Foreseeing that something
might be made of this intercepted despatch, and fearing that if he
mentioned it to Mr. Percy, that gentleman might object to opening the
papers, Mr. Falconer left Percy-hall without giving the most remote hint
of the treasure which he possessed, or of the use that he intended to
make of his discovery.
Early in the ensuing week Mr. Percy went to pay his visit of civility,
and Mr. Falconer his visit of policy, to Lord Oldborough. His lordship
was so much altered, that it was with difficulty Mr. Percy recollected
in him any traces of the same person. The Lord Oldborough he had
formerly known was gay, gallant, and rather dissipated; of a frank,
joyous air and manner. The Lord Oldborough whom he now saw was a
serious, reserved-looking personage, with a face in which the lines of
thought and care were deeply marked; large eyebrows, vigilant eyes, with
an expression of ability and decision in his whole countenance, but not
of tranquillity or of happiness. His manner was well-bred, but rather
cold and formal: his conversation circumspect, calculated to draw forth
the opinions, and to benefit by the information of others, rather than
to assert or display his own. He seemed to converse, to think, to live,
not with any enjoyment of the present, but with a view to some future
object, about which he was constantly anxious.
Mr. Percy and Mr. Falconer both observed Lord Oldborough attentively
during this visit: Mr. Percy studied him with philosophical curiosity,
to discover what changes had been made in his lordship’s character by
the operation of ambition, and to determine how far that passion
had contributed to his happiness; Mr. Falconer studied him with the
interested eye of a man of the world, eager to discern what advantage
could be made by ministering to that ambition, and to decide whether
there was about his lordship the making of a good patron.
There was, he thought, the right twist, if he had but skill to follow,
and humour it in the working; but this was a task of much nicety. Lord
Oldborough appeared to be aware of the commissioner’s views, and was not
disposed to burden himself with new _friends_. It seemed easy to go to
a certain point with his lordship, but difficult to get farther; easy to
obtain his attention, but impossible to gain his confidence.
The commissioner, however, had many resources ready; many small means of
fastening himself both on his lordship’s private and public interests.
He determined to begin first with the despatch which he had been
deciphering. With this view he led Mr. Percy to speak of the shipwreck,
and of M. de Tourville. Lord Oldborough’s attention was immediately
awakened; and when Mr. Falconer perceived that the regret for not having
seen M. de Tourville, and the curiosity to know the nature of his secret
negotiations had been sufficiently excited, the commissioner quitted
the subject, as he could go no farther whilst restrained by Mr. Percy’s
presence. He took the first opportunity of leaving the room with his
lordship’s nephew, Col. Hauton, to look at some horses, which were to
run at the ensuing races.
Left alone with Mr. Percy, Lord Oldborough looked less reserved, for he
plainly saw, indeed Mr. Percy plainly showed, that he had nothing to ask
from the great man, but that he came only to see his friend.
“Many years since we met, Mr. Percy,” said his lordship, sitting down
and placing his chair for the first time without considering whether his
face or his back were to the light.--“A great many years since we met,
Mr. Percy; and yet I should not think so from your appearance; you do
not look as if--shall I say it?--five-and-twenty years had passed since
that time. But you have been leading an easy life in the country--the
happiest life: I envy you.”
Mr. Percy, thinking that these were words of course, the mere polite
_cant_ of a courtier to a country gentleman, smiled, and replied, that
few who were acquainted with their different situations in the world
would imagine that Mr. Percy could be an object of envy to Lord
Oldborough, a statesman at the summit of favour and fortune.
“Not the summit,” said Lord Oldborough, sighing; “and if I were even
at the summit, it is, you know, a dangerous situation. Fortune’s wheel
never stands still--the highest point is therefore the most perilous.”
His lordship sighed again as deeply as before; then spoke, or rather led
to the subject of general politics, of which Mr. Percy gave his opinions
with freedom and openness, yet without ever forgetting the respect due
to Lord Oldborough’s situation. His lordship seemed sensible of this
attention, sometimes nodded, and sometimes smiled, as Mr. Percy spoke
of public men or measures; but when he expressed any sentiment of
patriotism, or of public virtue, Lord Oldborough took to his snuff-box,
shook and levelled the snuff; and if he listened, listened as to
words superfluous and irrelevant. When Mr. Percy uttered any principle
favourable to the liberty of the press, or of the people, his lordship
would take several pinches of snuff rapidly, to hide the expression
of his countenance; if the topics were continued, his averted eyes and
compressed lips showed disapprobation, and the difficulty he felt in
refraining from reply. From reply, however, he did absolutely refrain;
and after a pause of a few moments, with a smile, in a softer and lower
voice than his usual tone, he asked Mr. Percy some questions about
his family, and turned the conversation again to domestic
affairs;--expressed surprise, that a man of Mr. Percy’s talents should
live in such absolute retirement; and seeming to forget what he had said
himself but half an hour before, of the pains and dangers of ambition,
and all that Mr. Percy had said of his love of domestic life, appeared
to take it for granted that Mr. Percy would be glad to shine in public,
if opportunity were not wanting. Upon this supposition, his lordship
dexterously pointed out ways by which he might distinguish himself;
threw out assurances of his own good wishes, compliments to his talents;
and, in short, sounded his heart, still expecting to find corruption or
ambition at the bottom. But none was to be found. Lord Oldborough was
convinced of it--and surprised. Perhaps his esteem for Mr. Percy’s
understanding fell some degrees--he considered him as an eccentric
person, acting from unaccountable motives; but still he respected him
as that rarest of all things in a politician’s eye--a really honest
independent man. He believed also that Mr. Percy had some regard
for him; and whatever portion it might be, it was valuable and
extraordinary--for it was disinterested: besides, they could never cross
in their objects--and as Mr. Percy lived out of the world, and had
no connexion with any party, he was a perfectly safe man. All these
thoughts acted so powerfully upon Lord Oldborough, that he threw aside
his reserve, in a manner which would have astonished and delighted Mr.
Falconer. Mr. Percy was astonished, but not delighted--he saw a noble
mind corroded and debased by ambition--virtuous principle, generous
feeling, stifled--a powerful, capacious understanding distorted--a soul,
once expatiating and full of high thoughts, now confined to a span--bent
down to low concerns--imprisoned in the precincts of a court.
“You pity me,” said Lord Oldborough, who seemed to understand Mr.
Percy’s thoughts; “you pity me--I pity myself. But such is ambition, and
I cannot live without it--once and always its slave.”
“A person of such a strong mind as Lord Oldborough could emancipate
himself from any slavery--even that of habit.”
“Yes, if he wished to break through it--but he does not.”
“Can he have utterly--”
“Lost his taste for freedom? you would say. Yes--utterly. I see you
pity me,” said his lordship with a bitter smile; “and,” added he, rising
proudly, “I am unused to be pitied, and I am awkward, I fear, under the
obligation.” Resuming his friendly aspect, however, in a moment or two,
he followed Mr. Percy, who had turned to examine a fine picture.
“Yes; a Corregio. You are not aware, my dear sir,” continued he, “that
between the youth you knew at Paris, and the man who has now the honour
to speak to you, there is nothing in common--absolutely nothing--except
regard for Mr. Percy. You had always great knowledge of character, I
remember; but with respect to my own, you will recollect that I have
the advantage of possessing _la carte du pays_. You are grown quite a
philosopher, I find; and so am I, in my own way. In short, to put the
question between us at rest for ever, _there is nothing left for me in
life but ambition_. Now let us go to Corregio, or what you please.”
Mr. Percy followed his lordship’s lead immediately to Italy, to France,
to Paris, and talking over old times and youthful days, the conversation
grew gay and familiar. Lord Oldborough seemed enlivened and pleased,
and yet, as if it were a reminiscence of a former state of existence,
he often repeated, “Ah! those were young days--very young: I was a boy
then--quite a boy.” At last Mr. Percy touched upon love and women, and,
by accident, mentioned an Italian lady whom they had known abroad.--A
flash of pale anger, almost of frenzy, passed across Lord Oldborough’s
countenance: he turned short, darted full on Mr. Percy a penetrating,
imperious, interrogative look.--Answered by the innocence, the steady
openness of Mr. Percy’s countenance, Lord Oldborough grew red instantly,
and, conscious of his unusual change of colour, stood actually abashed.
A moment afterward, commanding his agitation, he forced his whole person
to an air of tranquillity--took up the red book which lay upon his
table, walked deliberately to a window, and, looking earnestly through
his glass, asked if Mr. Percy could recollect who was member for some
borough in the neighbourhood? The conversation after this languished;
and though some efforts were made, it never recovered the tone of ease
and confidence. Both parties felt relieved from an indefinable sort of
constraint by the return of the other gentlemen. Mr. Falconer begged
Mr. Percy to go and look at a carriage of a new construction, which the
colonel had just brought from town; and the colonel accompanying Mr.
Percy, the stage was thus left clear for the commissioner to open his
business about M. de Tourville’s packet. He did it with so much address,
and with so little circumlocution, that Lord Oldborough immediately
comprehended how important the papers might be to him, and how necessary
it was to secure the decipherer. When Mr. Percy returned, he found the
commissioner and his lordship in earnest and seemingly confidential
conversation. Both Mr. Falconer and Mr. Percy were now pressed to stay
to dine and to sleep at Clermont-park; an invitation which Mr. Percy
declined, but which the commissioner accepted.
In the evening, when the company who had dined at Clermont-park were
settled to cards and music, Lord Oldborough, after walking up and down
the room with the commissioner in silence for some minutes, retired
with him into his study, rang, and gave orders that they should not
be interrupted on any account till supper. The servant informed his
lordship that such and such persons, whom he had appointed, were
waiting.--“I cannot possibly see them till to-morrow,” naming the hour.
The servant laid on the table before his lordship a huge parcel of
letters. Lord Oldborough, with an air of repressed impatience, bid the
man send his secretary, Mr. Drakelow,--looked over the letters, wrote
with a pencil, and with great despatch, a few words on the back of
each--met Mr. Drakelow as he entered the room--put the unfolded letters
all together into his hands--“The answers on the back--to be made out in
form--ready for signature at six to-morrow.”
“Yes, my lord. May I ask--”
“Ask nothing, sir, if you please--I am busy--you have your directions.”
Mr. Drakelow bowed submissive, and made his exit with great celerity.
“Now to our business, my dear sir,” said his lordship, seating
himself at the table with Mr. Falconer, who immediately produced M. de
Tourville’s papers.
It is not at this period of our story necessary to state precisely their
contents; it is sufficient to say, that they opened to Lord Oldborough
a scene of diplomatic treachery abroad, and of ungrateful duplicity at
home. From some of the intercepted letters he discovered that certain of
his colleagues, who appeared to be acting along with him with the utmost
cordiality, were secretly combined against him; and were carrying on
an underplot, to deprive him at once of popularity, favour, place, and
power. The strength, firmness, hardness of mind, which Lord Oldborough
exhibited at the moment of this discovery, perfectly amazed Mr.
Falconer. His lordship gave no sign of astonishment, uttered no
indignant exclamation, nor betrayed any symptoms of alarm; but he
listened with motionless attention, when Mr. Falconer from time to time
interrupted his reading, and put himself to great expense of face and
lungs to express his abhorrence of “such inconceivable treachery.”
Lord Oldborough maintained an absolute silence, and waiting till the
commissioner had exhausted himself in invective, would point with
his pencil to the line in the paper where he had left off, and calmly
say--“Have the goodness to go on--Let us proceed, sir, if you please.”
The commissioner went on till he came to the most important and
interesting point, and then glancing his eye on his intended patron’s
profile, which was towards him, he suddenly stopped. Lord Oldborough,
raising his head from the hand on which it leaned, turned his full front
face upon Mr. Falconer.
“Let me hear the whole, if you please, sir.--To form a judgment upon
any business, it is necessary to have the whole before us.--You need not
fear to shock my feelings, sir. I wish always to see men and things
as they are.” Mr. Falconer still hesitating, and turning over the
leaves--“As my friend in this business, Mr. Falconer,” continued his
lordship, “you will comprehend that the essential point is to put me as
soon as possible in possession of the facts--then I can decide, and act.
If it will not fatigue you too much, I wish to go through these papers
before I sleep.”
“Fatigue! Oh, my lord, I am not in the least--cannot be fatigued!
But the fact is, I cannot go on; for the next pages I have not yet
deciphered--the cipher changes here.”
Lord Oldborough looked much disappointed and provoked; but, after a few
minutes’ pause, calmly said, “What time will it take, sir, to decipher
the remainder?”
The commissioner protested he did not know--could not form an idea--he
and his son had spent many hours of intense labour on the first papers
before he could make out the first cipher--now this was a new one,
probably more difficult, and whether he could make it out at all, or in
what time, he was utterly unable to say. Lord Oldborough replied, “Let
us understand one another at once, Commissioner Falconer, if you please.
My maxim, and the maxim of every man in public life is, or ought
to be--Serve me, and I will serve you. I have no pretensions to Mr.
Falconer’s friendship on any other grounds, I am sensible; nor on
any other terms can he have a claim to whatever power of patronage I
possess. But I neither serve nor will be served by halves: my first
object is to make myself master, as soon as possible, of the contents of
the papers in your hands; my next to secure your inviolable secrecy on
the whole transaction.”
The commissioner was going to make vows of secrecy and protestations
of zeal, but Lord Oldborough cut all that short with “Of course--of
course,” pronounced in the driest accent, and went on with, “Now, sir,
you know my object; will you do me the honour to state yours?--you will
excuse my abruptness--time in some circumstances is every thing--Do me
and yourself the justice to say at once what return I can make for the
service you have done or may do me and government.”
“My only hesitation in speaking, my lord, was--”
“Have no hesitation in speaking, I beseech you, sir.”
I _beseech_, in tone, was in effect, I _command_ you, sir;--and Mr.
Falconer, under the influence of an imperious and superior mind, came at
once to that point, which he had not intended to come to for a month, or
to approach till after infinite precaution and circumlocution.
“My object is to push my son Cunningham in the diplomatic line, my
lord--and I wish to make him one of your secretaries.”
The commissioner stopped short, astonished to find that the truth,
and the whole truth, had absolutely passed his lips, and in such plain
words; but they could not be recalled: he gasped for breath--and began
an apologetical sentence about poor Mr. Drakelow, whom he should be
sorry to injure or displace.
“Never mind that now--time enough to think of Drakelow,” said Lord
Oldborough, walking up and down the room--then stopping short, “I must
see your son, sir.”
“I will bring him here to-morrow, if your lordship pleases.”
“As soon as possible! But he can come surely without your going for
him--write, and beg that we may see him at breakfast--at nine, if you
please.”
The letter was written, and despatched immediately. Lord Oldborough,
whilst the commissioner was writing, noted down the heads of what he
had learned from M. de Tourville’s packet: then locked up those of the
papers which had been deciphered, put the others into Mr. Falconer’s
charge, and recommended it to him to use all possible despatch in
deciphering the remainder.--The commissioner declared he would sit
up all night at the task; this did not appear to be more than was
expected.--His lordship rung, and ordered candles in Mr. Falconer’s
room, then returned to the company in the saloon, without saying another
word. None could guess by his countenance or deportment that any unusual
circumstance had happened, or that his mind was in the least perturbed.
Mrs. Drakelow thought he was wholly absorbed in a rubber of whist, and
Miss Drakelow at the same time was persuaded that he was listening to
her music.
Punctual to the appointed hour--for ambition is as punctual to
appointments as love--Mr. Cunningham Falconer made his appearance at
nine, and was presented by his father to Lord Oldborough, who received
him, not with any show of gracious kindness, but as one who had been
forced upon him by circumstances, and whom, for valuable considerations,
he had bargained to take into his service. To try the young
diplomatist’s talents, Lord Oldborough led him first to speak on the
subject of the Tourville papers, then urged him on to the affairs of
Germany, and the general interests and policy of the different courts
of Europe. Trembling, and in agony for his son, the commissioner stood
aware of the danger of the youth’s venturing out of his depth, aware
also of the danger of showing that he dared not venture, and incapable
of deciding between these equal fears: but soon he was re-assured by
the calmness of his son. Cunningham, who had not so much information or
capacity, but who had less sensibility than his father, often succeeded
where his father’s timidity prognosticated failure. Indeed, on the
present occasion, the care which the young diplomatist took not
to commit himself, the dexterity with which he “helped himself by
countenance and gesture,” and “was judicious by signs,” proved that he
was well skilled in all those arts of _seeming wise_, which have been so
well noted for use by “the greatest, wisest, meanest of mankind.” Young
though he was, Cunningham was quite sufficiently slow, circumspect,
and solemn, to deserve to be ranked among those whom Bacon calls
_Formalists_, “who do nothing, or little, very solemnly--who seem always
to keep back somewhat; and when they know within themselves that they
speak of what they do not know, would, nevertheless, seem to others to
know that of which they may not well speak.”
Lord Oldborough listened to whatever he said, and marked all that he
did not say with an air of attentive composure, which, as Mr. Falconer
thought, augured well for his son; but now and then there was, for
scarcely a definable portion of time, an expression of humour in his
lordship’s eye, a sarcastic smile, which escaped the commissioner’s
observation, and which, even if he had observed, he could not, with
his limited knowledge of Lord Oldborough’s character, have rightly
interpreted. If his lordship had expressed his thoughts, perhaps, they
might have been, though in words less quaint, nearly the same as those
of the philosophic statesman, who says, “It is a ridiculous thing,
and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these
_formalists_ have, and what prospectives to make superficies to seem
body that hath depth and bulk.”
But Lord Oldborough philosophizing, and Lord Oldborough acting, were
two different people. His perception of the ridicule of the young
secretary’s solemnity, and of the insufficiency of his information
and capacity, made no alteration in the minister’s determination. The
question was not whether the individual was fit for this place, or
that employment, but whether it was expedient he should have it for the
security of political power. Waiving all delicacy, Lord Oldborough now,
as in most other cases, made it his chief object to be understood and
obeyed; therefore he applied directly to the universal motive, and spoke
the universal language of interest.
“Mr. Falconer,” said he, “if you put me in possession of the remainder
of M. de Tourville’s papers this night, I will to-morrow morning
put this young gentleman into the hands of my present secretary,
Mr. Drakelow, who will prepare him for the situation you desire. Mr.
Drakelow himself will, probably, soon leave me, to be employed more
advantageously for his majesty’s service, in some other manner.”
The decipherers, father and son, shut themselves up directly, and set
to work with all imaginable zeal. The whole packet was nearly expounded
before night, and the next morning Lord Oldborough performed his part of
the agreement. He sent for Mr. Drakelow, and said, “Mr. Drakelow, I
beg that, upon your return to town, you will be so good as to take this
young gentleman, Mr. Cunningham Falconer, to your office. Endeavour to
prepare him to supply your place with me whenever it may be proper
for his majesty’s service, and for your interest, to send you to
Constantinople, or elsewhere.”
Mr. Drakelow, though infinitely surprised and displeased, bowed all
submission. Nothing else he knew was to be done with Lord Oldborough.
His lordship, as soon as his secretary had left the room, turned to
Cunningham, and said, “You will not mention anything concerning M. de
Tourville’s intercepted papers to Mr. Drakelow, or to any other person.
Affairs call me to town immediately: to-morrow morning at six, I set
off. You will, if you please, sir, be ready to accompany me. I will not
detain you longer from any preparations you may have to make for your
journey.”
No sooner had the father and son quitted Lord Oldborough’s presence than
Mr. Falconer exclaimed with exultation, “I long to see our good cousin
Percy, that I may tell him how I have provided already for one of my
sons.”
“But remember, sir,” said Cunningham, “that Mr. Percy is to know nothing
of the Tourville packet.”
“To be sure not,” said Mr. Falconer; “he is to know nothing of the
means, he is to see only the end--the successful end. Ha! cousin Percy,
I think we know rather better than you do how to make something of every
thing--even of a shipwreck.”
“To prevent his having any suspicions,” continued Cunningham, “it will
be best to give Mr. Percy some probable reason for Lord Oldborough’s
_taking to us_ so suddenly. It will be well to hint that you have
opportunities of obliging about the borough, or about the address at the
county-meeting, or--”
“No, no; no particulars; never go to particulars,” said old Falconer:
“stick to generals, and you are safe. Say, in general, that I had an
opportunity of obliging government. Percy is not curious, especially
about _jobbing_. He will ask no questions; or, if he should, I can
easily put him upon a wrong scent. Now, Cunningham, listen to me: I have
done my best, and have pushed you into a fine situation: but remember,
you cannot get on in the diplomatic line without a certain degree of
diplomatic information. I have pointed this out to you often; you have
neglected to make yourself master of these things, and, for want of them
in office, you will come, I fear, some day or other to shame.”
“Do not be afraid of that--no danger of my coming to shame any more than
a thousand other people in office, who never trouble themselves about
diplomatic information, and all that. There is always some clerk who
knows the forms, and with those, and looking for what one wants upon the
spur of the occasion in books and pamphlets, and so forth, one may go on
very well--if one does but know how to keep one’s own counsel. You see I
got through with Lord Oldborough to-day--”
“Ay--but I assure you I trembled for you, and I could have squeezed
myself into an auger-hole once, when you blundered about that treaty of
which I knew that you knew nothing.”
“Oh! sir, I assure you I had turned over the leaves. I was correct
enough as to the dates; and, suppose I blundered, as my brother
Buckhurst says, half the world never know what they are saying, and the
other half never find it out.--Why, sir, you were telling me the other
night such a blunder of Prince Potemkin’s--”
“Very true,” interrupted the commissioner; “but you are not Prince
Potemkin, nor yet a prime minister; if you were, no matter how little
you knew--you might get other people to supply your deficiencies. But
now, in your place, and in the course of making your way upwards, you
will be called upon to supply _others_ with the information they may
want. And you know I shall not be always at your elbow; therefore I
really am afraid--”
“Dear sir, fear nothing,” said Cunningham: “I shall do as well as others
do--the greatest difficulty is over. I have taken the first step, and it
has cost nothing.”
“Well, get on, my boy--honestly, if you can--but get on.”