LETTER FROM ALFRED TO HIS FATHER.
“MY DEAR FATHER,
“I send you two pamphlets on the causes of the late changes in the
ministry, one by a friend, the other by an enemy, of Lord Oldborough.
Temple, I should have thought the author of the first, but that I know
he has not time to write, and that there does not appear any of that
_behind the scene knowledge_ which his situation affords. All the
pamphleteers and newspaper politicians write as if they knew the
whole--some confident that the ministry split on one question--some on
another; long declamations and abuse follow as usual on each side, but
WISE people, and of course myself among that number, suspect ‘that all
that we know is, that we know nothing.’ That there was some private
intrigue in the cabinet, which has not yet transpired, I opine from
Temple’s reserve whenever I have mentioned the subject. This morning,
when I asked him to frank these pamphlets, he laughed, and said that I
was sending coals to Newcastle: what this meant he refused to explain,
or rather he attempted to explain it away, by observing, that people of
good understanding often could judge better at a distance of what was
passing in the political world, than those who were close to the scene
of action, and subject to hear the contradictory reports of the day;
therefore, he conceived that I might be sending materials for thinking,
to one who could judge better than I can. I tormented Temple for a
quarter of an hour with a cross-examination so able, that it was really
a pity to waste it out of the courts; but I could get nothing more from
him. Is it possible, my dear father, that you are at the bottom of all
this?
“Lord Oldborough certainly told me the other day, and in a very
significant manner, and, as I now recollect, fixing his inquiring eye
upon me as he said the words, that he not only felt esteem and regard
for Mr. Percy, but _gratitude_--gratitude for tried friendship. I took
it at the time as a general expression of kindness; now I recollect the
look, and the pause after the word gratitude, I put this with Temple’s
coals to Newcastle. But, if it be a secret, I must not inquire, and if
it be not, you will tell it to me. So I shall go on to my own affairs.
“The other day I was surprised by a visit at my chambers from an
East-India director. Lord Oldborough, I find, recommended it to him to
employ me in a very important cause, long pending, for a vast sum of
money: the whole, with all its accumulated and accumulating interest,
depending on a point of law. Heaven send me special sense, or special
nonsense, sufficient to avoid a nonsuit, of which there have been
already no less than three in this cause.
“What do you think of Lord Oldborough’s kindness? This is only one of
many instances in which I have traced his desire to serve me. It is not
common with politicians, thus to recollect those who have no means of
serving them, and who have never reminded them even of their existence
by paying court in any way actively or passively.
“The Falconers are all discontented with his lordship at this moment,
because he has disposed of a sinecure place on which the commissioner
had long had his eye. His lordship has given it to an old disabled
sea-captain, whom he knew only by reputation.
“The accounts you have heard of Buckhurst’s marriage are, alas! too
true; and what you have been told of the lady’s age and ugliness is not
exaggerated. As to her temper and her avarice, I am afraid that what you
have heard of them is also true; for a brother lawyer of mine, who was
employed to draw the settlements, says she has taken care to keep every
penny she could in her own power; and that, in the whole course of his
practice, he never saw so hard a battle between love and parsimony. Poor
Buckhurst! who could have foreseen that this would be his fate! I met
him in the street yesterday with his bride, and he looked as if he
would rather be hanged than receive my congratulations: I passed without
seeming to have seen them.
“I have just received Mr. Barclay’s letter, and am going to work upon
his settlements. So Caroline’s wishes for Lady Mary Pembroke will be
accomplished. I asked Temple whether Lord Oldborough had heard any
thing of Count Altenberg since his return to his own country. Yes--one
_private_ letter to Lord Oldborough, from which nothing had transpired
but one line of general thanks for civilities received in England.
Temple, who seems to have formed the same notion and the same wishes
that we had, told me yesterday, without my questioning him, that Lord
Oldborough had written with his own hand an answer to the Count, which
none of the secretaries have seen. Temple, in sealing up the packet,
ventured to ask whether there was any chance of seeing Count Altenberg
again in England. ‘None that he knew,’ Lord Oldborough answered. Temple,
who of all men is least like Commissioner Falconer in circumlocutory
address, at once blurted out, ‘Is Count Altenberg going to be married?’
Lord Oldborough turned and looked upon him with surprise--whether
surprise at his curiosity, or at the improbability of the Count’s making
his lordship the confidant of his love-affairs, Temple declares he was
in too much confusion to be able to decide. Lord Oldborough made no
reply, but took up an answer to a memorial, which he had ordered Temple
to draw, pointed out some unlucky mistakes in it, and finished by saying
to him, ‘Mr. Temple, your thoughts are not in your business. _Sir, I do
believe you are in love_;’ which sentence Temple declares his lordship
pronounced with a look and accent that would have suited, _Sir, I do
believe you have the plague_.’ And if so, do me the justice to let me
employ Mr. Shaw to do your business, till you are married.’
“Temple says that Lord Oldborough is proud of showing himself a foe
to love, which he considers as the bane of ambition, and as one of the
weaknesses of human nature, to which a great man ought to be superior.
“Whether the secretary be right or wrong in this opinion of his
lordship, I have not seen enough to be able to determine; and I suspect
that Temple is not at present a perfectly calm observer. Ever since his
visit to the country he seems not to be entirely master of himself: his
heart is still hovering round about some absent object--what object, I
do not know; for though he does not deny my charge, he will not tell
me the name of his fair one. I suspect Lady Frances Arlington of having
stolen his heart. I am very sorry for it--for I am clear she is only
coquetting with him. Temple says that he is too poor to marry. He is so
amiable, that I am sure he will make any woman he marries happy, if
it be not her own fault, and if they have but enough to live upon. It
grieves me to hear his unavailing daily regrets for having quitted the
bar. Had he continued in his original profession, he might, and in all
probability would have been, at this moment (as his competitor, a
man much his inferior in talent, actually is), in the receipt of four
thousand good pounds per annum, independent of all men; and might have
married any woman in any rank. Besides, even with such a patron as Lord
Oldborough, Temple feels dependence grievous to his spirit. He is of a
very good family, and was not early used to a subservient situation.
His health too will be hurt by his close confinement to the business of
office--and he has no time for indulging his literary taste--no play for
his genius: that was his original grievance at the bar, but his present
occupations are less congenial to his taste than law ever was. His
brother-secretary, Mr. Shaw, is a mere matter-of-fact man, who is
particularly unsuited to him--an objector to every thing new, a
curtailer and contemner of all eloquence: poor Temple is uneasy and
discontented; he would give up his situation to-morrow but that he
cannot quit Lord Oldborough. He says that he has a hundred times
resolved to resign--that he has had his letter written, and the words
on his lips; but he never could, when it came to the point, present
the letter, or pronounce the farewell to Lord Oldborough. Wonderful
the ascendancy this man has over the mind!--Extraordinary his power of
attaching, with manners so little conciliatory! Adieu, my dear father; I
have indulged myself too long in writing to you. I have to read over the
late Mr. Panton’s will, and to give our friend Mr. Gresham an opinion
upon it--notwithstanding Rosamond’s cruelty to him, he is as much
our friend, and her friend, as ever. Panton’s will is on ten skins of
parchment: and then I have a plea in rejoinder to draw for Lady
Jane Granville; and, worse than all, to read and answer four of her
ladyship’s notes now on my table. By-the-bye, I would rather carry on a
suit for any four men, than for one such woman of business as poor Lady
Jane. She is never at rest one moment; never can believe that either
lawyer or solicitor knows what he is about--always thinks her letters
and notes can do more than bills in chancery, or than the lord
chancellor himself. She frets incessantly. I must request Erasmus to
medicine her to repose; she has absolutely a _law fever_. Erasmus is at
Richmond--sent for by some _grandee_: he is in high practice. He told
me he began last week to write to Rosamond, from the bedside of some
sleeping patient, a full and true answer to all her questions about
Miss Panton; but the sleeper awakened, and the doctor had never time to
finish his story.
“Adieu a second time. Love to all.
“Dear father, yours affectionately,
“ALFRED PERCY.
“Just as I began the second skin of Panton’s will, a note was brought
to me from--whom do you think? Lord Oldborough, requesting to see me
at four o’clock. What can his lordship want with me?--I must send this
frank before I can satisfy my own curiosity on this point--or yours,
Rosamond.”
After finishing the perusal of Mr. Panton’s long-winded will, writing
an opinion upon it for Mr. Gresham, and penning a quieting note for poor
Lady Jane Granville, Alfred, eager to be punctual to the appointed hour,
went to the minister. He need not have looked at his watch so often, or
have walked so fast, for when he arrived it wanted five minutes of the
time appointed, and his lordship had not returned from a visit to the
Duke of Greenwich. He was told, however, that orders had been given for
his admittance; and he was shown into an apartment where he had leisure,
during a full quarter of an hour, to admire his own punctuality. At last
he heard a noise of loud huzzas in the street, and looking out of the
window, he saw a crowd at the farthest end of the street; and as it
moved nearer, perceived that the populace had taken the horses from Lord
Oldborough’s carriage, and were drawing him to his own door with loud
acclamations. His lordship bowed to the multitude as he got out of his
carriage rather proudly and coldly, yet still the crowd threw up their
hats and huzzaed. He apologized to Alfred, as he entered the room, for
having been later than his appointment. Commissioner Falconer and Mr.
Temple were with him, and the commissioner immediately began to tell how
they had been delayed by the zeal of the people. Lord Oldborough took
a paper from his pocket, and walked to the window to read it, without
seeming to hear one word that the commissioner was saying, and without
paying any attention to the acclamations of the multitude below, which
were again repeated on their seeing him at the window. When his lordship
had finished looking over the paper, he called upon Alfred to witness
it, and then presenting it to Mr. Falconer, he said, in his haughtiest
manner, “An equivalent, sir, for that sinecure place which you asked
for, and which it was out of my power to obtain for you. _That_ was
given as the just reward of merit, and of public services. My private
_debts_--” [Alfred Percy observed that his lordship did not use the word
_obligation_]. “My private debts to your family, Mr. Falconer, could
not be paid from the public fund with which I am entrusted, but you
will not, I hope, find me the less desirous that they should be properly
acknowledged. The annuity,” continued he, putting his finger on the
amount, which the commissioner longed to see, but at which he had not
dared yet to look, “the annuity is to the full amount of that place
which, I think you assured me, would satisfy your and Mrs. Falconer’s
expectations.”
“Oh! my lord, more than satisfy: but from your lordship’s private
fortune--from your lordship’s own emoluments of office, I cannot
possibly think--Mrs. Falconer would, I am sure, be excessively
distressed--”
“Do me the favour, sir, to let no more be said upon this subject,”
interrupted Lord Oldborough. “As you return home, will you speak to
those poor people whom I still hear in the street, and advise them now
to return peaceably to their homes. My man Rodney, I am afraid, has
thought it for my honour to be too liberal to these good people--but you
will speak to them, commissioner.”
The commissioner, who never completely felt Lord Oldborough’s character,
imagined that at this moment his lordship secretly enjoyed the clamour
of popular applause, and that this cold indifference was affected; Mr.
Falconer therefore protested, with a smile, that he would do his best
to calm the enthusiasm of the people, but that it was a hard, if not
impossible task, to stem the tide of Lord Oldborough’s popularity.
“Enjoy it, my lord!” concluded Mr. Falconer; “Enjoy it!--No minister in
my memory ever was so popular!”
As soon as the commissioner, after saying these words, had left the
room, Lord Oldborough, in a tone of sovereign contempt, repeated the
word, “Popularity! There goes a man, now, who thinks me fit to be a fool
to fame!”
“Popularity,” said Mr. Temple, “is a bad master, but a good servant. A
great man will,” as Burke says, “disdain to veer like the weathercock
on the temple of fashion with every breath of wind. But may he not, my
lord--say, for you know--may he not wisely take advantage of the gale,
and direct this great _power_, so as to work the state-machinery to good
purpose?”
“A dangerous power,” replied Lord Oldborough, turning from his secretary
to Alfred, as if he were impatient to speak of business. Temple, who had
more of the habits of a man of letters than of a man of business or of
a courtier, was apt unseasonably to pursue a discussion, and to pique
himself upon showing sincerity by declaring a difference of opinion from
his patron. Utterly repugnant as this was to the minister’s habits
and temper, yet in admiration of the boldness of the man, and in
consideration for his true attachment, Lord Oldborough bore it with
magnanimous patience--when he had time--and when he had not, would cut
it short at once.
“In a mixed government, popularity, philosophically speaking, if I may
differ from your lordship--” Temple began.
“Permit me, sir, first,” interrupted Lord Oldborough, “to settle my
business with Mr. Alfred Percy, who, being a professional man, and in
high practice, probably sets a just value upon his time.”
Mr. Temple, who was a man of quick feelings, felt a word or glance of
reproof from Lord Oldborough with keen sensibility. Alfred could not fix
his own attention upon what his lordship was now beginning to say. Lord
Oldborough saw reflected in Alfred’s countenance the disturbance in his
friend’s: and immediately returning, and putting a key into Mr. Temple’s
hand--“You will do me a service, sir,” said he, “by looking over my
father’s papers marked _private_ in red letters. They may be necessary
in this business--they are papers which I could trust only to one who
has my interests at heart.”
Mr. Temple’s face brightened instantly, and bowing much lower than
usual, he received the key with great respect, and hurried away to
search for the papers.
“For a similar reason, Mr. Alfred Percy,” said Lord Oldborough, “they
shall, if you please, be put into your hands.” His lordship moved
a chair towards Alfred, and seated himself. “My law-agent has not
satisfied me of late. A suit, into which I have been plunged by those
who had the direction of my business, has not been carried on with
ability or vigour. I had not leisure to look into any affairs that
merely concerned myself. Circumstances have just wakened me to the
subject, and to the perception that my private fortune has suffered, and
will suffer yet more materially, unless I am fortunate enough to find
united in the same person a lawyer and a friend. I have looked round and
see many older barristers than Mr. Alfred Percy, but none so likely to
be interested in my affairs as the son of my earliest friend, and few
more capable of conducting them with diligence and ability. May I hope,
sir, for hereditary kindness from you, as well as for professional
services?”
No one knew better than Lord Oldborough how to seem receiving whilst he
conferred a favour; and if ever he appeared harsh, it was only where
he knew that the people to whom he spoke had not feelings worthy of his
consideration. His lordship was as much pleased by the manner in which
this trust was accepted, as our young lawyer could be by the manner in
which it was offered.
“My papers then shall be sent to you directly,” said Lord Oldborough.
“Look over them, and if you are of opinion that my case is a bad one, I
will stop where I am. If, on the contrary, you find that justice and law
are on my side, proceed, persist. I shall trust the whole to you, sir,
without a farther question.”
Lord Oldborough next spoke of a steward of his at Clermont-park, who, as
he had reason to suspect, was leagued with a certain Attorney Sharpe in
fraudulent designs: his lordship hoped that Mr. Alfred Percy, during his
vacations, when spent in that neighbourhood, might, consistently with
his professional duties, find time to see into these affairs; and, in
his lordship’s absence, might supply the want of the master’s eye.
Alfred assured his lordship that no effort or care should be wanting on
his part to justify the high confidence with which he was honoured.
“Since you are going to take charge of my business, sir,” pursued Lord
Oldborough, “it is fit you should know my views relative to my affairs.
In my present situation, with the favour I enjoy, and the opportunities
I command, it would be easy to make my fortune whatever I pleased.
Avarice is not my passion. It is my pride not to increase the burdens of
my country. Mine is a generous country, ever ready to reward her public
servants, living or dying. But, whilst I live, never will I speculate
upon her generosity, and, when I die, never shall my heirs appeal to her
compassion. My power at its zenith, and my character being known, I
can afford to lay aside much of that adventitious splendour which adds
nothing to true dignity. Economy and dignity are compatible--essential
to each other. To preserve independence, and, consequently, integrity,
economy is necessary in all stations. Therefore, sir, I determine--for
I am not stringing sentences together that are to end in nothing--I
determine, at this moment, to begin to make retrenchments in my
expenditure. The establishment at Clermont-park, whither I have no
thoughts of returning, may be reduced. I commit that, sir, to your
discretion.”
Mr. Temple returned with the papers, on which Lord Oldborough put his
seal, and said his solicitor should deliver them, with all others that
were necessary, the next morning to Mr. Percy. Alfred, careful never
to intrude a moment on the time of the minister, rose, and, without
repeating his thanks, made his bow.
“I consider this lawsuit as a fortunate circumstance,” said Lord
Oldborough, “since it affords me means at last of engaging Mr. Alfred
Percy in my service, in a mode which cannot,” added his lordship,
smiling, “interfere with his family horror of ministerial patronage.”
Alfred said something respectfully expressive of his sense of the
professional advantage he must derive from being employed by Lord
Oldborough--a species of patronage, by which he felt himself most highly
honoured, and for which he was sure his whole family would feel properly
grateful.
“Sir,” said Lord Oldborough, following him to the door, “if I had ever
doubted it, you would convince me that perfect propriety of manner is
consistent with independence of mind. As to the rest, we all know the
difference between a client and a patron.”
The management of Lord Oldborough’s business necessarily led to an
increase of intercourse between his lordship and Alfred, which was
peculiarly agreeable to our young barrister, not only as it gave him
opportunities of seeing more of the character of this minister, but as
it put it into his power to be of service occasionally to his friend Mr.
Temple. Chained to a desk, his genius confined to the forms of office,
and with a master too high, and an associate too low, to afford him any
of the pleasures of society, he had languished for want of a companion.
Alfred encouraged him by example to submit to the drudgery of business,
showed him that a man of letters may become a man of business, and that
the habits of both may be rendered compatible. Temple now performed the
duties of his office with all that regularity which is supposed to be
peculiar to dulness. About this time he had been brought into parliament
by Lord Oldborough, and in the intervals of business, in that leisure
which order afforded him, he employed and concentrated his powers on
a political question of considerable importance; and when he was
completely master of the subject, he rose in the House of Commons, and
made a speech, which from all parties obtained deserved applause. The
speech was published. A few days afterwards, Mr. Temple happened
to enter Lord Oldborough’s cabinet earlier than usual: he found his
lordship reading; and reading with so much attention, that he did not
observe him--he heard his lordship’s quick and decided pencil mark
page after page. At length, rising and turning to throw the book on the
table, Lord Oldborough saw his secretary copying a letter.
“An excellent speech--to the purpose, sir,” said Lord Oldborough. “It
had its effect on the house, I understand; and I thank your friend, Mr.
Alfred Percy, for putting it into my hands when I had leisure to peruse
it with attention.”
Lord Oldborough thought for some moments, then looked over some official
papers which he had ordered Mr. Temple to draw up.
“Very well, sir--very well. A man of genius, I see, can become a man of
business.”
His lordship signed the papers, and, when that was finished, turned
again to Mr. Temple.
“Sir, some time ago a place was vacant, which, I know, you had reason
to expect. It was given to Mr. Shaw, because it was better suited to him
than to you. The manner in which you took your disappointment showed
a confidence in my justice. Have you any objection, Mr. Temple, to the
diplomatic line?”
“I fear--or I should say, I hope--my lord, that I have not the habits
of dissimulation, which, as I have always understood, are necessary to
success in the diplomatic line.”
“You have understood wrongly, sir,” replied Lord Oldborough. “I, who
have seen something of courts, and know something of diplomacy, am of
opinion that a man of sense, who knows what he is about, who says the
thing that is, who will tell at once what he can do, and what he cannot,
would succeed better as a negotiator in the present state of Europe,
than could any diplomatist with all the simulation and dissimulation of
Chesterfield, or with the tact of Mazarin.”
“Indeed, my lord!” said Mr. Temple, looking up with an air of surprise
that almost expressed, Then why did you choose Cunningham Falconer for
an envoy?
“Pray,” said Lord Oldborough, taking a long inspiration with a pinch
of snuff, “pray with that despatch this morning from Mr. Cunningham
Falconer were there any private letters?”
“One for Commissioner Falconer, my lord.”
“None from Count Altenberg to me?”
“None, my lord.”
The minister took a walk up and down the room, and then returning to Mr.
Temple, said, “His majesty thinks proper, sir, to appoint you envoy in
the place of Mr. Cunningham Falconer, who is recalled.”
“I thank you, my lord--his majesty does me great honour,” cried Mr.
Temple, with sudden gratitude: then, his countenance and tone instantly
changing from joy to sorrow, he added, “His majesty does me great
honour, my lord, but--”
“But not great pleasure, it seems, sir,” said Lord Oldborough. “I
thought, Mr. Temple, you had trusted to me the advancement of your
fortune.”
“My fortune! My lord, I am struck with surprise and gratitude by your
lordship’s goodness in taking thought for the advancement of my fortune.
But I have other feelings.”
“And may I ask what is the nature of your other feelings, sir?”
“My lord--excuse me--I cannot tell them to you.”
“One word more, sir. Do you hesitate, from any motives of delicacy with
respect to the present envoy?”
“No, my lord, you look too high for my motive; and the higher I am
sensible that I stand in your lordship’s opinion, the greater is my fear
of falling. I beg you will excuse me: the offer that your lordship has
had the goodness to make would be the height of my ambition; but when
opposing motives draw the will in contrary directions--”
“Sir, if you are going into the bottomless pit of metaphysics, excuse
me,” said Lord Oldborough--“there I must leave you. I protest, sir, you
are past my comprehension.”
“And past my own,” cried Mr. Temple, “for,” with effort he uttered the
words, “unfortunately I have formed an--I have become attached to--”
“In short, sir, you are _in love_, I think,” said Lord Oldborough,
coolly. “I think I told you so, sir, more than a month ago.”
“I have said it! and said it to Lord Oldborough!” exclaimed Mr. Temple,
looking as one uncertain whether he were dreaming or awake.
“It is undoubtedly uncommon to select a minister of state for the
confidant of a love affair,” said Lord Oldborough, with an air of some
repressed humour.
“I knew I should expose myself to your lordship’s derision,” exclaimed
Mr. Temple.
He was too much engrossed by his own feelings, as he pronounced these
words, to observe in his lordship’s countenance an extraordinary
emotion. It was visible but for one instant.
With a look more placid, and a tone somewhat below his usual voice, Lord
Oldborough said, “You have misjudged me much, Mr. Temple, if you have
conceived that your feelings, that such feelings would be matter of
derision to me. But since you have touched upon this subject, let me
give you one hint--Ambition _wears_ better than Love.”
Lord Oldborough sat down to write, and added, “For one fortnight I can
spare you, Mr. Temple--Mr. Shaw will undertake your part of the business
of office. At the end of the ensuing fortnight, I trust you will let me
have your answer.”
Full of gratitude, Mr. Temple could express it only by a bow--and
retired. The antechamber was now filling fast for the levee. One person
after another stopped him; all had some pressing business, or some
business which they thought of consequence, either to the nation or
themselves.
“Mr. Temple, I must trouble you to look over these heads of a bill.”
“Mr. Temple!--My memorial--just give me your advice.”
“Sir--I wrote a letter, three weeks ago, to Lord Oldborough, on the
herring-fishery, to which I have not had the honour of an answer.”
“Mr. Temple--the address from Nottingham--Where’s the reply?”
“Mr. Temple, may I know whether his lordship means to see us gentlemen
from the city about the loan?”
“Sir--Pray, sir!--My new invention for rifling cannon--Ordnance
department!--Sir, I did apply--War-office, too, sir!--It’s very hard
I can’t get an answer--bandied about!--Sir, I can’t think myself well
used--Government shall hear more.”
“One word, Mr. Temple, if you please, about tithes. I’ve an idea--”
“Temple, don’t forget the Littleford turnpike bill.”
“Mr. Temple, who is to second the motion on Indian affairs?”
“Temple, my good friend, did you speak to Lord Oldborough about my
little affair for Tom?”
“Mr. Temple, a word in your ear--the member for the borough, _you know_,
is dead; letters must be written directly to the corporation.”
“Temple, my dear friend, before you go, give me a frank.”
At last Mr. Temple got away from memorialists, petitioners, grievances,
men of business, idle men, newsmen, and dear friends, then hastened to
Alfred to unburden his mind--and to rest his exhausted spirits.