Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales and Novels, Vol. VII

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It was with this view that he determined to go into the country; and with
this view he had consented to various expenses, which were necessary, as
Mrs. Falconer declared, to make it practicable for her and her daughters
to accompany him. Orders were sent to have a theatre at Falconer-court,
which had been long disused, fitted up in the most elegant manner. The
Miss Falconers had been in the habit of acting at Sir Thomas and Lady
Flowerton's private theatre at Richmond, and they were accomplished
actresses. Count Altenberg had declared that he was particularly fond of
theatrical amusements. That hint was sufficient. Besides, what a sensation
the opening of a theatre at Falconer-court would create in the country!
Mrs. Falconer observed that the only possible way to make the country
supportable was to have a large party of town friends in your house--and
this was the more necessary for her, as she was almost a stranger in her
own county.

Alfred kept his promise, and sent Rosamond a list of the persons of whom
the party was to consist. Opposite to several names he wrote--commonplace
young--or, commonplace old ladies:--of the latter number were Lady Trant
and Lady Kew: of the former were the Miss G----s, and others not worth
mentioning. Then came the two Lady Arlingtons, nieces of the Duke of
Greenwich.

"The Lady Arlingtons," continues Alfred, "are glad to get to Mrs. Falconer,
and Mrs. Falconer is glad to have them, because they are related to my lord
duke. I have met them at Mrs. Falconer's, at Lady Angelica Headingham's,
and often at Lady Jane Granville's. The style and tone of the Lady Anne is
languishing--of Lady Frances, lively: both seem mere spoilt selfish ladies
of quality. Lady Anne's selfishness is of the cold, chronic, inveterate
nature; Lady Frances' of the hot, acute, and tormenting species. She 'loves
everything by fits, and nothing long.' Every body is _an angel_ and _a dear
creature_, while they minister to her fancies--and no longer. About these
fancies she is restless and impatient to a degree which makes her sister
look sick and scornful beyond description. Lady Anne neither fancies nor
loves any thing or any body. She seems to have no object upon earth but
to drink barley-water, and save herself from all manner of trouble or
exertion, bodily or mental. So much for the Lady Arlingtons.

"Buckhurst Falconer cannot be of this party--Colonel Hauton has him at his
regiment. But Buckhurst's two friends, the Clays, are earnestly pressed
into the service. Notwithstanding the fine sanctified speech Mrs. Falconer
made me, about _that sad affair of Lewis Clay with Lady Harriot H----_, she
invites him; and I have a notion, if Count Altenberg had not appeared, that
she would have liked to have had him, _or_ his brother, for her son-in-law.
That you may judge how much my mother would like them for her sons-in-law,
I will take the trouble to draw you portraits of both gentlemen.

"_French_ Clay and _English_ Clay, as they have been named, are brothers,
both men of large fortune, which their father acquired respectably by
commerce, and which they are spending in all kinds of extravagance and
profligacy, not from inclination, but merely to purchase admission into
fine company. French Clay is a travelled coxcomb, who, _a propos de
bottes_, begins with, 'When I was abroad with the Princess Orbitella--'
But I am afraid I cannot speak of this man with impartiality, for I cannot
bear to see an Englishman apeing a Frenchman. The imitation is always so
awkward, so ridiculous, so contemptible. French Clay talks of _tact_, but
without possessing any; he delights in what he calls _persiflage_, but in
his _persiflage_, instead of the wit and elegance of Parisian raillery,
there appears only the vulgar love and habit of derision. He is continually
railing at our English want of _savoir vivre_, yet is himself an example
of the ill-breeding which he reprobates. His manners have neither the
cordiality of an Englishman nor the polish of a foreigner. To improve us
in _l'esprit de societe_, he would introduce the whole system of French
gallantry--the vice without the refinement. I heard him acknowledge it to
be 'his principle' to intrigue with every _married_ woman who would listen
to him, provided she has any one of his four requisites, wit, fashion,
beauty, or a good table. He says his late suit in Doctors'-commons cost him
nothing; for 10,000_l._ are nothing to him.

"Public virtue, as well as private, he thinks it a fine air to disdain,
and patriotism and love of our country, he calls prejudices of which a
philosopher ought to divest himself. Some charitable people say that he is
not so unfeeling as he seems to be, and that above half his vices arise
from affectation, and from a mistaken ambition to be what he thinks
perfectly French.

"His brother, English Clay, is a cold, reserved, proud, dull-looking man,
whom art, in despite of nature, strove, and strove in vain, to quicken
into a 'gay deceiver.' He is a grave man of pleasure--his first care being
to provide for his exclusively personal gratifications. His dinner is a
serious, solemn business, whether it be at his own table or at a tavern,
which last he prefers--he orders it so that his repast shall be the very
best of its kind that money can procure. His next care is, that he be not
cheated in what he is to pay. Not that he values money, but he cannot bear
to be _taken in_. Then his dress, his horses his whole appointment and
establishment, are complete, and accurately in the fashion of the day--no
expense spared. All that belongs to Mr. Clay, of Clay-hall, is the best of
its kind, or, at least, _had from the best hand_ in England. Every thing
about him is English; but I don't know whether this arises from love of his
country or contempt of his brother. English Clay is not ostentatious of
that which is his own, but he is disdainful of all that belongs to another.
The slightest deficiency in the _appointments_ of his companions he sees,
and marks by a wink to some bystander, or with a dry joke laughs the wretch
to scorn. In company he delights to sit by silent and snug, sneering
inwardly at those who are entertaining the company, and _committing_
themselves. He never entertains, and is seldom entertained. His joys
are neither convivial nor intellectual; he is gregarious, but not
companionable; a hard drinker, but not social. Wine sometimes makes him
noisy, but never makes him gay; and, whatever be his excesses, he commits
them seemingly without temptation from taste or passion. He keeps a
furiously expensive mistress, whom he curses, and who curses him, as
Buckhurst informs me, ten times a day; yet he prides himself on being free
and unmarried! Scorning and dreading women in general, he swears he would
not marry Venus herself unless she had 100,000_l._ in each pocket; and now
that no mortal Venus wears pockets, he thanks Heaven he is safe. Buckhurst,
I remember, assured me that beneath this crust of pride there is some
good-nature. Deep hid under a large mass of selfishness there may be some
glimmerings of affection. He shows symptoms of feeling for his horses, and
his mother, and his coachman, and his country. I do believe he would fight
for old England, for it is his country, and he is English Clay. Affection
for his coachman, did I say?--He shows admiration, if not affection, for
every whip of note in town. He is their companion--no, their pupil, and, as
Antoninus Pius gratefully prided himself in recording the names of those
relations and friends from whom he learnt his several virtues, this man may
boast to after-ages of having learnt from one coachman how to cut a fly off
his near leader's ear, how to tuck up a duck from another, and the _true
spit_ from a third--by-the-bye, it is said, but I don't vouch for the truth
of the story, that this last accomplishment cost him a tooth, which he had
had drawn to attain it in perfection. Pure _slang_ he could not learn from
any one coachman, but from constantly frequenting the society of all. I
recollect Buckhurst Falconer telling me that he dined once with English
Clay, in company with a baronet, a viscount, an earl, a duke, and the
driver of a mail-coach, to whom was given, by acclamation, the seat of
honour. I am told there is a house, at which these gentlemen and noblemen
meet regularly every week, where there are two dining-rooms divided by
glass doors. In one room the real coachmen dined, in the other the amateur
gentlemen, who, when they are tired of their own conversation, throw open
the glass doors, that they may be entertained and edified by the coachmen's
wit and _slang_; in which dialect English Clay's rapid proficiency has, it
is said, recommended him to the _best_ society, even more than his being
the master of the best of cooks, and of Clay-hall.

"I have said so much more than I intended of both these brothers, that I
have no room for more portraits; indeed, the other gentlemen are zeros.

"Yours affectionately,

"ALFRED PERCY."

Notwithstanding the pains which Mrs. Falconer took to engage these Mr.
Clays to accompany her, she could obtain only a promise that they would
wait upon her, if possible, some time during the recess.

Count Altenberg also, much to Mrs. Falconer's disappointment, was detained
in town a few days longer than he had foreseen, but he promised to follow
Lord Oldborough early in the ensuing week. All the rest of the _prodigious_
party arrived at Falconer-court, which was within a few miles of Lord
Oldborough's seat at Clermont-park.

The day after Lord Oldborough's arrival in the country, his lordship was
seized with a fit of the gout, which fixed in his right hand. Commissioner
Falconer, when he came in the morning to pay his respects, and to inquire
after his patron's health, found him in his study, writing a letter with
his left hand. "My lord, shall not I call Mr. Temple--or--could I offer my
services as secretary?"

"I thank you, sir--no. This letter must be written with my own hand."

Whom can this letter be to, that is of so much consequence? thought the
commissioner; and glancing his eye at the direction, he saw, as the letter
was given to a servant, "_To L. Percy, Esq._"--his surprise arrested
the pinch of snuff which he was just going to take. "What could be the
business--the secret--only a few lines, what could they contain?"

Simply these words

"MY DEAR SIR,

"I write to you with my left hand, the gout having, within these few hours,
incapacitated my right. Since this gout keeps me a prisoner, and I cannot,
as I had intended, go to you, may I beg that you will do me the favour to
come to me, if it could suit your convenience, to-morrow morning, when I
shall be alone from twelve till four.

"With true esteem,

"Yours,

"OLDBOROUGH."

In the course of the day the commissioner found out, by something Lord
Oldborough _let fall_, what his lordship had no intention to conceal, that
he had requested Mr. Percy to come to Clermont-park the next morning; and
the commissioner promised himself that he would be in the way to see his
good cousin Percy, and to satisfy his curiosity. But his manoeuvres and
windings were, whenever it was necessary, counteracted and cut short by the
unexpected directness and peremptory plain dealing of his patron. In the
morning, towards the hour of twelve, the commissioner thought he had well
begun a conversation that would draw out into length upon a topic which he
knew must be interesting to his lordship, and he held in his hand private
letters of great consequence from his son Cunningham; but Lord Oldborough,
taking the letters, locked them up in his desk, saying, "To-night I will
read them--this morning I have set apart for a conversation with Mr. Percy,
whom I wish to see alone. In the mean time, my interest in the borough has
been left too much to the care of that attorney Sharpe, of whom I have no
great opinion. Will you be so good to ride over, as you promised me that
you would, to the borough, and see what is doing there?"

The commissioner endeavoured not to look disconcerted or discomfited,
rang the bell for his horses, and took his leave, as Lord Oldborough had
determined that he should, before the arrival of Mr. Percy, who came
exactly at twelve.

"I thank you for this punctuality, Mr. Percy," said Lord Oldborough,
advancing in his most gracious manner; and no two things could be more
strikingly different than his gracious and ungracious manner. "I thank you
for this kind punctuality. No one knows better than I do the difference
between the visit of a friend and all other visits."

Without preface, Lord Oldborough always went directly to the point. "I have
requested you to come to me, Mr. Percy, because I want from you two things,
which I cannot have so much to my satisfaction from any other person as
from you--assistance and sympathy. But, before I go to my own affairs,
let me--and not by way of compliment, but plainly and truly--let me
congratulate you, my dear sir, on the success of your sons, on the
distinction and independence they have already acquired in their
professions. I know the value of independence--of that which I shall never
have," added his lordship, with a forced smile and a deep sigh. "But let
that be. It was not of that I meant to speak. You pursue your course; I,
mine. Firmness of purpose I take to be the great difference between man and
man. I am not one of those who habitually covet sympathy. It is a sign of a
mind insufficient to its own support, to look for sympathy on every trivial
occurrence; and on great occasions it has not been my good fortune to meet
many persons who could sympathize with me."

"True," said Mr. Percy, "people must think with you, before they can feel
with you."

"It is extraordinary, Mr. Percy," continued Lord Oldborough, "that, knowing
how widely you differ from me in political principles, I should choose,
of all men living, to open my mind to you. But the fact is, that I am
convinced, however we may differ about the means, the end we both have in
view is one and the same--the good and glory of the British empire."

"My lord, I believe it," cried Mr. Percy--with energy and warmth he
repeated, "My lord, I believe it."

"I thank you, sir," said Lord Oldborough; "you do me justice. I have reason
to be satisfied when such men as you do me justice; I have reason also
to be satisfied that I have not to make the common complaint of those
who serve princes. From him whom I have served I have not met with any
ingratitude, with any neglect: on the contrary, I am well assured, that so
firm is his conviction of my intending the good of his throne and of his
people, that to preserve me his minister is the first wish of his heart. I
am confident that without hesitation he would dismiss from his councils any
who should obstruct my views, or be inimical to my interests."

"Then, my lord, you are happy; if man can be happy at the summit of
ambition."

"Pardon me. It is a dizzy height at best; but, were it attained, I trust my
head would be strong enough to bear it."

"Lord Verulam, you know, my lord," said Mr. Percy, smiling, "tells us, that
people, by looking down precipices, do put their spirits in the act of
falling."

"True, true," said Lord Oldborough, rather impatient at Mr. Percy's going
to Lord Verulam and philosophy. "But you have not yet heard the facts.
I am encompassed with enemies, open and secret. Open enemies I meet and
defy--their strength I can calculate and oppose; but the strength of my
secret enemies I cannot calculate, for that strength depends on their
combination, and that combination I cannot break till I know of what it
consists. I have the power and the will to strike, but know not where to
aim. In the dark I will not strike, lest I injure the innocent or destroy
a friend. Light I cannot obtain, though I have been in search of it for a
considerable time. Perhaps by your assistance it may be obtained."

"By my assistance!" exclaimed Mr. Percy: "ignorant, as I am, of all
parties, and of all their secret transactions, how, my dear lord, can I
possibly afford you any assistance?"

"Precisely by your being unconnected with all parties--a cool stander-by,
you can judge of the play--you can assist me with your general knowledge of
human nature, and with a particular species of knowledge, of which I should
never have guessed that you were possessed, but for an accidental discovery
of it made to me the other day by your son Alfred--your knowledge of the
art of deciphering."

Lord Oldborough then produced the Tourville papers, related how they had
been put into his hands by Commissioner Falconer, showed him what the
commissioner and his son had deciphered, pointed out where the remaining
difficulty occurred, and explained how they were completely at a stand from
their inability to decipher the word Gassoc, or to decide who or what it
could mean. All the conjectures of the commissioner, the cassock, and the
bishop, and the _gosshawk_, and the heraldic researches, and the French
misnomers, and the puns upon the coats of arms, and the notes from Wilkins
on universal language, and an old book on deciphering, which had been lent
to the commissioner, and the private and public letters which Cunningham
had written since he went abroad, were all laid before Mr. Percy.

"As to my envoy, Mr. Cunningham Falconer," said Lord Oldborough, as he took
up the bundle of Cunningham's letters, "I do not choose to interrupt the
main business before us, by adverting to him or to his character, farther
than to point out to you this mark," showing a peculiar pencil mark, made
on certain papers. "This is my note of distrust, observe, and this my note
for mere circumlocution, or nonsense. And here," continued his lordship,
"is a list of all those in, or connected with the ministry, whom it is
possible may be my enemies." The list was the same as that on which the
commissioner formerly went to work, except that the name of the Duke of
Greenwich had been struck out, and two others added in his place, so that
it stood thus: "Dukes of Doncaster and Stratford; Lords Coleman, Naresby,
Skreene, Twisselton, Waltham, Wrexfield, Chelsea, and Lancaster; Sir Thomas
Cope, Sir James Skipworth; Secretaries Arnold and Oldfield." This list was
marked with figures, in different coloured inks, prefixed to each name,
denoting the degrees of their supposed enmity to Lord Oldborough, and these
had been calculated from a paper, containing notes of the probable causes
and motives of their disaffection, drawn up by Commissioner Falconer, but
corrected, and in many places contradicted, by notes in Lord Oldborough's
hand-writing. His lordship marked which was _his_ calculation of
probabilities, and made some observations on the character of each, as he
read over the list of names rapidly.

Doncaster, a dunce--Stratford, a miser--Coleman, a knave--Naresby, non
compos--Skreene, the most corrupt of the corrupt--Twisselton, puzzle
headed--Waltham, a mere theorist--Wrexfield, a speechifier--Chelsea, a
trimmer--Lancaster, deep and dark--Sir Thomas Cope, a wit, a poet, and
a fool--Sir James Skipworth, finance and finesse--Arnold, able and
active--and Oldfield, a diplomatist in grain.

"And is this the summary of the history of the men with whom your lordship
is obliged to act and live?" said Mr. Percy.

"It is--I am: but, my dear sir, do not let us fly off at a tangent to
morality or philosophy; these have nothing to do with the present purpose.
You have before you all the papers relative to this transaction. Now, will
you do me the favour, the service, to look them over, and try whether you
can make out _le mot d'enigme_? I shall not disturb you."

Lord Oldborough sat down at a small table by the fire, with a packet of
letters and memorials beside him, and in a few minutes was completely
absorbed in these, for he had acquired the power of turning his attention
suddenly and entirely from one subject to another.

Without reading the mass of Commissioner Falconer's explanations and
conjectures, or encumbering his understanding with all that Cunningham had
collected, as if purposely to puzzle the cause, Mr. Percy examined first
very carefully the original documents--then Lord Oldborough's notes on the
views and characters of the suspected persons, and the reasons of their
several enmities or dissatisfaction. From the scale of probabilities, which
he found had been with great skill calculated on these notes, he selected
the principal names, and then tried with these, whether he could make out
an idea that had struck him the moment he had heard of the Gassoc. He
recollected the famous word Cabal, in the reign of Charles the Second, and
he thought it possible that the cabalistical word Gassoc might be formed by
a similar combination. But _Gassoc_ was no English word, was no word of any
language. Upon close examination of the Tourville papers, he perceived that
the commissioner had been right in one of his suggestions, that the _G_ had
been written instead of a _C_: in some places it had been a _c_ turned into
a _g_, and the writer seemed to be in doubt whether the word should be
Gassoc or Cassoc. Assuming, therefore, that it was _Cassock_, Mr. Percy
found the initials of six persons, who stood high in Lord
Oldborough's scale of probabilities:
Chelsea--Arnold--Skreene--Skipworth--Oldfield--Coleman; and the last k, for
which he hunted in vain a considerable time, was supplied by Kensington
(one of the Duke of Greenwich's titles), whose name had been scratched out
of the list, since his reconciliation and connexion by marriage with Lord
Oldborough, but who had certainly at one time been of the league of his
lordship's enemies. Every circumstance and date in the Tourville papers
exactly agree with this explanation: the Cassock thus composed cleared up
all difficulties; and passages, that were before dark and mysterious, were
rendered by this reading perfectly intelligible. The interpretation, when
once given, appeared so simple, that Lord Oldborough wondered how it was
possible that it had not before occurred to his mind. His satisfaction was
great--he was at this moment relieved from all danger of mistaking friend
for foe; he felt that his enemies were in his power, and his triumph
secure.

"My dear sir," cried he, "you do not know, you cannot estimate, the extent
of the service you have done me: far from wishing to lessen it in your
eyes, I wish you to know at this moment its full importance. By Lady
Oldborough's death, and by circumstances with which I need not trouble you,
I lost the support of her connexions. The Duke of Greenwich, though my
relation, is a weak man, and a weak man can never be a good friend. I was
encompassed, undermined, the ground hollow under me--I knew it, but I could
not put my finger upon one of the traitors. Now I have them all at one
blow, and I thank you for it. I have the character, I believe, of being
what is called proud, but you see that I am not too proud to be assisted
and obliged by one who will never allow me to oblige or assist him or any
of his family. But why should this be? Look over the list of these men. In
some one of these places of trust, give me a person in whom I can confide,
a friend to me, and to your country. Look over that list, now in your hand,
and put your finger upon any thing that will suit you."

"I thank you, my lord," said Mr. Percy; "I feel the full value of your good
opinion, and true gratitude for the warmth of your friendship, but I cannot
accept of any office under your administration. Our political principles
differ as much as our private sentiments of honour agree; and these
sentiments will, I trust, make you approve of what I now say--and do."

"But there are places, there are situations which you might accept, where
your political opinions and mine could never clash. It is an extraordinary
thing for a minister to press a gentleman to accept of a place, unless he
expects more in return than what he gives. But come--I must have Mr. Percy
one of us. You have never tried ambition yet," added Lord Oldborough, with
a smile: "trust me, you will find ambition has its pleasures, its proud
moments, when a man feels that he has his foot on the neck of his enemies."

Lord Oldborough stood, as if he felt this pride at the instant. "You do not
know the charms of ambition, Mr. Percy."

"It may be delightful to feel one's foot on the neck of one's enemies, but,
for my part, I rather prefer having no enemies."

"No enemies!" said Lord Oldborough: "every man that has character enough to
make friends has character enough to make enemies--and must have enemies,
if not of his power or place, of his talents and property--the sphere
lower, the passion's the same. No enemies!--What is he, who has been at law
with you, and has robbed you of your estate?"

"I forgot him--upon my word, I forgot him," said Mr. Percy. "You see, my
lord, if he robbed me of my estate, he did not rob me of my peace of mind.
Does your lordship think," said Mr. Percy, smiling, "that any ambitious
man, deprived of his place, could say as much?"