the revolt itself, almost up to that moment. In proof of this, he said he had been so shocked by the ill usage of Mr. De Vere by the voters, that when he attended him in his canvass, and his fair rights were refused him, he had reproved them sharply, and positively refused for himself, to have any thing to do with them. So saying, to avoid pushing the subject, he made a pretence of searching for some papers in the library, to leave the room. "My cousin then," said Constance, when he was gone, "is to be protected by this gentleman." "I think," answered Lord Mowbray, least obliged to him, for his zeal for the family interest." 66 we are at "I did not know that our part of the family had any share in the interest," observed Constance. "It is surely all the same," said Lord Mowbray, uneasily; "but Mortimer has been sadly careless of it himself; and you see it may even be lost to Lord Cleveland, if Mr. Clayton do not stand forward." "And is this Lord Cleveland's friendship?" asked Constance with some surprise. "My dear Lady Constance," said her father, "ladies are not instructed in these matters; otherwise I would explain to you, that personal, and political friendships, are very different things." "And which," pursued Constance, "in your lordship's opinion, is Lord Cleveland's?" "At this moment," replied the earl, "both; but as no one knows how long our union may last, I own I cannot think him to blame for acting as if they might one day be divided. I would do so myself." "And does this justify his interfering where he never yet had footing?" "All is fair in politics, as in war," observed Lord Mowbray. "And so my cousin, I fear, will find, not merely in the instance of Lord Cleveland," replied Con stance. Lord Mowbray did not like the conversation, and repeated the observation that ladies were not instructed in these things; to which his daughter thoughtfully assented, and the breakfast was finished in silence, not to say constraint, on both sides. To what was the puissant Earl-puissant in rank, birth, and wealth, and all that did not depend upon himself to what was he reduced, when he felt relieved by his daughter's retiring from his presence? And what is there in the wayward mind of man to make him willing to forego the sweetness of a daughter's companionship, and lose the sweetness of a daughter's approbation for the hope of success in a despicable intrigue? "Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!” Yet such is the character of the passion, if ill-directed, when it belongs even to nobler spirits, or in common course, when it actuates a meaner genius, that the dearest charities of our lives are sometimes set aside for power, or the supposed means of power. On no other ground can we account for the pleasure with which Lord Mowbray heard from Clayton that De Vere himself now felt the impossibility of his being returned. He indeed did not go so far as openly to approve the conduct of Blakeney; nor did he much like to inquire whether his daughter's surmise, that there was some secret instigator to this conduct, was well founded: he therefore allowed Clayton to wrap up that point in whatever obscurity he chose. 66 "When my nephew returns," said Lord Mowbray, we will have a conference upon all this." "I am sure your lordship will excuse my attending it," observed Clayton; "I can resent nothing against Mr. De Vere, but I am certain you will not desire me to subject myself to dishonouring suspicions." "No surely," returned Lord Mowbray, thoughtfully; and yet he is so untoward, that I could wish not to have him singly upon my hands. It is astonishing how different he is from what his brother was in these respects. "Suppose you were to consult your common friend, Dr. Herbert," said Clayton. "An excellent thought," observed Lord Mowbray. The Doctor was accordingly sent for, and the whole affair laid before him, or rather concealed from him, in such glosses as Lord Mowbray and his Secretary chose to give it. Strange to say, he refused his assistance, or even advice; sheltering himself, by observing it was a family matter, in which the parties not only were the best judges for themselves, but the only judges. In truth, the shrewd divine had too much penetration not to see that the whole was an intrigue, and a very scandalous one, of Clayton against his benefactor; and that Lord Mowbray, if he had not participated in its guilt, was at least not active in detecting it. The good Doctor's indignation was therefore raised against this calculating guardian and treacherous friend. He did not indeed go so far as Swift, who, when he was tricked out of a rich deanery by his patron, in league with his Secretary, exclaimed, in unrepressed anger, "G-d confound you both, for a couple of scoundrels!" but he could not conceal from Lord Mowbray himself, his opinion of the attempt; and he let Mr. Clayton know what he thought of his share of it, in a manner so bitterly sarcastic as to be by no means pleasant to that sensitive gentleman. The genius of Clayton, indeed, was always rebuked by that of his late governor, whose eye and dry remarks he never could stand. And as feeling and fine sentiment always made him miserable during the suffering moment, he hastened from the Doctor's presence on the present occasion, as soon as he could form a specious excuse for it. When gone, Herbert had still to sustain the complaints of Lord Mowbray against the impracticability of De Vere upon all points; and particularly his most unheard-of awkwardness of confession before the first Minister, in the very moment when he was charging himself with pushing his fortune in diplomacy. The particulars of all this he detailed, and Herbert listened with marked interest. "It seems then," said the Doctor, at the close of the conversation, "that this untoward boy, as your lordship still calls him, sacrificed himself before Lord Oldcastle, to a silly honesty, in confessing his partiality to his late colleague." "Indeed he did," replied Lord Mowbray; "and I cannot tell you how it has vexed me. "It would vex any politician alive," said Herbert, as he took his leave, and hastened to Mr. Wentworth himself. CHAPTER XVII. RECONCILIATION. And not a man, for being simply man, Hath any honour, but's honoured for those honours SHAKSPEARE. HERBERT's theories were, as we have seen, in favour of practical exertion; and his caution was habitual in guarding young men against the imprudence of self-sufficiency, which many worshipped under the name of proper pride, but which, in his way, he used to call proper nonsense. But he was as alive as any man to true honour and independence of character. His regard for De Vere had increased with his respect; and though he had done what he thought necessary, when too jealous a spirit required the curb of friendly experience, there were points in which he wished more young men of his acquaintance resembled De Vere. He preached as much against the compromising, as the uncompromising spirit. He laughed at the silly irritability of those whose pride had nothing to support it but self-consequence. But he had the most sincere respect for real dignity of mind; and, allowing for some little jealousy of temper, such he thought was De Vere's. But Mr. Wentworth had complained to him, that even De Vere had been as fickle as the rest of his followers, and had sold himself to Lord Oldcastle for a mission abroad. Herbert was incredulous to obstinacy; Mr. Wentworth insisted; and they separated, unable to agree. Lord Mowbray's account, therefore, was as satisfactory as the Doctor could have hoped; and the extinction of De Vere's views, hastened by his being seen by Lord Oldcastle coming out of Mr. Wentworth's house, not only furnished him with a complete defence of his young friend's fidelity, but with a strong claim upon the Ex-Minister's gratitude. Thus armed, he changed the whole state of Mr. Wentworth's feeling, by a simple relation of facts. For such is the nature of true greatness, that simplicity is ever its favourite companion. Rhetoric is thrown away upon it, even if it is not calculated to disgust and revolt it. Truth, unvarnished truth, is all that it requires to make it decide rightly, whatever may be the embarrassments thrown in its way, even by its own prejudices. Doctor Herbert sought not, therefore, by any art to advocate the return of Mr. Wentworth's confidence in De Vere's honour. Nor was he wrong: "He what was honour knew, And understood his pleaded reason." Mr. Wentworth, in short, with feelings as glowing as his abilities, was a proof (whatever may appear to the contrary in this story) that there may be minds incorruptible by power, and which have preserved their simplicity, unhurt by the atmosphere of dissimulation. in which they live, and uninjured even by the blaze of their own reputations. If ever the famous antithesis in the epitaph on Gay, was applicable to any other person, it surely was to him. * The task, therefore, undertaken by Herbert, was, as we have said, of little or no difficulty; and the few minutes required for this perfect reconciliation, recalled to his mind the observation which Sir William Temple made with so much happiness on the ease with which he had effected the triple alliance, that it was difficult * "In wit a man, simplicity a child." VOL. II.-12 |