Sir William then unlocked a drawer, and placed a little manuscript in De Vere's hands, which the latter perused as follows:

"I must tell you, I desire to die when I have nobody left to laugh with me.. I have never seen or heard any thing serious, that was not ridiculous. Jesuits, methodists, philosophers, politicians, the hypocrite Rousseau, the scoffer Voltaire, the encyclopedists, the Humes, the Ls, the Gs, the atheist tyrant of Prussia, and the Mountebank of History,

Mr. P

all are to me but impostors, in their various ways. Fame or interest are their objects; and, after all their parade, I think a ploughman, who sows, reads his almanack, and believes the stars but so many farthing candles, created to prevent his falling into a ditch as he goes home at night, a wiser and more rational being, and I am sure an honester, than any of them. Oh! I am sick of visions and systems, that move one another aside, and come over again, like the figures in a moving picture. Rabelais brightens up to me, as I see more of the world; he treated it as it deserved, laughed at it all, and, as I judge from myself, ceased to hate it: for I find hatred an unjust prefer

"Your opinion," said Sir William, seeing De Vere in a fit of seriousness when he had finished.

"That if half this picture is not distorted, I am not so happy as the painter:-I cannot laugh at my species."

"I agree, ,"returned the Baronet; "at the same time you will own he has assembled a great deal of good company on the same canvass.”

"I cannot thank him for it," observed De Vere, even if he is just; if unjust, he himself deserves to be hated, or at least to be classed among those he so hates, despises, and laughs at. I can neither respect nor believe a man, who tells me he never knew any thing serious that was not ridiculous. I will not say

who is the mountebank of history, but I think it pretty clear, who is the mountebank of philosophy. At the same time, I own this cold-blooded ingratitude troubles me, and goes farther to cure me of even patriotic am

bition, than any thing I have yet seen.

Eustace was

moderation itself to it. He was only selfish, this man both selfish and malignant.

"All this is but too true," said Flowerdale.

"Then the less we discuss it the better," cried De Vere with emphasis; "I have got but little comfort from you to-day;" and he took his leave.

CHAPTER X.

HALF-FACED FELLOWSHIP.

For mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect to the love I bear your house. The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain. SHAKSPEARE.

He

IF De Vere gained little comfort from the shrewd observer of the public drama that was going forward, the practical Sir William, he certainly did not improve his lot by mingling among the actors themselves. Yet he had points affecting his own fortune to carry. was anxious to settle the question of the seat, as well as his views to office, which, though considerably weakened from passing scenes, were not relinquished. He spoke of both objects to Clayton, who gave him most loyal assurances, but referred him, as in duty bound, to his uncle.

He spoke of them to Lord Mowbray, but he found that noble person in far too great an agitation about himself to attend to such minor considerations; and when De Vere pressed the seat, with a view to support Mr. Wentworth, the effect upon the nerves and courage of his uncle was such as to deter one who was not too eager about it from pursuing it, at least for a time. Yet, considering what he had learned from Flowerdale, of Lord Mowbray's sacrifice of Lord Oldcastle, in order to join Wentworth and Cleveland, and the active share

he had afterwards taken in promoting the coalition of their party, by assembling them at Mowbray House, he was struck with no little wonder at the coldness with which every proposal in favour of Wentworth was received.

De Vere, however, was not the only person embarrassed, for the time was such, at least for some days, that no one knew how to act or what to expect. The respective parties of Mr. Wentworth and Lord Oldcastle were indeed so nearly balanced, that they were ready to give battle à l'outrance, in the assertion of their respective pretensions. The doors of great officers of state were besieged, and the closet of the highest personage of the realm was frequently opened to various leaders, all professing to be actuated alone by an anxiety for the interests of the empire; which interests, however, could only be consulted by a compliance with the particular views of each leader respectively. The reports, messages, long faces, conferences in ministers' rooms and secretaries' rooms, in the passages of Whitehall, under the trees of the Park, and in the recesses of the House of Commons, were innumerable, and too obvious for concealment; and (believe it who will) it was in the very midst of these agitating plans, that Mr. Wentworth gave the dinner, and held the philosophic conversation, which have been mentioned in a former chapter.

At the time, De Vere, though he knew the reports that were in agitation, did not know the share which the actual conduct of his friend had had in giving them currency. He knew not that he had, on the very morning of his dinner, been closeted with some of his most powerful supporters, who had for a considerable period been constantly urging him even to lay claim to the Premiership, when vacant, as his undoubted right, from the reputation he had obtained and the confidence he had inspired. They had even gone so far as to suggest, and actually to demand, a pledge from him, that, if he obtained the post, he would support and carry into effect various reforms of which, these patriots said, the State stood cruelly in need; and nothing could ap

pear more zealous than this body of partizans in a cause so virtuous, and likely to be so popular.

Mr. Wentworth, with great enthusiasm of character, and a spirit of as great integrity as the most inflexible patriot could wish, was himself sufficiently inclined to this principle of action. He gave the pledge required, and demanded and received, on his part, the most explicit promises, that should another succeed to the government, and he be obliged to retire, they would all make common cause, and act in party. What was his astonishment, therefore, to find, now the crisis was arrived, that these patriot friends seemed not only to have forgotten their principles, but to have changed their opinion in regard to his own pretensions. At another meeting which was held, they admired him, they said, as much as ever; thought him a great creature; a public possession, who ought to have one of the highest posts in the ministry: but as to engaging in opposition, should he unfortunately be left out of the new administration, they could not join in the attempt to force the closet of the King, who they found was likely to decide in favour of Lord Oldcastle. They only hoped that he might still be allowed to hold his place under that noble person.

No language can describe the disdain of Mr. Wentworth at this change of conduct: it called up all his pride of character, which he felt to be insulted, as well as that his fairest hopes were disappointed. His honourable ambition (for it was honourable) was thwarted, his rival exalted, his schemes for the public good paralyzed; and what wounded him most, (for he was of a most loyal and open disposition, and of a nature the most abhorrent to every species of treachery) all seemed to be the consequence of an intercourse of some standing with the Court, of which these friends. had kept him wholly in ignorance. In short, it was only at the moment we speak of, that he learned that the compact which these friends had made with him, had been made while they were under the deception of an expected decision in his favour, in which expectation they were now disappointed; for it appeared certain that Lord Oldcastle would be called upon to name

the new administration; and in that event he had declared against Wentworth's holding any place in it.

Mr. Wentworth was not of a temper, at any time, to disguise his feelings, and he was at no pains to conceal them now; in fact, they escaped him in reproaches so bitter, and at the same time so just, that many of his auditors shrank from his presence. Among these, wonderful as it may appear, was Lord Mowbray himself. None of them dared to brave him; and the few who attempted explanation, but feebly represented their motives, which were founded, they said, upon the necessity-created by a spirit of discontent and rebellion among the people to support the power, and therefore the choice of the Crown.

Stung by what he considered as downright treachery, the vehemence of Mr. Wentworth's mind now got the better of him, and he could scarcely prevent himself (still the second Minister of the Crown) from going down to the House, and denouncing what he called the intriguing character of the Premier expectant. At that moment he received a letter from his new ally, Lord Cleveland, expressing, after great lamentations of the untoward end of things, his sincere regrets that the hopes of the country had not been fulfilled in his (Mr. Wentworth's) person; but trusting that the circumstances of the times, and the contumacious, ill-affected spirit abroad, would excuse him and the rest of the King's friends, if they gave their support to the new government, even though among its members he might not be included.

Wentworth's heart swelled with contempt as he read this letter; an expression of superciliousness, mixed with detestation, got possession of his features; and, tearing the letter to pieces, he exclaimed, "Why, what a frosty spirited rogue is this!" like Hotspur's lord fool, "for his own part, he could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love he bears our house: is clear to me that he loves his own barn better than our house.

Out of humour with the world, particularly the political world, against which he sometimes meditated vengeance, sometimes retreat, he hastened home,