The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1. Lever Charles James
all I had to say. Every one well knows that, whatever decision you come to, it will be unbiassed by everything save your own conscientious sense of right; and as arguments are pretty nearly equal on the question, – for, in truth, after having heard and read most of what has been written or spoken on the point, – I ‘m regularly nonplussed on which side to see the advantage. The real question seems to be, Can we go on as we are?”
“I think not,” observed the Knight, gravely. “A Parliament which has exhibited its venality so openly can have little pretension to public confidence.”
“The very remark I made myself,” cried Heffernan, triumphantly.
“The men who sell themselves to-day to the Crown will, if need be, sell themselves to-morrow to the mob.”
“My own words, by Jove! – my very words.”
“A dependent Parliament, attempting separate and independent legislation, means an absurdity.”
“There is no other name for it,” cried Heffernan, in ecstasy.
“I have known Ireland for something more than half a century now,” said the Knight, with a touch of melancholy in his voice, “and yet never before saw so much of social disorder as at present, and perhaps we are only at the beginning of it. The scenes we have witnessed in France have been more bloody and more cruel, but they will leave less permanent results behind them than our own revolution; for such, after all, it is. The property of the country is changing hands, the old aristocracy are dying out, if not dead; their new successors have neither any hold on the affection of the people, nor a bond of union with each other. See what will come of it; the old game of feudalism will be tried by these men of yesterday, and the peasantry, whose reverence for birth is a religion, will turn on them, and the time is not very distant, perhaps, when the men who would not harm the landlord’s dog will have little reverence for the landlord’s self.”
“You have drawn a sad picture,” said Heffernan, either feeling or affecting to feel the truthfulness of the Knight’s delineation.
“Our share in the ruin,” said the Knight, rising, and pacing the room with rapid strides, – “our share is not undeserved. We had a distinct and defined duty to perform, and we neglected it; instead of extending civilization, we were the messengers of barbarism among the people.”
“Your own estates, I have heard, are a refutation of your theory,” interposed Heffernan, insinuatingly.
“My estates – ” repeated the Knight; and then, stopping suddenly, with a changed voice, he said, “Heffernan, we have got into a long and very unprofitable theme; let us try back, if we can, and see whence we started: we were talking of the Union.”
“Just so,” said Heffernan, not sorry to resume the subject which induced his visit.
“I have determined not to vote on the measure,” said the Knight, solemnly; “my reasons for the course I adopt I hope to be able to justify when the proper time arrives; meanwhile, it will prevent unnecessary speculation, and equally unnecessary solicitation, if I tell you frankly what I mean to do. Such is my present resolve.”
The word “solicitation” fell from the Knight’s lips with such a peculiar expression that Heffernan at once saw his own game was detected, and, like a clever tactician, resolved to make the best of his forced position.
“You have been frank with me, Knight; I’ll not be less candid with you, I came here to convey to you a distinct offer from the Government, – not of any personal favor or advantage, that, they well knew, you would reject, – but, in the event of your support, to take any suggestion you might make on the new Bill into their serious and favorable consideration; to advise with you how, in short, the measure might be made to meet your views, and, so to say, admit you into conclave with the Cabinet.”
“All this is very flattering,” said the Knight, with a smile of evident satisfaction, “but I scarcely see how the opinions of a very humble country gentleman can weigh in the grave councils of a Government.”
“The best proof is the fact itself,” replied Heffernan, artfully. “Were I to tell you of other reasons, you might suspect me of an intention to canvass your support on very different grounds.”
“I confess I’m in the dark; explain yourself more fully.”
“This is a day for sincerity,” said Heffernan, smiling, “and so, here it is: the Prince has taken a special liking to your son Lionel, and has given him his company.”
“His company! I never heard of it.”
“Strange enough that he should not have written to you on the subject, but the fact is unquestionable; and, as I was saying, he is a frequent guest at Carlton House, and admitted into the choice circle of his Royal Highness’s parties: if, in the freedom of that intimacy with which he is honored by the Prince, the question should have arisen, how his father meant to vote, the fact was not surprising, no more than that Captain Darcy should have replied – ”
“Lionel never pledged himself to control my vote, depend upon that, Mr. Heffernan,” said the Knight, reddening.
“Nor did I say so,” interposed Heffernan. “Hear me out: your son is reported to have answered, ‘My father’s family have been too trained in loyalty, sire, not to give their voice for what they believe the best interests of the empire: your Royal Highness may doubt his judgment, his honor will, I am certain, never be called in question.’ The Prince laughed good-naturedly, and said, ‘Enough, Darcy, – quite enough; it will give me great satisfaction to think as highly of the father as I do of the son; there is a vacancy on the staff, and I can offer you the post of an extra aide-de-camp.’”
“This is very good news, – the best I ‘ve heard for many a day, Heffernan; and for its accuracy – ”
“Lord Castlereagh is the guarantee,” added Heffernan, hastily; “I had it from his own lips.”
“I ‘ll wait on him this morning. I can at least express my gratitude for his Royal Highness’s kindness to my boy.”
“You ‘ll not have far to go,” said Heffernan, smiling.
“How so? – what do you mean?”
“Lord Castlereagh is at the door this moment in that carriage;” and Hefifernan pointed to the chariot which, with its blinds closely drawn, stood before the street door.
The Knight moved hastily towards the door, and then, turning suddenly, burst into a hearty laugh, – a laugh so racy and full of enjoyment that Heffernan himself joined in it, without knowing wherefore.
“You are a clever fellow, Hefifernan!” said the Knight, as he lay back in a deep-cushioned chair, and wiped his eyes, now streaming with tears of laughter, – “a devilish clever fellow! The whole affair reminds me of poor Jack Morris.”
“Faith! I don’t see your meaning,” said Hefifernan, half fearful that all was not right.
“You knew Jack, – we all knew him. Well, poor Morris was going home one night, – from the theatre, I believe it was, – but, just as he reached Ely Place, he saw, by the light of a lamp, a gentlemanlike fellow trying to make out an address on a letter, and endeavoring, as well as he could, to spell out the words by the uncertain light. ‘Devilish provoking!’ said the stranger, half aloud; ‘I wrote it myself, and yet cannot read a word of it.’ ‘Can I be of any service?’ said Jack. Poor fellow! he was always ready for anything kind or good-natured. ‘Thank you,’ said the other; ‘but I ‘m a stranger in Dublin, – only arrived this evening from Liverpool, – and cannot remember the name or the street of my hotel, although I noted both down on this letter.’ ‘Show it to me,’ said Jack, taking the document. But although he held it every way, and tried all manner of guesses, he never could hit on the name the stranger wanted. ‘Never mind,’ said Jack; ‘don’t bother yourself about it. Come home with, me and have an oyster, – I ‘ll give you a bed; ‘t will be time enough after breakfast to-morrow to hunt out the hotel.’ To make short of it, the stranger complied; after all the natural expressions of gratitude and shame,