My maxim, and the maxim of every man in public life is, or ought to be--Serve me, and I will serve you. I have no pretensions to Mr.

Falconer's friendship on any other grounds, I am sensible; nor on any other terms can he have a claim to whatever power of patronage I possess. But I neither serve nor will be served by halves: my first object is to make myself master, as soon as possible, of the contents of the papers in your hands; my next to secure your inviolable secrecy on the whole transaction."

The commissioner was going to make vows of secrecy and protestations of zeal, but Lord Oldborough cut all that short with "Of course--of course," p.r.o.nounced in the driest accent, and went on with, "Now, sir, you know my object; will you do me the honour to state yours?--you will excuse my abruptness--time in some circ.u.mstances is every thing--Do me and yourself the justice to say at once what return I can make for the service you have done or may do me and government."

"My only hesitation in speaking, my lord, was--"

"Have no hesitation in speaking, I beseech you, sir."

I _beseech_, in tone, was in effect, I _command_ you, sir;--and Mr.

Falconer, under the influence of an imperious and superior mind, came at once to that point, which he had not intended to come to for a month, or to approach till after infinite precaution and circ.u.mlocution.

"My object is to push my son Cunningham in the diplomatic line, my lord--and I wish to make him one of your secretaries."

The commissioner stopped short, astonished to find that the truth, and the whole truth, had absolutely pa.s.sed his lips, and in such plain words; but they could not be recalled: he gasped for breath--and began an apologetical sentence about poor Mr. Drakelow, whom he should be sorry to injure or displace.

"Never mind that now--time enough to think of Drakelow," said Lord Oldborough, walking up and down the room--then stopping short, "I must see your son, sir."

"I will bring him here to-morrow, if your lordship pleases."

"As soon as possible! But he can come surely without your going for him--write, and beg that we may see him at breakfast--at nine, if you please."

The letter was written, and despatched immediately. Lord Oldborough, whilst the commissioner was writing, noted down the heads of what he had learned from M. de Tourville's packet: then locked up those of the papers which had been deciphered, put the others into Mr. Falconer's charge, and recommended it to him to use all possible despatch in deciphering the remainder.--The commissioner declared he would sit up all night at the task; this did not appear to be more than was expected.--His lordship rung, and ordered candles in Mr. Falconer's room, then returned to the company in the saloon, without saying another word. None could guess by his countenance or deportment that any unusual circ.u.mstance had happened, or that his mind was in the least perturbed.

Mrs. Drakelow thought he was wholly absorbed in a rubber of whist, and Miss Drakelow at the same time was persuaded that he was listening to her music.

Punctual to the appointed hour--for ambition is as punctual to appointments as love--Mr. Cunningham Falconer made his appearance at nine, and was presented by his father to Lord Oldborough, who received him, not with any show of gracious kindness, but as one who had been forced upon him by circ.u.mstances, and whom, for valuable considerations, he had bargained to take into his service. To try the young diplomatist's talents, Lord Oldborough led him first to speak on the subject of the Tourville papers, then urged him on to the affairs of Germany, and the general interests and policy of the different courts of Europe. Trembling, and in agony for his son, the commissioner stood aware of the danger of the youth's venturing out of his depth, aware also of the danger of showing that he dared not venture, and incapable of deciding between these equal fears: but soon he was re-a.s.sured by the calmness of his son. Cunningham, who had not so much information or capacity, but who had less sensibility than his father, often succeeded where his father's timidity prognosticated failure. Indeed, on the present occasion, the care which the young diplomatist took not to commit himself, the dexterity with which he "helped himself by countenance and gesture," and "was judicious by signs," proved that he was well skilled in all those arts of _seeming wise_, which have been so well noted for use by "the greatest, wisest, meanest of mankind." Young though he was, Cunningham was quite sufficiently slow, circ.u.mspect, and solemn, to deserve to be ranked among those whom Bacon calls _Formalists_, "who do nothing, or little, very solemnly--who seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they know within themselves that they speak of what they do not know, would, nevertheless, seem to others to know that of which they may not well speak."

Lord Oldborough listened to whatever he said, and marked all that he did not say with an air of attentive composure, which, as Mr. Falconer thought, augured well for his son; but now and then there was, for scarcely a definable portion of time, an expression of humour in his lordship's eye, a sarcastic smile, which escaped the commissioner's observation, and which, even if he had observed, he could not, with his limited knowledge of Lord Oldborough's character, have rightly interpreted. If his lordship had expressed his thoughts, perhaps, they might have been, though in words less quaint, nearly the same as those of the philosophic statesman, who says, "It is a ridiculous thing, and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these _formalists_ have, and what prospectives to make superficies to seem body that hath depth and bulk."

But Lord Oldborough philosophizing, and Lord Oldborough acting, were two different people. His perception of the ridicule of the young secretary's solemnity, and of the insufficiency of his information and capacity, made no alteration in the minister's determination. The question was not whether the individual was fit for this place, or that employment, but whether it was expedient he should have it for the security of political power. Waiving all delicacy, Lord Oldborough now, as in most other cases, made it his chief object to be understood and obeyed; therefore he applied directly to the universal motive, and spoke the universal language of interest.

"Mr. Falconer," said he, "if you put me in possession of the remainder of M. de Tourville's papers this night, I will to-morrow morning put this young gentleman into the hands of my present secretary, Mr. Drakelow, who will prepare him for the situation you desire. Mr.

Drakelow himself will, probably, soon leave me, to be employed more advantageously for his majesty's service, in some other manner."

The decipherers, father and son, shut themselves up directly, and set to work with all imaginable zeal. The whole packet was nearly expounded before night, and the next morning Lord Oldborough performed his part of the agreement. He sent for Mr. Drakelow, and said, "Mr. Drakelow, I beg that, upon your return to town, you will be so good as to take this young gentleman, Mr. Cunningham Falconer, to your office. Endeavour to prepare him to supply your place with me whenever it may be proper for his majesty's service, and for your interest, to send you to Constantinople, or elsewhere."

Mr. Drakelow, though infinitely surprised and displeased, bowed all submission. Nothing else he knew was to be done with Lord Oldborough.

His lordship, as soon as his secretary had left the room, turned to Cunningham, and said, "You will not mention anything concerning M. de Tourville's intercepted papers to Mr. Drakelow, or to any other person.

Affairs call me to town immediately: to-morrow morning at six, I set off. You will, if you please, sir, be ready to accompany me. I will not detain you longer from any preparations you may have to make for your journey."

No sooner had the father and son quitted Lord Oldborough's presence than Mr. Falconer exclaimed with exultation, "I long to see our good cousin Percy, that I may tell him how I have provided already for one of my sons."

"But remember, sir," said Cunningham, "that Mr. Percy is to know nothing of the Tourville packet."

"To be sure not," said Mr. Falconer; "he is to know nothing of the means, he is to see only the end--the successful end. Ha! cousin Percy, I think we know rather better than you do how to make something of every thing--even of a shipwreck."

"To prevent his having any suspicions," continued Cunningham, "it will be best to give Mr. Percy some probable reason for Lord Oldborough's _taking to us_ so suddenly. It will be well to hint that you have opportunities of obliging about the borough, or about the address at the county-meeting, or--"

"No, no; no particulars; never go to particulars," said old Falconer: "stick to generals, and you are safe. Say, in general, that I had an opportunity of obliging government. Percy is not curious, especially about _jobbing_. He will ask no questions; or, if he should, I can easily put him upon a wrong scent. Now, Cunningham, listen to me: I have done my best, and have pushed you into a fine situation: but remember, you cannot get on in the diplomatic line without a certain degree of diplomatic information. I have pointed this out to you often; you have neglected to make yourself master of these things, and, for want of them in office, you will come, I fear, some day or other to shame."

"Do not be afraid of that--no danger of my coming to shame any more than a thousand other people in office, who never trouble themselves about diplomatic information, and all that. There is always some clerk who knows the forms, and with those, and looking for what one wants upon the spur of the occasion in books and pamphlets, and so forth, one may go on very well--if one does but know how to keep one's own counsel. You see I got through with Lord Oldborough to-day--"

"Ay--but I a.s.sure you I trembled for you, and I could have squeezed myself into an auger-hole once, when you blundered about that treaty of which I knew that you knew nothing."

"Oh! sir, I a.s.sure you I had turned over the leaves. I was correct enough as to the dates; and, suppose I blundered, as my brother Buckhurst says, half the world never know what they are saying, and the other half never find it out.--Why, sir, you were telling me the other night such a blunder of Prince Potemkin's--"

"Very true," interrupted the commissioner; "but you are not Prince Potemkin, nor yet a prime minister; if you were, no matter how little you knew--you might get other people to supply your deficiencies. But now, in your place, and in the course of making your way upwards, you will be called upon to supply _others_ with the information they may want. And you know I shall not be always at your elbow; therefore I really am afraid--"

"Dear sir, fear nothing," said Cunningham: "I shall do as well as others do--the greatest difficulty is over. I have taken the first step, and it has cost nothing."

"Well, get on, my boy--honestly, if you can--but get on."

CHAPTER III.

With the true genius of a political castle-builder, Mr. Falconer began to add story after story to the edifice, of which he had thus promptly and successfully laid the foundation. Having by a lucky hit provided for one of his sons, that is to say, put him in a fair way of being provided for, the industrious father began to form plans for the advancement of his two other sons, Buckhurst and John: Buckhurst was destined by his father for the church; John for the army. The commissioner, notwithstanding he had been closeted for some hours with Lord Oldborough, and notwithstanding his son Cunningham was to be one of his lordship's secretaries, was well aware that little or no progress had been made in Lord Oldborough's real favour or confidence. Mr. Falconer knew that he had been literally _paid by the job_, that he was considered and treated accordingly; yet, upon the whole, he was well pleased that it should be so, for he foresaw the possibility of his doing for his lordship many more jobs, public and private. He lost no time in preparing for the continuity of his secret services, and in creating a political necessity for his being employed in future, in a manner that might ensure the advancement of the rest of his family.

In the first place, he knew that Lord Oldborough was desirous, for the enlargement of the grounds at Clermont-park, to purchase certain adjoining lands, which, from some ancient pique, the owner was unwilling to sell. The proprietor was a tenant of Mr. Falconer's: he undertook to negotiate the business, and to use his influence to bring his tenant to reason. This offer, made through Cunningham, was accepted by Lord Oldborough, and the negotiation led to fresh communications.--There was soon to be a county meeting, and an address was to be procured in favour of certain measures of government, which it was expected would be violently opposed. In the commissioner's letters to his son, the private secretary, he could say and suggest whatever he pleased; he pointed out the gentlemen of the county who ought to be conciliated, and he offered his services to represent things properly to some with whom he was intimate. The sheriff and the under-sheriff also should know, without being informed directly from ministry, what course in conducting the meeting would be agreeable in a certain quarter--who so proper to say and do all that might be expedient as Mr. Falconer, who was on the spot, and well acquainted with the county?--The commissioner was informed by the private secretary, that his services would be acceptable. There happened also, at this time, to be some disputes and grievances in that part of the country about tax-gatherers. Mr. Falconer hinted, that he could soften and accommodate matters, if he were empowered to do so--and he was so empowered. Besides all this, there was a borough in that county, in which the interest of government had been declining; attempts were made to _open the borough_--Mr. Falconer could be of use in _keeping it close_--and he was commissioned to do every thing in his power in the business. In a short time Mr. Falconer was acting on all these points as an agent and partizan of Lord Oldborough's. But there was one thing which made him uneasy; he was acting here, as in many former instances, merely upon vague hopes of future reward.

Whilst his mind was full of these thoughts, a new prospect of advantage opened to him in another direction. Colonel Hauton, Lord Oldborough's nephew, stayed, during his uncle's absence, at Clermont-park, to be in readiness for the races, which, this year, were expected to be uncommonly fine. Buckhurst Falconer had been at school and at the university with the colonel, and had frequently helped him in his Latin exercises. The colonel having been always deficient in scholarship, he had early contracted an aversion to literature, which at last amounted to an antipathy even to the very sight of books, in consequence, perhaps, of his uncle's ardent and precipitate desire to make him apply to them whilst his head was full of tops and b.a.l.l.s, kites and ponies.

Be this as it may, Commissioner Falconer thought his son Buckhurst might benefit by his school friendship, and might now renew and improve the connexion. Accordingly, Buckhurst waited upon the colonel,--was immediately recognized, and received with promising demonstrations of joy.

It would be difficult, indeed impossible, to describe Colonel Hauton, so as to distinguish him from a thousand other young men of the same cla.s.s, except, perhaps, that he might be characterized by having more exclusive and inveterate selfishness. Yet this was so far from appearing or being suspected on a first acquaintance, that he was generally thought a sociable, good-natured fellow. It was his absolute dependence upon others for daily amus.e.m.e.nt and ideas, or, rather, for knowing what to do with himself, that gave him this semblance of being sociable; the total want of proper pride and dignity in his whole deportment, a certain _slang_ and familiarity of tone, gave superficial observers the notion that he was good-natured. It was Colonel Hauton's great ambition to look like his own coachman; he succeeded only so far as to look like his groom: but though he kept company with jockeys and coachmen, grooms and stable-boys, yet not the stiffest, haughtiest, flat-backed Don of Spain, in Spain's proudest days, could be more completely aristocratic in his principles, or more despotic in his habits. This could not break out to his equals, and his equals cared little how he treated his inferiors.

His present pleasure, or rather his present business, for no man made more a business of pleasure than Colonel Hauton, was _the turf_.

Buckhurst Falconer could not here a.s.sist him as much as in making Latin verses--but he could admire and sympathize; and the colonel, proud of being now the superior, proud of his _knowing style_ and his _capital_ stud, enjoyed Buckhurst's company particularly, pressed him to stay at Clermont-park, and to accompany him to the races. There was to be a _famous_ match between Colonel Hauton's High-Blood and Squire Burton's Wildfire; and the preparations of the horses and of their riders occupied the intervening days. With all imaginable care, anxiety, and solemnity, these important preparations were conducted. At stated hours, Colonel Hauton, and with him Buckhurst, went to see High-Blood rubbed down, and fed, and watered, and exercised, and minuted, and rubbed down, and littered. Next to the horse, the rider, Jack Giles, was to be attended to with the greatest solicitude; he was to be weighed--and starved--and watched--and drammed--and _sweated_--and weighed again--and so on in daily succession; and harder still, through this whole course he was to be kept in humour: "None that ever sarved man or beast," as the stable-boy declared, "ever worked harder for their bread than his master and master's companion did this week for their pleasure." At last the great, the important day arrived, and Jack Giles was weighed for the last time in public, and so was Tom Hand, Squire Burton's rider--and High-Blood and Wildfire were brought out; and the spectators a.s.sembled in the stand, and about the scales, were all impatience, especially those who had betted on either of the horses. And, Now, Hauton!--Now, Burton!--Now, High-Blood!--Now, Wildfire!--Now, Jack Giles!--and Now, Tom Hand! resounded on all sides. The gentlemen on the race-ground were all on tiptoe in their stirrups. The ladies in the stand stretched their necks of snow, and n.o.body looked at them.--Two men were run over, and n.o.body took them up.--Two ladies fainted, and two gentlemen betted across them. This was no time for nice observances--Jack Giles's spirit began to flag--and Tom Hand's judgment _to tell_--High-Blood, on the full stretch, was within view of the winning-post, when Wildfire, quite in wind, was put to his speed by the judicious Tom Hand--he sprang forward, came up with High-Blood--pa.s.sed him--Jack Giles strove in vain to regain his ground--High-Blood was blown, beyond the power of whip or spur--Wildfire reached the post, and Squire Burton won the match hollow.

His friends congratulated him and themselves loudly, and extolled Tom Hand and Wildfire to the skies. In the moment of disappointment, Colonel Hauton, out of humour, said something that implied a suspicion of unfairness on the part of Burton or Tom Hand, which the honest squire could not brook either for self or rider. He swore that his Tom Hand was as honest a fellow as any in England, and he would back him for such.

The colonel, depending on his own and his uncle's importance, on his party and his flatterers, treated the squire with some of the haughtiness of rank, which the squire retorted with some rustic English humour. The colonel, who had not wit at will to put down his antagonist, became still more provoked to see that such a low-born fellow as the squire should and could laugh and make others laugh. For the lack of wit the colonel had recourse to insolence, and went on from one impertinence to another, till the squire, enraged, declared that he would not be browbeat by any lord's nephew or jackanapes colonel that ever wore a head; and as he spoke, tremendous in his ire, Squire Burton brandished high the British horsewhip. At this critical moment, as it has been a.s.serted by some of the bystanders, the colonel _quailed_ and backed a few paces; but others pretend that Buckhurst Falconer pushed before him.

It is certain that Buckhurst stopped the blow--wrested the horsewhip from the squire--was challenged by him on the spot--accepted the challenge--fought the squire--_winged_ him--appeared on the race ground afterwards, and was admired by the ladies in public, and by his father in private, who looked upon the duel and horsewhipping, from which he thus saved his patron's nephew, as the most fortunate circ.u.mstance that could have happened to his son upon his entrance into life.

"Such an advantage as this gives us such a claim upon the colonel--and, indeed, upon the whole family. Lord Oldborough, having no children of his own, looks to the nephew as his heir; and though he may be vexed now and then by the colonel's extravagance, and angry that he could not give this nephew more of a political turn, yet such as he is, depend upon it he can do what he pleases with Lord Oldborough. Whoever has the nephew's ear, has the uncle's heart; or I should say, whoever has the nephew's heart, has the uncle's ear."

"Mayn't we as well put hearts out of the question on all sides, sir?"

said Buckhurst.

"With all my heart," said his father, laughing, "provided we don't put a good living out of the question on our side."

Buckhurst looked averse, and said he did not know there was any such thing in question.

"No!" said his father: "was it then from the pure and abstract love of being horsewhipped, or shot at, that you took this quarrel off his hands?"

"Faith! I did it from spirit, pure spirit," said Buckhurst: "I could not stand by, and see one who had been my schoolfellow horsewhipped--if he did not stand by himself, _yet_ I could not but stand by _him_, for you know I was there as one of his party--and as I backed his bets on High-Blood, I could do no less than back his cause altogether.--Oh! I could not stand by and see _a chum_ of my own horsewhipped."

"Well, that was all very spirited and generous; but now, as you are something too old for mere schoolboy notions," said the commissioner, "let us look a little farther, and see what we can make of it. It's only a silly boyish thing as you consider it; but I hope we can turn it to good account."

"I never thought of turning it to account, sir."

"Think of it now," said the father, a little provoked by the careless disinterestedness of the son. "In plain English, here is a colonel in his majesty's service saved from a horsewhipping--a whole n.o.ble family saved from disgrace: these are things not to be forgotten; that is, not to be forgotten, if you force people to remember them: otherwise--my word for it--I know the great--the whole would be forgotten in a week.