CHAPTER II.
AMBITIOUS PROJECTS.
IT is not my intention to write a political history, instead of aprivate biography. No doubt in the next century there will be volumesenough written in celebration of that era which my contemporaries arepleased to term the greatest that in modern times has ever existed.Besides, in the private and more concealed intrigues with which I wasengaged with St. John, there was something which regard for others wouldcompel me to preserve in silence. I shall therefore briefly state thatin 1712 St. John dignified the peerage by that title which his exile andhis genius have rendered so illustrious.
I was with him on the day this honour was publicly announced. I foundhim walking to and fro his room, with his arms folded, and with a verypeculiar compression of his nether lip, which was a custom he had whenanything greatly irritated or disturbed him.
"Well," said he, stopping abruptly as he saw me,--"well, considering thepeacock Harley brought so bright a plume to his own nest, we must admirethe generosity which spared this gay dunghill feather to mine!"
"How?" said I, though I knew the cause of his angry metaphor. St. Johnused metaphors in speech scarcely less than in writing.
"How?" cried the new peer, eagerly, and with one of those flashing lookswhich made his expression of indignation the most powerful I ever saw;"how! Was the sacred promise granted to me of my own collateral earldomto be violated; and while the weight, the toil, the difficulty, theodium of affairs, from which Harley, the despotic dullard, shrank alikein imbecility and fear, had been left exclusively to my share, an insultin the shape of an honour to be left exclusively to my reward? You knowmy disposition is not to overrate the mere baubles of ambition; youknow I care little for titles and for orders in themselves: but the mostworthless thing becomes of consequence if made a symbol of what is ofvalue, or designed as the token of an affront. Listen: a collateralearldom falls vacant; it is partly promised me. Suddenly I am draggedfrom the House of Commons, where I am all powerful; I am given--not thisearldom, which, as belonging to my house, would alone have induced me toconsent to a removal from a sphere where my enemies allow I had greaterinfluence than any single commoner in the kingdom,--I am given, notthis, but a miserable compromise of distinction, a new and an inferiorrank; given it against my will; thrust into the Upper House to defendwhat this pompous driveller, Oxford, is forced to forsake; and not onlyexposed to all the obloquy of a most infuriate party opposed to me,but mortified by an intentional affront from the party which, heart andsoul, I have supported. You know that my birth is to the full as nobleas Harley's; you know that my influence in the Lower House is fargreater; you know that my name in the country, nay, throughout Europe,is far more popular; you know that the labour allotted to me has beenfar more weighty; you know that the late Peace of Utrecht is entirely myframing, that the foes to the measure direct all their venom againstme, that the friends of the measure heap upon me all the honour: when,therefore, this exact time is chosen for breaking a promise formerlymade to me; when a pretended honour, known to be most unpalatable to me,is thrust upon me; when, at this very time, too, six vacant ribbons ofthe garter flaunt by me,--one resting on the knee of this Harley, whowas able to obtain an earldom for himself,--the others given to men offar inferior pretensions, though not inferior rank to my own,--myselfmarkedly, glaringly passed by: how can I avoid feeling that thingsdespicable in themselves are become of a vital power, from the evidentintention that they should be insults to me? The insects we despise asthey buzz around us become dangerous when they settle on ourselves andwe feel their sting! But," added Bolingbroke, suddenly relapsing into asmile, "I have long wanted a nickname: I have now found one for myself.You know Oxford is called 'The Dragon;' well, henceforth call me 'St.George;' for, as sure as I live, will I overthrow the Dragon. I say thisin jest, but I mean it in earnest. And now that I have discharged mybile, let us talk of this wonderful poem, which, though I have read it ahundred times, I am never wearied of admiring."
"Ah--'The Rape of the Lock'. It is indeed beautiful, but I am not fondof poetry now. By the way, how is it that all our modern poets speak tothe taste, the mind, the judgment, and never to the _feelings_? Are theyright in doing so?"
"My friend, we are now in a polished age. What have feelings to do withcivilization?"
"Why, more than you will allow. Perhaps the greater our civilization,the more numerous our feelings. Our animal passions lose in excess, butour mental gain; and it is to the mental that poetry should speak. OurEnglish muse, even in this wonderful poem, seems to me to be growing,like our English beauties, too glitteringly artificial: it wears _rouge_and a hoop!"
"Ha! ha!--yes, they ornament now, rather than create; cut drapery,rather than marble. Our poems remind me of the ancient statues. Phidiasmade them, and Bubo and Bombax dressed them in purple. But this does notapply to young Pope, who has shown in this very poem that he can workthe quarry as well as choose the gems. But see, the carriage awaits us.I have worlds to do; first there is Swift to see; next, there is someexquisite Burgundy to taste; then, too, there is the new actress: and,by the by, you must tell me what you think of Bentley's Horace; we willdrive first to my bookseller's to see it; Swift shall wait; Heavens! howhe would rage if he heard me. I was going to say what a pity it is thatthat man should have so much littleness of vanity; but I should haveuttered a very foolish sentiment if I had!"
"And why?"
"Because, if he had not so much littleness perhaps he would not beso great: what but vanity makes a man write and speak, and slave, andbecome famous? Alas!" and here St. John's countenance changed fromgayety to thought; "'tis a melancholy thing in human nature that solittle is good and noble, both in itself and in its source! Our veryworst passions will often produce sublimer effects than our best.Phidias (we will apply to him for another illustration) made thewonderful statue of Minerva for his country; but, in order to avengehimself on that country, he eclipsed it in the far more wonderful statueof the Jupiter Olympius. Thus, from a vicious feeling emanated a greaterglory than from an exalted principle; and the artist was less celebratedfor the monument of his patriotism than for that of his revenge! But,_allons, mon cher_, we grow wise and dull. Let us go to choose ourBurgundy and our comrades to share it."
However with his characteristic affectation of bounding ambition, andconsequently hope, to no one object in particular, and of minglingaffairs of light importance with those of the most weighty, LordBolingbroke might pretend not to recur to, or to dwell upon, his causesof resentment, from that time they never ceased to influence him to agreat, and for a statesman an unpardonable, degree. We cannot, however,blame politicians for their hatred, until, without hating anybody,we have for a long time been politicians ourselves; strong minds havestrong passions, and men of strong passions must hate as well as love.
The next two years passed, on my part, in perpetual intrigues ofdiplomacy, combined with an unceasing though secret endeavour topenetrate the mystery which hung over the events of that dreadful night.All, however, was in vain. I know not what the English police may behereafter, but, in my time, its officers seem to be chosen, like honestDogberry's companions, among "the most senseless and fit men." Theyare, however, to the full, as much knaves as fools; and perhaps a wiserposterity will scarcely believe that, when things of the greatest valueare stolen, the owners, on applying to the chief magistrate, will oftenbe told that no redress can be given there, while one of the officerswill engage to get back the goods, upon paying the thieves a certain sumin exchange: if this is refused, your effects are gone forever! A prettystate of internal government!
It was about a year after the murder that my mother informed me of anevent which tore from my heart its last private tie; namely, the deathof Aubrey. The last letter I had received from him has been placedbefore the reader; it was written at Devereux Court, just before he leftit forever. Montreuil had been with him during the illness which provedfatal, and which occurred in Ireland. He died of consumption; and whenI heard from my mother that Montreui
l dwelt most glowingly upon thedevotion he had manifested during the last months of his life, I couldnot help fearing that the morbidity of his superstition had done thework of physical disease. On this fatal news, my mother retiredfrom Devereux Court to a company of ladies of our faith, who residedtogether, and practised the most ascetic rules of a nunnery, though theygave not to their house that ecclesiastical name. My mother had longmeditated this project, and it was now a melancholy pleasure to put itinto execution. From that period I rarely heard from her, and by littleand little she so shrank from all worldly objects that my visits, and Ibelieve even those of Gerald, became unwelcome and distasteful.
As to my lawsuit, it went on gloriously, according to the assertions ofmy brisk little lawyer, who had declared so emphatically that he likedmaking quick work of a suit. And, at last, what with bribery and feeingand pushing, a day was fixed for the final adjustment of my claim. Itcame--the cause was heard and lost! I should have been ruined, but forone circumstance; the old lady, my father's godmother, who had witnessedmy first and concealed marriage, left me a pretty estate near Epsom.I turned it into gold, and it was fortunate that I did so soon, as thereader is about to see.
The queen died; and a cloud already began to look menacing to theeyes of the Viscount Bolingbroke, and therefore to those of the CountDevereux. "We will weather out the shower," said Bolingbroke.
"Could not you," said I, "make our friend Oxford the Talapat?"* andBolingbroke laughed. All men find wit in the jests broken on theirenemies!
* A thing used by the Siamese for the same purpose as we now use theumbrella. A work descriptive of Siam, by M. de la Loubere, in whichthe Talapat is somewhat minutely described, having been translated intoEnglish, and having excited some curiosity, a few years before CountDevereux now uses the word, the allusion was probably familiar.--ED.
One morning, however, I received a laconic note from him, which,notwithstanding its shortness and seeming gayety, I knew well signifiedthat something not calculated for laughter had occurred. I went, andfound that his new Majesty had deprived him of the seals and secured hispapers. We looked very blank at each other. At last, Bolingbrokesmiled. I must say that, culpable as he was in some points as apolitician,--culpable, not from being ambitious (for I would notgive much for the statesman who is otherwise), but from not havinginseparably linked his ambition to the welfare of his country, ratherthan to that of a party; for, despite of what has been said of him, hisambition was never selfish,--culpable as he was when glory allured him,he was most admirable when danger assailed him!* and, by the shade ofthat Tully whom he so idolized, his philosophy was the most convenientlyworn of any person's I ever met. When it would have been in the way--atthe supper of an actress, in the _levees_ of a court, in the boudoirof a beauty, in the arena of the senate, in the intrigue of thecabinet--you would not have observed a seam of the good old garment. Butdirectly it was wanted--in the hour of pain, in the day of peril, inthe suspense of exile, in (worst of all) the torpor of tranquillity--myextraordinary friend unfolded it piece by piece, wrapped himself upin it, sat down, defied the world, and uttered the most beautifulsentiments upon the comfort and luxury of his raiment, that can possiblybe imagined. It used to remind me, that same philosophy of his, of theenchanted tent in the Arabian Tale, which one moment lay wrapped in anut-shell, and the next covered an army.
* I know well that it has been said otherwise, and that Bolingbrokehas been accused of timidity for not staying in England, and making Mr.Robert Walpole a present of his head. The elegant author of "De Vere"has fallen into a very great though a very hackneyed error, in laudingOxford's political character, and condemning Bolingbroke's, becausethe former awaited a trial and the latter shunned it. A very littlereflection might perhaps have taught the accomplished novelist thatthere could be no comparison between the two cases, because there wasno comparison between the relative danger of Oxford and Bolingbroke.Oxford, as their subsequent impeachment proved, was far more numerouslyand powerfully supported than his illustrious enemy: and there is reallyno earthly cause for doubting the truth of Bolingbroke's assertion;namely, that "He had received repeated and certain information that aresolution was taken, by those who had power to execute it, to pursuehim to the scaffold." There are certain situations in which a braveand a good man should willingly surrender life--but I humbly opine thatthere may sometimes exist a situation in which he should preserveit; and if ever man was placed in that latter situation, it was LordBolingbroke. To choose unnecessarily to put one's head under the axe,without benefiting any but one's enemies by the act, is, in my eyes,the proof of a fool, not a hero; and to attack a man for not placing hishead in that agreeable and most useful predicament--for preferring, inshort, to live for a world, rather than to perish by a faction--appearsto be a mode of arguing that has a wonderful resemblance to nonsense.When Lord Bolingbroke was impeached, two men only out of those numerousretainers in the Lower House who had been wont so loudly to applaud thesecretary of state, in his prosecution of those very measures forwhich he was now to be condemned,--two men only, General Ross andMr. Hungerford, uttered a single syllable in defence of the ministerdisgraced.--ED.
Bolingbroke smiled, and quoted Cicero, and after an hour's conversation,which on his part was by no means like that of a person whose very headwas in no enviable state of safety, he slid at once from a sarcasm uponSteele into a discussion as to the best measures to be adopted. Let mebe brief on this point. Throughout the whole of that short session, hebehaved in a manner more delicately and profoundly wise than, I think,the whole of his previous administration can equal. He sustained withthe most unflagging, the most unwearied, dexterity, the sinking spiritsof his associates. Without an act, or the shadow of an act, that couldbe called time-serving, he laid himself out to conciliate the king,and to propitiate Parliament; with a dignified prudence which, while itseemed above petty pique, was well calculated to remove the appearanceof that disaffection with which he was charged, and discriminated justlybetween the king and the new administration, he lent his talents to theassistance of the monarch by whom his impeachment was already resolvedon, and aided in the settlement of the civil list while he was in fullexpectation of a criminal accusation.
The new Parliament met, and all doubt was over. An impeachment of thelate administration was decided upon. I was settling bills with mylittle lawyer one morning, when Bolingbroke entered my room. He tooka chair, nodded to me not to dismiss my assistant, joined ourconversation, and when conversation was merged in accounts, he took up abook of songs, and amused himself with it till my business was overand my disciple of Coke retired. He then said, very slowly, and with aslight yawn, "You have never been at Paris, I think?"
"Never: you are enchanted with that gay city."
"Yes, but when I was last there, the good people flattered my vanityenough to bribe my taste. I shall be able to form a more unbiased andimpartial judgment in a few days."
"A few days!"
"Ay, my dear Count: does it startle you? I wonder whether the prettyDe Tencin will be as kind to me as she was, and whether _tout le monde_(that most exquisite phrase for five hundred people) will rise now atthe Opera on my entrance. Do you think that a banished minister canhave any, the smallest resemblance to what he was when in power? ByGumdragon, as our friend Swift so euphoniously and elegantly says, orswears, by Gumdragon, I think not! What altered Satan so after his fall?what gave him horns and a tail? Nothing but his disgrace. Oh! years, anddisease, plague, pestilence, and famine never alter a man so much as theloss of power."
"You say wisely; but what am I to gather from your words? is it all overwith us in real earnest?"
"Us! with _me_ it is indeed all over: _you_ may stay here forever. Imust fly: a packet-boat to Calais, or a room in the Tower, I must choosebetween the two. I had some thoughts of remaining and confronting mytrial: but it would be folly; there is a difference between Oxford andme. He has friends, though out of power: I have none. If they impeachhim, he will escape; if they impeach me, they will
either shut me uplike a rat in a cage, for twenty years, till, old and forgotten, I tearmy heart out with my confinement, or they will bring me at once tothe block. No, no: I must keep myself for another day; and, while theybanish me, I will leave the seeds of the true cause to grow up tillmy return. Wise and exquisite policy of my foes,--'_Frustra Cassiumamovisti, si gliscere et vigere Brutorum emulos passurus es._'* But Ihave no time to lose: farewell, my friend; God bless you; you are savedfrom these storms; and even intolerance, which prevented the exerciseof your genius, preserves you now from the danger of having applied thatgenius to the welfare of your country. Heaven knows, whatever myfaults, I have sacrificed what I loved better than all things--study andpleasure--to her cause. In her wars I served even my enemy Marlborough,in order to serve her; her peace I effected, and I suffer for it. Be itso, I am
"'Fidens animi atque in utrumque paratus.'**
"Once more I embrace you; farewell."
* "Vainly have you banished Cassius, if you shall suffer the rivals ofthe Brutuses to spread themselves and flourish."
** "Confident of soul and prepared for either fortune."
"Nay," said I, "listen to me; you shall not go alone. France is already,in reality, my native country: there did I receive my birth; it is nohardship to return to my _natale solum_; it is an honour to return inthe company of Henry St. John. I will have no refusal: my law case isover; my papers are few; my money I will manage to transfer. Rememberthe anecdote you told me yesterday of Anaxagoras, who, when asked wherehis country was, pointed with his finger to heaven. It is applicable, Ihope, as well to me as to yourself: to me, uncelebrated and obscure; toyou, the senator and the statesman."
In vain Bolingbroke endeavoured to dissuade me from this resolution; hewas the only friend fate had left me, and I was resolved that misfortuneshould not part us. At last he embraced me tenderly, and consentedto what he could not resist. "But you cannot," he said, "quit Englandto-morrow night, as I must."
"Pardon me," I answered, "the briefer the preparation, the greater theexcitement, and what in life is equal to _that_?"
"True," answered Bolingbroke; "to some natures, too restless to behappy, excitement can compensate for all,--compensate for years wasted,and hopes scattered,--compensate for bitter regret at talents pervertedand passions unrestrained. But we will talk philosophically when we havemore leisure. You will dine with me to-morrow: we will go to the playtogether; I promised poor Lucy that I would see her at the theatre,and I cannot break my word; and an hour afterwards we will commenceour excursion to Paris. And now I will explain to you the plan I havearranged for our escape."