CHAPTER XX. MR. HEFFERNAN OUT-MANOEUVRED
It was on the very same evening that witnessed these events, that Lord Castlereagh was conducting Mr. Con Heffernan to his hotel, after a London dinner-party. The late Secretary for Ireland had himself volunteered the politeness, anxious to hear some tidings of people and events which, in the busy atmosphere of a crowded society, were unattainable. He speedily ran over a catalogue of former friends and acquaintances, learning, with that surprise with which successful men always regard their less fortunate contemporaries, that this one was still where he had left him, and that the other jogged on his daily road as before, when he suddenly asked,—
“And the Darcys, what of them?”
Heffernan shrugged his shoulders without speaking.
“I am sorry for it,” resumed the other; “sorry for the gallant old Knight himself, and sorry for a state of society in which such changes are assumed as evidences of progress and prosperity. These upstart Hickmans are not the elements of which a gentry can be formed.”
“O'Reilly still looks to you for the baronetcy, my Lord,” replied Heffernan, with a half-sneer. “You have him with or against you on that condition,—at least, so I hear.”
“Has he not had good fortune enough in this world to be satisfied? He has risen from nothing to be a man of eminence, wealth, and county influence; would it not be more reasonable in him to mature his position by a little patience, than endanger it by fresh shocks to public opinion? Even a boa, my dear Heffernan, when he swallows a goat, takes six months to digest his meal. No! no! such men must be taught reserve, if their own prudence does not suggest it!”
“I believe you are right, my Lord,” said Heffernan, thoughtfully; “O'Reilly is the very man to forget himself in the sunshine of court favor, and mistake good luck for desert.”
“With all his money, too,” rejoined Lord Castlereagh, “his influence will just be proportioned to the degree of acceptance his constituents suppose him to possess with us here. He has never graduated as a Patriot, and his slight popularity is only 'special gratia.' His patent of Gentleman has not come to him by birth.”
“For this reason the baronetcy—”
“Let us not discuss that,” said Lord Castlereagh, quickly. “There is an objection in a high quarter to bestow honors, which would seem to ratify the downfall of an ancient house.” He seemed to have said more than he was ready to admit, and to change the theme turned the conversation on the party they had just quitted.
“Sir George Hannaper always does these things well.”
Mr. Heffernan assented blandly, but not over eagerly. London was not “his world,” and the tone of a society so very different to what he was habituated had not made on him the most favorable impression.
“And after all,” said Lord Castlereagh, musingly, “there is a great deal of tact—ability, if you will—essential to the success of such entertainments, to bring together men of different classes and shades of opinion, people who have never met before, perhaps are never to meet again, to hit upon the subjects of conversation that may prove generally interesting, without the risk of giving undue preponderance to any one individual's claims to superior knowledge. This demands considerable skill.”
“Perhaps the difficulty is not so great here, my Lord,” said Heffernan, half timidly, “each man understands his part so well; information and conversational power appear tolerably equally distributed; and when all the instruments are so well tuned, the leader of the orchestra has an easy task.”
“Ah! I believe I comprehend you,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing; “you are covertly sneering at the easy and unexciting quietude of our London habits. Well, Heffernan, I admit we are not so fond of solo performances as you are in Dublin; few among us venture on those 'obligate passages' which are so charming to Irish ears; but don't you think the concerted pieces are better performed?”
“I believe, my Lord,” said Heffernan, abandoning the figure in his anxiety to reply, “that we would call this dull in Ireland. I 'm afraid that we are barbarous enough to set more store by wit and pleasantry than on grave discussion and shrewd table-talk. It appears to me that these gentlemen carry an air of business into their conviviality.”
“Scarcely so dangerous an error as to carry conviviality into business,” said Lord Castlereagh, slyly.
“There's too much holding back,” said Heffernan, not heeding the taunt; “each man seems bent on making what jockeys call 'a waiting race.'”
“Confess, however,” said Lord Castlereagh, smiling, “there 's no struggle, no hustling at the winning-post: the best horse comes in first—-”
“Upon my soul, my Lord,” said Heffernan, interrupting, “I have yet to learn that there is such a thing. I conclude from your Lordship's observation that the company we met to-day were above the ordinary run of agreeability.”
“I should certainly say so.”
“Well, then, I can only affirm that we should call this a failure in our less polished land. I listened with becoming attention; the whole thing was new to me, and I can safely aver I neither heard one remark above the level of commonplace, nor one observation evidencing acute perception of passing events or reflection on the past. As to wit or epigram—”
“Oh, we do not value these gifts at your price; we are too thrifty a nation, Heffernan, to expend all our powder on fireworks.”
“Faith, I agree with you, my Lord; the man who would venture on a rocket would be treated as an incendiary.”
“Come, come, Heffernan, I 'll not permit you to say so. Did you ever in any society see a man more appreciated than our friend Darcy was the last evening we met him, his pleasantry relished, his racy humor well taken, and his stores of anecdote enjoyed with a degree of zest I have never seen surpassed?”
“Darcy was always too smooth for our present taste,” said Heffernan, caustically. “His school was antiquated years ago; there was a dash of the French courtier through the Irishmen of his day.”
“That made the most polished gentlemen of Europe, I've been told,” said Lord Castlereagh, interrupting. “I know your taste inclines to a less chastened and more adventurous pleasantry, shrewd insight into an antagonist's weak point, a quick perception of the ridiculous—-”
“Allied with deep knowledge of men and motives, my Lord,” said Heffernan, catching up the sentence, “a practical acquaintance with the world in its widest sense; that cultivated keenness that smacks of reading intentions before they are avowed, and divining plans before they are more than conceived. These solid gifts are all essential to the man who would influence society, whether in a social circle or in the larger sphere of active life.”
“Ah! but we were talking of merely social qualities,” said Lord Castlereagh, stealing a cautious look of half malice, “the wit that sets the table in a roar.”
“And which, like lightning, my Lord, must now and then prove dangerous, or men will cease to be dazzled by its brilliancy. Now, I rather incline to think that the Knight's pleasantry is like some of the claret we were drinking to-day, a little spoiled by age.”
“I protest strongly against the judgment,” said Lord Castlereagh, with energy; “the man who at his time of life consents to resume the toils and dangers of a soldier's career must not be accused of growing old.”
“Perhaps your Lordship would rather shift the charge of senility against the Government which appoints such an officer,” said Heffernan, maliciously.
“As to that,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughingly, “I believe the whole thing was a mistake. Some jealous but indiscreet friend of Darcy's made an application in his behalf, and without his cognizance, pressing the claim of an old and meritorious officer, and directly asking for a restitution to his grade. This was backed by Lord Netherby, one of the lords in waiting, and without much inquiry—indeed, I fancy without any—he was named colonel, in exchange from the unattached list. The Knight was evidently flattered by so signal a mark of favor, and, if I read him aright, would not change his command for a brigade at home. In fact, he has already declined prospects not less certain of success.”
“And is this really the mode in which officers are selected for an enterprise of hazard and importance?” said Heffernan, affecting a tone of startled indignation as he spoke.
“Upon my word, Heffernan,” said Lord Castlereagh, subduing the rising tendency to laugh outright, “I fear it is too true. We live in days of backstairs and court favor. I saw an application for the office of Under Secretary for Ireland, so late as yesterday—”
“You did, my Lord!” interrupted Heffernan, with more warmth than he almost ever permitted himself to feel. “You did, from a man who has rendered more unrewarded services to the Government than any individual in the kingdom.”
“The claim was a very suitable one,” said Lord Castle-reagh, mildly. “The gentleman who preferred it could point to a long list of successful operations, whose conduct rested mainly or solely on his own consummate skill and address; he could even allege the vast benefit of his advice to young and not over-informed Chief Secretaries—-”
“I would beg to observe, my Lord—-”
“Pray allow me to continue,” said Lord Castlereagh, laying his hand gently on the other's arm. “As one of that helpless class so feelingly alluded to, I am ready to evince the deepest sense of grateful acknowledgments. It may be that I would rather have been mentioned more flatteringly; that the applicant had spoken of me as an apter and more promising scholar—-”
“My Lord, I must and will interrupt you. The memorial, which was presented in my name, was sent forward under the solemn pledge that it should meet the eyes of Mr. Pitt alone; that whether its prayer was declined or accorded, none, save himself, should have cognizance of it. If, after this, it was submitted to your Lordship's critical examination, I leave it to your good taste and your sense of decorum how far you can avow or make use of the knowledge so obtained.”
“I was no party in the compact you allege, nor. I dare to say, was Mr. Pitt,” said Lord Castlereagh, proudly; but, momentarily resuming his former tone, he went on: “The Prime Minister, doubtless, knew how valuable the lesson might be to a young man entering on public life which should teach him not to lay too much store by his own powers of acuteness, not to trust too implicitly to his own qualities of shrewdness and perception; and that, by well reflecting on the aid he received from others, he might see how little the subtraction would leave for his own peculiar amount of skill. In this way I have to acknowledge myself greatly Mr. Heffernan's debtor, since, without the aid of this document, I should never have recognized how ignorant I was of every party and every public man in Ireland; how dependent on his good guidance; how I never failed save in rejecting, never succeeded save in profiting by his wise and politic counsels.”
“Is your Lordship prepared to deny these assertions?” said Heffernan, with an imperturbable coolness.
“Am I not avowing my grateful sense of them?” said Lord Castlereagh, smiling blandly. “I feel only the more deeply your debtor, because, till now, I never knew the debt,—both principal and interest must be paid together; but seriously, Heffernan, if you wanted office, was I not the proper channel to have used in asking for it? Why disparage your pupil while extolling your system?”
“You did my system but little credit, my Lord,” replied Heffernan, with an accent as unmoved as before; “you bought votes when you should have bought the voters themselves; you deemed the Bill of Union the consummation of Irish policy,—it is only the first act of the piece. You were not the first general who thought he beat the enemy when he drove in the pickets.”
“Would my tactics have been better had I made one of my spies a major-general, Mr. Heffernan?” said Lord Castlereagh, sneeringly.
“Safer, my lord,—far safer,” said Heffernan, “for he might not have exposed you afterwards. But I think this is my hotel; and I must say it is the first time in my life that I have closed an interview with your Lordship without regret.”
“Am I to hope it will be the last?” said Lord Castle-reagh, laughing.
“The last interview, my Lord, or the last occasion of regretting its shortness?” said Heffernan, with a slight anxiety of voice.
“Whichever Mr. Heffernan opines most to his advantage,” was the cool reply.
“The former, with your permission, my Lord,” said Heffernan, as a flush suffused his cheek. “I wish your Lordship a very good night.”
“Good-night, good-night! Stay, Thomas, Mr. Heffernan has forgotten his gloves.”
“Thanks, my Lord; they were not left as a gage of battle, I assure you.”
“I feel certain of it,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing. “Good-night, once more.”
The carriage rolled on, and Mr. Heffernan stood for an instant gazing after it through the gloom.
“I might have known it,” muttered he to himself; “these lords are the only people who do stick to each other nowadays.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Drogheda is right, by Jove! there 's no playing against 'four by honors.'”
And with this reflection he slowly entered the hotel, and repaired to his chamber.