Here, then, for my letter-box. What have we here?—a letter from the Marquis of D———, when he believed himself high in ministerial favour, and in a position to confer praise or censure:—
“Carlton Club.
“Dear Tempy,
“Your speech was admirable—first-rate; the quotation
from Horace, the neatest thing I ever heard; and
astonishing, because so palpably unpremeditated. Every one
I’ve met is delighted, and all say that, with courage and
the resolve to succeed, the prize is your own. I go to
Ireland, they say, or Paris. The latter if I can; the
former if I must. In either case, will you promise to come
with me? The assurance of this would be a very great relief
to
“Yours, truly,
“D———.”
What have we pinned to the back of this? Oh, a few lines in pencil from Sir C———S———, received, I see, the same evening.
“Dear T.,
“Sir H——— is not pleased with your speech,
although he owns it was clever. The levity he disliked,
because he will not give D——— any pretence for continuing
this system of personalities. The bit of Horace had been
better omitted; Canning used the same lines once before,
and the réchauffée—if it were such—was poor. The
Marquis of D——— was twice at Downing Street, to say that
he had ‘crammed’ you. This, of course, no one believes; but
he takes the merit of your speech to himself, and claims
high reward in consequence. He asks for an Embassy!
This is what Lord L——— calls ‘too bad.’ Come over to-
morrow before twelve o’clock.
“Believe me yours,
“C——— S———.”
Another of the same date:—
“Go in and win, old boy! You’ve made capital running, and
for the start too—distanced the knowing ones, and no
mistake! The odds are seven to four that you’re in the
Cabinet before the Derby day. I’ve taken equal fifties that
Tramp wins the Goodwood, and that you’re in—double event.
So look out sharp, and don’t baulk “Yours ever,
“Frank Lushington.”
A fourth, tied in the same piece of riband:—
“Wilson Crescent.
“Dear Friend,
“We have just heard of your success. Brilliant and
fascinating as it must be, do not forget those who long to
share your triumph. Come over here at once. We waited
supper till two; and now we are sitting here, watching
every carriage, and opening the window at every noise in the
street. Come then, and quickly.
“Augusta Beverly.”
And here is the last of the batch:—