“There were men in the Administration once, sir, in whom I had that confidence I could have placed my office in their hands with the full conviction it would have been worthily conferred,—men above the passions of party, and who saw in public life other ambitions than the struggles for place. I see these men no longer. They who now compose the Cabinet inspire no trust; with them I will not treat.”
Exhausted by this outburst of passion, he lay back in his chair, breathing heavily, and to all seeming overcome.
“Shall I get you anything, my Lord?” whispered Sewell.
The old man smiled faintly, and whispered, “Nothing.”
“I wish, my Lord,” said Sewell, as he bent over his chair,—“I wish I could dare to speak what is passing in my mind; and that I had that place in your Lordship's esteem which might give my words any weight.”
“Speak—say on,” said he, faintly.
“What I would say is this, my Lord,” said Sewell, with increased force, “that these attacks on your Lordship are in a great measure provoked by yourself.”
“Provoked by me! and how, sir?” cried the Chief, angrily.
“In this wise, my Lord. You have always held your libellers so cheap that you actually encourage their assaults. You, in the full vigor of your faculties, alive to the latest events, interested in all that science discovers or invention develops, persist in maintaining, both in your mode of living and your companionship, a continued reference to the past. With a wit that could keep pace with the brightest, and an imagination more alive than the youngest men can boast, you vote yourself old, and live with the old. Why, my Lord, is it any wonder that they try you on the indictment you have yourself drawn up? I have only to ask you to look across the Channel and see the men—your own contemporaries, your colleagues too—who escape these slanders, simply because they keep up with the modes and habits of the day. Their equipages their retinues, their dress, are all such as fashion sanctions. Nothing in their appearance reminds the world that they lived with the grandfathers of those around them; and I say, my Lord, if these men can do this, how much easier would it be for you to do it? You, whose quick intellect the youngest in vain try to cope with; you who are readier in repartee,—younger, in fact, in all the freshness of originality and in all the play of fancy, than the smartest wits of the day.
“My Lord, it has not been without a great effort of courage I have dared to speak thus boldly; but I have so often talked the subject over with my wife, and she, with a woman's wit, has so thoroughly entered into the theme, that I felt, even at the hazard of your displeasure, I ought to risk the telling you.” After a pause, he added: “It was but yesterday my wife said, 'If papa,'—you know, my Lord, it is so she calls you in secret,—'if papa will only cease to dress like a church dignitary, he will not look above fifty,—fifty four or five at most.'”