823 
 
 cm 
 
 v.l 
 
 / 
 
 "* w
 
 L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVLR.5ITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 cm
 
 THE CABAL.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED UY THOMAS DAVISO , WIIITEilllARS.
 
 THE CABAL, 
 
 ^ ®ate 
 
 REIGN OF WILLIAM THE FOURTH. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JAMES COCHRANE AND CO., 
 
 11, WATERLOO-PLACE. 
 
 1831.
 
 In consequence of the creation of certain peerages, since this 
 work was written, an awkward coincidence of names occurs, in 
 one or two instances, which it is hardly necessary to say is en- 
 tirely accidental.
 
 7) cd- O 
 
 cm 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 KIND READER, 
 
 There is one great truth which many 
 parts of this book were intended to illus- 
 trate — viz. the monopoly of political power 
 is a curse, and not a blessing, to those by 
 '^whom it is retained: it enervates and 
 t corrupts, it ruins and degrades. 
 J The monopoly of political power, in 
 ^ England, is at an end for ever, for the 
 people know their rights, and they also 
 know their strength. It has been my 
 wish to reconcile our late rulers to a loss 
 ^ already inevitable. I invite them to the
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 labour of honest industry, the rewards 
 of which never have been equalled by 
 the most splendid favours of ministers 
 or kings. Our youth must be told that 
 rank or power cannot now be won by 
 flattery and cunning : our nobilit}^ per- 
 haps, may learn more honourable paths 
 to wealth than a venal marriage ; and let 
 us hope that the names of English matrons 
 will never more be whispered in the same 
 breath with political intrigue. 
 
 Those who have been educated under 
 the old system must forget the old habits. 
 They may find this difficult, but they have 
 themselves to blame. Tlietj were warned; 
 they had many warnings : I will content 
 myself with recalling one. 
 
 In the month of January, 1824, in 
 times very different from the present.
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 the Westminster Review contained the 
 following words, dictated by an ardent 
 mind, and which a firm conviction of the 
 invincible power of truth would almost 
 seem to have inspired with the spirit of 
 prophecy. 
 
 " The intelligence created by educa- 
 tion must ere long obtain that extension 
 of the elective franchise, for the use of 
 which it is so well qualified, which con- 
 stitutes, indeed, the difference between 
 a freeman and a slave, and by which 
 alone the many can recover or secure 
 their rights and interests against the 
 ambition, the venality, or the servility 
 of the few." 
 
 Let it be confessed, that we owe re- 
 form to the education of the people ; 
 and for this, if it be lawful to ascribe
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 to one man what is due to the spirit 
 of the age, above all other names, the 
 English nation should for ever venerate 
 the name of Henry Brougham.
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue. 
 Lest it be said, * Speak, sirrah, when you should; 
 Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ?' " 
 
 King Henry FI. 
 
 His Grace, Richard Plantagenet, the present 
 Duke of Lancaster, passes, with most people, 
 for the male representative of John of Gaunt. 
 Happening, the other day, to look into Debrett, 
 I discovered that his descent is not quite so illus- 
 trious. 
 
 Thomas Tomkins, an eminent silversmith and 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE CABAL. 
 
 citizen of London, in the reign of George the 
 Second, is his most remote progenitor, in the 
 male Hne, of whom any certain record is pre- 
 served. Whether Thomas Tomkins had a father 
 or not, is a matter of serious (Jbubt in the heralds' 
 college ; but it is sufficiently established, that he 
 died high sheriff of Middlesex, and left more than 
 two millions of money to his heir. 
 
 Frederick Augustus Tomkins, his only son, 
 was the richest commoner of his day. He pur- 
 chased extensive estates in almost every county 
 in England, and was supposed to have acquired 
 the absolute nomination of thirteen members of 
 parliament. On the accession of his Majesty, 
 George the Third, he was created Baron Tom- 
 kins, of Tomkins Park, in the county of Middle- 
 sex, Lord Lieutenant of Lancashire, and a Lord 
 of the Bedchamber. But all these honours only 
 whetted the ambition of Frederick Augustus. 
 By degrees he became disgusted with the humble 
 name of Tomkins, and would have given half
 
 THE CABAL. O 
 
 his fortune to conceal the obscurity of his origin 
 under a more aristocratic designatioh. He con- 
 ceived a singular method of gratifying his vanity. 
 He had married a lady who claimed to be de- 
 scended from a bastard of the house of Lancaster. 
 By a fortunate accident he obtained possession 
 of the ancient residence of the family. He made 
 instant application to the minister of the day, 
 and, very much to the amusement of the public, 
 as you may read in Horace Walpole^s inimitable 
 letters, was created Earl of Lancaster, with leave 
 to bear the name and arms of Plantagenet onl^. 
 His son succeeded to the title, and, some years 
 before the close of the century, was promoted to 
 a dukedom. 
 
 In the mean time the wealth of the honest 
 silversmith rapidly diminished. The splendid 
 honours -of his descendants were supported by 
 an extravagant expenditure. Estate after estate, 
 castle after castle, were brought to the hammer : 
 the property which remained was heavily mort- 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE CABAL« 
 
 gaged; and the present duke is by no mean^ 
 one of the richest of our nobility. 
 
 One part, however, of the first peer's pur- 
 chases is still entire — his parliamentary patron- 
 age; — and, during the last thirty years, that 
 alone has afforded ample provision for the 
 younger branches of the family. All the dow- 
 agers and spinsters have comfortable pensions : 
 Lord Henry is Bishop of Nottingham, with 
 thirty thousand a year ; Lord Edward, governor 
 of St. Kilda, with ten ; and among the brothers, 
 nephews, and cousins of the noble duke, there 
 are three generals, two admirals, colonels and 
 commissioners without number, a master in 
 chancery, and a Welsh judge. 
 
 It is not for me even to hint that the 
 talents of the Plantagenets are not as high, or 
 as various, as the offices they fill ; but T cannot 
 help thinking that the thirteen members of par- 
 liament have something to do with their good 
 fortunes.
 
 THE CABAL. 5 
 
 Of late years, I know not why, this species of 
 influence has been less effectual. Perhaps the 
 minister has had less to give; perhaps he has 
 been afraid of Joseph Hume. However that 
 may be, the duke's sons have not been as for- 
 tunate as their uncles. 
 
 Lord Plantagenet is ranger of Sherwood Fo- 
 rest, or master of the Queen's falcons, I forget 
 which — perhaps both. Lord WilHam had a 
 government. You have heard the story. Lord 
 John's promotion has been rapid, but I do not 
 observe his name in the list of sinecures. 
 
 The second son is my friend. My acquaint- 
 ance with the rest of them is very slight. — He 
 is a man of considerable talent, and has led a 
 singular life. The public are familiar with part 
 of his history, but not with all. 
 
 When he was recalled, his affairs were by 
 no means in a flourishing condition. I do not 
 know exactly what provision had been made 
 for him in his mother's marriage settlement —
 
 O THE CABAL. 
 
 fifteen or twenty thousand, I believe; but all 
 that had been spent twice over before he went 
 out. I do not think he had sixpence at his 
 banker's when he landed in England. 
 
 I dined with him a few months after his arrival 
 in town. He had bought a very comfortable 
 house in May-fair, magnificently furnished. 
 Lord William is a most accomplished epicure. 
 His wines were excellent; his cook unique. 
 Lord William is devoted to the fine arts. I 
 pique myself on a little taste, and have had 
 some experience. The few pictures I saw that 
 evening could not have been purchased for ten 
 thousand pounds. Lord William is an elegant 
 scholar, and a profound antiquarian. From his 
 boyhood he has been afflicted with a most rave- 
 nous bibliomania. I have long suffered under 
 the same disease, and could therefore estimate 
 the value of his small library with tolerable ac- 
 curacy. There were not six hundred volumes, 
 and the value but, unless you are members
 
 THE CABAL. 7 
 
 of the Bannantyne Club, you would not credit 
 my account. 
 
 From what source was all this money derived ? 
 I am a quiet man and ask no questions. Lord 
 William hunted; Lord William kept race-horses; 
 Lord William kept a yacht. My income is mo- 
 derate, though it is tolerably sure at quarter- 
 day. I confess it made me bilious to see Lord 
 William's yacht. 
 
 Credit is a great invention of this enlightened 
 age; and the London tradesmen are certainly 
 very liberal, especially to a lord. But credit, 
 even in London, has an end. After the second 
 year, Lord William''s yacht gave me no further 
 uneasiness, and George Robins sold his library 
 and pictures considerably below their value. I 
 bought a very choice Correggio for a mere trifle. 
 
 His lordship spent a year in Paris with his 
 cousin the ambassador. He afterwards paid a 
 visit of some months to his eldest sister the 
 Countess of Rothsay, who was then in Scotland.
 
 ^ 
 
 8 THE CABAL. 
 
 It was in Scotland he first saw Maria Gibber. 
 When that delightful actress, at an enormous 
 salary, was engaged to perform at Drury-lane 
 theatre. Lord William returned to London, and 
 was almost as gay as ever. Whispers most de- 
 grading to his character began to be circulated. 
 It was asserted, almost openly, that she supported 
 his extravagance. 
 
 However supported, his extravagance conti- 
 nued. To ensure his ruin, he became a gambler. 
 His affairs fell into irretrievable confusion. 
 
 He had, indeed, one hope left. The Duke of 
 Lancaster's thirteen members had been, time out 
 of mind, sure cards with every ministry. They 
 reckoned on them after the government bo- 
 roughs. All through the bad times they had 
 been staunch. They never ratted till the new 
 men were actually in place. His grace, cer- 
 tainly, was staggered by the emancipation of 
 the Catholics ; for he is high-church to the back- 
 bone. On that question he waved his preroga-
 
 THE CABAL, 9 
 
 tive, and left his nominees at liberty to vote as 
 they pleased. Three of them were seriously in- 
 disposed, and Lord Plantagenet, to the astonish- 
 ment of the oldest politicians, actually voted 
 against the administration. But at every other 
 division of any consequence, within my recollec- 
 tion, the thirteen were steady at their posts. In 
 fact the duke made a point of it. 
 
 Such tried fidelity could not be suffered to 
 continue unrewarded. Of course, there was a 
 silent understanding that Lord William was one 
 day to have something. He complained griev- 
 ously of the ungrateful tardiness of the Treasury, 
 and, I suspect, thought it a breach of the con- 
 stitution to neglect a man whose family could 
 command so many boroughs. But the ministry 
 had good reasons for their delay, and he had 
 too much sense not to see them, in spite of his 
 complaints. 
 
 His conduct, while he held his government in 
 the East, was still remembered. He had also 
 
 b5
 
 10 THE CABAL. 
 
 acted very imprudently since his return, in 
 keeping himself too much in the eye of the 
 public. His brother. Lord John, with all due 
 deference be it spoken, is an ass. But he had 
 never done any thing to attract notice to his 
 promotion. Accordingly, he got on marvel- 
 lously. Poor Lord William, on the contrary, 
 was the observed of all observers. The fa- 
 vourites of a minister, in this country, should 
 contrive to be as insignificant as possible. 
 
 His family pressed him to marry. Though 
 not what it once was, rank still brings no incon- 
 siderable price in the marriage-market. His 
 sister, the intriguing Countess of Rothsay, is 
 said to have spread her nets for more than one 
 heiress, on his behalf. Whether, however, his 
 attachment to Maria interfered, or whether there 
 was any truth in a whisper about a private mar- 
 riage, which some ill-natured person sent about, 
 a year ago, but which met with no kind of credit, 
 certain it is, that his lordship betrayed no personal
 
 THE CABAL. 11 
 
 inclination to enter into the state of matrimony. 
 His hopes still reverted to ministerial patronage. 
 
 Of course you read the Age. Well; you 
 remember an article last winter, " On the Ex- 
 Governor." It really was savage of the Age to 
 pubhsh that at the time it did. The government 
 aiFair had begun to be forgotten, and, I do be- 
 lieve, the Duke of Wellington had something in 
 his eye. But with such an exposure on every 
 table in London unanswered, and, I am afraid, 
 unanswerable, it was out of the question. 
 
 However, he did not lose heart, though he 
 cursed the licence of the press, and the cowardice 
 of the cabinet. 
 
 When the present men were first talked about, 
 his expectations were very sanguine. Several of 
 them are nearly related to his family. The 
 Marquis of Chester, who has a seat in the ca- 
 binet, is his uncle, and returned him last autumn 
 for one of his boroughs, all the duke's being 
 occupied. But, when the Whigs came into place,
 
 12 THE CABAL. 
 
 under a pledge of parliamentary reform, he saw 
 there was no time to be lost. The whole founda- 
 tion of his father^s influence might be swept away 
 in an hour, and by any change it was sure to be 
 diminished. 
 
 Three days after the ministry was formed, he 
 received intelligence through a private channel 
 of the death of Sir Archibald Scrymgeour 
 Douglas, our ambassador at the court of Persia. 
 
 He lost no time in waiting on Lord Chester. 
 I believe the marquis was very well inclined to 
 further his views, but, on consulting with the 
 premier, he was obliged to tell him, in plain 
 terms, that the ministry could not comply with 
 his application. 
 
 Lord William called on me that morning. 
 I observed an air of forced gaiety in his address, 
 extremely unlike his usual nonchalance. 
 
 " Well, Arundel,^' said he, " I am going to 
 take your advice at last. I have been in parlia- 
 ment three years, without opening my lips. Come
 
 THE CABAL. IS 
 
 down to the house to-night, and you shall hear 
 my maiden speech. You stare ! — well, well ; — 
 I fancy I shall make as profound a statesman as 
 my Lord Chester, and, perhaps, a better orator 
 than his son. You do not know me. They did 
 not know me. But, as Sheridan said, I feel it 
 is liere^ and, by God, it shall come out !"
 
 14. THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Her face, the book of praises, where is read 
 Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
 Sorrow were ever rased, and testy wrath 
 Could never be her mild companion." 
 
 Pericles. 
 
 Maria Cibber is the daughter of a Scotch 
 clergyman. Her real name is of no consequence 
 to my story. Her mother was a woman of a good 
 family, and proud of her birth. The pittance 
 which the law provides for the widows of the 
 clergy in Scotland was barely sufficient for their 
 subsistence ; but the old lady submitted to every 
 privation, and stooped, in secret, to every menial 
 office, in order to maintain an appearance of 
 gentility. If they confined themselves to one
 
 THE CABAL. 15 
 
 meal in the day, or shivered beside an empty 
 grate, in the coldest mornings of April, she had 
 ample consolation in the thought, that they still 
 preserved their station in society. But this toil 
 and self-denial, however patiently endured, was 
 too much for a frame never naturally strong, 
 and now shaken by anxiety and age. A decre- 
 pitude, which affected her mind no less than her 
 body, demanded comforts, which their scanty 
 funds were utterly unable to procure. 
 
 Though Maria had received an education- 
 which would not have disgraced the highest rank, 
 she had also imbibed those haughty prejudices, 
 of which rank may diminish the absurdity, but 
 cannot palliate the injustice. But when she saw 
 her aged mother exposed to all the miseries of 
 extreme privation, she determined to have re- 
 course to any exertions, even those she had been 
 accustomed to contemplate as most degrading. 
 
 Lady Cordelia Hamilton, a distant relation of 
 her mother, was the person on whose judgment
 
 16 THE CABAL. 
 
 she had the greatest reliance. With a small 
 income, and little personal influence, few people 
 have done more good than Lady Cordelia. If 
 this were the place for such testimony, I could 
 name a hundred families that owe to her kind- 
 ness all the happiness they enjoy. But no 
 tongue can relate, for no eye has witnessed, how 
 often her modest charities, her gentle consola- 
 tions, her prudent counsels, have bound up the 
 broken heart, and breathed hope into the fainting 
 spirit. 
 
 She had long watched over Maria's fortunes 
 with almost parental anxiety ; and, when she 
 consulted her on her future prospects, she entered 
 into her feelings with the warmest sympathy. 
 
 At first, she offered to recommend her, as a 
 governess, to a family which resided in the 
 neighbourhood. But Maria could not leave 
 her mother. Then she endeavoured to procure 
 a purchaser for some drawings, which displayed 
 equal taste and execution. But the market was
 
 THE CABAL. 17 
 
 overstocked: at last, Maria herself suggested 
 another plan. She had frequently met the 
 manager of the Edinburgh theatre at Lady 
 Cordelia's house; and she recollected that, in 
 praising her voice, he had once observed, that 
 it would have made her fortune on the stage. 
 They resolved to put to the test the sincerity of 
 this compliment. 
 
 The negotiation with Mr. Murray was suc- 
 cessful. Under a feigned name, but not un- 
 recognized by all, she made her first appearance. 
 Her rare advantages of form and feature, her 
 voice, her taste, her timid but ladylike demean- 
 our, won every heart, and drew down the most 
 rapturous applause. It was discovered by 
 the critics, before her third performance, that 
 her voice was her least attraction. Her talents 
 as a comic actress were of the highest order. The 
 manager offered her a permanent engagement on 
 very favourable terms. 
 
 It was now her only anxiety to conceal the
 
 18 THE CABAL. 
 
 step she had taken from her mother. She knew 
 that she had committed an offence against the 
 old lady's prejudices, for which nothing could 
 atone. Her pride was not the only feeling which 
 the knowledge of her daughter's profession would 
 have outraged. She had been nurtured in those 
 strictly puritan principles which taught the old 
 presbyterians to look with horror on the amuse- 
 ments of the stage. The very name of a theatre 
 was inveterately associated in her mind with all 
 the abominations of the House of Belial. 
 
 Fortunately, as Maria calculated, her mother 
 saw hardly any visitors. She was deaf, and blind, 
 and feeble, and the natural peevishness of her 
 temper was aggravated by these infirmities of 
 age. Indeed her whole mind was rapidly hasten- 
 ing into that state of helpless imbecility, from 
 which last and worst of all human calamities 
 the strongest intellect has no exemption. 
 
 Maria refused to enter into any engagement, 
 by which she should be bound to perform on
 
 THE CABAL. 19 
 
 more than two evenings in each week. Lady 
 Cordelia's health furnished a ready excuse for her 
 frequent absence from home. They contrived a 
 thousand stratagems to prevent suspicion; and 
 for a time succeeded. 
 
 Maria found almost equal difficulty in apply- 
 ing the money, so hardly won, to supply her 
 mother's wants. She had the management of 
 their little purse, but no ingenuity could have 
 deceived an eye accustomed to all the shifts of 
 housewifery, if the old lady's mind had enjoyed 
 its former vigour. As it was, she was often 
 startled by the appearance of this comfort and 
 that luxury, and poured forth on the trembling 
 girl the most virulent maledictions for her ex- 
 travagance. Warming as she proceeded, she 
 prophesied that, through the means of such 
 wanton profusion, her own last years w^ould be 
 wasted in a prison or " the Abbey ."''' Then she 
 would threaten to resume the management of 
 their small household, and would call for ac-
 
 JSO THE CABAL. 
 
 counts and receipts in a voice querulous with 
 rage. It generally required some pious fiction to 
 restore her equanimity; and, affecting to wonder 
 at her own forgetfulness, Maria would tell her 
 of presents lately arrived — from her brother in 
 Orkney, or her cousin in Bute, or the never- 
 failing Lady Cordelia. 
 
 The Countess of Rothsay, Lord WilHam 
 Plantagenet's eldest sister, spent three months 
 that winter in Edinburgh. A general election 
 was expected,* and the countess, who is the 
 greatest female politician in the three king- 
 doms, determined to secure a certain Scotch 
 county for her husband's nephew. Her hus- 
 band, who has large estates in Scotland, is en- 
 tirely at her command, and without presuming 
 to ask her reasons, which, if given, he most pro- 
 bably would not understand, is content to obey 
 and admire in silence. The county on which 
 she had fixed her eye is one in which his in- 
 fluence is considerable. It embraces a large,
 
 THE CABAL. 21 
 
 Wealthy, and populous district. The number of 
 electors is exactly forty-seven^ of these there are 
 half-a-dozen officers in the army and navy, ten 
 writers to the signet, eight advocates, and a 
 solicitor before the Supreme Courts, none of 
 whom have a single foot of land, or the remotest 
 personal interest in the county. The rest are 
 country gentlemen, with incomes chiefly vary- 
 ing from eight hundred to three thousand a year. 
 But enough — this is not the place to dive into 
 the mysteries of Scotch law in order to discover 
 the origin of a system so strange, nor to fathom 
 the shallow depths of Scotch logic, in order to 
 detect those fallacies by which it is so im- 
 prudently defended. Many of the proprietors 
 who had votes, and all the electors who had no 
 property, were to be found in Edinburgh during 
 " the season." The countess knew the value of 
 good dinners, splendid " At Homes,'' and select 
 literary parties, in the far-famed Athens of the 
 north. The " writers" are a wary race, but even
 
 22 THE CABAL. 
 
 they must yield to such attractions. Lady Roth- 
 say, however, made her grand attack on Mr. 
 Daniel Downie, of Dunglow, the richest free- 
 holder in the county, who could command the 
 votes of at least a dozen. Dunglow, as he de- 
 lighted to be called, is the son of a Glasgow 
 butcher, and he is conscious that the splendour 
 of his equipage, and the weight of his purse, do 
 not atone for this blot on his scutcheon with the 
 majority of his countrymen. Birth is still re- 
 spected in the north. But indeed his manners 
 are as vulgar as his origin. Slowly, and with 
 much toil, and at much expense, he had worked 
 his way into the best circles, but he felt his foot- 
 ing insecure, and feared every moment to be 
 hurled back into his native obscurity. The 
 friendship of any countess might be useful, — 
 the intimate friendship of the Countess of Roth- 
 say was invaluable to such a man. She forced him 
 into the Bannantyne, where he had been six times 
 black-balled. She made him sit on her right
 
 THE CABAL. 23 
 
 hand at those exclusive httle parties, to which the 
 proudest of the proud grovelled to be admitted. 
 Dunglow had talked big about " his friends the 
 whigs," but in two months he yielded at dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 The countess had a secondary object in her 
 visit to Edinburgh. Miss Robina Gregg, the 
 great heiress from Dundee, that winter opened 
 her first campaign, conquering and to conquer, 
 A third part of the Athenian youth assumed her 
 chain. But the lady affected rank, and titled 
 lovers are not numerous in the northern metro- 
 polis. Rumour said, she already wavered be- 
 tween a bankrupt earl, who was believed to be 
 a blackguard, and a Nova Scotia baronet, who 
 was known to be a fool. This maiden was 
 marked by Lady Rothsay, to retrieve the for- 
 tunes of her brother. Lord William was then 
 in Paris, with his cousin the ambassador, A 
 hint brought him to Scotland. 
 
 The countess discovered, that Mr. Daniel
 
 24 THE CABAL. 
 
 Downie, of Dunglow, earnestly desired an in- 
 troduction to the new actress. You will not do 
 justice to Mr. Daniel's moral character, if you 
 imagine that he had any thing improper in view. 
 Maria, from the moment she went on the stage, 
 had determined to decline all introductions and 
 invitations. When this resolution was known, it 
 was amusing to see how many ladies became 
 ambitious of having her at their parties, and 
 how many young men were almost frantic to 
 obtain her acquaintance. As a matter of fa- 
 shion, Dunglow Avas frantic too. 
 
 The countess manoeuvred : and when was she 
 unsuccessful in her manoeuvres ? She prevailed 
 on Maria to accept an invitation to her house. 
 She proposed to herself that the party should be 
 one of business only. She devoted the evening 
 to her two favourite plans — to flatter Dunglow, 
 and win the heiress. Lord William and Maria 
 were the only other guests. The best-laid plot 
 may fail, the most happily selected party may
 
 THE CABAL. 25 
 
 never meet. The " Laird" had a previous en- 
 gagement, from which he could not escape : the 
 heiress preferred dining with the old duchess of 
 Arran, to whose son she was married three 
 weeks after. In this way it was that Lord 
 William first met Maria Gibber. By that name 
 she was introduced to him, and he had no sus- 
 picion that it was assumed. 
 
 A few days after this party, Maria took 
 lodgings in a small house, about half a mile 
 from town, for the benefit of her mother's health, 
 which was fast declining. 
 
 By one of those accidents, which seem less 
 improbable in real life than in fiction, Lord 
 William lodged in the same house. He had 
 heard the names of the new lodgers, without the 
 least idea that he knew any thing about them, 
 until, one morning, he encountered Maria and 
 her mother in the passage. 
 
 " Miss Gibber here!'' he began — a quick 
 gesture told him she did not wish to be re- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE CABAL. 
 
 cognized. Fortunately, the old woman neither 
 heard the exclamation, nor observed the gesture. 
 
 An explanation was necessary. An opportunity 
 offered, and it was given. 
 
 Such was the beginning of their intimacy. 
 
 Months passed. The old lady's end was ob- 
 viously approaching. It was with difficulty that 
 she could be moved from her chamber to the 
 parlour. If it had not been for Lord William's 
 attentions, Maria must have abandoned her en- 
 gagement. But her mother had taken a liking 
 to his lordship. When her fretful temper would 
 not permit any one else to approach, she allowed 
 him to read to her, and, in a feeble voice, would 
 tell him long stories of a certain Ann Plantagenet 
 she had known in her youth. The same stories 
 again and again and again — but Lord William 
 heard them every night with unabated patience. 
 Maria was not afraid to leave her under his 
 care. 
 
 The secret still was safe ; and it seemed as if
 
 THE CABAL. 27 
 
 the proud widow was destined to go to her 
 grave without being humbled by its knowledge. 
 — Fate had ordered it otherwise. 
 
 About five o'clock, one evening in June, after 
 dinner, for she dined at four, Maria, by stealth, 
 was reading over her part for the evening. The 
 old lady had retired to her chamber, as was her 
 custom at that hour. The door was ajar, and 
 by her heavy breathing, her daughter knew she 
 was asleep. Lord William looked in to ask 
 whether he should remain with her mother as 
 usual. 
 
 " My mother is remarkably well. — If I could 
 trust her with the servant, you might go with 
 me, dear William." 
 
 Dear William — ah ! yes, — ^how much that 
 little word confesses ! 
 
 A message arrived, at this moment, from an 
 old friend of the family, who had just landed at 
 Leith, from Orkney. She offered to spend the 
 evening with Maria's mother. 
 
 • c2
 
 28 THE CABALr 
 
 '' This will do, William," said she, " I know 
 old Christy Traill, by character, well. She is 
 a very notable nurse: — we could not have a 
 better." 
 
 And so it was arranged. 
 
 o 
 
 Who could have thought that this old woman, 
 just arrived from the uttermost extremity of the 
 kingdom, a place where, I am credibly informed, 
 the last news of a public nature was a rumour 
 of a battle at Waterloo, was to discover that 
 secret which it had taken so much trouble to 
 conceal. Yet so it was. 
 
 She reached the cottage about half an hour 
 after the young people'^s departure. 
 
 Christy Traill was a lean, withered hag, with 
 red hair, and ferret eyes— a choice specimen of 
 that disagreeable animal, an old maid. 
 
 She sat down beside Maria's mother, and thus 
 began to comfort her. 
 
 " Aweel, aweel, Elsheth, has it come to this ? 
 It is a precious text that worthy Mr. Muckle
 
 THE CABAL. 29 
 
 wham was wont to handle— ' Blessed is the womb 
 that never bore, and the paps that give no suck.' 
 Had you no thought of her worthy father, when 
 you made your ain bairn pass through the fire 
 to Moloch ?" 
 
 " What are you speaking about, Christy ? — 
 What can you say against my bairn ?*" 
 
 " Say against her ! — the painted Jezebel r 
 
 " Miss Traill," replied the old lady, raising 
 herself on her elbow, and speaking with a firmer 
 voice, " if you have heard any thing against 
 Maria, speak out. But take this from me 
 before you say it — they were liars that told you 
 the story." 
 
 ^' Were they so ? — May be I didna' see her 
 wi' my ain een, this very night, going into the 
 synagogue of Satan.*" 
 
 And so, with the delight which none but the 
 malicious know, she hastened to relate Maria's 
 whole iniquity. 
 
 As she proceeded, a thousand little circum-
 
 $0 THE CABAL. 
 
 stances recurred to the old lady's mind, which 
 convinced her that the story was true. In an 
 attitude of earnest attention she bent forward in 
 her chair; but she ceased to listen. Blinded 
 by the prejudices of her education, she believed 
 her daughter irretrievably disgraced. Deluded 
 by the maxims of her creed, she judged her 
 guilty of the blackest crime. The labour of a 
 life had been in vain. She saw her child de- 
 graded below the meanest, confounded with the 
 worst. — The shock was too great for her wasted 
 strength. — A stifled murmur— a rattle in the 
 throat — and all her sufferings were over. 
 
 It was late when Maria returned. Christy, 
 who opened the door herself, greeted her as 
 follows : 
 
 '• Yes, yes, mistress — come your ways in 
 and see your handiworks. — Surely the end of 
 these things is death. There's your worthy 
 mother lying a corpse up stairs, and all through 
 your doing."
 
 THE CABAL, 31 
 
 Maria sank insensible on thedhreshold. 
 
 " What have you done, you hag of hell/' 
 cried Lord William, in uncontrollable passion. 
 
 "Aye, aye, curse awa' — the limmer has her 
 fellows, I warrant; but this is no place for 
 Christy Traill." 
 
 In the course of the ensuing autumn, Maria 
 received a very flattering offer from one of the 
 London theatres. Lord William urged her to 
 accept it. She had no longer any tie to Scot- 
 land, and she complied with his advice. 
 
 Their connexion was now pretty notorious. 
 Her former prudery was remembered with a 
 sneer. Many indeed asserted there had been a 
 private marriage. No doubt they manage these 
 things snugly in Scotland. You may be married 
 by your friend or your footman, a beggar or a 
 blacksmith. The time and the place are equally 
 indifferent. But, though some people even said 
 that they knew the witnesses who were present
 
 3^ THE CABAL. 
 
 at the marriage,' as these witnesses were never 
 named, the story was not generally believed. 
 
 Lady Cordelia had a long interview with 
 Maria before her departure. What passed did 
 not transpire. But her ladyship never mentions 
 her name.
 
 THE CABAL. 38 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
 trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many 
 of our players do, I had as Uef the town crier spoke my 
 Unes." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 There is no greater mystery in human nature 
 than the talent of public speaking. In a public 
 assembly the most impetuous are cold, the most 
 confident abashed : that courage quails which 
 has braved death in a thousand forms ; and that 
 large and subtle intellect, which has spanned 
 the utmost limits, and fathomed the most secret 
 depths of science, is feeble and obscure. 
 
 Though I had often rallied Lord William on 
 his silence in the House, I was far from thinking 
 
 c5
 
 34 THE CABAL. 
 
 that he was likely to succeed as an orator. His 
 information, certainly, if we take into account 
 the dissipated life he has led from his boyhood, 
 is wonderfully extensive and accurate. But I 
 thought his temper too cold, and his taste too re- 
 fined — or shall I rather call it too effeminate? — 
 to permit him to wield with vigour those rude 
 weapons which are always most efficient in de- 
 bate. For in such warfare the ponderous axe 
 dashes into splinters the best-tempered rapier. 
 The delicate allusions, the fine distinctions, which 
 are so delightful in the closet, are worse than 
 useless in the senate. 
 
 The secret of success in public speaking, as in 
 every other art, lies in the adaptation of the means 
 to the end. There the end is not speculation but 
 action. I might almost say, that whoever fer- 
 vently desires to persuade his audience, and with 
 perfect singleness of purpose directs his whole 
 energies to that end, will be listened to with 
 patience. I will boldly say, that whoever loiters
 
 THE CABAL. 25 
 
 in his argument, to dally with choice phrases, or 
 to perfect the proportions of ideal systems— in 
 short, whoever thinks of his opinions rather than 
 his object, or of himself rather than his audience, 
 is certain of failure. 
 
 I am very fond of the gallery of the House of 
 Commons. A seat there is almost as much worth 
 having as a seat on the benches below. I do not 
 deny that when some pert ultra has talked for 
 half an hour about the church, the constitution, 
 and himself, I have occasionally regretted that a 
 reply from the gallery would have been a breacli 
 of privilege. But what advantages do the sileitt 
 members possess which are not common to them 
 with the other auditors ? They can frank, — they 
 can cheer, — and they are not afraid of being 
 turned out on a division. Ah ! then^ I must con- 
 fess, I envy them. Is it not hard, after having 
 waited for two hours in a crowd of greasy citizens, 
 or paid, which I prefer, your half sovereign to 
 Mr. Wright, — -just when you are comfortably
 
 S6 THE CABAL. 
 
 seated in the front row, — Shiel, whom you have 
 never heard, on his legs, — and the prospect of 
 various maiden speeches of promise, — to be turned 
 like a dog to the door, on the motion of Mr. 
 Wynn? 
 
 No such calamity occurred on the evening I 
 accompanied Lord William to the House. I 
 parted from him in the lobby. Mr. Wright 
 was punctual. I was admitted without delay by 
 his private door, and displacing my warming-pan 
 in the front row, stepped into the most crowded 
 gallery I had witnessed for some time. I had 
 requested that my seat might be secured on the 
 left of the Speaker, in order that I might have 
 a full view of rily friend, whom I expected to 
 find, of course, in his old place, behind the 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer. I glanced up and 
 down the ministerial benches in vain. To one 
 who had been recently familiar with the House, 
 they presented a very singular appearance. 
 Faces, strange to that region, assumed, rather
 
 THE CABAL. 37 
 
 awkwardly, an air of importance and decorum ; 
 while here and there an old tory, solitary and 
 silent, was manifestly annoyed by the novelty of 
 his situation. 
 
 I turned to the opposition. What was my 
 surprise to discover Lord William in earnest 
 conversation with the member for Oxford ? But 
 my astonishment increased, when I recognized 
 Lord Plantagenet, and the rest of the trusty 
 thirteen, seated, in close phalanx, behind the late 
 Secretary for the Home Department. 
 
 One of the under Secretaries of State moved 
 a new writ for the borough of Dodbrook, on the 
 appointment of Lord Chester's eldest son to a 
 place under government. Lord William in- 
 stantly rose. All eyes were turned on him. The 
 side on which he had taken his position, his 
 personal notoriety, and his relationship to Lord 
 Chester, one of whose boroughs he represented, 
 were, each of them, sufficient to secure the at- 
 tention of his audience.
 
 38 THE CABAL. 
 
 It has become the practice in parhament, of 
 late years, to introduce long discussions in a very 
 irregular and preposterous manner. The pre- 
 sentation of a petition, or a motion of this nature, 
 often gives rise to a lengthened debate, which 
 has no object, real or ostensible, but to com- 
 municate to the public the sentiments of the 
 speakers. I think the practice alike prejudicial 
 to the style of our debates, and to the progress of 
 our public business. In the mean time it must 
 be confessed it is sometimes convenient. 
 
 Lord William commenced with the usual ex- 
 ordium. — He availed himself of this occasion 
 to state to the House and to the country those 
 reasons which had induced him in common with 
 many of his friends to withhold his confidence 
 from his Majesty's government. In taking this 
 decisive step, he was separating himself from 
 some of his nearest relatives, for none of whom 
 he entertained a more sincere regard than for 
 the late member for Dodbrook. He deplored
 
 THE CABAL. 39 
 
 the alliance which his honourable relative had 
 formed with the whig party, a party which had 
 ever been turbulent and factious in opposition, 
 insolent and incapable in power. His honourable 
 friend might tell him that the ministry had not 
 been tried. Measures, not men, was a rule the 
 justice of which he did not mean to question ; 
 but when a ministry came into place, solemnly 
 pledged to a certain policy, it was open to any 
 man who detested that policy to refuse them his 
 support without further trial. 
 
 Lord William had hitherto spoken in a low 
 voice, and not without visible agitation ; but he 
 gathered confidence, as he proceeded, and when 
 he began to denounce the three pledges by which 
 the ministry were understood to be fettered — 
 Peace — Retrenchment — and Reform — his voice 
 was raised, every symptom of diffidence disap- 
 peared, and his whole person assumed an air of 
 dignity and vigour of which I had not believed it 
 to be capable.
 
 40 THE CABAL. 
 
 He drew a rapid sketch of our foreign rela- 
 tions, and while he chose to represent Great 
 Britain as already fallen from her proud station 
 as the arbiter of Europe, he protested that the 
 resolution of the present ministry would be 
 received as an avowal of her utter imbecility. 
 He took a comprehensive survey of our financial 
 resources, and declared his conviction that any 
 further reduction of the revenue would bring 
 down inevitable ruin on every interest in the 
 empire. 
 
 But he seemed to have reserved the whole 
 force of his vituperation for the subject of reform. 
 The subject is hackneyed enough, and I do not 
 well know how he managed to appear original. 
 It is indeed the greatest triumph of genius, 
 Coleridge would say, it is the only evidence 
 of genius to make that appear new which is most 
 familiar. 
 
 Evidence of wonderful talents the speech un- 
 questionably afforded even to those who most
 
 THE CABAL. 41 
 
 differed from its sentiments. I am a whig of the 
 old school myself. I have always been friendly 
 to reform, and in the present times I think it 
 absolutely necessary to the existence of the state. 
 But it was impossible to refuse my admiration 
 to the rare ability which was displayed on this 
 occasion by his lordship. 
 
 I will not attempt to describe the enthusiasm 
 with which it was received by the opposition. 
 At first a modest " hear'*"' from the member for 
 Newark, echoed, in a more audible tone, by the 
 member for Boroughbridge, seemed to express 
 rather the welcome with which the accession of 
 his lordship's interest was greeted, than a tribute 
 to his personal talents. But, as he proceeded, it 
 became gradually more general, and swelled 
 into a louder and still louder note, till his con- 
 cluding sentences were drowned in one long peal 
 of exulting applause. 
 
 The people in the gallery, if I may judge by.
 
 ^ THE CABAL. 
 
 their gestures, and sometimes by a suppressed 
 murmur, are in general not very partial to the 
 opponents of reform: but they paid the most 
 profound attention to Lord William's speech, 
 and the reporters did not rest a moment from 
 their labours. 
 
 A young man, who was close beside me, 
 attracted my attention by the unusual interest 
 he displayed. He half rose from his seat, dis- 
 regarding the repeated warnings of certain offi- 
 cial persons, whose attention to the privileges of 
 the House, I must say, in a parenthesis, is most 
 rigidly vigilant. He stretched over the gallery 
 to see the speaker'*s countenance more distinctly, 
 and seemed to sympathize with all his feelings. 
 When his lordship hesitated, he turned pale; 
 and the blood rushed back to his cheek and 
 temples as he regained his confidence. He evi- 
 dently laboured under strong emotion as the 
 approbation of the House became more decided ;
 
 THE CABAL. 43 
 
 and when his lordship sat down, it seemed to 
 be with the utmost difficulty he suppressed his 
 inclination to join in the applause. 
 
 In the lobby I found Lord William, sur- 
 rounded by a crowd of ultras^ who v.'ere con- 
 gratulating him, in the strongest terms, on his 
 success. I thought he was rather impatient of 
 their compliments, though he received them 
 very courteously, and as he seemed in haste, 
 I merely grasped his hand. 
 
 It was a clear moonlight night, and I stopped 
 for a short time at the door, with the hope of 
 seeing a friend, whom I had observed in the 
 House. In a few minutes Lord William passed 
 me, followed by the young man who had be- 
 trayed so much interest in his speech. 
 
 He laid his hand on his lordship's arm. I 
 beard him whisper, in a voice scarcely audible,' 
 " William ! dear William !" 
 
 *' Maria !" exclaimed his lordship, turning
 
 44 THE CABAL. 
 
 round ; '' why, this is madness ; I thought you 
 in jest this morning." 
 
 " I could not stay at home ; indeed I could 
 not," returned Maria Gibber, for it was she. 
 I recognized her in a moment. That gentle 
 voice — that delicate hand — and oh ! could one 
 doubt for a moment, who had ever seen Maria's 
 ankle ? 
 
 " Come, then, you little fool, make haste. 
 The Age will fill two columns with this, next 
 Sunday, if you are seen." 
 
 She leaped lightly into his carriage. The 
 door closed. I looked round. No one had 
 noticed her )but myself.
 
 THE CABAL. 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " And thus the native hue of resolution 
 Is sickhed o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment 
 With this regard their currents turn awry, 
 And lose the name of action." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 There is nothing I detest more cordially than 
 a dinner at Lancaster-house. I have a very 
 sincere respect for his grace, because I beheve 
 the character that Luttrell is reported to have 
 given of him is as true as it is witty. The duke 
 would do more good than any man in England, 
 if he knew how to set about it. He is always 
 forming plans for the benefit of his fellow-crea- 
 tures, but he only succeeds in boring them to 
 death.
 
 46 
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 His grace is an indefatigable chemist, an 
 indefatigable mechanist, an indefatigable agri- 
 culturist, an indefatigable antiquarian, an inde- 
 fatigable statesman, above all, a most indefati- 
 gable orator. He corresponds with all the mini- 
 sters, and most of the crowned heads in Europe, 
 with half the republic of letters, and at least a 
 tenth part of the country gentlemen of Great 
 Britain. He is the patron of two hundred and 
 seventy-five scientific, literary, political, agricul- 
 tural, religious, and charitable associations; to 
 each of which, by some strange miracle, he con- 
 trives to devote considerable time. He conde- 
 scends to contribute to various periodical pub- 
 lications, and, in the course of a long life, has 
 printed, for private circulation among a few 
 thousand of his friends, some dozen quartos, and 
 pamphlets in octavo without number. 
 
 In spite of all this, or rather, by means of all 
 this, his grace is, beyond comparison, the most 
 insufferable bore in Christendom. There is
 
 THE CABAL. 47 
 
 much pretension to magnificence in the duke's 
 establishment, for his pride is at least equal to 
 his rank ; but, as his income is very small in 
 proportion to either, there is very little solid 
 comfort. Now, really, if one is to listen for 
 hours to a string of solemn or silly common- 
 places, on every uninteresting subject under 
 heaven, it is rather too much that your host's 
 cookery should be as obsolete as his sentiments, 
 and his champaign as vapid as his wit. 
 
 Fortunately for his friends, the duke's enter- 
 tainments are not very numerous. He gave his 
 first dinner this season a few days after Lord 
 AVilUam's speech. Lord Plantagenet, who had 
 long been in bad health, was recommended by 
 his physicians to spend the remainder of the 
 winter in the south of France. His grace in- 
 vited a few friends to dine with his son the day 
 before his departure. Such was the ostensible 
 occasion of the party : but in truth, under this 
 pretence, Lord William had contrived to bring
 
 48 THE CABAL. 
 
 together some of the leading members of oppo- 
 sition to consult on the tactics of the opening 
 campaign. 
 
 His lordship believed that the chief strength of 
 ministry lay in the disunion of their adversaries, 
 and it was his most earnest desire to bring about 
 a strict alliance between the various parties of 
 which the opposition was composed. He had suc- 
 ceeded in gaining the consent of his father to his 
 plans, by dilating on the revolutionary tendency 
 of reform, and the immense personal loss to which 
 it would expose him ; and he thought that, by 
 appealing to similar motives, he might be able 
 to collect into one invincible phalanx the scat- 
 tered forces of the tories. By his services in 
 this measure, he calculated with confidence on 
 obtaining a high place in the future administra- 
 tion. 
 
 With these views he was most anxious to 
 remove those jealousies which prevented a cor- 
 dial union between the ultra party and principal
 
 THE CABAL. 49 
 
 members of the late government. The ultras 
 had received the advances of his own immediate 
 friends, and of its other subordinate adherents, 
 without hesitation, and Lord William had found 
 little difficulty in arranging the terms of their 
 alliance. But the leaders on both sides still 
 remembered their recent contests, and could not 
 be persuaded to relinquish their mutual feelings 
 of distrust. 
 
 The official experience of most of the late 
 ministry, and the comparative talent and popu- 
 larity of at least one of them, made it evident, 
 however, that their cordial co-operation was ab- 
 solutely necessary to the defeat of their suc- 
 cessors. Accordingly, the principal object of 
 the present meeting was to obtain the consent 
 of the ultra party to open a negotiation with 
 their leaders. 
 
 Let us look round the table. I have said 
 enough of Lord William and his father; and 
 I have very little to say of the rest of the family. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 Lord John is a fool. He dresses well, and rides 
 admirably. I have a very great regard for Lord 
 Plantagenet, though I never was on very inti- 
 mate terms with him. He is a slow man, rather 
 a proser, like his father, but tolerably modest, and, 
 1 am convinced, thoroughly conscientious : I do 
 not remember to have heard him express strong 
 feehngs on any subject, except on the catholic 
 question. He lives to this day under the most 
 serious personal apprehension of being burned at 
 Smithfield, whenever Catholicism shall have had 
 sufficient time to feel its strength in the legisla- 
 ture. 
 
 On the right of the duke sits his grace 
 of Cornwall, with one exception the greatest 
 borough patron in the kingdom. His enemies 
 say that nature did not intend him for a states- 
 man. His best friends do not pretend that he has 
 any talents as an orator. As to the rest, he is 
 rather self-sufficient, very weak, and very honest. 
 That venerable nobleman opposite, whose
 
 THE CABAL. 51 
 
 many years have neither subdued the vigour of 
 his mind, nor disturbed the tranquillity of his 
 temper, is the greatest lawyer of the age. To 
 knowledge not less accurate than profound, and 
 intellect not less patient than acute, he joins in 
 rare union the most delightful courtesy and the 
 most imperturbable good- nature. To say that 
 his character has defects, is to say that he is 
 human; but when the animosities of the day 
 shall have been consigned to history, assuredly 
 England will record his name among the wisest 
 and the best, with affectionate reverence. And 
 truly even now, while our animosities are at their 
 height, it requires no great exertion of tolerance 
 to excuse the old, though they cling somewhat 
 tenaciously to the prejudices of their youth, and 
 to respect that invincible consistency which at 
 least demonstrates the sincerity of those opinions 
 in which we are not able to participate. 
 
 That grave and rather solemn personage, in 
 serious consultation with Lord William, is the 
 
 UNIVERSITY OQ 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARlfi
 
 0% THE CABAL. 
 
 philosopher of the party, whom the patronage 
 of the Duke of Cornwall has lately metamor- 
 phosed from a vender of linens into a vender of 
 paradoxes. Since that strange transmutation, all 
 his writings and speeches have been trumpeted 
 by the tory press with ridiculous perseverance. 
 He is a man of moderate ability, considerable 
 acquirements, and inordinate vanity. 
 
 I know nothing for which the noble viscount 
 on his right is remarkable, but the unblushing 
 effrontery with which he exercises an illegal in- 
 fluence in controlling the votes of his tenantry. 
 He has lately increased his parliamentary inte- 
 rest by means of which most other noblemen 
 would be heartily ashamed. 
 
 I must not forget the most conspicuous person 
 in the room. That odd -looking elderly gentle- 
 man with a slovenly dress and an ungainly 
 though athletic figure, is one of the most honest, 
 consistent, and independent members of the old 
 tory party. In spite of those extravagant ges-
 
 THE CABAL. 53 
 
 tures and that strange quaintness of expression, 
 you cannot listen to him for five minutes without 
 perceiving that he is a man of great and original 
 genius. It may be permitted a liberal to regret, 
 that the ultras have found him on all occasions 
 the violent and no doubt the sincere advocate of 
 their most extreme opinions. 
 
 That young man, with an abundance of ring- 
 lets shading his handsome though rather effemi- 
 nate features, is the Marquis of Launceston, among 
 the richest subjects, and the representative of one 
 of the oldest families in Europe. His accom- 
 plishments are almost universal, and, although 
 scarcely of age, he has already exhibited political 
 talents of the very highest order. It is melan- 
 choly to observe that he is willing to sacrifice all 
 these advantages to a frivolous and contemptible 
 ambition. He devotes two-thirds of his time to 
 the study of cookery, would give half his fortune 
 to discover a new method of tying his neckcloth, 
 and resigns without a sigh that place in the
 
 54} THE CABAL. 
 
 public councils, to which his birth, his fortune, 
 his acquirements, and his genius alike entitle him, 
 to secure the reputation of a leader of the ton. 
 
 I will not detain you with a description of the 
 rest ; suffice it to say, that they were the flower 
 of the ultras, the strength of that haughty and 
 somewhat obstinate party, which hitherto had 
 kept itself aloof from the contamination of con- 
 ciliatory measures, and clung most closely to 
 those opinions which it knew to be most un- 
 popular. 
 
 While the servants were in the room, no allu- 
 sion was made to the real object of the meeting. 
 The political topics of the day were scarcely 
 mentioned. The conversation was by no means 
 interesting. Unfortunately for the company, his 
 grace of Lancaster had recently turned his whole 
 attention to the cultivation of potatoes. He had 
 discovered, he assured them, sundry new virtues 
 in the potatoe which had escaped the observation 
 of all preceding philosophers. The root might
 
 THE CABAL. 55 
 
 be dressed in no less than seven hundred and 
 seventy-three different ways, and, moreover, 
 might be used with advantage in the composition 
 of bread, puddings, omelets, and indeed most 
 known dishes. The flower yielded the richest 
 dyes. The apples were medicinal. In short, 
 each part of the plant had its appropriate praises, 
 which, delivered in a slow measured tone, and 
 without a single pause,* edified the company 
 during the greater part of dinner. It had been 
 well if his grace's predilections had been con- 
 fined to theory. By way of a running com- 
 mentary on his harangue, every second dish 
 was impregnated with this divine root. It Avas 
 amusing to witness Lord Launceston's despair. 
 
 To the dissertation on potatoes succeeded a 
 long account of a new species of goose, the first 
 specimen of which his grace had had the honour 
 of importing. Then he favoured all who would 
 listen by a very minute description of an intri- 
 cate piece of mechanism, for toasting bread, of
 
 56 THE CABAL. 
 
 his own invention. In short, their worthy host 
 was as great a bore as usual. 
 
 At last the servants withdrew. Then was a 
 pause. They prepared to commence the real 
 business of the evening.
 
 THE CABAL. 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night ! 
 That runaways' eyes may wink ; and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 It is night. In a small drawing-room, ele- 
 gantly, but not splendidly furnished, Maria 
 Gibber is waiting for Lord William. Her cheek 
 is pale, her eye dull and heavy. Who could re- 
 cognise in this drooping though still beautiful 
 girl, that Beatrice whose whole heart but four 
 hours ago seemed overflowing in irrepressible 
 merjiment ? 
 
 Alas ! the lot of those who minister to the 
 pleasures of the public is a cruel one at best. 
 
 d5
 
 58 THE CABAL. 
 
 A youth of alternate excitement and depression, 
 a despised, neglected, miserable old age. But 
 how shall I tell in what degree the cruelty of 
 her lot is aggravated, who yielding to the strong 
 temptations with which she is surrounded, and, 
 forgetting that the tempter is her superior in 
 rank, permits herself to love ? 
 
 Oh ! that my single voice could call down the 
 execration of the public on the heartless profli- 
 gate, who sacrifices to his selfish lust the happi- 
 ness of a confiding woman. Oh ! that my single 
 voice could persuade my countrymen, that the 
 morality which prescribes to our sex a less rigid 
 rule of chastity than to the other, which con- 
 demns unheard the frailty of woman, and passes 
 over unnoticed the voluntary crime of man, is 
 altogether hollow and deceitful. 
 
 " It is he ! — ah ! no, the carriage passes — he 
 said he might be detained — Ann, my watch — I 
 am certain he will come.*" 
 
 " Had you not better go to bed, ma'am .''"
 
 THE CABAL. 59 
 
 said Ann, who was more tired than her mistress, 
 with much less reason. — " My lord will not come 
 at this hour." 
 
 " You need not wait — I shall not require any 
 thing." 
 
 " But you are unwell, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh no — a slight head-ache — I shall be quite 
 well to-morrow — you need not wait." 
 
 " Indeed, ma"'am, you had better go to bed — 
 you are very much fatigued — his lordship should 
 be ashamed of himself for using you in this 
 way." 
 
 " Be silent, Ann — be silent, and leave me 
 — I have not spirits to reprove you as I 
 ought." 
 
 Left to herself, she stole into the next room to 
 gaze upon her child. Sole comfort of many 
 miserable hours. She drew back the curtain. 
 She bent over her infant. A tear fell upon its 
 brow, as she murmured, in a voice half choked
 
 60 THE CABAL. 
 
 with emotion, " If he saw you now, he could 
 not but love you.*" 
 
 She placed the candle so as to shade the light 
 from the sleeping child, and sat down by its 
 side. 
 
 Another hour. — The poor girl had been ill. 
 Her professional exertions had been unusually 
 laborious. Nature could endure no longer.— 
 Maria slept. 
 
 At eight in the morning, Lord William opened 
 the door of the chamber. When the party at 
 which we left him had dispersed, he had accom- 
 panied the young Earl of Burlington to one of 
 those temples of chance, where the wealthy some- 
 times seek excitement, but the desperate much 
 more frequently oblivion. Lord William was no 
 gambler, till he was a ruined man. 
 
 '^ What, Maria ! — up so early. — She is asleep. 
 The fool has not been in bed. Can she have been 
 waiting for me ? — What a wretch I am to treat
 
 THE CABAL. 61 
 
 her in this manner ! — Maria ! love ! — How cold 
 she is. — Look up, love — it is I." 
 
 She opened her eyes. She gazed on him for 
 a few seconds, then sprang into his arms. 
 
 For him she had neither reproaches nor com- 
 plaints. She would not even sadden the few 
 moments of their meeting by permitting him to 
 know the physical pain under which she was 
 suffering. For himy whenever he might come, 
 she had a smiling cheek, and a fervent welcome. 
 
 Oh ! who can fathom the mystery of woman's 
 love ? It is proof against the most contemptuous 
 neglect. It survives the most brutal cruelty. 
 We are not worthy of her. Compared with her, 
 the very best, of us are cold and selfish. What 
 a ruffian then must that man be, who can pollute 
 the pure current of her thoughts, or crush her 
 kind and gentle spirit without remorse. 
 
 Lord William remained only a few minutes 
 with Maria. He had come to tell her that he 
 was about to leave town for some weeks.
 
 62 THE CABAL. 
 
 The proceedings at Lancaster House are a 
 state secret, which you must pardon me for pre- 
 serving for the present. The success of his lord- 
 ship's plans you may gather from the sequel. 
 One resolution however was made public imme- 
 diately. On separating himself from the ministry, 
 Lord William had retired from the representation 
 of his uncle's borough. His brother accepted the 
 Chiltern hundreds, on his departure from Eng- 
 land. It was the wish of his father, and the party, 
 that he should stand for the county, which Lord 
 Plantagenet had hitherto represented. No op- 
 position was expected, but the necessary expenses 
 were to be partly defrayed, from a fund, con- 
 cerning which you will hear a good deal more, 
 before my narrative is concluded. 
 
 " And so, love," said his lordship, " for the 
 present we must part, I have not used you 
 well of late, but these politics distract me. — By 
 the way, Maria, what money have you in the 
 house .?"
 
 THE CABAL. 6S 
 
 " About forty pounds. But, if you want 
 more, I can send to my banker's in an hour." 
 
 " The forty pounds will do at present. How- 
 ever, if you can send me a couple of hundreds 
 before one o'clock, you will oblige me. I am 
 reduced to my last shilling."
 
 64 
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Oh fortune, fortune ! all men call thee fickle : 
 If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 
 That is renown'd for faith i^" 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 " Who is that beautiful girl to whom Lord 
 William is speaking so earnestly ?" said the Earl 
 of Burlington to Harry Mowbray. " She looks 
 like somebody one ought to know, but I do not 
 recollect her face." 
 
 " Her name is Flora Macdonald. She is the 
 only daughter of that sneaking old man beside 
 her, and the greatest heiress in our county. I 
 do not know a more delightful person, though 
 her mother is decidedly unpresentable, and her 
 father is a Scotchman, an attorney, and a whig."
 
 THE CABAL. 65 
 
 " I suspect, Harry, Lord William is in the 
 toils. That smile was well aimed, and seems to 
 have done execution." 
 
 " Why, if what I hear be true, the lady's five 
 thousand a year would be particularly useful to 
 his lordship, at the present moment." 
 
 " You do not mean that his affairs are in dis- 
 order again." 
 
 a Worse than ever. I am told his debts are 
 enormous. But he will be quite a new man, if he 
 can persuade old Macdonald to give his consent. 
 He seems on pretty good terms with the daughter 
 already, but she is a sad coquette ; she used poor 
 Mortimer very ill." 
 
 " Good terms indeed, Harry. Confound the 
 dog, how happy he looks ! What is she about 
 tiow ? — showing him a ribbon? — They are talking 
 of his election, I suppose. He is pretty sure to 
 be returned, if he can get her to canvass for 
 him."
 
 66 THE CABAL. 
 
 " He would be more sure if he could secure 
 her father's influence. But that is out of the 
 question." 
 
 " Why there is no contest, is there?" 
 " Every probability of a very keen contest. 
 I heard, this morning, that Sir Edmond Mor- 
 timer has been requested to stand on the whig 
 interest."" 
 
 " Well, but Harry, you told me, only two 
 days ago, that you were sure your friend Mor- 
 timer would never return to England."" 
 
 " Certainly not without a very strong motive. 
 But he is an enthusiastic reformer, and the party 
 make a point of it. Besides, he is vain of his 
 family influence. With all his talent, I do not 
 know any man more easily flattered." 
 " Is he likely to succeed ?" 
 " I should think certain. The majority of the 
 leading men in the coimty belong to the whig 
 party, and old Macdonald, who has great in-
 
 THE CABAL. 67 
 
 fluence with the manufacturers, is Sir Edmond's 
 factotum, and was his guardian." 
 
 " His guardian ?" 
 
 " Yes. — Sir Richard, the last baronet, had the 
 greatest confidence in him. Indeed, Macdonald 
 owes half his fortune to the patronage of the 
 family. When Sir Richard first took notice of 
 him, he was an attorney's clerk in the county 
 town, with a miserable salary.*" 
 
 " Well, I am sorry to learn that there is 
 any doubt of Lord William's election. I heard 
 nothing of this, the other night, at the duke's.'' 
 
 " I believe the resolution of the whigs was 
 rather sudden. It was not known in town till 
 this morning." 
 
 " Has Macdonald taken any part in the 
 business ?" 
 
 " I suppose he did not know of it till to-day. 
 But they reckon on him, of course." 
 
 " Why, I'd hardly answer for him, Harry, if 
 this wooing should go any farther. By the way,
 
 68 THE CABAL. 
 
 Miss Macdonald has a very good chance of being 
 Duchess of Lancaster one day. Poor Plantagenet 
 is seriously unwell. I never knew any one so 
 much altered in so short a time. But, come, let 
 us join Lord William ; I see they have concluded 
 their tete-d-tete.'*''
 
 THE CABAL. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " For in companions 
 
 That do converse and waste the time together. 
 Whose souls do hear an equal yoke of love. 
 There must he needs a like proportion 
 Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 The whig and tory parties had divided the 
 
 representation of the county of S without 
 
 contest, for more than a century. The expense 
 of an election excluded the competition of the 
 large mass of the freeholders, and though two- 
 thirds of the great families were attached to the 
 whig' interest, one tory had been uniformly re- 
 turned, to each parliament, to preserve the peace 
 of the county.
 
 70 THE CABAL. 
 
 Perhaps you may not be fully aware, how 
 much virtue there is in that little phrase. 
 
 Half-a-dozen families, in one corner of the 
 shire, nominated the candidates. The rest re- 
 ceived their mandate with silent subservience. 
 The men might be notorious profligates. But 
 then opposition would have endangered the peace 
 of the county. 
 
 They might be indolent, or ignorant, or in- 
 capable. But what was all the evil their de- 
 ficiencies could produce, when weighed against 
 the peace of the county ? 
 
 And had they been the most industrious, the 
 best informed, and the most efiicient members in 
 the House, their exertions must have been sure 
 to neutralize each other, for they were pledged 
 to vote, on all occasions, on opposite sides. But 
 who would have sacrificed, to such considerations, 
 the sacred peace of the county? 
 
 In this manner, the first whisper of two whig 
 candidates was generally drowned in an universal
 
 THE CABAL. 71 
 
 outcry — the peace of the county ! — the peace of 
 the county ! But, if it was not instantly silenced, 
 the tory aristocracy began to form clubs, levy 
 subscriptions, and put forth manifestoes, which 
 threatened an obstinate and expensive opposition. 
 The whigs, repenting of their rashness, and pre- 
 ferring the certainty of one member, without ex- 
 pense, to the probability of two, with a heavy 
 contribution, hastily withdrew the second can- 
 didate, and joined in the cry of the peace of the 
 county I But the peculiar crisis in which the 
 country was placed, at the moment when Lord 
 Plantagenet retired, induced those who were 
 friendly to the ministry to contest the approach- 
 ing election at all hazards. It is said that the 
 Duke of Kensington, the Earl of Greenwich, Sir 
 Dacre Paul Dacre, and other influential members 
 of the whig party in the county, received letters 
 from- head-quarters, urging the importance of 
 even a single vote. However that may be, it is 
 certain that two days after Lord William had
 
 72 THE CABAL. 
 
 signified his intention of coming forward, a very 
 numerous meeting was held at Vesey Castle to 
 consult on the best means of opposing his return. 
 Sir Eustace de Vesey, who had been returned 
 with Earl Plantagenet, at the last election, is 
 the representative of a family, from which the 
 whig member had been chosen time out of mind. 
 The hereditary veneration in which the name is 
 held, at first suggested the nomination of his 
 cousin. Sir Hameline de Vesey, as Lord William's 
 opponent. But Sir Hameline, having some ex- 
 pectation of a peerage, respectfully declined the 
 honour. It was necessary to choose a candidate 
 from another family. The Dacres, and the Mow- 
 brays, and the Warrens, and the Dal tons, a son 
 of Lord Greenwich, and a nephew of the Duke 
 of Kensington, were named in succession. It was 
 amusing to see, with what variety of excuses, 
 and with what mock humility, each refused a 
 compliment, which was sure to bring along with 
 it both trouble and expense.
 
 THE CABAL. 73 
 
 At last the name of Sir Edmond Mortimer was 
 mentioned. Two years before, when Sir Eustace 
 had talked of retiring, he had shown some desire 
 to offer himself as his successor. He is of a very 
 ancient family, has a large unencumbered estate, 
 and is adored by his tenantry. I may add, that 
 he has the reputation of great talent, and has 
 always been enthusiastically attached to the cause 
 of reform. 
 
 With all this. Sir Edmond was by no means 
 very popular witii the party. To his equals his 
 manners are cold and repulsive in the extreme. 
 For many years of his life all his habits were 
 those of a recluse, and not a few of his peculiar 
 opinions still retain that character. 
 
 He was deformed from his childhood, and a 
 consciousness of his personal defects gave a mor- 
 bid tone to his character at an early age. As he 
 grew older, his disinclination to mingle with the 
 world gradually increased. He devoted his whole 
 time to the more abstruse sciences. While still 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 i^ THE CABAL. 
 
 a youth, he was sent, for some years, at his own 
 request, to a German university. In a place 
 where a passion for study was carried to the 
 most absurd excess, the young Englishman was 
 distinguished by the severity of his application. 
 In a place where every other passion was equally 
 unbridled, he was distinguished by the purity, 
 or rather the austerity of his morals. When he 
 returned to England ,he continued the same 
 habits. 
 
 Flora Macdonald, the daughter of his guardian, 
 was destined to bring about an entire revolution 
 in his character. He persuaded himself that he 
 had found in her a woman who could forget the 
 defects of his outward appearance in her regard 
 for the qualities of his mind. 
 
 I do not think that Harry Mowbray had suf- 
 ficient grounds to accuse Flora of coquetry. She 
 had a real friendship for Sir Edmond, and her 
 respect for his talents was certainly unfeigned. 
 Her manners are delightful to all. Imprudent
 
 THE CABAL. 75 
 
 she may have been; heartless or intentionally 
 cruel, I am sure she was not. 
 
 But still, the moment when he awoke from his 
 delusion was one of intense and unspeakable 
 anguish. The words in which she declined the 
 honour of his hand with a coldness, the intention 
 of which was kind, seemed to upbraid him with 
 having ventured to hope that any woman could 
 ever love a being so deformed. He interpreted 
 all her former attentions as a series of charitable 
 hypocrisies, beneath which she had forcibly con- 
 cealed that loathing which no concealment could 
 suppress. 
 
 After weeks of mental and physical suffering, 
 which it was painful for those around him to 
 contemplate. Sir Edmond returned into the world 
 with habits strangely altered by his disappoint- 
 ment. He could no longer endure that solitude 
 in which he had formerly delighted. He sought 
 for some active pursuit in which he might forget 
 those humiliating feelings which his repulse had 
 
 e2
 
 76 THE CABAL. 
 
 awakened. For a short time he found it in 
 politics, to which he brought a mind stored with 
 historical knowledge, and accustomed to the most 
 profound speculations. If he had succeeded in 
 getting into Parliament, he would probably have 
 remained in England. But when Sir Eustace 
 de Vesey gave up his intention of retiring from 
 public life, he despaired of finding any imme- 
 diate opening. The petty quarrels of the county 
 soon failed to furnish him with sufficient excite- 
 ment. He found himself idle, and determined 
 to travel. 
 
 Though Sir Edmond Mortimer was by no 
 means popular with many who were present, his 
 name was no sooner mentioned than the meeting 
 determined to select him as Lord William's 
 opponent. 
 
 For this there were many reasons. His talents 
 are universally respected, and his influence is by 
 no means small. I have said he has a large 
 fortune, is connected with the best families, and
 
 THE CABAL. 77 
 
 is a kind and indulgent landlord. He has also 
 other sources of influence. 
 
 The prejudice in favour of birth, the expense 
 attending elections, and the inveterate force of ha- 
 bit, had long confined the nomination of the county 
 members in the hands of a few great families. 
 
 But the old feelings were dying away, and 
 interests hitherto overlooked had begun to make 
 themselves regarded. The number of freeholders, 
 less than three thousand at the last contest, had 
 been more than doubled by the rise of numerous 
 villages, called into existence by the progress of 
 manufactures. The inhabitants of these villages 
 
 C5 
 
 were generally radical reformers, and from their 
 multitude and union of late years, had caused 
 serious apprehensions among the old oligarchy. 
 
 Their union, indeed, was more apparent than 
 real. For, although they had corresponding- 
 clubs, general meetings, and all the other instru- 
 ments of an organized system of association, they 
 were distinguished from one another by many
 
 78 THE CABAL. 
 
 different shades of political sentiment. But 
 without descending to more minute distinctions 
 of opinion, they might easily be divided into 
 two great classes. By far the more moderate, 
 the larger, and the more respectable portion, were 
 dissenters. They were generally favourable to 
 the introduction of vote by ballot, and perhaps 
 looked with some jealousy on the enormous 
 revenues of the church ; but, in other respects, 
 their ideas of reform did not materially differ 
 from those of the most liberal among the whigs. 
 Universal suffrage, annual parliaments, abolition 
 of tithes, and some still more extravagant doc- 
 trines, formed the creed of the minority. 
 
 One man exercised almost unbounded influ- 
 ence over the former class. 
 
 Mowbray's account of Duncan Macdonald was 
 essentially correct. He was born of obscure pa- 
 rentage in Scotland, but left his native country 
 at an early age. The late Sir Richard Mortimer 
 took a fancy for him while he was still only the
 
 THE CABAL. 79 
 
 clerk of a petty attorney, prevailed on his master 
 to receive him into partnership, and in course of 
 time confided to him the whole management of 
 his extensive property. At his death he left him 
 a considerable legacy, and appointed him the sole 
 guardian of his infant son. Partly by this pa- 
 tronage, partly by the political connexion which 
 it enabled him to form with the other whig gentry 
 of the county, partly by the zeal which he uni- 
 formly professed for the peculiar tenets of the 
 dissenters, and partly by a singular shrewdness 
 of character, and an unwearied attention to busi- 
 ness, Duncan Macdonald, in the course of a long- 
 life, had amassed a large fortune, and acquired 
 very great political influence. 
 
 The dissenters looked up to him with pride 
 and gratitude. He was by far the richest man 
 of their persuasion in the county, and he was on 
 terms of familiar intimacy with the men of the 
 highest name and station in their neighbourhood. 
 But, with all this, he seemed to place his chief
 
 80 THE CABAL. 
 
 pleasure in the enjoyment of their society, in 
 arranging their little quarrels, and in furthering 
 their interests. I know not whether his pro- 
 fession of principles, in some degree less radical 
 than those which were most generally among 
 them, did not increase rather than diminish his 
 authority. 
 
 Among the whigs he had hitherto acted as 
 the organ and representative of the Mortimer 
 family. He recommended himself, besides, to 
 many by his unobtrusive, pliant, and somewhat 
 sycophantish manners, no less than by his sin- 
 gular talent for political intrigue. 
 
 Of late years he had obtained additional im- 
 portance with all parties, by the growing power 
 of the radicals. The poorer freeholders con- 
 sidered him their patron, and the great families 
 trusted to him to prevent any rude interference 
 with their established influence. 
 
 The meeting imagined that, by selecting Sir 
 Edmond Mortimer as their candidate, they se-
 
 THE CABAL. 81 
 
 cured Duncan Macdonald's cordial co-operation, 
 and, consequently, might calculate with certainty 
 on the unanimous support of the Dissenters. 
 
 Resolutions were accordingly drawn up in due 
 form, and preparations were made to transmit 
 them to Sir Edmond without delay. 
 
 e5
 
 82 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 '^ — — I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
 And falls on the other How now — what news?" 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 The whole county of S was in raptures. 
 
 For the first time, within the memory of man, it 
 was to enjoy the blessings of a contested election. 
 Old and young could dream of nothing but flags 
 and ribbons; music and processions; riots and 
 harangues. The tradesmen were in paradise. 
 The innkeeper saw rivers of ale and wine, the 
 glazier heard the crash of a thousand windows 
 in the approaching contest. The lesser free- 
 holders were swollen with pride. To be can-
 
 THE CABAL. 83 
 
 vassed by the, proudest and the fairest, flattered, 
 and treated, and caressed; to get drunk for 
 nothing, and to feed for nothing on the fat of 
 the land ; a bribe here and there ; a son made 
 a tide-waiter, and a nephew an exciseman — 
 such were their dreams. Happy England ! when 
 such dreams are so often realized. 
 
 The flag waved on the battlements of Arleston 
 to welcome the arrival of the candidate. 
 
 The ancient palace of the Plantagenets is 
 situated in the centre of a park, the largest in 
 England, which embraces within its bounds every 
 variety of scenery, lawn, brake, and forest — the 
 wide plain, the dark and winding glen — the 
 gurgling brook, the rapid torrent, the broad and 
 placid lake. High above all, unshaken by the 
 tempests of four hundred winters, rise the grey 
 towers of Arleston, with narrow windows and 
 grated loop-holes, and sculptured with various 
 devices ; among which, the lions of England, the 
 rose of Lancaster, and the plant from which the
 
 84 THE CABAL. 
 
 name of Plantagenet is derived, are most con- 
 spicuous. And, on this day, it seemed as if old 
 times were returning. The glories of Arleston 
 had seen a long eclipse. No warder had paced 
 the battlement. No trumpet had sounded from 
 the watch-tower. The broad gates, seldom 
 opened, were rusting on their hinges. The 
 drawbridge, seldom raised, creaked beneath the 
 foot. But now the walls were crowded with 
 attendants. The trumpet rang joyfully. The 
 banner of the Plantagenets floated proudly on 
 the breeze. No wiclcet served for entrance. 
 The gates were thrown open, from which " an 
 army in battle array had marched out." Within, 
 the hall was filled with the smoke of the ban- 
 quet, and the long galleries echoed with un- 
 wonted merriment. 
 
 Besides visitors from the neighbourhood, who 
 already began to pour in on every side, the 
 castle was crowded with a large number of guests 
 who had accompanied the duke from town.
 
 THE CABAL. 85 
 
 Then was the Countess of Rothsay, the duke's 
 eldest daughter, a most invaluable canvasser. 
 To me there is no being more disgusting than 
 a female politician. Formed equally to dazzle 
 and to captivate, the countess stoops to prostitute 
 her attractions to all the basest purposes of po- 
 litical intrigue. From the management of a 
 rotten borough to the discovery of a cabinet 
 secret; from flattering a London butcher to 
 poisoning the ear of royalty itself, she is learned 
 in all the arts by which corruption is supported. 
 She had been initiated into the secrets of the 
 Ultra Cabal, and had entered into their plans 
 with her usual earnestness, and perhaps with 
 somewhat more than her usual imprudence. 
 
 There was the young Countess of Burlington, 
 a mere girl both in mind and years. She saw 
 in the preparations for the election little more 
 than a gay and bustling spectacle, which agree- 
 ably interrupted the dulness of the season. 
 
 There were the three ladies Monfitchett —
 
 86 THE CABAL. 
 
 Constance, Mabel, and Agatha, sisters of the 
 Marquess of Launceston. It was a great mistake 
 in the Countess of Rothsay to bring them into 
 the tumult of an election. They were disgusted 
 with every thing and every body, and, in re- 
 turn, contrived to make themselves universally 
 unpopular. 
 
 There was old Lady Sarah Dunstanville, the 
 Duke of Cornwall's sister, who was expected to 
 have great influence with the clergy ; and old 
 Lady Martha Montford, Sir Simon Montford's 
 widow, who promised to do miracles with the 
 Dissenters. 
 
 There was the Right Honourable Ann Audley 
 Arundel, in her own right, Countess of Flint, 
 Peverell, and Cyvelioc, who was to carry the 
 county by the force of blood ; and Miss Mar- 
 garet Mary TurnbuU, the great heiress of Bristol, 
 who was to put down all opposition by her golden 
 smiles. 
 
 Then, of the male sex, there was the Earl of
 
 THE CABAL. 85 
 
 Rothsay, a weak well-meaning man, exceedingly 
 proud of his wife's abilities, and, at least, equally 
 afraid of incurring her displeasure. 
 
 There was Lord William's intimate friend the 
 Earl of Burlington, who, by a strange freak of 
 nature, has a mind so constituted^ that he is 
 dull or witty, indolent or industrious, profligate 
 or devout, exactly according to the character of 
 his temporary associates. 
 
 There was the Marquess of Launceston, of 
 whom I have already spoken; and Lord Ray- 
 mond Monfitchett, who has all his brother's 
 affectation, without the faintest shadow of his 
 talent. 
 
 The Duke of Cornwall's learned hnen-draper 
 had come down to assist with his advice, and 
 perhaps with his eloquence. 
 
 The aristocratic Horace Hopkins, to secure 
 his friend's election and strengthen the new 
 alliance, had promised his countenance, at the
 
 88 THE CABAL. 
 
 certain hazard of encountering the contaminating 
 approaches of the middle classes. 
 
 To name all were tedious. But, at least, I 
 must not omit the witty Harry Mowbray. Not 
 in such company met for such purpose, three 
 short years ago, could his former friends have 
 expected he should be found. A whig by birth, 
 a whig by education, a whig by prejudice, a whig 
 on principle, who could have thought that, in 
 three short years, he was to be branded with the 
 name of renegade? The last time I attended 
 the union, Harry Mowbray delivered one of the 
 most eloquent speeches which I had ever heard 
 within its walls. I am by no means a violent 
 partisan, and though a whig, I thought his 
 vituperation of the tories ilHberal and extra- 
 vagant. Young Capel Clinton, who sat by my 
 side, thought so too. He answered him at some 
 length, and concluded by observing that extreme 
 opinions in politics were not always the most per-
 
 THE CABAL. 89 
 
 manent. Mowbray rose to reply, visibly under 
 the influence of uncontrollable passion. I almost 
 blush to remember the vehement adjurations, 
 with which he called on all present to witness, 
 in a recapitulation of his political creed, the 
 solemn and irrevocable act by which he devoted 
 himself to that cause which Clinton had opposed . 
 The next time I saw him was in the House of 
 Commons. He spoke in a clear unfaltering voice 
 from the back benches on the ministerial side. 
 He touched on the very topics on which 1 had 
 heard him harangue in the union. He bestowed 
 the most fulsome praises on the very measures 
 which had been the objects of his unmeasured 
 vituperation. He poured forth a torrent of elo- 
 quent abuse against the very men whom he had 
 lauded to the skies. 
 
 Ambition was the talisman which had wrought 
 this miracle. To gain a seat for one of the Duke 
 of CornwalFs boroughs, and the distant prospect 
 of ministerial patronage, he sacrificed friends,
 
 90 THE CABAL. 
 
 character, and principle. But he has proved 
 himself no less imprudent than unprincipled. 
 He mistook the signs of the times,. and deserted 
 his old connexions for a losing cause. The con- 
 sciousness of this sits heavy at his heart. It gives 
 double bitterness to the virulence of that satire, 
 with which he pursues his former associates. 
 
 Poor Harry ! I pity him from my soul. — In 
 public, he is the slave of his adopted party. He 
 attacks, with unsparing violence, whatever mea- 
 sure it suits them to decry, and prostitutes his 
 brilliant powers of eloquence and wit to defend 
 their most corrupt and shameful practices. In 
 private, his conversation betrays that political 
 scepticism, by which, to his own mind, the rene- 
 gade endeavours to excuse his breach of political 
 rectitude. 
 
 Mowbray had brought with him a German 
 Count, whom he had picked up in town. A 
 citizen of the world, who had come to England, 
 for the express purpose of studying the British
 
 THE CABAL. 91 
 
 constitution. He had fallen in love with those 
 Utopian pictures, which foreign jurists and phi- 
 losophers, in total ignorance of the subject, have 
 presented to their countrymen, as a true delinea- 
 tion of British liberty. He longed to understand 
 that miraculous balance, the result of which is 
 not perfect inactivity, but perpetual action — that 
 strange opposition of interests, which is not pro- 
 ductive of eternal discord, but of eternal peace— 
 that faultless system, which blends, in unbroken 
 harmony, the warring elements of liberty and 
 law. 
 
 Mowbray had recommended an election, as 
 the best possible opportunity of satisfying his 
 curiosity. At no small hazard, he had brought 
 him to Arleston in the character of his butt, for 
 the Count was fresh from Jena, and had fought 
 fifteen duels in the last three years, as his face, 
 scored like an apple-pie, amply attested. 
 
 He delighted to startle the philosopher by 
 dragging into his notice every anomaly in the
 
 92 THE CABAL. 
 
 theory or practice of the constitution, which 
 could shock his preconceived ideas. He took 
 pleasure in leading him to believe, that the whole 
 fabric of our laws is one vast mass of contradiction 
 and absurdity; as if, by the destruction of his 
 Utopian dreams, he expected to convert him to 
 political scepticism. 
 
 He conducted his attacks on the Count's 
 favourite doctrines, however, with the most im- 
 perturbable gravity, and generally obtained the 
 serious assent of his Grace of Lancaster, or the 
 Reverend Dr. Malpas, the duke's chaplain, to all 
 those extravagant assertions of privilege or pre- 
 rogative with which he overwhelmed the won- 
 dering German. 
 
 I think I have named the most remarkable 
 guests. The rest, if there be any others worthy 
 of your notice, must speak for themselves in the 
 sequel.
 
 THE CABAL. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " If that you conquer, 
 
 I live to joy in your great triumph ; should 
 Your lot he different, I'll not weep, hut share it. 
 You did not doubt me a few hours ago." 
 
 Byron's Sardanapalus. 
 
 Two days after the festivities had commenced 
 at Arleston, Duncan Macdonald and his daughter 
 arrived at Gideon Cottage, a small brick house, 
 close to the high road, about half a mile from the 
 county town. In this humble residence, he had 
 accumulated his wealth, and he showed no in- 
 clination to change it. 
 
 Mrs. Macdonald bustled down stairs to meet 
 them. In a few minutes they were seated at 
 dinner, and all the news of the neighbourhood
 
 94 THE CABAL. 
 
 was produced for their amusement. Then might 
 you hear, how the Reverend Malachi MelviJle 
 had taken Miriam Thomson to wife; how Rebecca 
 Bateson had gone astray, and Lady Deborah 
 Dacre had been converted ; how coals were mira- 
 culously cheap, and candles surprisingly dear ; 
 how Mrs. Sackville Latimer had behaved with 
 infinite rudeness, and Lady Martha Montford 
 had been particularly civil. At length dinner 
 was removed, and the tide of Mrs, Macdonald's 
 eloquence began to flow with somewhat less im- 
 petuosity. 
 
 " Flora, my dear," said her father, " your 
 mother and I have some business to talk about, 
 with which we need not trouble you.'"* 
 
 When they were left alone, Macdonald drew 
 his chair nearer his wife, and continued, " Well, 
 my love, I have seen Sir Henry, and he assures 
 me, there is not the most distant probability of 
 Lord Plantagenet's recovery. His lungs are in- 
 curably affected."
 
 THE CABAL. 95 
 
 " And who is right now, Mr. Macdonald ?" 
 returned his wife, triumphantly : " did not I tell 
 you, from the beginning, that Lord Wilham's 
 attentions should not be slighted ? The very first 
 time I heard his brother's cough, I was convinced 
 he would one day be Duke of Lancaster. Who 
 is right now ?"" 
 
 " You were right, my love, as you always are," 
 said the attorney, soothingly. " I never repent 
 having followed your advice, and I never needed 
 it more than I do at this moment. Those con- 
 founded numskulls at Vesey Castle, without 
 speaking to me on the subject, have pressed Sir 
 Edmond Mortimer to allow himself to be pro- 
 posed for the county, and they all reckon on my 
 support. Now, how I can take an active part 
 against the Plantagenets, as matters now stand 
 between us^ I do not see ; and yet, if Sir Edmond 
 should accept their offer, as he says, in this letter, 
 he will, I can hardly refuse to assist him in his
 
 96 THE CABAL. 
 
 " You must gain time, Mr. Macdonald, — 
 only gain time. I am sure Lord William is 
 coming to the point, and if he should make a 
 declaration one of these days, — to-morrow, or 
 Wednesday, for instance, — as I confidently ex- 
 pect, nobody can ask you to oppose your son-in- 
 law that is to be." 
 
 " But is he coming to the point, Esther ? — 
 We have given him opportunities enough of late. 
 I much fear " 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! you men do not understand 
 these things." 
 
 " Well, I hope it may be so : meanwhile, as 
 you say, my dear, we must gain time. I shall 
 find it no easy matter ; for here is a letter, from 
 Sir Edmond, requesting me to meet him at 
 Wigmore to-morrow." 
 
 The day after this conversation, a travelling 
 carriage stopped at Wigmore gate, which was re- 
 cocjnised as Sir Edmond's. The baronet's arrival 
 was unexpected. He had travelled with the
 
 THE CABAL. 97 
 
 utmost rapidity, and had written to no one but 
 Macdonald. The white-headed porter dragged 
 open the broken gate with difficulty. The 
 avenue was choked with withered leaves and 
 weeds. Sir Edward leaned back, with his tra- 
 velhng cap drawn over his face, and the panting 
 horses moved slowly up the winding ascent lead- 
 ing to the hall. 
 
 They had not proceeded many . yards when 
 the bell at the porter' s-lodge rang again, and two 
 horsemen galloped after the carriage. 
 
 " Welcome to England, my dear Sir Ed- 
 ward." 
 
 " What, Macdonald ! — so punctual ; this is 
 really kind." 
 
 The attorney knew the secret of securing a 
 character when one is likely to need it. 
 
 " Mrs. Macdonald is in good health, I trust : 
 and— T and — and your daughter — " 
 
 " Both well, my dear sir, and hope to see 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE CABAL. 
 
 you at Gideon Cottage before many days have 
 passed." 
 
 They entered the house, and in half an hour 
 the baronet was ready to commence business. 
 
 " There is a copy of my acceptance of the 
 committee's offer," he began ; " I transmitted it 
 to Sir Eustace this morning." 
 
 ^' Then you have accepted their offer ?" 
 
 " Did you doubt that I should do so ?" 
 
 " Nothing could be more flattering, certainly ; 
 but have you calculated the expense? It will 
 be enormous." 
 
 " My fortune can afford it, and I am confident 
 I shall succeed. It is only one struggle; if the 
 fories are defeated this time, they will never try 
 the contest again." 
 
 " You should recollect we have been obliged 
 to allow a large deduction from the rent this year, 
 Sir Edmond ; and you will lose at least five thou- 
 sand by that failure of Bateson's."
 
 THE CABAL. 99 
 
 " Why, Macdonald, what a croaker you have 
 grown. I have no debt. My rental, with all 
 the deductions, is more than fifteen thousand 
 a year ; I have never spent ten ; and besides 
 other property, have at this moment, as you 
 know yourself, not much less than two hundred 
 thousand pounds in the funds." 
 
 " Well, if you choose to pay the money, 
 I have no more to say ; but I am much mistaken 
 if you escape under thirty thousand, at the very 
 least." 
 
 " Say sixty, if you will. Every vote is of 
 consequence at a moment like the present ; and 
 even if it were not so, the county should be deli- 
 vered from its preposterous subjection to the 
 I*lantagenets, at all hazards. I am convinced 
 that if all the freeholders were polled, not one- 
 fifth part would be found friendly to their influ- 
 ence." 
 
 " As you please. Sir Edmond, as you please :
 
 100 THE CABAL. 
 
 only remember I have done my duty in warning 
 you of the expense." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you have given me your advice, 
 with all due professional caution. Now, then, 
 Macdonald, let us sit down and determine our 
 measures. In the first place, here is a list of the 
 committee. I will ride over to Vesey Castle 
 before breakfast to-morrow, and contrive a meet- 
 ing there as soon as possible. In the mean time, 
 let us look at the names, and calculate the influ- 
 ence they are likely to exercise. There are some 
 others we must manage to have added. The first 
 here is old Sir Eustace ; of course, he carries with 
 him all the Vesey family. Then Sir Dacre Paul 
 Dacre; the Dacres and the Warrens go with 
 him. Mr. Sackville Latimer — conceited block- 
 head ! he will do more harm than good — the 
 most unpopular man in the county ! " 
 
 And so they proceeded, discussing the merits 
 of each. When they had concluded this re-
 
 THE CABAL. 101 
 
 view, Macdonald showed an intention of taking 
 leave. 
 
 " Dalton — Tracy — Tressilian," repeated he, 
 rising, " good names all. I think we need go no 
 farther. You are certain of the whigs. Here is 
 Sir Fulk Montacute, too, a decoy-duck for the 
 moderate tories : but I am afraid you will have 
 little success with them. Well, Sir Edmond, 
 I see how you are situated, and I am glad to find 
 you are so strongly supported. You must be 
 fatigued. I will not intrude any longer on your 
 time at present; but if, in the course of the 
 election, or, in the event of a petition against the 
 return, if you should want any professional 
 advice — " 
 
 " No, no ; Macdonald, you shall not get off 
 with an offer of professional advice. Sit down, 
 if you please, I have another subject to talk to 
 you^bout. In my opinion, the great object is 
 to secure the dissenters. My friends do not seem 
 to be aware of their weight in the county. Now
 
 102 THE CABAL. 
 
 it is there^ Macdonald, that I trust to you. You 
 can do every thing in that quarter."" 
 
 '^ Indeed, Sir Edmond, you are mistaken. 
 I never had much influence among them, and at 
 this moment, I have less than ever.'' 
 
 " Hush, hush — no^ mock modesty with me. 
 Do I not know ? Have I not seen ^""^ 
 
 " Well, if I must speak out, to confess the 
 truth, my dear sir, the present feelings of that 
 party are not very favourable to your success." 
 
 " Why, you do not mean that they are likely 
 to prefer Lord William Plantagenet, on the 
 ground of his political principles .?" 
 
 " Not exactly. Sir Edmond ; but they have a 
 jealousy of the whigs." 
 
 " I know one whig, of whom they have very 
 little jealousy ; at least you used to call yourself 
 a whig/' 
 
 '* A stanch whig, as you know, sir. But my 
 influence with them, seriously, is not what it 
 once was. Radical principles are gaining ground
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 103 
 
 every day. The London corresponding repub- 
 lican society has a branch club that meets not ten 
 yards from my own door." 
 
 " Well, well — I see you wish to raise the value 
 of your favours by exaggerating their difficulty. 
 Take what credit you please for your assistance, 
 but about it speedily."" 
 
 " As speedily as I can, of course, Sir Edmond. 
 But you must excuse me for a few days. There 
 is good time yet ; and, to tell you the truth, I 
 have, at this moment, the most urgent business, 
 of a private nature, which demands my instant 
 attention. It was with the utmost difficulty that 
 I succeeded in settmg aside an hour or two this 
 forenoon to your aiFairs ; but I was determined 
 to make any sacrifice to meet your wishes, since 
 you expressed them so earnestly." 
 
 '• I assure you, my dear Macdonald, I am 
 very grateful for your attention. Your business 
 has come in the way at an unfortunate moment, 
 and that is all that can be said about the matter.
 
 104 THE CABAL. 
 
 Of course, you will consult your own conve- 
 nience, in the first place. But I rely on your 
 assistance, at the very earliest moment you can 
 spare." 
 
 " So I have settled that affair for the present,"' 
 muttered the attorney, as he went down stairs. 
 " Elijah," continued he, addressing his servant, 
 " take this across the park to Foster; he will 
 give you a parcel for Mrs. Macdonald ; and tell 
 the groom to take the horses to the north gate — 
 it will save the turnpike." 
 
 "It is by much the nearest way,"*"* replied 
 Elijah, who was a little ashamed of his master's 
 parsimony, and considered it a point of honour 
 to conceal it as much as possible. 
 
 When Macdonald had mounted his horse at 
 the north gate, the groom stood with his hand 
 on the bridle, shifting from one foot to the other, 
 and touching his hat with rather a comical air 
 of expectation. 
 
 " Thank you, my boy ; that will do.— Soho !
 
 THE CABAL. 105 
 
 be still, I say. — You are a fine lad. How old 
 are you ? — Come along, Elijah." 
 
 Elijah lingered behind. 
 
 " Here, Tom, here is a shilling for you from 
 my master : I had almost forgotten it." 
 
 f5
 
 106 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " One has false curls, another too much paint, 
 A third— where did she buy that frightful turban? 
 A fourth 's so pale she fears she 's going to faint, 
 A fifth's look 's vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Ix the mean time, Arleston Castle was crowded 
 from morning to night with successive shoals of 
 visitors. Five barons, three earls, a viscount, 
 and a duke; baronets by tens, and the clergy 
 by hundreds ; squires, attorneys, and the mid- 
 dling gentry, a multitude whom no man could 
 number. 
 
 Lord William had not hitherto commenced a 
 regular canvass, but, in arranging preliminaries 
 with his committee, and paying and receiving
 
 THE CABAL. 107 
 
 visits among the leading members of the party, 
 his duties had been sufficiently laborious. 
 
 On the whole, the great men of the county 
 were pleased with his address. But there was 
 another class whose good opinion he was more 
 anxious to obtain. 
 
 "When he had abused reform with the Duke 
 of Ulster, who returns eight members to parlia- 
 ment, and retrenchment with the Earl of Yel- 
 dersley, who has six sons in the army, — when 
 he had ridiculed the whigs with Sir Walcheline 
 Devereux, whom they have disappointed of a 
 peerage, and cursed the political economists 
 with Roland Conyngham, the rich East Indian 
 director, — when he had talked of oats with Sir 
 George Rivers, and of dogs with his son, — 
 when he had listened to Otho Corbet's anecdotes, 
 and asked Wortley Jerningham's advice, — he felt 
 that their friendship was only half secured ; for 
 had not they sisters, and mothers, and daughters, 
 and wives .^
 
 108 THE CABAL. 
 
 He did not require to be taught the first great 
 rule in every canvass — whatever you omit, make 
 sure of the women. And with the women I think 
 even his enemies admit he was eminently success- 
 ful. Lord William is good-looking, and that, 
 with most of them, wins half the battle. By 
 the way, I know a certain member for a certain 
 city who has not the remotest pretension to any 
 other qualification. But Lord William is not 
 only good-looking, he is skilled in all the wiles 
 that gain, retain, and rule the female heart ; — 
 that delicate flattery, those minute unobtrusive 
 assiduities, that watchful courtesy, that gal- 
 lantry, at once ardent and refined ; the wit that 
 diverts, without attempting to dazzle; the know- 
 ledge that suggests, without presuming to teach ; 
 just enough of folly to give zest to mirth; just 
 enough of wisdom to justify respect. 
 
 With all his art, however, to confess the truth, 
 he had no little difficulty with his female friends. 
 To please such various tastes, and to pay due
 
 THE CABAL. 109 
 
 homage to one, without the risk of jealousy in 
 others, required the genius of a master. 
 
 The Earl of Yeldersley has three daughters, 
 of characters the most opposite imaginable. Lady 
 Lydia reads romances, Lady Lucy is a romp ; 
 he could neither sigh with the one, nor rattle 
 with the other, for Lady Lucretia is a prude. 
 
 The Seftons were nearly as difficult to manage; 
 for what mortal man in one short quarter of an 
 hour could admire music with Lady Cecilia, 
 books with Lady Sibilla, and horses with Lady 
 Sophia ? 
 
 Indeed, wherever he went he was met by this 
 difficulty. Nothing is more rare than a simi- 
 larity of disposition among the ladies of a family. 
 Who could praise, in the same breath, the poetry 
 of Corinna, and the science of Joanna, — Julia's 
 wit, and Sarah's wisdom ? Who could talk of 
 pigs, and poultry with Tabitha Talbot, without 
 offending the delicacy of her niece; or mope 
 with the honourable Mabel Mandeville, with-
 
 110 THE CABAL. 
 
 out damping the merriment of the honourable 
 Georgiana Joyeuse ? 
 
 But over all these difficulties the genius of 
 Lord WiUiam triumphed. He shall tell his 
 own story. 
 
 The castle-bell had twice summoned the guests 
 of Arleston to dinner. The company had assem- 
 bled in the drawing-room. 
 
 The count was the first gentleman who made 
 his appearance. His toilet was a most extem- 
 pore affair. He was an accurate specimen of 
 that strange monster an orthodox Jena student. 
 For the benefit of the curious in wild beasts, 
 here follows a description. His face enveloped 
 in hair; long wiry ringlets hanging over his 
 shoulders in most admired disorder ; nails edged 
 with ebony ; a shapeless coat ; a swinging gait ; 
 a braggart air. Take him for all in all, I never 
 wish to see his like in an English drawing-room. 
 The ladies Montfitchett shrank from his ap- 
 proach with no affected or unnatural horror.
 
 THE CABAL. Ill 
 
 One by one the others followed ; all but Lord 
 Wilham. The conversation flagged. The linen- 
 draper tried to help it with an axiom, Harry 
 Mowbray with a jest. It revived, wavered, and 
 expired. There was a long unpleasant pause. 
 The Reverend Dr. Malpas was in visible anxiety. 
 Five minutes may ruin a battle or a dinner. 
 
 " Mowbray," said the duke, drawing him 
 aside, by way of occupying a few minutes, 
 ''your German friend is studying the British 
 constitution, we must introduce him to our great 
 economist." 
 
 " The celebrated philosopher," whispered his 
 grace, as he proposed the introduction to the 
 count, and drew him towards the scientific linen- 
 draper. 
 
 The man of Jena was extremely vain of his 
 knowledge of England and Englishmen. 
 
 *' J)oubtless," said he, addressing his new ac- 
 quaintance, "you are that celebrated aeronaut." 
 
 The philosopher coloured to the ears, as he
 
 112 THE CABAL. 
 
 confessed that his journeys had been hitherto 
 confined to the earth. 
 
 " Par hasard, you are the proprietor of that 
 magnificent theatrical estabhshment which bears 
 your name." 
 
 Harry Mowbray, who was exceedingly amused, 
 stepped in to the philosopher''s assistance, and 
 assured the count, that, at least in a literal 
 sense, the man of science neither travelled in 
 the clouds nor patronized theatrical exhibitions. 
 
 Such mistakes, continued he, are perpetually 
 occurring to the best informed people. We 
 should have an act of parliament against simi- 
 larity of names. We all know that the French 
 confounded Lord Goderich when he was chan- 
 cellor of the exchequer with Robinson Crusoe, 
 and it is not two months ago since I rescued 
 the memory of Edmund Burke from a report 
 which a Spanish gentleman was taking home 
 with him, that the greatest of our statesmen 
 had been hanged for murder.
 
 THE CABAL. 113 
 
 No jest tells well before dinner. The duke 
 himself, who is slow in all his motions, was im- 
 patient. Inquiry was made, and it was ascer- 
 tained that Lord WiUiam had not returned from 
 his morning visits. The glad signal was given, 
 and the duke, with due respect, led forth the 
 Right Honourable Ann Audley Arundel, in 
 her own right, Countess of Flint, Peverell, and 
 Cyvelioc. 
 
 As the guests swept in long line through the 
 outer hall, they encountered Lord William. 
 
 a Very late, very late, young man," said his 
 grace with his usual pomposity : " you should 
 remember that one of the first requisites of a 
 member of parliament for the county is punc- 
 tuality. Lucky we are all friends. Lady Flint."^ 
 
 " Why, my dear William," cried Lady Sarah 
 Dunstanville, " there is blood on your face : 
 where have you been — are you hurt ? — any ac- 
 cident .?" 
 
 " If you require a surgeon," said Lady Martha
 
 114 THE CABAL. 
 
 Montford, " let me recommend you to send 
 instantly for Mr. Melchisadec Owen, he is the 
 nearest, and delay in such matters is always 
 dangerous. Besides, I can answer for his skill 
 and his principles."" 
 
 " Thank you. Lady Martha — a thousand 
 thanks. Lady Sarah — but nothing of any con- 
 sequence has happened, I assure you, as I hope 
 to show you by m.y appetite in a few minutes." 
 
 The guests swept on to the dining-room, and 
 Lord William retired to his toilet.
 
 THE CABAL. 115 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Pictures like these, dear madam, to design. 
 Asks no firm hand, and no unerring Hne; 
 Some wandering touches, some reflected light. 
 Some flying stroke alone can hit them right." 
 
 Pope. 
 
 '' Well, now, brother," said the Countess of 
 Rothsay, " you have kept us in suspense quite 
 long enough. Pray tell us what was the ac- 
 cident ?" 
 
 *' I beg pardon, Eleanor, I quite forgot the 
 accident in the first glass of this excellent 
 Johannisberg. By the way, John, you know 
 the history of the wines here, where did my 
 father get it ?"
 
 116 THE CABAL, 
 
 " I believe we owe it to the count's kindness/"' 
 answered Lord John, bowing to him as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " It is from the cellars of my uncle Count 
 PfafFenstein," said the German. 
 
 '*• But the accident, brother," repeated Lady 
 Rothsay. 
 
 " Oh ! do tell us the whole story, my lord," 
 said Harry Mowbray ; " from the mystery you 
 make about it, I conclude it is quite ro- 
 mantic. Pray did you pass Gideon Cottage in 
 your way from the county town ? There is an 
 ugly turn there. I should not wonder if we 
 should discover that the accident was in that 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 " Which is Gideon Cottage ?" asked Lady 
 Burhngton with perfect simplicity. 
 
 " Why that snug little brick house, about 
 half a mile on this side of the town, with a vine 
 half covering the drawing-room window, a huge
 
 THE CABAL. 117 
 
 brass knocker on the door, and the name in 
 large letters, Mr. — Mr. — I forget the name, 
 really — do you recollect, my lord ?" 
 
 " I remember the house you mean perfectly," 
 said Lady Burlington, " but I do not think 
 there is any turn thereabouts." 
 
 " But the story, the story," cried Horace 
 Hopkins, ^' we shall not get it to-night if we do 
 not press his lordship : there is certainly some 
 cabinet secret connected with it." 
 
 " Really, Horace, I must answer you in the 
 words of the Anti-jacobin. — Story ! Lord bless 
 you, I have none to tell, sir ! — I was at Lady 
 Brighton's about half an hour before four o'clock. 
 I had sent home my horses, intending to walk 
 across the park. Lady Cecilia talked so long 
 about her anticipations of Rubini, and Lady 
 Sibilla insisted on reading such a long passage 
 from the Undying One, that I found myself too 
 late. Lady Sophia offered to drive me here 
 herself in her curricle. I knew it was at the
 
 ] 18 THE CABAL, 
 
 risk of my neck, but to have declined would 
 have given mortal oiFence. So, recollecting that, 
 though it was getting dark, the road was pretty 
 good, I ventured to trust to Macadam and Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 " However, as ill-luck would have it, not ten 
 yards from Wyaston-gate, something startled 
 the horses, and Lady Sophia made a somerset 
 in one direction, and I in another. Her lady- 
 ship got up in an instant, muttered a few words 
 that sounded very like a curse, recovered her 
 seat with a little assistance from her groom, 
 and insisted on proceeding, as if nothing had 
 happened. I had my forehead cut as you see, 
 ruined my hat, and bruised my elbow, so I 
 think I have very fairly won Lord Brighton's 
 influence. 
 
 " What could frighten the horses ?" said Harry 
 Mowbray, in profound meditation. 
 
 " The waving of a handkerchief, or some such 
 thing, I believe," replied Lord William..
 
 THE CABAL. 119 
 
 " I am trying to collect from your description 
 whereabouts the accident happened, continued 
 Harry, — ten yards from Wyaston-gate, — was 
 it on this side of the gate ?" 
 
 " Why, you know we were coming from 
 Wyaston." 
 
 " I beg pardon — how very stupid I am ! — ten 
 yards on this side of Wyaston-gate, — why that 
 is just at the door of Gideon Cottage, — how well 
 I guessed ! — W^ho could be so imprudent as to 
 wave a handkerchief as you were passing, my 
 lord? — And, so Lady Sophia proceeded in- 
 stantlij^ as if nothing had happened. You did 
 not solicit the hospitality of Gideon Cottage 
 for a few minutes? Surely Mr. (what is his 
 name ?) must be a brute if he did not offer you 
 any assistance, especially as the accident seems 
 to have been caused by one of his own family." 
 
 Whatever might be Lord William's thoughts, 
 he made no answer to all this bantering. 
 
 " Come,*" said he, " you must make me some
 
 120 THE CABAL. 
 
 . return for my complaisance. I have told you 
 one of my adventures, tell me what you have 
 been doing in my absence. Have you had any 
 more visitors ?" 
 
 " Half the county, I think," answered the 
 Countess of Rothsay, ''and to judge by the way 
 our visitors have spoken, your election is certain. 
 We must not make you vain, by telling you all 
 the pretty things that have been said of you to- 
 day. Who. would not be a county candidate 
 to be the favourite of so many beauties ? Lord 
 Launceston is very envious — are you not, my 
 lord?" 
 
 " Why, really, for a chance of half the com- 
 pliments Miss Georgiana Joyeuse paid your 
 brother," replied his lordship, " I think it would 
 be well worth while to resign a peerage. But 
 you must pardon me, if I cannot say as much 
 for the praises of all our visitors." 
 
 " Who will give me the list ?'' said Lord 
 William: " I long to know who these beauties
 
 THE CABAL. 121 
 
 are, to whom I am under such obligations. 
 Lady Burlington, will you favour me with your 
 recollections ?" 
 
 it was the signal for satire and scandal. One 
 by one, the visitors of the morning ran the gauntlet 
 of the company. Lady Rothsay, of course, as in 
 duty bound, and the duke, when the conversation 
 reached him (for he was explaining his own method 
 of paying the national debt to Dr. Malpas and 
 the philosopher), to the best of their abilities de- 
 fended the absent. The defence, certainly, was 
 very often in the style of Mrs. Candour, but still 
 it was quite sufficient to satisfy decorum. 
 
 " In the first place, then,'"" began Lady Bur- 
 lington, her eyes sparkling with childish glee at 
 the recollection, " we had such a queer party — 
 a little rosy gentleman who wears powder and 
 a pig tail, and a red coat with a hunting button, 
 and top boots, and a funny little pinched hat ; 
 he carries a whip, with a long lash, and has a 
 silver whistle, suspended from his neck ; and he 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 12^ THE CABAL. 
 
 blushes to the very point of his pig-tail, when- 
 ever you speak to him, and always looks as if 
 he would run away if he dared — and a little 
 punchy, bunchy, bobbing old woman that is 
 continually reproving his awkwardness with the 
 tail of her eye, and talks with amazing volubihty, 
 but as if she was afraid of stopping." 
 
 " I know them. Lady Burlington, — Sir George 
 and Lady Rivers, as I hope to be a member of 
 parliament." 
 
 " Right — and with them they brought my 
 son Peverell — ' Don't be frightened, boy,' — and 
 this boy is five- and- twenty, if he is a day, — and 
 my brother, Sir Charles Foster (' the admiral,' in 
 a whisper), — and such a brother ! only I wish he 
 would not swear ; I saw he sent you out of the 
 room, Lady Martha, and if he had stayed much 
 longer, I think I should have followed you." 
 
 " A bad habit," said Lady Rothsay, "but all 
 old admirals sw^ear ; it was the sea-fashion in their 
 youth. Sir Charles is a very worthy man, and
 
 THE CABAL. 123 
 
 has done good service in his day. He lost a leg 
 at Copenhagen, and an arm at Trafalgar.'* 
 
 " Yes," observed Sir Harry Mowbray, " he 
 took care to inform us of both circumstances at 
 least a dozen times during his visit." 
 
 " Do you know Sir George, Harry ?" asked 
 Lord William. 
 
 " I have known him from my infancy, as well 
 as one can know such a shy old man." 
 
 " Pray, then, tell me, can he speak about any 
 thing but oats? I have nearly exhausted the 
 subject." 
 
 " You must be a mighty favourite if he talks 
 to you about any thing." 
 
 " Oh ! we are great friends, and his son 
 Peverell is my sworn brother. I have cured his 
 dog Cato, whose case was pronounced desperate 
 by his father's gamekeeper." 
 
 " Lady Rivers is most enthusiastic, at least 
 most voluble in your praise." 
 
 " I believe I won her ladyship's heart by in- 
 
 g2
 
 124 THE CABAL. 
 
 structing her in a new method of making Stilton 
 cheese, for which I was indebted to a worthy 
 lady in the neighbourhood." 
 
 " Stilton cheese !" said Harry Mowbray, as 
 if speaking to himself — " what did I see about 
 Stilton cheese in the newspapers the other day? 
 Yes — it was the Agricultural Society of the 
 
 county — a prize, to-« 1 beg pardon, my lord 
 
 duke, but if I may venture to interrupt Dr. 
 Malpas for a single moment, will you be so good 
 as to tell me, whether you happen to recollect 
 who gained the prize for Stilton cheese at the 
 last meeting of the Agricultural Society ? I know 
 your grace takes a deep interest in the dairy de- 
 partment." 
 
 " The prize for Stilton ? I remember per- 
 fectly. We had no hesitation. I was present 
 myself—never tasted a better cheese in my hfe 
 — I do take the deepest interest in the dairy de- 
 partment. The prize was unanimously adjudged 
 to the dairy-maid at Gideon Cottage."
 
 THE CABAL. 125 
 
 " Gideon Cottage again !" exclaimed Harry 
 in affected astonishment — " I thought we had left 
 it for the evening. How singular that the best 
 Stilton should be made at Gideon Cottage !" 
 
 Lord William looked very much annoyed, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " In the second place,'** continued Lady Bur- 
 lington, " we had the high honour of a visit from 
 the Earl and Countess of Brandon, the Lord 
 Viscount d'Est'onteville, the Lady Berengaria 
 Brandon, and suite. Oh what a parcel of pom- 
 pous old fools ! Harry Mowbray, do you give 
 Lord William some idea of them — I am sure I 
 cannot. Have you ever seen the Brandons, my 
 lord.?" 
 
 " Never, but I know them well by character. 
 Lord Brandon is a most upright, amiable, and 
 accomplished nobleman." 
 
 " And has a good deal to say in this county, 
 my lord," said Harry. " Of course you must 
 speak weir of your friends, and to say the truth,
 
 126 THE CABAL. 
 
 they deserve it, for they talk well of you. The 
 earl condescended to say, that you were, in every 
 respect, a young man of unexceptionable prin- 
 ciples, a rising statesman, and so forth, with 
 many additional praises, which would pain your 
 modesty to hear. But the important part of the 
 harangue was, that you should receive his sup- 
 port. In all this he proved himself, for once in 
 his life, a man of sense; nobody ever doubted 
 his honesty. But really, with all due respect to 
 your friend, I do think Lady Burlington's de- 
 scription is pretty accurate. 
 
 " Two carriages, attended by outriders, and 
 all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious 
 travelling, brought them from Otterbourne Castle 
 a short half mile. The carriages of preposterous 
 dimensions, of all colours in the world, were of a 
 deep red, blazoned with the arms of Brandon 
 and d'Estonteville, in every corner into which 
 they could be thrust. The first carriage stopped : 
 a footman, fainting under a mass of gold, handed
 
 THE CABAL. 127 
 
 out the Right Hon. Elizabeth Augusta, and so 
 forth, a Tudor by birth, a Brandon by marriage, 
 a duke's daughter, and an earl's lady, — and look- 
 ing as if all these honours were written on her 
 forehead. Then the earl himself, as important, 
 but less dignified, striving, with visible effort, to 
 seem in every motion a privy counsellor by right. 
 The compressed lip, the gathered brow, the slow 
 and measured step, might be detected to be 
 artificial. It is clever acting, I admit. Then the 
 Reverend Dr. Craven Conyers — certainly the 
 most preposterous of all God's creatures — aping 
 the earl, in all his gestures, whenever his eye is 
 turned, ducking to the dust, whenever he is 
 honoured by a look from his lordship. The 
 second carriage opened and Lady Berengaria 
 Brandon descended. It is a pity to see so much 
 beauty spoiled by such insufferable pride. And 
 of what, after all, are these people proud ? They 
 are neither the first in power, nor in wealth, nor 
 in rank, nor in talent, nor in fashion, nor in fame.
 
 128 THE CABAL. 
 
 neither the first, nor among the first. In descent, 
 our neighbour the Baroness de Cantilupe beats 
 them by three centuries. They are of a proud 
 race — it is in the blood — God knows how it got 
 there. Viscount d'Estonteville, unless I mistake 
 his character extremely, is not proud, though he 
 has a great wish to be so. He is only shy. The 
 two quahties are inconsistent. A shy man is 
 afraid the world should not think well of him ; a 
 proud man does not care for the opinion of the 
 world. The viscount has more of his father than 
 his mother in him, but he has not yet learned to 
 act pride skilfully. Among other mistakes in 
 this art, he allows his love of flattery to be too 
 evident. Only compare, for instance, the way 
 in which the earl receives the homage of the 
 Reverend Dr. Craven Conyers, with the air of 
 gracious satisfaction with which the viscount 
 listens to the doctor's nephew, the Reverend 
 Buckingham Forester. The style of flattery 
 adopted by these two gentlemen is very dif-
 
 THE CABAL. 129 
 
 ferent. The young man seldom assumes that 
 expression of profound awe and abasement with 
 which his uncle is grovelling on his way to the 
 mitre. As to the female toadies " 
 
 ''Why, Harry, Harry, Harry," exclaimed more 
 than one, " are you dreaming ? what is all this ?"*' 
 
 " Pray do not preach any more about these 
 Brandons, my dear fellow," cried Lord William, 
 '' by your account they are bores, and if you 
 talk any longer on the subject, you will not be 
 much better yourself. Lady Burlington, you 
 must not choose any more substitutes. You 
 give a much more amusing account of the 
 visitors yourself. Pray let me know what other 
 people you had with you, and let us forget the 
 Otterbourne party for the present."' 
 
 " Who came next, my dear Lady Rothsay ?'' 
 said the Countess of Burlington. " There were 
 
 so many Oh ! the Clintons, the Earl and 
 
 Countess of Yeldersley, and your friends Lady 
 Lucretia, Lady Lydia, and Lady Lucy, of whom
 
 130 THE CABAL. 
 
 you gave us such an amusing description yester- 
 day. I need not say much about them. We found 
 you correct to the letter. The earl exactly that 
 bustling vulgar little man we expected, — the 
 ringsf and the chains, and the seals, as brilliant 
 as you drew them, but you forgot the lace ruffles. 
 The countess, most nauseous with her unskilful, 
 unmerciful flatteries. Lady Lucretia upright 
 and demure, glancing askance at every one who 
 laughed, with a most vinegar aspect. Lady 
 Lydia — but I must not abuse her — she fell in 
 love with me at first sight, and looked all the 
 time as if she was going to propose that we 
 should swear an eternal friendship, like the 
 ladies in the Anti-jacobin. Then, Lady Lucy, 
 the romp—Oh ! Lady Lucy ! — she is Constance 
 Montfitchett's friend — you must ask her for a 
 description."' 
 
 Lady Constance shuddered. 
 
 " The Earl of Yeldersley has an unfortunate 
 manner, certainly," said the duke, who had con-
 
 THE CABAL. 131 
 
 eluded his dissertation on the national debt, " and 
 his family have peculiarities ; but this I must 
 say, he is a true-hearted constitutional tory, a 
 character which is more rare in this country than 
 it once was. The smallness of his income, and 
 the number of his family, oblige him, poor 
 fellow, to economize, and he has not been in 
 London for many years, but his vote is always 
 at the command of the right side/' 
 
 The count, who was always on the watch for 
 a lesson in the mysteries of the British constitu- 
 tion, awoke from a reverie, in which he had been 
 plunged during the discussion of meaner subjects, 
 and requested to know how Lord Yeldersley 
 could give his vote when he was absent from 
 London. 
 
 Horace Hopkins, apparently feeling for his 
 ignorance, whispered audibly, 
 
 " Privilege of the peerage in this country 
 — palladium of the constitution — invulnerable 
 distinction of the aristocracv."
 
 132 THE CABAL. 
 
 " But I do not understand," persisted the count : 
 ' ' your chamber of peers is a deliberative assembly." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Horace. 
 
 " The vote is taken immediately after the 
 debate, too, is it not ?'' 
 
 " Instantly."' 
 
 " The absent peers, then, are ignorant of what 
 has passed in the assembly when their votes are 
 tendered ?" 
 
 " There are many apparent anomalies in our 
 constitution,*" interrupted the philosopher, inter- 
 fering in the discussion, "but it works well, that 
 is the true test — it works well." 
 
 " But surely," repeated the obstinate German, 
 '' in a deliberative assembly, if ever a single vote 
 is given in absence — "" 
 
 " A single vote !"" cried Harry Mowbray, 
 who had listened with great glee to this dispute, 
 and determined to fan its expiring embers into a 
 Hame — '' the majority of votes is often composed 
 of proxies.""
 
 THE CABAL. 133 
 
 " Proxies ! proxies !" muttered the count, 
 puzzled by the word. 
 
 " Yes; that is,'' said Harry, " the majority of 
 votes iu this deliberative assembly is often com- 
 posed of votes, tendered on behalf of men who 
 were not parties to the deliberation. The ques- 
 tion, for example, is Catholic emancipation; a 
 question of vital importance to the welfare of the 
 state. The debate lasts one, two, or three even- 
 ings; all the talent of the resident peers is engaged 
 on one side or the other. The mover opens by 
 lamenting his inability to do justice to so difficult 
 "^ a subject : he brings forward a host of arguments, 
 some of them probably old enough, b#t some 
 certainly new, all, if possible, presented in a new 
 form. The debate proceeds. His new argu- 
 ments are met by new answers, and these call 
 forth replies equally original. Many profess to 
 be sjtill in doubt. Questions are proposed, on 
 the result of which the querist professes to rest 
 his opinion. Converts are made at the last hour.
 
 134 THE CABAL. 
 
 The chancellor, as speaker, rises to put the 
 matter to the vote, but amid loud cries of question: 
 his grace the Duke of Lancaster, it may be, or 
 the Marquess of Launceston, or the Earl of Bur- 
 lington, or my friend here, the Earl of Rothsay, 
 if he happens to be one of the sixteen, rises in his 
 place, and in the happiest strain of wit, eloquence, 
 and logic, ridicules and refutes all that has been 
 urged in the course of the evening against the 
 measure which he supports. There is a pause ; 
 their lordships look at one another ; the opposite 
 party are almost inclined to move (as was once 
 done in the House of Commons) that the House 
 do adjourn, in order to allow time for the feelings 
 of the audience to subside into that calm temper 
 which is requisite in legislative decision. But the 
 chancellor rises again. He is once more inter- 
 rupted by several members, who beg leave to 
 state, before going to the vote, that after the 
 new views, and the new facts, which have been 
 presented to the House by the noble lord, they
 
 THE CABAL. 1,S5 
 
 will feel it necessary to decline voting as they had 
 intended. At length the chancellor proceeds to 
 put the question, ' content or not content.' Our 
 friend's speech has been completely successful 
 with the peers who are present. A majority of 
 these peers is with him. But then, there are six 
 noble lords measuring the Parthenon at Athens ; 
 there are seventeen attending the opera at Naples, 
 or roaming through the galleries at Florence; 
 there are a score in the hells at Paris ; there is 
 one on the summit of the Alps, and one on the 
 summit of the Andes ; there is an old nobleman 
 in Northumberland^ who has the gout; and a 
 young nobleman at Cadiz, who is in love ; Lord 
 A. has been appointed governor of the Leeward 
 Islands, and Lord B. has been persuaded to take 
 the odds against Eclipse. Now the eloquence of our 
 noble friend cannot reach across the broad Atlantic, 
 or even gain converts on the race-ground at Don- 
 caster. The consequence is, a majority against 
 his measure. You see I state fairly the evils of
 
 }S6 THE CABAL. 
 
 the system. I conceal nothing. It has prac- 
 tical evils, undoubtedly. But then, who would 
 weigh these paltry inconveniences against the 
 great privilege of proxy?- — a privilege that is 
 coeval with the power and glor}^ of the British 
 empire^ — a privilege which reflects its brightest 
 lustre on the coronet, and gives its firmest sta- 
 bility to the aristocracy — a privilege which was 
 purchased by the blood of our ancestors, and 
 which our remotest posterity will claim from us 
 unimpaired." 
 
 " The very idea is sacrilege," said Mr. Horace 
 Hopkins ; " in these days, when ' the toe of the 
 peasant doth gall the kibe of the courtier so 
 confoundedly, we must uphold, with the greatest 
 care, every distinction between the higher and 
 lower ranks. I have always said, and it is my 
 unalterable opinion, that we of the upper classes 
 among the Commons should defend the most 
 minute privilege of the peerage, for our own 
 sakes. Once permit intrusion on the nobility of
 
 THE CABAL. 137 
 
 the coronet, or the sanctity of the lawn, and you 
 run the risk of being yourself confounded with 
 all the riif-raff of the middle classes." 
 
 " The true test," repeated the learned linen- 
 draper, "the true test is, that the right of voting 
 by proxy ivorJcs tvell. As long as the system 
 works well, all theories which militate against it 
 are absurd/"* 
 
 The German was silenced, but not convinced. 
 Harry Mowbray seemed to enjoy his air of doubt 
 and perplexity extremely. 
 
 " To return to the Chntons," continued Lady 
 Burlington, who was growing rather tired of this 
 political discussion, " they brought with them a 
 certain Mr. Osbaldiston, with whom Mr. Hop- 
 kins seemed mightily taken, and a Mr. and Mrs. 
 Pierrepoint, who were very attentive to Lord 
 Launceston." 
 
 " How can you be so cruel as to recall that 
 man to my recollection. Lady Burlington ?" ex- 
 claimed the sensitive Mr. Hopkins. "I thought
 
 138 THE CABAL. 
 
 I should not have survived his odious famili- 
 arity." 
 
 " An old friend, I think he said he was," 
 replied her ladyship ; " had known your father : 
 I did not hear ail that passed between you in 
 that window. He held you by the button for 
 nearly half an hour. He seemed to have a great 
 many inquiries, and was talking a great deal 
 about old times. Pray, who is he ?" 
 
 " Really," said Hopkins, with some confusion, 
 " I know nothing about the man ; I may have 
 met him before; for^ however careful we may 
 be, it is extremely difficult now-a-days to keep 
 out of the way of vulgar people. The middle 
 classes really are insufferably impertinent.'^ 
 
 " Did not he say he knew your father ?" 
 persisted the countess. 
 
 "I hardly know what he said ; I was too 
 anxious to get away from him." 
 
 There was a slight smile on Harry Mowbray's 
 lip, so slight as scarcely to be perceptible, and as
 
 THE CABAL. 139 
 
 transient as slight, which, to the initiated, might 
 seem to hint that, if Mr. Osbaldiston knew their 
 friend's father, he had the advantage of most 
 people. 
 
 " And the Pierrepoints," asked Lord William, 
 " what of them ? What do you say of them, 
 Launceston ? since I am referred to you. I have 
 not heard the name. I must not omit any body 
 in the canvass ?" 
 
 " Lady Burlington is jesting, my lord," re- 
 plied the marquis ; " three words did not pass 
 between us." 
 
 '* You ungrateful man ! I never saw any body 
 more caressed in my life. And all those ques- 
 tions about last season — Almack's, and the opera, 
 and the French actors — have you forgotten all ? 
 and the pressing invitation to Ambresbury.? and 
 how you used to romp with little Ann, ten years 
 ago? — oh, for shame, for shame, you faithless 
 man ! — Lady Constance, you heard it ? Lady 
 Mabel, you have not forgotten ? I hope your
 
 140 THE CABAL. 
 
 brother's memory is not so bad. He had a long 
 confidential whisper with Mr. Pierrepoint." 
 
 " What sort of person is he, Raymond," said 
 Lord William, " if I may ask ?'* 
 
 " The man snuffs," replied the exquisite, with 
 most ineffable disgust. 
 
 " I can tell you the nature of Mr. Pierre- 
 point's confidential whispers," observed the Mar- 
 quis of Launceston ; " he favoured me with one 
 or two in the course of the visit. You saw him 
 take me aside a few minutes before their de- 
 parture, with a most important face. It was to 
 > inform me, in a tone which might have done 
 justice to a change of ministry, that the thermo- 
 meter was thirty-two in the shade." 
 
 In a similar tone they criticized the other 
 visitors, from the Reverend Malachi Melville, 
 the squinting Boanerges of the baptists, to his 
 grace Henry, Duke of Ulster, and knight of the 
 garter, the representative of the princely house 
 of Tudor.
 
 THE CABAL. 141 
 
 In praise of one party alone, the voice of the 
 company was unanimous. The Joyeuse family, 
 indeed, are universal favourites. Lord de Querci's 
 courtesy, Lady de Querci's grace, the daugh- 
 ter's playful mirth, by which no one is fa- 
 tigued, the son's good-natured satire, by which 
 no one is offended, are irresistible with all. 
 Lady Sarah Dunstanville forgave his lordship 
 for voting for the Catholics. Lady Martha 
 Montford remembered that he had spoken against 
 the test acts. Horace Hopkins breathed freely 
 in their presence. The delicacy of the Mont- 
 fitchetts felt no wound. The heiress forgot her 
 millions, the philosopher his paradoxes. Lady 
 Rothsay her plots; even Mowbray's satire lost 
 half its virulence, and Ann Audley Arundel, 
 Countess of Flint, Peverell, and Cy velioc, thawed 
 at their approach.
 
 142- THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Blame^ cynic, if you can, quadrille or ball, 
 The snug, close party, or the splendid hall. 
 Where night, down stooping from her ebon throne. 
 Views constellations brighter than her own." 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 The ladies had retired, as is the custom in 
 this ancient realm of England — a custom rather 
 
 honoured in the breach but no matter. In 
 
 these revolutionary times I am far from recom- 
 mending any change in our habits, even the most 
 minute. There is no saying how far the example 
 might lead. If we admitted females to our 
 counsels at the board, some radical might pro- 
 pose that they should be admitted to our coun- 
 sels in the cabinet.
 
 THE CABAL. • 143 
 
 The ladies had retired. The gentlemen closed 
 their ranks, and prepared to be as dull as all 
 male animals are in the absence of the female. 
 
 Fair reader — for let me hope that I, too, may 
 find readers in that gentle sex, to whose service 
 I have dedicated my youth — fair reader, this 
 chapter is not meant for you. Think it no 
 treason to your rightful sway, if, for a short time, 
 and truly with no willing pen, I assay to paint 
 that tedious hour which, in England, is never 
 gladdened by your smiles. Hurry over the 
 leaves, they can give you no amusement ; and if 
 my readers of the ruder sex dislike the picture, 
 let them ask their own hearts whether the reality 
 be not still more disagreeable. Was sermon 
 ever preached, or quarto published, half so heavy 
 as that hour's discourse .? and, oh ! the anguish 
 when your disgust has reached its acme, to hear 
 the light echo of a laugh in those happy upper 
 regions into which you dare not penetrate. 
 
 The ladies had retired. The gentlemen moved
 
 144 THE CABAL. 
 
 upwards. Harry Mowbray found himself next 
 the count. 
 
 ^' You rode out this morning," said he, ad- 
 dressing him, " may I ask in which direction ?" 
 
 " The duke recommended it to me to pay a 
 visit to the fortress while I am in this part of the 
 country. All foreigners should see the fortifica- 
 tions. They are perfect. The armoury, too, 
 is worth seeing. It is kept in admirable order. 
 They told me five thousand men might be ac- 
 coutred in an hour." 
 
 " You have studied the military art ?'* 
 
 " I know little or nothino^ of it. I must take 
 much that I am told about the strength of the 
 walls, and the value of the armoury, on trust. 
 But I had great pleasure in my morning's visit, 
 notwithstanding. My pleasure was of a moral 
 nature.^"* 
 
 " I do not exactly understand — " 
 
 " Yes, of a moral nature. When one con- 
 templates, said I to myself — when one contem-
 
 JHE CABAL* 145 
 
 plates the strength of these fortifications, and the 
 resources of that armoury, with what delight one 
 remembers their purpose and effect ! In my own 
 unhappy country, I cannot see a fortress without 
 shame, or a soldier without a sigh. But these 
 tremendous mounds, that wall bristling with 
 cannon, and that immense and brilliant pile, are 
 not the strongholds of despotic power, but the 
 bulwarks of a nation's freedom. In this most 
 favoured land, the sovereign authority is in the 
 people, and all things, therefore, by which that 
 authority is upheld, are doubtless in the hands 
 of the people. The reflection filled me with 
 pleasure. I am a citizen of the world. I rejoice 
 in the blessings of the great British nation.'' 
 
 " Sovereign authority in the people !" muttered 
 the Rev. Dr. Malpas; and he shook his head 
 with a very serious air, as his eye caught that of 
 the learned linendraper. 
 
 "In the hands of the people, my good sir? 
 God forbid V cried Harry Mowbray, with pre- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE CABAL. 
 
 tended earnestness. " By our laws, all castles 
 and fortresses within the realm belong to his 
 most gracious Majesty, William the Fourth. 
 Not only so — the whole navy, the whole army, 
 and the whole mihtia, in a word, the whole 
 military force of the British empire is under 
 his control. Indeed, it is necessary that he 
 should have this power, for he alone may de- 
 clare war against foreign nations, as he alone 
 can conclude peace, or contract treaties." 
 
 The German sat in utter amazement as these 
 strange truths were pronounced with great em- 
 phasis and rapidity in his ears. 
 
 " You seem to think I mistake the extent of 
 the royal prerogative in this respect," continued 
 Harry ; " but do not trust to my account ; read 
 what Blackstone says about the authority of the 
 king." 
 
 " How, then, are the private rights of the 
 subject protected? It would seem that a mo- 
 narch, possessed of impregnable fortresses and
 
 THE CABAX, 147 
 
 numerous armies, could find no difficulty in 
 assuming the absolute property of the soil." 
 
 "Why should he use violence,^"* interrupted 
 Mowbray, " to obtain that to which he has 
 long had an undisputed right ? In the eye of 
 the law, every acre of English ground is the 
 king''s, and no subject has any other than a mo- 
 dified and beneficiary interest in the land which 
 he occupies. Read Blackstone again, the second 
 and fourth volumes ; I will show you the pass- 
 ages when we go up stairs." 
 
 " Come, Harry," said Lord Launceston, " this 
 is rather too much; I thought you had given 
 up Blackstone when you became a politician. 
 At all events, pass the wine. Lord William 
 would have told you to do so, half an hour 
 ago ; but he did not like to interrupt the torrent 
 of your eloquence." 
 
 But the disputants w^ere too deeply engaged 
 in their discussion to pay attention to this rather 
 
 h2
 
 148 THE CABAL. 
 
 broad hint. Mowbray was quite delighted with 
 the amazement of the German, who continued 
 to attack him with remonstrances. 
 
 "What then hinders King William from 
 seizing this castle, or turning all that fertile 
 valley into one great park for his princely plea- 
 sure ? Your tribunals tcislj be, as I believe they 
 are, inclined to do justice to the poorest; but, 
 if the soil be the king's, who shall sue him for 
 taking that which is his own ?" 
 
 " Sue the king !*" almost shouted Mowbray, 
 in affected horror and astonishment. " Good 
 God ! why, my dear count, from him alone all 
 jurisdiction emanates. Before whom would you 
 sue him ? The judges are only his representa- 
 tives. For what could you sue him? In the 
 eye of the law the king can do no wrong. In 
 the eye of the law the king cannot even imagine 
 that which is wrong. In the eye of the law, 
 there is not the smallest weakn.ess or imperfection
 
 THE CABAL. 149 
 
 in a single thought, word, or action of the king. 
 Do allow me to show you a few passages in 
 Blackstone when we go up stairs." 
 
 " Read the whole chapters, count, if you have 
 leisure, not single passages. You will not find 
 Blackstone so extravagant in his doctrines as 
 my friend Mowbray would have you suppose.^' 
 So said the marquess, in a quiet tone, but with 
 sufficient emphasis; for he did not like the system 
 of merciless quizzing with which Mowbray per- 
 petually pursued the unfortunate German. 
 
 Harry, who has some common sense, saw 
 that, in gratifying his splenetic humour, he was 
 making himself a bore to most of the company. 
 He accordingly changed the conversation. 
 
 And now every one in turn mounted his 
 favourite hobby. The duke descanted at large 
 on hospitals, rail-roads, the national debt, and 
 the agricultural society. The philosopher dog- 
 matized on the true theory of population. Dr. 
 Malpas instructed Lord Launceston in the mys-
 
 150 THE CABAL. 
 
 tery of oyster patties. Lord Launceston was pro- 
 found on the antiquities of wines. The Earl of 
 Burlington obtained a few hints from Lord John 
 Plantagenet relative to a recent discovery, which 
 had created an extraordinary sensation in the 
 civiUzed world. Well it might — it was a new 
 method of tying the neckcloth — I beheve the 
 third really new method since the days of 
 Chesterfield. Lord John had the high merit 
 of this invaluable discovery. The count told 
 wonderful stories of his feats with the bottle 
 and the schl'ager ; of rivers of blood, and oceans 
 of wine ; but, finding that such subjects were not 
 within the limited comprehension of his audience, 
 he gradually led the conversation to that other 
 topic, which, during this most barbarous of 
 EogHsh hours alone, is not yet entirely banished 
 from the society of gentlemen. Nothing, surely, 
 but insufferable tedium could permit an English 
 gentleman to pollute his lips with its impurities. 
 Let us draw the curtain.
 
 THE CABAL. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 '< For gain has wonderful effects 
 T' improve the factory of sects ;— 
 The rule of faith in all professions. 
 And great Diana of the Ephesians." 
 
 Hudibras. 
 
 *' And 'tis their duty, all the learned think, 
 T' espouse his cause by whom they eat and drink." 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 And now we may venture to approach the 
 drawing-room. Arch glance, and merry smile, 
 gay song, soft whisper, the harp, and the guitar, 
 invite us. Bright hours ! ah ! doubly bright, 
 but for the thought that the day is coming when 
 for us they shall shine no longer. Beautiful 
 being ! shall those locks of thine ever be gray ? 
 shall^that eye ever be dim ? 
 
 But to our tale. The heiress — for an heiress 
 is a very pleasant person. The compliment is
 
 152 THE CABAL. 
 
 not extreme. The fairest face, the most perfect 
 form, a disposition naturally amiable, talents 
 naturally rare — all I have seen again and again 
 utterly spoiled, by the consciousness of wealth. 
 I confess I am never more disgusted with any 
 thing than with the fuss that is made about an 
 heiress. I go to a party where I know I am to 
 meet one, with a predisposition to hate her. 
 Perhaps, therefore, I am not a very fair judge 
 of her merits, but I generally find her at least 
 as disagreeable as I expected : — not that I have 
 any very serious objection to a wife with some 
 fifty or sixty thousand pounds, or even more, if 
 her temper be unexceptionable, her face tolerable, 
 and so forth, if any such woman there be, of En- 
 glish birth. But, as a general rule, I avoid all 
 ladies with more than ten. However, Miss 
 Margaret Mary Turnbull, as I said, is pleasant 
 enough for an heiress. The Ladies Montfitchett 
 can be extremely agreeable. The Countess of 
 Rothsay, as all the world knows, when her
 
 THE CABAL. 15S 
 
 political manoeuvres do not interfere, is the most 
 delightful of women. But, for my own part, 
 of the ladies there at Arleston Castle, I prefer 
 Lady Burlington decidedly. She is a mere 
 child, it is true, but a child with whom I have no 
 objection to pass half the evenings of my year. 
 
 " We have resolved, '' she said, as the gentle- 
 man entered — " we have resolved unanimously, 
 that the whigs have insulted the ladies of the 
 county, by proposing such a candidate as that 
 little deformed wretch Sir Edmond Mortimer. 
 Here is his picture. What could tempt him to 
 sit to Sir Thomas, or what could prevail on Sir 
 Thomas to paint it, I cannot imagine. A little 
 crooked hunch-back ! Lady Rothsay proposes 
 that we should call a general meeting of the 
 ladies of the district, and annihilate the whig 
 party at a blow."" 
 
 " A gallant suggestion," cried Harry Mow- 
 bray : " I will deliver their funeral oration, and 
 
 h5
 
 154 THE CABAL 
 
 Dr. Malpas shall preach a thanksgiving sermon 
 on the deliverance of the county."" 
 
 " Thanksgiving sermons are often very trouble- 
 some," said the reverend doctor, roused by 
 the mention of his name from a comfortable 
 position which he had occupied beside the fire. 
 " I remember when I held the curacy of 
 Burton-rivers upon Avon, I was put to much 
 annoyance by an order for a thanksgiving 
 sermon. You must know there were nine of 
 us, curates of adjoining parishes, who were in 
 the habit of preaching Dr. Jortin's sermons. 
 Each had a volume, which, when finished, he 
 exchanged for another, beginning again with the 
 first when the ninth was concluded, and so on in 
 rotation. The arrangement was extremely con- 
 venient; I never had the smallest trouble. It 
 was in the summer of 1815, shortly after the 
 glorious battle of Waterloo, that we received an 
 order for a thankso-ivinsj sermon. I looked over
 
 THE CABAL. 155 
 
 my volume very carefully, but there was nothing 
 of the kind in it, from beginning to end. In this 
 dilemma, I rode over to my friend, the Reverend 
 Humphrey Josceline, at Little Oaks. His volume 
 was also consulted in vain. We sent a messenger 
 round the country, and called a meeting at Keddle- 
 stone. The emergency was great, and I confess I 
 was utterly at a loss; so was my friend Josceline, 
 so was Shirley, so indeed were we all. At last 
 Dr. Craven Conyers, who was then curate of 
 Newton-Brandon, and, as we all know, is a very 
 superior man, a man of great talent certainly, — 
 he will do honour to the mitre, to which I am 
 glad to hear he is so soon to be promoted, — at 
 last, I say. Craven Conyers proposed that we 
 should take the leading article of the Courier, 
 and, with a slight verbal alteration, introduce it 
 towards the close of Dr. Jortin's shortest sermon. 
 Conyers was so kind as to make the necessary 
 alteration with his own hand, and the plan 
 answered surprisingly !""
 
 156 THE CABAL. 
 
 " An admirable contrivance!'' said Harry 
 Mowbray, gravely. " I presume you continued 
 to preach Dr. Jortin's sermons as long as you 
 continued at Burton-rivers."" 
 
 " Undoubtedly, and my successor still preaches 
 them. The nine clergymen, alas, are no longer 
 where they were, but I learned, the last time I 
 was at Keddlestone, that Dr. Jortin's sermons are 
 still as much approved of as they used to be." 
 
 " I cannot sufficiently admire the convenience 
 of the arrangement," continued Harry. 
 
 " It was indeed extremely convenient. Much 
 better than the plan some people have of buying 
 manuscript sermons. I will give you an instance of 
 the danger of that practice. When I was a young 
 man, I fell into the practice. I bought, by the 
 pound, an immense parcel of manuscripts, war- 
 ranted original. They were written in a fair 
 round hand, which gave me no kind of trouble. 
 I considered myself very fortunate in my pur- 
 chase, and continued to preach the sermons for
 
 THE CABAL, 157 
 
 half a year. One day, I had a visit from an 
 old friend, who took a deep interest in my 
 welfare, Dr. Danby, father of the Reverend 
 Julian Danby, in this neighbourhood. ' My dear 
 Godolphin,' said he, closing the door as he en- 
 tered, and speaking in a whisper, ' where did 
 you meet with the sermons which you have been 
 preaching lately V I told him their history, and 
 was struck with horror when he told me, that 
 they were filled with the most insidious attacks 
 on the orthodox doctrines and discipline of the 
 church. In fact. Dr. Danby had been privately 
 informed, that if I continued to preach in the 
 same manner, the bishop would be obliged to 
 interfere. You may be sure the parcel was that 
 evening committed to the flames." 
 
 While Dr. Malpas was thus reciting the 
 calamities of clergymen, Harry slipped aside, 
 and drew the count into the library, to put 
 Blackstone into his hands. From female society 
 the German was always willing to escape. Be-
 
 158 THE CABAL. 
 
 sides his numerous anecdotes about drinking, 
 fighting, and renowniiig^ and that other fertile 
 subject to which I have already alluded, the 
 count could talk of nothing but philanthropy 
 and the British constitution. The sword, and 
 bottle, and the Burschenschaft, were topics, he 
 had the sense to see, not entirely suited to a lady's 
 taste. About philanthropy and the British con- 
 stitution, indeed, he talked every where, and to 
 every body — at table, in a quadrille, at the opera ; 
 between the acts, at the French theatre, and in 
 the pauses of the prayers at church. But, though 
 not much given to unnecessary modesty, he saw 
 that he did not produce a very favourable im- 
 pression on the ladies of England. 
 
 Horace Hopkins was paying his devoirs to the 
 Ladies Montfitchett, and the Countess of Flint 
 and Peverell, by turns. Lady Sarah Dunstan- 
 ville had a religious controversy with Lady Mary 
 Montford. The duke was listening to Dr. Malpas ; 
 and Lord Raymond Montfitchett and Lord John
 
 THE CABAL. 159 
 
 Plantagenet, vied with each other in their at- 
 tentions to the heiress. These various circles had 
 been arranged by Lady Rothsay with infinite 
 tact. She wished to have Lord WilHam to her- 
 self, without danger of interruption, and without 
 betraying any undue anxiety about the approach- 
 ing canvass. 
 
 The large drawing-room of Arleston Castle 
 is one of those apartments for which I have a 
 decided predilection — a long narrow hall — lofty 
 — and with windows, that seem as if they had 
 been dug out of the solid wall. The wall is more 
 than twelve feet in thickness, and thus a deep 
 recess is formed at each window, which will hold 
 a little party of three or four very conveniently. 
 Oh! sacred to study and intrigue! — those de- 
 lightful windows ! — is there any pleasure, which 
 this life has yet to give me, like that enjoyed in 
 such recess, when I first turned the pages of 
 Ivanhoe, — when I first trembled at the blush of 
 woman ?
 
 160 THE CABAL. 
 
 The Arleston windows are sometimes incon- 
 venient, it must be confessed; as, when Miss 
 Mary TurnbuU began to talk about that stu- 
 pid Dr. Malpas — when, lo ! the reverend 
 gentleman stalked forth from his retirement, 
 with Dr. Kitchiner in his hand, and a glow 
 upon his cheek. Such accidents will happen; 
 but, with all their perils, I love the snug win- 
 dows, notwithstanding. 
 
 The countess drew Lord William into one of 
 these recesses. 
 
 " Now, William, we must have some serious 
 conversation about the canvass. Take the Siam- 
 ese Twins in your hand, and pretend to read. 
 I do not wish to seem anxious about your affairs. 
 Our policy is to appear secure. Many will vote 
 with us if they think we shall succeed, who would 
 not do so if they had the least idea we were likely 
 to fail. Do not look at me. Keep your eyes on 
 the book as you speak, and turn the leaves now 
 and then. You are not half a politician. Of
 
 THE CABAL. 161 
 
 course you have seen the committee again. Give 
 me some idea what sort of people they are, and 
 how the partes in the county are affected. Sir 
 Fulk Montacute, I hear, has ratted to the mi- 
 nistry. He is on Sir Edmond's committee ; but 
 he will not do you much harm, if my informa- 
 tion be correct. Come, begin ; give an account 
 of your motions. You saw the committee ?" 
 
 '^ 1 did. The majority, as was to be expected, 
 are a set of thick-headed blundering block- 
 heads." 
 
 " Of course, of course. Pray keep your eye 
 on the book. Who are they ?" 
 
 " To begin. There are the representatives of 
 the two oldest families in the county, except the 
 De Cantilupes, Sir Reginald Vipont de St. Lis, 
 and Sir Vivian Chartres de Vere, red-hot ultras 
 both; so is Alberic Amundeville, of Amundeville, 
 the reverend Humphrey Josceline, the greatest 
 epicure, and the Reverend Oliver Shirley, the 
 boldest rider in the county. I am told the three
 
 162 
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 first will secure the support of the best blood in 
 the old tory party ; Josceline carries with him 
 an immense squadron of shovel-hats ; and Shirley 
 has undisputed sway over half the slang men in 
 thirty parishes." 
 
 " So far, so well. Pray, is not this Alberic 
 Amundeville a catholic ?" 
 
 " He is ; but a true tory, notwithstanding. Some 
 of my friends do not like to see him put forward, 
 but he has too much influence to be passed over." 
 
 *' Well, go on ; I begin to have hopes." 
 
 " Why, then, you know, there are the Apsley 
 men — I mean those who went along with the late 
 cabinet. There is Roland Cunningham, who 
 trembles for the East India charter. There is 
 Hyde Basset, who believes that the whigs will 
 emancipate the negroes. There is Francis Co- 
 myn, of the Bank. There is that clerical fop, 
 Julian Danby, and that insufferable bore, Otho 
 Corbet. "Wortley Jerningham, I was given to 
 understand, was sulky about something, I hardly
 
 THE CABAL. 16S 
 
 know what; but I have gained his heart by 
 asking his advice about every thing." 
 
 " Turn a leaf, brother, and pray do not look 
 at me; you are quite incorrigible, I declare. 
 On the whole, I think your interest is pretty 
 strong. Is not Devereux with you ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir Walcheline is the only whig among 
 us hitherto ; that is, he was a whig : his family 
 has been whig ever since the revolution. But 
 as he says quite openly, he thinks it rather hard 
 that, after voting with Fox, and Brougham, and, 
 in fact, sticking by the party, man and boy, in 
 the worst of times — after refusing all manner of 
 offers, and making all manner of sacrifices, he 
 should be neglected in his old age. By neglected, 
 he means denied a peerage, for that, I understand, 
 has been his ambition from his youth." 
 
 '^ We must make him Baron Devereux, of 
 Devereux Park, next summer," said the count- 
 ess. " I build a good deal on the chance of such 
 support. The whigs have been so long out of
 
 164 THE CABAL. 
 
 office, that their arrears of actual or imaginary 
 debt must be very large. They cannot provide 
 for all who think they have claims on them. 
 There is our best hope. The disappointed suitors 
 will be disgusted. It is easy to find or make a 
 pretence for ratting, and we shall gain their votes. 
 If you cannot look as if you were reading, brother, 
 you had better come over to this side. You 
 smile; but seriously, William, you have no idea 
 how much sometimes depends on trifles." 
 
 '' I commence the canvass in earnest to-mor- 
 row. I am most afraid of the Dissenters." 
 
 " Well, remember, Lady Martha has been at 
 work in that quarter. She is really a very useful 
 personage. That Osbaldiston, of whom they 
 were speaking down stairs, is a man of some in- 
 fluence; he must be gained. To tell you the 
 truth, the Dissenters will decide the election. I 
 am certain of it in my own mind ; — and I am 
 afraid we are not likely to be favourably received 
 by the greater part of them."
 
 / THE CABAL. 165 
 
 " Surely you exaggerate their power." 
 
 " No, brother, I do not exaggerate it. We, 
 of the old parties, on both sides, have been blind 
 to the progress of opinion in this country. A 
 terrible third party is rising into consequence, 
 which will overcome us both." 
 
 '' The radicals, you mean : — I have very little 
 fear of Cobbett, Hunt, and their friends." 
 
 " No, William, I do not mean Hunt's friends, 
 who bawl for they know not what. — Depend 
 upon it, there is a party rapidly forming, with 
 principles at least as rational and intelligible as 
 those of either whig or tory — a party as resolute 
 as either — which in a short time will be stronger 
 than both united. The great body of the Dis- 
 senters, in this county, are of that party." 
 
 " Whatever their influence may be, I am 
 afraid we must trust them to Lady Martha's 
 care ; - perhaps we may rely a little on their 
 jealousy of the whigs, with whom they have no 
 desire to be confounded, or this Mr. Osbaldiston
 
 166 THE CABAL. 
 
 may do something ; but really none of my friehds 
 can give me any assistance among them, as far 
 as I am aware. For my own part, however, I 
 am ready to do what you please — cant, whine, 
 go to meeting, be baptized, if you think it ne- 
 cessary — only the weather is rather cold." 
 
 ." Indeed, my dear William, this is no subject 
 for jesting. Your success, believe me, entirely 
 depends upon these Dissenters; and if you 
 please, you know you can secure them." 
 
 " I can secure them if I please !'"* repeated his 
 lordship, not however without betraying some 
 confusion to Lady Rothsay^s practised eye, — 
 " how can I secure them, my dear Eleanor ?" 
 
 " You cannot be ignorant of Macdonald's in- 
 fluence over them. He has but to lift his finger, 
 and your return is certain." 
 
 " Well, and what then .^" inquired his lord- 
 ship, after a short pause. 
 
 " What then.^ — Now what is the use of playing 
 ^the hypocrite with your best friend ? When a
 
 THE CABAL. 167 
 
 matter has gone so far, as to be openly joked 
 about by Harry Mowbray, I think even the 
 secrets of Gideon Cottage need not be concealed 
 from a sister. But I do not wish to intrude 
 oij your confidence, Wilham; — only remember, 
 delay, at all times, is dangerous, and never more 
 dangerous than now. Putting aside every other 
 consideration, what connexion could be more 
 desirable in every respect ? Fortune, beauty, ac- 
 complishments, and, if you care about that, I 
 can tell you, what I suppose is no secret to your 
 vanity by this time, the girl loves you with her 
 whole heart and soul; — ^but I beg pardon — I have 
 no right to speak so openly — you have every 
 right to judge for yourself. And, now that we 
 have finished the Siamese Twins, let us join the 
 Montfitchetts."
 
 168 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Nor women's sighs nor tears are true— 
 Those idly blow, these idly fall ; 
 Nothing like to ours at all : 
 But sighs and tears have sexes too." 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 Some days had passed since Macdonald's in- 
 terview with Sir Edmond Mortimer, and he had 
 heard nothing from him on the subject of the 
 canvass. The radicals had called a meeting of 
 their friends, to consider what part they should 
 take in the ensuing election. Many of the influen- 
 tial Dissenters gave it their countenance. There 
 had even been some talk of a third candidate, 
 on the independent interest. To the surprise of 
 his neighbours, the attorney had kept studiously
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 169 
 
 aloof from the consultations, which had been 
 held by all parties. The wise men of the county 
 observed, with a knowing nod of the head, that 
 Macdonald knew what he was about, and was 
 afraid to hurt his professional business by taking 
 an active part against any body. Those among 
 the Dissenters, who looked up to him as their 
 oracle, were in considerable perplexity. When 
 they sounded him on the subject of the election, 
 he preserved an impenetrable silence, and, as 
 far as they could learn, was determined not 
 to interfere. A few blamed him for want of 
 public spirit. Some complained that .the man, 
 to whom they had looked in all emergencies, 
 was unwilling to give them his assistance at a 
 moment when, by a judicious use of their in- 
 fluence, the middle classes in the county might 
 hope to get the better of that aristocratic tyranny, 
 to which they had been so long subjected. But 
 the greater number, confident in Macdonald's 
 prudence, and tried fidelity to their interests, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE CABAL. 
 
 determined to follow his example in the contest, 
 and to remain neutral with him, if he persevered 
 in his resolution. 
 
 Since her return -from town. Flora had only 
 seen Lord William once. Harry Mowbray was 
 right in his conjecture. The accident which oc- 
 curred to Lady Sophia Sefton, and his lordship, 
 had been innocently caused by her. During the 
 few minutes that Lady Sophia had remained in 
 Gideon Cottage, while her groom repaired a 
 slight injury, which her vehicle had received, 
 Lord William had found means to tell Flora, 
 that he intended to pay her a longer visit next 
 day. 
 
 Mrs. Macdonald confidently expected, that at 
 that visit the important declaration would be 
 made. Her husband inclined to the same opK 
 nion. What the young lady's feelings were, I 
 cannot pretend to imagine. I do not think they 
 were very unpleasant, and yet she was far from 
 being gay.
 
 THE CABAL. 171 
 
 Let US look into the drawing-room of Gideon 
 Cottage for a moment. Very different from that 
 of Arleston ! The room % by no means large ; 
 the ceiling is not high. s,There are no deep 
 windows, no antique furniture, magnificent in 
 decay. But if, in exchange for grandeur, you 
 can be satisfied with comfort, it is here — the 
 soft chair, the luxurious sofa, the warm carpet, 
 and the blazing grate. Neither harp nor guitar 
 is visible ; but yonder lies the flute, and here is 
 a piano. And then, in that recess, let your eye 
 rest an instant on the modest book-case, for use 
 rather than for ornament, in which the venerable 
 folios of the good old fathers of the dissenting 
 church, severe but holy men, are mingled with 
 smaller volumes in more brilliant dress — Foster 
 and Hall — Cowper and Montgomery — the 
 faithful among the faithless, the pure instructors 
 of St scoffinff affe. 
 
 The day is stormy, and the snow lies deep 
 upon the ground. Mrs. Macdonald sits by the 
 
 i2
 
 172 THE CABAL. 
 
 window, not unheeding the unfortunate travellers, 
 whose business obliges them to be abroad. She 
 scans every horseman that passes, wrapped in 
 a rough great coat, or thick mantle, and battling 
 Avith the blinding sleet. Her daughter, at a 
 little distance, with her back to the hght, is 
 drawing, or seeming to draw. One side of the 
 fire is occupied by Macdonald himself, in all the 
 luxury of a loose coat and velvet slippers ; the 
 other, by a gentleman, enjoying the same luxuries, 
 and bearing a very close resemblance, in face, 
 voice, and figure, to his host. Allow me to in- 
 troduce to your acquaintance Bailie Alexander 
 Macdonald, one of the chief magistrates of a 
 certain city in Scotland, the name of which, 
 sundry good and sufficient reasons me thereunto 
 moving, I mean for the present to conceal. 
 He is the attorney's eldest brother. Being 
 Scotchmen, they are gentle by descent. Their 
 father claimed kindred with the ancient house 
 of Glengarry — but their father was a tailor.
 
 THE CABAL. 173 
 
 At the " head of Broad-street," in the pleasant 
 town of Stirhng, they were born. While, in 
 accordance with an old custom of the Scottish 
 nation, and induced by hunger, or ambition, his 
 younger brethren wandered across the border, 
 Sandie Macdonald, the hope of the name, con- 
 tinued to pursue his father's profession in the 
 place of his nativity. Some labour, much saving, 
 a little homely talent, and no little cunning, en- 
 abled him to rise above his father's station. lie 
 emigrated to that other town, which, with your 
 leave, shall be nameless. There he was still 
 more eminently successful. His father had been 
 a deacon of Stirling, Alexander is a bailie of a 
 prouder city. His brother, Duncan, has gathered 
 no little spoil among *' oor auld enemies of Eng- 
 land,'' as we of the south were wont to be termed 
 by the Scottish parliament; but Alexander is the 
 richer of the two. He is a bachelor, and if I 
 do not err, Flora will inherit the bulk of his 
 property.
 
 174 THE CABAL. 
 
 " He will not come in this weather," muttered 
 Mrs. Macdonald, in a low tone, but not unheard, 
 I think, by Flora, for she blushed deeply; 
 
 A horseman galloped up to the door, muffled 
 to the eyes, and covered with snow. Even Mrs. 
 Macdonald's eye did not recognise him. 
 
 *' It may be — but, no — Lord Wilham is much 
 teller; and now I see him walk, I think he is 
 lame. Who can it be .^" 
 
 " Nae vera wise man, I'se warrant him," said 
 the bailie, " to be oot in sic a deevil o** a day." 
 
 A thundering knock followed, and then a 
 pause. The stranger was admitted. 
 
 '^ Shall I show Sir Edmond to this room, 
 sir ?" said Elijah, opening the door. 
 
 " Show whom'^ Elijah." 
 
 " Sir Edmond Mortimer, ma'am." 
 
 Macdonald and his wife showed evident signs 
 of being annoyed. Flora, who had turned very 
 pale when she heard her mother announce a 
 stranger's arrival, recovered her complexion.
 
 THE CABAL. 175 
 
 " May I come in ?" said Sir Edmond*'s voice, 
 in the passage. 
 
 " Pome in, come in," replied Macdonald, 
 rising, and grasping both his hands warmly as 
 he entered — " welcome to Gideon Cottage. — My 
 dear ! Flora ! it is Sir Edmond Mortimer, — 
 they hardly know you in that cloak. And you 
 are altered too, by the sun of Italy, not a little. 
 Sir Edmond, allow me to introduce my brother, 
 — just arrived from Scotland. You are very 
 kind to come so far to see us, in such a day ; 
 but the morning was fine, I suppose it deceived 
 you. Allow me to remove this cloak ; and take 
 a chair by the fire, you must be cold. Perhaps 
 you would like to change your dress. Shall I 
 ring? — Well, if you are sure the snow has not 
 penetrated the cloak, which^ to say the truth, 
 must keep one pretty comfortable, pray sit 
 down. You must not think of returning to 
 Wigmore to-night. My dear, give directions 
 TO have the blue room made ready — your ozi)n
 
 176 THE CABAL. 
 
 room, sir — you recollect it, I dare say. Your own 
 room, ever since your visits in the Eton holidays, 
 when Flora used to romp with you in the garden, 
 yonder. Flora, put away your drawings. You 
 must renew your acquaintance with Sir Edmond." 
 She met him with an open, disembarrassed 
 countenance, a smile almost affectionate, and a 
 warm grasp of the hand which would have sadly 
 outraged Lady Constance Montfitchett's ideas of 
 etiquette. 
 
 He met her vnth a white cheek and a bashful 
 eye, a groan half audible, and a liand that 
 trembled as she pressed it. It was very foohsh, 
 and quite contrary to Lord Raymond Montfit- 
 chetf s ideas of propriety : with whom, to betray, 
 or, rather, to Jeel emotion of any kind, is the 
 most grievous offence against good manners of 
 which a human being can be guilty. 
 
 " You must excuse me, Macdonald," said he, 
 " I cannot remain with you above half an hour. 
 This is entirely a visit of business."
 
 THE CABAL. 177 
 
 Macdonald, in spite of his habitual self-pos- 
 session, looked rather uneasy : 
 
 " Pray do not mention business now, Sir 
 Edmond, I cannot permit you to leave Gideon 
 Cottage to-night. After dinner " 
 
 " Indeed, my dear sir, it would give me very 
 great pleasure, but I have an engagement at 
 Wigmore tliis evening which cannot be post- 
 poned." 
 
 " Well, then, if it must be so, you shall have 
 an early dinner, and then " 
 
 "Another knock — this certainly is Lord 
 William — how very awkward !'' thought Mrs, 
 Macdonald. 
 
 The door opened, and Lord William entered, 
 followed jby the count. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Almighty crowd ! thou shortenest all dispute, 
 Power is thy essence, wit thy attribute !" 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 The count's appearance was more than usually 
 ferocious. His coat was torn, his face flushed 
 and swollen, and his whole person displayed 
 unequivocal marks of a recent scuffle. Lord 
 William was not in much better plight. 
 
 '^ Gideon Cottage, my dear madam," said his 
 lordship, " seems destined to be my refuge in 
 every calamity. My friend, Count Altenberg, 
 and I have been rather rudely handled at 
 Aberton."
 
 THE CABAL. 179 
 
 Mrs. Macdonald rose in some anxiety. Flora's 
 agitation did not escape Sir Edmond's notice. 
 
 " Pray do not be alarmed ; nothing very 
 serious has happened after all. My friend, who 
 is not accustomed to our habits, is a little an- 
 noyed by the usage he has received ; but we, 
 who know the value of British liberty, rather 
 like an occasional excess, in order to be certain 
 we have enough." 
 
 " Who were your assailants .^" inquired Mac- 
 donald. 
 
 " A score of cotton spinners, apparently zealous 
 friends of the Mortimer faction. They began 
 with snowballs, which I should not have minded, 
 but a shower of stones is no joke." 
 
 " My lord, permit me to introduce Sir Ed- 
 mond Mortimer."" 
 
 The candidates met for the first time. 
 
 " Most happy to make your acquaintance. Sir 
 Edmond; I trust we may be good friends, though 
 we are rivals on this occasion. Our families have
 
 180 THE CABAL. 
 
 always been on the best terms, though they have 
 taken opposite sides on every public question for 
 half a century." 
 
 Mortimer bowed. 
 
 " I would not have you trust to your friends, 
 the cotton-spinners, too securely, Sir Edmond, 
 for they took a few words with which I favoured 
 them in parting so kindly, that, if I may judge 
 by their cheering, your influence in that quarter 
 was somewhat shaken. I should not be surprised 
 if they were to change sides, and give some lessons 
 in practical freedom on the other side." 
 
 " They suld be sent to Bridewell, every 
 mither's son o' them,"" said the baiHe. 
 
 *' My brother, my lord. Bailie Macdonald."" 
 
 " You are not used to such disgraceful scenes 
 in your country, sir," said his lordship. 
 
 *' Na, troth ; you may weel say that. We're 
 douce bodies north o' the Tweed." 
 
 " The only contested election at which I ever 
 had the honour to be present was in Scotland,
 
 THE CABAL. 181 
 
 and I must say, sir, that it gave me a strong 
 impression of the order and good sense of your 
 countrymen. There was not the slightest dis- 
 turbance." 
 
 " In Scotland ? I thought I had seen your 
 face afore, my lord. Was it at Mrs. M'Gruer's, 
 think ye ?" 
 
 " I have not the honour of Mrs. M'Gruer's 
 acquaintance," said his lordship, turning towards 
 Flora, with whom he was soon engaged in con- 
 versation. 
 
 " 'Od, I have seen that chiel somewhere, 
 though," muttered the bailie. 
 
 " From what part of Scotland are you, may 
 I ask ?" inquired the count, who never allowed 
 any opportunity to escape him, in his anxiety to 
 add to his knowledge of British politics. 
 
 The bailie mentioned the name of the town of 
 which he is a magistrate. 
 
 " In so large a city, occasional disturbance,
 
 182 THE CABAL. 
 
 during the time of an election, is of course to be 
 expected.*" 
 
 " Never onie disturbance, in my memory, 
 sir." 
 
 " The population, if I recollect rightly, is 
 one hundred and fifty thousand," continued the 
 German, proud of his statistical information. 
 
 " There, or thereabouts, I believe, sir." 
 
 " A great proportion, to be sure, belong to 
 the wealthy and respectable classes." 
 
 " The maist respectable in Scotland, though 
 I say it, that suldna say it." 
 
 " But then, in a place that is the residence of 
 so many distinguished men, you must often 
 have more than one candidate, and, I should 
 suppose, not unfrequently the keenest contests." 
 
 " 'Deed, you needna expect onie ither candi- 
 date, as long as there is a Dundonald to the 
 fore." 
 
 " From the warmth with wbich you speak,"
 
 THE CABAL. 183 
 
 observed Sir Edmond Mortimer, making an 
 effort to withdraw his attention from Flora and 
 Lord William, " from the warmth with which 
 you speak, I conclude that you have a friend- 
 ship for the family." 
 
 " To say the truth, Sir Edmond, I've aye 
 been a fast freend to the Dundonalds. IVe lived 
 in kittle times, when a man behoved to look baith 
 afore an' ahint him, an' I've fund it a guid rule 
 to stick by the Dundonalds. My brither there's 
 a whig, they tell me. Mickle guid may it 
 do him. I Ve seen the whigs in, and I Ve seen 
 the tories in, an' I wish I mayna' see the radicals 
 in afore I dee ; but wha e'er was in, the Dundo- 
 nalds were never vera ill aff in Scotland ; sae, 
 come what wad, IVe aye stuck by the Dundo- 
 nalds. When I was a 'prentice lad, in sl the 
 rows and bickers, in the auld times, I aye cried, 
 doon wi' the black nebs, an' up wi' the hoose of 
 Anniston ! When I first set up a wee bit shop 
 o' my ain, I put the Dundonald airms aboon the
 
 184< THE CABAL. 
 
 door, and aye was ready to gi'e them a guid 
 word wi' my freends in the cooncil. And when 
 I gpt hito the cooncil mysel', I didna turn my 
 back on the family, for, to gi'e them but their 
 due, auld Hairy never turned his back on me, 
 nor his son neither. Sae, in the warst o' times, I've 
 aye stuck by the Dundonalds, and sworn by the 
 Dundonalds, and threepit by the Dundonalds." 
 
 " The talents of the family have doubtless 
 justified your support," said Sir Edmond, once 
 more, with some difficulty, averting his glance 
 from his rival ; " I do not remember to have heard 
 much of your present representative's eloquence^ 
 but a man may be a very useful member of par- 
 liament without that.**' 
 
 " Oo I as to eloquence and a' that, the toon 
 cooncil are weeleneugh pleased wi' Willie, though 
 aiblins he 's nae great orator. He minds the bits 
 o' jobbies o' the cooncil, and that's eneugh." 
 
 " The council, I presume," said the count, " is 
 composed of the most eminent men in the city,
 
 THE CABAL. 185 
 
 since you attribute so much to its influence. Of 
 how many members does it consist ?" 
 
 " Twa and thretty, forbye your humble ser- 
 vant. We 've some vera respectable men amang 
 us, vera respectable." 
 
 " Can so small a number, in every case, guide 
 the determination of the other citizens ?*" 
 
 " The ither citizens ?" 
 
 '' Yes, the other citizens. What do they say 
 to the Dundonalds ?" 
 
 " De**!! cares what they say." 
 
 " But, sir " 
 
 " The ither citizens, truly. — Lord help you, 
 sir, it's the cooncil sends the member. Bonnie 
 wark you wad mak' wi' the hoose of Anniston, 
 if onie body but the cooncil had the naming o' 
 the member. Na, na, weVe nae radical wark 
 in the north- — nae universal suffrage — nae sprees, 
 nae ro,ws, nae riots at our elections." 
 
 " I think I have heard of such things at a 
 Scotch election, however," said Mrs. Macdonald ;
 
 186 THE CABAL. 
 
 there must have been some foundation for the 
 caricatures in the next room, which you brought 
 us. If the count would like to look at them, I 
 am sure they would amuse him. And do you 
 come with us, bailie, you shall explain the 
 allusions." 
 
 Meanwhile Flora and his lordship were still 
 conversing in a low tone at some distance from 
 the rest. In spite of himself, Sir Edmond's eye 
 had fallen on them more than once. At first 
 Lord William appeared to be relating some lu- 
 dicrous occurrence, with which Miss Macdonald 
 was extremely amused. By and by, their coun- 
 tenances assumed a graver expression. Flora 
 was silent, her eyes were cast down : Sir Edmond 
 imagined that she trembled. At this moment 
 her mother adroitly drew the count and the 
 bailie into the parlour. The baronet's jealous 
 eye observed the manoeuvre. 
 
 " I am at your service now, Sir Edmond," 
 said Macdonald, taking the hint from his wife :
 
 THE CABAL. 187 
 
 " since you are determined to go to-night, we 
 have but little time, Lord William,'' continued 
 he, raising his voice : — " you will excuse my 
 absence for a few minutes, I have some small 
 affairs to settle with Sir Edmond. I have not 
 yet rendered him an account of my stewardship 
 in his absence." 
 
 In an instant Mortimer recalled sundry reports, 
 to which he had hitherto given no manner of 
 credit. He saw it all. His heart swelled almost to 
 burstii^ ; but he made an effort to preserve his 
 composure, and followed the attorney. 
 
 " This, then," said he to himself, as they went 
 down stairs — " this is the cause of Macdonald's 
 backwardness. He shall have no further an- 
 noyance on my account."" 
 
 They entered the library. His resolution was 
 taken. 
 
 " My dear sir," said Sir Edmond, speaking 
 very rapidly, " our business may be concluded 
 in a single sentence. I have been thinking over
 
 188 THE CABAL. 
 
 the subject of our last conversation, and it has 
 occurred to me, that your interference in this 
 election may possibly be injurious to you, in 
 many ways. I ought to have recollected your 
 connexion with Sir Walcheline Devereux, Ro- 
 land Conyngham, and various other gentlemen, 
 who are the keenest supporters of my opponent. 
 Then, again, many of the Dissenters, as you very 
 justly reminded me, though with the greatest de- 
 licacy, certainly have a strong prejudice against 
 a whig candidate. On the whole, I cary;iot help 
 seeing, that, if you were to exert yourself, as I 
 know you wish to do, on my behalf, you might 
 do yourself material injury in your profession." 
 
 " I beg, Sir Edmond, that no such consider- 
 ation may be supposed to weigh for one mo- 
 ment " 
 
 " I know your generosity, Macdonald," inter- 
 rupted Mortimer, " but I must not suffer it to 
 injure you. In short, I have made up my 
 mind, and you must not be offended by my re-
 
 THE CABAL. 189 
 
 solution, to request you to take no part, on my 
 behalf, in the approaching contest."' 
 
 " Your extreme kindness," began the attorney 
 — but the baronet would hear no more. He seized 
 his hat, and in a few minutes was on his way 
 back to Wigmore. The storm raged more 
 violently than ever, but he was unconscious of 
 its violence ; or perhaps the fury of the elements 
 was rather pleasing to him than otherwise.
 
 190 THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 With track oblique 
 
 At first, as one who sought access, but feared 
 To interrupt, sidelong he works his way." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 In Lord William''s absence, Lady Rothsay 
 was indefatigable in her exertion's, but there 
 was one person still more indefatigable. 
 
 Simon Sillary was his lordship''s attorney. 
 Such, at least, was his nominal character. He 
 had long enjoyed Lord William'^s most intimate 
 confidence, and, indeed, advised every measure 
 of his life. The other members of the family 
 knew nothing of his history. He was extremely 
 civil to them all, and particularly attentive to
 
 THE CABAL. 191 
 
 Lady Rothsay. The countess is polite to every 
 body; but a narrow observer might have ob- 
 served that she was a Httle jealous of Sillary. 
 In fact she did not like his superior influence 
 with her brother. It was impossible, however, 
 to deny the value of his services, and she was 
 candid enough to do them full justice. 
 
 Simon Sillary was a mean-looking little man, 
 rather deformed in person, but with features by 
 no means disagreeable. He crept about the 
 castle with noiseless step, joined without ap- 
 pearance of forwardness in every conversation, 
 and ingratiated himself, without effort, into the 
 good graces of every visitor. He scoured the 
 country on a little brown nag, carrying mes- 
 sages and compHments to and fro continually — 
 now closeted with this nobleman for hours — 
 now dropping in at that lawyer's, as if by ac- 
 cident, he wormed himself into all the secrets, 
 and gained half the hearts of the party. 
 
 It is not very easy to account for the rapidity
 
 192 THE CABAL. 
 
 of his success. He had been utterly unknown 
 to every body in the county when the canvass 
 commenced. It could not be said that he flattered 
 any one ; but no one conversed with him, with- 
 out having his vanity sensibly gratified. He 
 spoke very little, but listened most patiently. 
 He had a different manner for all, whether the 
 grave and courteous nobleman, the bluff country 
 squire, or the sycophantish attorney ; but, to all, 
 his manner was extremely modest, without be- 
 traying the slightest diffidence. 
 
 On the morning of Lord William^s visit to 
 Gideon Cottage, Simon Sillary was walking in 
 the park at Arleston, with a gigantic hard-fea- 
 tured man, of no very respectable appearance. 
 
 " Thistleton,'' said he, " this plan will not do. 
 It is too open. Certainly, there is a great deal 
 of reason in what you say, and, if the men we 
 have to deal with were reasonable men, they 
 would be very likely to fall into the measure. 
 But the ultra-radicals in this county, and every
 
 THE CABAL. 193 
 
 where, are a parcel of thick-headed, obstinate 
 fools, who do not see their own interest, and, if 
 they did, would not pursue it, at the sacrifice of 
 a single prejudice." 
 
 « But, master Sillary, what can be more 
 obvious than this, that the more they weaken 
 these damned whigs, the more strength they 
 will have in the county ? There's not a weaver 
 among them all that does not know that, in 
 mere numbers, our friends are nothing. If 
 they beat the whigs this time, they may have 
 old Harrington, or mad Owen Tudor, or the 
 blacking man, or the devil next time, if they 
 like." 
 
 " All very true ; but reasons ten times as good 
 will never make them vote for Lord William. 
 And then they are divided. Harrington, I un- 
 derstand, is determined to support Sir Edmond, 
 and you know his weight with them." 
 
 "Well, you know best; old Beelzebub is a 
 fool to you, Mr. Sillary, for plotting. What 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 194 THE CABAL. 
 
 must I do ? — say the word ; and Oliver Thistleton 
 is your man.""* 
 
 " We must persuade them to start a candidate 
 of their own to divide our enemies. If you could 
 get Harrington put in nomination, we should be 
 sure of success, for all the ultra-radicals would 
 vote for him, and I think most of the Dissenters 
 would rather have him than a whig. But I fear 
 Harrington is determined, if not pledged, to bring 
 in Sir Edmond Mortimer. He begins to have 
 confidence in the ministry. In fact, Harrington 
 is the only man of sense among them, except 
 those who have a leaning to the Dissenters."" 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose mad Owen must be 
 the man, unless you think of suggesting me. 
 God ! I think Oliver Thistleton would cut as 
 good a figure in the House as most of them. 
 Why, my father was a gentleman — at least, if 
 my mother did not lie ; and the parish officers 
 believed her, at all events." 
 
 " No, no, Thistleton, we have hardly come 
 to that yet ; though you need not despair ; we
 
 THE CABAL. 195 
 
 are in a fair way ; you may be member for the 
 county of York before you die," 
 
 " It is Owen, then, that is to be the radical 
 candidate this time, Mr. Sillary ?" 
 
 " Yes, you must suggest Lord Owen Tudor 
 at the meeting, and, to make sure of his consent, 
 be as violent as you please. You remember the 
 old times, Thistleton — give it them in that way 
 again ; you are up to the slang." 
 
 " Ah ! that's all very well, Mr. Sillary ; but 
 do you bear in mind that our friends are not in 
 Downing-street now-a-days.? Don't you think 
 to bring Ohver Thistleton's neck into a halter, 
 to gain other people's purposes. I will keep 
 to the windward of the law this time, you may 
 depend upon it." 
 
 " All right, Thistleton, and you are the man 
 that can go as near the wind as any body I 
 know. But you must leave me, for here comes 
 a party from the castle, and we must not be 
 seen together." 
 
 k2
 
 196 THE CABAL. 
 
 They were interrupted by the greater number 
 of the visitors at Arleston, who had taken ad- 
 vantage of a pause in the storm, to enjoy the 
 air for a few moments, and had walked in the 
 direction of the gate, hoping to meet Lord 
 William and the count on their return. 
 
 " They could not go far to-day,*" said Lord 
 Launceston : " this storm is a sad interruption 
 to the canvass. I am afraid we shall* lose many 
 of those freeholders, ' who would be wooed and 
 not unsought be won.' " 
 
 " I prophesy they will go at least as far as 
 Gideon Cottage," said Harry Mowbray. 
 
 " Who is that savage looking man who is 
 stealing away yonder," said Lady Burlington: 
 '' I never saw such a ruffian in my life." 
 
 '' The gentleman was shaking hands with 
 old Sillary, as we turned the corner," observed 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " A canvass does really subject one to the 
 most intolerable degradation," said Horace Hop-
 
 THE CABAL. 197 
 
 kins, with a shudder, turning, as he spoke, to 
 Lord Raymond Montfitchett, who answered him 
 with a sympathetic sigh. 
 
 " A vote is a vote," remarked Lady Roth say : 
 " we must not despise our friends. Really I 
 did not see any thing very disrespectful in 
 the man's appearance. Some honest farmer, or 
 tradesman, I dare say." 
 
 At this moment Lord William and the count 
 drove up to the gate. The party met them, 
 and they were joined by Sillary. 
 
 " You have had a short canvass to-day," said 
 Lady Martha Montford. " I suppose you have 
 not seen Mr. Osbaldiston, nor Mr. Melville, nor 
 Hezekiah Henderson." 
 
 " Had you time to see Lady Sophia Sefton ? — 
 she will expect you to call as soon as possible 
 after the accident," said Lady Rothsay — " and 
 Lady De Cantilupe — really we have neglected 
 her shamefully."
 
 198 THE CABAL. 
 
 " You did not pass Gideon Cottage without 
 claiming its hospitality again?'"* cried Harry 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " We were assailed by some cotton-spinners 
 at Aberton," replied Lord William to these in- 
 quiries, " and as their attack was growing rather 
 serious, we were obliged to take refuge at Gideon 
 Cottage." 
 
 " Thank you, my lord,"" exclaimed Harry, 
 " and God bless the cotton-spinners ! I was 
 so much struck with the odd accidents which 
 always bring you into contact with Gideon Cot- 
 tage, that, in a moment of superstition, I took 
 a bet of five hundred guineas with the Marquess 
 of Launceston, that something would conduct 
 you in that direction this morning.'"' 
 
 Lord William took this raillery much better 
 than he had taken Harry ""s jests the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 " T suppose the cotton-spinners were on their
 
 THE CABAL. 199 
 
 way to the radical meeting, in the county town," 
 remarked the Countess of Rothsay : " this is the 
 day, I believe ; — is it not, Mr. Sillary ?" 
 
 " A radical meeting !" cried Harry Mowbray. 
 " My dear count, you must not lose the oppor- 
 tunity : you will see more of the true nature of 
 British freedom at a radical meeting in half an ' 
 hour, than you could learn in your chamber in 
 half a century. If you are not fatigued by 
 your exertions to-day, it will give me the 
 greatest pleasure to accompany you to this 
 meeting, and explain any thing which may need 
 explanation, in the character of the company or 
 the proceedings." 
 
 " You had better take care what you are 
 about, Mowbray," said Horace Hopkins, " not 
 to mention the disagreeable people with whom 
 you will inevitably be brought in contact — I 
 would not answer for your life if you are re- 
 cognised." 
 
 " Indeed," added Lord Launceston — " indeed,
 
 200 THE CABAL. 
 
 my dear Harry, Mr. Hopkins is right. The count 
 may go safely enough, for he is not known ; but 
 every body knows you, and I should not be the 
 least surprised if you were stoned to death. You 
 are not very popular, I am sorry to say, with the 
 lower orders in the county.'" 
 « " Pooh, pooh !" answered Harry, who was de- 
 termined to accompany the count at all hazards : 
 *' I will wrap a red handkerchief about my neck, 
 borrow an old hat, and look as like a blackguard 
 as I can. The mail will pass in a minute or 
 two, and the count and I will step into it. Do 
 not wait dinner, for we cannot return comfortably 
 to-night. We can get very good accommodation 
 at the Tudor Arms."" 
 
 At this moment the horn was heard. 
 
 " Lord John, pray have the goodness to tell 
 my servant to follow us as soon as he can, with 
 whatever we shall need for the niMit. Adieu ! 
 — Come, count, we have no time to lose. No 
 inside place ? Well, then, we must go outside.
 
 THE CABAL. 201 
 
 I think the storm is over, and we have only a 
 few miles. Adieu ! Lady Rothsay : Miss Turn- 
 bull, your slave. Hollo ! my good fellow — ^just 
 stay one moment, coachman, I wish to speak 
 with this old beggar — Hollo ! come here : have 
 you any objection to change hats with me, my 
 fine fellow? — no, now that I look at it, yours 
 is too bad — there's a sixpence for you. I must 
 buy an old hat at Aberton.'' 
 
 The mail rolled on, and the rest of the com- 
 pany prepared to return to the castle. Lord 
 William laid his hand on Sillary's arm. They 
 were left alone. 
 
 '' One moment, Sillary — I have seen Flora— 
 my resolution is taken."" 
 
 " I was right, then, my lord." 
 
 " You were. — There is no other resource. 
 That scoundrel Cellini is capable of any cruelty, 
 andj'not to mention my other creditors, Tewkes- 
 bury, who is not to be trifled with, has my 
 
 k5
 
 202 THE CABAL. 
 
 character in his hands. Then this unexpected 
 
 " The Conservative Association, my lord, will 
 pay a great part of your expenses." 
 
 '^ They have promised fifteen thousand pounds, 
 in case of necessity, Sillary, but, I much fear, 
 that will cover little more than half." 
 
 " Your expenses, my lord, to my certain 
 knowledge, will not amount to less than fifty 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 " My father neither will nor can give more 
 than his contribution to the general fund of the 
 association ; but you may call at Dunstanville 
 House, when you go to town, perhaps his grace 
 may do something." 
 
 " I scarcely expect it, my lord : the Duke of 
 Cornwall is fond of money." 
 
 " Then I have but one resource. Surely 
 Maria will not be unreasonable ?" 
 
 " Would it not be better to see her yourself, 
 my lord .?""
 
 THE CABAL. WS 
 
 " I cannot, Sillary, I feel I could not say 
 what must be said. One glance of those gentle 
 eyes would quite unman me." 
 
 Sillary turned aside his head, and smiled con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " No, Sillary, you must do it. Say all that 
 we agreed on. The child shall be provided for 
 amply. Do not forget that. Make any terms, 
 tell any lies you will; but you need no in- 
 structions. The devil himself could teach you 
 nothing." 
 
 " Seriously, my lord, you flatter." 
 
 " Well, about it speedily, since it must be 
 done. To tell you a secret, I would not burden 
 my conscience with this business for all the mines 
 of Mexico ; — but I love the girl."
 
 204< THE CABAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Th' admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise. 
 And on his goodly person feed their eyes; 
 His joy concealed, he sets himself to show. 
 On each side bowing popularly low : 
 His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames. 
 And with famiHar ease repeats their names." 
 
 Dry den. 
 
 About a mile from the small village of Aberton, 
 there is a neat little cottage, about a stonecast 
 from the road, with a bowling-green in front, and 
 a skittle-ground behind. It may contain, per- 
 haps, four apartments ; and a head of the Duke 
 of Ulster, which swings on the old oak, in front 
 of the green, gives sign of accommodation for 
 wayfaring men. 
 
 Harry Mowbray, who was on the watch for a 
 text, from which to descant on the constitution.
 
 THE CABAL. 205 
 
 in his usual strain, recognized it at some distance. 
 He knew it well, for his father's gate is within 
 half a mile of Aberton, but he chose to pretend 
 ignorance for the occasion. 
 
 " A pretty little cottage, count — English en- 
 tirely. It seems to serve the purpose of an inn, 
 coachman." 
 
 " Now and then, your honour, now and then. 
 Tight little place, is not it ? — Sends two mem- 
 bers to parliament." 
 
 " Two members to parhament ! God bless 
 me! — you joke, surely." 
 
 " Joke ? — why should I ? — don't I know them 
 both ? — and drove down the electors, last election, 
 to the bargain." 
 
 " Drove down the electors?" repeated the 
 count, whose curiosity was strongly excited. 
 
 " Yes, I did — four inside, and two out. There 
 was Bill, my lord's footman, and Mr. Jones, the 
 butler, outside; and the steward, and the at- 
 torney, and two sea captains, bastards of my
 
 S06 THE CABAL. 
 
 lord's brother, they do say ; funny fellows, and 
 like the family, howsomedever. Oh ! a rare day 
 they had of it, I'll be bound — roaring drunk 
 every mother''s son of them." 
 
 The radical meeting was held in the great hall 
 of the Mechanics' Institution, Sir Nigel Harring- 
 ton, of Ashley Park, in the chair. 
 
 It is a curious instance of human inconsistency, 
 that those who make most pretensions to a phi- 
 losophic disregard of the artificial distinctions of 
 society, are often the very men who are most 
 ambitious of rank in their own persons, and 
 render it the most profound homage in the 
 persons of their friends. The sturdy republican 
 of the United States is peculiarly jealous of the 
 precedence of office, and the most devoted dis- 
 ciple of Thomas Paine throws up his cap with 
 double ecstasy, when a booby lordling con- 
 descends to flatter those democratic prejudices 
 which menace the existence of his order. 
 
 Sir Nigel Harrington is a baronet of ancient
 
 THE CABAL. 207 
 
 descent, and splendid fortune, but he has other 
 claims to the influence, which he has long pos- 
 sessed, over the small but violent party whose 
 badge he has assumed. In theory he is a rigid 
 republican. He believes that all the prerogatives 
 of monarchy, and all the privileges of rank, are 
 usurpations on the rights, and injurious to the 
 interests, of the people. But he does not desire, 
 even in his most secret thoughts, that remedy, 
 sharp but speedy, which many of the faction 
 almost openly demand for these corruptions. 
 The most ardent friend of the crown and the 
 coronet does not turn with greater horror from 
 the crimes of revolution. He is contented with 
 those instruments of change, from the use of 
 which no man is debarred by law, confidently 
 resigning the just cause, in which he believes 
 himself engaged, to the slow but certain judg- 
 ment of the great reformer — Time. 
 
 In his habits he is simple, but not ostentatiously
 
 208 THE CABAL. 
 
 abstemious. In his manners, he blends, in no 
 unseemly union, the open frankness of the re- 
 publican, with the polished courtesy of the 
 courtier. He spends a liberal income on his 
 paternal estate, neither neglecting the j ust claims 
 of the poor, nor wholly rejecting those elegant 
 luxuries, which, if he does not think them be- 
 fitting his rank, at least are appropriate to his 
 fortune. Keen as his feelings are on political 
 subjects, they are seldom suffered to interfere 
 with his private friendships. Without attempt- 
 ing to disguise his principles, he associates with 
 his equals in the county on the kindest terms. 
 To crown his character : in all the domestic 
 relations, he is distinguished by the warmth of 
 his affection, though several members of his 
 family are among his bitterest opponents; and 
 while he never conceals, for an instant, his an- 
 tipathy to ecclesiastical establishments, his piety 
 is fervent without the shadow of affectation, and
 
 THE CAHAL. 209 
 
 his faith in all the doctrines of the church, with- 
 out the smallest bigotry, at once humble and 
 resolute. 
 
 I cannot think of him without recalling that 
 aiFecting picture, which the widow of Colonel 
 Hutchinson has left us of her husband — a man 
 whose pure and manly character, to my mind, 
 breathes a nobler spirit than any which the mad 
 chivalry of the middle age, or the theatrical 
 heroism of the ancient world, can furnish for 
 our contemplation. 
 
 On his right hand sat Lord Owen Tudor, — 
 a very different character. 
 
 Owen Tudor — for he declines the title which 
 he might claim from courtesy — is the second son 
 of the Duke of Ulster, and inherits a princely 
 fortune from a maternal uncle. His wealth is 
 greater, and his descent more illustrious, than 
 that of any other commoner in the county. But 
 it is his pride to hold in supreme contempt every 
 advantage which he derives from fortune.
 
 210 THE CABAL. 
 
 Owen Tudor sits at table with his servants, 
 and assists them in cultivating the soil. His 
 journeys are made on foot, and he sleeps on 
 straw, or on the naked earth, as accident may 
 determine. He is clothed in the meanest ap- 
 parel, and confines himself to the coarsest food. 
 But, in all this, there is not the least disposition 
 to avarice. He spends his whole income in 
 charities, often lavished with the most wanton 
 profusion, on the most unworthy objects. A 
 rough exterior and violent abuse of the upper 
 orders are sufficient recommendations to his 
 liberality, and are often used, with entire 
 success, by the most abandoned profligates in 
 his neighbourhood. His political opinions and 
 conduct largely partake of the eccentricity 
 which distinguishes the rest of his character — 
 an eccentricity which can only be excused by 
 supposing that his mind is under the influence 
 of partial insanity. He professes the doctrine of 
 inherent right, in all men, in all political matters,
 
 THE CABAL. 211 
 
 to privileges absolutely equal. He is not quite 
 insane enough to demand a perfect communion 
 of goods ; but he holds that all large accumula- 
 tion of property is a nuisance which should be 
 abated, and all poverty, below a certain standard, 
 an evil which might be easily removed. He is 
 not restrained by any horror of revolution, for, 
 though naturally an amiable man, and, indeed, 
 so delicately constituted, that he cannot con- 
 template any species of physical pain without 
 extreme uneasiness, he has accustomed him- 
 self, in imagination, to all its atrocities, and 
 almost takes pleasure in recalling their details. 
 If he inculcate submission to the laws, which, 
 to do him justice, is his uniform practice, he 
 does not pretend that it is from any other motive 
 than the utter hopelessness of resistance at the 
 present moment. 
 
 To complete the contrast — he is at perpetual 
 feud with all his equals in the county, and at 
 open war with every member of his family, and
 
 212 THE CABAL. 
 
 the wretched man is not only a bitter enemy of 
 the church, but a blasphemous reviler of all the 
 holy mysteries of the christian faith. 
 
 At some distance from the chairman, in a con- 
 spicuous part of the room, sat an old man with 
 white hair, but a complexion remarkably fresh 
 and healthy. His general expression was frank 
 and open enough, and his bearing, with some of 
 the roughness, had much of the bluff good-nature 
 of the old English yeoman. But now and then, 
 in the cunning sparkle of the eye, and the mali- 
 cious curl of the lip, there was evidence of less 
 generous feelings than those which ever found a 
 harbour in that noble character, the proudest 
 boast of merry England in her proudest day. 
 
 Such is the picture of the man who has en- 
 joyed, abused, and wantonly abandoned the 
 greatest political power that was ever wielded in 
 this country by a single hand. Blessed with a 
 strength of intellect seldom equalled, and never 
 surpassed, with a rough and homely but most
 
 THE CABAL. 213 
 
 manly eloquence, he has destroyed the influence 
 of the greatest talents by repeated and un- 
 blushing tergiversation, by rancorous and indis- 
 criminate abuse of all men and all parties in 
 turn, by quackery the most undisguised, and 
 vanity the most disgusting. 
 
 At a table in the centre of the room, Harry 
 Mowbray was surprised to recognize the tall 
 ruffian whom he had seen in Sillary's company 
 in the morning. Thistleton seemed to be a 
 man of importance. He was continually writing 
 notes, which he dismissed, in various direc- 
 tions, shaking hands with one man, whis- 
 pering to another, and nodding familiarly to a 
 third. 
 
 Sir Nigel Harrington commenced the pro- ■■ 
 ceedings in a speech of much quiet dignity, not 
 unadorned by a nervous eloquence. He was 
 listened to with profound silence, and every 
 other token of respect. 
 
 He began by a review of the progress of liberal
 
 214 THE CABAL. 
 
 opinions of late years, and concluded with the 
 following words. 
 
 '^ The history which I have traced justifies 
 me in predicting the speedy triumph of those 
 opinions which all of us profess. One great 
 obstacle, and only one, remains — the power of 
 the boroughmongers in this country. If we, 
 gentlemen, were strong enough to overturn that 
 power, it would be wise to rely on ourselves 
 alone — on ourselves, who clung to the good 
 cause when despised, rejected, and defamed. 
 It would be just that those who found no 
 patrons in their persecution should permit no 
 partakers in their triumph. But the hour is 
 not yet come, though let us hope it is at hand, 
 when we may fight our own battles with un- 
 assisted hands. 
 
 *' With these remarks, I leave the business of 
 the day to those around me. You have assem- 
 bled to deliberate on the course which you 
 should follow in the ensuing election. Give an
 
 THE CABAL. 215 
 
 impartial hearing to every proposal which is 
 offered. But, above all, I beseech you to permit 
 no personal jealousy to peril the great cause in 
 which we are engaged." 
 
 John Franklin, a venerable yeoman, upwards 
 of ninety years of age, proposed that they should 
 give all their influence to Sir Edward Mortimer. 
 
 " You that know me," said he, '^ are well 
 aware, that I am no friend to the whigs, and for 
 that reason I wished much to persuade our good 
 neighbour, Sir Nigel Harrington, whose senti- 
 ments I have known and admired from his child- 
 hood, to allow his name to be proposed on the 
 hustings. I was quite wrong, for, as he has told 
 you, we cannot carry the election single-handed. 
 If we do not support Sir Edmond, Lord Wil- 
 liam Plantagenet will carry the day. Now, I 
 would rather cut off my right hand than have 
 Lord William chosen. I do not like the whigs, 
 as I have told them to their face before this; 
 but I believe they are determined to destroy the
 
 2l6 THE CABAL. 
 
 influence of the boroughmongers. All my pre- 
 judices would lead me to oppose Sir Edmond 
 Mortimer; but shall I permit any prejudice of 
 mine to strengthen that influence which has been 
 the worst curse of England for a hundred 
 years ?" 
 
 This speech was received with great applause 
 by the majority of the audience ; the motion was 
 seconded, and the chairman rose to put it to the 
 meeting. 
 
 He was interrupted by Lord Owen Tudor, 
 who, in a strain of the most violent abuse, in- 
 veighed against the principles and conduct of 
 the whig party, and concluded by moving a 
 counter-resolution to abstain from all interference 
 in the election. 
 
 Lord Owen was an especial favourite with a 
 large part of those present; and the style of 
 declamation in which he indulged was more 
 suited to the taste of many than the chaster 
 eloquence of Harrington. The temper of the
 
 THE CABAL. Sl7 
 
 meeting appeared to waver. At this moment 
 Thistleton rose to address the chair. 
 
 I despair of being able to give you any 
 adequate idea of this man's mode of speaking, 
 without pretending to rival Horace Hopkins in 
 the delicacy of my habits. I confess I am not 
 familiar with the slang wit, and brutal black- 
 guardism, with which his oration was adorned. 
 However, one large portion of the audience 
 received it with loud laughter and riotous cheer- 
 ing throughout ; and when, after a violent tirade 
 against government, the whigs, the borough- 
 mongers, the snufflers, as he termed the dis- 
 senters, and the shufflers, as he designated the 
 moderate radicals, he concluded by proposing 
 " our old Jriend, honest Owen Tudor,'' to be the 
 radical candidate for the county, that party rose 
 as one man, and made the roof echo with their 
 shouts; 
 
 The majority was evidently in favour of the 
 resolution. Lord Owen's vanity was flattered. 
 
 VOL. T. , L
 
 218 THE CABAL. 
 
 He accepted the invitation of his friends amidst 
 loud but not universal cheering. The dissatis- 
 faction of a large part of the meeting was suf- 
 ficiently apparent. 
 
 This matter was no sooner concluded than a 
 cry was raised for the London demagogue who 
 had favoured them by his presence. Sir Nigel, 
 Franklin, and their friends, seemed to be ex- 
 tremely annoyed, and even Lord Owen gave 
 the clamour no encouragement, but Thistleton 
 and a few of the more violent redoubled their 
 applauses. At last the old man rose, apparently 
 rather chagrined by the silence of the majority. 
 He cannot but feel that his popularity, even with 
 the lowest, is almost extinct. His voice, how- 
 ever, was firm, and his bearing confident enough, 
 as he addressed the meeting in the following 
 manner : 
 
 " My honest people, labourers of this county, 
 for such I see you are, I have some right to 
 address you, for I have been all my life a
 
 THE CABAL. 219 
 
 labourer myself, as my father was before me. 
 What I have written, I have written as any of 
 you might do, after his work for the day was 
 over. I need not tell you what good these 
 writings have done. If they had not been 
 published, it is hardly possible to conceive the 
 base and dejected state in which the nation 
 would have been sunk at the moment I am 
 speaking. I do not like to say so much of 
 myself, but to do it appears just to the cause. 
 I have often said, that if there had been a man 
 in parliament to speak my pamphlets, England, 
 at this hour, would have been free and happy. 
 You have chosen as your candidate, and, I hope, 
 in spite of the base boroughmongers, the county 
 will cho9se, as its representative, a man who will 
 not fear to do this daily. I have long had my eye 
 on Lord Owen Tudor, and I know him to be above 
 the trickery and fraud of faction. He is the 
 implacable foe of corruption, and public robbery 
 of every sort ; and the performance of whatever 
 
 l2
 
 2^0 THE CABAL. 
 
 he is disposed to perform will not fail from the 
 want of talents, of courage, or of constancy. In 
 one word, my honest lads, you all know well that 
 I have seldom been deceived in my predictions, 
 and I predict that he will be the poor man's 
 friend, in the place into which you wish to send 
 him. It is a wicked place, full of thieves, and 
 liars, and fools; but when liOrd Owen Tudor is 
 there, we shall be sure there is one man among 
 them who is neither a thief, nor a liar, nor a fool. 
 I will take care that what he does there shall be 
 known. Do not trust to the bloody old Times, 
 or any other newspaper. They are all sold to 
 the whigs, or the court, or the boroughmongers. 
 But, if a single word that your representative 
 utters is suppressed, or misrepresented in my 
 report, I will suffer you to tear the flesh from 
 my bones with red hot pincers. 
 
 " My good lads, I tell you nothing but the 
 truth ; you wish to send our friend to a bad 
 place, where he will see none but bad people.
 
 THE CABAL. 221 
 
 But he need not be afraid while he has my 
 writings in his hand, and warm-hearted Enghsh- 
 men like you at his back. 
 
 " I hope he will treat some men there as they 
 deserve. I will tell you what men I mean. 
 First, there are the turncoat, double-faced whigs, 
 the most profligate faction in a profligate parlia- 
 ment. Then there are the dirty, canting, cor- 
 morant Scotch, that have come from their own 
 beggarly country, to rob, and cheat, and slander 
 the English. Then there are the filthy econo- 
 mists. My friends, there is a parson of the name 
 of Malthus, who has written a book to show that 
 you breed too fast ; and in order to check your 
 breeding, he proposes that, if you be married, 
 you shall have no relief from the parish, but shall 
 be left to starve. The Scotch and Irish place- 
 hunters, who live, and want to live, on your 
 labour, applaud this parson Malthus to the 
 skies, and so do our pensioners and parsons; 
 but neither Malthus, nor any one of his crew,
 
 THE CABAL. 
 
 ever proposes to check the breeding of the par- 
 sons and the pensioners. Now, I hope your 
 member will tell these insolent ruffians a little 
 piece of his mind. If he does not, I will. Lastly, 
 there is the infernal race of borou^hmonffers. I 
 have been calling out against their detestable 
 crimes ever since I had a voice to make myself 
 heard ; and now, at last, people are beginning to 
 listen to me. The base whigs are promising great 
 things, and the canting Scotch thieves are talking 
 about what they will do ; even the bloody old 
 Times is blustering about reform ; but do not 
 trust to any of them, my lads, if you are wise. 
 Trust to me, and to yourselves, and take my 
 word for it, there will be no boroughmongers in 
 England before the next corn is cut." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS.
 
 THE FOLLOWING WORKS 
 
 ARE JUST PUBLISHED 
 
 BY JAMES COCHRANE AND CO. 
 
 11, WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE NOVELIST'S LIBRARY; 
 
 WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES 
 By THOMAS ROSCOE, Esq.; 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 By GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 PRICE ONLY FIVE SHILLINGS EACH. 
 
 PuUisliing in Monthly Volumes^ uniform with the 
 
 Waverley N'ovels. 
 
 Whilst the productions of writers of fiction, subsequent to the 
 time of Fielding and Smollett, are presented in a periodical 
 form as candidates for public favour, the Proprietors are encou- 
 raged to extend the field of rational entertainment, by offering to 
 English readers Cheap Editions of the works of those great 
 painters of life and manners who reflect lustre on their respective 
 countries; comprehending only such Novels and Romances 
 as have been unequivocally stamped with popular regard, and 
 which, from their long admitted superiority over all competitors 
 of their class^ and their translation into various languages, are for 
 ever associated with the literature of the world.
 
 New Works published by 
 
 THE NOVELIST'S LIBRARY 
 
 Will embrace the following distinguished Works : 
 
 TOM JONES. Fielding. 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS. Do. 
 AMELIA. Do. 
 
 RODERICK RANDOM. Smollett. 
 
 PEREGRINE PICKLE. Do. 
 HUMPHRY CLINKER. Bo. 
 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 TRISTRAM SHANDY. Steme. 
 GULLIVER'S TRAVELS. Swift. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 
 THE MAN OF FEELING. Do. 
 JULIA DE ROUBIGNE. Do. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE. CervMites. 
 GIL BLAS. Le Sage. 
 GUZMAN d'alfarache, or 
 the Spanish Rogue. Do. 
 
 ARABIAN nights' ENTER- 
 TAINMENTS, 
 
 With others of equal popularity, whose authors, it is acknowledged, 
 wrote ' for all time,' and whose happy illustrations of character 
 and manners prove them to have been familiarly acquainted with 
 human nature in all its varieties, and capable of representing life 
 as they found it ; thus furnishing an intellectual banquet, replete 
 at once with instruction and amusement. 
 
 The First Volume of this Series contains Smollett's 
 Humphry Clinker complete in One Volume, with a Memoir 
 OF the AuTHOB, by Thomas RoscoE, Esq.; a fine Portrait 
 by Freeman, and Four Illustrations by George Cbuik- 
 
 SHANK. 
 
 The Second Volume contains Smollett's Roderick 
 Random complete in One Volume, with Five Illustrations by 
 George Cruikshank. 
 
 The Third and Fourth Volumes contain the whole of Smol- 
 lett's Peregrine Pickle, similarly illustrated. 
 
 The Fifth and Sixth Volumes contain the whole of Tom 
 Jones, with a Life of Fielding by Thomas Roscoe, 
 Esq. ; a Portrait after Hogarth, engraved by Freeman, and 
 Eight Illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
 
 " If these works do not succeed, and eminently, it is of no use 
 catering honestly for the public. They are among the very best 
 and cheapest ever issued from the press." — Athenceum.
 
 James Cochrane and Co. 
 
 11. 
 
 In 2 vols, with Sixteen Illustrations by Strut T and others, and 
 an elegant portrait of De Foe, engraved on steel, price 10.y. 
 neatly bound, 
 
 DE FOE'S ROBINSON CRUSOE; 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS EDITION; 
 DESCRIPTIONS OF THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ; 
 
 AND AN ACCOUNT OF 
 
 AN INDIAN WHO WAS LEFT THERE BEFORE THE TIME OF ALEX- 
 ANDER SELKIRK, DERIVED FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES. 
 
 The whole forming, with a Notice of Selkirk, the inost 
 complete Edition ever published of this celebrated Romance. 
 
 " No fiction in any language was ever better supported than 
 the Adventures or Robinson Crusoe." — Dr. Blair. 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe is the first book I ever read with pleasure ; 
 and I believe every boy in Europe might say the same." — Mar- 
 montel. 
 
 " Was there ever any thing written by mere man, that was 
 wished longer by its readers, excepting Don Quixote, 
 Robinson Crusoe, and the Pilgrim's Progress ?" — 
 Johnso7i. 
 
 " De Foe's style is every where beautiful, but plain and 
 homely. Robinson Crusoe is delightful to all ranks and 
 classes, and worthy to find a shelf in the libraries of the wealthiest, 
 and the most learned." — Charles Lamb. 
 
 " If it be inquired by what charm it is that these Surprising 
 Adventures should have instantly pleased, and always pleased, 
 it will be found that few books have ever so naturally mingled 
 amusement with instruction."— CAa/wer^. 
 
 " Society is for ever indebted to the memory of De Foe, for 
 his production of a work, in which the ways of Providence are 
 simply and pleasingly vindicated, and a lasting and useful moral 
 is conveyed through the channel of an interesting and delightful 
 story." — Sir Walter Scott.
 
 New Works published by 
 
 III. 
 
 THE STAFF OFFICER; 
 
 OR, THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE: 
 
 A TALE OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 '' The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill 
 together; our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped 
 them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished 
 by our virtues." 
 
 BY OLIVER MOORE. 
 
 In 3 Vols, post 8vo. 2As. 
 
 " The writer's power is in discriminating female character ; 
 but as he judiciously makes it develope itself by incident, to 
 illustrate this would require scenes and pages to be transferred to 
 our columns. As a whole, this novel wiU be read with interest : 
 it is light and pleasant ; with many very natural scenes, many 
 excellent and weU-drawn characters, and without one line or word 
 of affectation or pretence." — Athenceum. 
 
 '' There is a great deal of character in this novel. Many of the 
 pictures it contains are striking but yet natural, and some passages 
 are deeply affecting." — Dublin Warder. 
 
 " The chief merit of this work consists in the faithful and 
 accurate sketches, in which it abounds, of the life and manners 
 of the times. As a picture of real life, it is far beyond most of 
 the present day." — Academic Chronicle. 
 
 " This is a most entertaining work : it is written with great 
 spirit, elegance, and candour. The delineation of character 
 (particularly that of many distinguished individuals officially 
 connected with Ireland during the Pitt administration) is skil- 
 fully and vividly drawn ; and the multifarious incidents, — 
 several of which are of a highly piquant description, — are given 
 with a tact and delicacy creditable to the judgment and talent of 
 the author. We can say with truth, that we have fairly gone 
 through this tale of real life without being cloyed or wearied for 
 a single moment; but that it excited, and kept up, an interest 
 in our minds, which few volumes, designed for mere amusement, 
 have been able to inspire. It ought, at least, to be in every cir- 
 culating library." — Brighton Herald.
 
 James Cochrane and Co. 
 
 IV. 
 THE CLUB BOOK; 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 ORIGINAL TALES 
 
 By the following distinguished Authors: 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, ESQ. 
 THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 
 LD. FRANCIS LEVESON GOWER. 
 JOHN GALT, ESQ. 
 G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. 
 
 Second Edition. In 3 Vols, post 8vo. 
 
 D. M. MOIR, ESQ. 
 A. PICKEN, ESQ. 
 TYRONE POWER, ESQ. 
 LEITCH RITCHIE, ESQ. 
 &C. &C. &C. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Bertrand de la Croix. By the 
 
 Author of " Richelieu." 
 Haddad-Ben-Ahab. By the 
 
 Author of " Annals of 
 
 THE Parish." 
 The Gipsy. By the Author 
 
 of " The Lost Heir." 
 Eisenbach. By the Author of 
 
 " The Dominie's Legacy-" 
 The Fatal Whisper. By John 
 
 Galt. 
 The Sleepless Woman. By 
 
 William Jerdan. 
 Dramatic Scenes. By Lord 
 
 Francis Leveson Gower. 
 Gowden Gibbie. By Ali-an 
 
 Cunningham. 
 
 Price 24s. boards. 
 
 By A. 
 
 The Deer- Stalkers. 
 
 PiCKEN. 
 
 The Laidlaws and the Scotts. 
 
 By the Ettrick Shepherd. 
 The Bridal of Borthwick. By 
 
 the Author of " Maunsie 
 
 Waugh." 
 The Unguarded Hour. By 
 
 John Galt. 
 The Cheatrie Packman. By 
 
 Leitch Ritchie. 
 The Bogle o' the Brae: a 
 
 Queer Courting Story. By 
 
 the Ettrick Shepherd. 
 The Book of Life. By John 
 
 Galt. 
 The Three Kearneys. By 
 
 A. PiCKEN. 
 
 The Painter. By John Galt. 
 
 " One of the most pleasantly attractive, and permanently in- 
 teresting books of the season." — Scots Times. 
 
 " The variety of ' The Club Book' will recommend it to every 
 class of readers who read for amusement." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 "The idea of this work is excellent. Here is variety to 
 tickle the dull appetite of the public, and the feast is equal to 
 the bill of fare. All parties, without exception, have done well. 
 We have our favourite tales of course, and so will every reader 
 have — and the preference will depend on his feelings and humour ; 
 but it will be admitted by all, as a whole, the collection is ex- 
 cellent." — Athenceum.
 
 New Works published hy 
 V. 
 
 In 8vo. pr^e 55. 6i. 
 
 THE DWELLING OF FANCY: 
 
 WITH OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY J. AUGUSTINE WADE, 
 
 AUTHOR or '^ THE POLISH MELODIES." 
 
 " The first Poem, ^ The Dwelling of Fancy,' has 
 much beauty ; while among the minor pieces are some full of 
 that tender and natural feeling — that graceful imagery, which 
 most can appreciate, and all enjoy ; it is poetry passing over the 
 human heart, and referring the music it has awakened to the 
 source whence it was drawn. ' The Hymn of Memnon's Lyre' 
 is, with all its fanciful imagery, a most exquisite Poem. The 
 Author is quite capable to take his place in the foremost rank 
 of our lyric bards." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 VI. 
 
 POLISH MELODIES. 
 
 THE POETRY AND MUSIC 
 
 BY J. AUGUSTINE WADE, Esa. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "songs OF THE FLOWERS," "DWELLING OF 
 FANCY," &C. 
 
 Handsomely printed in royal 4to. and beautifully embellished^ 
 price 10s. 6d. bds. 
 
 " Mr. Wade unites in his own person the talents of a poet 
 and a musician, in a manner to which we do not know any 
 parallel. He is remarkable, not merely for original and ex- 
 pressive airs, but for his powers as a harmonist, and the facility 
 with which he makes use of all the resources of counterpoint. 
 His song 'The Polish Serenade,' is both tender and heroic;, 
 and his ' Who are the Free ?' is one of the most thrilling war- 
 songs we have ever heard. It is worthy to be a companion to 
 Burns's ' Battle of Bannockburn.' The music is altogether 
 admirable ; simple in the extreme, yet full of energy. It is one 
 of those things with which Braham could make an audience 
 crazy with enthusiasm." — Spectator.
 
 James Cochrane and Co. 
 VIL 
 
 THE HISTORY OF POLAND, 
 
 FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME. 
 
 BY JAMES FLETCHER, Esci., 
 
 , OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 WITH A NARRATIVE OF RECENT EVENTS, OBTAINED 
 FROM A POLISH PATRIOT NOBLEMAN. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, GREATLY ENLARGED. 
 
 In One Vol. 8vo., price 16s. bound in canvas; illustrated by 
 Portraits of Koskiusko and the late President of the National 
 Government (Prince Czartoryski) : also an accurate Map 
 or Poland, including its ancient boundaries. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In small 8vo. price bs. 6d. 
 
 CRAYONS FROM THE COMMONS; 
 OR, MEMBERS IN RELIEVO: 
 
 A Poem, Satirical and Descriptive. 
 
 BY PEREGRINE PALETTE, Esq. 
 
 Qualis vir, talis oratio. — Seneca, 
 
 " We have before encountered the effusions of this writer, and 
 done justice to his talents. He is a close observer, and a clever 
 man : his Crayons are Portraits of some of the most conspicuous 
 Members of the House of Commons." — Lit. Gaz. 
 
 " A little volume entitled ' Crayons from the Commons,' con- 
 taining some amusing sketches of various Members of Parliament 
 It is dedicated, in a good-humoured address, to Richard Martin, 
 Esq. of facetious memory." — Times. 
 
 " ' Crayons from the Commons ' will amuse an idle hour. 
 They who take an interest in the personal peculiarities and natural 
 manner of our legislators, in the Lower House, may find them very 
 exactly described in the verse of Peregrine Palette, Esq. The 
 sketches of Lords Althorp and Palmerston, Sir Francis Burdett, 
 Mr. Poulett Thomson, and Sir James Scarlett, are striking like- 
 nesses. Sir Charles Wetherell and the ' Agitator' are also well 
 drawn. ' ' — Spectator.
 
 New Publications, 
 IX. 
 
 THE SONG OF ALBION, 
 
 A POEM; 
 
 COMMEMORATIVE OF THE CRISIS: 
 WITH LINES ON 
 
 THE FALL OF WARSAW, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY HENRY SEWELL STOKES. 
 
 In 8vo. 9*. 
 
 " The poet has painted various just and beautiful pictures, 
 expressed many worthy sentiments, and treated us in the midst 
 of political tirades to innumerable sketches of fine verse. * * • 
 This man has poetry in him — he has a heart to feel, and a spirit 
 to express, what we cannot but love." — Athencenm. 
 
 X. 
 
 THE 
 
 PARLIAMENTARY POCKET-BOOK: 
 
 OR, 
 
 A KEY 
 TO THE HOUSES OF LORDS AND COMMONS: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 ALPHABETICAL ACCOUNTS OF ALL MEMBERS 
 
 Composing the Legislative Assemblies of Great Britain ; 
 
 INCLUDING THE NEW PARLIAMENT : 
 
 With other Titles, Official Appointments, Town and Country 
 Residences, Relationship, Political Connexions, &c. &c. ; also, 
 the Regulations aad Standing Orders of both Houses respecting 
 Privileges, Private Bills, Fees, Fines, and Committees ; lists 
 of the Scottish and Irish Nobility who do not sit in the House 
 of Peers ; and every other species of information respecting the 
 Constitution and usages of Parliament. 
 
 " A country may have a good Constitution and a bad Govern- 
 ment; and vice versa The Constitution of England is im- 
 mortal !" — A Saying of Cardinal Richelieu.. 
 
 In one thick volume, crown octavo, neatly bound.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 041662575 
 
 ■J^v,^. 
 
 > 
 
 r! 
 
 ^^