Paul Clifford

by Edward Bulwer-Lytton

  ‘Really, Brandon,’ said Mauleverer, with a half-peevish smile, ‘any other hour in the day would have done for “the business of the nation,” as the newspapers call that troublesome farce we go through; and I had imagined you would not have broken my nightly slumbers, except for something of real importance – the discovery of a new beauty, or the invention of a new dish.’

  ‘Neither the one nor the other could you have expected from me, my dear lord,’ rejoined Brandon. ‘You know the dry trifles in which a lawyer’s life wastes itself away; and beauties and dishes have no attraction for us, except the former be damsels deserted, and the latter patents invaded. But my news, after all, is worth hearing, unless you have heard it before.’

  ‘Not I! But I suppose I shall hear it in the course of the day: pray Heaven I be not sent for to attend some plague of a council. Begin!’

  ‘In the first place, Lord Duberly resolves to resign, unless this negotiation for peace be made a cabinet question.’

  ‘Pshaw! Let him resign. I have opposed the peace so long, that it is out of the question. Of course, Lord Wanstead will not think of it, and he may count on my boroughs. A peace! Shameful, disgraceful, dastardly proposition!’

  ‘But, my dear lord, my letter says, that this unexpected firmness on the part of Lord Duberly has produced so great a sensation, that, seeing the impossibility of forming a durable cabinet without him, the king has consented to the negotiation, and Duberly stays in!’

  ‘The devil! – What next?’

  ‘Raffden and Sternhold go out in favour of Baldwin and Charlton, and in the hope that you will lend your aid to –’

  ‘I!’ said Lord Mauleverer, very angrily; ‘I lend my aid to Baldwin, the Jacobin, and Charlton, the son of a brewer!’

  ‘Very true!’ continued Brandon. ‘But in the hope that you might be persuaded to regard the new arrangements with an indulgent eye, you are talked of instead of the Duke of — for the vacant garter and the office of chamberlain.’

  ‘You don’t mean it!’ cried Mauleverer, starting from his bed.

  ‘A few other (but, I hear, chiefly legal) promotions are to be made. Among the rest, my learned brother, the democrat Sarsden, is to have a silk gown; Cromwell is to be attorney-general; and, between ourselves, they have offered me a judgeship.’

  ‘But the garter!’ said Mauleverer, scarcely hearing the rest of the lawyer’s news. – ‘The whole object, aim, and ambition of my life. How truly kind in the king! After all,’ continued the earl, laughing, and throwing himself back, ‘opinions are variable – truth is not uniform – the times change, not we – and we must have peace instead of war!’

  ‘Your maxims are indisputable, and the conclusion you come to is excellent,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Why, you and I, my dear fellow,’ said the earl, ‘who know men, and who have lived all our lives in the world, must laugh behind the scenes at the cant we wrap in tinsel, and send out to stalk across the stage. We know that our Coriolanus of Tory integrity is a corporal kept by a prostitute; and the Brutus of Whig liberty is a lacquey turned out of place for stealing the spoons; but we must not tell this to the world. So, Brandon, you must write me a speech for the next session, and be sure it has plenty of general maxims, and concludes with “my bleeding country!”’

  The lawyer smiled. ‘You consent then to the expulsion of Sternhold and Raffden? For, after all, that is the question. Our British vessel, as the d—d metaphor-mongers call the state, carries the public good safe in the hold like brandy; and it is only when fear, storm, or the devil makes the rogues quarrel among themselves, and break up the casks, that one gets above a thimblefull at a time. We should go on fighting with the rest of the world for ever, if the ministers had not taken to fight among themselves.’

  ‘As for Sternhold,’ said the earl, ‘’tis a vulgar dog, and voted for economical reform. Besides, I don’t know him; he may go to the devil for aught I care: but Raffden must be dealt handsomely with, or, despite the garter, I will fall back among the Whigs, who, after all, give tolerable dinners.’

  ‘But why, my lord, must Raffden be treated better than his brother recusant?’

  ‘Because he sent me, in the handsomest manner possible, a pipe of that wonderful Madeira, which you know I consider the chief grace of my cellars, and he gave up a canal navigation bill, which would have enriched his whole county, when he knew that it would injure my property. No, Brandon, curse public cant; we know what that is. But we are gentlemen, and our private friends must not be thrown overboard, – unless, at least, we do it in the civilest manner we can.’

  ‘Fear not,’ said the lawyer; ‘you have only to say the word, and the cabinet can cook up an embassy to Owhyhee, and send Raffden there with a stipend of five thousand a year.’

  ‘Ah! That’s well thought of; or we might give him a grant of a hundred thousand acres in one of the colonies, or let him buy crown land at a discount of eighty per cent. So that’s settled.’

  ‘And now, my dear friend,’ said Brandon, ‘I will tell you frankly why I come so early; I am required to give a hasty answer to the proposal I have received, namely, of the judgeship. Your opinion?’

  ‘A judgeship! You a judge? What! Forsake your brilliant career for so petty a dignity? – You jest!’

  ‘Not at all, – listen. You know how bitterly I have opposed this peace, and what hot enemies I have made among the new friends of the administration: on the one hand, these enemies insist on sacrificing me; and on the other, if I were to stay in the Lower House and speak for what I have before opposed, I should forfeit the support of a great portion of my own party: hated by one body, and mistrusted by the other, a seat in the House of Commons ceases to be an object. It is proposed that I should retire on the dignity of a judge, with the positive and pledged, though secret, promise of the first vacancy among the chiefs. The place of chief justice or chief baron is indeed the only fair remuneration for my surrender of the gains of my profession, and the abandonment of my parliamentary and legal career; the title, which will of course be attached to it, might go (at least, by an exertion of interest), to the eldest son of my niece, in case she married a commoner: – or,’ added he, after a pause, ‘her second son in case she married a peer.’

  ‘Ha – true,’ said Mauleverer quickly, and as if struck by some sudden thought. ‘And your charming niece, Brandon, would be worthy of any honour either to her children or herself. You do not know how struck I was with her; there is something so graceful in her simplicity; and in her manner of smoothing down the little rugosities of Warlock House, there was so genuine and so easy a dignity, that I declare I almost thought myself young again, and capable of the self-cheat of believing myself in love. But, oh! Brandon, imagine me at your brother’s board! – Me, for whom ortolans are too substantial, and who feel, when I tread, the slightest inequality in the carpets of Tournay! – Imagine me, dear Brandon, in a black wainscot room, hung round with your ancestors in brown wigs with posies in their button-holes, – an immense fire on one side, and a thorough draught on the other, – a huge circle of beef before me, smoking like Vesuvius, and twice as large, – a plateful (the plate was pewter – is there not a metal so called?) of this mingled flame and lava sent under my very nostril, and upon pain of ill-breeding to be despatched down my proper mouth, – an old gentleman in fustian breeches and worsted stockings, by way of a butler, filling me a can of ale, – and your worthy brother asking me if I would not prefer port, – a lean footman in livery (such a livery, ye gods!) scarlet, blue, yellow, and green, a rainbow ill made! on the opposite side of the table looking at the “Lord” with eyes and mouth equally open, and large enough to swallow me, – and your excellent brother himself at the head of the table glowing through the mists of the beef, like the rising sun in a sign-post; – and then, Brandon, turning from this image, behold beside me the fair, delicate, aristocratic, yet simple loveliness of your niece, and – but you look angry – I have offended you.’

  It was high time for Maulev
erer to ask that question; for, during the whole of the earl’s recital, the dark face of his companion had literally burnt with rage: and here we may observe how generally selfishness, which makes the man of the world, prevents its possessor, by a sort of paradox, from being consummately so. For Mauleverer, occupied by the pleasure he felt at his own wit, and never having that magic sympathy with others, which creates the incessantly keen observer, had not, for a moment, thought that he was offending to the quick the hidden pride of the lawyer. Nay, so little did he suspect Brandon’s real weaknesses, that he thought him a philosopher, who would have laughed alike at principles and people, however near to him might be the latter, and however important the former. Mastering by a single effort, which restored his cheek to its usual steady hue, the outward signs of his displeasure, Brandon rejoined.

  ‘Offend me! By no means, my dear lord. I do not wonder at your painful situation in an old country gentleman’s house, which has not for centuries offered scenes fit for the presence of so distinguished a guest. Never, I may say, since the time when Sir Charles de Brandon entertained Elizabeth at Warlock; and your ancestor (you know my old musty studies on those points of obscure antiquity), John Mauleverer, who was a noted goldsmith of London, supplied the plate for the occasion.’

  ‘Fairly retorted,’ said Mauleverer, smiling; for though the earl had a great contempt for low birth, set on high places, in other men, he was utterly void of pride in his own family. ‘Fairly retorted! But I never meant anything else but a laugh at your brother’s housekeeping; a joke, surely, permitted to a man whose own fastidiousness on these matters is so standing a jest. But, by heavens, Brandon! To turn from these subjects, your niece is the prettiest girl I have seen for twenty years; and if she would forget my being the descendant of John Mauleverer, the noted goldsmith of London, she may be Lady Mauleverer as soon as she pleases.’

  ‘Nay, now, let us be serious, and talk of the judgeship,’ said Brandon, affecting to treat the proposal as a joke.

  ‘By the soul of Sir Charles de Brandon, I am serious!’ cried the earl. ‘And as a proof of it, I hope you will let me pay my respects to your niece today – not with my offer in my hand, yet – for it must be a love match on both sides.’ And the earl, glancing towards an opposite glass, which reflected his attenuated but comely features, beneath his velvet night-cap, trimmed with Mechlin, laughed half-triumphantly as he spoke.

  A sneer just passed the lips of Brandon, and as instantly vanished; while Mauleverer continued: –

  ‘And as for the judgeship, dear Brandon, I advise you to accept it, though you know best; and I do think no man will stand a fairer chance of the chief-justiceship: or, though it be somewhat unusual for “common” lawyers, why not the Woolsack itself? As you say, the second son of your niece might inherit the dignity of the peerage!’

  ‘Well, I will consider of it favourably,’ said Brandon, and soon afterwards he left the nobleman to renew his broken repose.

  ‘I can’t laugh at that man,’ said Mauleverer to himself, as he turned round in his bed, ‘though he has much that I should laugh at in another; and faith, there is one little matter I might well scorn him for, if I were not a philosopher. ’Tis a pretty girl, his niece, and with proper instructions might do one credit; besides she has £60,000 ready money; and, faith, I have not a shilling for my own pleasure, though I have, or alas! had, fifty thousand a-year for that of my establishment! In all probability, she will be the lawyer’s heiress, and he must have made, at least, as much again as her portion; nor is he, poor devil, a very good life. Moreover, if he rise to the peerage? And the second son – Well! Well! It will not be such a bad match for the goldsmith’s descendant either!’

  With that thought, Lord Mauleverer fell asleep. He rose about noon, dressed himself with unusual pains, and was just going forth on a visit to Miss Brandon, when he suddenly remembered that her uncle had not mentioned her address or his own. He referred to the lawyer’s note of the preceding evening; no direction was inscribed on it; and Mauleverer was forced, with much chagrin, to forgo for that day the pleasure he had promised himself.

  In truth, the wary lawyer, who, as we have said, despised show and outward appearances as much as any man, was yet sensible of their effect even in the eyes of a lover; and moreover, Lord Mauleverer was one whose habits of life were calculated to arouse a certain degree of vigilance on points of household pomp, even in the most unobservant. Brandon therefore resolved that Lucy should not be visited by her admirer, till the removal to their new abode was effected; nor was it till the third day from that on which Mauleverer had held with Brandon the interview we have recorded, that the earl received a note from Brandon, seemingly turning only on political matters, but inscribed with the address and direction in full form.

  Mauleverer answered it in person. He found Lucy at home, and more beautiful than ever; and from that day his mind was made up, as the mammas say, and his visits became constant.

  Chapter XV

  There is a festival where knights and dames,

  And aught that wealth or lofty lineage claims,

  Appear…

  ’Tis he – how came he thence? – what doth he here?

  Lara

  There are two charming situations in life for a woman: one, the first freshness of heiress-ship and beauty; the other, youthful widowhood, with a large jointure. It was at least Lucy’s fortune to enjoy the first. No sooner was she fairly launched into the gay world, than she became the object of universal idolatry. Crowds followed her wherever she moved: nothing was talked of, or dreamed of, toasted, or betted on, but Lucy Brandon; even her simplicity, and utter ignorance of the arts of fine life, enhanced the éclat of her reputation. Somehow or other, young people of the gentler sex are rarely ill-bred, even in their eccentricities; and there is often a great deal of grace in inexperience. Her uncle, who accompanied her everywhere, himself no slight magnet of attraction, viewed her success with a complacent triumph which he suffered no one but her father or herself to detect. To the smooth coolness of his manner, nothing would have seemed more foreign than pride at the notice gained by a beauty, or exultation at any favour won from the caprices of fashion. As for the good old squire, one would have imagined him far more the invalid than his brother. He was scarcely ever seen; for though he went everywhere, he was one of those persons who sink into a corner the moment they enter a room. Whoever discovered him in his retreat, held out their hands, and exclaimed, ‘God bless me! – You here! We have not seen you for this age!’ Now and then, if in a very dark niche of the room a card-table had been placed, the worthy gentleman toiled through an obscure rubber, but more frequently he sat with his hands clasped, and his mouth open, counting the number of candles in the room, or calculating ‘when that stupid music would be over.’

  Lord Mauleverer, though a polished and courteous man, whose great object was necessarily to ingratiate himself with the father of his intended bride, had a horror of being bored, which surpassed all other feelings in his mind. He could not, therefore, persuade himself to submit to the melancholy duty of listening to the squire’s ‘linked speeches long drawn out.’ He always glided by the honest man’s station, seemingly in an exceeding hurry, with an ‘Ah, my dear sir, how do you do? How delighted I am to see you! – And your incomparable daughter? – Oh, there she is! – Pardon me, dear sir – you see my attraction!’

  Lucy, indeed, who never forgot anyone (except herself occasionally), sought her father’s retreat as often as she was able; but her engagements were so incessant, that she no sooner lost one partner, than she was claimed and carried off by another. However, the squire bore his solitude with tolerable cheerfulness, and always declared that ‘he was very well amused; although balls and concerts were necessarily a little dull to one who came from a fine old place like Warlock Manor-house, and it was not the same thing that pleased young ladies (for, to them, that fiddling and giggling till two o’clock in the morning might be a very pretty way of killing time), and their papas!’


  What considerably added to Lucy’s celebrity, was the marked notice and admiration of a man so high in rank and ton as Lord Mauleverer. That personage, who still retained much of a youthful mind and temper, and who was in his nature more careless than haughty, preserved little or no state in his intercourse with the social revellers at Bath. He cared not whither he went, so that he was in the train of the young beauty; and the most fastidious nobleman of the English court was seen in every second and third rate set of a great watering-place, the attendant, the flirt, and often the ridicule of the daughter of an obscure and almost insignificant country squire. Despite the honour of so distinguished a lover, and despite all the novelties of her situation, the pretty head of Lucy Brandon, was as yet, however, perfectly unturned; and as for her heart, the only impression that it had ever received, was made by that wandering guest of the village rector, whom she had never again seen, but who yet clung to her imagination, invested not only with all the graces which in right of a singularly handsome person he possessed, – but with those to which he never could advance a claim, – more dangerous to her peace, from the very circumstance of their origin in her fancy, not his merits.

  They had now been some little time at Bath, and Brandon’s brief respite was pretty nearly expired, when a public ball of uncommon and manifold attraction was announced. It was to be graced not only by the presence of all the surrounding families, but also by that of royalty itself; it being an acknowledged fact, that people dance much better, and eat much more supper, when any relation to a king is present.