Breaths of Suspicion

by Roy Lewis

  ‘That is so. The Nunnery.’ I held my breath. I hoped fervently that the Attorney General was not in receipt of rumours concerning the activities that went on in our Cock and Hen Club. And if so, it could hardly be that he desired to join our roistering there … or ask that his son be allowed to join us with the ladies.

  Sir John Jervis nodded sagely, while I waited, on tenterhooks. He was silent for a little while, twirling his glass between his fingers, as though admiring the colour of the wine it held. At last, he murmured, ‘I imagine you are might be aware of the history of the Horsham seat.’

  I frowned, and shook my head. ‘Only that it is held in the Tory interest.’

  ‘Held? Hardly held, in my view. The sitting member, a Mr Hurst, has not been seen by his constituents for some two years. Soon after his election there were rumours of his inability to survive as an MP on account of financial embarrassments. He went abroad and never afterwards took his seat so the borough was effectively disenfranchised. There is a by-election coming up, as a result. The sitting member has been contacted and Mr Hurst has informed the authorities that he has no intention of standing again. So the electors now seek a resident gentleman of independent fortune to represent their interests. A Mr Fitzgerald has recently announced he will stand in the Tory interest.’

  I sat very still. ‘I had heard something to that effect.’

  ‘The gentleman in question has the strong support of Lord George Bentinck, who will be placing some of his considerable wealth at the disposal of Mr Fitzgerald.’

  ‘Wealth, and the backing of the Leader of the Opposition. A strong combination,’ I agreed. There was a stirring in my veins as I watched Sir John twirling his wine glass between his fingers. His expression was thoughtful. ‘Mr Fitzgerald,’ he murmured, ‘has this week issued a notice explaining his position. He has settled in a house at Holbrook, announces he intends to nurse the constituency with ardour, amiability and, no doubt, the results of Lord George’s generosity. Naturally, as a Tory Fitzgerald declares himself against Reform.’ Sir John’s glance rose from his glass and settled almost lazily upon me. ‘And naturally our own party will encourage someone of Liberal leanings to oppose him.…’

  His words died away and yet seemed to hang in the air between us. Beyond the windows I could hear the faint rattle of cabs in the street. The room in which we sat was silent, apart from the occasional rustle of a newspaper being turned by the denizen of a deep leather armchair to our left.

  My mouth felt dry. I sipped my brandy and water. My pulse was suddenly hammering as I dwelled on the implications of the silence that now arose between the Attorney General and myself. I had been of assistance to his son. He felt himself indebted to me. He was a senior member of the Government and there was a vacant seat arising where someone of a Liberal persuasion was sought to oppose Lord George Bentinck’s lapdog. My thoughts whirled: with Bentinck playing the cards a great deal of money would be spent in this constituency: the eventual winner of the seat would be put to a great deal of expense. I took a deep breath. I was now making a good living at the Bar even if most of my fees seem to drain away before they even reached me, but I had always known that attaining a seat in the Commons would be an expensive business, and at this stage in my career I was not sure I would be able to afford it. But then again, perhaps Sir John would be offering me more than mere opportunity: perhaps he, and other backers, would also be prepared to finance me. The prospect was dizzying.

  Sir John Jervis set down his glass. He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his waistcoat, twiddled his thumbs reflectively and stared at me with a hawkish expression. ‘I have heard good things of you at the Bar, James. You are well on the way to making a great success of your career. You are developing a reputation as a man of courage, conviction and doggedness. The attorneys speak of the quickness of your intellect and sharpness of action. Your name is also spoken of in various social circles. Indeed, Viscount Palmerston himself has been asking me about you: we had a discussion the other evening, when your name came up.’

  My breath was tight in my chest. Attorney General Sir John Jervis, and the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, the financial support of the Liberal Party.…

  ‘So you have drawn favourable attention to yourself. And as a member of this club, you have shown yourself interested in Reform. So I have a proposal to put to you, which will be, as I have already observed, in both our interests.’

  I waited, hardly able to control the excitement in my chest.

  ‘The seat at Horsham.…’

  I straightened, sat up expectantly, my fingers gripping tightly on the arm of the chair. Sir John was about to speak, when we were suddenly interrupted. Sir John’s eyes strayed past me and he smiled warmly, rose to his feet. I looked over my shoulder and saw the tall, slightly stooping figure of Viscount Palmerston coming towards us.

  ‘Ha! Jervis. Dining at the club tonight, hey?’ Old Pam’s baby face was wreathed in a welcoming smile. The Attorney General rose to his feet and the two men shook hands affably. I rose also.

  ‘You’ve met Mr James, of course,’ Sir John said.

  ‘Indeed, indeed.’ Palmerston’s almost unwrinkled features were shining below his balding pate and there was a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. ‘We met at Lord Yarborough’s Friday to Monday, a little while ago.’ He raised his bushy eyebrows in query, his glance slipping back to Jervis. ‘You’ll be talking about Horsham, then?’

  The Attorney General smiled and nodded, and I realized that Old Pam had been as fully involved as Sir John in the decision that was being taken that evening. It was confirmed: it was not only the Attorney General who would be supporting me, but also the Secretary for Foreign Affairs.

  ‘So you’re on board, hey, James?’ Palmerston said affably. His grip was cordial and his eyes held mine. There was a certain mischievous twinkle in them. His next words made me realize why I had his support.

  ‘The party will always welcome young men of ability … and discretion.’

  And as I recalled his last words to me, in the dark, two-o’clock-corridor of the home of Lord Yarborough, I knew that my silence on what had occurred that night had been noted, and approved of, and was now being repaid.

  Palmerston waved to us both to be seated, but remained standing himself. He put one hand on his hip and wrinkled his nose: there was a hint of sadness in his voice when he next spoke. ‘Horsham, ha, yes. I stood there, you know, first election I attempted. It was in 1806 … long time ago. In those days, you know, there were only seventy-three electors. The borough was in Lady Irving’s pocket and she’d previously put up a retired major general, a former Governor General of India, and a West Indian planter fellow. They all stumped up in their turn. Yes, she used to demand a payment of £5,000 each for the two seats in her gift. That year, Lord Edward Fitzherbert and I managed to knock her down: we each put up £1,500 on the understanding that a further £3,500 would be forthcoming if we won, and retained the seats. As it was, we lost, and then, in 1809 the selling of seats was prohibited.’

  His eyes lost their faraway look, and he fixed his glance on mine. ‘Not that you should misunderstand the situation, James. Damned expensive business, running for Parliament, and Horsham electors have throats of wood. Takes a lot of slaking, that thirst of theirs. So anyone standing for that seat can expect to dig deep into his pockets. Bentinck—’

  ‘Has declared for Fitzgerald and will back him financially,’ Sir John asserted.

  Palmerston was silent for a few moments, nodding thoughtfully. Then he smiled, held Jervis’s glance conspiratorially, and nodded. ‘Well, we’ll have to see what can be done about things on our side,’ he murmured.

  He took a deep breath, straightened and nodded affably to us both. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Lady Palmerston is expecting me at Stanhope Street, and I’m already late. But that’s the life of a politician, hey?’

  He was well known for driving himself hard in office: his clerks hated him for the manner in which he dr
ove them too. After all, as young men of good connections they had entered the Civil Service in expectation of sinecures, but life was not like that under Old Pam.

  The Attorney General and I sat down again after he had left us. I was now almost quivering with excitement. I would have the support of two senior members of the party, and the weight of the Whigs behind me. I had every confidence: it would be impossible for me to lose, even with Bentinck’s malign influence directed against me.

  Next moment, my house of cards fell in.

  ‘Ah, where were we?’ Sir John asked blandly. ‘Ah, yes, the seat at Horsham.’ He looked at me, and smiled. ‘We have decided upon a person to oppose Mr Fitzgerald.’ His eyes held mine steadily. There was a short, pregnant pause. ‘I intend that my son John should put himself forward at Horsham as a candidate in the Liberal interest.’

  I was unable to prevent the gasp of crushing disappointment which escaped from me. The Attorney General hardly seemed to notice it. His gaze was now fixed on the ceiling, as though he was considering matters of import. ‘There will be many who will say John is too young, of course, and inexperienced … and there is some truth in that, as we have seen from his behaviour in that night house. So he will need strong support, a steadying hand, a man who can guide him through stormy waters, avoid the dangerous rocks that might sink his candidature. At the night house you recognized the dangers facing him and your quick thinking rescued him there from the consequences of his folly. I have discussed the matter at length with Lord Palmerston and we are both agreed. I now ask in confidence if you would be prepared to support my son once more, this time in the political arena. For the good of the Liberal Party, and of my family.’

  My mouth was dry with the sand of my disappointment. I hesitated, mumbling, ‘I’m not sure what—’

  ‘I would like you to become John’s political agent for the Horsham by-election.’

  I stared blankly at the Attorney General. The proposal, after the sabre-cut of disappointment I had suffered, came out of the blue. And for a few moments all I could think of was the effect such a situation would have upon my avowed enemy, Lord George Bentinck.

  Sir John observed me serenely. ‘You have been active on the election committees often enough to know what is required of a good Parliamentary Agent, not merely to persuade the voters but also to steer the candidate well away from the rocks of folly. You have seen many successful candidates unseated on appeal; indeed, you have made your own contribution in that matter. So your experience will be invaluable to young John. We would provide you with the necessary supporting finance, of course. We would use your residence at Rusper as campaign headquarters, for an appropriate fee, naturally. You would take upon yourself the duties incumbent on an agent, undertake the masterminding of the campaign, and in so doing you would be in receipt of my considerable gratitude once more. My gratitude, and that of the Party.’

  But not the seat itself. I fought down the feeling of disappointment, almost unable to speak. But, slowly, I rallied, keeping my head down so he could not see what my eyes might betray. Not a seat in Parliament … but a parliamentary agent for the son of the Attorney General. There would still be something I could obtain out of this opportunity. I raised my head.

  In the pause that grew about us, Sir John Jervis eyed me carefully as though I was a witness before him in court. After a little while, he said, ‘That gratitude can thereafter be shown in several ways, of course. There is first the matter of Treasury briefs. Your name has already been noted as that of a rising talent in the courts, and the Treasury solicitors are already aware of your abilities. It requires only a word from certain quarters to ensure that such briefs in future become more numerous, as far as you are concerned.’

  I ran my tongue over dry lips, but was still unable to speak. A mixture of disappointment and elation still swept over me and my thoughts were confused.

  ‘And then there is the matter of legal and political advancement,’ the Attorney General continued. ‘Once my son is safely installed at Horsham we will have opportunity to look at your own personal interests in such matters. There’s first the matter of extending your experience: I think there’s the possibility of considering you for a Recordership in due course …’ He paused. ‘In fact, the Recordership of Brighton will become vacant in a little while.’

  My earlier disappointment was rapidly fading as his words, and their implications, sank into my brain. I was still a junior barrister and had not taken silk, but if I was to be considered for a Recordership that additional honour, Queen’s Counsel, would have first to be conferred upon me. And as a Recorder I would have taken the first step towards a seat as one of Her Majesty’s judges. The prospect was dazzling: Queen’s Counsel, a Recordership and then.…

  ‘And then, a General Election cannot be too far away. Seats will become available, important metropolitan seats, even. Lord Palmerston and I will be able, and willing, to place our influence behind you, and I suspect there are others in the party who would not be averse to giving you additional support.’

  Such as Alexander Cockburn, I surmised. As a sitting Member for Southampton, a rising political star and a member of our Cock and Hen Club, he would put in a good word for me, I was certain. And, it was rumoured, he was already being touted for a seat on the bench in the near future. If he was so elevated, his seat at Southampton would fall vacant. It could fall to me. Or one of the metropolitan seats, as Sir John had suggested. There were so many possibilities.… I took a deep breath, deciding to seize chances wherever they might arise. In spite of my disappointment over the candidature for Horsham, the prospects suddenly dangled before me were heart-stopping and the support of the Attorney General and the Foreign Secretary were powerful incentives to agree to the proposition.

  I held up my head, jutted out my pugilist chin confidently. ‘I shall be honoured and delighted to take on the task you offer me,’ I said firmly. ‘Your son is a fine young man, and I am certain he will prove to be an ornament of the party when he is once in Parliament. As his agent, I will do the utmost in my power to bring about his success.’

  There was a short silence, then Sir John Jervis smiled broadly. He rose, extended his hand and took mine in a firm handclasp. ‘Then that’s settled, James. You must come around to a private meeting at my house, to discuss matters with my son John and certain of our friends. I am certain he, and they, will be as pleased as I that you accede to this request. And now, perhaps we should go in to dinner.’

  To be honest, I have no great recollection of our conversation over dinner, though oddly enough the repast itself has remained in my memory: turtle soup, turbot, three meat dishes, lobster vol au vent. I remember also the raspberry cream and orange water ices. Otherwise, the occasion passed as a blur and I was barely able to hold up my end of the conversation. I thought Sir John was aware of my confusion, and took no offence at my apparent woolly-mindedness. But the fact was his comments had opened up to me glittering professional vistas. A seat in the House of Commons would not only further and promote my career but it would enable me to deal with my creditors in a more effective manner: they would not be able to dun me as a sitting Member of Parliament. More, with the support of the Government a commission from the Crown as Queen’s Counsel would be swift, and if Sir John kept his word and arranged for my appointment as Recorder I was confident that my ability would soon lead to a seat on the bench, where I would join my friend Alexander Cockburn. I could see the future flashing before my inner eye: Queen’s Counsel, a Recordership, then in due course a judicial appointment, or, once I had attained a seat in the House, the post of Solicitor General in a future administration, then Attorney General and finally even Lord Chief Justice, or Lord Chancellor!

  It was all there before me, there for the taking.

  The curious thing that struck me later was that in a way this had all come about as a result of the intervention of that villain, Lewis Goodman … whom, one day in the future, Deo volente, I might have the opportunity of sending
to a damp, noisome cell where he would spend the rest of his days in a place he deserved so richly.

  2

  Listen. I don’t wish you to be misled about what happened thereafter at Horsham. Much was later written about it, but nothing occurred during that by-election that had not happened before, in other constituencies. Though perhaps not to the same degree, I admit. I had seen more than enough evidence of the results of election fever, on the election committees in which I had gained a reputation, where took place the unseating of successful candidates on the ground of bribery and corruption of the voters. But that was the way things were ordered in those days. And it was a minion of Lord George Bentinck, inevitably, who began the campaign later, when all the Horsham shouting was over, a campaign of denigration, the use of half-truths and downright lies, even a resort to the courts, in his fury that I had been so successful. He made a bad enemy, his Lordship. And there were always hangers-on, political nonentities prepared to do his bidding.

  As to the manner in which I ordered things during the campaign, well, Bentinck’s fury was made so much the greater because I showed myself to be a better organizer than his men, more efficient in my arrangements and a more ruthless opponent than he could have imagined. A knowledge of the rough and tumble world of the prize ring and the racecourse was useful; an ability to indulge in the dirty tricks of the Old Bailey courtroom was essential. And the wit and sagacity to act before your opponent was the clinching ability.

  I was early out of the blocks in the three weeks before the by-election. Mr W.R.S. Fitzgerald, the Tory candidate with the foxy, side-whiskered features and aggrieved air, issued a nebulous kind of address to the constituents where he claimed to be a Whig to the Whigs, a Tory to the Tories and a Protectionist to the Protectionists but I immediately persuaded Sir John Jervis himself to come down to Horsham to speak in support of his son. I wrote the speech he delivered. It was well received. Sir John had been MP for the city of Chester since 1832 and was an old electioneering campaigner and it proved to be a shrewd move on my part. The Attorney General presented himself with confidence and determination, announced the candidature of his son and gave out the words I had written: ‘I have never yet lost an election and I intend not to lose this one!’