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NOVELS

SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON

Etbrars £titt{on

NOVELS OF LIFE AND MANNERS

Vol. I.

»■

Her femme de chambre came to tell us that the duke was in
the passage.

Pelham^ I, 113.

PELHAM;

OK,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.

TO WHICH IB ADDBD,

FALKLAND.

EDWARD BULWER LYTTON

{LORD LYTTON,)

" Je snis pen s^T^re, mais sage ;
Pbilosophe, mais amoureux;
Mod art est de me lendre heareux.
J*y r^ussis, — en fltut-il daTantafe?"

IN TWO VOLUMES.
Vol. I.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

1893.

University Pkess:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

{

,;,• .:j-c,^^(^r ./,•■'•>.• • ^

DEDICATION,

prefixed to the first collected edition of the

author's works in 1840.

My dear Mother, — In inscribing with your beloved
and honored name this Collection of my Works, I could
wish that the fruits of my manhood were worthier of the
tender and anxious pains bestowed upon my education
in youth.

Left yet young, and with no ordinary accomplish-
ments and gifts, the sole guardian of your sons, to them
you devoted the best years of your useful and spotless
life; and any success it be their fate to attain in the
paths they have severally chosen, would have its princi-
pal sweetness in the thought that such success was the
reward of one whose hand aided every struggle, and
whose heart sympathized in every care.

From your graceful and accomplished taste, I early
learned that affection for literature which has exercised
so large an influence over the pursuits of my life ; and
you, who were my first guide, were my earliest critic.
Do you remember the summer days, which seemed to
me so short, when you repeated to me those old ballads
with which Percy revived the decaying spirit of our

VI DEDICATION.

national muse, or the smooth couplets of Pope, or those
gentle and polished verses with the composition of which
you had beguiled your own earlier leisure ? It was those
easy lessons, far more than the harsher rudiments learned
subsequently in schools, that taught me to admire and
to imitate; and in them I recognize the germ of the
flowers, however perishable they be, that I now bind up
and lay upon a shrine hallowed by a thousand memories
of unspeakable affection. Happy, while I borrowed
from your taste, could I have found it not more difficult
to imitate your virtues, your spirit of active and ex-
tended benevolence, your cheerful piety, your consider-
ate justice, your kindly charity, — and all the qualities
that brighten a nature more free from the thought of
self, than any it has been my lot to meet with. Never
more than at this moment did I wish that my writings
were possessed of a merit which might outlive my time,
so that at least these lines might remain a record of the
excellence of the mother, and the gratitude of the son.

£. Li. !B.
London, January 4, 1840.

/
\
\

•PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1828/

I BELIEVE if we were to question every author upon the
subject of his literary grievances, we should find that the
most frequent of all complaints was less that of being
unappreciated than that of being misunderstood. All
of us write perhaps with some secret object, for which
the world cares not a straw ; and while each reader fixes
his peculiar moral upon a book, no one, by any chance,
hits upon that which the author had in his own heart
designed to inculcate. Hence this edition of " Pelham "
acquires that appendage in the shape of an explanatory
preface which the unprescient benevolence of the author
did not inflict on his readers when he first confided his
work to their candor and discretion. Even so, some
candidate for parliamentary honors first braves the hust^
ings : relying only on the general congeniality of sentiment
between himself and the electors, — but alas I once chosen,
the liberal confidence which took him upon trust is no
more, and when he reappears to commend himself to the
popular suffrage, he is required to go into the ill-bred
egotisms of detail, and explain all that he has done and

^ Namely, the Second Edition.

viii PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1828.

all that he has failed to do, to the satisfaction of an
enlightened but too inquisitive constituency.

It is a beautiful part in the economy of this world,
that nothing is without its use ; every weed in the great
thoroughfares of life has a honey, which observation can
easily extract ; and we may glean no unimportant wisdom
from folly itself, if we distinguish while we survey, and
satirize while we share it. It is in this belief that these
volumes have their origin. I have not been willing that
even the common-places of society should afford neither
a record nor a moral ; and it is therefore from the com-
mon -places of society that the materials of this novel have
been wrought. By treating trifles naturallj^xJiheyTnay
be rendered amusing, and that which adherence to nature
renders amusing^ the same cause also may render instruc-
tive ; for nature is the source of all morals, and the en-
chanted well from which not a single drop can be taken
that has not the power of curing some of our diseases.

I have drawn for the hero of my work such a person
as seemed to me best fitted to retail the opinions and
customs of the class and age to which he belongs ; a per-
/ sonal combination of antithesis, a fop and a j)hilosopher,
j a voluptuary and a moralist, a {rifler in appearance, but
rather-tme • iu wlit)m--irifl6Sare instructive, than one to
whom trifles are natnral, — an Aristippus on a limited
scale, accustomed to draw sage conclusions from the fol-
lies he adopts, and while professing himself a votary of
pleasure, desirous in reality to become a disciple of wis-
dom. Such a character I have found it more difficult to
portray than to conceive ; I have found it more difficulfx

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1828. ix

still, because I have with it nothing in common,^ except
the taste for observation, and some experience in the
scenes among which it has been cast ; and it will readily
be supposed that it is no easy matter to survey occur-
rences the most familiar through a vision, as it were,
essentially and perpetually different from that through
which one*s self has been accustomed to view them.
This difficulty in execution will perhaps be my excuse in
failure; and some additional indulgence may be reasona-
bly granted to an author who has rarely found in the
egotisms of his hero a vent for his own.

With the generality of those into whose hands a novel
upon manners is likely to fall, the lighter and less obvious
the method in which reflection is conveyed, the greater
is its chance to be received without distaste, and remem-
bered without aversion. This will be an excuse, per-
haps, for the appearance of frivolities not indulged for
the sake of the frivolity ; imder that which has most the
semblance of levity I have often been the most diligent
in my endeavors to inculcate the substances of truth.
The shallowest stream, whose bed every passenger ima-

* I regret extremely that by this remark I shonld be necessitated
to relinquish the flattering character I have for so many months
borne, and to undeceive not a few of my most indulgent critics,
who in reviewing my work have literally considered the author
and the hero one flesh. " We have only," said one of them, " to
complain of the author's egotisms; he is perpetually talking of
himself I " — Poor gentleman ! from the first page to the last,
the author never utters a syllable. [The few marginal notes in
which the author himself speaks, were not added till the present
edition.]

X PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1828.

gines he surveys, may deposit some golden grains on the
plain through which it flows ; and we may weave flowers
not only into an idle garlcuid, but, like the thyrsus of the
ancients, over a sacred weapon.

It now only remains for me to add my hope that this
edition will present the " Adventures of a Gentleman "
in a less imperfect shape than the last, and in the words
of the erudite and memorable Joshua Barnes,^ " So to
begin my intended discourse, if not altogether true, yet
not wholly vain, nor perhaps deficient in what may ex-
hilarate a witty fancy, or inform a bad moralist. "

THE AUTHOR.

October, 1828.

^ In the Preface to his ^* Gerania.

»>

I i

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840J

The holiday time of life, in which this novel was written,
while accounting, perhaps in a certain gayety of tone, for
I the popularity it has received, may perhaps also excuse,
I in some measure, its more evident deficiencies and faults.
I Although I trust the time has passed when it might seem
necessary to protest against those critical assumptions
( which so long confounded the author with the hero;
although I equally trust that, even were such assump-
tions true, it would be scarcely necessary to dispute the
I justice of visiting upon later and more sobered life, the
\ supposed foibles and levities of that thoughtless age of
• eighteen, in which this fiction was first begun, — yet,
perhaps, some short sketch of the origin of a work, how-
ever idle, the success of which determined the literary
career of the author, may not be considered altogether
' presumptuous or irrelevant.

I While yet, then, a boy in years, but with some ex-

perience of the world, which I entered prematurely, I
f had the good fortune to be confined to my room by a
' severe illness, towards the end of a London season. All
j my friends were out of town, and I was left to such re-

1 Namely, in the first collected edition of the author's prose
I works.

Xii PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1810.

sources as solitude can suggest to the tedium of sickness.
I amused myself by writing with incredible difficulty
and labor (for till then prose was a country almost as
unknown to myself as to Monsieur Jourilain) some half-
a-dozen tales and sketches. Among them was a story
called " Mortimer, or the Memoirs of a Gentleman. "
Its commencement was almost word for word the same
as that of " Pelham ; " but the design was exactly oppo-
site to that of the latter and later work. " Mortimer "
was intended to show the manner m which the world
deteriorates its votary, and " Pelham, " on the contrary,
conveys the newer, and, I believe, sounder moral, of

^hQ^rjji^Ja^uML ^ TTian nf ppifl^i^ ?^^\l SUbjCCt the llgagfiS of

the world to himsel^-inat^ad of being con quered b y them,
and gradually grow wise by tIie"very7oibles of his youth.
This tale, with the sketches written at the same
period, was sent anonymously to a celebrated publisher,
who considered the volume of too slight a nature for
separate publication, and recommended me to select the
best of the papers for a magazine. I was not at that
time much inclined to a periodical mode of publishing,
and thought no more of what, if nugce to the reader, had
indeed been difficiles to the author. Soon afterwards H
went abroad. On my return I sent a collection of letters
to Mr. Colburn for publication, which, for various
reasons, I afterwards worked up into a fiction, and which
(greatly altered from their original form) are now
known to the public under the name of " Falkland. "
• While correcting the sheets of that tale for the press,
I was made aware of many of its faults. But it was not

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840. xiii

till it had been fairly before the public that I was sen-
sible of its greatest, — namely, a sombre coloring of life,
and the indulgence of a vein of sentiment which, though
common enough to all very young minds in their first
bitter experience of the disappointments of the world,
had certainly ceased to be new in its expression, and had
never been true in its philosophy.

The effect which the composition of that work produced
upon my mind was exactly similar to that which (if 1
may reverently quote so illustrious an example) Goethe
informs us the writing of " Werter " produced upon his
own. I had rid my bosom of its " perilous stuff; " I had
confessed my sins, and was absolved ; I could return to
real life and its wholesome objects. Encouraged by the
reception which " Falkland " met with, flattering though
not brilliant, I resolved to undertake a new and more
important fiction. I had long been impressed with the
truth of an observation of Madame de Stael, that a char-
acter at once gay and sentimental is always successful on
the stage. I resolved to attempt a similar character for
a novel, making the sentiment, however, infinitely less
prominent than the gayety. My boyish attempt of the
" Memoirs of a Gentleman " occurred to me, and I re-
solved upon this foundation to build my fiction. After
a little consideration I determined, however, to enlarge
and ennoble the original character. The character itself,
of the clever man of the world corrupted by the world,
was not new ; it had already been represented by Macken-
zie, by Moore in " Zeluco, " and in some measure by the
master-genius of Richardson himself, in thejncomparable

xiv PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.

portraiture of LQvelace . The moral to be derived from
such a creation seemed to me also equivocal and dubious.
It is a moral of a gloomy and hopeless school. ^We live
^ in the world; the great majority of us, in a state of civil-
ization, must, more or less, he men o/the world.jj It
struck me that it would be a new, a useful, and perhaps
a happy moral, to show in what manner we might re-
deem and brighten the common-places of life; to prove
(what is really the fact) that the lessons of society do not
necessarily corrupt, and thati we may be both men of the
world, and even, to a certain degree, men of pleasure,
and yet be something wiser, nobler, better. With this
idea I formed in my mind the character of Pelham; re-
volving its qualities long and seriously before I attempted
to describe them on paper. For the formation of my
story, I studied with no slight attention the great works
of my predecessors, and attempted to derive from that
study certain rules and canons to serve me as a guide;
and if some of my younger contemporaries whom I
could name would only condescend to take the same pre-
liminary pains that I did, I am sure that the result
would be much more brilliant. It often happens to me
to be consulted by persons about to attempt fiction, and
I invariably find that they imagine they have only to sit
down and write. They forget that art does not come by
inspiration, and that the novelist, dealing constantly
with contrast and effect, must, in the widest and deepest
sense of the word, study to be an artist. They paint
pictures for posterity without having learned to draw.
Few critics have hitherto sufficiently considered, and

3S,

Br-]]

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840. XV

none, perhaps, have accurately defined the peculiar char-
acteristics of prose fictibn in its distinct schools and multi-
iorm varieties : of the two principal species, the narrative
and dramatic, I chose for " Pelham " my models in the
former j-aT^ when it was objected, at the first appearance
of that work, that the plot was not carried on through
every incident and every scene, the critics evidently con-
founded the two classes of fiction I have referred to, and
asked from a work in one, what ought only to be the
attributes of a work in the other. The dazzling celebrity
of Scott, who deals almost solely with the dramatic
species of fiction, made them forgetful of the examples,
equally illustrious, in the narrative form of romance,
be found in Smollett, in Fielding, and Le Sage. Per
haps, indeed, there is in " Pelham " more of plot and of
continued interest, and less of those incidents that do not
either bring out the character of the hero, or conduce to
the catastrophe, than the narrative order may be said to
require, or than is warranted by the great examples I
have ventured to name.

After due preparation, I commenced and finished the
first volume of " Pelham. " 'Various circumstances then
suspended my labors, till several months afterwards I
found myself quietly buried in the country, and with so
much leisure on my hands that I was driven, almost in
seK-defence from e/mwi, to' continue and conclude my
attempt.

It may serve perhaps to stimulate the courage and sus-
tain the hopes of others to remark, that the " reader "
to whom the MS. was submitted by the publisher, pro-

XVi PKEFACB TO THE EDITION OF 1840.

nounced the most unfavorable and damning opinion upon
its chances of success, — an opinion fortunately reversed
by Mr. Oilier, the able and ingenious author of " In-
esilla," to whom it was then referred. The book was
published, and I may add, that for about two months it
appeared in a fair way of perishing prematurely in its
cradle. With the exception of two most flattering and
generously-indulgent notices in the " Literary Gazette "
and the " Examiner, " and a very encouraging and friendly
criticism in the " Atlas, " it was received by the critics
with indifference or abuse. They mistook its purport,
and translated its« satire literally. But about the third
month it rose rapidly into the favor it has since con-
tinued to maintain. Whether it answered all the objects
it attempted I cannot pretend to say; one at least I
imagine that it did answer : I think, above most works,
it contributed to put an end to the Satanic mania, — to
turn the thoughts and ambition of young gentlemen with-
out neckcloths, and young clerks who were sallow, from
I playing the Corsair and boasting that they were villains^]
If, mistaking the irony of Pelham, they went to the ex-
treme of emulating the foibles which that hero attributes
to himself, — those were foibles at least more harmless,
and even more manly and noble, than the conceit of a
general detestation of mankind, or the vanity of storming
our pity by lamentations over imaginary sorrows, and
sombre hints at the fatal burden of inexpiable crimes.*

^ Sir Reginald Glanville was drawn purposely of the would-be
Byron school as a foil to Pelham. For one who would think of
imitating the first, ten thousand would be unawares attracted to
the last.

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840. XVli

Such was the history of a publication which, if not
actually my first, was the one whose fate was always in-
tended to decide me whether to conclude or continue my
attempts as an author.

I can repeat, unafiectedly, that I have indulged this
egotism, not only as a gratification to that common curi-
osity which is felt by all relative to the early works of
an author who, whatever be his faults and demerits, has
once obtained the popular ear; but also as affording,
perhaps, the following lessons to younger writers of less
experience but of more genius than myself. First, in
attempting fiction, it may serve to show the use of a criti-
cal study of its rules, for to that study I owe every suc-
cess in literature I have obtained; and in the mere art
of composition, if I have now attained to even too rapid
a facility, I must own that that facility has been pur-
chased by a most laborious slowness in the first com-
mencement, and a resolute refusal to write a second
sentence until I had expressed my meaning in the best
manner I could in the first. And, secondly, it may
prove the very little value of those " cheers, " of the want
of which Sir Egerton Brydges ^ so feelingly complains,
and which he considers so necessary towards the obtain-
ing for an author, no matter what his talents, his proper
share of popularity. I knew not a single critic, and
scarcely a single author, when I began to write. I have
never received to this day a single word of encourage-
ment from any of those writers who were considered at
one time the dispensers of reputation. Long after my

1 In the melancholy and painful pages of his autobiography.

VOL. I. — 6

xviii PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.

name was not quite unknown in every other country
where English literature is received, the great quarterly
journals of my own disdained to recognize my existence.
Let no man cry out then for " cheers, " or for literary
patronage, and let those aspirants, who are often now
pleased to write to me, lamenting their want of interest
and their non-acquaintance with critics, learn from the
author (insignificant though he he) who addresses them
in sympathy and fellowship, that a man's labors are his
best patrons; that the public is the only critic that has
no interest and no motive in underrating him ; that the
world of an author is a mighty circle of which enmity
and envy can penetrate but a petty segment ; and that the
pride of carving with our own hands our own name is
worth all the " cheers " in the world. Long live Sidney's
gallant and lofty motto, *^ Aut viam inveniam aut
fddam ! "

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848.

No ! — you cannot guess, my dear reader, how long my
pen has rested over the virgin surface of this paper, be-
fore even that " No, " which now stands out so bluffly
and manfully, took heart and stepped forth. If, peradven-
ture, thou shouldst, reader, be that rarity in these
days, — a reader who has never been an author, — thou
canst form no conception of the strange aspect which the
first page of a premeditated composition will often present
to the curious investigator into the initials of things.
There is a sad mania nowadays for collecting autographs,
— would that some such collector would devote his re-
searches to the first pages of auctorial manuscripts ! He
would then form some idea of the felicitous significance of
that idiomatic phrase, " to cudgel the brains! " Out of
what grotesque zigzags and fantastic arabesques; out
of what irrelevant, dreamy illustrations from the sister
art, — houses and trees, and profile sketches of men, night-
mares, and chimeras; out of what massacres of whole
lines, prematurely and timidly ventured forth as forlorn
hopes, — would he see the first intelligible words creep
into actual life, shy streaks of light, emerging from the
chaos! For that rash promise of mine, that each work

XX ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848.

in this edition of works so numerous, shall have its own
new and special preface, seems to me hard, in this in-
stance, to fulfil. Another preface! what' for? Two
prefaces to " Pelham " already exist, wherein all that I
would say is said! And in going back through that long
and crowded interval of twenty years, since the first ap-
pearance of this work, what shadows rise to beckon me
away through the glades and alleys in that dim labyrinth
of the past! Infant hopes, scarce born ere fated, poor
innocents, to die, — gazing upon me with reproachful eyes,
as if I myself had been their unfeeling butcher; auda-
cious enterprises boldly begun, to cease in abrupt whim,
or chilling doubt, — looking now through the mists, zoo-
phital or amphibious, like those borderers on the animal
and vegetable life which flash on us with the seeming
flutter of a wing, to subside away into rooted stems and
withering leaves. How can I escape the phantom throng ]
How return to the starting-post, and recall the ardent
emotions with which youth sprang forth to the goal ? To
write fitting preface to this work, which, if not my first,
was the first which won an audience and secured a reader,
I must myself become a phantom, with the phantom
crowd. It is the ghost of my youth that I must call up.
What we are, alone hath flesh and blood, — what we
have been, like the what we shall be, is an idea, and no
more! An idea how dim and impalpable! This our
sense of identity, this " I " of ours, which is the single
thread that continues from first to last, — single thread
that binds flowers changed every day, and withered every
night : how thin and meagre is it of itself, how difficult

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848. XXI

to lay hold of! When we say, " I rememher, " how vague a
sentiment we utter ! — how different it is to say, " Ifeel ! "
And when in this effort of memory we travel l>ack all
the shadow-land of yeats, when we say, " I rememher, "
what is it we retain, but some poor solitary fibre in the airy
mesh of that old gossamer which floated between earth
and heaven, — moist with the dews and sparkling in the
dawn % Some one incident, some one affection we recall,
but not all the associations that surrounded it, all the
companions of the brain, or the heart, with which it
formed the harmonious contemporaneous ring. Scarcely
even have we traced and seized one fine filament in the
broken web, ere it is lost again. In the inextricable con-
fusion of old ideas, many that seem of the time which
we seek to grasp again, but were not so, seize and dis-
tract us. From the strained attempt at distinct reminis-
cence we sink insensibly into vague reverie ; the present
hastens to recall and dash us onward, and few, leaving
the actual world around them when they say, " I remem-
ber, " do not wake as from a dream, with a baffled sigh ,
and murmur, " No, I forget. " And therefore, if a new
preface to a work written twenty years ago, should con-
tain some elucidation of the aims and objects with which
it was composed, or convey some idea of the writer's
mind at that time, my pen might well rest long over tlie
blank page : and houses and trees, and profile sketches
of men, nightmares and chimeras, and whole passages
scrawled and erased, might well illustrate the barren
travail of one who sits down to say, " I remember ! "
What changes in the outer world since this book was

xxii ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848.

written! What changes of thrones and dynasties!
Through what cycles of hope and fear has a generation
gone! And in that inner world of thought, what old
ideas have returned to claim the royalty of new ones!
What new ones (new ones then) have receded out of sight
in the ehb and flow of the human mind, which, whatever
the cant phrase may imply, advances in no direct stead-
fast progress, but gains here to lose there, — a tide, not a
march. So, too, in that slight surface of either world,
" the manners, " superficies alike of the action and the
thought of an age, the ploughshares of twenty years have
turned up a new soil.

The popular changes in the Constitution have brought
the several classes more intimately into connection with
each other; most of the old affectations of fashion and
exclusiveness are out of date. We have not talked of
equality, like our neighbors the French, but insensibly
and naturally, the tone of manners has admitted much of
the frankness of the principle, without the unnecessary
rudeness of the pretence. I am not old enough yet to be
among the indiscriminate praisers of the past, and there-
forelj recognize cheerfully an extraordinary improvement
in the intellectual and moral features of the English
world since I first entered it as an observer. There is
a far greater earnestness of purpose, a higher culture,
more generous and genial views, amongst the young men
of the rising generation than were common in the last.
The old divisions of party politics remain; but among
all divisions there is greater desire of identification with
the people. Rank is more sensible of its responsibilities,

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848. Xxiil

Property of its duties.JJ Amongst the clergy of all sects,
the improvemeut in zeal, in education, in active care for
their flocks, is strikingly noticeable; the middle class
have become more instructed and refined, and yet (while
fused with the highest in their intellectual tendencies,
reading the same books, cultivating the same accomplish-
ments) they have extended their sympathies more
largely amongst the humblest. And, in our towns especi-
ally, what advances have been made amongst the opera-
tive population! I do not here refer to that branch of
cultivation which comprises the questions that belong to
political inquiry, but to the general growth of more re-
fined and less polemical knowledge. Cheap books have
-come in vogue as a fashion during the last twenty years,
V — books addressed, not as cheap books were once, to the
passions, but to the understanding and the taste ; books
not written down to the supposed level of uninformed
and humble readers, but such books as refine the gentle-
man and instruct the scholar. The arts of design have
been more appreciated ; the beautiful has been admitted
into the pursuits of labor as a principle ; religion has been
regaining the groimd it lost in the latter half of the last
century. What is technically called education (education
of the school and the schoolmaster) has made less pro-
gress than it might. But that inexpressible difiFusion of
oral information, which is the only culture the old
Athenians knew, and which, in the ready transmission of
ideas, travels like light from lip to lip, has been insensi-
bly educating the adult generation. In spite of all the
dangers that menace the advance of the present century.

XXiv ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848. \^

I am conviuced that classes amongst us are far more t^^
united than they were in the latter years of George IV. ^
A vast mass of discontent exists amongst the operatives,
it is true, and Chartism is but one of its symptoms ; yet
that that discontent is more obvious than formerly, is a
proof that men's eyes and men's ears are more open to ac-
knowledge its existence, — to examine and listen to its
causes. Thinking persons now occupy themselves with
that great reality, — the people; and questions concerning
their social welfare, their health, their education, their in-
terests, their rights, which philosophers alone entertained
twenty years ago, are now on the lips of practical men,
and in tlie hearts of all. It is this greater earnestness,
this profounder gravity of purpose and of view, which
forms the most cheering characteristic of the present
time; and though that time has its peculiar faults and
vices, this is not the place to enlarge on them. I have
done, and may yet do so, elsewhere. This work is the
picture of manners in certain classes of society twenty
years ago, and in that respect I believe it to be true and
faithful. Nor the less so, that under the frivolities of
the hero, it is easy to recognize the substance of those
more serious and solid qualities which time has educed
from the generation and the class he represents. Mr.
Pelham studying Mills on Government and the Political
Economists, was thought by some an incongruity in char-
acter at the day in which Mr. Pelham first appeared, —
the truth of that conception is apparent now, at least to
the observant. The fine gentlemen of that day were
preparing themselves for the after things, which were al-

!Ve:

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1848. XXV

mi'-'i ready fore-shadowed ; and some of those, tlien best known
jrj in clubs and drawing-rooms, have been shice foremost
and boldest, nor least instructed, in the great struggles of

jt| public life.

is il I trust that this work may now be read without pre-

af judice froin the silly error that long sought to identify

it the author with the hero.

til Karely indeed, if ever, can we detect the real likeness

i>[| of an author of fiction in any single one of his creations.

i ' He may live in each of them, but only for the time. He

i migrates into a new form with every new character he

creates. He may have in himself a quality, here and
there, in common with each, but others so widely oppo-
site as to destroy all the resemblance you fancy for a
nioment you have discovered. However this be, the au-

^ thor has the advantage over his work, — that the last re-
mains stationary, with its faults or merits, and the former
has the power to improve. The one remains the index of
its day, — the other advances with the century. That
in a book written in extreme youth, there may be much
that I would not write now in mature manhood, is obvi-
ous; that in spite of its defects, the work should have
retained to this day the popularity it enjoyed in the year
of its birth, is the best apology that can be made for its

defects.

E. B. L.

London, 1848.

^V.v

PELHAM;

OB,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.

CHAPTER I.

Oh peut-on 6tre mienx qu'au sein de sa f amille 1 ^ — French Song.

I AM an only child. My father was the younger son
of one of our oldest earls; my mother the dowerless
daughter of a Scotch peer. Mr. Pelham was a moderate
Whig, and gave sumptuous dinners; Lady Frances was
a woman of taste, and particularly fond of diamonds
and old china.

Vulgar people know nothing of the necessaries je-
quired in good society, and the credit they give is as
short as their pedigree. Six years after my hirth there
was an execution in our house. My mother was just

setting off on a visit to the Duchess of D ; she

declared it was impossible to go without her diamonds.
The chief of the bailiffs declared it was impossible to
trust them out of his sight. The matter was compro-
mised, — the bailiff went with my mother to C ,

and was introduced as my tutor. " A man of singular

1 Where can one be better than in the bosom of one's family ?
VOL. 1. — 1

2 PELHAM; OR,

merit, " whispered my mother, " hut so shy ! " For-
tunately, the bailijff was abashed, and by losing his
impudence he kept the secret. At the end of the
week the diamonds went to the jewellers, and Lady
Frances wore paste.

I think it was about a month afterwards that a six-
teenth cousin left my mother twenty thousand pounds.
" It will just pay off our most importunate creditors,
and equip me for Melton," said Mr. Pelham.

" It will just redeem my diamonds, and refurnish the
house, " said Lady Frances.

The latter alternative was chosen. My father went
down to run his last horse at Newmarket, and my
mother received nine hundred people in a Turkish
tent. Both were equally fortunate, the Greek and the
Turk; my father's horse lost, in consequence of which
he pocketed five thousand pounds; and my mother
looked so charming as a sultana, that Seymour Conway
fell desperately in love with her.

Mr. Conway had just caused two divorces; and of
course all the women in London were dying for him, —
judge then of the pride which Lady Frances felt at
his addresses. The end of the season was unusually dull,
and my mother, after having looked over her list of en-
gagements, and ascertained that she had none remaining
worth staying for, agreed to elope with her new lover.

The carriage was at the end of the square. My
mother, for the first time in her life, got up at six
o'clock. Her foot was on the step, and her hand next
to Mr. Conway's heart, when she remembered that her
favorite china monster, and her French dog, were left
behind. She insisted on returning, — re-entered the
house, and was coming downstairs with one under
each arm, when she was met by my father and two

ADVENTUBBS OF A GENTLEMAN. 3

servants. My father's valet had discovered the flight
(I forget how), and awakened his master.

When my father was convinced of his loss, he called
for his dressing-gown; searched the garret and the
kitchen; looked in the maid's drawers and the cel-
laret, — and finally declared he was distracted. I have
heard that the servants were quite melted by his grief,
and I do not doubt it in the least, for he was always
celebrated for his skill in private theatricals. He was
jiist retiring to vent his grief in his dressing-room,
when he met my mother. It must altogether have
been an awkward encounter, and indeed, for my
father, a remarkably unfortunate occurrence; since
Seymour Conway was immensely rich, and the dam-
ages would no doubt have been proportionably high.
Had they met each other alone, the affair might easily
have been settled, and Lady Frances gone off in tran-
quillity. Those confounded servants are always in the
way!

I have observed that the distinguished trait of
people accustomed to good society, is a calm, imper-
turbable quiet, which pervades all their actions and
habits, from the greatest to the least. They eat in
quiet, move in quiet, live in quiet, and lose their wife,
or even their money, in quiet ; while low persons cannot
take up either a spoon or an affront without making such
an amazing noise about it. To render this observation
good, and to return to the intended elopement, nothing
further was said upon that event. My father introduced
Conway to Brookes's, and invited him to dinner twice a
week for a whole twelvemonth.

Not long after this occurrence, by the death of my
grandfather, my uncle succeeded to the title and estates
of the family. He was, as people rather justly observed,

L *

4 pelham; or,

rather an odd man: built schools for peasants, forgave
poachers, and diminished his farmers' rents; indeed, on
account of this and similar eccentricities, he was thought
a fool by some, and a madman by others. However, he
was not quite destitute of natural feeling; for he paid
my father's debts, and established us in the secure enjoy-
ment of our former splendor. But this piece of generos-
ity, or justice, was done in the most unhandsome man-
ner: he obtained a promise from my father to retire
from whist, and relinquish the turf; and he prevailed
upon my mother to conceive an aversion to diamonds,
and an indifference to china monsters.

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN.

CHAPTEE II.

Tell arts they have no soundness,

But vary by esteeming ;
Tell schools they want profoundness,

And stand too much on seeming.
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

The Soul* 8 Errand.

At ten years old I went to Eton. I had been educated
till tliat period by my mother, who, being distantly

related to Lord (who had published " Hints upon

the Culinary Art ") , imagined she possessed a hereditary
claim to literary distinction. History was her great
forte; for she had read all the historical romances of
the day : and history, accordingly, I had been carefully
taught.

I think at this moment I see my mother before me,
reclining on her sofa, and repeating to me some story
about Queen Elizabeth and Lord Essex ; then telling me,
in a languid voice, as she sank back with the exertion,
of the blessings of a literary taste, and admonishing me
never to read above half an hour at a time, for fear of
losing my health.

Well, to Eton I went ; and the second day I had been
there, I was half killed for refusing, with all the pride
of a Pelham, to wash tea-cups. I was rescued from the
clutches of my tyrant by a boy not much bigger than
myself, but reckoned the best fighter, for his size, in the
whole school. His name was Reginald Glanville. From

6 PELHAM; OB,

that period we became inseparable, and our friendship
lasted all the time he stayed at Eton, which was within
a year of my own departure for Cambridge.

His father was a baronet of a very ancient and
wealthy family; and his mother was a woman of some
talent and more ambition. She made her house one of
the most attractive in London. Seldom seen at large
assemblies, she was eagerly sought after in the well-win-
nowed soirees of the elect. Her wealth, great as it was,
seemed the least prominent ingredient of her establish-
ment. There was in it no uncalled-for ostentation, no
purse-proud vulgarity, no cringing to great, and no pat-
ronizing condescension to little people. Even the Sun-
day newspapers could not find fault with her, and the
querulous wives of younger brothers could only sneer and
be silent.

" It is an excellent connection, " said my mother,
when I told her of my friendship with Reginald Glan-
ville, " and will be ot more use to you than many of
greater apparent consequence. Remember, my dear,
that in all the friends you make at present, you look to
the advantage you can derive from them hereafter; that
is what we call knowledge of the world, and it is to get
the knowledge of the world that you are sent to a public
school. "

I think, however, to my shame, that, notwithstanding
my mother's instructions, very few prudential considera-
tions were mingled with my friendship for Reginald Glan-
ville. I loved him with a warmth of attachment which
has since surprised even myself.

He was of a very singular character : he used to wander
by the river in the bright days of summer, when all else
were at play, without any companion but his own
thoughts; and these were tinged, even at that early age,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 7

with a deep and impassioned melancholy. He was so
i <k reserved in his manner that it was looked upon as cold-
ness or pride, and was repaid as such by a pretty general
dislike. Yet, to those he loved, no one could be more
open and warm; more watchful to gratify others; more
indifferent to gratification for himself, — an utter ab-
sence of all selfishness, and an eager and active benev-
olence, were indeed the distinguisliing traits of his
character. I have seen him endure with a careless good-
nature the most provoking affronts from boys much less
than himself; but if I, or any other of his immediate
friends, was injured or aggrieved, his anger was almost
implacable. Although he was of a slight frame, yet
early exercise had brought strength to his muscles, and
activity to his limbs; while there was that in his cour-
age and will which, despite his reserve and unpopu-
larity, always marked him out as a leader in those
enterprises wherein we test as boys the qualities which
chiefly contribute to secure hereafter our position amongst
men.

Such, briefly and imperfectly sketched, was the char-
acter of Reginald Glanville, — the one who, of all my
early companions, differed the most from myself ; yet the
one whom I loved the most, and the one whose future
destiny was the most intertwined with my own.

I was in the head class when I left Eton. As I was
reckoned an uncommonly well-educated boy, it may not
be ungratifying to the admirers of the present system of
education to pause here for a moment, and recall what I
then knew. I could make fifty Latin verses in half an
hour ; I could construe, without an English translation,
all the easy Latin authors, and many of the difficult ones
with it; I could read Greek fluently, and even translate
it through the medium of the Latin version technically

8 pelham; or,

called a crib.^ I was thought exceedingly clever; l?<ihipr I
had been only eight years acquiring all this fund of l^ji u-
formation, which, as one need never recall it in the
world, you have every right to suppose that I had en-
tirely forgotten before I was five-and-twenty. As I was
never taught a syllable of English during this period ; as,
when I once attempted to read Pope's poems out of
school hours, I was laughed at, and called " a sap ; " as
my mother, when I went to school, renounced her own
instructions; and as, whatever schoolmasters may think
to the contrary, one learns nothing nowadays by inspira-
tion ; so of everything which relates to English literature,
English laws, and English history (with the exception
of the said story of Queen Elizabeth and Lord Essex) ,
you have the same right to suppose that I was, at the
age of eighteen, when I left Eton, in the profoundest
ignorance.

At this age I was transplanted to Cambridge, where
I bloomed for two years in the blue and silver of a
fellow-commoner of Trinity. At the end of that time
(being of royal descent) I became entitled to an hono-
rary degree. I suppose the term is in contradistinction
to an honorable degree, which is obtained by pale men
in spectacles and cotton stockings, after thirty-six months
of intense application.

I do not exactly remember how I spent my time at
Cambridge. I had a pianoforte in my room, and a pri-
vate billiard-room at a village two miles off; and between

1 It is but just to say that the educational system at pu blic
schools is greatly improved since the above was w^^tten^'^'^fnl^
take those great seminaries altogether, it may be doubted whether
any institutions more philosophical in theory are better adapted to
secure that union of classical tastes with manly habits and honor-
able sentiments which distinguishes the English gentleman.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 9

^ese resources I managed to improve my mind more
tnan could reasonably have been expected. To say truth,
the whole place reeked with vulgarity. The men drank
beer by the gallon, and ate cheese by the hundredweight ;
wore jockey-cut coats, and talked slang ; rode for wagers,
and swore when they lost; smoked in your face, and
expectorated on the floor. Their proudest glory was to
drive the mail ; their mightiest exploit to box with the
coachman; their most delicate amour to leer at the
barmaid.*^

It will be believed that I felt little regret in quitting
companions of this description. I went to take leave of
our college tutor. " Mr. Pelham, " said he, affectionately
squeezing me by the hand, " your conduct has been most
exemplary ; you have not walked wantonly over the col-
lege grassplats, nor set your dog at the proctor, nor
driven tandems by day, nor broken lamps by night, nor
entered the chapel in order to display your intoxication,
nor the lecture-room in order to caricature the professors.
This is the general behavior of yoimg men of family and
fortune ; but it has not been yours. Sir, you have been
an honor to your college. "

Thus closed my academical career. He who does not
allow that it passed creditably to my teachers, profitably
to myself, and beneficially to the world, is a narrow-
minded and illiterate man, who knows nothing of the
advantages of modern education.

1 This, at that time, was a character that could only he applied
to the gayest, that is the worst, set at the University, — and per-
haps now the character may scarcely exist.

10 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER III.

Thus does a false ambition mle ns ;
Thus pomp delude, aud folly fool us.

Shenstone.

An open house, haunted with great resort.

Bishop Hall's Satires.

I LEFT Cambridge in a very weak state of health ; and
as nobody had yet come to London, I accepted the invi-
tation of Sir Lionel Garrett to pay him a visit at his
country-seat. Accordingly, one raw winter*s day, full of
the hopes of the reviving influence of air and exercise, I
found myself carefully packed up in three greatcoats, and
on the high-road to Garrett Park.

Sir Lionel Garrett was a character very common in
England, and in describing him I describe the whole
species. He was of an ancient family, and his ancestors
had for centuries resided on their estates in Norfolk.
Sir Lionel, who came to his majority and his fortune
at the same time, went up to London at the age of
twenty-one, a raw, uncouth sort of young man, with a
green coat and lank hair. His friends in town were
of that set whose members are above ton whenever they
do not grasp at its possession, but who, whenever they
do, lose at once their aim and their equilibrium, and fall
immeasurably below it. I mean that set which I call
" the respectable, " consisting of old peers of an old
school; country gentlemen who still disdain not to love
their wine and to hate the French ; generals who ?uive
served in the army ; elder brothers who succeed to some-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 11

thing besides a mortgage ; and younger brothers who do
not mistake their capital for their income. To this set
you may add the whole of the baronetage, — for I have
remarked that baronets hang together like bees or Scotch-
men ; and if I go to a baronet's house, and speak to some
one whom I have not the happiness to know, I always
say, " Sir John ! "

It was no wonder, then, that to this set belonged Sir
Lionel Garrett, — no more the youth with a green coat
and lank hair, but pinched in and curled out; abounding
in horses and whiskers; dancing all night; lounging all
day, — the favorite of the old ladies, the Philander of
the young.

One unfortunate evening Sir Lionel Garrett was intro-
duced to the celebrated Duchess of D . From that

moment his head was turned. Before then, he had
always imagined that he was somebody, that he was Sir
Lionel Garrett, with a good-looking person and eight
thousand a year; he now knew that he was nobody, un-
less he went to Lady G 's, and unless he bowed to

Lady S . Disdaining all importance derived from

himself, it became absolutely necessary to his happiness
that all his importance should be derived solely from his
acquaintance with others. He cared not a straw that he
was a man of fortune, of family, of consequence; he
must be a man of ton^ or he was an atom, a nonentity, a
very worm, and no man. No lawyer at Gray's Inn, no
galley-slave at the oar, ever worked so hard at his task
as Sir Lionel Garrett at his. Ton^ to a single man, is a
thing attainable enough. Sir Lionel was just gaining
the envied distinction, when he saw, courted, and married
Lady Harriet Woodstock.

His new wife was of a modem and not very rich
family, and striving like Sir Lionel for the notoriety of

12 PELHAM; OR,

fashion; but of this struggle he was ignorant. He
saw her admitted into good society, — he imagined she
commanded it ; she was a hanger-on, — he believed she
was a leader. Lady Harriet was crafty and twenty-
four, — had no objection to be married, nor to change
the name of Woodstock for Garrett. She- kept up the
baronet's mistake till it was too late to repair it.

Marriage did not bring Sir Lionel wisdom. His wife
was of the same turn of mind as himself: they might
have been great people in the country, — they preferred
being little people in town. They might have chosen
friends among persons of respectability and rank — they
preferred being chosen as acquaintance by persons of
ton. Society was their being's end and aim, and the
only thing which brought them pleasure was the pain
of attaining it. Did I not say truly that I would de-
scribe individuals of a common species? Is there one
who reads this who does not recognize that overflowing
class of our population, whose members would conceive
it an insult to be thought of sufficient rank to be respect-
able for what they are; who take it as an honor 4ihat
they are made . by their acquaintance ; who renounce
the ease of living for themselves, for the trouble of living
for persons who care not a pin for their existence;
who are wretched if they are not dictated to by others ;
and who toil, groan, travail, through the whole course
of life, in order to forfeit their independence ?

I arrived at Garrett Park just time enough to dress
for dinner. As I was descending the stairs after hav-
ing performed that ceremony, I heard my own name
pronounced by a very soft, lisping voice : " Henry
Pelham ! dear, what a pretty name. Is he handsome ] "

" Rather elegant than handsome, " was the unsatis-
factory reply, couched in a slow, pompous accent, which

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13

I immediately recognized to belong to Lady Harriet
Garrett.

" Can we make something of him ? " resumed the first
voice.

"Something!" said Lady Harriet, indignantly; "he
will be Lord Glenmorris! and he is son to Lady Frances
Pelham. "

" Ah, " said the lisper, carelessly ; " but can he write
poetry, and play proverbes ? "

" No, Lady Harriet, " said I, advancing ; " but per-
mit me, through you, to assure Lady Nelthorpe that he
can admire those who do. "

" So you know me, then, " said the lisper : " I see we
shall be excellent friends ; " and, disengaging herself
from Lady Harriet, she took my. arm, and began dis-
cussing persons and things, poetry and china, French ^^
plays and music, till I found myself beside her at
dinner, and most assiduously endeavoring to silence
her by the superior engrossments of a beehamelle de
poisso7i,

I took the opportunity of the pause to survey the
little circle of which Lady Harriet was the centre. In
the first place, there was Mr. Davison, a great political
economist, — a short, dark, corpulent gentleman, with a
quiet, serenC) sleepy countenance; beside him was a
quick, sharp little woman, all sparkle and bustle, glanc-
ing a small, gray, prying eye round the table, with a
most restless activity: this, as Lady Nelthorpe after-
wards informed me, was a Miss Trafford, an excellent
person for a Christmas in the country, whom every-
body was dying to have. She was an admirable mimic,
an admirable actress, and an admirable reciter; made
poetry and shoes, and told fortunes by the cards, which
actually came true I

14 felham; or,

There was also Mr. Wormwood, the noli-rne-tangere
of literary lions, — an author who sowed his conversation
not with flowers but thorns. Nobody could accuse him
of the flattery generally imputed to his species; through

< the course of a long and varied life, he had never once
been known to say a civil thing. He was too much
disliked not to be sought after; whatever is once noto-
rious, even for being disagreeable, is sure to be courted.
Opposite to him sat the really clever and affectedly
pedantic Lord Vincent, one of those persons who have
been " promising young men " all their lives ; who are
found till four o'clock in the afternoon in a dressing-
gown, with a quarto before them; who go down into
the country for six weeks every session, to cram an
impromptu reply; and who always have a work in^the
press which is never to be published.

Lady Nelthorpe herself I had frequently seen. She
had some reputation for talent, was exceedingly affected,

"^ wrote poetry in albums, ridiculed her husband (who
was a fox-hunter), and had a particular taste for the

'^ fine arts.

There were four or five others of the unknown, vul-
gar, younger brothers, who were good shots and bad
matches; elderly ladies who lived in Baker Street, and
liked long whist ; and young ones who never took wine,
and said, " Sir ! "

I must, however, among this number, except the
beautiful Lady Roseville, the most fascinating woman,
perhaps, of the day. She was evidently the great per-
son there, and, indeed, among all people who paid due
deference to ton, was always sure to be so everywhere.
I have never seen but one person more beautiful. Her
eyes were of the deepest blue; her complexion of the
most delicate carnation ; her hair of the richest auburn :

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 15

nor could even Mr. Wormwood detect the smallest fault
in the rounded yet slender symmetry of her figure.

Although not above twenty-five, she was in that state
in which alone a woman ceases to be a dependent, —
widowhood. Lord Roseville, who had been dead about
, two years, had not survived their marriage many months.
That period was, however, sufficiently long to allow
him to appreciate her excellence, and to testify his sense
of it: the whole of his imentailed property, which was
very large, he bequeathed to her.

She was very fond of the society of literary persons,
though without the pretence of belonging to their order.
But her manners constituted her chief attraction ; while
they were utterly different from those of every one else,
you ijould not, in the least minutiae, discover in what
the difference consisted : this is, in my opinion, the real
test of perfect breeding. While you are enchanted
with the effect, it should possess so little prominency
and peculiarity, that you should never be able to guess
the cause.

" Pray, " said Lord Vincent to Mr. Wormwood, " have
you been to P this year ] "

" No, " was the answer.

" I have, " said Miss Trafford, who never lost an
portunity of slipping in a word.

"Well, and did they make you sleep, as usual, ai
the Crown, with the same eternal excuse, after having
brought you fifty miles from town, of small house: no
beds — all engaged — inn close by ? Ah, never shall I
forget that inn, with its royal name, and its hard beds :

* Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown ! ' '*

" Ha, ha ! excellent ! " cried Miss Trafford, who was
always the first in at the death of a pun. " Yes, indeed

16 pelham; or,

they did: poor old Lord Belton, with his rheumatism;
and that immense General Grant, with his asthma;
together with three 'single men,' and myself, were
safely conveyed to that asylum for the destitute."

" Ah, Grant, Grant ! " said Lord Vincent, eagerly,
who saw another opportunity of whipping in a pim.
" He slept there also the same night I did ; and when
I saw his unwieldy person waddling out of the door
the next morning, I said to Temple, * Well, that ^s the
largest Grant I ever saw from the Crown.^ "^

" Very good, " said Wormwood, gravely. " I declare,
Vincent, you are growing quite witty. You know
Jekyl, of course? Poor fellow, what a really good
punster he was; not agreeahle though, particularly at
dinner, — no punsters are. Mr. Davison, what is that
dish next to you ? "

Mr. Davison was a great gourmand : " Salmi de per-
dreaux aux truffesy " replied the political economist.

" Truffles ! " said Wormwood, " have you been eating
any ? "

" Yes, " said Davison, with unusual energy, " and they
are the best I have tasted for a long time. "

"Very likely," said Wormwood, with a dejected air.
" I am particularly fond of them, but I dare not touch
one, — truffles are so very apoplectic: you, I make no
doubt, may eat them in safety."

Wormwood was a tall, meagre man, with a neck a
yard long. Davison was, as I have said, short and fat,
and made without any apparent neck at all, — only head
and shoulders, like a cod-fish.

Poor Mr. Davison turned perfectly white; he fidg-
eted about in his chair; cast a look of the most deadly

* It was from Mr. J. Smith that Lord Vincent purloined this
pun.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 17

fear and aversion at the fatal dish he had been so at-
tentive to before; and, muttering "apoplectic!" closed
his lips, and did not open them again all dinner-time.

Mr. Wormwood's object was effected. Two people
were silenced and uncomfortable, and a sort of mist
hung over the spirits of the whole party. The dinner
went on and off, like all other dinners; the ladies
retired, and the men drank, and talked politics. Mr.
Davison left the room first, in order to look out the
word " truffle, " in the encyclopaedia ; and Lord Vin-
cent and I went next, " lest, " as my companion charac-
teristically observed, " that d d Wormwood should, if

we stayed a moment longer, * send us weeping to our
beds.'"

VOL. I. — 2

18 PELHAMj OK,

CHAPTER IV.

Oh ! la belle chose que la Poste ! ^ — Lettres de S£ti6n£.
Aj, — but who is it T — As You Like It,

I HAD mentioned to my mother my intended visit to
Garrett Park, and the second day after my arrival there
came the following letter ; —

My dear Henry, — I was very glad to hear you were
rather better than you had been. I trust you will take great
care of yourself. I think flannel waistcoats might be advisa-
ble; and, by the by, they are very good for the complexion.
Apropos of the complexion : I did not like that blue coat you
wore when I last saw you ; you look best in black, — which
is a great compliment, for people must be very distinguished
in appearance in order to do so.

You know, my dear, that those Garretts ai-e in themselves
anything but unexceptionable ; you will, therefore, take care
not to be too intimate. It is, however, a very good house ;
most whom you meet there are worth knowing, for one thing
or the other. Remember, Henry, that the acquaintance (not
the friends) of second or third rate people are always sure to
be good ; they are not independent enough to receive whom
they like, — their whole rank is in their guests : you may be
also sure that the manage will, in outward appearance at least,
be quite comme il fautj and for the same reason. Gain as
much knowledge de V art culinaire as you can ; it is an accom-
plishment absolutely necessary. You may also pick up a
little acquaintance wath metaphysics, if yoii have any oppor-
tunity ; that sort of thing is a good deal talked about just at
present.

^ Oh, what a beautiful thing is the Post-office I

. ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 19

I bear Lady Roseville is at Garrett Park. You must be
particularly attentive to her ; you will probably now have an
opportunity de faire voire cour that may never again happen.
In London she is so much surrounded by all, that she is quite
inaccessible to one ; besides, there you will have so many
rivals. Without flattery to you, I take it for granted that you
are the best-looking and most £^reeable person at Garrett
Park, and it will, therefore, be a most unpardonable fault if
you do not make Lady Roseville of the same opinion. Noth-
ing, my dear son, is like a liaison (quite innocent, of course)
with a woman of celebrity in the world. In marriage, a man
lowers a woman to his own rank ; in an affaire de casur he
raises himself to hers. I need not, I am sure, after what I
have said, press this point any further.

Write to me and inform me of all your proceedings. If
you mention the people who are at Garrett Park, I can tell
you the proper line of conduct to pursue with each.

I am sure that I need not add that I have nothing but
your real good at heart, and that I am your very affectionate
mother,

Frances Pelham.

P. S. Never talk much to young men, — remember, that
it is the women who make a reputation in society.

"Well," said I, when I had read this letter, "my
mother is very right, and so now for Lady E-oseville. "

I went downstairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and
Lady Nelthorpe were in the room, talking with great
interest, and, on Miss Trafford^s part with still greater
vehemence.

" So handsome," said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached.

" Are you talking of me ? " said I.

" Oh, you vanity of vanities! " was the answer. " No,
we were speaking of a very romantic adventure which
has happened to Miss Trafford and myself, and disputing
about the hero of it. Miss Trafford declares he is fright-

;

20 PELHAM; OR,

ful; /say that he is beautiful. Now, you know, Mr.
Pelham, as to you — "

** There can be but one opinion; — but the advjn-
ture ? "

" Is this ! " cried Miss Trafford, in great fright, lest
Lady Nelthorpe should, by speaking first, have the
pleasure of the narration, — " we were walking, two or
three days ago, by the sea-side, picking up shells, and
talking about the Corsair, when a large, fierce — "

" Man ? " interrupted I. \

"No, dog" renewed Miss TrafiEbrd, "flew suddenly
out of a cave, under a rock, and began growling at dear i
Lady Nelthorpe and me in the most savage manner i
imaginable. He would certainly have torn us to pieces
if a very tall — "

" Not so very tall either," said Lady Nelthorpe. \

" Dear, how you interrupt one," said Miss Trafford,
pettishly; "well, a very short man, then, wrapped up
in a cloak — "

" In a greatcoat," drawled Lady Nelthorpe.

Miss Trafford went on without noticing the emen-
dation, — "had not, with incredible rapidity, sprung
down the rock and — "

" Called him off," said Lady Nelthorpe.

" Yes, called him off," pursued Miss Trafford, looking
round for the necessary symptoms of our wonder at this
very extraordinary incident.

" What is the most remarkable," said Lady Nelthorpe,
" is, that though he seemed from his dress and appear-
ance to be really a gentleman j^ he ne ^er stayed to ask
if we were alarmed or hurt, — scarcely even looked at
us — " " *

"I don't wonder at that/" said Mr. Wormwood,
who, with Lord Vincent, had just entered the room.

ADVENTURES OF k GENTLEMAN. 21

" — and vanished among the rocks as suddenly as he
appeared. "

" Oh, you 've seen that fellow, have you? " said Lord
Vincent: " so have I, and a devilish queer-looking per-
son he is, —

* The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red ;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair/

Well remembered, and better applied, — eh, Mr.
Pelham ? "

" Eeally," said I, " I am not able to judge of the
application, since I have not seen the hero. "

" Oh, it is admirable ! " said Miss TrafFord ; " just the
description I should have given of him in prose. But
pray, where, when, and how did you see him? "

" Your question is religiously mysterious, tria juncta
in uno^^^ replied Vincent; "but I will answer it with
the simplicity of a Quaker. The other evening I was
coming home from one of Sir Lionel's preserves, and had
sent the keeper on before in order more undisturbedly
to — "

" Con witticisms for dinner," said Wormwood.

" To make out the meaning of Mr. Wormwood's last
work," continued Lord Vincent. " My shortest way
lay through that churchyard about a mile hence, which
is such a lion in this ugly part of the country, because
it has three thistles and a tree. Just as I got there I
saw a man sudd^y rise from the earth, where he ap-
peared to have been lying ; he stood still for a moment,
and then (evidently not perceiving me) raised his clasped
hands to heaven, and muttered some words I was not
able distinctly to hear. As I approached nearer to him,

22 PELHAM ; OR,

which I did with no very pleasant sensations, a large
black dog, which, till then, had remained coiichant,
sprang towards me with a loud growl, —

* Sonat hie de nare cauina
Litera,'

as Persius has it. I was too terrified to move, —

* Obstupui — steteruntque comse — '

and I should most infallibly have been converted into
dog's meat, if our mutual acquaintance had not started
from his reverie, called his dog by the very appropriate
name of Terror, and then, slouching his hat over his
face, passed rapidly by me, dog and all. I did not
recover the fright for an hour and a quarter. I walked
— ye gods, how I did waXkl — no wonder, by the by,
that I mended my pace, for, as Pliny says truly, —

* Timor est emendator asperrimus.' " ^

Mr. Wormwood had been very impatient during this
recital, preparing an attack upon Lord Vincent, when
Mr. Davison, entering suddenly, diverted the assault.

" Good Heavens! " said Wormwood, dropping his roll,
" how very ill you look to-day, Mr. Davison; face flushed,
veins swelled, — oh, those horrid truffles! Miss Traf-
ford, I'll trouble you for the salt."

^ Most of the quotations from Latin or French authors, inter-
spersed throughout this work, will be translated for the convenience
of the general reader; but exceptions will be made where such
quotations (as is sometimes the case when from the month of Lord
Vincent) merely contain a play upon words, which are pointless
out of the language employed, or which only iterate or illustrate,
by a characteristic pedantry, the sentence that precedes or follows
them.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN.

CHAPTER V.

Be she fairer than the day,

Or the flowery meads in May ;

If she be not so to me, :

What care I how fair she be 1

George Withers.
It was great pity, so it was,
That villanous saltpetre should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed.

First Part of King Henry IV,

Several days passed. I had taken particular pains to
ingratiate myself with Lady Roseville, and, so far as
common acquaintance went, I had no reason to be dis-
satisfied with my success. Anything else, I soon discov-
ered, notwithstanding my vanity (which made no incon-
siderable part in the composition of Henry Pelham),
was quite out of the question. Her mind was wholly
of a different mould from my own. She was like a
being, not perhaps of a better, but of another world than
myself: we had not one thought or opinion in common;
we looked upon things with a totally different vision.
I was soon convinced that she was of a nature exactly
contrary to what was generally believed, — she was any-
thing but the mere mechanical woman of the world. She
possessed great sensibility, and even romance of temper, •■
strong passions , and still stronger imagination ; but over
all these deeper recesses of her character the extreme
softness and languor of her manners threw a veil which
no superficial observer could penetrate. There were

PELHAH ; OB,

times when I could believe that she was inwardly rest-
less and unhappy ; but she was too well versed in the
arts of concealment to suffer such an appearance to be
more than momentary.

I must own that I consoled myself very easily for my
want, in this particular instance, of that usual good for-
tune which attends me with the divine sex; the fact was
that I had another object in pursuit. All the men at
Sir Lionel Garrett's were keen sportsmen. Now, shoot-
ing is an amusement I was never particularly partial to.
I was first disgusted with that species of rational recrea-
tion at a battue, where, instead of bagging anything, I
was nearly bagged, having been inserted, like wine in
an ice-pail, in a wet ditch for three hours, during which
time my hat had been twice shot at for a pheasant,
and my leather gaiters once for a hare; and to crown
all, when these several mistakes were discovered, my
intended exterminators, instead of apologizing for hav-
ing shot at me, were quite disappointed at having
missed.

Seriously, that same shooting is a most barbarous
amusement, only fit for majors in the army, and royal
dukes, and that sort of people: the mere walking is
bad enough; but embarrassing one's arms, moreover,
with a gun, and one's legs with turnip-tops; exposing
one's self to the mercy of bad shots and the atrocity of
good, seems to me only a state of painful fatigue, enliv-
ened by the probability of being killed.

This digression is meant to signify that I never
joined the single men and double Mantons that went in
and off among Sir Lionel Garrett's preserves. I used,
instead, to take long walks by myself, and found, like
virtue, my own reward in the additional health and
strength these diurnal exertions produced me.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 25

One morning chance threw into my way a bonne for-
tune y which I took care to improve. From that time the
family of a Farmer Sinclair (one of Sir Lionel's tenants)
was alarmed hy strange and supernatural noises: one
apartment in especial, occupied by a female member of
the household, was allowed, even by the clerk of the
parish, a very bold man, and a bit of a sceptic, to be
haunted; the windows of that chamber were wont to
open and shut, thin airy voices confabulate therein, and
dark shapes hover thereout, long after the fair occupant
had, with the rest of the family, retired to repose. But
the most unaccountable thing was the fatality which
attended me, and seemed to mark me out for an untimely
death. /, who had so carefully kept out of the way of
gunpowder as a sportsman, very narrowly escaped being
twice shot as a ghost. This was but a poor reward for
a walk more than a mile long, in nights by no means
of cloudless climes and starry skies; accordingly I re-
solved to " give up the ghost " in earnest rather than in
metaphor, and to pay my last visit and adieus to the
mansion of Farmer Sinclair. The night on which I
executed this resolve was rather memorable in my future
history.

The rain had fallen so heavily during the day, as to
render the road to the house almost impassable, and
when it was time to leave, I inquired with very consid-
erable emotion, whether there was not an easier way to
return. The answer was satisfactory, and my last noc-
turnal visit at Farmer Sinclair's concluded.

26 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER VI.

Why sleeps he not, when others are at rest 1 — Btrow.

According to the explanation I had received, the road
I was now to pursue was somewhat longer, but much
better, than that which I generally took. It was to

lead me home through the churchyard of , the same,

by the by, which Lord Vincent had particularized in
his anecdote of the mysterious stranger. The night
was clear, but windy ; there were a few light clouds pass-
ing rapidly over the moon, which was at her full, and
shone through the frosty air with all that cold and trans-
parent brightness so peculiar to our northern winters. I
walked briskly on till I came to the churchyard ; I could
not then help pausing (notwithstanding my total defi-
ciency in all romance) to look for a few moments at the
exceeding beauty of the scene around me. The church
itself was extremely old, and stood alone and gray, in
the rude simplicity of the earliest form of Gothic archi-
tecture; two large dark yew-trees drooped on each side
over tombs, which, from their size and decorations, ap-
peared to be the last possession of some quondam lords
of the soil. To the left the ground was skirted by a
thick and luxuriant copse of evergreens, in the front of
which stood one tall, naked oak, stem and leafless, a very
token of desolation and decay ; there were but few grave-
stones scattered about, and these were, for the most
part, hidden by the long, wild grass which wreathed
and climbed around them. Over all, the blue skies and
still moon shed that solemn light, the effect of which,

ADVENTUiRES OF A GENTLEMAN. 27

either on the scene or the feelings, it is so impossible to
describe.

I was just about to renew my walk when a tall, dark
figure, wrapped up like myself in a large French cloak,
passed slowly along from the other side of the church,
and paused by the copse I have before mentioned. I
was shrouded at that moment from his sight by one of the
yew-trees : he stood still only for a few moments ; he then
flung himself upon the earth, and sobbed, audibly, even at
the spot where I was standing. I was in doubt whether
to wait longer or to proceed; my way lay just by him,
and it might be dangerous to interrupt so substantial an
apparition. However, my curiosity was excited, and my
feet were half frozen, two cogent reasons for proceeding;
and, to say truth, I was never very much frightened by
anything, dead or alive.

Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly
onwards. I had not got above three paces before the
figure arose, and stood erect and motionless before me.
His hat had fallen off, and the moon shone full upon his
countenance : it was not the wild expression of intense
anguish which dwelt on those hueless and sunken
features, nor their quick change to ferocity and defiance,
as his eye fell upon me, which made me start back and
feel my heart stand still! Notwithstanding the fearful
ravages graven in that countenance, once so brilliant
with the grsices of boyhood, I recognized, at one glance,
those still noble and striking features. It was Reginald
Glanville who stood before me! I recovered myself
instantly; I threw myself towards him, and called him
Met^his name. He turned hastily; but I would not
jbr him to escape; I put my hand upon his arm,
th* drew him towards me. " Glanville ! " I exclaimed,
ay' is I! it is your old, old friend, — Henry Pelham.

28 PELHAM; OR,

Good Heavens! have I met you at last, and in such a
scene ? "

Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered
his face with his hands, and sank down with one wild
cry, which went fearfully through that still place, upon
the spot from which he had but just risen. I knelt be-
side him; I took his hand; I spoke to him in every
endearing term that I could think of; and, roused and
excited as my feelings were by so strange and sudden a
meeting, I felt my tears involuntarily falling over the
hand which I held in my own. Glanville turned; he
looked at me for one moment, as if fully to recognize me ;
and then, throwing himself in my arms, wept like a
child.

It was but for a few minutes that this weakness lasted :
he rose suddenly; the whole expression of his counte-
nance was changed; the tears still rolled in large drops
down his cheeks, but the proud, stern character which
the features had assumed, seemed to deny the feelings
which that feminine weakness had betrayed.

" Pelham," he said, " you have seen me thus; I had
hoped that no living eye would, — this is the last time
in which I shall indulge this folly. God bless you.
We shall meet again, — and this night shall then seem
to you like a dream."

I would have answered, but he turned swiftly, passed
in one moment through the copse, and in the laext had
disappeared.

•

t _

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 29

CHAPTER VII.

You reach a chilling chamber, where you dread
Damps. Crabbe's Borough.

I COULD not sleep the whole of that night, and the next
morning I set off early, with the resolution of discover-
ing where Glanville had taken up his abode; it was
evident from his having been so frequently seen, that it
must be in the immediate neighborhood.

I went first to Farmer Sinclair's; they had often
remarked him, but could give me no other information.
I then proceeded towards the coast; there was a small
public-house belonging to Sir Lionel close by the sea-
shore. Never had I seen a more bleak and dreary pros-
pect than that which stretched for miles around this
miserable cabin. How an innkeeper could live there
is a mystery to me at this day, — I should have imag-
ined it a spot upon which anything but a seagull' or a
Scotchman would have starved.

" Just the sort of place, however," thought I, " to hear
something of Glanville." I went into the house; I
inquired, and heard that a strange gentleman had been
lodging for the last two or three weeks at a cottage
about a mile further up the coast. Thither I bent my
steps; and, after having met two crows, and one officer
on the preventive service, I arrived safely at my new
destination.

It was a house a little better, in outward appearance,
than the wretched hut I had just left, for I observe in
all situations, and in all houses, that " the public " is

30 PELHAM; OR,

not too well served ; but the situation was equally lonely
and desolate. The house itself — which belonged to an
individual, half -fisherman and half-smuggler — stood in
a sort of bay, between two tall, rugged, black cliffs.
Before the door hung various nets to dry beneath the
genial warmth of a winter's sun; and a broken boat,
with its keel uppermost, furnished an admirable habi-
tation for a hen and her family, who appeared to re-
ceive en pension an old clerico -bachelor-looking raven.
I cast a suspicious glance at the last-mentioned personage,
which hopped towards me with a very hostile appear-
ance, and entered the threshold with a more rapid step,
in consequence of sundry apprehensions of a premedi-
tated assault.

" I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female,
who looked like a resuscitated red-herring, " that a gen-
tleman is lodging here. "

" No, sir," was the answer; " he left us this morning."
The reply came upon me like a shower-bath ; I was
both chilled and stunned by so unexpected a shock.
The old woman, on my renewing my inquiries, took
me upstairs to a small, wretched room, to which the
damps literally clung. In one corner was a flock -bed,
still unmade, and opposite to it, a three-legged stool, a
chair, and an antique carved oak table, a donation per-
haps from some squire in the neighborhood ; on this last
were scattered fragments of writing-paper, a cracked cup
half full of ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I
mechanically took up the latter, the woman said, in a
charming patois, which I shall translate, since I cannot
do justice to the original : " The gentleman, sir, said he
came here for a few weeks to shoot; he brought a gun,
a large dog, and a small portmanteau. He stayed nearly
a month ; he used to spend all the mornings in the fens,

ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 31

though he must have been but a poor shot, for he sel-
dom brought home anything; and we fear, sir, that he
was rather out of his mind, for he used to go out alone
at night, and stay sometimes till morning. However,
he was quite quiet, and behaved to tis like a gentleman ;
so it was no business of ours, only my husband does
think - "

"Pray," interrupted I, "why did he leave you so
suddenly ? "

" Lord, sir, I don't know! but he told us for several
days past that he should not stay over the week, and so
we were not surprised when he left us this morning at
seven o'clock. Poor gentleman! my heart bled for him
when I saw him look so pale and ill. "

And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with
tears; but she wiped them away, and took advantage of
the additional persuasion they gave to her natural whine
to say, "If, sir, you know of any young gentleman
who likes fen-shooting, and wants a nice, pretty, quiet
apartment — "

" I will certainly recommend this," said I.

" You see it at present," rejoined the landlady, " quite
in a litter like ; but it is really a sweet place in summer. "

" Charming," said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying
down the stairs, with a pain in my ear and the rheu-
matism in my shoulder.

" And this," thought I, " was Glanville's residence
for nearly a month ! I wonder he did not exhale into a
vapor, or moisten into a green damp."

I went home by the churchyard. I paused on the
spot where I had last seen him. A small gravestone
rose above the mound of earth on which he had thrown
himself; it was perfectly simple. The date of the year
and month (which showed that many weeks had not

32 pelham; or,

elapsed since the death of the deceased) , and the initials
G. D., made the sole inscription on the stone. Beside
this tomb was one of a more pompous description, to the
memory of a Mrs. Douglas, which had with the simple
tumulus nothing in common, unless the initial letter of
the surname, corresponding with the latter initial on
the neighboring gravestone, might authorize any con-
nection between them, not supported by that similitude
of style usually found in the cenotaphs of the same
family; the one, indeed, might have covered the grave
of a humble villager, — the other, the resting-place of
the lady of the manor.

I found, therefore, no clew for the labyrinth of sur-
mise; and I went home, more vexed and disappointed
with my day's expedition than I liked to acknowledge
to myself.

Lord Vincent met me in the hall. " Delighted to see

you," said he ; "I have just been to " (the nearest

town), " in order to discover what sort of savages abide
there. Great preparations for a ball; all the tallow
candles in the town are bespoken, — and I heard a most
uncivilized fiddle

* Twang short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry.'

The one milliner's shop was full of fat squiresses,
buying muslin ammunition, to make the hall go off ;
and the attics, even at four o'clock, were thronged with
rubicund damsels, who were already, as Shakespeare says
of waves in a storm,

' Curling their monstrous heads.' "

\
\

ADVENTURES OF A OENTLEMAN. 33

CHAPTER VIII.

Jusqu'an revoir le ciel vous tienne tons en joie.^ — MoLiicBE.

I WAS now pretty well tired of Garrett Park. Lady
Roseville was going to H , where I also had an in-
vitation. Lord Vincent meditated an excursion to Paris.
Mr. Davison had already departed. Miss Trafford had
been gone, God knows how long, and I was not at all
disposed to be left, like "the last rose of summer," in
single-blessedness at Garrett Park. Vincent, Worm-
wood, and myself, all agreed to leave on the same day.

The morning of our departure arrived. We sat down
to breakfast as usual. Lord Vincent's carriage was at
the door; his groom was walking about his favorite
saddle-horse.

" A beautiful mare that is of yours," said I, carelessly
looking at it, and reaching across the table to help my-
self to the pate de foie gras,

" Mare! " exclaimed the incorrigible punster, delighted
with my mistake ; " I thought that you would have been
better acquainted with your propria quce maribus. "

" Humph! " said Wormwood, " when I look at you I
am always at least reminded of the 'as in prmsenti! ' "

Lord Vincent drew up and looked unutterable anger.
Wormwood went on with his dry toast, and Lady Eose-
ville, who that morning had, for a wonder, come down
to breakfast, good-naturedly took off the bear. Whether
or not his ascetic nature was somewhat modified by the

1 Hearen keep you merry till we meet again.

VOL T. — 3

64 PELHAM; OR,

soft smiles and softer voice of the beautiful countess, I
cannot pretend to say; but he certainly entered into a
conversation with her, not much rougher than that of
a less gifted individual might have been. They talked
of literature, Lord Byron, conversaziones, and Lydia
White. 1

"Miss White," said Lady Roseville, "has not only
the best command of language herself, but she gives
language to other people. Dinner-parties, usually so
stupid, are, at her house, quite delightful. There I
have actually seen English people look happy , and one
or two even almost natural."

" Ah ! " said Wormwood ; " that is indeed rare.
With us everything is assumption. We are still ex-
actly like the English suitor to Portia in the * Mer-
chant of Venice. ' We take our doublet from one coun-
try, our hose from another, and our behavior everywhere.
Fashion with us is like the man in one of Le Sage's
novels, who was constantly changing his servants, and
yet had but one suit of livery, which every new-comer,
whether he was tall or short, fat or thin, was obliged to
wear. We adopt manners, however incongruous and
ill-suited to our nature, and thus we always seem awk-
ward and constrained. But Lydia White's soirees are
indeed agreeable. I remember the last time I dined
there, we were six in number, and though we were not
blessed with the company of Lord Vincent, the conver-
sation was without *let or flaw.' Every one, even
S , said good things."

"Indeed!" cried Lord Vincent; "and pray, Mr.
Wormwood, what did you say ? "

" Why," answered the poet, glancing with a signifi-
cant sneer over Vincent's somewhat inelegant per-

^ Written before the death of that lady.

ADVENTURBS OF A GENTLEMAN. 35

son, " 1 thought of your lordship's figure, and said —
grace / "

" Hem, hem ! — * Gratia malorum tarn infida est quam
ipsiy' as Pliny says," muttered Lord Vincent, getting
up hastily, and buttoning his coat.

I took the opportunity of the ensuing pause to ap-
proach Lady Koseville and whisper my adieus. She
was kind and even warm to me in returning them; and
pressed me, with something marvellously like sincerity,
to be sure to come and see her directly she returned to .
London. I soon discharged the duties of my remaining
farewells, and in less than half an hour was more than
a mile distant from Garrett Park and its inhabitants.
I can't say that for one, who, like myself, is fond of
being made a great deal of, there is anything very de-
lightful in those visits into the country. It may be all
well enough for married people, who, from the mere
fact of being married, are always entitled to certain con-
sideration, — put, for instance, into a bedroom a little
larger than a dog-kennel, and accommodated with a
looking-glass that does not distort one's features like a
paralytic stroke. But we single men suffer a plurality
of evils and hardships in intrusting ourselves to the
casualties of rural hospitality. We are thrust up into
any attic repository, — exposed to the mercy of rats, and
the incursions of swallows. Our lavations are performed
in a cracked basin; and we are so far removed from
human assistance that our very bells sink into silence
before they reach halfway down the stairs. But two
days before I left Garrett Park, I myself saw an enor-
mous mouse run away with my shaving-soap, without
aoy possible means of resisting the aggression. Oh, the \
hardships of a single man are beyond conception; and
what is worse, the very misfortune of being single de-

36 PELHAM; OB,

priyes one of all sympathy. " A single man can do this,
and a single man ought to do that; and a single man
may be put here, and a single man may be sent there,"
are maxims that I have been in the habit of hearing
constantly inculcated and never disputed during my
whole life; and so, from our fare and treatment being
coarse in all matters, they have at last grown to be all
matters in course.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTJiEMAN. 37

CHAPTER IX.

Therefore to France. — Henry IV.

I WAS rejoiced to find myself again in London. I
went to my father's house in Grosvenor Square. All
the family — namely, he and my mother — were down

at H ', and despite my aversion to the country, I

thought I might venture as far as Lady 's for a

couple of days. Accordingly, to H T went. That

is really a noble house, — such a hall, such a gallery!
I found my mother in the drawing-room, admiring the
picture of his late Majesty. She was leaning on the
arm of a tall, fair young man. "Henry," said she
(introducing me to him) , " do you remember your old
schoolfellow. Lord George Clinton ? "

"Perfectly," said I (though I remembered nothing
about him), and we shook hands in the most cordial
manner imaginable. By the way, there is no greater
bore than being called upon to recollect men with whom
one had been at school some ten years back. In the
first place, if they were not in one's own set, one most
likely scarcely knew them to speak to; and, in the
second place, if they were in one's own set, they are
sure to be entirely opposite to the nature we have since
acquired : for I scarcely ever knew an instance of the com-
panions of one's boyhood being agreeable to the tastes of
one's manhood, — a strong proof of the folly of people who
send their sons to Eton and Harrow to form connections,

Clinton was oji the eve of setting out upon his travels.
His intention was to stay a year at Paris, and he was

38 PELHAM; OR,

full of the blissful expectations the idea of that city
had conjured up. We remained together all the even-
ing, and took a prodigious fancy to one another. Long
before I went to bed, he had perfectly inoculated me
with his own ardor for Continental adventures; and,
indeed, I had half -promised to accompany him. My
mother, when I first told her of my travelling inten-
tions, was in despair, but by degrees she grew reconciled
to the idea.

" Your health will improve by a purer air," said she,
" and your pronunciation of French is at present any-
thing but correct. Take care of yourself, therefore, my
dear son, and pray lose no time in engaging Coulon as
^^our maitre de danse. "

My father gave me his blessing, and a check on his
banker. Within three days I had arranged everything
with Clinton, and on the fourth I returned with him
to London. Thence we set off to Dover; embarked;
dined, for the first time in our lives, on French ground;
were astonished to find so little difference between the
two countries, and still more so at hearing even the
little children talk French so well ; * proceeded to Abbe-
ville, — there poor Clinton fell ill. For several days
we were delayed in that abominable town, and then
Clinton, by the advice of the doctors, returned to Eng-
land. I went back with him as far as Dover, and then,
imoatient at my loss of time, took no rest, night or day,
till I found myself ab Paris.

Young, well-bom, tolerably good-looking, and never
utterly destitute of money, nor grudging whatever enjoy-
ment it could procure, I entered Paris with the ability
and the resolution to make the best of those beatix
jours which so rapidly glide from our possession.
I See Addison's "Travels " for this idea.

ADVENTOEBS OP A GENTLEMAN.

CHAPTER X.

/ I LOST no time in presenting my letters of introduction,

■.^ and they were as qiiickJy acknowledged by invitations

I to balls and dinners. Paris was full

a better description of Englisli than t
overflow that reservoir of the world.
. ment was to dine with Lord and Lady

r" were among the very few English inti

} French houses.

L On entering Paris I had resolved U

acter;" for I was always of an ambitious nature, and

desirous of being distinguished from the ordinary herd.

' After various cogitations as to the particular one I

shouH^HHMUMji^M nothing appeared more likely^

to >^|y^^^^^E^j men, and therefore pleasing to'

t ^<>i>^'^^^^^^P ftgregioiia coxcomb: accordingly, I ar-,'

' rangMmpS^BiMft-^iggUt^^ilressed myself with sin-

gular plainness and simplicity (a low person, by the by,

( would have done just the contrary), and, putting on an

air of exceeding languor, made my maiden appearance

' ' at Lord Bennington's, The party was small, and

^ equally divided between French and English. The

' former had been all emigrants; and the conversation

was chiefly in our own tongue.

> Who liTES without folly is not bo wise a» he thinks.

40 pelham; or,

I was placed at dinner next to Miss Paulding, an
elderly young lady, of some notoriety at Paris, — very
clever, very talkative, and very conceited. A young,
pale, ill-natured-looking man, sat on her left hand; this
was Mr. Aberton.

"Dear me!" said Miss Paulding, "what a pretty
chain that is of yours, Mr. Aberton ! "

*' Yes," said Mr. Aberton, " I know it must be pretty,
for I got it at Breguet's, with the watch." (How com-
mon people always buy their opinions with their gooils ,
and regulate the height of the former by the mere price
or fashion of the latter !)

" Pray, Mr. Pelham," said Miss Paulding, turning to
m^, " have you got one of Breguet's watches yet? "

""Watch! " said I; ^^ do you think /could ever wear
a watcli ? I know nothing so plebeian. What can any
ona but a man of business, who has nine hours for his
counting-chouse and one for his dinner, ever possibly
want to kiftH^^he time for? *An assignation,' you will
say: true, but, if-^ man is worth having, he is surely
worth waiting for!

Miss Paulding opened her eyes, and Mr. Aberton
his mouth. A pretty, lively Frenchwoman opposite
(Madame d'Anville) laughed, and immediately joined
in our conversation, which, on my part, was, 'during the
whole dinner, kept up exactly in the same strain.

Madame d'Anville was delighted, and Miss Pauld-
ing astonished. Mr. Aberton muttered to a fat, fooli^^
Lord Luscombe, "What a damnation puppy!" — anu

every one, even to old Madame de G s, seemed to

consider me impertinent enough to become the rage.

As for me, I was perfectly satisfied with the effect I
had produced, and I went away the first, in order to
give the men an opportunity of abusing me ; for when-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 41

ever the men abuse, the women, to support alike their
coquetry and the conversation, think themselves called
upon to defend.

The next day I rode into the Champs Elys^es. I
always valued myself particularly upon my riding, and
my horse was both the most fiery and the most beautiful
in Paris. The first person I saw was Madame d'An-
ville. At that moment I was reining in my horse, and
conscious, as the wind waved my long curls, that I was
looking to the very best advantage ; I made my horse
bound towards her carriage (which she immediately
stopped) , and made at once my salutations and my court.

" I am going/' said she, " to the Duchess D 's

this evening; it is her night, — do come."

" 1 don't know her," said I.

" Tell me your hotel, and I '11 send you an invitation
before dinner," rejoined Madame d'Anville.

"I lodge," said I, "at the Hotel de , Kue de

Rivoli, on the second floor at present; next year, I sup-
pose, according to the usual gradations in the life of a
g argon, I shall be on the third ; for here the purse and
the person seem to be playing at see-saw, — ,the latter
rises as the former descends."

We went on conversing for about a quarter of an hour,
in which I endeavored to make the pretty Frenchwoman
believe that all the good opinion I possessed of myself
the day before, I had that morning entirely transferred
to her account.

As I rode home I met Mr. Aberton, with three or four
other men; with that glaring good-breeding, so peculiar
to the English, he instantly directed their eyes towards
me in one mingled and concentrated stare. " iV' importe, "
thought I , " they must be devilish clever fellows if they
can find a single fault either in my horse or myself. "

42 PELHAM ; OB,

CHAPTER XL

Lud ! what a group the motley scene discloses,

False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false sponses.

Goldsmith's Epilogue to the Comedy of the Sisters.

Madame d'Akville kept her promise, — the invitation
was duly sent, and accordingly, at half -past ten, to the
Rue d'Anjou I drove.

The rooms were already full. Lord Bennington was
standing by the door, and close by him, looking exceed-
ingly distrait, was my old friend Lord Vincent. They
both came towards me at the same moment. " Strive
not," thought I, looking at the stately demeanor of the
one, and the humorous expression of countenance in the
other, — " strive not. Tragedy nor Comedy, to engross a
Garrick. " I spoke first to Lord Bennington, for I knew
he would be the sooner despatched, and then for the next
quarter of an hour found myself overflowed with all the
witticisms poor Lord Vincent had for days been obliged
to retain. I made an engagement to dine with him at
Very's the next day, and then glided off towards Madame
d'Anville.

She was surrounded with men, and talking to each
with that vivacity which, in a Frenchwoman, is so
graceful, and in an Englishwoman would be so vulgar.
Though her eyes were not directed towards me, she saw
me approach by that instinctive perception which all
coquettes possess, and, suddenly altering her seat, made
way for me beside her. I did not lose so favorable an
opportunity of gaining her good graces, and losing those

ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 43

of all the male animals around her. I sank down on the
vacant chair, and contrived, with the most unabashed
effrontery, and yet with the most consummate dexterity,
to make everything that I said pleasing to her, revolting j
to some one of her attendants. Wormwood himself
could not have succeeded better. One by one they
dropped off, and we were left alone among the crowd.
Then, indeed, I changed the whole tone of my conversa-
tion. Sentiment succeeded to satire, and the pretence of
feeling to that of affectation. In short, I was so re-
solved to please that I could scarcely fail to succeed.

In this main object of the evening I was not, however,
solely employed. I should have been very undeserving
of that character for observation, which I flatter myself
I peculiarly deserve, if I had not, during the three hours

I stayed at Madame D 's, conned over every person

remarkable for anything, from rank to a ribbon. The
duchesse herself was a fair, pretty, clever woman, with
manners rather English than French. She was leaning,
at the time I paid my respects to her, on the arm of an
Italian count, tolerably well known at Paris. Poor

i! I hear he is since married. He did not

deserve so heavy a calamity !

Sir Henry Millington was close by her, carefully ,
packed up in his coat and waistcoat. Certainly that ^.
man is the best padder in Europe.

" Come and sit by me, Millington," cried old Lady
Oldtown ; " I have a good story to tell you of the Due
de ."

Sir Henry with difficulty turned round his magnificent
head, and muttered out some unintelligible excuse.
The fact was, that poor Sir Henry was not that evening
made to sit down, — he had only his standing-up coat
on! Lady Oldtown — Heaven knows — is easily con-

44 PELHAM; OB,

Boled. She supplied the place of the haionet with a
most superbly mustachioed German.

"Who," said T to Madame d'Anville, "are those
pretty girls in white, talking with such eagerness to Mr.
Aberton and Lord Luacombe ? "

"What!" said the Frenchwoman, "have you been
ten days in Paris and not been introduced to the Miss
Carltons! Let me tell you that your reputation among
your countrymen at Paris depends solely upon their
verdict. "

" And upon your favor," added I.

"Ahl" said she, "you mtist have had your origin
in France; you have something about you almost
Parisian. "

" Pray," said I (after having duly acknowledged this
compliment, — the very highest that a Frenchwoman can
bestow), " what did you really and candidly think of our
countrymen during your residence in England 1"

" I will tell you," answered Madame d'Anville; "they
are brave, honest, generous, mais Us sont demi-
barbares! "'

1 Bat they are balE-barbaTians.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 45

CHAPTER XII.

Pia mater
Fins quam se sapere, et virtutibus esse priorem
Vult, et ait prope vera. * Horace's Satires, -

Vers (i/) mihi festus atras
Eximet curas. Horace's Or,

The next morning I received a letter from my mother.
" My dear Henry ," began my affectionate and incom-
parable parent, —

My dear Henry, — You have now fairly entered the world,
and though at your age my advice may be but little followed,
my experience cannot altogether be useless. I shall, therefore,
make no apology for a few precepts, which I trust may tend
to make you a wiser and a better man.

I hope, in the first place, that you have left your letter at
the ambassador's, and that you will not fail to go there as often

as possible. Pay your court in particular to Lady . She

is a charming person, imiversally popular, and one of the very
few English people to whom one may safely be civil. Apropos
of English civility, you have, I hope, by this time discovered
that you have to assume a very different manner with French
people from that with our own countrymen: with us, the
least appearance of feeling or enthusiasm is certain to be
ridiculed everywhere; but in France, you may venture to seem
not quite devoid of all natural sentiments. Indeed, if you

1 With sage advice, and many a sober truth,
The pious mother moulds to shape the youth.

Hawke's Paraphrase.

The application of the second motto rests solely upon an un-
translatable play of words.

46 PELHAM; OR,

affect enthusiasm, they will give you credit for genius, and
they will place all the qualities of the heart to the account of
the head. You know that in England, if you seem desirous
of a person's acquaintance, you are sure to lose it, — they
imagine you have some design upon their wives or their din-
ners; but in France you can never lose by politeness : nobody
will call your civility forwardness and pushing. If the Prin-

cesse de T , and the Duchesse de D , ask you to their

houses (which indeed they will, directly you have left jour
letters), go there two or three times a week, if only for a few
minutes in the evening. It is very hard to be acquainted with
great French people, but, when you are, it is your own fault
if you are not intimate with them.

Most English people have a kind of diffidence and scruple
at calling in the evening; this is perfectly misplaced : the
French are never ashamed of themselves, like us, whose per-
sons, families, and houses are never fit to be seen, unless they
are dressed out for a party.

Don*t imagine that the ease of French manners is at all like
what we call ease : you must not lounge on your chair, nor
put your feet upon a stool, nor forget yourself for one single
moment when you are talking with women.

You have heard a great deal about the gallantries of the
French ladies; but remember that they demand infinitely
greater attention than English women do ; and that after a
month's incessant devotion, you may lose everything by a
moment's neglect.

You will not, my dear son, misinterpret these hints. I sup-
pose, of course, that all your liaisons are Platonic.

Your father is laid up with the gout, and dreadfully ill-
tempered and peevish; however, I keep out of the way as
much as possible. I dined yesterday at Lady Roseville's :
she praised you very much, said your manners were particu-
larly good, and that no one, if he pleased, could be at once so
brilliantly original, yet so completely hon ton. Lord Vincent
is, I understand, at Paris ; though very tiresome with his
learning and Latin, he is exceedingly clever and much in
vogue, — be sure to cultivate his acquaintance.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 47

If you are ever at a loss as to the individual character of a
person you wish to gain, the general knowledge of human
nature will teach you one infallible specific, — flattery 1 The
quantity and quality may vary according to the exact niceties^
of art ; but, in any quantity and in any quality, it is more or
less acceptable, and therefore certain to please. Only never
(or at least very rarely) flatter when other people, besides the
one to be flattered, are by ; in that case you off'end the rest,
and you make even your intended dupe ashamed to be
pleased.

In general, weak minds think only of others, and yet seem
only occupied with themselves; you, on the contrary, must
appear .wholly engrossed with those about you, and yet never
have a single idea which does not terminate in yourself; a
fool, my dear Henry, flatters himself, — a wise man flatters
the fool.

God bless you, my dear child, take care of your health, —
don't forget Coulon; and believe me your most affectionate
mother,

F. P.

By the time I had read this letter, and dressed myself
for the evening, Vincent's carriage was at the door. I
hate the afFectation of keeping people waiting, and
went down so quickly that I met his facetious lordship
upon the stairs. " Devilish windy," said I, as we were
getting into the carriage.

" Yes," said Vincent; " but the moral Horace reminds
us of our remedies as well as our misfortune, —

* Jam galeam Pallas, et segida,
Currusque — parat,' —

namely : * Providence that prepares the gale, gives us
also a greatcoat and a carriage. ' "

We were not long driving to the Palais Royal.
Vary's was crowded to excess. "A very low set!"
said Lord Vincent (who, being half a Liberal, is of

48 PELHAM: OB,

course a thorough aristocrat), looking round at the
various English who occupied the apartment.

There was, indeed, a motley congregation; country-
esquires; extracts from the universities; half -pay offi-
cers ; city clerks in f rogged coats and mustaches ; two or
three of a better-looking description, but in reality half-
swindlers, half -gentlemen, — all, in short, fit specimens
of that wandering tribe which spread over the Continent
the renown and the ridicule of good old England.

" Gargoiiy gargon,^^ cried a stout gentleman, who made
one of three at the table next to us; ^ donnez-nous une
sole frite pour un, et des pommes de terre pour trois ! "

" Humph! " said Lord Vincent; " fine ideas of Eng-
lish taste these garqons must entertain ; men who prefer
fried soles and potatoes to the various delicacies they
can command here, might, by the same perversion of
taste, prefer Bloomfield's poems to Byron's. Delicate
taste depends solely upon the physical construction;
and a man who has it not in cookery, must want it in
literature. Fried sole and potatoes ! If I had written
a volume whose merit was in elegance, I would not
show it to such a man ! — but he might be an admirable
critic upon *Cobbett's Register,* or * Every Man his own
Brewer.' "

" Excessively true ," said I ; ** what shall we order ? "

^^ Uahord^ des huitres d^ Ostendey^ said Vincent, " as
to the rest," taking hold of the carte, " deliberare utilia
mora utilissima est, " ^

We were soon engaged in all the pleasures and pains
of a dinner. " PetimuSj" said Lord Vincent, helping
himself to some poulet a VAusterlitz, — " petitMis bene
vivere, — quod petis, hie est. " ^

^ To deliberate on things useful is the most useful delay.
8 We seek to live well — what you seek is here.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 49

We were not, however, assured of that fact at the
termination of dinner. If half the dishes were well
conceived and better executed, the other half were pro-
portionably bad. V^ry is, indeed, no longer the prince
of restaurateurs. The low English who have flocked
thither have entirely ruined the place. What waiter,
— what cook can possibly respect men who take no
soup, and begin with a roti ; who know neither what is
good nor what is bad ; who eat rognons at dinner instead
of at breakfast, and fall into raptures over sauce Robert
and pieds de cochon; who cannot tell, at the first taste,
whether the beaune is premiere qualite, or the fricassee
made of yesterday's chicken; who suflfer in the stomach
after a champignon ^ and die with indigestion of a
truffle? Oh, English people, English people! why can
you not stay and perish of apoplexy and Yorkshirr
pudding at home ?

By the time we had drunk our coifee it w--'^ consider-
ably past nine o'clock, and Vino^pf-'niid business at the
ambassador's before ten; we. Vnerefore parted for the
night.

** What do yon think of Vdry's? " said I, as we were
at the door.

"Why," replied Vincent, " when I recall the aston-
ishing heat of the place, which has almost sent me to
sleep; the exceeding number of times in which that
becasse had been re-roasted, and the extortionate length
of our bills, I say of Vary's, what Hamlet said of the
world, * Weary ^ stale, and unprofitable/ ' "

VOL. I. — 4

50 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTEK XIII.

I WHiM Ibi^t viih prMdswcKrds. and sink point on the first plood
drawn like « g«&tienuui*$.— 7*^ Ckromides of the Canongate.

I STKOLLKD idly along the Palais Eoyal (which English
jxvj^lev in ^s^Mue silly proverb, call the capital of Paris,
wh^wsis no French man of any rank, nor French woman
of any n^sjvclability, is ever seen in its promenades),
tilK Wing somewhat curious to enter some of the smaller
«^:^'V>\ 1 went into one of the meanest of them, took up a
* Jvnirnal divs Sj^ectaeles,*' and called for some lemonade.
At the next table to me sat two or three Frenchmen ,
eviu\ ^^tlv of inferior rank, and talking very loudly over
England auv! / * English. Their attention was soon
fixetl ujxni me.

Have you ever olvi^erved that if people are disposed to
think ill of you, nothing so soon determines them to do
so as any act of yours, which, however innocent and
inoftensive, differs from their ordinary habits and cus-
toms? Ko sooner had my lemonade made its appear-
ance, than I perceived an increased sensation among my
neighbors of the next table. In the first place, lemonade
is not much drunk, as you may suppose, among the
French in winter; and, in the second, my beverage
had an appearance of ostentation, from bsing one of the
dearest articles I could have called for. Unhappily I
dropped my newspaper, — it fell under the Frenchmen's
table; instead of calling the gargon I was foolish
.enough to stoop for it myself. It was exactly under the
feet of one of the Frenchmen; I asked him with the

/
ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 61

greatest civility to move : he made no reply. I could
lot, for the life of me, refrain from giving him a slight,
'^ery slight push ; the next moment he moved in good
lamest; the whole party sprang up as he set the exam-
ple. The offended leg gave three terrific stamps upon
the ground, and I was immediately assailed hy a whole
volley of unintelligihle abuse. At that time I was very
little accustomed to French vehemence, and perfectly
unable to reply to the vituperations I received.

Instead of answering them, I therefore deliberated
what was best to be done. If, thought I, I walk away,
they will think me a coward, and insult me in the
streets; if I challenge them, I shall have to fight with
men probably no better than shopkeepers; if I strike
this most noisy amongst them, he may be silenced, or
he may demand satisfaction: if the former, well and
good; if the latter, why I shall have a better excuse for
fighting him than I should have now.

My resolution was therefore taken. I was never
more free from passion in my life, and it was, therefore,
with the utmost calmness and composure that, in the
midst of my antagonist's harangue, I raised my hand
and — quietly knocked him down.

He rose in a moment. " SortonSy^ said he, in a low
tone ; " a Frenchman never forgives a blow ! "

At that moment an Englishman, who had been sitting
unnoticed in an obscure comer of the ca/e, came up and
took me aside.

" Sir," said he, " don't think of fighting the man; he
is a tradesman in the Rue St. Honor^. I myself have
seen him behind the counter; remember that ^a ram
may kill a butcher, ' " • .

" Sir," I replied, " I thank you a thousand times for
your information. Fight, however, I must, and I '11

52 PELHAM; OB, \

give you, like the Irishman, my reasons afterwards*
Perhaps you will be my second ? "

" With pleasure," said the Englishman (a Frenchmaif"
would have said, ** with pain ! " ). ^

We left the cafe together. My countryman askedl
them if he should go to the gunsmith's for the pistols, i

"Pistols!" said the Frenchman's second; "we will
only fight with swords. " \.

" No, no," said my new friend. ^^^On ne prend pas ^
le lieure au tamhourin,^ We are the challenged, and
therefore have the choice of weapons. "

Luckily I overheard this dispute, and called to my
second^ " Swords or pistols," said I ; " it is quite the same
to me. I am not bad at either, only do make haste."

Swords, then, were chosen, and soon procured.
Frenchmen never grow cool upon their quarrels : and as
it was a fine, clear, starlight night, we went forthwith
to the Bois de Boulogne. We fixed our ground on a
spot tolerably retired, and, I should thiDk, pretty often
frequented for the same purpose. I was exceedingly
confident, for I knew myself to have few equals in the
art of fencing; and I had all the advantage of coolness,
which my hero was a great deal too much in earnest to
possess. We joined swords, and in a very few moments
I discovered that my opponent's life was at my disposal.

^ C^est bien," thought I; "for once I'll behave
handsomely. "

The Frenchman made a desperate lunge. I struck
his sword from his hand, caught it instantly, and, pre-
senting it to him again, said, —

" I think myself peculiarly fortunate that I may now
apologize for the aflfront I have put upon you. Will
you permit my sincerest apologies to sufl&ce? A man
who can so well resent an injury, can forgive one."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 53

Was there ever a Frenchman not taken hy a fine
phrase? My hero received the sword with a low bow,
— the tears came into his eyes. •

" Sir," said he, " you have twice conquered.*'

We left the spot with the greatest amity and affection,
and re-entered, with a profusion of bows, our several
fiacres.

" Let me," I said, when I found myself alone with my
second, — " let me thank you most cordially for your as-
sistance; and allow me to cultivate an acquaintance so

singularly begun. I lodge at the Hotel de ,

Rue de E-ivoli; my name is Pelham. Yours is — "

" Thornton," replied my countryman. " I will lose
no time in profiting by an offer of acquaintance which
does me so much honor. "

With these and various other fine speeches we em-
ployed the time till I was set down at my hotel ; and my
companion, drawing his cloak round him, departed on
foot, to fulfil (he said, with a mysterious air) a certain
assignation in the Faubourg St. Germain.

54 pelham; or.

*'•'

CHAPTER XIV.

Erat homo ingeniosus, acatns, acer, et qui plurimam et sails haberet
et fellis, nee candoris minus.^ — Flint.

I DO not know a more difficult character to describe than
Lord Vincent's. Did I imitate certain writers, who
think that the whole art of portraying individual char-
acter is to seize hold of some prominent peculiarity, and
to introduce this distinguishing trait in all times and in
all scenes, the difficulty would be removed. I should
only have to present to the reader a man whose conversa-
tion was nothing but alternate jest and quotation, — a
due union of Yorick and Partridge. This would, how-
ever, be rendering great injustice to the character I wish
to delineate. There were times when Vincent was
earnestly engrossed in discussion in which a jest rarely
escaped him, and quotation was introduced only as a
serious illustration, — not as a humorous peculiarity.
He possessed great miscellaneous erudition, and a mem-
ory perfectly surprising for its fidelity and extent. He
was a severe critic, and had a peculiar art of quoting
from each author he reviewed, some part that particularly
told against him. Like most men, if in the theory of
philosophy he was tolerably rigid, in its practice he was
more than tolerably loose. By his tenets you would
have considered him a very Cato for stubbornness and
sternness; yet was he a very child in his concession to

1 He was a clever and able man, — acute, sharp, with abundance
of wit, and no less of candor. — Cooke.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 55

the whim of the moment. Fond of meditation and
research, he was still fonder of mirth and amusement;
and, while he was among the most instructive, he was
also the boonest of companions. When alone with me,
or with men whom he imagined like me, his pedantry
(for, more or less, he always was pedantic) took only a
jocular tone; with the savant oy the bel esprit^ it be-
came grave, searching, and sarcastic. He w£is rather a
contradictor than a favorer of ordinary opinions; and
this, perhaps, led him not unoften into paradox: yet
was there much soundness, even in his most vehement
notions, and the strength of mind which made him
think only for himself, was visible in all the produc-
tions it created. I have hitherto only given his con-
versation in one of its moods; henceforth I shall be
just enough occasionally to be dull, and to present it
sometimes to the reader in a graver tone.

Buried deep beneath the surface of his character was a
hidden, yet a restless ambition; but this was, perhaps,
at present, a secret even to himself. We know not our
own characters till time teaches us self-knowledge : if we
are wise, we may thank ourselves; if we are greats we
must thank fortune.

It was this insight into Vincent's nature which drew
us closer together. I recognized in the man, who as yet
was playing a part, a resemblance to myself, while he,
perhaps, saw at times that I was somewhat better than
the voluptuary, and somewhat wiser than the coxcomb,
which were all that at present it suited me to appear.

In person, Vincent was short, and ungracefully
formed, but his countenance was singularly fine. His
eyes were dark, bright, and penetrating, and his fore-
head (high and thoughtful) corrected the playful smile
of his mouth, which might otherwise have given to his

56 PELHAM; OB,

features too great an expression of levity. He was not
positively ill dressed, yet he paid no attention to any
external art, except cleanliness. His usual garb was a
brown coat much too large for him ; a colored neckcloth ;
a spotted waistcoat; gray trousers; and short gaiters, —
add to these gloves of most unsullied doeskin, and a
curiously thick cane, and the portrait is complete.

In manners, he was civil or rude, familiar or distant,
just as the whim seized him; never was there any ad-
dress less common and less artificial. What a raxa^gift,
by the by, is that of manners! How difficult to define —
how much more difficult to impart! Better for a man to
possess them, than wealth, beauty, or even talent, if it
fall short of genius, — they will more than supply all.
He who enjoys their advantages in the highest degree,
— namely, he who can please, penetrate, persuade,. as
the object may require, — possesses the subtlest secret of
the diplomatist and the statesman, and wants nothing
but luck and opportunity to become " great. "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 57

CHAPTER XV.

Le plaisir de la societe entre les amis se cultive par une ressemblance
de goftt BUT ce qui regarde les moeurs, et par quelque difference
d'opinions sur les sciences; par Ik ou Ton s'affermit dans ses
sentiments, ou Ton s'exerce et Ton s'instruit par la dispute.^ —
La BRUYisRE.

Theke was a party at Monsieur de V e's, to which

Vincent and myself were the only Englishmen invited ;

accordingly, as the Hotel de V was in the same street

as my hotel, we dined together at my rooms, and walked
from thence to the minister's house.

The party was as stiff and formal as such assemblies
invariably are, and we were both delighted when we
espied Monsieur d'A , a man of much conversa-
tional talent, and some celebrity as an ultra writer,
forming a little group in one corner of the room.

We took advantage of our acquaintance with the ur-
bane Frenchman to join his party ; the conversation
turned almost entirely on literary subjects. Allusion
being made to SchlegePs "History of Literature," and
the severity with which he speaks of Helvetius, and
the philosophers of his school, we began to discuss what
harm the free-thinkers in philosophy had effected.

" For my part," said Vincent, ** I am not able to
divine why we are supposed, in works where there is

^ The pleasure of society amongst friends is cultivated by re-
semblance of taste as to manners, but some difference of opinion as
to mental acquisitions. Thus, while it is confirmed by congenial-
ity of sentiments, it gains exercise and instruction by intellectual
discussion.

58 pelham; or,

much truth, and little falsehood, much good, and little
evil, to see only the evil and the falsehood, to the utter
exclusion of the truth and the good. All men whose
minds are suflSciently laborious or acute to love the
reading of metaphysical inquiries, will, by the same
labor and acuteness, separate the chaff from the corn, —
the false from the true. It is the young, the light, the
superficial who are easily misled by error, and incapable
of discerning its fallacy; but tell me if it is the light,
the young, the superficial who are in the habit of reading
,the abstruse and subtle speculations of the philosopher.
No, no! believe me that it is the very studies Monsieur
Schlegel recommends which do harm to morality and
virtue; it is the study of literature itself, the play, the
poem, the novel, which all minds, however frivolous,
can enjoy and understand, that constitute the real foes
of religion and moral improvement."

" Ma foi," cried Monsieur de G (who was a

little writer, and a great reader, of romances) , " why,
you would not deprive us of the politer literature, —
you would not bid us shut up our novels, and bum our
theatres ? "

" Certainly not! " replied Vincent; " and it is in this
particular that I differ from certain modern philosophers
of our own country, for whom, for the most part, I
entertain the highest veneration. I would not deprive
life of a single grace, or a single enjoyment, but I would
counteract whatever is pernicious in whatever is elegant :
if among my flowers there is a snake, I would not root
up my flowers ; I would kill the snake. Thus, who are
they that derive from fiction and literature a prejudicial
effect? We have seen already, — the light and superfi-
cial ? But who are they that derive profit from them ?
— they who enjoy well-regulated and discerning minds :

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 59

who pleasure ? — all mankind ! Would it not therefore
be better, instead of depriving some of profit, and all
of pleasure, by banishing poetry and fiction from our
Utopia, to correct the minds which find evil, where,
if they were properly instructed, they would find good ?
Whether we agree with Helve tins, that all men are
born with an equal capacity of improvement, or merely
go the length with all other metaphysicians, that educa-
tion can improve the human mind to an extent yet
incalculable, it must be quite clear that we can give
sound views, instead of fallacies, and make common
truths as easy to discern and adopt as common errors.
But if we effect this, which we all allow is so easy, with
our children; if we strengthen their minds, instead of
weakening them, and clear their vision, rather than
^ confuse it, from that moment we remove the prejudi-
cial effects of fiction, and just as we have taught them
to use a knife without cutting their fingers, we teach
them to make use of fiction -without perverting it to
their prejudice. What philosopher was ever hurt by

reading the novels of L , or seeing the comedies

of Moliere] You understand me then. Monsieur de

G ', I do, it is true, think that polite literature

(as it is termed) is prejudicial to the superficial, but
for that reason I would not do away with the literature ;
I would do away with the superficial.'*

" I deny," said Monsieur d'A , "that this is so

easy a task, — you cannot make all men wise. "

" Ko," replied Vincent; " but you can all children^ —
at least to a certain extent. Since you cannot deny the
prodigious effects of education, you must allow that they
will, at least, give common-sense; for, if they cannot do
this, they can do nothing. Now, common -sense is all
that is necessary to distinguish what is good and evil,

60 PELHAM; OR,

whether it be in life or in books ; but then your educa-
tion must not be that of public teaching and private
fooling ; you must not counteract the effects of common-
sense by instilling prejudice, or encouraging weakness;
your education may not be carried to the utmost goal,
but as far as it does go, you must see that the road is
clear. Now, for instance, with regard to fiction, you
must not first, as is done in all modern education, admit
the disease, and then dose with warm water to expel it;
you must not put fiction into your child's hands, and
not give him a single principle to guide his judgment
respecting it, till his mind has got wedded to the poison,
and too weak, by its long use, to digest the antidote.
No; first fortify his intellect by reason, and you may
then please his fancy by fiction. Do not excite his
imagination with love and glory till you can instruct
his judgment as to what love and glory are. Teach
him, in short, to reflect y before you permit him full
indulgence to imagine.^*

Here there was a pause. Monsieur d'A looked

very ill-pleased, and poor Monsieur de G thought

that, somehow or other, his romance writing was called
into question. In order to soothe them I introduced
some subject which permitted a little national flattery;
the conversation then turned insensibly on the character
of the French people.

" Never," said Vincent, " has there been a character
more often described, — never one less understood.
You have been termed superficial. I think, of all
people, that you least deserve the accusation. With
regard to the few, your philosophers, your mathemati-
cians, your men of science, are consulted by those of
other nations, as some of their profoundest authorities.
With regard to the many, the charge is still more

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 61

imfounded. Compare your mob, whether of gentle-
men or plebeians, to those of Germany, Italy, — even
England, — and I own, in spite of my national prepos-
sessions, that the comparison is infinitely in your favor.
The country gentleman, the lawyer, the petit maitre
of England, are proverbially inane and ill-informed.
With you, the classes of society that answer to those
respective grades, have much information in literature,
and often not a little in science. In like manner, your
tradesmen and your servants are of better cultivated,
and less prejudiced minds than those ranks in England.
The fact is, that all with you pretend to be savanSj and
this is the chief reason why you have been censured as
shallow. We see your fine gentleman, or your petit
bourgeois, give himself the airs of a critic or a philoso-
pher ; and because he is neither a Scaliger nor a Newton ,
we forget that he is onli/ the bourgeois or the petit
maitre, and brand all your philosophers and critics with
the censure of superficiality, which this shallow indi-
vidual of a shallow order may justly have deserved.
We, the English, it is true, do not expose ourselves
thus: our dandies, our tradesmen do not vent second-
rate philosophy on the human mind, nor on les beaux
arts: but why is this? Not because they are better
informed than their correspondent ciphers in France,
but because they are much worse informed ; not because
they can say a great deal more on the subject, but be-
cause they can say nothing at all."

"You do us more than justice," said Monsieur

d' A , " in this instance ; are you disposed to do

us justice in another? It is a favorite propensity of
your countrymen to accuse us of heartlessness and
want of feeling. Think you that this accusation is
deserved 1 "

62 pelham; or,

"By no means," replied Vincent. "The same cause
that brought on you the erroneous censure we have
before mentioned, appears to me also to have created
this, — namely, a sort of Palais Royal vanity, common
to all your nation, which induces you to make as much
display at the shop window as possible. You show
great cordiality, and even enthusiasm to strangers: you

/'turn your back on them, — you forget them. * How
heartless! ' cry we. Not at all! The English show no

Vcordiality, no enthusiasm to strangers, it is true; but
they equally turn their backs on them, and equally
forget them! The only respect, therefore, in which
they differ from you, is the previous kindness: now,
if we are to receive strangers, I can really see no rea-
son why we are not to be as civil to them as possible;
and, so far from imputing the desire to please them to
a bad heart, I think it a thousand times more amiable
and benevolent than telling them a VAnglaise, by your
morosity and reserve, that you do not care a pin what
becomes of them. If I am only to walk a mile with a
man, why should I not make that mile as pleasant to
him as I can; or why, above all, if I choose to be sulky,
and tell him to go and be d — d, am I to swell out my
chest, color with conscious virtue, and cry, see what a

good heart I have?^ Ah, Monsieur d'A , since

benevolence is inseparable from all morality, it must
be clear that there is a benevolence in little things as
well as in great, and that he who strives to make his
fellow-creatures happy, though only for an instant, is a
much better man than he who is indifferent to, or (what

1 Mr. Pelham, it will be remembered, haa prevised the reader
that Lord Vincent was somewhat addicted to paradox. His opin-
ions on the French character are to be taken with a certain reserve.

— AUTHOH.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 03

is worse) despises it. Nor do I, to say truth, see that
kindness to an acquaintance is at all destructive to sin-
cerity to a friend; on the contrary, I have yet to learn
that you are (according to the customs of your country)
worse friends, worse husbands, or worse fathers than we
are ! '*

"What!" cried I, "you forget yourself, Vincent.
How can the private virtues be cultivated without a
coal fire ] Is not domestic affection a synonymous term
with domestic hearth? and where do you find either,
except in honest old England 1 "

"True," replied Vincent; " and it is certainly impos-
sible for a father and his family to be as fond of each
other on a bright day in the Tuileries, or at Versailles,
with music and dancing, and fresh air, as they would be/
in a back parlor, by a smoky hearth, occupied entirely
by le hon pere, et la bonne mere ; while the poor little
children sit at the other end of the table whispering and
shivering, debarred the vent of all natural spirits, fqr
fear of making a noise ; and strangely uniting the idea
of the domestic hearth with that of a hobgoblin, and the
association of dear papa with that of a birch rod. "

We all laughed at this reply, and Monsieur d'A ,

rising to depart, said, " Well, well, Milord, your coun-
trymen are great generalizers in philosophy ; they reduce
human actions to two grand touchstones. All hilarity, \
they consider the sign of a shallow mind ; and all kind- )
ness, the token of a false heart." "^^

64 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER XVI.

Qnis sapiens bono
Confidat fragili ? * — Seneca.

Grammatici certant, et adhuc snb jndice lis est.^ — HoH.

When I first went to Paris, I took a French master to
perfect me m the Parisian pronunciation. This " haber-
dasher of pronouns " was a person of the name of Margot.
He was a tall, solemn man, with a face of the most im-
perturhahle gravity. He would have been inestimable
as an undertaker. His hair was of a pale yellow ; you
would have thought it had caught a bilious complaint
from his complexion. The latter was, indeed, of so
sombre a saffron, that it looked as if ten livers had b^en
forced into a jaundice in order to supply its color. His
forehead was high, bald, and very narrow. His cheek-
bones were extremely prominent, and his cheeks so thin,
that they seemed happier than Py ramus and Thisbe, and
kissed each other inside without any separation or divi-
sion. His face was as sharp and almost as long as an
inverted pyramid, and was garnished on either side by a
miserable, half -starved whisker, which seemed scarcely
able to maintain itself amidst the general symptoms of
atrophy and decay. This charming countenance was
supported by a figure so long, so straight, so shadowy,
that you might have taken it for the Monument in a
consumption!

^ What wise man confides in the fragile 1
3 Grammarians dispute, and the matter is still under considera-
tion of the judge.

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 65

But the chief characteristic of the man was the utter
and wonderful gravity I have hefore spoken of. You
could no more have coaxed a smile out of his counte-
nance, than you could out of the poker ; . and yet Mon-
sieur Margot was by no means a melancholy man. He
loved his joke, and his wine, and his dinner, just as
much as if he had been of a fatter frame ; and it was a
line specimen of the practical antithesis, to hear a good
story, or a jovial expression, leap friskily out of that ,
long, curved mouth; it was at once a paradox and a'
bathos, — it was the mouse coming out of its hole in,
Ely Cathedral. '

I said that this gravity was Monsieur Margot*s most es-
pecial characteristic. I forgot ; he had two others equally
remarkable: the one was an ardent admiration for the
chivalrous, the other an ardent admiration for himself.
Both of these are traits common enough in a French-
man, but in Monsieur Margot their excesses rendered
them uncommon. He was a most ultra specimen of
le chevalier amoureux^ a mixture of Don Quixote and
the Due de Lauzun. Whenever he spoke of the present
tense, even en professeur, he always gave a sigh to the
preterite , and an anecdote of Bayard ; whenever he con-
jugated a verb, he paused to tell me that the favorite one
of his female pupils wasje faime.

In short, he had tales of his own good fortune, and
of other people's brave exploits, which, without much
exaggeration, were almost as l9ng, and had, perhaps,
as little substance as himself; but the former was his
favorite topic. To hear him, one would have imagined
that his face, in borrowing the sharpness of the needle,
had borrowed also its attraction ; — and then the pretti-
ness of Monsieur Margot^s modesty!
. " It is very extraordinary," said he, " very extraor-

VOL. I. — 5

66 PELHAM; OR,

dinary, for I have no time to give myself up to those
affairs: it is not, Monsieur, as if I had your leisure to
employ all the little preliminary arts of creating la belle
passion. Non, Monsieur, I go to church, to the play,
to the Tuileries, for a brief relaxation, — and me vozYa
partout accable with my good fortune. I am not hand-
some. Monsieur, — at least, not veri/ ; it is true that I
have expression, a certain air noble (my first cousin,
Monsieur, is the Chevalier de Margot), and, above all,
soul in my physiognomy. The women love soul. Mon-
sieur, — something intellectual and spiritual always
attracts them; yet my success certainly is singular."

" Bah/ Monsieur, ^^ replied I; " with dignity, expres-
sion, and soul, how could the heart of any French-
woman resist you ? No, you do yourself injustice. It
was said of Caesar, that he was great without an effort;
much more, then, may Monsieur Margot be happy with-
out an exertion. "

"Ah, Monsieur!" rejoined the Frenchman, still
looking

" As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out
As sober Lanesbro' dancing with the gout."

"Ah, Monsieur, there is a depth and truth in your
remarks, worthy of Montaigne. As it is impossible to
account for the caprices of women, so it is impossible
for ourselves to analyze the merit they discover in us ;
but. Monsieur, hear me, — at the house where I lodge
there is an English lady en pension. Eh bien, Mon-
sieur, you guess the rest; she has taken a caprice for
me, and this very night she will admit me to her apart-
ment. She is very handsome, — ah, qii'elle est belief
une jolie petite bouche, une denture eblouissante, un nez
tout a fait grec, in fine, quite a bouton de rose. "

I expressed my envy at Monsieur Margot's good for-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 67

tune, and when he had sufficiently dilated upon it, he
withdrew. Shortly afterwards Vincent entered : " I
have a dinner invitation for hoth of us to-day," said
he ; " you will come ? "

** Most certainly," replied I; " hut who is the person
we are to honor ? "

** A Madame Laurent, " replied Vincent ; " one of those
ladies only found at Paris, who live upon anything rather
than their income. She keeps a tolerahle table , haunted
with Poles, Kussians, Austrian s, and idle Frenchmen,
peregrince gentis amcenum hospitium. As yet she has
not the happiness to be acquainted with any English-
men (though she boards one of our countrywomen) , and
(as she is desirous of making her fortune as soon as pos-
sible) she is very anxious of having that honor. She
has heard vast reports of our wealth and wisdom, and
flatters herself that we are so many ambulatory Indies :
in good truth a Frenchwoman thinks she is never in
want of a fortune as long as there 's a rich fool in the

world.

* Stultitiam patiuntur opes,*

is her hope ; and

' Ut ill forttmarrif sic nos te, Celse, feremus,'

is her motto. "

" Madame Laurent! " repeated I; " why, surely that is
the name of Monsieur Margot's landlady."

" I hope not," cried Vincent, " for the sake of our din-
ner; he reflects no credit on her good cheer, —

' Who eats fat dinners, should himself be fat.' "

" At all events," said I, " we can try the good lady for.
once. I am very anxious to see a countrywoman of ours,
probably the very one you speak of, whom Monsieur
Margot eulogizes in glowing colors, and who has, more-

^;>.,. *'"»^.

of'

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 69

Mrs. Green burst out laughing.

*^ Ah^ le pauvre professeur! " cried she; " he is too
absurd ! "

"He tells me," said I, gravely, "that he is quite
accahU with his hmines fortunes, — possibly he flatters
himself that even you are not perfectly inaccessible to
his addresses."

" Tell me, Mr. Pelham," said the fair Mrs. Green, " can
you pass by this street about half -past twelve to-night ] "

"I will make a point of doing so," replied I, not a
little surprised by the question.

" Do," said she, " and now let us talk of old England. "

When we went away I told Vincent of my appoint-
ment.

" What! " said he, " eclipse Monsieur Margot! Im-
possible ! "

"You are right," replied T, "nor is it my hope;
there is some trick afloat to which we may as well be
spectators. "

" With all my heart! " answered Vincent; " let us go

till then to the Duchesse de G ." I assented, and

we drove to the Rue de .

The Duchesse de G was a fine relic of the ancien

regime, — tall and stately, with her own gray hair crepe,
and surmounted by a high cap of the most dazzling
blonde. She had been one of the earliest emigrants,
and had stayed for many months with my mother, whom
she professed to rank amongst her dearest friends. The
duchesse possessed to perfection that singular melange
of ostentation and ignorance which was so peculiar to
the ante-revolutionists. She would talk of the last
tragedy with the emphatic tone of a connoisseur, in the
same breath that she would ask, with Marie Antoinette,
why the poor people were so clamorous for bread, when

70 PELHAM; OR,

they might buy such nice cakes for two-pence a piec * ?
"To give you an idea of the Irish," said she one day
to an inquisitive marquess, "know that they prefer
potatoes to mutton ! "

Her soirees were among the most agreeable at Paris,
— she united all the rank and talent to be found in
the ultra party, for she professed to be quite a female
Maecenas; and whether it was a mathematician or a
romance-writer, a naturalist or a poet, she held open
house for all, and conversed with each with equal
fluency and self-satisfaction.

A new play had just been acted, and the conversation,
after a few preliminary hoverings, settled upon it.

" You see," said the duchesse, " that we have actors,
you authors; of what avail is it that you boast of a
Shakespeare, since your Liseton, great as he is, cannot
be compared with our Talma ? "

" And yet," said I, preserving my gravity with a per-
tinacity which nearly made Vincent and the rest of our
compatriots assembled lose theirs, " Madame must allow
that there is a striking resemblance in their persons and
the sublimity of their acting ? "

"Pour ga fen conviensy" replied this critique de
VEcole des Femmes, ^' Mais cependant Liseton rCa
pas la nature^ Vdmey la grandeur de Tal7na/"^

" And will you then allow us no actors of merits ? "

asked Vincent.

''Mais ouif — dans le genre comique, par exemple

votre buffo Kean met dixfoisplics d"* esprit et de droUerie

dans ses roles que La Porte, " ^

1 I grant that ; but Liston, however, has not the nature, the soul,
the grandeur of Talma.

2 Yes, in comedy, for instance, your Kean has ten times more
yivacity and dioUezy than La Porte.

ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 71

" The impartial and profound judgment of madame
admits of no further discussion on this point," said I.
" What does she think of the present state of our
dramatic literature ? "

"Why," replied madame, "you have many great
poets; but when they write for the stage they lose
themselves entirely: your Valter Scote's play of Robe
Roi is very inferior to his novel of the same name. "

"It is a great pity," said I, "that Byron did not turn,
his * Childe Harold ' into a tragedy ; it has so much
energy^ action , — variety ! "

"Very true," said madame, with a sigh; "but the
tragedy is, after all, only suited to our nation, — we
alone carry it to perfection."

"Yet," said I, " Goldoni wrote dkfew fine tragedies.^,

" Eh Hen ! " said madame ; " one rose does not con-
stitute a garden ! "

And satisfied with this remark, la femme savante
turned to a celebrated traveller to discuss with him the
chance of discovering the North Pole.

There were- one or two clever Englishmen present;
Vincent and I joined them.

" Have you met the Persian prince yet 1 " said Sir
George Lynton to me; "he is a man of much talent,
and great desire of knowledge. He intends to publish
his observations on Paris, and I suppose we shall have
an admirable supplement to Montesquieu's * Lettres
Persannes ' ! "

"I wish we had," said Vincent; " there are few better
satires on a civilized country than the observations of
visitors less polished; while on the contrary the civi-
lized traveller, in describing the manners of the American
barbarian, instead of conveying ridicule upon the visited,
points the sarcasm on the visitor; and Tacitus could not

72 PELHAM; OR,

have thought of a finer or nohler satire on the Roman
luxuries than that insinuated hy his treatise on the
German simplicity."

" What," said Monsieur d'E (an intelligent ci-
devant emigre) — "what political writer is generally
esteemed as your best ? "

" It is difficult to say ," replied Vincent, " since with
so many parties we have many idols; but I think I
might venture to name Bolingbroke as among the most
popular. Perhaps, indeed, it would be difficult to select
a name more frequently quoted and discussed than his ;
and yet his political works are not very valuable from
political knowledge; they contain many lofty senti-
ments, and many beautiful yet scattered truths; but
they were written when legislation, most debated, was
least understood, and ought to be admired rather as
excellent for the day than admirable in themselves.
The life of Bolingbroke would convey a juster moral
than all his writings; and the author, "v^o gives us a
full and impartial memoir of that extraordinary man,
will have afforded both to the philosophical and politi-
cal literature of England one of its greatest desiderata. "

"It seems to me," said Monsieur d'E , "that

your national literature is peculiarly deficient in bio-
graphy, — am I right in my opinion?"

" Indubitably ! " said Vincent ; " we have not a single
work that can be considered a model in biography, ex-
cepting, perhaps, Middleton's 'Life of Cicero.' This
brings on a remark I have often made in distinguishing
your philosophy from ours. It seems to me that you
who excel so admirably in biography, memoirs, comedy,
satirical observation on peculiar classes, and pointed
aphorisms, are fonder of considering man in his relation
to society and the active commerce of the world, than

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 73

in the more abstracted and metaphysical operations of
the mind. Our writers, on the contrary, love to in-
dulge rather in abstruse speculations on their species, '
— to regard man in an abstract and isolated point of
view, and to see him think alone in his chamber; while
you prefer beholding him act with the multitude in the
world."

"It must be allowed," said Monsieur d'E , "that

if this be true, our philosophy is the most useful, though
yours may be the most profound."

Vincent did not reply.

"Yet," said Sir George Lynton, "there will be a
disadvantage attending your writings of this descrip-
tion, which, by diminishing their general applicability ,
diminish their general utility. Works which treat upon
man in his relation to society, can only be strictly ap-
plicable so long as that relation to society treated upon
continues. For instance, the play which satirizes a par-
ticular class, however deep its reflections and accurate
its knowledge upon the subject satirized, must necessa-
rily be obsolete when the class itself has become so.
The political pamphlet, admirable for one state, may be
absurd in another; the novel which exactly delineates
the present age may seem strange and unfamiliar to '»
the next; and thus works which treat of men relatively,
and not man in se, must often confine their popularity
to the age and even the country in which they were
written. While, on the other hand, the work which
treats of man himself, which seizes, discovers, analyzes
the human mind, as it is, whether in the ancient or the
modem, the savage or the European, must evidently be
applicable, and consequently useful to all times and all
nations. He who discovers the circulation of the blood,
or the origin of ideas, must be a philosopher to every

74 PELHAM; OR,

people who have veina or ideas ; hut he who even most
successfully delineates the manners of one country, or
the actions of one individual, is only the philosopher
of a single country, or a single age. If, Monsieur

d'E , you will condescend to consider this, you will

see perhaps that the philosophy which treats of man in
his relations is not so useful, because neither so per-
manent nor so invariable, as that which treats of man
in himself. " ^

I was now somewhat weary of this conversation, and
though it was not yet twelve, I seized upon my appoint-
ment as an excuse to depart. Accordingly, I rose for
that purpose. "I suppose," said I to Vincent, "that
you will not leave your discussion ? "

"Pardon me," said he, "amusement is quite as profit- V

able to a man of sense as metaphysics. Allons.'*

1
1 Yet Hume holds the contrary opinion to this, and considers a
good comedy more durable than a system of philosophy. Hume ^

is right, if by a system of philosophy is understood a pile of guesses,
false but plausible, set up by one age to be destroyed by the next.
Ingenuity cannot rescue error from oblivion ; but the moment Wis-
dom has discovered Truth, she has obtained immortality. But is
Hume right when he suggests that there may come a time when
Addison will be read with delight, but Locke be utterly forgotten?
For my part, if the two were to be matched for posterity, I think
the odds would be in favor of Locke. I very much doubt whether
five hundred years hence Addison will be read at all, and I am
quite sure that, a thousand years hence, Locke will not be forgotten.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 75

CHAPTER XVII.

I was in this terrible situation when the basket stopped.

Oriental Tales — " History of the Basket."

We took our way tx) the street in which Madame Laurent
resided. Meanwhile, suffer me to get rid of myself,
and to introduce you, dear reader, to my friend. Mon-
sieur Margot, the whole of whose adventures were sub-
sequently detailed to me by the garrulous Mrs. Green.

At the hour appointed he knocked at the door of my
fair countrywoman, and was carefully admitted. He
was attired in a dressing-gown of sea-green silk, in
which his long, lean, hungry body looked more like a
starved pike than anything human.

** Madame," said he, with a solemn air, "I return
you my best thanks for the honor you have done me, —
behold me at your feet ! " And so saying, the lean lover
gravely knelt down on one knee.

"Rise, sir," said Mrs. Green, "I confess that you
have won my heart; but that is not all, — you have yet
to show that you are worthy of the opinion I have
formed of you. It is not, Monsieur Margot, your per-
son that has won me, — no! it is your chivalrous and
noble sentiments. Prove that these are genuine, and
you may command all from my admiration."

"In what manner shall I prove it, Madame?" said
Monsieur Margot, rising, and gracefully drawing his
sea-green gown more closely round him.

"By your courage, your devotion, and your gallantry!
I ask but one proof, — you can give it me on the spot.

76 pelham; or,

You remember, Monsieur, that in the days of romance
a lady threw her glove upon the stage on which a lion
was exhibited, and told her lover to pick it up. Mon-
sieur Margot, the trial to which I shall put you is less
severe. Look," and Mrs. Green threw open the win-
dow, — " look, I throw my glove out into the street ;
descend for it."

" Your commands are mv law," said the romantic
Margot. "I will go forthwith;" and so saying, he
went to the door.

" Hold, sir! " said the lady, " it is not by that simple
manner that you are to descend, you must go the same
way as my glo.ve, out of the window, ^^

" Out of the window, Madame ! " said Monsieur Alar-
got, with astonished solemnity; "that is impossible,
because this apartment is three stories high, and con-
sequently I shall be dashed to pieces."

"By no means," answered the dame; " in that corner
of the room there is a basket, to which (already fore-
seeing your determination) I have affixed a rope; by
that basket you shall descend. See, Monsieur, what
expedients a provident love can suggest."

" H — e — m! " said, very slowly. Monsieur Margot by
no means liking the airy voyage imposed upon him;
" but the rope may break, or your hand may suffer it to
slip."

" Feel the rope,'' cried the lady, "to satisfy you as to
your doubt; and, as to the second, can you — can you
imagine that my affections would not make me twice as
careful of your person as of my own 1 Fie I ungrateful
Monsieur Margot ! fie ! "

The melancholy chevalier cast a rueful look at the
basket. * Madame," said he, "I own that I am very
averse to the plan you propose : suffer me to go down-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 77

stairs in the ordinary way ; your glove can be as easily
picked up whether your adorer goes out of the door or
the window. It is only, Madame, when ordinary means
fail, that we should have recourse to the extraordinary.'^

"Begone, sir!" exclaimed Mrs. Green, — "begone!
I now perceive that your chivalry was only a pretence.
Fool that I was to love you as I have done ! — fool that
I was to imagine a hero where I now find a — "

" Pause, Madame, I will obey you, — my heart is firm,
see that the rope is — "

" Gallant Monsieur Margot ! " cried the lady : and
going to her dressing-room, she called her woman to
her assistance. The rope was of the most unquestion-
able thickness, the basket of the most capacious dimen-
sions. The former was fastened to a strong hook, and
the latter lowered.

"I go, Madame," said Monsieur Margot, feeling the
rope; " but it really is a most dangerous exploit."

" Go, Monsieur! and St. Louis befriend you."

" Stop ! " said Monsieur Margot, " let me fetch my
coat: the night is cold, and my dressing-gown thin."

"Nay, nay, my chevalier," returned the dame, "I
love you in that gown ; it gives you an air of grace and
dignity quite enchanting."

" It will give me my death of cold, Madame," said
Monsieur Margot, earnestly.

" Bah! " said the Englishwoman; " what knight ever
feared cold? Besides, you mistake; the night is warm,
and you look so handsome in your gown. "

"Do I ? " said the vain Monsieur Margot, with an
iron expression of satisfaction ; " if that is the case, I
will mind it less; but may I return by the door? "

"Yes," replied the lady; "you see that I do not
require too much from your devotion, — enter. "

78 pelham; ob,

" Behold me ! " said the French master, inserting his
body into the basket, which immediately began to
descend.

The hour and the police of course made the street
empty; the lady's handkerchief waved in token of en-
couragement and triumph. When the basket was within
five yards of the ground, Mrs. Green cried to her lover,
who had hitherto been elevating his serious countenance
towards her, in sober, yet gallant sadness, —

" Look, look. Monsieur, — straight before you."

The lover turned round, as rapidly as his habits would
allow him, and at that instant the window was shut, the
light extinguished, and the basket arrested. There
stood Monsieur Margot, upright in the basket, and
there stopped the basket, motionless in the air!

What were the exact reflections of Monsieur Margot,
in that position, I cannot pretend to determine, because
he never favored me with them ; but about an hour after-
wards, Vincent and I (who had been delayed on the
road)> strolling up the street, according to our appoint-
ment, perceived, by the dim lamps, some opaque body
leaning against the wall of Madame Laurent's house,
at about the distance of fifteen feet from the ground.

We hastened our steps towards it; a measured and
serious voice, which I well knew, accosted us, —

" For God's sake, gentlemen, procure me assistance.
T am the victim of a perfidious woman, and expect every
moment to be precipitated to the earth."

" Good heavens! " said I, " surely it is Monsieur Mar-
got whom I hear. What are you doing there ? "

" Shivering with cold," answered Monsieur Margot,
in a tone tremulously slow.

" But what are you in ? for 1 can see nothing but a
dark substance."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 79

"I am in a basket," replied Monsieur Margot, " and
I should be very much obliged to you to let me out of it."

"Well, — indeed," said Vincent (for /was too much
engaged in laughing to give a ready reply) , " your
Chateau-Mar got has but a cool cellar. But there are
some things in the world easier said than done. How
are we to remove you to a more desirable place % "

"Ah," returned Monsieur Margot, ^^ how indeed!
There is, to be sure, a ladder in the porter's lodge long
enough to deliver me; but then, think of the gibes
and jeers of the porter! It will get wind; I shall be
ridiculed, gentlemen, — I shall be ridiculed, — and,
what is worse, I shall lose my pupils."

" My good friend," said I, " you had better lose your
pupils than your life ; and the daylight will soon come,
and then, instead of being ridiculed by the porter, you
will be ridiculed by the whole street! "

Monsieur Margot groaned. ** Go then, my friend,"
said he, " procure the ladder? Oh, those she-devils! —
what could make me such a fool ! "

Whilst Monsieur Margot was venting his spleen in
a scarcely articulate mutter, we repaired to the lodge,
knocked up the porter, communicated the accident, and
procured the ladder. However, an observant eye had
been kept upon our proceedings, and the window above
was reopened, though so silently that. I only perceived
the action. The porter, a jolly, bluff, hearty -looking
fellow, stood grinning below with a lantern, while we
set the ladder (which only just reached the basket)
against the wall.

The chevalier looked wistfully forth, and then, by
the light of the lantern, we had a fair view of his
ridiculous figure. His teeth chattered woefully, and
the united cold without, and anxiety within, threw a

80 PELHAM; OB,

double sadness and solemnity upon his withered coun-
tenance. The night was very windy, and every instant
a rapid current seized the unhappy sea-green vesture,
whirled it in the air, and threw it, as if in scorn, over
the very face of the miserable professor. The constant
recurrence of this sportive irreverence of the gales, —
the high sides of the basket, and the trembling agitation
of the inmate, never too agile, rendered it a work of
some time for Monsieur Margot to transfer himself from
the basket to the ladder. At length, he had fairly got
out one thin, shivering leg.

" Thank Heaven! " said the pious professor, — when
at that instant the thanksgiving was checked, and, to
Monsieur M argot's inexpressible astonishment and dis-
may, the basket rose five feet from the ladder, leaving
its tenant with one leg dangling out, like a flag from
a balloon.

The ascent was too rapid to allow Monsieur Margot
even time for an exclamation, and it was not till he had
had sufficient leisure in his present elevation to perceive
all its consequences, that he found words to say, with
the most earnest tone of thoughtful lamentation, " One
could not have foreseen this ! — it is really extremely
distressing: would to Heaven that I could get my leg
in, or my body out ! "

While we were yet too convulsed with laughter to
make any comment upon the unlooked-for ascent of the
luminous Monsieur Margot, the basket descended with
such force as to dash the lantern out of the hand of the
porter, and to bring the professor so precipitously to the
ground that all the bones in his skin rattled audibly.

" Mon Dieu ! " said he, " I am done for! Be witness
how inhumanly I have been murdered."

We pulled him out of the basket, and carried him

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 81

between us into the porter's -lodge. But the woes of
Monsieur Margot were not yet at their termination.
The room was crowded. There was Madame Laurent;
there was the German count, whom the professor was
teaching French; there was the French viscount, whom
he was teaching German; there were all his fellow-
lodgers, — the ladies whom he had boasted o/, the men
he had boasted to, Don Juan, in the infernal regions,
could not have met with a more unwelcome set of old
acquaintances than Monsieur Margot had the happiness
of opening his bewildered eyes upon in the porter's
lodge.

"What!" cried they all, "Monsieur Margot, is that
you who have been frightening us so ? We thought the
house was attacked. The Bussian general is at this
very moment loading his pistols; lucky for you that
you did not choose to stay longer in that situation.
Pray, Monsieur, what could induce you to exhibit your-
self so, in your dressing-gown too, and the night so
cold ? Are n't you ashamed of yourself ? "

All this, and infinitely more, was levelled against
the miserable professor, who stood shivering with cold
and fright; and turning his eyes first on one and then
on another, as the exclamations circulated round the
room.

" I do assure you — " at length he began.

'•' No, no," cried one, " it is of no use explaining now! "

" Mais, Messieurs — " querulously recommenced the
unhappy Margot.

" Hold your tongue ! " exclaimed Madame Laurent,
" you have been disgracing my house. "

" Maisy Madame, ecoutez-moi — "

"No, no," cried the German, "we saw you, — we
saw you."

VOL. I. — 6

82 pelham; ob,

" Mais, Monsieur le Comte — "

** Fie, fie! " cried the Frenchman.

** Mais, Monsieur le Vicomte — "

At this every mouth was opened, and the patience of
Monsieur Margot being by this time exhausted, he flew
into a violent rage ; his tormentors pretended an equal
indignation, and at length he fought his way out of the
room, as fast as his shattered bones would allow him,
followed by the whole body, screaming, and shouting,
and scolding, and laughing after him.

The next morning passed without my usual lesson
from Monsieur Margot. That was natural enough ; but
when the next day, and the next, rolled on, and brought
neither Monsieur Margot nor his excuse, I began to be
uneasy for the poor man. Accordingly I sent to Madame
Laurent's to inquire after him: judge of my surprise
at hearing that he had, early the day after his adventure,
left his lodgings with his small possession of books and
clothes, leaving only a note to Madame Laurent, enclos-
ing the amount of his debt to her, and that none had
since seen or heard of him.

From that day to this I have never once beheld him.
The poor professor lost even the little money due to
him for his lessons, — so true is it, that in a man of
Monsieur Margot's temper, even interest is a subordi-
nate passion to vanity!

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 83

CHAPTER XVIII.

It is good to be merry and wise ;

It is good to be honest and true ;
It is good to be off with the old love

Before you be on with the new. — Sotig.

One morning when I was riding to the Bois de Bou-
logne (the celebrated place of assignation), in order to
meet Madame d'Anville, I saw a lady on horseback, in
the most imminent danger of being thrown. Her horse
had taken fright at an English tandem, or its driver,
and was plunging violently; the lady was evidently
much frightened, and lost her presence of mind more
and more every moment. A man who was with her,
and who could scarcely manage his own horse, appeared
to be exceedingly desirous, but perfectly unable, to assist
her ; and a great number of people were looking on, doing
nothing, and saying, " Man Dteu, how dangerous ! "

I have always had a great horror of being a hero in
scenes, and a still greater antipathy to " females in dis-
tress." However, so great is the effect of sympathy
upon the most hardened of us, that I stopped for a few
moments, first to look on, and secondly to assist. Just
when a moment's delay might have been dangerous, I
threw myself off my horse, seized hers with one hand,
by the rein which she no longer had the strength to
hold, and assisted her with the other to dismount.
When all the peril was over, monsieur, her companion,
managed also to find his legs ; and I did not, I confess,
wonder at his previous delay when I discovered that

84 pelham; or,

the lady in danger was bis wife. He gave me a profu-
sion of thanks, and she made them more than complimen-
tary by the glance which accompanied them. Their
carriage was in attendance at a short distance behind.
The husband went for it, — I remained with the lady.

" Mr. Pelham, " she said, " I have heard much of you
from my friend Madame d'Anville, and have long been
anxious for your acquaintance. I did not think I should
commence it with so great an obligation. "

Flattered by being already known by name, and a sub-
ject of previous interest, you may be sure that I tried
every method to improve the opportunity I had gained;
and when I handed my new acquaintance into her car-
riage, my pressure of her hand was somewhat more than
slightly returned.

" Shall you be at the English ambassador's to-night ? "
said the lady, as they were about to shut the door of the
carriage.

" Certainly, if you are to be there, " was my answer.

" We shall meet then, " said madame, and her look
said more.

I rode into the Boisy and giving my horse to my ser-
vant as I came near Passy, where I was to meet Madame
d' Anville, I proceeded thither on foot. I was just in
sight of the spot, and indeed of my inamorata, when
two men passed, talking very earnestly; they did not
remark me, but what individual could ever escape my
notice ? The one was Thornton ; the other — who could
he be? Where had I seen that pale and remarkable
countenance before? I looked again. I was satisfied
that I was mistaken in my first thought ; the hair was of
a completely different color. " No, no, " said I, " it is not
he : yet how like ! "

I was distrait and absent during the whole time I was

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 85

with Madame d'Anville. The face of Thornton's com-
panion haunted me like a dream; and, to say the truth,
there were also moments when the recollection of my
new engagement for the evening made me tired with that
which I was enjoying the trouhlesome honor of keeping.

Madame d'Anville was not slow in perceiving the
coldness of my hehavior. Though a Frenchwoman, she
was rather grieved than resentful.

" You are growing tired of me, my friend, " she said ;
"and when I consider your youth and temptations, I
cannot be surprised at it, — yet, I own, that this thought
gives me much greater pain than I could have supposed. "

" Bah ! ma helle amie^ " cried I, " you deceive your-
seK; I adore you, — I shall always adore you; but it's
getting very late! "

Madame d'Anville sighed, and we parted. " She is
not haK so pretty or agreeable as she was, " thought I,
as I mounted my horse, and remembered my appoint-
ment at the ambassador's.

I took unusual pains with my appearance that evening,
and drove to the ambassador's hotel, in the Rue Fau-
bourg St. Honor^, full half an hour earlier than I had
ever done before. I had been some time in the rooms
without discovering my heroine of the morning. The
Duchess of H n passed by.

" What a wonderfully beautiful woman ! " said Mr.
Howard de Howard, a lean gentleman, who valued him-
self on his ancestors, to Mr. Aberton.

"Ay," answered Aberton; "but to my taste, the
Duchesse de Perpignan is quite equal to her, — do you
know her ? "

" No — yes ! " said Mr. Howard de Howard ; " that is,
not exactly, — not well." An Englishman never owns
that he does not know a duchess.

86 PELHAM; OR,

" Hem ! " said Mr. Aberton, thrusting his large hand
through his lank light hair, — " hem; could one do any-
thing, do you think, in that quarter 1 "

" I should think one might, with a tolerable person ! "
answered the spectral aristocrat, looking down at a pair
of most shadowy supporters.

" Pray, " said Aberton, " what do you think of Miss

] They say she is an heiress. "

"Think of her! " said Mr. Howard de Howard, who
was as* poor as he was thin, "why, I have thought of
her! "

" They say that fool Pelham makes up to her. "
(Little did Mr. Aberton imagine, when he made this
remark, that I was close behind him.)

" I should not imagine that was true, " said the secre-
tary ; " he is so occupied with Madame d' Anville. "

" Pooh ! " said Aberton, dictatorially, " she never had
anything to say to him. "

" Why are you so sure ? " said Mr. Howard de
Howard.

" Why, — because he never showed any notes from
her, nor ever even said he had a liaison with her ! '*

" Ah ! that is quite enough ! " said Mr. Howard de
Howard. " But, is not that the Duchesse de Perpignan ? "
Mr. Aberton turned, and so did I; — our eyes met,
his fell: well they might, after his courteous epithet
to my name. However, I had far too good an opinion
of myself to care one straw about his ; besides, at that
moment, I was wholly lost in my surprise and pleasure,
in finding that this Duchesse de Perpignan was no other
than my acquaintance of the morning. She caught
my gaze, and smiled as she bowed. "Now," thought
I, as I approached her, " let us see if we cannot eclipse
Mr. Aberton."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 87

All love-making is just the same, and, therefore, I
shall spare the reader my conversation that evening.
When he recollects that it was Henry Pelham who
was the gallant, I am persuaded that he will be pretty
certain as to the success.

88 FELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER XIX.

Alea sequa vorax species certissima fnrti

Nod contenta bonis, animnm qnoque perfida mergit ; —

Forca, fniax — infamis, iners, fariosa, mina.^ — Fetr. Dial.

I DINED the next day at the Fr^res ProvenQaux: an
excellent restaurateur's, by the by, where one gets
irreproachable gibier^ and meets few English.' After
dinner I strolled into the various gambling-houses with
which the Palais Royal abounds.

In one of these the crowd and heat were so great
that I should immediately have retired if I had not
been struck with the intense expression of interest in
the countenance of one of the spectators at the rouge-
et-iioir table. He was a man about forty years of age ;
his complexion was dark and sallow ; the features promi-
nent, and what are generally called handsome ; but there
was a certain sinister expression in his eyes and mouth,
which rendered the effect of his physiognomy rather
disagreeable than prepossessing. At a small distance
from him, and playing, with an air which, in its care- -^

lessness and nonchalance, formed a remarkable contrast

^ Gaining, that direst felon of the breast,

Steals more than fortune from its wretched thrall,
Spreads o*er the soul the inert devouring pest,
And gnaws, and rots, and taints, and ruins all.

Paraphrase.

^ Mr. Pelham could not say as much for the Freres Provengaux
at present!

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 89

to the painful anxiety of the man I have just described,
sat Mr. Thornton.

At first sight these two appeared to be the only Eng-
lishmen present beside myself. I was more struck by
seeing the former in that scene than I was at meeting
Thornton there; for there was something distinguished
in the mien of the stranger, which suited far worse with
the appearance of the place than the air and dress of my
ci-devant second.

" What ! another Englishman ? " thought I, as I turned
round and perceived a thick, rough greatcoat, which
could possibly belong to no Continental shoulders. The
wearer was standing directly opposite the seat of the
swarthy stranger; his hat was slouched over his face. I
moved, in order to get a clearer view of his countenance.
It was the same person I had seen with Thornton that
morning. Never to this moment have I forgotten the
stern and ferocious expression with which he was gazing
upon the keen and agitated features of the gambler
opposite. In the eye and lip there was neither pleasure,
hatred, nor scorn, in their simple and unalloyed ele-
ments; but each seemed blent and mingled into one
deadly concentration of evil passions.

This man neither played, nor spoke, nor moved.
He appeared utterly insensible of every feeling in
common with those around. There he stood, wrapped
in his own dark and inscrutable thoughts, never, for
one instant, taking his looks from the varying counte-
nance which did not observe their gaze, nor altering
the withering character of their almost demoniacal
expression. I could not tear myself from the spot.
I felt chained by some mysterious and undefinable
interest. My attention was first diverted into a new
channel by a loud exclamation from the dark-visaged

90 pelham; ob,

gambler at the table: it was the first he had uttered,
notwithstanding his anxiety; and, from the deep,
thrilling tone in which it was expressed, it conveyed
a keen sympathy with the overcharged feelings which
it burst from.

With a trembling hand he took from an old purse
the few napoleons that were still left there. He set
them all at one hazard on the rouge. He hung over
the table with a drooping lip; his hands were tightly
clasped in each other; his nerves seemed strained into
the last agony of excitation. I ventured to raise my
eyes upon the gaze, which I felt must still be upon the
gambler ; there it was, fixed and stem as before ! — but
it now conveyed a deeper expression of joy than it had
hitherto assumed; yet a joy so malignant and fiendish,
that no look of mere anger or hatred could have equally
chilled my heart. I dropped my eyes. I redoubled my
attention to the cards, — the last two were to be turned
up. A moment more! — the fortune was to the noir.
The stranger had lost! He did not utter a single word.
He looked with a vacant eye on the long mace with
which the marker had swept away his last hopes with
his last coin, and then, rising, left the room, and
disappeared.

The other Englishman was not long in following
him. He uttered a short, low laugh, unheard, perhaps,
by any one but myself; and, pushing through the at-
mosphere of Sacres ! and Mille tonnerres ! which filled
that pandemonium, strode quickly to the door. I felt
as if a load had been taken from my bosom when he
was gone.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 91

CHAPTER XX.

Beddere personae scit convenientia cuique.^ — Hob. Are Poet.

I WAS loitering over my breakfast the next morning,
and thinking of the last night's scene, when Lord
Vincent was announced.

" How fares the gallant Pelham ? " said he, as he
entered the room.

"Why, to say the truth," I replied, "I am rather
under the influence of blue devils this morning, and
your visit is like a sunbeam in November."

" A bright thought," said Vincent, " and I shall make
you a very pretty little poet soon ; publish you in a neat

octavo, and dedicate you to Lady D e. Pray, by the

by, have you ever read her plays ? You know they were
only privately printed ? "

"No," said I (for in good truth, had his lordship
interrogated me touching any other literary production,
I should have esteemed it a part of my present character
to return the same answer).

" No ! " repeated Vincent ; " permit me to tell you
that you must never seem ignorant of any work not
published. To be admired, one must always know
what other people don't, — and then one has full lib-
erty to sneer at the value of what other people do know.
Renounce the threshold of knowledge. There, every
new proselyte can meet you. Boast of your acquaint-

^ The appropriate justice sorts each shade and hue,
And gives to each the exact proportion due. — Paraphrase,

92 pelham; or,

ance with the sanctum, and not one in ten thousand
can dispute it with you. Have you read Monsieur de
C 's pamphlet?"

" Really," said I, " I have been so busy! "

** Ahy mon ami ! " cried Vincent, " the greatest sign of
an idle man is to complain of being busy. But you have

had a loss: the pamphlet is good. C , by the way,

has an extraordinary, though not an expanded mind. It
is like a citizen's garden near London; a pretty parterre
here, and a Chinese pagoda there; an oak-tree in one
corner, and a mushroom bed in the other; and, above
all , a Gothic ruin opposite the bay-window ! You may
traverse the whole in a stride ; it is the four quarters of
the globe in a mole-hill. Yet everything is good in its
"kind ; and is neither without elegance nor design in its
arrangement. "

" What do you think," said T, " of the Baron de ,

the minister of % "

« Of him? " replied Vincent^

" * His soul
Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole.'

It is dark and bewildered, — full of dim visions of the
ancient regime ; it is a bat hovering about the cells of
an old abbey. Poor, antique little soul! but I will say
nothing more about it, —

* For who would be satirical
Upon a thing so very Bmall '

as the soul of the Baron de ? "

Finding Lord Vincent so disposed to the biting mood,
I immediately directed his rabies towards Mr. Absrton.

" Aberton," said Vincent, in answer to my question, if
he knew that amiable young gentleman; " yes! a sort of

. f

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 93

man who, speaking of the best society, says we, — who
sticks his best cards on his chimney-piece, and writes
himself billets-doux from duchesses. A duodecimo of
'precious conceits,' bound in calf -skin, — I know the
man well; does he not dress decently, Pelham? "

" His clothes are well made," said I, candidly.

" Ah ! " said Vincent, " I should think he went to the
best tailor, and said, * Give me a collar like Lord So-and-
So's; ' one who would not dare to have a new waistcoat
till it had been authoritatively patronized, and who took
his fashions, like his follies, from the best proficients.
Such fellows are always too ashamed of themselves not
to be proud of their clothes : like the Chinese mariners,
they burn incense before the needle ! "

"And Mr, Howard de Howard," said I, laughing,
" what do you think of him ? "

* What! the thin Eupatrid ? " cried Vincent. " He is
the mathematical definition of a straight line, — length
without breadth. His inseparable friend, Mr. Aberton,
was running up the Rue St. Honore yesterday in order
to catch him, and when I saw him chasing the meagre
apparition, I said to Bennington, * I have found out the
real Peter Schlemil ! ' * Whom '/ ' asked his grave lord-
ship, with serious naivete. * Mr. Aberton,' said I;
* don't you see him running after his shadoio ? ' But
the pride of the lean thing is so amusing! He is fif-
teenth cousin to the duke, and so his favorite exordium
is, * Whenever I succeed to the titles of my ancestors. '
It was but the other day, that he heard two or three
silly young men discussing church and state, and they
began by talking irreligion, — Mr. Howard de Howard
is too unsubstantial not to be spiritually inclined : how-
ever he only fidgeted in his chair. They then proceeded
to be exceedingly disloyal. Mr. Howard de Howard

94 PELHAM; OR,

fidgeted again. Tbey then passed to vituperations on
the aristocracy: this the attenuated pomposity (magiii
nominis umbra) could brook no longer. He rose up,
cast a severe look pn the abashed youths, and thus ad-
dressed them, * Gentlemen, I have sat by in silence, and
heard my king derided, and my God blasphemed; but
now when you attack the aristocracy, I can no longer
refrain from noticing so obviously intentional an insult.
You have become personal. ' "

" Pray, Vincent," said I, after a short pause, " did you
ever meet with a IVIr. Thornton at Paris ? "

"Thornton, Thornton," said Vincent, musingly;
"what, Tom Thornton?"

" I should think, very likely," I replied; "just the
sort of man who would be Tom Thornton, — has a broad
face, with a color, and wears a spotted neckcloth; Tom,
— what could his name be but Tom 1 "

" Is he about five-and-thirty 1 " asked Vincent ; " rather
short, and with reddish-colored hair and whiskers ? "

" Precisely," said I ; " are not all Toms alike ? "

"Ah," said Vincent, "I know him well; he is a
clever, shrewd fellow, but a most unmitigated rascal.
He is the son of a steward in Lancashire, and received
an attorney's education; but being a humorous, noisy
fellow, he became a great favorite with his father's
employer, who was a sort of Maecenas to cudgel-players,
boxers, and horse-jockeys. At his house Thornton met
many persons of rank, but of a taste similar to their
host's; and they, mistaking his vulgar coarseness for
honesty, and his quaint proverbs for wit, admitted him
into their society. It was with one of them that I have
seen him. I believe of late, that his character has been
of a very different odor; and whatever has brought him
among the English at Paris, — those white-washed abom-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 95

inations, those * innocent blacknesses,' as Charles Lamb
calls chimney-sweepers, — it does not argue well for his
professional occupations. I should think, however, that
he manages to live here ; for wherever there are English
fools, there are fine pickings for an English rogue. "

" Ay," said I, " but are there enough fools here to
feed the rogues ? "

** Yes, because rogues are like spiders, and eat each

other when there is nothing else to catch; and Tom

Thornton is safe as long as the ordinary law of nature

lasts, that the greater knave preys on the lesser, — for

there cannot possibly be a greater knave than he is ! If

you have made his acquaintance, my dear Pelham, I

advise you most soberly to look to yourself; for if he

doth not steal, beg, or borrow of you, Mr. Howard de

Howard will grow fat, and even Mr. Aberton cease

to be a fool. And now, most noble Pelham, farewell.

iZ est plus aisi d'etre sage pour les autres que de Vetre

pour soi-meme.'* ^

i '■
1 It is more easy to be wise for others than for one's self.

•t

96 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER XXI.

This is a notable conple, — and have met
But for some secret knavery.

The Tanner of Tyburn,

I HAD now been several weeks in Paris, and I was not
altogether dissatisfied with the manner in which they
had been spent. I had enjoyed myself to the utmost,
while I had, as much as possible, combined profit with
pleasure, — namely, if I went to the opera in the even-
ing, I learned to dance in the morning; if I drove to a
soiree at the Duchesse de Perpignan's, it was not till I
had fenced an hour at the Salon des Assaults d'Armes;
in short, I took the greatest pains to complete my edu-
cation. I wish all yoimg men who frequented the Con-
tinent for that purpose could say the same !

One day (about a week after the conversation with
Vincent, recorded in my last chapter) I was walking
slowly along one of the paths in the Jardin des Plantes
meditating upon the various excellences of the Rocher
de Cancale and the Duchesse de Perpignan, when I per-
ceived a tall man, with a thick, 'rough coat, of a dark
color (which I recognized long before I did the face of
the wearer), emerging from an intersecting path. He
stopped a few moments, and looked round as if expect-
ing some one. Presently a woman, apparently about
thirty, and meanly dressed, appeared in an opposite
direction. She approached him ; they exchanged a few
words, and then, the woman taking his arm, they struck
into another path , and were soon out of sight. I sup-
pose that the reader has already discovered that this man

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN.

was Thornton's companion in the Bois de Boulogne,
and the hero of the gaming-house in the Palais Royal.
I could not have supposed that so noble a countenance,
even in its frowns, could ever have wasted its smiles
upon a mistress of the low station to which the woman
who had met him evidently belonged. However, we
all have our little foibles, as the Frenc hman said, when
he bo iled his grandmo ther \q hftad in a. pipkin.

I myself was, at that time, the sort of person that is
always taken by a pretty face, however coarse may be
the garments whicli set it off; and although I cannot
say that I ever stooped so far as to become amorous of
a chamber-maid,' yet I could be tolerably lenient to any
man under thirty who did. As a proof of this gentle-
ness of disposition, ten minutes after I had witnessed
so unsuitable a rencontre, I found myself following a
pretty little grisette into a small sort of cabaret , which
was, at the time I spoke of (and most probably still is),
in the midst of the gardens. I sat down, and called for
my favorite drink of lemonade; the little grisette, who
was with an old woman, possibly her mother, and un
beau gros gargon, probably her lover, sat opposite, and
began, with all the ineffable coquetries of her country,
to divide her attention between the said gargon and my-
self. Poor fellow, he seemed to be very little pleased
by the significant glances exchanged over his right
shoulder, and at last, under pretence of screening her
from the draught of the opened window, placed himself
exactly between us. This, however ingenious, did not
at all answer his expectations; for he had not suffi-
ciently taken into consideration that / also was endowed
with the power of locomotion ; accordingly I shifted my
chair about three feet, and entirely defeated the counter-
march of the enemy.

VOL. I. — 7

98 PELHAM; OB,

But this flirtation did not last long: the youth and
the old woman appeared very much of the same opinion
as to its impropriety; and accordingly, like experienced
generals, resolved to conquer by a retreat. They drank
up their orgeat, paid for it, placed the wavering regi-
ment in the middle, and quitted the field. I was not,
however, of a disposition to break my heait at such an
occurrence, and I remained by the window, drinking my
lemonade, and muttering to myself, " After all, women
are a bore ! "

On the outside of the cabaret, and just under my
window, was a bench, which, for a certain number of
SOILS y one might appropriate to the entire and unpartici-
pated use of one's self and party. An old woman (so
at least I suppose by her voice, for I did not give my-
self the trouble of looking, — though, indeed, as to that
matter i it might have been the shrill treble of Mr.
Howard de Howard I) had been hitherto engrossing
this settlement with some gallant or other. In Paris,
no woman is too old to get an amant, either by love
or money. This couple soon paired off, and was imme-
diately succeeded by another. The first tones of tlie
man's voice, low as they were, made me start from
my seat. I cast one quick glance before I resumed it.
The new pair were the Englishman I had before noted
in the garden, and the female companion who had
joined him.

" Two hundred pounds, you say ? " muttered the man ;
" we must have it all."

" But," returned the woman, in the same whispered
voice, " he says that he will never touch another card."

The man laughed. " Fool," said he, " the passions
are not so easily quelled, — how many days is it since
he had this remittance from England! "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 99

" About three," replied the woman.

" And is it absolutely the very last remnant of his
property ? "

" The last. "

" I am then to understand that when this is spent there
is nothing between him and beggary ! "

" Nothing," said the woman with a half -sigh.

The man laughed again, and then rejoined, in an
altered tone, "Then — then will this parching thirst
be quenched at last. I tell you, woman, that it is
many months since I have known a day — night — hour,
in which my life has been as the life of other men.
My whole soul has been melted down into one burning,
burning thought. Feel this hand, — ay, you may well
start; but what is the fever of the frame to that
within?"

Here the voice sank so low as to be inaudible. The
woman seemed as if endeavoring to soothe him; at length
she said, —

"But poor Tyrrell, — you will not, surely, suffer
him to starve, to die of actual want, abandoned and
alone ! "

" Alone! no! " cried her companion, fiercely. " When
the last agonies shall be upon that man ; when, sick with
weariness, pain, disease, hunger, he lies down to die;
when the death-gurgle is in the throat, and the eye
swims beneath the last dull film; when remembrance
peoples the chamber with hell, and his cowardice would
falter forth its dastard recantation to Heaven, — theii
may I he there ! "

There was a long pause, only broken by the woman's
sobs, which she appeared endeavoring to stifle. At last
the man rose, and in a tone so soft that it seemed liter-
ally like music, addressed her in the most endearing

-* J J w . *

J*»

100 PELHAM; OR,

terms. She soon yielded to their persuasion, and replied
to them with interest.

" Spile of the stings of my remorse," she said, "as
long as I lose not you, I will lose life, honor, hope,
even soul itself! "

They both quitted the spot as she said this.

^ <• « . ^^ <" t»

~ V. c ^

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 101

CHAPTER XXII.

At length the treacherous snare was laid,
Poor Pug was caught, — to town conveyed ;
There sold. How envied was his doom,
Made captive in a lady's room ! — Gay's FaUes.

I WAS sitting alone a morning or two after this adven-
ture, when Bedos, entering, announced une darne.

This dame was a fine tall thing, dressed out like a
print in the " Magasin des Modes." She sat herself
down, threw up her veil, and, after a momentary pause,
asked me if I liked my apartment.

" Very much," said I, somewhat surprised at the
nature of the interrogatory.

" Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way ? "
rejoined the lady.

"JVoTi, mille reinerctmens / " said I; "you are very
good to he so interested in my accommodation."

" Those curtains might he hetter arranged, — that sofa
replaced with a more elegant one," continued my new
superintendent.

"Really," said I, "I am too, too much flattered.
Perhaps you would like to have my rooms altogether;
if so, make at least no scruple of saying it."

" Oh, no," replied the lady; " I have no objection to
your staying here. "

" You are too kind," said I, with a low bow.

There was a pause of some moments, — I took advan-
tage of it.

" I think, Madame, I have the honor of speaking
to — to — to — "

102 pelham; ok,

"The mistress of the hotel," said the lady, quietly.
** I merely called to ask you how you did, and hope you
were well accommodated."

" Rather late, considering I have been six weeks in
the house," thought I, revolving in my mind various
reports I had heard of my present visitor's disposition
to gallantry. However, seeing it was all over with me,
I resigned myself, with the patience of a martyr, to the
fate that I foresaw. I rose, approached her chair, took
her hand (very hard and thin it was too), and thanked
her with a most affectionate squeeze.

"I have seen much English! " said the lady, for the
first time speaking in our language.

" Ah," said I, giving another squeeze.

" You are a handsome g argon y** renewed the lady.

" I am so," I replied.

At that moment Bedos entered, and whispered that
Madame d'Anville was in the anteroom.

"Good heavens!" said I, knowing her jealousy of
disposition, " what is to be done ? Oblige me, Madame,"
seizing the unfortunate mistress of the hotel, and, open-
ing the door to the back entrance, — "there," said I,
"you can easily escape. Bon jour. ^^

Hardly had I closed the door, and put the key in my
pocket, before Madame d^Anville entered.

" Is it by your order that your servant keeps me wait-
ing in your anteroom ? " said she, haughtily.

I endeavored to make my peace; but all my com-
plaisance was in vain, — she was jealous of my intimacy
with the Duchesse de Perpignan, and glad of any ex-
cuse to vent her pique. Fortunately, however, she was
going to the Luxembourg ; and my only chance of sooth-
ing her anger was to accompany her.

Downstairs, therefore, we went^ and drove to the

ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 103

Luxembourg; I gave Bedos, before my departure, vari-
ous little commissions, and told him he need not be at
home till the evening. Long before the expiration of
an hour, Madame d'Anville's ill-humor had given me an
excuse for affecting it myself. Tired to death of her,
and panting for release, I took a high tone; complained
of her ill-temper, and her want of love; spoke rapidly,
waited for no reply, and, leaving. her at the Luxem-
bourg, proceeded forthwith to Galignani's, like a man
just delivered from a strait- waistcoat.

Leave me now, for a few minutes, in the reading-
room at Galignani's, and return to the mistress of the
hotel, whom I had so unceremoniously thrust out of
my salon. The passage into which she had been put
communicated by one door with my rooms, and by an-
other with the staircase. Now, it so happened that
Bedos was in the habit of locking the latter door, and
keeping the key; the other egress, it will be remem-
bered, I myself had secured; so that the unfortunate
mistress of the hotel was no sooner turned into this
passage, than she found herself in a sort of dungeon,
ten feet by five, and surrounded, like Eve in Paradise,
by a whole creation, — not of birds, beasts, and fishes,
but of brooms, brushes, linen for the laundress, and a
wood basket! What she was to do in this dilemma was
utterly inconceivable; scream, indeed, she might, but
then the shame and ridicule of being discovered in so
equivocal a situation, were somewhat more than our
discreet landlady could endure. Besides, such an exposi
might be attended with a loss the good woman valued
more than reputation, — namely, lodgers; for the posses-
sors of the two best floors were both Englishwomen of a
certain rank ; and my landlady had heard such accounts
of our national virtue, that she feared an instantaneous

104 pelham; or,

emigration of such inveterate prudes, if her screams and
situation reached their ears.

Quietly then, and soberly, did the good lady sit,
eying the brooms and brushes as they grew darker and
darker with the approach of the evening, and consoling
herself with the certainty that her release must eventu-
ally take place.

Meanwhile, to return to myself, — I found Lord
Vincent at Galignani's, carefully looking over " Choice
Extracts from the best English Authors.*'

" Ah, my good fellow! " said he, " I am delighted to
see you: I made such a capital quotation just now: the
young Benningtons were drowning a poor devil of a
puppy; the youngest (to whom the mother belonged)
looked on with a grave, earnest face, till the last kick
was over, and then burst into tears. * Why do you cry
so ? ' said I. ' Because it was so cruel in us to drown
the poor puppy! ' replied the juvenile Philocunos.
* Pooh! ' said I; * Quid juvat errores mersd jam puppe
fateri 1 * Was it not good ? — you remember it in Clau-
dian, eh, Pelham? Think of its being thrown away on
those Latinless young lubbers! Have you seen any-
thing of Mr. Thornton lately ? "

" No," said I, "I 've not; but I am determined to
have that pleasure soon."

"You will do as you please," said Vincent; "but
you will be like the child playing with edged
tools. "

" I am not a child," said I, " so the simile is not good.
He must be the devil himself, or a Scotchman at least,
to take me in."

Vincent shook his head. " Come and dine with me
at the Rocher," said he; " we are a party of six, — choice
spirits all."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 105

" Volontiers; but we can stroll in the Tuileries first,
if you have no other engagement. "

"None," said Vincent, putting his arm in mine.

After an hour's walk, Vincent suddenly recollected
that he had a commission of a very important nature in
the E-ue J. J. Rousseau. This was — to buy a monkey.
" It is for Wormwood," said he, "who has written me
a long letter, describing its qualities and qualifications.
T suppose he wants it for some practical joke, — some
embodied bitterness. Heaven forbid I should thwart
him in so charitable a design ! "

"Amen," said I; and we proceeded together to the
monkey-fancier. After much deliberation, we at last
decided upon the most hideous animal I ever beheld.
It was of a — no, I will not attempt to describe it; it
would be quite impossible! Vincent was so delighted
with our choice, that he insisted upon carrying it away
immediately.

" Is it quite quiet ? " I asked.

" Comme tin oiseauy^* said the man.

We called a ^acre, — paid for Monsieur Jocko, and
drove to Vincent's apartments; there we found, how-
ever, that his valet had gone out and taken the key.

" Hang it," said Vincent, " it does not signify ! We '11
carry le petit-monsieur with us to the Rocher. "

Accordingly we all three once more entered the fiacre^
and drove to the celebrated restaurateur's of the Rue
Mont Orgueil. Oh, blissful recollections of that din-
ner! how at this moment you crowd upon my delighted
remembrance! Lonely and sorrowful as I now sit,
digesting with many a throe the iron thews of a British
beef -steak, — more Anglico, immeasurably tough, — I
see the grateful apparitions of escallopes de saumon and
laitances de carpes rise in a gentle vapor before my

106 pelham; or,

eyes! breathing a sweet and pleasant odor, and contrast-
ing the dream-like delicacies of their hue and aspect,
with the dire and dure realities which now weigh so
heavily on the region below my heart ! And thou, most
beautiful of all; thou evening star of entremets; thou
that del igh test in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud
of sauces, — exquisite foie gras ! — have I forgotten
thee? Do I not, on the contrary, see thee, smell thee,
taste thee, — and almost die with rapture of thy posses-
sion? What though the goose, of which thou art a
part, has, indeed, been roasted alive by a slow fire, in
order to increase thy divine proportions, — yet has not
our " Almanach," — the " Almanach des Gourmands,"

— truly declared that the goose rejoiced amid all her
tortures, because of the glory that awaited her? Did
she not, in prophetic vision, behold her enlarged and
ennobled foie dilate into yates and steam into sautes,

— the companion of truffles; the glory of dishes; the
delight, the treasure, the transport of gourmands! Oh,
exalted among birds, — apotheosized goose, — did not thy
heart exult even when thy liver parched and swelled
within thee, from that most agonizing death; and
didst thou not, like the Indian at the stake, triumph
in the very torments which alone could render thee
illustrious ?

After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent
punned and quoted; we laughed and applauded; and
our burgundy went round with an alacrity to which
every new joke gave an additional impetus. Monsieur
Jocko was by no means the dullest of the party; he
cracked his nuts with as much grace as we did our jests,
and grinned and chattered as facetiously as the best of
us. After coffee we were all so pleased with one an-
other, that we resolved not to separate, and accordingly

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 107

we adjourned to my rooms, Jocko and all, to find new
revelries and grow brilliant over CuraQoa punch.

We entered my salon with a roar, and set Bedos to
work at the punch forthwith. Bedos, that Ganymede
of a valet, had himself but just arrived, and was unlock-
ing the door as we entered. We soon blew up a glori-
ous fire, and our spirits brightened in proportion. Mon-
sieur Jocko sat on Vincent's knee, — " Ne monstrum,"
as he classically termed it. One of our compotatores
was playing with it. Jocko grew suddenly in earnest,
— a grin, a scratch, and a bite, were the work of a
moment.

^^^e quid nimis, — now," said Vincent, gravely, in-
stead of endeavoring to soothe the afflicted party, who
grew into a towering passion. Nothing but Jocko's
absolute disgrace could indeed have saved his life from
the vengeance of the sufferer.

" Whither shall we banish him ? " said Vincent.

" Oh," I replied, " put him out in that back passage:
the outer door is shut; he'll be quite safe," — and to
the passage he was therefore immediately consigned.

It was in this place, the reader will remember, that
the hapless dame du chateau was at that very instant
in " durance vile. " Unconscious of this fact, I gave
Bedos the key, he took the condemned monkey, opened
the door, thrust Jocko in, and closed it again. Mean-
while we resumed our merriment.

" Nunc est bibendum" said Vincent, as Bedos placed
the punch on the table. " Give us a toast, Dartmore. "

Lord Dartmore was a young man, with tremendous
spirits, which made up for wit. He was just about to
reply, when a loud shriek was heard from Jocko's place
of banishment; a sort of scramble ensued, and the next
moment the door was thrown violently open, and in

108 pelham; or,

rushed the terrified landlady, screaming like a sea-gull,
and bearing Jocko aloft upon her shoulders, from which
" bad eminence " he was grinning and chattering with
the fury of fifty devils. She ran twice round the room,
and then sank on the floor in hysterics, feigned or real.
We lost no time in hastening to her assistance ; but the
warlike Jocko, still sitting upon her, refused to permit
one of us to approach. There he sat, turning from side
to side, showing his sharp, white teeth, and uttering
from time to time the most menacing and diabolical
sounds.

" What the deuce shall we do ? " cried Dartmore.

" Do ? " said Vincent, who was convulsed with
laughter, and yet endeavoring to speak gravely ; " why ,
watch like L. Opimius, * ne quid respublica detvimenti
caperet. ' "

"By Jove, Pelham, he will scratch out the lady's
beaux yeuxj^' cried the good-natured Dartmore, endeav-
oring to seize the monkey by the tail , for which he very
narrowly escaped with an unmutilated visage. But the
man who had before suffered by Jocko's ferocity, and
whose breast was still swelling with revenge, was glad
of so favorable an opportunity and excuse for wreaking
it. He seized the poker, made three strides to Jocko,
who set up an ineffable cry of defiance, — and with a
single blow split the skull of the unhappy monkey in
twain. It fell with one convulsion on the ground and
gave up the ghost.

We then raised the unfortunate landlady, placed her
on the sofa, and Dartmore administered a plentiful pota-
tion of the Cura^oa punch. By slow degrees she re-
vived, gave three most doleful suspirations, and then,
starting up, gazed wildly around her. Half of us were
still laughing, — my unfortunate self among the num-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 109

ber; this the enraged landlady no sooner perceived than
she imagined herself the victim of some preconcerted
villany. Her lips trembled with passion; she uttered
the most dreadful imprecations; and had I not retired
into a comer, and armed myself with the dead body of
Jocko, which I wielded with exceeding valor, she
might, with the simple weapons with which nature had
provided her hands, have forever demolished the loves
and graces that abide in the face of Henry Pelham.

When at last she saw that nothing hostile was at
present to be effected, she drew herself up, and giving
Bedos a tremendous box on the ear, as he stood grinning
beside her, marched out of the room.

We then again rallied around the table, more than
ever disposed to be brilliant, and kept up till daybreak
a continued fire of jests upon the heroine of the passage :
" cum qua^^ as Vincent happily observed, " clauditur
adversis innoxia simia fatis ! "

g»r.eTi J -

110 pelham; OB,

CHAPTER XXIII.

Show me not thy painted heauties,

These impostures I defy. — George Withers.

The cave of Falri smelt not more delicately; on every side ap-
peared the marks of drunkenness and gluttony. At the upper
end of the cave the sorcerer lay extended, etc. — Mirglip the
Persian, in the " Tales of the Genii."

I WOKE the next morning with an aching head and
feverish frame. Ah, those midnight carousals, how
glorious they would be if there were no next morning!
I took my sauterne and soda-water in my dressing-
room; and, as indisposition always makes me medi-
tative, I thought over all I had done since my arrival
at Paris. I had become (that, Heaven knows, I soon
manage to do) rather a talked-of and noted character.
It is true that I was everywhere abused : one found fault
with my neckcloth; another with my mind, — the lank
Mr. Aberton declared that I put my hair in papers, and
the stuffed Sir Henry Millington said I was a thread-
paper myself. One blamed my riding, a second my
dancing, a third wondered how any woman could like
me, and a fourth said that no woman ever could.

On one point, however, all — friends and foes — were
alike agreed, — namely, that I was a consummate puppy,
and excessively well satisfied with myself. Perhaps
they were not much mistaken there. Why is it, by the
by, that to be pleased with one's self is the surest way
of offending everybody else ? If any one, male or female,
an evident admirer of his or her own perfections, enter

ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. Ill

a room, how perturbed, restless, and unhappy every in-
dividual of the offender's sex instantly becomes; for
them not only enjoyment, but tranquillity is over, and
if they could annihilate the unconscious victim of their
spleen, I fully believe no Christian toleration would
come in the way of that last extreme of animosity. For
a coxcomb there is no mercy, — for a coquette no pardon.
They are, as it were, the dissenters of society, — no
crime is too bad to be imputed to them; they do not
believe the religion of others, — they set up a deity of
their own vanity; all the orthodox vanities of others
are offended. Then comes the bigotry, the stake, the
auto-da-fe of scandal. What, alas! is so implacable as
the rage of vanity? What so restless as its persecu-
tion? Take from a man his fortune, his house, his
reputation, but flatter his vanity in each, and he will
forgive you. Heap upon him benefits, fill him with
blessings : but irritate his self-love, and you have made
the very best man ungrateful. He will sting you if he
can : you cannot blame him ; you yourself have instilled
the venom. This is one reason why you must rarely
reckon upon gratitude in conferring an obligation. It
is a very high mind to which gratitude is not a painful
sensation. If you wish to please, you will find it wiser
to receive — solicit even — favors, than accord them ; for
the vanity of the ohllger is always flattered, — that of
the obligee rarely.

Well, this is an unforeseen digression : let me return.
I had mixed, of late, very little with the English.
My mother's introductions had procured me the entree
of the best French houses; and to them, therefore, my
evenings were usually devoted. Alas! that was a
happy time, when my carriage used to await me at the
door of the Rocher de Cancale, and then whirl me to

112 PELHAM; OR,

a succession of visits, varying in their degree and nature
as the whim prompted: now to the brilliant soirees of

Madame de , or to the appaHement au troisieme

of some less celebrated daughter of dissipation and
ecarfe; now to the literary conversaziones of the Duch-

esse de D s, or the Vicomte d' , and then to the

feverish excitement of the gambling-house. Passing
from each with the appetite for amusement kept alive by
variety ; finding in none a disappointment, and in every
one a welcome; full of the health which supports, and
the youth which colors all excess or excitement, I
drained, with an unsparing lip, whatever enjoyment
that enchanting metropolis could afiford.

I have hitherto said but little of the Duchesse de
Perpignan; I think it necessary now to give some ac-
count of that personage. Ever since the evening I had
met her at the ambassador's, I paid her the most un-
ceasing attentions. I soon discovered that she had a
curious sort of liaison with one of the attaches, — a
short, ill-made gentleman, with high shoulders and a
pale face, who wore a blue coat and buff waistcoat, wrote
bad verses, and thought himself handsome. All Paris
said she was excessively enamored of this youth. As
for me, I had not known her four days before I disco sr-
Y ered that she could not be excessively enamored of any-
thing but an oyster pdt4 and Lord Byron's "Corsair."
Her mind was the most marvellous melange of senti-
ment and its opposite. In her amours she was Lucretia
herself; in her epicurism Apicius would have yielded
to her. She was pleased with sighs, but she adored
suppers. She would leave everything for her lover,
except her dinner. The attache soon quarrelled with
her, and I was installed into the Platonic honors of his
office.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 113

At first, I own that I was flattered by her choice;
and though she was terribly exacting of my pet its soins,
I managed to keep up her afifection, and, what is still
more wonderful, my own, for the better part of a month.
What then cooled me was the following occurrence : —

I was in her boudoir one evening, when her feTJime
de chambre came to tell us that the due was in the pas-
sage. Notwithstanding the innocence of our attach-
ment, the duchesse was in a violent fright; a small door
was at the left of the ottoman, on which we were sitting.
"Oh, no, no; not there," cried the lady; but I, who
saw no other refuge, entered it forthwith, and before she
could ferret me out, the due was in the room.

In the meanwhile, I amused myself by examining the
wonders of the new world into which I had so abruptly
immerged: on a small table before me, was deposited a
remarkably -constructed nightcap; I examined it as a
curiosity; on each side was placed une petite cotelette
de veau cru, sewed on with green-colored silk (I re-
member even the smallest minutiaB) ; a beautiful golden
wig (the duchesse never liked me to play with her hair)
was on a block close by, and on another table was a set
of teeth, d^une hlancheur eblouissante. In this manu-
factory of a beauty I remained for a quarter of an hour ;
at the end of that time, the abigail (the duchesse had
the grace to disappear) released me, and I flew down the
stairs like a spirit from purgatory.

From that moment the duchesse honored me with her
most deadly abhorrence. Equally silly and wicked, her
schemes of revenge were as ludicrous in their execution
as remorseless in their design: atone time I narrowly
escaped poison in a cup of coffee, at another she endeav-
ored to stab me to the heart with a paper-cutter.

Notwithstanding my preservation from these attacks,

VOL. I. — 8

114 PELHAM; OK,

my fair enemy had resolved on my destruction, and an-
other means of attempting it still remained, which the
reader will yet have the pleasure of learning.

Mr. Thornton had called upon me twice, and twice I
had returned the visit, but neither of us had been at
home to benefit by these reciprocities of politeness.
His acquaintance with my mysterious hero of the gam-
bling house and the Jardin des Plantes, and the keen
interest I took, in spite of myself, in that unaccountable
person, whom I was persuaded I had seen before in
some very difiFerent scene, and under very different cir-
cumstances, made me desirous to improve an acquaint-
ance which, from Vincent's detail, I should otherwise
have been anxious to avoid. I therefore resolved to
make another attempt to find him at home; and my
headache being somewhat better, I took my way to his
apartments in the Faubourg St. Germain.

I love that quartier ! — if ever I go to Paris again
I shall reside there. It is a different world from the
streets usually known to and tenanted by the English :
there^ indeed, you are among the French, the fossilized
remains of the old regime^ — the very houses have an
air of desolate yet venerable grandeur; you never pass
by the white and modern mansion of a nouveau riche ;
all , even to the ruggedness of the pave, breathes a haughty
disdain of innovation; you cross one of the numerous
bridges, and you enter into another time, — you are
inhaling the atmosphere of a past century; no flaunt-
ing boutique, French in its trumpery, English in its
prices, stares you in the face; no stiff coats and unnat-
ural gaits are seen anglicizing up the melancholy streets.
Vast hotels, with their gloomy frontals, and magnificent
contempt of comfort; shops, such as shops might have
been in the aristocratic days of Louis Quatorze, ere

¥M

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 115

British contamination made them insolent and dear;
public edifices, still eloquent of the superb charities of
le grand monarqtce ; carriages with their huge bodies
and ample decorations; horses, with their Norman
dimensions and undocked honors; men, on whose more
high though not less courteous demeanor, the Revolu-
tion seems to have wrought no democratic plebeianism,
— all strike on the mind with a vague and nameless
impression of antiquity; a something solemn even in
gayety, and faded in pomp, appears to linger over all
you behold ; there are the great French people unadul-
terated by change, unsullied with the commerce of th^
vagrant and various tribes that throng their mighty mart
of enjoyments.

The strangers who fill the quartiers on this side the
Seine pass not there; between them and the Faubourg
there is a gulf; the very skies seem different, — your
own feelings, thoughts, nature itself, alter, when you
have passed that Styx which divides the wanderers
from the inhabitants; your spirits are not so much
damped, as tinged, refined, ennobled by a certain inex-
pressible awe, — you are girt with the stateliness of eld,
and you tread the gloomy streets with the dignity of a
man who is recalling the splendors of an ancient court
where he once did homage.^

I arrived at Thornton's chambers in the Rue St.
Dominique. " Monsieur^ est-ll chez lui ? " said I to
the ancient portress, who was reading one of Crebil-
lon's novels.

" Oui^ Monsieur^ au quatriemey" was the answer. I
turned to the dark and unclean staircase, and, after

1 It was in 1827 that this was first published ; the glory (by this
time) has probably left the Faaboorg.

116 pelham; OB,

incredible exertion and fatigue, arrived at last at the
elevated abode of Mr. Thornton.

" £ntrez," cried a voice, in answer to my rap I
obeyed the signal, and found myself in a room of
tolerable dimensions and multiplied utilities. A de-
cayed silk curtain of a dingy blue, drawn across a
recess, separated the chambre a coucher from the
salon. It was at present only half -drawn, and did
not, therefore, conceal the mysteries of the den within;
the bed was still unmade, and apparently of no very
inviting cleanliness; a red handkerchief, that served as
a nightcap, hung pendent from the foot of the bed ; at a
little distance from it, more towards the pillow, were
a shawl, a parasol, and an old slipper. On a table
which stood between the two dull, filmy windows, were
placed a cracked bowl, still reeking with the lees of
gin -punch, two bottles half full, a mouldy cheese, and
a salad-dish; on the ground beneath the table lay two
huge books, and a woman's bonnet.

Thornton himself sat by a small, consumptive fire,
in an easy -chair; another table, still spread with the
appliances of breakfast, — namely, a coffee-pot, a milk-
jug, two cups, a broken loaf, and an empty dish, min-
gled with a pack of cards, one dice, and an open book
de mauvais gout^ stood immediately before him.

Everything around bore some testimony of low de-
bauchery; and the man himself, with his flushed and
sensual countenance, his unwashed hands, and the slov-
enly rakishness of his whole appearance, made no unfit-
ting representation of the genius loci.

All that I have described, together with a flitting
shadow of feminine appearance, escaping through an-
other door, my quick eye discovered in the same instant
that I made my salutation.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 117

Thornton rose, with an air half -careless and half-
abashed, and expressed, in more appropriate terms than
his appearance warranted, his pleasurable surprise at
seeing me at last. There was, however, a singularity
in his conversation which gave it an air both of shrewd-
ness and vulgarity. This was, as may before have been
noted, a profuse intermixture of proverbs, some stale,
some new, some sensible enough, and all savoring of a
vocabulary carefully eschewed by every man of ordinary
refinement in conversation.

"I have but a small tenement," said he, smiling;
** but, thank Heaven, at Paris a man is not made by
his lodgings. Small house, small care. Few gargons
have indeed a more sumptuous apartment than myself. "

" True," said I; " and if I may judge by the bottles
on the opposite table, and the bonnet beneath it, you
find that no abode is too humble or too exalted for the
solace of the senses. "

" 'Fore Gad, you are in the right, Mr. Pelham,"
replied Thornton, with a loud, coarse, chuckling laugh,
which, more than a year's conversation could have done,
let me into the secrets of his character. " I care not a
rush for the decorations of the table, so that the cheer
be good; nor for the gewgaws of the head-dress, so long
as the face is pretty, — ' the taste of the kitchen is better

than the smell.' Do you go much to Madame B 's,

in the Rue Gretry, — eh, Mr. Pelham? — ah, I'll be
bound you do."

" No," said I, with a loud laugh, but internal shiver;
" but you know where to find le hon vin et les jolies
filles. As for me, I am still a stranger in Paris, and
amuse myself but very indifierently. "

Thornton's face brightened. " I tell you what, my good
fellow — I beg pardon , I mean Mr. Pelham , — I can show

118 pelham; or,

you the beet sport in the world, if you can only spare
me a little of your time, — this very evening, perhaps? "

" I fear," said I, " I am engaged all the present week;
hut 1 long for nothing more than to cultivate an ac-
quaintance seemingly so exactly to my own taste. "

Thornton's gray eyes twinkled. " Will you breakfast
with me on Saturday ? " said he,

" T shall be too happy," I replied.

There was now a short pause. I took advantage of it.
" I think," said I, ** I have seen you once or twice with a
tall, handsome man, in a loose greatcoat of very singular
color. Pray, if not impertinent, who is he ? I am sure
I have seen him before in England. "

I looked full upon Thornton as I said this ; he changed
color, and answered my gaze with a quick glance from
his small, glittering eye, before he replied, " I scarcely
know who you mean, my acquaintance is so large and
miscellaneous at Paris. It might have been Johnson,
or Smith, or Howard, or anybody, in short."

" It is a man nearly six feet high," said I, " thin, and
remarkably well made, of a pale complexion, light eyes,
and very black hair, mustaches, and whiskers. I saw
him with you once in the Bois de Boulogne, and once
in a hell in the Palais Royal. Surely, now you will
recollect who he is ? "

Thornton was evidently disconcerted.

" Oh! " said he, after a short pause, and another of
his peculiarly quick, sly glances, — "oh, that man: I
have known him a very short time. What is his name ?
— let me see ! " and Mr. Thornton affected to look down
in a complete reverie of dim remembrances.

I saw, however, that from time to time his eye glanced
up to me with a restless, inquisitive expression, and as
instantly retired.

;

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 119

" Ah," said I, carelessly, '* I think I know who
he is?"

" Who ? " cried Thornton, eagerly, and utterly off
his guard.

" And yet," I pursued, without noticing the interrup-
tion, ** it scarcely can be, — the color of the hair is so
very different."

Thornton again appeared to relapse into his recol-
lections.

"War — Warbur — ah! I have it now!" cried he,
" Warburton, that's it, — that's the name; is it the
one you supposed, Mr. Pelham ? "

" No," said I, apparently perfectly satisfied. " I was
quite mistaken. Good-morning, I did not think it
was so late. On Saturday, then, Mr. Thornton, — au
plaisir ! "

" A cunning dog ! " said I to myself, as I left the
apartments. " However, on peut etre tropjln, I shall
have him yet."

The surest way to make a dupe, is to let your victim
suppose you are his.

120 pelham; ob,

CHAPTER XXIV.

Voilk de rerudition.^ — Les Femmes Savantes.

I FOUND, on my return, covered with blood, and foam-
ing with passioQ, my inestimable valet, Bedos.

" What 's the matter?" said I.

" Matter! " repeated Bedos, in a tone almost inarticu-
late with rage; and then, rejoicing at the opportunity
of unbosoming his wrath, he poured out a vast volley of
ivrog7ie$ and carognesy against our dame du chateau^
of monkey reminiscence. With great difficulty I gath-
ered at last, from his vituperations, that the enraged
landlady, determined to wreak her vengeance on some
one, had sent for him into her appartement, accosted
him with a smile, bade him sit down, regaled him with
cold vol-aU'Vent, and a glass of Curacoa, and, while he
was felicitating himself on his good fortune, slipped out
of the room; presently, three tall fellows entered with
sticks.

" We '11 teach you," said the biggest of them, —
" we '11 teach you to lock up ladies for the indulgence
of your vulgar amusement;" and, without one other
word, they fell upon Bedos with incredible zeal and
vigor. The valiant valet defended himself, tooth and
nail, for some time, for which he only got the more
soundly belabored. In the meanwhile the landlady
entered, and, with the same gentle smile as before,
begged him to make no ceremony, to proceed with his

1 There 's erudition for you.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 121

present amusement, and, when he was tired with the
exercise, hoped he would refresh himself with another
glass of Curayoa.

" It was this," said Bedos, with a whimper, " which
hurt me the most, — to think that she should serve me
so cruelly, after I had eaten so plentifully of the vol-au-
vent ; envy and injustice I can bear, but treachery stabs
me to the heart. "

When these threshers of men were tired, the
lady satisfied, and Bedos half dead, they suffered the
unhappy valet to withdraw; the mistress of the hotel
giving him a note, which she desired, with great civil-
ity, that he would transmit to me on my return. This,
I found, enclosed my bill, and informed me that, my
month being out on the morrow, she had promised my
rooms to a particular friend, and begged I would,
therefore, have the bonte to choose another apartment.

" Carry my luggage forthwith," said I, " to the Hotel
de Mirabeau : " and that very evening I changed my
abode.

I was engaged that day to a literary dinner at the

Marquis d'Al ; and, as I knew I should meet

Vincent, I felt some pleasure in repairing to my enter-
tainer's hotel. They were just going to dinner as I
entered. A good many English were of the party.
The good-natured, in all senses of the word. Lady

, who always affected to pet me, cried aloud,

"Pelham, mon joli petit mignon, I have not seen you
for an age, — do give me your arm. "

Madame d'Anville was just before me, and, as I
looked at her, T saw that her eyes were full of tears;
my heart smote me for my late inattention, and, going

up to her, I only nodded to Lady and said, in

reply to her invitation, " Non^ perfide^ it is my turn

»N

'»iitei

122 pelham; or,

to be cruel now. Remember your flirtation with Mr.
Howard de Howard. "

" Pooh! " said Lady , taking Lord Vincent's arm,

" your jealousy does indeed rest upon * a trifle light as
air.'"

" Do you forgive me; " whispered I to Madame d'An-
ville, as I handed her to the salle a manger.

" Does not love forgive everything? " was her answer. \\

" At least," thought 1, " it never talks in those pretty »
phrases ! " In,,

The conversation soon turned upon books. As for eon
me, I rarely at that time took a share in those discus- \
sions; indeed, I have long laid it down as a rule, that \^
when your fame, or your notoriety, is once established, i^^
you never gain by talking to more than one person at a ]^
time. If you don't shine, you are a fool, — if you do, \^
you are a bore. You must become either ridiculous or ii
unpopular, — either hurt your own self-love by stupid- ^
ity, or that of others by wit. I therefore sat in silence, ]
looking exceedingly edified, and now and then mutter- \
ing "good!" "true!" Thank Heaven, however, the
suspension of one faculty only increases the vivacity
of the others : my eyes and ears always watch like
sentinels over the repose of my lips. Careless and
indifferent as I seem to all things, nothing ever escapes
me: I have two peculiarities which serve me, it may
be, instead of talent; I observe^ and I remember.

" You have seen Jouy's * Hermite de la Chaussee
d'Antin ' ? " said our host to Lord Vincent.

" I have, and think meanly of it. There is a per- i
petual aim at something pointed, which as perpetually
merges into something dull. He is like a bad swim-
mer, — strikes out with great force, makes a confounded
splash, and never gets a yard the further for it. It is

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 123
a great effort iiot to sink. Indeed, Monsieur d'A ,

your literature is at a very reduced ebb : bombastic in the
drama, shallow in philosophy, mawkish in poetry; your
Writers in the present day seem to think, with Boileau :

* Sou vent de tous nos maux la raison est le pire/ " ^

" Surely," cried Madame d'Anville, " you will allow
De la Martine's poetry to be beautiful ? "

" I allow it," said he, "to be among the best you
have ; and I know very few lines in your language
equal to the two first stanzas in his * Meditation on
Napoleon,' or to those exquisite verses called * Le
Lac;' but you will allow also, that he wants origi-
nality and nerve. His thoughts are pathetic, but not
deep; he whines, but sheds no tears. He has, in his
imitation of Lord Byron, reversed the great miracle:
instead of turning water into wine, he has turned wine
into water. Besides, he is so \mpardonably obscure.

He thinks with Bacchus (you remember, D'A ,

the line in Euripides, which I will not quote), that
* there is something august in the shades ; ' but he has
applied this thought wrongly; in his obscurity there
is nothing sublime, — it is the background of a Dutch
picture. It is only a red herring, or an old hat which
he has invested with such pomposity of shadow and
darkness. "

" But his verses are so smooth," said Lady .

" Ah ! " answered Vincent.

" * Quand la rime enfin se trouve au bout des vers,
Qu'importe qae le reste y soit mis de travers.' " ^

^ Often of all our ills the worst is reason.
* No matter what the stuff, if good the rhyme, —
The rubble stands cemented with the lime.

Paraphrase.

124 pelham; ob,

" Helas ! " said the Viscount d' A , an author of no

small celebrity himself; " I agree with you, — we shall
never again see a Voltaire or a Rousseau. "

" There is but little justice in those complaints, often
as they are made," replied Vincent. " You may not, it
is true, see a Voltaire or a Rousseau, but you will see
their equals. Genius can never be exhausted by one
individual. In our country the poets, after Chaucer in
the fifteenth century, complained of the decay of their
art, — they did not anticipate Shakespeare. In Hay-
ley's time, who ever dreamed of the ascension of
Byron! Yet Shakespeare and Byron came like the
bridegroom * in the dead of night ; ' and you have
the same probability of producing, not indeed another
Rousseau, but a writer to do equal honor to your
literature. "

" I think," said Lady , " that Rousseau's * Julie '

is over-rated. I had heard so much of ' La Nouvelle
Heloise ' when I was a girl, and been so often told that
it was destruction to read it, that I bought the book
the very day after I was married. I own to you that I
could not get through it. "

"I am not surprised at it," answered Vincent ; "but
Rousseau is not the less a genius for all that. There is
no plot in his novel to bear out the style, and he him-
self is right when he says, * this book will suit few
readers. ' One letter would delight every one, — four
volumes of them are a surfeit; it is the toujours 'per-
drixl But the chief beauty of that wonderful concep-
tion of an impassioned and meditative mind is to be
found in the inimitable manner in which the thoughts
are embodied, and in the tenderness, the truth, the
profundity of the thoughts themselves. When Lord
Edouard says, * C^est le chemin des passions qui ma

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 125

conduit a la philosophle,^ ^ he inculcates, in one sim-
ple phrase, a profound and unanswerable truth. It is
in these remarks that nature is chiefly found in the
writings of Rousseau. Too much engrossed in himself
to be deeply skilled in the characters of others, that very
self-study had yet given him a knowledge of the more
hidden recesses of the heart. He could perceive at once
the motive and the cause of actions, but he wanted the
patience to trace the elaborate and winding progress of
their effects. He saw the passions in their home, but
he could not follow them abroad. He knew mankind
in the general, but not men in the detail. Thus, when
he makes an aphorism, or reflection, it comes home at
once to you as true ; but when he would analyze that
reflection, — when he argues, reasons, and attempts to
prove, you reject him as unnatural, or you refute him
as false. It is then that he partakes of that manie com-
mune which he imputes to other philosophers, ' de nier
ce qui esty et d^expUquer ce qui n^ est pas, ^ " ^

There was a short pause. "I think," said Madame
d'Anville, "that it is in those reflections which you
admire so much in Rousseau, that our authors in gen-
eral excel."

" You are right," said Vincent, " and for this reason,
— with you men of letters are nearly always men of the
world. Hence their quick perceptions are devoted to
human beings as well as to books. They make observa-
tions acutely, and embody them with grace; but it is
worth remarking, that the same cause which produced
the aphorism, frequently prevents its being profound.
These literary gens du monde have the tact to observe,

1 It is the path of the passions which has conducted me to
philosophy.

^ To deny that which is, and explain that which is not

126 pelham; ok,

but not the patience, perhaps not the time, to investi-
gate. They make the maxim, hut they never explain to
you the train of reasoning which led to it. Hence they
are more brilliant than true. An English writer will
seldom dare to make a maxim, involving, perhaps, in
two lines, one of the most important of moral prob-
lems, without bringing pages to support his dictum.
A French essayist leaves it wholly to itself. He tells
you neither how he came by his reasons, nor their con-
clusion: ^leplusfou souuent est le plus satisfait.'^
(Consequently, if less tedious than the English, your
reasoners are more dangerous, and ought rather to be
considered as models of terseness than of reflection. A
man might learn to think sooner from your writers, but
he will learn to think justly sooner from ours. Many
observations of La Bruyere and Eochefoucault — the
latter especially — have obtained credit for truth solely
from their point. They possess exactly the same merit
as the very sensible, — permit me to add, very French
line in Corneille : —

* Ma plus donee esperance est de perdre I'espoir.' " *

The marquess took advantage of the silence which
followed Vincent's criticism, to rise from the table.
We all (except Vincent, who took leave) adjourned to
the salon, " Qui est cet homme la ? " said one, " comme
il est epris de lui-meme! " " How silly he is," cried
another, — " How ugly^^ said a third. ** What a taste
in literature — such a talker — such shallowness, and
such assurance — not worth the answering — could not
slip in a word — disagreeable, revolting, awkward, slov-
enly," were the most complimentary opinions bestowed

^ He who has the least sense is the most satisfied.
2 My sweetest hoping is to forfeit hope.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 127

upon the unfortunate Vincent. The old railed at his
mauvais gout, and the young at his mauifais coeur : for
the former always attribute whatever does not correspond
with their sentiments, to a perversion of taste ; and the
latter, whatever does not come up to their enthusiasm,
to a depravity of heart.

As for me, I went home, enriched with two new
observations ; first, that one may not speak of anything
relative to a foreign country as one would if one were
a native. National censures become particular affronts.
Secondly, that those who know mankind in theory, sel-
dom know it in practice ; the very wisdom that conceives
a rule is accompanied with the abstraction or the vanity
which destroys it. T mean that the philosopher of the
cabinet is often too diffident to put into action his
observations, or too eager for display to conceal their
design. Lord Vincent values himself upon his science
du monde. He has read much upon men, he has re-
flected more; he lays down aphorisms to govern or to
please them. He goes into society; he is cheated by
the one half, and the other half he offends. The sage
in the cabinet is but a fool in the salon ; and the most
consummate men of the world are those who have con-
sidered the least on it.

128 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTER XXV.

Fahtaff. — What money is in my purse ?
Page. — Seven groats and twopence.

Second Part of Henry IV,

En iterum Crispinus !

The next day a note was brought me, wliich had been
sent to my former lodgings in the Hotel de Paris; it was
from Thornton.

My dear Sir [it b^gan], — I am very sorry that particular
business will prevent me the pleasure of seeing you at my
rooms on Saturday. I hope to be more fortunate some other
day. I should be glad to introduce you, the first opportunity,
to my friends in the Rue Gretry, for I like obliging my country-
men. I am sure, if you were to go there, you would cut and
come again, — one shoulder of mutton drives down another.

I beg you to accept my repeated excuses, and remain, dear
sir, your very obedient servant,

Thomas Thornton.

Rue St. Dominique, Friday Morning.

The letter produced in me many and manifold cogita-
tions. What could possibly have induced Mr. Tom
Thornton, rogue as he was, to postpone thus, of his own
accord, the plucking of a pigeon, which he had such
good reason to believe he had entrapped? There was
evidently no longer the same avidity to cultivate my
acquaintance as before; in putting off our appointment
with so little ceremony, he did not even fix a day for
another meeting. What had altered his original designs

rwi* -^Kl«RlliB9B3S9W

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 129

towards me ? for if Vincent's account were true, it was
natural to suppose that he wished to profit by any ac-
quaintance he might form with me, and therefore such
an acquaintance his own interest would induce him to
continue and confirm.

Either, then, he no longer had the same necessity for
a dupe, or he no longer imagined I should become one.
Yet neither of these suppositions was probable. It was
not likely that he should grow suddenly honest or
suddenly rich; nor had I, on the other hand, given
him any reason to suppose I was a jot more wary than
any other individual he might have imposed upon.
On the contrary, I had appeared to seek his acquain-
tance with an eagerness which said but little for my
knowledge of the world. The more I reflected the
more I should have been puzzled, had I not connected
his present backwardness with his acquaintance with
the stranger, whom he termed Warburton. It is true
that I had no reason to suppose so : it was a conjecture
wholly unsupported, and, indeed, against my better
sense; yet, from some unanalyzed associations, I could
not divest myself of the supposition.

" I will soon see, " thought I ; and wrapping myself
in my cloak, for the day was bitterly cold, I bent my
way to Thornton's lodgings. I could not explain to
myself the deep interest I took in whatever was con-
nected with (the so-called) Warburton, or whatever
promised to discover more clearly any particulars respect-
ing him. His behavior in the gambling-house ; his con-
versation with the woman in the Jardin des Plantes;
and the singular circumstance, that a man of so very
aristocratic an appearance should be connected with
Thornton, and only seen in such low scenes and with
such low society, would not have been sufl&cient so

VOL. I. — 9

130 pelham; or,

strongly to occupy my mind, had it not been for certain
dim recollections and undefinable associations that his
appearance when present, and my thoughts of him when
absent, perpetually recalled.

As, engrossed with meditations of this nature, I was
passing over the Pont Neuf, I perceived the man whom
Warburton had so earnestly watched in the gambling-
house, and whom my conjectures indentified with the
" Tyrrell, " who had formed the subject of conversation
in the Jardin des Plantes, pass slowly before me.
There was an appearance of great exhaustion in his
swarthy, and strongly-marked countenance. He walked
carelessly on, neither looking to the right nor the left,
with that air of thought and abstraction common to all
men in the habit of indulging any engrossing and excit-
ing passion.

We were just on the other side of the Seine, when
I perceived the woman of the Jardin des Plantes approach.
Tyrrell (for that, I afterwards discovered, was really his
name) started as she came near, and asked her, in a
tone of some asperity, where she had been ? As I was
but a few paces behind, I had a clear, full view of the
woman's countenance. She was about twenty-eight or
thirty years of age. Her features were decidedly hand-
some, though somewhat too sharp and aquiline. Her
eyes were light and rather sunken ; and her complexion
bespoke somewhat of the paleness and languor of ill-
health. On the whole, the expression of her face,
though decided, was not unpleasing, and when she re-
turned Tyrrell's rather rude salutation, it was with a smile,
which made her, for the moment, absolutely beautiful.

" Where have I been to ? " she said, in answer to his
interrogatory ; " why, I went to look at the New Church,
which they told me was so superbe,"

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 131

" Methinks, " replied the man, " that ours are not pre-
cisely the circumstances in which such spectacles are
amusing. "

" Nay, Tyrrell, " said the woman, as, taking his arm,
they walked on together a few paces before me, — " nay,
we are quite rich now to what we have been; and, if
you do play again, our two hundred pounds may swell
into a fortune. Your losses have brought you skill, and
you may now turn them into actual advantages. "

Tyrrell did not reply exactly to these remarks, but
appeared as if debating with himself. " Two hundred
pounds, — twenty already gone! — in a few months all
will have melted away. What is it then now but a
respite from starvation ] — but with luck it may become
a competence. "

" And why not have luck ? many a fortune has been
made with a worse beginning, " said the woman.

" True, Margaret, " pursued the gambler, " and even
without luck, our fate can only commence a month or two
sooner, — better a short doom than a lingering torture. "

" What think you of trying some new game where
you have more experience, or where the chances are
greater than in that of rouge-et-noir ? " asked the
woman. " Could you not make something out of
that tall, handsome man, who, Thornton says, is so
rich ? "

" Ah, if one could ! " sighed Tyrrell, wistfully.
" Thornton tells me that he has won thousands from
him, and that they are mere drops in his income.
Thornton is a good, easy, careless fellow, and might let
me into a share of the booty ; but then, in what games
can I engage him ? "

Here I passed this well-suited pair, and lost the
remainder of their conversation. " Well, " thought I,

132 pelham; or,

"if this precious personage does starve at last, he will
most richly deserve it, partly for his designs on the
stranger, principally for his opinion of Thornton. If
he were a knave only, one might pity him ; but a knave
and a fool both are a combination of evil for which there
is no intermediate purgatory of opinion, — nothing short
of utter damnation."

I soon arrived at Mr. Thornton's abode. The same
old woman, poring over the same novel of Crebillon,
made me the same reply as before; and, accordingly,
again I ascended the obscure and nigged stairs, which
seemed to indicate that the road to vice is not so easy
as one generally supposes. I knocked at the door, and,
receiving no answering acknowledgment, opened it at
once. The first thing I saw was the dark, rough coat
of Warburton; that person's back was turned to me,
and he was talking with some energy to Thornton (who
lounged idly in a chair, with one ungartered leg thrown
over the elbow).

" Ah, Mr. Pelham, " exclaimed the latter, starting
from his not very graceful position, " it gives me great
pleasure to see you : Mr. Warburton, Mr. Pelham, —
Mr. Pelham, Mr. Warburton."

My new-made and mysterious acquaintance drew
himself up to his full height, and bowed very slightly
to my own acknowledgment of the introduction. A
low person would have thought him rude. I only
supposed him ignorant of the world. No man of the
world is uncivil. He turned round, after this stiff con-
descension, and sank down on the sofa, with his back
towards me.

" I was mistaken, " thought I, " when I believed him
to be above such associates as Thornton, — they are well
matched, "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEiMAN. 133

" My dear sir, " said Thornton, " I am very sorry I
could not see you to breakfast; a particular engage-
ment prevented me, — verb am sap. Mr. Pelham, you
take me, I suppose, — black eyes, white skin, and such
an ankle! " and the fellow rubbed his great hands and
chuckled.

" Well, " said I, " I cannot blame you, whatever may
be my loss, — a dark eye and a straight ankle are power-
ful excuses. What says Mr. Warburton to them ? " and
I turned to the object of my interrogatory.

" Really, " he answered', dryly (but in a voice that
struck me as feigned and artificial), and without moving
from his uncourteous position, " Mr. Thornton only can
judge of the niceties of his peculiar tastes, or the justice
of his general excuses."

Mr. Warburton said this in a sarcastic, bitter tone.
Thornton bit his lips, — more, I should think, at the
manner than the words, — and his small gray eyes
sparkled with a malignant and stern expression, which
suited the character of his face far better than the care-
less levity which his glances usually denoted.

" They are no such great friends after all, " thought
I ; " and now let me change my attack. Pray, " I asked,
"among all your numerous acquaintances at Paris did
you ever meet with a Mr. Tyrrell ? "

Warburton started from his chair, and as instantly
reseated himself. Thornton eyed me with one of those
peculiar looks which so strongly reminded me of a dog
in deliberation whether to bite or run away.

" I do know a Mr. Tyrrell, " he said, after a short
pause.

" What sort of a person is he ? " I asked with an in-
different air, — "a great gamester is he not ! "

" He does slap it down on the colors now and then, "

134 PELHAM; OR,

replied Thornton. " I hope you don't know him, Mr.
Pelham!"

" Why ? " said I, evading the question. " His char-
acter is not affected by a propensity so common, unless,
indeed, you suppose him to be more a gambler than a
gamester, — namely, more acute than unlucky."

" Heaven forbid that I should say any such thing, "
replied Thornton ; " you won't catch an old lawyer in
such imprudence."

" The greater the truth, the greater the libel, " said
Warburton, with a sneer.

" No, " resumed Thornton, " I know nothing against
Mr. Tyrrell, — nothing ! He may be a very good man,
and I believe he is; but as a friend, Mr. Pelham" (and
Mr. Thornton grew quite affectionate), " I advise you
to have as little as possible to do with that sort of
people, "

" Truly, " said I, " you have now excited my curi-
osity. Nothing, you know, is half so inviting as
mystery. "

Thornton looked as if he had expected a very different
reply ; and Warburton said, in an abrupt tone, —

" Whoever enters an unknown road in a fog may
easily lose himself."

" True, " said I ; " but that very chance is more
agreeable than a road where one knows every tree!
Danger and novelty are more to my taste than safety
and sameness. Besides, as I rarely gamble myself, I
can lose little by an acquaintance with those who do. "

Another pause ensued, — and finding I had got all
from Mr. Thornton and his uncourteous guest that I
was likely to do, I took my hat and my departure.

" I do not know, " thought I, " whether I have prof-
ited much by this visit. Let me consider. In the

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 135

first place, I have not ascertained why I was put off by
Mr. Thornton, — for as to his excuse, it could only have
availed one day, and had he been anxious for my ac-
quaintance, he would have named another. I have,
however, discovered, first, that he does not wish me
to form any connection with Tyrrell; secondly, from
Warburton's sarcasm and his glance of reply, that there
is but little friendship between those two, whatever be
the intimacy ; and, thirdly, that Warburton, from his
dorsal positions, so studiously preserved, either wished
to be uncivil or unnoticed." The latter, after all, was
the most probable supposition; and, upon the whole,
I felt more than ever convinced that he was the person
I suspected him to be.

136 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER XXVI.

Tell how the fates my giddy course did guide.
The inconstant turns of every changing hour.

Pierce Gaveston, by M. Dbatton.

Je me retire done. — Adieu, Paris, adieu ! — Boileau.

When I returned home, I found on my table the fol-
lowing letter from my mother : —

My dear Henry, — I am rejoiced to hear you are so well
entertained at Paris ; that you have been no often to the

D s and C s ; that Coulon says you are his best pupil ;

that your favorite horse is so much admired, — and that you
have only exceeded your allowance by jfilOCK). With some
difficulty I have persuaded your uncle to transmit you an order
for £1500, which will, I trust, make up all your deficiencies.

You must not, my dear child, be so extravagant for the
future, and for a very good reason, — namely, I do not see
how you can. Your uncle, I fear, will not again be so gener-
ous, and your father cannot assist you. You will therefore
see more clearly than ever the necessity of marrying an heiress :
there are only two in England (the daughters of gentlemen)
worthy of you, — the most deserving of these has £100,000 a
3'^ear, the other has £10,000. The former is old. ugly, and
very ill-tempered ; the latter tolerably pretty and agreeable,
and just of age; but you will perceive the impropriety of even
thinking of her till we have tried the other. I am going to
ask both to my Sunday soirees, where I never admit any single
men, so that there, at least, you will have no rivals.

And now, my dear son, before I enter into a subject of great
importance to you, I wish to recall to your mind that pleasure

N I

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 137

^ is never an end, but a means, — namely, that in your horses

and amusements at Paris, your visits and your liatsom, you
have always, I trust, remembered that these were only so far
desirable as the methods of shining in society. I have now a
new scene on which you are to enter, with very different
objects in view, and where any pleasures you may find have
nothing the least in common with those you at present
enjoy.

I know that this preface will not frighten you, as it might
many silly young men. Your education has been too care-
fully attended to, for you to imagine that any step can be
rough or unpleasant which raises you in the world.

3 To come at once to the point. One of the seats in your

uncle's borough of Buyemall is every day expected to be
vacated; the present member, Mr. Toolington, cannot possibly
live a week, and your uncle is very desirous that you should
fill the vacancy which Mr. Toolington's death will create.

^ Though I called it Lord Glen morris's borough, yet it is not

entirely at his disposal, which I think very strange, since my

£»' father, who was not half so rich as your uncle, could send two
members to Parliament without the least trouble in the world,
— but I don't understand these matters. Possibly your uncle
(poor man I) does not manage them well. However, he says
no time is to be lost. You are to return immediately to Eng-
land, and come down to his house in shire. It is supposed

you will have some contest, but be certain eventually to

[ come in.

You will also, in this visit to Lord Glenmorris, have an
excellent opportunity of securing his affection; you know it
is some time since he saw you, and the greater part of his
property is unentailed. If you come into the House, you must
devote yourself wholly to it, and I have no fear of your suc-
ceeding ; for I remember, when you were quite a child, how
well you spoke, " My name is Norval," and " Romans, country-
men, and lovers,** etc. I heard Mr. Canning speak the other
day, and I think his voice is quite like yours. In short, I
make no doubt of seeing you in the Ministry in a very few
years.

►

138 PELHAM; OR,

You see, my dear sou, that it is absolutely necessary you

should set out immediately. You will call on Lady , and

you will endeavor to make firm friends of the most desirable
among your present acquaintance ; so that you may be on the
same footing you are now, should you return to Paris. This a
little civility will easily do; nobody (as I before observed),
except in England, ever loses by politeness ; — by the by,
that last word is one you must never use, it is too Gloucester
' Place like.

You will also be careful, in returning to England, to make
very little use of French phrases; no vulgarity is more un-
pleasing. I could not help being exceedingly amused by a
book written the other day, which professes to give an accu-
rate description of good society. Not knowing what to make
us say in English, the author has made us talk nothing but
French. I have often wondered what common people think
of us, since in their novels they always affect to portray us so
different from themselves. I am very much afraid we are iii
all things exactly like them, except in being more simple and
unaffected. The higher the rank, indeed, the less pretence,
because there is less to pretend to. This is the chief reason
why our manners are better than low persons* : ours are more
natural, because they imitate no one else; theirs are affected,
because they think to imitate ours ; and whatever is evidently
borrowed becomes vulgar. Original affectation is sometimes
good ton, — imitated affectation, always bad.

Well, my dear Henry, I must now conclude this letter,
already too long to be interesting. I hope to see you about
ten days after you receive this; and if you can bring me a
Cashmere shawl, it would give me great pleasiu-e to see your
taste in its choice. God bless you, my dear son.

Your very affectionate,

Frances Pelham.

P. S. — I hope you go to church sometimes : I am sorry to
see the young men of the present day so irreligious ; it Is very
bad taste I Perhaps you could get my old triend, Madame
de , to choose the Cashmere ; — take care of your health.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 139

' This letter, which I read carefully twice over, threw
me into a most serious meditation. My first feeling
was regret at leaving Paris, my second was a certain
exultation at the new prospects so unexpectedly opened
to me. The great aim of a philosopher is to reconcile
every disadvantage hy some counterbalance of good;
where he cannot create this, he should imagine it. I
began, therefore, to consider less what I should lose,
than what I should gain by quitting Paris. In the first
place, I was tolerably tired of its amusements: no busi-
ness is half so fatiguing as pleasure. I longed for a
change; behold, a change was at hand! Then, to say
truth, I was heartily glad of a pretence of escaping from
a numerous cohort oifolles amours , with Madame d'An-
ville at the head; and the very circumstance which men
who play the German flute and fall in love would have
considered the most vexatious, I regarded as the most
consolatory.

My mind being thus relieved from its primary regret
at my departure, I now suffered it to look forward to the
advantages of my return to England. My love of ex-
citement and variety made an election, in which I was
to have both the importance of the contest and the
certainty of the success, a very agreeable object of
anticipation.

T was also by this time wearied with my attendance
upon women, and eager to exchange it for the ordinary
objects of ambition to men; and my vanity whispered
that my success in the one was no unfavorable omen of
my prosperity in the other. On my return to England,
with a new scene and a new motive for conduct, I re-
solved that I would commence a different character from
that I had hitherto assumed. How far I kept this reso-
lution the various events hereafter to be shown will

140 PELHAM; OR,

testify. For myself, I felt that I was now about to
enter a more crowded scene upon a more elevated ascent ;
and my previous experience of human nature was suffi-
cient to convince me that my safety required a more
continual circumspection, and my success a more digni-
fied bearing.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 141

CHAPTER XXVII.
Je noterai cela, Madame, dans mon livre. — Moli^rb.

I AM not one of those persons who are many days in
deciding what may be effected in one. " On the third day
from this," said I to Bedos, "at half-past nine in the
morning, I shall leave Paris for England. "

" Oh, my poor wife ! " said the valet, " she will break
her heart if I leave her. "

" Then stay," said I. Bedos shrugged his shoulders.

" I prefer being with monsieur to all things. "

" What ! even to your wife ? " The courteous rascal
placed his hand to his heart and bowed. " You shall
not suffer by your fidelity, — you shall take your wife
with you."

The conjugal valet *s countenance fell. " No," he
said, — " no; he could not take advantage of monsieur's
generosity."

" I insist upon it, — not another word."

" I beg a thousand pardons of monsieur ; but — but
my wife is very ill, and unable to travel."

" Then, in that case, so excellent a husband cannot
think of leaving a sick and destitute wife."

" Poverty has no law : if I consulted my heart, and
stayed, I should starve, et ilfaut rnvre."^

" Je n^en vols pas la necessite" ^ replied I, as I got
into my carriage. That repartee, by the way, I cannot
claim as my own ; it is the very unanswerable answer of
a judge to an expostulating thief.

^ One mnst live. ^ I don't see the necessity of that.

142 PELHAM; OR,

I made the round of reciprocal regrets, according to
the orthodox formula. The Duchesse de Perpignan was
the last (Madame d' Anville I reserved for another day) ;
that virtuous and wise personage was in the boudoir of
reception. I glanced at the fatal door as I entered. I
have a great aversion, after anything has once happened
and fairly subsided, to make any allusion to its former
existence. I never, therefore, talked to the duchess
about our ancient egaremens. I spoke, this morning,
of the marriage of one person, the death of another, and,
lastly, the departure of my individual self.

" When do you go ? " she said , eagerly.

" In two days; my departure will be softened, if T can
execute any commissions in England for madame."

" None," said she; and then in a low tone (that none
of the idlers, who were always found at her morning
levees^ should hear), she added, "you will receive a note
from me this evening."

I bowed, changed the conversation, and withdrew.
I dined in my own rooms, and spent the evening in
looking over the various billets-doux received during
my sejour at Paris.

" Where shall I put all these locks of hair 1 " asked
Bedos, opening a drawer full.

" Into my scrap-book."

" And all these letters ? "

"Into the fire."

I was just getting into bed when the Duchesse de
Perpignan^s note arrived; it was as follows: —

My dear Friend, — For that word, so doubtful in our
language, I may at least call you in your ovni, I am unwilling
that you should leave this country with those sentiments you
now entertain of me unaltered; yet I cannot imagine any form
of words of sufiicient magic to change them. Oh ! if you knew

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 143

how much I am to be pitied; if you could look for one mo-
ment into this lonely and blighted heart; if you could trace,
step by step, the progress I have made in folly and sin, you
would see how much of what you now condemn and despise
I have owed to circumstances, rather than to the vice of my
disposition. I was born a beauty, educated a beauty, owed
fame, rank, power to beauty ; and it is to the advantages I
have derived from person that I owe the ruin of my mind.
You have seen how much I now derive from art ; I loathe
myself as I write that sentence, — but no matter: from that
moment vou loathed me too. You did not take into considera-
tion that I had been living on excitement all my youth, and
that in my maturer years I could not relinquish it. I had
reigned by my attractions, and I thought every art preferable
to resigning my empire ; but, in feeding my vanity, I had not
been able to stifle the dictates of my heart. Love is so natural
to a woman, that she is scarcely a woman who resists it ; but
in me it has been a sentiment, not a passion.

Sentiment, then, and vanity, have been my seducers. I
said that I owed my errors to circumstances, not to nature.
You w^ill say that, in confessing love and vanity to be my
seducers, I contradict this assertion. You are mistaken. I
mean, that though vanity and sentiment were in me, yet the
scenes in which I have been placed, and the events which I
have witnessed, gave to those latent currents of action a wrong
and a dangerous direction. I was formed to love; for one
whom I did love I could have made every sacrifice. I married
a man I hated, and I only learned the depths of my heart when
it was too late.

Enough of this : you will leave this country; we shall
never meet again, — never ! You may return to Paris, but I
shall then be no more ; nHmportey — I shall be unchanged to
the last. Je mowrai en reine.

As a latest pledge of what I have felt for you, I send you
the enclosed chain and ring; as a latest favor, I request you to
wear them for six months, and, above all, for two hours in the
Tuileries to-moiTow. You will laugh at this request ; it seems
idle and romantic, — perhaps it is so. Love has many exag-

144 PELHAM; OB,

gerations in sentiment, which reason would despise. What
wonder, then, that mine, above that of all others, should con-
ceive them? You will not, I know, deny this request. Fare-
well! — in this world we shall never meet again. Farewell !

E.P.

" A most sensible effusion," said I to myself, when I
had read this billet; "and yet, after all, it shows more
feeling and more character than I could have supposed
she possessed. " 1 took up the chain ; it was of Maltese
workmanship, — not very handsome, nor, indeed, in any
way remarkable except for a plain hair ring which was
attached to it, and which I found myself unable to take
off without breaking. " It is a very singular request,"
thought I, " but then it comes from a very singular
person; and as it rather partakes of adventure and in-
trigue I shall at all events appear in the Tuileries
to-morrow, chained and ringed,^*

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 145

CHAPTEE XXVIII.

Thy incivilitv shall not make me fail to do what hecomes me : and
since thou hast more valor than courtesy, I for thee will hazard
that life which thou wouldst take from me. — Cassandra^
" elegantly done into English by Sir Charles Cotterell"

About the usual hour for the promenade in the Tuil-
eries I conveyed myself thither. I set the chain and
ring in full display, rendered still more conspicuous by
the dark-colored dress which I always wore. I had not
been in the gardens ten minutes before I perceived a
young Frenchman, scarcely twenty years of age, look
with a very peculiar air at my new decorations. He
passed and repassed me, much oftener than the alterna-
tions of the walk warranted ; and at last, taking off his
hat, said in a low tone, that he wished much for the
honor of exchanging a few words with me in private.
I saw at the first glance that he was a gentleman , and
accordingly withdrew with him among the trees, in the
more retired part of the garden.

" Permit me," said he, "to inquire how that ring and
chain came into your possession 1 "

"Monsieur," I replied, "you will understand me,
when I say that the honor of another person is impli-
cated in my concealment of that secret."

"Sir," said the Frenchman, coloring violently, "I
have seen them before, — in a word, they belong to me ! "

I smiled, — my young hero fired at this. " Oui,
Monsieur " said he, speaking very loud, and very quick,
"they belong to me, and I insist upon your immediately

VOL. I. — 10

146 pelham; or,

restoring them, or vindicating your claim to them by j

arms. "

" You leave me but one answer, Monsieur," said I ; i

"I will find a friend to wait upon you immediately.
Allow me to inquire your address ? " The Frenchman,
who was greatly agitated, produced a card. We bowed
and separated.

I was glancing over the address I held in my hand,

which was C. de Vautran , Rue de Bourhoriy Numero ,

when my ears were saluted with, —

" Now do you know me ? — thou sbouldst be Alonso ." 4^

I did not require the faculty of sight to recognize
Lord Vincent. "My dear fellow," said I, " I am re-
joiced to see you! " and thereupon I poured into his ear
the particulars of my morning adventure. Lord Vin- |

cent listened to me with much apparent interest, and
spoke very unaffectedly of his readiness to serve me,
and his regret at the occasion.

" Pooh I " said I, "a duel in France is not like one
in England; the former is a matter of course; a trifle of
common occurrence; one makes an engagement to fight,
in the same breath as an engagement to dine; — but the
latter is a thing of state and solemnity, long faces, early
rising, and will-making. But do get this business over
as soon as you can, that we may dine at the Eocher
afterwards. " ^

"Well, my dear Pelham," said Vincent, "I cannot \

refuse you my services; and as I suppose Monsieur de
Vautran will choose swords, I venture to augur every-
thing from your skill in that species of weapon. It is
the first time I have ever interfered in affairs of this
nature, but I hope to get well through the present. I

* Nobilis omatur lauro collega seaLnAo, I

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 147

as Juvenal says : au revoir, " and away went Lord Vin-
cent, half forgetting all his late anxiety for my life in
bis paternal pleasure for the delivery of his quotation.

Vincent is the only punster I ever knew with a good
heart. No action, to that race in general, is so serious
an occupation as the play upon words ; and the remorse-
less habit of murdering a phrase, renders them perfectly
obdurate to the simple death of a friend. I walked
through every variety the straight paths of the Tuileries
could afford, and was beginning to get exceedingly tired,
when Lord Vincent returned. He looked very grave,
and I saw at once that he was come to particularize the
circumstances of the last extreme. " The Bois de Bou-
logne — pistols — in one hour," "weve the three leading
features of his detail.

"Pistols!" said I; "well, be it so. I would rather
have had swords, for the young man's sake as much as
my own j but thirteen paces and a steady aim will settle
the business as soon. We will try a bottle of the
Chambertin to-day, Vincent." The punster smiled
faintly, and for once in his life made no reply. We
walked gravely and soberly to my lodgings for the pis-
tols, and then proceeded to the engagement as silently
as philosophers should do.

The Frenchman and his second were on the ground
first. I saw that the former was pale and agitated, —
not, I think, from fear, but passion. When wo took
our ground, Vincent came to me, and said, in a low
tone, " For Heaven's sake, suffer me to accommodate
this, if possible ! "

" It is not in our power," said I, receiving the pistol.
I looked steadily at De Vautran, and took my aim.
His pistol, owing, I suppose, to the trembling of his
hand, went off a moment sooner than he had anticipated,

148 pelham; ob,

— the ball grazed my hat. My aim was more successful ;
I struck him in the shoulder, — the exact place I had
intended. He staggered a few paces, but did not falL

We hastened towards him, — his cheek assumed a still
more livid hue as I approached; he muttered some half-
formed curses between his teeth, and turned from me to
his second.

" You will inquire whether Monsieur de Vautran is
satisfied," said I to Vincent, and retired to a short
distance.

" His second," said Vincent (after a brief conference
with that person) , " replies to my question, that Mon-
sieur de Vautran 's wound has left him, for the present,
no alternative." Upon this answer I took Vincent's
arm, and we returned forthwith to my carriage.

" I congratulate you most sincerely on the event of

this duel," said Vincent. "Monsieur de M " (De

Vautran 's second) " informed me, when I waited on
him, that your antagonist was one of the most cele-
brated pistol-shots in Paris, and that a lady with whom
he had been long in love, made the death of the chain-
bearer the price of her favors. Devilish lucky for you,
my good fellow, that his hand trembled so; but I did
not know you were so good a shot. "

"Why," I answered, "I am not what is vulgarly
termed * a crack shot, * — I cannot split a bullet on a
penknife; but I am sure of a target somewhat smaller
than a man : and my hand is as certain in the field as it
is in the practice-yard. "

" Le sentiment de nos forces les augmente," ^ replied
Vincent. " Shall I tell the coachman to drive to the
Rocher ? "

^ The conviction of our forces augments them.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 149

CHAPTER XXIX.

Here 's a kind host, that makes the invitation,
To your own cost, to his^brt bonne collation.

Wycherly's Gent. Dancing Master.

Vous pouvez bien juger que je n'aurai pas grande peine k me
consoler d*une chose dont je me suis deja console tant de fois. —
Lettres de Boileau.

As I was walking home with Vincent from the Rue
Montorgueil, I saw, on entering the Rue St. Honore
two figures before us; the tall and noble stature of the
one T could not for a moment mistake. They stopped
at the door of a hotel , which opened in that noiseless
manner so peculiar to the conciergerie of France. I was
at the door the moment they disappeared, but not before
I had caught a glance of the dark locks and pale counte-
nance of Warburton, — my eye fell upon the number of
the hotel.

" Surely," said I, " I have been in that house before."
" Likely enough," growled Vincent, who was glori-
ously drunk. " It is a house of twofold utility , — you
may play with cards or coquet with women, which you
please. "

At these words I remembered the hotel and its inmates
immediately. It belonged to an old nobleman, who,
though on the brink of the grave, was still grasping at
the good things on the margin. He lived with a pretty
and clever woman, who bore the name and honors of
his wife. They kept up two salons^ one pour le petit
souper, and the other pour le petit jeu. You saw much
ecarte and more love-making, and lost your heart and

150 pelham; ob,

your money with equal facility. In a word, the mar-
quis and his jolie petite femme were a wise and prosper-
ous couple, who made the best of their lives, and lived
decently and honorably upon other people.

" Allons, Pelham! " cried Vincent, as I was still stand-
ing at the door in deliberation; " how much longer will
you keep me to congeal in this * eager and nipping air,'
— * quamdiu patientiam nostram abutSre, Catilina. ' "

** Let us enter," said I. "I have the run of the
house, and we may find — "

"Some young vices, — some fair iniquities," inter-
rupted Vincent, with a hiccough, —

" * Leade on, good fellowe,' quoth Robin Hood,
* Leade on, I do bid thee.' "

And with these words the door opened in obedience
to my rap, and we moimted to the marquis's tenement
au premiere.

The room was pretty full: the soirdisante marquise
was flitting from table to table , — betting at each , and
coquetting with all; and the marquis himself, with a
moist eye and a shaking hand, was affecting the Don
Juan with the various Elviras and Annas with which
his salon was crowded. Vincent was trying to follow
me through the crowd, but his confused vision and
unsteady footing led him from one entanglement to
another, till he was quite unable to proceed. A tall,
corpulent Frenchman, six feet by five, was leaning (a
great and weighty objection) just before him, utterly
occupied in the vicissitudes of an ecarte table, and
unconscious of Vincent's repeated efforts, first on one
side, and then on the other, to pass him.

At last, the perplexed wit, getting more irascible as
he grew more bewildered, suddenly seized the vast

» ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 151

! encumbrance by the arm, and said to him in a sharp,
querulous tone, " Pray, Monsieur, why are you like the
lote-tree in Mahomet's seventh heaven? "

" Sir ! " cried the astonished Frenchman.
' " Because," continued Vincent, answering his own

enigma, — " because, beyond you there is no passing ! "

The Frenchman (one of that race who always forgives
anything for a hon mot) smiled, bowed, and drew him-
\r self aside. Vincent steered by, and, joining me, hic-
coughed out, " Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus. "

Meanwhile I had looked round the room for the
objects of my pursuit: to my great surprise I could
not perceive them. They may be in the other room,
thought I, and to the other room I went; the supper
was laid out, and an old bonne was quietly helping her-
self to some sweetmeat. All other human beings (if,
indeed, an old woman can be called a human being!)
were, however, invisible, and I remained perfectly be-
wildered as to the non-appearance of Warburton and his
companion. I entered the gaming-room once more ; I
looked round in every corner; I examined every face,
but in vain ; and with a feeling of disappointment very
disproportioned to my loss, I took Vincent's arm, and
we withdrew.

The next morning I spent with Madame d'Anville.
A Frenchwoman easily consoles herself for the loss of a
lover, — she converts him into a friend, and thinks her-
self (nor is she much deceived) benefited by the exchange.
We talked of our grief in maxims, and bade each other
adieu in antitheses. Ah! it is a pleasant thing to drink
with Alcidonis (in Marmontel's Tale) of the rose-colored
phial, — to sport with the fancy, not to brood over the
passion of youth. There is a time when the heart, from
very tenderness, runs over, and (so much do our virtues

152 PELHAM; OR,

as well as vices flow from our passions) there is, per-
haps, rather hope than anxiety for the future in that
excess. Then, if Pleasure errs, it errs through heed-
lessness, not design; and Love, wandering over flowers,
"proffers honey, but bears not a sting." Ah! happy
time! in the lines of one who can so well translate feel-
ing into words, —

" Fate has not darkened thee, — Hope has not made
The blossoms expand, it but opens to fade;
Nothing is known of those wearing fears
Which will shadow the light of our after years."

The Impi'ovisatrice.

Pardon this digression; not much, it must be con-
fessed, in my ordinary strain, — but let me, dear
reader, very seriously advise thee not to judge of
me yet. When thou hast got to the end of my book,
if thou dost condemn it or its hero, — why " I will let
thee alone " (as honest Dogberry advises) " till thou art
sober; and if thou make me not then the better answer,
thou art not the man I took thee for. "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 153

CHAPTER XXX.

It mnst be confessed, that flattery comes mightily easily to one's
mouth in the presence of royalty. — Letters of Stephen Montague.

*T is he. — How came he thence — what doth he here ? — Lara.

I HAD received for that evening (my last at Paris) an

invitation from the Duchesse de B . I knew that

the party was to he small, and that very few besides the
royal family would compose it. I had owed the honor

of this invitation to my intimacy with the s, the

great friends of the duchesse, and I promised myself
some pleasure in the engagement.

There were but eight or nine persons present when I
entered the royal chamber. The most distinguished of

these I recognized immediately as the . He came

forward with much grace as I approached, and expressed
his pleasure at seeing me.

" You were presented, I think, about a month ago,"

added the , with a smile of singular fascination;

" I remember it well."

I bowed low to this compliment.

"Do you propose staying long at Paris?" continued
the .

** I protracted," I replied, "my departure solely for
the honor this evening affords me. In so doing, please

your , I have followed the wise maxim of keeping

the greatest pleasure to the last."

The royal chevalier bowed to my answer with a smile
still sweeter than before, and began a conversation with
me which lasted for several minutes. I was much struck

154 PELHAM; OR,

with the 's air and bearing. They possess great

dignity, without any affectation of its assumption. He
B^ieaks peculiarly good English, and the compliment of
addressing me in that language was therefore as judi-
cious as delicate. His observations owed little to his
rank; they would have struck you as appropriate, and
the air which accompanied them pleased you as graceful
even in a simple individual. Judge, then, if they
charmed me in the . The upper part of his coun-
tenance is prominent and handsome, and his eyes have
much softness of expression. His figure is slight and
particularly well knit; perhaps he is altogether more
adapted to strike in private than in public with effect.
Upon the whole, he is one of those very few persons of
great rank whom you would have pride in knowing
as an equal, and have pleasure in acknowledging as a
superior.*

As the paused, and turned with great courtesy

to the Due de , I bowed my way to the Duchesse

do B . That personage, whose liveliness and

piquancy of manner always make one wish for one's
own sake that her rank was less exalted, was speaking
with great volubility to a tall, stupid-looking man, one
of tlie ministers, and smiled most graciously upon me
as I drew near. She spoke to me of our national amuse-
ments, " You are not," said she, " so fond of dancing
as we are."

** We have not the same exalted example to be at once

^ T\\f> sketch of these nnfortnDate members of an exiled and
illustrious family may not be the less interesting from the reyerses
which, since the first publication of this work, placed the Orleans
family on the Bourbon throne. As for the erring Charles X., he
was neither a great monarch nor a wise man, but he was, in air,
liprace, and manner, the most thorough-bred gentleman I eyer
met. — //. P.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 155

our motive and our model," said I, in allusion to the
duchesse's well-known attachment to that accomplish-
ment. The Duchesse d'A came up as I said this,

and the conversation flowed on evenly enough till the
's whist-party was formed. His partner was Ma-
dame de la R , the heroine of La Vendee. She was

a tall and very stout woman, singularly lively and
entertaining, and appeared to possess both the moral
and the physical energy to accomplish feats still more
noble than those she performed.

I soon saw that it would not do for me to stay very
long. I had already made a favorable impression, and
in such cases it is my constant rule immediately to
retire. Stay, if it be whole hours, until you have
pleased, but leave the moment after your success. A
great genius should not linger too long either in the
salon or the world. He must quit each with eclat.
In obedience to this rule, I no sooner found that
my court had been effectually made than I rose to
withdraw.

" You will return soon to Paris ? " said the Duchesse
de B .

" I cannot resist it," I replied. " Mon corps reviendra
pour chercher mon coeur, "

** We shall not forget you," said the duchesse.

" Your royal highness has now given me my only
inducement not to return," I answered, as I bowed out
of the room.

It was much too early to go home : at that time I was
too young and restless to sleep till long after midnight ;
and while I was deliberating in what manner to pass
the hours, I suddenly recollected the hotel in the Rue
St. Honor^, to which Vincent and I had paid so uncere-
monious a visit the night before. Impressed with the

156 PELHAM; OB,

hope that I might be more successful in meeting War-
burton than I had been, I ordered the coachman to
drive to the abode of the old Marquis .

The salon was as crowded as usual. I lost a few
napoleons at ecaHe in order to pay my entree^ and then
commenced a desultory flirtation with one of the fair
decoys. In this occupation my eye and my mind fre-
quently wandered. I could not divest myself of the
hope of once more seeing Warburton before my depart-
ure from Paris, and every reflection which confirmed my
suspicions of his identity redoubled my interest in his
connection with Tyrrell and the vulgar debauche of the
Rue St. Dominique. I was making some languid reply
to my Cynthia of the minute, when my ear was sud-
denly greeted by an English voice. I looked round,
and saw Thornton in close conversation with a man
whose back was turned to me, but whom I rightly
conjectured to be Tyrrell.

"Oh! he'll be here soon," said the former, "and
we '11 bleed him regularly to-night. It is very singu-
lar that you who play so much better should not have
floored him yesterday evening. "

Tyrrell replied in a tone so low as to be inaudible,
and a minute afterwards the door opened, and Warburton
entered. He came up instantly to Thornton and his
companion; and after a few words of ordinary saluta-
tion, Warburton said, in one of those modulated and
artificial tones so peculiar to himself, " I am sure,
Tyrrell, that you must be eager for your revenge.
To lose to such a mere tyro as myself is quite
enough to double the pain of defeat and the desire
of retaliation."

I did not hear Tyrrell's reply, but the trio presently
moved towards the door, which till then I had not

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 157

noticed, and which was probably the entrance to our
hostess's boudoir. The soi-disante marquise opened it
herself, for which kind office Thornton gave her a leer
and a wink, characteristic of his claims to gallantry.
When the door was again closed upon them, I went up
to the marquise, and, after a few compliments, asked
whether the room Messieurs les Anglais had entered
was equally open to all guests.

"Why," said she, with a slight hesitation, "those
gentlemen play for higher stakes than we usually do
here, and one of them is apt to get irritated by the
advice and expostulations of the lookers-on; and so,
after they had played a short time in the salon last
night. Monsieur Thornton, a very old friend of mine "
(here the lady looked down) , " asked my permission to
occupy the inner room; and as I knew him so well, I
could have no scruple in obliging him."

" Then, I suppose," said I, " that as a stranger I have
not permission to intrude upon them ? "

" Shall I inquire 1 " answered the marquise.

** No! " said I, " it is not worth while; " and accord-
ingly I reseated myself, and appeared once more occu-
pied in saying des belles choses to my kind-hearted
neighbor. I could not, however, with all my dissimu-
lation, sustain a conversation from which my present
feelings were so estranged, for more than a few minutes;
and 1 was never more glad than when my companion,
displeased with my inattention, rose, and left me to my
own reflections.

What could Warburton (if he were the person I sus-
pected) gain by the disguise he had assumed? He was
too rich to profit by any sums he could win from Tyrrell,
and too much removed from Thornton's station in life
to derive any pleasure or benefit from his acquaintance

158 PELHAM; OR,

with that person. His dark threats of vengeance in the
Jardin des Plantes, and his reference to the two hun-
dred pounds Tyrrell possessed, gave me, indeed, some
clew as to his real object ; but then, — why this disguise ?
Had he known Tyrrell before, in his proper semblance,
and had anything passed between them, which rendered
this concealment now expedient? — this, indeed, seemed
probable enough ; but was Thornton intrusted with the
secret? — and if revenge was the object, was that low
man a partaker in its execution? — or was he not, more
probably, playing the traitor to both? As for Tyrrell
himself, his own designs upon Warburton were suffi-
cient to prevent pity for any fall into the pit he had
digged for others.

Meanwhile, time passed on, the hour grew late, and
the greater part of the guests were gone ; still I could
not tear myself away; I looked from time to time at
the door with an indescribable feeling of anxiety. I
longed, yet dreaded for it to open; I felt as if my own
fate were in some degree implicated in what was then
agitating within, and I could not resolve to depart until
I had formed some conclusions on the result.

At length the door opened; Tyrrell came f^rth: his
countenance was perfectly hueless, his cheek was sunk
and hollow, — the excitement of two hours had been
sufficient to render it so. I observed that his teeth
were set, and his hand clenched, as they are when we
idly seek, by the strained and extreme tension of the
nerves, to sustain the fever and the agony of the mind.
Warburton and Thornton followed him ; the latter with
his usual air of reckless indifference, — his quick, rolling
eye glanced from the marquis to myself, and, though his
color changed slightly, his nod of recognition was made
with its wonted impudence and ease; but Warburton

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 159

passed on, like Tyrrell, without noticing or heeding
anything around. He fixed his large, bright eye upon
the figure which preceded him without once altering its
direction, and the extreme beauty of his features, which
not all the dishevelled length of his hair and whiskers
could disguise, was lighted up with a joyous but savage
expression, which made me turn away almost with a
sensation of fear.

Just as Tyrrell was leaving the room, Warburton put
his hand upon his shoulder: "Stay," said he, "I am
going your way, and will accompany you." He turned
round to Thornton (who was already talking with the
marquis) as he said this, and waved his hand, as if to
prevent his following; the next moment, Tyrrell and
himself had left the room.

I could not now remain longer. I felt a feverish
restlessness, which impelled me onwards. I quitted
the salon y and was on the staircase before the game-
sters had descended. Warburton was, indeed, but a
few steps before me; the stairs were but very dimly
lighted by one expiring lamp; he did not turn round
to see me, and was probably too much engrossed to
hear me.

" You may yet have a favorable reverse," said he to
Tyrrell.

"Impossible!" replied the latter, in a tone of such
deep anguish that it thrilled me to the very heart. " I
am an utter beggar ; I have nothing in the world — I
have no expectation but to starve ! "

While he was saying this, I perceived by the faint
and uncertain light that Warburton^s hand was raised to
his own countenance.

" Have you no hope, no spot wherein to look for
comfort] — is beggary your absolute and only possible

• •.!•« tea

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ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 161

CHAPTER XXXI.

Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts. — Shakespeare.
What, ho ! for Englahd ! — Ibid.

I HAVE always had an insuperable horror of being
placed in what the vulgar call a predicament. In a
predicament I was most certainly placed at the present
moment. A man at my feet in a fit — the cause of it
having very wisely disappeared, devolving upon me the
charge of watching, recovering, and conducting home
the afflicted person — made a concatenation of disagree-
able circumstances, as much unsuited to the temper of
Henry Pelham as his evil fortune could possibly have
contrived.

After a short pause of deliberation I knocked up the
porter, procured some cold water, and bathed Tyrrell* s
temples for several moments before he recovered. He
opened his eyes slowly, and looked carefully round with
a fearful and suspicious glance. "Gone — gone," he
muttered ; ** ay , — what did he here at such a moment ? —
vengeance, — for what? /could not tell it would have
killed her, — let him thank his own folly. I do not
fear; I defy his malice.*' And with these words Tyr-
rell sprang to his feet.

" Can I assist you to your home ? " said I ; " you are
still unwell, — pray suffer me to have that pleasure."

I spoke with some degree of warmth and sincerity;
the unfortunate man stared wildly at me for a moment
before he replied. "Who," said he, at last, — "who

VOL. I. — 11

VJ'l Kilt l.f 'M-^ tf.T^-r. rit* .1 • -iL^i IC 31fi: 'F'JLL UL

-raji'f ui.t T*.''::. ^?ir"^" nut ;iHn. i^ (etpafta* ini3«ar-

ii't^r I '•in »*^. -t' .»»':i'> i;;-.uii vi i"i "v* 3n '"^L :il iii.'vl'"
v»»vir'.i* *'»* 7\ »*:••>--» Ai* •«.•:-■* ru" it: a iie. hz. if I

*rj^r>n' '.»\ I tai jn'.'v ^'^•V: r*^^^, v^i zsjt^ il 'mr num. ii
-w^ •'', r ;►;*•** *-/wti v.-^".,-.'!- 5;r •»»-, a:;i---7 li.i:!*, sail ohfl-
f*'***v, *rr.*- vr/.i*r 't '.^ ^^i^, vr..-.z ~~:»:cl t frtmi^ aLicfi.

* H'/f,vr! '^ Tr» r'V^y'T/J TyrtfrW, with a d*r*-p >:gh; •no,
- >»//! " flrr^'f ih'rUfWi if r*r'y^jl«:ct:r.g Lim^elf, he said, * I

t tiftw lii«t tziu)ffin"^^^uif'Mi, and intermpted him.

* W*'ll, if I ^'^ifiiiot aHHiHt you any further, I will take
ynur t\Utiti**Mt]i I invAi we Khali meet again under
ttiic|f)/'#i«i U'iUtr m]f'M\{iU*A for improving acquaintance."

'ryri'^ll )t*iWiu\^ ou(u: more pre«8cd my hand, and we
\mtUui, I Jiurrjj'd on up the long street towards my

^^\wn I hiu\ got ««voTal paces beyond Tyrrell, I
iiirhf^d )mvk to look nt him. He was standing in the
wtttno plnctt In wlilrh I had left him. I saw by the
inonhllght timi h\n facn and hands wore raised towards
linnvntt. It wiiN htii for a moment: his attitude changed
wliilt^ t wtiM ynt lookingi and ho slowly and calmly

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 163

continued his way in the same direction as myself.
When I reached my chambers I hastened immediately
to bed , but not to sleep : the extraordinary scene I had
witnessed; the dark and ferocious expression of Glan-
vi lie's countenance, so strongly impressed with every
withering and deadly passion; the fearful and unac-
countable remembrance that had seemed to gather over
the livid and varying face of the gamester; the mystery
of Glanville's disguise; the intensity of a revenge so
terribly expressed, together with the restless and burn-
ing anxiety I felt, — not from idle curiosity, but, from
m}' early and intimate friendship for Glanville, to
fathom its cause, — all crowded upon my mind with a
feverish confusion that effectually banished repose.

It was with that singular sensation of pleasure which
none but those who have passed frequent nights in rest-
less and painful agitation can recognize, that I saw the
bright sun penetrate through my shutters, and heard
Bedos move across my room.

" What hour will monsieur have the post-horses ? "
said that praiseworthy valet.

" At eleven," answered I, springing out of bed with
joy at the change of scene which the very mention of
my journey brought before my mind.

I was turning listlessly, as I sat at breakfast, over the
pages of " Galignani's Messenger," when the following
paragraph caught my attention: —

** It is rumored among the circles of the Faubourg
that a duel was fought on , between a young Eng-
lishman and Monsieur D ; the cause of it is said

to be the pretensions of both to the beautiful Duchesse

de P , who, if report be true, cares for neither of

the gallants, but lavishes her favors upon a certain
aUache to the English embassy."

164 PELHAM; OR,

" Such/' thought I, ''are the materials for all human
histories. Every one who reads will eagerly swallow
this account as true: if an author were writing the
memoirs of the court, he would compile his facts and
scandal from this very collection of records; and yet,
though so near the truth , how totally false it is ! Thank
Heaven, however, that at least I am not suspected of
the degradation of the duchess's love: to fight for her
may make me seem a fool, — to be loved by her would
constitute me a villain."

** The horses, sir! " said Bedos; and " The bill, sir! "
said the gargon. Alas that those and that should be
coupled together, and that we can never take our de-
parture without such awful witnesses of our sojourn!
Well — to be brief — the bill for once was discharged;
the horses snorted; the carriage-door was opened; I en-
tered ; Bedos mounted behind ; crack went the whips ; oflf
went the steeds, and so terminated my adventures at
dear Paris.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 165

CHAPTEK XXXII.

Oh, Cousin, you know him, — the fine gentleman they talk of so
much in town. — Wycherly's Dancing Master,

By the bright days of my youth, there is something
truly delightful in the quick motion of four, ay, or even
two post-horses! In France, where one's steeds are
none of the swiftest, the pleasures of travelling are not
quite so great as in England; still, however, to a man
who is tired of one scene, — panting for another, in love
with excitement, and yet not wearied of its pursuit, —
the turnpike road is more grateful than the easiest chair
ever invented, and the little prison we entitle a car-
riage more cheerful than the state-rooms of Devonshire
House.

We reached Calais in safety, and in good time, the
next day.

" Will monsieur dine in his rooms, or at the table
d'hote ? "

" In his rooms, of course," said Bedos, indignantly
deciding the question. A French valet's dignity is
always involved in his master's.

" You are too good, Bedos," said I; " I shall dine at
the table dWiote, — whom have you there in general ? "

" Keally," said the gargon, "we have such a swift
succession of guests that we seldom see the same faces
two days running. We have as many changes as an
English administration. "

" You are facetious," said I.

166 X PELHAM; OR,

** No," returned the gargoUy who was a philosopher
as well as a wit, — ** no, my digestive organs are very
weak , and par co7isequence, I am naturally melancholy.
Ahf ma foi, tres trtste ! " and with these words the
sentimental plate-changer placed his hand, — I can
scarcely say whether on his heart or his stomach, — and
sighed bitterly!

" How long," said I, " does it want to dinner? " My
question restored the gargon to himself.

"Two hours. Monsieur, — two hours," and, twirling
his serviette with an air of exceeding importance, off
went my melancholy acquaintance to compliment new
customers, and complain of his digestion.

After I had arranged my toilet, yawned three times,
and drank two bottles of soda-water, I strolled into the
town. As I was sauntering along leisurely enough, I
heard my name pronounced behind me. I turned, and
saw Sir Willoughby Townshend, an old baronet of an
antediluvian age, — a fossil witness of the wonders of
England before the deluge of French manners swept
away ancient customs'; and created, out of the wrecks of
what had been, a new order of things, and a new race of
mankind.

"Ah! my dear Mr. Pelham, how are you? and the
worthy Lady Frances, your mother, and your excellent
father, all well? — I'm delighted to hear it. Russel-
ton," continued Sir Willoughby, turning to a middle-
aged man, whose arm he held, " you remember Pelham,
— true Whig, great friend of Sheridan's? — let me in-
troduce his son to you. Mr. Eusselton, Mr. Pelham;
Mr. Pelham, Mr. Russelton."

At the name of the person thus introduced to me, a
thousand recollections crowded upon my mind, — the
contemporary and rival of Napoleon ; the autocrat of the

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. » 167

great world of fashion and cravats; the mighty genius
before whom aristocracy hath been humbled and ton
abashed, at whose nod the haughtiest noblesse of Europe
had quailed; who had introduced, by a single example,
starch into neckcloths, and had fed the pampered appe-
tite of his boot-tops on champagne; whose coat and
whose friend were cut with an equal grace, and whose
name was connected with every triumph that the world's
great virtue of audacity could achieve, — the illustrious,
the immortal Russelton stood before me! I recognized
in him a congenial, though a superior spirit, and I
bowed with a profundity of veneration with which no
other human being has ever inspired me.

Mr. Russelton seemed pleased with my evident re-
spect, and returned my salutation with a mock dignity
which enchanted me. He offered me his disengaged
arm; I took it with transport, and we all three pro-
ceeded up the street.

" So," said Sir Willoughby, — "so, Russelton, you
like your quarters here; plenty of sport among the
English, I should think: you have not forgot the art
of quizzing ; eh, old fellow ? "

"Even if I had," said Mr. Russelton, speaking very
slowly, " the sight of Sir Willoughby Townshend would
be quite sufficient to refresh my memory. Yes," con-
tinued the venerable wreck, after a short pause, — " yes,
I like my residence pretty well; I enjoy a calm con-
science, and a clean shirt: what more can man desire?
I have made acquaintance with a tame parrot, and I
have taught it to say, whenever an English fool with a
stiff neck and a loose swagger passes him, *True Briton,
— true Briton.' I take care of my health, and reflect
upon old age. I have read *Gil Bias ' and the 'Whole
Duty of Man; ' and, in short, what with instructing my

168 pelham; or,

parrot and improving myself, I think I pass my time as
creditably and decorously as the Bishop of Winchester,

or my Lord of A himself. So you have just come

from Paris, I presume, Mr. Pelham?"

" I left it yesterday. "

"Full of those horrid English, I suppose; thrusting
their broad hats and narrow minds into every shop in
the Palais Royal, — winking their dull eyes at the dam-
sels of the counter, and manufacturing their notions of
French into a higgle for sous. Oh! the monsters! —
they bring on a bilious attack whenever I think of
them : the other day one of them accosted me, and talked
me into a nervous fever about patriotism and roast pigs-
Luckily I was near my own house, and reached it before
the thing became fatal : but only think, had I wandered
too far when he met me! at my time of life, the shock
would have been too great; I should certainly have
perished in a fit. I hope, at least, they would have put
the cause of my death in my epitaph, *Died of an Eng-
lishman, John Russelton, Esq., aged,' etc. Pah! You
are not engaged, Mr. Pelham? dine with me to-day;
Willoughby and his umbrella are coming."

" Voloiitlers" said I, " though I was going to make
observations on men and manners at the table d^hote of
my hotel."

"I am most truly grieved," replied Mr. Russelton,
" at depriving you of so much amusement. With mo
you will only find some tolerable Lafitte, and an anoma-
lous dish my culslniere calls a mutton-chop. It will be
curious to see what variation in the monotony of mutton
she will adopt to-day. The first time I ordered *a chop,'
I thought I had amply explained every necessary par-
ticular; a certain portion of flesh, and a gridiron: at
seven o'clock, up came a cotelette panee! Faute de

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 169

mteux, I swallowed the composition, drowned as it was
in a most pernicious sauce. I had one hour's sleep, and
the nightmare, in consequence. The next day, I im-
agined no mistake could be made: sauce was strictly
prohibited; all extra ingredients laid under a most spe-
cial veto, and a natural gravy gently recommended: the
cover was removed, and lo! a breast of mutton, all bone
and gristle, like the dying gladiator! This time my
heart was too full for wrath; I sat down and wept!
To-day will be the third time I shall make the experi-
ment, if French cooks will consent to let one starve
upon nature. For my part, I have no stomach left now
for art: I wore out my digestion in youth, swallowing
Jack St. Leger's suppers, and Sheridan's promises to
pay. Pray, Mr. Pelham, did you try Staub when you
were at Paris ? "

" Yes; and thought him one degree better than Stultz,
whom, indeed, I have long condemned as fit only for
minors at Oxford, and majors in the infantry."

"True," said Eusselton, with a very faint smile at a
pun, somewhat in his own way, and levelled at a trades-
man, of whom he was, perhaps, a little jealous — "true;
Stultz aims at making gentlemen, not coats; there is a
degree of aristocratic pretension in his stitches, which
is vulgar to an appalling degree. You can tell a Stultz
coat anywhere, which is quite enough to damn it: the
moment a man 's known by an invariable cut, and that
not original, it ought to be all over with him. Give
me the man who makes the tailor, not the tailor who
makes the man."

"Eight, by Jove!" cried Sir Willoughby, who was

as badly dressed as one of Sir E 's dinners, —

"right; just my opinion. T have always told my
Schneiders to make my clothes neither in the fashion

170 PELHAM; OR,

nor out of it; to copy no other man's coat, and to cut
their cloth according to my natural body , not according
to an isosceles triangle. Look at this coat for in-
stance;" and Sir Willoughhy Townsliend made a dead
halt, that we might admire his garment the more
accurately.

" Coat! " said Russelton, with an appearance of the
most naive surprise; and taking hold of the collar, sus-
piciously, by the finger and thumb, — "coat. Sir Wil-
loughhy! do you. call this thing a coat? "

1
I

(

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 171

CHAPTER XXXIII.

J'ai toajonrs era que le bon n'etoit que le beau mis en actiou.

Rousseau.

Shortly after Kusselton's answer to Sir Willougliby's
eulogistic observations on his own attire, I left those
two worthies till I was to join them at dinner : it wanted
three hours yet to that time, and I repaired to my quar-
ters to bathe and write letters. I scribbled one to Ma-
dame d'Anville, full of antitheses and maxims, sure to
charm her; another to my mother, to prepare her for
my arrival; and a third to Lord Vincent, giving him
certain commissions at Paris, which I had forgotten
personally to execute.

My pen is not that of a ready writer; and what with
yawning, stretching, and putting pen to paper, it' was
time to bathe and dress before my letters were com-
pleted. I set off to Russelton's abode in high spirits,
and fully resolved to make the most of a character so
original.

It was a very small room in which I found him : he
was stretched in an easy -chair before the fireplace, gazing
complacently at his feet, and apparently occupied in
anything but listening to Sir Willoughby Townshend,
who was talking with great vehemence about politics
and the corn-laws. Notwithstanding the heat of the
weather, there was a small fire on the hearth, which,
aided by the earnestness of his efforts to convince his
host, put poor Sir Willoughby into a most intense per-
spiration. Russelton, however, seemed enviably cool.

172 PELHAM; OR,

and hung over the burning wood like a cucumber on a
hotbed. Sir Willoughby came to a full stop by the
window, and, gasping for breath, attempted to throw it
open.

"What are you doing; for Heaven's sake, what are
you doing ] " cried Russelton, starting up : " do you
mean to kill me ? "

" Kill you! " said Sir Willoughby, quite aghast.

" Yes ; kill me ? is it not quite cold enough already
in this d — d seafaring place, without making my only
retreat, humble as it is, a theatre for thorough draughts?
Have I not had the rheumatism in my left shoulder,
and the ague in my little finger, these last six months?
and must you now terminate my miserable existence at
one blow, by opening that abominable lattice ? Do you
think, because your great frame, fresh from the York-
shire wolds, and compacted of such materials that one
would think, in eating your beeves, you had digested
their hide into skin; do you think, because your limbs
might be cut up into planks for a seventy-eight, and
warranted waterproof without pitch because of the den-
sity of their pores; do you think, because you are as
impervious as an araphorostic shoe, that I, John Rus-
selton, am equally impenetrable, and that you are to let
easterly winds play about my room like children, be-
getting rheums and asthmas, and all manner of catarrhs ?
1 do beg, Sir Willoughby Townshend, that you will
suffer me to die a more natural and civilized death ; "
and so saying, Russelton sank down into his chair,
apparently in the last stage of exhaustion.

Sir Willoughby, who remembered the humorist in all
his departed glory, and still venerated him as a temple
where the deity yet breathed, though the altar was
overthrown, made to this extraordinary remonstrance

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 173

no other reply than a long whiff, and a " Well, Eussel-
ton, damme but you 're a queer fellow. "
r, Russelton now turned to me, and invited me, with
a tone of the most ladylike languor, to sit down near
the fire. As I am naturally of a chilly disposition, and
fond, too, of beating people in their own line, I drew
a chair close to the hearth, declared the weather was
very cold, and requested permission to ring the bell for
some more wood. Kusselton stared for a moment, and
then, with a politeness he had not deigned to exert
oefore, approached his chair to mine, and began a con-
versation, which, in spite of his bad witticisms and
peculiarity of manner, I found singularly entertaining.

Dinner was announced, and we adjourned to another
room. Poor Sir Willoughby, with his waistcoat un-
buttoned, and breathing like a pug in a phthisis, groaned
bitterly, when he discovered that this apartment was
smaller and hotter than the one before. Russelton im-
mediately helped him to some scalding soup, and said,
as he told the servant to hand Sir Willoughby the
cayenne, "You will find this, my dear Townshend, a
very sensible poto.ge for this severe season."

Dinner went off tamely enough, with the exception
of " our fat friend's " agony, which Russelton enjoyed
most luxuriously. The threatened mutton-chops did
not make their appearance, and the dinner, though
rather too small, was excellently cooked, and better
arranged. With the dessert the poor baronet rose, and,
pleading sudden indisposition, tottered out of the door.

When he was gone, Russelton threw himself back in
his chair, and laughed for several minutes with a low
chuckling sound, till the tears ran down his cheek.

After a few jests at Sir Willoughby, our conversation
turned upon other individuals. I soon saw that Russel'

174 pelham; or,

ton was a soured and disappointed man : his remarks on
people were all sarcasms; his mind was overflowed with
a suffusion of ill-nature ; he bit as well as growled. No
man of the world ever, I am convinced, becomes a real
philosopher in retirement. People who have been em-
ployed for years upon trifles have not the greatness of
mind which could alone make them indifferent to what
they have coveted all their lives, as most enviable and
important.

" Have you read 's memoirs 1 " said Mr. Kussel-

ton. " No! Well, I imagined every one had at least
dipped into them. I have often had serious thoughts of
dignifying my own retirement, by the literary employ-
ment of detailing my adventures in the world. I think
I could throw a new light upon things and persons,
which my contemporaries will shrink back like owls at
perceiving. "

" Your life," said I, " must indeed furnish matter of
equal instruction and amusement."

" Ay," answered Russelton; " amusement to the fools,
but instruction to the knaves. I am, indeed, a lament-
able example of the fall of ambition. I brought starch
into all the neckcloths in England, and I end by tying
my own at a three-inch looking-glass at Calais. You
are a young man, Mr. Pelham, about to commence life,
probably with the same views as (though greater advan-
tages than) myself; perhaps, in indulging my egotism,
I shall not weary without recompensing you.

" I came into the world with an inordinate love of
glory, and a great admiration of the original ; these pro-
pensities might have made me a Shakespeare, — they
did more, they made me a Russelton! When I was
six years old, I cut my jacket into a coat, and turned
my aunt's best petticoat into a waistcoat. I disdained

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 175

at eight the language of the vulgar, and when my father'
asked me to fetch his slippers, I replied that my soul
swelled beyond the limits of a lackey's. At nine, I was
self-inoculated with propriety of ideas. I rejeeted malt
with the air of his majesty, and formed a violent affec-
tion for maraschino; though starving at school, I never
took twice of pudding, and paid sixpence a week out of
my shilling to have my shoes blacked. As I grew up,
my notions expanded. I gave myself, without restraint,
to the ambition that burned within me; I cut my old
friends, who were rather envious than emulous of my
genius, and I employed three tradesmen to make my
gloves, — one for the hand, a second for the fingers, and
a third for the thumb! These two qualities made me
courted and admired by a new race, — for the great secrets
of being courted are to shun others, and seem delighted
with yourself. The latter is obvious enough ; who the
deuce should be pleased with you, if you are not pleased
with yourself ?

" Before I left college, I fell in love. Other fellows,
at my age, in such a predicament would have whined,
shaved only twice a week, and written verses. I did
none of the three, — the last indeed I tried, but, to my
infinite surprise, I found my genius was not universal.
I began with

* Sweet nymph, for whom I wake my muse.'

" For this, after considerable hammering, I could only
think of the rhyme * shoes y^ — so T began again, —

* Thy praise demands much softer lutes.'

And the fellow of this verse terminated like myself
in * boots.' Other efforts were equally successful, —

* bloom ' suggested to my imagination no rhyme but

* perfume ! ' — * despair ' only reminded me of my

176 PELHAM ; OR,

* hair ; * and * hope ' was met, at the end of the sec-
ond verse, by the inharmonious antithesis of * soap. '
Finding, therefore, that my forte was not in the
Pierian line, I redoubled my attention to my dress;
I coated and cravatted with all the attention the very
inspiration of my rhymes seemed to advise ; in short, I
thought the best pledge I could give my Dulcinea of my
passion for her person would be to show her what affec-
tionate veneration I could pay to my own.

" My mistress could not withhold from me her admira-
tion, but she denied me her love. She confessed Mr.
Russelton was the best dressed man at the University,
and had the whitest hands; and two days after this
avowal, she ran away with a great, rosy -cheeked extract
from Leicestershire.

" I did not blame her; I pitied her too much, — but I
made a vow never to be in love again. In spite of all
advantages I kept my oath, and avenged myself on the
species for the insult of the individual.

" Before I commenced a part which was to continue
through life, T considered deeply on the humors of the
spectators. I saw that the character of the more fash-
ionable of the English was servile to rank, and yielding
to pretension , — they admire you for your acquaintance ,
and cringe to you for your conceit. The first thing,
therefore, was to know great people, — the second, to
control them. I dressed well, and had good horses, —
that was sufficient to make me sought by the young of
my own sex. I talked scandal, and was never abashed,
— that was more than enough to make me admired
among the matrons of the other. It is single men,
and married women, to whom are given the St. Peter's
keys of society. I was soon admitted into its heaven ;
I was more, — I was one of its saints. I became imi-
tated as well as initiated. I was the rage, — the lion.

/''

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 177

Why ) — was I better, was I richer, was I handsomer,
was I cleverer, than my kindT No, no" (and here
Ruaselton ground his teeth with a strong and wrathful
expression of scorn) ; " and liad I been all, — had I been
a very concentration and monopoly of all hmaan perfec-
tions, they wonid not have valued me at half the price
they did set on me. It was — I will tell you the sim-
ple secret, Mr. Pelham — it was because I trampled on
them, that, like crushed herbs, thsy sent up a grateful
incense in return.

" Oh! it was balm to my bitter and loathing temper,
to see those who would have spurned me from them, if
they dared, writhe beneath my lash, as I withheld or
inflicted it at will, I was the magician who held the
great spirits that longed to tear me to pieces, by one
simple spell which a superior hardihood had won me, —
and, by Heaven, I did not spare to exert it.

"Well, well; this is but an idle recollection now!
All human power, says the proverb of every language,
is but of short duration. Alexander did not conquer
kingdoms forever; and Russelton's good fortune de-
serted him at last. Napoleon died in exile, and so
shall I; but we have both had our day, and mine was
the brightest of the two, for it had no change till the
evening, I am more happy than people would think,
for je ne siiis pas souvent oit mon corps e,st, — I live in
a world of recollections, T trample again upon coronets
and ermine, the glories of the small great I I give once
mora laws which no libertine is so hardy as not to feel
exalted in adopting; I hold my court, and issue my fiats;
I am like the madman, and out of the very straws of my
cell I make my subjects and my realm; and when I
wake from these bright visions, and see myself an old,
deserted man, forgotten, and decaying inch by inch in

■Hi

-1

178 PELHAM; OR,

a foreign village, I can at least summon sufficient of my
ancient regality of spirit not to sink beneath the revert
If I am inclined to be melancholy, why, I extinguish
my fire, and imagine I have demolished a duchess. I
steal up to my solitary chamber, to renew again, in my
sleep, the phantoms of my youth; to carouse with
princes; to legislate for nobles; and to wake in the
morning" (here Ru8selton*s countenance and manner
suddenly changed to an affectation of methodistical
gravity) " and thank Heaven that I have still a coat
to my stomach as well as to my back, and that I am
safely delivered of such villanous company ; * to for-
swear sack and live cleanly,' during the rest of my
sublunary existence."

After this long detail of Mr. Russelton's, the con-
versation was but dull and broken. I could not avoid
indulging a reverie upon what I had heard, and my
host was evidently still revolving the recollections his

• narration had conjured up; we sat opposite each other

* for several minutes as abstracted and distracted as if

we had been a couple two months married ; till at last
I rose and tendered my adieus. Russelton received
them with his usual coldness, but more than his usual
civility, for he followed me to the door.

Just as they were about to shut it, he called me
back. " Mr. Pelham," said he, — " Mr. Pelham, when
you come back this way, do look in upon me, and, —
as you will be going a good deal into society, just find
out what people say of my manner of life ! " ^

^ 1 It will be perceived by those readers who are kind or patient

enough to reach the conclusion of this work, that Russelton is
specified as one of my few dramatis personee, of which only the^rrt
outline is taken from real life, and from a very noted personage ;
\ J all the rest — all, indeed, which forms and marks the character thus

I briefly delineated — is drawn solely from imagination.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 179

CHAPTER XXXIV.

An old worshipful gentleman, that had a great estate,

And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate. — Old Song.

I THINK I may, without much loss to the reader, pass in
silence over my voyage the next day to Dover. (Horri-
ble reminiscence !) I may also spare him an exact detail
of all the inns and impositions between that seaport and
London ; nor will it be absolutely necessary to the plot
of this history, to linger over every milestone between
the Metropolis and Glenmorris Castle, where my uncle
and my mother were impatiently awaiting the arrival of
the candidate to be.
^ It was a fine, bright evening when my carriage en-

tered the park. I had not seen the place for years ; and
I felt my heart swell with something like family pride,
as I gazed on the magnificent extent of hill and plain
that opened upon me, as I passed the ancient and ivy-
covered lodge. Large groups of trees, scattered on either
side, seemed, in their own antiquity, the witness of that
of the family which had given them existence. The
sun set on the waters which lay gathered in a lake at
the foot of the hill, breaking the waves into unnum-
^ bered sapphires, and tingeing the dark firs that over-
I spread the margin with a rich and golden light that

"^y put me excessively in mind of the Duke of 's

livery!

When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood
arranged in an order so long that it almost startled me,
received me with a visible gladness and animation.

180 PELHAM; OR,

which showed me, at one glance, the old-fashioned
tastes of their master. Who in these days ever in-
spires his servants with a single sentiment of regard
or interest for himself or his whole race? That tribe
one never, indeed, considers as possessing a life sepa-
rate from their services to us: beyond that purpose of
existence we know not even if they exist. As Provi-
dence made the stars for the benefit of earth, so it made
servants for the use of gentlemen ; and, as neither stars
nor servants appear except when we want them, so I
suppose they are in a sort of suspense from being j except
at those important and happy moments.

To return, — for if I have any fault, it is too great
a love for abstruse speculation and reflection, — I was
formally ushered through a great hall, hung round with
huge antlers and rusty armor, through a lesser one, sup-
ported by large stone columns, and without any other
adornment than the arms of the family; then through
an anteroom, covered with tapestry, representing the
gallantries of King Solomon to the Queen of Slieba;
and lastly into the apartment honored by the august
presence of Lord Glenmorris. That personage was
dividing the sofa with three spaniels and a setter;
he rose hastily when I was announced, and then check-
ing the first impulse which hurried him, perhaps, into
an unseemly warmth of salutation, held out his hand
with a stately air of kindly protection, and while he
pressed mine, surveyed me from head to foot, to see
how far my appearance justified his condescension.

Having, at last, satisfied himself, he proceeded to
inquire after the state of my appetite. He smiled
benignantly when I confessed that I was excessively
well prepared to testify its capacities (the first idea of
all kind-hearted, old-fashioned people, is to stuff you),

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 181

and, silently motioning to the gray -headed servant who
stood in attendance, till, receiving the expected sign, he
withdrew, Lord Glenmorris informed me that dinner was
over for every one but myself; that for me it would
be prepared in an instant; that Mr. Toolington had
expired four days since; that my mother was, at that
moment, canvassing for me ; and that my own election-
eering qualities were to open their exhibition with the
following day.

After this communication there was a short pause.
** What a beautiful place this is!" said I, with great
enthusiasm. Lord Glenmorris was pleased with the
compliment, simple as it was.

" Yes," said he, " it is; and I have made it still more
so than you have yet been able to perceive. "

" You have been planting, probably, on the other side
of the park ? "

** No," said my uncle, smiling; "Nature had done
everything for this spot when I came to it, but one;
and the addition of that one ornament is the only
real triumph which art ever can achieve."

« What is it ? " asked I ; « oh, I know , — water. "

" You are mistaken," answered Lord Glenmorris; " it
is the ornament of — happy faces. "

I looked up to my uncle's countenance in sudden
surprise. I cannot explain how I was struck with
the expression which it wore: so calmly bright and
open! — it was as if the very daylight had settled
there.

** You don't understand this at present, Henry," said
he, after a moment's silence; "but you will find it, of
all rules for the improvement of property, the easiest to
learn. Enough of this now. Were you not in despair
at leaving Paris ? "

^82 pelham; or,

»
** I should have been , some months ago ; but when I

received my mother's summons, I found the temptations
of the Continent very light in comparison with those
held out to me here. "

" What, have you already arrived at that great epoch ,
when vanity casts off its first skin, and ambition suc-
ceeds to pleasure ? Why — but thank Heaven that you
have lost my moral ; your dinner is announced. "

Most devoutly did I thank Heaven, and most earn-
estly did I betake myself to do honor to my uncle's
hospitality.

I had just finished my repast when my mother en-
tered. She was, as you might well expect from her
maternal affection, quite overpowered with joy, — first j
at finding my hair grown so much darker, and, secondly^
at my looking so well. We spent the whole evening in
discussing the great business for which I had been sum-
moned. Lord Glenmorris promised me money, and my
mother advice; and I, in my turn, enchanted them, by
promising to make the best use of both.

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 183

CHAPTER XXXV.

Cor. Your good voice, sir, — what say you 1

2d Cit You shall have it, worthy sir. — Coriolanus,

The borough of Buyemall had long been in undisputed
possession of the Lords of Glenmorris, till a rich banker,
of the name of Lufton, had bought a large estate in the
immediate neighborhood of Glenmorris Castle. This
event, which was the precursor of a mighty revolu-
tion in the borough of Buyemall, took place in the
first year of my uncle's accession to his property. A
few months afterwards, a vacancy in the borough occur-
ring, my uncle procured the nomination of one of his
own political party. To the great astonishment of Lord
Glenmorris, and the great gratification of the burghers
of Buyemall, Mr. Lufton ofifered himself in opposition
to the Glenmorris candidate. In this age of enlight-
enment, innovation has no respect for the most sacred
institutions of antiquity. The burghers, for the only
time since their creation as a body, were cast first into
doubt, and secondly into rebellion. The Lufton fac-
tion, horresco referens, were triumphant, and the rival
candidate was returned. From that hour the borough of
Buyemall was open to all the world.

My uncle, who was a good, easy man, and had some
strange notions of free representation and liberty of
election, professed to care very little for this event.
He contented himself, henceforward, with exerting his
interest for one of the members, and left the other seat
entirely at the disposal of the line of Lufton, which,

184 pelHxVm; or,

from the time of the first competition, continued peace-
ably to monopolize it.

During the last two years, my uncle's candidate, the
late Mr. Toolington, had been gradually dying of a
dropsy, and the Luftons had been so particularly atten-
tive to the honest burghers, that it was shrewdly sus-
pected a bold push was to be made for the other seat.
During the last month these doubts were changed into
certainty. Mr. Augustus Leopold Lufton, eldest son
to Benjamin Lufton, Esq., had publicly declared his
intention of starting at the decease of Mr. Toolington ;
against this personage behold myself armed and arrayed.

Such is, in brief, the history of the borough, up to
the time in which I was to take a prominent share in its
interests and events.

On the second day after my arrival at the castle, the
following advertisement appeared at Buyemall : —

TO THE INDEPENDENT ELECTORS OP THE BOROUGH OP

BUTEMALL.

Gentlemen, — In presenting myself to your notice, I ad-
vance a claim not altogether new and unfounded. My famih''
have for centuries been residing amongst you, and exercising
that interest which reciprocal confidence and good offices may
fairly create. Should it be my good fortune to be chosen your
representative, you may rely upon my utmost endeavors to
deserve that honor. One word upon the principles I espouse :
they are those which have found their advocates among the
wisest and the best ; they are those which, hostile alike to the
encroachments of the crown and the licentiousness of the people,
would support the real interests of both. Upon these grounds,
gentlemen, I have the honor to solicit your votes ; and it is
with the sincerest respect for your ancient and honorable body,
that I subscribe myself your very obedient servant,

Henry Pelham.
Glenmorris Castle, etc., etc.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 185

Such was the first public signification of my inten-
tions: it was drawn up by Mr. Sharpon, our lawyer,
and considered by our friends as a masterpiece ; for, as
ray mother sagely observed, it did not commit me in a
single instance, — espoused no principle, and yet pro-
fessed principles which all parties would allow were the
best.

At the first house where T called, the proprietor was a
clergyman of good family, who had married a lady from
Baker Street: of course the Rev. Combermere St. Quin-
tin and his wife valued themselves upon being " gen-
teeL" I amved at an unlucky moment; on entering
the hall a dirty footboy was carrying a yellow-ware
dish of potatoes into the back room. Another Gany-
mede (a sort of footboy-major), who opened the door,
and who was still settling himself into his coat, which
he had slipped on at my tintinnabulary summons, ush-
ered me with a mouth full of bread and cheese into this
said back room. I gave up everything as lost when I
entered, and saw the lady helping her youngest child to
some ineffable trash, which I have since heard is called
" blackberry pudding. " Another of the tribe was bawl-
ing out, with a loud, hungry tone, " A tatoe. Pa! " The
father himself was carving for the little group, with a
napkin stuffed into the top button-hole of his waistcoat,
and the mother, with a long bib, plentifully bespatted
with congealing gravy, and the nectarian liquor of the
" blackberry pudding," was sitting with a sort of presid-
ing complacency on a high stool, like Juno on Olympus,
enjoying rather than stilling the confused hubbub of the
little domestic deities who ate, clattered, spattered, and
squabbled around her.

Amidst all this din and confusion, the candidate for
the borough of Buyemall was ushered into the household

186 pelham; or,

privacy of the genteel Mr. and Mrs. St. Quintin. Up
started the lady at the sound of my name. The Rev.
Combermere St. Quintin seemed frozen into stone. The
plate between the youngest child and the blackberry-
pudding stood as still as the sun in Ajalon. The mor-
sel between the mouth of the elder boy and his fork
had a respite from mastication. The Seven Sleepers
could not have been spell -bound more suddenly and
completely.

" Ah," cried I, advancing eagerly, with an air of
serious and yet abrupt gladness ; " how lucky that I
should find you all at luncheon. I was up and had
finished breakfast so early this morning, that I am half
famished. Only think how fortunate , Hardy " (turning
round to one of the members of my committee, who
accompanied me) ; " I was just saying what would T not
give to find Mr. St. Quintin at luncheon. Will you
allow me. Madam, to make one of your party? "

Mrs. St. Quintin colored and faltered, and muttered
out something which I was fully resolved not to hear.
I took a chair, looked round the table, not too atten-
tively, and said, "Cold veal; ah! ah! nothing I like
so much. May I trouble you, Mr. St. Quintin? —
Hollo, my little man, let 's see if you can't give me
a potato. There 's a brave fellow. How old are you,
my young hero ? — to look at your mother, I should say
two, to look at youy six."

" He is four next May," said his mother, coloring,
and, this time, not painfully.

"Indeed?" said I, surveying him earnestly; and
then, in a graver tone, 1 turned to the Rev. Comber-
mere with — "I think you have a branch of your family
still settled in France. I met a St. Quintin (the Due
de Poictiers) abroad. "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 187

"Yes," said Mr. Combermere, — "yes, the name is
still in Normandy, but I was not aware of the title."

"No!" said I, with surprise; "and yet" (with an-
other look at the boy) , " it is astonishing how long fam-
ily likenesses last. I was a great favorite with all the
due's children. Do you know, I must trouble you for
some more veal, it is so very good, and I am so very
hungry. "

" How long have you been abroad ? " said Mrs. St.
Quintin, who had slipped off her bib, and smoothed
her ringlets; for which purpose I had been most
adroitly looking in an opposite direction the last three
minutes.

" About seven or eight months. The fact is, that the
Continent only does for us English people to see, — not
to inhabit; and yet, there are some advantages there,
Mr. St. Quintin ! — among others, that of the due re-
spect ancient birth is held in. Here, you know, 'money
makes the man,' as the vulgar proverb has it^ "

** Yes," said Mr. St. Quintin, with a sigh, " it is really
dreadful to see those upstarts rising around us, and
throwing everything that is respectable and ancient into
the background. Dangerous times these, Mr. Pelhara,
— dangerous times; nothing but innovation upon the
most sacred institutions. I am sure, Mr. Pelham, that
your principles must be decidedly against these new-
fashioned doctrines, which lead to nothing but anarchy
and confusion, — absolutely nothing.*'

" I *m delighted to find you so much of my opinion! "
said I. ^ I cannot endure anything that leads to an-
archy and confusion."

Here Mr. Combermere glanced at his wife, — who
rose, called to the children, and, accompanied by them,
gracefully withdrew.

188 PELHAM; OR,

" Now then/' said Mr. Combermere, drawing his
chair nearer to me, — "now, Mr. Pelham, we can dis-
cuss these matters. Women are no politicians," — and
at this sage aphorism, the Rev. Combermere laughed a
low solemn laugh, which could have come from no other
lips. After I had joined in this grave merriment for
a second or two I hemmed thrice, and, with a counte-
nance suited to the subject and the host, plunged at
once in medias res.

" Mr. St. Quintin," said T, " you are already aware, I
think, of my intention of offering myself as a candidate
for the borough of Buy email. I could not think of such
a measure without calling upon you, the very first per-
son, to solicit the honor of your vote." Mr. Comber-
mere looked pleased, and prepared to reply. " You are
the very first person I called upon," repeated I.

Mr. Combermere smiled. " Well, Mr. Pelhara," said
he, " our families have long been on the most intimate
footing. "

"Ever since," cried I, — "ever since Henry the
Seventh's time have the houses of St. Quintin and
Glenmorris been allied! Your ancestors, you know,
were settled in the country before ours, and my mother
assures me that she has read, in some old book or an-
other, a long account of your forefather's kind reception
of mine at the castle of St. Quintin. I do trust, sir,
that we have done nothing to forfeit a support so long
afibrded us."

Mr. St. Quintin bowed in speechless gratification; at
length he found voice. ** But your principles, Mr.
Pelham ? "

" Quite yours, my dear sir, quite against 'anarchy and
confusion. "

" But the Catholic question, Mr. Pelham ? "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 189

" Oh! the Catholic question," repeated I, " is a ques-
tion of great importance; it won't be carried, — no, Mr.
St. Quintin, no, it won't be carried; how did you think,
my dear sir, that I could, in so great a question, act
against my conscience ? "

I said this with warmth, and Mr. St. Quintin was
either too convinced or too timid to pursue so dangerous
a topic any further. I blessed my stars when he paused,
and, not giving him time to think of another piece of
debatable ground, continued, " Yes, Mr. St. Quintin, I
called upon you the very first person. Your rank in
the country, your ancient birth, to be sure, demanded
it; but / only considered the long, long time the St.
Quintins and Pelhams had been connected,"

"Well," said the Rev. Combermere, "well, Mr.
Pelham, you shall have my support; and I wish, from
my very heart, all success to a yoimg gentleman of such
excellent principles. "

190 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTEE XXXVI.

More voices !

• ••••••

Sic. How now, my masters, have you chosen him ?
Cit. He has our voices, sir ! — Coriolanus.

From Mr. Combennere St. Quintin's we went to a
bluff, hearty, radical wine-merchant, whom I had very
little probability of gaining; but my success with the
clerical Armado had inspirited me, and I did not suffer
myself to fear, though I could scarcely persuade myself
to hone. How exceedingly impossible it is, in govern-
ing men, to lay down positive rules, even where we
know the temper of the individual to be gained ! " You
must be ver}' stiff and formal with the St. Quintins,"
said my mother. She was right in the general admoni-
tion; and had I found them all seated in the best draw-
ing-room, Mrs. St. Quintin in her best attire, and the
children on their best behavior, I should have been as
stately as Don Quixote in a brocade dressing-gown ; but
finding them in such dishabille, T could not affect too
great a plainness and almost coarseness of bearing, as if
I had never been accustomed to anything more refined
than I found there; nor might T, by any appearance of
pride in myself, put them in mind of the wound their
own pride had received. The difficulty was to blend
with this familiarity a certain respect, just the same as
a French ambassador might have testified towards the
august person of George the Third, had he found his
majesty at dinner at one o'clock, over mutton and
turnips.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 191

In overcoming this difficulty I congratulated myself
with as much zeal and fervor as if I had performed the
most important victory; for, whether it he innocent or
sanguinary, in war or at an election, there is no triumph
so gratifying to the viciousness of human nature, as the
conquest of our fellow-heings.

But I must return to my wine-merchant, Mr. Briggs.
His house was at the entrance of the town of Buyemall ;
it stood enclosed in a small garden flaming with crocuses
and sunflowers, and exhibiting an arbor to the right,
where, in the summer evenings, the respectable owner
might be seen, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, in order
to give that just and rational liberty to the subordinate
parts of the human commonwealth, which the increase
of their consequence, after the hour of dinner, naturally
demands. Nor, in those moments of dignified ease,
was the worthy burgher without the divine inspirations
of complacent contemplation which the weed of Virginia
bestoweth. There, as he smoked and pufled, and looked
out upon the bright crocuses, and meditated over the
dim recollections of the hesternal journal, did Mr.
Briggs revolve in his mind the vast importance of the
borough of Buyemall to the British empire, and the vast
importance of John Briggs to the borough of Buyemall.

When I knocked at the door, a prettyish maid-servant
opened it with a smile and a glance which the vender
of wine might probably have taught her himself after
too large potations of his own spirituous manufactures.
I was ushered into a small parlor, where sat, sipping
brandy -and- water, a short, stout, monosyllabic sort of
figure, corresponding in outward shape to the name of
Briggs, — even unto a very nicety.

" Mr. Pelham," said this gentleman, who was dressed
in a brown coat, white waistcoat, buff-colored inexpres-

192 pklham; or,

sibles, with long strings, and gaiters of the same hue
and substance as the breeches, — " Mr. Pelham, pray be
seated; excuse my rising: I 'm like the bishop in the
story, Mr. Pelham, too old to rise;" and Mr. Briggs
grunted out a short, quick, querulous, "he — he — he,"
to which, of course, I replied to the best of my cachin-
natory powers.

No sooner, however, did I begin to laugh, than Mr.
Briggs stopped short; eyed me with a sharp, suspicious
glance; shook his head, and pushed back his chair at
least four feet from the spot it had hitherto occupied.
Ominous signs, thought I, — 1 must sound this gentle-
man a little further, before I venture to treat him as the
rest of his species.

" You have a nice situation here, Mr. Briggs 1 " said I.

" Ah, Mr. Pelham, and a nice vote too, which is
somewhat more to your purpose, I believe. "

" Why," said I, " Mr. Briggs, to be frank with you,
I do call upon you for the purpose of requesting your
vote; give it me, or not, just as you please. You may
be sure I shall not make use of the .vulgar electioneering
arts to coax gentlemen out of their votes. I ask you for
yours as one freeman solicits another : if you think my
opponent a fitter person to represent your borough, give
your support to him in Heaven's name ; if not, and you
place your confidence in me, I will, at least, endeavor
not to betray it."

"Well done, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed Mr. Briggs:
" I love candor, — you speak just after my own heart;
but you must be aware that one does not like to be
bamboozled out of one's right of election, by a smooth-
tongued fellow, who sends one to the devil the moment
the election is over, — or still worse, to be frightened
out of it by some stiflf-necked, proud coxcomb, with his

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 193

pedigree in his hand, and his acres in his face, thinking
he does you a marvellous honor to ask you at all. Sad
times these for this free country, Mr. Pelham, when a
parcel of conceited paupers, like Parson Quinny (as I
call that reverend fool, Mr. Combermere St. Quintin),
imagine they have a right to dictate to warm, honest
men, who can buy their whole family out and out. I
tell you what, Mr. Pelham, we shall never do anything
for this country till we get rid of those landed aristo-
crats, with their ancestry and humbug. I hope you 're
of my mind, Mr. Pelham. "

** Why," answered I, "there is certainly nothing so
respectable in Great Britain as our commercial interest.
A man who makes himself is worth a thousand men
made by their forefathers."

"Very true, Mr. Pelham," said the wine-merchant,
advancing his chair to me; and then, laying a short,
thickset finger upon my arm, he looked up in my face
with an investigating air, and said, " Parliamentary
Reform, — what do you say to that? you're not an
advocate for ancient abuses, and modem corruption, I
hope, Mr. Pelham ? "

"By no means," cried I, with an honest air of in-
dignation, — " I have a conscience, Mr. Briggs, I have
a conscience as a public man, no less than as a private
one!"

" Admirable ! " cried my host.

**No," I continued, glowing as I proceeded, — ''no,
Mr. Briggs; I disdain to talk too much about my prin-
ciples before they are tried ; the proper time to proclaim
them is when they have effected some good by being put
into action. I won't supplicate your vote, Mr. Briggs,
as my opponent may do; there must be a mutual con-
fidence between my supporters and myself. When I

VOL. I. — 13

194 PELHAM; OR,

appear before you a second time you will have a right to
see how far I have wronged that tniat reposed in me as
your representative. Mr. Briggs, I daresay it may seem
rude and impolitic to address you in this manner; hut I
am a plain, hlunt man, and I disdain the vulgar arts of
electioneering, Mr. Bri^a."

" Give us your fiat, air," cried the wine -merchant, in
a transport, — "give us your fist; I promise you my
support, and I am delighted to vote for a young genlle-
■man ofsiieh excellent principles."

So much, dear reader, for Mr. Brigga, who became
from that interview my stanchest supporter. I will not
linger longer upon this part of my career: the above
conversations may serve as a sufficient example of my
electioneering qualifications; and so I shall merely add,
that after the due quantum of dining, drinliiug, spout-
ing, lying, equivocating, bribing, rioting, head -breaking,
promise-breaking, and — thank the god Mercury, who
presides over elections — chairing of successful candi-
dateahip, I found myself fairly chosen member for the
borough of BuyemalU^

1 It ia fortnoate that Mr. Pelham's election was not for a rotten
boraagh ; no that the satire of this chapter is not yet obsolete nor
nnsalutarj. ParliamentaTy Reform has not terminated the tricks
of canvassing, — and Mr. Pelham's descriptions are as applicable
now as when first written. All personal canvassing is bat for the
convenience of canning, — the opportnnity for manner l« disgniae
principle. Pablic meetings, in which expositions of opinion mast
he clear, and will be cross-examined, are the only leptimate mode
of canvass. The English begin to discover this tmth ; may these
scenes serve to quicken their apprehension. — Thb Author.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 195

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Political education is like the keystone to the arch, — the strength

of the whole depends upon it.

EncycL Brit. Sup. Art. Education.

I WAS sitting in the library of Glenmorris Castle, about
a week after all the bustle of contest and the eclat of
victory had begun to subside, and quietly dallying with
the dry toast, which constituted then, and does to this
day, my ordinary breakfast, when I was accosted by the
following speech from my uncle, —

" Henry, your success has opened to you a new career:
I trust you intend to pursue it ? "

'* Certainly," was my answer.

** But you know, my dear Henry, that though you
have great talents, which, I confess, I was surprised in
the course of the election to discover, yet they want that
careful cultivation, which, in order to shine in the House
of Commons, they must receive. Entre nX>us, Henry,
a little reading would do you no harm."

" Very well," said I; " suppose I begin with Walter
Scott's novels ; I am told they are extremely entertaining. "

" True," answered my uncle; " but they don't contain
the most accurate notions of history, or the soundest
principles of political philosophy in the world. What
did you think of doing to-day, Henry ? "

** I^othing! " said I, very innocently.

" I should conceive that to be a usual answer of yours,
Henry, to any similar question."

** I think it is," replied I, with great natveti.

196 PELHAM; OB,

" Well, then, let us have the breakfast things taken
away, and do something this morning."

" Willingly," said I, ringing the bell.

The table was cleared, and my uncle began his ex-
amination. Little, poor man, had he thought, from my
usual bearing, and the character of my education, that
in general literature there were few subjects on which I
was not to the full as well read as himself. I enjoyed
his surprise, when, little by little, he began to discover
the extent of my information; but I was mortified to
find it was only surprise, not delight.

" You have," said he, "a considerable store of learn-
ing ; far more than I could possibly have imagined you
possessed; but it is knowledge, not learning , in which I
wish you to be skilled. 1 would rather, in order to gift
you with the former, that you were more destitute of
the latter. The object of education is to instil prin-
ciples which are hereafter to guide and instruct us ; facts
are only desirable so far as they illustrate those princi-
ples ; principles ought therefore to precede facts ! What,
then, can we think of a system which reverses this evi-
dent order, overloads the memory with facts, and those
of the most doubtful description, while it leaves us
entirely in the dark with regard to the principles which
could alone render this heterogeneous mass of any ad-
vantage or avail 1 Learning, without knowledge, is but
a bundle of prejudices; a lumber of inert matter set
before the threshold of the understanding to the exclu-
sion of common sense. Pause for a moment, and recall
those of your contemporaries who are generally con-
sidered well-informed; tell me if their information has
made them a whit the wiser; if not, it is only sancti-
fied ignorance. Tell me if names with them are not a
sanction for opinion; quotations, the representatives of

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 197

axioms ? All they have learned only serves as an excuse
for all they are ignorant of. In one month, I will en-
gage that you shall have a juster and deeper insight into
wisdom, than they have heen all their lives acquiring:
the great error of education is to fill the mind Jlrst with
antiquated authors, and then to try the principles of the
present day by the authorities and maxims of the past.
We will pursue, for our plan, the exact reverse of the
ordinary method. We will learn the doctrines of the
day, as the first and most necessary step, and we will
then glance over those which have passed away, as
researches rather curious than useful.

" You see this very small pamphlet ; it is a paper
by Mr. Mill upon Government. We will know this
thoroughly, and when we have done so, we may rest
assured that we have a far more accurate information
upon the head and front of all political knowledge, than
two- thirds of the young men whose cultivation of mind
you have usually heard panegyrized. "

So saying, my imcle opened the pamphlet. He
pointed out to me its close and mathematical reasoning,
in which no flaw could be detected, nor deduction con-
troverted; and he filled up, as we proceeded, from the
science of his own clear and enlarged mind, the various
parts which the political logician had left for reflection
to complete. My uncle had this great virtue of an
expositor, that he never over-explained; he never made
a parade of his lecture, nor confused what was simple by
unnecessary comment.

When we broke off our first day's employment, I was
quite astonished at the new light which had gleamed
upon me. I felt like Sinbad the sailor, when, in wan-
dering through the cavern in which he had been buried
alive, he caught the first glimpse of the bright day.

198 PELHAM; OE,

Naturally eager in everything I undertook, fond of
application, and addicted to reflect over the various
bearings of any object that once engrossed my atten-
tion, I made great advance in my new pursuit. After
my uncle had brought me to be thoroughly conversant
with certain and definite principles, we proceeded to
illustrate them from fact. For instance, when we had
finished the "Essay upon Government," we examined
into the several Constitutions of England, British Amer-
ica, and France : the three countries which pretend the
most to excellence in their government; and we were
enabled to perceive and judge the defects and merits of
each, because we had, previously to our examination,
established certain rules, by which they were to be in-
vestigated and tried. Here my sceptical indifierence to
facts was my chief reason for readily admitting knowl-
edge. I had no prejudices to contend with; no obscure
notions gleaned from the past; no popular maxims cher-
ished as truths. Everything was placed before me as
before a wholly impartial inquirer, freed from all the
decorations and delusions of sects and parties: every
argument was stated with logical precision ; every opin-
ion referred to a logical test. Hence, in a very short
time, I owned the justice of my uncle's assurance, as
to the comparative concentration of knowledge. We
went over the whole of Mill's admirable articles in the
encyclopaedia, over the more popular works of Bentham,
and thence we plunged into the recesses of political
economy. I know not why this study has been termed
uninteresting. No sooner had I entered upon its con-
sideration, than I could scarcely tear myself from it.
Never from that moment to this have I ceased to pay
it the most constant attention, not so much as a study
as an amusement; but at that time my uncle's object

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 199

was not to make me a profound political economist. " I
wish," said he, " merely to give you an acquaintance
with the principles of the science ; not that you may be
entitled to boast of knowledge, but that you may be
enabled to avoid ignorance; not that you may discover
truth, but that you may detect error. Of all sciences,
political economy is contained in the fewest books, and
yet is the most difficult to master; because all its higher
branches require earnestness of reflection, proportioned
to the scantiness of reading. Ricardo's work, together
with some conversational enlargement on the several
topics he treats of, will be enough for our present pur-
pose. I wish, then, to show you how inseparably allied
is the great science ef public policy with that of private
morality. And this, Henry, is the grandest object of
all. Now to our present study."

Well, gentle reader (I love, by the by, as you already
perceive, that old-fashioned courtesy of addressing you) ,
— well, to finish this part of my life, which, as it treats
rather of my attempts at reformation than my success in
error, must begin to weary you exceedingly, I acquired,
more from my uncle's conversation than the books we
read, a sufficient acquaintance with the elements of
knowledge to satisfy myself, and to please my instructor.
And I must say, in justification of my studies and my
tutor, that I derived one benefit from them which has
continued with me to this hour, — namely, T obtained a
clear knowledge of moral principle. Before that time,
the little ability I possessed only led me into acts, which,
I fear, most benevolent reader, thou hast already suffi-
ciently condemned; my good feelings — for I was not
naturally bad — never availed me the least when present
temptation came into my way. I had no guide but pas-
sion; no rule but the impulse of the moment. What

200 pelham; or,

else could have been the result of my education f If
I was immoral, it was because I was never taught mor-
ality. Nothing, perhaps, is less innate than virtue.
I own that the lessons of my uncle did not work mira-
cles, — that, living in the world, I have not separated
myself from its errors and its follies : the vortex was too
strong, — the atmosphere too contagious ; but I have at
least avoided the crimes into which my temper would
most likely have driven me. I ceased to look upon the
world as a game one was to play fairly, if possible, —
but where a little cheating was readily allowed; I no
longer divorced the interests of other men from my own:
if I endeavored to blind them, it was neither by unlaw-
ful means, nor for a purely selfish end; if — but come,
Henry Pelham, thou hast praised thyself enough for the
present; and, after all, thy future adventures will best
tell if thou art really amended.

APVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 201

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Mihi jam non regia Roma,
Sed vacuum Tibur placet. — Hor.

" My dear child, " said my mother to me affectionately,
" you must be very much bored here. To say truth, I
am so myself. Your uncle is a very good man, but he
does not make his house pleasant: and I have lately
been very much afraid that he should convert you into
a mere bookworm; after all, my dear Henry, you are
quite clever enough to trust to your own ability. Your
great geniuses never read."

" True, my dear mother, " said I, with a most une-
quivocal yawn, and depositing on the table Mr. Bentham
on " Popular Fallacies, " — " true, and I am quite of your
opinion. Did you see in the * Post ' of this morning how
full Cheltenham was ? "

" Yes, Henry; and now you mention it, I don't think
you could do better than to go there for a month or two.
As for me, I must return to your father, whom I left at

Lord H 's; a place, entre nouSy very little more

amusing than this, — but then one does get one's ecarte
table, and that dear Lady Roseville, your old acquaint-
ance, is staying there."

" Well, " said I, musingly, " suppose we take our de-
parture the beginning of next week ! — our way will be
the same as far as London, and the plea of attending you
will be a good excuse to my uncle for proceeding no
farther in these confounded books."

202 PELHAM; OR,

" C^est une affaire fi7iiey" replied my mother, " and I
will speak to your uncle myself. "

Accordingly, the necessary disclosure of our intentions
was made. Lord Glenmorris received it with proper
indifference, so far as my mother was concerned ; but ex-
pressed much pain at my leaving him so soon. However,
when he found I was not so much gratified as honored by
his wishes for my longer sejour, he gave up the point
with a delicacy that enchanted me.

The morning of our departure arrived. Carriage at
the door — bandboxes in the passage — breakfast on the
table — myself in my greatcoat — my uncle in his great
chair. " My dear boy, " said he, " I trust we shall meet
again soon ; you have abilities that may make you cap-
able of effecting much good to your fellow-creatures;
but you are fond of the world, and, although not averse
to application, devoted to pleasure, and likely to pervert
the gifts you possess. At all events, you have now
learned, both as a public character and a private individ-
ual, the difference between good and evil. Make but
this distinction: that whereas, in political science, the
rules you have learned may be fixed and unerring, yet
the application of them must vary with time and circum-
stance. We must bend, temporize, and frequently with-
draw doctrines which, invariable in their truth, the pre-
judices of the time will not invariably allow, and even
relinquish a faint hope of obtaining a great good for the
certainty of obtaining a lesser; yet in the science of pri-
vate morals, which relate for the main part to ourselves
individually, we have no right to deviate one single
iota from the rule of our conduct. Neither time nor cir-
cumstance must cause us to modify or to change. Integ-
rity knows no variation; honesty no shadow of turning.
We must pursue the same course — stem and imcompro-

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 203

Inising — in the full persuasion that the path of right is
like the bridge from earth to heaven in the Mohammedan
creed ; — if we swerve but a single hairVbreadth, we are
irrevocably lost."

At this moment my mother joined us, with a " Well,
my dear Henry, everything is ready, — we have no time
to lose."

My uncle rose, pressed my hand, and left in it a
pocket-book, which I afterwards discovered to be most
satisfactorily furnished. We took an edifying and affec-
tionate farewell of each other; passed through the two
rows of servants, drawn up in martial array, along the
great hall, and I entered the carriage, and went off with
the rapidity of a novel upon " fashionable life. "

204 PSLUAM; OR,

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Die — 81 grave non est —
Quae prima iratum ventrem placaverit esca. — Hor.

I DID not remain above a day or two in town. I had
never seen much of the humors of a watering-place, and
my love of observing character made me exceedingly im-
patient for that pleasure. Accordingly, the first bright
morning I set off for Cheltenham. I was greatly struck
with the entrance to that town : it is to these watering-
places that a foreigner should be taken, in order to give
him an adequate idea of the magnificent opulence and
imiversal luxury of England. Our country has in every
province what France only has in Paris, — a capital,
consecrated to gayety, idleness, and enjoyment. London
is both too busy in one class of society, and too pompous
in another, to please a foreigner, who has not excellent
recommendations to private circles. But at Brighton,
Cheltenham, Hastings, Bath, he may, as at Paris, find
all the gayeties of society without knowing a single
individual.

My carriage stopped at the Hotel. A corpulent

and stately waiter, with gold buckles to a pair of very
tight pantaloons, showed me upstairs. I found myself
in a tolerable room, facing the street, and garnished with
two pictures of rocks and rivers, with a comely flight of
crows, hovering in the horizon of both, as natural as
possible, — only they were a little larger than the trees.
Over the chimney-piece, where I had fondly hoped to
find a lookmg-glass, was a grave print of General Wash-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 205

ington, with one hand stuck out like the spout of a tea-
pot. Between the two windows (unfavorable position!)
was an oblong mirror, to which I immediately hastened,
arid had the pleasure of seeing my complexion catch the
color of the curtains that overhung the glass on each side,
and exhibit the pleasing rurality of a pale green.

I shrank back aghast, turned, and beheld the waiter.
Had I seen myself in a glass delicately shaded by rose-
hued curtains, I should gently and smilingly have said,
" Have the goodness to bring me the bill of fare. " As
it was, I growled out, " Bring me the bill. "

The stiff waiter bowed solemnly, and withdrew slowly.
I looked round the room once more, and discovered the
additional adornments of a tea-urn and a book. " Thank
Heaven, " thought I, as I took up the latter, " it can't be
one of Jeremy Bentham's. " No ! it was the " Chelten-
ham Guide." I turned to the head of amusements —
" Dress-ball at the Rooms every — " some day or other,
which of the seven I utterly forget ; but it was the same
as that which witnessed my first arrival in the small
drawing-room of the Hotel.

** Thank Heaven ! " said I to myself, as Bedos entered
with my things, and was ordered immediately to have all
in preparation for " the dress-ball at the rooms, " at the
hour of half-past ten. The waiter entered with the bill.
" Soups, chops, cutlets, steaks, roast joints, etc., etc. —
lion^ birds,**

" Get some soup, " said I, " a slice or two of lion, and
a half-a-dozen birds. "

" Sir, " said the solemn waiter, " you can't have less than
a whole lion, and we have only two birds in the house. "

" Pray, *' asked I, " are you in the habit of supplying
your larder from Exeter 'Change, or do you breed lions
here like poultry 1 "

206 pelham; or,

" Sir, " answered the grim waiter, never relaxing into
a smile, " we have lions brought us from the country
every day. "

" What do you pay for them ? " said I.

" About three-and-sixpence a-piece, sir. "

" Humph ! market in Africa over-stocked, " thought I.

"Pray, how do you dress an animal of that descrip-
tion ? "

" Roast and stuff him, sir, and serve him up with
currant jelly. "

"What! like a hare!"

" A lion is a hare, sir. "

"What!"

" Yes, sir, it is a hare ! — but we call it a lion, because
of the game laws."

"Bright discovery," thought I; "they have a new
language in Cheltenham ; nothing 's like travelling to en-
large the mind. And the birds," said I, aloud, "are
neither humming-birds nor ostriches, I suppose 1 "

" No, sir ; they are partridges. "

"Well, then, give me some soup, a cutlet, and a
'bird,' as you term it, and be quick about it."

" It shall be done with despatch, " answered the pom-
pous attendant and withdrew.

Is there, in the whole course of this pleasant and
varying life, which young gentlemen and ladies write
verses to prove same and sorrowful, is there in the whole
course of it one half hour really and genuinely disagree-
able 1 — if so, it is the half hour before dinner at a strange
inn. Nevertheless, by the help of philosophy and the
window, I managed to endure it with great patience;
and, though I was famishing with hunger, I pretended
the indifference of a sage, even when the dinner was at
length announced. I coquetted a whole minute with

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 207

my napkin before I attempted the soup, and I helped
myself to the potatory food with a slow dignity that must
have perfectly won the heart of the solemn waiter. The
soup was a little better than hot water, and the sharp-
sauced cutlet than leather and vinegar; howbeit, I at-
tacked them with the vigor of an Irishman, and washed
them down with a bottle of the worst liquor ever digni-
fied with the venerabile nomen of claret. The bird was
tough enough to have passed for an ostrich in miniature ;
and I felt its ghost hopping about the stomachic sepul-
chre to which I consigned it, the whole of that evening,
and a great portion of the next day, when a glass of
Curaqoa laid it at rest.

After this splendid repast, I flung mys^ back on my
chair, with the complacency of a man who has dined
well, and dozed away the time till the hour of dressing.

"Now," thought I, as I placed myself before my
glass, "shall I gently please, or sublimely astonish the
* fashionables * of Cheltenham? Ah, bah! the latter
school is vulgar; Byron spoiled it. Don't put out that
chain, Bedos; I wear — the black coat, waistcoat, and
trousers. Brush my hair as much out of curl as you can,
and give an air of graceful negligence to my tout en-
semble, "

" Qui, Monsieur, je comprends,^^ answered Bedos.

I was soon dressed, for it is the design, not the execu-
tion, of all great undertakings which requires deliberation
and delay. Action cannot be too prompt. A chair was
called, and Henry Pelham was conveyed to the rooms.

208 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER XL.

Now see, prepmred to lead the sprightly dance,

I'he lovely nymphs, and well-dressed youths advance ;

The spacious room receives its jovial guest.

And the floor shakes ifvith pleasing weight oppressed.

Art of Dancing.

Page. — His name, my lord, is TyrrelL — Richard III.

Upon entering, I saw several heads rising and sinking
to the tune of " Cherry ripe. " A whole row of stiff
necks, in cravats of the most unexceptionable length
and breadth, were just before me. A tall, thin young
man, with dark, wiry hair brushed on one side, was
drawing on a pair of white Woodstock gloves, and affect-
ing to look round the room with the supreme indifference
of bon ton.

" Ah, Ritson, " said another young Cheltenhamian to
him of the Woodstock gauntlets, " have n't you been
dancing yet ? "

" No, Smith, 'pon honor ! " answered Mr. Ritson ; " it
is so overpoweringly hot; no fashionable man dances
now: it isnH the thing."

" Why, " replied Mr. Smith, who was a good-natured
looking person, with a blue coat and brass buttons, and
a gold pin in his neckcloth, — " why, they dance at
Almack's, don't they % "

" No, 'pon honor, " murmured Mr. Ritson, — " no,
they just walk a quadrille, or spin a waltz, as my friend,
Lord Bobadob, calls it; nothing more, — no, hang dan-
cing, 't is so vulgar. "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 209

A stout, red-faced man, about thirty, with wet auburn
hair, a marvellously fine waistcoat, and a badly- washed
frill, now joined Messrs. Ritson and Smith.

" Ah, Sir Ralph, " cried Smith, " how d' ye do ? Been
hunting all day, I suppose 1 "

" Yes, old cock, " replied Sir Ralph ; " been after the
brush till I am quite done up ; such a glorious run I By
G — , you should have seen my gray mare, Smith; by
G — , she 's a glorious fencer. "

" You don't hunt, do you, Ritson 1 " interrogated Mr.
Smith.

" Yes, I do, " replied Mr. Ritson, affectedly playing
with his Woodstock glove, — " yes, but I only hunt in
Leicestershire with my friend. Lord Bobadob ; 't is not
the thing to hunt anywhere else, "

Sir Ralph stared at the speaker with mute contempt ;
while Mr. Smith, like the ass between the hay, stood
balancing betwixt the opposing merits of the baronet
and the beau. Meanwhile, a smiling, nodding, affected
female thing, in ringlets and flowers, flirted up to the
trio.

" Now, reely, Mr. Smith, you should deence ; a feesh-
ionable young man, like you, — I don't know what the
young leedies will say to you." And the fair seducer
laughed bewitchingly.

"You are very good, Mrs. Dollimore," replied Mr.
Smith, with a blush and a low bow ; " but Mr. Ritson
tells me it is not the thing to dance. "

" Oh, " cried Mrs. DoUimore, " but then he 's seech a
naughty, conceited creature, — don't follow his example,
Meester Smith ; " and again the good lady laughed
immoderately.

" Nay, Mrs. DoUimore, " said Mr. Ritson, passing his
hand through his abominable hair, " you are too severe ;

VOL. I. — 14

210 PELHAM; OR,

but tell me, Mrs. DoUimore, is the Countess com-
ing here ? "

" Now, reely, Mr. Ritson, you who are the pink of
feeshion, ought to know better than I can; but I hear
so."

" Do you know the countess ? " said Mr. Smith, in
respectful surprise, to Ritson.

" Oh, very well, " replied the Coryphaeus of Chelten-
ham, swinging his Woodstock glove to and fro ; " I have
often danced with her at Almack's. "

" Is she a good deencer ? " asked Mrs. DoUimore.

" Oh, capital, " responded Mr. Ritson ; " she 's such a
nice, genteel, little figure."

Sir Ralph, apparently tired of this " feeshionable "
conversation, swaggered away.

" Pray, " said Mrs. DoUimore, " who is that gentle-
man ? "

" Sir Ralph Rumford, " replied Smith, eagerly ; " a
particular friend of mine at Cambridge. "

" I wonder if he 's going to make a long steey ? " said
Mrs. DoUimore.

" Yes, I believe so, " replied Mr. Smith, " if we make
it agreeable to him. "

" You must poositively introduce him to me, " said
Mrs. DoUimore.

" I will, with great pleasure, " said the good-natured
Mr. Smith.

" Is Sir Ralph a man of fashion ? " inquired Mr.
Ritson.

" He 's a baronet ! " emphatically pronounced Mr.
Smith.

" Ah ! " replied Ritson ; " but he may be a man of
rank without being a man of fashion. "

" True, " lisped Mrs. DoUimore.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 211

" I don't know, " replied Smith, with an air of puzzled
wonderment, " but he has £7000 a year. "

** Has he, indeed 1 " cried Mrs. DoUimore, surprised
into her natural tone of voice; and at that moment a
young lady, ringleted and flowered like herself, joined
her, and accosted her by the endearing appellation of
"Mamma."

" Have you been dancing, my love ? " inquired Mrs.
DoUimore.

" Yes, Ma ; with Captain Johnson. "

" Oh, " said the mother, with a toss of her head ;
and, giving her daughter a significant push, she walked
away with her to another end of the room, to talk about
Sir Ralph Rumford and his seven thousand pounds a year.

"Well! " thought I, "odd people these; let us enter
a little farther into this savage country. " In accordance
with this reflection, I proceeded towards the middle of
the room.

" Who 's that ? " said Mr. Smith, in a loud whisper as
I passed him.

" 'Pon honor, " answered Ritson, " I don't know ; but
he 's a deuced neat-looking fellow. "

" Thank you, Mr. Ritson, " said my vanity ; " you are
not so offensive after all. "

I paused to look at the dancers; a middle-aged, re-
spectable-looking gentleman was beside me. Common
people, after they have passed forty, grow social. My
neighbor hemmed twice, and made preparation for
speaking. " I may as well encourage him, " was my
reflection; accordingly I turned round with a most
good-natured expression of countenance.

" A fine room this, sir, " said the man, immediately.

"Very," said I, with a smile, "and extremely well
filled."

212 PELHAM ; OR,

" Ah, sir, " answered my neighbor, " Cheltenham ra
not as it used to be some fifteen years a^o. I have
seen as many as one thousand, two hundred and fifty
persons within these walls " (certain people are always
so d — d particularizing) : " ay, sir, " pursued my lauda-
tor temporis acti, ''and half the peerage here into the
bargain. "

" Indeed I " quoth I, with an air of surprise suited
to the information I received ; " but the society is very
good still, is it not ? "
-j- " Oh, very genteel, " replied the man ; " but not so
dashing as it used to be." (Oh! these two horrid
words! low enough to suit even the author of " .")

" Pray, " asked I, glancing at Messrs. Kitson and
Smith, '* do you know who those gentlemen are 1 "

"Extremely well!" replied my neighbor; "the tall
young man is Mr. Kitson; his mother has a house
in Baker Street, and gives quite elegant parties. He 's
a most genteel young man; but such an insufferable
coxcomb. "

" And the other ? " said I.

" Oh ! he 's a Mr. Smith ; his father was an eminent
brewer, and is lately dead, leaving each of his sons
thirty thousand pounds; the young Smith is a know-
ing hand, and wants to spend his money with spirit.
He has a great passion for *high life,' and therefore
attaches himself much to Mr. Kitson, who is quite that
way inclined."

" He could not have selected a better model, " said I.

"True," rejoined my Cheltenham Asmodeus, with
naive simplicity ; " but I hope he won't adopt his
conceit as well as his elegance."

" I shaU die, " said I to myself, " if I talk with this
fellow any longer, " and I was just going to glide away,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 213

when a tall, stately dowager, with two lean, scraggy
daughters, entered the room; I could not resist pausing
to inquire who they were.

My friend looked at me with a very altered and dis-
respectful air at this interrogation. " Who ? " said he ;
" why, the Countess of Babbleton and her two daughters,
the Honorable Lady Jane Babel, and the Honorable
Lady Mary Babel. They are the great people of Chel-
tenham, " pursued he, " and it 's a fine thing to get into
their set."

Meanwhile Lady Babbleton and her two daughters
swept up the room, bowing and nodding to the riven
ranks on each side, who made their salutations with the
most profound respect. My experienced eye detected
in a moment that Lady Babbleton, in spite of her title
and her stateliness, was exceedingly the reverse of good
ton, and the daughters (who did not resemble the scrag
of mutton, but its ghost) had an appearance of sour
affability, which was as different from the manners of
proper society as it possibly could be.

I pondered greatly who and what they were. In
the eyes of the Cheltenhamians they were the countess
and her daughters; and any further explanation would
have been deemed quite superfluous; further explana-
tion I was, however, determined to procure, and was
walking across the room in profound meditation as to
the method in which the discovery should be made,
when I was startled by the voice of Sir Lionel Garrett:
I turned round, and, to my inexpressible joy, beheld
that worthy baronet.

" Bless me, Pelham, " said he, " how delighted I am
to see you. Lady Harriet, here's your old favorite,
Mr. Pelham."

Lady Harriet was all smiles and pleasure. " Give

214 PELHAM; OR,

me your arm, " said she ; " I must go and speak to Lady
Babbleton, — odious woman! "

" Do, my dear Lady Harriet, " said I, " explain to me
what Lady Babbleton was."

" Why, — she was a milliner, and took in the late
lord, who was an idiot. Voila tout / "

" Perfectly satisfactory, " replied I.

" Or, short and sweet, as Lady Babbleton would say, "
replied Lady Harriet, laughing.

" In antithesis to her daughters, who are long and
sour. "

" Oh, you satirist ! " said the affected Lady Harriet
(who was only three removes better than the Chelten-
ham countess) ; " but tell me, how long have you been
at Cheltenham ? "

" Al)out four hours and a half! "

" Then you don't know any of the lions here ? "

" None, except " (I added to myself) " the lion I had
for dinner."

"Well, let me despatch Lady Babbleton, and I'll
then devote myself to being your nomenclator. "

We walked up to Lady Babbleton, who had already
disposed of her daughters, and was. sitting in solitary
dignity at the end of the room.

" My dear Lady Babbleton, " cried Lady Harriet, tak-
ing both the hands of the dowager, " I am so glad to
see you ; and how well you are looking ; and your charm-
ing daughters, how are they ? — sweet girls ! — and how
long have you been here 1 "

" We have only just come," replied the ci-devant
milliner, half rising and rustling her plumes in stately
agitation, like a nervous parrot; "we must conform to
modern 'ours. Lady 'Arriet-, though, for my part, T like
the old-fashioned plan of dining early, and finishing

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN* 215

one's gayeties before midnight ; but I set the fashion of
good 'ours as well as I can. I think it 's a duty we owe
to society, Lady 'Arriet, to encourage morality by our
own example. What else do we have rank for? " And,
so saying, the counter-countess drew herself up with a
most edifying air of moral dignity.

Lady Harriet looked at me, and perceiving that my
eye said *' go on, " as plainly as eye could possibly speak,
she continued, " Which of the wells do you attend,
Lady Babbleton ? "

" All, " replied the patronizing dowager. " I like to
encourage the poor people here ; I Ve no notion of being
proud because one has a title. Lady 'Arriet.*'

" No, " rejoined the worthy helpmate of Sir Lionel
Garrett ; " everybody talks of your condescension. Lady
Babbleton; but are you not afraid of letting yourself
down by going everywhere ? "

" Oh, " answered the countess, " I admit very few into
my set at home, but I go out promiscuously \ " and then,
looking at me, she said, in a whisper, to Lady Harriet,
" Who is that nice young gentleman ? "

" Mr. Pelham, " replied Lady Harriet ; and, turning
to me, formally introduced us to each other.

" Are you any relation, " asked the dowager, " to Lady
Frances Pelham ? "

" Only her son, " said I.

" Dear me, " replied Lady Babbleton, " how odd ;
what a nice, elegant woman she is! She does not go
much out, does she? I don't often meet her."

" I should not think it likely that your ladyship did
meet her much. She does not visit promiscuously J^

" Every rank has its duty, " said Lady Harriet, gravely ;
"your mother, Mr. Pelham, may confine her circle as
much as she pleases ; but the high rank of Lady Babble-

216 pblham; or,

ton requires greater condescension; just as the Dukes
of Sussex and Gloucester go to many places where you
and I would not."

" Very true ! " said the innocent dowager ; " and that 's ij

a very sensihle remark! Were you at Bath last winter, <

Mr. Pelham ] " continued the countess, whose thoughts J

wandered from suhject to suhject in the most rudderless
manner. I

" No, Lady Bahhleton, I was unfortunately at a less |

distinguished place. "

" What was that 1 " '

"Paris!"

" Oh, indeed ! I ' ve never been abroad ; I don't think
persons of a certain rank should leave England; they
should stay at home and encourage their own manu-
factories. "

"Ah!" cried I, taking hold of Lady Babbleton's
shawl, "what a pretty Manchester pattern this is."

" Manchester pattern ! " exclaimed the petrified peer-
ess ; " why, it is real Cachemire : you don't think I wear
anything English, Mr. Pelham ? "

" I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons. I am no
judge of dress; but to return, — I am quite of your
opinion, that we ought to encourage our own manufac-
tories ^ and not go abroad ; but one cannot stay long on
the Continent, even if one is decoyed there. One soon
longs for home again."

" Very sensibly remarked, " rejoined Lady Babbleton ;
" that 's what I call true patriotism and morality. I wish
all the young men of the present day were like you. Oh,
dear ! — here 's a great favorite of mine coming this way,
— Mr. Ritson ! — do you know him ? Shall I introduce
you ? "

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed I, — frightened out of

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 217

my wits and my manners. "Come, Lady Harriet, let
us rejoin Sir Lionel ; " and, " swift at the word, " Lady
Harriet retook my arm, nodded her adieu to Lady Bab-
bleton, and withdrew with me to an obscurer part of the
room.

Here we gave way to our laughter for some ti^e —
" Is it possible I " exclaimed I, starting up, — " can ttiat be
Tyrrell ? "

" What 's the matter with the man ? " cried Lady
Harriet.

I quickly recovered my presence of mind, and reseated
myself. " Pray forgive me, Lady Harriet, " said I ;
" but I think, nay, I am sure, I see a person I once met
vmder very particular circumstances. Do you observe
that dark man in deep mourning, who has just entered
the room, and is now speaking to Sir Ralph Rumford ? "

"I do, — it is Sir John Tyrrell! " replied Lady Har-
riet : " he only came to Cheltenham yesterday. His is a
very singular history. "

" What is it ? " said I, eagerly.

" Why ! he was the only son of a younger branch of
the Tyrrells; a very old family, as the name denotes.
He was a great deal in a certain roue set, for some years,
and was celebrated for his gallantries. His fortune was,
however, perfectly unable to satisfy his expenses; he
took to gambling, and lost the remains of his property.
He went* abroad, and used to be seen at the low gaming-
houses at Paris, earning a very degraded and precarious
subsistence; till, about three months ago, two persons
who stood between him and the title and estates of the
family, died, and most unexpectedly he succeeded to
both. They say that he was found in the most utter
penury and distress, in a small cellar at Paris ; however
that may be, he is now Sir John Tyrrell, with a very

218 PELHAM; OR,

large income, and, in spite of a certain coarseness of
manner, probably acquired by the low company he lat-
terly kept, he is very much liked, and even admired, by
the few good people in the society of Cheltenham."

At this moment Tyrrell passed us; he caught my eye,
stopped short, and colored violently. I bowed ; he seemed
undecided for a moment as to the course he should adopt ;
it was hut for a moment. He returned mv salutation
with great appearance of cordiality ; shook me warmly by
the hand; expressed himself delighted to meet me; in-
quired where I was staying, and said he should certainly
call upon me. With this promise he glided on, and was
soon lost among the crowd.

" Where did you meet him ? " said Lady Harriet.

"At Paris."

" What ! was he in decent society there ? "

" I don't know, " said I. " Good-night, Lady Harriet ; "
and, with an air of extreme lassitude, I took my hat and
vanished from that motley mixture of the fashionably
low and the vulgarly genteel !

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 219

CHAPTEE XLI.

Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath unto bondage
Drawn my too diligent eyes.

But you, oh ! you,
So perfect and so peerless, are create
Of every creature's best. — Shakespeare.

Thou wilt easily conceive, my dear reader, who hast
been in my confidence throughout the whole of this
history, and whom, though as yet thou hast cause to
esteem me but lightly, I already love as my familiar
and my friend, — thou wilt easily conceive my surprise
at meeting so unexpectedly with my old hero of the gam-
bling-house. I felt indeed perfectly stunned at the
shock of so singular a change in his circumstances since
I had last met him. My thoughts reverted immediately
to that scene, and to the mysterious connection between
Tyrrell and Glanville. How would the latter receive
the intelligence of his enemy's good fortune? was his
vengeance yet satisfied, or through what means could it
now find vent?

A thousand thoughts similar to these occupied and
distracted my attention till morning, when I summoned
Bedos into the room to read me to sleep. He opened a
play of Monsieur Delavigne^s, and at the beginning of
the second scene T was in the land of dreams.

I woke about two o'clock; dressed, sipped my choco-
late, and was on the point of arranging my hat to the
best advantage, when I received the following note : —

220 PELHAM; OB,

Mt deab Pelham, — Me tihi commendo, I heard this
luorning, at your hotel, that yoa were here ; my heart was a
house of joy at the intelligence. I called upon yoa two hours
ago ; but, like Antony, **-yoa revel long o' nights." Ah, that I
could add with Shakespeare, that you were " notwithstandiDg
up" I have just come from Paris, that umbilicus terrasj and
my adventures since I saw yon, for your private satisfaction,
** because I love you, I will let you know ;** but you must
satisfy me with a meeting. Till you do, ^ the mighty gods
defend you I "

VmCENT,

The hotel from which Vincent dated this epistle was
in the same street as my own caravansary, and to this
hotel I immediately set ofif. I found my friend sitting
before a huge folio, which he in vain endeavored to
persuade me that he seriously intended to read. We
greeted each other with the greatest cordiality.

"But how," said Vincent, after the first warmth of
welcome had subsided, — " how shall I congratulate you
upon your new honors ? I was not prepared to find you
grown from a roue into a senator.

* In gathering votes you were not slack,
Now stand as tightly by your tack,
Ne'er show your lug an* fidge your back,

An' hum an' haw;
But raise your arm, an' tell your crack

Before them a.'

So saith Burns; advice which, being interpreted, mean-
eth, that you must astonish the rats of St. Stephen's."

" Alas ! " said I ; " all one's clap-traps in that house
must be baited. "

" Nay, but a rat bites at any cheese, from Gloucester
to Parmesan, and you can easily scrape up a bit of some
sort. Talking of the House, do you see, by the paper,

ADVENTUBES OF A GENTLEMAN. 221

that the civic senator, Alderman W , is at Chel-
tenham 1 ''

** I was not aware of it. I suppose he 's cramming
speeches and turtle for the next season."

"How wonderfully," said Vincent, "your city dig-
nities unloose the tongue; directly a man has been a
mayor, he thinks himself qualified for a Tully at least.
Faith, the Lord Mayor asked me one day what was the
Latin for spouting; and I told him, ^ hippomanes j ot a.
raging humor in mayors. * "

After I had paid, through the medium of my risi-
ble muscles, due homage to this witticism of Vincent's,
he shut up his folio, called for his hat, and we sauntered
down into the street.

" When do you go up to town ? " asked Vincent.

" Not till my senatorial duties require me. "

** Do you stay here till then ? '*

" As it pleases the gods. But, good heavens, Vincent,
what a beautiful girl! ''

Vincent turned. " Dea certe" murmured he, and
stopped.

The object of our exclamations was standing by a
comer shop, apparently waiting for some one within.
Her face, at the moment I first saw her, was turned full
towards me. Never had I seen any countenance half so
lovely. She was apparently about twenty ; her hair was
of the richest chestnut, and a golden light played through
its darkness, as if a sunbeam had been caught in those
luxuriant tresses, and was striving in vain to escape.
Her eyes were of light hazel, large, deep, and shaded
into softness (to use a modern expression) by long and
very dark lashes. Her complexion alone would have
rendered her beautiful, it was so clear, — so pure; the
blood blushed beneath it, like roses under a clear stream;

222 PELHAM; OR,

if, in order to justify my simile, roses would hare the
complacency to grow in such a situation. Her nose was
of that fine and accurate mould that one so seldom sees,
except in the Grecian statues, which unites the clearest
and most decided outline with the most feminine deli-
cacy and softness: and the short, curved arch which
descended from thence to her mouth, was so fine, — so
airiltj and exquisitely formed, that it seemed as if Love
himself had modelled the hridge which led to his most
heautiful and fragrant island. On the right side of the
mouth was one dimple, which corresponded so exactly
with every smile and movement of those rosy lips, that
you might have sworn the shadow of each passed there ;
it was like the rapid changes of an April heaven reflected
upon a valley. She was somewhat, but not much, taller
than the ordinary height ; and her figure, which united
all the first freshness and youth of the girl with the
more luxuriant graces of the woman, was rounded and
finished so justly, that the eye could glance over the
whole without discovering the least harshness or un-
evenness, or atom to be added or subtracted. But
over all these was a light, a glow, a pervading spirit,
of which it is impossible to convey the faintest idea.
You should have seen her by the side of a shaded foun-
tain on a summer's day. You should have watched her
amidst music and flowers, and she might have seemed
to you like the fairy that presided over both. So much
for poetical description, — it is not mj forte!

" What think you of her, Vincent? " said I.

"I say, with Theocritus, in his epithalamium of
Helen — "

"Say no such thing," said I; "I will not have her
presence profaned by any helps from your memory."

At that moment the girl turned round abruptly, and

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 223

re-entered the stationer's shop, at the door of which she
had been standing.

" Let us enter," said Yincent: " I want some sealing-
wax. "

I desired no second invitation : we marched into the
shop. My Armida was leaning on the arm of an old
lady. She blushed deeply when she saw us enter; and,
as ill-luck would have it, the old lady concluded her
purchases the moment after, and they withdrew.

" * Who had thought this clime had held
A deity so unparalleled T "

justly observed my companion.

I made no reply. All the remainder of that day I
was absent and reserved; and Vincent, perceiving that
I no longer laughed at his jokes, nor smiled at his
quotations, told me I was sadly changed for the worse,
and pretended an engagement, to rid himself of an audi-
tor so obtuse.

224 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTER XLII.

Tout notre mal vient de ne pouvoir etre seuls ; de fit le jeu, le Inxe,
la dissipation, le vin, les femmes, rignorance, la medisance
Ten vie, Toubli de soi-m^me et de Diea. — La Brcy^be.

The next day I resolved to call upon Tyrrell, seeing
that he had not yet kept his promise of anticipating
me, and being very desirous not to lose any opportunity
of improving my acquaintance with him; accordingly,
I sent my valet to make inquiries as to his abode. I
found that he lodged in the same hotel as myself; and
having previously ascertained that he was at home, I
was ushered by the head-waiter into the gamester's
apartment.

He was sitting by the fire in a listless, yet thoughtful
attitude. His muscular and rather handsome person was
indued in a dressing-gown of rich brocade, thrown on.
with a slovenly nonchalance. His stockings were about
his heels, his hair was dishevelled, and. the light, stream-
ing through the half -drawn window -curtains, rested upon
the gray flakes with which its darker luxuriance was
interspersed; and the cross light in which he had the
imprudence or misfortune to sit, fully developed the
deep wrinkles which years and dissipation had planted
round his eyes and mouth. I was quite startled at the
oldness and haggardness of his appearance.

He rose gracefully enough when I was announced;
and no sooner had the waiter retired than he came up
to me, shook me warmly by the hand, and said, * Let
me thank you now for the attention you formerly

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 225

showed me, when I was less able to express my
acknowledgments. I shall be proud to cultivate your
intimacy."

I answered him in the same strain, and in the course
of conversation made myself so entertaining, that he
agreed to spend the remainder of the day with me.
We ordered our horses at three and our dinner at seven,
and I left him till the former were ready, in order to
allow him time for his toilet.

During our ride we talked principally on general
subjects, — on the various diflFerences of France and
England, on horses, on wines, on women, on politics;
on all things except that which had created our acquaint-
ance. His remarks were those of a strong, ill-regulated
mind, which had made experience supply the place of
the reasoning faculties; there was a looseness in his
sentiments, and a licentiousness in his opinions, which
startled even me (used as I had been to rakes of all
schools) ; ' his philosophy was of that species which
thinks that the best maxim of wisdom is — to de-
spise. Of men, he spoke with the bitterness of hatred ;
of women, with the levity of contempt. France had
taught him its debaucheries, but not the elegance which
refines them : if his sentiments were low, the language
in which they were clothed was meaner still : and that
which makes the morality of the upper classes, and
which no criminal is supposed to be hardy enough to
reject, — that religion which has no scoifers, that code
which has no impugners, that honor among gentlemen
which constitutes the moving principle of the society
in which they live; he seemed to imagine, even in its
most fundamental laws, was an authority to which
nothing but the inexperience of the young and the
credulity of the romantic could accede.

VOL. I. — 15

226 PELHAM; OB,

Upon the whole, he seemed to me a * bold, had
man,'' with just enough of intellect to teach him to
he a villain, without that higher degree which shows
him that it is the worst course for his interest; and
just enough of daring to make him indifferent to the
dangers of guilt, though it was not sufficient to make
him conquer and control them. For the rest, he loved
trottiug better than cantering, piqued himself upon
being manly, wore doeskin gloves, drank port wine
par preference i and considered beef-steaks and oyster-
sauce as the most delicate dish in the bill of fare. I
think now, reader, you have a tolerably good view of
his character.

After dinner, when we were discussing the second
bottle, I thought it would not be a bad opportunity
to question him upon his acquaintance with Glanville.
His countenance fell directly I mentioned that name.
However, he rallied himself. "Oh," said he, "you
mean the soidisant Warburton. I knew him some
years back, — he was a poor, silly youth, half mad, I
believe, and particularly hostile to me, owing to some
foolish disagreement when he weis quite a boy. "

" What was the cause ? " said I.

"Nothing, — nothing of any consequence," answered
Tyrrell; and then added, with an air of coxcombry,
" I believe I was more fortunate than he in a certain
intrigue. Poor Glanville is a little romantic, you
know. But enough of this now; shall we go to the
rooms ? "

"With pleasure," said I; and to the rooms we
went.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 227

CHAPTER XLIII.

Veteres revocavit artes. — Hor.

Since I came hither I have heard strange news. — King Lear.

Two days after my long conversation with Tyrrell, T
called again upon that worthy. To my great surprise
he had left Cheltenham. I then strolled to Vincent; I
found him lolling on his sofa, surrounded, as usual, with
books and papers.

** Come in, Pelham," said he, as I hesitated at the
threshold, — " come in. I have been delighting myself
with Plato all the morning; I scarcely know what it is
that enchants us so much with the ancients. I rather
believe, with Schlegel, that it is that air of perfect
repose, — the stillness of a deep soul, which rests over
their writings. Whatever would appear commonplace
amongst us, has with them I know not what of sub-
limity and pathos. Triteness seems the profundity of
truth, — wildness, the daring of a luxuriant imagina-
tion. The fact is that, in spite of every fault, you see
through all the traces of original thought: there is a
contemplative grandeur in their sentiments, which seems
to have nothing borrowed in its meaning or its dress.
Take , for instance, this fragment of Mimnermus on the
shortness of life ; what subject can seem more tame ? —
what less striking than the feelings he expresses ? — and
yet throughout every line there is a melancholy depth
and tenderness which it is impossible to define. Of all
English writers who partake the most of this spirit of

228 PELHAM; OR,

conveying interest and strength to sentiments and sub-
jects neither novel in themselves, nor adorned in their
arrangement, I know none that equal Byron: it is
indeed the chief beauty of that extraordinary poet.
Examine * Childe Harold ' accurately, and you will
be surprised to discover how very little of real depth
or novelty there often is in the reflections which seem
most deep and new. You are enchained by the vague
but powerful beauty of the style ; the strong impress of
originality which breathes throughout. Like the oracle
of Dodona, he makes the forests his tablets, and writes
his inspirations upon the leaves of the trees; but the
source of that inspiration you cannot tell; it is neither
the truth nor the beauty of his sayings which you ad-
mire, though you fancy that it is: it is the mystery
which accompanies them."

" Pray," said I, " do you not imagine that one great
cause of this spirit of which you speak, and whiqh
seems to be nothing more than a thoughtful method of
expressing all things, even to trifles, was the great lone-
liness to which the ancient poets and philosophers were
attached ? I think (though I have not your talent for
quoting) that Cicero calls ' the consideration of nature
the food of the mind,' and the mind which, in solitude,
is confined necessarily to a few objects, meditates more
closely upon those it embraces : the habit of this medita-
tion enters and pervades the system, and whatever after-
wards emanates from it is tinctured with the thoughtful
and contemplative colors it has received."

'* Wonderful ! " cried Vincent ; " how long have you
learned to read Cicero, and talk about the mind? "

" Ah," said I, " I am perhaps less ignorant than I
affect to be: it is now my object to be a dandy; here-
after I may aspire to be an orator, a wit, a scholar, or a

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 229

Vincent. You will see then that there have heen many
odd quarters of an hour in my life less unprofitably
wasted than you imagine."

Vincent rose in a sort of nervous excitement, and
then, reseating himself, fixed his dark, bright eyes
steadfastly upon me for some moments; his countenance
all the while assuming a higher and graver expression
than I had ever before seen it wear.

*' Pelham," said he, at last, " it is for the sake of
moments like these, when your better nature flashes out,
that I have sought your society and your friendship.
/, too, am not wholly what I appear: the world may
yet see that Halifax was not the only statesman
whom the pursuits of literature had only formed the
better for the labors of business. Meanwhile, let me
pass for the pedant and the bookworm : like a sturdier
adventurer than myself, *I bide my time.' Pelham,
this will be a busy session! shall you prepare for
it?"

" Nay," answered I, relapsing into my usual tone of
languid affectation ; " I shall have too much to do in
attending to Stultz, and Nugee, and Tattersall, and
Baxter, and a hundred other occupiers of spare time.
Remember, this is my first season in London since my
majority."

Vincent took up the newspaper with evident chagrin ;
however, he was too theoretically the man of the world
long to show his displeasure. "Parr — Parr, again,"
said he; " how they stuff the journals with that name!
Heaven knows I venerate learning as much as any man ;
but I respect it for its uses, and not for itself. How-
ever, I will not quarrel with his reputation, — it is but
for a day. Literary men, who leave nothing but their
name to posterity, have but a short twilight of posthu-

230 PELHAM; OR,

mous renown. Apropos^ do you know my pun upon
Parr and the major 1 "

" Not I," said I, " Majora canamus! "

** Why, Parr and I, and two or three more, were din-
ing once at poor T. M 's, the author of * The Indian

Antiquities. ' Major , a great traveller, entered into

a dispute with Parr about Babylon ; the doctor got into a
violent passion, and poured out such a heap of quotations
on his unfortunate antagonist, that the latter, stunned
by the clamor and terrified by the Greek, was obliged to
succumb. Parr turned triumphantly to me. * What is
your opinion, my lord ? ' said he, — ' who is in the
right ? '

" ^Adversis major, — par secundis,* " answered I.

"Vincent," I said, after I had expressed sufficient
admiration at his pun, — " Vincent, I begin to be weary
of this life ; I shall accordingly pack up my books and
myself, and go to Malvern Wells, to live quietly till I
think it time for London. After to-day you will, there-
fore, see me no more. "

" I cannot," answered Vincent, " contravene so lauda-
ble a purpose, however I may be the loser." And, after
a short and desultory conversation, 1 left him once more
to the tranquil enjoyment of his Plato. That evening I
went to Malvern, and there I remained in a monotonous
state of existence, dividing my time equally between my
mind and my body , and forming myself into that state
of contemplative reflection which was the object of Vin-
cent's admiration in the writings of the ancients.

Just when I was on the point of leaving my retreat,
T received an intelligence which most materially affected
my future prospects. My uncle, who had arrived at the
sober age of fifty without any apparent designs of matri-
mony, fell suddenly in love with a lady in his imme-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 231

diate neighorhood, and married her, after a courtship of
three weeks.

" I should not," said my poor mother, very gener-
ously, in a subsequent letter, " so much have minded
his marriage, if the lady had not thought proper to
become in the family way; a thing which I do and
always shall consider a most unwarrantable encroach-
ment on your rights."

I will confess that, on first hearing this news, I expe-
rienced a bitter pang; but I reasoned it away. I was
already under great obligations to my uncle, and I felt
it a very unjust and ungracious assumption on my part
to affect anger at conduct I had no right to question, or
mortification at the loss of pretensions I had so equivo-
cal a privilege to form. A man of fifty has, jjerhaps, a
right to consult his own happiness, almost as much as
a man of thirty ; and if he attracts by his choice the
ridicule of those whom he has never obliged, it is at
least from those persons he has obliged that he is to
look for countenance and defence.

Fraught with these ideas, I wrote to my uncle a sin-
cere and warm letter of congratulation. His answer
was, like himself, kind, affectionate, and generous; it
informed me that he had already made over to me the
annual sum of one thousand pounds; and that in case
of his having a lineal heir, he had, moreover, settled
upon me, after his death, two thousand a year. He
ended by assuring me that his only regret at marrying
a lady who in all respects was, above all women, calcu-
lated to make him happy, was his unfeigned reluctance
to deprive me of a station, which (he was pleased to
say) I not only deserved, but should adorn.

Upon receiving this letter I was sensibly affected
with my uncle's kindness; and so far from repining

232 pblham; or,

at his choice, I most heartily wished him every hless-
ing it could afford him, even though an heir to the titles
of Glenmorris were one of them.

I protracted my stay at Malvern some weeks longer
than I had intended: the circumstance which had
wrought so great a change in ray fortune, wrought
no less powerfully on my character. I became more
thoughtfully and solidly ambitious. Instead of wast-
ing my time in idle regrets at the station I had lost,
I rather resolved to carve out for myself one still lofty
and more universally acknowledged. I determined to
exercise to their utmost the little ability and knowl-
edge I possessed; and while the increase of income,
derived from my uncle's generosity, furnished me with
what was necessary for my luxury, I was resolved that
it should not encourage me in the indulgence of my
indolence.

In this mood, and with these intentions, I repaired to
the metropolis.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 233

CHAPTER XLIV.

Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia et spes. — Hob.

And look always that they be shape,

What garment that thou shalt make

Of him that can best do,

With all that pertaineth thereto. ~ Rom. of the Rose,

How well I can remember the feelings with which I
entered London and took possession of the apartments
prepared for me at Mivart's! A year had made a vast
alteration in my mind: I had ceased to regard pleasure
for its own sake ; I rather coveted its enjoyments as the
great sources of worldly distinction. I was not the less
a coxcomb than heretofore, nor the less fastidious in my
horses and my dress; but I viewed these matters in a
light wholly difiFerent from that in which I had hitherto
regarded them. Beneath all the carelessness of my
exterior, my mind was close, keen, and inquiring; and
under all the affectations of foppery and the levity of
manner, I veiled an ambition the most extensive in its
objects, and a resolution the most daring in the accom-
plishment of its means.

I was still lounging over my breakfast, on the second

morning of my arrival, when Mr. , the tailor, was

announced.

*' Good morning, Mr. Pelham; happy to see you re-
turned. Do I disturb you too early? shall I wait on
you again 1 "

" No, Mr. , I am ready to receive you. You may

renew my measure."

234 pelham; or,

"We are a very good figure, Mr. Pelham, — very
good figure," replied the Schneider, surveying me from
head to foot while he was preparing his measure ; " we
want a little assistance, though : we must he padded well
here; we must have our chest thrown out, and have an
additional inch across the shoulders; we must live for
efifect in this world, Mr. Pelham; a leetle tighter round
the waist, eh? "

" Mr. ," said I, " you will take, first, my exact

measure; and, secondly, my exact instructions. Have
you done the first ? "

" We are done now, Mr. Pelham," replied my man-
makery in a slow, solemn tone.

" You will have the goodness, then, to put no stuffing
of any description in my coat; you will not pinch me
an iota tighter across the waist than is natural to that
part of my hody; and you will please, in your infinite
mercy, to leave me as much after the fashion in which
God made me as you possibly can. "

"But, sir, we must be padded ; we are much too
thin ; all the gentlemen in the Life Guards are padded.
Sir.

"Mr. ," answered I, "you will please to speak

of us with a separate and not a collective pronoun ; and
you will let me for once have my clothes such as a
gentleman — who, I beg of you to understand, is not a
Life Guardsman — can wear without being mistaken for
a Guy Fawkes on a fifth of November. "

Mr. looked very discomfited: " We shall not be

liked, sir, when we are made, — we sha'n't, I assure
you. I will call on Saturday at eleven o'clock. Good
morning, Mr. Pelham; we shall never be done justice
to, if we do not live for effect; good morning, Mr.
Pelham. "

ADVENTURES OF A. GENTLEMAN. 235

And here, as I am weary of tailors, let me reflect a
little upon that divine art of which they are the pro-
fessors. Alas fox the instability of all human sciences !
A few short months ago, in the first edition of this
memorable work, I laid down rules for costume the
value of which fashion begins already to destroy. The
thoughts which I shall now embody shall be out of the
reach of that great innovator, and applicable not to one
age, but to all. To the sagacious reader, who has al-
ready discovered what portions of this work are writ
in irony, what in earnest, I fearlessly commit these
maxims; beseeching him to believe, with Sterne, that
" everything is big with jest, and has wit in it, and
instruction too, — if we can but find it out! "

MAXIMS.

I. Do not require your dress so much to fit as to
adorn you. Nature is not to be copied, but to be ex-
alted by art. Apelles blamed Protogenes for being too
natural.

II. Never in your dress altogether desert that taste
which is general. The world considers eccentricity in
great things genius; in small things, folly.

III. Always remember that you dress to fascinate
others, not yourself.

IV. Keep your mind free from all violent affections
at the hour of the toilet. A philosophical serenity is
perfectly necessary to success. Helvetius says justly,
that our errors arise from our passions.

V. Kem ember that none but those whose courage is
unquestionable can venture to be effeminate. It was
only in the field that the Spartans were accustomed to
use perfumes and curl their hair.

236 PELHAM ; ou,

VI. Never let the finery of chains and rings seem
your own choice; that which naturally belongs to women
should appear only worn for their sake. We dignify
foppery when we invest it with a sentiment.

VII. To win the afiection of your mistress, appear
negligent in your costume, — to preserve it, assiduous;
the first is a sign of the passion of love ; the second, of
its respect,

VIII. A man must be a profound calculator to be a
consummate dresser. One must not dress the same
whether one goes to a minister or a mistress, an ava-
ricious uncle or an ostentatious cousin: there is no
diplomacy more subtle than that of dress.

IX. Is the great man whom you would conciliate a
coxcomb ? — go to him in a waistcoat like his own.
" Imitation," says the author of " Lacon," "is the sin-
cerest flattery."

X. The handsome may be showy in dress; the plain
should study to be unexceptionable : just as in great men
we look for something to admire, — in ordinary men we
ask for nothing to forgive.

XI. There is a study of dress for the aged as well as
for the young. Inattention is no less indecorous in one
than the other ; we may distinguish the taste appropriate
to each , by the reflection that youth is made to be loved ,
— age to be respected.

XII. A fool may dress gaudily, but a fool cannot
dress well, — for to dress well requires judgment; and
Rochefoucault says with truth, " On est quelquefois un
sot avec de Vesprity mats on ne Vest jamais avec du
jugement. "

XIII. There may be more pathos in the fall of a
collar or the curl of a lock than the shallow think for.
Should we be so apt as we are now to compassionate the

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 237

misfortunes, and to forgive the insincerity of Charles I. ,
if his pictures had portrayed him in a bobwig and a pig-
tail ? Vandyke was a greater sophist than Hume.

XIV. The most graceful principle of dress is neat-
ness, — the most vulgar is preciseness.

XV. Dress contains the two codes of morality, —
private and public. Attention is the duty we owe to
others, — cleanliness that which we owe to ourselves.

XVI. Dress so that it may never be said of you,
" What a well-dressed man ! " — but, " What a gentle-
manlike man! "

XVII. Avoid many colors, and seek by some one
prevalent and quiet tint to sober down the others.
Apelles used only four colors, and always subdued
those which were more florid by a darkening varnish.

XVIII. Nothing is superficial to a deep observer. It
is in trifles that the mind betrays itself. " In what part
of that letter," said a king to the wisest of living dip-
lomatists, " did you discover irresolution V — " In its ns
and gs / " was the answer.

XIX.. A very benevolent man will never shock the
feelings of others by an excess either of inattention or
display; you may doubt, therefore, the philanthropy
both of a sloven and a fop.

XX. There is an indifference to please in a stocking
down at heel, — but there may be malevolence in a
diamond-ring.

XXI. Inventions in dressing should resemble Addi-
son's definitions of fine writing, and consist of " refine-
ments which are natural without being obvious. "

XXII. He who esteems trifles for themselves is a
trifler ; he who esteems them for the conclusions to be
drawn from them, or the advantage to which they can
be put, is a philosopher.

238 PELHAM ; OB,

CHAPTER XLV.

Tantot, Monseignenr le Marquis k cheval, —
Tantot, Monsieur du Mazin de bout !

UArt de se Promener h Chevod.

Mr cabriolet was at the door, and I was preparing to
enter, when I saw a groom managing with difficulty a
remarkably fine and spirited horse. As at that time I
was chiefly occupied with the desire of making as perfect
a stud as my fortune would allow, I sent my cab-boy
{yulgo Tiger) to inquire of the groom whether the horse
was to be sold, and to whom it belonged.

" It was not to be disposed of," was the answer; " and
it belonged to Sir Reginald Glanville."

The name thrilled through me; I drove after the
groom, and inquired Sir Reginald Glanville's address.
Plis house, the groom informed me, was at No. — Pall
Mall. I resolved to call that day, but as the groom said
that he was rarely at home till late in the afternoon, I
drove first to Lady Roseville's to talk about Al mack's
and the henu monde, and be initiated into the newest
scandal and satire of the dav.

Lady Rose vi lie was at home. I found the room half
full of women. The beautiful countess was one of the
few persons extant who admit people of a morning. She

received me with marked kindness. Seeing that ,

who was esteemed among his friends the handsomest
man of the day, had risen from his seat next to Lady
Ro.^eville in order to make room for me, I negligently
and quietly dropped into it, and answered his grave and

ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 239

angry stare at my presumption with my very sweetest
and most condescending smile. Heaven be praised ! the
handsomest man of the day is never the chief object
in the room when Henry Pelham and his guardian
angel — termed, by his enemies, his self-esteem — once
enter it.

I rattled on through a variety of subjects till Lady
Rose vi lie at last said, laughingly, "I see, Mr. Pelham,
that you have learned, at least, the art of making the
frais of the conversation since your visit to Paris."

" I understand you," answered I; "you mean that I
talk too much : it is true, — I own the offence \ nothing
is so unpopular. Even I, the ci vilest, best-natured,
most unaffected person in all Europe, am almost dis-
liked, positively disliked, for that sole and simple
crime. Ah! the most beloved man in society is that
deaf and dumb person, comment s'appelle-t-il?"

** Yes," said Lady Roseville, " popularity is a god-
dess best worshipped by negatives; and the fewer claims
one has to be admired, the more pretensions one has to
be beloved."

" Perfectly true, in general," said I, — " for instance,
I make the rule, and you the exception. I, a perfect
paragon, am hated because I am one; you, a perfect
paragon, are idolized in spite of it. But tell me, what
literary news is there ? I am tired of the trouble of
idleness, and, in order to enjoy a little dignitied leisure,
intend to set up as a savant, "

" Oh, Lady C is going to write a 'Com-
mentary on Ude;' and Madame de Genlis a * Proof of

the Apocrypha. ' The Duke of N e is publishing a

* Treatise on Toleration ; ' and Lord L an * Essay on

Self -Knowledge. ' As for news more remote, I hear
that the Dey of Algiers is finishing an *Ode to Liberty,*

240 pelham; or,

and the College of Caffraria preparing a volame of
* Voyages to the North Pcl« M "

** Now," said I, " if I retail this information with a
serious air, I will lay a wager that I find plenty of be-
lievers; for fiction, uttered solemnly, is much more like
probahility than truth uttered doubtingly: — else how
do the priests of Brama and Mahpmet live ? "

" Ah! now you grow too profo- jd, Mr. Pelham I "

« Cestvrai.hnt — ''

" Tell me," interrupted Lady Roseville, " how it
happens that you, who talk eruditely enough upon
matters of erudition, should talk so lightly upon mat-
ters of levity ? "

" Why," said I, rising to depart, " very great minds
are apt to think that all which they set any value upon
is of equal importance. Thus Hesiod — who, you know,
was a capital poet, though rather an imitator of Shen-
stone — tells us that God bestowed valor on some men ,
and on others a genius for dancing. It was reserved
for me, Lady Roseville, to unite the two perfections.
Adieu!"

" Thus," said I, when I was once more alone, —" thus
do we * play the fools with the time,' until Fate brings
that which is better than folly; and, standing idly upon
the sea-shore till we can catch the favoring wind which
is to waft the vessel of our destiny to enterprise and
fortune, amuse ourselves with the weeds and the pebbles
which are within our reach ! "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 241

,»•

CHAPTER XLVI.

There wa* a youth who, as with toil and travel,
Had growi - eak and gray before his time ; ^

Nor any c6» '*^]6ss '^r4ef nnravel

Which burned within him, withering up his prime.
And goading him, like fiends, from laud to land.

P. B. Shellet.

From Lady Roseville's I went to Glanville's house.
He was at home. I was ushered into a beautiful apart-
ment, hung with rich damask, and interspersed with a
profusion of mirrors. Beyond, to the right of this room,
was a small closet, fitted up with books. This room,
evidently a favorite retreat, was adorned at close inter-
vals with girandoles of silver and mother-of-pearl ; the
handles of the doors were of the same material.

This closet opened upon a spacious and lofty saloon,
the walls of which were covered with the masterpieces
of Flemish and Italian art. Through this apartment
I was led by the obsequious and bowing valet into a
fourth room, in which, negligently robed in his dress-
ing-gown, sat Reginald Glanville. "Good heavens!"
thought I, as I approached him, "can this be the man
who made his residence, by choice, in a miserable hovel,
exposed to all the damps, winds, and vapors that the
prolific generosity of an English heaven ever begot ? "

Our meeting was cordial in the extreme. Glanville,
though still pale and thin, appeared in much better
health than I had yet seen him since our boyhood. He
was, or affected to be, in the most joyous spirits; and,
when his blue eye lighted up in answer to the merri-

VOL. I. — 16

242 PELHAM; OR,

ment of his lips, and his noble and glorious cast of
countenance shone out as if it had never been clouded
by grief or passion, I thought, as I looked at him, that
I had never seen so perfect a specimen of masculine
beauty, at once physical and intellectual.

" My dear Pelham," said Glanville, " let ns see a
great deal of each other; I live very much alone; I
have an excellent cook sent me over from France by the

celebrated gounnand, Marechal de . I dine every

day exactly at eight, and never accept an invitation to
dine elsewhere. My table is always laid for three, and
you will therefore be sure of finding a dinner here every
day you have no better engagement. What think you
of my taste in pictures ? "

** I have only to say," answered I, "that since I am
so often to dine with you, I hope your taste in wines
will be one-half as good."

" We are all," said Glanville, with a faint smile, —
** we are all, in the words of the true old proverb, 'chil-
dren of a larger growth.' Our first toy is love, — our
second, display, according as our ambition prompts lis
to exert it. Some place it in horses, some in honors,
some in feasts, and some — void un exemple — in fur-
niture or pictures. So true it is, Pelham, that our
earliest longings are the purest: in love, we covet goods
for the sake of the one beloved ; in display, for our own :
thus, our first stratum of mind produces fruit for others ;
our second becomes niggardly, and bears only sufficient
for ourselves. But enough of my morals, — will you
drive me out, if I dress quicker than you ever saw man
dress before ? "

"No," said I; "for I make it a rule never to drive
out a badly-dressed friend; take time, and I will let
you accompany me."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 243

" So be it, then. ' Do you ever read? if so, my books
are made to be opened, and you may toss them over
while I am at my toilet. Look ! here are two works, —
one of poetry, one on the Catholic Question: both dedi-
cated to me. Seymour, — my waistcoat. See what it
is to furnish a house diflferently from other people ; one
becomes a bel esprit and a Maecenas immediately. Be-
lieve me, if you are rich enough to afford it, that there
is no passport to fame like eccentricity. Seymour, — my
coat. I am at your service, Pelham. Believe hereafter
that one may dress well in a short time ! "

" One may do it, but not twoy — allons ! "

I observed that Glanville was dressed in the deepest
mourning, and imagined, from that circumstance, and
his accession to the title I heard applied to him for the
first time, that his father was only just dead. In this
opinion I was soon undeceived. He had been dead for
some years. Glanville spoke to me of his family.
"To my mother," said he, " I am particularly anxious
to introduce you ; of my sister I say nothing : T expect
you to be surprised with her. I love her more than
anything on earth now; " and as Glanville said this, a
paler shade passed over his face.

We were in the park; Lady Roseville passed us, —
we both bowed to her; as she returned our greeting, I
was struck with the deep and sudden blush which over-
spread her countenance. " That can't be for me ? "
thought I. I looked towards Glanville; his counte-
nance had recovered its serenity, and was settled into
its usual proud, but not displeasing calmness of
expression.

" Do you know Lady Koseville well ? " said I.

" Very," answered Glanville, laconically, and changed
the conversation. As we were leaving the park through

244 PELHAM; OB,

Cumberland Gate we were stopped by a blockade of
carriages; a voice, loud, harsh, and vulgarly accented,
called out to Glanville by his name. I turned, and
saw Thornton.

" For Heaven's sake, Pelham, drive on," cried Glan-
ville ; " let me for once escape that atrocious plebeian. *'

Thornton was crossing the road towards us; T waved
my hand to him civilly enough (for I never cut any-
body), and drove rapidly through the other gate, with-
out appearing to notice his design of speaking to us.

" Thank Heaven! " said Glanville, and sank back in a
reverie, from which I could not awaken him till he was
set down at his own door.

When I returned to Mivart^s, I found a card from
Lord Dawton, and a letter from my mother.

My dear Henry [began the letter] , — Lord Dawton
having kindly promised to call upon you personally with this
note, I cannot resist the opportunity that promise affords me
of saying how desirous I am that you should cultivate his ac-
quaiutanca He is, you know, among the most prominent
leaders of the Opposition : and should the Whigs, by any pos-
sible chance, ever come into power, he would have a great
chance of becoming prime minister. I trust, however, that
you will not adopt that side of the question. The Whigs are
a horrid set of people {'politically speaking), vote for the
Roman Catholics, and never get into place: thej'^ give very
good dinners, however, and till you have decided upon your
politics, you may as well make the most of them. I hope, by
the by, that you will see a great deal of Lord Vincent ; every
one speaks highly of his talents ; and only two weeks ago, he J^
said, publicly, that he thought you the most promising young
man, and the most naturally clever person, he had ever met.
I hope that you will be attentive to your parliamentary duties ;
and, — oh, Henry, be sure that you see Cartwright the den-
tist as soon as possible.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 245

I intend hastening to London three weeks earlier than I had
intended, in order to be useful to you. I have written already
to dear Lady Roseville, begging her to introduce you at Lady

C *s and Lady : the only places worth going to at

present. They tell me there is a horrid, vulgar, ignorant book

come out about . As you ought to be well versed in

modem literature, I hope you will read it, and give me your
opinion. Adieu, my dear Henry, ever your affectionate
mother,

Frances Pelham.

I was still at my solitary dinner when the following
note was brought me from Lady Roseville : —

Dear Mr. Pelham, — Lady Frances wishes Lady C

to be made acquainted with you : this is her night, and I

therefore enclose you a card. As I dine at House, I

shall have an opportunity of making your ihge before your
arrival.

Yours sincerely,

C. Roseville.

I wonder, thought T, as I made my toilet, whether or
not Lady Eoseville is enamored of her new correspon-
dent ? I went very early, and before I retired, my vanity
was undeceived. Lady Roseville was playing at e carte
when I entered. She beckoned to me to approach. I
did. Her antagonist was Mr. Bedford, a natural son of
the Duke of Shrewsbury, and one of the best-natured
and best-looking dandies about town: there was, of
course, a great crowd round the table. Lady Roseville
played incomparably; bets were high in her favor.
Suddenly her countenance changed; her hand trembled,
— her presence of mind forsook her. She lost the
game. I looked up and saw just opposite to her, but
apparently quite careless and unmoved, Reginald Glan-
ville. We had only time to exchange nods, for Lady

246 PELHAM; OR,

Bodeville rose from the table, took my arm, and walked
to the other end of the room in order to introduce me to
my hostess.

I spoke to her a few words, but she was absent and
inattentive; my penetration required no farther proof
to convince me that she was not wholly insensible to the

attractions of Glanville. Ladv was as civil and

silly as the generality of Lady Blanks are ; and feeling
verv much bored, I soon retireii to an obscurer comer of
the room. Here Glanville joined me.

" It is but seldom," said he, " that I come to these
places; to-night my sister persuaded me to venture
forth."

" Is she here t " said I.

"She is," answered he; "she has just gone into the
refreshment-room with my mother; and when she returns
I will introduce vou."

While Glanville was yet speaking, three middle-aged
ladies, who had been talking together with great vehe-
mence for the last ten minutes, approached us.

** Which is he t — which is he f " said two of them, in
no inaudible accents.

" This," replied the third; and, coming up to Glan-
ville, she addressed him, to my great astonishment, in
terms of the most hyperbolical panegyric.

** Your work is wonderful ! wonderful I " said she.

" Oh, quite, — quite ! " echoed the other two.

"I can't say," recommenced the Cori/phcea, "that I
like the moral, — at least not quite; no, not quite."

" Not quite," repeated her coadjutrices.

Glanville drew himself up with his mast stately air,
and after three profound bows, accompanied by a smile
of the most unequivocal contempt, he turned on his heel
and sauntered away.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 247

" Did your grace ever see such a bear ? " said one of
the echoes.

" Never," said the duchess, with a mortified air; " but
I will have him yet. How handsome he is for an
author ? "

I was descending the stairs in the last state of ennuiy
when Glanville laid his hand on my shoulder.

" Shall I take you home ? " said he ; " my carriage has
just drawn up. "

I was too glad to answer in the affirmative.

" How long have you been an author 1 " said I , when
we were seated in Glanville 's carriage.

" Not many days," he replied. " I have tried one
resource after another; all, — all in vain. Oh, God!
that for me there could exist such a blessing as fiction !
Must I be ever the martyr of one burning, lasting,
indelible truth I "

Glanville uttered these words with a peculiar wild-
ness and energy of tone : he then paused abruptly for a
minute, and continued with an altered voice, —

" Never, my dear Pelham, be tempted by any induce-
ment into the pleasing errors of print : from that moment
you are public property ; and the last monster at Exeter
'Change has more liberty than you, — but here we are
at Mivart's. Adieu, — I will call on you to-moiTOW, if
my wretched state of health will allow me. "

And with th^s^^^ords we parted.

248 felham; or.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Ambition is a lottery, where, however uneven the chances, there
are some prizes ; but in dissipation, every one draws a blank. —
Letters of Stephen Montague.

The season was not far advanced before I grew heartily
tired of what are nicknamed its gayeties; I shrank by
rapid degrees into a very small orbit, from which I rarely
moved. I had already established a certain reputation
for eccentricity, fashion, and, to my great astonishment,
also for talent; and my pride was satisfied with finding
myself universally run after, whilst I indulged my incli-
nations by rendering myself universally scarce. I saw
much of Vincent, whose varied acquirements and great
talents became more and more perceptible, both as my
own acquaintance with him increased, and as the politi-
cal events, with which that year was pregnant, called
forth their exertion and display. I went occasionally to
Lady Roseville's, and was always treated rather as a
long-known friend than an ordinary acquaintance; nor
did I undervalue this distinction, for it was part of her
pride to render her house not only as splendid, but as
agreeable, as her command over society enabled her to
effect.

At the House of Commons, my visits would have been
duly paid, but for one trifling occurrence, upon which, as
it is a very sore subject, I shall dwell as briefly as possi-
ble, I had scarcely taken my seat, before I was forced
to relinquish it. My unsuccessful opponent, Mr. Lufton,
preferred a petition against me, for what he called undue

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 249

means. Heaven knows what he meant ; I am sure the
House did not, for they turned me out, and declared Mr,
Lufton duly elected.

Never was there such a commotion in the Glenmorris
family before. My uncle was seized with the gout in
his stomach, and my mother shut herself up with " Tre-
maine " and one china monster for a whole week. As for
me, though I writhed at heart, I bore the calamity phil-
osophically enough in external appearance ,• nor did I the
less busy myself in political matters : with what address
and success, good or bad, I endeavored to supply the loss
of my parliamentary influence the reader will see, when
it suits the plot of this history to touch upon such
topics.

Glanville I saw continually. When in tolerable
spirits, he was an entertaining, though never a frank nor
a communicative companion. His conversation then was
lively, yet without wit, and sarcastic, though without
bitterness. It aboimded also in philosophical reflections
and terse maxims, which always brought improvement,
or, at the worst, allowed discussion. He was a man of
even vast powers, of deep thought, of luxuriant, though
dark imagination, and of great miscellaneous, though
perhaps ill-arranged, erudition. He was fond of para-
doxes in reasoning, and supported them with a subtlety
and strength of mind, which Vincent, who admired him
greatly, told me he had never seen surpeissed. He was
subject, at times, to a gloom and despondency which
seemed almost like aberration of intellect. At those
hours he would remain perfectly silent, and apparently
forgetful of my presence, and of every object around
him.

It was only then, when the play of his countenance
was vanished, and his features were still and set, that

250 pelham; or,

you saw in their full extent the dark and deep traces of
premature decay. His cheek was hollow and hueless,
his eye dim, and of that visionary and glassy aspect
which is never seen but in great mental or bodily dis-
ease, and which, according to the superstitions of some
nations, implies a mysterious and unearthly communion
of the soul with the beings of another world. From
these trances he would sometimes start abruptly, and
renew any conversation broken off before, as if wholly
unconscious of the length of his reverie. At others, he
would rise slowly from his seat and retire into his own
apartment, from which he never emerged during the rest
of the day.

But the reader must bear in mind that there was
nothing artificial or affected in his musings, of whatever
complexion they might be; nothing like the dramatic
brown studies, and quick starts, which young gentlemen,
in love with Lara and Lord Byron, are apt to practise.
There never, indeed, was a character that possessed less
cant of any description. His work, which was a singu-
lar, wild tale, — of mingled passion and reflection, —
was, perhaps, of too original, certainly of too abstract a
nature, to suit the ordinary novel readers of the day. It
did not acquire popularity for itself, but it gained great
reputation for the author. It also inspired every one
who read it with a vague and indescribable interest to
see and know the person who had composed so singular
a work.

This interest he was the first to laugh at, and to dis-
appoint. He shrank from all admiration and from all
sympathy. At the moment when a crowd assembled
round him, and every ear was bent to catch the words,
which came alike from so beautiful a lip and so strange
and imaginative a mind, it was his pleasure to utter

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 251

some sentiment totally different from his written opin-
ions, and utterly destructive of the sensation he had
excited. But it was very rarely that he exposed himself
to these " trials of an author. " He went out little to
any other house but Lady Roseville's, and it was seldom
more than once a week that he was seen even there.
Lonely, and singular in mind and habits, he lived in the
world like a person occupied by a separate object, and
possessed of a separate existence from that of his fellow-
beings. He was luxurious and splendid, beyond all
men, in his habits, rather than his tastes. His table
groaned beneath a weight of silver, too costly for the
daily service even of a prince ; but he had no pleasure in
surveying it. His wines and viands were of the most
exquisite description; but he scarcely tasted them. Yet,
what may seem inconsistent, he was averse to all osten-
tation and show in the eyes of others. He admitted very
few into his society, — no one so intimately as myself.
I never once saw more than three persons at his table.
He seemed, in his taste for the arts, in his love of litera-
ture, and his pursuit after fame, to be, as he himself
said, eternally endeavoring to forget and eternally brought
back to remembrance.

" I pity that man even more than I admire him, " said
Vincent to me, one night when we were walking home
from Glanville's house. " His is, indeed, the disease
nulla medicabilis herbd. Whether it is the past or the
present that afflicts him, — whether it is the memory of
past evil, or the satiety of present good, he has taken to
his heart the bitterest philosophy of life. He does not
reject its blessings; he gathers them around him, but as
a stone gathers moss, — cold, hard, unsoftened by the
freshness and the greenness which surround it. As a
circle can only touch a circle in one place, everything

252 pelham; ob,

that life presents to him — wherever it comes from, to
whatever portion of his soul it is applied — can find but
one point of contact ; and that is the soreness of affliction :
whether it is the ohlivio or the otium that he requires, he
finds equally that he is forever in want of one treasure,
— ^neque gemmis neque purpura venule nee auro.^ *'

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 253

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Mons. Jourdain. Etes-vous fou de Taller quereller, — lui qui en-
tend la tierce et la quarte, et qui sait tuer un homme par raison
demonstrative 1

Le Maitre a Danser. Je me moque de sa raison demonstrative, de
sa tierce et de sa quarte. — Moliere.

" Hollo, my good friend ; how are yoii 1 D — d glad to
see you in England," vociferated a loud, clear, good-
humored voice, one cold morning, as I was shivering
down Brook Street into Bond Street. I turned and he-
held Lord Dartmore, of " Rocher de Cancale " memory.
I returned his greeting with the same cordiality with
which it was given; and I was forthwith saddled with
Dartmore's arm, and dragged up Bond Street, into that
borough of all noisy, riotous, unrefined good fellows,
ycleped 's Hotel.

Here we were soon plunged into a small, low apart-
ment, which Dartmore informed me was his room, and
which was crowded with a score of the most stalwart
youths that I ever saw out of a marching regiment.

Dartmore was still gloriously redolent of Oxford : his
companions were all extracts from Christchurch ; and his
favorite occupations were boxing and hunting, — scenes
at the Fives' Courts; nights in the Cider Cellar, and
mornings at Bow Street. Figure to yourself a fitter
companion for the hero and writer of these adventures !
The table was covered with boxing-gloves, single-sticks,
two ponderous pair of dumb-bells, a large pewter pot of
porter, and four foils, — one snapped in the middle.

254 PELHAM; OR,

"Well," cried Dartmore, to two strapping youths,
with their coats off, " which was the conqueror ? "

"Oh, it is not yet decided," was the answer; and
forthwith the higger one hit the lesser a blow with his
boxing-glove, heavy enough to have felled Ulysses, who,
if I recollect aright, was rather " a game blood " in such
encounters.

This slight salute was forthwith the prelude to an en-
counter, which the whole train crowded round to witness,
— I, among the rest, pretending an equal ardor, and an
equal interest, and hiding, like many persons in a similar
predicament, a most trembling spirit beneath a most
valorous exterior.

When the match (which terminated in favor of the
lesser champion) was over, " Come, Pelham, " said Dart-
more, " let me take up the gloves with you ? "

" You are too good ! *' said I, for the first time using
my drawing-room drawl. A wink and a grin went round
the room.

"Well, then, will you fence with Staunton, or play
at single -stick with me ? " said the short, thick, bullying,
impudent, vulgar Earl of Calton.

" Why, " answered I, " I am a poor hand at the foils,
and a still worse at the sticks ; but I have no objection
to exchange a cut or two at the latter with Lord Calton. "

" No, no ! " said the good-natured Dartmore, — " no !
Calton is the best stick-player I ever knew;" and then
whispering me, he added, " and the hardest hitter, —
and he never spares, either. "

" Really," said I aloud, in my most affected tone, " it
is a great pity, for I am excessively delicate; but as I
said I would engage him, I don't like to retract. Pray
let me look at the hilt: I hope the basket is strong; I
would not have my knuckles rapped for the world, —

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 255

now for it. I 'm in a deuced fright, Dartmore ; " and
so saying, and inwardly chuckling at the universal pleas-
ure depicted in the countenances of Calton and the by-
standers, who were all rejoiced at the idea of the " dandy
being drubbed," I took the stick, and pretended great
awkwardness and lack of grace in the position I chose.

Calton placed himself in the most scientific attitude,
assuming at the same time an air of hauteur and non-
chalance, which seemed to call for the admiration it
met.

" Do we allow hard hitting ? " said I.

" Oh ! by all means, " answered Calton, eagerly.

" Well, " said I, settling my own chapeau, " had not
you better put on your hat ? "

" Oh, no, " answered Calton, imperiously ; " I can take
pretty good care of my head; " and with these words we
commenced.

I remained at first nearly upright, not availing myself
in the least of my superiority in height, and only acting
on the defensive. Calton played well enough for a gen-
tleman; but he was no match for one who had, at the
age of thirteen, beat the Life Guardsmen at Angelo's.
Suddenly, when I had excited a general laugh at the
clumsy success with which I warded oflF a most rapid at-
tack of Calton 's, I changed my position, and keeping
Calton at arm's length till I had driven him towards a
comer, I took advantage of a haughty imprudence on
his part, and, by a common enough move in the game,
drew back from a stroke aimed at my limbs, and suffered
the whole weight of my weapon to fall so heavily upon
his head, that I felled him to the ground in an instant.

I was sorry for the severity of the stroke the moment
after it was inflicted; but never was punishment more
deserved. We picked up the discomfited hero, and

256 PELHAM; OR,

placed bim on a chair to recover his senses ; meanwhile
I received the congratulations of the conclave with a
frank alteration of manner which delighted them; and
I found it impossible to get away till I had promised
to dine with Dartmore, and spend the rest of the even-
ing in the society of his friends.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 257

CHAPTER XLIX.

Heroes mischievously gay,
Lords of the street and terrors of the way.
Flushed as they are with folly, youth, and wine.

Johnson's London.

Hoi. Novi hominem tanqnam te, — his humor is lofty, his dis-
course peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait
majestical, and his general behavior vain, ridiculous, and
thrasonical. — Shakespeare.

I WENT a little after seven o'clock to keep my dinner

engagement at 's; for very young men are seldom

tinpunctual at dinner. We sat down, six in number,
to a repast at once incredibly bad and ridiculously
extravagant: turtle without fat, venison without flavor,
champagne with the taste of a gooseberry, and hock
with the properties of a pomegranate.^ Such is the*,
constant habit of young men; they think anything
expensive is necessarily good, and they purchase poi-
son at a dearer rate than the most medicine -loving
hypochondriac in England.

Of course, all the knot declared the dinner was
superb; called in the master to eulogize him in per-
son, and made him, to his infinite dismay, swallow a
bumper of his own hock. Poor man! they mistook
his reluctance for his diffidence, and forced him to
wash it away in another potation. With many a wry
face of grateful humility, he left the room, and we then
proceeded to pass the bottle with the suicidal determina-

1 Which is not an astringent fruit.
voi* I. —17

258 PELHAM; OR,

tion of defeated Romans. You may imagine that \re
were not long in arriving at the devoutly -wished-for
consummation of comfortable inebriety; and with our
eyes reeling, our cheeks burning, and our brave spirits
full ripe for a quarrel, we sallied out at eleven o'clock,
vowing death, dread, and destruction to all the sober
portion of his Majesty's subjects.

We came to a dead halt in Arlington Street, which,
as it was the quietest spot in the neighborhood, we
deemed a fitting place for the arrangement of our forces.
Dartmore, Staunton (a tall, thin, well -formed, silly
youth), and myself marched first, and the remaining
three followed. We gave each other the most judi-
cious admonitions as to the propriety of conduct, and
then, with a shout that alarmed the whole street, we
renewed our way. We passed on s«'\fely enough till we
got to Charing Cross, having only been thrice upbraided
by the watchmen, and once threatened by two carmen
of prodigious size, to whose wives or sweethearts we
had, to our infinite peril, made some gentle overtures.
When, however, we had just passed the Opera Colon-
nade, we were accosted by a bevy of buxom Cyprians,
as merry and as drunk as ourselves. We halted for a
few minutes in the midst of the kennel, to confabulate
with our new friends, and a very amicable and intel-
lectual conversation ensued. Dartmore was an adept iu
the art of slang, and he found himself fairly matched
by more than one of the fair and gentle creatures by
whom we were surrounded. Just, however, as we were
all in high glee, Staunton made a trifling discovery,
which turned the merriment of the whole scene into
strife, war, and confusion. A bouncing lass, whose
hands were as ready as her charms, had quietly helped
herself to a watch which Staunton wore, a la mode,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 259

in his waistcoat pocket. Drunken as the youth was at
that time, and dull as he was at all others, he was not
without the instinctive penetration with which all hu-
man hipeds watch over their individual goods and chat-
tels. He sprang aside from the endearments of the
syren, grasped her arm, and in a voice of querulous
indignation, accused her of the theft.

" Then rose the cry of women, — shrill
As shriek of goshawk on the hUl."

Never were my ears so stunned. The angry authors
in the adventures of Gil Bias were nothing to the dis-
putants in the kennel at Charing Cross; we rowed,
swore, slanged, with a Christian meekness and forbear-
ance which would have rejoiced Mr. Wilberforce to the
heart, and we were already preparing ourselves for a
more striking engagement, when we were most unwel-
comely interrupted by the presence of three watchmen.

" Take away this — this — d — d woman," hiccoughed
out Staunton ; " she has sto-len (hiccough) — my —
watch (hiccough) — "

watch! he only filched a twopenny-halfpenny gilt
chain out of his master. Levy, the pawnbroker's win-
dow, and stuck it in his eel-skin to make a show; ye
did, ye pitiful, lanky-chopped son of a dog-fish, ye
did!"

" Come, come," said the watchman, "move on, move
on.

" You be d — d for a Charley ! " said one of our
gang.

" Ho ! ho ! master jackanapes, I shall give you a
cooling in the watch-house if you tips us any of your

260 PELUAM; OR,

jaw. I daresay the youngs ^oman here is quite right
ahout ye, and ye never had any watch at all, at all/'

" You are a liar! " cried Staunton: "and you are all
in with each other like a pack of rogues as you are. "

" I '11 tell you what, young gemman," said another
watchman,^ who was a more potent, grave, and reverend
signor than his comrades, " if you do not move on
instantly and let these decent young *omen alone, I'll
take you all up hefore Sir Richard."

"Charley, my boy," said Dartmore, ** did you ever
get thrashed for impertinence ? "

The last-mentioned watchman took upon himself the
reply to this interrogatory- by a very summary proceed-
ing: he collared Dartmore, and his companions did the
same kind office to us. This action was not committed
with impunity: in an instant two of the moon's min-
ions, staflPs, lanterns, and all, were measuring their
length at the foot of their namesake of royal mem-
ory; the remaining Dogberry was, however, a tougher
assailant; he held Staunton so firmly in his gripe, that
the poor youth could scarcely breathe out a faint and
feeble " d — ye " of defiance, and with his disengaged
hand he made such an admirable use of his rattle, that
we were surrounded in a trice.

As when an ant-hill is invaded from every quarter
and crevice of the mound arise and pour out an angry
host, of whose previous existence the unwary assailant
had not dreamed; so from every lane, and alley, and
street, and crossing, came fast and far the champions of
the night.

"Gentlemen," said Dartmore, "we must fly; sautfe
qui pent," We wanted no stronger admonition, and

^ The reader will remember that this work was written before
the institution of the New Police.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 261

accordingly, all of us who were able, set off with the
utmost velocity with which God had gifted us. I have
some faint recollection that I myself headed the flight.
I remember well that I dashed up the Strand, and dashed
down a singular little shed, from which emanated the
steam of tea, and a sharp querulous scream of " All hot,
— all hot; a penny a pint." I see, now, by the dim
light of retrospection, a vision of an old woman in the
kennel, and a pewter pot of mysterious ingredients pre-
cipitated into a greengrocer's shop, " te virides inter
lau7'os," as Vincent would have said. On we went,
faster and faster, as the rattle rang in our ears and the
tramp of the enemy echoed after us in hot pursuit.

" The devil take the hindmost," said Dartmore,
breathlessly (as he kept up with me).

"The watchman has saved his Majesty the trouble,"
answered I, looking back and seeing one of our friends
in the clutch of the pursuers.

** On, on! " was Dartmore 's only reply.

At last, after innumerable perils, and various im-
mersements into back passages, and courts, and alleys,
which, like the chicaneries of law, preserved and be-
friended us, in spite of all the efforts of justice, we fairly
found ourselves in safety in the midst of a great square.

Here we paused, and, after ascertaining our individual
safeties, we looked round to ascertain the sum total of
the general loss. Alas ! we were woefully shorn of our
beams, — we were reduced one-half : only three out of
the six survived the conflict and the flight.

" Half," said the companion of Dartmore and myself,
whose name was Tringle, and who was a dabbler in
science, of which he was not a little vain, " half is
less worthy than the whole; but the half is more
worthy than nonentity."

262 P£LHAM ; OR,

"An axiom," said I, "not to be disputed; but now
that we are safe, and have time to think about it, are
you not slightly of opinion that we behaved somewhat
scurvily to our better half, in leaving it so quietly in
the hands of the Philistines ? "

" By no means," answered Dartmore. " In a party
whose members make no pretensions to sobriety, it
would be too hard to expect that persons who are
scarcely capable of taking care of themselves, should
take care of other people. No; we have in all these
exploits only the one maxim of self-preservation."

"Allow me," said Tringle, seizing me by the coat,
" to explain it to you on scientific principles. You will
find, in hydrostatics, that the attraction of cohesion is
far less powerful in fluids than in solids, — namely, that
persons who have been converting their * solid flesh * into
wine-skins, cannot stick so close to one another as when
they are sober."

" Bravo, Tringle! " cried Dartmore; "and now. Pel-
ham, I hope your delicate scruples are, after so lumi-
nous an eclaircissemenff set at rest forever. "

" You have convinced me," said I: " let us leave the
unfortunates to their fate and Sir Richard; what is now
to be done 1 "

"Why, in the first place," answered Dartmore, "let
us reconnoitre. Does any one know this spot ] "

"Not I," said both of us. We inquired of an old
fellow, who was tottering home under the same Bac-
chanalian auspices as ourselves, and found we were in
Lincoln's Inn Fields.

" Which shall we do? " asked I, " stroll home; or pa-
rade the streets, visit the Cider Cellar, and the Finish,
and kiss the first lass we meet in the morning bringing
her charms and carrots to Co vent Garden Market? "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 263

"The latter," cried Dartmore and Tringle, "without
doubt. "

"Come, then," said I, "let us investigate Holborn,
and dip into St. Giles's, and then find our way into
some more known corner of the globe."

" Amen! " said Dartmore, and accordingly we renewed
our march. We wound along a narrow lane, tolerably
well known, I imagine, to the gentlemen of the quill,
and entered Holborn. There was a beautiful, still
moon above us, which cast its light over a drowsy
stand of hackney coaches, and shed a "silver sadness"
over the thin visages and sombre vestments of two
guardians of the night, who regarded us, we thought,
with a very ominous aspect of suspicion.

We strolled along, leisurely enough, till we were
interrupted by a miserable-looking crowd, assembled
round a dull, dingy, melancholy shop, from which
gleamed a solitary candle, whose long, spinster-like
wick was flirting away with an east wind at a most
unconscionable rate. Upon the haggard and worn
countenances of the bystanders was depicted one gen-
eral and sympathizing expression of eager, envious,
wistful anxiety, which predominated so far over the
various characters of each, as to communicate some-
thing of a likeness to all. It was an impress of such
a seal as you might imagine, not the arch-fiend, but one
of his subordinate shepherds, would have set upon each
of his flock.

Amid this crowd I recognized more than one face
which I had often seen in my equestrian lounges
through town, peering from the shoulders of some
intrusive, ragamuffin, wagesless lackey, and squealing
out of its wretched, unpampered mouth, the everlast-
ing query of " Want your ^oss held^ sir ? " The rest

264 peluam; or,

were made up of unfortunate women of the vilest and
most ragged description; aged itinerants, with features
seared with famine, bleared eyes, dropping jaws, shiver-
ing limbs, and all the mortal signs of hopeless and aid-
less, and, worst of all, breadless infirmity. Here and
there an Irish accent broke out in the oaths of national
impatience, and was answered by the shrill, broken
voice of some decrepit but indefatigable votaries of
pleasure — (I*leasure/), but the chief character of the
meeting was silence, — silence, eager, heavy, engross-
ing; and, above them all, shone out the quiet moon,
so calm, so holy, so breathing of still happiness and
unpolluted glory, as if it never looked upon the traces
of human passion, and misery, and sin. We stood for
some moments contemplating the group before us, and
then, following the steps of an old, withered crone, who,
with a cracked cup in her hand, was pushing her way
through the throng, we found ourselves in that dreary
pandemonium, at once the origin and the refuge of
humble vices, — a gin-shop.

" Poor devils," said Dartmore, to two or three of the
nearest and eagerest among the crowd, "come in, and I
will treat you. "

The invitation was received with a promptness which
must have been the most gratifying compliment to the
inviter; and thus Want, which is the mother of Inven-
tion, does not object, now and then, to a bantling by
Politeness.

We stood by the counter while our proteges were
served, in silent observation. In low vice, to me, there
is always something too gloomy, almost too fearful for
light mirtli; the contortions of the madman are stronger
than those of the fool , but one does not laugh at them ;
the sympathy is for the cause, — not the effect.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 265

Leaning against the counter at one corner, and fixing
his eyes deliberately and unmovingly upon us, was a
man about the age of fifty, dressed in a costume of
singular fashion, apparently pretending to an antiquity
of taste correspondent with that of the material. This
person wore a large cocked-hat, set rather jaimtily on
one side, and a black coat, which seemed an omnium
gathemtm of all abominations that had come in its way
for the last ten years, and which appeared to advance
equal claims (from the manner it was made and worn)
to the several dignities of the art military and civil, the
avTna and the toga : — from the neck of the wearer hung
a blue ribbon of amazing breadth, and of a very surpris-
ing assumption of newness and splendor, by no means in
harmony with the other parts of the tout ensemble ; this
was the guardian of an eye-glass of block tin, and of
dimensions correspondent with the size of the ribbon.
Stuck under the right arm, and shaped fearfully like a
sword, peeped out the hilt of a very large and sturdy-
looking stick, " in war a weapon, in peace a support."

The features of the man were in keeping with his
garb; they betokened an equal mixture of the traces of
poverty, and the assumption of the dignities reminis-
cent of a better day. Two small, light-blue eyes were
shaded by bushy and rather imperious brows, which
lowered from under the hat, like Cerberus out of his
den. These, at present, wore the dull, fixed stare of
habitual intoxication, though we were not long in dis-
covering that they had not yet forgotten to sparkle with
all the quickness, and more than the roguery, of youth.
His nose was large, prominent, and aristocratic; nor
would it have been ill-formed, had not some unknown
cause pushed it a little nearer towards the left ear than
would have been thought, by an equitable judge of

266 PELHAM; OR,

beauty, fair to the pretensions of the right. The lines
in the countenance were marked as if in iron, and, had
the face been perfectly composed, must have given to it
a remarkably stern and sinister appearance ; but at that
moment there was an arch leer about the mouth, which
softened, or at least altered, the expression the features
habitually wore.

"Sir," said he (after a few minutes of silence), —
"sir," said he, approaching me, "will you do me the
honor to take a pinch of snuff? " and so saying, he
tapped a curious copper box, with a picture of his late
Majesty upon it.

"With great pleasure," answered I, bowing low,
" since the act is a prelude to the pleasure of your
acquaintance. "

My gentleman of the gin-shop opened his box with
an air, as he replied, " It is but seldom that I meet, in
places of this description, gentlemen of the exterior of
yourself and your friends. I am not a person very easily
deceived by the outward man. Horace, sir, could not
have included me when he said specie decipimur. I
perceive that you are surprised at hearing me quote
Latin. Alas! sir, in my wandering and various manner
of life I may say, with Cicero and Pliny, that the study
of letters has proved my greatest consolation. * Gaudium
mlhiy^ says the latter author, ^et solatium in liteins: ni-
hil tam Icetum quod his non loetius, nihil tarn triste
quod non per has sit minus triste — ' G-— d d — n ye,
you scoundrel, give me my gin! aren't you ashamed of
keeping a gentleman of my fashion so long waiting ? "

This was said to the sleepy dispenser of the spirituous
potations, who looked up for a moment with a dull stare,
and then replied, " Your money first, Mr. Gordon, — you
owe us sevenpence halfpenny already."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 267

" Blood and confusion ! speakest thou to me of half-
pence! Know that thou art a mercenary varlet; yes,
knave, mark that, a mercenary varlet." The sleepy
Ganymede replied not, and the wrath of Mr. Gordon
subsided into a low, interrupted, internal muttering of
strange oaths, which rolled and grumbled, and rattled
in his throat, like distant thunder.

At length he cheered up a little, " Sir," said he,
addressing Dartmore, " it is a sad thing to be dependent
on these low persons; the wise among the ancients were
never so wronged as when they panegyrized poverty : it
is the wicked man's tempter, the good man's perdition,
the proud man's curse, the melancholy man's halter.^*

" You are a strange old cock," said the unsophisti-
cated Dartmore, eying him from head to foot; " there 's
half -a- sovereign for you."

The blunt, blue eyes of Mr. Gordon sharpened up in
an instant; he seized the treasure with an avidity of
which, the minute after, he seemed somewhat ashamed;
for he said, playing with the coin in an idle, indifferent
manner, " Sir, you show a consideration, and, let me add,
sir, a delicacy of feeling, unusual at your years. Sir, I
shall repay you at my earliest leisure, and in the mean-
while allow me to say, that I shall be proud of the honor
of your acquaintance. "

"Thank ye, old boy," said Dartmore, putting on his
glove before he accepted the offered hand of his new
friend, which, though it was tendered with great grace
and dignity, was of a marvellously dingy and soapless
aspect.

** Hark ye, you d — d son of a gun! " cried Mr. Gordon,
abruptly turning from Dartmore, after a hearty shake of
the hand, to the man at the counter, — " hark ye! give
me change for this half-sovereign, and be d — d to

268 pelham; or,

you: and then tip us a double gill of your best; you
whey-faced, liver-drenched, pence-griping, belly-grip-
ing, pauper-cheating, sleepy -souled Arismanes of bad
spirits. Come, gentlemen, if you have nothing better
to do, I '11 take you to my club: we are a rare knot of
us, there, — all choice spirits; some of them are a little
uncouth, it is true, but we are not all born Chesterfields.
Sir, allow me to ask the favor of your name ] "

" Dartmore. "

"Mr. Dartmore, you are a gentleman. Hallo! you
Liquorpond-street of a scoundrel , — having nothing of
liquor but the name, you narrow, nasty, pitiful alley
of a fellow, with a kennel for a body, and a sink for a
soul; give me my change and my gin, you scoundrel!
Humph, is that all right, you Procrustes of the coun-
ter, chopping our lawful appetites down to your rascally
standard of sevenpence halfpenny 1 Why don't you take
a motto, you Paynim dog? Here's one for you, —
' Measure for measure, and the devil to pay! ' Humph,
you pitiful toadstool of a trader, you have no more spirit
than an empty water-bottle ; and when you go to h — 11 ,
they '11 use you to cool the bellows. I say, you rascal,
why are you worse off than the devil in a hipbath of
brimstone ? — because, you knave, the devil then would
only be half d — d, and you're d — d all over! — Come,
gentlemen, I am at your service."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 269

CHAPTER L.

The history of a philosophical vagabond, pursuing novelty, and
losing content. — Vicar of Wakejield.

We followed our strange friend through the crowd at
the door, which he elbowed on either side with the most
aristocratic disdain, perfectly regardless of their jokes at
his dress and manner; he no sooner got through the
throng, than he stopped short (though in the midst of
the kennel) and offered us his arm. This was an honor
of which we were by no means desirous ; for, to say noth-
ing of the shabbiness of Mr. Gordon's exterior, there
was a certain odor in his garments which was possibly
less displeasing to the wearer than to his acquaintance.
Accordingly, we pretended not to notice this invitation,
and merely said we would follow his guidance.

He turned up a narrow street, and after passing some
of the most ill-favored alleys I ever had the happiness of
beholding, he stopped at a low door; here he knocked
twice, and was at last admitted by a slip-shod, yawning
wench, with red arms and a profusion of sandy hair.
This Hebe, Mr. Gordon greeted with a loving kiss,
which the kissee resented in a very unequivocal strain of
disgustful reproach.

" Hush ! my Queen of Clubs ; my Sultana Sootina ! "
said Mr. Gordon ; " hush ! or these gentlemen will think
you in earnest. I have brought three new customers to
the club."

This speech somewhat softened the incensed Houri of
Mr. Gordon's Paradise, and she very civilly asked us to
enter.

270 PELHAM: OR,

" Stop ! " said Mr. Gordon, with an air of importance,
" I must just step in and ask the gentlemen to admit you,
— merely a form, for a word from me will be quite suffi-
cient." And so saying, he vanished for about five
minutes. On his return, he said, with a cheerful coun-
tenance, that we were free of the house, but that we
must pay a shilling each as the customary fee. This
sum was soon collected, and quietly inserted in the waist-
coat pocket of our chaperon, who then conducted us up
the passage into a small, back room, where were sitting
about seven or eight men, enveloped in smoke and moist-
ening the fever of the Virginian plant with various prepa-
rations of malt. On entering, I observed Mr. Gordon
deposit, at a sort of bar, the sum of threepence, by which
I shrewdly surmised he had gained the sum of two and
ninepence by our admission. With a very arrogant air,
he proceeded to the head of the table, sat himself down
with a swagger, and called out, like a lusty roisterer of
the true kidney, for a pint of purl and a pipe. Not to
be out of fashion, we ordered the same articles of
luxury.

After we had all commenced a couple of puffs at our
pipes, I looked round at our fellow-guests : they seemed
in a very poor state of body, as might naturally be sup-
posed ; and in order to ascertain how far the condition of
the mind was suited to that of the frame, I turned round
to Mr. Gordon, and asked him in a whisper to give us a
few hints as to the genus and characteristics of the indi-
vidual components of his club. Mr. Gordon declared
himself delighted with the proposal, and we all adjourned
to a separate table at the corner of the room, where Mr.
Gordon, after a deep draught at the purl, thus began :

"You observe yon thin, meagre, cadaverous animal,
with rather an intelligent and melancholy expression of

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMA

countenance, — his name is Chitterling Crabtree: his
father was an eminent coal merchant, and left him
j£10,000. Crabtree turned politician. When fate wishes
to ruin a man of moderate abilities and moderate fortune,
she makes him an orator. Mr. Chitterling Crabtree at-
tended all the meetings at the Crown and Anchor;
subscribed to the aid of the suflfering friends of freedom ;
harangued, argued, sweated, wrote; was fined and im-
prisoned; regained his liberty, and married; his wife
loved a community of goods no less than her spouse, and
ran off with^ne citizen, while he was running on to the
others. Chitterling dried his tears, and contented him-
self with the reflection, that * in a proper state of things, *
such an event could not have occurred.

" Mr. Crabtree's money and life were now half gone.
One does not subscribe to the friends of freedom and
spout at their dinners for nothing. But the worst drop
was yet in the cup. An undertaking of the most spirited
and promising nature was conceived by the chief of the
friends, and the dearest familiar of Mr. Chitterling Crab-
tree. Our worthy embarked his fortune in a speculation
so certain of success, — crash went the speculation, and
off went the friend ; Mr. Crabtree was ruined. He was
not, however, a man to despair at trifles. What were
bread, meat, and beer to the champion of equality ! He
went to the meeting that very night: he said he gloried
in his losses, — they were for the cause; the whole con-
clave rang with shouts of applause, and Mr. Chitterling
Crabtree went to bed happier than ever. I need not
pursue his history farther; you see him here^ — verbum
sat. He spouts at the * Ciceronian,* for half-a-crown a
night, and to this day subscribes sixpence a week to
the cause of * liberty and enlightenment all over the
world.'"

272 PELHAM; OR,

" By Heaven I " cried Dartmore, " he is a fine f elloAv,
and my father shall do something for him. "

Gordon pricked up his ears, and continued, "Now
for the second person, gentlemen, whom I am about
to describe to you. You see that middle-sized, stout
man, with a slight squint, and a restless, lowering,
cunning expression ] "

" What ! him in the kerseymere breeches and green
jacket ? " said I.

" The same, " answered Gordon. " His real name,
when he does not travel with an alias, is Job Jonson.
He is one of the most remarkable rogues in Christen-
dom; he is so noted a cheat, that there is not a pick-
pocket in England who would keep company with him
if he had anything to lose. He was the favorite of
his father, who intended to leave him all his fortune,
which was tolerably large. He robbed him one day on
the high-road: his father discovered it and disinherited
him. He was placed at a merchant's office, and rose,
step by step, to be head clerk, and intended son-in-law.
Three nights before his marriage, he broke open the till,
and was turned out of doors the next morning. If you
were going to do him the greatest favor in the world, he
could not keep his hands out of your pocket till you had
done it. In short, he has rogued himself out of a dozen
fortunes and a hundred friends, and managed, with
incredible dexterity and success, to cheat himself into
beggary and a pot of beer."

** I beg your pardon, " said I, " but I think a sketch
of your own life must be more amusing than that of any
one else : am I impertinent in asking for it ? "

"Not at all," replied Mr. Gordon; "you shall have
it in as few words as possible.

"I was bom a gentleman, and educated with some

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 273

pains ; they told me I was a genius, and it was not very
hard to persuade me of the truth of the assertion. I
wrote verses to a wonder; robbed orchards according
to military tactics; never played at marbles without
explaining to my competitors the theory of attraction,
— and was the best informed, most mischievous little
rascal in the whole school. My family were in great
doubt what to do with so prodigious a wonder: one
said the law, another the church, a third talked of
diplomacy, and a fourth assured my mother, that if 1
could but be introduced at court, I should be lord
chamberlain in a twelvemonth. While my friends
were deliberating, I took the liberty of deciding; I
enlisted, in a fit of loyal valor, in a marching regiment ;
my friends made the best of a bad job, and bought me
an ensigncy.

" I recollect I read Plato the night before I went to
battle; the next morning they told me I ran away, I
am sure it was a malicious invention; for if I had, I
should have recollected it, — whereas, I was in such a
confusion that I cannot remember a single thing that
happened in the whole course of that day. About six
months afterwards I found myself out of the army and
in jail; and no sooner had my relations released me
from the latter predicament than I set off on my
travels. At Dublin I lost my heart to a rich widow
(as I thought); I married her, and found her as poor
as myself. Heaven knows what would have become
of me if I had not taken to drinking; my wife scorned
to be outdone by me in anything; she followed my
example, and at the end of a year I followed her to
the grave. Since then I have taken warning, and
been scrupulously sober. Betty, my love, another
pint of purl.

VOL. I — 18

274 PELHAM; OR,

"I was now once more a free man in the prime of
my life; handsome, as you see, gentlemen, and with
the strength and spirit of a young Hercules. Accord-
ingly, I dried my tears, turned marker by night at a
gambling-house, and buck by day, in Bond Street (for
I returned to London). I remember well one morn-
ing, that his present Majesty was pleased, en passant,
to admire my buckskins, — tempora mutantur. Well,
gentlemen, one night at a brawl in our salon, my nose
met with a rude hint to move to the right. I went in
a great panic to the surgeon, who mended the matter
by moving it to the left. There, thank Grod! it has
rested in quiet ever since. It is needless to tell you
the nature of the quarrel in which this accident oc-
curred; however, my friends thought it necessary to
remove me from the situation I then held. I iv^ent
once more to Ireland, and was introduced to *a friend
of freedom.' I was poor; that circumstance is quite
enough to make a patriot. They sent me to Paris on
a secret mission, and, when I returned, my friends were
in prison. Being always of a free disposition, I did
not envy them their situation: accordingly I returned
to England. Halting at Liverpool, with a most debili-
tated purse, I went into a silversmith's shop to brace
it, and about six months afterwards I found myself on
a marine excursion to Botany Bay. On my return
from that country I resolved to turn my literary
talents to account. I went to Cambridge, wrote de-
clamations, and translated Virgil at so much a sheet.
My relations (thanks to my letters, neither few nor far
between) soon found me out; they allowed me (they
do so still) half-a-guinea a week; and upon this and
my declamations I manage to exist. Ever since, my
chief residence has been at Cambridge. I am a uni-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 275

versal favorite with both graduates and under-graduates.
I have reformed my life and my manners, and have
become the quiet, orderly person you behold me. Age
tames the fiercest of us, —

* Non sum qualis eram/

" Betty, bring me my purl, and be d — d to you.

" It is now vacation time, and I have come to town
with the idea of holding lectures on the state of educa-
tion. Mr. Dartmore, your health. Gentlemen, yours.
My story is done, — and I hope you will pay for the
purl, "1

^ Poor Jemmy Gordon, — thou art no more ! The stones of Cam-
bridge no longer prate of thy whereabout I Death hath removed
thee, — may it not be to that bourne where alone thy oaths can be
outdone ! He was indeed a singular character, that Jemmy Gor.
don, as many a generation of Cautabs can attest ! — his long stick
and his cocked hat ; and his tattered Lucretius, and his mighty
eye-glaas, — how familiarly do they intermingle with our recollec-
tions of Trinity and of Trumpington Streets ! If I have rightly
heard, his death was the consequence of a fractured limb. Laid by
the leg in a lofty attic, his spirit was not tamed : the noises he
made were astounding to the last. The grim foe carried him of[ in
a whirlwind of slang ! I do not say, " Peace to his manes," for
quiet would be the worst hell that could await him : and heaven
itself would be torture to Jemmy Gordon if he were not allowed to
swear in it ! Noisiest of reprobates, fare thee well ! — H. P.

276 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTER LI.

I hate a dnmken rogue. — Twelfth Night.

We took an affectionate leave of Mr. Gordon , and found
ourselves once more in the open air ; the smoke and the
purl had contributed greatly to the continuance of our
inebriety, and we were as much averse to bed as ever.
We conveyed ourselves, laughing and rioting all the
way, to a stand of hackney-coaches. We entered the
head of the flock, and drove to Piccadilly. It set us
down at the corner of the Haymarket.

" Past two ! " cried the watchman , as we sauntered by
him.

" You lie, you rascal ! " said I, " you have passed three
now."

We were all merry enough to laugh at this sally ; and
seeing a light gleam from the entrance of the Royal
Saloon, we knocked at the door, and it was opened imto
us. We sat down at the only spare table in the place,
and looked round at the smug and varmint citizens with
whom the room was filled.

"Hollo, waiter!" cried Tringle, "some red wine-
negus. I know not why it is, but the devil himself
could never cure me of thirst. Wine and I have a most
chemical attraction for each other. You know that we
always estimate the force of attraction between bodies
by the force required to separate them ! "

While we were all three as noisy and nonsensical as
our best friends could have wished us, a new stranger

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 277

entered, approached, looked round the room for a seat,
and seeing none, walked leisurely up to our table and
accosted me with a — " Ha! Mr. Pelham, how d* ye do ?
Well met; by your leave I will sip my grog at your
table. No offence I hope , — more the merrier, eh ?
Waiter, a glass of hot brandy-and- water, — not too
weak. D' ye hear ? "

Need I say that this pithy and pretty address pro-
ceeded from the mouth of Mr. Tom Thornton ? He was
somewhat more than half drunk, and his light prying
eyes twinkled dizzily in his head. Dartmore, who was,
and is, the best-natured fellow alive, hailed the signs of
his intoxication as a sort of freemasonry , and made way
for him beside himself. I could not help remarking
that Thornton seemed singularly less sleek than hereto-
fore: his coat was out at the elbows; his linen was torn
and soiled ; there was not a vestige of the vulgar spruce-
ness about him which was formerly one of his most
prominent characteristics. He had also lost a great deal
of the florid health formerly visible in his face; his
cheeks seemed sunk and haggard, his eyes hollow, and
his complexion sallow and squalid, in spite of the flush
which intemperance spread over it at the moment.
However, he was in high spirits, and soon made him-
self so entertaining, that Dartmore and Tringle grew
charmed with him.

As for me, the antipathy I had to the man sobered
and silenced me for the rest of the night; and finding
that Dartmore and his friend were eager for an intro-
duction to some female friends of Thornton's, whom he
mentioned in terms of high praise, I tore myself from
them, and made the best of my way home.

278 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTER LII.

nii mora gravis incubat
Qui, uotus nimis omnibus,
IgDotiw moritnr sibi. — Seneca.

Nona serons par noB lois le3 jnges des onvrages.

Les Femmes Savantes.

Wbilst we do speak, our fire
Doth into ice expire ;
Flames tnrn to frost,
And, ere we can
Know how oar crow turns swan.
Or how a silver snow
Springs there, where jet did grow,
Our fading spring is in dull winter lost.

Jasper Matve.

Vincent called on me the next day. " I have news for
you," said he, " though somewhat of a lugubrious nature.
Lugete Veneres Cupid inesque / You remember the
Duchesse de Perpignan ? "

" I should think so," was my answer.

"Well, then," pursued Vincent, "she is no more.
Her death was worthy of her life. She was to give a
brilliant entertainment to all the foreigners at Paris:
the day before it took place, a dreadful eruption broke
out on her complexion. She sent for the doctors in
despair. * Cure me against to-morrow,' she said, *and
name your own reward. ' * Madame, it is impossible to
do so with safety to your health.' ^ Au diable 'with
your health ! ' said the duchesse ; ' what is health to an
eruption?' The doctors took the hint; an external
application was used, — the duchesse woke in the mom-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 279

iDg as beautiful as ever; the entertainment took place;
she was the Armida of the scene. Supper was an-
nounced. She took the arm of the ambassador,

and moved through the crowd amidst the audible ad-
miration of all. She stopped for a moment at the door ;
all eyes were upon her. A fearful and ghastly convul-
sion passed over her countenance, her lips trembled, she
fell on the ground with the most terrible contortions of
face and frame. They carried her to bed. She re-
mained for some days insensible; when she recovered,
she asked for a looking-glass. Her whole face was
drawn on one side ; not a wreck of beauty was left : that
night she poisoned herself! "

I cannot express how shocked I was at this informa-
tion. Much as I had cause to be disgusted with the
conduct of that unhappy woman, I could find in my mind
no feeling but commiseration and horror at her death ;
and it was with great difficulty that Vincent persuaded
me to accept an invitation to Lady Rose vi lie's for the
evening, to meet Glanville and himself.

However, I cheered up as the night came on; and,
though my mind was still haunted with the tale of the
morning, it was neither in a musing nor a melancholy
mood that I entered the drawing-room at Lady Rose-
ville's; ** so runs the world away! "

Glanville was there in his customary mourning.

"Pelham," he said, when he joined me, " do you re-
member at Lady 's, one night, I said I would in-
troduce you to my sister? I had no opportunity then,
for we left the house before she returned from the
refreshment-room. May I do so now ? "

I need not say what was my answer. I followed
Glanville into the next room; and, to my inexpressible
astonishment and delight, discovered in his sister the

280 PELHAM; OR,

beautiful, the never-forgotten stranger I had seen at
Cheltenham.

For once in my life I was embarrassed, — my bow
would have shamed a major in the line, and my stut-
tered and irrelevant address an alderman in the presence
of his Majesty. However, a few moments sufficed to
recover me, and I strained every nerve to be as agreeable
as possible.

After I had conversed with Miss Glanville for some
time, Lady Rose vi lie joined us. Stately and Juno-like
as was that charming personage in general, she relaxed
into a softness of manner to Miss Glanville that quite
won my heart. She drew her to a part of the room
where a very animated and chiefly literary conversation
was going on, — and I, resolving to make the best of
my time, followed them, and once more found myself
seated beside Miss Glanville. Lady Roseville was on
the other side of my beautiful companion; and I ob-
served that, whenever she took her eyes from Miss
Glanville, they always rested upon her brother, who,
in the midst of the disputation and the disputants, sat
silent, gloomy, and absorbed.

The conversation turned upon Scott *s novels; thence
on novels in general ; and finally on the particular one
of " Anastatius."

"It is a thousand pities," said Vincent, " that the
scene of that novel is so far removed from us. But it is
a great misfortune for Hope that —

* To learning he narrowed his mind,
And gave up to the East what was meant for mankind.'

One often loses, in admiration at the knowledge of
peculiar costume, the deference one would have paid to
the masterly grasp of universal character."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 281

" It must require," said Lady Roseville, " an extra-
ordinary combination of mental powers to produce a
perfect novel."

"One so extraordinary," answered Vincent, "that,
though we have one perfect epic poem, and several
which pretend to perfection, we have not one perfect
novel in the world. ^ * Gil Bias,' approaches more
nearly to perfection than any other; but it must be
confessed that there is a want of dignity, of moral rec-
titude, and of what I may term moral beauty, through-
out the whole book. If an author could combine the
various excellences of Scott and Le Sage , with a greater
and more metaphysical knowledge of morals than either,
we might expect from him the perfection we have not
yet discovered since the days of Apuleius."

" Speaking of morals," said Lady Roseville, " do you
not think every novel should have its distinct object,
and inculcate, throughout, some one peculiar moral,
such as many of Marmontel's and Miss Edge worth's? "

" No ! " answered Vincent ; " every good novel has one
great end, — the same in all; namely, the increasing our
knowledge of the heart. It is thus that a novel-writer
must be a philosopher. Whoever succeeds in showing
us more accurately the nature of ourselves and species,
has done science, and consequently virtue, the most
important benefit; for every truth is a moral. This
great and universal end, I am led to imagine, is rather
crippled than extended by the rigorous attention to the
one isolated moral you mention.

" Thus Dry den, in his * Essay on the Progress of
Satire,' very rightly prefers Horace to Juvenal, so far
as instruction is concerned; because the miscellaneous

I For " Don Quixote " is not what Lord Vincent terms a novel,
— namely, the actual representation of real life.

282 pelham; or,

satires of the former are directed against every vice, —
the more confined ones of the latter (for the most part)
only against one. All mankind is the field the novelist
should cultivate, — all truth the moral he should strive
to bring home. It is in occasional dialogue, in desultory
maxims, in deductions from events, in analysis of char-
acter, that he should benefit and instruct. It is not
enough, — and I wish a certain novelist who has lately
arisen would remember this, — it is not enough for a
writer to have a good heart, amiable sympathies, and
what are termed high feelings, in order to shape out
a moral, either true in itself or beneficial in its inculca-
tion. Before he touches his tale, he should be thor-
oughly acquainted with the intricate science of morals,
and the metaphysical, as well as the more open opera ^
tions of the mind. If his knowledge is not deep and
clear, his love of the good may only lead him into error ;
and he may pass off the prejudices of a susceptible heart
for the precepts of virtue. Would to Heaven that
people would think it necessary to be instructed before
they attempt to instruct! ^Dire simplement que la
vertu est vertu parcequ'elle est bonne en sonfonds, et
le vice tout au contraire, ce n^ est pas lesfaire connoitre,^
For me, if I were to write a novel, I would first make
myself an acute, active, and vigilant observer of men
and manners. Secondly, I would, after having thus
noted effects by action in the world, trace the causes by
books and meditation in my closet. It is then, and not
till then, that I would study the lighter graces of stj^le
and decoration ; nor would I give the rein to invention,
till I was convinced that it would create neither mon-
sters of men, nor falsities of truth. For my vehiclee of
instruction or amusement, I would have people as they
are, — neither worse nor better j and the moral they

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 283

should convey should be rather through jest or irony,
than gravity and seriousness. There never was an im-
perfection corrected by portraying perfection; and if
levity and ridicule be said so easily to allure to sin, I
do not see why they should not be used in defence of
virtue. Of this we may be sure, that as laughter is a
distinct indication of the human race, so there never
was a brute mind or a savage heart that loved to indulge
in it. '' 1

Vincent ceased.

"Thank you, my lord," said Lady Roseville, as she
took Miss Glanville's arm, and moved from the table.
" For once you have condescended to give us your own
sense, and not other people's; you have scarce made a
single quotation."

" Accept," answered Vincent, rising, —

" * Accept a miracle instead of wit.* "

1 The Sage of Malmesbnry expresses a very different opinion of
the philosophy of laughter, and, for my part, I think his doctrine,
in great measure, though not altogether, true. See Hobbes " On
Human Nature," and the answer to him in Campbell's " Rhetoric."
— Author.

284 fblham; or.

CHAPTER LIII.

Oh ! I lore ! — Methinks
This world of love is fit for all the world
And that, for gentle hearts, another name
Should speak of gentler thooghts than the world owns.

P. B. Shellet.

For me, I ask no more than honor gives, —

To think me vonrs, and rank me with vonr friends.

Shakespeare.

Callous and worldly as I may seem from the tone of
these memoirs, I can say safely that one of the most
delicious evenings I ever spent was the first of my in-
troduction to Miss Glanville. I went home intoxicated
with a subtle spirit of enjoyment that gave a new zest
and freshness to life. Two little hours seemed to have
changed the whole course of my thoughts and feelings.

There was nothing about Miss Glanville like a hero-
ine, — I hate your heroines. She had none of that
" modest ease ," and " quiet dignity ," of which certain
writers speak with such applause. Thank Heaven, she
was alive f She had great sense, but the playfulness of
a child ; extreme rectitude of mind, but with the tender*
ness of a gazelle; if she laughed, all her countenance,
lips, eyes, forehead, cheeks, laughed too: "Paradise
seemed opened in her face ; " if she looked grave, it was
such a lofty and upward, yet sweet and gentle gravity,
that you might (had you been gifted with the least im-
agination) have supposed, from the model of her coun-
tenance, a new order of angels between the cherubim and
seraphim, the angel of love and wisdom. She was not,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 285

perhaps , quite so silent in society as my individual taste
v^ould desire ; but when she spoke, it was with a pro-
priety of thought and diction which made me lament
i^rhen her voice had ceased. It was as if something
beautiful in creation had stopped suddenly.

Enough of this now. I was lazily turning (the morn-
ing after Lady Roseville's) over some old books, when
"Vincent entered. I observed that his face was flushed,
and his eyes sparkled with more than their usual bril-
liancy. He looked carefully round the room, and
then, approaching his chair towards mine, said, in a
low^ tone, —

" Pelham, I have something of importance on my
mind which I wish to discuss with you; but let me
entreat you to lay aside your usual levity, and par-
don me if I say affectation: meet me with the candor
and plainness which are the real distinctions of your
character. "

"My Lord Vincent," I replied, "there are in your
words a depth and solemnity which pierce me, through

one of N 's best stuffed coats, even to the very heart.

I will hear you as you desire, from the alpha to the
omega of your discourse."

"My dear friend," said Vincent, "I have often seen
that, in spite of all your love of pleasure, you have your
mind continually turned towards higher and graver ob-
jects; and I have thought the better of your talents and
of your future success, for the little parade you make of
the one, and the little care you appear to pay to the

other: for

* *T is a common proof

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder.'

I have also observed that you have of late been much
to Lord Dawton's; I have even heard that you have

286 PELHAM; OR,

been twice closeted with him. It is well known that
that person entertains hopes of leading the Opposition to
the grata arva of the Treasury benches; and notwith-
standing the years in which the Whigs have been out
of office, there are some persons who pretend to foresee
the chance of a coalition between them and Mr. Gaskell,
to whose principles it is also added that they have been
gradually assimilating. "

Here Vincent paused a moment, and looked full at
me. I met his eye with a glance as searching as his
own. His look changed, and he continued: —

"Now listen to me, Pelham: such a coalition never
can take place. You smile; I repeat it. It is my
object to form a third party; perhaps, while the two
great sects * anticipate the cabinet designs of fate,'
there may suddenly come by a third, * to whom the
whole shall be referred.' Say that you think it not
impossible that you may join us, and I will tell you
more."

I paused for three minutes before I answered Vincent.
I then said, " I thank you very sincerely for your pro-
posal ; tell me the names of two of your designed party
and I will answer you."

" Lord Lincoln and Lord Lesborough."

" What! " said I, " the Whig, who says in the Upper
House, that whatever may be the distresses of the people,
they shall not be gratified at the cost of one of the des-
potic privileges of the aristocracy! Go to! — I will
have none of him. As to Lesborough, he is a fool and
a boaster, who is always puffing his own vanity with the
windiest pair of oratorical bellows that ever were made
by air and brass, for the purpose of sound and smoke,
* signifying nothing.' Go to! — I will have none of
him either."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 287

" You are right in your judgment of my confreres"
answered Vincent; " but we must make use of bad tools
for good purposes."

" No, — no! " said I; " the commonest carpenter will
tell you the reverse."

Vincent eyed me suspiciously. " Look you ! " said
he; "I know well that no man loves, better than you,
place, power, and reputation. Do you grant thisi "

" I do," was my reply.

" Join with us ; I will place you in the House of
Commons immediately: if we succeed, you shall have
the first and the best post I can give you. Now, —
* under which king, Bezonian? speak or die!'"

" I answer you in the words of the same worthy you
quote," said I: "'A foutra for thine office.' Do you
know, Vincent, that I have, strange as it may seem to
you, such a thing as a conscience ? It is true, I forget
it now and then; but in a public capacity, the recollec-
tion of others would put me very soon in mind of it. I
know your party well. I cannot imagine — forgive me
— one more injurious to the country, nor one more
revolting to myself; and I do positively affirm that I
would sooner feed my poodle on paunch and liver, in-
stead of cream and fricassee, than be an instrument in
the hands of men like Lincoln and Lesborough; who
talk much; who perform nothing; who join ignorance
of every principle of legislation to indifference for every
benefit to the people; who are full of * wise saws,' but
empty of * modern instances;' who level upwards, and
trample downwards, — and would only value the ability
you are pleased to impute to me, in the exact proportion
that a sportsman values the ferret, that burrows for his
pleasure, and destroys for his interest. Your party
can't stand."

288 PELHAM; OR,

Vincent turned pale. "And how long," said he,
"have you learned Hhe principles of legislation,' and
this mighty affection for the * benefit of the people ' ? "

" Ever since," said I, coldly, "I learned any thing!
The first piece of real knowledge I ever gained was that
my interest was incorporated with that of the beings
with whom I had the chance of being cast: if I injure
them, I injure myself; if I can do them any good, I
receive the benefit in common with the rest. Now, as
I have a great love for that personage who has now the
honor of addressing you, I resolved to be honest for his
sake. So much for my affection for the benefit of the
people. As to the little knowledge of the principles of
legislation, on which you are kind enough to compli-
ment me, look over the books on this table, or the writ-
ings in this desk, and know that, ever since T had the
misfortune of parting from you at Cheltenham, there
has not been a day in which I have spent less than six
hours reading and writing on that sole subject. But
enough of this. Will you ride to-day % "

Vincent rose slowly. Said he, —

" * Gli arditi tuoi voti
Gi^ noti mi sono,
Ma invano a quel trono,
Tu aspiri con me :
Trema per te ! ' "

"*7o trema y^^^ I replied, out of the same opera, —
" * lo trema, — di te I ' "

" Well," answered Vincent, and his fine high nature
overcame his momentary resentment and chagrin at my
rejection of his offer, — "well, I honor you for your
sentiments, though tliey are opposed to my own. I may
depend on your secrecy % "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 289

" You may," said I.

" I forgive you, Pelham," rejoined Vincent: " we part
friends."

" Wait one moment," said I, " and pardon me, if I
venture to speak in the language of caution to one in
every way superior to myself. No one (I say this with
a safe conscience, for I never flattered my friend in my
life, though I have often adulated my enemy), — no one
has a greater admiration for your talents than myself; I
desire eagerly to see you in the station most flt for their
display : pause one moment before you link yourself not
only to a party, but to principles that cannot stand.
You have only to exert yourself, and you may either
lead the Opposition or be among the foremost in the
administration. Take something certain rather than
what is doubtful or at least stand alone. Such is my
belief in your powers, if fairly tried, that if you were
not united to those men, I would promise you faith-
fully to stand or fall by you alone, even if we had not
through all England another soldier to our standard;
but—"

"I thank you, Pelham," said Vincent, interrupting
me: " till we meet in public as enemies, we are friends
in private, — I desire no more. Farewell. "

VOL. I. — 19

290 PELHAM; OR,

CHAPTER LIV.

II vant mieux employer notre esprit k supporter les infortones qui
nous arrivent, qu a pre'voir celled qui nous peuvent arriver. —

ROCHEFOUCACLT.

Ko sooner had Vincent departed, than I buttoned my
coat and sallied out through a cold, easterly wind to
Lord Dawton's. It was truly said by the political
quoter, that I had been often to that nobleman's,
although I have not thought it advisable to speak
of my political adventures hitherto. I have before
said that I was ambitious; and the sagacious have
probably already discovered that I was somewhat less
ignorant than it was my usual pride and pleasure to
appear. I had established, among my uncle's friends,
a reputation for talent; and no sooner bad I been per-
sonally introduced to Lord Daw ton than I found myself
courted by that personage in a manner equally gratify-
ing and uncommon. When I lost my seat in Parlia-
ment, Dawton assured me that, before the session was
over, I should be returned for one of his boroughs; and
though my mind revolted at the idea of becoming de-
pendent on any party, T made little scruple of promis-
ing conditionally to ally myself to his. So far had
aifairs gone, when I was honored with Vincent's pro-
posal. I found Lord Dawton in his library with the
Marquess of Clandonald (Lord Dartmore's father, and,
from his rank and property, classed among the highest,
as, from his vanity and restlessness, he was among the
most active members of the Opposition). Clandonald

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 291

left the room when I entered. Few men in office are
wise enough to trust the young; as if the greater zeal
and sincerity of youth did not more than compensate
for its appetite for the gay, or its thoughtlessness of the
serious.

When we were alone, Dawton said to me, " We are

in great despair at the motion upon the , to be

made in the Lower House. We have not a single per-
son whom we can depend upon for the sweeping and
convincing answer we ought to make; and though we
should at least muster our full force in voting, our

whipper-in, poor , is so ill that I fear we shall

make but a very pitiful figure."

" Give me," said I, " full permission to go forth into
the highways and byways, and I will engage to bring a
whole legion of dandies to the House door. I can go no
farther; your other agents must do the rest."

" Thank you, my dear young friend," said Lord Daw-
ton, eagerly; "thank you a thousand times: we must
really get you in the House as soon as possible: you
will serve us more than I can express."

I bowed with a sneer I could not repress. Dawton
pretended not to observe it. "Come," said I, "my
lord, we have no time to lose. I shall meet you, per-
haps, at Brookes's to-morrow evening, and report to you
respecting my success. "

Lord Dawton pressed my hand warmly, and followed
me to the door.

"He is the best premier we could have," thought I;
"but he deceives himself, if he thinks Henry Pelham
will play the jackal to his lion. He will soon see that I
shall keep for myself what he thinks I hunt for him. "
I passed through Pall Mall, and thought of Glanville.
I knocked at his door; he was at home. I found him

293 PELHAM; OK,

leaning his cheek upon his hand, in a tiionghtful posi-
tion ; an open letter was before him.

** Read that/' he said, pointing to it.

I did so. It was from the agent to the Doke of

, and contained his nomination to an Opposition

borough.

''A new toj, Pelham/' said he, faintlj smiling;
''but a little longer, and they will all be broken, —
the rattle will be the last."

" My dear, dear Glanville," said I, much affected; ^^ do
not talk thus; you have everything before you."

" Yes," interrupted Glanville, ** you are right; for
everything left for me is in the grave. Do you imag-
ine that I can taste one of the possessions which for-
tune has heaped upon me, — that I have one healthful
faculty, one sense of enjoyment, among the hundred
which other men are * heirs to ' f When did you ever
see me for a moment happy? I live, as it were, on a
rock, barren and herbless and sapless, and cut off from
all human fellowship and intercourse. I had only a
single object left to live for, when you saw me at Paris;
I have gratified that, and the end and purpose of my
existence is fulfilled. Heaven is merciful ; but a little
while, and this feverish and unquiet spirit shall be at
rest. "

I took his hand and pressed it.

"Feel," said he, "this dry, burning skin; count my
pulse through the variations of a single minute, and you
will cease either to pity me, or to speak to me of life.
For months I have had, night and day, a wasting, wast-
ing fever, of brain and heart and frame; the fire works
well, and the fuel is nearly consumed."

He paused, and we were both silent. In fact, I was
shocked at the fever of his pulse, no less than affected

ADVENTURES OP A GENTLEMAN. 293

at the despondency of his words. At last I spoke to
him of medical advice.

" * Canst thou,' " he said, with a deep solemnity of
voice and manner, " * administer to a mind diseased ;
pluck from the memory -^- ' Ah ! away with the quota-
tion and the reflection. " And he sprang from the sofa,
and, going to the window, opened it and leaned out
for a few moments in silence. When he turned again
towards me, his manner had regained its usual quiet.
He spoke about the important motion approaching on

the , and promised to attend; and then, by degrees,

I led him to talk of his sister.

He mentioned her with enthusiasm. "Beautiful as
Helen is," he said, " her face is the very faintest reflec-
tion of her mind. Her habits of thought are so pure
that every impulse is a virtue. Never was there a per-
son to whom goodness was so easy. Vice seems some-
thing so opposite to her nature that I cannot imagine it
possible for her to sin."

" Will you not call with me at your mother's ? " said
I ; " I am going there to-day. "

Glanville replied in the affirmative, and we went at
once to Lady Glanville's in Berkeley Square. We were
admitted into his mother's boudoir. She was alone
with Miss Glanville. Our conversation soon turned
from commonplace topics to those of a graver nature;
the deep melancholy of Glanville's mind imbued all
his thoughts, when he once suffered himself to express
them.

"Why," said Lady Glanville, who seemed painfully
fond of her son, — "why do you not go more into the
world? You suffer your mind to prey upon itself, till
it destroys you. My dear, dear son, how very ill you
seem ! "

294 PELHAM; OB,

Ellen, whose eyes swam in tears as they gazed upon
her hrother, laid her beautiful hand upon his, and said,
" For my mother's sake, Keginald, do take more care of
yourself, you want air, and exercise, and amusement."

"No," answered Glanville, "I want nothing but

occupation; and, thanks to the Duke of , I have

now got it. I am chosen member for . "

" I am too happy," said the proud mother; " you will
now be all I have ever predicted for you ; " and in her
joy at the moment she forgot the hectic of his cheek and
the hollowness of his eye.

" Do you remember," said Reginald, turning to his
sister, * those beautiful lines in my favorite, Ford, —

* Glories
Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams,
And shadows soon decaying. On the stage
Of my mortality my youth has acted
Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length
By varied pleasures, — sweetened in the mixture.
But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp.
With every sensuality our giddiness
Doth frame an idol, are inconstant friends
When any troubled passion makes us halt
On the unguarded castle of the mind.' "

"Your verses," said I, "are beautiful even to me,
who have no soul for poetry, and never wrote a line in
my life. But I love not their philosophy. In all sen-
timents that are impregnated with melancholy and instil
sadness as a moral, I question the wisdom and dispute
the truth. There is no situation in life which we can-
not sweeten or embitter, at will. If the past is gloomy,
I do not see the necessity of dwelling upon it. If the
mind can make one vigorous exertion, it can another:
the same energy you put forth in acquiring knowledge,

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 295

would also enable you to baffle misfortune. Determine
not to think upon what is painful ; resolutely turn away
from everything that recalls it; bend all your attention
to some new and engrossing object: do this, and you
defeat the past. You smile, as if this were impossible;
yet it is not an iota more so than to tear one's self from
a favorite pursuit, and addict one's self to an object
unwelcome to one at first. This the mind does con-
tinually through life : so can it also do the other, if you
will but make an equal exertion. Nor does it seem to
me natural to the human heart to look much to the
pastj all its plans, its projects, its aspirations, are for
the future; it is for the future, and in the future, that
we live. Our very passions, when most agitated, are
most antic' pative. Revenge, avarice, ambition, love,
the desire of good and evil, are all fixed and pointed
to some distant goal; to look backwards, is like walk-
ing backwards, — against our proper formation; the
mind does not readily adopt the habit, and when
once adopted it will readily return to its natural bias.
Oblivion is, therefore, a more easily obtained boon than
we imagine. Forgetfulness of the past is purchased by
increasing our anxiety, for the future."

I paused for a moment, but Glanville did not answer
me; and, encouraged by a look from Ellen, I continued,
" You remember that, according to an old creed, if we
were given memory as a curse, we were also given hope
as a blessing. Counteract the one by the other. In my
own life I have committed many weak, perhaps many
wicked actions; I have chased away their remembrance,
though I have transplanted their warning to the future.
As the body involuntarily avoids what is hurtful to it,
without tracing the association to its first experience,
so the mind insensibly shuns what has formerly afflicted

296 PELHAM; OR,

it, even without palpably recalling the remembranoe of
the affliction.

" The Eoman philosopher placed the secret of human
happines8 in the one maxim, 'Not to admire.' I
never could exactly comprehend the sense of the moral :
my maxim for the same object would be, ' Never to
regret. ' "

**Alas! my dear friend," said Glanville; "we are
great philosophers to each other, but not to ourselves:
the moment we begin to feel sorrow, we cease to reflect
on its wisdom. Time is the only comforter; your
maxims are very true, but they confirm me in my
opinion, — that it is in vain for us to lay dovm fixed
precepts for the regulation of the mind so long as it is
dependent upon the body. Happiness and its reverse
are constitutional in many persons, and it is then only
that they are independent of circumstances. Make the
health, the frames of all men, alike; make their nerves
of the same susceptibility, their memories of the same
bluntness, or acuteness, — and I will then allow that
you can give rules adapted to all men; till then, your
maxim, * Never to regret,' is as idle as Horace's * No
to admire. ' It may be wise to you, — it is imposs ^
tome!"

With these last words Glanville*s voice faltered, a v
I felt averse to push the argument further. Ellen's e^ >
caught mine, and gave me a look so kind, and alnio::>
grateful , that I forgot everything else in the world. A
few moments afterwards a friend of Lady Glanville 's was
announced, and 1 left the room.

ADVENTURES Qf A GENTLEMAN. 297

CHAPTER LV.

Intas, et in jecore aegro
Nasenntar domini. — Persius.

The next two or three days I spent in visiting all my
male friends in the Lower House, and engaging them
to dine with me, preparatorily to the great act of voting

on 's motion. I led them myself to the House of

Commons, and, not feeling sufficiently interested in the
debate to remain, as a stranger, where I ought, in my
own opinion, to have acted as a performer, I went to
BrocJ^s's to wait the result. Lord Gravel ton, a
stout, bluff, six-foot nobleman, with a voice like a
Stentor, was "blowing up" the waiters in the coffee-

Toom. Mr. , the author of , was conning the

** Courier" in a comer: and Lord Armadilleros, the
^^ haughtiest and most honorable peer in the calendar,
. '/as monopolizing the drawing-room, with his right

/ >ot on one hob and his left on the other. I sat

elf down in silence, and looked over the "crack
, rticle" in the "Edinburgh." By-and-by the room

^ |ot fuller; every one spoke of the motion before the

4House, and anticipated the merits of the speeches and
j the numbers of the voters.

^ At last a principal member entered; a crowd gath-

I ered round him. "I have heard," he said, "the most
extraordinary speech, for the combination of knowl-
edge and imagination, that I ever recollect to have
listened to."

" From Gaskell, I suppose! " was the universal cry.

298 pelham; or,

** No," eaid Mr. , " Graskell has not yet spoken.

It was from a young man who has only just taken his
seat. It was received with the most unanimous cheers,
and was, indeed, a remarkahle display."

" What is his name? ** I asked, already half forebod-
ing the answer.

" I only just learned it as I left the House," replied
Mr. ; ** the speaker was Sir ^Reginald Glanville."

Then, every one of those whom I had often before
heard censure Glanville for his rudeness, or laugh at
him for his eccentricity, opened their mouths in con-
gratulations to their own wisdom, for having long ad-
mired his talents and predicted his success.

I left the " tui'ba Remi sequens fortunam; " I felt
agitated and feverish; those who have unexpectedly
heard of the success of a man for whom great afiPec-
tion is blended with greater interest, can understand the
restlessness of mind with which I wandered into the
streets. The air was cold and nipping. I was buttoning
my coat round my chest, when I heard a voice say, " You
have dropped your glove, Mr. Pelham."

The speaker was Thornton. I thanked him coldly
for his civility, and was going on, when he said, " If
your way is up Pall Mall, I have no objection to join
you for a few minutes. "

I bowed with some hauteur ; but as I seldom refuse
any opportunity of knowing more perfectly individual
character, I said I should be happy of his company so
long as our way lay together.

" It is a cold night, Mr. Pelham," said Thornton,
after a pause. " I have been dining at Hatchett's with
an old Paris acquaintance. I am sorry we did not meet
more often in France, but I was so taken up with my
friend Mr. Warburton."

ADVENTURES OF Ji GENTLEMAN. 299

As Thorn ton uttered that name, he looked hard at
me, and then added, "By the by, I saw you with Sir
Reginald Glanville the other day; you know him well,
I presume ? "

** Tolerably well," said I, with indifference.

** What a strange character he is! " rejoined Thorn-
ton ; " / also have known him for some years, " and
again Thornton looked pryingly into my countenance.
Poor fool ! it was not for a penetration like his to read
the cor inscrutahile of a man born and bred like me, in
the consummate dissimulation of bon ton.

" He is very rich, is he not ] '* said Thornton, after a
brief silence.

" I believe so," said I.

"Humph!" answered Thornton. "Things have
grown better with- him in proportion as they grew
worse with me, who have had * as good-luck as the
cow that stuck herself with her own horn.' I sup-
pose he is not too anxious to recollect me, — * poverty
parts fellowship.' Well, hang pride, say I; give me
an honest heart all the year round, in summer or win-
ter, drought or plenty. Would to Heaven some kind
friend would lend me twenty pounds! "

To this wish I made no reply. Thornton sighed.

** Mr. Pelham," renewed he, " it is true I have known
you but a short time: excuse the liberty I take, — but
if you cotild lend me a trifle, it would really assist me
very much."

" Mr. Thornton," said I, " if I knew you better, and
could serve you more, you might apply to me for a more
real assistance than any bagatelle I could afford you
would be. If twenty pounds would really be of ser-
vice to you, I will lend them to you, upon this condi-
tion, that you never ask me for another farthing."

300 pelham; or,

Thornton's face brightened. ''A thousand, thou-
sand — ** he began.

** No," interrupted I, — ** no thanks, only your
promise. "

** Upon my honor," said Thornton, "I will never
ask you for another farthing."

** There is honor among thieves," thought I, and so
I took out the sum mentioned , and gave it to him. In
good earnest, though I disliked the man, his threadbare
garments and altered appearance moved me to compas-
sion. While he was pocketing the money, which he
did with the most unequivocal delight, a tall figure
paftsed us rapidly. We both turned at the same in-
stant, and recognized Glauville. He had not gone
seven yards beyond us, before we observed his steps,
which were very irregular, pause suddenly; a moment
afterwards he fell against the iron rails of an area: we
hastened towards him; he was apparently fainting. His
countenance was perfectly livid, and marked with the
traces of extreme exhaustion. I sent Thornton to the
nearest public-house for some water; before he returned,
Glauville had recovered.

"All — all in vain," he said, slowly and uncon-
sciously ; ** death is the only Lethe. "

He started when he saw me. I made him lean on my
arm, and we walked on slowly.

" 1 have already heard of your speech," said I. Glau-
ville smiled with the usual faint and sickly expression,
which made his smile painful even in its exceeding
sweetness.

" You have also already seen its effects; the excite-
ment was too much for me. "

^ It must have been a proud moment when you sat
down," said I.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 301

" It was one of the bitterest I ever felt, — it was fraught
with the memory of the dead. What are all honors to
me now ? — O God ! O God ! have mercy upon me ! "

And Glanville stopped suddenly, and put his hand to
his temples.

By this time Thornton had joined us. When Glan-
ville's eyes rested upon him, a deep, hectic rose slowly
and gradually over his cheeks. Thornton's lip curled
with a malicious expression. Glanville marked it, and
his brow grew on the moment as black as night.

"Begone!" he said in a loud voice, and with a
flashing eye, — "begone instantly; I loathe the very
sight of so base a thing."

Thornton's quick, restless eye grew like a living
coal, and he bit his lip so violently that the blood
gushed out. He made, however, no other answer than
" You seem agitated to-night. Sir Reginald ; I wish
your speedy restoration to better health. Mr. Pelham,
your servant."

Glanville walked oh in silence till we came to his
door: we parted there; and, for want of anything

better to do, I sauntered towards the M hell.

There were only ten or twelve persons in the rooms,
and all were gathered round the hazard-table. I
looked on silently, seeing the knaves devour the
fools, £uid younger brothers make up in wit for the
deficiencies of fortune.

The Honorable Mr. Blagrave came up to me : " Do
you never play 1 " said he.

" Sometimes," was my brief reply.

" Lend me a hundred pounds ! " rejoined my kind
acquaintance.

" I was just going to make you the same request,"
said I.

302 pelham; ob,

Blagrave laughed heartily. "Well," said he, "be
my security to a Jew, and I '11 be yours. My fellow
lends me money at only forty per cent. My governor
is a d — d stingy old fellow, for I am the most moderate
son in the universe. I neither hunt nor race, nor have
I any one favorite expense, except gambling, and he
won't satisfy me in that, — now I call such conduct
shameful ! "

"Unheard-of barbarity," said I; "and you do well
to ruin your property by Jews, before you have it; you
could not avenge yourself better on * the governor. ' "

"No, hang it!" said Blagrave; "leave me alone for
that! Well, I have got five pounds left; I shall go and
slap it down. "

No sooner had he left me than I was accosted by

Mr. , a handsome adventurer who lived the devil

knew how, for the devil seemed to take excellent care of
him.

" Poor Blagrave ! " said he, eying the countenance of
that ingenious youth. " He is a strange fellow, — he
asked me the other day if I ever read the * History
of England,' and told me there was a great deal in it
about his ancestor, a Roman general, in the time of
William the Conqueror, called Caractacus. He told
me at the last Newmarket that he had made up a
capital book, and it turned out that he had hedged
with such dexterity, that he must lose one thousand
pounds, and he might lose two. Well, well," con-
tinued , with a sanctified expression, " I would

sooner see those real fools here, than the confounded
scoundrels who pillage one under a false appearance.
Never, Mr. Pelham, trust to a man at a gaming-house;
the honestest look hides the worst sharper! Shall you
try your luck to-night ? "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 303

« No," said I. « I shall only look on."

sauntered to the table, and sat down next to a

rich young man, of the best temper and worst luck in

the world. After a few throws, said to him,

" Lord , do put your money aside; you have so

much upon the table that it interferes with mine, and
that is really so unpleasant. Suppose you put some of
it in your pocket ? "

Lord took a handful of notes and stuffed them

carelessly in his coat-pocket. Five minutes afterwards

I saw insert his hand, empty, in his neighbor's

pocket, and bring it out full, — and half an hour after-
wards he handed over a fifty -pound note to the marker,
saying, " There, sir, is my debt to you. God bless me,

Lord , how you have won! I wish you would not

leave all your money about, — do put it in your pocket
with the rest."

Lord (who had perceived the trick, though he

was too indolent to resist it) laughed. " No, no, ,"

said he, " you must let me keep some ! "

colored, and soon after rose. " D — n my luck ? "

said he, as he passed me. "I wonder I continue to
play, — but there are such sharpers in the room. Avoid
a gaming-house, Mr, Pelham, if you wish to live."

" And let live," thought I.

I was just going away, when I heard a loud laugh on
the stairs, and immediately afterwards Thornton entered,
joking with one of the markers. He did not see me ;
but, approaching the table, drew out the identical
twenty -pound note I had given him, and asked for
change with the air of a milllonnaire. I did not wait
to witness his fortune, good or ill ; I cared too little
about it. I descended the stairs, and the servant on
opening the door for me, admitted Sir Joiin Tyrrell.

304 PELHAM; OR,

• What!** I tliought; "is the habit still so strong?"
We stopped each other, and after a few words of greet-
ing, I went, once more, upstairs with bim.

Thornton was playing as eagerly with his small quota

as Lord C with his ten thousands. He nodded

with an affected air of £imiliarity to Tyrrell, who
returned his salutation with the most supercilious
hauteur; and very soon afterwards the baronet was
utterly engrossed by the chances of the game. I had,
howcTer, satisfied my curiosity, in ascertaining that
there was no longer any intimacy between him and
Thornton, and accordingly once more I took my
departure.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 305

CHAPTER LVI.

The times have been
That when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end, — but now they rise again. — Macbeth.

It was a strange thing to see a man like Glanville,
with costly tastes, luxurious habits, great talents pecu-
liarly calculated for display, courted by the highest mem-
bers of the state, admired for his beauty and genius by
half the women in London, yet living in the most ascetic
seclusion from his kind, and indulging in the darkest
and most morbid despondency. No female was ever
seen to win even his momentary glance of admiration.
All the senses appeared to have lost, for him, their cus-
tomary allurements. He lived among his books, and
seemed to make his favorite companions amidst the past.
At nearly all hours of the night he was awake and occu-
pied, and at daybreak his horse was always brought to
the door. He rode alone for several hours,, and then, on
his return, he was employed till the hour he went to the
House in the affairs and politics of the day. Ever since
his debut, he had entered with much constancy into the
more leading debates, and his speeches were invariably of
the same commanding order which had characterized his
first.

It was singular that, in his parliamentary display, as in
his ordinary conversation, there were none of the wild
and speculative opinions, or the burning enthusiasm of
romance, in which the natural inclination of his mind
seemed so essentially to delight. His arguments were
VOL. I. — 20

306 PELHAM ; OR,

always remarkable for the soundness of the principles on
which they were based, and the logical clearness with
which they were expressed. The feverish fervor of his
temperament was, it is true, occasionally shown in a re-
markable energy of delivery, or a sudden and unexpected
burst of the more impetuous powers of oratory ; but these
were so evidently natural and spontaneous, and so hap-
pily adapted to be impressive of the subject, rather than
irrelevant from its bearings, that they never displeased
even the oldest and coldest cynics and calculators of the
House.

It is no uncommon contradiction in human nature
(and in Glanville it seemed peculiarly prominent) to
find men of imagination and genius gifted with the
strongest common sense, for the admonition or benefit of
others, even while constantly neglecting to exert it for
themselves. He was soon marked out as the most prom-
ising and important of all the junior members of the
House ; and the coldness with which he kept aloof from
social intercourse with the party he adopted, only served to
increase their respect, though it prevented their affection.

Lady Roseville's attachment to him was scarcely a
secret; the celebrity of her name in the world of ton
made her least look or action the constant subject of pres-
ent remark and after conversation; and there were too
many moments, even in the watchful publicity of society,
when that charming but imprudent person forgot every-
thing but the romance of her attachment. Glanville
seemed not only perfectly untouched by it, but even
wholly unconscious of its existence, and preserved inva-
riably, whenever he was forced into the crowd, the same
stern, cold, unsympathizing reserve, which made him, at
once, an object of universal conversation and dislike.

Three weeks after Glanville's first speech in the

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 307

House, I called upon him, with a proposal from Lord
Dawton. After we had discussed it, we spoke on more
familiar topics, and at last he mentioned Thornton. It
will be observed that we had never conversed respecting
that person ; nor had Glanville once alluded to our for-
mer meetings, or to his disguised appearance and false
appellation at Paris. Whatever might be the mystery,
it was evidently of a painful nature, and it was not, there-
fore, for me to allude to it. This day he spoke of Thorn-
ton with a tone of indifference.

" The man, " he said, " I have known for some time ;
he was useful to me abroad, and, notwithstanding his
character, I rewarded him well for his services. He has
since applied to me several times for money, which is
spent at the gambling-house as soon as it is obtained.
I believe him to be leagued with a gang of sharpers of
the lowest description; and I am really unwilling any
further to supply the vicious necessities of himself and his
comrades. He is a mean, mercenary rascal, who would
scruple at no enormity, provided he was paid for it! "

Glanville paused for a few moments, and then added,
while his cheek blushed, and his voice seemed somewhat
hesitating and embarrassed, —

" You remember Mr. Tyrrell, at Paris ? "

" Yes, " said I ; "he is at present in London, and — "
Glanville started as if he had been shot.

"No, no," he exclaimed wildly; "he died at Paris,
from want, from starvation. "

"You are mistaken," said I; "he is now Sir John
Tyrrell, and possessed of considerable property. I saw
him myself three weeks ago."

Glanville, laying his hand upon my arm, looked in my
face with a long, stern, prying gaze, and his cheek grew
more ghastly and livid with every moment. At last he

308 PELHAM; OR,

turned, and muttered something between his teeth; and
at that moment the door opened, and Thornton was an-
nounced. Glanville sprang towards him, and seized him
by the throat.

" Dog ! " he cried, " you have deceived me ! Tyrrell
lives! "

" Hands off ! " cried the gamester, with a savage grin
of defiance, — " hands off ! or, by the Lord that made
me, you shall have gripe for gripe ! "

" Ho, wretch ! '" said Glanville, shaking him violently,
while his worn and slender, yet still powerful, frame
trembled with the excess of his passion ; " dost thou dare
to threaten me ! " and with these words he flung Thorn-
ton against the opposite wall with such force that the
blood gushed out of his mouth and nostrils. The gam-
bler rose slowly, and, wiping the blood from his face,
fixed his malignant and fiery eye upon his aggressor with
an expression of collected hate and vengeance that made
my very blood creep.

" It is not my day now, " he said, with a calm, quiet,
cold voice ; and then, suddenly changing his manner, he
approached me with a sort of bow, and made some re-
mark on the weather.

Meanwhile Glanville had sunk on the sofa exhausted,
less by his late effort than the convulsive passion which
had produced it. He rose in a few moments, and said
to Thornton, " Pardon my violence ; let this pay your
bruises ; " and he placed a long and apparently well-filled
purse in Thornton's hand. That veritable philosopke
took it with the same air as a dog receives the first caress
from the hand which has just chastised him ; and feeling
the purse between his short, hard fingers, as if to ascer-
tain the soundness of its condition, quickly slid it into his
breeches-pocket, which he then buttoned with care, and

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 309

pulling his waistcoat down, as if for further protection to
the deposit, he turned towards Glanville, and said, in his
usual quaint style of vulgarity, —

" Least said, Sir Reginald, the soonest mended. Grold
is a good plaster for bad bruises. Now, then, your will :
ask and I will answer, unless you think Mr. Pelham de
trop. "

I was already at the door, with the intention of leav-
ing the room, when Glanville cried, " Stay, Pelham, I
have but one question to ask Mr. Thornton. Is John
TyrreU stiU living ? "

" He is ! " answered Thornton, with a sardonic smile.

" And beyond all want ? " resumed Glanville.

" He is! " was the tautological reply.

" Mr. Thornton, " said Glanville, with a calm voice, '^ I
have now done with you, — you may leave the room ! "

Thornton bowed with an air of ironical respect, and
obeyed the command.

I turned to look at Glanville. His countenance, al-
ways better adapted to a stern than a soft expression,
was perfectly fearful: every line in it seemed dug into
a furrow; the brows were bent over his large and flash-
ing eyes with a painful intensity of anger and resolve ;
his teeth were clenched firmly as if by a vice, and the
thin uppey lip, which was drawn from them with a bitter
curl of scorn, was as white as death. His right hand
had closed upon the back of the chair, over which his
tall nervous frame leaned, and was grasping it with an
iron force which it could not support; it snapped be-
neath his hand like a hazel stick. This accident, slight
as it was, recalled him to himself. He apologized with
apparent self-possession for his disorder ; and, after a few
words of fervent and affectionate farewell on my part,
I left him to the solitude which I knew he desired.

310 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER LVII.

While I seemed onlj intent npon pleasure, I locked in my heart the
conscionsness and vanity of power ; in the levity of the lip I dis-
guised the knowledge and the workings of the brain ; and I
looked, as with a gifted eye, npon the mysteries of the hidden
depths, while I seemed to float an idler with the herd only npon
the surface of the stream. — Falkland.

As I walked home, revolving the scene I had witnessed,
the words of Tyrrell came into my recollection, — namely,
that the cause of Glanville^s dislike to him had arisen
in Tyrrell's greater success in some youthful liaison.
In this account I could not see much probability. In
the first place, the cause was not sufficient to produce
such an effect j and, in the second, there was little like-
lihood that the young and rich Glanville, possessed of
the most various accomplishments, and the most remark-
able personal beauty, should be supplanted by a needy
spendthrift (as Tyrrell at that time was) of coarse man-
ners and unpolished mind, with a person not indeed un-
prepossessing, but somewhat touched by time, and never
more comparable to Glanville 's than that of the Satyr
to Hyperion.

While I was meditating over a mystery which excited
my curiosity more powerfully than anything, not relating
to himself, ought ever to occupy the attention of a wise
man, I was accosted by Vincent; the difference in our
politics had of late much dissevered us, and when he
took my arm, and drew me up Bond Street, I was some-
what surprised at his condescension.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 311

" Listen to me, Pelham, " he said , " once more I offer
you a settlement in our colony. There will be great
changes soon: trust me, so radical a party as that you
have adopted can never come in ; ours, on the contrary,
is no less moderate than liberal. This is the last time
of asking ; for I know you will soon have exposed your
opinions in public more openly than you have yet done,
and then it will be too late. At present I hold, with
Hudibras and the ancients, that it is —

* More honoraV)le far, servare
Civem, thaD slay an adversary.' "

" Alas, Vincent, " said I, " I am marked out for
slaughter; for you cannot convince me by words, and so,
I suppose, you must conquer me by blows. Adieu, this
is my way to Lord Dawton's ; where are you going ? "

" To moimt my horse, and join the parea juventua, "
said Vincent, with a laugh at his own witticism, as we
shook hands, and parted.

I grieve much, my beloved reader, that I cannot un-
fold to thee all the particulars of my political intrigue.
I am, by the very share which fell to my lot, bound over
to the strictest secrecy as to its nature, and the characters
of the chief agents in its execution. Suffice it to say,
that the greater part of my time was, though furtively,
employed in a sort of home diplomacy, gratifying alike
to the activity of my tastes, and the vanity of my mind.
I had filled Dawton and his coadjutors with an exagger-
ated opinion of my abilities; but I knew well how to
sustain it. I rose by candle-light, and consumed, in the
intensest application, the hours which every other in-
dividual of our party wasted in enervating slumbers,
from the hesternal dissipation or debauch. Was there a
question in political economy debated, mine was the

312 pelham; or,

readiest and the clearest reply. Did a period in our
constitution become investigated, it was I to whom the
duty of expositor was referred. From Madame d'An-
ville, with whom (though lost as a lover) I constantly
corresponded *as a friend, I obtained the earliest and
most accurate detail of the prospects and manoeuvres of
the court in which her life was spent, and in whose more
secret offices her husband was employed. I spared no
means of extending my knowledge of every the minutest
point which could add to the reputation I enjoyed. I
made myself acquainted with the individual interests and
exact circumstances of all whom it was our object to in-
timidate or to gain. It was I who brought to the House
the younger and idler members, whom no more nominally
powerful agent could allure from the ball-room or the
gaming-house.

In short, while, by the dignity of my birth and the
independent hauteur of my bearing, I preserved the
rank of an equal amongst the highest of the set, I did
not scruple to take upon myself the labor and activity of
the most subordinate. Dawton declared me his right
hand; and, though I knew myself rather his head than
his hand, I pretended to feel proud of the appellation.

Meanwhile, it was my pleasure to wear in society the
eccentric costume of character I had first adopted, and to
cultivate the arts which won from women the smile that
cheered and encouraged me in my graver contest with
men. It was only to Ellen Glanville that I laid aside
an afifectation which, I knew, was little likely to attract
a taste so refined and unadulterated as hers. I discov-
ered in her a mind which, while it charmed me by its
tenderness and freshness, elevated me by its loftiness of
thought. She was at heart, perhaps, as ambitious as
myself; but while my aspirations were concealed by afFec-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 313

tation, hers were softened by her timidity, and purified
by her religion. There were moments when I opened
myself to her, and caught a new spirit from her look of
sympathy and enthusiasm.

" Yes, " thought I, " I do long for honors, but it is
that I may ask her to share and ennoble them." In
fine, I loved as other men loved, — and I fancied a per-
fection in her, and vowed an emulation in myself, which
it was reserved for time to ratify or deride.

Where did I leave myself? as the Irishman said: on
my road to Lord Dawton's. I was lucky enough to find
that personage at home ; he was writing at a table covered
'with pamphlets and books of reference.

" Hush ! Pelham, " said his lordship, who is a quiet,
grave, meditative little man, always ruminating on a
very small cud, — " hush ! or do oblige me by looking over
this history, to find out the date of the Council of Pisa.
" That will do, my young friend, " said his lordship,
after I had furnished him with the information he re-
quired, — "I wish to Heaven I could finish this pamph-
let by to-morrow ; it is intended as an answer to .

But I am so perplexed with business, that — "

" Perhaps, " said I, " if you will pardon my interrupt-
ing you, I can throw your observations together, — make
your Sibylline leaves into a book. Your lordship will
find the matter, and I will not spare the trouble. "

Lord Dawton was profuse in his thanks ; he explained
the subject, and left the arrangement wholly to me. He
could not presume to dictate. I promised him, if he
lent me the necessary books, to finish the pamphlet
against the following evening.

" And now, " said Lord Dawton, " that we have settled
this affair, — what news from France 1 "

314 PELHAM; OB,

" I wish, " sighed Lord Dawton, as we were calculating
our forces, " that we could gain over Lord Giiloseton."

" What, the facetious epicure ? " said I.

" The same, " answered Dawton : " we want him as a
dinner-giver; and, besides, he has four votes in the
Lower House."

" Well, " said I, " he is indolent and independent, —
it is not impossible."

" Do you know him ? " answered Dawton.

" No, " said I

Dawton sighed : " And young A 1 " said the

statesman, after a pause.

" Has an expensive mistress and races. Your lordship
might be sure of him, were you in power, and sure not
to have him while you are out of it. "

" And B 1 " rejoined Dawton.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 315

CHAPTER LVIII.

Mangez-vous bien, Monsieur ?

Oui, et bois encore mieux. — Mons. de Force augnao.

My pamphlet took prodigiously. The authorship was
attributed to one of the ablest members of the Opposi-
tion; and though there were many errors in style, and
(I now think, — then I did not, or I should not have
written them) many sophisms in the reasoning, yet it
carried the end proposed by all ambition of whatever
species, — and imposed upon the taste of the public.

Some time afterwards, I was going down the stairs at
Almack's, when I heard an altercation, high and grave,
at the door of reception. To my surprise I found Lord
Guloseton and a very young man in great wrath; the
latter had never been to Almack's before, and had for-
gotten his ticket. Guloseton, who belonged to a very
different set from that of the Almackians, insisted that
his word was enough to bear his juvenile companion
through. The ticket-inspector was irate and obdurate,
and, having seldom or never seen Lord Guloseton him-
self, paid very little respect to his authority.

As I was wrapping myself in my cloak, Guloseton
turned to me, for passion makes men open their hearts :
too eag^r for an opportunity of acquiring the epicure's
acquaintance, I offered to get his friend admittance in
an instant; the offer was delightedly accepted, and I
soon procured a small piece of pencilled paper from

Lady , which effectually silenced the Charon, and

opened the Stygian via to the Elysium beyond.

316 PELHAM ; OR,

Guloseton overwhelmed me with his thanks. I re-
mounted the stairs with him ; took every opportunity of
ingratiating myself ; received an invitation to dinner on
the following day, and left Willis's transported at the
goodness of my fortune.

At the hour of eight on the ensuing evening, I had
just made my entrance in Lord Guloseton's drawing-
room. It was a small apartment, furnished with great
luxury and some taste. A " Venus " of Titian's was
placed over the chimney-piece in all the gorgeous volup-
tuousness of her unveiled beauty, — the pouting lip, not
silent though shuty the eloquent lid drooping over the
eye, whose glances you could so easily imagine, the
arms, the limbs, the attitude, so composed, yet so full
of life, — all seemed to indicate that sleep was not for-
getfulness, and that the dreams of the goddess were not
wholly inharmonious with the waking realities in which
it was her gentle prerogative to indulge. On either side
was a picture of the delicate and golden hues of Claude;
these were the only landscapes in the room : the remain-
ing pictures were more suitable to the " Venus " of the
luxurious Italian. Here was one of the beauties of Sir
Peter Lely ; there was an admirable copy of the " Hero
and Leander. " On the table lay the " Basia " of Johannes
Secundus, and a few French works on gastronomy.

As for the genius loci^ — you must imagine a middle-
sized, middle-aged man, with an air rather of delicate
than florid health. But little of the effects of his good
cheer were apparent in the external man. His cheeks
were neither swollen nor inflated; his person, though
not thin, was of no unwieldy obesity; the tip of his
nasal organ was, it is true, of a more ruby tinge than the
rest, and one carbuncle, of tender age and gentle dyes,
diffused its mellow and moonlight influence over the

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 317

physiognomical scenery; his forehead was high and bald,
and the few locks which still rose ahove it were care-
fully and gracefully curled a V antique. Beneath a pair
of gray, shaggy brows (which their noble owner had a
strange habit of raising and depressing, according to the
nature of his remarks) rolled two very small, piercing,
arch, restless orbs, of a tender green; and the mouth,
which was wide and thick-lipped, was expressive of
great sensuality, and curved upwards in a perpetual
smile.

Such was Lord Guloseton. To my surprise no other
guest but myself appeared.

" A new friend," said he, as we descended into the
dining-room, " is like a new dish, — one must have him
all to one's self, thoroughly to enjoy and rightly to
understand him."

"A noble precept," said I, with enthusiasm. "Of
all vices, indiscriminate hospitality is the most perni-
cious. It allows neither conversation nor dinner, and,
realizing the mythological fable of Tantalus, gives us
starvation in the midst of plenty."

" You are right," said Guloseton, solemnly; " I never
ask above six persons to dinner, and I never dine out:
for a bad dinner, Mr. Pelham, a bad dinner is the most
serious, — I may add, the most serious calamity. "

"Yes," I replied; " for it carries with it no consola-
tion. A buried friend may be replaced ; a lost mistress
renewed; a slandered character be recovered; even a
broken constitution restored, — but a dinner once lost is
irremediable ; that day is forever departed. An appetite
once thrown away can never, till the cruel prolixity of
the gastric agents is over, be regained. ^E y a tant de
mattresses y^ says the admirable Corneille, 'il li'y a
qu^un diner.' "

,^1 _• - _ :. i:_ ' Z ""S-^ 1 ^ -1 -=• Ti»* ¥' ■■:" . it i? i ?fl

::^.^ " ' z i^ ii - '•!»* ?r-!L l~L:m-r** tt^tt in onf

I.. . -- T z '_:r "i jLi^-i: Lf r:--i il»* f^-r-?l delight

r T "ir- '!•-"'- ■! if T -w ^-^ li ii.'i»-«^i- m Ti?? which

>. ♦:.- *T —n-i' fcf "^T'-l fci i" **rT-^i:*7S it: it is a

•• ■! *: *_:tt '■ '„i~^ c J*r'~ t^j!*!- Mt ^.nfcieiice tor-
ii-:"-L ZL- "• 1' Tjj* lii' .":. il^lIZt ii.I:Ll^l in early
'. : .„ •! TL- z. c -fk^ V iTrrr n-r- At last I le-
r .'*-! *:: '• i^-^T-yr. i *r»» c :f i»r:^:ir!T shallow dimen-
• - lA L : '£ •- rZLLll. :Li.: :• ^ ili -ilIt raise a certain
:» ". L 1 zi^ n 111. IZ.Z. a kr-ifr- rrnirred blunt and
'i...-i 4»: :!: ii :: re'^ir^f i zr:r«rr ani j'list time to carve
::.' J • •!• * :lr r ^i^ ir.Tiir n^.' Mt lor»l, * the lovely
T:-i.» *.:• '►^'i ir n-r * in tlr firm of a bottle of Madeira.

.^-A-T ■.nr •ri»^ T.'^ J

h TlrL--:rr. nv ^-->i friend: let us drink to the
n:^ri.'.rr :f :Ltr <_*im.r:!:te5, to whom we are indebted for

I'a^^ ~ « <^« «^^ > •'3 «~ ^*^ ^ t^.

" Ye* ! " I cried. " Let us for once shake off the
prf-j^Iic^? of a^ctarian faith, and do justice to one order
of those incomparable men, who, retiring from the cares
of an idle and sinful world, gave themselves with un-
divided zeal and attention to the theory and practice of
the profound science of gastronomy. It is reserved for
us to pay a grateful tribute of memory to those exalted
recluses, who, through a long period of barbarism and

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 319

darkmess, preserved in the solitude of their cloisters
wliatever of Roman luxury and classic dainties have
come down to this later age. We will drink to the
Carmelites as a sect, but we will drink also to the monks
as a body. Had we lived in those days, we had been
monks ourselves! "

*' It is singular," answered Lord Guloseton — "by

tlie by, what think you of this turbot? — to trace the

history of the kitchen; it aifords the greatest scope to

t"he philosopher and the moralist. The ancients seemed

to have been more mental, more imaginative, than we

are, in their dishes; they fed their bodies as well as

tlieir minds upon delusion: for instance, they esteemed

heyond all price the tongues of nightingales, because

tliey tasted the very music of the birds in the organs of

tlieir utterance. That is what I call the poetry of

gastronomy ! "

" Yes," said I, with a sigh, "they certainly had, in
some respects, the advantage over us. Who can pore
over the suppers of Apicius without the fondest regret?
The venerable Tide ^ implies that the study has not pro-
gressed. ^Cookery,' he says, in the first part of his
work, ^ possesses but few innovators. * "

" It is with the greatest diffidence," said Guloseton,
his mouth full of truth and turbot, " that we may dare
to differ from so great an authority. Indeed, so high is
my veneration for that wise man, that if all the evidence
of my sense and reason were on one side, and the dictum
of the great Ude upon the other, I should be inclined —
I think, I should he determined — to relinquish the
former, and adopt the latter. " ^

" Bravo, Lord Guloseton," cried I, warmly. " ' Qu^un

1 Qu. The venerable Bede 1 — Printer* s Devil.

^ See the speech of Mr. Brougham in honor of Mr. Fox.

320 PELHAM ; OR,

cuisinier est un mortel divin I ' Why should we not be
proud of our knowledge in cookery ? It is the soul of
festivity at all times, and to all ages. How many mar-
riages have been the consequence of meeting at dinner ?
How much good fortune has been the result of a good
supper ? At what moment of our existence are we hap-
pier than at table? There hatred and animosity are
lulled to sleep, and pleasure alone reigns. Here the
cook, by his skill and attention, anticipates our wishes
in the happiest selection of the best dishes and decora-
tions. Here our wants are satisfied, our minds and
bodies invigorated, and ourselves qualified for the high
delights of love, music, poetry, dancing, and other
pleasures ; and is he , whose talents have produced these
happy effects , to rank no higher in the scale of man than
a common servant 1 ^

" * Yes,^ cries the venerable professor himself, in a vir-
tuous and prophetic paroxysm of indignant merit, — *yes,
my disciples, if you adopt, and attend to the rules I
have laid down, the self-love of mankind will con-
sent at last, that cookery shall rank in the class of

the sciences, and its professors deserve the name of

artists! '"2

"My dear, dear sir,'' exclaimed Guloseton, with a
kindred glow, " I discover in you a spirit similar to my
own. Let us drink long life to the venerable Ude ! "

" I pledge you, with all my soul," said I, filling my
glass to the brim.

" What a pity," rejoined Guloseton, " that Ude, whose
practical science was so perfect, should ever have writ-
ten, or suffered others to write, the work published under
his name; true it is, that the opening part, which you
have so feelingly recited, is composed with a grace, a

1 Ude, verbatim. * Ibid.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 321

charm beyond the reach of art ; but the instructions are
vapid, and frequently so erroneous as to make us suspect
their authenticity; but, after all, cooking is not capable
of becoming a written science, — it is the philosophy of
practice ! "

" Ah! by Lucullus," exclaimed I, interrupting my
host, "what a visionary hechamelle! Oh, the inimi-
table sauce; these chickens are indeed worthy of the
honor of being dressed. Never, my lord, as long as you
live, eat a chicken in the country; excuse a pun, you
will have foul fare.

* J'ai toujoiirs redoute la volaille perfide,
Qui brave les efforts d'une dent intrepide.
Souvent, par un ami dans ses champs entrain^,
J'ai reconnu le soir le coq infortun^
Qui m'avait le matin h. Taurore naissante
E^veilM brusqueraent de sa voix glapissante ;
Je I'avais admir^ dans le sein de la cour ;
Avec des yeux jaloux, j'avais vu son amour.
H^las ! le malheureux, abjurant sa tendresse,
ExerQait au souper sa fureur vengeresse.* ^

" Pardon the prolixity of my quotation for the sake of
its value."

" I do, I do," answered Guloseton, laughing at the
humor of the lines: till, suddenly checking himself, he

1 Ever I dread (when duped a day to spend
At his snug villa, by some fatal friend)
Grim chanticleer, whose breast, devoid of ruth,
Braves the stout effort of the desperate tooth.
Oft have I recognized at eve, the bird
Whose morning notes my ear prophetic heard,
Whose tender courtship won my pained regard,
Amidst the plumed seraglio of the yard.
Tender no more, — behold him in your plate, —
And know, while eating, you avenge his fate.
VOL. I. — 21

322 PELHAM; OR,

said, " We must be grave, Mr. Pelham, it will never
do to laugh. What would become of our digestions? "

" True," said I, relapsing into seriousness; "and if
you will allow me one more quotation, you will see what
my author adds with regard to any abrupt interruption.

* Defendez que personne, an milieu d'un banquet,
Ne vous vienne donner un avis iudiscret ;
Ecartez ce fsicheux qui vers vous s^acbemine ;
Eien ne doit derauger Thonnete homme qui dine.' " ^

" Admirable advice," said Guloseton, toying with a
filet mignon de poulet, " Do you remember an example
in the Bailly of Suffren, who, being in India, was waited
upon by a deputation of natives while he was at dinner.
* Tell them,' said he, * that the Christian religion per-
emptorily forbids every Christian, while at table, to
occupy himself with any earthly subject, except the
function of eating. * The deputation retired in the pro-
foundest respect at the exceeding devotion of the French
general. "

" Well," said I, after we had chuckled gravely and
quietly, with the care of our digestion before us, for a
few minutes, — " well, however good the invention was,
the idea is not entirely new; for the Greeks esteemed
eating and drinking plentifully, a sort of offering to
the gods; and Aristotle explains the very word, ©oti/ai,
or feasts, by an etymological exposition, * that it was
thought a duty to the gods to he drunk; ' no bad idea of
our classical patterns of antiquity. Polypheme, too, in
the Cyclops of Euripides, no doubt a very sound theolo-

^ At meals no access to the indiscreet ;
All are intruders on the wise who eat.
In that blest hour, your bore *s the veriest sinner !
Nought must disturb a man of worth — at dinner.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 323

gian, says his stomach is his only deity ; and Xenophon
tells us, that as the Athenians exceeded all other people
in the number of their gods, so they exceeded them also
ilk the number of their feasts. May I send your lord-
ship a quail 1 "

" Pelham, my boy," said Guloseton, whose eyes began
to roll and twinkle with a brilliancy suited to the vari-
ous liquids which ministered to their rejoicing orbs; '* I
love you for your classics. Polypheme was a wise fel-
low, a very wise fellow, and it was a terrible shame
in Ulysses to put out his eye ! No wonder that the
ingenious savage made a deity of his stomach ; to what
known visible source, on this earth, was he indebted for
a keener enjoyment, — a more rapturous and a more con-
stant delight? No wonder he honored it with his grati-
tude, and supplied it with his peace-offerings: let us
imitate so great an example ; let us make our digestive
receptacles a temple, to which we will consecrate the
choicest goods we possess; let us conceive no pecuniary
sacrifice too great, which procures for our altar an accept-
able gift; let us deem it an impiety to hesitate, if a
sauce seems extravagant or an ortolan too dear ; and let
our last act in this sublunary existence be a solemn fes-
tival in honor of our unceasing benefactor! "

" Amen to your creed ! " said I : " edibilatory epi-
curism holds the key to all morality ; for do we not see
now how sinful it is to yield to an obscene and exag-
gerated intemperance ? — would it not be to the last de-
gree ungrateful to the great source of our enjoyment, to
overload it with a weight which would oppress it with
languor, or harass it with pain; and finally to drench
away the effects of our impiety with some nauseous
potation which revolts it, tortures it, convulses, irri-
tates, enfeebles it, through every particle of its system?

324 PELHAM; OB,

How wrong in us to give way to anger, jealousy, revenge,
or any evil passion; for does not all that affects the mind
operate also upon the stomach; and how can we be so
vicious, so obdurate, as to forget, for a momentary in-
dulgence, our debt to what you have so justly designated
our perpetual benefactor ? "

"Right," said Lord Guloseton, *a bumper to the
morality of the stomach."

The dessert was now on the table. " T have dined
well," said Guloseton, stretching his legs with an air of
supreme satisfaction ; ** but — " and here my philosopher
sighed deeply — "we cannot dine again till to-morrow /
Happy, happy, happy common people, who can eat
supper ! Would to Heaven that I might have one boon,
perpetual appetite, — a digestive Houri which renewed
its virginity every time it was touched. Alas! for the
instability of human enjoyment. But now that we have
no immediate hope to anticipate, let us cultivate the
pleasures of memory. What thought you of the veau a
la Dauphine ? "

" Pardon me if I hesitate at giving my opinion till I
have corrected my judgment by yours."

"Why, then, I own I was somewhat displeased —
disappointed, as it were — with that dish; the fact is,
veal ought to be killed in its very first infancy; they
suffer it to grow to too great an age. It becomes a sort
of hohhledehoyy and possesses nothing of veal but its
insipidity, or of beef but its toughness."

"Yes," said I," it is only in their veal that the
French surpass us; their other meats want the ruby

juices and elastic freshness of ours. Monsieur L

allowed this truth, with a candor worthy of his vast
mind. Mon Dieuf what claret! — what a body! and,
let me add, what a soul beneath it! Who would drink

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 325

wine like this? it is only made to taste. It is the first
love, — too pure for the eagerness of enjoyment; the
rapture it inspires is in a touch, a kiss. It is a pity,
my lord, that we do not serve perfumes at dessert ; it is
their appropriate place. In confectionery (delicate in-
vention of the Sylphs) we imitate the forms of the rose
and the jasmine; why not their odors tool What is
nature without its scents! — and as long as they are ab-
sent from our desserts, it is in vain that the bard
exclaims, -^

* L'observateur de la belle Nature,
S'extasie en voyant des fleurs en confiture.' "

** It is an exquisite idea of yours," said Guloseton, —
" and the next time you dine here we will have perfumes.
Dinner ought to be a reunion of all the senses, —

f »

' Gladness to the ear, nerve, heart, and sense.

There was a momentary pause. "My lord," said I,
" what a lusty lusciousness in this pear! it is like the
style of the old English poets. What think you of the
seeming good understanding between Mr. Gaskell and
the Whigs ? "

" I trouble myself little about it," replied Guloseton,
helping himself to some preserves ; " politics disturb
the digestion."

" Well," thought I, " I must ascertain some point in
this man's character easier to handle than his epicurism :
all men are vain : let us find out the peculiar vanity of
mine host.

"The ultra -Tories," said I, "seem to think them-
selves exceedingly secure; they attach no importance
to the neutral members ; it was but the other day Lord
told me that he did not care a straw for Mr. ,

326 PELHAM ; OB,

notwithstanding he possessed four votes. Heard you
ever such arrogance ? "

"No, indeed/' said Guloseton, with a lazy air of
indifference ; " are you a favorer of the olive % "

** No," said I, " I love it not; it hath an under taste
of sourness, and an upper of oil, which do not make
harmony to my palate. But, as I was saying, the
Whigs, on the contrary, pay the utmost deference to
their partisans; and a man ot fortmie, rank, and parlia-
mentary influence, might have all the power, without
the trouble of a leader."

" Very likely," said Guloseton, drowsily.

"I must change my battery," thought I; but while
I was meditating a new attack, the following note was
brought me; —

For Heaven's sake, Pelham, come out to me : I am waiting
in the street to see you ; come directly, or it will be too late
to render me the service I would ask of you.

R. Glanville.

I rose instantly. " You must excuse me. Lord Gulo-
seton, I am called suddenly away."

" Ha ! ha ! " laughed the gourmand ; " some tempting
viand, — post prandia Callirho'e ! "

" My good lord," said I, not heeding his insinuation,
" I leave you with the greatest regret. "

" And I part from you with the same ; it is a real
pleasure to see such a person at dinner. "

" Adieu! my host, — je vais vivre et manger en sage, "

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 327

CHAPTER LIX.

I do defy him, and I spit at him.

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain —

Which to maintain I will allow him odds. — Shakespeabe.

I POUND Glanville walking before the door with a rapid
and uneven step.

^ Thank Heaven ! " he said, when he saw me ; " I have
beeii twice to Mivart's to find you. The second time, I
saw your servant, who told me where you were gone. I
knew you well enough to be sure of your kindness. "

Glanville broke off abruptly ; and after a short pause
said, with a quick, low, hurried tone, " The office I
wish you to take upon yourself is this : go immediately
to Sir John Tyrrell, with a challenge from me. Ever
since I last saw you, I have been hunting out that man,
and in vain. He had then left town. He returned this
evening, and quits it to-morrow j you have no time to
lose. "

" My dear Glanville," said I, " I have no wish to learn
any secret you would conceal from me ; but forgive me
if I ask some further instructions than those you have
afforded me. Upon what plea am I to call out Sir John
Tyrrell ; and what answer am I to give to any excuses
he may make ? "

** 1 have anticipated your reply," said Glanville, with
ill-subdued impatience; "you have only to give this
paper; it will prevent all discussion. Read it; I have
left it unsealed for that purpose. "

I cast my eyes over the lines Glanville thrust into my
Ikand; they ran thus: —

The time hoa at length come for me to demand the atone-
ment 80 long delayed. The bearer of this, who is probably
known t« you, will arrange, with any person you may appoint,
the hour and place of our meeting. He is unacquainted with
the grounds of my complaint against you, but he is satisfied of
luy honor i your second will, I presume, be the same with re-
speet to yota-i. It is for me only to question the latter, and to
declare you solemnly to be void alike of principle and courage,
a villain, and a poltroon.

Reginald Qlantille.

" You are my earliest friend," said I, when I had
read this soothing epistle; " and I will not fiinch from
the place you assign me; but I tell you fairly and
frankly, that 1 would sooner cut off my right hand than
suffer it to give this note to Sir John Tyrrell."

Glanville made no answer; we walked on till, sud-
denly stop[)ing, he said, " My carriage is at the corner of
the street; you must go instantly. Tyrrell lodges at the
Clarendon; you will find me at home on your return."

I pressed his hand and hurried on my mission. Jt
was, I own, one peculiarly unwelcome and displeasing.
In the first place, I did not love to he made a party in
a business of the nature of which I was so profoundly
ignorant. Secondly, if the affair terminated fatally, the
world would not lightly condemn me for conveying to a
gentleman of birth and fortune a letter so insulting, and
for causes of which I was so ignorant. Again, too,
Glanville was moi
only of my extemi
stitutionally indiff
trembled like a w(
in bringing upon I

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 329

more than any of these reflections, was the recollection
of Ellen. Should her brother fall in an engagement in
which I was his supposed adviser, with what success
could T hope for those feelings from her which at pres-
ent constituted the tenderest and the brightest of my
hopes? In the midst of these disagreeable ideas the
carriage stopped at the door of Tyrrell's hotel.

The waiter said Sir John was in the coffee-room;
thither I immediately marched. Seated in the box
nearest the fire sat Tyrrell and two men of that old-
fashioned roue set, whose members indulged in de-
bauchery as if it were an attribute of manliness, and
esteemed it, as long as it were hearty and English,
rather a virtue to boast of, than a vice to disown.
Tyrrell nodded to me familiarly as I approached him ;
and I saw, by the half -emptied bottles before him, and
the flush of his sallow countenance, that he had not been
sparing of his libations. I whispered that I wished to
speak to him on a subject of great importance ; he rose
with much reluctance, and, after swallowing a large tum-
blerful of port wine to fortify him for the task, he led
the way to a small room, where he seated himself, and
asked me, with his usual mixture of bluntness and
good-breeding, the nature of my business. I made him
no reply. I contented myself with placing Glanville's
billet-doux in his hand. The room was dimly lighted
with a single candle, and the small and capricious fire,
near which the gambler was seated, threw its upward
light, by starts and intervals, over the strong features
and deep lines of his countenance. It would have been
a study worthy of Rembrandt.

I drew my chair near him, and, half shading my eyes
with my hand, sat down in silence to mark the effect
the letter would produce. Tyrrell (I imagine) was a

330 PELHAM^ OB,

man originally of hardy nerves, and had been thrown
much into the various situations of life where the dis-
guise of all outward emotion is easily and insensibly
taught; but whether his frame had been shattered by
his excesses, or that the insulting language of the note
touched him to the quick, he seemed perfectly unable
to govern his feelings; the lines were written hastily,
and the light, as I said before, was faint and imper-
fect, and he was forced to pause over each word as he
proceeded, so that " the iron" had full time to** enter
into his soul."

Passion, however, developed itself differently in him
than in Glanville: in the latter it was a rapid transi-
tion of powerful feelings, — one angry wave dashing
over another ; it was the passion of a strong and keenly
susceptible mind, to which every sting was a dagger,
and which used the force of a giant to dash away the
insect which attacked it. In Tyrrell, it was passion
acting on a callous mind, but a broken frame : his hand
trembled violently; his voice faltered; he could scarcely
command the muscles which enabled him to speak ; but
there was no fiery start, no indignant burst, no flashing
forth of the soul , — in him it was the body overcoming
and paralyzing the mind; in Glanville it was the mind
governing and convulsing the body.

" Mr. Pelham," he said at last, after a few pre-
liminary efforts to clear his voice, " this note requires
some consideration. I know not at present whom to
appoint as my second; will you call upon me early
to-morrow 1 "

'* I am sorry," said I, " that my sole instructions were
to get an immediate answer from you. Surely either of
the gentlemen I saw with you would officiate as your
second ? "

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 331

Tyrrell made no reply for some moments. He was
endeavoring to compose himself, and in some measure
lie succeeded. He raised his head with a haughty air
of defiance, and tearing the paper deliberately, though
still with uncertain and trembling fingers, he stamped
his foot upon the atoms.

" Tell your principal," said he, " that I retort upon
him the foul and false words he has uttered against me ;
that I trample upon his assertions with the same scorn
I feel towards himself; and that before this hour to-
morrow I will confront him to death as through life.
Tor the rest, Mr. Pelham, I cannot name my second till
the morning; leave me your address, and you shall hear
from me before you are stirring. Have you anything
farther with me ? "

" Nothing," said I, laying jny card on the table. " I
have fulfilled the most ungrateful cjiarge ever intrusted
to me. I wish you good-night. "

I re-entered the carriage, and drove to Glanville's.
I broke into the room rather abruptly; Glanville was
leaning on the table, and gazing intently on a small
miniature. A pistol-case lay beside him: one of the
pistols in order for use, and the other still unarranged.
The room was, as usual, covered with books and papers,
and on the costly cushions of the ottoman lay the large,
black dog, which I remembered well as his companion
of yore, and which he kept with him constantly, as the
only thing in the world whose society he could at all
times bear; the animal lay curled up, with its quick,
black eye fixed watchfully upon its master, and directly
I entered, it uttered, though without moving, a low,
warning growl.

Glanville looked up, and in some confusion thrust
the picture into a drawer of the table, and asked me

332 PELHAM; OR,

my news. I told him word for word what had passed.
Glanville set his teeth, and clenched his hand firmly;
and then, as if his anger was at once appeased, he sud-
denly changed the subject and tone of our conversation.
He spoke with great cheerfulness and humor on the
various topics of the day, touched upon politics,
laughed at Lord Guloseton, and seemed as indifferent
and unconscious of the event of the morrow as my
peculiar constitution would have rendered myself.

When I rose to depart, for I had too great an interest
in hirn to feel much for the subjects he conversed on, he
said, " I shall write one line to my mother, and another
to my poor sister; you will deliver them if I fall, for
I have sworn that one of us shall not quit the ground
alive. I shall be all impatience to know the hour you
will arrange with Tyrrell's second. God bless you,
and farewell for the present."

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 333

CHAPTER LX.

Charge, Chester, charge ! — Marmion.

Though this was one of the first mercantile transactions of my life,
I had no doubt about acquitting myself with reputation. —
Vicar of Wakefield,

The next morning T was at breakfast when a packet was
brought me from Tyrrell; it contained a sealed letter
to Glanville, and a brief note to myself. The letter I
transcribe : —

My dear Sir, — The enclosed letter to Sir Reginald Glan-
ville will explain my reasons for not keeping my pledge ;
suffice it to state to you, that they are such as wholly to ex-
onerate me, and fairly to satisfy Sir Reginald. It will be
useless to call upon me ; I leave town before you will receive
this. Respect for myself obliges me to add that, although
there are circumstances to forbid my meeting Sir Reginald
Glanville, there are none to prevent my demanding satisfac-
tion of any one, whoever he may he^ who shall deem himself
authorized to call my motives into question. I have the

honor^ etc.

John Tyrrell.

It was not till I had thrice read this letter that
I could credit its contents. From all I had seen of
Tyrrfell's character, I had no reason to suspect him to
be less courageous than the generality of worldly men.
And yet, when I considered the violent language of
Glanville's letter, and Tyrrell's apparent resolution the
night before, I scarcely knew to what more honorable
motive than the want of courage to attribute his con-

334 PELHAM; OR,

duct. However, T lost no time in despatching^ the
whole packet to Glanville, with a few lines from my-
self, saying I should call in an hour.

When I fulfilled this promise, Glanville's servant
told me his master had gone out immediately on read-
ing the letters I had sent, and had merely left word
that he should not return home the whole day. That
night he was to have brought an important motion
before the House. A message from him, pleading
sudden and alarming illness, devolved this duty upon
another member of his party. Lord Dawton was in
despair; the motion was lost by a great majority; the
papers, the whole of that week, were filled with the
most triumphant abuse and ridicule of the Whigs.
Never was that unhappy and persecuted party reduced
to so low an ebb; never did there seem a fainter prob-
ability of their coming into power. They appeared
almost annihilated, — a mere nominis umbra.

On the eighth day from Glanvi lie's disappearance, a
sudden event in the cabinet threw the whole country
into confusion; the Tories trembled to the very soles
of their easy slippers of sinecure and office ; the eyes of
tbe public were turned to the Whigs, and chance seemed
to effect in an instant that change in their favor which
all their toil, trouble, eloquence, and art, had been
unable for so many years to render even a remote
probability.

But there was a strong though secret party in the
state that, concealed under a general name, worked
only for a private end, and made a progress in number
and respectability, not the less sure for being but little
suspected. Foremost among the leaders of this party
was Lord Vincent. Dawton, who regarded them with
fear and jealousy, considered the struggle rather between

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 335

them and himself, than any longer between himself and
the Tories; and strove, while it was yet time, to rein-
force himself by a body of allies, which, should the con-
test really take place, might be certain of giving him
the superiority. The Marquess of Chester was among
the most powerful of the neutral noblemen; it was
of the greatest importance to gain him to the cause.
He was a sturdy, sporting, independent man, who lived
chiefly in the country, and turned his ambition rather
towards promoting the excellence of quadrupeds, than
the bad passions of men. To this personage Lord Daw-
ton implored me to be the bearer of a letter, and to aid,
with all the dexterity in my power, the purpose it was
intended to effect. It was the most consequential mis-
sion yet intrusted to me, and I felt eager to turn my
diplomatic energies to so good an account. Accord-
ingly, one bright morning I wrapped myself carefully
in my cloak, placed my invaluable person safely in my
carriage, and set off to Chester Park, in the county of
Suffolk.

336 PELHAM; OB,

CHAPTER LXI.

Hinc canibns blandis rabies Tenit. — Vikg. Gearg.

I SHOULD have mentioned, that the day after I sent to
Glanville Tyrreirs commnnieation, I received a short
and hnnied note from the former, saying that he had
left London in pursuit of Tyrrell, and that he would
not rest till he had hrought him to account. In the
hurry of the puhlic events in which I had been of late
so actively engaged, my mind had not had leisure to
dwell much upon Glanville ; but when I was alone in
my carriage, that singular being, and the mystery which
attended him, forced themselves upon my reflection, in
spite of all the importance of my mission.

I was leaning back in my carriage, at (I think) Ware,
while they were changing horses, when a voice, strongly
associated with my meditations, struck upon my ear. I
looked out, and saw Thornton standing in the yard,
attired with all his original smartness of boot and
breeches; he was employed in smoking a cigar, sip-
ping brandy-and-water, and exercising his conversa-
tional talents in a mixture of slang and jockey ism,
addressed to two or three men of bis own rank of life,
and seemingly his companions. His brisk eye soon dis-
covered me, and he swaggered to the carriage door with
that ineffable assurance of manner which was so pecul-
iarly his own.

"Ah, ah, Mr. Pelham," said he, "going to New-
market, I suppose ? Bound there myself, — like to be
found among my betters^ Ha, ha, — excuse a pun;

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 337

what odds on the favorite? What, you won't bet,
Mr. Pelham? close and sly at present; well, the silent
sow sups up all the broth^ — ehl "

" I 'm not going to Newmarket," I replied; " I never
attend races."

" Indeed ! " answered Thornton. " Well , if I was as
rich as you, I would soon make or spend a fortune on
the course. Seen Sir John Tyrrell? No! He is to
be there. Nothing can cure him of gambling, — what 's
bred in the bone, etc. Good-day, Mr. Pelham; won't
keep you any longer, — sharp shower coming on. * The
devil will soon be basting his wife with a leg of mut-
ton,' as the proverb says. Servant, Mr. Pelham."

And at these words my post-boy started , and released
me from my bete noire. I spare my reader an account
of my miscellaneous reflections on Thornton, Dawton,
Vincent, politics, Glanville, and Ellen ^ and will land
him, without further delay, at Chester Park.

I was ushered through a large oak hall of the reign of
James I. , into a room strongly resembling the principal
apartment of a club; two or three round tables were
covered with newspapers, journals, racing calendars, etc.
An enormous fireplace was crowded with men of all
ages, — I had almost said of all ranks; but however
various they might appear in their mien and attire,
they were wholly of the patrician order. One thing,
however, in this room, belied its likeness to the apart-
ment of a club, — namely, a number of dogs, that lay
in scattered groups upon the floor. Before the windows
were several horses, in body-cloths, led to exercise upon
a plain in the park, levelled as smooth as a bowling-
green at Putney; and, stationed at an oriel window, in
earnest attention to the scene without, were two men, —
the tallest of these was Lord Chester. There was a

VOL. I. —22

338 PELHA^r; or,

stiffness and inelegance in his address which prepos-
sessed me strongly against him. ^ Les man ie res que Von
neglige comme de petites chases, sont souvent ce qui fait
que les hommes decident de vous en biefi ou en mal. " ^

I had long since, when I was at the University, heen
introduced to Lord Chester; but I had quite forgotten
his person, and he the very circumstance. I said, in a
low tone, that I was the bearer of a letter of some im-
portance from our mutual friend. Lord Dawton, and
that I should request the honor of a private interview
at Lord Chester's first convenience.

His lordship bowed, with an odd mixture of the
civility of a jockey and the hauteur of a head groom
of the stud, and led the way to a small apartment,
which I afterwards discovered he called his own. (I
never could make out, by the way, why in England the
very worst room in the house is always appropriated to
the master of it, and dignified by the appellation of " the
gentleman's own. ") I gave the Newmarket grandee the
letter intended for him, and, quietly seating myself,
awaited the result.

He read it through slowly and silently, and then,
taking out a huge pocket-book, full of racing bets,
horses' ages, jockey opinions, and such like memo-
randa, he placed it with much solemnity among this
dignified company, and said, with a cold, but would-
be courteous air: " My friend. Lord Dawton, says you
are entirely in his confidence, Mr. Pelham. I hope
you will honor me with your company at Chester Park
for two or three days, during which time I shall have
leisure to reply to Lord Dawton's letter. Will you
take some refreshment ] '^

^ The manners which one neglects as trifles, are often precisely
that by which men decide on you favorably or the reverse.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 339

I answered the first sentence in the affirmative, and
the latter in the negative; and Lord Chester, thinking
it perfectly unnecessary to trouble himself with any
further questions or remarks which the whole jockey
club might not hear, took me back into the room we
bad quitted, and left me to find, or make, whatever
acquaintance I could. Pampered and spoiled as I was
in the most difficult circles of London, I was beyond
measure indignant at the cavalier demeanor of this
rustic thane, who, despite his marquisate and his
acres, was not less below me in the aristocracy of
i^ncient birth, than in that of cultivated intellect. I
looked round the room, and did not recognize a being
of my acquaintance. I seemed literally thrown into a
new world; the very language in which the conversa-
tion was held, sounded strange to my ear. I had always
transgressed my general rule of knowing all men in all
grades, in the single respect of sporting characters;
they were a species of bipeds that I would never recog-
nize as belonging to the human race. Alas! I now
found the bitter effects of not following my usual
maxims. It is a dangerous thing to encourage too
great a disdain of one's inferiors; pride must have a
fall.

After I had been a whole quarter of an hour in this
strange place, my better genius came to my aid. Since I
found no society among the two-legged brutes, I turned
to the quadrupeds. At one corner of the room lay a
black terrier of the true English breed ; at another was
a short, sturdy, wiry one, of the Scotch. I soon formed
a friendship with each of these canine Pelei (little
bodies with great souls), and, then, by degrees alluring
them from their retreat to the centre of the room, T
fairly endeavored to set them by the ears. Thanks to

340 pelham; or,

the national antipathy, I succeeded to my heart's con-
tent. The contest soon aroused the other individuals
of the genus, — up they started from their repose, like
Roderic Dhu's merry men, and incontinently flocked to
the scene of hattle. The example hecame contagious.
In a very few moments the whole room was a scene of
uproarious confusion; the heasts yelled, and bit, and
struggled with tBe most delectable ferocity. To add
to the effect, the various owners of the dogs crowded
round, — some to stimulate, others to appease, the fury
of the combatants. At length, the conflict was assuaged.
By dint of blows, and kicks, and remonstrances from
their dignified proprietors, the dogs slowly withdrew,
— one with the loss of half an ear, another with a
mouth increased by one -half of its natural dimensions,
and, in short, every one of the combatants with some
token of the severity of the conflict. I did not wait
for the thunderstorm I foresaw in the inquiry as to the
origin of the war; I rose with a nonchalant yawn of
ennuiy marched out of the apartment, called a servant,
demanded my own room, repaired to it, and immersed
the internal faculties of my head in Mignet's " History
of the Revolution," while Bedos busied himself in its
outward embellishment.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 341

CHAPTER LXII.

Noster ludos spectaverat unk,
Luserat in campo, Fortunse filius, omnes. — Hos.

I DID not leave my room till the first dinner-bell had
ceased a sufficient time to allow me the pleasing hope
that I should have but a few moments to wait in the
drawing-room, previously to the grand epoch and cere-
mony of a European day. The manner most natural to
me is one rather open and easy; but I pique myself
peculiarly upon a certain (though occasional) air which
keeps impertinence aloof. This day I assumed a double
quantum of dignity, in entering a room which I well
knew would not be filled with my admirers ; there were
a few women round Lady Chester, and, as I always feel
reassured by a sight of the dear sex, I walked towards
them.

Judge of my delight when I discovered amongst the
group Lady Harriet Garrett. It is true that I had no
particular predilection for that lady ; but the sight of a
negress I had seen before I should have hailed with rap-
ture in so desolate and inhospitable 9 place. If my
pleasure at seeing Lady Harriet was great, hers seemed
equally so at receiving my salutation. She asked me if
I knew Lady Chester ; and on my negative reply imme-
diately introduced me to that personage. I now found
myself quite at home; my spirits rose, and I exerted
every nerve to be as charming as possible. In youth, tb
endeavor is to succeed.

342 PELHAM; OR,

I gave a most animated account of the canine battle,
interspersed with various sarcasms on the owners of the
combatants, which were by no means ill-received either
by the marchioness or her companions; and, in fact,
when the dinner was announced, they all rose in a mirth
sufficiently unrestrained to be anything but patrician.
For my part, I offered my arm to Lady Harriet, and paid
her as many compliments on crossing the suite that led
to the dining-room, as would have turned a much wiser
head than her ladyship's.

The dinner went off agreeably enough as long as the
women stayed, but the moment they quitted the room
T experienced exactly the same feeling known unto a
mother's darling, left for the first time at that strange,
cold, comfortless place ycleped a school.

I was not, however, in a mood to suffer my flowers of
oratory to blush unseen. Besides, it was absolutely ne-
cessary that I should make a better impression upon my
host. I leaned, therefore, across the table, and listened
eagerly to the various conversations afloat ; at last I per-
ceived on the opposite side Sir Lionel Garrett, a person-
age whom I had not before even inquired after, or
thought of. He was busily and noisily employed in
discussing the game laws. Thank Heaven, thought I,
I shall be on firm ground there. The general interest
of the subject, and the loudness with which it was de-
bated, soon drew all the scattered conversation into one
focus.

" What ! " said Sir Lionel, in a high voice, to A modest,
shrinking youth, probably from Cambridge, who had
supported the liberal side of the question, — "what! are
our interests to be never consulted! Are we to have
our only amusement taken away from us ? What do you
imagine brings country gentlemen to their seats 1 Do

ADVENTUKE8 OF A GENTLEMAN. 343

you not know, sir, the vast importance our residence at
our country-houses is to the nation ? Destroy the game-
laws, and you destroy our very existence as a people ! "

" Now, " thought I, " it is my time. — Sir Lionel, "
said I, speaking almost from one end of the table to the
other, " I perfectly agree with your sentiments ; I am en-
tirely of opinion, — first, that it is absolutely necessary
for the safety of the nation that game should be pre-
served; secondly, that if you take away game, you take
away country gentlemen. No two propositions can be
clearer than these ; but I do differ from you with respect
to the intended alterations. Let us put wholly out of
the question the interests of the poor people, or of
society at large, — those are minor matters, not worthy
of a moment's consideration ; let us only see how far our
interests as sportsmen will be affected. I think by a very
few words I can clearly prove to you that the proposed
alterations will make us much better off than we are at
present. "

I then entered shortly, yet fully enough, into the
nature of the laws as they now stood, and as they were
intended to be changed. I first spoke of the two great
disadvantages of the present system to country gentle-
men, — namely, in the number of poachers and the
expense of preserving. Observing that I was generally
and attentively listened to, I dwelt upon these two
points with much pathetic energy; and having paused
till I had got Sir Lionel and one or two of his suppor-
ters to confess that it would be highly desirable that these
defects should, if possible, be remedied, I proceeded to
show how, and in what manner, it was possible. I
argued, that to effect this possibility was the exact ob-
ject of the alterations suggested; I anticipated the objec-
tions; I answered them in the form of propositions as

344 PELHAM; OB,

clearly and concisely stated as possible; and as I spoke
with great civility and conciliation, and put aside every
appearance of care for any human being in the world
who was not possessed of a qualification, I perceived at
the conclusion of my harangue that I had made a very
favorable impression. That evening completed my tri-
umph; for Lady Chester and Lady Harriet made so
good a story of my adventure with the dogs, that the
matter passed off as a famous joke, and I was soon consi-
dered by the whole knot as a devilish amusing, good-
natured, sensible fellow. So true is it that there is no sit-
uation which a little tact cannot turn to our own account ;
manage rjourself well, and you may manage all the
world.

As for Lord Chester, I soon won his heart by a few
feats of horsemanship, and a few extempore inventions
respecting the sagacity of dogs. Three days after my
arrival we became inseparable; and I made such good
use of my time, that in two more, he spoke to me of
his friendship for Dawton and his wish for a dukedom.
These motives it was easy enough to unite, and, at last,
he promised me that his answer to my principal should
be as acquiescent as I could desire; the morning after
this promise commenced the great day at Newmarket.

Our whole party were of course bound to the race-
ground, and with great reluctance I was pressed into
the service. We were not many miles distant from the
course, and Lord Chester mounted me on one of his
horses. Our shortest way lay through rather an intricate
series of cross-roads; and as I was very little interested
in the conversation of my companions, I paid more at-
tention to the scenery we passed than is my customary
wont; for I study nature rather in men than fields, and
find no landscape afford such variety to the eye, and

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 345

such subject to the contemplation, as the inequalities of
the human heart.

But there were to be fearful circumstances hereafter
to stamp forcibly upon my remembrance some traces
of the scenery which now courted and arrested my view.
The chief characteristics of the country were broad,
dreary plains, diversified at times by dark plantations
of fir and larch ; the road was rough and stony, and here
and there a melancboly rivulet, swelled by the first rains
of spring, crossed our path, and lost itself in the rank
weeds of some inhospitable marsh.

About six miles from Chester Park, to the left of the
road, stood an old house with a new face; the brown,
time-honored bricks, which composed the fabric, were
strongly contrasted by large Venetian windows, newly
inserted in frames of the most ostentatious white. A
smart, green veranda, scarcely finished, ran along the
low portico, and formed the termination to two thin
rows of meagre and dwarfish sycamores, which did duty
for an avenue, and were bounded on the roadside by a
spruce, white gate, and a sprucer lodge, so moderate in
its dimensions that it would scarcely have boiled a
turnip ! — if a rat had got into it, he might have ran
away with it! The ground was dug in various places,
as if for the purpose of further improvements; and
here and there a sickly little tree was carefully hurdled
round, and seemed pining its puny heart out at the
confinement.

In spite of all these well-judged and well-thriving
graces of art, there was such a comfortless and desolate
appearance about the place, that it quite froze one to
look at it; to be sure, a damp marsh on one side, and
the skeleton rafters and beams of an old stable on the
other, backed by a few dull and sulky-looking fir-trees,

3-16 "* PELHAM; OR,

might in some measure create, or at least considerably
add to the indescribable cheerlessness of the tout en-
semble. While I was curiously surveying the various
parts of this northern '' Delices, " and marvelling at the
choice of two crows who were slowly walking over the
unwholesome ground, instead of making all possible use
of the. black wings with which Providence had gifted
them, I perceived two men on horseback wind round
from the back part of the building, and proceed in a
brisk trot down the avenue. We had not advanced
many paces before they overtook us; the foremost of
them turned round as he passed me, and pulling up his
horse abruptly, discovered to my dismayed view the
features of Mr. Thornton. Nothing abashed by the
slightness of my bow, or the grave stares of my lordly
companions, who never forgot the dignity of their birth,
in spite of the vulgarity of their tastes, Thornton in-
stantly and familiarly accosted me.

" Told you so, Mr. Pelham, — silent sow, etc. Sure
I should have the pleasure of seeing you, though you
kept it so snug. Well, will you bet nouf ? No ! Ah,
you 're a sly one. Staying here at that nice-looking
house, — belongs to Dawson, an old friend of mine ;
shall be happy to introduce you ! "

" Sir, " said I, abruptly, " you are too good. Permit
me to request that you will rejoin your friend Mr.
Dawson. "

" Oh, " said the imperturbable Thornton, " it does not
signify; he won't be affronted at my lagging a little.
However," and here he caught my eye, which was
assuming a sternness that perhaps little pleased him, —
" however, as it gets late, and my mare is none of the
best^ I '11 wish you good-morning. " With these words
Thornton put spurs to his horse and trotted off.

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 347

" Who the devil have you got there, Pelham 1 " said
Lord Chester.

" A person, " said I, " who picked me tip at Paris, and
insists on the right of * treasure trove ' to claim me in
England. But will you let me ask, in my turn, whom
that cheerful mansion we have just left belongs to ? "

" To a Mr. Dawson, whose father was a gentleman
fanner who bred horses, a very respectable person, for I
made one or two excellent bargains with him. The son
was always on the turf, and contracted the worst of its
habits. He bears but a very indiiferent character, and
will probably become a complete black-leg. He married,
a short time since, a woman of some fortune, and I sup-
pose it is her taste which has so altered and modernized
his house. Come, gentlemen, we are on even ground,
shall we trot ? "

We proceeded but a few yards before we were again
stopped by a precipitous ascent, and as Lord Chester
was then earnestly engaged in praising his horse to one
of the cavalcade, I had time to remark the spot. At
the foot of the hill we were about slowly' to ascend was
a broad, unenclosed patch of waste land; a heron, flap-
ping its enormous wings as it rose, directed my atten-
tion to a pool overgrown with rushes, and half sheltered
on one side by a decayed tree, which, if one might judge
from the breadth and hollowness of its trunk, had been
a refuge to the wild bird, and a shelter to the wild cattle,
at a time when such were the only intruders upon its
hospitality, and when the country for miles and leagues
round was honored by as little of man's care and culti-
vation as was at present the rank waste which still
nourished the gnarled and venerable roots of that single
tree. There was something remarkably singular and
grotesque in the shap3 and sinuosity of its naked and

348 PELHAM; OR,

spectral branches; two of exceeding length stretched
themselves forth in the very semblance of arms held out
in the attitude of supplication; and the bend of the
trunk over the desolate pond, the form of the hoary and
blasted summit, and the hollow trunk half riven asunder
in the shape of limbs, seemed to favor the gigantic decejv
tion. You might have imagined it an antediluvian
transformation, or a daughter of the Titan race, preserv-
ing, in her metamorphosis, her attitude of entreaty to
the merciless Olympian.

This was the only tree visible ; for a turn of the road,
and the unevenness of the ground, completely veiled the
house we had passed, and the few low furs and syca-
mores which made its only plantations. The sullen pool,
its ghost-like guardian, the dreary heath around, the
rude features of the country beyond, and the apparent
absence of all human habitation, conspired to make a
scene of the most dispiriting and striking desolation. I
know not how to account for it, but, as I gazed around
in silence, the whole place appeared to grow over my
mind, as one which I had seen, though dimly and
drearily, as in a dream, before; and a nameless and un-
accountable presentiment of fear and evil sank like ice
into my heart. We ascended the hill, and the rest of
the road being of a kind better adapted to expedition,
we mended our pace, and soon arrived at the goal of our
journey.

The race-ground had its customary complement of
knaves and fools, — the dupers and the duped. Poor
Lady Chester, who had proceeded to the ground by the
high-road (for the way we had chosen was inaccessible
to those who ride in chariots, and whose charioteers are
set up in high places), was driving to and fro, the very
picture of cold and discomfort; and a few solitary car-

ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 349

riages which honored the course, looked as miserable as
if they were witnessing the funeral of their owners'
persons, rather than the peril of their characters and
purses.

As we rode along to the betting-post, Sir John Tyrrell
passed us; Lord Chester accosted him familiarly, and
the baronet jouied us. He had been an old votary of
the turf in his younger days, and he still preserved all
his ancient predilection in its favor.

It seemed that Chester had not met him for many
years, and after a short and characteristic conversation
of " God bless me, how long since I saw you ! — Good
horse you 're on — You look thin — Admirable condition
— What have you been doing ? — Grand action — A'n't
we behindhand 1 — Famous fore-hand — Recollect old
Queensbury ? — Hot in the mouth — Gone to the devil —
What are the odds ? " — Lord Chester asked Tyrrell to go
home with us. The invitation was readily accepted.

" With impotence of will
We wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose
Round us, and round each other " ^

Now, then, arose the noise, the clatter, the swearing,
the lying, the perjury, the cheating, the crowd, the bus-
tle, the hurry, the rush, the heat, the ardor, the impa-
tience, the hope, the terror, the rapture, the agony of the
BACE. The instant the first heat was over, one asked
me one thing, one bellowed another; I fled to Lord
Chester; he did not heed me. I took refuge with the
marchioness , she was as sullen as an east wind could
make her. Lady Harriet would talk of nothing but the
horses; Sir Lionel would not talk at all. I was in the
lowest pit of despondency, and the devils that kept me

1 Shelley.

350 PELHAM; OE,

there were as blue as Lady Chester's nose. Silent, sad,
sorrowful, and sulky, I rode away from the crowd, and
moralized on its vicious propensities. One grows mar-
vellously honest when the species of cheating before us
is not suited to one's self. Fortunately, my better angel
reminded me, that about the distance of three miles
from the course lived an old college friend, blessed, since
we had met, with a parsonage and a wife. I knew his
tastes too well to imagine that any allurement of an
equestrian nature could have seduced him from the
ease of his library and the dignity of his books; and,
hoping, therefore, that I should find him at home,
I turned my horse's head in an opposite direction, and,
rejoiced at the idea of my escape, bade adieu to the
course.

As I cantered across the far end of the heath, my horse
started from an object upon the ground ; it was a man
wrapped from head to foot in a long horseman's cloak, and
so well guarded as to the face, from the raw iQclemency
of the day, that I could not catch even a glimpse of the
features, through the hat and neck-shawl which concealed
them. The head was turned, with apparent anxiety,
towards the distant throng ; and imagining the man be-
longing to the lower orders, with whom I am always
familiar, I addressed to him, en passant^ some trifling re-
mark on the event of the race. He made no answer.
There was something about him which inducted me to
look back several moments after I had left him behind.
He had not moved an inch. There is such a certain un-
comfortableness always occasioned to the mind by stillness
and mystery united, that even the disguising garb and
motionless silence of the man, innocent as I thought they
must have been, impressed themselves disagreeably on
my meditations as I rode briskly on.

ADVENTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN. 351

It is my maxim never to be unpleasantly employed,
even in thought, if I can help it; accordingly I changed
the course of my reflection, and amused myself with
wondering how matrimony and clerical dignity sat on the
indolent shoulders of my old acquaintance.

END OF VOL. I,

I • 1

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