A PERSON 
 OF QUALITY 
 
 ASHTON HILLIERS
 
 14QC
 
 A Person of Quality
 
 * ? > I 
 
 I CAME IN SIGHT OF THE LAST MILESTONE- Page 0! t .
 
 A Person of Quality 
 
 BY ASHTON HILLIERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DESMOND FITZGERALD, inc.
 
 Copyright 1907 by 
 McClure, Phillips & Co. 
 
 Copyright 1913 by 
 Desmond FitzGcrald, Inc.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAfiE 
 
 I. AN OLD FAMILY AND A YOUNG FOOL . . 3 
 
 II. THE TOP OF A COACH 12 
 
 III. I MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE ... 26 
 
 IV. TRIVIALITIES OF THE NORTH ROAD . . 34 
 V. OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN .... 41 
 
 VI. A FRIEND AT A PINCH 62 
 
 VII. "NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT" . 72 
 
 VIII. I GIVE MY PROOFS 78 
 
 IX. I CEASE FROM BEING A MASTER ... 83 
 
 X. AND BECOME A MAN 93 
 
 XI. I COME UNDER CONVICTION OF SIN ... 98 
 
 XII. VISITORS AND RESIDENTS .... 104 
 
 XIII. ON THE BAITING OF BULLS AND METHO- 
 
 DISTS . 112 
 
 XIV. I AM TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL . . . .122 
 XV. THE FALL OF AN IDOL 128 
 
 XVI. I FORGET GOD 138 
 
 XVII. MURDER AT MIDNIGHT 143 
 
 XVIII. THE IRISH 149 
 
 XIX. WHITE MAGIC 157 
 
 XX. GOD REMEMBERS ME .... 161 
 
 XXI. MY SECOND HOME 172 
 
 XXII. I BECOME A JOURNEYMAN MILLER . .180 
 
 XXIII. ABEL 184 
 
 XXIV. THE MASTER STAG 190 
 
 XXV. MORE OF MY FRIEND ABEL . . .199 
 
 XXVI. THE CHURCH TO THE RESCUE . . 207 
 
 2136242 I
 
 CHAPTER FACE 
 
 XXVII. THE LIFTING OF THE CLOUD . . .221 
 
 XXVIII. AN ADVENTURE AND NEWS . . . 228 
 
 XXIX. ON MY HOME-COMING .... 236 
 
 XXX. I COME INTO MY INHERITANCE . . 244 
 
 XXXI. DINNER FOR Two AND DESSERT . 258 
 
 XXXII. THE MARQUISE WILLS IT ... 289 
 
 XXXIII. A COMEDY OF ERRORS . .^..- .. . 296 
 
 XXXIV. THE MESSENGER 309 
 
 XXXV. THE MESSAGE . . . . . .' 324 
 
 XXXVI. AT THE "CATHARINE WHEEL" . s -.' 348 
 
 XXXVII. WHAT LAY UNDER THE SHEET ", ; ' 355 
 
 XXXVIII. THE CUP RUNS OVER . . . . 372 
 
 XXXIX. WHOLLY UNIMPORTANT *H. '. ' , ; ' -. 395 
 
 XL. I ENCOUNTER A KNIGHT-RRANT ' . v 399 
 
 XLI. JUST A WOMAN . . .-"'''; v 427 
 

 
 A Person of Quality
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 AN OLD FAMILY AND A YOUNG FOOL 
 
 I WAS born upon the first day of April, in the year of our 
 Lord 1777, at Bramford Hall, my father's country 
 seat, some four miles from Ipswich. 
 
 The house is pleasantly situate, the timber, both oak and 
 elm, growing large there; the country well-wooded, well-tilled, 
 and served by narrow deep lanes descending to the highways, 
 as well as by the New Navigation of the river Gipping going 
 soberly from weir to weir between its willows, bordered by 
 water meadows and rough pastures set with little spinneys, 
 cars and reed-beds, where one was sure of duck and snipe 
 after frost, and of water-hen all the year round. On these 
 greens we would get black geese in hard weather, but they were 
 none so easy to come at. It was indeed an excellent sporting 
 estate, full of partridge of the old sort, for the red-leg, or 
 French bird, had not then won the mastery and become the 
 pest he is to-day. It was beside as well stocked with hares as 
 any manor in Suffolk, and is so still. 
 
 As for the Hall, you know the place, and I need not to describe 
 it. It has altered not a whit since my childhood either outwardly 
 or in its furnishing. My father, the fifth earl, disliking the 
 place, or preferring his house in Clarges Street, seldom saw it 
 when Parliament was sitting and made no additions. My
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF OJJALITT 
 
 brother, your grandfather, who during his father's lifetime 
 went by his courtesy title of Lord Bramford, enjoyed the 
 property but a few years, and was hardly in a position to im- 
 prove it. During your father's minority I took order that the 
 place should be well kept up, and have every reason to believe 
 my directions were attended to. Thus from one cause and 
 another the mansion remains to-day very much as it looked 
 (as I suppose) a century ago. The fig-trees in the walled 
 garden are larger and in better bearing than when I was little; 
 the yews are the wonder of topiarists, and were praised by the 
 Dutch officers in 1816; I know no finer hedges or more in- 
 genious cutting. These, and the family portraits, are accessories 
 to a house more precious than coat-armour which Royalty may 
 grant or money buy. 
 
 The county, taken as a whole for the Gipping valley 
 cannot complain is somewhat overshadowed by more 
 prosperous neighbours, lacking the conveniences enjoyed by 
 Norfolk for collecting and exporting its malt and wool, and 
 being forestalled by Essex in the London market in everything 
 which it produces. Hence we, the south folk, for so the 
 name is explained, have ever been rather comfortable than 
 prosperous, and more kindly than clever. 
 
 "Silly Suffolk " is our by-name, which I have heard explained 
 as follows: The labouring men of Norfolk and Essex, when paid 
 by the week, are allowed to keep the house upon a day beginning 
 with heavy rain, but the Suffolk men turn out however unpromis- 
 ing the morning and work until wet through before giving up. 
 
 Be that as it may, I will say that after some experience of 
 labouring men in different parts of England and upon the 
 Continent, and, as will appear later, both in the capacities of 
 fellow-labourer and of master, I have not yet found better- 
 hearted or more willing workmen than ours of Blakenham 
 and Bramford. 
 
 [4]
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 Something of this may be, and I trust is, due to ourselves 
 (I speak as a Fanshawe). Our title dates, as you know, from 
 the Restoration, on which occasion King Charles graciously 
 recompensed Sir Constant Fanshawe for his fines and 
 sequestrations with an earldom. Of his seven successors, 
 including my great nephew in present enjoyment of the title, 
 not one has been other than a good landlord and a trusty 
 servant of his sovereign. For which we as a family may thank 
 God, for, though I say it, it is a more honourable record than 
 turning out six blackguards and a genius, as has been the way of 
 certain other stocks, which have been of evil example to the 
 country people around their seats. 
 
 But to my story. Upon several occasions it has been matter 
 of surprise to my younger relatives that I was never (as they 
 supposed) in either of the services, and gained such experiences 
 as I did under the colours of a foreign Power. 
 
 Being by the blessing of Providence without personal dis- 
 qualification, and of means to support a commission, my 
 natural place would seem to have been in a profession which 
 has always attracted the younger sons of the nobility. You 
 might go farther and assume that as a matter of course I could 
 have commanded our family influence for my advancement. 
 Opportunities (you will be thinking) could hardly be want- 
 ing in the wars of the Revolution and with Buonaparte. 
 
 As to the senior service, I may say at once, that at the age 
 for entering the midshipmen's mess I confessed to no voca- 
 tion for the sea. Nor, indeed, at that time, nor for years later, 
 was His Majesty's Marine the fashionable service which the 
 victories and genius of Lord Nelson and Bronte have since 
 made it. It then attracted few young gentlemen of condition 
 save cadets of well-known sea families such as the Seymours 
 and the Keppels, who naturally played into one another's 
 hands as against interlopers, and regarded all desirable posts
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QU4LITT 
 
 and commands, whether ashore or afloat, as their perquisites. 
 
 As my connection with the sister service was brief (though 
 not discreditable, as I have always maintained), I propose to 
 pass over it in as few words as may be possible, having regard 
 to the nature of the circumstances and the demands of 
 justice and truth. 
 
 Nor shall my pen (I am well determined) be swayed 
 either by a sense of unmerited censure, prejudice, or malice, 
 nor by the consideration that I am now, as I think, the only 
 person living who is aware that I was borne upon the rolls of 
 His Majesty's (late) regiment (the Fifth Dragoon Guards), 
 for five years and seven months. 
 
 I was gazetted to a cornetcy in that unhappy corps whilst 
 still a lower boy at Eton, and should in the ordinary course 
 have joined the colours upon leaving the college, had not a con- 
 stitutional delicacy which then showed itself delayed that step 
 until my twenty-first year, when, having got my troop without 
 so much as entering the riding-school, or acquiring the rudi- 
 ments of my drill, I took the coach for York where my regiment 
 lay. 
 
 I must confess that a weak chest had been but the excuse, 
 the true cause being my own laziness, maternal indulgence, 
 and inordinate devotion to field sports, more especially the 
 chase. 
 
 These three years, the most vacant of my life, I spent at 
 Bramford. There, living the life of a healthy brute, I ate, drank, 
 slept and hunted, without using my brains at all, or being con- 
 scious of neglected duties, or even of possessing a spiritual 
 nature. 
 
 During this fallow-time I grew six inches and learned as 
 much of the nature of a horse as most men acquire in a life- 
 time, but was otherwise, as I think, as uncouth and empty pated 
 a dog as any in Suffolk. 
 
 [6]
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 That such a dereliction should have been winked at by the 
 Horse Guards will seem a laxity almost incredible to those of 
 you who have seen the rigid and impartial discipline introduced 
 by the lamented Sir John Moore and perfected by his Grace the 
 Duke of Wellington. I can only submit in excuse that my case 
 was far from unusual. Doubtless my father's interest was more 
 valuable to the Government than the military services of his 
 sons, for at the time of which I write my elder brother, Viscount 
 Bramford, had been for years a lieutenant in the Foot Guards 
 without ever offering to undertake duties which a chronic 
 asthma rendered him incapable of performing. As a matter of 
 fact, he sold out upon succeeding to the title without having 
 once seen his company. 
 
 The order to join when at last it reached me was couched in 
 terms which my farther advised me not to disregard, and thus, 
 after some bustling weeks and much pleasurable expense with 
 tradespeople to and fro from Ipswich, I was at length launched 
 upon a military life. 
 
 It was winter (1797 - 1798), and the roads being at that 
 season not only foul but extraordinarily unsafe, and robbery of 
 stage-wagons a daily occurrence, my trunks were sent on board 
 the "Goole Trader," then lying below Ipswich at Pinmill, on the 
 salt-water, to be forwarded to me at York, I myself being ad- 
 vised to travel light and well-armed. 
 
 This last was my lord's concern, and the only part of my 
 original outfit that is now in my possession is the case of pistols 
 of his ordering, by G. Bale, of the Cornhill, Ipswich, weapons 
 which, after losing sight of for years, I recovered through the 
 chance of a friend recognising my crest and initials at a sale 
 of unredeemed pledges. 
 
 Driving by way of Needham Market, Stow and Haughley, 
 the Bramford Hall horses were to set me upon my journey as 
 far as Bury St. Edmunds, where I was to lie the first night.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 We had started betimes upon an early breakfast. There were 
 few to bid me God-speed. A keeper or two with my cockers 
 whining in leash, and a groom or so, would be there behind my 
 lord. He, as I remember, put the pistol-case in the boot and the 
 pistols one in either side-pocket of my riding-coat. Screw- 
 barrelled they were, and he had charged them himself the prev- 
 ious afternoon, and refitted the flints after marking the deuce 
 of clubs at ten paces in the stable yard, and pronouncing them 
 serviceable weapons. "Now, mind what I say, George," said he 
 at parting, " and 'tis my last word: be quick with your first 
 barrel but slow with your second. " 
 
 My poor father! I thought of him as of an old man then; yet 
 here I sit, pen in hand without glasses, at nearly twice the age 
 at which he died. How little we knew of one another! May God 
 grant us opportunity somehow and somewhere to make 
 better acquaintance. Amen! 
 
 And my mother was there; ah, yes; and what would I not 
 give to-day to have a clear memory of her parting word and 
 gesture; but what with the freshness of the horses, the bustle, 
 and a foolish kind of false mirth and rollicking off-to-school- 
 again feeling which befogged the business, I cannot recall aught 
 she said, where she stood, nor how she looked. 
 
 At the narrowest of the road near Blakenham Checquers 
 my mother's old coachman drew wide. A lady was approaching, 
 mounted, followed by a lad riding upon a woman's saddle, from 
 which I judged that madamoiselle was testing her new pur- 
 chases turn about. Staying us with a gesture, she drew rein 
 beside us, and was about to accost me when the animal she rode, 
 a fine young iron-grey blood horse with a white fetlock, broke 
 into an angry squeal, rose upon his hind feet, and, having thus 
 stolen a handful of rein, arched his back like a cat's and sprang 
 clear off the ground. Worse still, he swung his quarters as he 
 rose and alighted sidelong stiffly upon all four feet. Scarce had 
 
 [8]
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 he touched ground ere he was up again, and yet again, and 
 again, his tail lashing, his ears laid, discharging kicks like the 
 blows of a fighting man, sudden and dangerous. Now he had 
 bucked himself off the road into the ditch, now he was out again, 
 up and down, round and round, exhausting every artifice of 
 vice to unseat his rider. 
 
 The lady meanwhile, curtly forbidding me to alight, made a 
 brave fight for it. Her horse had gotten his head down, and only 
 a strong and dexterous man could have got it up again; she 
 must, perforce, let him have his play out, but was minded to 
 keep her seat, and so to improve the occasion that the rogue 
 should remember it. How she leaned back, letting the sudden 
 impulses of those powerful loins spend themselves in vain upon 
 the light, elastic tenacity of her body! Her hands were incess- 
 antly at work upon his mouth, and each caper was visited with 
 a ringing cut of the whalebone. 
 
 "Sakes alive! Master George, did ye ever see the like ? An' 
 to think that was me as taught her all that!" gasped my com- 
 panion in radiant admiration. 
 
 In two minutes the rebellion was beaten down, the rascal 
 forced into the ditch with his nose in a holly and soundly pun- 
 ished. "Isn't he a fine beauty, Mister George?" said my lady, 
 a little breathlessly, bringing him back to us at a penitential 
 pace. I had alighted and was moving to meet her. 
 
 "Yes. I shall call him Fox and his earner ade there, Pitt; 
 this is the handsomer and the naughtier; the Opposition, as 
 milord your father would say, nest ce pas?" 
 
 " My father will be reproaching himself for buying the brute 
 for you, mademoiselle marquise, I should say. You 
 
 frightened me, who have seen you ride before this 
 
 You must have risen early." 
 
 "Oh, la, la! But about yourself, Mister George;" she leaned 
 over her pommel, slackening the curb and caressing back into
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirr 
 
 quietude the hot, throbbing shoulder, fixing me the while with 
 her wonderful brown eyes. "You are really away at last ? 
 C'est bien; you have been lazy boy too long," she nodded em- 
 phatically, challenging denial of the charge. "Well, that is 
 over, and you will have your misfortunes, my friend, that is 
 evident; but, remember, there is one who believes in you," 
 she nodded slowly and with gravity, "and that is Lucille de 
 la Rochemesnil. " 
 
 Her right hand slid from its gauntlet and extended itself to 
 me; uncovering, I touched its finger-tips with my lip. She made 
 me a silent inclination and went. 
 
 We had driven a mile without speaking when old James, in 
 confidential undertones, delivered his opinion that Frenchy or 
 no, that there Miss Lew-Sill was a downright strapper, and 
 further, that he would be dalled if she hadn't an eye on me. 
 
 "Why, James, ye old fool! whatever put that into your 
 noddle?" 
 
 "That bein* here o' this time o* the mornin' so far from 
 Sproughton. That wor to have the last word wi' yew, Master 
 George, on the sly, like: gals be gals, markee or no markee, 
 I knows 'em, blessy!" 
 
 "Gammon!" said I, very hot and uncomfortable, and what 
 is more, incredulous. "Why look here, James, if she has given 
 Bramford the mitten is it likely she would set her cap at me, a 
 younger son and all ? But you don't know her a bit, man, she 
 is not that way. She says she will never marry. " 
 
 "Nor goo a-courtin', neyther? I 'spose not, Master 
 George! Then all I says is what be she about alter darkwi' 
 the Lunnoner ?" He looked provokingly knowing, " Mister Wee, 
 her ladyship's maid calls him, but Vyze is the gent'lman's name 
 or nawthin.' Oho! Old James knows a thing or two, sure-ty/ 
 But, there! this here sort o' talk ain't for boys. " 
 
 I did not believe a word of it, knowing something of the 
 
 [10]
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 coarseness and appetite for scandal of our servants' hall. 
 Rightly or wrongly, we debar the class from education that it 
 may serve us the better: the system has its merits and defects; 
 the vacant mind spies upon and diverts itself with our vices 
 and misrepresents what it can never understand. 
 
 The marquise I had known from my very boyhood for a 
 noble creature whom I had worshipped dumbly, too far above 
 me for affection : besides, was she not a dish for my betters 
 my brother Bramford's affair ? He -had asked her thrice in due 
 form as a gentleman should. Mr. Vyze, indeed! I knew the name, 
 the man being my brother's racing partner: he had never been 
 down to the Hall, my mother disliking the connection. Hotly 
 incredulous as I was, I questioned my companion angrily, but 
 took nothing by it. 
 
 James was laughing inwardly, a trick of his which never 
 failed to annoy me. I find and smile as I find that the 
 recollection of this old fellow's treatment of my youth can still 
 give me a passing twinge. To begin with, he resolutely declined 
 to recognize my manhood. It was I that should have been 
 driving, yet I could only have won the box-seat at the expense 
 of a grave and doubtful battle. After I had turned thirteen 
 had he not threatened to spank me, aye, and to look 
 over my head and see my naked nose! Scare-babe threats, more 
 suited to a child in petticoats. Sleep sound, old James! Thou 
 wast a tyrant: good servants not seldom are; but the other sort 
 is the devil! 
 
 [n]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 THE TOP OF A COACH 
 
 THE following morning, having taken my leave of old 
 James, whose honest brown face at the moment of 
 parting was clouded with concern for his young 
 master, I took the stage for Huntingdon. 
 
 I had booked me a box-seat over night the better to see the 
 country, and mounted in company with two other outsides. 
 One was a ponderous person of the grazier class bundled to the 
 eyes in horse-cloths like a winter-bedded hedgehog in oak 
 leaves. He hawked and spat for some minutes at our starting 
 and was ready with any encouragement or none to have given 
 us a strict account of his complaint. "That do fare to sim like 
 this here wi' me" (says he) "when the wind and the water 
 comes between the bone and the flesh they gits the better o' me." 
 
 The coachman, an elderly man of the most civil address, 
 courteously ignored the fellow's wheezings, preferring the con- 
 versation of the fare upon the seat behind him, a smallish lightly- 
 built man, apparently but little older than myself, whose keen, 
 self-contained, dark face was closely framed by the peak and 
 ear-lappets of a travelling-cap. 
 
 Their talk was horse a jargon of flash terms, sires, ages, 
 weights and odds, eked out with nods and winks and guarded 
 whispers. 
 
 [12]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 On the skirts of Newmarket Heath, as I remember, we passed 
 within a hundred yards of a fine new gibbet built to accommo- 
 date three malefactors, but supporting but two carcasses ' at 
 present,' as the valetudinarian put it, adding rather dryly, 
 "That there 'tyke' hev giv um the slip seem'n'ly, an' they 
 can't sim to lay hands on 'um nohow!" 
 
 "And won't, in my opinion, yet awhile," observed the 
 younger man, composedly surveying the gallows over his 
 shoulder as the coach left it behind. 
 
 Nobody spoke for a time, the scene providing us with 
 reflections. I heard the guards hift the blunderbuss in 
 the wicker tray before him, and was fingering my pistols 
 when the passage across the desolate white road a furlong 
 ahead of us of a covey of very large birds changed the colour 
 of my thoughts. Covering the ground between running and 
 flying, the things fleeted across the brown heath, shewing much 
 white in the wing. 
 
 "Harnsers," 1 grunted the fat man from the depths of his 
 comforter. 
 
 "Bustards," curtly corrected the younger fare. 
 
 The Ox, as I secretly named him, who was of the breed 
 that resents the slightest opposition, rolled in his seat. 
 
 "Them's harnsers, I tell ye," he squeaked in an irritated 
 falsetto, " that sim yewve niver sin noo harnsers wheear yew 
 come from." 
 
 "Plenty and bustards too on the wolds," replied the 
 other, and stopt. 
 
 The coachman blew out purple cheeks, rapped an oath, and 
 drew his lash across the leaders, which were going well. "Look- 
 'ee there," said he, "this here gap we be a-comin' tew is where 
 the road cuts the Devil's Dyke; there away on yer right be Ely 
 tower, ten mile off across the fen. " 
 
 1 Hern-shaws Herons . EDS. 
 
 [13]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF 
 
 We changed horses at Cambridge. I remember nothing else 
 about the place. 
 
 It was when we were nearing the end of the next stage, I 
 cannot recall which, for the country along the Roman road is 
 featureless and hard to bear in mind, we overtook a broad- 
 backed man jogging sedately along the grass margin of the 
 turnpike upon a short-legged roan cob which gained at once 
 the commendation of our driver. 
 
 "There's hough-action for ye!" he cried. "Do but see how 
 he picks up his feet! Norfolk that for a crown. Marshland or 
 Shales, damme if I knows which: both is good blood. . . . 
 Mornin'! Mr. Doggett!" he bawled, as we drew level. 
 
 "Mornin' t'ye!" came back to us, muted by the rumble of 
 the wheels. The rider lifted a hard, red, preoccupied face, which, 
 upon the instant, took on a peering glance of enquiry and passed 
 into the distortion of anger. 
 
 "Aha! I see ye, ye b Northcountry coper, you! Yes, yew 
 as is sticking up yar collar!" with more and worse. 
 
 The smaller outside had muttered a word about the coldness 
 of the wind at the moment the coachman hailed, and was now 
 sitting with his head bent and his hands to his ears. 
 
 But the rider had seen him, and shaking up his cob, a rare 
 stepper, hung, as you may say, to our near forewheel, brandish- 
 ing his ground-ash and bawling injurious expressions, charges 
 of trickery and bad faith, until the insides drew up their glasses, 
 and a lady began to scream. 
 
 "Here! doo yew be quiet and hould yar noise, Mr. Doggett," 
 cried the guard, "or some o' my fares'll be mistakin' ye for 
 what yew ain't. Shet that gret wahpus o' yourn, will ye ? or I'll 
 not answer for any man's pistols but my own ! " 
 
 If our fellow passenger had cherished a thought of conceal- 
 ment or disguise he had plainly dismissed it, and was loosening 
 the buttons of his brown box-cloth overcoat with an air of un- 
 
 [Hi
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 concern, yet, it seemed to me, that over a smiling lip the eyes 
 had grown hard and old. 
 
 "Pull up, Jack, I'll settle with him here," said he, in the 
 coachman's ear, giving him a look of mute reproach. 
 
 "There! damme, I'm sorry; wholly forgot! But, stop here? 
 couldn't nohow, Mr. Sam. But, lookye, here's the change in 
 sight, and he's off ahead to await ye. I'll give ye ten minutes." 
 
 "Ten ?" replied the youth, for he was little more, with quiet 
 scorn, and disengaging his feet from the straw he drew off his 
 gloves. 
 
 The change-house we were approaching was just an inn 
 with ample stabling, the whole newly-built for its purpose, no 
 village happening to stand suitably for this end of the stage. 
 (And now I think on't it was the Earn Inn. ) 
 
 The rider had hitched his cob to a post, and stood ready and 
 dancing with impatience as we came to a stand. Too ready, 
 indeed, for he saluted the youth with a sounding thwack of the 
 ground-ash before he reached the ground, and gripping the 
 collar of his overcoat was for thrashing him soundly and out of 
 hand, undeterred by a general cry for fair play. 
 
 The man was tall and big and athletic, with rocky, scarred 
 face, and wide-lipped mouth, underhung like a bull-dog's. My 
 sympathy was engaged for the smaller fellow caught thus at a 
 disadvantage, but, surely seldom has man needed compassion 
 less. Standing perfectly still he essayed to speak, but failing 
 to mitigate his accuser's vehemence, and receiving a second 
 blow, shook his shoulders and slipped out of his two coats with 
 the lissomeness of an eel, and dexterously ducking a stroke 
 aimed at his head, butted his tall assailant sharply below the 
 chest, caught him by the hips as he staggered, locked his heels, 
 and flung him heavily. 
 
 The outcry of astonishment and pleasure which arose from 
 the roof and window of the coach, as well as from the momen- 
 
 [15]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 tarily increasing throng of stablemen, fell to,silence as the fallen 
 man got to his feet, his face no longer red but mottled and 
 furrowed with extreme emotion. 
 
 "That's yar game, is it? Yew 'oon't take yar lickin', 'oon't 
 ye ? Want to fight, dew ye ? Aha! Well now, yew've brought 
 it on yarself, mind! I call all on ye to witness he've brought it on 
 hisself!" 
 
 He, too, was out of his coats in a trice, and seizing the 
 lappets of his sleeved waistcoat tore the garment open with 
 such force that a shower of brass buttons flew amidst the crowd. 
 
 Upon his side, the youth was stripping to his shirt and smalls, 
 and presently rolling up his left sleeve bared a finely modelled 
 forearm, which he as instantly reclothed, hiding a design in blue, 
 worked with gunpowder as sailors use, a foul anchor between 
 two hearts and some initials, as it seemed to me. These 
 preparations he made with an almost punctilious deliberation, 
 calling for a chair whereon to place his clothing, and even 
 folding his coats. 
 
 His antagonist watched these finical arrangements with 
 brutal impatience, stroking the naked brawn of his great arms, 
 stamping up and down the while, scowling and cursing; yet, 
 when the youngster had finished his toilet and put himself on 
 guard (so daunting is complete composure in an unknown 
 adversary), the aggressor's impetuosity had noticeably cooled. 
 
 "At your service, Mr. Doggett," said the youth, blowing 
 upon his nail. 
 
 "Fall tew! fall tew, gentlemen!" cried the coachman from 
 his box, "here's three minutes gone out of yar ten!" 
 
 "Seven will be more than enough, Jack," drawled the 
 younger man imperturbably, and on the last syllable flashed in 
 and out again, planting two smacking body-blows and ducking 
 a short swinging return. 
 
 From that moment it was a foregone conclusion as anyone 
 
 [16]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 could see. The more active fighter did what he chose with his 
 man, who seemed to be something of a local champion and had a 
 dozen knees at his service at the end of the round. Nor did the 
 young stranger lack this homely form of sympathy; from three 
 or four proffers he made choice of a gaunt, hatchet-faced gypsy, 
 with black curls and cat-skin cap, silver ear-rings and scarlet 
 kerchief knotted around a yellow throat. 
 
 Now my bottle-holders at Eton had always bid me spare my 
 breath and let them do what talking was needed, so that I 
 wondered the more at the young fellow conversing with his 
 ruffianly-looking second in low rapid tones, such words as I 
 caught (for I stood close) being tinkler's patter and wholly 
 unintelligible. The gypsy said nothing, but nodded repeatedly. 
 
 The insides had begun betting, but presently were all of the 
 same mind. The interest of the ring was too intense for shouting; 
 one heard the boot-heels of the combatants crunch the gravel, 
 their hard breathing and the "whack . . . whack'* of the 
 blows. 
 
 "Stand up to 'im, neighbour Doggett; stand up to 'im,bor,an' 
 kip yar eyes about ye. Lord! he hops round ye like a cooper 
 round a cask!" was the ambiguous encouragement squeaked by 
 our over-wrapped fellow traveller. 
 
 But the big fellow was plainly helpless; twice his blind rushes 
 landed him upon his hands and knees, the youth slipping from 
 under him and felling him as he passed. If he stood on guard 
 he was out-boxed and pummelled without a chance of getting 
 anything for his money. 
 
 It was a ludicrous scene, and soon over. The maladroit bully, 
 finding neither pleasure nor profit was to be gained by persis- 
 tence, collapsed sitting amidst uproarious merriment, and re- 
 fused to rise. 
 
 Whether the contest would have been renewed must remain 
 an open question. The man was more blown than hurt, and did
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 not want for encouragement. Two of the insides who had put 
 their money upon him were reviling him for his white liver and 
 bawling for brandy to put heart into him. But at this juncture 
 there stept into the ring a middle-aged man of sedate carriage, 
 wearing a plain three-cornered hat without band or lace, 
 soberly habited in a horseman's coat of drab frieze, which fell to 
 his brown tops. He had but just alighted from a gig, and from 
 the small hair-trunk he carried I judged that he intended to 
 travel with us. 
 
 But he had business upon his hands first. Surveying the 
 combatants with an air of grave, kindly concern, he addressed 
 himself to the discomfited sitter. "Friend Doggett, I am 
 grieved to see thee in this plight. Thou hast plainly made a mis- 
 take. Come, my friend, thou hast had enough of this folly; be 
 advised by me, who, thou knowest, have only thine own interest 
 at heart, and let the matter rest where it is. " 
 
 At this there was derisive laughter and some outcry: the in- 
 sides especially were audible with their " Who the this" and 
 " What the that" making as though they would offer violence 
 to the interposer, who, for his part, paid those who threatened 
 him not so much as the compliment of a side glance, but 
 approached in turn the young fighter, apparently a stranger 
 to him, with such courteous plainness as did not miss of effect. 
 
 "Young man," said he, "I am but just come upon the 
 ground and know nothing of the merits of this dispute, but I can 
 well believe that it was not thou that struck the first blow. It 
 will be the easier for thee to say thou art satisfied, and, be- 
 lieve me, nothing thou hast done will become thee half so well! " 
 
 The gentle winning manner and almost fatherly regard which 
 accompanied these words, bespoke an excellent heart. The 
 youth changed countenance, averted his face, and lowered his 
 hands. 
 
 This brought the third inside to the front, who, after seeing 
 
 [It]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 his wager as good as won, found an indecisive battle probable 
 after all. Breaking upon the peace-maker with horrid language, 
 he was for kicking him from the ring. This the crowd, who 
 plainly knew and respected the man, would not permit, and he 
 was allowed to take an outside seat without molestation, and 
 the guard at this moment bidding his fares to get in or up, as 
 their cases might be, the fight was drawn and all bets off. 
 
 The landlady, who, whilst blows were going, had approached 
 step by step, open-mouthed, as if drawn by a magnet, now 
 regained her sense of decorum, and with many " O la's " and 
 "For shames" drove her maids before her within-doors, box- 
 ing the ear of the slowest. 
 
 The team were already put-to; the victor, abundantly congrat- 
 ulated and cheered, was helped into his clothes and regained 
 his seat. The guard swung himself to the dicky, the horses, 
 chilly from standing, went up into their collars with a will, and 
 the last I saw of the beaten man for that time was his head over 
 a stable bucket. 
 
 "That'll fare to dew Tom Doggett a heap o' good," wheezed 
 the over-clothed passenger, who at the first round had been the 
 bigger fellow's shrillest applauder. "A tarr'ble overbearing 
 high-stomached 'un be Tom! . . . knocked out in five 
 minutes by a bit of a booy, as one may say! he! he! An' Tom a 
 fighter for years past!" 
 
 "Niver i' the ring as I've heerd tell on; only acrost the table," 
 said the coachman, whose opinion was that a man should stick 
 to his trade. "If a drives, let um drive; if a rides, let um ride! and 
 if so be a fights, let um fight the way as he is used to, and not 
 goo foolin' with new-fangled contraptions." 
 
 With this for his text he embarked upon the story of "a young 
 feller" of his acquaintance whose fall from virtue and prosperity 
 was due, he assured us, to neglect of this maxim. 
 
 It appeared that this young man had served in the stables of
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 my lord Woodbridge, and having attracted the notice of his 
 lordship by his excellent hands and light weight, had been pro- 
 moted in town to second horseman, pad-groom and eventual- 
 ly coachman. In this position he was thrown much into his 
 lordship's company during a time when the unfortunate noble- 
 man suffered sorely with his eyes, and winning his absolute 
 confidence, presently found himself master of the stables. 
 
 "Ah h!" breathed the stalled ox in his rug with appreciative 
 emphasis. 
 
 "Nat'raly he did hisself well," pursued the narrator, "takin' 
 custom when up in town on all corn and forage what come 
 into his deparkment. That was all right, and if he'd a-stuck to 
 that he'd a-died comfor'ably off, for blind or seein', his lordship 
 kep it up handsome, and the stables in Brook Street and Mar- 
 tlesham was allus full o' hosses. " 
 
 "No chapmoney ?" enquired a listener. 
 
 " In course there was chapmoney on every horse he bought 
 and he was allus a buying. Ten, twenty, thirty pound he'd get 
 on a hoss, and quite right tew, them was his perks and that was 
 his business, and if he'd only have stuck to that " 
 
 "Get along, Jack, and cut your morals," laughed the young 
 fighter. 
 
 "Well it ran to the harness, to the coaches; to the farriery 
 and repairs; to the boots, breeches and liveries for hisself an' 
 his men. Even my lord's tailor and shoemaker was brought to 
 book and stumped up custom to this young feller on what his 
 lordship wore. By this he'd a-got the household under his thumb 
 as well as the stables; not a man nor a maid but forked out his 
 monthly scot or he'd a-got um the sack. My lord see with 
 this young feller's eyes and heerd with his ears, and 'most did 
 he bid um." 
 
 "Lord! what a che-ance he had, to be sure!" ejaculated the 
 stout outside with an audible smack of the lip. 
 
 [20]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 "Fare to make yar mouth water, don't it, bor? Ah! An' 
 if he'd only a-stuck to his business and kep honest! Well; 
 what did his lordship do, being a lonely widow-man, but marry 
 agin a young 'un. Now this young feller should have gone 
 steady for a stage, and drove on the bar till he see if the new pair 
 drew together and how the coach travelled; 'stead o' which, 
 bein' mortal confident and foolhardy, on he goes drivin' on the 
 cheek same as ever. Round he comes to the tradesmen and takes 
 toll on her ladyship's frocks and shifts and slippers. " 
 
 "No!" cried the man's two auditors in different tones of 
 delighted amazement. 
 
 "He did, I tell ye, and it done for him. Her ladyship was a 
 deep 'un. She smoked him " 
 
 "How, Jack?" 
 
 "Through her maid. Yes, 'twas one o* the maids blew the 
 gaff, so 'tis said; I be proud 'twarn't a man. Anyhow, smokes 
 him she does and says nought for a while. A deep 'un she is, 
 but a very silly, innercent sort o' young thing to look at, is her 
 ladyship, as I hears; one as makes herself free and affable with 
 the lads, runs through the stables wi' bread for this horse and 
 sugar for that horse, and rubs their noses and larns their names. 
 And all this, mind ye, when that pore young feller was out with 
 his lordship. 
 
 ' Well, one day that pore young feller come in wi' a long 
 face arsting a week's leave for to bury his mother what had 
 died t'other side London; gets it, and off he trots. 
 
 "Next mornin' her ladyship finds three stalls empty, and 
 hears from the leetlest and youngest boy as them three 
 horses was gone for to be sold, and how that Fred-er-ick 
 (Fred-er-ick being that pore young feller's name) was gone 
 for to sell 'em. 
 
 "The boy ups and lets it out quite simple. None o' his lads 
 had no 'spicions. Fred-er-ick bought bosses and sold bosses an* 
 
 [21!
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 did just as he damn pleased, and they all on 'em had understood 
 for years past as his lordship was agreeable. 
 
 "Well, her ladyship being Norfolk bred herself rec'lecs as 
 Norwifh fair was due, and she ups and writes a letter to her 
 brother-in-law at Wymondham and sits down and waits. 
 
 "By-and-by back comes Fred-er-ick, and hears as his lady 
 would like for to see him. Up he steps to her bow-door and finds 
 my lady alone and very affable. He pitches his tale about his 
 pore mother's end, and the burying and all, and what an ex- 
 pense it stood him in; and her ladyship nods and smiles, and says 
 that must be considered; and, O, yes, she give him leave for to 
 wear a crape band on his livery sleeve for a month. Just as he 
 was making his leg for leaving the room, 'And O, Fred-er-ick,' 
 says she, 'What has come to them three bosses,' (and she 
 names 'em, pat) 'as stood in such and such a stable' (an' 
 she reels it off straight) ? 
 
 "'Dead and buried, milady,' says Fred-er-ick, with- 
 out turnin' a hair, 'the glanders they'd got, as is sartain 
 death to man and beast; so I ups and shoots the pore 
 things, and if you'll b'lieve me, milady, 'twas a Christian end 
 they made.' 
 
 " 'Ah, pore creeturs,' says she. 'And are you sure they didn't 
 suffer ? Did ye do it your very own self ? ' 
 
 " 'I did, marm,' sez he. 'Never a kick, marm, arterl pulled 
 the trigger. 'Twere sudden death, sudden glory!' ' 
 
 "What an ass! she had him fair!" muttered the young 
 fighter, his eyes dancing in his head. 
 
 "'And where did ye bury them?' says her ladyship. 'I 
 should like to see the grave!" 
 
 "Now, somethink in the woman's voice give that pore young 
 feller the office, and he begun for to lose his head. For the life 
 on him he couldn't rec'lec where he buried them bosses! 
 
 " Her ladyship watches him close and quiet, like a cat at a 
 
 [22]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 mousehole; and 'Was ye ever at Norwich, Fred-er-ick?' 
 says she. 
 
 '* 'Never in all my life, ma'am!' he raps. 
 
 " 'That will do,' sez her ladyship's brother-in-law from 
 behind a screen they'd rigged across that boivdoor, and out he 
 come, and two constables with him, as had taken down that 
 pore young feller's words, and Fred-er-ick he sees the game was 
 up, for 'twas to her ladyship's own brother-in-law as he sold 
 them three hosses at Norwich all unbeknown while 
 them tew constables, 'guised as grooms, stood by and seen the 
 guineas told inter his hat!" 
 
 "Well? What next? Go ahead, Jack," cried the audience, 
 but a moralist is not to be hurried. 
 
 "An' that's what come o' goin' outside his business (which 
 is what I never see no good on). Wi' everythink on earth 
 a callin' on that pore young feller to goo straight and ac' 
 honest, and he a-layin' by money and a-buying land land!" 
 (the man's voice ran up into a cracked falsetto byway 
 of emphasis ) "he must needs goo and take to a trade he 
 warn't brought up to, a mighty teeklish trade too is hoss'- 
 stealing as I've heerd tell." He added this last as an after- 
 thought. 
 
 "You don't say so?" remarked the young fighter, with 
 covert mockery in his tone. 
 
 The Quaker, who during the story had sat lost in thought, 
 glanced quickly at the speaker, whose voice and manner at- 
 tracted and yet pained him. 
 
 "And what came next, Jack?" 
 
 "Steady! May-ah!'' cried the driver, changing his hold 
 upon the reins and using his whip the better to control the near 
 leader. The beast was hanging and boring into her mate in 
 fear of a line of foot-people, some kind of orocession, which 
 we were overtaking. 
 
 [23]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 These marched two-and-two, with bowed heads, shuffling 
 along slowly through a cloud of bitter winter dust of their own 
 raising, and were accompanied by an escort of mounted men 
 armed with heavy whips and long bell-mouthed brass pistols. 
 
 As we drew abreast I was pained to see that every man of 
 this doleful company was manacled by the wrist to a long 
 chain which passed from end to end of the line. Many wore 
 leg-irons, not light ones, either, but heavy and hampering- 
 one might almost have called them cruel, for the rags which 
 padded the wearer's ankles were embrowned with blood. 
 
 I had heard of these transportation chain-gangs, but had 
 not come across one, although the shipments to New Holland 
 had begun ten years before. 
 
 The smell of these wretches and the clanking of their 
 shackles so excited our leaders that after jibing well-nigh into 
 the ditch, they swept us past at a gallop; yet not so fast but that 
 our driver, scrutinizing the faces lifted in a kind of hopeless 
 wonder, beheld one that he knew and half raised his right 
 elbow, coachman-fashion, in token of recognition, whilst his 
 chops fell in pitiful surprise. 
 
 " What come next ?" he echoed harshly. What come next? 
 God A-mighty! that come next! S'elp me, there be Fred-er-ick, 
 ninth from the eend, off-side, the limpin' cove in fetters. 
 So they didn't hang the pore young feller, seem'n'ly ( He 
 were left for death didn't ye hear me say ? ) They frequent 
 send 'em foreign now. That chain started from Norwich 
 Castle a week or more back, and'll tramp to Plymouth, and 
 then they'll goo a-shipboard for Gawd knows where! Some 
 leetle island, one say, and another say bottom-o'-the-bay, 
 and that's likeier, for ne'er a one comes back. Yes, damme, 
 there goes the pore young feller I was tellin' ye of, a livin' 
 moniment of fullishness, and all through not stickin' to his 
 trade." 
 
 [24]
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 "The poltroon," said the young fighter, with hardening 
 eye, "To let himself be taken alive!" 
 
 A silence ensued; each was busy with his own thoughts, and 
 I, for one, felt some impatience when the stalled ox inconse- 
 quently reverted to his discussion with the driver. 
 
 "Oh, I know what Tom Doggett can dew," he squeaked, 
 "I sin urn fight myself, once at Bury, once at Newmarket. 
 They'd their lags tied behind the trestle. But 'twarn't what you 
 might call fair matching either time; his men were light 
 light. Yew handles yer fistes right smart, young feller!" he 
 remarked, turning to his companion, evidently willing to stand 
 well with so redoubtable a boxer, and diplomatically ignoring 
 the ground of dispute. 
 
 "Passably," replied the youth, and not for the first time I 
 was aware of an unfamiliarity in his dialect and intonation. 
 He had pronounced the first syllable so as to rhyme with mass, 
 and I listened for more. But he spoke little and was presently 
 set down at the cross-road to Hitchin and passed from my 
 sight; yet the dark, alert, sharply-cut face had impressed my 
 imagination and remained in my mind. I questioned the 
 driver. " That'll be young Mister Sam'I Smith," said he in 
 picked phrase which suggested that he was concocting his 
 tale. "That there younker is a dealin'-man as does in malt, 
 and come from somewheres about Peterboro'. A pleasant- 
 spoken, peaceable young feller as you'd wish to see," he added 
 as though these characteristics of his acquaintances would bear 
 bringing into prominence. 
 
 [25]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 I MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 A WRITER whose name escapes me has said that " all 
 the world is a stage," discovering, as I suppose, a 
 fanciful resemblance between a laden coach and the 
 globe itself speeding thro* space with its load of humanity, 
 agreeable or bickering, amused or bored, each outside pursuing 
 his own journey engrossed with his private business, towards a 
 destination unknown to his fellow travellers, and presently to 
 relinguish his seat for ever. 
 
 The particular microcosm upon which I was now embarked 
 exemplified this. It had witnessed the sudden outbreak of war, 
 a still more sudden patching up of peace, financial specula- 
 tion without result, the arrival of one passenger and the de- 
 parture of another. 
 
 The Quaker had taken the seat behind mine. Soon after 
 starting I had turned to him with the intention of addressing 
 some commonplace remark, but had found him with closed 
 eyes, composed and inaccessible, and had held my peace. 
 
 I had put the man down for what he was before he had opened 
 his lips, his sect being well-known in the eastern counties, 
 and I since childhood familiar with its soberly-clad adherents 
 and their meeting-house in Peters Street, Ipswich: with its 
 outside, that is to say, and its tiny burial-ground like a cloister- 
 
 [26]
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 garth hidden away amid its buildings and walled in from the 
 street. I had peered through the seldom-opened wicket, and 
 may even have envied the town-boy who cried "Quack!" 
 threw his stone and ran, for no child of a family of our position, 
 no Eton boy, would have set foot inside a dissenter's chapel. 
 
 As to the beliefs and practices of the sect, I had a vague 
 notion that their meetings were held in a dreary silence, and 
 that for some reason ( presumably physical cowardice or 
 calculated poltroonery), their men refused to resent injuries, 
 to defend their women and goods, or to bear arms at the call of 
 their king. 
 
 My fellow-traveller's behaviour had unsettled these pre- 
 conceptions and had extorted my unwilling respect. The man's 
 quiet hardihood and absolute self-command attracted me, 
 for I myself would not for forty pounds have crossed a fight 
 between strangers. A broken head, with the horse-trough to 
 follow, were the probable rewards of interference in such dis- 
 putes. 
 
 That this man had not only escaped mobbing by the ring, 
 but had brought both principals and spectators to his way of 
 thinking, argued a strong personality. 
 
 At that day fighting was the national sport, the passion, 
 preoccupation and chief interest of a large proportion of 
 Englishmen of every class. 
 
 At Eton I had fought as a matter of course. My lifelong 
 friendship with the gallant, the lamented, the Honourble Robert 
 Elwes Dawnay, last Viscount Wokingham, originated in a 
 determined bout of fisticuffs. The custom was sanctioned by 
 our masters, who watched and applauded these contests, their 
 presence stimulating pluck and ensuring fair play. Not only 
 oppidan and colleger, but every urchin at his dame-school, 
 and in the nursery itself, doubled chubby fists upon the least 
 occasion; and mother or governess, whilst crying out upon 
 
 [27]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 the resultant black eyes, secretly rejoiced over the stoutness 
 of both victor and vanquished, whilst impartially whipping 
 both. 
 
 The contest which I had witnessed, far from shocking me, 
 struck me as less vigorously pursued, less obstinate and vin- 
 dictive than many at which I had been present, and was singu- 
 lar only in its conclusion. 
 
 It was a day when most gentlemen boxed and supported 
 the art; when matches were publickly advertised, put up, 
 trained for and decided in every county in England. Pugilism 
 was, however, not then the recognized profession which it 
 afterwards became. A class of paid fighting men was indeed 
 coming into existence, and, so to say, demanding the recogni- 
 tion it abundantly obtained during the Regency. 
 
 At the time of which I am writing the laws of the ring had 
 not been codified, nor the practice brought to the perfection 
 it reached in the hands of Gentleman Jackson. Each county 
 had its rules and its methods; not only were the size and shape 
 of the ring undetermined, but the ring itself was far from 
 universal. In sea-ports ( as on ship-board ) the com- 
 batants bestrode a bench and fought knee to knee. In the 
 midlands it was still customary to strap the ankles of the 
 prizers Beneath a table. 
 
 The natural consequence of this universal brutality, in 
 which all classes participated, and from which the Church 
 was not exempt, 1 was national hardness of heart, disregard 
 for pain, whether effecting one's neighbour or one's self, dead- 
 ness of sympathy and deafness to the cry of the poor. In short, 
 it bred a callousness of nerve and a tendency in any emergency 
 or contest to subordinate convenience, feeling, or even con- 
 
 'Upon later revision my Great Uncle regretted this passage, and desired to except 
 from this sweeping indictment the Evangelical Clergy, Methodists and some dissent- 
 ing sects unnamed. Exor. 
 
 [28]
 
 CHAPrER THREE 
 
 science, to an over-mastering resolve to keep one's hands up 
 and see the thing through. 
 
 This combative habit had its compensations, and was (under 
 Providence ) permitted, let us believe, in view of that 
 truly tremendous conflict in which, without desire or choice 
 of its own, our nation was already engaged. No race that count- 
 ed noses or cultivated nerves, or regarded as conclusive the 
 first round ( or the twenty-first, for that matter ) would have 
 come up to time as stubbornly as did my countrymen during 
 those long black years when all the world seemed upon us, 
 which began with the loss of Hanover and ended with the 
 storming of Ciudad Rodrigo. 
 
 For this unconscionable digression I can only offer the ex- 
 cuse of my grey hairs and a tendency to garrulity of which I 
 am growingly conscious. 
 
 Let me hasten to overtake the stage, now lumbering along 
 the turnpike with the borough of Huntingdon almost in 
 sight. 
 
 Considering my youth and country breeding I must have 
 possessed fair powers of observation.'It had occurred to me that 
 an understanding subsisted between our coachman and the 
 adroit young pugilist, hence, when the latter, having feed the 
 guard, had let himself down by the wheel, I had watched his 
 departure with an interest which had attracted the attention of 
 the Quaker. 
 
 "May I enquire if thee knows that young man ?" said he. I 
 replied that I did not, and, being weary of my own company 
 and willing to make further acquaintance with this singular 
 fanatic, shifted my position to converse with more ease. He 
 remarked that the youth's features were curiously familiar, 
 but that the circumstances of any previous meeting eluded him. 
 Nor could he recall the name. ( We both tacitly rejected the one 
 supplied by the driver. ) He then gazed long at the diminishing
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF OJJALITT 
 
 figure and when he turned to me again, "That is a young man 
 of parts," said he, "an uncommon person. He has gifts, and 
 has had providences, and, unless I am mistaken, he is sinning 
 his mercies, for there goes with him a savour of death unto 
 death. " 
 
 These words, spoken slowly close to my ear and audible to me 
 alone, gave me a peculiar sensation. Never had I encountered any 
 person whom I could imagine using such language, or taking 
 the view of life which it indicated. ''Gifts," "providences," 
 "mercies," "savours," were not so much the jargon of a sect 
 as a novel dialect denoting a foreignness of mind which, in a 
 person of tried courage, did not repel me as it otherwise might 
 have done. 
 
 Now that I regarded the speaker closely I found him well 
 shaven and faultlessly clean, with the clear skin and eye of 
 abstinent health. All of his dress that appeared was of good 
 material, serviceable and well-brushed, not so much out of the 
 mode as following a fashion of its own. 
 
 But it was the man's countenance that commended him as 
 he bent over me, for his seat was somewhat the higher; it was so 
 pleasantly homely, so unembarrassed, so honest, and as unaffect- 
 edly anxious to be of service as is the face of a good dog that fol- 
 lows a worthy master, and ( alas that it should be so! ) what can 
 a man say more ? 
 
 I had made him no reply, but my features, upon which he 
 was bestowing a steady and kindly scrutiny, must have en- 
 couraged him to proceed. The door stood open and he entered. 
 
 "There is a sin unto death," he said very lowly, as to himself. 
 I did not then know that he quoted. 
 
 "Yet he gave away the fight upon your persuasion, sir," 
 I observed. He fell a-musing. 
 
 "I think it probable," said he at length, "that it was not 
 my words but my appearance which so put him out of 
 
 [30]
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 countenance." I stared. "He recognized me and feared why, 
 I know not, lest I should recognize him. " 
 
 "But, sir," said I, "what had he to fear, with all the 
 right upon his side ? Nor, should I think the loser will be 
 a penny the worse for his drubbing at the week's end. That 
 young man was abused and beaten without reason before you 
 drove up." 
 
 "Are thee sure it was without reason ? Does thee know what 
 has passed between those men before to-day ? Thomas Doggett 
 I know for a proud man. He is not of my way of thinking. He 
 is hasty as to his temper; but I have found him just and upright 
 in his dealings. His tongue is an unruly member, but not un- 
 truthful." 
 
 This led me to reflect that the actual challenge had come 
 from the younger man and that there was some colour for the 
 view that the combatant who had worsted his adversary with 
 his fists had previously bested him at a contest of brains. 
 
 The coachman and the third outside were discussing the 
 merits of the Suffolk punch, or sorreL Under cover of their 
 conversation my sober companion, whose wise, gentle regard I 
 felt upon me, presently resumed his discourse. 
 
 "We are drawing near to Huntingdon, where we shall part 
 with small likelihood of meeting again. I have a word for thee. 
 It has been shewn me that there is a cloud overshadowing thee, 
 but that there is a silver lining to the cloud. Remember it is 
 the Divine ordering that clouds shall pass, and doubt not the 
 love of thy Heavenly Father. " 
 
 If anyone had foretold an hour earlier that such a rigmarole 
 warning would be addressed to me on a public vehicle by a 
 perfect stranger, a low-bred person and a dissenter, and that 
 instead of resenting the impertinence I should take it in ex- 
 cellent part if anyone, I say, had ventured to predict this, 
 I should have laughed him to scorn: yet, thus it befell; and the
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 Quaker seeing how it stood with me, continued after a brief 
 pause: 
 
 "I have been told that I am a discerner of spirits, and indeed 
 at times I am favoured by the Master to see the conditions of 
 the hearts of those I am thrown with and to speak to their condi- 
 tions in His name. 
 
 "I am old enough to have been thy father, and have not long 
 since laid in the grave a son of about thy years. My young friend, 
 my heart goes out to thee in love! Thou wilt ride rough waters, 
 but thou wilt come through. The floods shall not overflow thee. " 
 His voice was very low and near, and rose and fell in a kind of 
 breathing chant. "Thou shalt be used, my son, and shall be led 
 by the hand of Him who bought thee. There is a service set 
 apart for thee, and a light within thee to guide thee; a light of 
 which thou art not yet aware; it shall broaden and brighten 
 upon thy path; O, obstruct it not! 
 
 "Thou hast but a little strength, and art soon to pass into a 
 dark room; do not disbelieve in the dark what thou hast seen in 
 the light!" 
 
 The coach slackened and stood. We were in Huntingdon 
 market-place. I, so completely taken up with my companion, 
 who, in this minute's space had grown more intimate than my 
 mother, and had unlocked chambers in my heart of the very 
 existence of which I had been unconscious, had seen gardens 
 and gables flow past as in a dream. Now I started as from a 
 trance, blinked, smiled, and offered my hand; it was taken 
 and held for a moment in the Quaker's large firm grasp, and 
 then he was gone and I had not asked his name. 
 
 This, as I afterwards recognized, was one of the milestones 
 of my life. Until now the varied shows of my journey had found 
 me an amused and indulgent spectator, with an irresponsible 
 guffaw for the comedy of things, and for graver passages an 
 impatient shrug. 
 
 [32]
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 But this Quaker had left something of himself with me that I 
 could not away with. I was uneasily conscious of the new mal- 
 ady of thought. In a word, I was from this moment no longer 
 the mere boy. 
 
 [331
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 TRIVIALITIES OF THE NORTH ROAD 
 
 IT seems that I was not to leave Huntingdon without 
 my first visit to the place being suitably impressed 
 upon my memory. 
 
 The North Star, upon which I obtained a seat, was delayed 
 by the procession of javelin-men escorting the circuit judge 
 to the Assize. 
 
 As a sign of respect to the King's justice, the stage was drawn 
 clear of the road, and we all got down and uncovered; some 
 lords justices were known to be punctilious, and we had no 
 desire to be ordered back into the town to purge an uninten- 
 tional contempt with humble apologies after hours of delay. 
 
 I need not describe a pageant familiar to you all, suffice it 
 I was paying less heed to the great man himself than to his 
 guard, who seemed well-bred young fellows of my age, when 
 the blazon upon his panel caught my eye; it was our family 
 coat differenced, or rather with the badge of cadency added, 
 and, glancing at the occupant of the carriage, I beheld my 
 father's features, but sharper and paler; the calmly-roving eye 
 which met mine was the full dark Fanshawe grey that you will 
 see in the earlier Bramford portraits. 
 
 Upon enquiry, I found that I had been watching the progress 
 of my relation, Sir Algernon Maskelyne-Fanshawe, the head 
 
 (34]
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 of the younger branch of our house, between whom and my 
 father an inherited suit in Chancery was pending. 
 
 With so palpable a barrier to friendly intercourse between us, 
 it was no wonder that we had never met, yet I recalled remarks 
 dropped by my lord as to this man's rise in the world. The 
 poverty to which long litigation had reduced his parents had 
 stimulated him to exertions which had raised him step by step in 
 his profession, until he was able to relinquish the largest income 
 of his day at the Bar in exchange for the ease of the Bench. 
 
 "And may wish himself back again, yet," said my informant 
 under his breath, glancing sidelong at the back of the slow- 
 moving equipage. "That son of his, young George 'Fanny', 
 as his friends call him is making the guineas fly; horses, 
 gaming, women, wagers! phew! 'Tis a pity, for the judge is a 
 man of a thousand." 
 
 The consideration of what this man had effected, the barriers 
 he had forced in his unaided progress to the front, his studious 
 nights and laborious days, patience, abstinence, constancy, 
 affected me like a rebuke. I rated myself for an idle, useless dog, 
 and pondered what manner of provision I could earn for my 
 necessities if by any chance I were brought to want. This train 
 of enquiry lowered still further my self-conceit, for I found my- 
 self ignorant of the rudiments of every single handicraft, and 
 more than doubted whether at the tightest pinch I could fit a 
 shoe to a nag's hoof if it were ready forged to my hand; an oper- 
 ation I had watched and criticised a hundred times at least. 
 
 What then, said I, could I turn to ? Some livelihood 
 there must needs be for a tall fellow such as I; something above 
 the drudgery of field labour or the slavery of the common 
 soldier, a life which I had always heard condemned as the 
 most miserable of existences save that of the mariner. 
 
 I decided at length that should fortune forsake me, and I be 
 driven to work for my bread, my occupation should be about 
 
 [35]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 horses, not as groom or coachman, for their service subjects 
 them, as I now reflected for the first time, to the caprices 
 of the most idle and thoughtless people in the world, who, having 
 little to occupy them, must needs do by night what they might 
 more reasonably do by day, so that their servants are kept upon 
 the roads in darkness and hunger in all weathers, and, being un- 
 able to get regular meals or sleep, betake themselves to drink. 
 "Rather than this," thought I, "I will drive a stage wagon; it is 
 at least a responsible and, in its way, an honourable calling, 
 and such a one as that Quaker would approve!" And at this 
 I laughed, finding that the whole train of thought, so uncusto- 
 mary in a very thoughtless young fellow, had been induced 
 by the influence of this recent acquaintance. Yet, for the rest 
 of the day when we overtook or met one of those broad- 
 wheeled, slow-moving wains with its team of smoking shire^ 
 breds lifting vast hairy fetlocks and travelling to the music 
 of their bells, I scrutinized the faces of the wagoners, and 
 wondered what was passing in their minds, what they earned, 
 and where they would lie at night. 
 
 It was at Grantham or Newark, I cannot remember which, 
 but it was at a town with a mighty fine steeple, that we first 
 learned of the horse-robberies further north. Small rudely- 
 printed bills were handed round in the inn-yard, and large 
 posters with fuller particulars were stuck upon stable doors 
 and displayed in the coffee-room. 
 
 It seemed that during the previous month horses had been 
 disappearing from widely separated districts in a manner at 
 present unexplained. The season being mild and dry, an unusual 
 number of animals were still at grass and under small super- 
 vision, and it was from these the thieves had selected their 
 booty. Between twenty and twenty-five valuable young horses 
 were missed from South Yorkshire and North Lincolnshire; 
 some of these had been tracked into Thorne Waste, but none 
 
 [36]
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 had been recovered. The most had vanished strangely been 
 spirited away, as one might put it. Rewards were offered, of 
 course, and many a stubbly chin was rubbed over the matter. 
 
 A stage or two further north we were met by a flight of 
 posters still sticky from the press. These notified us of a yet 
 more recent and daring crime, perhaps a fortnight old, but dis- 
 covered within the week. 
 
 The scene of this felony was Holderness, and the sufferer one 
 Sir Grandison Constable, of Burton Constable, a demesne 
 remarkable for preserving a herd of wild cattle one of the last 
 in Britain, as I have heard say. It was from the park itself, and 
 almost from under the windows of the mansion, that fifteen 
 four-year-old blood horses had been stolen. 
 
 It was at first believed that they had strayed, and, being un- 
 shod, none supposed they could travel far, and time was wasted 
 in drawing coverts in neighbouring parishes. This hope was 
 abandoned when remains of charcoal, hoof-parings, and what- 
 not were found in a secluded spinney, showing that horses 
 had been cast and shod there in clandestine fashion. Later the 
 drove was tracked to Ferriby, and there the scent failed, the 
 horse-boat plying between this place and Barton, on the Lin- 
 colnshire side of the estuary, being missing. 
 
 Our coachman, who professed to know the district, gave it as 
 his opinion that an attempt had been made to put the H umber 
 between the stolen nags and the hue and cry and had succeeded 
 only too well. 
 
 "Ye may lay yer lives this 'ere is what befell, sirs; they got 
 'em aboard, tied 'em head-and-tail, and, mebbe, blindfolded 
 'em to quiet 'em. The tide turned agin the wind, the boat lay 
 over, the load shifted, a 'oss kicked, another kicked, and then 
 they was all kickin' like h 11, and over went the ferry! And 
 Sir Grandison or 'ere a one else as be interested in they 'osses 
 may find 'em knockin' about the Dogger Bank!" 
 
 [37]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUALHY 
 
 All which seemed sufficiently plausible for the most of the 
 man's audience, yet did a doubt cross my mind too shadowy to 
 justify speech. Having nothing better to do I was studying the 
 bill as I rode, and had found in the list of missing animals 
 descriptions of a matched pair of sixteen-hand geldings, iron- 
 grey with black points, each having a white off hind-foot. 
 Now it occurred to me that the colour, though not unknown, is 
 unusual in blood-stock, and further, that although the ap- 
 pearance of a single animal tallying with this might admit of 
 explanation yet the occurrence of a pair was at least suspicious. 
 Now, the day before I had left home my father had bought 
 jus* such a pair from an Ipswich dealer on his way from Nor- 
 wich horse-fair for our neighbour the Marquise de la Rochemes- 
 nil, an emigree of the French noblesse, who rented my mother's 
 dower-house in the adjoining parish of Sproughton. In fact, 
 it was this pair I had met upon the road at my setting out, 
 and their points were clearly in my head. 
 
 No suspicion of the seller lurked in my mind. I knew him 
 for an honest fellow, as dealers go. If his tale were true as 
 was as good as certain they had been sold in market overt 
 and were legally his. 1 (O, younker.as I was, I knew so much; 
 anything touching a horse stayed in a noddle where little else 
 found lodgment!) 
 
 I did no more than play with the idea that these were the 
 missing cattle. That they had passed under the hammer at 
 Norwich a week since forbade their having been stolen from a 
 park in the East Riding a fortnight ago. No horse brought up 
 from grass could have made the journey. And yet the 
 thought came to me like a gleam of light from under a locked 
 door if that horse-boat had reached the North Sea on the 
 ebb under skilled hands, if she had run with a northerly breeze 
 
 1 Not so, by a long way. A bit of bad law this, as I have since learnt to my cost. 
 G. F. 
 
 [38]
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 for the Wash and discharged her lading say at Burnham 
 Thorpe, or better still, near Lynn those horses might have 
 reached Norwich the night before the fair and a week ahead of 
 the bills. 
 
 I set myself to plan the roguery, and was soon convinced that 
 though conceivable it was mighty unlikely. It needed the con- 
 currence of such ticklish customers as two couple ( at least ) 
 of Gypsy farriers, a gang of skilful and daring copers not less 
 than eight strong, and a crew of east-coast smugglers, Wash 
 pilots, who could thrid those unlighted, unbuoyed channels 
 at the nick of the tide and in the darkness of a moonless win- 
 ter's night. Above all, the venture called for the head of a 
 general. 
 
 And with that I fell to imagining the bodily seeming of such 
 a man. 
 
 To make it possible to gather round him and hold in sub- 
 jection such discordant confederates needed age; experience 
 to confer authority; presence and bodily strength beyond the 
 common to enforce it. Such a fellow had need to be as broad 
 as a door and six-foot four in his stocking feet, active, silent 
 and sudden as a lurcher, but tenacious as the bull-dog himself. 
 A tried mariner, too, was required and O, marvellous, a 
 skilled jockey! Inland bred and able to pass as such, and yet 
 a seafarer ! A combination of Dick Turpin and Captain Kidd. 
 My imagination carrying me no further, I yawned and nodded. 
 
 One more incident, a trivial one, occurred on the journey. 
 It was at the last changing-house before we reached York 
 Tadcaster, surely that I watched a traveller's gig, seated 
 for two, approach and pass us as we stood. It was drawn by a 
 blood mare, a free-stepping strawberry roan. The driver's 
 face was hidden by the wide brim of his beaver: he seemed a 
 slight, elderly man, decently dressed in tradesman fashion, and, 
 quite unremarkable, had not the girl at his side, warmly cloaked 
 
 [39]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUALITT 
 
 and hooded, turned up to me a face so innocent and beautiful 
 and young as to stir my pulses for the moment. What was 
 strange, I felt certain upon the instant that I had met her before. 
 But where? 
 
 [40]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN 
 
 UPON reaching York, where I put up at the Black Swan 
 in Coney Street, my immediate business was to have 
 reported myself to my commanding officer; a duty 
 I foolishly delayed from day to day whilst awaiting the coming 
 of my sea-borne mails, until my colonel, having learned of my 
 arrival from a third party, sent to my lodging to know if I were 
 indisposed. 
 
 Upon this hint, having made what toilet I could, I waited 
 upon him the next morning. But my tardiness had touched 
 his spleen: I had done upon compulsion what should have been 
 prompted by zeal, and had but myself to thank for the coolness 
 of my reception. 
 
 What Sir Bulstrode had expected to see I know not, but his 
 disappointment was evident. I was at that time a tall, ungainly 
 youth of the sort that furnishes late, as we say of a hound, and 
 gave small promise on first acquaintance of either strength or 
 smartness. 
 
 I am under the impression that I walked as gamekeepers walk, 
 with a slouch, and stood as huntsmen stand, with heels apart. 
 In a word, I must have cut an unmartial figure, and fallen 
 easily into unmilitary postures equally distasteful to the eye 
 of a martinet ; but of these defects I was naturally unconscious. 
 
 [41]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 On my part I was pricking with curiosity as to the person 
 of my commanding officer, with whose name and services I 
 had been familiar since boyhood. I knew that his reputation as 
 a cavalry leader stood second to none. When a younger man he 
 had ridden behind Tarleton in Virginia, where I have heard 
 that his name is still remembered as that of an adventurous and 
 determined opponent, ever wont to appear in the least expected 
 quarter. It was said of him that he had taught Marion and 
 Sumter their business. The marches which he was reputed 
 to have made with small patrols verged upon the incredible. 
 The honours of the Carolina campaign in 1780 were his, 
 especially the cavalry work after Camden. 
 
 Boylike, I had constructed for myself an ideal compacted 
 of every personal advantage, adding such touches from time to 
 time as my growing information suggested. The result was a 
 prodigy to which Alexander or Prince Rupert must have seemed 
 ineffectual. Where the ancients would have come short no mod- 
 ern may think to hold a candle; I have seen both the Duke of 
 Berg 1 and Prince Blucher lead cavalry, and need not say that I 
 was more than satisfied with their performances, but at one-and- 
 twenty, with a head full of my own nonsensical imaginations, I 
 would not have looked twice at either. 
 
 I had prefigured my future leader as hawk-visaged and 
 silent, his saturnine countenance lit by the restless bright eye 
 of the huntsman of a woodland country. I had pictured 
 him long of limb and light of flank, grizzled but unbent; a 
 man who could swing himself into the saddle of a sixteen-two 
 charger with one easy movement and put him straight at any- 
 thing a horse should be asked to face, whether water, timber 
 or quick. 
 
 To such a man I could have given all the worship of which 
 a boy is capable, and, let me tell you, a boy's love is no bad 
 
 'Joachim Murat, soi-disant King of Naples. EDS. ,
 
 CHAPTER FIFE 
 
 thing to win and to hold, whether one be brigadier of horse or 
 tallow-chandler. 
 
 Well, I was shown into a long, dark room, and before my eyes 
 were used to the obscurity found myself facing a personage 
 seated at a large table, a personage who glanced up and received 
 my salute sourly. So little did the speaker accord with my 
 preconceptions, that I believe I gaped upon him like a ninny, 
 doubting if I had been rightly directed. 
 
 I saw an elderly man, older, as I judged, than my father, 
 of a corpulency approaching unwieldiness. The large dark face 
 was blotched and purplish, there were pouches beneath the eyes, 
 the cheeks hung loose on either side of a pendulous veined nose, 
 which shook when he spoke. The face was broader across the 
 jowl than at the cheek bones, diminishing still more at the 
 temples and tapering up to where the receding forehead lost it- 
 self under the wig. 
 
 One hand was in his fob, its fellow lay upon some papers; 
 I noticed how it trembled and twitched, and observed the chalk- 
 stones beneath the skin of the swollen knuckles. 
 
 His eyes daunted me before he spoke, their hardness matched 
 the hardness of his mouth. This was Sir Bulstrode Ogle, Lieu- 
 tenant Colonel of the Fifth Dragoon Guards. 
 
 Judge if I was disillusioned. 
 
 You must remember that if I had picked up little at school 
 or since leaving it, I had at least learned something of the 
 horse, both what he can carry and what he cannot; who is fit 
 and who is unfit to ride him. It came home to me that this 
 gross old man, this indulged coach-load of flesh, whatever he 
 had been in his prime, was no longer a horseman. That gouty 
 foot would not hold the stirrup, those crippled hands could 
 never check or wheel a strong charger. The idea of such a 
 figure as this leading an advance across a cramped country was 
 ludicrous. 
 
 [43]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUAUTY 
 
 If I misliked him, he as plainly distasted me, and fell across 
 me with his first word, rating me for travelling stage. "Young 
 man," said he, "did no one tell ye that a carabineer posts when 
 he cannot ride? If ye can't earn your salt, sir, don't disgrace 
 your mess." 
 
 As my absence was of old standing and unremarked for years, 
 I could not divine why it should be found so offensive at this 
 particular juncture, until some word he let drop supplied me 
 with the clue, and enabled me to piece out the great man's 
 grievance from the fragments of soliloquy with which he inter- 
 larded his censure. 
 
 It appeared that apprehensions of rebellion among the 
 Presbyterians of Ulster had led to the Fifth ( which was next 
 upon the roster for foreign service ) being brought up to its 
 full strength whilst under-officered. 
 
 This had been no easy matter, for the bounty was low and 
 the service excessively unpopular, the disgraces sustained at 
 the hands of the revolted Colonists being still fresh in men's 
 minds. 
 
 Hence, for want of better, our squadrons were stuffed with 
 Hessians, Irish papists, jail-birds, and the worst characters of 
 Other regiments, yes, and the rawest clodhoppers from the 
 militia, who were daily bumped around the riding-school or 
 exercised upon Knavesmire. 
 
 "And just when I am at my wits' end for serviceable officers 
 for my senior Major confound him! has seen fit to ask 
 leave upon some blanked pretext, a wedding, or a funeral, or 
 the Lord knows what just when I am damnably short- 
 handed and in need of men men, I repeat, not hobbledehoys, 
 sir! You do me the honour to report yourself; you, who, 
 they tell me, are as ignorant of your drill and duties as an 
 applewoman, and have yet to learn upon which side to mount 
 your charger !" 
 
 [44]
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 I was young enough to assure him that I was considered a 
 fair horseman, but correction seldom mollifies an irritated 
 superior, and I joined under the cloud of his unconcealed 
 displeasure. 
 
 To have put myself upon my colonel's black book was mis- 
 fortune enough had it come singly, but it had not, for, I was to 
 learn later, I had an ill-wisher among my fellow subalterns, 
 who had conceived a dislike for me before so much as seeing 
 my face. And for the following reason. This gentleman, Lieu- 
 tenant Ganthony by name, as my senior in the service, had 
 had the first refusal of the troop which I now commanded, 
 but had squandered in a night at loo, the regulation purchase- 
 money sent him by a doting mother, who had done more wisely 
 to have transacted the business through an agent. Upon this 
 my father had secured the step for me as next for seconding, 
 and Mr. Ganthony, having thus conceded to a youngster both 
 rank and seniority which had once been at his fingers' ends, 
 was at little pains to conceal his jealousy of his supplanter. 
 
 Of all this I was at the time as ignorant as a babe, nor could 
 imagine in what manner I had offended this man, who seemed 
 at all times, and especially when inflamed with liquor, disposed 
 to put some affront upon me. It came to a head within the 
 week. He swung into my room unannounced whilst I was 
 dressing after my second riding-school, and taking possession 
 of my bed, sate very much at his ease quizzing my belongings 
 and rolling an unlighted cigar between his lips, his legs at full 
 stretch occupying the half of my floor-space. 
 
 "And so," said he, without salutation of preface, "you are 
 brother to my old friend Bramford?" 
 
 I nodded, not too cordially. "Haw, the devil ye are!" said 
 my visitor, and spat upon the floor and, carelessly begging my 
 pardon, resumed, "I take it ye know that your brother owes 
 me money?" He eyed me askance, between two minds, as I 
 
 [45]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 thought, whether to bully or to cajole. I, having my chin up 
 before my glass, was getting my stock to sit to my liking and 
 was thus excused from immediate reply had the remark been 
 a question in form. These news might very well be true, but 
 my brother's affairs were nothing to me. 
 
 "I am waiting to hear what ye have to propose, Mr. Fan- 
 shawe: I presume ye will take up your brother's paper?" 
 
 I laughed shortly and angrily. "What? a second son pay his 
 elder brother's debts? and at a moment's notice? who- 
 ever heard the like?" 
 
 ' 'Tis the rule of the regiment, sir," said he, "and let me 
 tell you at once that unless ye settle you will not do for the 
 carabineers." 
 
 This bluster tasted flat as stale beer; he neither repeated his 
 demand nor arose to go, but fell a-musing. ' 'Twas a wager 
 upon that match between your brother's 'Rhodomontade' and 
 Mr. Vyze's 'Roysterer'," said he. 'Rhodomontade' broke a 
 blood-vessel. Bramford took the brute over from the beau 
 when they dispersed their joint stable. Ye know Vyze?" 
 
 I had heard the name of my brother's racing partner, but 
 no more, and confessed to no interest in the matter. I yawned, 
 but my caller stuck. 
 
 "Bramford is most damnably dipped, as all the town 
 knows," said he; "the only question is whether this woman 
 will pull him round. He is for marrying, ye understand." 
 
 I pricked my ears. He maundered on. 
 
 "What's her property? Is it tied up? She's the Marquise de 
 la Something-or-other, they say. 'Lew-ceel, mong onge!' is all 
 the little fool's cry when he's squiffy;" he drew a ridiculous 
 grimace and mimicked my brother's tone to the life. 
 
 I had heard enough. If Bramford had played the fool he 
 might stand the racket, but the lady was another matter. Not 
 one syllable affecting her should pass my lips, nor the lips of 
 
 [46]
 
 CHAPTER FIFE 
 
 this fellow if I were man enough to prevent him. I had been 
 warming up for a minute past and suddenly grew hot. I pointed 
 to the corridor. 
 
 "W-what?" he stammered, realizing the situation. "D'ye 
 show me the door?" 
 
 "Would ye chuse the window, Mr. Ganthony?" I riposted 
 just above a whisper, tingling and above myself, for the man 
 was tall and big and years my senior. But there was no fight 
 in the fellow that day : my little room was soon rid of him ; yet 
 I had provided myself with an enemy whose malice was to cost 
 me my commission, and to put me in danger of my life yes, 
 and to dog my path for many a year after he was laid in a 
 felon's grave. 
 
 As will presently appear, my term of service with the colours 
 was too short to entitle me to form an opinion, yet, immature 
 as I was, I thought at the time that my regiment was in as ill 
 a posture for active service as His Majesty's enemies could have 
 desired: an opinion only too soon to be justified. 
 
 If the mess numbered any zealous or competent officers, I 
 was unfortunate in failing to make their acquaintance. 
 
 The handling of the new drafts was left to the sergeants, 
 truculent and vicious fellows, whose treatment of the unfor- 
 tunate privates was a misery to witness. 
 
 Discipline was terribly severe, having been recently tightened 
 under the expectation of active service. Nor were the troopers 
 singular in their experiences; the subalterns had their share of 
 injustice, and even ill-usage, to support. 
 
 I was by nature light-hearted and of a careless and sanguine 
 temperament; a cadet of a soldiering family, I had looked 
 forward to wearing my sovereign's uniform since the day I 
 was breeched, and was not in the least disposed to quarrel with 
 honourable comrades or reasonable conditions of service. That 
 I signally failed to conform to the conditions, or to ingratiate 
 
 [47]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITr 
 
 myself with my mess, and presently involved myself in a 
 scandalous fracas which to some extent has overshadowed my 
 life, was not, I solemnly aver, owing to faults of mine. I am 
 now an old man, duly sensible of my failings and thankful for 
 many mercies, and I have set myself to review, pen in hand, 
 the events of my early life, for the instruction, as I trust, of 
 my young relatives; but, ponder it as I will, I can hardly blame 
 myself for the thing that occurred. 
 
 To begin with, the British army which has since wreathed 
 its standards with laurels and can well afford to admit the truth, 
 was at this juncture as pitifully ill-found and as notoriously 
 ill-led as at any period in its history. 
 
 We had been beaten in our last war, but had learned nothing 
 by our reverses. Jobbery and petticoat influence were rather 
 the rule of the service than the exception, and jobbery and 
 petticoat influence, whilst promoting the worst, had sapped the 
 zeal and soured the spirits of the best. 
 
 A minister paid his tailor's bill with a commission. Years 
 of active service and a dozen wounds in front went for nothing 
 if one's rival stood well in the graces of the mistress of a royal 
 duke. 
 
 The gentlemen who bore His Majesty's commissions had 
 bought their commands, and naturally looked to see value for 
 their money, regarding the army as existing for their benefit and 
 not themselves for the benefit of the army. 
 
 In short, a captain getting his company got a flock to shear, 
 and too often shore it so closely as to ruin its efficiency. Some 
 regiments were notoriously rotten. 
 
 In the case of the carabineers matters were approaching a 
 pass to which there was but one issue disgraceful disaster 
 from participating in which I was, by the mercy of Divine 
 Providence, timely removed. 
 
 The day was a day of hard drinking and high play. Certain 
 
 [48]
 
 CHAPTER FIFE 
 
 messes had the name for this vice, others for that; the one 
 which I had joined was noted for excess in both. 
 
 A youthful subaltern, pink and smiling from his mother's 
 parting embrace, with his father's guineas jingling in his fob, 
 was the natural prey of the regimental hawks. 
 
 I was the pigeon, and had without doubt been denuded of 
 every feather, had not a certain shrewdness acquired in the 
 hunting-field, at the horse-fair and at market, a rustical 
 shrewdness, no doubt, but better than none, stood me in good 
 stead. 
 
 The latest addition to the mess was not such a fool as he 
 looked. One was for selling me a charger and took very ill 
 my detection of a side-bone. Another would teach me pool, and 
 found at the expense of certain half-crown lives ( which he 
 never paid ) that I was not so unskilled as he had hoped. We 
 had a table at home. 
 
 But I was in their hands, whether jolted in school upon the 
 trickiest horse in the regiment, or working through the long 
 toast-list under the vigilant eyes of seasoned men interested in 
 breaking down my sobriety under guise of "making my head." 
 
 The rule of our mess was imperative. The servants were 
 under penalties to fill to the brim, and the gentleman was fined 
 a bottle who failed to take down his quantum to the last drop 
 and reverse his glass whilst awaiting the return of the decanter. 
 
 With the cards, with the cues, and with the dice they am- 
 bushed my quarter's allowance, and not wholly in vain, and 
 by these and similar practice would have brought me to 
 pecuniary embarrassment had time permitted. 
 
 That my health and habit of body would have suffered had 
 I continued a member of this mess is most probable; thus, both 
 character, person and pocket benefited by what seemed at 
 that time the unmitigated calamity which now overtook me. 
 
 One of our customs, to which I have not alluded, was the 
 
 [49]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 perpetration of the most outrageous practical jokes. Some- 
 times brutal, often offensive to good taste, always disagreeable 
 to the victim, who was usually a subaltern too young to resent 
 effectually the pranks of his seniors, these practices had 
 already given our mess a bad name and had led to hostile 
 meetings. 
 
 The burlesque courts-martial, duckings in the horse-trough, 
 hay-makings in the rooms of shy young cornets, inspired me 
 with the silent resolution to defend myself if attacked by all 
 legitimate means. I was conscious of a long reach and heavy 
 left hand, and if matters went ill, why, there was my father's 
 gift. I had been too long my own master to subject myself 
 again to wanton indignities which, as a lower boy at Eton, I 
 had accepted as the course of nature. 
 
 That I should remain many days exempt from the high 
 spirits of certain members of my mess seemed unlikely. That 
 any warning of impending evil should reach me was improbable, 
 for to spoil sport was a thing unpardonable by the regimental 
 code. 
 
 Not one of my fellows in misfortune lifted an eyelid, and I 
 owed my safety to my servant, a poor, honest fellow, whose 
 goodness of heart had survived the discouragements of a 
 trooper's life. 
 
 A Stowmarket man, Hymus by name, he warmed towards a 
 young scapegrace of a master, upon whose tongue still hung 
 something of our Suffolk drawl. 
 
 Despite my resolution, I own that I fell into something like 
 a panic when my batman gave me the office. 
 
 "That do sim to me, sir," he began in a nervous whisper, 
 "that onless yew be uncommon fly, sir, yew'll be carried to 
 bed drunk to-night, sir." 
 
 I was prepared for worse news, and said so; but there was 
 more behind. 
 
 [50]
 
 CHAPTER FIFE 
 
 "I see six heel-ropes a-smuggled intew Mr. Wallop's quarters 
 this arternoon," he said, nodding mysteriously. "'Tis him and 
 Mr. Ganthony is on the job, them and a brace o' mess waiters. 
 I wormed it out o' one on 'em by stan'nin' him his drink; 
 thankye, sir; Gawd on'y knows what urn's up tew!" 
 
 "But I shall mind what I take and lock and bolt myself in." 
 
 For all reply he held the candle to the door ( I was dressing 
 for mess, and he had just tied my queue ) and made me see the 
 bread stoppings to holes whence the screws which had held 
 the furniture to the wood had been removed. Then, after re- 
 connoitring the passage and finding it clear, he signed me to 
 follow, and silently showed me certain auger-drills in the door 
 and jamb. I was to be screwed in. 
 
 With much precaution he lighted me back into my room, 
 and closed the door. "Wooden pegs won't stand a kick, sir. I 
 smoked 'em just afore ye come up. Most unfortnitly there ain't 
 no time to rectify our defences, sir." 
 
 "You must get into the city and back," I began, but he 
 wagged his head. 
 
 "Beg y' pardon, captain, but 'twas belts again last night in 
 Walmgate atween our Irish and the militia. A couple o' them 
 East Ridings was laid out. Ye'll find, if ye arst, as all leave be 
 stopped until the militia be disbanded, or till we gets the route, 
 sir." 
 
 He was right. Fresh screws were not to be come by that night, 
 nor was there anything in the room solid enough to reinforce 
 the door if heavily attacked. 
 
 "For Gawd's sake, don't ye go for to bring me inter this 
 here, sir!" entreated my only friend, when having done his 
 part he found my eye turn helplessly to his. I knew that he had 
 reason for his plea and promised. 
 
 There was only myself to depend upon. The spirit and 
 resource of a home-bred youth to pit against the experienced
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 malice of adepts. It was no wonder if I failed, if indeed my 
 failure were not rather ( under God's providence ) in the 
 nature of success. 
 
 By simulating sickness I escaped from mess early with a clear 
 head, and waited what should befall ambushed in the quarters 
 of an officer who lodged upon the same landing. 
 
 Soon after midnight I heard the enemy approach, stumbling 
 up the stair in different stages of drink, Captain Wallop quarrel- 
 some, his satellite Ganthony hilarious, and checking with dif- 
 ficulty a disposition to sing. A girl was with them. 
 
 Expecting no resistance they made for my quarters. I heard 
 them force the door; the outcry of surprise which greeted the 
 empty bed : the sounds of falling crockery and furniture. 
 
 In one instant I was upon them, demanding what they did in 
 my rooms. 
 
 My manifest sobriety checked them, but only for a moment. 
 
 "Whoo oop!" yelled Ganthony shutting an eye and putting 
 a finger in his ear. 
 
 "Ropes!" cried the Captain, and I had a glimpse of a couple 
 of troopers hurrying up with something in hand. 
 
 Wallop, who held the light, flashed it in my eyes, and setting 
 it down, flicked me across the mouth with the back of his open 
 hand, and stood ready, poised and swaying to get in his blow if 
 I moved. He was reported a great boxer : a tall, high-coloured 
 man, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glazed with wine shone in 
 the candle-light. 
 
 To speak truth I was now prodigiously frightened, my in- 
 dignation having carried me into a situation from which I saw no 
 chance of honourable issue. The room was small, and encumber- 
 ed with overset chairs, and I beset on all sides by men in no con- 
 dition to hear reason, whom I could neither escape nor resist. 
 
 At this juncture help came from an un-looked for quarter. 
 The girl, the soberest of the party, mistrusting her chances of 
 
 [52]
 
 CHAPTER FIFE 
 
 safety in a general mellay in such a cock-pit, suddenly clung to 
 Wallop's arm. "Ye fool," cried she, "doan't ye see it winna 
 work?" 
 
 Her master shook her off roughly and boxed her ear, and 
 upon the instant I delivered the heaviest left-handed upper- 
 cut I could manage. He must have been just within distance 
 for he took the wall with the back of his head and rebounded at 
 the moment when his confederate, exchanging the fatuous 
 humour for the frantic, flung himself upon me from behind, 
 hiccoughing a curse. Spinning upon my heel, I dealt him a 
 right half-arm hook under the angle of the jaw, and slipt from 
 between them. They encountered and fell locked. The girl, 
 grinning broad approval, blew out the light, and the mess- 
 waiters rushing in, fell over the legs of the fallen into blows, 
 pitch-darkness, broken crockery and vile language. 
 
 The lass let a shriek, and catched me around the neck. 
 "Run, laad!" she whispered; "Tha's a reet good 'un, but tha' 
 canna fet all fower!" 
 
 She ended with a hearty buss, and pushed me towards the 
 door. We heard, as we felt our way along the corridor, the 
 thud and rattle of heavy blows, both officers bawling to their 
 men to tie me. Thus ended, as far as I was concerned, a scuffle 
 which from first to last had passed in a matter of six seconds. 
 
 The wqrnan and I parted company at the foot of the stairs 
 upon the rain-wetted stones of the barrack yard. 
 
 The picket sentry, coughing in his box, heard and saw 
 nothing, but I guessed from the movements of a lanthorn that 
 the main-guard was being turned out, and, having no desire to 
 lodge a complaint of an affair I fancied I had come well out of, 
 made for the empty mess-house and passed the night coldly 
 upon a settee, shaken at intervals with convulsions of mirth, 
 and indulging the most humorous speculations as to what had 
 befallen my visitors after the departure of their host. 
 
 [53]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 From this retreat I reconnoitred my way to my quarters in 
 the gloom of early morning. The door creaked and gave to my 
 shoulder. The screwing-up attempted hastily and in darkness 
 by half-intoxicated men was a failure. 
 
 Picking my way among disarranged furniture, I found candle 
 and tinder-box where I had hidden them. At the first gleam of 
 light, a groan and some movements in the room startled me. 
 Upon my bed lay Ganthony trussed and corded like a capon, 
 gagged with a twisted towel that had not missed much of mak- 
 ing an end of him. 
 
 This totally unexpected apparition startled me out of my 
 propriety, and by a natural revulsion I was seized by such a 
 paroxysm of laughter as has possessed me but twice or thrice in 
 my life. The inference to be drawn from this absurd spectacle 
 was plain. The heavier man had temporarily stunned the 
 weaker in the rally in which I had left them; and, convinced 
 that this confederate had slunk off, but that he had me under 
 his hand, Wallop had superintended the roping and gagging 
 as well as total darkness, a broken head and a skinful of 
 liquor had permitted. 
 
 Humanity prompted me to cast loose the bruised and be- 
 numbed figure upon the bed, but the reaction due to a sleepless 
 night, the struggle and the anxieties attendant, added to the 
 shock of this discovery, so overset me, that leaning against 
 the wall, candle in hand, I wept and crowed in helpless 
 merriment, and in this condition was found by Hymus coming 
 in with my razors and shaving-dish. 
 
 I can still see him, a picture of bewilderment framed by 
 the darkness of the doorway, both hands occupied, swaying 
 irresolute, unwilling either to enter or to retire, solicitude for 
 his master and fears for himself pulling him in opposite direc- 
 tions, as solutions of what he beheld and its possible conse- 
 quences occurred to him. 
 
 [541
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 "Good-morning to you, Mr. Ganthony!" laughed I, getting 
 some command of myself at length. "I trust, sir, you have 
 slept well, although you have mistaken my bed for your own. 
 What! not a word of thanks or explanation, sir! But, oh, I 
 perceive your mouth is full. You supped monstrous well, Mr. 
 Ganthony. I can but congratulate myself upon missing such 
 embarrassing hospitality." 
 
 These jeers, however well merited, were in mighty poor 
 taste, and were occasioning the acutest confusion to Hymus. 
 Merely to have witnessed, however inadvertently, the ignomin- 
 ious disgrace of a superior, might according to the dis- 
 position of the person concerned be worth a couple of 
 guineas hush-money and promotion to lance, or bring down 
 upon him a spite which would embitter the remainder of his 
 service. 
 
 He beckoned me to follow him to the stair-head. 
 
 "Beggin' your pardon, captain, but this hare's no larfin' 
 matter. 'Tis longways past a joke, sir. Cap'n Wallop's werry 
 bad, sir; ye hit him a devilish crack, sir; on the back o' the 
 head, too. An' the guard was turned out and madam nabbed 
 ( 'twas her squealin' as blew the gaff ). How they failed o' 
 findin' Mr. Ganthony beats me; but lights was out. 
 
 "Well, sir, if yew'll be advised by me, yew'll cast the gen'lman 
 loose, brew 'urn somethink hot, and sorter fare to make it up 
 wi' him. Yew'll want all the friends yew've got arter this hare 
 job. If yew can just make shift to shave yarself for this once 
 I'll set to and rub the gen'lman down for parade." 
 
 I was too young and puffed-up to take this honest fellow's 
 advice in its entirety or to let it alone. 
 
 To treat the affair as a jest and win the unlucky perpetra- 
 tor's goodwill by frankly ignoring the unpardonable was a 
 course with much to recommend it. To call in the officer of the 
 day and request him to make a minute of the facts would have 
 
 [551
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 secured me, but had less to be said for it. To turn the humili- 
 ated wretch into the corridor and leave him unconciliated and 
 unobliged under the necessity of concocting such a story as 
 would palliate his disgrace and undo me, was an unredeemed 
 folly. This folly I perpetrated. 
 
 I was in higher spirits and better conceit with myself than 
 I had been since joining, and, when summoned to my colonel's 
 presence, went jauntily like the young nincompoop that I was, 
 without misgiving or self-examination as to what account I 
 should give of the night's work. 
 
 As it turned out preparation would have availed me nothing, 
 nor the silver tongue of Mr. Burke himself. 
 
 The great man was indisposed and had but just risen ( one 
 of the acting majors had taken parade ) , and was in a pitiable, 
 and indeed, disgraceful condition. To put the case in two 
 words, my commanding officer was stale drunk, with a head 
 and a temper of the worst. 
 
 His brows were bound with a napkin smelling of vinegar. 
 His eyes, yellow and blood-shot, seemed apprehensive of some- 
 thing evil, whilst his hands, restlessly in motion, were constantly 
 plucking morsels of thread or hair from his clothing and cast- 
 ing them from him with gestures of disgust. 
 
 My entrance was a diversion, but it seemed an unwelcome 
 diversion. He eyed me with the stupid spite of a tethered bull, 
 and, hitching himself higher in his chair, broke upon me with 
 random charges and execrations before I had come to a halt or 
 completed my salute. 
 
 That I had shirked my toasts at mess by feigning myself 
 overcome, was the first count, stigmatized as a black and dam- 
 nable insult to himself. It appeared I had further abused my 
 sobriety to decoy to my quarters and strap to my bedstead a 
 junior officer who was in a natural and gentlemanlike condition 
 of liquor. To cap it all, I had brutally and cowardly assaulted 
 
 [56]
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 from behind my senior captain who had remonstrated with me 
 upon my barbarity. 
 
 Such was the version of the affair, or rather the grotesque 
 perversion of it, which had fixed itself in my chief's head, and 
 'twas in vain I laboured to substitute the truth. 
 
 Of the nefarious plot, or wanton jest, of which I had like 
 to have been the victim, or of as much of it as I could get him 
 to listen to (he being extraordinary deaf when drunk), the 
 tyrant was boisterously incredulous, chusing to regard a charge 
 of improper behaviour in his officers as a personal aspersion 
 upon himself. 
 
 "A woman in quarters, sir! A woman not on the strength ? 
 Don't tell me, sir! Impossible! I deny it! I repudiate it! I'd 
 not believe ye on your gospel oath, sir! nor twenty more of 
 your kidney. How got she past the guard, sir ? Answer me! And 
 if she was in last night, sir, she is in now. Where is she, I say! 
 Produce her!" 
 
 That madam had been let slip by an officer in the secret, 
 and had smuggled herself out of barracks in the same disguise 
 in which she had been smuggled in, to wit, as a smock-frocked 
 carter's boy upon the top of a load of forage, this I was to 
 learn later. All I could do was to stick to my tale with an artless 
 pertinacity, which was in itself a fresh offence. 
 
 Interrupted, contradicted, brow-beaten, I presently lost 
 my head, and persisted, not without heat that I could prove my 
 statement. 
 
 "Silence, sir! Do ye bawl at me, sir? D'ye think to talk 
 me down? He says he didn't he contradicts his colonel; 
 strike me blind 'tis mutiny! What? I can't hear Why the 
 devil d'ye mumble so ? Ho! Ye have witnesses ? Name 'em, sir ; 
 name 'em!" bellowed Sir Bulstrode, shifting his gouty foot upon 
 the T stool with extravagant grimaces. 
 
 "My servant " I began and stopped. 
 
 [57]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Your orderly! And ye would pit the word of a private 
 soldier, a thieving gallows-due papist is it ? or a swinish Hes- 
 sian ( such is the quality of His Majesty's forces in these 
 times! ) ye would set the word of a trooper, I say, against 
 the parole of an officer and a gentleman. Hay ? Ye do ? " 
 
 I was silent. "Ye do not?" 
 
 I was speechless, remembering too late my promise. 
 
 " Answer me, will ye ? Yes or no, sir, without equivocation! 
 . . . You are dumb, sir, obstinately, contumaciously mute! 
 You, the last comer to my mess, presume to traduce your 
 brother officers with a farrago of ridiculous tarradiddles, abuse 
 your juniors and insult your Colonel!" 
 
 Between gout, drink, and the spirit of contradiction, the 
 man had wrought himself into a terrifying rage. 
 
 Oversetting the stool and heaving himself to his feet by 
 the arms of his chair, he came stumbling upon me round the 
 table swearing at large 
 
 I thought he was about to strike me, and instinctively 
 adopted some posture of defence, possibly uttered some sound. 
 We were alone. 
 
 I was but a big boy, you must remember, with scarce a tinc- 
 ture of that essential military discipline which will hold alike 
 the brave soldier and the weakling silent and stock-still under 
 the unjustest censures, as it will hold them under fire. What 
 I said I know not, but, upon my eternal salvation I declare that 
 the words I was charged with and for which I was (virtually) 
 broken, never so much as entered my mind. 
 
 In two minutes I was out of the orderly-room again, under 
 close arrest, which next morning was commuted to permission 
 to send in my papers. 
 
 An older man would have seen in this relaxation evidence of 
 weakness in the case against me and a desire to be rid of me 
 quietly. I, kicking my heels in my quarters in the cold fit of 
 
 [58]
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 despair, saw nothing but a clean and quick way out of evil com- 
 pany and snapped at the bait. 
 
 I signed where I was bid, and an hour later was aware of my 
 mistake. 
 
 "There now. And ye didn't so much as demand a court- 
 martial, sir ? But, beggin' yar pardon, was that there soo wise ? " 
 
 This was from Hymus, sorting my wash and muttering his 
 honest regrets at losing a master who had not yet learnt to 
 abuse his authority. 
 
 "And I dew hope, sir, ye didn't bring a poor fellow's name 
 intew \ ? " 
 
 I jumped. "By Jupiter!" I cried and stopped, voice and 
 gesture completing my admission. 
 
 The man's hands fell, he waited with haggard eyes. 
 
 "Not your name, Hymus, certainly; but I fear I may have 
 said indeed, I did say " 
 
 "As yer honour's orderly could speak if he was arst ?" 
 
 "That is about it. I am monstrous sorry. It was most thought- 
 less of me; but you have no idea how I was badgered! But, 
 oh, I say, it can't be as bad as all that, my man!" 
 
 For he collapsed with a groan; his legs no longer supported 
 him; he sate upon the floor panting and pallid, a prey to woeful 
 forecasts. 
 
 "Oh, captain! Ye shouldn't have done me the ill 
 turn! They'll have me, yes, they'll have me, mos' like 
 afore this week is out, on some count or another. 
 My Gawd! . . . 
 
 " Yar honour's noble father'll have a word to say about this 
 that even the Old 'un ( yew know who! ) must listen tew. And 
 then witnesses'll be wanted, and, meantime, sir, what is a 
 trooper's life worth as could tell the trew gawsple trewth o' 
 larst night's carryings-on as touchin' tew o' his orficers? 
 Think, sir!" 
 
 (59l
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 He snapped rueful fingers to express the value of a life under 
 such conditions, and again his hands fell to his sides. 
 
 "May the Lord have mercy 'pon poor Hymus!" he said; his 
 mouth loosened and worked; his eyes filled and ran over 
 silently. 
 
 I had begun by thinking his fears extravagant, but not even 
 the selfish optimism of youth was proof against this exhibition; 
 and indeed I had seen enough in my fortnight's service to give 
 colour and form to his hints. 
 
 "But you shall not come to harm; I swear it!" I exclaimed, 
 turning very red. "Look here, man, what will it cost to buy 
 your discharge ? " 
 
 "Twenty pound, captain; they raised it to that last month; not 
 that I could find twenty shillin' if 'twas to save my mortal 
 soul! No! No! So soon as ever yar honour's back is turned, 
 I'll be down for fatigue; the sergeants'll be tipt the office 
 and I'll be a marked man. Something will be missin' within the 
 week from quarters where I've bin deliverin' coal, or kindlin', 
 or the wash, and the somethin' may be a goolden watch- 
 case or a marked guinea '11 be found in my kit, or bedding, 
 and then it'll be the ladder in the riding-school with the farriers 
 and their cats, and what is left o' me may rot in horspit'l awhile 
 an' then good-bye to poor Hymus!" he bowed his head and 
 sobbed. 
 
 "Damme I'll cheat 'em!" he whispered hoarsely, "S'elp me 
 bob, if I be to die I'll die my own way. Drowndin' is an easy 
 finish, they say; there's wells about; there's the Foss, the river 
 is handy. And I a ten years man with ne'er a mark agin my 
 name! But, what is to be must be, seem'n'ly; but I seem to 
 fare to wish that were over ! " 
 
 I believe I flushed immensely and felt to the full such dis- 
 comforts and inward reproaches as properly attend a mean 
 action.
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 I had conducted this unfortunate creature into a position 
 of the unmost danger; to leave him in it was impossible: he had 
 befriended me to his own undoing. 
 
 "My man," said I, "here are five-and-twenty pound notes. 
 Take them; procure your discharge and find me at the Black 
 Swan that is in Coney Street. As a private gentleman I shall 
 need a servant, and I dare swear I shall find none better than 
 yourself," and with that I tossed the money into his lap where 
 he sate, and made haste from the room to escape the enormity 
 of the poor wretch's gratitude. 
 
 [61]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 A FRIEND AT A PINCH 
 
 NEWS of my having sent in my papers made the round 
 of the barracks in a trice, and being of the nature of a 
 godsend to all beneath me in rank, secured me 
 abundance of visitors during the short time of my further 
 residence in quarters. 
 
 Under cover of asking my leave to contradict a rumour 
 so injurious to my character, half the subalterns called upon 
 me in turn, and each upon hearing his news confirmed, pro- 
 posed in the most handsome manner to relieve me of my 
 chargers, kit and barrack furniture, but owing to losses at play 
 and delayed remittances, these young gentlemen could only 
 offer prices very disproportionate to what these properties 
 had cost me a month earlier. 
 
 So much, indeed, they admitted, one and all, genteelly 
 and with feeling. 
 
 Now since a horse is a horse whether in His Majesty's 
 service or in civil affairs, I saw no reason to sacrifice my stable. 
 
 My arms, uniforms and saddlery were another matter, and 
 these exchanged hands at sums which aroused astonishment 
 even in a mind so totally ignorant of values as my own. 
 
 I remember that these exchanges were not effected without 
 some humorous passages: my visitors tendering promises or 
 
 [62]
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 notes of hand endorsed by persons outside the regiment, all, I 
 was assured, of the utmost affluence, but not of my acquaintance. 
 
 I, upon my part, insisted upon money down. "Silly Suffolk, 
 I am," thought I, "and these, no doubt, are the ways of York- 
 shire, yet I am not to be wheedled out of my eye-teeth whilst 
 awake and sober, either! " 
 
 Not that my friends were wholly deficient in a delicacy of a 
 sort, for whilst my boots and uniforms were objects of no in- 
 terest to such as were obviously shorter and slighter than I, 
 yet the three or four young gentlemen who chanced to be of 
 about my inches were everyone of them eager to purchase 
 a kit much of which had never been worn not, look you, 
 for their own use, but for friends in other regiments. 
 
 My last minutes were disturbed by requests for drink- 
 money from every man of the sergeants' mess who knew me by 
 sight, and when these were satisfied and my horse stood at 
 the door, I recall a couple of captains demanding settlement 
 of wagers which I had not the faintest recollection of making 
 upon some fight of which I had never heard. 
 
 These ultimate impositions I had spirit enough to resist, 
 and, although the claimants talked loudly and looked big, some- 
 thing in my manner must have deterred them from pushing 
 their business too impudently. They discovered that they had 
 called at the wrong address and I heard them laughing as they 
 descended the stair. 
 
 If I have dwelt too long and too minutely upon the inci- 
 dents of my last hours as a commissioned officer in His 
 Majesty's cavalry arm, my excuse must be that the events of 
 the first crisis in my life are to this hour more sharply delineated 
 upon the tablets of memory than later troubles and successes 
 We recall the first fence of a run, the first round of a fight; 
 tho' subsequent obstacles and encounters decline to arrange 
 themselves consecutively. 
 
 [63]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUALHY 
 
 I had borne myself with composure under the eyes of my 
 comrades, but the load of my disaster weighed more heavily 
 upon me every minute as I left my regiment behind. At the 
 Black Swan, whither I repaired, it seemed to me that the 
 ostler divined my trouble, that the boots had learned my dis- 
 grace, and I imagined myself an object of compassion to the 
 plump and cleanly chambermaid. I shrunk from descending to 
 the coffee-room, and was hard put to it to keep myself from 
 yielding to a passion of tears. 
 
 Rallying my manhood with a promise of present action, I 
 left my chamber and applied myself to the two preoccupations 
 which increasingly possessed me. 
 
 The first of these was to provide myself with a friend by 
 whose mouth to demand satisfaction from Captain Wallop and 
 Lieutenant Ganthony. The second was to address to my father 
 an account of the circumstances with which my readers are al- 
 ready familiar. 
 
 In placing these duties in this order I have followed the 
 precedence and relative significance which they assumed 
 at the time in my mind. But a singular difficulty opposed itself 
 to the pursuit of my quarrel. I knew not a soul whom I could 
 ask to carry my cartels. 
 
 To apply to a member of the mess from which I had been 
 expelled was an ignominy from which I recoiled, yet beyond 
 this vicious circle I was acquainted with no person of condi- 
 tion in the city or the three ridings. 
 
 The letters of commendation promised by my father had been 
 forgotten or delayed, and, although there must have been 
 gentlemen of the neighbourhood who would have been gratified 
 with my acquaintance a few hours earlier on no better vouchers 
 than my name and uniform, yet, having lost my service I shrank 
 from foisting myself upon the one or two whose names stuck in 
 my memory for no better reason than to embroil them in my 
 
 [6 4 ]
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 quarrel. So, having satisfied appetite with a cut off the cold 
 sirloin and a tankard of stingo, finding progress impossible in 
 one direction I essayed another, and called for pens and paper. 
 
 I confess to misgivings that the impression conveyed to you 
 by the foregoing pages is sufficiently vague and diffuse, but, 
 at its worst, it is clarity and conciseness compared with what 
 would have been gathered from any account penned by me at 
 the time. 
 
 My education, so far as it was literary, had ceased when 
 I entered Eton, where the only useful accomplishments I ac- 
 quired I write in good faith after the lapse of over half 
 a century were the arts of cookery and self-defence. To 
 prepare kidneys, toast and breakfast-coffee for the senior 
 boy who fagged me, and to stand up to a heavier fellow and 
 take punishment without flinching, were, I maintain, excellent 
 accomplishments in their way, but, whether they could not 
 have been acquired at less expense than my seven years in 
 form entailed upon my father, is arguable. 
 
 Doubtless during those years a modicum of Latin and Greek 
 passed through my mental system. I was in Cornelius Nepos 
 when I went up and construed his Miltiades at sight to my 
 tutor at our first interview, yet, two years after leaving Mr. 
 Glassdale's house I turned to that same life in an idle hour 
 and was mortified to find how little I could make of it. 
 
 Of history, geography, arithmetic and my mother tongue 
 I learned nothing at my college, and forgot the little I took 
 there, and during the past three years, spent with huntsmen 
 and gamekeepers, I had seldom opened a book or cut a pen. 
 
 Thus, when my sheet was laid to my liking, sand and pen- 
 knife disposed within reach, I dipped my quill and found myself 
 at a stand. 
 
 A plain, straightforward tale of what I had endured and 
 done would have afforded no very pleasant reading, but even
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 this was beyond my power, and the blotted scrawl which I at 
 last achieved, ill-composed, worse-spelled and vilely written, 
 was not calculated to soften a parent's displeasure at finding 
 again upon his hands a son whom he had thought provided 
 with an honourable profession. 
 
 The composition of this document cost me an infinity of 
 pains, many contractions of the brows and hard breathing, 
 much gazing at the ceiling for inspiration and such-like devices. 
 
 The coffee-room of the tavern was divided into stalls seated 
 for four, the privacy of each secured by high partitions. 
 
 The winter's day being upon the wane and chilly, I had 
 chosen a table which gave upon the hearth, and was thus myself 
 open to observation from anyone using the chimney seats. One 
 of these was occupied by a small elderly person neatly dressed 
 in drab small-clothes, a long flapped waistcoat of parti-coloured 
 stripe and a high-collared, bottle-green riding-coat with silver 
 buttons. 
 
 The rain fell softly without and none passed in the street. 
 The house lay empty and quiet, for the servants were at their 
 meal. We two seemed the only guests the tavern entertained, 
 and no wonder, for the season of year was unsuited to travel 
 and the times unquiet. 
 
 He had hung his wig upon the newell of his settle; it was 
 a small gray bob tied with a black riband, and had drawn one 
 foot from its shoe to toast it at the log, moving the toes inside 
 the stocking in enjoyment of the warmth. From time to time 
 he shifted the long clay from the middle to the angle of his 
 mouth, the better to observe me ( as it struck me, puzzling 
 my spelling with a roving eye). Nor was his scrutiny more un- 
 pleasant than that of the tavern cat upon his knee, for beside 
 his evident age, sixty at the least, and his inoffensive littleness, 
 the wholesome nut-brown cheek and humorous lines about 
 the mouth drew me, and our eyes met more than once, when, 
 
 [66]
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 as I now remember, it was mine that dropt, finding a cer- 
 tain alert brightness in his which I saw no reason to stare 
 down. 
 
 "Quarrel" was the word I had stuck at, finding it look wrong 
 in every arrangement of letters after trial made upon the 
 spoiled sheets, for I had not pleased myself at my first attempt. 
 "Deuce take it!" quoth I under my breath, spelling it again in 
 my head, my eye roving until, wholly unconsciously, it rested 
 upon the bald noddle by the hearth. 
 
 "Two r's, monsieur!" 
 
 His answer to my unspoken question fell so patly that I 
 fairly jumped. 
 
 "Yer pairdon is begged, monsieur sir, I would say; ma 
 remairk wass wholly invo-luntary: it escaipit me, it escaipit 
 me!" He set down the cat gently and arose, making me a grave 
 and courteous inclination, but I, still gaping upon him, stam- 
 mered some smiling acknowledgment or other, and proceeded 
 to enquire how in the name of wonder he knew the very word 
 and letter that I was bogged at. 
 
 "'Tis a gift, young sir, a puir gift of my ain, and ^at times, 
 a somewhat embairrassing one; tho' by yer pairteecular cour- 
 tesy, not upon this occasion. But a'm thenking that my best 
 amends wull be to place my puir sairvices at yer disposal." 
 
 My mind flew to my postponed demands for satisfaction, 
 but as instantly rejected the possibility of despatching a cartel 
 by so elderly and unmartial a second. I did not so much as 
 open my lips, and had not framed my reply when for the second 
 time I was forestalled. 
 
 "Let the cairtel wait, mon sir, if ye wull pairmet me 
 to advise. We wull return to that maitter later. With your 
 pairmeesion a letter to a parent ( 'tis to yer father, I 
 believe ? ) takes precedence. " 
 
 Again I stammered assent; what else remained to do? It 
 
 [6 7 ]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 was as when a novice meets a master at the chess; my move 
 was divined before I touched the piece. 
 
 "Come, now, a bargain!" went on this remarkable little 
 old fellow in his fine round, mellow voice with its strange 
 Northern accent. "Here we encounter ane anither, twa gentle- 
 men o' fortune, temporarily disengaged, and, as one may say, 
 upo' neutral ground, for a tavern is free to all. We might main- 
 tain a courteous resairve, convairse on generals, or not at all; 
 the coorse is pairmeesible and judeecious in war time. But I 
 think better o' the occasion. Let us sairve ane anither turn 
 and turn aboot in such capawcities as our several experiences 
 suggest. To begin, regaird me as your deectionary; a time may 
 come when ye may assist me ( tho' aw'm thenking ye may 
 escape me a'thegither unless I pit in ma claim airly, for noo 
 that I regaird ye creetically, I micht vara weel ha bin ye father's 
 father. ") He chuckled, laid down his pipe, and extended a 
 handsome snuff-box across the gangway in token of amity. 
 
 There was no rebuffing such shrewd kindliness had I been 
 so churlish as to attempt it. My story has shown already that 
 I was a youth of an open and unsuspicious temperament with 
 whom a senior of pleasant address readily got into touch. 
 That this humorous and inoffensive stranger could harbour 
 sinister designs did not cross my mind. Without friend or 
 acquaintance within two hundred miles of me, I was feeling 
 the need of sympathy keenly, and accepted the gentleman's 
 good-natured advances for what they might be worth. 
 
 Yet, with the proper pride of youth I would not surrender 
 the privacy of my affairs at the first summons, and taking him 
 at his word, used him merely to supply the deficiencies of my 
 orthography, suspecting the while that those remarkably 
 penetrating hazel eyes were reading my thoughts like an open 
 book. 
 
 The letter being signed and sealed, I thanked my new ac- 
 
 [68]
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 quaintance and had risen to seek the post master, when Hymus 
 presented himself at the door of the apartment with news in 
 his eye. 
 
 "Your servant, captain," quoth he, saluting. 
 
 "Await me outside," I answered, thinking it uncivil to bring 
 a common fellow into a room reserved for gentlemen, but my 
 fellow-guest interposed. 
 
 "By your leave, sir, have him in (if 'twas masel ye were 
 conseddering). 'Tis wet outside, and I can always do with 
 an honest soldier. " 
 
 Arising, he resumed his shoe, adjusted his wig, and, taking 
 his stand before the hearth, seemed in an instant to have added 
 three inches to his stature. None would now have remarked 
 upon his deficiency in height; the squared jaw, the firm, wide 
 mouth, resolute glance, and easy, erect, poise of the man star- 
 tled me. 
 
 "You are this gentleman's sairvant?" he enquired, taking 
 the situation into his own hands and regarding my man keenly. 
 
 "I am, maj colonel," replied Hymus, to my great aston- 
 ishment, bringing his heels together smartly, and saluting with 
 the exaggerated, stiff swing, at that time due to superior rank. 
 
 The figure before the hearth, erect now as a dart and instinct 
 with martial dignity, returned the salute with an action so 
 prompt, easy and gracious that my countenance fell, and 
 conscious of some want of deference in my previous address, 
 I arose. 
 
 "Sit, sir! Sit, I command! Yes, your fellow is right; trust an 
 old trooper to detect the pipeclay! But it may be he has some- 
 thing for your private ear; ef so I retire; ef, on the other hand, 
 I can advise you upon any trifling deeficulty, command me!" 
 
 "My dear sir colonel," I began. 
 
 "Yes, if you will have it," producing his card, "^Eneas 
 Gunn, Colonel of the Stralsund Regiment, in the sairvice of 
 
 [69]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 His Majesty the King of Sweden." He raised a finger to his 
 brow as he named his royal master. 
 
 "Then then then!" I stuttered and stopt, seeing my 
 difficulties lessened. 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes!" he replied, smiling, acceding with a nod 
 to my unspoken request, "but, all in good time; let us learn the 
 poseetion of the enemy before we offer battle. Speak, my man, 
 but first close the door; aw'm parteecular as to my defences." 
 
 "First, then, captain," said Hymus, "here be five o' yar 
 pound notes. Praise be to God, and thanks to yew, I be a free 
 man again!" 
 
 "But but 'tis impossible! Your name will go up to the 
 Horse Guards, and if ye get your discharge within a month you 
 may think yourself devilish lucky!" 
 
 "On forlough meantime, captain; that's what come o' 
 stan'nin well wi' the one gen'lman in the orficers' mess." 
 
 I stared. 
 
 "Senior major come back this arternoon, from leave (that 
 was a-burying of his mother, they say ), and he takes over the 
 command quick sticks, C.O. bein' werry, werry bad wi' the 
 blues. Row wi' yew, captain, they do say, his business; put the 
 capstone on, in a manner o' speaking, for the fit have been due 
 for a week." 
 
 "Anyways, captain, as soon as I found Major Dorset in com- 
 mand I just upped and sent my name along astin' for a word 
 in private most partick'ler, and lays my case afore him as man 
 to man. He's a man, yar honour, he is, and by yer leave, sir, 
 is werry sorry for ye. 'The young gen'lman was too precip'tite, 
 Hymus/ sez he, 'he were werry ill-advised.' 'Astin yer pardon, 
 major,' sez I, 'he were never advised by nobody, there bein' 
 ne'er a soul but yar honour to run to, and yew on leave!' 'An 
 that's so,' sez he, 'and the milk's spilt, but 'tis dev'lish hard 
 cheese for the young gen'lman, an' Gawd He knows,' sez 
 
 [70]
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 he, 'what my Lord Blakenham, his father'll say, and what 
 discredit 'twill bring upon the mess.'" 
 
 These latter considerations recurred to me later, at the 
 moment I was full of my immediate concerns and somewhat 
 bewildered as to which to apply myself to first. 
 
 "Well, what's done is done," said I, as much to myself as to 
 my company; "but what's to do next?" 
 
 " Let your man see to your horses and find himself lodgings," 
 said Colonel Gunn, taking snuff.
 
 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT 
 
 A you will have foreseen, Colonel Gunn undertook to 
 deliver my cartels. 
 He regarded the insults as too serious to be purged 
 by any satisfaction short of the most drastic. 
 
 "We have our future to consedder," said he. "We are young 
 and cannot afford to give away points. In fact, it behoves us 
 to set such a stamp upon the circumstances that there shall 
 be no taint o' ambiguity as to whaur we stood in the maitter, 
 what passed, and how we cam oot o't. 
 
 "I have known some vara successful careers founded upon 
 meetings such as these we are contemplating." He proceeded 
 to furnish me with instances of the behaviour of young Scottish 
 soldiers of fortune in affairs of honour; how a Mackay of his 
 acquaintance had cut his way to royal favour with the sabre, 
 and a cadet of the Sinclair family, a poor gentleman, by dint 
 of sedulous practice with the hair-trigger had "shot up" into 
 the highest and most exclusive circles in Stockholm. 
 
 One would have said that he accepted the duty with a kind 
 of sober zest. In his own service, and in the land of his adoption, 
 it is to be supposed that his rank had for long debarred him 
 from interposing in the disputes of subalterns save in the 
 capacity of president of a court of honour. Being here in 
 
 [72]
 
 CHAPTER SEFEN 
 
 Britain on long leave with time upon his hands, and, so to say, 
 en gar$on, he embraced the opportunity of figuring again as a 
 young fellow among young fellows, and trotted off to the 
 barracks next morning upon my first charger, drest for the part 
 and with Hymus for groom, the admired of every open-mouthed 
 shopman in Coney Street. 
 
 It was a sleeveless errand: Captain Wallop being still by 
 the surgeon's orders in a darkened room for concussion and 
 injury to the eyes, was pronounced a non-combatant for the 
 present. 
 
 "Whilk we must the mair regret, Mr. Fanshawe, as I learn 
 that your regiment has got the route for Ireland and may 
 march for Liverpool any day. These little differences, sir, are 
 best settled promptly. It would be troublesome and chairgable 
 for us to follow our friens to the Curragh if I ha* the name 
 o' their billet correctly tho' we must certainly make the 
 journey if needful." 
 
 "And the lieutenant?" I asked. 
 
 "Was oot, Mr. Fanshawe; I expeckit his return some twa 
 hours, but found no encouragement to remain longer. I will 
 do myself the pleesure of waiting upon him to-morrow." 
 
 I cried out upon the trouble I was giving him, but he made 
 little of it, and having lunched in my company led me out, 
 as he said, to see the sights of the city, a dull place with an 
 intricacy of narrow cobbled streets overhung by ancient 
 timbered houses, and a prodigious number of churches, of 
 which those that elsewhere would be reckoned notable are so 
 overshadowed by neighbourhood to the minster as to seem 
 below their merits. 
 
 This erection, the cathedral church, or minster, is a mon- 
 strous pile in the barb'rous Gothic taste, which yet by its 
 complexity and vastness so imposes upon the beholder that he 
 would not wish it otherwise though sensible of its defects. 
 
 [73]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 All its stone-work is subdued to a uniform mellow tint of age 
 which varies with the changes of the seasons and the positions 
 of the sun. More especially at sunset, as I had many oppor- 
 tunities of observing later, do the twinn'd towers of its western 
 front take on the softest and most surprising reflections of pink 
 and orange. 
 
 But to our business. The colonel and I had reached, as I 
 remember, that end of the Market Square known as The Pave- 
 ment, when I perceived two persons in the act of turning into 
 a tailor's shop, in the taller of whom I recognised Lieutenant 
 Ganthony and in the shorter a fellow officer, one Cornet 
 Meeking. 
 
 Communicating what I had seen to my companion, I left 
 him to take what measures he thought proper, and was seeking 
 my lodging to await his report, when a passing shower drove 
 me into the coffee-room of a neighbouring hostelry. Chusing 
 a secluded corner, I studied a stained and crumpled news-sheet 
 and possessed my soul with such patience that the stuffiness 
 of the room, or the refreshment which I ordered for the good 
 of the house, so wrought with me that I nodded and presently 
 slept. 
 
 I had not taken matters so easily had there remained any- 
 thing upon which I could employ myself, but conceiving that 
 all was done which lay with me to do, the anxieties and emo- 
 tions of the previous few days assailed me and I yielded to 
 their importunities, something inappropriately in my choice 
 of place as will presently appear. 
 
 The doze may have lasted a matter of five minutes, though 
 I had the sensation of having slept for hours and traversed a 
 hundred leagues, when, hearing myself named, I sat up with 
 the answer upon my lips which we gave at Eton when school 
 was called. 
 
 My reply, if it were articulate, aroused no attention, for the 
 
 [74]
 
 CHAPTER SEFEN 
 
 reason that three persons unseen, to whom I myself was 
 invisible, were discussing my affair so earnestly as to drown 
 all voices save their own. 
 
 "D n it all, Meeking!" cried a voice I knew, "I will 
 have sabres; I am the insulted party!" 
 
 "My G d, Ganthony, will ye leave it to me, or won't ye?" 
 
 "Of course I leave it to ye, you're my second, arn't ye? 
 But still" 
 
 "Pairmet me to obsairve, Mr. Meeking, that your prenci- 
 pal's presence here is pairfeckly irregular." 
 
 "All right; I am off. But remember, Meeking, I'll not meet 
 him with pistols; d'ye hear?" 
 
 "Very well, if you must have it so, but the man knows 
 nothing of the sabre." 
 
 "Ye wull excuse me, Cornet Meeking, but this is not 'very 
 well,' and we do not agree to your condeetions, and," 
 continued the colonel's voice, its provincial accent growing 
 more pronounced, "we most aibsolutely, and entirely, and 
 finally rebut the assairtion that ye are the insultit pairty. The 
 blows, whilk were not all given by one side, were given in our 
 quarters, whaur 'twill puzzle ye to explain your intrusion at 
 
 midnight ( let alone the company ye brocht wi' ye ), and 
 
 
 ("Stuff!" interrupted Ganthony.) 
 
 " if ye are the insultit party, hoo comes it, Mr. Meeking, 
 that 'tis we that have to pursue ye, and waylay ye to obtain 
 satisfaiction ? No, sir, I will not attend till ye, but I am 
 bound to tell ye I am finding yer pree-sence and yer carriage 
 
 a deeficult maitter to stomach. Once more, Mr. Meeking 
 
 
 "Break it off, Meekie; the Fifth can pick and chuse, 'tis too 
 great a condescension! And as for you, Mr. Thingumbob, 
 I'll just bid ye good day, for I haven't the honour of knowing 
 
 [75J
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 anyone in your beggarly service, and, now I come to think 
 on 't, we've only your own word for 't " 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " that ye're not some lousey Scots adventurer. " 
 
 There was gunpowder in the air; I leapt to my feet with 
 an instinct for what should follow and but just in time to 
 see the little colonel administer so fervent a box upon the 
 ear of his insulter that the tall dragoon, who was standing, 
 leapt back, trode upon a spittoon and stumbled, and on recovery, 
 finding himself wholly unable to meet the formidable eye and 
 onset of the old lion he had aroused, turned a shoulder in 
 retreat. Down upon that shoulder whistled the colonel's 
 riding wand. "Ah! Yah! Damnation!" yelled the re- 
 cipient of this courtesy, and clapping a gloved hand to the place 
 and executing a rapid "threes' about," made for the open door 
 pursued by his puny enemy. 
 
 Meeking and I ran to the window and beheld the discom- 
 fited lieutenant driven across the wet cobblestones into the 
 narrow entrance of the shambles, receiving a round half-dozen 
 sounding stripes ere he distanced his pursuer. 
 
 In half a minute Colonel Gunn re-entered the room, he had 
 adjusted his wig and cuffs and regained the fine dry precision 
 of manner which the foregoing interlude had momentarily 
 ruffled. Bowing to the cornet, who stood the image of dismay, 
 "Your sairvant, Mr. Meeking," said he: "I mek you every 
 apology due from a gentleman to a gentleman for sae abruptly 
 breaking our colloquy. Ye wull nottice that I forbore the 
 fallow longer than was maybe conseestent with my honour; 
 that only only under the extremity of provocation, did I 
 inflect the pairsonal chastisement whilk his insolence demand- 
 it." 
 
 Young Meeking mumbled something unintelligible, and the 
 small warrior, perceiving the lad's distress, proceeded in tones
 
 CHAPTER SEFEN 
 
 of the most exquisitely modulated politeness ( as tho' a 
 game-cock should suddenly droop his hackles and coo like a 
 turtle ), " If, sir, it should occur to ye or to the gentlemen 
 o' yer honourable mess (to whom ye will not fail to give a 
 pairfeckly unvairnished vairsion o' the affair ), that I exceeded 
 my rights in the maitter o' punishment, I would pray ye to 
 consedder for your own pairt, and to rapresent to your friens, 
 that although I seldom reply to a pairsonal inciveelity with 
 mair than a single stripe, yet, upo' this occasion I refleckit 
 that the fallow had insultit my sairvice and my nation as well 
 as masel. Sax skelps, I thenk; I doot na mair than sax, wass 
 it?" 
 
 Meeking agreed hastily and unreservedly that six was the 
 precise number, and was ready to take oath that the colonel 
 had bestowed neither more nor less, nor exceeded by the small- 
 est degree the necessities of the case. He then accepted a pinch 
 from the little old gentleman's box ( "Presentit to me by 
 Marshall Keith, sirs" ), and took his leave as promptly as 
 was possible, being escorted to the door by my friend, hat 
 in hand, who impressed his address upon him, assuring him of 
 the pleasure he would feel in hearing from him at his lodging 
 that evening or on the morrow. 
 
 "Our more immediate beesiness must be defairred," said 
 he, "for it has been held that a prencipal who so far forgets 
 himself as to insult his adversary's second must give saitis- 
 faiction to the second before meeting the oreeginal adversary. " 
 And to this Meeking agreeing, with many inclinations and ex- 
 pressions of politeness, made his escape. 
 
 t77l
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 I GIVE MY PROOFS 
 
 IT is time for me to wind up these trivial and involved 
 incidents which seemed so important at the moment, 
 and so nearly to touch my honour, but which hardly 
 affect the story of my life. 
 
 No regimental mess could ignore what had passed had its in- 
 dividual members been never so complaisant. The city was 
 buzzing with six different versions of the caning, and at least 
 as many reasons for its infliction, some of which coming to 
 the ears of the acting commandant afforded him excuse for 
 action. Though in the midst of the engagements and annoy- 
 ances incidental to changing quarters, he, as a man of honour, 
 solicitous for the good name of his command, insisted that 
 satisfaction should be given and demanded according to the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 I had, therefore, the honour of acting as second to Colonel 
 Gunn in his affair with Lieutenant Ganthony. 
 
 It would appear that the Fifth had become notorious foi 
 early morning expeditions of a hostile nature. The country- 
 people had grown inconveniently curious as to the movements 
 of hackney coaches in the lanes and field-roads in the vicinity, 
 more especially in the directions of Knavesmire and Hob 
 Moor the favourite rendezvous. 
 
 [78]
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 This being represented to me by the second on the other 
 side, and all grounds being equally acceptable to my principal 
 and to myself, it was agreed that the affair should be settled 
 on Clifton Ings, an extensive meadow, or common, beside the 
 river at some distance above the city. 
 
 The morning was dark and wet. We breakfasted by candle- 
 light, and having over-night secured the services of a surgeon, 
 called for a coach and picked him up in Lendal. The drive 
 was long and chilly, the coach damp and smelling of mildew; 
 the surgeon, a young man, yawned incessantly, and excused 
 himself upon the score of having sat up all night with a patient. 
 
 The colonel was uniformly cheerful and even jocose, and 
 held me in conversation until we left the road, and by the 
 rolling of the coach seemed upon softer and less even ground. 
 
 Here we found the other party awaiting us, cloaked figures 
 in a greyness of fog and wet, with two coaches dimly visible 
 in the background, their horses lost in steam. 
 
 But although we had kept our appointments the river had 
 been beforehand with us: a flood was rising every minute and 
 so little of the green remained uninvaded, and that so plashy 
 underfoot, that upon hasty consultation I concurred in a 
 change of ground, and getting inside again and bidding our 
 driver keep the others in sight, we presently found ourselves 
 upon a dryer and smaller pasture enclosed by high thorn 
 hedges, which, as I think, they called Bootham Stray. 
 
 I had observed whilst following our leaders that we ourselves 
 were followed by the third coach. 
 
 The cause of quarrel being of an aggravated nature the 
 distance was agreed at ten paces. At his first fire my principal 
 disabled his man, lodging a ball in his right forearm, and al- 
 though we most obligingly offered to continue the duel with 
 our left hand, the regimental surgeon refused his sanction and 
 honour was declared satisfied. 
 
 [79]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 During this encounter the lieutenant carried himself with 
 more firmness than I had given him credit for. Ten paces is 
 an unpleasant proximity; one can see, as it were, half-way 
 down the barrel of one's opponent's pistol. Ganthony was 
 plainly one of the many who can walk through a difficult part 
 with due preparation, but lack the ready spirit needed for 
 emergency, and this was the colonel's view as expressed sub- 
 sequently: "The man may be a brave enough fellow, but is no 
 soldier." 
 
 This being the first affair in which I had assisted in any ca- 
 pacity, or indeed had witnessed, I was nervously anxious to bear 
 myself with becoming decorum, and at this juncture was 
 gratified to see my principal turn to me with a nod of com- 
 mendation. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Fanshawe, we exchange capawceeties. 
 'Tis impossible for either of us to pursue our quarrel with our 
 man, there, for the present at least. Let it stand so: and for 
 the other maitter, pairmet me." 
 
 He crossed the ground, hat in hand in the rain, and was 
 presently closely engaged with the senior major, who, with 
 Captain Wallop, had occupied the third coach; the acting 
 commandant having taken this stringent means of securing the 
 presence of a gentleman who was less anxious to afford sat- 
 isfaction than is usual in his profession. 
 
 We heard later that he had malingered until his injuries, 
 or rather disfigurements, had been adjudged insufficient 
 excuse for declining to meet me. 
 
 The first affair had been despatched in comparative privacy, 
 but the shots brought to the ground a company of lads and idle 
 persons who closed in upon us the better to see ( the weather 
 growing increasingly thick and the rain heavier ), until my own 
 matter bade fair to be settled under the eyes of a crowd. 
 
 Duels are now much less the mode then they were fifty or 
 
 [80]
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 sixty years since, and I doubt if any of my younger relatives 
 have been, or ever will be, called upon to give their proofs; 
 in which change of public practice I unreservedly concur. 
 It may therefore amuse you to learn from my pen the sensa- 
 tions of a youth upon the ground for the first time. 
 
 I believe that I was in no degree sensible of fear, but experi- 
 enced a certain dryness of the throat and mouth, and as I 
 remember, a remarkable clearness of vision and heightening 
 and intensifying of the faculties, accompanied by a nervousness 
 as to how I should comport myself, very similar to the anxieties 
 which assail a young rider at the covert-side during the moments 
 before reynard breaks. His doubts as to the behaviour of his 
 horse, his misgivings as to the length of his stirrups and the 
 tightness of his girths, are much akin to what were mine, and, 
 just as these anxieties vanish when hounds have settled to their 
 line, and his steed, bounding strongly beneath him, has challeng- 
 ed the first fence, so my tremors passed when the colonel, 
 having placed me and retired, the major-commandant ad- 
 dressed us: "Gentlemen, are you ready? At the third word, if 
 you please; ready, present, fire! " 
 
 Through the thin smoke I saw Wallop's hat shift and fall. 
 Simultaneously I was aware that one of the bystanders had 
 struck me above the knee with a stone. This was my impression, 
 and only the growing red stain upon my breeches dispelled my 
 indignation and convinced me that I was hit. 
 
 Feeling neither smart nor weakness I turned to Colonel 
 Gunn, who was approaching, demanding a second exchange. 
 
 "Ye ha' chippit him, mon!" he was saying, and, hearing 
 some coarse expressions, I glanced at my opponent and saw 
 him holding a discoloured handkerchief to his head and stamp- 
 ing with much energy. 
 
 The colonel watched him keenly. " 'Tis naething! ye fired 
 high; did I no tell ye? But, hello!" He beckoned our surgeon,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 and a sudden dimness overcoming me, I accepted their arms 
 and was laid upon my back upon a cloak. 
 
 When I recovered my consciousness, which I did almost 
 immediately, I found the major waiting to make his adieux. 
 He used some handsome expressions, being pleased to com- 
 pliment me upon my bearing under exceptionally trying cir- 
 cumstances, hoping for my quick recovery, and expressing his 
 sorrow that my services were ( as he feared ) lost to the 
 regiment. 
 
 I was assisted to my coach and so handled by a nervous 
 and inexperienced surgeon, that what between loss of blood 
 from the slipping of the ligature, and too copious doses of 
 stimulant, I reached my lodging in a very light-headed condi- 
 tion. I remember the concern and anger of Hymus, who helped 
 to carry me to my bed. I recall the tears of one of the 
 maids, and later, the twinges incidental to the extraction of 
 the ball. 
 
 A confused movement of kettledrums and trumpets com- 
 pletes the impressions of the day; a regimental march throbbed 
 in my heavy head in an interval of stupor. This, had I known 
 it, was the farewell of the Fifth, their band playing them through 
 the city on their way to Liverpool to take their full share in the 
 disasters and disgraces of the most disgraceful and cruel 
 campaign in which the British arms have been engaged since 
 the surrender of Yorktown.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 I CEASE FROM BEING A MASTER 
 
 I RETAIN but indistinct recollections of the week 
 which succeeded the misadventures related in the pre- 
 vious chapter. 
 
 Evincing fever, I was thrice bled: a practice founded rather 
 upon custom than reason, and frequently abused, as in the case 
 of the lamentable demise of his royal highness the late Duke 
 of Kent, whom an ignorant practitioner deprived of ninety 
 ounces of blood and his life at the same time. 
 
 In my own instance, a healthy system, suffering from nothing 
 in the world but haemorrhage, was artificially subjected to 
 more upon a tradition attributed to Galen, and a treatment by 
 rule-of-thumb that any old wife would have scouted to the door 
 if allowed to exercise her native mother-wit, but which the 
 faculty of the day grovelled to, as savages worship a fetich the 
 more devoutly if their idol be both ugly and useless! 
 
 At the week's end, being set in a chair and released from 
 my bandages, I bade adieu to my good friend Colonel Gunn, 
 whose journey into the wilds of Scotland, delayed, as I believe, 
 upon my account, might no longer be postponed. 
 
 He furnished me with an address in the county of Sutherland, 
 in Armadale, "Nor-east o' the Reay-country and Strath 
 Naver," as he described it, but whilst professing his own and 
 
 [83]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF 
 
 his friends' desire to entertain me at any time and for as long as 
 my leisure could endure their solitudes, he delicately hinted 
 that the receipt of letters was almost unknown in that region, 
 and interdicted as well by the delays due to the absence of 
 service and of high-roads as by its extreme expense. 
 
 "Come unannounced, my dear sir!" he exclaimed, whilst 
 holding my hand at parting, and then, reseating himself, must 
 needs apprise me of the circumstances of his family. 
 
 "The Gunns" ( said he ) "are but a small clan, but loyal 
 gentlemen to a man, and ( though 'tis I that say it ) nait- 
 turally hospeetable; in this respect wholly unlike some other 
 names, of which I may mention" ( said he ) "the McLeods of 
 Assynt, a family that lies under the curse of God and man, 
 sir, for the black deed o' theirs that doubtless ye knaw of and 
 whilk I will not defile my lips wi' parteecularizing. " 
 
 Like most Englishmen of that time, I was both ignorant of, 
 and indifferent to, the divisions, differences and histories of 
 the Scottish people. The genius of the Great Unknown has 
 since measurably corrected this apathy, but I must confess 
 myself still uncertain as to the precise circumstance adumbrated 
 by my kind old friend. He may have referred to the betrayal of 
 the Marquess of Montrose to his enemies by the Master of 
 Ardvroik, a scandalous affair during the troubles of the seven- 
 teenth century. 
 
 Well, the gallant old Scots gentleman was gone, bowing 
 himself out of my chamber with a punctilious ceremony which 
 embarrassed whilst it gratified me, and which I now suspect 
 he considered due as well to my misfortunes as to my having 
 been under fire. 
 
 With him departed the last of my good luck. An hour later 
 a letter was placed in my hands bearing my father's frank 
 and seal. 
 
 And now, what shall I say ? It would ill become me to permit 
 
 [84]
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 any unfilial expressions to fall from my pen. The experiences 
 of the many years which have passed since I broke that seal 
 have done little for me if they have failed to give me sympathy 
 with the just resentment of a bitterly disappointed parent. 
 
 Suffice it that my lord having conceived the worst possible 
 opinion of my motives and conduct, ( by whom misled I care 
 not to suggest, and never knew for a surety, ) and naturally 
 holding me responsible for the frustration of the hopes he had 
 placed in my military career, addressed me in the severest 
 terms, forbade me his presence and his house, and, indeed 
 ( as I interpreted his letter ) cast me off. 
 
 As I was afterwards to learn my unfortunate parent, when 
 he thus writ me, had other distresses upon him than those 
 for which he held me responsible. Judgment had just been 
 given against him in the suit with the Maskelyne-Fanshawes, 
 the younger branch of our family, a litigation inherited from 
 his grandfather's uncle; and not only did extensive estates pass 
 from his hands, but he found the residue of his property charged 
 with accumulated costs of eighty-five years of proceedings in 
 Chancery. Simultaneously, since misfortunes seldom come 
 singly, changes in the Ministry of which he was a subordinate 
 member, compelled his resignation of the Paymastership of 
 the Court of Wards, a sinecure which he had fondly supposed 
 to be a life grant. 
 
 Whilst he thus found himself straitened upon both sides, 
 my precipitate acceptance of my enemies' terms bade fair to 
 entail the forfeiture of the purchase money invested in my 
 commission, as well as to attach a blemish to my personal 
 character. These dangers he set himself to avert by the em- 
 ployment of influence at the Horse Guards, judging ( as he 
 wrote me ), that my own evidence, if no better expressed 
 than the letter I had sent him, would stand me in no stead 
 either in a court martial or a court of honour, at either of 
 
 [85]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 which it would infallibly be traversed by the testimonies 
 of three-fourths of the mess which I had offended. 
 
 In conclusion, I was bidden to lead a private life, curtail 
 my expenses and await his lordship's pleasure. 
 
 The reading of this letter threw me into a passion of misery 
 and indignation. I had not doubted for a moment that my 
 father's sympathy as well as his influence would be engaged 
 upon my side. That he would rate me for a fool was an event- 
 uality which had not presented itself to my mind. That he 
 could entertain doubts of my innocence I had not dreamed in 
 the delirium of fever. 
 
 Judge then of my mortification at finding my guilt or rectitude 
 treated as immaterial and a matter unworthy of consideration, 
 my folly exposed and castigated before trial, and my future 
 taken out of my hands and remitted to the arbitrament of a 
 back-stairs cabal. 
 
 The wound sustained by my pride was of the crudest. 
 These blows when they befall us in middle life are rendered 
 tolerable by the reflection that one will live through them, 
 that there are alleviations, and that nothing save the last 
 evil of all is ever so black or so permanent as it seems at its 
 oncoming. But youth, and particularly extreme youth, is un- 
 sustained by this stoic philosophy, and having no experience 
 with which to temper its sensations, suffers out of proportion to 
 its defeats, as, on the other hand, it enjoys beyond reason its 
 successes. 
 
 Whilst still smarting under the strokes of parental censure, 
 I was waited upon by my hostess, who begged leave to present 
 her compliments upon my recovery and her bill. The latter 
 struck me, unversed in such documents as I was, and indifferent 
 to expense as an Eton oppidan is expected to be, as excessive. 
 The scale of charges seemed framed more with reference to my 
 father's title than the accommodation I had enjoyed. 
 
 [86]
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 Opening my valise I sought my note-case, it was there, 
 indeed, but empty. 
 
 I trust that no one of my young relatives may ever experience, 
 as I did, with hardly recovered bodily powers, the stunning 
 sensation of finding himself robbed. 
 
 My hostess, upon being recalled, expressed surprise and pity, 
 but could offer no advice. My room, as she said, had been for 
 the past week over-run by strangers, persons over whom she had 
 possessed neither supervision nor control, and for whose mis- 
 deeds, she thanked her Maker, the Lord Mayor would never 
 think of holding her responsible. 
 
 If young gentlemen got into bad company, and bloodshed, 
 and when off their heads were nursed by private soldiers, 
 apothecaries, Scotchmen and what not, they must keep their 
 money under lock and key, or put up with the consequence. 
 
 Did I know the numbers of the notes I had lost ? I did not. 
 Nor how many ? I was again at fault. She dropt her eyelids 
 in deprecation of a random charge brought against a house 
 of spotless reputation, and leaving the very existence of the 
 notes an open question upon which she was not called to ex- 
 press an opinion, decorously crossed her hands and curtsied 
 herself out of the room. 
 
 What my legal remedy might have been against this poor 
 woman is now needless to consider; at the time I was ignorant 
 that the law holds the host responsible for larceny perpetrated 
 beneath his roof. 
 
 I did not question that my bill must be paid, and sending 
 for Hymus conferred with him as to the best quarter in which to 
 dispose of my remaining property, my chargers. 
 
 These being sold to a neighbouring job-master, put me in 
 funds for a while and permitted me to pay my debts and to 
 bestow myself in a less expensive lodging whilst awaiting my 
 lord's pleasure. 
 
 [87]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 I was now for a while at the loosest of ends, without any- 
 thing to do; neither horse, hound, gun nor rod had I, nor com- 
 panion of my age nor condition. Expecting my release from 
 day to day, and disgusted with a city in which I had experi- 
 enced nothing but ill-fortune, I deferred presenting the letters 
 of recommendation, which my mother had sent me, until my 
 clothes were too shabby to do credit to them, and was thus 
 reduced to walking the streets and perusing the shop-windows. 
 
 It was whilst thus promenading, an empty head and a roving 
 eye open to any impression, bad or good, that I sought shelter 
 from a pelting shower beneath the over-hang of a house upon 
 the south side of the street some way within Bootham Bar: 
 Moorhouse was the name upon the lintel, and through the 
 little bull's-eyes of the front I could see an array of meat pasties 
 and similar ware. Little did I think how well I was to know 
 the simple place upon a later day! At the door stood a high- 
 wheeled traveller's gig with a horse between the shafts that I 
 had seen before ( not often do I forget a horse, as you may 
 know ). The creature, a fine, upstanding, strawberry-roan 
 bloodmare, shook the wet from her ears and blew it from her 
 nostrils impatiently, but stirred not a foot, obedient to the hand 
 of a heavily-cloaked little figure upon the low seat beside the 
 box. A tall baker-man came from the shop and laid sacks 
 over the vacant cushion: the child, fingering the wet reins, 
 peered forth at him, smiling from the depths of her hood, "O, 
 thank thee, Heber; please tell father I am keeping quite dry." 
 The voice was clear and sweet, the smile sweeter; I had had 
 but the briefest glimpse, but now I knew that this was the horse 
 and this the girl-child whose face had stirred my fancy at 
 Tadcaster a month before. 
 
 The increasing leanness of my purse now began to alarm me. 
 
 Common sense suggested my discharging Hymus, but, apart 
 from the repugnance which a gentleman, who has once been 
 
 [88]
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 accustomed to the services of a valet, feels to shaving himself 
 or dressing his hair, I found a fresh obstacle: Hymus would 
 not hear of leaving me. He held himself my bondsman, not 
 only for the twenty pounds, but for his very life, which he was 
 fully persuaded my interposition had preserved. In a word, he 
 was not to be got rid of. 
 
 This touching but embarrassing connection outlasted my 
 means of supporting it. I was at length forced to confess to the 
 honest fellow the circumstances of my robbery and disown- 
 ment by my family, and that finally, I was at my last guinea, 
 which I pressed him to accept. 
 
 The scene of this interview was the small apartment I rented 
 in Skeldergate beside Bootham Bar, over against the house 
 once occupied by the notorious Captain Guido Fawkes of 
 infamous memory. 
 
 The good fellow heard me out in silence, choked, saluted 
 and stood to attention with a face of rock, but with the water 
 forming in his eyes. When at length he realized the necessities 
 of my position he replaced the guinea upon the table between 
 us and left the room in discomposure. 
 
 I was mightily astonished, and even touched. Never in my 
 life had I concerned myself with the feelings or behaviour of 
 common people, save so far as these ministered to my con- 
 venience. A groom was a good groom, a maid was a good maid 
 if she ordered my room, or he curried my horse to my liking. 
 What groom and maid did with themselves when out of my 
 sight, how they thought, felt, hoped or despaired were specula- 
 tions hitherto as outside of my cognizance as if grooms and 
 maids had been inarticulate animals with whom converse is 
 denied us. 
 
 Having never conferred with any upon the matter, I had 
 always supposed that the common people in their turn regarded 
 us from the level proper to their service, and were attached 
 
 [89)
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 to us by the expectation of wages and rewards, which hope 
 being withdrawn, the common person withdrew also to form 
 a more promising attachment. 
 
 That a common person should refuse money say a guinea 
 amazed me. ( Yet this same Hymus had already spared my 
 purse a matter of five pounds, a feat in honesty which I had 
 remarked with wonder at the time, but presently forgot, or 
 set down to policy and the hope of establishing a character 
 for exceptional probity.) 
 
 In a word, I was compacted of the selfishness of youth and 
 of my order; neither worse nor better than other idle young 
 gentlemen of my breeding, and I do verily believe that in all 
 my life I had scarcely a single unselfish action to my credit. 
 What I had given I had given from my superfluities, and had 
 been coxcomb enough to experience some motions of gratula- 
 tion at the exuberant thanks returned me for cast clothing 
 and loose silver. 
 
 Nor, on the other hand, was I sensible of being the recipient 
 of especial gifts or favours. That my parents should hitherto 
 have maintained me in affluence seemed part of the scheme 
 of things. Their sudden denial of support appeared an inex- 
 plicable caprice to which I bowed in silent resentment; deter- 
 mined that they should find in me a pride as unyielding as 
 their own. 
 
 The week after this scene passed drearily enough. I had 
 no longer the means of amusing myself at the small gambling- 
 house which I had found in Stonegate, where I had lost a large 
 part of what my horses had realized. I had also the sense to 
 curtail my expense in the matter of morning draughts, dinner 
 port and nightcaps. I believed myself at the time to be a 
 moderate fellow where the bottle was concerned, but am now 
 of the opinion that I was well on the road to be a toper had not 
 tkis change in my fortunes broke me of the habit. 
 
 [90]
 
 CHAPrER NINE 
 
 Daily I called at the post for the letter which was still de- 
 layed. Daily my guinea dwindled, and at every hour of the 
 day I missed my good Hymus. Judge then my feelings when 
 having paid my Saturday's reckoning with almost my last 
 half-crown, I was told that he wanted to see me. He had 
 taken service with the job-master who had bought my charges 
 two months before, and being without encumbrance, an 
 excellent horseman and of good appearance, had been put 
 into livery as coachman to a jobbed pair. This and more he 
 told me with a note of gratulation which jarred upon my mood. 
 The selfish obtuseness of the fellow in flaunting his good luck 
 in the face of my necessities came near to angering me. I 
 forced myself to applaud when I would rather have sworn 
 or sat silent, and drummed the table with my fingers im- 
 patient for him to be gone. 
 
 But, what was this ? The man was lugging out a canvas 
 bag, and, with grins of delight, was laying before me the half 
 of his first week's earnings! He was still my servant, it ap- 
 peared, and asked nothing better than to be allowed to support 
 me! In vain I reiterated my refusals, in vain pushed the money 
 from me flushing and stammering; he reached the door and 
 fled, still grinning, leaving me humiliated to the neighbourhood 
 of tears. 
 
 This was my lowest; lower I may have sunk in the eye of 
 the wayfarer who passed me upon the highway or in the field, 
 but to stand there in broadcloth and linen, sound in mind and 
 body, beholden to a common trooper for a handful of coppers 
 God Almighty! could I be a Fanshawe ? 
 
 That night before I slept, my resolution was taken. Twice 
 I had written to my father and thrice to my mother, at good 
 length and with infinite pains, but had received no reply. I 
 had still the last of my father's franks for a final appeal, could 
 I have brought my stomach to it.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 But I could stoop no lower. A rebel, my heart was hot within 
 me at the harshness and injustice with which I conceived 
 myself to have been treated by her, the indulgent and doting 
 parent, the only woman I had ever loved, and to whom I had 
 never before appealed in vain. 
 
 My brother, Lord Bramford, it did not occur to me to ap- 
 proach. My senior by four years, his position as heir expectant 
 to the title and estates had always set him upon an eminence 
 above me in the eyes of the household, as well as in his own. 
 To our father he was everything; I nothing: his allowance and 
 equipage had for years been upon a separate scale. He had sat 
 for my mother's pocket-borough of Alderley upon his coming 
 of age; had run horses, contracted debts, was a member of five 
 clubs, and had been presented at Court, had gone the round of 
 a dozen country seats, and now, after the manner of the young 
 bloods of his age, kept chambers in town, entertained his friends 
 and moved in a world aloof from my rustic stupidities. Nor was 
 he endeared to me by his one honourable trait, an obstinate but 
 hopeless suit to our neighbour, the Marquise de la Rochemesnil, 
 a lady some years his senior. 
 
 Doubtless I was jealous of him; he coolly ignored me. We 
 seldom met, and had I supposed him in possession of spare 
 means ( and I supposed nothing so improbable) I did not 
 imagine for a moment that he would consider his brother a 
 proper object for his charity. 
 
 Once again I had myself, and myself only, to depend upon; 
 myself this time divested of the adventitious aids of blood, 
 military rank or ready money. 
 
 This time I was reduced to a pair of bare hands, as I told 
 myself; and spent much of the following day, a Sunday, in ex- 
 cellent resolutions in the Minster transept. 
 
 [92]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 AND BECOME A MAN 
 
 ON the Monday, having sold or pawned every un- 
 necessary article I possessed, even to my case of 
 pistols, I dressed myself in my stoutest and plainest, 
 rolled a change of linen in my cloak, filled my pockets with 
 bread and cheese, paid my score and took the road to seek 
 my fortune. 
 
 In short, my cogitations upon the coach after leaving Hunt- 
 ingdon had recurred to me, and I would employ myself about 
 horses if such employment were to be had. But not in the 
 streets of a city through which I had pranced as a cavalier; 
 that humiliation I spared myself. 
 
 Before leaving the ancient city I made the last of my 
 many applications at the post-office. With what recurrent 
 sicknesses of heart had my previous visits been attended! 
 The faint hopes with which I had been wont to watch the 
 postmaster a-sorting his budget of stale letters had ever been 
 followed by the anger of disappointed love. Not a line from 
 my mother! Now, at the last there came a rift in my grey 
 sky. The man frowned reflectively, wetted his thumb and 
 passed me a letter through the wicket. My breath thickened: 
 it bore my father's frank, but the address was neither in 
 my lord's nor my mother's hands. I broke seal impatiently 
 
 [93]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 without a glance at the impress; it was from my friend the 
 marquise. 
 
 "My DEAR MR. GEORGE, 'What is this that I hear?'" 
 Thus she began, and it was plain that the lady had 
 heard little good of me. I scented reproach, and stiffened. 
 Mixed with delicate upbraiding was an allusion to some 
 trouble of which the writer evidently supposed me to be 
 already apprised. I was bidden to lighten my father's burden 
 and pished restively, supposing the trouble to be my own 
 misfortune. In short I took it all awry. I now believe that the 
 letter was not only wisely but kindly conceived, if something 
 too elder-sisterly in tone. It closed with encouragement, but 
 Lucille would have me make my submission; I must write. 
 Had I not written ? yes! and written! I made no allow- 
 ances for mail robberies, the delays and mischances of the 
 road, carelessness of servants or absence of my parents from 
 home; no, nor perceived, as I might have done from the date 
 of the letter I held in my hand, that it had Iain in the post- 
 master's pigeon-hole for near two months, and antedated 
 three of my five appeals for justice. Had the marquise been at 
 my side in bodily presence I doubt not but that she might have 
 bent me to anything she willed, such was her power of persuasion 
 and command. Being two hundred miles away she failed. 
 Resenting her interference, I tore the letter in bitterness, and 
 shaking the dust of York from my feet, started upon my travels, 
 and, as all the routes were the same to me, the evening of my 
 second day upon the road found me with the towers of Ouseby 
 Abbey in view. 
 
 It was a Wednesday in March and some time after sunset 
 when I came in sight of the last milestone, and having been 
 for two days disappointed of adventures, saw possibilities in 
 the erratic behaviour of a pony-cart ahead of me. The vehicle 
 being of a dusty yellow and hung about with two or three 
 
 [94]
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 wicker baskets, declared itself the property of a mealman, but 
 the zigzag course preferred by its driver seemed more suited 
 to a jovial tavern-keeper. The brute between the shafts was 
 capable of reaching home had the beast between the baskets 
 been sober enough to permit him. As things stood, or rather 
 oscillated, the ditch bottom rather than the stable bade fair 
 to be their night's resting place. 
 
 From this I saved them by catching at the bit and leading 
 the nag despite the jerking and swearing of the man. Whilst 
 achieving so much, I failed in preventing collision with the 
 mile stone against which we brought up with a shock that threw 
 the driver over his wheel upon his head, and detached one of 
 the baskets, which upon reaching the ground discharged itself 
 of some two pound's worth of heavy pence and thin silver. 
 
 The fellow lay still enough, and the nag being equally passive, 
 I hastily gathered the coin into my handkerchief, knotting the 
 corners for safety and bestowing it in the cart. This done I 
 offered help to the man. He was wholly uninjured, having 
 fallen, as the drunk so commonly fall, with inexplicable im- 
 munity, and seemed, if possible, more comically mazed than 
 before his tumble. Who he was, for whom he drove, and 
 whither he would go, had escaped his memory. Being incapable 
 of regaining his seat he accepted my arm, and I leading the 
 horse, in this order we reached the little town at nightfall. 
 
 Here we were accosted by an anxious pair, a tall woman and 
 a short man, evidently scouting and expectant. Upon us they 
 pounced with a "Gracious goodness! what an object!" and 
 glanced from my companion to myself and back again, and at 
 one another with silent suspicions ere the woman found a 
 severe tongue. 
 
 "Well, Obed, ye've had enough this time, anyhow!" To 
 which the toper replied with placid contentment, 
 
 "Right y'are, Missus, I have; thank the Lord!" 
 
 [95]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "An* where's your money ?" asked the man, with a shake in 
 his voice, addressing his servant but regarding me sidelong. 
 
 "Are ye Mr. Jabez Medcalf?" I asked, for this name was 
 upon the shaft. 
 
 "Why, yes; and I say, young man, d'ye happen to know 
 what this man o' mine has done wi' his money?" 
 
 I made over the contents of the basket, reclaiming my 
 handkerchief and stating where and how I had recovered the 
 coin from the highway. Little passed until we reached a shop, 
 where, the cash being told and found correct, the couple were 
 at leisure to breathe freely. 
 
 Obed, hopelessly bemussed, was handed over to a thin, dis- 
 couraged wife, who accepted his condition without surprise. 
 
 "Take him away, dame; 'tis the last time. We're done wi' 
 'im," said the mistress, and then turning to me held a light 
 to my face, and after some steady and rather embarrassing 
 scrutiny, made herself the spokeswoman for the firm. 
 
 Was I tramping for work ? I was. Was I used to horses ? 
 Few more. Did I understand the trade of a mealman ? There I 
 was wanting, and but for the seriousness of my case and my 
 importunate stomach, could have laughed outright at the 
 absurdity of the question propounded to an oppidan, but 
 lately a carabineer, and still, by the grace of God, the son of an 
 earl. 
 
 I must suppose that my face spoke for me; my manifest 
 honesty and willingness, and perhaps the absence of any com- 
 petitor, stood me in stead, and I was there and then installed 
 as driver, shopman, porter, and handy-man within doors and 
 without for my board, lodging, and some few shillings the week. 
 
 My service began forthwith; there stood a cob to be un- 
 harnessed, rubbed down, baited and bedded. There, too, a cart 
 to be brushed and housed, harness to be hung and baskets to 
 be bestowed. To it I went, stripping to the first work to which,
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 as I think, I had ever set my hand, and only when all was done 
 was I bidden wash myself at a bucket and join my mistress at 
 the supper-board. I was sharp-set, but a long and solemn grace 
 intervened, such a grace as I had never imagined, nor did this 
 complete the religious exercise of the household, the meal con- 
 cluding with some ten minutes of family worship, during which 
 I fell asleep across my stool from bodily weariness. 
 
 Here, and in this unforeseen manner I became an inhabitant 
 of the small town which I have called Ouseby ( for I desire 
 not to wound the susceptibilities of survivors, if such there be, 
 of those whom I knew in other years and in other circum- 
 stances). The little town comes back to me as I write, its 
 serpentine ground-plan, its ancient house-fronts and shops 
 with half-doors, approached, some by steps up from the cob- 
 bles of the street, some by steps down, few indeed upon the 
 level; the half-ruinous priory church, the tanyards and bark- 
 sheds, the long garden-strips and pightles of pasture at the 
 backs. These I recall, and the hollow water-meadow where once, 
 it is said, the Ouse ran, the Dane's Ditch and other reliques 
 of old times. But it is of its people I am to speak, and of their 
 various ways of dealing with one another and with myself, a 
 stranger, during my months of sojourn. 
 
 [ 97
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 I COME UNDER CONVICTION OF SIN 
 
 HEPHZIBAH and Jabez Medcalf were a childless 
 couple in latish middle life, reputed substantial 
 tradespeople and owners of house-property; she 
 for I must ever think first of her when thinking of that house- 
 hold was the elder of the two by ten years, tall and spare in 
 person, with loops of black hair escaping from her cap to shade 
 rosy cheek-bones. Her forehead was lofty and narrow, her 
 eyebrows arched blackly above large, dark, tearful eyes. Her 
 bony aquiline nose was of a frosty pink and overhung wide 
 and flexible lips frequently moving in silent self-communion 
 or prayer. Her hands were long and cold and never idle. She 
 looked what she was, a woman of a highly-strung temperament, 
 capable of extremes, and always capable of persuading herself 
 and weaker natures of the righteousness of whatever she 
 strongly willed. 
 
 Her good man was of a commoner stamp, short and broad, 
 round-shouldered and pigeon-breasted; his big, dark head 
 joined to his body without much visible neck gave small 
 indication of the energy that possessed him, for indeed he was 
 always doing, and his liquorish, humorous eye was all over 
 his shelves and warehouse. He was fond of hard work, a 
 mighty toiler; I never met his equal in the handling and carry- 
 
 [98]
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 ing of heavy sackloads of meal and corn, an art for which his 
 compact and powerful figure was adapted. In these and such- 
 like secondary matters he busily employed himself and me, 
 relinguishing the direction of his business to the silent, execu- 
 tive woman who owned him. She it was who scented a coming 
 turn in the market and bought or refrained from buying stock, 
 and it was she who admitted or evicted the tenants of their 
 cottages, oversaw repairs and drew agreements. 
 
 Both were Methodists and stood among the leading people 
 of the Ouseby connection, but with a difference, for whilst 
 Jabez was a local preacher, Hephzibah was class-leader and 
 second minister of the circuit, having been some years pre- 
 viously ordained by the imposition of the hands of the great 
 and good John Wesley himself, the last of the few women whose 
 vocation he thus publickly recognized. 
 
 During the three months which I spent in the service and 
 beneath the roof of these worthy people, I had opportunities 
 for learning much more than this of their histories, habits and 
 beliefs, for both wife and husband conceived an extraordinary 
 interest in my spiritual condition, and such solicitude for my 
 conversion as was at first embarrassing, but presently 
 held me as with an enchantment which I was wholly un- 
 able to break. Nor will this seem impossible to any who 
 considers the thousands of persons, comprising every rank 
 of society and degree of education, who were lifted as it 
 were beyond themselves by the first fervours of the Methodist 
 movement. 
 
 To begin with, my treatment by my employers was kindness 
 itself, and I was of late unused to kindness, and submitted the 
 more readily to catechising since it came from the lips of a 
 motherly woman who daily attended to my bodily comforts 
 and replenished my wardrobe by stealth. 
 
 I was by way of learning much that was new to me of myself. 
 
 [99]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 That I was in a state of nature was plainly seen, and I saw 
 no reason to deny so evident a proposition. 
 
 That a state of nature is likewise a state of sin was a 
 corollary I could accept in general terms. But the reasoning 
 went further, and presently became alarmingly personal in its 
 application. 
 
 Thus, my state of sin was a state of danger, since the 
 wages of sin is death. I found myself a vessel of wrath; 
 under a curse; a stranger to and an enemy of my maker; 
 trifling upon the brink of eternity without assurance, war- 
 rant or claim, and with only the pit of the damned for my 
 portion in the world to come. 
 
 The zeal, the power and the feeling with which these people, 
 and especially my mistress, wrought with me, made no small 
 impression. With her as expositor I read the Book of the 
 Revelation for the first time, and felt my inwards moved by its 
 drear terrors. When words failed they fell back upon the re- 
 sources of music. 
 
 "Listen, George!" she would say, and then, "Jabez, let 
 us sing Bourne and Sanders, fifteen, 
 
 " Why do I wander from my God 
 
 Whose greatness none can tell? 
 Can I endure His vengeful rod, 
 And bear the pains of bell? 
 
 "Eternal darkness I must see, 
 And hope will never come; 
 But fiends will my companions be, 
 And hell will be my home" 
 
 or it might be Mr. Charles Wesley's masterpiece, 
 
 " Shall I, amidst a ghastly band, 
 
 Dragged to the judgment seat, 
 Far on the left with horror stand, 
 My fearful doom to meet?" 
 [100]
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 Thus exhorted, thus prayed with and even wept over, I was 
 shaken out of the careless good conceit of myself and blind 
 confidence in a rosy future so common in youth, and fell into 
 so depressed and fearful a state that I dreaded to descend a 
 ladder, and fell asleep in anticipation of awakening in the 
 place of torment. 
 
 I conceived upon what grounds I know not that I was 
 guilty of mortal sin, that my case was gone already before- 
 hand to judgment, and I condemned to an eternity of fire and 
 brimstone. 
 
 That I should remain for one hour in this pitiable illusion 
 was very far from the wish of my master and mistress, who 
 held out to me day by day the plan of salvation, pointing me to 
 the Strait Gate and the Open Door, and urging me to accept 
 the sacrifice of Christ, come from under the law and shout 
 Hallelujah! 
 
 Of their own salvation, present and ultimate, they were as 
 assured as they were of their existence. No doubt seemed ever 
 to approach either. If ( as at times befell ) my master slipt, 
 for he was by nature a sociable creature, 'twas but a fall from 
 grace, amended as soon as admitted, and he was once again 
 in a state of sonship, accepted, washed and pardoned. 
 
 You are to understand that these searchings of heart, fears, 
 hopes and agonies were as new to me as some strange disease 
 for which I knew neither name, palliation, nor remedy, and to 
 which I fell a victim ere I was aware of my danger. 
 
 I suppose that a youth bred in a society which discussed 
 serious topics to some purpose would have had a mind suffi- 
 ciently furnished for the comparison of doctrine. 
 
 Of this I was wholly incapable, lacking the elements for 
 forming a judgment; for, to begin, the Bible which I distantly 
 venerated I had never willingly opened. To doubt or belittle 
 this holy ( but neglected ) volume would have seemed to 
 
 [MI]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 me akin to blasphemy; yet it was this book, now newly displayed 
 to me, that, like some august and terrible arsenal, supplied the 
 texts which smote upon and shrivelled my spirit. 
 
 My breeding stood me in small stead. The childish bed- 
 time prayers, learned by rote, I had disused since entering 
 Eton, where, as I think, we were as arrant young pagans as 
 any in this world, and our tutors no better. 
 
 The Vicar of Bramford, a Mr. Bellasis, a pluralist with 
 some three livings beside, was a college friend of my father's 
 and, as I suppose, neither better nor worse than others of his 
 class at that day. He was at least a gentleman, with a gentle- 
 man's tastes and habits ; his weight permitted him to see the 
 death of more foxes than any man in the country side. Al- 
 though never known to have laid a guinea upon a race, he 
 was held to be the shrewdest judge of a running-horse in East 
 Suffolk, and had repeatedly foretold the future success of 
 unpromising colts. 
 
 He could tie a fly, dub a cock, was an excellent farrier, and 
 played sound whist with perfect temper. 
 
 The man was kindly, and, according to his means, open- 
 handed if peremptory to his poor, and was trusted by my 
 parents as their almoner. 
 
 All this I record in his favour more I cannot. Possibly 
 as a result of a breeding like my own, he was as destitute 
 of religion as his horse. His brief sermons, read stumblingly 
 from borrowed manuscripts, were barely audible in the deep 
 hall pew behind the stone chancel-screen wherein I played 
 cat's-cradle whilst my parents slumbered. 
 
 Upon none of his parishioners, so far as I am aware, did 
 he feel it incumbent to impress the need of a personal faith, 
 which I can only suppose he had never experienced. 
 
 As to the household which I knew best, my honoured 
 parents conceived their duty towards their Maker to consist 
 
 [102]
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 in a correct behaviour, open hospitalities, adequate charities, 
 and an appearance at one service on the Sunday when residence 
 and weather permitted. 
 
 This politely incurious but deferential attitude towards the 
 Unseen was the tone of good society, falling as far below the 
 hearty piety of the good old King as it was superior to the ex- 
 cesses of the Jacobins his enemies. 
 
 That my parents were blameworthy, or even remiss, I will 
 not admit: they, and their spiritual adviser, lived according 
 to their lights, and after the custom of their order. Their Maker, 
 not their descendant, is their Judge. May He who created them 
 mercifully weigh the uses made of the opportunities He gave. 
 
 Let me get back to my own case. 
 
 We have all of us had experience of the painful effects of 
 severe toil upon unused muscles; somewhat similar are the 
 consequences of thought, meditation, reasonings and prayer 
 upon a mind totally unversed in these exercises. At this time 
 I was suffering both bodily and spiritually from over-strained 
 faculties, and was so far fortunate that I could play off one 
 disease against another. 
 
 By day I was able in some degree to detach my mind from 
 the cloud which hung upon it by giving myself entirely to my 
 labour. Although utterly unskilled in the aptitudes of my 
 employment, unable even to tie the mouth of a sack with the 
 proper knot, or to strike off a bushel with accuracy, yet driven 
 by my terrors as by whips, I so toiled as to excite first the 
 admiration and then the fears of my employers. 
 
 When out with the cart I would make a friend and a con- 
 fidant of the horse, singing, conversing, or rather monologising 
 to this dumb companion by the hour, the better to escape the 
 two stern-faced angels who attended me, the one forever 
 showing me the doom of the sinner, the other, softer faced, 
 bidding me make one more dutiful appeal to my mother.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 VISITORS AND RESIDENTS 
 
 TWICE it happened, on days whilst the cob was resting 
 from a journey, and I about the place, that I was 
 bidden to stand by the horse of the miller paying 
 his monthly call for orders and money. This Mr. Ellwood was 
 one of the people called Quakers, a man widely known and as 
 widely respected; a diligent person in his business who covered 
 much country upon his rounds, driving himself in a high- 
 wheeled gig drawn by a blood mare better at going than stand- 
 ing. Hence, whilst he was in the shop with my mistress, I 
 would be at his mare's head, rubbing her velvet muzzle and 
 looking into her great wild eye with its moving, deep-set 
 spark of red fire, for I ever loved a horse. Upon both occa- 
 sions there was something in the gig still better worth the 
 looking at, for his daughter, a young girl ( a young lady I 
 may surely call her, and why not ? ) accompanied her 
 father upon his journey. She used the lower seat beside his 
 raised box, wrapped in her rug and tippet, her little fresh, 
 grave face framed in a small poke bonnet ( as at Tadcaster, 
 and again at York). 
 
 This little face drew me as a far-off sparkle of light draws the 
 eye in the dusk. It was not full-cheeked and bouncing like 
 some young girls' faces, nor square-chinned, nor peaked, but, 
 
 [104]
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 as I told myself, shaped exact like a pea-fowl's egg, precisely 
 as it should be, perfect in modelling and line, tint and texture, 
 just a fine, clear pallour, touched to an inward pink by the wind. 
 
 So much I dared to see, peering through the mare's mane 
 as she shook her head and shifted feet. 
 
 But beside these general excellencies I learned to know her 
 small red lips, which she kept so closely pressed the one upon 
 the other, and her great frank grey eyes. 
 
 Always she leaned softly as in thought, or it might be some- 
 what sleepy with the wash of fresh air, or wearied, for they 
 had driven far. 
 
 Twice, I say, I rendered the child this distant service, 
 standing bare-armed as I had left my work. "Service," 
 I had written, but such service is near kin to worship, 
 and, as I stood thus seeing, but, as I thought, myself 
 unseen, or unremarked, I studied every pure lineament 
 of that little face, and found an interest therein that was new 
 to my life. 
 
 There was no maid in Ouseby, were she Churchwoman or 
 Methodist, at whom I had looked thrice. Good girls there 
 must have been, fine women, wholesome and desirable, I 
 doubt not, but at the time I had no eyes for such. Nor had I 
 left my heart in Suffolk. I was of the kind that furnish late 
 and my love passages were all before me; such boyish flames 
 as had flickered out in my teens having been all for women 
 far beyond my years, mature and majestic spinsters whom I 
 had eyed shyly from safe distances. Nor can I think that my 
 six feet odd of shambling uncouthness, blushes and tied tongue, 
 were framed to captivate the sex. 
 
 No, I knew not the flavour or relish of love, and feeling 
 forforn in myself, cast down and ill-placed, and needing some- 
 thing better and finer than I could find within me, I thought 
 it no sin or unworthiness to set that little face, so innocently 
 
 [105]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 sweet, in a chamber of my heart by itself, there to visit in silence 
 for private delectation and refreshment. 
 
 "I know not so much as her name," said I, "nor am I ever 
 like to know. Nor does she know mine, nor look upon me save 
 as upon any other chaw-bacon that stands to her father's horse 
 at his houses of call. I harm her not. She helps me. I feel 
 the goodness and holiness of this young child. God bless her: 
 would I were like her. If, as seems my doom, I miss Heaven, 
 I will carry the remembrance of her little face to the pit of 
 hell, and think of it and her through all eternity. " 
 
 Then her father would come forth, thank me with the cor- 
 dial gravity that was his natural manner, and I would return to 
 my toil. And this was my fourth sight of her. 
 
 You will be wondering what I did with myself in so quiet 
 a place as "Crooked Ouseby." Quiet it certainly was: no 
 stage passed within five miles of it, nor did any inhabitant, 
 save the rector, take the News. The weekly arrival of this 
 link with the outer world regarded in ordinary times as a 
 fashionable extravagance was in those days of unrest 
 eagerly watched for, and the great man found his morning walk 
 waylaid by curious neighbours whose ignorance it pleased him 
 gravely to play upon. As thus: "News? Master Piper; 
 Why, surely here are strange news, the Dutch have taken 
 Holland!" 
 
 "Never, surely, rector. Well, I s'pose we's bahn to 
 turn 'em oot o ; thot!" 
 
 That I was dull I will not admit, for my hours of labour 
 beginning before sunrise ( during the spring ), and ending 
 only when the work was done, left me little time upon my hands. 
 
 Upon the Saturday night, like other young men of my age, 
 I was used to repair to my public house, The Angel, an inn 
 which I chose not for any merit of cleanliness, or for the good- 
 ness of its ale, but because its sign recalled a house near to our 
 
 [106]
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 park gates at Bramford ( which you too will remember ). 
 
 Here I was used to sit out the evening with pipe and pot, 
 and had grown too fond of both before I was 'ware of my de- 
 clension. Two circumstances ( under Providence ) brought 
 me to my senses, and the recital of the former may interest 
 my young relatives as displaying the manners of the place 
 and time. 
 
 In Ouseby were fourteen taverns and inns, of which perhaps 
 half were of standing to support a drinking club. It was from 
 the staunchest topers of the strongest clubs in Ouseby that a 
 certain eleven was picked to encounter a like number of sea- 
 soned toss-pots of Selby, Goole, Tadcaster, or Church Fenton. 
 
 The way of these bouts was as follows: a letter of challenge 
 being sent and accepted, the contest was held upon neutral 
 ground, in the presence of sworn umpires and a referee. Every 
 man of each eleven had to take off his half-pint of the strong 
 ale, or stingo, used in Yorkshire, at the word of command, un- 
 til one by one, the contestants slid from their seats to the floor, 
 and the last surviving tippler claimed the victory and the stakes 
 for his club. 
 
 These matches were laid and wagered upon for a month in 
 advance, and watched with the keenest interest, and reported 
 of with zest, though sufficiently beastly exhibitions as you 
 may suppose, and as I had occasion to observe. 
 
 As was but natural, these doughty fellows, though men 
 of great size, the goodliest colours and noble proportions, 
 were very uncertain lives, and the turney champion of the 
 pewter was apt to drop suddenly in the midst of his jollity. 
 
 It was upon the eve of one such contest, I forget which, but 
 think it was between Ouseby and Thorne, that a stalwart man 
 of our eleven fell with an apoplexy and never spoke more, 
 though he lingered for some weeks. It was needful to fill his 
 place at short notice, and my master's name being canvassed 
 
 [107]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 was at once rejected for its bearer's temperance ( which, God 
 knows, was not the most shining of the good man's merits), 
 and that of Mr. Beamish, landlord of the Fighting Cocks, 
 substituted and accepted, yet not without wagging of heads: 
 " We're jealous a hain't man enow for f job; as nobbut an eleven 
 gallon man." 
 
 These words produced such an effect upon me that I drank 
 no more that night, proffering the half of my pot to a goat 
 that thrust her nose into the tavern door. The innocent creature 
 took it off to the last drain, and was presently rolling, an object 
 of mirth to my company and to myself (the more shame to me). 
 
 Yet, when the impression had subsided, and I the next week 
 in the same place offered that goat more liquor, the wise animal 
 shook her head and would none of it. 
 
 "My God!" cried I, struck to the heart, "have I less sense 
 than Thy dumb creature ? " and so, rising and paying my score, I 
 went thither never again and found myself ( against all advice 
 and expectation ), presently the better man in body and mind, 
 and still better for the struggle which it cost me to make good 
 my resolution. 
 
 By this too I gained some time for a book, and read more 
 than I had done in all my life hitherto. 
 
 The book-room at Bramford held a collection of tall folios 
 behind locked glass which I had never seen opened. The 
 boxes of novels which reached my mother from her London 
 library had no attractions for me. In summer there was always 
 something to be done without doors, whilst in the winter after a 
 three hours' run from Bullen Bushes to Hadleigh or Little 
 Stoneham, I had felt more minded to sleep in my chair than 
 weep over the sorrows of Mr. Richardson's ladies. " Tom Jones " 
 had repelled me by his coarseness, nor had I patience with the 
 saintly fool Allworthy for listening to a dull brute like Thwack- 
 um and disowning an honest lad. 
 
 [108]
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 How I longed on these sombre Sundays at Ouseby for one 
 of the books I had neglected! The newly- awakened intelligence 
 within me clamoured for its rights and craved for food. My 
 mistress's shelf supported nothing lighter than " Law's Serious 
 Call," "Alleyne's Alarm to the Unconverted," and some ser- 
 mons by the Rev. John Wesley. Dr. Isaac Watts' "Scripture 
 History " I had read from cover to cover. 
 
 It was during a between-sermons visit paid to the 
 Circuit Leader, a Mr. Simeon Baxter, that I made the 
 acquaintance of John Bunyan, beginning with " Mr. Badman," 
 and working through " The Siege of Mansoul " to " The Pil- 
 grim's Progress " (a book which I left until last from some 
 distaste of the title). 
 
 Marking my pleasure in his bookshelves their owner had 
 me the more frequently to his table, and would still further 
 have befriended me with sound advice had I confided to him 
 my case. That he divined my birth I suspected from ex- 
 pressions he let fall whilst most delicately refraining from 
 pressing himself unsolicited upon the privacy of misfortune. 
 
 The humanity of this excellent man to me, a stranger, in 
 poverty and spiritual distress, I shall always recall with feelings 
 of gratitude. He was elderly, in person undersized and short- 
 sighted; his manner and accent though differing from that of 
 the circle in which I had moved, were not markedly provincial, 
 still less were they vulgar. Despite the slenderness of his ward- 
 robe he seemed to me even in outward appearance a gentleman, 
 or at least gentlemanlike, whilst in all that lay beneath externals, 
 in unworldliness, gentleness, abstinence, goodness, and patience 
 he excelled, and despite the terrifying nature of his sermons I 
 was drawn to him. 
 
 Of these sermons I must shortly speak, for the man was 
 celebrated in his way beyond the circuit he then adminis- 
 tered, and became before his death one of the most 
 
 [109]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 powerful preachers in his connexion. Although personally 
 almost insignificant and of such a retiring disposition that 
 no stranger passing him in the street looked twice upon 
 him, yet, once got into his pulpit, or, still better, upon a 
 wagon beside a village green, he was transfigured. 
 
 When preaching in the open air he commonly supported 
 both hands upon the handle of a large umbrella, and whilst 
 keeping this fixed, and as it were riding at anchor to it, dis- 
 played the most surprising versatility of action and gesture. 
 How have I seen him in the violence of his spiritual exercise 
 crouching behind, or rather clinging to, this support even 
 as a drowning seaman clings to his mast! Have I not trem- 
 bled when he leapt forth and leaned over and across its handle 
 until only the operations of some law of nature with which 
 I am unacquainted prevented his pitching from his platform 
 upon his head! And again, I have gasped while he revolved 
 round this pivot as a cockchafer around its pin! Nor whatever 
 his contortions, gyrations, and gesticulations did his tre- 
 mendous voice spare for one moment its denunciations, 
 warnings, pleadings and persuasions. 
 
 His fervours were truly terrific. The veins of his temples 
 were wont to swell and the sweat to roll from his brows. 
 
 Nor was the assiduity of the man less than his zeal; he 
 walked far in all weathers, and would lodge with the lowliest 
 when upon his journeys. 
 
 That such an one should have drawn in the careless and 
 hardened to his flock is no wonder, nor that his example 
 should have been felt to reflect upon the sloth of certain 
 beneficed clergy in the neighbourhood. Said one, "I never 
 go to see a sick parishioner but I meet that confounded 
 ranter coming down the stairs!" 
 
 The style of his address, its personality and tension was 
 new to the pulpit of that day, when the discourses of even 
 
 [no]
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 the best and most earnest incumbents were delivered with 
 such restraint as to carry no adequate conviction of the im- 
 portance of the message. 
 
 Such was Mr. Simeon Baxter, and, as I have said, I came 
 near to loving him, so infectious is self-denying earnestness, 
 so alluring is goodness; and had I continued longer in his 
 neighbourhood and come, as seemed probable, increasingly 
 under his personal influence, I can hardly doubt that his 
 character would eventually have outweighed or commended 
 to me his creed, and I been drawn within the fold of which 
 he was the meek and indefatigable shepherd. 
 
 How strongly did I desire to make him some return for his 
 hospitalities, and for how long did my desires remain fruitless ! 
 That I was able to render this excellent person some slight 
 service is the brightest spot in the overcast landscape of my 
 life at Ouseby. 
 
 [in]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 ON THE BAITING OF BULLS AND METHODISTS 
 
 YOU must know that apart from the hiring-fair and 
 usual Church festivals old custom yearly preserved 
 to us in this town three days of riot. Of these Royal 
 Oak Day and the Fifth of November commemorated historical 
 deliverances, whilst Dean's or Dane's Day was held by the 
 learned to refer to some defeat or expulsion of the Northmen. 
 
 All three were mere saturnalia, days of license, on which 
 aldermen and watch kept within and magistrates winked 
 hard, whilst unpopular characters and causes trembled. 
 
 The anniversary of King Charles's escape in the Boscobel 
 Oak dawned ( or rather of his birthday, for seldom did a 
 May oak bear foliage thick enough to screen a man from 
 vigilant eyes ). The usual sports commenced. A football was 
 kicked from end to end of the town by rival wards, rebounding 
 from tiled roofs and shuttered windows. This was tame enough; 
 the bull-baiting followed. A popular alderman and butcher 
 found the bull; not the town only, but the whole country-side 
 provided the dogs; farmers for miles around bringing their 
 "tykes" to the proof. 
 
 That this should have been permitted in the thoroughfare 
 may seem strange, but the middle of the High Street widened 
 into the likeness of a rude circus, and was from of old known as 
 
 fun]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 "the Bull Ring," and here upon the cobbles, in the heart of the 
 town, and beneath the windows of its principal burgesses, a 
 disgusting spectacle was visible for some hours. 
 
 From the window of my loft I could recognize my master's 
 customers, yeomen and graziers, passing uptown with their 
 dogs to join the close-packed mob. 
 
 "There goes Maude of Catersby," said I, "and that will be 
 Cennick of Stawell, and yonder are Robert and Edward Wood- 
 head, the horse-dealers of Mutford, and that who is that ? 
 Surely I know that man!" for moving with them was the same 
 slight dark fellow, whose visage once seen I had never for- 
 gotten, the successful fighter at the Barn Inn. 
 
 He walked slowly, his keen face shaded by the peak of his 
 cap, his hands in the pockets of his long brown riding-coat, 
 in no haste to see the baiting, but his eyes moved right and 
 left in his head marking everyone who passed him. I lost him 
 at the turning into Back Street, and it is probable he lost the 
 sport. For a Peterborough maltster to be in Ouseby struck me 
 as singular, but it was no concern of mine and no sooner 
 remarked than forgotten. 
 
 The death of the bull was always a critical moment with us. 
 When the beast could fight no longer he was pole-axed and 
 his beef distributed or fought for, and it was then, when bloods 
 were at their hottest, that the elements of disorder were most 
 to be feared. 
 
 It was commonly at this juncture that a cry would be raised 
 and the rabbling of some unpopular person, or the defacement 
 of some public monument would begin. 
 
 One year it had been the town lock-up and stocks that had been 
 burned, the next it was a Baptist meeting-house that suffered. 
 
 From my post of observation I was aware that the bull was 
 down, and some half-hour later it was plain that the moment 
 had arrived and that mischief was afoot. 
 
 [113!
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 In our larger cities the poor and the rich, the tradesmen 
 and the men of law and of medicine, have separate quarters; 
 but in small and ancient boroughs houses of the most various 
 ages and characters are ranked cheek by jowl upon the cause- 
 way. Here a pretentious brick and stone mansion of Dutch 
 William's time, flanked by coach-gates and guarded by posts 
 and chains, is huddled up to on either side by a thatched 
 cottage and a chandler's shop. It is thus at Ouseby where 
 the rectory faces meaner houses across the Bull Ring, in one 
 of which dwelt Mr. Simeon Baxter, and it seemed to me that 
 the movement of the crowd was in the direction of his door. 
 
 This idea came to me with a sort of clap, and before I knew 
 what I would be at I was down my ladder and through the 
 house. My mistress's voice sounded from the back-shop, calling 
 on me to stop, but for once I paid no heed to it, and rather 
 raced than ran to the Bull Ring, where I found my fears justified. 
 
 The crowd had packed itself before Mr. Baxter's house, 
 men and big lads, drunk or merely merry, bawling the more 
 part knew not for what, nor why. But in the heart of the crowd 
 was a knot of "Church and King Men," or True Blues, in whose 
 minds Popery, Methodism and the Jacobins passed for different 
 forms of the enemy which they held themselves bound to 
 extirpate. These with bemuddled unanimity were crying 
 "Down wi' the Pope; down wi' Methody; no wooden shoes!" 
 whilst making ready the heavy chopping block, bloody from 
 recent use, to serve as a battering-ram for breaking the door 
 within which I had spent such pleasant hours. 
 
 At an upper window I could see Mr. Baxter making trial 
 of speech with the crowd who replied with ribaldry and hands- 
 ful of garbage which fell back upon their own heads and those 
 of others. Behind him I had a glimpse of the white faces of 
 his wife and invalid daughter vainly attempting to withdraw 
 him from danger.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 What I intended I knew not, no plan having presented itself 
 to my mind whilst running, but by dint of pushing I reached 
 the neighbourhood of those who held the block just as these 
 had it poised for a rush, and, catching the biggest from behind 
 by the ears, wrung him loose from his hold and flung him over 
 my knee. 
 
 There followed a sudden cessation of sound that came near 
 to being a silence. Those in the middle throng gaped upon me, 
 those upon the outskirts, divining that the unforeseen had 
 happened, held their tongues and climbed upon posts and 
 door-steps to see. 
 
 "A fight! A fight!" was the cry. The fellow whom I had 
 thrown, a big slaughterman, as it happened, and a man of 
 his hands, turned upon me with a grin, and perceiving that 
 my action was no accident, and that I was minded to abide by 
 its consequences, nodded assent and backed into the crowd 
 peeling, and bidding form a ring clear of the fallen block. 
 
 "Tis Medcalf's porter! The Methody carter! Good forever! 
 Did ye ever see the loike ? Well done, young 'un, thou'llt git 
 tha bellyful, niver fear, but keep tha hands oop whoile tha 
 canst an' show us sport first!" 
 
 "And if I do, ye'll let Mr. Baxter's house be ?" I stipulated. 
 
 "Yes." "No." "Baxter be damned; he's neyther here 
 nor there." "We'll see hoo tha frames first," such was the 
 best assurance I could extract. 
 
 Bob Woodhead, gazing upon me with a new kind of brother- 
 liness, gave me a knee. His partner Ted ran for sponge and 
 bucket. The vicar's churchwarden himself, a timber merchant, 
 was one of my antagonist's seconds, elbowing aside a com- 
 petitor for the honour with these words: "Well, 7 say d n all 
 dissenters, I'm for the b y Church" a sentiment which the 
 majority found wholly to its mind. 
 
 My antagonist had by this pulled his shirt over his head
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 and was got upon guard, a formidable figure, the little pig's eyes 
 in his red visage a-twinkle with the glee of battle, his great 
 shoulders and hairy chest crouched behind a pair of huge fists 
 held level with his chin. 
 
 "Set to tha denner, Jock, 'tis sheep's head!" guffawed one. 
 
 " and pluck!" capped my second. The crowd laughed 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 Of the ten minutes or so that followed I remember but 
 little. The ring was small and ill-kept by reason of the pressure 
 of the crowd, which defects were against me, for I was by far 
 the lighter and weaker man. 
 
 I have also an impression that the cobbles were bad footing 
 and hard falling, and that I fell more than once or twice. 
 
 I was doubtless in the pink of condition, and inflamed with 
 a very fever of determination to play out time and give the 
 mob all the sport it wanted. 
 
 But my friend the butcher was by a good two stones the 
 better man, and not so drunk but that he could fight stoutly 
 and well, and when he got one of his blows home it told. 
 
 I dodged and feinted, ducked and countered, and put in 
 practice every art I knew or had ever seen used, and I can yet 
 experience a twinge of contentment at the thought that I fairly 
 grassed my man twice; once at wrestling, and again with a 
 risky right-hander upon the mark. 
 
 The shouting was not all oneway." Well hit! young Pogram!" 
 rang out like the cracking of whips when I got one in. 
 
 But I was getting blind and weak and knew that the next 
 time we closed he would knock me out, for I was no match for 
 him at the half-arm rally. 
 
 It was in one of the lucid intervals of this mad business that I 
 saw to my grief the house-door open and Mr. Baxter himself upon 
 the steps with raised hands and such an expression of indignant 
 pity upon his countenance as hurt me more than my bruises. 
 
 [116]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 For a moment that side of the ring turned to him, but nearer 
 and more to dread was the outside circle whose view of the 
 fighting had been unsatisfying. These ruffians seized him; he 
 was drawn this way and that, and next moment would have 
 been thrown down, when a tall and portly gentleman in black 
 stept through the crowd crying imperatively but calmly, 
 "Stop that, my men, if you please!" 
 
 And stop they did, for this was the rector and justice of 
 the peace, almoner of parish doles, warden of the almshouses, 
 a man of very strong will and no small sense of what was due 
 to himself and his office, whose patronage went far to make a 
 tradesman's custom, and whose good word was a character to 
 a labouring man. 
 
 Those who held the minister dropt their hands. The poor 
 little man got his breath and essayed to speak, but the rector 
 seemed unaware of his presence, and turning his shoulder to 
 him, ran a keen, commanding eye over the crowd ( which was 
 already loosening ), clearing his throat for speech. 
 
 "And now, my lads," said he, "we have had enough of 
 this. We won't spoil our merry-making. . . . 'Tis time we were 
 all getting along home. I am glad to see you all; and so I wish 
 you a good day!" 
 
 And with that he lifted the glass that hung from his finger 
 and let his eye travel deliberately across the bank of packed 
 faces. The last of the mob broke up with horse-laughs, the 
 great man watching with grim satisfaction the salutary effect 
 of his presence. It was as when the doctor himself steps 
 sedately into a ring of lower boys engaged in planning some 
 waggery. 
 
 "How is your man?" This was to my bottle-holder, and 
 surprised me, for I had heard it said that the rector had never 
 recognized the existence of a dissenter. 
 
 I had regained my wind and got to my feet. He looked me
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 squarely between the eyes for a moment. "Be at my door at 
 nine o'clock to-morrow!" said he, and without waiting for a 
 reply, stepped grandly across the stones to his house, looking 
 the fine gentleman he was. 
 
 "Eh, an' what'll thot mean? But niver mind, laad, 'towd 
 rector '11 lat tha down easy. A loikes foine to see a good 
 set-to; and dang ma sowl, if a thowt ye Methodies could ha 
 put oop a laad thot 'ud stan' to oor Jock for foive minutes, lat 
 alone ten!" 
 
 This seemed the general voice; the moment the rector's 
 door closed my friend the butcher lurched up grinning, as 
 usual, to offer me his hand. I had felt it already, but not in 
 this shape. He, too, seemed in high good humour with himself 
 and me and the world at large, despite the bruises he was 
 caressing. 
 
 "Dommed if tha' hain't a game yoong cockbird! 'Twor a 
 fair pleasure!" was as his deliverance. In short I was escorted to 
 Medcalf's shop by a following of new-made friends, and for the 
 moment dissent was almost popular in Ouseby; it was able to 
 show sport. 
 
 The news had outrun my return. The shop-door was already 
 unbarred; and I was received almost literally into the open arms 
 of Mistress Medcalf, redder as to the nose and cheek-bones 
 and more tearful as to the eyes than ever, shaken with hardly 
 repressed indignation, still heaving with a passion of womanly 
 fears, and ready to expend upon me such maternal tenderness 
 as I had not thought her capable of shewing. 
 
 I needed it. I was rather badly knocked about, and the 
 getting home, a bare furlong, had well-nigh taken the last ounce 
 out of me. 
 
 My seconds were dismissed with the grave courtesy due to 
 good customers who have given offence. She longed to rate 
 them soundly. The door locked and the curtain drawn, a dust- 
 
 [118]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 sheet laid in the kitchen, her husband was sent packing for the 
 hog-tub, beside which, I, kneeling stript to the waist, was 
 washed, larded, dipt, plaistered and bound up with vinegar 
 and brown paper for the bruises, lily-leaves and brandy for the 
 cuts. 
 
 Despite my smarts and a singing head I could have laughed 
 at the poor figure my master seemed to make in his wife's eyes. 
 
 "Out o' my way! no, not that; the sponge, I said, didn't I ? 
 There, don't shove it down my throat! . . . To go and let a 
 young lad meet gret, bletherin', sweerin', bull-faaced Jock 
 Spence! an' you, a grown man, an' a strong man, skulkin' 
 be'ind shutters whilst poor, dear Mr. Baxter What's that 
 ye're sayin' ? ( The towel, if you please, the soft one ) 
 ' The servant of the Lord shall not strive ? ' Oh, I know my Bible 
 as well as here and there some, and, mark me, Medcalf, I'll 
 not have Scripture throw'd at my head by any man, Medcalf, 
 not if he was ten times my husband. And just answer me this, 
 if you please, What did the Almighty go and make ye as strong 
 as a bullock for, if 'twasn't to defend the weak ? Tell me that, 
 Medcalf! Fight ? ye could fight fast enough before ye found 
 salvation. Ah! I mind ye with a coal-black eye when you was 
 courtin'! . . . An' him nobbut a child, in a figure! a David 
 against that gret hulkin' Philistine! I said a child; don't answer 
 me, Medcalf, look at his airms! not the half o' yourn! Now, not 
 another word, if you please. He can't abear your noise, I'm 
 sure; and I'm sick and silly at the sight o' ye, may God for- 
 give me! Now up with that tub and empt it in the yard, and 
 quick about it! And out ye gets and down to the Cocks for 
 I'm going to quiet the house for George." 
 
 In fact she forbad my attempting the ladder to my loft, 
 shaken as I was, and made me a " bice " of chairs in the kitchen, 
 where, filled with all I could eat and drink, I slept like a top 
 and awoke little the worse save in looks.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 I AM TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL 
 
 BY the time appointed I was at the rectory back door 
 and was, as it seemed, expected; the maid, without 
 a word, shewing me through to an apartment in the 
 front, which I judged to be the great man's justice-room or 
 study, where I was bidden to wait. 
 
 The door standing ajar I could not but hear all that 
 passed in the broad echoing hall paved with quarries of parti- 
 coloured marble and giving to the street by the main door of 
 the house. This being presently opened in response to a knock, 
 I heard the voice of Mr. Baxter requesting an interview with 
 the rector, and the retreating steps of the maid, leaving the 
 caller, as I supposed, either upon the mat or in the porch. 
 
 Anon some inner door opened and closed upon a burst of 
 ladies' laughter, and stately steps passed up the hall and paused. 
 
 "What is your pleasure?" 
 
 "I have ventured to call, sir " the voice quavered slightly. 
 I am persuaded that this was the first time the minister had 
 passed that threshold. The social gulf between the speakers 
 would, God knows, be sufficiently deep to-day; it was then 
 unfathomable. The Earl of Mornington had not long before 
 been granted letters patent to change his surname to escape 
 the taint of his famous but unfashionable cousins the Wesleys. 
 
 [120]
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 "I have ventured to call, sir " Mr. Baxter repeated 
 with a nervous cough : he could face a drunken mob bent upon 
 doing him a mischief, but when he would have exchanged 
 civilities with his august neighbour his words stuck in his 
 throat! This little man who showed the courage of a lion when 
 he heard the Divine call was oppressed by the timidities of the 
 hare when prosecuting his private affairs. 
 
 "I have ventured " 
 
 "So you have said already, my man, and so I perceive," 
 interposed the rector, dryly. 
 
 " to thank you, sir, and to tender you the heartfelt 
 acknowledgments of my family and myself, of your humane 
 and and Christian interposition yesterday, when we were at 
 the mercy of of of " 
 
 Mr. Baxter hesitated, finding, perhaps, an unexpected diffi- 
 culty in describing those who had wantonly attacked his 
 dwelling in terms which would seem inoffensive to their spiritual 
 chief. His assailants had included at least one churchwarden. 
 
 The rector gave him no assistance, and the sentence ended 
 lamely. 
 
 There was a silence of several seconds' duration. The word 
 lay with the rector, who was in no haste to end a situation 
 which he plainly relished. He was for playing his fish before 
 tossing him back to the water. My cheek burned at the tone in 
 which he began. 
 
 "So far as I am able to gather the sense of your not especially 
 coherent remarks, I conceive that you are under a mistake. 
 You have nothing to thank me for. The ladies of my household 
 found the noise disturbing. I requested the good people to go 
 away. If, er, at any time ( which seems unlikely ) you 
 should have anything to say to me, I should prefer your coming 
 to the service door. I wish you a good day. " 
 
 The street door closed. Through the wicker window blind 
 
 [121]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUAL1TT 
 
 I saw my friend descend the steps with the mien of a mortified 
 man. From somewhere at hand rang a chime of ladies' merriment. 
 
 "Oh, excellent! You sent the creature to the right-about 
 finely! But, oh, what fibs we told! what fibs! You were as set 
 as mama or I that the poor thing's house should not be 
 rabbled!" 
 
 "No need to tell him so, my dear; but, pardon me, I am 
 waited for. " 
 
 He swung stately into the room, the smile still puckering 
 the angles of his eyes, a tall and portly gentleman, wearing a 
 silken kerchief turban-wise in place of a wig; his flowered 
 morning-gown open from throat to hem, showing admirable 
 shapes of handsome limbs in black breeches and stockings. 
 
 Seeing me where I stood he exclaimed, "Ha! How do you 
 do?" extending a small white hand which, from old wont, I 
 took in spite of myself. 
 
 "I thought so!" said he with sudden gravity. "And now, 
 sir, who may you be ?" 
 
 "Mr. Medcalf's man," I began. 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" interrupted the rector, "I asked who, and 
 you tell me what; I have eyes like another. " 
 
 "Pardon me, I hardly take you," I stammered. 
 
 "Shall we play out the deal? No! I throw my cards upon 
 the table! You, sir, are a gentleman: you have just betrayed 
 yourself. But I knew it by your fighting; I saw a cross-counter 
 they use at Eton; my nephew shewed me the trick but lately. 
 You sparred with your brains and kept your hands lower 
 than our yokels keep theirs. Oh, yes, I marked you closely ; 
 'twas a treat, sir! I boxed myself until I took orders, and have 
 seen some pretty battles since. " 
 
 He swung round in his stride, for he was softly pacing the 
 room, and regarded me full with his chin up, watching the effect 
 of his disclosures. 
 
 [122]
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 "There is a cipher upon your linen, you forgot that when 
 you peeled, sir. Again, who are you ? " 
 
 "I am called George Fanshawe. " ( I had never concealed my 
 name. ) 
 
 "So much I knew. Of the Maskelyne-Fanshawes ? Not a son 
 of Sir Algernon ? " 
 
 "No, sir!" I answered shortly. 
 
 Whilst speaking he had unlocked a cupboard and set a de- 
 canter and two glasses upon the table and was filling both. 
 
 "To our better acquaintance!" he said, lifting one to his 
 lips and motioning me to follow his example with the finest 
 manner in the world. "You see I am determined to assist you. 
 What! you hesitate. Have I failed to make myself understood ?" 
 
 "Sir! you are monstrous kind. I am sensible of it, and 
 now I know not what to say. You will think me a clown: be 
 it so, but I will not drink with you!" 
 
 I believe I flushed furiously, my plaisters smarted, and I 
 felt sufficiently uncomfortable, both outwardly and inwardly, 
 at rejecting such advances from such a man. 
 
 His handsome face passed from the warmth of proffered 
 kindliness to blank amaze, and thence to a sudden heat, and 
 again to self-mastery and the politeness due from host to the 
 guest beneath his roof. 
 
 "Mr. Fanshawe," he said, replacing his glass upon the 
 board, "you are young, but not so young as to be ignorant of 
 what you have done. There are men who could not digest such 
 a such a refusal. My cloth and my station permit me to 
 ignore it. You are, as I think, the only man in the East Riding 
 aye, from my Lord Archbishop down who would decline 
 to take wine with James Godolphin. May I be permitted to 
 ask your reason ? ' 
 
 I stood hot and silent, picking my phrase. 
 
 "Come, lad!" he cried, with feeling in his voice, "I can 
 
 [123]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 guess how it stands with you, but, 'once a gentleman, always 
 a gentleman.' There is excellent stuff in you, I maintain it! 
 And I was never deceived in my judgment of a man yet. / 
 have not lost faith in you, so believe in yourself. What ? we will 
 start fresh; pluck up your heart; take your self-respfect again 
 in both hands!" 
 
 This was worse and worse. 
 
 "Sir! you go too fast," I cried. "I am not a felon; I am no 
 disgraced man; there is nothing nothing upon my hands, 
 or name, or conscience that makes me unworthy to touch glasses 
 with you!' 
 
 "What, then?" 
 
 "It is you, sir yes, you, who have but this minute in- 
 sulted my friend!" 
 
 "Your friend? Pardon me, I do not quite take you. You 
 cannot have apostatised to these vulgar sectaries ?" 
 
 "I am not a Methodist, if that is what you mean, 
 but" 
 
 "Then why what ? See here; a gentleman, a Fanshawe, 
 may sink his gentrice for a term to earn his bread ( as so many 
 of these unfortunate emigres are doing ). You are of the younger 
 branch, I take it; pardon my ignorance, we Yorkshiremen are 
 not so familiar with your southern stocks as we should be. 
 What was I saying ? Ah, yes! 'tis no disgrace to pouch the 
 shilling one has sweated for, non olet, you remember ? But, you 
 said 'friend'; the fellow is a dissenter!" 
 
 "For what did you think I fought?" I blurted. "You don't 
 know how good he is!" but I beat upon a locked door. 
 
 "As your rector, sir, I cannot reason with you. You must 
 take it from me that the sin of schism is no light thing in the 
 sight of the Almighty. " 
 
 We were hopelessly at cross-purposes. I am no talker, nor 
 ever was. I bowed and turned to the door. He was before me
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 and held it wide with the finest courtesy. In the porch he ex- 
 tended his hand. 
 
 "You have taken it once!" 
 
 "I was surprised, sir, then," said I, keeping mine behind 
 me. We bowed low to one another and parted. The door closed 
 behind me upon paradise; all my lower nature, all my old self 
 cried out upon my folly, yearned for the softness and fineness 
 of the spacious life I had known and had lost. The cadences 
 of that rich voice, the gestures and movements of the man, the 
 ripple of ladies' laughter had thrilled me like an old song. 
 
 But between us stood a wall of this man's own building, his 
 harsh scorn of all that I had just found to be so good. 
 
 I strode back to my stable the happier and the prouder for 
 my protest. 
 
 "Eh, laad! tha looks finely considerin'. A wish a could 
 luke as peart masen!" 
 
 'Twas Ted Woodhead reining up a rough roadster to greet 
 me in passing. 
 
 "Why, what ails ye? "said I. 
 
 "Matter! Matter enough, lad. A thievin* matter! a hangin' 
 matter, too, as I ho-apes to see it, if I walks to the gallows 
 nine miles barefoot and fastin'! D n the roogs! Ma' osses! 
 the soondest, best bred, oop-stannin' est geldings i' the riding! 
 All gone! stollen! D n the villains!" 
 
 "Ne ver!" I gasped, for the magnitude of the man's loss 
 appealed to me. 
 
 "Eh, laad! these are bad times! What wi' Methodies but, 
 I beg tha pardon! an' bloody French Jacobites, an' Hirish 
 Papishes, a honest Yorkshire laad canna go to a bull-baitin' 
 wi' out findin' his stock stollen whan 'e coomes 'ome! Lord! 
 'tis crool! 'tis crool!" 
 
 "But your men " 
 
 "Our fellers?" he brought the ground ash down upon his
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 buskin with a sounding thwack. "Where should they be ? At the 
 yale-house, laad, droonk as lords! 'ticed awaay there, they 
 saay, an' summut put in their drink, seemingly; for there's ne'er 
 a man o' them can keep his eyes open yet, tho' Bob an' I has 
 hided 'em to rights, I gi' tha ma word!' 
 
 "Eh, but Bob's maad maad! he's away to owdYork for 
 runners and bills, and I'm for t'owd rector for a constable and a 
 warrant, and so good day to thee, and mind tha keeps tha eyes 
 about tha when drivin' the roads, tha knaws our geldings, all 
 docked greys, true Yorkshire coachin' stock. 
 
 Aye, and for the thieves too. Look tha, one's a Gypsy, 
 a dommed hatchet-faaced roog ( I've seen him aboot the 
 pla'ace masen a week since ) in a cat-skin cap, wi' rings in 
 his ears and a red comforter where the halter shall be yet! " 
 
 "I'll not forget," said I, and then upon an impulse stayed 
 him as he would be riding off, my mind, as you may say, 
 hunting a stale line, " What of the master-thief? was he not a 
 great, hulking sailor-man ? " 
 
 "Noa, laad, noa, whativer maks tha ask? The feller 
 they called 'captain' were a wee, jocky-built man, nobbut a 
 younker to look at. 'Sam' they called him, or one of our chaps 
 says they did, but what's thot to go upon? Sam indeed! 
 D n the roog! wheer's ma osses ? Dressed? hoo was t'feller 
 dressed, tha wants to know ? Hoo should a be dressed ? loike 
 another maan, loike masen, i' leathers, mebbe"; he slapp- 
 ed his own, then recollecting himself, "Oa, i'a longish, brown 
 ridin'-coat, loike this-sa, ma nagsman said ( he'll be sayin' 
 next thot a stowll ma 'osses masen! ). Oa, and a beaver, was 
 it ? Noa, I jaloose 'twere a cap wi' peak and pull-downs fur 
 t'ears. But, there, a mun bid tha good day, for t'longer a stan' 
 chattin' here, t'further ma 'osses wull a got. " 
 
 He was gone. I had the clue in my hand, as you can see, as I 
 can see myself now, but let it drop unheeded. Similarities of
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 dress, identity of name went for nothing to a mind already 
 possessed by a couple of fixed ideas, viz., that Mr. Sam Brown 
 was a Peterborough maltster ( had not the driver of the mail 
 said so ? ) and ( my own conceit this ) that the master- 
 ruffian must needs be a sailor and an over-sized fellow. That a 
 dapper little tradesman, so respectably attired, and such an 
 excellent man of his hands, could possibly be a common horse- 
 thief was not to be thought of.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 THE FALL OF AN IDOL 
 
 MY employers were called well-to-do, and so they were, or 
 might have been, but for a passion for giving which 
 kept them poor. 
 
 Never had I seen then, nor ever since, such givers as they. 
 
 Their beneficence was not the easy weakness that divests 
 itself of its superfluities to the first or loudest claimant. 
 The vagrant who could give no clear account of his last job 
 and future intentions got nothing at their hands. It was an 
 ordered, long-foreseen scheme that engrossed their thoughts 
 and their savings; nothing less than providing their circuit with 
 adequate meeting-houses, which, as their fellow sectaries were, 
 for the most part labouring folk with whom pence were scarce, 
 pressed heavily upon the few who could give to any purpose. 
 
 For this end they deliberately bound themselves to find such 
 monthly installments as seemed to me, listening to their un- 
 guarded table-talk, out of proportion to their means. 
 
 ( "Tis lent to the Master, Jabezl" was my poor mistress's word. 
 Ah! well do I remember it.) 
 
 For this, then, they slaved early and late. For this, too, they 
 drove harder bargains than I could always in my heart approve. 
 " But, then," said I, *' this is the way of business, a matter of 
 which until lately I knew nothing, but by which, as it seems, 
 
 [128]
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 I am to get my bread for a while. 'Tis a dog-eat-dog sort of 
 game, and not to my taste, but necessary, like butchering and 
 sailoring; and I, being in for it, must not be squeamish. These 
 good folks doubtless know the rules, and if they are over keen 
 in getting, are bounteous in giving, God knows!" So I quieted 
 my conscience and worked at their business until I was as hard 
 as an oaken post from shoulder to heel and fell asleep the in- 
 stant I laid cheek to bolster. 
 
 During the month that followed my interview with Mr. 
 Godolphin, it had crossed my mind at times that a crisis was 
 approaching. To complete a purchase of land for a meeting- 
 house my employers had mortgaged some freeholds, and the 
 half-yearly charge being overdue the mortgagee grew impa- 
 tient and threatened foreclosure. In a word, this worthy couple 
 were in trouble and without a friend to turn to. 
 
 Night after night they wrestled in prayer, and still the answer 
 delayed. 
 
 Jabez scoured the country collecting debts, but our cus- 
 tomers were bare of ready money, their haysel still in doubt 
 and harvest afar off; he must wait. 
 
 Growing discouraged he resorted more frequently and 
 earlier in the day to the porch-bench of the Fighting Cocks, 
 where, over a tankard of his favourite brew he argued endlessly 
 with the adherents of Mr. Godolphin, returning late and some- 
 what unsteadily to a severe but silent wife, who had learned to 
 make allowance for man's frailty and for the trials of this par- 
 ticular man and season. 
 
 There was the miller to be paid, beside, a man whom my em- 
 ployers respected; whom ( as they admitted ) they had "run" 
 as far as they dared, since their credit with him was precious. 
 
 Well do I remember the Friday night in June preceding his 
 expected call. 
 
 My interviews with big Jock Spence and his rector had in 
 
 [129]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 no way lessened my employers' regard for me, or their solicitude 
 for my conversion. 
 
 At family worship I had been prayed for until I sweated 
 with anguish at the prospect of God's anger and the fiery doom 
 of the lost. I beheld the mouth of the pit gaping for my poor 
 helpless soul, and then, as my mistress pleaded as with a 
 Presence in the room itself, I quivered and throbbed, and 
 almost found salvation. My master's deep-breathed amens were 
 in my ear, his great palm beat time upon my shoulder, the stool 
 chattered under me to the bricks upon which I knelt; I yearned 
 and strove, and forgot for the time those awful doubts as to the 
 fairness of it all, this atrocious creed of theirs, with its wheel- 
 work deity ticking blindly on from eternity to eternity and 
 everlastingly blasting the poor faulty creatures whom He had 
 made so. 
 
 I palpitated and writhed, I say, and next moment the strain 
 relaxed, and she was appealing to the helper of His children 
 for help for her man and herself in the very words of the sorely- 
 tried Psalmist, brokenly, earnestly, at last confidently. 
 
 "Jabez!" she said, solemnly, as she rose from her knees, 
 "the answer has come. Mark me, to-morrow the Lord will 
 provide ! " 
 
 It was on the Saturday afternoon, but still early, that the 
 miller called, as I knew he would, for we were two months be- 
 hind in our payments. 
 
 I was mending sacks in the meal-store beside the shop into 
 which it opened, having a door of its own to the street besides. 
 Here as I worked, seated astride a bag of pollard with my 
 fingers busy and my mind more settled and at ease than since 
 I had come to Ouseby, I heard wheels and the sounds of a 
 horse brought to a stand without, and then, close at hand in the 
 shop, the voice of Mr. Ellwood the Quaker, greeting my mis- 
 tress.
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 As I expected, he had called for his overdue account, and, 
 knowing, as I did, that the money was with us in the house, it 
 disturbed me to hear my mistress lead the conversation astray, 
 and, when brought gently back to the point, hesitate and ask 
 for yet another month's grace. 
 
 But her creditor demurred, reminding her of promises given 
 a month and two months before, upon which he had ( as he 
 said ) relied, having engagements of his own to meet in turn. 
 
 The man spoke slowly, gently, but with decision. My mind 
 went with him. 
 
 Then there was the chink of coin, and through the wide rift 
 of the hinge before me as I sat, I could see Mr. Ellwood telling 
 the money, and presently the scratching of a quill told me that 
 he was writing his receipt. 
 
 All passed in a natural manner. My presence behind the 
 door, though known to my mistress, who had spoken to me 
 from the shop some half-hour before, may well have escaped 
 her, nor was there anything in my work to remind her or 
 apprise her creditor of my presence. The bright bent needle 
 slid in and out the sack-cloth and drew silently after it lengths 
 of soft filasse; it was only when I folded and laid aside a mended 
 sack, or chose another from the heap awaiting repair, that my 
 movements were audible to others. 
 
 Suddenly there was a snarl of a dog without and a soft cry, 
 followed by a clatter of hoofs and the rasp of departing wheels. 
 
 The miller ran from the shop leaving the counter strewn 
 with his money. I, glancing through the chink to learn what 
 had happened, beheld my mistress's face gazing after him 
 sharpen and chill to a sudden bleakness; "Will provide!" 
 she bleated brokenly; I caught the ring of money and the 
 crumpling of paper, but in my confusion and haste these 
 sounds conveyed no meaning at the moment. Springing through 
 the street door behind me, which stood ajar, I saw the dog of
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 our opposite neighbour, the tanner, slinking off with the tucked- 
 in tail that tells of guilt, and the miller's gig rattling down 
 street, with Mr. Ellwood in hopeless pursuit. 
 
 Now the road that way makes a sharp bend ( the place is 
 called "Crooked Ouseby" ) and it came upon me that with 
 luck I might cut off the runaway. 
 
 Scudding across the street and through the tanner's yard- 
 gates I was out at the back and had traversed the length of his 
 bark-sheds before I drew breath. He was shifting hides from 
 a pit and looked up, hook in hand, with some word that I waited 
 not to answer, for I had leapt the gate into his long paddock 
 and was running my hardest for the palings at its farther end 
 beyond which was the road. These, too, I leapt, and, though 
 the drop shook me, had breath enough left to strip my slop and 
 to swing it aloft before the mare, now around the corner and gallop- 
 ing wildly, was upon me. She swerved, faltered, changed her foot 
 and I knew she was mine. Next moment I had her safely by the 
 head, and brought her to a stand, though dragged a few yards. 
 
 There was nothing in this to praise: it was but what many 
 and many a country-bred lad who knows horses will do and 
 reckon as all in his day's work. 
 
 Yet I was pleased with myself, as a man will ever be who 
 has run his best and caught what he ran to catch, be it a ball 
 or a horse; and, whisking the dust out of my eyes, I was first 
 aware of an occupant of the gig, a young girl pale and scared, 
 whose little hands shook as they fumbled upon the rein. It was 
 the sweet young face of my fancy. 
 
 Our eyes met and her's thanked me, tho' her lip quivered 
 too much to be trusted with speech when I raised my cap and 
 hoped she was unhurt. The seat beside her was strewn with a 
 posy of fritillaries, white and purple, which she had dropt 
 when she clutched the reins. I must always remember that day 
 when I see that flower. 
 
 [132]
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 I had turned the mare and was leading her back when the 
 runners came up, Mr. Ellwood panting among them, his 
 features awork with just-passed fear and present gratitude. 
 He gripped my hand hard and returned beside me, quieting 
 the horse but saying little. 
 
 At the sight of the shop open and unkept he looked con- 
 cerned and found his tongue, though still out of breath. 
 
 " I left in haste and without thought for the money," 
 he said, "there was forty pounds and more lying loose upon 
 the counter. I trust " 
 
 "Have no fear, sir," said I, "my mistress was gathering it 
 when I left. I saw her." 
 
 And with that, we being at the shop again, I turned into the 
 street-door of the meal-store, and he, as I suppose, giving his 
 horse to some man to hold, went up into the shop. 
 
 It was empty. 
 
 I was for resuming my needle-work but must needs wait 
 a while, my hands shaking with running. While thus idle I 
 heard Mr. Ellwood in the shop calling clearly for my mistress 
 twice, and, after a pause, her answer from above in the house, 
 and her step upon the stair. 
 
 "And was the little lady scairt ?" she asked, entering briskly 
 with her hand pressed to her side, and, without waiting for an 
 answer, ran on praising God that no harm had befallen any. 
 "I could not watch ye; indeed I could not. I came over all 
 faint-like, and must have gone off had I not got to my bed. I 
 am but this moment risen on hearing ye call." 
 
 "Yes, we must be thankful. It was mercifully overruled. 
 And now, neighbour Medcalf, I will thank thee for my money. " 
 
 "Your money? Surely, sir, it lies here, all here, where 
 ye left it. Where else ?" 
 
 "Ten guineas are missing of the amount," he replied with 
 gravity.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 I caught my breath with a premonition of something im- 
 pending. 
 
 "Ten guineas!" she repeated in a changed and heightened 
 key. "Indeed, I am sorry for ye, Mr. Ellwood, but what can 
 we expect if we leaves the door wide and our money loose and 
 all about whilst chasing a horse ?" 
 
 "But surely thou didst not leave it unguarded? The re- 
 ceipt I signed is gone, beside; it lay with the money and was 
 of no value to the thief. Think, my friend; we do things awry 
 in moments of agitation, but the remembrance of what we did 
 presently returns, as this will to thee. Think!" 
 
 "All I can say is " she began. 
 
 "Nay, give thyself time! Let me help thee to recall what 
 passed. When the horse started I stood here, so; and thou 
 where thou stands now; and the money forty, sixteen, nine 
 lay between us in piles as I had told it. Thou remembers ? 
 Well, 'twas not so when I returned, but mixed and scattered 
 and the gold short. Think; thy first impulse was to gather it 
 together for safety, for I am told thou " 
 
 " 'Tis a lie, I tell ye! As God is my witness I never laid 
 finger to it!" 
 
 "Stop!" cried Ellwood with sudden sternness. 
 
 "Oh, stop her, don't let her! Oh, don't say it, Mistress!" 
 I cried in an agony, bursting upon them. 
 
 There was a moment of heavy silence, my apparition taking 
 both so utterly by surprise. 
 
 My poor mistress backed away from me although the counter 
 lay between us, holding her hands as if to ward me off. 
 
 Mr. Ellwood, absolutely composed and painfully grave, said 
 nought. 
 
 "Here is the thief!" cried Mrs. Medcalf in a high-pitched, 
 hard, unnatural voice. "Ah! ye wretch, to think that ye should 
 rob us after all our prayers for ye! He was behind that door,
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 Mr. Ellwood, from first to last. I clean overlooked the wretch 
 when I left the shop. Here's the thief ready to your hand. 
 Send men for the constable and for Mr. Godolphin, quick! Ah, 
 sinner, sinner! Be sure your sin shall find you out!" 
 
 As for myself I had no word to say. The horror of the thing 
 stunned me. It was not the thought that this might be a hanging 
 charge which appalled me ( before Romilly's time men, 
 and women too, hung for thefts of thirteenpence from the person, 
 and for five shillings from a shop ) no, 'twas the awful 
 change in the woman, the face that had never turned to me 
 before save in kindness, the lips that had agonised for my soul 
 as a mother's might agonise for the life of her dying babe, 
 were altered, fallen. The eyes were the eyes of a hunted cat. 
 It was the visage of a termagant fighting for her life and 
 careless whom she wounded and dragged down. 
 
 But Mr. Ellwood, a man of the soundest judgment and rare 
 self-control, closed the shop-door both half and top lest 
 her loudness should incur irreparable scandal, and turning 
 himself to her, and placing a gentle hand upon hers, said 
 "Hephzibah Medcalf, thou art beside thyself. Whatever 
 has become of the money, or whoever has taken it, this young 
 man is innocent. In his case it was not possible. He left thy 
 store as I passed it, running; he must have outrun me, how I 
 know not, for 'twas he that caught my mare. It was he that 
 led her back to this door, for I walked beside him. Nor was 
 he the first to enter thy shop; it was empty when I passed that 
 threshold. Again, I entreat thee, think! What hast thou done 
 with those ten guineas?" 
 
 She looked from him to me and back again to him, but 
 furtively; she could not meet the eye of either, and began 
 once more to call her Maker to witness her innocence, but 
 brokenly, hopelessly, mechanically. 
 
 "Are ye mad, Mistress?" I stammered. "Listen to me
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QU4LITT 
 
 and collect yourself before 'tis too late. Before I left my seat 
 there, see! close to the door-cheek I saw you yes, you 
 at the money; your hands were over it, so; I heard ye crumple 
 some paper, too. Come! maam, try to remember what ye 
 have done with it ; try, for Christ's sake! " 
 
 "Viper!" she shrilled with flaming cheeks, and throwing 
 herself half across the counter fetched me a sudden cuff that 
 set my cheek burning, and then cowered back with her hands 
 before her face, her shoulders heaving with her sobs. 
 
 I shifted a foot without speech or formed intention, but 
 at the sound she moved a hand and shot so apprehensive a 
 glance at the shelf behind me that I too glanced that way. 
 
 You must know that the smaller wooden measures we used 
 in our trade when not in hand were kept upon that shelf. My 
 mistress was an orderly person, and would have her husband 
 and me put everything in its place. What I saw was that the 
 pint-pot had broken rank, and with one of those unaccountable 
 intuitions that visit one at times, and of which one's work-a-day 
 self is incapable, I raised my hand to the measure. 
 
 In a moment she was upon me. 
 
 "Don't touch it, George! O, as you love me, for the dear 
 Lord's sake, George, let it be! Oh, George! dear George!" 
 
 For I, lifting it carefully down and finding it heavier than it's 
 won't, placed it in Mr. Ellwood's hands, seeing only its mouth 
 stopped with a ball of crumpled paper. 
 
 "My receipt!" quoth he very low, and withdrawing the 
 wad and seeing what lay beneath, "and my money! Young 
 man, I thank thee for the second time to-day. Wilt thou 
 kindly say nothing ? but I need not ask it. Perhaps thou 
 wilt leave me with thy mistress. " 
 
 "My poor, poor friend!" was his word, breathed low and 
 brokenly with an infinite, pitiful gentleness. I closed the door 
 upon them, and climbing to my loft flung myself upon my knees. 
 
 [136]
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 The world rocked with me and ran round; whatever I 
 clutched at failed. A horror of darkness, empty and drear, 
 fell upon my spirit. It was all done with; a vile and rotten pre- 
 tence from underpinnings to ridge-tile! The ail-but effected 
 conversion, the work of three months, ripped like rotten sacking 
 and fell from me, leaving me nakeder and colder than before 
 I knew my sin or felt the need of Grace. 
 
 She she, their minister, the divider of the Word, whose 
 tones, looks and gestures had moved me and had moved crowd- 
 ed meeting-houses to tears, or set all hearts swelling with 
 strong hopes; she, upon whose head a great saint had laid 
 ordaining hands, she, the Deborah, the holy Anna of this 
 country-side, a liar, a thief, a false accuser! 
 
 I writhed in a very agony of shame no sin of my own 
 ( and God knows my sins have been many ) ever caused me 
 such utter humiliation and grief. 
 
 "Oh Lord! Lord!" I cried, expecting no answer to my cry, 
 for the light that had been but a reflected light, borrowed 
 from her, was gone out. 
 
 [137]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 I FORGET GOD 
 
 I ROSE from my knees a beliefless man, an orphaned soul 
 adrift in a universe deserted by its Maker. 
 Nor could I face my mistress again. I tied my 
 bundle and left the house. Never did thief caught in his larceny 
 slink from the scene of his disgrace more brokenly than I. 
 
 Looking neither to right nor left I passed down the street, 
 dreading each moment to be accosted and questioned by 
 some neighbour. Dumb beneath my load of misery it did not 
 cross my mind to say good-bye to Mr. Baxter; to have included 
 that good and pure soul in my revulsion against Methodism 
 was sinfully unjust. May it be forgiven me! I was little better 
 than a boy, ignorant and passionate. 
 
 Other friend in Ouseby I had none, hardly acquaintance 
 even. With the young men of my age and ( supposed ) station 
 who affected the Establishment I had little in common. 
 It was a day of looseness in speech and life in all classes, against 
 which Methodism was itself the protest. In Ouseby you must 
 perforce be one or the other, and by the chances of the night of 
 my entering the town I was ranked from the first among the 
 Saints and had made no acquaintance outside their sect. Nor 
 many within it; for whether it were some strangeness in my 
 dialect and style repelled them ( as theirs repelled me ) I 
 
 [138]
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 was considered uncompanionable by the chapel-going youth. 
 
 Nor by good luck, or my own ungainliness, did I leave, so 
 far as I know, one Ouseby lass with a thought of me in her 
 bosom. 
 
 I had found the talk of these north-country folk a difficulty 
 at the onset, and to the end it seemed to me inexpressibly 
 coarse, and their manners singularly blunt compared with 
 ours in Suffolk, and the distinction in speech and behaviour 
 between the common people and our class more pronounced 
 than at home. 
 
 In time I grew used to this in the men, my workmates, but 
 in the mouths of women and girls it continued to repel me as 
 something strange and unnatural, and they remained for- 
 eigners to me, and, I doubt not, I to them. 
 
 Many of these countrywomen and marriageable girls were 
 as men in bone, stature and strength; their striding gait, 
 breadth of hip, and boisterous carriage were an amazement to 
 me, as were their tow-coloured hair, white eye-lashes and 
 freckled faces, after the brown hair, brown eyes and apple 
 cheeks of our Suffolk dumplings. 
 
 But I have left myself in act of slipping out of Ouseby as 
 unobserved as might be. 
 
 Yet I was not to escape altogether unmarked. Unless I 
 repeated my short cut through the tanner's yard I must needs 
 pass the Fighting Cocks, and there upon his favourite bench 
 sat my master, pipe in hand and pot at elbow, our next neigh- 
 bour Oades the woolstapler upon his one side, and Beamish the 
 host upon the other. 
 
 ' 'Ullo, Gearge ! " he cried, arising a trifle heavily, and 
 stayed me by a hand upon my shoulder, humming a stave from 
 his favourite hymn: 
 
 "Of serious subjects we will sing, 
 Damnation and the dead I "
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 and then half turning, with a hiccup continued his interrupted 
 parable. 
 
 "Now, / maintain as ye two stand, as the Book says, in 
 slippery places . . . Wait a bit!" 
 
 "Stiddy! stiddy! old friend!" purred Oades. "I reads 
 ma Bible not so offen as I might, but read it I do, some- 
 times, and as I reads I walks." 
 
 "Rides!" interjected my master with a sneer, for the wool- 
 stapler was notoriously slothful. 
 
 "Rides, then, for ma trade lies widish, and coom to thot, 
 sitha of a Sunday how I treats ma 'oss. No compassin's and 
 tearin's acrost sea and iaand for to maake one proselyte! Eh, 
 Jabez?" 
 
 Mr. Beamish chuckled. 
 
 "No!" pursued Oades, "but I oops an* gi's him a extry 
 feed o' corn, and tbaat I calls 'loving mercy', then I rubs 
 him down speshul handsome, and coombs oot 'is tdail y and 
 thaat I calls 'doin' justly,' and arter I leads 'im along so easy 
 to watter, and thaat I calls Svalkin' 'umbly,' and my Bible 
 tells me to 'do justly, an' love mercy, and walk 'umbly,' and so 
 I does. Now, what d'ye maake o' thaat, Methody ? Ah, I've 
 got ye!" 
 
 "Filthy rags!" cried my master, "ye are of them that go 
 about to 'stablish their own righteousness, like Beamish here. " 
 
 "Not so fast, Mr. Medcalf," said the host; "now you 'tend 
 to me; I brews strong ale ( we draws no small at The 
 Cocks, ) I gi's ye good measure blow off that head and if 
 the pot isn't full I'll fill it. I keeps open house all legal hours, 
 and if a poor soul be dry in church time he knows which 
 shutter to rap in my backyard. How's that for ye, Mr. Med- 
 calf?" 
 
 "Carnal righteousness! Ye're both on ye restin' on works, 
 and 'pon my soul, if the pair on ye was shook to-and-again 
 
 [140]
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 in a sack the devil only knows which'd come out forrardest!" 
 
 Then, wheeling towards me a triumphant face, and taking 
 me in with a bemused and genial eye: 
 
 "Aha! I see ye, I seen it all; well run, Gearge! dall me, but 
 ye can wag yer lags! But I didn't say nothin' when 'e corned 
 back wi' the gig. Sez I, 'Lay back, Jabez, lave 'urn to Hephzi- 
 bah!' sez I, 'she'll work 'urn, if so be as 'e is tc be worked!' ' 
 Then with a wink and an attempt at a whisper, "Did she run 
 'urn another month, Gearge ?" 
 
 " I doubt not, master," said I, " but fact is, this is good-bye. 
 I'm leaving you." 
 
 "Leavin' ? Wha' for ? Wubbegwain ?" he stuttered, dropping 
 deeper into his native speech, for, unlike my mistress, who was 
 Lincolnshire, my master was Wiltshire born. 
 
 " Wubbegwain, I say ?" his face darkened. "But never mind, 
 ye can't go. Ye owe us s-s-seven days' notice." 
 
 "True, master, I'd forgot that, but 'tis Saturday and you've 
 my week's wages in hand, and for my board take these three 
 shillings. " 
 
 "Tha's fair!" he remarked, considering the silver in his 
 hand ere he spat on it for luck. " But wha' for ? " he repeated, 
 waving off my offered hand. "Ye ain't had words wi' Hephzi- 
 bah, sure-ly ? . . . N'mind her, Gearge, she don't mean 
 nothing ; / ought to know! And she's mortal set on ye, too. Co' 
 back 'long o' me now, and meake it up!" 
 
 "No, Mr. Medcalf, thank ye kindly, but I'm done with 
 Ouseby, and much beside. For the reason, ask my mistress 
 to-morrow, and believe what she tells ye. " 
 
 He grasped my hand and held it until my nails pricked. 
 His brown ox-eyes clouded up, and pacing beside me in silence 
 to the turn of the road he lugged out a crown and made me take 
 it. 
 
 "Gearge! Gearge! ye are gwain from hwome, my son; ye're 
 
 [Hi]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 leavin' the Light for the Darkness. Get a better job ye may, 
 but wi' all yer gettin', get salvation! Lay hold on etarnal life, 
 sonny, and then if we niver meets noo mwore below we'll 
 meet above, " and my last remembrance of my warm-hearted 
 master is of a stout little man straddling somewhat unsteadily 
 in mid-street, straightening a troubled countenance and pointing 
 me to the sky with the stem of a churchwarden pipe. 
 
 [142]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 MURDER AT MIDNIGHT 
 
 AND now begins the darkest chapter of my life. I went 
 out, or rather fled, from Ouseby as from scenes 
 made hateful to me by disillusionment. Willingly 
 would I have erased from my mind all that I had there learnt, 
 suffered, hoped, feared and lost. 
 
 But since misery and depression are cheerless comrades, 
 I[will pass briefly over the ensuing four months, merely touching 
 upon two or three notable incidents, occurrences, with one 
 exception, trivial in themselves, but which went to the moulding 
 of my own life and the lives of others. 
 
 Where I went and how I lived have exactly passed from 
 my memory. The time being the beginning of summer and the 
 air and country pleasant, I bought me a scythe and stone and 
 passed from farm to farm, secure of work, at first among the 
 grass, later among other crops, my name and history being 
 matters indifferent to my employers in whose barns I lay of 
 nights. 
 
 It was whilst thus upon the tramp somewhere in the south- 
 eastern part of the great county of Yorkshire that I chanced 
 to miss my road, for that county, though well-found in turn- 
 pikes, has fewer lanes and by-roads than with us, and field- 
 paths are easily lost after dark. 
 
 [143]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 Night overtook me in a great meadow around which I 
 wearily trudged without finding any exit save the gate by which 
 I had entered, so the night being warm, overcast and extremely 
 dark, for the moon was in her first quarter, I thought it 
 neither sin nor hardship to lie rough, and finding ( more by 
 nose than by sight ) two great half-cut ricks and a stump of 
 old hay, I climbed to the top of the lowest, drew the thatch 
 about me and thought to fall asleep. 
 
 Certainly I was overtired, the scythe being still strange 
 to me; my head hummed, my wrists tingled and twitched, but 
 at length I dropt off, and in a long, hot dream I smelled 
 the smell of horses and heard their jaws moving below me and 
 the talking of men. My bed rocked under me and I awaked to 
 find my dream true. In the thick darkness beneath horses 
 moved and fed and men stilled them, conversing in guarded 
 tones. 
 
 Then burst upon the night the high metallic pitch of a man 
 singing such a voice it was as they have who sing at fairs and 
 wakes and beside the roads, and as for the song it was one I 
 had heard at a harvest-home in Suffolk. 
 
 "7 went for a walk and I met wi' a snail, 
 
 Tiddle alone! 
 I rode between bis horns and bis tail, 
 
 Tiddle alone! Tiddle alone/ Tiddle 
 comes roll ing home! / ! " 
 
 The songster, whoever he might be, was in drink, for he 
 blundered against the rump of a horse, which nickered and shift- 
 ed as he smote it a sounding spank with his open hand and 
 bade it get over. 
 
 "Damn that tinker! he'll rouse the traps," growled a bass 
 voice just below me. 
 
 "Silence, there! Lea! d'ye hear?" This was a voice I had 
 
 [144]
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 heard somewhere its level tone of decision found an echo in 
 memory, but neither name, time, nor place hung to it. 
 
 "Then for pit y I prayed 
 
 The po-o-or smug-gler's boooyl" 
 
 brayed ouf into the silent night again, and must have been 
 audible a mile away. 
 
 I heard the voices of two, or it might be three others chiding 
 the singer, and then oaths and high words. 
 
 "He has got at it again, Captain; we must down him or 
 he'll stretch the necks o' the lot on us!" growled the deeper 
 of the two voices at hand. There was no reply; the brawl 
 was spreading. Horses ceased feeding and stamped. 
 
 "Yes, Dan, 'tis his third; he's had his warnings. Go you 
 and down him. " 
 
 "I dursn't; he's the better man I doubts, and he'll knife 
 any bloke as fetches him a clout; he's said so. . . ." 
 
 "7'd down him if he was my twin brother. Damn the sot, 
 he has queered this pitch ; we must sling our hooks ! " 
 
 The speaker was upon his feet; his comrade spoke, "That's 
 so, but for Gawd's sake, Mister Sam, take care; what'd we do 
 wi'out ye?" 
 
 "All right, stay where you are," bade the level voice, and 
 steps rustled off upon the hay. 
 
 By this there was a fine to-do, the disputants hard at it 
 with their hands, and the weaker yelping shrilly under the 
 blows of the stronger. Then the uproar dropt suddenly, and 
 in the ominous quiet that followed I caught that level officer- 
 like voice bidding the gang to horse. With gruff whispers 
 the beasts were bitted and sorted and moved off in an order 
 and upon a line known to the gang. Last to go were the 
 deep-voiced Dan and he they called captain, both of whom 
 seemed hampered with more led horses than the rest. 
 
 [145]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 When the main cavalcade had gone, and the swish of feet 
 in the standing grass was stilled, the long-drawn snores of 
 a sleeper reached me from somewhere near at hand. "He 
 sleeps well; whereabouts'll he pick us up?" "In hell, mate!" 
 was the grim reply, jerked in the interval of taking up a girth. 
 Both chuckled and next moment were mounted. I heard the 
 stirrup-leathers stretch and the squeak of saddlery and muffled 
 hooves for a minute, and then, thinking myself well rid of my 
 company, "Fair traders," said I; "there will be kegs of hoi- 
 lands on those led horses;" so yawning I snuggled down into 
 the whispering scented hay and slept again. 
 
 I was roused in a wonderful midsummer's dawn by the 
 clamour of a hundred birds. Every creature that can sing 
 seemed singing, a dozen cuckoos were shouting their names, 
 corncrakes were calling and chasing one another around the 
 ricks, sedgebirds clucked and grated from some pool near by, 
 whilst pheasants drummed and crowed close at hand. Rubbing 
 sleepy eyes and ears tingling with hay-seed I looked upon a 
 level bank of morning fog out of which, like rocks in a tide- 
 race, stood the rounded heads of white-thorns far and near. 
 I slid down from my bed to find the ground littered ankle-deep 
 with hay pulled wastefully from the ricks, trampled and mired. 
 My bed-chamber had been so undermined as to make me mar- 
 vel it had not fallen and discharged me among the cattle. 
 
 Moving around the place, stretching and yawning, the 
 sounds of the past night came back and I bethought me of the 
 quarrelsome toper left to sleep off his carouse. There he 
 lay, face down across a heap of stover, a gaunt muscular fellow, 
 bareheaded, in sleeved waistcoat, breeches and leggings, his 
 limbs relaxed in the abandonment of profound slumber. 
 The light improved momentarily, and peering nearer I was 
 shocked to see the back of his head plastered with a blackened 
 cake of dried blood. It seemed to me that he lay unnaturally 
 
 [146]
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 still. Approaching on tiptoe I listened and watched for a full 
 minute, but could detect no motion of breathing. The thought 
 that he was smothering possessed me, so, taking him by an 
 arm I swung him off his face. He came stiffly, heavily, and alto- 
 gether; his eyes were half opened and glazed, his jaw fallen, 
 his ears full of dried blood. The man was dead. 
 
 When I had realised this thing I stood like a stock gazing 
 open-mouthed upon the waxen vacant face, afraid of the 
 corpse which I had not feared whilst I thought it a living man. 
 Where had I met this Gypsy fellow before ? those silver ear-rings 
 amid the loose black curls, the Asian nose, the lean yellow 
 cordage of the throat looped in its scarlet neckerchief, seemed 
 half familiar. 
 
 It was an hour later that the fight at the Barn Inn 
 crossed my mind, and with a jump I recalled the cat-skin 
 cap of that tinker fellow who had seconded "Mister Sam," and 
 had since been concerned in the stealing of the Woodhead's 
 horses. At the time I remembered nothing, thought of nothing 
 but the patent fact of a sudden and violent death. 
 
 Nor dared I touch the body nor search the clothing for what 
 might afford a clue. Pity, disgust and fear shook me by turns. 
 This was no place for me, a tramping harvester, to be found 
 beside the corpse of one dead by violence. I could do no tittle 
 of good to the dead wretch by remaining no evidence that 
 I could give to constable or coroner would identify men whom 
 I had not so much as seen. 
 
 To get away quietly and promptly seemed wisdom, but 
 whither ? And in what direction to start ? The fog held me 
 bound. I got to the top of the tallest rick, and found myself 
 above it; the sun was rising, a glistering orange ball all out of 
 shape; a distant farm chimney showed above the bank, but 
 my best mark was the sparkle of a church vane some mile or 
 more away. 
 
 [H7]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 Whilst thus observing I was myself observed. "Look'ee 
 there!" cried a voice in the fog, "this'll be one on 'em!" and 
 dimly through the ground haze I perceived three men ap- 
 proaching. A panic seized me; sliding to the ground I sped 
 through the standing grass in the opposite direction, found 
 and kept a broad track beaten by the hooves of horses, and 
 running blindly and hard, my scythe bumping upon my 
 shoulder, I put a mile between me and the scene of the murder 
 before I dropped to a walk, nor did it seem safe to seek work 
 until a long day's march lay behind me. 
 
 [148]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 THE IRISH 
 
 THE passage of that slow summer is still a dream to me 
 an unhappy dream. Wounded pride paced at my elbow 
 as I walked the roads, kept step and stroke with me, 
 as I swung my scythe, couched at my side among the sheaves 
 at night. That the first advance should come from those who 
 had misjudged me was my fixed determination, and I took a 
 grim pleasure in the thought that for some months at least I 
 should be beyond the reach of reproach or pardon. 
 
 Just where my work took me I have never been able to make 
 out and at the time was quite incurious. In the main the 
 weather and the work were good; I lived sparely and slept 
 rough, looked upon askance by the regular hands of the farms 
 whereon I worked, and herding chiefly with Irish, poor, silent, 
 sad-eyed fellows with but little English or love for those who 
 spoke it. 
 
 You, my young relatives, will be wondering how a man of 
 condition could so easily fall so low, and will be hardly per- 
 suaded how readily I was reconciled to the absence of almost 
 all that a gentleman reckons essential. You may take it from 
 me, then, that a well-bred Englishman is a particularly hardy 
 animal, and, as was shown by not a few of our order under 
 Lord Wellington, can march as far, lie as hard, and fare as
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 coarsely as one of his own labourers. I had served something 
 of an apprenticeship to poverty at Ouseby, and it was well for 
 me that I had, and now I protest that within ten days of my 
 going upon tramp my old life was to me as a dream. 
 
 But, as befalls us in dreams, there were prickings-through 
 of earlier consciousness. 
 
 Thus, my mates and I had put in a week's work upon the 
 home farm of the Lord Mandeville and had drawn our pay, 
 and were slinging hooks and bundles before taking the road, 
 when the bailiff, our paymaster, stept to his house-door and 
 capped humbly to a fine, bold-looking man who was riding 
 by. It was my Lord Mandeville himself, a youngish, sun- 
 burned gentleman, swinging easily to the canter of his horse, 
 cracking his whip as he rode in time to his catch 
 
 "He who . . . goes to bed . . . goes to bed . . . mellow." 
 He acknowledged his man's bow with a carelessly genial 
 nod, but had not a glance for us poor rogues who had reaped 
 his corn. 
 
 My Irish, keen genealogists to a man, scanned the diminish- 
 ing figure narrowly, for there are branches of the stock across 
 St. George's Channel. For myself, I judged him a horseman, 
 though riding upon too slack a rein, and liked better the longer 
 stirrup and straighter back of his groom, who was past before 
 I recognized in him my old servant Hymus, still the trooper, 
 though in livery, and so bettered in countenance that I had near 
 missed him. I, it may be, had bettered less, for the good soul 
 missed me, small blame to him, and this reversal of our for- 
 tunes drew from me a jolly laugh. 
 
 On another day. on the Lincolnshire side of the Trent water, 
 we met a cart, escorted by constables and surrounded by a 
 noisy crowd of countrymen, in which sat a man in fetters upon 
 the ladder and timbers which were to form his own gibbet. 
 The wretch seemed a surly fellow, and doubtless deserved his
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 doom; his face was set towards the horse and his driver; the 
 parson who exhorted him had his back to me, and was gone by 
 before I knew my friend Mr. Baxter. At sight of his passion- 
 ately moving lips and imploring eyes, the cast of my thoughts 
 underwent a change. I was shaken in my inwards, and filled 
 with pity for the felon. My Irish pitied him too, on principle, 
 as one might say, and debated whether with their hooks they 
 might not overcome his guard and liberate him. The procession 
 moved irresolutely; "We've ootgone t' sheriff," said one, 
 "He were to overtake us hereabouts," said another. My 
 friends seemed spoiling for an adventure. I shrank from meet- 
 ing the eye of my old pastor, and, pushing through the throng, 
 held upon my way alone, my mind full of the gloomiest re- 
 flections. 
 
 But, within the minute, and no farther than around the next 
 corner, I had passed from tragedy to comedy. A great horse 
 was trotting loose across a stubble, going with head and dock 
 erect in mighty good conceit of himself, as a horse will go 
 that has but just thrown his rider. Beside the way, not a hun- 
 dred yards ahead of me,' stood a second horse, saddled as was 
 the first, and loose, but upon duty; and in the midst of the 
 road two men, a big and a little one, who seemed to have been 
 at their fists. The elder and portlier of the two sate in the dust 
 with his hat and wig beside him holding his jaw with one hand 
 and with the other fumbling in his fob. His antagonist pouched 
 what he handed him. I had witnessed a highway robbery. 
 
 To see a man in years, and a gentleman, too, so abused, sent 
 the blood to my head. I gave a shout and began to run. The 
 thief half turned to me a vizarded face and whipped a pistol 
 from his near holster, but, seeing me still coming on, and swing- 
 ing up my hook ( I had let fall my scythe ), reconsidered him- 
 self, returned his firearm, and, mounting smartly, cantered 
 easily off with his booty. He was a small man and incredibly
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 nimble and cool. The whole business had not taken him fifteen 
 seconds; it was the work of a genius, the adroitest trick in the 
 world. 
 
 I lifted my man to his feet, beat the dust from his wig, and 
 helped him to adjust his clothing. He clung to me dizzily. 
 
 "Aw yaw!" groaned he, fingering tenderly the angles of 
 his jaws. "My mare shied and threw me, the rogue came on 
 us so sudden. 'Tis that Sam Smith; again, I'll lay my life 
 'tis he! Who else would rob a sheriff on his way to a hanging ? 
 and within hail of his men, b'Jove! so close that the 
 villain durst not use his pistol, b' George! Curse me, but my 
 jaws ache! He got me on the point o' the chin. He can box, 
 too, for I thought I knew a thing or two myself." 
 
 I left him panting against an open gate beside a rick, swear- 
 ing robustly, and was presently back again with his horse. 
 
 "I owe ye something for this, at least," said he. "For the 
 rest 'tis 'Thank-ye for nothing' ye ran fast enow when ye 
 did run, but ye started too late, b'Gum!" then, venting the 
 last of his spleen in a hearty guffaw, he tost me a guinea 
 found in an inner pocket and followed it up with his card, 
 "Show this to my steward if ye want a job," said he. 
 
 I helped him to horse, and my companions, who had neither 
 seen nor heard anything, coming up at the moment, we parted. 
 And this was my first and last meeting with a gentleman to 
 whom my father had promised me a letter of introduction. 
 
 It was from one of these Irish, a man of better parts than 
 his mates, that I got my first news of the dreadful state of the 
 country from which he had as a matter of fact fled in terror. 
 He confided to me how that his distracted race was to have 
 risen as one man upon a certain day in the past spring ( I 
 think in March ), and that the landing of an army of French 
 Jacobins had been confidently expected: that the mutual 
 jealousies of the Scotch-Irish of the North and the Papist
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 mountainy men, their neighbours, had paralysed the Ulster 
 rising, and left Wicklow and Wexford with their backs to the 
 wall. 
 
 Of the harrowing sights he had witnessed, the tortures, 
 military executions, fire-raisings, plunderings, ravishings, and 
 all the horrors of the savagest civil war between neighbours 
 and men of the same blood and name and religion, he would 
 tell me at night beside a little fire of sticks, in the corner of 
 some coppice beneath the great burning stars, aye, with heart- 
 breaking sobs and the tears shining wet upon his face. 1 
 
 "And 'tis oh, for some wan to lift the breast-bone off me 
 heart!" was his cry; and indeed, I have feared at times his 
 sorrow would be the death of him. 
 
 It seems that this revolt, though commonly held a popish 
 plot, was not so, since numbers of Protestants, both gentle 
 and simple ( my companion for one ), were actively engaged 
 in the rising, and more were privy to it. 
 
 On the other side some of the regiments which displayed 
 most loyalty and energy in suppressing the rebellion were 
 largely composed of Papists, for instance, the North Cork 
 Militia, in which his two brothers served, as he assured me. 
 
 This person and I kept company for some weeks, and I did 
 not fail to observe that whilst at work in the harvest-field or 
 upon the road he was in receipt of information from passing 
 Irishmen of other gangs, information which only added to his 
 grief. 
 
 Yet, despite his desolate situation and the distressing news 
 from his own country, my companion had a power ( which I 
 often envied him ) of laying aside his misery and diverting 
 himself with dancing and music. I have seen these light- 
 
 * Mr. Fanshawe's original narrative furnished examples of the detestable and in- 
 human barbarities inflicted upon the helpless peasantry, which, being of too distressing 
 a nature to justify publication, and indeed of an almost incredible atrocity, we have 
 taken the responsibility of suppressing. Eos. 
 
 [153]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 hearted and light-heeled fellows tempted by the excellence of 
 a newly-laid barn floor to practise their steps, and having once 
 begun they would jig untiringly to no better music than a com- 
 rade's "lalling," as their word for it is. 
 
 In singing, too, they greatly excelled any English labouring 
 men I ever met with, for whereas one of our yokels rarely 
 sings except in his cups, these Irish possessed a number of 
 excellent marching songs which helped us along the road. Of 
 those which, being in their own language, I understood not a 
 word, but which they the more delighted in, were two called 
 "Garry Owen" and " Shan-van-Voght." Some of these songs 
 went to the wildest, sweetest, and most melancholy airs in the 
 world, and I wondered at the time that these had not been col- 
 lected and harmonised, and have heard since that this has been 
 done, and several of them set to English words by Mr. Moore. 
 
 These poor fellows had about them a wildness of appearance 
 and behaviour, and a certain haste and inconsequence at once 
 diverting and startling. Thus, one of my companions having 
 put his hat, or cawbeen, by which he set great store, upon a 
 gate-post beside which he lay to sleep, sprang up at midnight, 
 and mistaking it for an enemy, dealt it a desperate cut with his 
 hook, and, perceiving his mistake, gave praise to God that he 
 had taken it off before lying down: "For," said he, " had my 
 head been in that hat, 'tis ten to one I had laid it open with 
 my hook, and 'tis a dead man I would have been seein' mesilf at 
 this minute." Yet, with all their childishness, I preferred their 
 society to that of the English gangs, for they were of chaste 
 speech and behaviour, and sober with me, whatever their 
 habit may be when at home. 
 
 That they conceived an affection for me out of proportion 
 to my deserts I was presently sensible, for not only were they 
 persuaded from our first meeting that I was a gentleman, and as 
 such entertained for me a singular respect; but, on the night I 
 
 [154]
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 parted from their company, one of them took me aside, and 
 speaking for the rest, said that they all were sure that I was of 
 the old blood, and, like themselves, unjustly used, and that 
 the harvest being over, and they about to depart into Ireland, 
 could conveniently oblige me in anything I had a mind to. 
 
 Coming from creatures so destitute, this mightily touched 
 me, and I civilly thanked them but would take nothing from 
 them, which seemed rather to disappoint than to relieve 
 their hearts, and after whispering a while together their lead- 
 er bade me think again, for "Was there no wan I would like 
 put out of the way ?" When at length convinced that not even in 
 this manner could they serve me, he of them that had the most 
 English made a leg that would have done no discredit to Mr. 
 Kean, and, removing his hat, desired that "The Omnipotence 
 of Divinity might kape me in shalubrity." 
 
 These poor fellows had many cant sayings among themselves 
 which no Englishmen who worked with them understood. One 
 such, I remember, a man would use to another who offered un- 
 needed help, and made as if to claim a share of luck he had not 
 earned. To such a one would be said "G'way wid ye and kill a 
 Hessian ye'silf!" This I learned from my comrade had its 
 beginning in an affair near Wicklow, wherein a squadron of 
 German hussars, freshly disembarked and ignorant of the 
 country, being surprised in a boreen, or hollow lane between 
 walls, were there destroyed to the last man by the country folk. 
 It was whilst stripping the bodies of these unfortunate aliens 
 that the victors were disturbed by the up-coming of neighbours 
 who had held aloof from the action, but desired to divide the 
 spoils, and to these was first used the phrase which has as, I 
 hear, passed into a proverb in that country. 
 
 But to my story. I have said that my comrade had news up- 
 on the road which he told me secretly at night. It was upon 
 an evening in September that I learned from him of a battle 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 which had been won by his cause at a place called Castlebar, 
 he assuring me in a whisper of the landing and success of the 
 French and the rout of a large body of red-coats. "They flid 
 loike mountain hares, me son! The dray-goons lid the field, 
 bein' mounted men, and be jabers, they rode loike as if the 
 divil himsilf was afther thim. Sivinity miles they gallopped 
 without wance lookin' over their showlders, and niver spared 
 the ground-ash ontill they got sight o' Athlone! 'Twas a 
 merrycle of a retrate indade, an* 'tis a sorrowful man I am 
 this minute to have missed the seeing of it. " 
 
 "What regiment would that be? Did ye hear?" said I. 
 
 "The Fifth Dray-goons, " said he, "or the Carry-boy-neers 
 as some calls 'em," and I felt the blood fly to my face in the 
 darkness, for I had reckoned myself as on the strength of that 
 regiment too many years to hear it defamed without grief. 
 
 But the dismal tale was true in substance at least; the story 
 is now sufficiently stale. 
 
 [156]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 WHITE MAGIC 
 
 IT was whilst companying with these exiles ( an exile my- 
 self from my family and station, and so drawn the more 
 to these sad-hearted creatures ), that a thing came 
 under my cognisance which I know not how to estimate, 
 since, although it actually occurred, or perhaps I should say 
 was permitted, it was contrary to the commands of Almighty 
 God as revealed in Holy Scripture, and is also repugnant to 
 human reason. 
 
 It befell in this wise. We had fagged beans all day with 
 the hook in a great heat and closeness upon a farm by Church 
 Fenton. Towards sunset thunder rolled, the clouds broke, and 
 we were driven with wet jackets to our night's shelter under a 
 thatched tallatt, closed upon three sides, but upon the fourth 
 open to the weather. Here, having with pains and much pre- 
 caution made a small fire and boiled some of the beans which 
 we shelled with our hands, some five poor Irish and I were 
 preparing to spend the night uncomfortably, for a wind had 
 risen, and the drip from the eaves was continually blown in. 
 
 Whilst considering at which end of the place we would lie 
 we were approached by a party of gypsies three females and a 
 young boy imploring leave to share our shelter, since their own 
 fire had been put out and their tent blown down. 
 
 [i57l
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirT 
 
 I fear that the natural repugnance of a gentleman to the 
 proximity of these vagabonds would have dictated a grudging 
 reply, but my comrades were beforehand with me, and making 
 what blaze they could, proffered hospitality to creatures 
 poorer and more wretched even than themselves, and equally 
 without a country of their own. I profess it did my heart 
 good to observe the mutual respects established between 
 people almost ignorant of one another's tongues, but with a 
 common need and a common knowledge of the shifts of the 
 wayfarer. 
 
 Forespent with their labours my Irish were presently snor- 
 ing, but I, restlessly awake, watched the play of black, beady 
 eyes and the dank coils of hair let down to dry before the blaze. 
 The weather worsened without; seldom have I seen heavier or 
 steadier rain. When the wind fell the light of the fire shone 
 upon the underside of the sheet of water which poured from the 
 eaves, throwing upon this glistering curtain the distorted and 
 wavering shadows of those between it and the blaze. 
 
 I had closed my eyes for a while, but reopened them at 
 the sound of a fresh voice, to find a fourth female crouching 
 beside our guests, attempting, as it seemed, to engage them up- 
 on her behalf. What she desired I could imperfectly understand, 
 but presently the oldest woman, to whom her petition seemed 
 addressed, demurred upon the score of our presence. "Gor- 
 gios," answered the suppliant, "five Pats and a shy covey, and 
 all snoring: go along, mother!" 
 
 I profess I had not spoken, but this person had by some 
 means detected a distinction between my company and myself. 
 
 Presently the hag poured into a cup from a small phial 
 what I took to be quicksilver, and arousing the boy bade him 
 watch it intently, holding the while in his hands a man's waist- 
 coat which the last comer had brought with her. The boy stared 
 into the cup, the beldame whispered and moaned.
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 "My man? my man? see him, honey! see me my man!" 
 entreated the visitor. 
 
 Then the boy gazing fixedly upon the bright metal cried low 
 that he saw a thick mist and a drove of horses at a stand and 
 feeding between three ricks in a dark meadow. ( "Yes, he was 
 with horses, that is right, what else?" cried the postulant. ) 
 
 Next the boy turning the rag averred that he saw people, 
 and described a tall man with ear-rings and a red cloth tied 
 about his throat. "Lea! Lea!" gasped the listener, and fell a- 
 choking, until chidden and stilled by the others in undertones. 
 I felt my flesh creep and a tingling amidst the roots of my hair. 
 "They be fighting," said the boy, " the tall man has a little 'un 
 down and be a-basting 'un about the chops. Ah! a foul blow! 
 behind here!" . . . "Wat's that? speak!" "Hush! 
 keep still, woman; let him see! will ye ?" 'Twas a small man 
 did it," said the boy, "I can't see his face. No, not him as was 
 down; that 'un is up again and a-holdin' his ear, so. The tall 
 man is a-Iying down upon the hay; he has a-put his hands out, 
 so. They leave him there. The horses go off two and two. " 
 "And Lea?" "The tall 'un is still a-lyin' down. The red cloth 
 has a-worked round to the back and covers his poll. " 
 
 At this the boy gave the cup to his granny, hid his face, and 
 began to cry quietly. It being plain that no more was to be had 
 from him he was let lie down again, and the four were still 
 squatted muttering over the failing brands, when I too, after 
 much wondering, fell asleep. 
 
 It was in this same shelter, and I think upon the following 
 day ( for the weather held us bound there half a week ), that 
 I witnessed a strange piece of knavery, little thinking that 
 the experience of it, which disgusted me at the time, would 
 ever serve me and mine in after life. 
 
 Two little wizened gypsymen of the tribe drew in for shelter, 
 and being roughly forbidden by the farmer in fear for his 
 
 [159]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 thatch to light their fire, were debarred their tinkering, and so, 
 falling to arts needing no heat, made beneath my very eyes 
 three sets of loaded dice, drilling and filling with lead the 
 faces opposite those pricked with six holes, until the dies, 
 skilfully handled, would give the double-six thrice out of four 
 throws. This done they sate practising their rogueries, each in 
 turn posturing as the pigeon, and watching how well or ill 
 his mate substituted the false dice for the true, when his turn 
 to throw recurred. 
 
 [160]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 GOD REMEMBERS ME 
 
 THAT the news of the disgrace of my old regiment 
 should have preyed upon my spirits as it did may 
 seem a thing against nature, nor can I myself suf- 
 ficiently explain it, save that coming upon me at a time when I 
 was weakened by excessive toil during a fortnight of unsea- 
 sonable heat it found me susceptible to injurious influences. 
 
 The night after hearing of the disgrace and ruin of my 
 country ( for so I conceived it; the glorious progress and 
 prosperous conclusion of the war with the Revolution being then 
 hidden from all, and Englishmen miserably accustomed to see- 
 ing their armies beaten upon whatever field they fought, as had 
 happened for thirty years ) the night, I say, after getting 
 this news, rain fell, and I, lying wet, took a chill, sickened, 
 and found myself daily less able for my work. My mind seemed 
 clouded with a presage of misery, my joints ached, my limbs 
 grew unnaturally heavy. I loathed the coarse food which was 
 all that my means afforded me, and feeling assured the end of 
 my days was at hand, determined to betake myself to the near- 
 est town. 
 
 My gorge rose against the bestial monotony of my toil; I 
 would die a gentleman; and, having a sudden and inordinate 
 craving for news come upon me, determined that if I could 
 
 [161!
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 appease nothing else I would satisfy my hunger to know what 
 was going on in the world. If the French were indeed coming, 
 I would take the shilling and die for my nation as a common 
 soldier. 
 
 It was a thick, wet autumn evening when I found myself 
 again in York. A sense of bustle pervaded its usually silent 
 streets, which I presently learned was due to Assize week, 
 a matter which, as it in no way concerned me, I allowed to slip 
 from my mind, and having dried myself at the hearth of a 
 small public-house in Walmgate, began asking the news. 
 
 In chusing this shelter I had purposely set the breadth 
 of the city between my new quarters and my old lodging in 
 Skeldergate; moreover, as Walmgate is ( or was then ) one of 
 the poorest parts of the city, and had something of an Irish 
 quarter, I thought to hear tidings of my regiment here if any- 
 where. 
 
 Only those who have spent blank weeks and months debarred 
 from information of what may be passing in the society in which 
 they once moved, can feel for me and understand the intensity 
 of this longing. Seafaring men marooned or cast away upon 
 some lonely cay, or at sea for months or years upon a tiresome 
 blockade, men in jail, or in the mad-house, have doubtless felt 
 as I. Nor was I long before I heard a version of General 
 Humbert's daring exploit and England's shameful defeat, which 
 filled my soul with bitterness. 
 
 There sat beside the hearth a disabled man, newly dis- 
 charged from the forces in Ireland with papers passing him 
 through by way of Chester and York to his parish in Holderness. 
 The honest fellow had served in Lord Roden's horse and had 
 seen the rout at Castlebar, where, as he said, and said truly 
 from all accounts, his regiment behaved well but was ill sec- 
 onded. 
 
 "Militia and Blue Boys took straight off the plough-taail, 
 
 [162]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 what would ye 'ave ?" asked he, appealing to a circle of sym- 
 pathising hearers. "The blame fools shot away their ramrods 
 wi' their second volley, and then upped and runned. D n 
 all such fools, say I, but what would ye 'ave ? They'd never 
 larned their drill. They Dragoon Guards was another matter,'* 
 his lean face darkened in the flickering firelight to a terrible 
 sternness. "They called theirselves regulars; they'd lain wi' 
 Hus," ( a circumstance which deepened their disgrace in his 
 eyes ). "But, Lord! what horficers! There was a brace in the 
 troop I knew best, a Mr. Wallop and another bah! They 
 cried like women when the French shot plumped into the 
 squadron and passed on their pigeon-livered complaint to the 
 troopers! . . . 'Twas Wallop's screamin' 'Threes about 7 
 that upset the apple-cart. His troop fairly bolted, with 
 himself leadin'. Devilish well-mounted they must ha' bin, for 
 he had sixty men with him when he reached Athlone, 
 twenty-seven hours after the battle and over sixty miles away! 
 
 "Broke ? yes, all broke. Ne'er a man as ran in 'Castlebar 
 Races' shall serve his King again. 'Incapable of bearin' His 
 Majesty's commission,' that's the word for the horficers, and 
 the troopers be disbanded, hoofed out, we calls it ! Just lemme 
 see a cove as rode in the Funky Fifth and I'll hoof him on my 
 own, for 'is shir kin' cost me a 'and! Old England's done for; 
 rollin' downhill to the devil as fast as she can go, an' thaat's 
 the fac, mates!" 
 
 So my last chance of reinstatement was gone, for I rightly 
 judged that a gentleman whose name had been borne for seven 
 years upon the rolls of a regiment which disgraced itself would 
 be held responsible for some share of its misconduct. 
 
 Now that this chance was irrevocably lost I found that 
 despite my disgust with my mess I had cherished throughout 
 my wanderings and misfortunes a hope of rejoining. How this 
 was to have been compassed I had not troubled to enquire, nor 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 considered that my absence might embarrass efforts on my 
 behalf. 
 
 I would punish my friends for casting me off by serving 
 them in the same way in turn, and had pictured myself sought 
 for and entreated. I had kept ( in imagination ) my proud re- 
 serve, maintained my innocence, and only upon strong per- 
 suasion, and upon my own terms, had consented to resume 
 my position in His Majesty's service ! 
 
 In a word, I had shewn myself as headstrong and ill-con- 
 ditioned a young cub as you shall find in a long life's inter- 
 course with sinful humanity. 
 
 Such had been my scheme: but it was crossed, and I a ruined 
 man before I had well begun my life, innocently involved in 
 the ignominy of the one unworthy regiment in His Majesty's 
 forces, disgraced forever and undone. 
 
 My head throbbed, my cough shook me; it did not seem 
 worth while to go on like this. Gradually a purpose and plan 
 formed within me. I played with it a while, put it from me, 
 only to find it returning the stronger and reinforced with 
 better arguments. 
 
 I paid my score, gave money to the crippled soldier, and 
 passing out into the foggy dusk found a barber's shop by its 
 pole and dish, and spent my last coin in getting a clean shave. 
 The remembrance of the blue stubbly cheek of the dead gypsy 
 had recurred to me; I would at least look a gentleman. 
 
 Knowing the city fairly I made my way toward the river 
 where I thought it most secluded, The cobbl^ stones of the 
 Market Place gleamed dimly where a train-oil lamp hung; 
 elsewhere it was dangerous walking. Bleak Street was better 
 lit, for every window of the Mansion House blazed, and by the 
 footmen and link-boys I guessed some feast was forward. Len- 
 dal was as the mouth of a cavern, a cold that chilled, a darkness 
 that might be felt. The river fog had invaded this narrow 
 
 [164]
 
 CHAPTER TPTENTT 
 
 thoroughfare and filled it from end to end. Keeping to my 
 right I felt my way step by step along the house fronts until 
 a horse-block caught my instep and brought me to the ground. 
 I rose weakly, blinded by a sudden brilliance. The door of 
 the house upon the steps of which I had fallen was closing 
 behind a gentleman who descended, heavily cloaked and halting 
 upon a cane, lighted by his footmen with links. His face was 
 in darkness, and so thick was the night and so murky the way, 
 he had near fallen over me as I rose. My getting to my feet 
 and his descent brought both faces within the circle of light. 
 The countenance I saw was the countenance of my father, but 
 sterner, paler and sharper, yet, for one moment I thought it was 
 he, and I doubt not betrayed recognition. On his part the 
 gentleman regarded me with a sudden displeasure and surprise. 
 "What d'ye want, sirrah ?" The voice was not my father's, and 
 even as he spoke his eye contracted, the light in it shifting 
 as it passed from my face to my coarse clothing, and remarked 
 my air of want and toil. He stood gazing upon me for a mo- 
 ment supported by his cane. "I beg your pardon, my man, you 
 startled me. Is ... is there " he hesitated, and some 
 compunction moving him, added with a ring of feeling, "You 
 seem in need of relief: take this. " He dipped in his fob and 
 proffered me silver. 
 
 But I, who thought myself beyond help of my kind, answered 
 never a word; I knew who the man must be, and would take 
 nothing from his hands, so stepping from the causeway to 
 the kennel, I let him and his men pass, and crossing the lane 
 thrust on faster into the thick darkness, seeking an entry I 
 remembered leading down to a paved court with trees, bounded 
 by a low parapet wall, pierced by stone steps descending to deep 
 water. It was a pretty place enough in summer I make no doubt, 
 and used by boating parties and the Lendal ferry-men, but 
 upon an autumn night would be lonely enough for my purpose. 
 
 [165]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 I found the entry, the vault gave back my footfall, I heard 
 the fog dripping from the boughs of the trees in the court and 
 the water lapping at the stairs. Here was the place, the end of 
 my travels. I had but to leap far enough, for I could not swim; 
 'twould be at the worst but a three minutes' matter of cold and 
 distress, and then the long sleep or some new illumination and 
 a fresh start. 
 
 I clenched my hands for the run and spoke beneath my breath, 
 "Oh God, if there be a God, give me a better chance next time!" 
 
 "He will, He Joes!" a man's voice replied, a man's form 
 barred my way, his face close to mine, his warm breath upon 
 my cold cheek, his hand against my breast. 
 
 I caught my breath with a sob, but the life in me had run too 
 low for starting. I had gone apart from my kind as a dying 
 beast leaves the herd, and thought myself utterly alone. 
 The presence of another took me mightily aback. I think I 
 staggered as from a buffet, a movement which the stranger 
 ^misunderstood, for his hands tightened upon my coat. Mine 
 dropt, I stood thus, shaking, bewildered, my mind spinning 
 wearily like a drunken top. As for what this stranger had said 
 I made nothing of it as yet; it was his being where he was that 
 so wholly confused and unmanned me. I had made, as I 
 thought, my adieux to the world, and was unprepared with an 
 answer, and ere I had opened my lips he was speaking again, 
 quietly and low, and with a relish of happiness in his tone, as 
 a man might who had done what he had set out to do. "Thou 
 art the one I am sent for. Thou art to come with me," he said 
 in a tone of gentle but absolute conviction. 
 
 "Who are ye!" I gasped, as amazed and changed as if I had 
 already plunged and reached a fresh world. 
 
 "I am a friend; thy friend. Thou canst believe so much? 
 I was sent to this city and to this place to meet thee. Wilt 
 thou believe that too ?" 
 
 [166]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 "No, that cannot be," said I, "though I think you mean 
 truly and mean well. I was to die here. I'll not deny it, and 
 you overheard me, too; but no soul knew my resolve, not God 
 Himself, for if there be a God He has long forgotten me." 
 
 "No, no, indeed thou art wrong: listen, and then judge for 
 thyself. My home is fifteen miles from here. We are millers. 1 
 was at my business this afternoon when a voice said to me clear- 
 ly 'Ride west ! ' I looked around thinking my father had spoken, 
 but the room was empty, and he and the men in the wheel-house, 
 So I stayed my work and listened, and again the voice said* 
 'Ride west!' and at that I rose and went to the house and told 
 my mother, who bade me rest a while with her in silence; and 
 when a third time I was bidden she bade make ready some- 
 thing for me to eat whilst I put-to the horse. 'It may be,' said 
 she, 'this is to try thy faith, or it may be thy Heavenly Father 
 is sending thee to bring to Him one that is lost." 
 
 "So I ate and got into the gig, and my mother watched me 
 
 go-" 
 
 "But how came you here, and now?" I whispered, a 
 great awe coming over me, such as I had never felt; for in all 
 my previous religious experience it was I who had striven and 
 sought and yearned for the great veiled Deity, terribly dis- 
 tant and inscrutable; but, if what this man said were true, it 
 was the Unknown God ( although neglected and defied ) Who 
 had followed and found me! 
 
 The young man was holding my hands, there was warmth 
 and comfort in the touch, and when he spoke again his voice 
 was pleasant and as honest as the note of a bell. 
 
 "I let the horse take his own pace," he said, "for I had 
 no light upon my journey, whether the miles would be many or 
 few; so driving in the afternoon without haste I saw against 
 the sunset the minster towers, and then the rain began and I 
 entered the city by Monk Bar and stabled the horse with a 
 
 [167]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 friend. But I could not eat nor rest for my concern, so I walked 
 slowly, and waiting upon the Lord, until by streets and lanes 
 that in this fog I know not by name, I was led to this place, and, 
 finding no outlet, I stayed. " 
 
 "And have ye waited for me long?" 
 
 "Not a minute, as I think," said he, "for hardly had I made 
 out the river wall and this stair when I heard thy feet in the 
 entry and knew that I had come not in vain. And now ? " he 
 asked and waited. 
 
 "God has not forgotten me I" I cried, and fell upon my knees 
 on the wet stones and wept as though I were again a child. 
 
 He stood over me, ttill holding my hands. Great was his 
 patience and womanlike his gentleness. "Thou hast no home ? 
 Then let us be going. No, do not be at any pains to explain : say 
 nothing; but, if thou wilt be advised, be giving thanks to Him 
 whom thou hast found at last, although He has never lost thee. " 
 
 So saying, he raised me and gave me his arm, and had me 
 through the black, fog-bound streets to the house of some 
 people of his persuasion, Moorhouse by name, whose pie-shop 
 stands on the south side of the street, midway between Bootham 
 Bar and the Shambles. This man and his wife, plain clean 
 people of the gentlest address and of incredibly few words, 
 accepted me, a wet and ragged wayfarer, plastered with the mud 
 of thirty miles of turnpike, as though I had been some person 
 of distinction. 
 
 A room with a double bed ( my mind misgives me that it 
 was their own ) was made over to my preserver and me; where 
 a tub of hot water set upon a sheet, soap and plentiful towelling, 
 let me feel once more the delight of a clean skin. The sight of 
 that great, soft, white bed filled me with homely emotions. The 
 swift passage of a bright warming-pan between newly-spread 
 sheets, the snowy pillcw-case, its creases fresh from the press, 
 all smacked of my old life. 
 
 [168]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 But even these pleasures palled beneath the load of weariness 
 that weighed me down. My friend, whose name I had not yet 
 asked, so incurious had I grown, flitted silently in and out with 
 all that I needed, was upon his knees one minute with flint 
 and steel assisting the birth of a fire, and the next was at my 
 bedside with a bowl of hot broth from below, and when I 
 had taken this down, what did he but put out the light and sit 
 beside me through hour after hour of silent darkness, holding 
 my hand ? I dozed or waked with a cry, but always found him 
 there. Once when midnight boomed from the minster near at 
 hand I asked what day it was. "The first of tenth month," said 
 he, "October, as thou wouldst say. A new day for thee, my 
 friend, and the beginning of a new life," and added a text 
 which had been a favourite with Mr. Baxter, " This month 
 shall be unto you the beginning of months." 
 
 "That may well be, since God has not forgotten me!" I 
 said, and slept, he still holding my hand. 
 
 For the next ten days I lay aching and turning myself from 
 side to side, as one or the other posture became unbearable or 
 gave promise of relief. Nor was my mind yet at rest, for, al- 
 though whilst waking I hugged to my heart with wonder and 
 gratitude this new sense of God's fatherly care for me, yet no 
 sooner did I drop into an uneasy doze than I was presently 
 struggling in the cold water, and felt the hands of fiends upon 
 my legs dragging me down. 
 
 My hosts dosed me with herb tea and possets, heaping 
 clothes upon me and keeping up a fire to promote sweating, but 
 the hallucination lay deeper and yielded only to my friend's 
 treatment. He taught me a text, and bade me fall asleep with 
 it upon my lips; it was this: 
 
 "/ will lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord only 
 makest me to dwell in safety." 
 
 Moreover, he would attend me whilst I slept, nor do I think 
 
 [169]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 he left the house during those ten days and nights, but was al- 
 most constant at my bedside, measuring off my potions, rubbing 
 oils into my joints to allay the pains, feeding me and enter- 
 taining me with such speech as I could bear. 
 
 Upon the evening of the ninth day I was easier and more 
 my own man again, and, before sleeping, besought him to con- 
 sider himself ( which showed my convalescence, for sickness 
 is naturally selfish ). "What is it like outside ?" I asked, feeling 
 a renewal of interest in the world I had so nearly left. "Wet 
 and very thick," said he, "but 'twill mend by the morning, I 
 think, and to-morrow we will travel if thou art well enough!" I 
 smiled weakly and slept. All he did was right, I felt. 
 
 When I awoke it was broad daylight; my friend was gone. 
 I doubt if he had taken off his clothes all night. 
 
 Much refreshed, I looked about me intending to rise. My 
 foul rags had vanished up the kitchen chimney, I suspect; 
 they were indeed past mending with hard usage in all weathers, 
 and the rough washing I was used to give them on Sundays. 
 The poor contents of the pockets, a knife and some papers, 
 lay upon a stool. Upon the bedside chair I found a complete 
 outfit from my host's wardrobe, and he being a tall man I had 
 naught to complain of as to size, nor was I disposed to quarrel 
 with cut and colour, although thus converted at short notice 
 to Quakerism so far as outward seeming. 
 
 "Hoo doost?" asked my kindly, unsmiling hostess, at my 
 bedside, "Wilt raise, or tak tha bit a-bed ?" 
 
 I would put her to no such trouble and was quickly down- 
 stairs. Her husband and she had already eaten, as had my 
 friend, whom they spoke of as Abel ( "Abel's a-wattering 
 t' horse" ). With one eye upon the shop they waited upon me 
 hand and foot, and could not do enough for me to satisfy their 
 passion for service. 
 
 "Madam!" I cried at length, when I could eat and drink no 
 
 [170]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 more, and, though myself contented, had plainly failed to con- 
 tent them; "madam, for whom then do ye take me, that ye 
 treat me so ? " 
 
 "For a stra-anger, surely," said she. 
 
 "Yes, yes, 'for I was a stranger and ye took me in, naked 
 and ye clothed me. I was on-hungered and ye gave me 
 meat,' " and at that word I choked and sat back with swimming 
 eyes, and features all a-work, for I was yet weak and shaken. 
 
 "Eh, thou knaws t'scripture, doost tha ? 'Tis a good know- 
 ledge. Doost knaw this, 'Wherewithal shall a yoong man 
 cleanse bis waayf" 'T'knaws t'answer, mebbe?" 
 
 "I do," said I, and, unwilling to let these good creatures 
 think worse of me than the truth, I added, " 'Twas not ill- 
 living brought me to this, madam; I was stricken down whilst 
 harvesting. " 
 
 "Saay na more, laad; tha Father in Heaven's tha joodge, 
 not I, who'm nobbut a poor creature, and as full of infirmity 
 as thaself. Where's tha moother?" 
 
 But at this moment her husband put in his head saying the 
 horse was at the door, and wrapping me against the wind in a 
 great whitey-brown frieze driving-coat, which "Abel" undertook 
 to return when next he called for orders, we took our places. 
 
 "Stick to Abel here, and thou'll't not go far amiss!" said 
 that man of few words, my host, giving me his hand with a 
 large simple gesture.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 MY SECOND HOME 
 
 OF the driving away from York city I remember but one 
 scene, and that at our setting forth. My companion 
 must needs pull up at a street's end, (or gate's end, 
 as they say in the north ) to let pass a string of carts moving 
 slowly in the midst of a disorderly crowd with much yelling. 
 "These will be the criminals sentenced to the lash," said Abel, 
 "their journey around the city begins at Whipma-Whopma 
 Gate; poor things!" 
 
 "Then the autumn assizes are over," I remarked, and the 
 sorry sight impressed the fact and the date upon my memory as 
 will appear later. 
 
 You will not have failed to observe that the constant re- 
 sult of emotion, whether acutely painful or pleasurable, is a 
 period of depression during which one has but limited power of 
 sensation. Nature cannot live for long at its extreme, and exacts 
 repose commensurate with its exertion. 
 
 So, here was I, who for weeks past had overtaxed body and 
 mind, sitting vacant and passive beside a man whose Christian 
 name sufficed me, being taken I knew not whither, to what per- 
 sons or purposes I cared not to know. Only across the grey 
 background of a jaded spirit floated at intervals a soft little 
 face, a face with compressed red lips and great grey eyes gazing 
 
 [172]
 
 CHAPTER r WENT T -ONE 
 
 straight into mine with an air of unconscious interest and 
 kindness. It was the face that had haunted me all the summer 
 through, that had come between me and the alehouse door, aye, 
 and worse. I would not sully that sweet image of childish 
 holiness. To me that little face had stood for much that his 
 saint's picture stands for to the Papist. "God is very high 
 and very far off," says he," but Saint Brigid is human, and loving, 
 and near!" So I, having lost my God, had kept my faith true 
 to the best thing He had made. 
 
 Why the little face should concede me more of its company 
 to-day, and upon this road, and with this companion, than upon 
 the ways and with the wayfarers of past weeks, I did not tax a 
 wearied head to enquire. What was the clue the connection ? 
 Was it the horse a strawberry roan ? I recalled passages in 
 my past life my head warned me off. No thinking! She was 
 with me: 'twas enough. 
 
 I travelled as in a waking dream through the wide green 
 plain of York; a sameness of pastures from which the Tees- 
 water oxen were beginning to oust the brindled longhorns, as 
 these a century earlier had ousted the black native breed. End- 
 less checquer-work of high blackthorn hedges slid past us, 
 intersecting the green expanse, as we rolled on towards the 
 edge of the low hills north-westward, my comrade as silent 
 as myself. 
 
 Never had I companied with so young a man with such a 
 command of silence. Once and again leaning back in my seat 
 I saw from the tail of my eye that he was little if at all my 
 senior. He seemed lightly built, dark, and beneath the middle 
 height, with fine, pale, clear-cut features, grave and stead- 
 fast in expression, a little sad perhaps, as are the faces of 
 those who have lost a friend. 
 
 All which afforded me food for lazy reverie, if not for words, 
 out of which listlessness I was roused by our coming to a hamlet 
 
 [173]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 among more broken or rolling country. An ivied, ill-kept church, 
 and houses of various degrees: a forge, an inn, came successively 
 into view; a parish boundary-stone told me this was Milton- 
 on-Derwent, to which in further testimony a grey, four-square 
 building appeared, a mill astride its river. A farm-steading 
 and house stood near amidst yew hedges and yellowing 
 garden-trees, through which we drove to a porch. This then was 
 our journey's end. 
 
 I roused myself and was about to speak; my friend turned to 
 me a face lit with brotherliness, his lips parted for speech, but, 
 as the wheels stayed, the house-door opened, and framed 
 against the darkness within stood a young girl whose face was 
 the face of my dreams, the face that I had bashfully and privily 
 perused as I stood at the horse's head in Ouseby Street, the 
 face which I had seen set in terror and melted in gentle thank- 
 fulness. But, how came she here ? This riddle was not long in 
 the reading, for close behind her pressed none other than Mr. 
 Ellwood. 
 
 "Father, we have come home," said Mr. Abel and lighted 
 down. His father shewed no surprise; saying somewhat in an 
 undertone to his daughter, whose eyes shone in her head with 
 intelligence, he gently dismissed her to her preparations, and 
 approached me with the deliberate frankness that marks the 
 best of his sect. Browner I was, and leaner, but he knew me 
 at once. "We owe thee much my friend, George is it 
 not ? We make thee welcome here. " He took my hand and 
 with the finest courtesy led me in and assisted me cramped 
 with long sitting in the cold to unwrap. He asked no ques- 
 tions, but set me beside a fire until some meal should be spread, 
 and, having in the meantime, as I suppose, learnt something 
 of my ill-health and destitution, made me for the time in- 
 credible as it may seem, one of his household. 
 
 The lady of the house, to whom I was presented later, was 
 
 [174]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 an invalid, almost confined to her wheeled chair, but as free 
 from valetudinarian whims and ways as the soundest woman 
 alive. Her hands were never idle, and her mind unceasingly 
 at work for others. 
 
 Her daughter, Miss Phoebe, my little mistress, as I soon 
 learned to call her, was feet, hands, ears and eyes to her 
 mother's infirmity; her's were the softest tongue, the deft- 
 est fingers, the lightest heels of any that ever I have encountered 
 in all the long span of my life. God bless her! 
 
 So, too, did my friend, Abel, serve his father; what fore- 
 thought, silent assiduity, pleasant grace and practical knowledge 
 that finely shaped young head of four-and-twenty contained! 
 
 Ah! what a family life was here; such as I had never conceived 
 of. Wise economy went hand in hand with plain abundance. 
 A house furnished and maintained in its every room for cleanly 
 use and nothing for vainglory. All went therein like the touch 
 and kiss and mutual pressure and help of well-fitted gear. 
 How may I hope to show you the sweet, orderly repose, the 
 well-placed confidence, the tacit industry of working hours, 
 the genial relaxations when the day's labour was done ? How 
 make you to understand the sense of love and of kindliness that 
 pervaded all, the brooding Presence of the Holiest which rested 
 upon that household, little spoken of, never forgotten, always 
 felt? 
 
 Before a week was over I found myself established in a 
 lodging hard by, in two rooms of the old mill house, indeed, 
 above the office, and next door to Jeacocke, the foreman/whose 
 wife seemed well pleased to do all for me that I needed. My 
 breakfast and midday meal ( which we called dinner and 
 you call luncheon ) I took in my room, my supper was 
 always eaten at my master's table, in whose house I was free 
 to spend my evenings and my First Days, as the Friends call 
 Sunday. 
 
 [175]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 At that table, under the evening lamp, my education was com- 
 pleted, or more truly begun, for little of all I had previously 
 learned made for either my wisdom or happiness. With the 
 clearing of the supper-board dawned the brightest hours of the 
 day. Our business was resolutely laid aside, and some good 
 book read aloud by the men in turn, whilst the ladies' needles 
 clicked and the stockings lengthened. 
 
 At this exercise as delightful as it was rational I 
 essayed to bear my part, but not even the gentle forbearance 
 of my audience could hide from me that my apprehension and 
 delivery were a wrong to the author and a grief to their ears. 
 Returning the book to Abel with inward mortification, I formed 
 a resolve which my mistresses discovering helped me to put 
 into execution. 
 
 Such nights of the week as my masters lay from home upon 
 their journeys were devoted to my instruction. I, book in 
 hand, read prose or declaimed verse beneath the eyes of kindly 
 tutors, Mrs. Ellwood smiling approval or censure from her 
 wheel-chair; whilst Phoebe sat or stood beside me whispering 
 hints and corrections, and schooling me by play of hand and 
 head and inclination of supple young body in the primary 
 arts of elocution. 
 
 "Chin up, George!" ( her finger was beneath it). "Shoulders 
 back, so! thou art poking sadly; no, not hand in pocket, but 
 thus, extended gracefully; book held lightly in left, now be- 
 gin afresh. " 
 
 Both these ladies read and spoke with a naturalness and 
 pleasant gravity which was a perpetual wonder and delight to 
 me; an accomplishment common among the Friends, who 
 devote the time which we lose amid the intricacies of dead 
 languages to acquiring a mastery over their own. 
 
 "Oh, I shall never, never prove a reader!" I cried once 
 in despair, "and as for making a speech !"
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY -ONE 
 
 "Then how wilt thou get thyself a wife?" asked my little 
 mistress demurely. "When that time comes to one of our men 
 he has to rise in full meeting and taking his intended by the 
 hand, so, 'he says may I tell him, mother ? 'In the 
 fear of the Lord and the presence of this assembly I take this 
 my friend' ( whatever her name is ) 'to be my wife, 
 promising, by Divine assistance, to be unto her a faithful and 
 loving husband until it shall please the Lord by death to 
 separate us!" 
 
 She stood a-tiptoe, holding my hand as she recited this 
 declaration, facing her mother and giving the appropriate 
 emphasis to each clause, acting her part as groom to my seventy- 
 five inches of embarrassed maidenhood, the quaintest, most in- 
 nocent piece of unconscious humour in the world. "After I 
 have finished comes thy turn : thou promises all that a wife should 
 promise, and then we sign our names to the marriage certificate 
 and so we are married just think! That's all! Isn't it simple ? 
 All but the little speeches, and I always must pity the man, he 
 has to break the silence speaks first, thou sees. After the sign- 
 ing we sit" ( she released my fingers ), "the meeting is quietly 
 gathered, and after a pause some minister revives a passage of 
 Scripture or appears in prayer." 
 
 "Is this so?" I asked in amazement; Mrs. Ellwood nodded 
 smiling, her eyes full of happy memories. Upon this we fell 
 to talking of Quaker weddings and Quaker ways until my 
 school hour had slipped away. 
 
 In such hands the veriest dunce had discovered parts, and 
 I, who was bent upon succeeding, succeeded. One night when 
 Abel, a little husky from facing an east wind, laid down 
 Addison, my mistress motioned to me, and putting from my 
 knee the great house-cat, Moses, ( so named by Abel, who 
 had drawn him from the Derwent in early kittenhood), arising 
 I read. 
 
 [1773
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 My host listened with wonder and pleasure, and it is to be 
 supposed that some gesture recalling my younger tutor, her 
 father pinched a rosy ear where she sat beside him smiling 
 with glee. "Thou hast ploughed with my heifer, friend George, " 
 said he, a quotation I sought later and smiled upon when I 
 found. 
 
 Here then, I made first acquaintance with the literature of 
 my own tongue, the poetry and prose of its great secular authors. 
 
 At Ouseby, one subject and one only had engrossed the 
 hours snatched from business, and our lives had been divided 
 between a breathless scramble for money and enthusiastic 
 religious exercises. 
 
 At Milton little was said about religion, so little that at first 
 I awaited apprehensively what I doubted not was but post- 
 poned; later I wondered, but still the expected catechising 
 delayed. In place of this I heard the sonorous roll of John 
 Milton's blank verse, the more nimble genius of Mr. Cowper, 
 and Gibbon's story of the fall of Rome. 
 
 My masters would at times read us something from the news, 
 but the tidings of those months were bloody tidings, wars and 
 rumours of wars, and these were men of peace. 
 
 At the stroke of half-past nine my little mistress would lay the 
 Book of Books before her father, and he, having selected and 
 read the day's portion, bent his head for a devotional pause 
 of some fifteen seconds. This closed the evening's exercise; 
 this was all: less than a dozen times during eight months of 
 intimacy did I see him kneel in prayer, but I was not misled 
 by the absence of ritual, for the Presence silently invoked 
 was with the household to aid and bless as effectually as if 
 approached with clamour and emotion. 
 
 Here, too, I learned to think of a bird as something else than 
 a mark for a gun, and a wild plant as something other than 
 a weed for the burning. 
 
 [178]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY -ONE 
 
 White's " Selborne" we read with delight, and the plates in 
 the earlier volumes of Donovan's "British Birds" were frequent- 
 ly referred to. 
 
 My little mistress would weary her head with working out 
 the species of flowers after the system of Linnaeus a method 
 disapproved by her father, who was, I believe, an excellent 
 botanist with views of his own. 
 
 It was at one of these evening discussions that he indulged 
 us with one of the few jests of his that I recall: "And this 
 Matronalis, Phoebe, that thou finds in the vicarage hedge, 
 how can it then be inditchenous ?" The child sitting upon the 
 arm of his elbow chair, nibbled her father's ear and both laugh- 
 ed like lovers. Never in my life had I seen such innocent 
 freedoms and mutual delights in one another's society between 
 parent and child. 
 
 On Sunday First Day, in the quaint jargon of that sect 
 I was had with them to their meeting-house at Coatesby, a 
 village some three miles distant, and there made acquaintance 
 with the strange and intense silence of Quaker worship. 
 
 Thus in all things was I treated as one of this kindly house- 
 hold, nor was any question asked as to my past history, 
 my profession, beliefs, family or prospects, nor was any limit 
 suggested to my stay. 
 
 In return for all this, what could I do ? This question was 
 with me from the first day, nor became less urgent as the singu- 
 lar benevolence of my hosts continued. The weight of obligation 
 bade fair to oppress me, but my masters seemed as uncon- 
 scious of their kindness as most men are of their selfishness, 
 and such thought as they spent upon me had only my welfare 
 for its object. 
 
 [179]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 I BECOME A JOURNEYMAN MILLER 
 
 I MUST have been lower in myself than I knew, and for a 
 month after my settling at Milton laboured under a de- 
 pression and lassitude that I could in no wise shake 
 off. This my forbearing masters ( or, rather, should not I 
 call then hosts than masters ) seemed sensible of, and by 
 providing me with such tasks as I was able for, maintained in 
 me that self-respect which losing, a man loses all. 
 
 Neglected as was my education, it was erudition compared 
 to that of their journeymen millers, and I was thankful to find 
 myself useful in the simple walks of tallies and book-keeping; 
 thankful, too, to betake me to my sack-needle again and em- 
 ploy myself in darning and patching. At this work I would sit 
 in a quiet alcove behind the boulting-hopper in company 
 with Old Widdas, a pensioner of my employer's, a man able for 
 this light handicraft, but past all else; once a lion of a 
 fellow, now ail-but a ghost. This poor old gaffer, whose mum- 
 bled, toothless speech, was hard for me to follow, was so aged 
 as to have clean forgotten the date of his birth, if he had ever 
 known it, but was able by reference to certain landmarks in 
 the wide landscape of his life, to speak to events long past, 
 and sometimes seemed to me, sitting beside him, a kind of 
 tangible, vocal manuscript, antique and dry and sallow as 
 
 [180]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 crumpled vellum. Thus, the incoming of the first George had 
 fixed itself in his baby-head through some accident with a 
 tar-barrel, and the bursting of an overcharged blunderbuss, 
 fired in the spirit of loyalty, but costing a neighbour his thumb. 
 His father, ( dead and buried some seventy-five years ) had 
 been called out and kept under arms all night ( as his son well 
 remembered ), to resist an expected rising of the Papists, or 
 "Whites," as he called the Jacobites, doubtless from their 
 favours, the Hanoverian cockade being black, as we all know. 
 
 It is a common word that tho' being rich is pleasant 
 enough, the growing richer is more pleasant still; and this rule 
 holds in other things, as the regaining of one's strength after a 
 sickness, for instance, which ( as I now found ) was a daily 
 delight, arms and legs crying out to be used, and finding an 
 added pleasure in labouring for such kindly masters as the 
 Ellwoods. 
 
 Well do I remember the day upon which I found myself a 
 full man again. It was a showery morning, and I, within doors, 
 toiling up and down a mutinous column of figures, glanced 
 through the leaded panes at a press of wagons waiting their 
 turns for unloading. Thinks I, "'Tis a pity to toughen dry 
 Red Lammas," so, whipping off jacket and waistcoat, I had a 
 tail-board down and a sack of wheat upon my shoulder just 
 as the rain began. "Where will ye have it, Jeacocke ?" I bawled 
 to the foreman miller; "Heart, alive!" cried he, "have a care 
 of breaking of your back, sir: taake it within-side the mill 
 out o' the wat, if ye can get so far." To the job I went in a 
 pelting shower amidst encouraging laughter from the journey- 
 men and carters, who fancied this my first essay as porter- 
 age, but soon thought otherwise. After this beginning it was 
 "George!" here and "George!" there, and no sooner was I set 
 to my clerking than one or another would put a head within 
 with, "Could ye lend us a hand at stacking offals," or "The 
 
 [181]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 bells are warning for trimming the wheats, sir, and we be 
 sorely short-handed." Had I been one of themselves they 
 had certainly forbidden me the mill for lacking indentures 
 of apprenticeship, but all in some manner recognized a differ- 
 ence in degree, and either as Mr. Abel's friend, or as "Gentle- 
 man George" welcomed me as workmate or playmate. 
 
 At these labours ( though not as yet at the more delicate 
 arts of stone-dressing and tending the spouts ) I became 
 fairly expert, and put on muscle to my amazement, so that it 
 was sport to me to raise a fifty-six pounds' weight by my little 
 finger hooked through its ringle, or to clap two such above my 
 head, lifting them fairly and slowly without a swing. Neither 
 feat, be it said, is a thing to boast of, but merely the ordinary 
 play of good men. 
 
 All which, added to my experience with the harvest-men, 
 gained me some knowledge of the life of common people, a 
 knowledge at which my younger relations may permit them- 
 selves to smile, but which I prize upon two accounts, for not 
 only has it served me well through a long life in my dealings 
 with my social inferiors, but it was at the time, and since, good 
 for me to see my fellow-countrymen from the level, and not 
 from the steeple-top, as we men of birth may be said, in a 
 figure, commonly to see them. And thus wearing my domino, 
 myself unread, I found my common fellows by no means all of 
 the dull, same piece I had thought, but differing in dispositions 
 and capacities as widely as ourselves. So much, for instance, 
 did Jeacocke, our surly, taciturn foreman, differ from the slip- 
 pery, plausible Demas, our spoutsman. 
 
 Here, too, at Milton, I was shewn another side of the middle 
 class, dealers and farmers, from that I had been used to see 
 when at Bramford, where the reflected glory of my father's 
 title put every man upon his best behaviour in conversing with 
 me. The loudness, bluntness and frank, one-sided selfishness 
 
 [182]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 of these Yorkshiremen frequently surprised me. A bargain be- 
 tween two of them was a match at hard lying and hard swear- 
 ing; their chicanery and profanity exceeded what I knew of the 
 same class in Suffolk, and made me speculate how my masters 
 held their own in such company. 
 
 What I beheld showed me the extraordinary value of char- 
 acter. Let a man be as silent and slow as he may, if the society 
 in which he moves is once persuaded of his integrity, he has in 
 that persuasion a larger capital and more permanent than the 
 less scrupulous possesses in the most plausible energy and daring 
 foresight. My masters were absolutely trusted, and being 
 taciturn men of tried sobriety, had ever their wits about them, 
 moved by rule and made few miscalculations. Their manner 
 and appearance befriended them, and seldom did the roughest 
 "tyke" (as these Yorkshiremen call themselves ) take with 
 either of them the way of violence and coarseness that he would 
 naturally have taken with his fellow. 
 
 As is well known, and as those that dealt with them knew, 
 my masters, as Quakers being bound in conscience to take no 
 oath, were debarred from recovering a debt or defending an 
 unjust claim at the King's Bench. They were indeed as sheep 
 in the midst of wolves, yet they throve, and by restricting their 
 dealings, except for money down, to those whom they believed 
 they could trust, acquired the best of the trade in their neigh- 
 bourhood. Deceived they were at times, as I remember, but 
 being held in general esteem for their fair dealing and upright 
 behaviour, those that ill-used them came to be ill-thought of 
 by the country-side, and in the long run lost more than those 
 they defrauded.
 
 MEMOIRS OF 4 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 ABEL 
 
 IT is commonly held that a man has a right to his youth. 
 For what has his Maker given him supple joints and a 
 springing spirit but to enjoy the same within bounds of 
 reason ? 
 
 But here was my young master as sad, restrained and silent 
 as a widower whose blacks are not yet rusty. That something 
 rested heavily upon him was the common talk of the mill, 
 our freer tongues laying it to unrequited love ( though for 
 what lass no two could agree ). Whatever it was made no stay 
 to his diligence in business; he shirked nothing, forgot noth- 
 ing, mismanaged nothing, and was without doubt a master 
 of his trade. His judgment of wheat was a daily marvel to 
 me. By touch, scent and appearance he would foretell not only 
 the weight of the sack before it had come to scale, but the 
 colour and virtue of the flour that it would make, and these 
 forecasts would be justified by the result. 
 
 Though smallish and light in the bone, he was wiry and 
 adroit, and at a pinch would get through the work of a bigger 
 man, though commonly reserving himself for command. "My 
 head, George, is worth more to the mill than my hands," he 
 would say smiling, and indeed some pretty ingenious machinery 
 of ours was of his devising, and he was ever changing and 
 
 [184]
 
 CHAPTER r fTENTT-THREE 
 
 perfecting. For instance, it was he who divined that gears cut 
 from a seasoned crab-stock, and well greased had nigh as 
 much proof in them as cast metal: a plan that has by 
 now found favour with every miller in the land, as I should 
 suppose. 
 
 Well, as to this grief of his, it was something of a mystery, 
 and I hate a mystery, it is vulgar and it spoils a man for his 
 bed and his victuals; so I put away the thought of it as touching 
 my friend until the fact was fixed in my head by words from 
 his own lips. 
 
 One night, as I was getting into my bed, I heard wheels 
 pass beneath my window, and looking forth made out the shape 
 and action of the blood mare, and saw her and the gig she 
 drew turn towards the stables. This would be Mr. Abel re- 
 turned late from a business journey. We had not awaited him, 
 for it was his night to have lain at Beverley. Slipping on my 
 clothes I ran to the nag-stalls to help him unharness, and 
 going silently in my mill slippers, came suddenly upon him in 
 conversation with my master before they or I were aware. 
 Father and son were standing face to face, the lanthorn held 
 by the elder throwing strong light upon the grave concern of 
 the one and the haggard whiteness of the other. The father 
 spoke, unconscious of my presence. 
 
 "Thou wast arrested?" 
 
 "On Beverley market, for horse-stealing; the farmer and 
 his son swore hard to me, but the magistrate I was taken before 
 had himself been with me at Malton at the time of the robbery. 
 'Twas providential." 
 
 "Then he is still in the riding ?" 
 
 "And using the clothes he took that night. Yes, night 
 or day I am only safe when in the company of good wit- 
 nesses." 
 
 I had no business to have heard anything, nor desire, so 
 
 [185]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 fell back silently into the ring of darkness outside the 
 lanthorn's light and presently returned whistling to find 
 my masters forewarned and composed enough to accept my 
 help. 
 
 That my friend's sorrow lay heavily upon him I divined by 
 his rare failures of temper and an occasional hardness in his 
 dealings which was foreign to his nature, or rather to his 
 practice: thus, our village postmaster ( a person of small 
 repute, who owed his post, or more truly had had the post 
 created for him, in return for back-stairs service to the uncle of 
 the then Lord Mandeville ), this man, Isaac Proctor by name, 
 must needs come a-borrowing of my young master upon some 
 pitiful tale of being behindhand with his payments to his 
 chief, and in fear of ruin, c* 
 
 I could see Mr. Abel distrusted the fellow's professions, 
 but presently lent him ten pounds upon his solemn undertaking 
 to return the same in one month. "You'll ne'er see that money 
 again, Abel," said I. "I fear thou art right, George," he re- 
 plied, adding that the poor man had an unfortunate manner. 
 As it happened we were both wrong, for the borrower repaid his 
 loan to the day with an ostentation of punctual honesty which 
 impressed me as unnatural, but which explained itself three 
 weeks later when he pleaded his previous good faith as a 
 reason for my master lending him fifty pounds. There must 
 have been many softer ways of refusal open, but Abel, being 
 as I believed in inward trouble, took a way unlike himself. 
 "No, Proctor," said he, "thou deceived me once and I'll not 
 trust thee again." 
 
 On another night I was waked by singing. A voice which 
 I presently knew for that of our journeyman Demas, was 
 trolling a scurrilous old tippling song once popular in the north 
 and called "Duke Wharton's Drinking"; the verses I caught 
 were the last pair of quatrains, 
 
 [186]
 
 CHAPTER T WENT T-TH REE 
 
 God bless the King, the duchess fat, 
 
 And keep the land in peace, 
 And grant that drunkenness henceforth 
 
 'Mong noblemen may cease. 
 
 And likewise bless our Royal Prince, 
 
 The nation's other hope, 
 
 And give us grace for to defy 
 
 The Devil and the Pope. 
 
 And with that came a pebble against my pane, and foreman 
 Jeacocke calling below, "Coom down, wull ye, Mister Gearge, 
 and len's yer 'and at the spouts, here's this owd fool Demas as 
 droonk as a lord, and I with my hands cluttered up with the 
 job ye know of, and t' watter raisin' every minute. " 
 
 Down I went to find myself much needed, for by the smell 
 I knew that a pair of stones must be heating. Being full of 
 orders and the river high, we were running the mill all night, 
 but Demas, whose spell began at twelve, had come on duty 
 in no state to be trusted. Yet, while admitting his condition, 
 he was not to be persuaded either to go home or to lie and sleep 
 off his liquor, but followed me from one spout to another whilst 
 I handled and tested the meal pouring hot from the stones, 
 wearying me with his prattle. 
 
 "There's some laays it to be a lass, Gearge, but I'm of an- 
 oother opinion. Naw, he's a deep 'un as shall some daay be 
 seen. 'T'quaiet sow gets t' most wash', but, 'Be sure your sins 
 shall find ye out,' is a good motto, as my mother said, and a 
 sore comfort for honest souls like unto you and me, Gearge. 
 Whilst as for him but the less said the better " 
 
 11 A '-men /" said I, only half listening and without an inkling 
 of whom he spake. 
 
 "Now what am I to maake of a yoong maan as is in two 
 plaaces at once? Eh? tell me thaat! Ye remember the first 
 
 [187]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 daay ye coom here ? Octo-aber ten. Yes ? Ton coom fra' owd 
 York and 'e drove ye, so in a manner o' speakin' ye coomed 
 togither; thaat's so. You boath slapt at owd York for more'n 
 a week o' nights afore. So ye said, so 'e said; anywaays ye didn't 
 neither slape here thaat's so. But the last night o' yon 
 the night afore ye coomed to the plaace wi' 'im, 'e were 'ere 
 tbaat night, I sday, all the sdame." 
 
 "Are ye speaking of Mr. Abel ?" He nodded. I laughed in 
 his face. With the sudden anger of the tipsy he seized my 
 arms so firmly that unless I was for parting with my shirt- 
 sleeves, I must needs humour the fool and hear him out. 
 
 "Ye laugh? but I'm not laughin'! eh! 'tis no laughin' job, 
 yon. Whaat sort o' maan's yon ? a ma'an as is aable to appear 
 i* ppla-aces f-fifteen mile apart at t' saame time o' night! 
 'E were 'ere, around t' mill yon night; I see 'im masel, met 
 him a-leaving't' hoose as I coomed on spell at twelve. " 
 
 "Gammon, ye blockhead, 'twas wet and thick: ye could not 
 have told sweep from miller, hardly man from woman, that 
 night in York." 
 
 " 'Twas no such coorse wather 'ereawaay, Gearge, 'twas 
 ha'f a moon and clearing at midnight, aye 'twas so, and I 
 met V laad full-faace wi' t' moon upon 'im, an' 'e knowed I 
 knowed 'im, fur 'e pulled 'is hat ower 'is nose an niver throwed 
 me a word or said 'Night to ye, Demas!' so, when I sees 'im 
 drive ye in next daay, and heerd tell where ye'd coom from, I 
 was fairly strook a'heap. " 
 
 "Get away home to bed, ye jackass, and let me use my 
 scoop, these troughs are over full," said I, and, loosening 
 his hold, I rolled him in an old boulting-cloth and put a cotchel 
 of bran beneath his head for a pillow. Thus impounded, 
 swathed like a corpse, he slept out the residue of his spell, 
 snoring whiles and sneezing whiles, when his little red nose 
 would be tickled by the mill cats, Jannes and Jambres, so named 
 
 [188]
 
 CHAPTER T fTENTr-THREE 
 
 by Abel because "they withstood Moses," my friend and house- 
 mate. 
 
 But some ideas once sown are as hard to eradicate as quitch 
 from pasture, and, do what I would I could not rid myself 
 of the fancy that someone for sport or spite was personating my 
 young master and casting a cloud upon his name and life. 
 And with this thought came remembrance of a coloured draw- 
 ing of Abel when a boy which hung in his parents' chamber, 
 a room I had once entered at house-cleaning to help in moving 
 the wardrobe; in this picture my young master was depicted 
 in two positions, as if two persons, as a full face and in profile, 
 but, for some cause, the figures were differently draped and the 
 countenances, though counterparts in colouring and feature, 
 had by the art of the draughtsman been given singularly differ- 
 ent expressions. If I remember rightly, the artist was one Mr. 
 Benjamin West, an ingenious young American who after- 
 wards enjoyed royal patronage. ' 
 
 1 Mr. Fanshawe was almost certainly mistaken in attributing the picture to Mr. 
 Benjamin West (who was then at the height of his fame and had for years been 
 closely employed upon the Chapel Royal and was elected P.R.A. in 1798). The 
 portrait may possibly have been the work of this person's pupil and relation, Mr. 
 Ephraim West, better known as a painter of animals. EDS. 
 
 [l8 9 ]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 THE MASTER STAG 
 
 THE days shortened, and 1798 dwindled to a close. 
 I awaked to hear the bells of some distant church 
 ( Milton had none then ) ring in the last year but 
 one of the dying century. It was a tremendous time when all 
 that we were used to in the frame of things, orderly sequence, 
 ancestral right, rank, privilege, seemed shaken and like to 
 part under us. 
 
 Across the Channel, so near that on clear days the garrison 
 of Dover Castle could distinguish the moving columns and 
 the twinkle of sunlight on the bayonets, the Revolution stood 
 armed to the teeth, was battling fiercely at all points from the 
 Low Countries to Savoy, had won Lombardy, won Egypt, 
 was pouring north through Syria, plainly gaining strength 
 upon a diet of rapine and outrage. 
 
 Amid these alarms and the courage of the stiffer sort, the 
 family circle of my kindly hosts enclosed my sequestered life. 
 I awaited quiet and dumb I knew not what of resurrection. 
 It was the winter sleep of the grub in his silken hammock. 
 But in rare moments of self-consciousness I was aware ot 
 processes at work within me foreign to Quaker influences and 
 shaping me to other ends than such as they approved. 
 
 As for friend Ellwood, he lived his life, a life above the storms. 
 
 [190]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTT-FOUR 
 
 Abel had relinquished the country rounds, and was much at 
 home now, at work upon some new machine, his father taking 
 the business journeys, near or distant, in all weather and alone. 
 Never did I find him irritable or cast down upon his return, 
 nor deviating from the precise, restrained manner of speech 
 which exactly stated the circumstance without our customary 
 exaggerations. 
 
 Our farmer neighbours marvelled at his temerity in travelling 
 country turnpikes lonely and dark, at all hours, unarmed and 
 carrying considerable sums of money. When remonstrated 
 with for his foolhardiness, or rallied upon his immunity from 
 robbery, he would become, as I observed, more than commonly 
 grave. 
 
 "One would think, Ellwood, thot ye paid scot to the roogs, 
 or had a friend i' the pitrfesston," growled a hulking grazier 
 who had himself suffered at the hands of a highwayman. The 
 fellow meant nothing by his sneer, and neither expected nor 
 received a reply, yet did my master's face take on an expression 
 of positive pairt at the word for which I found at the time no 
 explanation. 
 
 The Continental war increased; our people were restless; 
 Ireland a hell; wheat rose and rose. His confidence never 
 failed; "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is 
 stayed on Thee" was a legend which seemed inwrought upon the 
 stuff of his fine spirit as indelibly as its watermark on paper. 
 Thus stayed, he had leisure from his own to lift their trouble 
 from others. 
 
 "George," said he as we walked to meeting one First Day 
 after his return from visiting his southern customers, "thou 
 wilt be glad to hear I have good news from Ouseby at last 
 I have this for thee. " He drew from his pocket a little "house- 
 wife" worked in silks and containing needles and buttons and 
 court-plaister; such a thing as a woman makes for a man whom
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 she regards with motherly or sisterly eye. ' 'Twas a hard 
 struggle, my friend, but she has come through 'more than 
 conqueror.' She bade me ask thy acceptance of this, and 
 desires thy pardon." I had no words to reply with, and he, 
 kindly covering my enforced silence, went on, "I should be 
 glad of thy company on Fourth Day ( Wednesday ), Phoebe 
 and I will be walking to Coatesby. 'Tis monthly meeting, and 
 I shall probably sit it out, but Phoebe must not leave her 
 mother too long alone, and will welcome thy escort home- 
 wards. The roads grow unsafe: there are many out of work 
 and wandering." 
 
 Fourth Day came; "first meeting" the meeting for wor- 
 ship was over. Two grey-headed farmer friends with lined 
 cheeks of folded leather and broad white foreheads, who sat 
 side by side at the desk facing the rest of us, had simultaneously 
 opened their eyes, turned to one another and silently shaken 
 hands. It was like the movement of wheel-work figures and 
 never failed to excite my wonder. How they knew one another's 
 minds, and the time of day, was beyond me, for there was 
 no clock within the room. 
 
 At sight of the handshake we all drew long breaths and 
 gently felt our limbs; the women-friends upon their side of 
 the house moved slightly and decorously to the same purpose, 
 and certain small whispered arrangements were toward. Those 
 who from youth, feebleness, or want of full membership were not 
 expected to sit out the second ( business ) meeting arose in 
 silence. 
 
 I was of these, and reaching the door first, held it wide 
 for the others. Each thanked me in a whisper: last came my 
 little mistress, who gave me a smile in passing, and having 
 gone forth awaited my coming with the sparkling glee of a 
 child released from school. 
 
 The day was fair, one smelt the breaking buds; the com-
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 ing summer seemed nearer by a month than when it halted 
 numbly in the east wind of the previous week. 
 
 What a creature she was! All freshness and modesty, un- 
 conscious of itself and of sin; an innocence that protected her 
 like an invulnerable armour, from which every evil thought and 
 wish fell quenched and blunted. 
 
 The child was fulfilled with the spirit of the spring, and, I 
 am persuaded, would have sung like any bird, had she known 
 how; but among her sect music is clean disregarded and 
 contemned. Yet, knowing not a note or an air, she had learnt 
 the syllables and roundelays of every bird of that country-side 
 and could mimic and beguile some of the creatures to admira- 
 tion. On clear dark nights the great wood owls would answer 
 her "hoo boo hoo!!!" with their ghostly countersign; 
 and her soft whistle would draw the shy bullfinch to the lattice 
 of our summer-house. 
 
 Our homeward path was marked for her by a hundred petty 
 natural histories of this and earlier springs. Here her father had 
 once seen an adder sunning himself among the last snow- 
 wreaths of April, and here "Dost think the robin will have 
 laid yet ? the lining was in on First Day, thee knows." 
 
 Next it was, "Hark, George! dost hear that? 'Tis the 
 chiffchaff! and this only Third Month seventh. ( March 7th ). 
 It seems almost impossible: yet, there it is again! A fortnight 
 before its time." 
 
 One could see the restless little animal moving among the 
 sallow palms, a pale green pinch of feathers, slipping hither 
 and thither and pausing momentarily to utter its simple plain- 
 song. I caught its shape against the watery blue, gilded and, 
 outlined by weak sunshine, and thought I had ne'er seen aught 
 so delicate. 
 
 Next it was,' ' See here, George ! What have we here ? Dost thou 
 see, great boy, what thou wast just for setting thy foot upon ?" 
 
 [193]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 This was a seal, or footprint, one among a hundred in 
 the toughened mud of a field gateway. I looked; I saw 
 the cloven prints of sheep, the broken ring of a horse-shoe, 
 the flat disc of an unshod colt. There was also the pad of a 
 dog, and I said so. My little mistress laughed clearly, "Cer- 
 tainly that is a dog's foot, but this ? look more closely, 
 compare them!" 
 
 "They differ somewhat, but what else can it be, Phoebe?" 
 
 "Badger! oh, blind boy! and to think thou art one-and- 
 twenty!" she trilled infectiously. 
 
 "Badger, Oho!" said I, now interested, "Well, that may 
 be, but how do ye know it, Phoebe ? " 
 
 "By it's five toes, George, surely. Count Rock's when thou 
 gets home and see how many he has beside his dew-claws, 
 which don't reach to the ground, thou knows." 
 
 I looked upon her in wonder. Here was I, a man of the field 
 since I was breeched, and here this maiden child whose under- 
 standing of wild things outstript mine at every pace; who 
 knew note of bird and seal of beast, whose eye and ear were 
 rarely at fault, although or possibly because she had 
 never seen a gun used in her life. 
 
 "When spring really comes," said she, "I will teach thee 
 all the songs, and the call-notes, too, which are harder to keep 
 in mind; and I'll teach thee the flowers' and butterflies' names 
 on First Days, as we walk to meeting, and in the afternoons. 
 See, there is a Large Tortoiseshell, sunning himself on that oak- 
 bole, what a fine fellow!" 
 
 I looked, and listened, and looked again, but this time into 
 the coming years, and almost saw myself a gentled, quieted 
 man in drab, walking thus hand-in-hand with my little mistress, 
 grown taller and in a longer frock, all in a sweet spring greenness. 
 
 Almost, I saw this, and altogether I was willing to have seen 
 it, and hoped I should be counted worthy, and was girding
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 myself for the years of waiting and the work before this ex- 
 quisite thing could be. 
 
 And then the dream snapped, for something external to the 
 present life, something foreign and smacking wholly of the old 
 had broken in. 
 
 The child and I were following a deep hollow lane between 
 banks clothed with hollies and catkinned hazels, and overhung 
 by taller trees whose great roots interlaced and held together 
 the high mossy scarps upon either side. Of these one bounded 
 some park or enclosure and was topped by a stout oak paling, 
 four feet high, solid and good. Behind this, upon the leafy 
 sward overhead, we were aware of pattering feet, and then, 
 without other warning, a great, brown, hairy stag, carrying a 
 mighty head, launched himself sheer over the pales, gathering 
 his limbs in the air before he alighted unhurt before us, stayed 
 for a moment irresolute, staring and blowing strong breath 
 before turning to canter heavily away up the lane. 
 
 The next moment two couples of great pied hounds were 
 panting and scrambling upon the woodwork, and they, too, but 
 less lightly, slid or fell into the roadway, laid their noses to it, 
 whined, burst into deep bell-like notes of certainty, and 
 stretched away in a passion of unrelenting pursuit. 
 
 Any man who had hunted could see that despite his big leap, 
 the stag was near spent, and must be pulled down within a few 
 minutes unless helped or bayed in an unusually strong place. 
 
 My little mistress had gasped with delight at the leap; the 
 appearance and pursuit of the hounds opened her eyes to her 
 hero's peril, and her appeal to me was instant: "Oh, George, 
 don't let them do it; save the poor thing, dear George!" and 
 with sweet feminine unreason she clung to my sleeve. 
 
 And with that there was a trampling and sobbing of over- 
 ridden horses, and three men, red-faced and spattered with 
 mire, were leaning over the pales. 
 
 [195]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Hi, sir! You, sir! Can ye save the stag? I'll gladly give ye 
 ten guineas!" "Not he, Mandy, the man's unmounted. What 
 cursed luck! 'tis a damnably stiff fence, this. Well! Well!" 
 
 I felt for them and for that noble beast, but no man, how- 
 ever well-breathed, can live a mile upon the flat with hounds. 
 
 Then, in a moment, I saw a great horse arch its blue-grey 
 neck over the pales as a cob-swan bends before he takes the 
 water, and how tell it ? for the thing seemed impossible 
 and sheer death to a horse he hove himself grandly over the 
 timber, clearing his hind feet cleverly, and down he came 
 through the hazels, getting all his feet under him and together 
 ere he took the road, his pasterns sharing the strain of that 
 sheer descent to a marvel. 
 
 In a word the grand brute knew his work. His great red eye 
 was full of intelligence, his round red nostrils of spirit, he had 
 dropt plumb into the lane from that height as delicately as 
 a cat drops from a sill. His saddle was empty. 
 
 The men above had shouted " Woa!" when he challenged, 
 swearing he had broken his back; now they cried that it was 
 the luckiest thing in the world, for I had him by the head, and 
 had set my foot to the stirrup. 
 
 "A crop!" I cried. "A crop with a thong!" They tossed 
 me three; the one I caught was nine feet of plaited hide and 
 cracker looped to four feet of crab and buck-horn. The grey 
 was moving when I mounted, had broken ere I leant and 
 caught the falling thong, and had got into his stride before I 
 had sorted my reins. 
 
 "Well done, sir! Keep him going! Save the stag!" they 
 bawled, but their voices faded behind me as I rode. 
 
 The grey covered the ground without apparent effort, a 
 long, low action easy to sit and rilling me with hope of success, 
 for the chase had little more than two hundred yards start of 
 us, and we moved the faster. 
 
 [196]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 Trust me, I could enlarge upon that run, which was one to 
 remember, for the three miles or so of it lay across some big 
 fences and was as intricate a line as ever a failing stag doubled 
 and twisted over, or horseman rode. Twenty minutes later, 
 when the hunt came up, a field of six with horses blown and 
 bloody with spurring, a hard-beset young man was found 
 making what shift he might single-handed to keep the pack off 
 a stag which had rolled himself up in a sheep-net, but was 
 wholly uninjured. 
 
 You will understand that I had to listen to some civil ex- 
 pressions, for the animal, it seemed, was my Lord Mandeville's 
 master stag which had broken park some months since, a beast 
 of note and name, an eighteen pointer, and promised to the 
 King for his Windsor herd. 
 
 They had come, they averred, twenty-two miles as the 
 crow flies, and had left twice as many horses beside their road. 
 "And a few men!" laughed a fine, red-faced fellow some 
 years my senior, rubbing his bare head with a bandanna, 
 "Unlucky Fanny! what a thing to miss!" 
 
 "Lord! what a horse the man has! Did ye see him take 
 the drop into the lane? Twelve feet sheer, I assure ye!" ( It 
 was a fair ten )"And a lot left in him yet!" 
 
 All admired the great and splendid animal, saying that he 
 had covered the last fifteen miles unridden, chusing his own 
 line and taking all that came in the same wonderful collected 
 stride. I thought I had never seen so grand a creature. He was 
 what is known as a flea-bitten grey, and stood seventeen hands. 
 
 And so, laden with the compliments of these hearty fellows, 
 and taking with me the crop and thong, for so its owner willed, 
 I found my way homeward across the fields wondering with 
 some compunction how my little mistress had fared, thus 
 suddenly deserted by her squire. 
 
 But I was no longer the same creature: it was as though 
 
 [ 197]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 some bodily change had taken place within me. Never wholly 
 freed from spiritual condemnations, even after the York 
 Mercy these had thickened upon me of late, though inter-" 
 mittently. Now they were for the hour at least gone! I 
 found myself once more marking the fences as of old, "There 
 would I have it and there! and that is my place where 
 the take-off is sound!" 
 
 I walked with a longer stride; drew sweeter breath; I thought 
 no more ( for the time ) of my poor sinful soul and the Second 
 Death. The cloud had lifted. "I am a man after all," I said, 
 "and, depend on't, there's a man's work waiting me some- 
 where. This primrose time can't last." I pinched my thigh: 
 it was as hard as saddle-leather. Nay, more, something I had 
 from my ancestors, something martial awoke and stirred 
 within me. This new strait garb of Fox and Penn cracked at 
 the seams, as one might say. The trumpets sang in my head; "I 
 shall hear the charge sounded yet," said I, "and look the French 
 in the white o' the eye, please God! and see their horse 're- 
 ceive the files,' as it always does when ours has the pace in it 
 and is ridden home. No! I'm not meant for a Quaker, they are 
 God's saints without doubt, and I not worthy to open and shut 
 the doors of their meeting-house. And yet !" 
 
 [198]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 MORE OF MY FRIEND ABEL 
 
 YOU may believe that I was not exempt from move- 
 ments of curiosity as to the origins of the singular 
 circle into which I had been introduced, and although 
 I reciprocated the courtesy they extended to my incognito, 
 frequently detected myself piecing together such fragments 
 of their domestic history as I had chanced to discover. 
 
 In this respect my hosts were 'not wilfully secretive; but, 
 as I say, I asked no questions, and it seemed never to occur to 
 them that the topic would interest a stranger. 
 
 We of the landed aristocracy are ludicrously sensitive upon 
 this subject, and whilst holding it ill manners to boast our 
 descents at our own or our friend's tables, lose few opportunities 
 of insisting upon them in the form of book-plates, coach panels, 
 effigies, and church windows. It is a point of faith with nineteen 
 out of twenty of us that we "came over with the Conqueror," 
 albeit our names do not stand upon the Battle Abbey roll. 
 The twentieth, more wisely, avers that his ancestors 
 arrived with Hengist, which is likely enough, but equally void 
 of proof. 
 
 I once heard my father observe, in a moment of expansive 
 veracity, that not three families of his acquaintance could show 
 evidence of landed estate earlier than the rising of Wat Tyler,
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 the more part being the progeny of ennobled cits, and the 
 proudest of all the descendants of royal bastards. 
 
 That my hosts' reticence upon this matter was not due to 
 ignorance I was presently aware. The biography of a collateral 
 ancestor of their name I found pleasant and even diverting 
 reading. The Thomas Ellwood of 1639-1713 was the friend 
 of William Penn, the amanuensis of John Milton, and himself 
 had promptings of the muse with results more laughable than 
 euphonious. 
 
 Others of the race had suffered for their faith. The Quakers 
 were abominably persecuted at their earliest appearance and 
 for four generations after. During the first hundred years of 
 the existence of the sect it is said there was never one day 
 during which some member of their body was not in jail for 
 conscience sake. Hundreds perished of prison-fevers, hundreds 
 were ruined in health and estate, and to this noble army of 
 martyrs the Ellwoods had contributed more than one of their 
 name. 
 
 And there had been more recent passages. Thus, my little 
 mistress referred once and again to some childish recollection 
 of Edge Garth, from which I gathered that she had not been 
 born at Milton. Jeacocke and the older hands spoke of things 
 which had happened "before Ellwoods time" but, my first clear 
 light upon their past broke when Abel found me examining an 
 old corn-sack branded, " T. ELLWOOD, EDGE GARTH, 
 CHORLEY." 
 
 "Dost know those parts, George?" he asked, to which I 
 replied, "Only by name; but by this token your father must 
 have lived there ? " 
 
 "Yes; until ten years since. We had farmed the Edge 
 for a hundred years; ever since we came north out of Bucking- 
 hamshire. But the last life in the lease died. " 
 
 "And would not your landlord readmit you upon a fine?' 
 
 [200]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY -FIVE 
 
 ' 'Twas a landlady, George; but I doubt if she knew any- 
 thing about it. Her agent refused us any terms. " 
 
 "That seems strange, for as tenants you must always have 
 been better than good." 
 
 He smiled grimly. "The person had a prejudice against our 
 Society. " 
 
 "Unreasonable fool!" said I, warmly; "whose property was 
 it?" 
 
 "The Countess of Blakenham's," said he, and went on, not 
 observing my confusion: "It touched my parents closely: to me 
 it mattered less, for I had been at my boarding-school five 
 years and had somewhat lost touch with the place." 
 
 "What, were there no holidays at your school Ack- 
 worth, you call it, I think ? " 
 
 "None. We go at eight or nine and leave at fifteen. Those 
 whose homes are within reach see their parents perhaps twice 
 or thrice a year; but children from the south forget their 
 mothers' faces long before their time is up, and what is stranger, 
 their mothers fail to recognize them when they meet. In my 
 own case there were longish spells when I missed my people 
 badly and might have moped but for the kindness of a fatherly 
 old Friend who then lived near, and was often in and out; Isaac 
 Penington is his name: such a man! I wonder what thou wouldst 
 make of him. He lives down south now. He helped me through 
 my trouble: I had trouble there. " 
 
 "I should call the place a jail, not a school," said I, 
 disdainfully. 
 
 "Thou wouldst miscall it, then. 'Tis a school of the best." 
 
 And so we fell into friendly dispute as to the merits of Eton 
 and Ackworth, I trying, as well as I might, to show him the 
 rough, free, self-governed life of my great and ancient college, 
 and he expounding to me the order, frugality and punctual 
 restraints of the seminary to which he claimed to owe so much. 
 
 [201]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QU4LITT 
 
 "Confess, now, George, were not the barbarisms of that un- 
 shepherded rabble of yours a terrible ordeal for small and 
 gentle lads ? Were not some of these beaten down and crushed 
 by the stronger wills and bodies ?" 
 
 "Why, possibly," said I, considering the matter afresh; 
 "It was no place for milk-sops, for such as could not hit back, 
 and hit hard, I mean. And your old school, Abel, seems, from 
 your account, to have been more like a monkish cloister, with 
 its silence and narrow bounds, iron rule and hours for every- 
 thing. A rare place for a quiet, gentle fellow, no doubt, but 
 how about your dare-devils ? You Quakers throw up such, 
 occasionally, don't you ?" 
 
 We were leaning upon the rail of the sluice-gate bridge 
 on a mild morning, sunny and quiet. The sluices were all down 
 and the brown tail-water lay still and clear below the mossy 
 apron. A school of dace came flickering up Wbish ! into 
 their midst went a long furrow of white water; a pike had one 
 of 'em: his brassy flank gleamed as he turned. 
 
 "Yes; the quietest waters have that," said Abel. "We 
 have. Our oldest Quaker stocks do throw up wild adventurous 
 shoots at times, and these . . . find Ackworth irksome. 
 There was a boy there . . . I knew him; we were of an age, 
 and had much in common. He could not bear it." 
 
 "I'll be bound he was a fine fellow!" I interjected. 
 
 "O, the finest!" cried he, with rare enthusiasm, "such a 
 head! I was no match for him! Such a little fellow, too, but 
 incredibly active, keen, hot 
 
 "A thoroughbred!" 
 
 "Thou hast it; ah, yes; and like some blood horses, he 
 despised harness and would not endure the whip. Oh, an in- 
 domitable temper! The teachers there did their best; good men; 
 they knew no other way. But they failed with him. It was 
 rebellion and punishment, punishment and rebellion, until he 
 
 [ 202]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 grew hardened and desperate. He got a master down and beat 
 him badly, and being locked up to await a flogging, broke out 
 and ran away." 
 
 His voice had fallen low and most mournful, but I remarked 
 nothing at the time, crying: "Well done! I should like to meet 
 that fellow! There is stuff in him. What became of the man ?" 
 
 "Whether he joined the Gypsies first or went to sea, I am not 
 sure. He tried both ways of life in turn, and saw, I believe, 
 the most lawless side of each. " 
 
 "Why, naturally enough, after such a cooping-in he would 
 flutter his farthest. Ackworth would have driven me to poaching 
 and smuggling, I am sure of it: can feel it tingling in my 
 arms and legs. 
 
 And did he never come up again from his plunge ? These 
 wars should give such spirits their chance." 
 
 Abel had grown the gloomier as his story drew to a close, 
 and had no reproving smile for my ebullition, but turned, his 
 face from me. "Ah, there my tale ends," said he. 
 
 "Well, friend Abel, it takes all sorts to make a world. 
 That sort goes campaigning; ye can't stop him; he is built 
 that way. ( So am I, worse luck!" ) 
 
 I had near sighed out my secret, so changed my tune. "And 
 you, what would you be if free to make your future ?" 
 
 He did not reply at once; it was not his way. His gaze roved 
 over the green country-side and saw ( I doubt not ) what 
 neither I nor any other in those parts had then the wit to see 
 how vilely it was farmed. His eye took in its wastefully 
 overgrown shaw-fences, its choked ditches and undrained 
 rushy pastures. He must have seen its tumble-down post-and- 
 pan cottages, filthy and ancient, each with its rotten thatch 
 overhead, and its sodden earth floor underfoot, its midden 
 before the door. These things stared you in the face all over 
 England then, and no man gave them a thought. 
 
 [203]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUAUTT 
 
 "I would chuse to be steward to some rich man over a 
 large estate, and have a free hand," said he. 
 
 'Tis a fine life, I should suppose," said I, thinking aloud 
 and like a fool; "there is all your time in the open and your 
 fill of rod, and gun, and hound." 
 
 He had not heard me, and murmured softly on: "There are 
 the farmers to protect from the landlords, and the poor ill-used 
 land from the farmers; and the men from the masters, and the 
 women and children from both . . . O, for schools, 
 schools!" 
 
 "Education is poison to a labourer, Abel," said I, repeating 
 the parrot-cry of the day. "A thick head, a strong arm, and a 
 still tongue is all we want with 'em. " 
 
 He blinked and shrugged slightly; he was used to let my 
 banalities answer themselves. 
 
 "I would have a thatching class in my school," said he, 
 "and prizes for hurdle-making, and for the best dipt sheep and 
 the best ploughed acre, and for the best drest horse and the 
 best kept harness " he paused for breath, his eyes shining, 
 and ran on again: "Oh, there are twenty other rural crafts; 
 what do you say to prizes for trimmed quick and cut-and-laid 
 fencing, for example?" 
 
 "Why, now I am with you," said I, "for all that you are 
 for teaching 'em ties 'em to the land, makes better servants 
 of 'em, and inclines them less to slip it off to town where 
 these country handicrafts of yours are not wanted. Yes, friend 
 Abel, when I come into my estate, I'll hand it over to ye to 
 manage for me!" and with that I laughed out, hopelessly 
 enough, and went on with my catechising. 
 
 " But all this, man, is for somebody else ( 'tis always so 
 with you Quakers). What for yourself? Come now, three 
 wishes, and I'll be your fairy godmother!" 
 
 "A better lathe; a better forge and and time to use both ! " 
 
 [204]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY -FIVE 
 
 "Aha! I know ye! 'Tis this imp's work, this steam-machine 
 of yours you are thinking about. " 
 
 "Hush, George!" he flushed like a girl surprised over a 
 love-letter, "Not a word of this to anyone, please. I trust thee!" 
 
 Already the rare moment of self-revelation was passing. 
 Like some strange foreign flower, I was once bid to see in some- 
 one's glass-house, which after months of preparation opened 
 for its hour and then closed for ever, he was folding himself 
 up, grimly and coldly, as a man ashamed of some untimely out- 
 burst of sentiment, and I was again ( as ever ) outside. 
 
 He shifted the parcel he was carrying. "Have thee heard 
 of poor Demas's trouble ? ( for so I fear he will think it ), a 
 triplet! The man is somewhat upon my mini. He feels under 
 a cloud and has the down look. " 
 
 "Let him keep his hands out of the flour-bin then, and " 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know, George; but still I was on my way to 
 pay the wife a little call. It seems an occasion for shewing 
 them both that bygones are bygones: will thee come ? " 
 
 The cottage stood by the stocks; Mrs. Demas, but a week 
 from her lying-in, left the wash-tub to admit us. A thin, weary 
 woman with a shifty eye and a deprecatory courtesy, she 
 was as ill at ease in her landlord's presence as he in hers, tho' 
 for better reasons, as I knew. 
 
 "Lawks, Master Aabel!" cried she, drying her hands upon 
 her apron, "An' soa ye've coom to see t' blessed childern!" 
 
 "Well, yes; if it is quite convenient," said he, slipping his 
 parcel behind the door. The action and reply seemed a sensible 
 relief to the woman, for, despite her expressed anticipation, 
 it was plainly not what she had expected. 
 
 The little morsels, waxen and silent, lay upon a pillow 
 happed in a blanket, side by side, showing piteously like to 
 a child's dolls. 
 
 Abel bent over them with a depth of interest which sur- 
 
 [205]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 prised me who knew of his passion for childhood. This glum, 
 tongue-tied fellow could hardly endure the wailing of a child, 
 and found infant laughter the sweetest of music. He would 
 send many a half-hour upon his knees, toying with a baby, as 
 his customers' wives knew well. "They are the most wonderful 
 things, George, fresh from the Almighty's hand. Think of it! " 
 
 Thus he would say to me, who found them all alike, pink, 
 squabby and void of interest. 
 
 "And, what will thee name them, dame ?" said he. 
 
 "Faith, Hope, and Charity, sir, 'tis Demas's own thowt; 
 ma 'oosband was iver a Bible man. " 
 
 "Ah! and how will he know which is which ?" ( for they lay 
 and were as like as peas in a pod ). 
 
 "Asily, asily, sir," said the mother, stirring up the one 
 which might be a shade the plumpest; " 'The greatest of these 
 is Charity.' " 
 
 [206]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 THE CHURCH TO THE RESCUE 
 
 THE living of Milton-on-Derwent is a vicarage which 
 was then held by a non-resident incumbent, a Mr. 
 Sinclair, who dwelt at his rectory of Monkholmeburn, 
 some five miles away. 
 
 The man had recently read himself in, and we, who did 
 not know him by sight, had heard of his discontent with the 
 curate and annoyance at the neglected state of the church, 
 which was grown more to the likeness of an ivy-tod than a place 
 of prayer, the chancel roof being so over-flourished as to prove 
 a stronghold for vermin, and being held a certain draw when 
 fox-hounds came our way. 
 
 The late incumbent, also non-resident and very old, had 
 let things go their own way. The new-comer was suspected 
 of a zeal for renovation. 
 
 So much I learned from the talk of men in the mill. I may 
 even have heard of a parish meeting to pass a rate, but cannot 
 be sure. Neither my master nor Mr. Abel spoke of these things 
 to me, and when they drove away early in May to attend the 
 Quakers' yearly meetings at their central meeting-house in 
 Gracechurch Street, London, if their leave-taking were more 
 than commonly grave I knew not the reason. 
 
 It was the first warm day in a month parched by east winds 
 
 [207]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 and a drying sun, and I, getting sacks of wheat from a wagon 
 to the lewkom of the topmost floor, had leisure whilst the bright 
 chain links ran through my fingers to look through the open 
 shutter over the garden trees towards my master's house below. 
 
 It seemed that something unusual was afoot; I saw tables 
 and chairs borne forth of the porch by strange hands, and there 
 stood a knot of idlers before the door beside one or two con- 
 veyances. "Jeacocke," said I, to the foreman-miller whose 
 sack-barrow was taking the wheat from my chain, "What is 
 this at the house ?" The man thrust his head forth, looked long, 
 and having drawn it in, swore, which being no habit of his, and 
 a thing out of the common in that mill, showed a disgust deeper 
 than ordinary. 
 
 "D n they thievin' churchwardens?" said he, "canna 
 they lat t' women aloan when t'men's awaay ? Yon's a seizure 
 for the church raate, sir, and though I be as good a church 
 and king's man as the passon himself, I be half a mind to " 
 
 Now I knew that one of the peculiar views of the Quakers 
 was ( and is ) to refuse payment of what they hold to be 
 an unjust tax, and rather to permit their chattels to be dis- 
 trained upon than to appear by paying to countenance what 
 conscience disapproves. 
 
 And certainly to a plain man it seems hard to call upon 
 those to repair a church who do not use it; and if by any chance 
 the boot were upon t' other leg, and we Churchmen were 
 bidden by a dissenting parliament to build Methodist chapels 
 which we saw no need for, we should probably be sensible of 
 injustice in what we now stoutly hold to be right and reasonable. 
 
 So much, I say, I knew; nor did I wait to discover what 
 the half of the foreman's mind was inclined to; but, lifting 
 the traps, slid down the chain hand over hand to the wagon be- 
 low, leapt to the ground and ran to the house. 
 
 The scene that awaited me was sufficiently surprising 
 
 [208]
 
 CHAPTER r WENT T -SIX 
 
 being more after the likeness of a house put to the sack by the 
 French than what one expects in Old England. 
 
 There stood a broker and the bailiff from Monkholmeburn 
 directing the removal of the furniture from the parlour. Tables, 
 chairs, settle, family portraits, books and ornaments lay, upon 
 the lawn in piteous disorder. Upon the hood over the porch 
 stood Moses, his back arched, his tail like a bottle-brush. I 
 could hear inside the house the gruff tones of strangers in con- 
 troversy with my little mistress, whose voice was raised in 
 entreaty and whom these seemed to be talking down. 
 
 Thrusting through the knot of idlers which these unusual 
 proceedings had drawn to the spot, I reached the parlour, and 
 found a room stript to the walls and floor, where the two 
 Proctors, Isaac, the postmaster and vicar's churchwarden, 
 and Elihu his brother, the parish constable, were plucking the 
 last chair in the room from under my mistress, regardless of her 
 gentle remonstrance and her daughter's plea that her mother 
 was unable to rise. 
 
 The poor lady would certainly have fallen heavily had 
 not Miss Phoebe interposed her arm and broken her mother's 
 descent to the floor. 
 
 When I saw this, the strength of strong passion coming upon 
 me, I had much ado to restrain my fists; indeed, but for the 
 gentle presences in which I stood, and the schooling I had 
 undergone at their hands, I had certainly done those rude fel- 
 lows a mischief. 
 
 What I did was to throw my arms around the churchwarden 
 from behind and carry him from the house; it was a weighty 
 burden, but not so heavy as a sack of flour which scales two 
 hundred and eighty-five pounds and is of ten carried in such 
 fashion by a good man. So amazed was the fellow, he being in 
 ignorance of my coming, or in whose grip he found himself, that 
 he made no resistance, and when I tossed him down somewhat 
 
 [209]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 roughly, as I own, he fell, being breathless. And with that his 
 brother the constable rushing upon me in anger from behind, 
 but forgetting a certain break of level and half-step, missed 
 his footing and me, and sprawled his length upon him he de- 
 sired to help without touch of mine. 
 
 Thus rolling one upon another they lay at the foot of the 
 porch steps in no contrite humour. 
 
 "In t' King's naame !" panted the constable rising and 
 pointing me to the crowd, but keeping himself beyond my reach. 
 
 "Thou shalt smeart fur this, Quaaker! dom thee!" growled 
 the postmaster brushing his knees. 
 
 "And what may this mean, good people? Ah! Proctor, 
 'tis you, is it ? And now, as soon as you have your breath, be 
 good enough to tell me what you are about. " 
 
 The speaker was a person of fifty or thereabouts, attired 
 in a long black riding-coat and small tricorne with white 
 wig and neckcloth. The intonation and choice of words 
 denoted his station; his seat, for he addressed us from 
 the saddle, and all the assured carriage and pose of the man 
 spoke of race. 
 
 Whilst awaiting his answer he ran his eye over the disarray 
 of furniture, the carts in attendance, the broker's men in aprons 
 preparing to load, and was visibly displeased with what he saw. 
 
 "Sarvioe to ye, rector; 'tis the church raate, sir. These be 
 Quaakers as won't paay," said the elder Proctor. 
 
 "Oho! and you are distraining upon Mr. Ellwood's chat- 
 tels ?" returned the rector ( for this was he ) very gently, but 
 with a certain iciness in his manner. 
 
 "Why, yes, rector, they niver paays, an' soo we seizes. 
 'Tis the law, yer worship; an' we calls on ye to witness this 
 yoong man's vi'lence. We've bin strook and floong out o' 
 t'house, an' obstroocted in the execution of our duties." 
 
 "Not quite so fast, Mr. Proctor; you are my churchwarden 
 
 [210]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 certainly, but your office does not empower you to seize 
 personally. " 
 
 "Nor to offer violence to ladies, sir," said I. 
 
 His eye turned to me and flashed a question. I answered it. 
 
 "These fellows have not only stript a room, sir, but have 
 thrown my mistress from her chair to the floor, an invalid, 
 unable to rise. 'Twas for that I outed them, tho' I have 
 struck no blows yet. " 
 
 "We waanted t'chair: she wouldna get oot on't," growled 
 the men. 
 
 "Hold my mare!" The rector swung down lightly and 
 passed into the house uncovered. I followed him. My mistress, 
 very pale and faint, lay where she had fallen, the chair over- 
 turned beside her; Miss Phoebe supporting her mother's head 
 upon her knees. The spectacle would have moved a Turk. 
 
 The rector paused upon the threshold and for a moment 
 found not a word to say. "Madam," he exclaimed at length, 
 and his voice vibrated strangely, and as he spoke he made the 
 ladies the finest bow in the world and displayed the most 
 embarrassed face. "Madam . . . what can I say? . . . 
 How shall I express my indignation and regret ? . . . I rode 
 hither to-day in hopes . . . but I must first present myself 
 to you as the vicar of Milton. It is my misfortune ladies, 
 to enter your dwelling . . . to make my first appearance in 
 the guise of a thief ! . . . I had intended otherwise. . . . 
 I am forestalled. Will you bear . . . may I venture to 
 offer my assistance ? " 
 
 I stept forward; together we replaced my mistress in 
 her seat. She smiled breathlessly, but with the sweetest 
 intention. 
 
 The rector stood before her flushed with emotion, his 
 fine eyes sparkling; and now that I had a better look at him 
 I decided that I liked his face, which was a strong face, and
 
 a good face, and belonged to a man that I had rather agree with 
 than differ from. 
 
 My mistress had by this regained her voice. "Friend Sin- 
 clair, I thank thee kindly," said she and offered him her hand, 
 which he took and lifted to his lips, dropping upon one knee 
 the while, with as courtly a motion as though the small white 
 faded fingers had been those of his sovereign. Rising he swept 
 her another inclination and left the room. 
 
 Next minute his voice rang from without, intense, impera- 
 tive as the voice of a drill sergeant. "Replace this furniture 
 every stick of it d'ye hear ? And handle it as if 'twere china. 
 In with you!" His tones shook with anger, which he held in, and 
 curbing himself to silence, stood upon guard until the last 
 piece was replaced and the door closed. 
 
 "And now," said he, taking the oaken garden-seat beside 
 the porch, "I am upon the bench; I sit here as magistrate and 
 propose to enquire what this business may mean." His eye 
 travelled around the circle of blank or sullen faces. A vicar 
 and rector who was likewise a justice, and was known to have 
 been called to the bar before taking orders, was not a man to 
 trifle with, right or wrong. 
 
 "Here's a piece of work, indeed," he went on, "that bristles 
 with illegalities, as the veriest fool may see! Mr. Broker, your 
 license! Out with it fellow, don't tell me that ye have it not 
 upon you! Ah! past date by a month, sirrah! You are 
 fined the full amount, ten pounds, and I warn ye I shall make 
 it my business to oppose its renewal. This alone puts us all 
 out of court. But had ye nought else? This is not enough; 
 where is your warrant ? " 
 
 The broker looked upon the churchwarden, and he upon the 
 broker, and at length after searching of pockets produced a 
 demand note! The rector let himself go. "Dolts! knaves! 
 nincompoops! What have you done ? D'ye not see that this is 
 
 [212]
 
 CHAPTER r WENT T -SIX 
 
 sheer house-breaking ? God in Heaven!" he shouted. "Am I, in 
 the first month of my incumbency to be asked to hold a candle 
 to sordid felons ? What ? 'You didn't know ?' 'You didn't think ?' 
 'Twas all for the Church!' And so / am to screen you and 
 pocket the proceeds of a larceny from the meekest and kindliest 
 of my people ? Blockheads!" he blurted, driving his spurs into 
 the gravel, "This might lay every man jack of you by the heels 
 in York Castle, if not in the hulks; Hear ye that ?" 
 
 They heard and trembled, for Mr. Sinclair's eye and voice 
 carried conviction. 
 
 "And as for you, Master Constable, what do you here upon 
 private property ? Have you a search-warrant ? No! Nor a war- 
 rant to arrest ? No! Well, if you remain a constable at the week's 
 end 'twill not be by fault of mine. But, heh! stop there!" for 
 Elihu was slipping off. " Not so fast; you came, it would 
 seem, for your own pleasure, you shall now serve mine, and 
 while ye yet bear the truncheon shall do my bidding. Take 
 these two into your custody ! " 
 
 The postmaster and broker changed countenances, their 
 chops fell, their knees quaked under them. 
 
 "To the stocks with them, Master Constable, quickly! 
 What man, ye hesitate? you refuse? Hark! I call upon all 
 loyal people to support me who am set here as justice of the 
 king's peace; and by God ! if there be three pair of holes, 
 Master Constable, you shall sit beside them!" 
 
 By this every man who could leave the mill, and some half- 
 dozen of wagoners, stood around him, and these were hot- 
 faced and eager to do his bidding. The three culprits resisted 
 no further, but with hanging heads and haggard faces were 
 thrust along down street in the midst of a jeering crowd, the 
 rector striding behind, riding-whip in hand. 
 
 Whilst I hung irresolute, boy-like, desiring to see justice 
 done upon these insolent persons, but still anxious about my 
 
 [213]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 mistress, Miss Phoebe beckoned me from the porch, and I 
 followed her within. Said her mother: 
 
 "George, what has happened; what will he do to those poor 
 men?" 
 
 "Clap them in the stocks, ma'am, and, if I may say so, 'tis 
 too light and easy a punishment for such deserving ruffians." 
 
 "Hush! thou means well, but thou knows not of what spirit 
 thou art. Get me a man; such another as thyself. I must 
 follow friend Sinclair. " 
 
 "Oh, Mother! thou canst not put foot to ground!" cried my 
 little mistress. 
 
 "Nay, I must go, if George carries me in his hands, but with 
 two I could go in this chair. Away with thee, George!" 
 
 I sped to the mill, which seemed mighty empty of journeymen. 
 Demas, the spoutsman, was sitting upon a sack; he rose as I 
 entered. 
 
 "Where is Jeacocke ?" I asked. 
 
 "There! Gearge, 'tis not for the likes o' me to saay. Mebbe 
 e' awaay down street on his own business. Mebbe 'e's aloft. 
 I'll not defaame a fellow journeyman's karicter. No, Gearge! 
 If some 'as bin and took time 'as 'ad no rights so for to do, 
 whaat's the odds to me ? I 'm mutual. Whiles the mill runs I 
 sticks to my spouts, gently muddlin' along. " 
 
 "Confound your long tongue, Demas, where is the foreman ?" 
 
 "Thaat's the question. I'm neither church nor dissent; 
 Demas '11 be nayther partial nor impartial, sez I " 
 
 "He! he!" cackled the senile falsetto of old Widdas from 
 his heap of broken empties. "I 'members my feyther tellin' 
 when first they Quaakers coom to Milton. They draawed 'em 
 through the watter, they did; thro' t' mill-taail; he seen 'em. 
 He! he!" 
 
 But the changed note of the mill, the dying cadence of 
 stopping wheels caught my ear; through a window I saw the
 
 CHAPTER TFTENTr-SIX 
 
 tail-water settling. Demas caught the sound too, and leapt to 
 his levers to lift the runners off his bed-stones. "I'm mutual," 
 he squeaked, "neither partial " but I waited to hear no 
 more as I ran to the wheel-house. Truth to say, the man was 
 a trimmer, upon the swing between church and chapel, as he 
 descried his advantage, and had been converted and lapsed and 
 again reclaimed time and again. Just now he was in slack water, 
 secretly bitter against masters who had detected his pilferings 
 and forgiven them. 
 
 The sunshine poured through the open door of the wheel- 
 house upon the dripping floats of the great under-shot slowing 
 to a stand. Jeacocke, crowbar in hand, had lowered the shutter 
 and stopt the mill. He turned upon me darkly. "And where's 
 the rest ?" He set down the crow and threw out empty hands. 
 "How is my master's mill to be kept running if every man an' 
 laad goes forth to a hubbleshow ? I've shet down, and they shall 
 hear for why!" 
 
 "Leave all, come with me; 'tis the mistress calls for you," 
 I said. 
 
 Bearing the chair easily between us we came unnoticed to 
 the crowd about the stocks. The three sat in the bilboes, 
 their wrists and ankles fast, for the thing was not of our south- 
 country pattern, and served for pillory as well. The faces of 
 the brothers Proctor wore lively expressions of anger and fear. 
 Long had they lorded it over the village, making themselves 
 as offensive as they dared to my masters, and soundly detested 
 by all. The tidings of their fall had flown abroad with incredible 
 swiftness, near every soul in the place seemed afoot, gaffers 
 and gammers hobbling up to gnash toothless gums at the 
 tyrant who stinted the church doles, whilst the boys who hated 
 the constable for his severities to them as beadle, were gathering 
 garbage for his benefit. 
 
 Bill Telfer, the village sot, who had sat in the stocks himself
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 last month for his sins, was there with a pailful of drowned 
 pups, and seemed to be making good practice. As we broke 
 into the ring the last of the litter took the constable full across 
 the mouth and dropt into his lap. 
 
 "Make way, good folks!" bawled Jeacocke, and way was 
 made, all agreeing that Madam Ellwood had as good a right 
 as any to the show. 
 
 "To friend Sinclair!" she said, and we had set her chair 
 beside him before he knew of our presence. Seldom surely has 
 a man been more surprised; whipping off his hat he made her 
 an obeisance fit for a duchess, and seeing her lips move inaud- 
 ibly where all were talking, laughing, hooting and jeering, he 
 raised hand and voice and called for silence. 
 
 "Madam," said he, "you do us too much honour; may I ask 
 your pleasure ?" 
 
 "Friend Sinclair," said she, "if these poor men are punished 
 upon my account, I beg thee to set them at liberty; for myself 
 I freely forgive them freely!" 
 
 Her spirit had carried her thus far, now it failed. With out- 
 stretched hands still trembling from her fall, and with tears 
 trickling down her pale face, she bent forward silenced by her 
 weakness. The vicar was visibly moved. 
 
 "Madam, I could refuse you nothing if your charity did not 
 compel my consent! . . . 'Fore God, 'tis a wonder! . . . 
 Hear to this lady, ye rascals! She has made herself be carried 
 here for your sakes. She begs you off! Instead of bidding me 
 send you to jail, she sets you free. You broke her house, you 
 flung her from her chair, you stole her goods, and what does 
 she ? She forgives you ! . . . Let them out. " 
 
 He turned, and making a lane for us through the press, walk- 
 ed beside us to the house, hat in hand, a wonder to his parish. 
 At the door he bowed once more, and was for taking his leave, 
 but my mistress, now herself again, constrained him in to rest 
 
 [216]
 
 CHAPTER TJTENTT-SIX 
 
 himself and to eat, for dinner was being served. He accepted 
 with the best grace. 
 
 I had baited his horse, washed myself at the pump, and was 
 making for my lodging when waylaid by my little mistress. 
 "Mother desires thee to join us, George." "That is most kind 
 of mother, but what will her guest say?" She laughed merrily 
 and helped me beat the worst of the dust from my clothes with 
 a clean besom. 
 
 "Ah! this is the young Samson!" said the great man, quizzing 
 me as I entered; yet having looked me over without disapproval 
 he offered me his hand, which surprised me. 
 
 "As I was saying, Mrs. Ellwood, here am I but half-warm 
 in my seat, and what with my four livings, have my hands full. 
 How this rate would affect you had escaped me at the meeting, 
 and I rode here this day to make the matter right. Of a levy 
 I never dreamed; the thing should have been impossible. The 
 demand-notes were but just issued, and no warrant so much as 
 applied for. The lawlessness of our people where you Friends 
 are concerned is astounding! The rapacity of those fellows! 
 They had seized what ?" he glanced around the room 
 "At a guess now, a hundred pounds'-worth of goods to sat- 
 isfy a ten-pound demand! Ah I know them not a shilling 
 would they have returned you. At a forced sale by an interested 
 auctioneer to a ring of his cronies, your handsome things 
 would have barely satisfied the rate and costs! Never, whilst 
 I hold the living, shall you be troubled again. " 
 
 My mistress thanked him and catching my eye bent her head 
 in the silent grace-before-meat of the Friends, and then bade 
 me carve. 
 
 "If all my brother parsons had enjoyed the same experience 
 as I, madam, 'tis little ill-usage you Friends would suffer at 
 their hands. Yes, this is not the first nor the fiftieth 
 meal I have eaten at a Friend's table!" 
 
 [217]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 We looked the surprise we felt, for social intercourse be- 
 tween men of his cloth and the Friends was unknown, and he 
 was the first that I had heard speak of the society civilly, or by 
 any other designation than its nickname. 
 
 "Yes," he resumed, "but before I tell you my story I have 
 an apology to offer. I perceive by the plan of this house that 
 my al fresco court of justice was held within your hearing, 
 madam. If any heated or profane expression of mine wounded 
 your ears, or the ears of this young lady, I ask your pardons, 
 and the pardon of Almighty God, for indeed I came somewhat 
 late in life to my holy office, and a bad old trick of swearing still 
 clings to my tongue. God forgive me! 
 
 "But, for my respect for your sect, ma'am; 'twas like this. 
 I was bred to the bar, ate my dinners and rode the Northern 
 circuit. The e were wildish doings and much drinking of 
 needless toasts at mess, and as young blood when inflamed with 
 good wine is hot, ma'am, there were quarrels, and men were 
 called out. 
 
 " 'Twas at York Assizes, two-and-twenty years ago last 
 Michaelmas, that, to my shame, I fell out with an industrious, 
 painstaking young counsel, whose poverty earned my contempt, 
 whose growing success touched my spleen, for I was well-to-do, 
 idle, and seldom briefed. And so, and so, my young lady ( for I 
 see by your eyes ye like news of the wicked world ye will never 
 see! ) I put an affront upon this gentlemen and was called upon 
 to give satisfaction. 
 
 " We met in a little plashy meadow at the back of a fine 
 tall house in the hamlet of Holgate, outside the Walls, not 
 one of our mess being native to those parts or knowing the dis- 
 trict; and there at our first discharge were both down, hard 
 hit. I remember very little more, but have been told that 
 the whole affair was so irregular and ill-guided that the law 
 was like to have taken strict account of it; and so our seconds 
 
 [218]
 
 CHAPTER TITENTr-SIX 
 
 thought, for upon the surgeon declaring us to be as good as 
 dead men, they lost their heads and ran, and the rascally saw- 
 bones followed to get his fee; and we, lying there in our blood, 
 came near to making the fellow's prognosis good, but were 
 succoured by a Quaker I beg your pardon, ma'am, a Friend 
 ah! and he was a Friend! 
 
 " 'Twas upon this gentleman's ground we were trespassing 
 ( shooting without license, my young lady ) ! He comes up at 
 the sound of shots, finds a worthy young fellow and a worthless 
 scapegrace busily bleeding to death, makes turniquets of his 
 neck-cloth, halloas for his groom and gardeners, has us carried 
 to his house, and, in a word, nurses us back to life. " 
 
 "To a better life, I trust," said my mistress. 
 
 "Amen! ma'am! to a better and eventually to an eternal 
 life through Christ's merits." He bent his head in silence 
 whilst a man might count five. "We lay in one room for weeks, 
 having the best care and skill that money and an excellent 
 heart could supply. I, tho' shot high up in the thigh, made the 
 better recovery. My poor friend for we have been friends 
 from that hour suffered torments with his knee, and I, lying 
 and seeing his misery, suffered too, as was right and but after 
 my desert. " 
 
 "And I trust under Providence, my friend, that the dis- 
 cipline was blest to you both, " said my mistress. 
 
 "I trust so, ma'am, but can speak the better for myself. 
 Those two months made another man of me; not all at once, 
 indeed, but I had received somewhat into my system beside 
 the ball, something that left a distaste to what I had relished, 
 and a relish for what I had despised, and at length drew me 
 from the bar to the church. And here you have me as your 
 vicar, and, if I may make my heart's intentions plain at a first 
 introduction, your good friend, if you will permit me, for 
 what I owe to your society is more than I can repay." 
 
 [219]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF 
 
 The lady's look was sufficient assent. 
 
 "And the poor young counsel ?" asked Miss Phoebe. 
 
 "Ah, 'twas a sad set-back for him in his profession, and 
 fell at a time when he could ill afford it, for his family had been 
 brought to poverty by the practice of some wealthier relations. 
 But, such was his heart, my dear young lady, and such were 
 his parts, that there was no keeping him from the front, and 
 he was soon known as the best stuff gown on the circuit, and 
 might have taken silk two or three years before he did, had he 
 thought it prudent to drop so much practice as the change 
 might entail. Oh, he is knighted years since, and upon the 
 bench and a great man. You will have heard of Sir Algernon 
 Maskelyne-Fanshawe. " 
 
 Yes, the ladies had heard of that eminent person. Had he not 
 rid the northern circuit the previous autumn ? His masterly 
 charge to the grand jury at the York Assizes was still in all 
 mouths, it had even reached the ears of Miss Phoebe. I ex- 
 perienced a twinge of fool's jealousy: here again, as at Ouseby, 
 the only Fanshawe known was the junior branch. My father, 
 the head of his race, with his public services, name and titles, 
 was overshadowed and belittled by the genius of this new 
 man, a mere puisne judge with a fire-new knighthood. 
 
 Aye, but what a man! The cold, clear-cut face of this distant 
 kinsman came up before me as I sate; I had seen it but twice, 
 once beside the road at Huntingdon as he rode to his court- 
 house behind his javelin-men, and again, more recently, in a 
 glare of linklights and a wetness of fog upon that memorable 
 night in York City. 
 
 ]220]
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
 THE LIFTING OF THE CLOUD 
 
 A SPELL of quiet weather followed this storm, during 
 which, with failing water and a low stock of wheat, 
 we ran the mill upon half-time and awaited our 
 masters' return. 
 
 During these quiet days the cloud settled down closely 
 upon my spirit, and once more I was persuaded that the Divine 
 pity was not for me, and this time the precise cause of my 
 reprobation seemed evident. 
 
 You may know that there are certain Scriptures which refer 
 to "a sin which is unto death," for which prayer itself, it 
 is to be supposed, is unavailing; also a sin against the Holy 
 Ghost, for which there is neither forgiveness in this world 
 nor in that which is to come. 
 
 These appalling texts, about which theologians have dis- 
 puted of old, and will dispute, I suppose, until interrupted 
 by the crack of doom, have exercised a baleful influence upon 
 humanity; for whereas no blasphemous rake, that ever I heard 
 tell of, has given them a thought, they have preyed like can- 
 cers upon the imaginations of some of the holiest and most 
 innocent of mankind, of which the fate of that scholarly saint 
 and ingenious poet, Mr. William Cowper, is an instance. 
 
 My life, though neither holy nor innocent, had been cer- 
 
 [221]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 tainly no worse than that of my fellows, save in one particular. 
 When a lower boy at Eton I had been led aside by an evil young- 
 ster and made to repeat after him some abracadabra of wicked- 
 ness which, when I had done, the imp assured me was a curse 
 against the Holy Ghost which could never be forgiven. This 
 childish naughtiness, which troubled me but little at the time, 
 and had lain for years clean forgotten, now cast up against me 
 like a nine-days drowned corpse and stared me down. 
 
 If ever any repented I did. Neither tears nor prayers did I 
 spare when the fit was upon me. But to confess seemed im- 
 possible, and to what purpose ? No counsellor could arrest 
 the wheels of judgment; my sentence stood. To own my guilt 
 would have led ( as I thought ) to my being driven from 
 among men, a lost soul, self-condemned, branded as with the 
 sign of Cain. Nor could I endure to think upon the distress 
 this disclosure would cause to my little mistress and her family. 
 For her sake and theirs I determined to keep a calm face to- 
 ward the world to my last breath. 
 
 So I bore my misery as best I might, but not unmarked 
 by my gentle master. Once and again Mr. Ellwood looked upon 
 me, giving me the chance of opening my mind to him, and when 
 I withheld my confidence, ceased not his kindness nor changed 
 his manner to me at all. 
 
 Once upon a day when my countenance must have shown my 
 inward wretchedness, he called me to him in the garden and 
 showed me his watch, " 'Tis an old friend, George, and has 
 long been faithful, but is ailing from some little jar or in- 
 trusion ( and the dust of our trade is hard upon a watch, as 
 thou knows ). Now what wouldst thou advise ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I have no skill in watches," said I, "but there 
 is a clock-maker in Beverley whom Abel speaks well of 
 
 " But I shall not be in Beverley again this month, which entails 
 waiting. Thou wouldst not entrust it to our millwright?" 
 
 [222]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTT-SErEN 
 
 "Why, no!" I laughed, "Jowett is a good man in his own 
 line, I think, but such small work is beyond him. " 
 
 "Nor our Milton smith, George ?" 
 
 Then I laughed no more, for by his eye and voice I saw this 
 was a parable. 
 
 "When it is a delicate matter, and an inward matter, 
 and the trouble is deep-seated, it is wise to wait for the 
 right hand, eh, George ? Even though that hand may not 
 be forthcoming to-day, nor to-morrow, nor for many days, 
 eh, George ?" 
 
 I nodded: my heart being full; but this conversation sensibly 
 lifted the weight of my loneliness, for now I knew that my 
 sadness was not a matter indifferent to my friends. 
 
 That neither was it indifferent to a higher power I had 
 the best of evidence at this time but not the wit to read it. 
 Thus one day, whilst looping the running-noose of chain around 
 the neck of a sack, my thumb was caught, and the hoisting- 
 tackle running at great speed, I was unable to release myself 
 and was drawn up swiftly to the top of the building through 
 four sets of trap-doors, and there, by God's mercy, found 
 alive, nor was my thumb the worse for its ill-usage. 
 
 When I considered that the traps were made no bigger than 
 conveniently to permit the passage of a sack, and that I, 
 clinging to this sack, had passed four in almost as many sec- 
 onds without breaking my skull or tearing away my thumb, I 
 was for the moment impressed with a sense of Divine protec- 
 tion, but, block that I was, presently lost it again. 
 
 Now at that time there was a custom among the Quakers 
 for some of their preachers, both men and women, to pay what 
 were called " religious visits." Thus, a minister residing ( let 
 us say) at Cirencester would " feel it upon his heart " to visit 
 Friends in Northumberland, not only to preach in their meet- 
 ing-houses, but also to stop a night here, and to pay a call 
 
 [ 223 ]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 there, in the homes of the Friends of that neighbourhood 
 for prayer and edification. 
 
 This simple missionary method was justified by results, 
 the traveller being the guest of different pious householders 
 in turn, and sharing in the family life of those to whom he 
 had felt drawn to minister. 
 
 Under these circumstances his ministry ( preaching ) would 
 often be extremely penetrating and effectual; most of these 
 itinerant missioners ( both men and women ) being persons of 
 experience and insight, and combining wisdom with simplicity. 
 
 In this connection I could relate curious incidents of spiritual 
 discernment of things kept secret, and the alleviation of hidden 
 needs almost surpassing belief, yet as well attested as the most 
 ordinary fact, but will confine myself to the personal experience 
 which follows. 
 
 It seems that a certain Friend travelling with a letter of 
 introduction, or, as Friends would say "with a minute" from 
 some meeting near Hitchin, was to pay his visit to the Ellwood 
 household upon a certain day in June, all of which, if I had been 
 told, I had forgotten, and was at work in the mill when I thought 
 I heard my master's voice call me without, and, leaving my 
 sack upon the hooks ( for I was emptying the troughs ) 
 crossed the yard and ran up the garden, dusty as I was, striking 
 the meal from my bare arms, and, as afterwards appeared, 
 missing a messenger from the house who was seeking me in the 
 office. Seeing no one, I approached the porch, and thence a 
 voice, not my master's, reached my ear, speaking from the par- 
 lour. Entering the hall I found the whole family gathered as 
 at a meeting or service, and, being still under the impression 
 that I was wanted, drew near to the open door, going tiptoe, 
 with head bent and silently in my list slippers. Now a folding- 
 screen stood inside the door of that room and a stool behind it, 
 to which Abel, who sat just within, motioned me and presently 
 
 [224]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTT-SErEN 
 
 the voice of the speaker was hushed. That my coming was seen 
 by him was impossible, nor do I consider it in any degree likely 
 that he heard me enter. 
 
 I had so far gathered nothing of his address, nor knew 
 his name or person. During the silence which now fell upon 
 the assembly my cloud darkened upon me, and I was bowed to- 
 gether as by an unendurable burden of apprehension of the 
 judgment to come. As I sat thus, the sweat starting upon me 
 and my hands clenched as if by a convulsion, and I too cast 
 down and hopeless even to put up my usual prayer, "Enter 
 not into judgment with Thy servant!" the preacher rose and 
 broke the deep and terrible silence with these words : "Let the 
 wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thought, 
 and let him turn unto the Lord and He will have mercy upon him, 
 and to our God and He will abundantly pardon." 
 
 What more he would have said, or whether this was the 
 extent of his message I know not, for something cracked 
 within me and my burden fell; light broke in, and my cloud 
 parted. I sprang to my full height and, being tall, saw over 
 the top of the screen the face of the Quaker who had coun- 
 selled me upon the coach at Huntingdon. Our eyes met and 
 he read in mine the fulfillment of his concern for that house- 
 hold. No word was said by him or any other; for all that 
 appeared in my master's face, this might have been by his 
 arrangement and the most natural thing in the world. The 
 preacher rose and, moving around the screen, took me in si- 
 lence by the hand and led me forth to the garden. 
 
 I have been told that at his first rising he was sensible 
 that all the household was not present, and further that the 
 one who was absent was he to whom he was sent, and that pres- 
 ently he felt his lips opened and that when my face appeared 
 above the screen he knew within himself that his work there 
 was accomplished, 
 
 [225]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 He led me to a little summer-house at the end of a pleached 
 alley, all overgrown with jasmine and monthly rose. Here 
 I told him of the loosening of my spiritual burden, sitting at 
 times and at times pacing back and forth ( for I was as one 
 released from leg-irons, to whom each step is as a leap, and who 
 seems to go on feathers). 
 
 Ah, the gentleness of this good man, and his patience toward 
 me a stranger! For hours we sat or walked there. Once my 
 little mistress appeared shyly to bid us to a meal, but he, smiling, 
 waved her away. Later she returned with a tray set with bread, 
 cheese and beer, and what we partook of together was to me 
 as some divine manna, and all the choirs of heaven sang in 
 those garden bushes. 
 
 "Mr. Penington," said I, for this was his name, "you told 
 me my future once, and it has come true to a marvel. Have you 
 any light upon my next road ? " 
 
 'Twas by no wisdom of my own that I spoke then as I did, " 
 said he, looking upon me steadily with his clear, grave, kindly 
 eyes. "No, my friend, thy times are in His hand, but I make 
 no doubt that having moulded and fashioned and tempered 
 His tool He will presently use it. " 
 
 "Me ?" I whispered. "What can / do ?" 
 
 "That will be shewn thee, my son; but it will be something, 
 if I mistake not, which 7 could not do. Only be willing and 
 faithful to the Inner Light. " 
 
 "And now," he resumed after a pause, still holding my hand, 
 " is there no first step ? Thy heart overflows with joy, thou 
 wouldst offer thy love, thyself, and the work of thy hands to 
 Him who bought thee; but thou knowest the Scripture 
 'First be reconciled to thy brother, then go and offer thy gift. 
 Is it so with thee ? a pardon to seek or to grant somewhere ? " 
 
 "Phoebe," said I that evening as we sat in the summer- 
 house, she sewing and I empty-handed, for I was never too fond 
 
 [226]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTT-SEFEN 
 
 of my book, " suppose you had quarrelled with your father and 
 mother " her face lightened with inward amusement; "sup- 
 pose, I say, and yes had run away from home " 
 
 "Well, George, it isn't easy to suppose, but go on." 
 
 "And after a year and a half you thought better of it *' 
 
 "Or worse of myself?" 
 
 " Both, Phoebe, better, far better of them, and worse, much 
 worse of myself; that is just my case; and I want to know how 
 to begin my letter. How would you start ? " 
 
 She had laid down her seam and was looking upon me with 
 great, sorrowful eyes of wonder and reproach. 
 
 "Oh, George! dear George! how could thee? Not one 
 letter all these eighteen months ? " 
 
 "None from them. I wrote six times at first, but there were 
 no answers none; and so I grew sullen, Phoebe, and have 
 writ no more; not even to my mother. " I hung my head. 
 
 " Poor, poor mother! O, let us write to-night; I will fetch pen 
 and paper and we will do it here. " 
 
 There was a great oak-stool in that summer-house bedded in 
 the earth and levelled to the height of a table, and theron 
 we hammered my letter out, and when it was done to her liking 
 I fetched my father's frank and copied it all fairly, and slept 
 that night with the last of my load lifted off my conscience. 
 
 (227]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 AN ADVENTURE AND NEWS 
 
 WHETHER the new penny post is destined to be all 
 that public advantage which the pertinacious and 
 persuasive Mr. Hill protests, my young relatives 
 may live to see, and I shall refrain from prophesying. 
 
 It is certainly already a considerable private convenience 
 to persons of small incomes, but until the common people have 
 been taught to read and write can hardly be much gain to 
 the poor. 
 
 In the year 1799 the writing of a letter was still an accom- 
 plishment and the getting it posted something of an event. 
 Letters between the North of England and the South were 
 few because expensive, and, being so costly, those franked by 
 members of either House of Parliament were closely scru- 
 tinised. The forgery of a frank was the commonest of frauds 
 because the easiest to effect and the most difficult to trace. 
 
 My young mistress, to whom alone I had confided my family, 
 was impatient to see the despatch of our joint handiwork, 
 and must accompany me to the postmaster's office, a public 
 institution rare in country places, and which Milton-on- 
 Derwent owed to I know not what, for the business it did was 
 of the lightest. 
 
 I have said that the postmaster was vicar's churchwarden. 
 
 [228]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 Since his rebuff in the matter of the distraint the man had 
 borne me no love. When we entered his den he was spelling 
 through a month-old gazette to his brother the constable, who, 
 seeing me, regarded us sourly, and lent his ear again to the 
 reader. The half-sheet with the foreign intelligence lay upon 
 the counter. I remember that it told of Massena's retreat before 
 the Austrians and the battle of Zurich, matters too far afield 
 for these clodpoles who were engrossed in doings nearer home. 
 
 "Wha-at?" growled the constable," They've robbed t' 
 mail again?" 
 
 "Aye, laad, nigh-hand to Doncaster this time. And 'tis Sam 
 Smith, as usual. Heark to this, now, 'One hoonderd guineas 
 reward.' Eh, but a would laike fine to tooch t'brass!" he stum- 
 bled through the printed description of the thief and re- 
 sumed his comment: "Mooch t'saame as before, tha hears; 
 Quaaker hat and coat and all; a wee, fond-luiking, thin-faaced, 
 shotten herring of a feller a mun be to luik at. Wheer has we 
 seen sooch ? eh, Eli ?" the postmaster gloomed askance at his 
 brother, whose vacant, beery visage expressed small intelligence, 
 stubbly chin, blubber lip and piggy eye leering at my little 
 mistress. The reader keeping a dirty finger upon the line fol- 
 lowed the glance; some gleam of malicious understanding passed 
 between the pair. 
 
 Since neither stirred to attend to our business I civilly in- 
 terposed by asking the elder Proctor to take charge of the letter, 
 which he did, weighing it in hand and examining it before a 
 a candle for enclosures. " 'Twill be seven-and-six at t'other 
 end," quoth he. "Not so," said I, "d'ye not see the frank ?" 
 He grunted, replaced his spectacles, and again held the letter 
 to the light, and indeed the cover had grown soiled and creased 
 in its travels, and my father's signature was small and fine. 
 
 "Blakenham, that's B," said he, and reached himself down 
 a reference-book of autographs issued to postmasters. His 
 
 [229]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 brother leaned upon his shoulder, they whispered, and the con- 
 stable turning laid a heavy hand upon my collar, 
 
 "Yoong shaaver, I 'rest ye for forgery i' the king's naame!" 
 
 I caught my breath; the absurdity of the thing tickled me 
 to laughter. 
 
 "Tha grins, doost tha ? Aha! thou'llt grin thro' a halter in 
 York Castle, ma laad!" 
 
 At these words my little mistress put up a low wail, "Oh, 
 George, let me fetch father!" 
 
 "Noa! stop wheer tha stands! Tak t' wench too, Eli, 
 she's art and part, I charge both!" 
 
 The constable gript the child as she fled to the door, but this 
 was beyond my bearing. I caught both his wrists and held him 
 helpless until Phoebe was well upon her way. When a few min- 
 utes later her father and brother entered they found me ironed. 
 
 The postmaster conscious of playing a great part with a 
 yet greater in prospect, magnified his office. 
 
 'Tis no sort o' use your comin' 'ere, Mr Ellwood; we've 
 got 'im at last; and now Vll 'ave to be disposed of as t'law 
 directs. 'Tis forgery, and there's an end on't. " 
 
 "O, ye can speak to him in my presence. Mebbe ye'd 
 like to be writin' 'is last dyin' speech and confession there's 
 a pen, there. . . . No; we'll not remove the irons; 
 'twas a vi'lent resistance he offered, and a desprut villain he is. 
 Ye've mooch to answer for, in my opinion, for bringin' sooch 
 into t'parish and harbourin' 'm." 
 
 "George, what is this?" 
 
 "They've arrested me for using a frank, sir, given me by my 
 father." 
 
 "How did thy father obtain it?" 
 
 "He sat down and wrote it, sir; he is the Earl of Blaken- 
 ham." 
 
 The effect of this announcement upon my employers was 
 
 [230]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 scarcely noticeable. I stood confest the son of an earl; they 
 regarded me with strong, kindly interest, but no more personal, 
 kindly and strong than if I had owned to being the son of a con- 
 vict. 
 
 With the Proctors my words worked otherwise. For a mo- 
 ment they gaped upon me with awed faces, the innate slavishness 
 of the lower class of Englishmen palsied them; had they indeed 
 bungled the affair ? Then the essential baseness of common 
 natures appeared; shifty and untrue themselves, they saw 
 shifts and untruths in everyone. The postmaster guffawed: 
 
 "Sounds loikely, Eli; see 'is 'ands!" My fingers were cer- 
 tainly unlike those of a gentleman of fashion. 
 
 "T' brass is as mooch mine as if I 'ad it 'ere!" he cried, 
 slapping his breeches pocket, and I knew he alluded to the 
 blood-money paid to informers upon conviction. 
 
 "There is a mistake somewhere, my friend," said Mr. 
 Ellwood; "thou canst not grant bail, nor can I be sworn his 
 bailsman, yet I am so convinced of this young man's innocence 
 that I will place a hundred pounds in thy hands as security 
 for his appearance if thou wilt leave thy prisoner in mine. " 
 
 But to this my captors demurred, refusing even to remove 
 my irons. Upon my way to the village lock-up I was upheld 
 by the company of Mr. Ellwood, and before the door closed 
 upon me saw Abel start to fetch the parson. 
 
 I had not grown reconciled to the irksome weight and con- 
 straint of the manacles when the key groaned in the lock, and 
 I was had out to the open air and down street to the post- 
 office. My young master's gig was beside the road with a 
 lathered beast between the shafts; three tall saddle-horses 
 stood in the shade of the church limes in charge of a liveried 
 man whose back seemed familiar to me. 
 
 The small, dingy room was overfull for so warm a day. 
 Mr. Sinclair and his brother magistrate, a fine red-faced 
 
 [231]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 young man, still under thirty, were seated; the rest of us stood: 
 half the village gaped in the street without; the Ellwoods were 
 alone admitted and the door shut. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair nodded to me and I returned his courtesy. 
 "Take off those things, Master Constable, " said he. 
 
 "Sir, he offered vi'lent resistance," objected Elihu. 
 
 "To his own arrest, or to your rudeness to a lady ? Off with 
 them, sirrah! 'Twill be time enough to chain him when we 
 have committed him. What is the charge, Mr. Postmaster ? " 
 
 Both gentlemen listened with concentrated attention; the 
 younger spoke, 
 
 "And now, Mr. Fanshawe, if that be your name, tell us 
 the history of this frank of yours. " 
 
 I told it but lamely, I doubt, being nervously anxious to tell 
 the exact truth. He nursed the postmaster's book upon his 
 knee and passed it to his companion. "Not the faintest resem- 
 blance; 'tis not a case of a good quill or a bad, of glazed paper 
 or cartridge, " said he in chagrin. 
 
 "May I see that book, sir ?" said I. 
 
 He placed it in my hands, ignoring the hasty and half- 
 checked intervention of the postmaster. 
 
 " But, this is not my father's hand ! " I cried. 
 'Tis Lord Blakenham's, anyway, sir." 
 
 "Not a bit of it; 'tis Bramford's, my brother's. " 
 
 "Bramford? who is Bramford ?" asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 "Courtesy title," said his friend; then to me, suddenly, "Who 
 was your dame ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Stokes, "said I. 
 
 "What house?" said he. 
 
 "Glassdale's, " I replied as promptly. 
 
 "Good; I fagged Bramford; do you remember me?" 
 
 "N No, but you must be 'Old Mandy;' I forget your proper 
 name, but I remember your ticking Bramford for nailing all my 
 
 [232]
 
 CHAPTER T JTENTT-EIGHT 
 
 sock the first day I came up. You left at the end of my first 
 half-term, didn't you ?" 
 
 "I dare say I did, but I've clean forgotten you. I think 
 he's all right, Sinclair. Wait a bit, though. You say you are a 
 Fanshawe; what's your blazon?" 
 
 "Barry of eight, erminois and gules, is our coat," said I, but 
 my father bears the Bluebottles in pretence, for my mother is 
 heiress of the Chorleys, ye know. " 
 
 "I don't; but I dare say you are right. You are a gentleman, 
 anyhow. Now, how the devil did you get hold of this amazing 
 frank of my old fag's ? " 
 
 "Sir! you never fagged my father! He wrote it; I saw him 
 write it. Do you think I should address a letter to my mother, 
 to Lady Blakenham, with a forgery of my lord's name on the 
 cover ? " 
 
 He gazed upon me with an air of friendly puzzlement, and 
 "Fellow!" says he to the constable, a stout man, and full of 
 beer, "your leathers stink damnably; 'twould turn the stomach 
 of a polecat! Open that door, man, and stand outside!" 
 
 "Hulloa!" he cried, as a better light fell upon me from with- 
 out, "Why, as I live, 'tis the man that saved my master stag! 
 Forger be d d!" says he, "I'd not believe it of him, tho' 
 I saw him do it! See here, Sinclair, this is an old Eton man; 
 he can get a spent horse over the pewyest line in the riding, 
 and whip hounds off a stag that is cast better than I could 
 myself, and heaven forgive me! I know no higher praise! 
 What! hang this man for forging a pitiful frank? I'll write 
 him as many as he will. Give me a pen, sirrah!" 
 
 "Now, for heaven's sake, my dear Mandeville, leave this 
 to me!" laughed the parson, hugely diverted. "I am as hard 
 to convince of this young gentleman's guilt as yourself, and 
 make as little doubt but that he can explain everything; 
 na'theless, explain it he must, for we are set here as justices, 
 
 [233]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 and must hold an even scale; yes, to old schoolmates and 
 good men over a country." 
 
 "Why, of course, that is right enough!" growled Lord 
 Mandeville (.for this was he), forcing his fists deep into his 
 breeches pockets. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Fanshawe," the parson turned to me with a 
 mingling of kindness and firmness, "We have reached to this; 
 we find you passing a frank which is certainly none of Lord 
 Blakenham's; yet you persist you had it from the earl, and that 
 he is your brother " 
 
 "My father, sir!" 
 
 "Are there two peerages in the family? A moment," he 
 turned to his colleague, "D'ye know when the present earl 
 succeeded ? " 
 
 " A twelvemonth or more, " said he. 
 
 "Sir," said the parson, "since when have you left your 
 home ? or had news of your people ? Is it possible that you 
 are unapprised of the death of your father ?" 
 
 I stood as one bewildered; the possibility of such a calamity 
 having never entered my head, fool that I was. 
 
 My Lord Mandeville, looking fixedly upon me to see how I 
 took the news, grunted, called for a pen and scrawled his 
 frank across my letter. 
 
 " Let that go, Master Postman, by the next mail. Her lady- 
 ship will be pleased to hear from you, sir. Constable, you there! 
 case dismissed; and hark ye, sirrah! handle the next gentleman 
 ye come across differently. . . . And, see here, Mr. 
 Fanshawe, whether ye wait for your answer or would set off 
 at once, I should esteem it an honour to in short, sir, look 
 upon me as your banker. " 
 
 He gript my hand, an action which clinched the half-driven 
 conviction of the slow-witted fellows, place-men both. We 
 passed the door together and stood, I silent and full of whirling 
 
 [234]
 
 CHAPTER r WENT Y -EIGHT 
 
 thoughts, regrets, wonderments; he prattling of Eton and old 
 names and between-while bawling for his horse. The groom 
 led it up, parting the crowd, but in place of holding bit and 
 off stirrup in customary style, stood gaping and grinning upon 
 me, clicking his heels together and saluting, too, in soldierly 
 wise! It was Hymus, my faithful Hymus, in the Mandeville 
 livery, smug, rosy, and in good liking, bright of eye and brim- 
 ming with the civil self-respect which follows appreciated 
 service, a different object from the cowed, half-starved king's 
 trooper that I had known. 
 
 "Hay, Hymus; and what d'ye know of this gentleman? 
 speak up, man! Sinclair, I say! d'ye see my man here is 
 prepared with testimony to character ? Ha! ha!" 
 
 "Why, yes, m'lord, ye may say all that and more. This 
 here gene'lman be Mr. George Fanshawe, Cap'n Fanshawe, 
 my old cap'n, m'lord, and the best friend and kindest master 
 as ever a poor soul had. " 
 
 1235]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 ON MY HOME-COMING 
 
 I STOOD in the porch of Bramford Church one after- 
 noon in June, having left my horse at the Angel 
 to bait. I had ridden past the park gates, for my 
 lady would be at her dower-house at Sproughton, two miles 
 beyond, and with Blakenham in town there was nought 
 at the Hall to detain me from her; nor anything in our village 
 that I cared to see that day, save my father's tomb, to which 
 filial respect demanded a visit. 
 
 My mother would not approve my neglecting it, even to 
 press on to herself. 
 
 By the chances of the road I had met not a soul whom I 
 knew, though to be sure, at a bridle-path's end between 
 Needham and Claydon I had seen the back of a lady riding 
 quickly, and, despite the thick white dust, had felt sure that I 
 had just missed encountering the Marquise de la Rochemesnil. 
 At another time my heart had beaten at the thought of meeting 
 Lucille, and my old friend would have been pleased enough 
 to have seen me, a holloa would have stayed her, but my first 
 greeting was due to my mother. 
 
 I had followed the mill lane at the back of the hamlet, 
 had listened to the rumble of the stones from within the dusty 
 door with instructed ears. All seemed small, but otherwise my 
 
 [236]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 unaltered. I experienced an unreasonable surprise that months 
 of absence had wrought so few amendments. But it was I 
 that had changed. 
 
 The hay being about, and all the place in the hay, I had not 
 happened upon a soul, and lifting the church latch, uncovered 
 and entered the cool, hollow old place very much at my ease. 
 
 It was strange to think of him lying there, but, force my 
 feeling how I would, and chasten my impiety as soundly as it 
 deserved, the fact remained that I was made thoughtful, specu- 
 lative perhaps, but hardly saddened by my loss [ and now at 
 the close of a long life, during which, as I trust, I have displayed 
 some heart and right feeling, I can still find excuses for my in- 
 sensibility. 1858 ]. 
 
 My father had taken little pleasure in my infancy. Bram- 
 ford, as heir to the title, had engrossed his solicitude, and in 
 him his hopes had centred. 
 
 My lord was of Mr. Pitt's following, a Parliament man, 
 full and busy, with ambitions for himself and his race. He 
 lived a life for the most part away from his estates, which 
 left him small leisure to cultivate the acquaintance of a dull 
 gawk of a country lad with whom he had scarce a taste or idea 
 in common. Of my two-and-twenty years how much, or how 
 little ( I marvelled ), had I spent in his company ? And this 
 being so, and a child so far resembling a money-box that one 
 cannot reasonably expect to take out of it what one has not put 
 in, my lord having never discovered an especial affection for 
 me whilst he lived, got no tears from me when dead. 
 
 Our little church stands well, a bend of the Gipping stream 
 curving around its acre at the chancel end. Built wide of the 
 village, meadows come close to the grave-yard wall. As I stood 
 beneath the oaken roof-beams, I could hear the scythes in the 
 grass and cheery calls and laughter of man and lass; could 
 hear, too, the faint screams of swifts wheeling far aloft as 
 
 [237]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF 
 
 their flight is in fair weather. The air without hummed with 
 bees, for the sexton's hives were busy. All was life and ser- 
 vice, warmth and lustihood, and I, myself, a hale young 
 fellow, no longer to be misjudged and kept in the shade, 
 but ( as I hoped ) with a place kept for me and my work 
 before me. 
 
 From the brick-floor of the nave I could see, despite the 
 intervening rood-screen, that Blakenham had not been un- 
 mindful of his duty. The chancel is full of Fanshawe monu- 
 ments, and its floor paved with our brasses; but I knew of a 
 blank space on the south wall, and this was sheeted. Trestles 
 and ladders and mason's litter lay about; the work was in hand; 
 the man had left for the day. I touched the sheet, reverently, 
 I believe, but without a pang; it was ill secured and slipt to 
 my feet, revealing the unfinished monument, white from the 
 chisel. My younger relations know it well, yellower now with 
 the dust of years, my lord and father's bust in wig and coronet, 
 crowned with bays by the Genius of Civil Liberty, while Fame 
 sounds her trumpet, and Religion points the beholder to the 
 skies. At the foot of this classical composition, weeping cher- 
 ubs support a pair of escutcheons, then uncharged. The en- 
 tablature beneath bears a long inscription in Latin on which 
 the engraver was still at work. 
 
 Beginning at the titles and honours, I worked downward line 
 by line with some success to the last of his afternoon's cutting 
 ft uxor ejus. The three words brought my heart to a stand 
 with so horrid a shock that I can still, and shall ever, remember 
 it with a sense of sickness. I stared, but the atrocious lettering 
 out-faced me; there it stood, fresh cut as the mason's chisel 
 had left it an hour earlier. Was there no one nothing to tell 
 me then and instantly what it meant who had dared by 
 whose preposterous blunder this thing had been done ? 
 
 A step sounded in the porch; I turned to see the vicar ap- 
 
 [238]
 
 CHAPTER TFTENTT-NINE 
 
 preaching. He came with outstretched hands and a face of 
 honest, worldly commiseration. We had always understood 
 one another. 
 
 "Eh, my dear lad!" cried he, more loudly than a layman 
 would have spoken in a church, " 'tis a monstrous sad business, 
 this. Yes, I buried 'em both. You've heard the particulars ?" 
 
 "Not a syllable, sir. But 'tis impossible. I mean, it cannot be!" 
 
 He looked me over with head aslant, fingering a nervous lip. 
 No man hated a scene more cordially than did the Rev. Jack 
 Bellasis. 
 
 "Why yes, George; life's a bubble, ye know. We must all 
 pay the debt of nature " 
 
 "My lord? yes, I know; I heard of it in Yorkshire: it 
 brought me home " 
 
 "Gout in the head, George, there's nothing known for it; 
 we must all " 
 
 " But you'll not tell me that my mother "I stopt, 
 my eyes pressed the question my tongue refused to frame. 
 
 He nodded slowly and jerked his thumb towards the hatch- 
 ments in the dusk of the roof over our heads. There was my 
 father's coat, and fixed beside it the square, uncrested escut- 
 cheon of a female heiress with the Chorley bearings, a line 
 now extinct in the person of its last representative. 
 
 "But but I've not seen her yet; I've come home on pur- 
 pose " 
 
 " Ye're too late, my lad too late inscrutable decree of 
 Providence; common lot of man, ye know. We must all " 
 
 I stamped, "Then all I can say is I can't and won't stand it!" 
 
 He shrugged a shoulder. "Permit me to enquire what ye 
 propose to do ? " 
 
 "Mr. Bellasis! is this all you can say? Is is your office 
 good for no more than this ? Do something man ! " I shook 
 my whip at the epitaph. 
 
 [239]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 *'Et uxor ejus ?" He nodded gloomily. 
 
 "But oh! this is all a mistake, come, now, I say. That 
 damned thing can't be allowed to " I stopt again; the 
 horrid pain of it, the wrench, the sudden insupportable agony 
 unmanned me. One minute earlier the sense of her nearness had 
 been so vivid, so pleasant, and the tones of her voice and the 
 lines and movement of her smile. All the warmth and mother- 
 hood for which I had hungered the more keenly the nearer I 
 rode; all the delights and endearments of reconciliation, 
 renewals of affection, all all and for ever gone! 
 
 My stubborn, bitter pride was punished indeed. The sense 
 of my outrageous folly and wickedness poured upon me molten 
 and fierce, and the quarrel that would never be made up, the 
 injury that could never be atoned, the pardon which could never 
 be asked nor granted. 
 
 He took me by the arm and led me forth, and to the vicarage, 
 still raving. The tears had yet to come. 
 
 My father, as he intimated, had been struck suddenly by 
 his family malady, surviving by a week my mother, who, travel- 
 ling to town to nurse him, perished in the overturning of her 
 coach near Colchester. 
 
 Long we sate and late, and this, or my riding, or the man's 
 excellent old wine, secured me a night's rest. He had sent for 
 my saddle-bags and must needs put me up. 
 
 I awoke early with a weight of undefined sorrow lying 
 heavily upon my mind, and for a while lay still and dared not 
 ask myself why I felt so low. But the bitter truth would take 
 no denial; I must arouse and face it, so drest and went forth 
 in the cool white light of early morn for a plunge in the pool 
 below the lock, and later to breakfast with such face as I 
 could manage. 
 
 Says the parson to me as we sate at the board with our 
 breakfast beer before us, and the scents of mown grass blown 
 
 [240]
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 in about the room. "You must to town at once; Blakenham 
 will expect it of you; he is the head of your house now, and 
 decency enjoins your paying your respects to him as soon as 
 may be. " 
 
 I glanced up from my ham and bread with a questioning eye. 
 
 "The Marquise will be still at the dower-house ?" 
 
 "Why, yes, and with every appearance of remaining as 
 things stand. " 
 
 "Is she so hopelessly single then? Is she still indifferent 
 to my brother ? I'll swear he is still faithful to her; 'tis a stub- 
 born piece, is Bramford!" 
 
 The vicar nodded assent. "Never hotter than since he be- 
 came his own master, and my lady never colder. Says she, 
 'Mounzeer' (you may know their lingo, I can't lay my 
 tongue to't ), 'Mounzeer,' says she, 'if I were free you are not to 
 my goo; if ever I am led to the altar it shall be by neither a 
 jacket nor a corney ( that's a dice-box, ye know ). " 
 
 "That was a facer for Bramford; I'll be sworn he took it 
 ill," said I maliciously. 
 
 "He took it most particularly well, George, and kissed her 
 hand, and bowed himself to the door as a gentleman should. He 
 will have her yet, and I shall live to publish the banns; my 
 word on't, I know a woman!" He looked me up and down with 
 conviction, and resumed : "O, there are worse men than Bramf 
 Blakenham, I would say. He has borne his disappoint- 
 ment well; fairly well. There's no gainsaying he was made a 
 fool of, and feels it. No, I'll say no word in his dispraise, save as 
 to his stud. To part with Roysterer was a sin, George! He never 
 did know a running-horse, and. never will; but he sets more 
 store by the word of a macaroni, some damned fool ( may 
 God forgive me! ) of a Frenchified town beau called Vyze 
 than by the advice of his oldest friend. And what's the upshot ? 
 Well, ye'll hear soon enough. " He paused, biting upon the 
 
 [241]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 bitter cud of some disappointment, and began again: 
 "What he will make of yesterday's piece of work, the Lord He 
 knows!" 
 
 "Eh ? what, vicar ? I don't take ye." 
 
 He smiled a worldly, old man's smile. 
 
 "Ye were taken for dead, and not unreasonably, and your 
 return from the shades will make all the difference to Bramf 
 Blakenham and some others, as I hear! But, there! not another 
 word shall ye get from me! 'Tis no affair of mine. Get you to my 
 lady's lawyers yours now. " 
 
 "Don't know 'em." 
 
 "You've seen their advertisement?" 
 
 "Not a line. I didn't know anyone wanted me. Nobody wrote. 
 Who ?When?" 
 
 He slapt his knee. "God Almighty, what a fool! Did ye 
 never see the News?" 
 
 "Never; you know I read nothing, and have lived much re- 
 tired." 
 
 He had left his seat, and was searching the dusty heaps 
 of printed stuff, folios, broadsides, cartridge-paper and fly- 
 books which littered his bachelor room. "See here, the value 
 they set upon ye: Two Hundred Guineas Reward ! Follows your 
 description, out of date now, for begad, George, ye're twice the 
 fellow ye were when ye left us. Turn the women's heads if 
 ye will ( and as ye will, poor souls! ) but keep your own, dear 
 lad, and settle early or 'tis all up with Fanshawe! Ah, here's 
 the address at foot: Lawrie, Biddulph and Linklater, 90 
 Southampton Row. Biddulph is your man. I've met him at the 
 Hall on her ladyship's business; a civil little fellow and shrewd; 
 good manners, too, for the lower branch. Send for him to your 
 lodging in town." 
 
 I laughed. "Would he come? Could I make it worth his 
 while if he did ? I'm a beggar, vicar, or to speak by the book, 
 
 [242]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 a common fellow who has earned his bread for a year past. 
 Look at my hands." 
 
 He looked the other way with an expression of restrained 
 disgust, as though my remark had been in some way offensive 
 to good taste. 
 
 "Ye shall tell me your story another day, dear lad; but 
 that's at an end. Get along to Biddulph and claim your in- 
 heritance; 'tis worth a journey ( and a Jew's eye ), and as 
 ye'll need travelling money " he rose and unlocked a bureau. 
 
 [243]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 I COME INTO MY INHERITANCE 
 
 MY Lord Blakenham was at home ? Yes. The younger 
 lackey looked to the elder for guidance, both re- 
 garded me with veiled insolence. Something was 
 wrong. I repeated my name, they shook incredulous heads; 
 certainly they had heard of Mr. Fanshawe, the late Honourable 
 George: I did not reckon to be he, did I ? Both men were 
 strangers to me. 
 
 "See here, my men," said I, very civilly, "I have no cards, 
 for I am but now home from travelling; be good enough to take 
 my name to my lord, and say that his brother waits. " 
 
 They considered my demand behind the door; the younger 
 sauntered off yawning, and was presently back with one whom 
 I recognised as Bramford's valet on his last visit to Suffolk. 
 The fellow looked hard at me, hesitated, smirked, and bowed. I 
 was admitted with apologies and shown to the blue parlour; 
 what would I be pleased to take ? His lordship was sleeping; 
 had not rung yet, anyway. It was high noon. 
 
 "My lord's bell, Mr. Sims," said the elder lackey at the 
 door; the valet vanished. I waited twenty minutes ere he re- 
 turned with word that my lord would receive me, begged me to 
 excuse his neglige. I followed the man upstairs. 
 
 My brother and myself might be said to have been upon the 
 
 [244]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 usual brotherly terms. As a boy he had beaten me until I was 
 big enough to beat him. When older, we had commonly disa- 
 greed when we met, our father siding with him, our mother 
 with me; being neither of us vindictive in temper, we had kept 
 within bounds and were now as friendly as ever. 
 
 "Draw up that demned blind, Sims!" drawled the voice 
 I knew. "Ha, Doodles!" said he, addressing me by my 
 Eton nickname, and stopt for a fit of coughing, "So you've 
 turned up at last! I suppose I ought to say Fm monstrous 
 glad to see ye, and begad, 'tis true, but" he grinned 
 sardonically, "there's many will sigh, Doodles, and that's a 
 fact, too." 
 
 He was still in bed, propt high by pillows to ease his asthma, 
 under the enormous coronetted tent-tester, fit for a king, of the 
 best guest chamber in Old Fanshawe House, Clarges Street 
 ( sold and pulled down long since ). Never had I imagined 
 such luxury; his bed-gown and night-cap were of pale pink 
 flowered satin, which wronged a complexion already accustom- 
 ed to injuries. He looked thin and small, and was plainly in low 
 health : there were lines about his mouth that no sound man of 
 his age has a right to, and pale blue marks beneath weak and 
 watery eyes. 
 
 "Sit, man, anywhere!" Every chair was heaped with cloth- 
 ing; I turned a masquerade costume of parti-coloured silks 
 from the nearest and sat. 
 
 "Fore gad, Doodles, ye look well! strangely well! A leg 
 like a chairman, a chest like a porter, the bloom and colours 
 of a huntsman! ( But, ecod, your fortune will soon cure that! ) 
 Where the devil hast been all this time ?" 
 
 I told him shortly, withholding names, but he did not 
 listen, the lids slid down over tired eyes, he nodded and roused 
 alternately, excusing himself on the score of not having drank 
 his morning draught. 
 
 [245]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Pull that bell, Doodles!" he yawned, as I rose to go, 
 "ye'll breakfast with me." I laughed, " 'Tis past my dinner- 
 hour, but what signifies the name ? Yes!" He stared and bade 
 Sims bid them lay for two. "I'll not detain ye at my toilet, 
 Doodles; the Gentleman's Magazine and some papers should 
 lie in the morning room if my cursed people ha'nt taken 'em to 
 the servants' hall. " 
 
 A paragraph in the Times caught my eye, " Robberies on 
 the No th Road." " The audacious footpad, Samuel Smith 
 (whose depredations last autumn kept the eastern Midlands on 
 the alert) has transf rred himself to the parts between Doncaster 
 and York. The North Mail was stopt near Dring Houses on 
 We'nsday last after sunset, a horse being cast and the coach 
 overset, the guard hurt, the bags opened, and every passenger 
 robbed. The device used, viz., a rope fix'd across the road, 
 is the same as that employ'd in the robbery of Oct. 2d last 
 year when the Bath Tantivy was stopt, its driver's neck broke, 
 and a Colonel Gunn of the Swedish service and a Mr. Doggett 
 robbed on Maidenhead Thicket. On both occasions the chief 
 perpetrator was disguised as a Quaker. We understand that 
 H.M. Govt. contemplates increasing the reward ( already 
 standing at 100 ) to 200. , 
 
 "No clue has yet been discovered to the robberies of horses, 
 which alarm'd the gentry and farmers of Holderness and 
 the East Riding last year, but it is supposed that Samuel 
 Smith was concern'd in these also. The man is described as 
 of meagre figure and small stature, dark hair, pale complexion 
 and prominent features. He is said to be of such plausible 
 and insinuating address as to easily ingratiate himself in any 
 company." 
 
 A list of stolen property followed. Here was food for thought; 
 the name of the highwayman hung loose in my memory, 
 I had heard it somewhere, but, no matter, it was assuredly an 
 
 [246]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr 
 
 alias. That my old friend of the Black Swan had suffered at 
 the hands of this daring malefactor I regretted, and pictured 
 to myself how quietly he would have taken his reverse, and with 
 what pertinacious sagacity would pursue the thief. 
 
 "Fore George, Doodles! I'd give a thousand guineas 
 if I had 'em for your appetite!" He had picked at a devilled 
 bone and was playing with a kidney. "Not that ye want the 
 guineas, lucky dog!" I glanced up with my mouth full, wonder- 
 ing, "There! run and ask old Biddulph all about it! I protest 
 I am damnably rejoiced to have ye again, but 'twill be the 
 most cursed unlucky thing for some of my friends. " 
 
 He spoke of Bramford, had I seen the tomb ? heard of its 
 progress, grumbled at the cost. "I swear, brother, this coming 
 into an estate is the most notorious chouse in the world! Whilst 
 one was heir-expectant the Jews would wait. Now, they won't. '* 
 
 Having, as I conceived, no concern with my brother's em- 
 barrassments, nor understanding of his allusions to my opu- 
 lence (which I accepted as pleasantries), I presently made my 
 adieux, promising to dine with him on the next day. 
 
 My appearance at No. 90, Southampton Row, created some- 
 thing of a sensation. Conceiving myself and my affairs as of 
 small importance I had not writ to announce my coming, and 
 the mention of my name to a clerk in the outer office made the 
 man to jump as though I had presented a pistol. 
 
 An elderly person in black, with a brown wig, came tripping 
 from an inner room, whispering loudly, "Who ? what ? where ? " 
 peering blindly over his spectacles. 
 
 "My dear, sir! Come in, come inside!" cried he, when he 
 found me, rubbing his small, plump hands one upon the other 
 and bowing over them repeatedly like a China mandarin. There 
 were seven men engrossing in the outer room; all rose and re- 
 mained standing until I had passed. 
 
 [247J
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 As the baize door closed upon us, Mr. Biddulph (for this 
 was he) drew for me the largest and softest chair into the 
 best light, and invited me to sit. Observing that he stood, I 
 begged that no ceremony should be used, for I took these to be 
 city manners, and they irked me. Addressing him by name, for 
 I now remembered his face at Bramford, I offered him my hand, 
 which he took with every mark of profound respect. For my- 
 self, having never before spoken to one of his profession, it 
 is possible that I displayed some nervousness. 
 
 I again requested him to sit; he thanked me for the per- 
 mission, and we fell into conversation, he watching me closely 
 at the first, but presently, having satisfied himself that I was 
 indeed his client, unfolded to me my position. 
 
 This was one of the great surprises of my life. Brought 
 up by my parents in complete ignorance of business, and having 
 lived entirely in the country, I had spent little and had no 
 costly tastes, contented with the horse and gun they allowed me. 
 My tailor's bill had been paid by someone, probably by my 
 mother, but dress had no charms for me then or since. As the 
 booby of the family I had asked nothing and had been told 
 nothing, nor can I be said to have nourished expectations, for 
 a country boy thinks not of such matters, and to the day of my 
 leaving home, I was but an overgrown hobbledehoy, eating what 
 was put upon the table, little considered perhaps, but causing 
 trouble to none. 
 
 Nothing that had happened since had raised my conceit of 
 myself, nor had Blakenham's confessions of debt much moved 
 me. He had always been in debt at Eton, and had always 
 spent my allowance; he had been in debt ever since, and his 
 appearances at the Hall were connected in my memory with 
 uproars in my father's study, and acrimonious conversations 
 between my parents. 
 
 "Never! my lord!" I had once heard my mother exclaim, in 
 
 [248]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 reply to some proposal of my father's for her concurrence in 
 advancing Bramford, "I've told ye once, and tell ye again, 
 you have made a rod for your own back, but it shall not fall 
 on mine!" 
 
 In a general manner I had supposed that such were the ways 
 of eldest sons, and had vaguely speculated upon how much, or if 
 any, would be left for me. 
 
 I was now to learn what was news to me indeed. My 
 mother's property, the Chorley estates, having been settled 
 upon her and ( subject to a life-interest of my father's, now 
 lapsed ) upon the younger issue of her marriage, devolved to 
 me. The situation and extent of these properties I very im- 
 perfectly apprehended; her ladyship had never visited nor re- 
 sided upon] them; they had existed for me as names in which 
 I confest no concern. 
 
 Now all was changed. Map after map was unrolled before 
 me, pasture-lands, arables, parks, a chase, woods, mines, ham- 
 lets, boroughs. This red line meandering across was the 
 Bridgewater Canal, a fact of as little significance to my dull 
 eyes as the legend ""here is coale" appearing in so many places. 
 
 The attorney watched me poring over terriers and plans of 
 estate, which his confidential clerk laid before me, until the 
 table overflowed and the turkey carpet was hidden beneath 
 drifts of parchment. 
 
 When my curiosity failed me, and I lifted a dazed and 
 puzzled head, incapable of imbibing more at the eye, he motion- 
 ed to the man to leave us, and reseating himself, crossed his legs 
 demurely, caught my eye, and with a little preliminary cough, 
 took up his tale; and again the deference in his manner brought 
 home to me that in some way, which I had yet to realise, I 
 had become a personage. 
 
 "Is it possible, sir pardon the question but am I cor- 
 rect in assuming that your inheritance is a surprise to you ?" 
 
 [249]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 Two hundred a year would have contented me, and I said so. 
 
 He removed and polished his glasses, keeping his eyes 
 closed meanwhile to such an incredible insensibility. He was 
 wound up, and willing to be my instructor in this new and 
 tremendous business of territorial magnate, but my obtuseness 
 checked him, he knew not where to begin. 
 
 He came at length with a rush. "Sir, ye are the patron of 
 thirty-one livings, and own two-and-a-half parliamentary bor- 
 oughs. " 
 
 "God forbid!" said I, "tell me no more to-day, at least. Tis 
 plain I shall not starve. But if ye know, and between ourselves, 
 tell me of Bramford, my brother, I mean, for indeed he seems 
 as low as ever I saw man. " 
 
 "My dear sir, we are not Lord Blakenham's agents," he 
 began circumspectly. 
 
 "No? but you are mine, and for my guidance, and the re- 
 lief of my mind, Mr. Biddulph." 
 
 "Certainly, my dear sir. " He glanced from habit at the 
 door. "You knew of the end ofFansbawe v. Fansbawe?" 
 
 I knew nothing, and now learned of the conclusion of that 
 famous suit and the decision in favour of the younger branch, 
 and the passing of the Northamptonshire estates to the Mas- 
 kelyne-Fanshawes. 
 
 I whistled. " 'Twas a knock-down blow to my father, that, 
 I fear!" 
 
 "From which he never recovered, sir. The gout flew to his 
 head and and other troubles supervening into which it is 
 now needless to enter " 
 
 "The York affair ?" I faltered, presaging the answer. 
 
 "The York affair and other matters " 
 
 "My disappearance?" 
 
 "And other matters; her ladyship's lamented death gave the 
 final blow. A noble, a patriotic life, sir; the late Earl of Blaken-
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 ham and Bramford was a pattern to his order, a pillar of the 
 State, and a faithful servant of his King : a service very inade- 
 quately recognized, in my opinion, sir, if I may venture to 
 express it." 
 
 "But about my brother's affairs, Mr. Biddulph," for he 
 was slow in coming to the point. 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "In good time sir, my remarks ( as you will presently see ) 
 are necessary preliminaries. His parents' deaths have without 
 doubt injuriously affected the present earl. The paternal estate 
 descends to him diminished in extent, and hampered with heavy 
 costs, whilst her ladyship's income ( hitherto placed practically 
 at the disposal of your father the late earl ) is alienated from 
 the title and falls to you. " 
 
 "He hinted at embarrassments," said I. 
 
 "I am not surprised. Indeed I will say more for your private 
 information, since you have desired it, that my lord's embar- 
 rassments are unfortunately likely to become a public scandal. 
 'Tis a life" he watched my face to see what I could bear 
 " painfully ill-regulated; there is no holding him. The 
 unfortunate young nobleman is in the worst hands in town, 
 and, if you will have it, a certain Mr. Horatio Vyze Beau 
 Vyze, the gentleman is commonly called, a professional game- 
 ster, duellist, and leader of the mode, is his master." 
 
 "His chief creditor, may I take it ?" 
 
 "You may, sir. 'Tis freely asserted that this person holds 
 his lordship's engagements for a vast amount, and bides his 
 time to enforce payment. They were partners in running- 
 horses at Newmarket, but I hear the stable is dispersed. 'Tis 
 play now, and we know how that must end. And that brings 
 me to a matter affecting yourself, sir; may I assume that ye 
 have not yet made a will ? " 
 
 I had never thought of such a thing. 
 
 [251]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Naturally! But, life is uncertain; a fact of which we have 
 just had melancholy evidence. Your death, intestate, would 
 place the whole of your property nominally at your brother's 
 disposal. " 
 
 "He would be welcome to it." 
 
 Mr. Biddulph paused upon his reply, sorting his words. The 
 shrewd father liness of his manner, evident sincerity and mastery 
 of the situation, increasingly prejudiced me in his favour. 
 
 "Ye will pardon me, I trust, my dear sir, if I point out 
 that such a contingency would benefit your brother very little, 
 or not at all, but would enrich the cabal of worthless persons 
 who have speculated upon it. " 
 
 "Upon my death?" 
 
 "Upon your death, sir, intestate." 
 
 "D'ye mean to tell me, Mr. Biddulph, that the man is so 
 deeply dipped that it would need this enormous property to 
 pull him through ? " I swept an eye over the wilderness of 
 parchments and awaited his answer. 
 
 "That is the result of our enquiries instituted, I need 
 hardly say, in your interests. Already the importunity of his 
 creditors is itching for your inheritance. At their instance 
 ( I must suppose ) his attorneys applied yesterday for letters of 
 administration to this estate yours. " 
 
 "They supposed me dead ?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "If 'twould help him "I began doubtfully, and stopt 
 no alternative presenting itself at the moment. 
 
 " You would leave him, as he is already, your heir-at-law, 
 but, as 'twill not help him, you will make other dispositions ?" 
 
 "Well yes," I replied, accepting his suggestion, for an 
 idea was taking shape in my head. 
 
 "Then, sir, with your permission we will take time by the 
 forelock and your instructions for your will. " 
 
 [252]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT 
 
 He touched a hand-bell, the same confidential clerk re- 
 appeared, a fat-faced, youngish man, of uncertain age, who 
 moved with as little noise as a cat, anticipating every unspoken 
 want of his master's in a manner the most extraordinary. I 
 had seen such a face before, the quick little blue eyes, the prim 
 mouth, and short snub nose beneath the high smooth forehead 
 from which the sandy hair ( for he wore his own ) was brushed 
 back and tied en queue with a bow of black riband. 
 
 "Take a note, Mr. Cotter, if you please." 
 
 "Since I must leave all this to someone," quoth I, thinking 
 aloud, "and to leave it to my only relation will do him no 
 service " 
 
 "Nine-tenths of it he would never touch, and the rest he 
 would squander in a twelvemonth," murmured Mr. Biddulph. 
 
 "Poor old Bramford! Well, then, I leave the whole of it 
 ( 'tis for you to put this into shape ) to my friend Mr. 
 Thomas Ellwood, Miller, of Milton-on-Derwent, in Yorkshire, 
 or, failing him, to his son Abel. " 
 
 Mr. Cotter's quill flew his master looked up with sur- 
 prise, plainly taken aback at my so promptly providing myself 
 with an heir. 
 
 "No legacies ?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, yes, now I think on't;" and remembering the few for 
 whom I had any regard, I named Mr. Bellasis, Mr. Simeon 
 Baxter, John Hymus, Mistress Medcalf, James, my mother's 
 old coachman ( a broken man since the accident ), and Isaac 
 Penington, Quaker, of Hitchin, adding, by a fortunate after- 
 thought, " and yourself, Mr. Biddulph, for a thousand pounds 
 apiece. " 
 
 He rose and bowed, with evident gratification. 
 
 "I thank you, sir. We will have this engrossed by the day 
 after to-morrow, and will wait upon you did ye mention 
 your hotel ? " 
 
 [253]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 "The Green Dragon in Bishopsgate Within." 
 
 He shook his head. "Not the house for a person of quality. 
 Fennell's, in Bedford Square, would be more in keeping a 
 quiet house, sound wines, good beds. I will do myself the 
 honour of recommending you to the landlord ( they admit only 
 on an introduction at Fennell's). Mr. Cotter will fetch 
 your baggage." 
 
 The clerk, who seemed a very nimble and indispensable per- 
 son, bobbed and silently withdrew. 
 
 "Invaluable servant that, Mr. Fanshawe; close as a strong- 
 box, trusty as a Bow Street runner, " murmured Mr. Biddulph 
 as the door closed, in the slightly self-conscious manner of one 
 who is aware that a capable man reflects credit upon the master 
 who trained him. I bowed with an uneasy sense that this prodigy 
 of virtue must be struggling with hourly temptation, for I had 
 not worked afield four months for nothing, and the fellow's 
 eye had a twinkle of its own, and a sly devil had peeped at me 
 from out that sleek bullet head of his. 
 
 It seemed that much remained to be done ere my fortune 
 could be legally mine. There opened before me an endless vista 
 of duties to take up and offices to assume, of which I remember 
 two, the being presented at Court and signing for my arms at 
 the Herald's College in Godliman Street. 
 
 Having placed a credit at my disposal and given me advice 
 as to a tailor, my man of business permitted me to escape, for 
 my head was in a whirl, I needed seclusion and time to turn 
 the matter over, and went forth from his office steadying my- 
 self for this monstrous change in my circumstances as a child 
 goes steadying the full cup it carries. 
 
 My new wealth helped me little at this my first need. I yearned 
 for a dry ditch-bottom, for an empty wheat-bin, the cool, re- 
 current plash of the wheel-house, for any lonely, quiet, country 
 place wherein to sit and think, and behold High Holborn! 
 
 [254]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT 
 
 Such square gardens as I essayed were locked, so were the 
 churches. Paul's and the Abbey occurred to me later. For 
 some hours I endured the streets, their moving throngs, their 
 droves of pale, sharpened faces (would they never stop?). 
 Strange, London had not thus affected me when a boy. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, my business done, and my stomach com- 
 plaining of neglect, I turned into a chop-house, I know not 
 where, found an empty box, and called timidly for a steak and a 
 tankard of porter. The place was ill-lighted, and I had no- 
 ticed no one particularly at my entering, but, looking into a 
 mirror of bevelled glass upon the wall beside me, I observed 
 the reflection of Mr. Cotter in chat with another, and remarked 
 that the eyes of both were upon me, and, indeed, that I was 
 plainly the subject of their whispered conversation. This 
 other was a fine man, well-built and of a swarthy, high com- 
 plexion and noticeable good looks; of distinguished carriage 
 and well, but plainly dressed in a style, although I then knew 
 it not, somewhat in advance of the fashion. 
 
 The man struck me as out of place and superior to his com- 
 pany, as a beau might be who had adventured city-wards for his 
 business and used for the nonce his broker's chop-house as his 
 rendezvous. That Cotter showed him the greatest deference, 
 not to say servility, was evident. 
 
 The situation piqued me, for again and again as their lips 
 moved noiselessly their eyes met mine in theglass. I, awaiting what 
 I had ordered, sat with my back to them and my face in shadow, 
 observing them at my leisure. Now Cotter was writing with the 
 stem of a pipe upon the board, the beau read frowning, clapt his 
 pocket, found a shred of paper upon which the clerk wrote afresh. 
 
 Next moment I was served, and they had risen, but pricked 
 by curiosity, I made the waiter lay for me at the table thus left 
 vacant, whereon I deciphered the words in gummy spirit 
 "Fennel? s, Bedford Sq" 
 
 [255]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "To whom are ye giving my address, master quill-driver?" 
 says I to myself. "Will this buck be for selling me trinkets 
 or horses ? We shall see. " 
 
 Later, at my lodging, I broke the seal of a packet given me by 
 Biddulph. It held letters from my parents, a round dozen, 
 chiefly from my mother, which being addressed to me as 
 "Captain," instead of being delivered to my lodging in York 
 had followed my regiment to Ireland, had been taken at Castle- 
 bar and opened by General Humbert, retaken at his surrender, 
 and returned to the addresses of the writers subsequently to 
 their deaths. 
 
 How I felt as I read these last evidences of my parents' 
 affection voices from the other side of the grave I will 
 not trust my pen to describe. The Mantuan forbids us renovare 
 dolor em. 
 
 It was night now, and warm as a midsummer night in London 
 is like to be; the closeness of my room oppressed me; leaving 
 the house, I sauntered around the square feeling sadly friend- 
 less, and had come within hail of Fennell's again when a man, 
 apparently in liquor, for he leant upon the paling, bowed to 
 me with some incoherent remark to which I saw no reason to re- 
 spond. It seemed that my reserve bred offence, for in a twinkling 
 he had drawn and run upon me. So sudden was his thrust that 
 I could in no way avoid it and felt the coldness of the steel 
 between my shirt and my ribs as the swordsman pitched into 
 my arms. Drunk or sober he was plainly not to be trifled with, 
 so, before he could disengage, I had kicked his heels from under 
 him, and pinned him with my knee face down upon the stones. 
 Fennell's night porter ran for the watch, and I saw my ruffian 
 safely bestowed in the cells at Bow Street. 
 
 Thus ended an eventful day, which seemed as I lay awake 
 in the darkness at least a week in length, such a multitude of 
 novelties, emotions and events had been crowded within its 
 
 [256]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 compass. "Another deliverance," thought I; "my fourth with- 
 in eighteen months. It seems neither bullet, water, machinery, 
 no, nor steel, can kill me, until my work is done. " 
 
 "What shall it be?" and with the question came remem- 
 brance that for three nights at least I had neglected my prayers, 
 a habit I had begun at Milton from learning by the innocent 
 conversation of my little mistress that it was hers. Down upon 
 my knees I went, and in remembering those to whom I owed 
 duty less by two, alas! since last I had prayed remem- 
 bered my poor brother, and wondered ere I slept whether in 
 any way it were possible to disentangle his coil. 
 
 [257]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 
 DINNER FOR TWO AND DESSERT 
 
 A TENDING at Bow Street next morning with my 
 witness, I learned that the bird had flown. Through 
 ignorance I had charged the fellow with assault, a 
 bailable misdemeanour. The case was called and the court 
 crier bawled the name of Peter Weekes outside, but there was 
 no appearance, and some looked foolish. 
 
 There was one who looked angry; over the bench loomed 
 the eagle face of Sir Barnes Phipps, and when he had satisfied 
 himself that his people had shown no remissness, he sent for 
 me to his private room. He was mighty displeased; seldom 
 have I seen so keen and severe a visage. 
 
 "Bail!" growled he. " 'Twas attempted murder! . . . 
 Mr. Fanshawe, I enjoyed the acquaintance of my lord your 
 father, and am glad to make yours. My people have been look- 
 ing for you for over a year. And now, sir, you may speak plainly 
 to me, for I am as much behind the scenes as any man in 
 town. Have ye an enemy?" 
 
 "Never a one in the world, sir," said I. 
 
 "I am not so sure, " said he. "You lodge at Fennell's, but 
 so do others, though few of your inches, I think. Yet the rogue 
 may have mistaken ye for another." 
 
 "He was drunk, sir," said I. 
 
 [258]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 "As I am," said he coldly. *'Know you whose hand is 
 this ? 'twas found upon him. " He showed me a creased scrap 
 with three words in pencil, Fennell's, Bedford Sq. 
 
 We were alone; the magistrate's interest in the case was 
 upon public grounds. I thought well to tell him of the meeting 
 at the chop-house and all I knew and guessed. I heard from 
 Mr. Biddulph later that the writing was Cotter's as I had 
 suspected. 
 
 "Did ye recognize this Weekes ? His name is Ganthony," 
 (I started ) "late of the unhappy Fifth. Nor do you know 
 this Horatio Vyze Beau Vyze they call the fellow who 
 bailed him out?" He gloomed upon me. "There are some 
 who have a heavy stake upon your death, Mr. Fanshawe. 
 I wish I could lock ye up for six months, for I doubt you will 
 hardly win through them with a whole skin otherwise. Hark 
 to me, for you seem a sensible young countryman, and your 
 head is still unturned by your fortune. " I blushed. He went 
 on slowly, striking his open palm with his forefinger to en- 
 force his points. 
 
 "Play at neither dice nor cards, nor lay upon cock, horse, 
 nor man for a twelvemonth. Quarrel with no man, and if ye 
 do, swallow your pride and tender your apology at once; but 
 hark ye, sir, on no provocation fight. Keep good company and 
 early hours. Carry a heavy cane a sword won't save ye, 
 nor can I, but we'll do our best. " 
 
 This was a sobering beginning for what I had determined 
 should be a quiet day. The magistrate's advice jumped en- 
 tirely with my own inclinations, who had not the least desire 
 to put my new-found fortune to the hazard. Indeed, by the 
 time I had seen my tailor and tried on in its tackings the coat 
 I was to wear that night, and bought me a stout Malacca 
 at a tobacconist's, I was feeling as lonely and as unked in this 
 great crowd as ever I had done under the stars in Yorkshire. 
 
 [259]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 It was the 2ist June, a great day for London. The King 
 reviewed the volunteers, twelve thousand of them, in detach- 
 ments, at a dozen open spaces east and west. I saw over two 
 thousand odd in Hyde Park, and was near stunned by the 
 huzzahing. 
 
 Returning to Fennell's to dress, I found a card upon my 
 table. The Hon'ble Bob Dawnay had called, leaving his 
 compliments and service and an address in Clarges Street. How 
 he had found me passed my comprehension; we had fought 
 at Eton, shared sock, broken bounds, and suffered for it in 
 company, gone up the school together, been the most insep- 
 arable of friends until our leaving, and had never met or writ 
 one another since! My heart warmed towards the laughing, 
 mischievous, red-headed fellow; would he be changed out of 
 knowledge, would be be a town beau, or buck, or macaroni, 
 or whatever might be the latest name for the thing ? I could 
 not think it. 
 
 My hackney coach set me down late at my brother's door, 
 the lackeys relieved me of hat and cane and showed me to his 
 cabinet, where I found him looking better than I could have 
 thought possible, but presently saw it was but paint. His eye- 
 brows went up in surprise at my mourning; he had cast his. 
 
 I begged his pardon for keeping him waiting, but it seemed 
 it mattered not, there were others later. I had hoped for a 
 party of two and a talk of old times, or a word, if way opened, 
 about his troubles. He saw my chagrin, for I act badly. 
 "Couldn't help it, Doodles, 'pon my life; this fellow invited him- 
 self and another ( or is it a brace ? I forget I forget every- 
 thing !) Put 'em off? Can't. 'Tis Vyze, you don't know him. 
 My racing partner once when I sat for Alderley. We owned 
 Barabbas and Rbodomontade and some others, mostly crocks. 
 Lord! what I've dropt on 'em! Roysterer, now: I pro- 
 fess we gave / gave a thousand guineas for the brute as a 
 
 [260]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 two-year-old: ye see Jack Bellasis fancied him. Well, he never 
 so much as went to the post everlastingly amiss. When we 
 broke up the stable Vyze took him off my hands with his far- 
 rier's bill, and would ye believe it ? within a year he beat 
 my Rbodomontade over the Beacon course, and won him a 
 mint of coin. In fact, that match gave the beau his start. 
 He was a man about town then, but he's the rage now; has come 
 on to a miracle, lays down the law to Dukes, a devilish sight 
 bigger man than I; goes everywhere; member of White's 
 they pilled me! Be civil to him, Doodles, for my sake!" 
 he smiled, but there was a ring of anxiety in his voice. 
 "The dinner shall please ye, my boy, anyway; do it full justice, 
 for 'tis one of the last you'll eat at my table. " 
 
 The door swung to the wall, the elder lacquey announced 
 at his full voice, "Mr. Vyze, Capting Shooter, the Revd. Byng 
 Anerley!" 
 
 You know how a marchioness enters an assembly room at a 
 county ball, the magnificent, self-contained, eyes-front com- 
 pesure; how she sweeps the whole rout, as one may say, into the 
 four corners and takes possession of the floor. More elaborate- 
 ly impressive, more offensively dominant was the entry of Beau 
 Vyze. He sailed rather than walked into the room, talking 
 loudly to his followers and swearing vilely at every tenth word. 
 He was a great fine man of thirty-five, nearly six feet in height, 
 bulky and rubicund with much good living, wearing his own 
 hair unpowered in the fashion he had set, curled in three masses 
 at the sides and upon the top of his head, pomatum'd glossily. 
 
 Before he was three steps into the room he had, in a figure, 
 appropriated the apartment and all it held, and wore the airs 
 of a conqueror riding into a surrendered city. Favouring his 
 host with a nod and a finger and me with his back, "B.," says 
 he, "my friend Captain Shooter; a demned good fellow! His 
 reverence ye have met before." . . . " Crossed!" he cried, 
 
 [261!
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 continuing his interrupted monologue, "the thing was patent; 
 a most demnable swindle. If Tom was not hocussed I wish to 
 Heaven I may never see another mill! I lodged my protest as the 
 sponge went up. The referee demurs ? he does ? 1 defy him to 
 give it to the Linkman ! All bets are off ; ye may say you 
 had it from me." 
 
 "Our man had certainly been got at," said the parson de- 
 murely, "I drove him home. He is dead." 
 
 "The deuce he is ? Haw! did ye give him the consolations 
 of religion, Anerley?" enquired the beau, snuffing (it was 
 whispered himself was a son of the parsonage ). 
 
 "Why, yes, and better; I got the truth from him down in 
 writing and his cross to it before he passed!" 
 
 "Begad, you are a credit to your cloth! Wales shall make 
 ye a dean!" 
 
 " 'Twas bishop last week ! " 
 
 "A dean I said, sir!" beating the man down with his eye. 
 Before dinner the beau's temper was capricious. 
 
 "Ah, me! ' Poor Tom's a-cold/ " sighed the comical clergy- 
 man, recovering himself, with a wink to Blakenham, "and 
 'tis a monstrous pity, for I can testify that last night he was 
 fit as catgut, and was certainly the best man we have had since 
 Broughton. Now what d'ye say to this for his epitaph ? 
 
 'Here Wiltshire Tom, the bruiser lies. 
 
 Cut down before his prime; 
 When Gabriel's trombone bids us rise, 
 
 May Tom come up to time!' ' 
 
 The room rang with guffaws. 
 
 "My brother, Vyze, permit me," said Blakenham. 
 
 "Your what, B. ?" said the beau pursuing his eye-glass. 
 He caught it with much deliberation, and turned upon me the 
 unabashed, callous scrutiny of a coper inspecting a horse, 
 
 [262]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 
 
 "Your brother, ye said ? damme, he's a good doer, B., for he'd 
 cut up into three of you, and leave stuff enough for a light- 
 weight jockey." 
 
 Captain and parson laughed uproariously and explained the 
 jest to one another. 
 
 A young fellow but newly launched upon society will take 
 much from an older man and a leader of the mode: his inex- 
 perience of what a gentleman should resent or pass over, and 
 his repugnance to being set down as quarrelsome, combine to 
 make him submiss. I had come to see Blakenham and meant 
 to out-stay these intruders, yet this offensive familiarity 
 so galled me that but for my brother's sake I had ordered a 
 coach. 
 
 "My lord, dinner is served!" said the butler Vokes at the 
 door. The beau took the pas unasked and unquestioned, and 
 before I had crossed the threshold I had called my temper to 
 heel and determined to see the thing through, for this man was 
 the one to whom Cotter had given my address. In a different 
 coat and a better light and uncovered he had not recalled him- 
 self to me at his entering; as he swung upon his heel to go I 
 recognized the action. 
 
 The walls and table flashed with plate and shone with a 
 hundred candles of scented wax. It was a room grandly propor- 
 tioned, the double cube of the brothers Adam, running the full 
 depth of the house with windows at either end, these giving 
 upon the street, those upon the garden. 
 
 Blakenham took the head of the table and I the foot, my 
 nearest convive being Shooter, a dull dog who laughed late 
 at the parson's burlesque grace, and swore 'twas dev'lish 
 clever and that he would be deed if he knew how a feller could 
 put it together like that. After this deliverance the man knotted 
 his napkin behind his ears, embraced his plate with his left arm, 
 and fell noisily upon his soup. 
 
 [263]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirT 
 
 I studied him askance. What did he there who was scarce 
 fit company for the servant's hall ? The man's seamed, muscular 
 cheek, low forehead and prominent ears shewed the fighter, 
 and it occurred to me that he had been brought to Fanshawe 
 House for a purpose. 
 
 For myself, having no reputation for wit to sustain, I donned 
 the mail of silence. 
 
 Attendants marshalled by Yokes flitted watchfully around 
 the table: never had I seen so much wine consumed so early 
 in the evening. Two years earlier this scene of prodigal luxury 
 with its appeal to the appetites, might have ensnared me, 
 now it disgusted. I had sat at good men's feasts. Again and 
 again the kindly faces I had left beside the Derwent came 
 between me and this banquet of satyrs. 
 
 As for the dinner, it was beyond me; I was ashamed to par- 
 take of it. That a thing was out of its season, or hard to come 
 by, seemed better reason for its presence than its palatability. 
 
 The beau tasted critically. "Whether ye know it or not, B., 
 these ortolans of yours are but larks. " 
 
 "Hush! don't breathe it, I beg, before the men, I mean," 
 whispered his host in alarm, "de Beausejour is plaguey sen- 
 sitive " 
 
 "Haw! a second Vatel ? 'The fish fails !' Will the fellow cut 
 his emigre throat, think ye?" 
 
 "Heaven forbid! He is not a bad sort; was a count of the 
 empire in Lorraine ten years ago, with sixty quarterings, 
 rights of chase and market, and the high and middle justice 
 over his people. " 
 
 "The more fool he that he didn't keep what he'd got," 
 remarked the cynic, who spared no man. 
 
 "Who was Fartle?" asked Shooter with his mouth full, but 
 no one answered. 
 
 The captain guzzled; I mused; the other end of the table 
 
 [264]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 talked for both. Horses, wine, women were canvassed, the 
 latter, indeed, with astounding freedom; foul stories, inuendos, 
 blasphemies darkened the board, lightened once and again by 
 the parson's sallies, but these with each succeeding course grew 
 more doubtful, the Silenus mask slipping lower over his purpling 
 face. 
 
 I sipped warily, holding myself in hand for what might 
 follow, remarking ( as a boxer remarks his match whilst the 
 stakes are driving ) the beau's huge shoulders, long arms and 
 broadened hands, the build of your waterman. 
 
 "Wine with you, sir! Mr. George, ain't it? His glass is 
 empty; sherry there for Mr. Fanshawe!" 
 
 The beau was speaking; my brother's silent-footed servant 
 was at my elbow, my glass was brimmed with brandy*. 
 
 I raised it awkwardly, it slipt and all was spilled ( nor 
 so ill done either ). Excusing myself with simulated confusion, 
 I vanished behind the screen which hid the buffet and service 
 door and had Vokes by the collar. 
 'Twas a mistake, sir!" 
 
 "Which mustn't happen twice! What have you ?" 
 
 There were wines on ice and claret in warmed flannels. 
 Whisking a bottle of Bordeaux from its jacket, I returned to 
 my seat handling the screw, for I would trust none of them. 
 
 "Pah! the French lush! women's tipple, siH No drink for 
 gentlemen, " cried the beau, pointing scorn at my choice with 
 a jewelled finger, "I do ye the honour to take wine with ye, 
 sir, not vinegar!" 
 
 "I hope Mr. Vyze will drink what he likes in my brother's 
 house, and I'll do the same," said I, and a sense of confidence 
 came with hearing my own voice. 
 
 But the captain, with an oath, swept the bottle backhanded 
 to the floor, and half turning, with an elbow on the board, 
 stared me insolently between the eyes. I saw Vokes drive his 
 
 [265]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QU4LITT 
 
 men from the room, heard the closing of the service door and 
 a key turned. It had come; well, let it come, then! 
 
 Small help was to be had from Blakenham who was fallen 
 back in his chair with wig awry, hiccupping and fanning him- 
 self with a napkin, the sweat raddling his painted cheeks. 
 His sudden drunkenness surprised me, his last glass of sherry 
 had done it. Drugged or drunk, he was helpless, weeping for 
 Lucille, and babbling of Sproughton and tender passages in a 
 way that made my cheeks to burn, for I would not have breathed 
 the name of my little mistress in that company for the Crown 
 jewels. 
 
 It was a hot night, and though both windows stood wide, not 
 a candle guttered. 
 
 Now, I had suffered severely once for a hasty movement and 
 an exclamation, and had learned my lesson. Plainly my best 
 chance lay in keeping my seat, and holding my peace. Even a 
 hired bully pauses ere he stabs a sitting man who has not opened 
 his mouth. 
 
 I would give away no point in the game; no, nor let them 
 steal one if that were their next move. 
 
 It had certainly not occurred to me to bring my cane to 
 table, but the captain, who wore the frogs of some over-seas 
 service, had carried his hanger up-stairs and unhooked it be- 
 fore sitting; the weapon stood in an angle of a recess behind 
 my chair, and beside it the beau's small-sword, the short ra- 
 pier, light in hand, then carried by men of fashion in evening 
 dress, but fast going out, and to-day restricted to the Windsor 
 uniform and occasions of State. 
 
 These weapons were much on my mind in those hot seconds, 
 for my fix'd resolve was to bar the way to them at all costs. 
 There were ugly stories afloat at the time of the Dublin beaux, 
 Killcoachy, Killkelly and Tiger Roche, stories which made a 
 man grit his teeth. Men of this kidney wore an inch of bare 
 
 [266]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 point peeping from a snipt scabbard, with which, when the 
 humour was upon them, to prick the legs of some inoffensive 
 stranger until the maddened wretch drew only to be mirac- 
 ulously spitted, like a lark, men said. Just a smile, a slow 
 step back, a headlong lunge, and nine inches of steel would be 
 through the back of his coat before he was on guard. These 
 were Irish manners, certainly, but I knew nothing of my fellow 
 guests' characters to inspire confidence, and disliked my posi- 
 tion in a locked room with a brace of ruffians, who had a fortune 
 to gain by a sly thrust, and a tame parson at hand to swear it was 
 an accident! 
 
 So whilst my bottle rolled across the carpet, and the captain 
 leered upon me with out-thrust chin, I drew heels under me 
 and kept hands still. 
 
 "Curse you, Shooter!" called the beau down the table, "do 
 I or you manage this ? " Then, after a tingling pause, dur- 
 ing which I heard my heart thump and the click with which the 
 master-blackguard shut his toothpick, "Gad, you're right, this 
 hawbuck hasn't the heart of a louse! Skewers!" 
 
 The man commonly used an elaborate drawl, but his last 
 word snapped like a gun-flint. We were all three upon our feet 
 together. Their chairs fell, I lifted mine high with a hand on 
 either side of the seat ( there was no room to swing it Shooter 
 was upon me like a bull-dog ), and drove it down feet fore- 
 most over his head, bonnetting the fellow, as one might say. 
 His hands fell from my coat-facings, yet something took me 
 a buffet in the face. I cared not, but leaving him to digest what 
 he had got, were it little or much, sprang sidelong for Vyze, 
 who had reached the swords. 
 
 To my utter amazement he stood with his back to them, his 
 hands pressed to his ribs, his open mouth emitting a shout of 
 laughter! The room rang and echoed with laughter, nor to his 
 alone. Afire with fear and anxiety, I spun round and was 
 
 [267]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 caught in the arms of a man taller even than myself, a magnifi- 
 cent fellow, who slapt me upon the shoulder, still hooting and 
 coughing with merriment, the cause of which I failed to discern. 
 
 It was Bob Dawnay, grown surprisingly, and his chestnut 
 curls hidden under a plaister of white powder. The door stood 
 open, the lock burst by his kick; he had manifestly vaulted 
 the table to my aid, and still he laughed, and still the beau 
 laughed with him, leaning helpless against the wainscot, an- 
 swering peal with peal! 
 
 " Bear-fightin', was it, Doodles? looked deucedly like 
 it, and two to one! 'Damme, I'm with ye/ says I, but I was too 
 late, ha! ha! 'Tis a pantomime trick for Grimaldi! By the 
 Lord, 'twould bring the very roof down at Drury! Where is 
 Pantaloon ? who the dickens is he, and how the devil shall we 
 get him out ? " 
 
 I turned, and there, at my elbow, in the recess stood Shooter, 
 writhing stiffly, but pinioned helplessly in the chair, for his 
 head had driven out the seat 1 from below into my face, and the 
 frame passing downward and fitting tightly around his elbows, 
 bound him painfully within it as with ropes. "But, hay! What 
 have we here? Swords!" cried my champion. "Won't 
 do, Vyze; 'tis our rule at Knightsbridge never to skylark 
 with the toasting-forks in the room." He caught the weapons 
 and, still laughing, flung them through the open window into 
 the garden. 
 
 "Now, I'm for ye! turn your man loose, Vyze! Which way 
 shall we extract him ? Head first or t'other way ? Or is it a case 
 for a meat saw? But Hulloa!" his voice checking sudden- 
 ly, and his whole bearing changing, "How came you here? 
 Yes, I know ye"; he plucked a candle from a sconce and held it 
 to the prisoner's face, "Keep your dirty chin up, ye black- 
 
 *An early example of the detachable framed seats known later as "Trafal- 
 gar*." EDI. 
 
 [268]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 guard! Vokes! I say, Vokes, there! fetch your men! " His voice 
 rang like a bugle, he stood there towering above the cringing 
 creature in the chair and facing Vyze, who came with a counte- 
 nance of majestic wonder and indignation. 
 
 "Sir! Mr. Dawnay! what d'ye mean? My acquaintance, 
 Captain Shooter " 
 
 "Of what service, sir?" asked the Guardsman with icy 
 politeness, his eye upon the beau and his hand upon the prison- 
 er, whom he roughly bade to be silent. 
 
 "The Jamaica Fencibles, he says; indeed, I know him but 
 slightly; at the same time, my personal " 
 
 "Mr. Vyze, you've been deceived played upon; this 
 fellow was Major Hogan, of the Spanish Guard, at Bath last 
 season. He had marked cards upon him." 
 
 "Stap my vitals, Dawnay! don't say so! Don't breathe it, 
 for my sake! Marked cards! What infamy! And I brought 
 him here! Perdition! Un escroc ! Let's turn the thing out, 
 and let it run and forget we ever saw it, faugh!" " Here, you 
 fellows!" he called to the men who hovered at the entry, 
 "take this person downstairs, get him out of this, and put him 
 to the door!" 
 
 It was mighty well done; the man's indignation rang al- 
 most true; his pose was magnificent; Shooter or Hogan could 
 not meet his eye; cowered before him, and shuffled from the 
 room into the hands of the lackeys, whilst his master, ignoring 
 me, ran his arm through Dawnay 's with boisterous laughter. 
 
 "Ha! ha! What a dog you are, Dawnay! a devil of a fellow! 
 Cleared that table like Harlequin, or Springheeled Jack, begad! 
 Eh ? rooms just on the other side of the street ? Heard your 
 old friend's voice and stept across ? No wonder; windows open 
 and as hot as hell! Luckiest thing in the world for all of us; 
 exit le voyou, enter the Life-guardsman. Ye'H make a night of 
 it with us, of course. What shall it be ? The bones or pic* 
 
 [269]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirr 
 
 tures ? Bones! Done with you!" He rang for dice and boxes 
 as if the place were his own. 
 
 The man's versatility, readiness and address, were confound- 
 ing. He had taken my brother out of my hands a couple of 
 hours before and now appropriated my friend. He was master 
 of the situation, king of the company, seized the initiative, 
 and kept his lead. No laugh so infectious as his had I ever 
 heard; his broad, daring wit, dazzled and disarmed me; I knew 
 that he had sought my life twice at least, supposing the brandy 
 to be undrugged, but what could I prove ? 
 
 Meanwhile, as I sat mumchance like the countryfied clod that 
 I was, this audacious adventurer dared me with his eye. 
 
 To rid my unfortunate brother out of such hands was past 
 wit of mine; nor was my own escape assured. 
 
 For, look you, everything played his game, and was food 
 for his enormous spirits. The spacious bonhomie with which 
 he presented Anerley, for instance, whom Dawnay knew by 
 name, Anerley, who assisted his own introduction by 
 emerging from beneath the table, whither he had fled for safety, 
 in Blakenham's wig! My brother, who had slipt to the floor 
 drowsily, awakened by the hubbub, crawling forth after him 
 ( " like animals from the Ark" ) in the cleric's head-gear, 
 and fractiously refusing to exchange; in his treatment of 
 this incident, I say, he set himself in the finest light, and had 
 Dawnay half-slain with merriment, and convinced as was 
 everyone else in town that there was but one Beau Vyze, 
 whilst my glum face and lumpishness chilled the warmth of 
 old friendship. 
 
 Then it was he and none else could handle Blakenham. 
 With an irresistibly humorous solicitude he caressed and 
 commanded him into submission, propt him into an arm- 
 chair, where he presently snored, the parson's wig crowned 
 with roses, the roi faineant of our resumed revels. 
 
 [270]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 "By-the-by, ye were on duty to-day, Bob," said the beau 
 tossing a box to Anerley. 
 
 "Why, yes, you may say so, for 'twas certainly not pleasure, 
 and lost me the fight. I rode at His Majesty's coach door 
 for nine mortal hours; whew! the next man who likes 'em may 
 have my boots! Hot! They would have blistered an ungloved 
 hand and held the sun like a glass-house!" 
 
 "And which corps paraded best ? the men at the Bank or " 
 
 "The Artillery Company at Finsbury. The Prince looked 
 vastly well in their uniform. He's their captain-general, ye 
 know; a queer rank, ain't it?" 
 
 "Was the Fitzherbert handy ?" 
 
 "Don't know. Didn't see her, "said Dawnay shortly; adding, 
 after a pause, "D'ye think, Vyze, honestly, there's anything 
 in this rumour ? " 
 
 The parson, throwing and filling, for the dice lay between 
 us as we sat, hemmed meaningly, with half-closed eyes and a 
 mouth that implied intimate knowledge of unspeakable things. 
 
 "Cough it up, Sir Parson, it lies too heavily upon your 
 reverend chest," cried Vyze smacking the little man's plump 
 back and adding, "there's nothing so demnably vulgar as a 
 secret between gentlemen." 
 
 "They are wedded already, " whispered the cleric," actu- 
 ally, legally, irrevocably, if priest, book, and ring mean anything! " 
 
 " Wha-a-a-t?" cried the others. 
 
 "Fact. I've seen the lines; handled 'em. Know the man well 
 who tied 'em up." He nodded confirmation, and throwing 
 carelessly, the dice ran across to my hand and remained there 
 whilst the talk proceeded: no one at the table noticing a dull 
 fellow who, feeling hugely bored, aimlessly remarked a tiny 
 blue flaw in the ace-face of one of the cubes. 
 
 "Those lines will be worth a king's ransom one of these 
 days," said the beau darkly. 
 
 [271]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "And when that day comes, Wales will stick at nothing to 
 get them eh ? " asked Dawnay softly. 
 
 "But my friend knows where to hide them," said Anerley, 
 "his bankers " 
 
 The beau cursed all tradesmen for rogues, and bankers for 
 the most demnable rogues of all. "If the things were mine I'd 
 trust no living soul; the proofs should sit, walk, and sleep 
 with me." 
 
 For a moment the native wolf peeped out; the fellow had 
 let himself go. I noted a jewelled hand press the brocaded 
 waistcoat. In a wink he was himself again, the careless, lordly 
 gamester. 
 
 "A main, then? What stakes? Please yourselves, boys!" 
 
 "Vyze regards your business man as an unredeemed bite," 
 said Anerley; "now I like to think of him as trying to be honest 
 and occasionally succeeding. " He delicately took snuff 
 and glanced around him for applause. 
 
 I thought of poor hard-bestead Medcalf, the Moorhouses, 
 the Ellwoods, and others I had known, and my gorge rose at the 
 thought of their innocent, laborious lives defamed by these 
 lick-spittles. I loathed my company. 
 
 Now, the dice, of which I knew little or nothing, had always 
 seemed to my ignorance the fairest of hazards, since no skill 
 can controul the fall of them, and their chances are equal 
 whether to king or cornet. 
 
 At that time all men of condition played more or less; my 
 father, when his company had seemed to demand it, had put 
 his guinea on the main with as little compunction as one of 
 you ( I fear ) puts his upon a horse. It was the fashionable mode 
 of wiling away an hour, and I myself was far from entertain- 
 ing at the beginning of that evening the aversion to play which 
 I held at its close. 
 
 That I would rather have stood out goes without saying; 
 
 [272]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 the company was reason enough for me, but not, I feared, for 
 Dawnay; my suspicions were incapable of proof. Had I meant 
 to make a quarrel of it I should have done so at Bob's first 
 entry; that moment was past, let slip with my usual unreadi- 
 ness: it was now too late. 
 
 Nor could I plead want of means; my fortune had been the 
 talk of the town for months. To refuse to play might give um- 
 brage to my old friend, who might regard the caprice as offen- 
 sive, unless indeed he fell in with my humour and left the house 
 with me. But this was to leave my unhappy brother in the hands 
 of men of whose motives I entertained vehement suspicions. 
 
 I would concede no point to the enemy. The hundred pounds 
 that I had about me the rogues were welcome to, if they could 
 get it honestly; what was such a sum to me now ? I could afford 
 to lose that and more; call it if you will the price of Blakenham's 
 safety, or of Bob's friendship. As for the game, win or lose, 
 at starting I cared not a doit. 
 
 A small card-table stood in a recess, the beau, who settled 
 everything, put up the flaps and placed us, himself as my vis-a- 
 vis, Dawnay and Anerley on either hand. 
 
 We began by setting mains of five, a couple of guineas on 
 each, and in ten minutes I had doubled my hundred. 
 
 It was Vyze's throw, he toyed with the box. "Ye're a tyro, 
 Mr. Fanshawe, I'll swear; there's no luck like a man's on his 
 first night; we must certainly protect ourselves. Turn your 
 chairs, gentlemen, and change the stakes!" He arose and spun 
 his chair smiling, told a wicked story, vouched for it with a 
 full-bodied blasphemy, and in the same breath offered to throw 
 me for my winnings. He won, and proposed to double the stake 
 and repeat the hazard. 
 
 "I have not the money upon me." 
 
 He laughed uproariously and, Dawnay chiming in, my reso- 
 lution crumbled, and that time I won.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 The parson had dropt out. "Suffer me as a spectator, 
 gentlemen," he grinned, displaying the lining of an empty 
 pocket. "When that deanery falls in I'll demand my revenge. 
 Give it up, Vyze, 'tis not your night, this youngster will skin 
 you like a lamb." Dawnay joined in the jeer, the position 
 amused him, it began to amuse me. 
 
 The beau smiled with what seemed a forced cheerfulness, 
 and offered to set me for a cool thousand, three the main. 
 
 "Take him, Doodles, and I'll stand in with ye!" cried 
 the Life-guardsman, and in ? trice there were two thousand at 
 stake and we had won. 
 
 This was all very well, but the dice which I held in my 
 hand, and had just won with, were not the dice I had fingered 
 before playing. What did this mean ? or did it mean anything ? 
 I had little time for thinking, the Rev. Byng acting as chorus, 
 "Fritillus, jucundus fritillus!" the beau playing fast and 
 swearing loud, rattling the dice violently at times and indulg- 
 ing in frequent and sudden changes of posture, talking and 
 gesticulating incessantly. 
 
 His antics struck me as ill-bred and extraordinary odd 
 for a man who claimed to lead the town. Bob thought the man 
 overcome, and told me as much with his eye; drunk he was not, 
 however, but either taking liberties with his company or acting 
 a part. 
 
 As for the terms he used, they were strange to me at the 
 time. The parson quoted some 'varsity tag and cried "Venus!" 
 at a good throw, so much comes back to me; the rest I have 
 long forgotten. Out o' date flash is the sorriest of stuff, and 
 dicing flash the stalest of all, for the dice are now universally 
 reprobated, and, save for backgammon, forbid by rule in all 
 good clubs. 
 
 I won and won again. Bob still backing me, enjoying the 
 joke and grinning sardonic approval. 
 
 [274]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 "Behold the man that 'didn't know'! Invincible ignorance!" 
 ( 'twas the Rev. Byng again.) "Trust a novice, indeed!" he ex- 
 claimed, raising snowy little hands. "The town will be talking 
 of this to-morrow; cry off, Vyze, 'tis madness to persist. " 
 
 "Never! I've my reputation to uphold. Come, lads, I'm 
 pricked, but still fighting; I'll set four thousand on a single 
 throw, dare either of ye cover it ? Aye, with each of ye with 
 both of ye I will!" 
 
 "Four apiece, begad ?" asked Dawnay incredulously, "eight 
 on the turn of the die ? Is it ever done ? Well, shall we say yes, 
 Doodles ? harden our hearts and ride at it ? Fore George, 
 I'm with ye, whether at bear-fightin' or these things, 'tis 
 plainly your night!" 
 
 But the luck had turned. In half-an-hour the Life-guardsman, 
 to use his own expression, was driven against the ropes. "He 
 has thrown double-sixes four times running; you and I are 
 younger sons, Doodles, and I, at all event, have done enough 
 for one bout. To bed, my boy!" 
 
 "Pull up, if you like, Bob, but don't go yet, I want a chat 
 with you about old times, and will cross the street with ye in 
 ten minutes." 
 
 "A bargain! I'll time ye, and if you have not had your 
 bellyful in ten ye may reckon upon being carried forth neck 
 and crop by main force; for, seriously, this is flatly against my 
 advice, and there's the deuce and all of mischief may be done 
 in less time than that!" 
 
 "Let your friend please himself, Dawnay; he is a rare 
 plucked one, and I like his style. Younger son or not, his face 
 is warrant enough for me!" said the beau grandly. 
 
 So we sat down to play it out by the stop-watch. 
 
 I lost fast and heavily, the beau keeping tally. 
 
 Why did I yield to this delirium? you ask. Partly, no 
 doubt, from young blood and obstinate pride, not I verily be- 
 
 [275]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 lieve for the love of play, still less for lucre. The hope of beating 
 the fellow at his own game had come to me earlier in the night, 
 the desperate hope of saving my brother's fortune by risking 
 my own, if you will put it that way. Not only for Blakenham's 
 sake, either, for the thought of this lascivious perfumed cox- 
 comb, mouthing his fruity oaths as he clattered the dice, 
 master of my old home, revolted me. 
 
 Owner of the entailed estate he could never be, but he would 
 fell the park oaks that I loved, the trees I had climbed for hawk's 
 eggs, would sell the Hall for its bricks and lead, put up my 
 mother's harp to auction, and fill her boudoir with frowzy Jew 
 brokers bidding for her easy-chair and reticule, aye, for the bed 
 she had lain upon! I say this strung me to the fighting pitch. 
 
 For myself, truly I feared little, and pitied myself not at 
 all; I had tried my strength as a man, and knew my hands could 
 keep me honestly. As for this new mad inheritance, I had 
 held it but thirty-six hours, had not yet seen stick nor stone 
 of it. The thing had no claims upon me, but lay apart, unreal 
 and unloved. I would risk its last acre to save the old house of 
 the Fanshawes. 
 
 I suppose we were well into the second five minutes, and 
 I was dropping my patrimony by farms at every hazard. 
 Dawnay's face, when I once glanced up at it, was gloomy and 
 long. The dice lay with me; my antagonist, awaiting my cast, sat 
 back in his chair, with both hands plunged in the ample pockets 
 of his skirted waistcoat. He had assumed this pose fifty times 
 during the evening. What in the attitude and disposal of those 
 hands seemed familiar, recalled some bygone scene or adventure, 
 where and when ? Except thrice in my soldiering days, I had 
 never thrown dice before, yet In a flash memory showed me 
 a damp tallatt, the rain dripping from its thatched eaves, and a 
 couple of Gipsy thimble-riggers sitting face to face dicing upon 
 the upturned bottom of a broken bushel. 
 
 [276]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 Could such similarities in action and attitude be merely 
 accidental ? In dress, too ? The short tight gilet was com- 
 ing in, was worn already by the bucks for walking and 
 riding; but this fellow's loose, deep-skirted vest had pockets 
 large enough to easily admit and release a doubled fist, the 
 very counterpart of the long-bodied sleeved-waistcoats of those 
 hawkers. 
 
 This was a crucial moment. Did I suspect ? I did. I do not 
 mean that for one instant I imagined that this man had ever 
 gone a-gypsying, or that I had encountered him whilst myself 
 upon tramp. No; those tinkers whom I had overlooked at their 
 cogging had been lean little fellows, say half the size of this 
 portly gamester; it was not the man, but the make of his dress, 
 the placing of its pockets, and the play of his hands that drove 
 me back upon memory, and first aroused, and then certified 
 my suspicions. 
 
 I have been told that mine is a wooden face: it possibly 
 lacks expression, and for once its homeliness served me well. 
 The beau must have been used to study the countenances of 
 his dupes, but for some reason failed to read suspicion upon my 
 mask of tan and freckles. 
 
 "Time for one more, and one only! Cut it short, Doodles, 
 you've dropt your guineas like a hero, or a jackass! aye, more 
 of 'em than you'll ever see again!" There was deep chagrin 
 in my friend's voice. 
 
 The beau smote the table lightly with his massive white 
 fingers, regarding me with affected admiration. "Begad, you're 
 a giant, Mr. Fanshawe! I've played with earls by the score, 
 I've played with marquesses, I've played with royal dukes: 
 but, for a loser, sir, damme if Wales himself is your equal! 
 You'll conquer fortune before the night is out, trust a man who 
 has seen some life, sir! Our final hazard, this ? Well, 'last and 
 best!' You stand to owe me sixty-seven thousand odd if I've 
 
 [2771
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 the count right! Double it: I'll set ye for another hundred and 
 forty thousand as a decider. What say you ?" 
 
 "Don't!" blurted Dawnay, with living fear in his eyes. 
 
 I looked my fate in the face, set my teeth, and drew long 
 breaths through my nostrils, as I was used to do when challeng- 
 ing a big blind fence, some great overgrown hairy horror with 
 an "if" on the unknown far side of it. 
 
 "Done with you! seven's the main!" said I, and called 
 upon every sinew for what I felt was coming. 
 
 Dawnay growled savagely, and turned his back upon the 
 table, unable to face what he feared, but I didn't heed him. 
 
 My antagonist's luck if it were luck was phenomenal, 
 for my first six throws were good ones; they staggered him; 
 at the seventh he let pent breath in a sigh of relief. 
 
 The parson nodding in his chair roused to watch the big- 
 gest gamble of an age notorious for reckless play. They may 
 have plunged more heavily at Versailles in the old time, but 
 in London, I have been told, there had been no such stakes 
 since Lord March rooked young Charles Fox for a hundred 
 thousand guineas at Arthur's, at a single sitting. 
 
 It was the beau's last throw, and nothing but a double six 
 could serve. Perhaps he held me too cheap, or his nerve failed 
 at the last, why ask ? The dawn was brightening, the morning 
 air bellied the curtains and blew cool across our hot faces; 
 a sneeze shook him, and for the fraction of a second three dice 
 lay upon the cloth! 
 
 Anerley caught his breath like the hiss of a snake and 
 sprang clear, for the table went over and with one word 
 "Cheat!" I had the swindler by the wrists and we rolled upon 
 the floor together. 
 
 His right hand was too strong for my left and wrenched 
 itself free, was into its pocket and out again and was hammering 
 my head ( which, by the grace of God, is thick enough to stand 
 
 [278]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 worse usage ); I was top-dog and very strong and active, and 
 when Dawnay tore us apart, the right half of my man's waist- 
 coat came along with me with a shriek of rending silk. 
 
 "Doodles! are ye mad? What ?" 
 
 "No Hook there, Bob!" 
 
 Three dice lay upon the turkey carpet between us as they 
 had fallen when the table tilted, and by luck, in close contact. 
 But before Dawnay saw them, the beau's foot covered them 
 and was in turn held down by mine, and we stood thus, knee to 
 knee, he snatching at the rag of brocade, I holding it behind 
 me and fending him off. 
 
 The man's passion was appalling, his language beyond im- 
 agination, but, as neither of us would budge, Dawnay thrust 
 his bulk between, demanding silence. 
 
 This was the last thing Vyze wanted; the man was desperate- 
 ly playing against time, hoping for an inrush of servants, for 
 the watch, for any accident. Clamouring for pistols ( he was 
 for fighting me across a handkerchief) he called upon his Maker 
 to strike him dead if he stirred a foot until the word to fire 
 was given. 
 
 "Bob! Old Bob!" I cried in my friend's ear, "keep your 
 head, man! We have him! There are three dice under this 
 foot of his that I'm keeping down! and I think I have my hand 
 upon the fourth." 
 
 "Mr. Vyze! Mr. Vyze y I say! Listen to me, sir! Ye must 
 and shall!" roared Dawnay, who was as much older than his 
 years as I was younger. His great handsome face was set and 
 formidable, his jaw as underhung as a bull-dog's: a man to 
 fear and to trust. Sixteen years later, almost to a day, he lay 
 dead, with just such a face, amidst a ring of Buonaparte's 
 cuirassiers. 
 
 The beau had bellowed himself hoarse, his voice was crack- 
 ing, he had no choice but to obey; but he held his ground, or 
 
 [279]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 I held him to it, and the three of us stood pressed together 
 thus. Anerley, white and quaking, set the table upon its 
 legs and took post behind it, watching to see which way 
 the cat would jump. But at the moment none thought of 
 Anerley. 
 
 "Sir, listen to me!" Dawnay began again, and his voice 
 made the glass ring. "My friend here shall give ye satisfaction 
 if I so advise him. He's no poltroon, and has fought before. 
 (I've heard of ye, Doodles!) But you must clear yourself 
 first " 
 
 "Clear myself! from the lying aspersions of an unlicked 
 cub ? An insolent boor, a dastardly lout presuming upon his 
 weight and size? Clear myself? 7 with my repute, who 
 am received everywhere ? This serves me right for playing 
 with boys! Wales shall hear of this, Mr. Guardsman! No! I 
 will not listen to ye! Pistols, I say! Vokes! Where the devil 
 is Vokes ? Fetch him, Anerley and bring up the men!" 
 
 "This won't help you, Vyze, believe me. I'm expressing no 
 opinion, but Fanshawe says you have three dice under your 
 foot. You must move it, sir. Lift yours, Doodles ! " 
 
 I obeyed. In a flash the gamester was upon his knees, pointing 
 with both hands to two dice! 
 
 The trick was amazingly well done, for the fellow was heavy 
 and tall. It confounded Bob for the moment, and well-nigh 
 confounded me. 
 
 "And now, young man, I will thank ye for my waistcoat. " 
 He got to his feet, making a snatch at it, but I retreated. 
 "In good time, sir." I was studying his face, his changed voice 
 puzzled me. "Now, Bob, watch this! keep him off me, man!" 
 I reversed the pocket, a die fell to the table, rolled, and 
 lay, six uppermost. I caught and boxed it, rattled and threw, 
 it was a second six! Again I threw, and got a third! 
 
 "Cogged!" said Bob, shortly. 
 
 [280]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-ONE 
 
 "What d'ye say to that, rascal?" I asked, bluntly enough, 
 for my blood was up. 
 
 "Pooh! Who hides can find! The clown placed it there, 
 you saw him, Anerley. " 
 
 "Faith, I did not, Mr. Vyze, and I'll thank you not to bring 
 me into this. " 
 
 The master-blackguard turned and treated the deserter to a 
 steady look of the malignest hatred, ending with a menacing 
 nod. Turning to me, he said in the same queer, constrained 
 voice, as though his passion tied his tongue, "You shall meet 
 me to-morrow to-day, that is. My friend shall be here in 
 an hour or less. Dawnay, you act for him ? 'Twill be Worm- 
 wood Scrubs, I take it; so warn your grooms. Mind, I shall 
 expect your friend's indebtedness put into a legal form and into 
 my hands before I kill him. You take me ?" 
 
 He wheeled upon me suddenly. "And now, my Suffolk 
 bumpkin, my clothing! 'Tis not our custom to steal the coats 
 off the back of the gentleman who has won our money!" 
 
 I wavered. Not so Bob, who passed to the front and took 
 command. "Sit tight, Doodles! . . . Mr. Vyze, you go too 
 fast!" said he, looking the man steadily in the face and not 
 liking what he saw. "I am not so sure that we can meet you. 
 In fact, I am sure we cannot. He swears to three dice upon the 
 table and on the floor. I didn't see three, I own, but your con- 
 duct and attitude were colourable. You did wrong to throw 
 yourself down as you did; very wrong, sir. If innocent, you 
 could have slept back and convinced us. Whilst as to that fourth 
 die, ye'll find no one in London to believe your story. Fanshawe 
 knows nothing of play, as any fool can see; you have said as 
 much yourself. To say, he tore your waistcoat off to put a 
 cogged die where your hand has been half the night, is too 
 thin, sir. Keep your paws down, if you please; I've no wish 
 to strike ye!" 
 
 [281]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "I've not asked for your opinion, Mr. Dawnay. My char- 
 acter don't depend upon the words of a brace of bullies, a cal- 
 low subaltern and his booby confederate, who owe me more than 
 they can afford to pay! I demand my property. You don't ex- 
 pect me to walk the street in tatters. " 
 
 "Sorry for your feelings, but we keep the cloth. That and 
 the die sawn across will be shown at White's before 
 you are an hour older. " 
 
 The man's face worked horribly, unconsciously; he was 
 no coward, far from it indeed, and had made his mark with 
 small-sword and hair-trigger a dozen times at least, for such a 
 position as his was not conceded to a nameless adventurer for 
 the mere brazenly pushing in. 
 
 Looking us each between the eyes in turn, he plainly weighed 
 the chances of a tussle. It was hopeless; either would have 
 been his overmatch; Dawnay, in fact, was one of the strongest 
 men in town. His eye blinked; all he lived for, aye, and life 
 itself, had he known it, was slipping from him. A shudder shook 
 him; he gulped and caught something in a bulging cheek. 
 
 "What have ye in your mouth, sir? Out with it!" cried 
 Bob, and gript him. There was no reply. They hung together, 
 battling, their elbows and shoulders at work, reeled back into 
 the dining-table, cannoned off through tumbling chairs, Vyze, 
 still mute, wrestling desperately, Dawnay fiercely vociferous. 
 "Doodles! Doodles, I say! Hold his hands, keep them from 
 his mouth!" 
 
 I sprang to his help; it was needless; our enemy, gurgling 
 inarticulately, was fighting indeed, but fighting for air! 
 eyes and tongue were protruding from a blackening face. 
 Dawnay, suddenly aware, and inexpressibly shocked, released 
 his arms, the man's knees bent under him, he sunk to the carpet 
 clutching at his throat, writhing silently and horribly, choking 
 to death! 
 
 {282]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 "He has swallowed it!" shrieked Anerley; "it sticks in 
 his windpipe!" 
 
 What we could do was done, and done in vain. At the end 
 of three endless minutes all was over; the great prone bulk 
 lay there warm, and quiet, and dead! 
 
 I had never seen a man die before; the sight shook me. 
 Dawnay straightened himself and gript my arm. I felt his hand 
 quiver, and looking into his fine, strong face, and seeing the 
 nostrils pulsate and a ring of white around the grey of his 
 eye, felt it was time to rally my manhood. 
 
 Behind the screen Anerley was pouring himself glass after 
 glass of spirit, spilling three-fourths, whimpering and calling 
 upon his Maker. 
 
 I stept to the door; Sims and Vokes, eavesdropping at the key- 
 hole, were kicked downstairs for a doctor, and returned in a 
 marvellous short time with a strange little figure in night- 
 cap, bed-gown and slippers, to whom Dawnay gave his hand and 
 addressed as Sir Ephraim. This was Gibb, the King's surgeon, 
 whose house was in the street, the first man in his profession, 
 but helpless at that hour as a barber's apprentice, and, in fact, 
 from whatever cause, neither himself nor in a condition to 
 practice. 
 
 So, ho! An apoplexy, evidently! "hiccups he, "S silence, 
 if you please, gentlemen, or or leave the room. What a 
 devil did ye call me in for if ye understood the case ? A basin, 
 there, one of you! Towels, salts, and quick about it!" 
 
 We flew, and on returning found the surgeon had ripped the 
 sleeves, and having opened the veins of both arms was cursing 
 the inadequacy of the result. 
 
 At this moment a carriage drew up without, and a spare, dry 
 personage, primly drest, entered swiftly and unannounced, his 
 lean, vivid features looking alertly from beneath a little close 
 white wig. This, though I knew it not at the moment, was
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITr 
 
 Dr. John Lettsom, the eminent Quaker physician, waylaid by 
 one of our messengers whilst returning from a consultation. 
 
 He spoke no word, but noting the symptoms made prompt 
 diagnosis, and snatching up the other's lancet, was for instant 
 action, 
 
 "Sir!" squealed the startled surgeon, "what do ye here? 
 'Tis my patient!" 
 
 "The worse for him and thyself, friend Gibb, for thou 
 hast killed him, or as near as may be! Permit me." 
 
 "No, Lettsom, I will not permit ye, sir. I defy ye to use 
 the lancet. 'Tis unprofessional for you to interfere; 'tis illegal 
 for you to operate; puncture the epidermis, and I notify ye to 
 my college and to your own!" 
 
 "I accept the risk. Stand aside!" He dropt upon his 
 knees, slit the windpipe, inserted a finger and recovered 
 the die! 
 
 "Be damned to ye, sir! I'll report ye!" gobbled the surgeon 
 purpling. 
 
 "And publish thy own incapacity? Tush, man! sink thy 
 pettiness and lend me what skill thou hast; there is just a 
 chance!" 
 
 With our help the doctors rolled the body from face to 
 side, and side to face, working the arm in the vain hope of 
 restoring respiration. There was no response, and after a 
 few minutes the truth was manifest alike to faculty and laity. 
 We arose from out knees breathless, and stood regarding the 
 corpse as it lay upon its face and left side. The rich coat was 
 ripped from collar to cuff. The waistcoat within had so suffered 
 at my hands that the right side of it was gone; the shirt, 
 opened at throat and breast, had slipt back, disarranged by 
 our efforts, the white brawn of a massive shoulder lay ex- 
 posed, and upon this, beneath our eyes, a large triangular scar 
 was coming out more bluely every moment. The thing outfaced 
 
 [284]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 us, there was no blinking or mistaking its significance: it was 
 the V-brand of the French bagne. 1 Somewhere and at some time 
 this gorgeous adventurer, this playmate of royal dukes, this 
 patron of lesser nobles, this arbiter of fashion, had tugged 
 at the oar with slaves! 
 
 It was evident that neither of these great practitioners 
 relished the prospect of the inquest. Both declined refresh- 
 ments. % 
 
 "I could wish young gentlemen honester employment and 
 better company," remarked the King's surgeon severely, viewing 
 the broken chairs and tumbled dice-boxes. 
 
 "Amen!" said the other. 
 
 Says Dawnay, "Sir Ephraim, and you, doctor, I thank you 
 for that sentiment; you speak sense and I'll lay it to heart. 
 D'ye know this person ? 'Tis Mr. Horatio Vyze. " 
 
 " God bless my soul, so it is!" cried Gibb. 
 
 "And this die that killed him," said Bob, "was a cogged die, 
 a die he was trying to swallow. You will be pleased to take 
 care on't, Dr. Lettsom; 'twill be certainly called for by the 
 coroner. " 
 
 The physician nodded. "And whose is this?" said he, lift- 
 ing from the carpet a small copper token attached to a guard of 
 twisted hair, broken doubtless in the struggle. It was passed 
 from hand to hand; none had seen it before. The plait was of 
 woman's hair, strong and dark, such a keepsake as a girl gives 
 to her bed-fellow on leaving her convent. 
 
 Lettsom ( whom I afterwards heard commended as a mine 
 of curious information ) opined that the medal denoted minor 
 orders in some Italian rule. Sir Ephraim took snuff and ex- 
 pressed no opinion. From the manner in which they regarded 
 one another it was plain both men were well apprised of the 
 gravity of the affair,and of its importance in the eyes of the town. 
 
 1 Signifying voleur a thief. G. F. 
 
 [285]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITr 
 
 With their help we lifted the corpse to the table. There we 
 laid him and looked with revulsion upon that distorted coun- 
 tenance, as of a felon who had died under the question. 
 
 There was much one could have asked but none to answer. 
 
 "Cover that face, " said Lettsom. 
 
 "And lock the room," added Gibb. 
 
 The pair then left the house in complete amity, calling in, as 
 I think, at Sir Ephraim's. As between 'em 'twas a case of stale 
 mate, said Dawnay, and would be forgotten over a bottle, 
 for the Quaker, tho' hot, said he ( as a Creole had a right to 
 be ), was chivalrous and placable, and in short an excellent 
 fellow. ' 
 
 Anerley had disappeared, fading off the scene, pitifully 
 unnerved. 
 
 My brother remained, snoring resolutely, not to be aroused, 
 his head still garlanded with the roses placed there by hands 
 now stiffening. Him we bore, chair and all to his chamber, sum- 
 moned Yokes, the awed and self-conscious accomplice, and 
 left the house. 
 
 "Come across with me Doodles, you promised " 
 
 " 'In ten minutes' " I whispered. "My God, what a catas- 
 trophe!" 
 
 "Deliverance, rather, eh my boy? If ever I saw a win on 
 the post, begad, 'twas this! 'Twas the beaten cock landing 
 the fight with his last kick. But brace yourself, we have much 
 to get through. What say you to our putting the whole thing 
 down in writing whilst 'tis fresh in our minds ? You have that 
 pocket and the die ? Lettsom has the fellow to't. Good! let me 
 look at the stuff. This is vastly heavy wear for June, Doodles; 
 why, here's something sewn into the lining what d'ye say ? " 
 He ripped and drew a long packet of stamped papers. 
 
 *A friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Samuel Johnson and other literary 
 persons. ED. 
 
 [286]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-ONE 
 
 "Bills, begad! enormous amounts! but whose name is across 
 'em ? . Blakenham's ! ! " 
 
 We were seated at a table in Bob's own chamber, the great 
 house around us quiet as the grave and light as noon with the 
 cool white sunshine of a midsummer's morning. We looked at 
 one another, haggard enough I doubt not, but with a sort of 
 amazed, incredulous delight, too. 
 
 "Stop! I'll cast 'em up ... Faith, you must help me; 
 I'm good at such a string of oughts. But I make it a 
 hundred and ninety-six thou. Is't possible ? No wonder the 
 poor little fool came to heel like a whipt lap-dog. Did ye 
 know of this ?" 
 
 I nodded, feeling slightly light-headed and doubtful whether 
 I would laugh or cry. 
 
 "He was in up to the withers, and you were tryin' to lug 
 him out and you've done it! "He sat back in his chair 
 regarding me, finger on lip. "Good old Doodles! Never again 
 will I trust appearances as long as I live ! Amen!" 
 
 He had opened a pen-knife and was cutting the signatures 
 from the bills. "Don't touch 'em, boy, this shall be my job. 
 The dice will speak for themselves, but we needn't publish 
 this little postscript, I think; it's just between you and me and 
 your brother when he's sober enough to understand his luck. 
 And now we must put in an hour or two of sleep. Is there any- 
 thing more to do?" 
 
 "This," said I, and knelt; my companion, after a moment's 
 hesitation, kneeling beside me. 
 
 When we arose he regarded me with changed eyes, asking 
 almost under his breath: "Where did you get this, Fanshawe? 
 You are no Methodist ? " 
 
 "I am not. I have been seeing life, Bob, and I find this 
 wears." 
 
 He bit upon the idea for a minute; revolving no doubt 
 
 [2871
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirT 
 
 what he had said when upon his knees, and ever his eye came 
 back to mine with renewed surprise. 
 
 "Well," said he at length, and I fear he added an oath, but 
 'twas the effect of habit, for army men and men of fashion 
 in that day swore more frequently and abominably than do 
 bargemen now, "Well, the bones are what I've sworn off: 
 not horses; I couldn't manage that. One thing at a time! " 
 
 "To Whom are ye speaking ?" said I. 
 
 [288]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 
 THE MARQUISE WILLS IT 
 
 I MUST compress three crowded months into as many 
 pages, and leave to my young relatives' imaginations the 
 inquest, and the prodigious sensation which it aroused; 
 the arrest, trial, and sentence of ex-Lieutenant Ganthony, and 
 the exposure, flight, and capture of Cotter with his master's 
 money upon him. 
 
 The case was placed in the hands of Sir Barnes Phipps, 
 who promptly laid Mr. Vokes and the Rev. Byng Anerley by the 
 heels, not that he had much against them, but for the sake 
 of their testimonies against others. This, though very reluc- 
 tantly, they gave, for the Habeas Corpus Act had been suspend- 
 ed since January, and once inside Holloway Jail they saw no 
 way out save through the gate of King's evidence. 
 
 All this was, or seemed at the time, of small service to myself, 
 svho was brought very publicly to the notice of the town 
 and exposed to the reprobation of society. 
 
 This may seem unreasonable, but will doubtless jump with 
 ^our own experiences, past or prospective. 
 
 It lay thus: an enormous scandal in high life had been 
 exposed to the remark of the vulgar; an associate and friend 
 of the nobility, if not one of the Prince's friends, had been 
 detected cheating at play. The rogue was dead, 'twas impossible 
 
 [289]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 to punish him; the fashionable world, which stomached the 
 esclandre extremely ill, feeling that its purity needed vindica- 
 tion, and that someone should be chastised, cast about for 
 scapegoats, and fell upon Blakenham and me. 
 
 That the scandal had arisen in Fanshawe House was reason 
 sufficient to exclude us for a time from society; but there 
 were better reasons, to wit, my brother's notorious indebted- 
 ness ( which in some manner he supported and continued to 
 support, mysteriously enough, for Bob kept counsel and none 
 guessed the truth ), and my own behaviour as testified before 
 the coroner. 
 
 "For look you," said the arbiters of morals at White's, 
 "here is a boy, barely of age, with a regimental record of 
 the worst, comes up to town on a Thursday and claims his for- 
 tune, and on the Friday night is not only dicing for two hundred 
 thousand pounds on the main, but spies and exposes the foul 
 play of a sharper with whom we have gamed for three years past 
 without suspicion. This young rake ( they agreed ) must 
 needs be the most finished blackguard in Great Britain!" 
 
 Dawnay stood by me stoutly, but himself was under a cloud, 
 due, as I verily believe, to the jealousy of men who had been 
 rooked of the man who had not. 
 
 All this was fatal to my hopes of reinstatement in the army. 
 Here the firmness of the good King barred the way. It was 
 in vain represented that having left the regiment months 
 before it broke at Castlebar I could not fairly be held re- 
 sponsible for that misconduct. "But but but," said 
 His Majesty, "if if if the man didn't run away during 
 the battle, he ran away before the battle, which is worse!" 
 Nor could further representations remove this unfortunate im- 
 pression from the Royal breast; and so rooted was the prejudice 
 against me at headquarters, that during the ensuing six 
 years, whilst England resembled an entrenched camp, and 
 
 [290]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -TWO 
 
 Buonaparte's invasion was imminent, my offers of service were 
 constantly rejected, nor was I permitted to raise a troop of 
 yeomanry upon my own estates. 
 
 These circumstances, added to the impossibility of being 
 presented at Court, afflicted me less than his share of the 
 punishment did my brother. To have lost the entree of Carl- 
 ton House seemed at the time a calamity. Too proud to beat 
 upon doors that were closed to him, or to proclaim his innocence 
 to ears that were well aware of it, he retired to Suffolk, whither 
 I accompanied him upon a visit, and did what I might to in- 
 terest him in his own affairs, and ( with infinite benefit 
 to his health, spirits and appearance ) in the management 
 of his estate. 
 
 It was at this time that my faithful Hymus re-entered my 
 service, in which he has continued until now. Mandeville, 
 I will say, treated me well in this, expressing no chagrin 
 at finding that his man preferred, as he said, to ride be- 
 hind his old captain for love rather than to serve the best mas- 
 ter in Holderness for a groom's wages. 
 
 Nor did I find the time hang heavy on my hands; that coun- 
 try being pleasant, to me at least, all the year round, and never 
 pleasanter than when the slow stream is decked with lily-pads 
 and studded with knops of buds, whilst the sedgy banks stand 
 crested with pink bunches of the flowering rush and quaint 
 pale arrow-head. 
 
 I had been down-stream on a morning early to get roots 
 of the Golden Star of Bethlehem, or gage-flower, which 
 blooms half-way between Bramford and Sproughton Church, 
 for I was minded to send them to my little mistress. 
 
 My plants being packed in moss, I had put on a worm and 
 was trying for perch beneath the willows near the weir, when 
 the stately rustle of skirts trailed over grass reached me. 
 Glancing round I saw a lady approaching, whom I recognized 
 
 [291]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 as the Marquise de la Rochemesnil. Now for this person I had 
 from my school-days entertained a distant and awe-stricken 
 admiration, and, as I have already hinted, my brother had laid 
 hopeless siege to her since he was nineteen. 
 
 The lady was fortunate in having accompanied her father, 
 the late marquis, from France at the first beginning of the 
 troubles. Her estate was invested in the British Funds, and 
 more than sufficed for her needs and charities. She was be- 
 lieved to have norelatives, and being nownear seven-and-twenty, 
 and having lived the last eleven years of her life in Britain, 
 might be supposed to be more English than French. Yet her 
 speech was touched with foreign idioms and an occasional hesi- 
 tation for the word, as of one who still thought in her native 
 tongue, whilst to the eye of even such a blockhead as I there 
 was not an English bone in her body. In grace of pose and of 
 movement, in choice of dress and colours, she was alien still. 
 
 My father had known and befriended hers upon his first 
 coming: my mother had ever been the kindest of counsellors 
 to the motherless young foreigner. We had seen much of her 
 at the Hall, and I, looking back to my tenth year, could never 
 remember her otherwise than as a tall and handsome woman 
 who commanded the respect and submission of every man who 
 entered her presence, and who, having never seemed exactly 
 young, appeared to grow no older. 
 
 Laying down my rod and whipping off my hat I went to meet 
 her with a sense of pleasure at the renewing of old friendship, 
 for this was our first meeting for eighteen months, the 
 marquise having been from home since our leaving Clarges 
 Street. 
 
 The little croft we were in was got green again since the 
 carrying of the hay, and being next theGipping, and bordered 
 with a row of pollards, was both cool and shady. Mademoiselle 
 Lucille came slowly towards me, bidding me cover with the 
 
 [292]
 
 CHAPTER THIRrr-TWO 
 
 kindest voice, and I noticed that although pale and grave, her 
 face was both softer and kinder than I remembered it. 
 
 After some compliments upon my health and travels, of 
 which she had heard what I had chosen should be known, the 
 lady came straight to the point with a frankness which 
 astonished me whilst commanding my admiration. 
 
 "Mr. George, milord your brother has the name for being 
 sadly embarrassed. No do not interrupt me, or deny. I 
 have heard what I have heard. Of his connections with the 
 person Vyze I have long disapproved I have deplored; but he 
 was not to be counselled. " 
 
 She nodded emphatically. 
 
 "But that is over, marquise," said I, "the man has passed 
 to his account." 
 
 " So I have heard, my friend; may God rest his soul. " 
 
 She lowered and closed her parasol. The fleeting restless 
 shade of the willows let flakes of sunshine pass and return 
 across her fine, grave face. "He was my husband." 
 
 This confidence struck me dumb. I could only peruse the 
 lady's countenance with a new consciousness of its beauties; 
 the firm round chin, the well-moulded mouth with the pencil- 
 ling of its proud upper lip, the level brows and brown, com- 
 pelling eyes. 
 
 And to think that these had once been won and owned by 
 that lewd ruffian! 
 
 The thought plucked at my very heart-strings. 
 
 We stood mute and motionless so long that a redstart 
 flashed down to the grass for a fly and returned to his twig. 
 The intrusion vexed me. "Marquise!" I gasped, hardly above a 
 whisper, for why should the birds and trees know her piteous 
 history ? "Why tell me this ? What shall I say ? What can I do ?" 
 
 "Nothing, my friend, nothing; we cannot undo the past; 
 I do not come to you for sympathy, for condolences, no; nor to 
 
 [293]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 distress your good heart, for you are distressed needlessly, 
 too, as you shall see, when you have heard all. Yes, the past 
 is done with; you yourself closed that book for me, as I hear." 
 She looked up at me, my great arms and shoulders, her eyes 
 momentarily leaving my face to pass over my frame with the 
 faintest of feminine tremors, "Yes, Mr. George, under the good 
 God I believe I owe you much already, and so, come to you for 
 more in the present, this time. 
 
 "The man that is dead was an adventurer, a seminary priest 
 of the college at Douay, Pierce Butler, by name, who broke 
 park, as you say. He stole me, a girl in my nonage, from my 
 convent at Laon. He married me at Reims the same day, and 
 was arrested as we left the church. He had already sold my 
 jewels. He was sent to the galleys. 
 
 "I returned to the Sisters until my father removed with me hither. 
 
 "The marriage was illegal and null: it might no doubt, have 
 been set aside, but monsieur my father decided otherwise, 
 it being known to so few, and these almost immediately dis- 
 persed by the troubles then beginning" ( her hands gracefully 
 illustrated the confusion of the time and the dispersal of those 
 witnesses ). "Also monsieur was proud; there was the name 
 to be considered: it seemed better to dispose of the residue 
 of the estate ( most had been sold years before ), whilst dis- 
 posal was still possible, and to make the fresh start. The rest 
 you know. The case might have been worse. " 
 
 "Far worse, madame; yet permit me to assure you of my 
 deepest sympathy. Did the fellow ever trouble you ?" 
 
 "He had money from me at times; I could afford it: but 
 'twas no affaire de chantage: I had the whip hand, he was al- 
 ways in my power, and knew it. " 
 
 As she said this she looked the finest and most self-reliant 
 of creatures : no man, not even Vyze, could have broken her. 
 How he must have feared her! I conceived him sneaking down 
 
 [294]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -TWO 
 
 to her retreat for succour after runs of ill-luck, could recall, 
 too, old tales of our servants' hall, the nods and becks of maids 
 and grooms. 
 
 " But he is dead, Mr. George, and your brother is in trouble. 
 He is still my faithful cavalier, as I think. He would not change. 
 Now, my friend, I desire you to tell him exactly what I have 
 told you, and that the impediment is removed. " 
 
 It was evident that no suspicion had crossed her mind of the 
 perfection and finality of her lover's ruin. He, as she supposed, 
 at his last guinea, broken in health, in repute and fortune, she 
 came with her splendid person, ability, and ample means, to 
 place all at his disposal. 
 
 I suppose I looked my wonder. 
 
 "Do not be hard upon poor Mowbray, my friend; you have 
 suffered from all accounts and, I hope, and can well believe, as 
 I look upon you, that you have grown wise. So will he, for he is 
 a gentleman and no canaille; he too, a little late peutetre; apres 
 coup Bourguignon est sage; but that is his affair and mine. 
 Tell him Lucille de la Rochemesnil will receive him. Adieu!" 
 
 She extended her hand in dismissal as a queen to one of 
 her servants. I bent and kissed it. 
 
 It fell exactly as she willed. She took him, married him, 
 and made as near a man of him as he was built to be; governing 
 him wisely until the day of her death. Nor did your grand- 
 father long outlive her. 
 
 None of you remember her; you must study the great Romney 
 in the oak dining-room at Bramford if you would see how she 
 looked in her prime. You have all of you more of your grand- 
 mother than you know; the Fanshawes are now dark men with 
 brown eyes, her eyes and complexion, and a certain repose and 
 hardness which I observe in you are, I think, recent grafts upon 
 our stock. She was a remarkable woman, and by her fortune 
 and ability restored our house. 
 
 [295]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 
 A COMEDY OF ERRORS 
 
 IT was at the closing-in of a wet October evening that I 
 rode under the court-yard archway of the Jack of New- 
 bury at Great Bedwyn. 
 
 During the two months since my brother's wedding (a 
 very quiet affair ) I had been almost daily in the saddle. 
 My desire had been to see my estates and make acquaintance 
 with my tenantries in their homes, and not in the formal and 
 festive way of rent-ales, where fulsome compliments are ac- 
 knowledged by uncandid speech and no common understanding 
 is to be gained. 
 
 Personal talks between man and man upon the lands which 
 yielded a livelihood to both had seemed a pleasanter and more 
 promising method. 
 
 Milton I had seen again, finding my good friends as kind, 
 but no kinder, to George Fanshawe in broad-cloth than they 
 had been to him in fustian. 
 
 Abel's pleasure was as evident as that ail-but tongue-tied man 
 could evince. He had me up and down the box-walk hearing all I 
 could tell him of my new prosperity and my schemes for the im- 
 provement of my people, taking it all in with tight lips and absorb- 
 ent eyes, approving, insatiate of hearing my news, but as if 
 by some natural defect unable to give me of his own. 
 
 [296]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-THREE 
 
 "And now 'tis your turn," I said at length; "tell me how 
 goes the world with you. " 
 
 "The mill " he began after his usual considering pause, 
 for he seldom broke silence in haste. 
 
 "Never mind the business; 'tis yourself I want to hear 
 about." 
 
 " My father, as thou sees " 
 
 "Is admirably well, yes; and Mrs. Ellwood's walking powers 
 increase, which is also admirable; and Miss Phoebe speaks for 
 herself cannot you ? " 
 
 "Me ? Oh, I am much as usual, George, I thank thee. " 
 
 "Which tells me nothing. Now, Abel, I am for close quarters 
 for once. This load, can I help lift it ?" 
 
 He stiffened, and was once more the cold, self-contained man 
 concealing some inward wound beneath his armour. I waited. 
 
 He had long carried himself how shall I say? as a man 
 does who knows he is stricken by some grim internal disorder 
 which grows and worsens and will some day need the knife. 
 
 Such an one, if a brave, good fellow, sees no wisdom in 
 whining, or in asking the sympathy of others, but goes steadily 
 on with his business, something the sterner and the keener, 
 perhaps, because of that imminent audit. 
 
 So, I say, my friend's bearing seems to me, looking back 
 upon him across the years, for at the time I had no experience 
 of such an illness as this to which I have likened his trouble. 
 
 "I thank thee, no. Thou canst not help me. No one can." 
 
 "Save God?" I whispered. 
 
 "Save God," he assented; "I must carry my burden alone, 
 George. " 
 
 "But if ever I can help you, will you use me ?" I demanded. 
 He pressed my arm and nodded. The economy of words meant 
 nothing; the look everything. I was content. 
 
 And with that came light-running feet and my little mis- 
 
 [297]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 tress was upon us with sweet, half-breathless laughter, and 
 would take me to her own water-garden below the mill to shew 
 me the rush-plants I had sent, and the dryer grassy spot where 
 my Gageas were set. "O, it is like old times to have thee safe 
 back again, George! It is as when I was quite little, and Sam 
 and Abel were boys, before they went to Ackworth and all 
 the trouble came. If only he could come back too, and Abel 
 be merry again!" 
 
 Sam ? who was Sam ? I wondered; new thoughts spinning 
 in my thick head. She had begun to me, but ended to herself 
 in a lower key, unconscious that she was thinking aloud, for 
 she was a lonely child among elders, and, as children will, 
 acted the life of her phantasy when alone, conversing much 
 to herself aloud. 
 
 The cloud was quick in its passage; childlike, her spirits 
 heightened at sight of some outward object bringing sunny 
 memories. 
 
 "See, George! there goes a kingfisher! What a shrill note! 
 It has settled on the willow by the sluices. " 
 
 She would shew me the hole running up into the overhanging 
 bank whence the brood had flown three months before. 
 
 "We found them the day after thou left. They were full- 
 feathered; the oddest little blue things with stumpy tails. 
 No, not so bright as the mother-bird, and ravenous for minnows 
 and loach. After they left the hole they would sit seven in a 
 row on the rail and squeak for food all day ! " 
 
 She had been upon her knees peering over the brink, the 
 brown water spinning below; now she half arose, supported on a 
 knee and a hand, looking up at me, the freest, gracefullest 
 young figure, wholly unconscious of its grace. The child was 
 looking charmingly well, the summer heats had touched her 
 chin and cheeks with a most delicate golden brown, and flecked 
 them lightly here and there with the tiny freckles that would 
 
 [298]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-THREE 
 
 go before winter. Her eyes were starry, as alive as a woman's, 
 and as unconscious of sex as a five-year-old child's, and be- 
 tween them her small nose stood smooth as a fresh-laid robin's 
 egg when the yolk within flushes pink through the thin shell. 1 
 
 My own eyes fell. My God ! I dared not look upon her longer. 
 What was I, a lumbering brute with a brute's instincts and 
 weaknesses, to aspire to such holiness ? 
 
 Yet her innocent delight in my company filled me with 
 a fluttered pleasure. "She is but a child," thought I, "un- 
 touched by the breath of passion. It were cruel to disturb 
 such a happy morning dream before the hour for waking. 
 Fifteen she is, and two-and-twenty am I; surely I can wait 
 three, or it may be four, years for my bud to unfold." 
 
 And with that I remembered the Friends' dislike of early 
 marriages, and their view that a woman should have turned 
 twenty before her wedding, and so, taking a leaf from Abel's 
 book, I said nothing of my hope to any, but locked it away 
 softly and warmly in my breast until the right hour should 
 strike. 
 
 But I must be getting back again to the Jack at Great Bed- 
 wyn, where I see I started this chapter, and must first explain 
 how I came to be there. It was this way: I had rid south from 
 Cheshire upon a sudden resolve to see my Wiltshire estate, and 
 had turned aside to the inn I have named, a hostel of no great 
 size in a decayed borough upon the skirts of Savernake Forest. 
 I had ne'er set eyes upon the place before, and took a dislike 
 to it at first sight. If you know the house you will be wondering 
 what had induced me to submit to the discomforts of an inn 
 of its class when one of the best upon the Bath road lay but 
 four miles farther on. The fact was I had accepted an appoint- 
 ment by letter to meet a man here upon the following morning. 
 
 'The egg of the English robin is not blue, as is ours, but of a delicate flesh tint 
 overcast with specks of fawn colour. AMERICAN EDITOR. 
 
 [299]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 Whilst travelling I was selecting mounts for the approaching 
 hunting season, and was finding the class of animal I required 
 not too abundant. Fifteen stone and over did I ride, and a 
 half-bred I would not look at: hence, when a letter reached me 
 at Bath from a person living at Lambourn Woodlands, offering 
 a horse which seemed of the stamp that I wanted, I had fallen 
 in with my unknown correspondent's suggestion to meet him 
 at Bedwyn for the trial he offered. 
 
 I had anticipated a dull little place: to my surprise the house 
 was humming like a hive, a-shine with candles, roaring with 
 songs and laughter; something by-ordinary was afoot. 
 
 Tossing my rein to the soberest of the ostlers, I made my 
 way through the yard-entry to the bar. A bouncing, red- 
 cheeked dame with side-curls and cap-strings flying ran cack- 
 ling round a corner of the passage into my arms, chased by a 
 jovial gentleman holding an empty rummer. The pursuer 
 sheered off in humorous confusion, shutting the door of a 
 private room upon a chorus of male laughter, which was echoed 
 by chambermaids upon the landing overhead. 
 
 "Heyday, madam!" I cried, "Is it another victory? And 
 where were the French ? and have ye run short of laurels ? " 
 
 "La! Mr. George, sir, how ye made me jump! Really, sir, 
 Bevington is too free entirely. If he don't mend I declare 
 I'll forbid him my house, I will; for a lone widow woman must 
 protect her character. But, I beg your pardon, sir! Mr. 
 George, did I say ? whom am I speaking to ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, you have made a good guess; George is my 
 name, George Fanshawe. Can ye put me up for the night, 
 madam, myself, two servants, and four horses ?" 
 
 She let my question pass, looking me up and down with a 
 face of puzzlement, wherein misconception as to my identity 
 slowly receded before the fact. Another effort seemed needed 
 to satisfy her self-resoect. 
 
 [3J
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-THREE 
 
 "ButyearvMr. Fanshawe, sir, surely? I mean his brother. 
 There! drat it! I know not what I do mean. Well, well !" and with 
 that the woman fell a-choking and excusing herself. It seemed 
 there was some gentleman of my name already in the house who 
 resembled me enough to justify mistakes between the lights. 
 
 What touched me more closely was finding that my name- 
 sake and his party had taken up all the accommodation the 
 place afforded, whether for man or beast. In short the best 
 terms I could offer only procured me a cupboard for myself 
 and a stall for one horse. Hymus with the dog-cart and spare 
 nags must go the four miles farther to Hungerford, where 
 at the Bear they would find bait and lodging. 
 
 Having sent my valise to my room and seen my men off, I 
 sought such information as the stablemen might be able to 
 supply as to my unknown correspondent regarding the horse. 
 This was little enough, for most were strangers, servants of 
 guests, whilst of the ostlers, Bedwyn born, all knew Lambourn 
 and a Mr. Smith, several indeed of the name, but which Mr. 
 Smith it would be was a question I got little light upon. J. 
 was the initial of my man's Christian name, but whether this 
 stood for John Smith, of Rooksnest, James, of Seven Barrows, 
 Jacob, of Lower Cross, or Joseph, of Chilton Foliat, none would 
 undertake to say, but doubtless the morning would show. 
 
 I was shown to my room; it was better than my fears; my 
 landlady's apologies seemed needless; but there, as you shall 
 presently see, my gratulation was premature. 
 
 The smiling maid who preceded me, candle in hand, in place 
 of retiring bobbed deferentially at the door with something 
 for my private ear which the racket on the landing outside 
 momentarily deterred her from imparting. Was there anything 
 Mr. Fanshawe needed ? Nothing, I assured her. Upon a quick 
 glance down the corridor she closed the door and set her back 
 to it, summoning me with a face of breathless anxiety. 
 
 [301]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUA LIT T 
 
 "Dwont 'ee go for to put your top-bwoots out, zur; I dur- 
 sen't say no mwore!" 
 
 I stept to her side. She held her ground, was not joking, was 
 bent indeed on warning me against some joke of a too practical 
 nature meditated by others. Her voice was hurried and low 
 a man treading heavily paused at the door without. "There, 
 zur," she whispered, "I've guv ye the office; I can't do no 
 mwore. He's a-listening!" then shrill and laughing. "Lord, zur, 
 dwon't zur, I'll tell missus!" she whisked from the room, leaving 
 the door wide. 
 
 The fellow regarded her doubtfully, affording me time to 
 force a smile before he turned to me with, "Bwoots, zur?" 
 "Presently, my man," I replied, tipping him a wink and a 
 shilling, with which he stumbled off downstairs, leaving me 
 amused at the incident. 
 
 But it was an hour of misconceptions. A rapping upon the 
 door presently apprised me of another claimant for the bed. This 
 was the body-servant of my namesake, and since it appeared I 
 had been shown to a chamber bespoke some days previously 
 for his master, I had no choice but to exchange it for a closet 
 upon an upper floor, a sort of Little-Ease, in which, as it was im- 
 possible for me either to stand erect or lie at length, I felt 
 tempted neither to linger over my dressing nor to retire until 
 too weary to sit longer below. 
 
 They laid for me in a corner of the public room amid ex- 
 traordinary noise and bustle. The house was full of sports- 
 men, some of whom had travelled from town to see a match 
 against time to be ridden on the morrow. There seemed to me 
 two parties, or cliques of them, of which the snobs outnumbered 
 the gentlemen. 
 
 Although I took no sort of interest in the matter, I could not 
 avoid hearing something of what was afoot, for these gentry 
 took themselves and their business very much for granted, and 
 
 [302]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-THREE 
 
 names flew, my own among others, for it seemed that a Fanshawe 
 was in it, and deeply in it, for it was agreed that he had "put 
 his boots" on the issue. Nor he alone ( whoever he might be ), 
 but Captain this and Cornet that of the Household were men- 
 tioned as backers for serious sums. Growled a man in the next 
 box to mine: "The quality has plunged on this leetle gamble; 
 if the quality loses, can the quality meet the bill ? How do we 
 stand, I wonder ? I've big Bob Dawnay upon my book for " 
 and here the voice dropt to a whisper, but methought I had 
 heard the name of an old friend in a connection which did him 
 but little credit. 
 
 What puzzled me was such a concourse to witness the start, 
 the finish being usually held the better station- But the matter 
 was no concern of mine except that the clatter and running 
 about of distracted drawers and maids made it hard for me 
 to get served, dishes ordered by others being laid before me 
 and vice versa. 
 
 Later I turned out to see to the bestowal of my horse, which 
 I found in a detached coach-house converted to stabling 
 for the nonce, and was loosening the beast's surcingle to straight- 
 en a shifted rug, working by touch, for the place was in dark- 
 ness, when two persons stept inside the door to shelter from 
 the weather. Said one: 
 
 "Ye sent my name to him ?" 
 
 " Why, yes, Mr. Sam " 
 
 "Curse your 'Sams'; how often am I to tell ye ?" 
 
 "Pardon, humbly, a'm sure, zur. No, he'll not see ye. 
 Twold the gal a knew nothin' about ye. Fact is, he's dinin' 
 wi' some on 'is party, and be a bit on by thick. " 
 
 "Party? what party?" 
 
 "Bless yer soul, zur, thick house be bung full o'm; vive-and- 
 twanty at the least, and ivery Iwoose box and stall teaken days 
 agoo! Thick match agin time as he's to ride to-morrow be a 
 
 [3 3]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 big thing; there's a blame sight o' money on't. 'Tis from here 
 to Reading." 
 
 The listener whistled softly. 
 
 "That'll do. ... Well, 'night to ye. I'm off back. Ye 
 saw me start by the Ramsbury Road; mind that! Ye take me ?" 
 
 A minute later, having got the tongue of the buckle into 
 the right hole and made my beast as secure as circumstances 
 permitted, I was taking a mouthful of fresh air in the village 
 street before seeking my closet. 
 
 The rain had ceased, but it was wet and soft under foot, for 
 some burgess was ill and tan lay across the road. I had ceased 
 to expect Mr. J. Smith, who had neither sent nor written to 
 the house, and was turning again towards the Jack when a 
 horseman came from under the archway. Two lighted windows 
 threw ruddy bars across the dark street. As he passed into the 
 first my heart leapt, for here, close upon me, was Abel Ellwood! 
 He popped into the darkness again, and next moment was again 
 in the light and nearer, shewing me my mistake. The rider's 
 size and build and form of countenance bore the strongest super- 
 ficial resemblance to my friend's; but there the likeness stopt, 
 lacking the nameless touch of the individuality I knew, or 
 stamped with its own and alien impress. He passed me closely, 
 and I, myself in darkness, saw him well, thrown upon the 
 black background of the night by the strong light, and felt 
 sure I had seen him before; yet only when he had become a 
 shapeless bulk in the gloom did I recall the fighter of the road- 
 side battle at the Barn Inn, and that other or the same 
 who had strolled so coolly through the crowd hurrying to 
 Ouseby bull-ring. 
 
 "This Sam Brown, or Jones, or Robinson, or whatever the 
 coachman called him, travels far afield to sell his malt," 
 said I, wondering vaguely at having run against the man for 
 the third time. 
 
 [304]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-THREE 
 
 By this time the stables were quieter and in better order; 
 one loose-box in special might have been a condemned cell on 
 the night before execution, so closely was it barred and so 
 grimly watched by cudgel-bearing ostlers seated upon up- 
 turned buckets. One of these got to his feet at my approach, 
 pulling his forelock and grinning, "Why, yes, sir," said he, 
 "be there hanythink ?" and then, turning suddenly foolish, 
 cursed his eyes and roughly warned me off. 
 
 If the yard were under strict rule the rest of the house owned 
 none. They had closed the bar, but quarrelling, wagering, 
 singing and horse-play were in full swing. Men were bawling 
 for drink who had drunk well already, whilst a knot of cockney 
 sportsmen were besetting the door of a private room demanding 
 admission, or that at the least someone whom they called "His 
 Ludship" should make them a speech. 
 
 These proposals were resisted by the more intimate friends 
 of the popular hero on account of the lateness of the hour 
 and the need for their man to retire at once in view of his 
 engagement. Eventually, I believe, the door was forced, for 
 I saw a tall young fellow, well advanced in liquor, dragged 
 hither and thither, chaired in the passages and toasted with 
 uproarious good fellowship. 
 
 Every corner and settle was occupied by cronies disputing 
 the chances of the morrow's event. "He'll ne'er do it, 'tis 
 a welter impost; no horse ever foaled could carry the weight!" 
 "I tell 'e he has done it, and what's more he knows the road 
 and will be making for his stable." 
 
 Said a second voice, "We'll have a safe journey back to 
 town. As I changed at Reading coming down they were saying 
 that Sam Smith the highwayman was on his trial there to-day 
 for the Thicket robbery and hadn't a leg to stand on. The 
 rascal was disguised as a Quaker when taken, and the best of 
 the joke is that he swears he is one!" 
 
 [3 5]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUJLITT 
 
 "Ho! ho! that won't wash. Who tries the case?" 
 
 "Sir Algernon, I suppose; he rides that circuit, 1 don't he?" 
 
 Having supped, I had leisure to read a letter from my good 
 Colonel Gunn which had followed me to Bath, and having 
 been put into my hand at my leaving the Full Moon Inn that 
 morning had awaited my leisure. 
 
 "I know not your present neighbourhood, my friend," wrote 
 the old soldier, "but am sending these to your brother's house 
 to be kept or forwarded as may be. 
 
 "Some waif word of your fortune has reached me, whereon 
 I hope to present my gratulations more fully when next we meet. 
 
 "As you may have heard I was near a year ago the victim 
 of a small but annoying mischance, when the Bath mail, and 
 I among other passengers thereby, was robbed at a place upon 
 the border of Berkshire. The crime had points of singularity, 
 was a piece of strategy, indeed, and the thieves escaped for 
 the time with their plunder. It appears that the Crown has 
 laid the chief perpetrator by the heels and needs the testimony 
 of your old friend to convict him. In a word I am summoned 
 under some process of your English law to appear for 
 the pursuer, in this case His Majesty. As I must needs pass 
 through London I will do myself the honour of calling 
 upon you." 
 
 I have never had too many friends, and the prospect of 
 
 1 Sir Algernon Maskelyne-Fanshawe was taking the Oxford Circuit for the Autumn 
 Assizes that year. G. F. 
 
 [ Footnote, which may be skipt by the hasty reader. ] 
 
 The triviality of all this may well surprise you. The year 1 799, though unmarked by 
 the horrid catastrophes which reddened some others, was disquieting enough to such 
 as had eyes to see or brains to read the signs of the times. 
 
 The Jacobins had fallen out among themselves, but that had not prevented them from 
 crushing the unhappy Switzers. We held their forces cooped up in Egypt, but General 
 Buonaparte was let slip through our fingers, a dropt catch which would cost us many a 
 run, almost the match, indeed. 
 
 Our people fondly saw, or thought they saw, signs of the French nation returning to 
 
 [306]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 
 
 greeting the good soul who had so staunchly stood by me at a 
 pinch filled me with pleasure. I had some dim recollection of 
 the circumstances to which he referred : had I not seen the ac- 
 count of it in the Times, whilst awaiting a meal somewhere ? 
 at my brother's house in Clarges Street possibly. There was 
 more m the letter, for the colonel was a good correspondent, 
 but the increasing confusion of my surroundings made reading 
 difficult. 
 
 From this I made my escape the more willingly that I was 
 twice accosted by mistaken or bemused fellow guests de- 
 manding that I should drink with them success to my next 
 day's work. 
 
 Nor was the rustic cupid idle; fumbling my way darkling 
 bedwards I was the unwilling recipient of a tender embrace 
 and the assurance, "S'elp me, Doll, I love ye above all flesh 
 except bacon!" To which the nymph, herself unseen, having 
 ( by what sense who knows ? ) found her lover's ear in the 
 darkness, saluted the same with a sounding cufF and the counsel 
 to " Gi' out, and lat the gentleman get by. " 
 
 "Yer candle, zur," she added somewhat breathlessly as 
 
 its senses to seek peace and find pardon at the feet of its legitimate sovereign, and as one 
 means towards this desirable end, we, our Government, I say, were concocting a plan 
 for landing some of the more desperate spirits among the emigres at suitable points on 
 the French coast to start a civil war! 
 
 This might pass; the scheme to assassinate Buonaparte which was ravelled up with it, 
 for which, I fear, English arms and English money were found, is not so easily stomached. 
 
 You who have read Mr. Alison's history will doubtless have imagined that we in 
 England meanwhile felt in the presence of the events themselves as feverish, as breathless, 
 as you felt at their recital, and could hardly contain our anxieties or converse upon 
 ordinary affairs. 
 
 No mistake could be greater, for, to begin, the historian presents to you in one picture 
 to-day the results of a thousand separate sketches and studies, scarce a dozen of which 
 were known to us at the time. Moreover, at the beginning of this century some six-eighths 
 of our people were illiterate, another eighth read with difficulty and read little, while of 
 the educated residue a large proportion must have been endowed by Nature with the 
 imperturbable digestion which is the parent of optimism, and were perfectly assured 
 from day to day, and from year to year, of the impending downfall of the Regi- 
 cide Atheists. 
 
 The state of our own affairs was appalling, yet failed to appall. That the fleet was 
 
 [ 37 1
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 the wooer escaped; "plague take thicky tinder, t'be damp as 
 grains," she muttered, in no especial haste, as I fancied to 
 throw a light; yet 'twas a kindly girl and the same to whom 
 I owed my first warning, as I saw when she shewed me to my 
 garret and took my directions as to calling me at once if this 
 Mr. Smith should come. 
 
 seething with mutiny and the army cankered to the core, that our choice of generals lay 
 between the very bad and the worst possible, the one the cousin of the Minister, the other 
 the son of the King, filled us with no especial concern . We had made a religion of hope, 
 or rather of a pig-headed certainty, for which the facts gave no warrant, and for which, 
 from His Gracious Majesty to his latest recruit, no man of us could have furnished a 
 reason. 
 
 To such folk the veritable circumstance made no odds. The Duke of York might 
 deplorably mismanage the Helder affair, what of that ? His Royal Highness was a jolly 
 good fellow, a patron of Newmarket, and an all-round sportsman, every jockey and 
 trainer would swear to as much, and for the rest, they'd grant you he had been unlucky, 
 ill-seconded, no more. In war someone must lose, why not he ? To round on the man 
 showed an\mpatriotic spirit. Up with his Column in the Park then, and damn the Whigs! 
 
 "Bear witness all ye martial bands 
 
 O'er whom the princely York bore sway. 
 
 To you his wishes were commands, 
 For you 'twas glory to obey ! " 
 
 Heavens! what fools were we! yet doubtless there was work for us to do, and until 
 we had done it we stood impregnable, and still stand. 
 
 During those long months of distracted counsels, bloody turmoils, and stupid mis- 
 management ( which Mr. Alison's genius compresses into a chapter ) we lived amaz- 
 ingly at our ease. ( I, myself, was buying hunters, and indulging in pleasurable anticipa- 
 tion of the sport I loved. ) You may take it that among serious people one heard reference 
 to affairs abroad less than once in a day, whilst in such company as this at the Jack of 
 Newbury at Bedwyn, the strength of the ale or the staunchness of a horse occupied the 
 whole field of mental vision to the exclusion of other topics. 
 
 [308]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 
 THE MESSENGER 
 
 1WAS always a determined sleeper; it is the one bodily 
 exercise in which I excel. Nothing keeps me awake 
 and nothing wakes me. You will say that what 
 follows was the effect of a bad bed or a close room, but I have 
 no more recollection of that room or bed than of some hun- 
 dreds of others. If the ceiling were low or the mattress lumpy 
 and short I knew nought of these defects but snored until 
 roused by an imperative knocking upon my door and a voice 
 saying, 
 
 "Mr. Fansbawe, the horse is waiting!" 
 
 I sat up less than half awake, replying that I would be down 
 in three minutes, but none answered nor did the stair creak. 
 
 A low half-moon wading in scud peered into the closet giv- 
 ing me light enough to find my clothes. The upper floors were 
 dark and still, but I was awaited; a man at the stair-foot 
 guarding a candle with his hand silently shewed me to a par- 
 lour warmed and lit, its table laid for one. 
 
 "If I am to ride thus early, I'll break my fast whilst I may," 
 I said, yawning immensely and rubbing lids which fell to- 
 gether if I looked at a light, for I was still mazed with my sud- 
 den waking and had no clear sense of what I was about, nor 
 was there any to ask. 
 
 [309]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 I had bolted some mouthfuls of ham and bread, and had 
 my head in a tankard, when a man summoned me in a stealthy 
 whisper to the half-opened door, "I say there, hurry up, 
 George, all is ready and the house is rousing." 
 
 The well-meant familiarity of this from a stranger surprised 
 me a little, but my noddle still hummed with sleep. Reason 
 was in abeyance, and such faculties as were active responded to 
 outside impulses. In a word, I was as near sleep-walking as 
 ever I have known myself. 
 
 I clapped my hat on, gripped my whip, the Mandeville crop, 
 and stept out booted and spurred, wiping my mouth with a 
 large silk handkerchief. 
 
 The flying moonlight gleamed and faded upon the upper 
 casements, but the well of the yard was dark. 
 
 There stood a great horse half-clothed, two grooms at 
 his head, and a small knot of men at a safe distance from his 
 heels, one of whom flashed a dark lanthorn across the face of 
 a watch. "Four sharp!" said he in an undertone; "mount, 
 Fanshawe, no need to scale; I'll certify ye ride overweight. 
 Here's your certificate!" He thrust it into my pocket. 
 
 " But but "I stammered in utter bewilderment. 
 
 "Confound you, George! This comes of last night's lip-trap. 
 Ye lose time, and I warn ye the thing will be crossed in another 
 minute! Bend a leg!" 
 
 A man had me by the ankle; the horse swung his quarters, 
 I sprang from habit, and was tost into the saddle. 
 
 "Go!" said a voice sharp and low. The grooms at his head 
 leapt back, the cloth slid from his loins; with a mighty plunge 
 he shook his head, spun round twice and neighed as if calling 
 to a stable companion. 
 
 "The fat is in the fire now!" laughed a voice in the dark- 
 ness as the sparks sprang from the sarsen cobbles. 
 
 "Who! where?" I asked in complete bewilderment,
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-THREE 
 
 feeling for the off stirrup and looking over my shoulder, for it 
 rushed upon me that this was all a blunder. 
 
 None answered, for a casement burst open above and some- 
 one half asleep, or stale drunk, leaned out lamenting that his 
 boots were full of beer! At the same moment there was a rush 
 of half-dressed men from an entry with shouts of "Pull up, 
 sir!" "Dismount, you there!" "Wrong man!" "Stop thief!" 
 "No start!" 
 
 A rocket roared aloft and, breaking, threw a crimson light 
 into the black hollow of that cockpit, echoing now to stamping 
 feet, fisticuffs and curses. And that was the last I was to see 
 of the Jack of Newbury, for my horse had found his bearings 
 and felling with his shoulder one who ran at his head ( missing 
 the bit but catching the throat-lash which broke in his hand ), 
 plunged under the arch. 
 
 Into the pitch-black street we came headlong, swinging so 
 sharply to the left as nearly to unseat me, still kicking for 
 that stirrup and with my reins in a tangle. The saddle, too, 
 was new and slippery and not to my shape. 
 
 Of all this the masterful beast took full advantage; stretching 
 a yard or more of powerful neck, he drew the reins through my 
 fingers and broke away at a gallop. The clatter of his heels 
 between the shuttered house-fronts was like the file-firing of a 
 company, but next instant was muted, we were upon the tan. 
 The horse half-checked with a startled snort, changed his foot, 
 slid, recovered, crossed his legs and was down, and with a 
 long scramble was up again without loss of impetus. 
 
 The fall had thrown me upon his poll, his rising had flung 
 me back into the saddle, where so soon as I was reseated, I 
 set about discovering what was wrong with my reins, both being 
 upon the same side of his neck and coming apparently from the 
 neighbourhood of his knees. 
 
 What had happened was plainly to be inferred ( for nothing
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF 
 
 could be seen ). In the fall my hands had come forward, the 
 bridle had passed over his head and was now entirely on the 
 near side. The bit was out of his mouth and dangled loose, 
 for that broken throat-lash had let the head-stall slip over his 
 ears! Next moment he must have set a hind-foot upon it, for 
 the straps suddenly tightened across my thigh, were twitched 
 from my grasp and left behind! 
 
 The beast was aware of his freedom and, quickening his 
 stride, stretched away into the darkness of an unknown road 
 at a pace that made the wind roar in my ears and my eyes to 
 run water. 
 
 I had now leisure to consider my situation, borne at a 
 tearing gallop by a very large and powerful brute over which 
 I had not the smallest control, and fell a-thinking what was 
 like to happen at our first toll-gate, and had gotten small 
 light upon that matter when a green rocket rose ahead, and 
 when I had shot unchallenged through the open pike, another 
 red signal flung my shadow before me upon the road notifying 
 my passage and warning the next gate of my approach. 
 
 I was wide awake by this, you will believe. These lights were 
 sufficient to convince me that I was the victim of a most amaz- 
 ing mistake, or, if you prefer it, the innocent perpetrator of 
 an astounding practical joke. 
 
 This horse that I was riding was quite evidently the one 
 upon which the wager had been laid! This secretly-engineer'd 
 start, these well-laid arrangements all attested the fact, and 
 once launched upon my course there was no stopping me, who 
 had by a series of mischances lost the power to stop myself! 
 
 Those who had planned this match had planned it to win, and 
 it seemed to me mighty hard that the thing should be crossed 
 by a chambermaid's stupidity and a snapped throat-lash! 
 
 Why should not I ride it through ? The horse knew the road, 
 it was plain; choosing the soundest and softest, with never a
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-FOUR 
 
 falter, and carrying his great head low, he dropt back into a 
 long easy stride which it was luxury to swing to. 
 
 Never, save once, had I crossed a beast so massive and 
 elastic, and could I have seen our line I had laughed aloud to 
 think of my ridiculous plight, my unpaid bill at The Jack, 
 and masterless servants at The Bear. 
 
 These, had they and I known it, were at the moment within 
 hail, for at my second gate (which was lighted and guarded, 
 as were the rest ) I passed to left of the end of a village street 
 silent in its mist and stinking of tan-yards. It was Hungerford, 
 and I now in Berkshire. But of this at the time I had not an 
 inkling, for the terms, distance, and destination of this mad 
 wager, if I had heard them overnight, had escaped me. 
 
 Though reduced from pilot to passenger, I had some natural 
 curiosity as to our course, and scrutinized the stars. 
 
 My little mistress had taught me some of the principal 
 constellations, but I had never watched an autumn sky with her 
 at this hour, and made nothing of the twinkling points, now 
 dimmed, now keen again, which played in and out with the mov- 
 ing clouds. 
 
 By now we had both warmed to our work, and were upon ex- 
 cellent terms. From between the last houses of Eddington we 
 swung out upon the Great Bath Road, a ten-mile stretch of it, 
 reckoned by the shadowy mile-stones, and for league after 
 league ploughed through a wet blanket of fog whilst snipe cried 
 "skape" from the dark, rushy greens beside the track and 
 skeins of duck dropt into the reed beds homing from their 
 night's banquet among the barley-stubbles. It was a great 
 morass, and so thick was the morning that only the bells of 
 the wagon-teams which we met or passed told us of their 
 presence. 
 
 Out of this bank we came at length, still galloping, and 
 over the elms I saw first a greyness and then the dawn, and
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirT 
 
 looking narrowly upon my horse, I knew him! There could be no 
 doubt of it, this was the mighty beast whose staunchness and 
 matchless power of leaping and recovery had saved the Man- 
 deville master stag. Of his identity I made no question. Certain 
 tan-coloured freckles at the roots of his ears were merely con- 
 firmatory, for two such horses as he for size, quality and colour 
 are not foaled in a century. 
 
 The superb length of that stride I had never forgot. One 
 could balance one's crop on end upon one's palm; it would have 
 been an easy thing to have carried a full glass without spill- 
 ing, so regular, so rhythmical, was the rise and fall of his 
 pace a pace without haste or rest which consumed the 
 road, and whilst appearing deliberate, was putting a mile-stone 
 behind us every five minutes, as my watch assured me. 
 
 Since the day broke I had passed a score of tilted stage 
 wagons, broad-wheeled and huge, and three coaches. Most of 
 the passengers were walking to warm their feet. All cheered 
 me, accepting the unbitted horse as one of the conditions of 
 the wager. 
 
 As to asking a question of these people, it was impossible; 
 the hurrahs of the outsiders dumbed all speech but their own, 
 whilst the wagoners seemed persons of the slowest wits of any 
 I had met with in my travels, for, after requiring each ques- 
 tion to be put to them twice, they bawled " Woa! " to their teams 
 by way of reply and made sign to me to stop, by which time I 
 was got beyond reach of their voices. 
 
 A bagman driving a blood-mare in a high-wheeled gig kept 
 pace beside me and conversed very affably and jocularly after 
 the manner of his class, "Mornin', m'lord!" says he, critically 
 surveying the grey, "Dammy, he's a rare bit o' stuff! all 
 whalebone and whipcord! . . . And y'are makin' better 
 time o't than yer ludship did when I had the honour o'pacin' ye 
 a fortni't since." I began to understand. "Aha! he remembers
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FOUR 
 
 that grass, I thought as much!" My steed had changed from 
 the grit to a stretch of sound turf, and was swinging as softly and 
 silently as a child's rocking-horse. 
 
 We had risen a long gentle ascent and saw below us a little 
 town lying about a square belfry, its hundred chimneys sending 
 their blue hearth-smokes all one way across the red roofs. 
 "Noobra," said my companion in reply to my lifting eyebrow, 
 adding with a glance at my horse's head, "That's the match, 
 I take it?" 
 
 " By no means, he slipt it at starting. " 
 
 "Then I'll push ahead and get this gate shut and borrow 
 one for ye at the Pelican." 
 
 "Ye will kindly let well alone," said I, "And I thank ye 
 all the same, but he can go no better than he is going, and 
 I've a fancy to leave him in charge. " 
 
 The man wheezed genial approval, observing that there 
 was a pair of us. "That's his stable friend he is hollering 
 after," said he, when the grey lifted the load off his great 
 heart with a shrill nicker. "Keep an eye for Sam Smith!" he 
 cried after me at our parting, a mile of raw flints reducing him 
 to a walk, but making no odds to me upon the roadside grass. 
 
 Newbury we left upon our right. It was now between five 
 and six of a clear morning and along the last of the fen through 
 which the Kennet winds the turf cutters were at work turning 
 or stacking their summer's peat. Far ahead of me through the 
 limpid air of morning I could see their heads bobbing, saw 
 some stop work and run for the road. "Not to greet me, surely," 
 thought I, who was yet hidden from them by hedges. Nor was it 
 for me they had run, for when I came to the place a dozen 
 labourers stood looking stolidly at a heavy fellow in a long blue 
 coat fallen bleeding in a rut. Hearing hoofs he half arose 
 upon an elbow and looked upon me dull-eyed, a look which the 
 yokels worded for him as "Hey, mister!"
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUALITT 
 
 Whatever his need it had to be served by others, the grey 
 held on stoutly, swerving wide and quickening as we neared 
 the crowd as a free horse will that fears a detaining hand. 
 
 A furlong further on a riderless hackney nibbled the road- 
 side green, his forefeet hoppled in his reins. 
 
 By my guess we had come twenty miles without for a moment 
 shortening this incomparable stride; now at a slight ascent my 
 steed dropt to a trot and halted, as though at this spot he had 
 been eased before. Down I slipt and stood, resting his back, 
 but with foot in stirrup, you may be sure, and hand on pommel, 
 and was in my seat again at his first movement. 
 
 They say Mr. John Wesley wrote his sermons in the saddle; 
 be that as it may, my own experience is that whilst one may 
 think consecutively whilst at a trot, regular and continuous 
 reflection is difficult when galloping; the mind is too alive 
 and nimble, too receptive of impressions to work; the passage 
 of a bird's shadow distracts; it is like trying to add a sum whilst 
 running. There, for instance, when I would be thinking of 
 my little mistress, was a man upon the road ahead of me leading 
 a horse, a man, whom when I approached I found to be the fellow 
 of him who had fallen two miles back, nor had this one been 
 much more fortunate, for he was dusty from a tumble, and by 
 the way his horse lifted his forefeet I presaged broken knees. 
 Him, dizzy from his mishap, I overtook before he was aware 
 of hooves upon the grass. When too late he began to bellow, 
 but so inarticulately that beyond maledictions upon me for not 
 drawing rein I caught little of his desires, and the last that I 
 heard of his wishes was for my eternal discomfiture in company 
 with somebody of the name of Smith: a personality who seemed 
 that day to represent the Father of All Mischief along the 
 Great Bath Road. 
 
 Back to my thoughts again, vaguely happy as a boy, play- 
 ing with my whip, that one this horse had earned in Yorkshire,
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FOUR 
 
 a four foot crab-stock, glossy and hard, ending in a buck- 
 horn crome, as we say in Suffolk, the burr being heavy and 
 its brow-tine straight and sharp. 
 
 How this jaunt would end I cared not a jot; I was wholly 
 irresponsible, it was my holiday, and I had worked hard of 
 late and not unsuccessfully. That good old Quaker's forecast 
 had come true. / had been used, and the work I had done had, 
 God knows, been very far indeed from what any of the Friends 
 would or could have undertaken. A great estate and an ancient 
 name pulled out of the fire, a rogue unmasked, a brother saved, 
 wedded and settled, and all this due to the wild work of a few 
 hours. My work ? I laughed outright; I was as innocent of it 
 as of this fool ride and of all that might come of it. I had been 
 used; that summed it up; I had been the puppet, a hand had 
 pulled the strings. 
 
 Well, all that seemed over, and after all, Blakenham being 
 off my hands, I had my life to live and was minded to live 
 it according to my own plans. Miss Phoebe, now ( God 
 bless her! ) how in heaven's name to extricate her from 
 the sweetbriar maze of her Friendly surroundings? "For" 
 ( said I ), "George Fanshawe, you are not, and never will 
 be, a Friend; if a footpad jumped out of that hedge you would 
 hit him, sir; which would grieve Miss Phoebe, George; for 
 she is a Friend and will never be anything else. " 
 
 "Well, then," said I, "God mend all!" and remembering, 
 rather late, that I had said no prayer at my rising that mor- 
 ning, I made shift to put my case into His hands who had al- 
 ready carried me through so much, and once upon this line 
 reflected upon the pits of glowing sin He had held me back 
 from, until my past life seemed to me to have been steps picked 
 across some quaking crust seamed by fires beneath. 
 
 I had put on my hat again and, glancing ahead, was ware 
 of a saddle-horse close at hand in a lane's end between two 
 
 [317]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUJLITT 
 
 hollies ( Calcot-Row Bottom was the place). His rider was 
 standing behind him with his head down, as one stands when 
 taking up a girth. Hardly had I seen so much ere we were past, 
 and the man mounting very adroitly, and his horse jumping 
 off into a gallop, came up on my whip-hand with a rush. 
 
 I saw what was coming, and awaited the "Stand and deliver," 
 a demand with which it was out of my power to comply. 
 
 It is possible my assailant had seen my predicament too 
 late, and, being a person of few words, made no ado, but rapped 
 out a request for my watch and purse from behind a levelled 
 pistol. 
 
 All this passed in the winking of an eye. Acting sheerly upon 
 instinct, without thought or premeditation, I caught my crop 
 by the whipping of the loop and swung but a stroke at the 
 thiePs head. 
 
 Bang! went his weapon as I struck, and something took me 
 over the crown like the cut of a thong. 
 
 Both horses sprang forward at the shot, for a few strides the 
 grey's courage and reach kept us level, then the lighter and 
 fresher animal drew away. 
 
 The thief had dropt pistol and reins, a vizard concealed his 
 face, he swayed heavily in his seat, leaning more and more 
 towards me, fumbling with his hands upon the mane, his knees 
 clipping the saddle weakly. One word he uttered thickly as a 
 man speaks in sleep; "able," said he, and over he came, taking 
 the road between the horses heavily. 
 
 His left foot, still held by the stirrup, trailed him leaping 
 with each leap of his horse for a couple of strides, when the 
 boot drew, and the grey swinging wide passed the fallen thief 
 untouched where he lay. 
 
 The event had occurred with bewildering suddenness (so 
 had the ruffian planned it ). It was the leap of a fox upon a 
 rabbit; calculated, prearranged; a pounce, a snap but,
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FOUR 
 
 behold the biter bit, a comicality to make a song about, and 
 which tickled me for the moment to a spasm of laughter; my 
 blind backhander had knocked him out of his saddle, and 
 after such a bumping he would hardly resume the chase. 
 
 I was in the highest spirits and quite unconscious of being 
 hurt. That the escape had been of the narrowest I was presently 
 convinced; my whip-stock was broke, either by the blow or 
 the bullet, horn and ferule were gone; my ear sang with the 
 shot, and neck and cheek tingled with powder-grains. And 
 then, without warning, my inwards heaved, the singing 
 in my head became a roaring, a dizziness enmeshed me like a 
 net, and I tasted blood in my mouth ( but that was but fancy ). 
 To fight these weaknesses was as much as I could manage, 
 nor do I know how long they assailed me, but presently warm 
 blood running over my face and behind my ears brought 
 relief, and the yellow mist before my eyes cleared and there 
 was the grey's head, ( carried rather low now ), rising and 
 falling to his steady canter, easy and slow, not seven miles an 
 hour by this I should say, for the end was coming. 
 
 And then it seemed the road was lined by cheering horse- 
 men, a score of them, and early as was the hour, foot-people 
 were upon gates and rails, every soul of them waving a hat and 
 bawling his best. 
 
 The grey and his rider needed it all; slower and still slower 
 he cantered, but canter he did, until at a great posting inn, 
 The Castle, where the road begins to fall towards the town 
 below, he drew up beneath a cedar tree, and stood with round 
 red nostrils and shaking tail. 
 
 Wearied he might be, but with spirit unquenched he pealed 
 out one of his wild calls, and first among those who ran to his 
 help was a stable-lad carrying a tortoiseshell cat, the dumb 
 friend and none other that my steed had galloped thirty 
 miles to find!
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 A band of well-dressed men was awaiting us, haggard, 
 white-lipped, on tip-toe with anxiety. 
 
 As we stopt a storm of cries broke forth." Begad, he has won! " 
 "Fudge, he has lost!" "Are ye then the referee, sir?" "Well 
 ridden, Fanny!" "He is hurt!" "Bleeding at the nose; 'tis 
 nothing!" "Don't dismount; for heaven's sake keep your seat, 
 sir!" "Where's Copleston ? Now sir, which is it ?" 
 
 A little person standing amidst taller men, lifted his eye 
 from his watch and amidst the silence of that expectant throng 
 I heard a distant church clock striking. 
 
 "Won by ten seconds, if he carried the weight. Where's 
 your certificate ? Thanks. You may dismount, Mr. Fanshawe. " 
 
 I slid down heavily and was almost carried to the scale 
 and my saddle put into my lap. 
 
 "A close shave, but an ounce to the good. Whatever made 
 ye ride so fine ? And where did ye lose your bridle ?" 
 
 The tense anxiety of the backers found relief in a chorus 
 of ejaculations of the self-congratulatory cast. A loser gloomed 
 on me with sour intentness as I rose from the scale and re- 
 moved my hat. "Stop!" he cried with sudden heat. "Hi, here, 
 Copleston, you've not given the race yet. Don't! This isn't 
 Fansbawe! I protest!" 
 
 For a moment there was silence, disbelief yielding to 
 scrutiny. Uncovered and standing, the fact was evident, and 
 those who a moment earlier had thought themselves winners 
 turned upon me with a volley of angry questions. I looked 
 from side to side ringed by white excited faces all working 
 with incoherent demands. 
 
 "Mr. Copleston, if that is your name," I said, "I can an- 
 swer all these gentlemen in a word. The thing is a blunder 
 from first to last. I came because the horse brought me, and by 
 no will or design of my own. Who owns the animal and what 
 he was backed to do I know no more than Mr. Pitt. He bolted 
 
 [320]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FOUR 
 
 with me from Bedwyn as the clock struck four, cast his bridle, 
 and here I am, George Fanshawe of Chorley, very much at 
 your service; and now for pity's sake a glass of beer." 
 
 The place began to go round with me; I was shaking all 
 over, and holding myself together with an effort. This 
 some of them saw, and had me into the house and laid me all 
 along upon a settle, and whilst one sponged my face, another 
 spied the mark of the bullet, and my hat being handed round 
 and its two holes wondered at, excitement ran high. 
 
 The room resounded with confident assertion and counter- 
 assertion. The match was landed, was lost, was off, must be re- 
 ridden. The one party having recovered from their surprise were 
 urging that the horse had won, their opponents vehemently 
 holding that the man had lost. As to the name by which I was 
 pleased to call myself, neither side gave it a thought. That 
 I had stolen the horse was suggested, and the propriety of send- 
 ing for a constable was met by the alternative suggestion for 
 putting me under the pump ! Seldom have I found myself in so 
 false a position, and the faintness hanging heavily upon me, I 
 found it beyond my power to assert myself effectively. 
 
 I had husbanded my wits for this inevitable explanation, 
 and you will admit that to be plunged into the midst of it with 
 a broken head was the hardest of luck. 
 
 Meanwhile, having said my say, I lay back and let them fight 
 it out, hearing as through a door the disputants wrangling, and 
 the small referee pulled this way and that by over-energetic 
 partizans. 
 
 Then a great, cheery laugh, which I knew, rang out, and into 
 the midst of it all bounced Bob Dawnay. "Sorry I missed the 
 finish. So we've won, I hear?" At this Bedlam broke loose 
 afresh, ten men at the least explaining simultaneously to the 
 new comer the merits of their several points of view. He glanced 
 at Copleston. "You are reserving your decision? Let us look
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 at the fellow, anyhow. Why! 'tis Doodles, by the Lord! Bless 
 the man! What has happened?" and the dear old fellow was 
 hanging over me with the grt itest solicitude in the world, 
 whilst the room hushed its discords for a moment in presence 
 of his obvious recognition. 
 
 In a trice he had assumed command, that was his way; the 
 part fitted him, and tho' he was near the youngest present, all 
 listened when he raised his voice. 
 
 Bob was never the man to approach an audience with a 
 deprecatory simper. He went to the point, as he rode at a locked 
 gate, "over" or "through." 
 
 "Look here, gentlemen, won or lost, my friend here, Mr. 
 George Fanshawe, is, for the moment, in no condition to do 
 himself justice, or indeed to endure this racket. He has been 
 badly used on the road and needs refreshment and quiet. I will 
 ask you to leave him in my hands for a hour " 
 
 The referee lifted his hand, his face clearing. "Certainly, Mr. 
 Dawnay, and your word settles it. Listen, gentlemen, if you 
 please. The race was to be ridden from the Jack at Bedwyn to 
 the Castle here at Reading, by Mr. George Fanshawe, and I 
 find that a person of that name carrying the weight has covered 
 the distance within the time, and award him the stakes . . . 
 No, sir, your protest is overruled. I have spoken. " 
 
 Bob's voucher was enough. In one moment I had become 
 again a person of consideration to be courted and propitiated, 
 and was like to have been questioned and flattered to death. 
 
 Two hours later I was another man; had bathed and break- 
 fasted, and been refitted from top to toe from Dawnay 's valise, 
 and had seen the gallant grey drenched with stout, gruel and 
 beef-tea, a fresh-stript sheep-skin hot from the carcase, laid 
 to his loins, extended at his ease half lost in straw, whilst 
 his own man rubbed his ears, and the tortoiseshell caressed his 
 muzzle. 
 
 [322]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FOUR 
 
 Bob regarded this scene of contentment with an inscrutable 
 face. From a word he had dropt I gathered there had been 
 near as many guineas laid upon the grey's success as there were 
 hairs upon his body, and that certain persons his owner 
 amongst them had wagered sums they could have ill af- 
 forded to lose. "Fanny is a fool, Doodles, and between our- 
 selves, has got into the hands of a Corinthian set. If this thing 
 had been crossed or lost, the judge would hardly have held up 
 his head again. I say it. And he wasn't the only pigeon, begad. 
 I was in it, and deep, too deep. It has made me sweat to think 
 on't; for the thing has been a plant, as I can now see and 
 suspected earlier. And look here," he stood away from me, 
 eyeing me strangely. " 'Tis the second time, Doodles, you've 
 got me out of a scrape. It shall be the last. I reserved horses, 
 you remember ? Well, I throw them in, man. No more of this 
 tomfoolery. So help me, God!"
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 
 THE MESSAGE 
 
 YOU, my young relatives, when children, may have looked, 
 as I have looked when a child, through the eye-slits of 
 a raree-show and watched scene pursue scene across 
 the field of vision faster and faster as the showman ( having 
 pouched your pence and impatient to be gone ), turned his 
 handle with increasing speed. 
 
 With similar bewildering rapidity did the events of this 
 memorable day scamper past, leaping upon one another's 
 backs. 
 
 Whilst I was still enjoying my breakfast ( how one 
 eats at two-and-twenty! ) three post-chaises rattled up, 
 and the whole story must be retold afresh to the astonished 
 ears of my fellow-guests of the Bedwyn Jack. What I 
 should have been compelled to listen to had I lost may be 
 conjectured; having won, I was pelted with compliments by 
 persons who by their own accounts had spent in my 
 pursuit some of the most miserably anxious hours of their 
 lives. 
 
 Here then I made first acquaintance with the gentleman 
 whom I had unwittingly personated, my distant cousin, Mr. 
 George Maskelyne-Fanshawe, who accepted an absurd situa- 
 tion with the better grace since, for reasons apart from the
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 soaking of his boots, he had been in no condition to have 
 ridden. 
 
 "Twas a something put into my nightcap, sir, by one of 
 the gang ye saw; a deed set of scoundrelly Hebrews, bent on 
 crossing the match one way if they couldn't in another. But, 
 'fore George, sir! never again; trust me, never again!" 
 
 I listened to the man with more interest than his conversa- 
 tion merited, as was natural considering that during some 
 twelve hours we had repeatedly passed for one another. I 
 confess I could see no likeness, and was little flattered at 
 being thought to resemble him. At the same time, a similarity 
 which had imposed upon so many must have had some basis, 
 probably consisting more in tricks of manner than in the 
 fashion of features. As to height, I think I had the advantage 
 by an inch, tho' he was the heavier man. When in company no 
 one would have assumed our relationship, and to repeat the 
 opinion expressed at the time, a bad light had much to do 
 with it. 
 
 You must all have known cases of the kind; I myself re- 
 call two brothers at Eton whose hair and complexion, ages and 
 voices were sufficiently different, yet whom these discrepancies 
 could not save from constant mistakes as to identity upon the 
 parts both of their masters and companions. 
 
 My escapade had left me with nothing worse than a plais- 
 tered crown and such a headache as a young man may accept 
 in silence and hope to walk off. 
 
 Bob was for my company to the Town Hall where the judges 
 were sitting. "They summoned me on the Grand Jury, Dood- 
 les, a beastly chouse; it does me out of some excellent shooting, 
 as I told 'em; but these big-wigs have no bowels!" 
 
 It was his first appearance upon the panel, and for all his 
 assumption of annoyance he was enjoying the dignity. 
 
 "We returned a true bill last night against some Quaker 
 
 [325]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 fellow for murder. The man if they have the right man 
 is suspected of other matters, seems a sort of criminal Jack- 
 of-all-trades, but the main charge will hang him if they prove 
 it. 'Tis a vastly odd case a queerer ye never heard; he stands 
 his trial this morning, and I'm curious to see how it goes; 
 (fact, I've a guinea on't. ) What say ye, shall we look in ? " 
 
 Whilst crossing the Market-Place my companion was ac- 
 costed by one who had served with him on the previous day. 
 "Ha, Mr. Dawnay! What, not satisfied with our finding? No 
 more am I, myself; no more is the half of us. We were too 
 precipitate, sir, I'll be sworn. But 'tis too late for the wretch, 
 I fear. You will find our box nigh as full as yesterday. There's 
 a baker's dozen of 'em watching the case, and some money upon 
 it, too. " 
 
 "And how is it going, Mr. Merton ?" 
 
 "Why; very ill for the man, sir; very ill indeed. It was even 
 betting, or a shade in his favour, when the case was called, 
 but you may back him to better advantage now, sir, or save 
 your money; for unless the fellow can conquer the prejudices 
 of his friends, Dawkins is sure of a verdict. Friends, indeed! 
 May the Lord deliver me from such!" 
 
 "What? Is't possible the obstinate fools won't swear?" 
 
 "Devil a bit, sir; not even to save life: for it comes to that. 
 There are two in court now, a married couple, plain, honest- 
 looking, respectable folk, whose oaths, if they would take 
 'em, would go far with any jury; but, would ye believe it, 
 Mr. Dawnay, they are rock, sir, and'll cling to their super- 
 stition and'll see their man hang before they'll kiss the book. 
 And what's oddest, neither will he nor his people urge them. 
 I don't dislike the look of the man myself. Apart from his 
 folly, he seems a sober sort, with a double dose of sanctimony 
 thrown in. " 
 
 "What is his answer to the charge ?" 
 
 [326]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 "Mistaken identity put simply as a plea of ' Not Guilty,' 
 when, of course, it should be backed with an alibi. Three of 
 his workpeople swear to his return upon a certain day; but 
 that won't serve, for the distance might be covered in the time, 
 and he can't, or won't, prove what he was doing meanwhile. 
 So he's a dead man, or as good as. No, there will be no 
 commutation nor reprieve, for ye see, local feeling runs strong 
 the roads must be made safe. This thing has gone on too long; 
 an example is sorely needed; better hang the wrong man than 
 hang nobody, they say; and perhaps they're right, eh ? Ye agree 
 with me ?" 
 
 Chattering thus, he stood aside to let a blue wagon go creak- 
 ing past, I saw something within it covered by a rick-sheet. 
 
 Bob's acquaintance a small squire, as I judged had 
 turned, and was retracing his steps beside us, still full of his 
 subject, and possibly gratified at being seen in Dawnay's 
 company. 
 
 "If there's a chance for him it lies in the Serjeant's conduct. 
 Dawkins is inflaming the case; he always does; 'tis his way." 
 
 "So I've heard," said Bob, "thank God, 'tis not my way. 
 I'm always for plenty of law; never hulloa until the fox 
 has crossed two fences. Now a poor devil on his trial is precious 
 like a fox when he breaks. 'Give the devil his due,' say I, and 
 the poorer the devil why the more the due, eh ? If I were in 
 the box Dawkins would set my back up. " 
 
 "He has set the judge's back up; they were sparring 
 prettily when I left. Well, good day, t'ye, Mr. Dawnay. I'd stay 
 and see it out but I have far to ride, and the roads are none 
 too safe after dark. " 
 
 The Assize was held in the Town Hall hard by the Market- 
 place a mean building, long and low, divided by double cur- 
 tains at half its length, and temporarily converted to the uses 
 of the two courts. Any arrangement more squalid, makeshift 
 
 [327]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 or comfortless, would be hard to devise.The court was as cramp- 
 ed, as gloomy and fully as foetid as a jail. 
 
 Dividing the hangings, my friend ushered me into the crimi- 
 nal side, and, edging slowly through the crowd, introduced me 
 to the stuffy pen set apart for the grand jury. It was well 
 filled. The room, at its best, must have been dark, and seemed 
 dismally so to eyes used to the sunshine without. The best lit 
 figure was the Red Judge; the clear-cut marble paleness of his 
 face framed in the massive wig was thrown up against the dark 
 furniture of the bench and canopy. It was Sir Algernon Maske- 
 lyne-Fanshawe. I knew him at the first glance, and need have 
 felt no surprise. The man was in his right place. Had I not 
 heard it said over-night at the Jack that he was trying this 
 case ? He was listening with an air of weary disapproval to 
 some heated remarks from a stout counsel whose face I could 
 not see. 
 
 Dawnay spied a friend. I slipt into the last seat vacant. 
 A grand juryman, whispering behind his hand, apprised me of 
 the turn things were taking. 
 
 "Evidence for prosecution finished; Dawkins up, spoiling 
 a strong case by listen to that, now!" 
 
 The Serjeant's full, big, unmodulated voice was unpleasantly 
 aggressive; his attitude, bent forward across his papers, with 
 hands conjoined beneath his gown behind, suggested a game- 
 cock setting to his adversary. 
 
 "I repeat, m'lud " 
 
 "What you have not proved, my learned brother; pray 
 get on with your case. " 
 
 " the pigheadedness of pragmatical antinomians " 
 
 "To whom are you referring ?" 
 
 "To the people called Quakers. " 
 
 "The sect is not upon its trial, brother Dawkins, nor have 
 we evidence of what ye allege. "
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 "But, common fame, m'lud " 
 
 " Is not evidence, nor is common defamation. " 
 
 A subdued titter rippled over the audience. The big coun- 
 sel glared to right and left of him ere he resumed. 
 
 "M'lud, I submit that I am entitled to place my own inter- 
 pretation of the evidence before the jury without dictation 
 from the bench!" 
 
 ("The old fool! There! Fanshawe is going to let him 
 have it!" muttered a voice at my ear. ) 
 
 "The court, my learned brother " began the judge in a 
 little far-away, weary voice, very low and clear, "the 
 court allows you every latitude in dealing with the facts, but 
 has drawn, and will continue to draw, the line at impertinent 
 obiter dicta unwarranted by the evidence and unworthy of the 
 high traditions of the bar. " 
 
 "Well done, Sir Algernon!" murmured someone near me, 
 "the serjeant has met his match at last!" 
 
 'Impertinent* my lud ? 'Obiter dicta,' m'lud ? I appeal 
 to your ludship! I appeal to my brethren of the circuit! 
 To what depths have the liberties of counsel sunk if we are to 
 be hampered in the conduct of a case for the Crown, publicly 
 checked and censured for a casual allusion to the notorious 
 poltroonery, the insensate bigotry of disloyal sectaries ? " 
 
 "Have a care, my learned brother; I am not one whom it is 
 safe to defy." 
 
 The big counsel wagging a purple jowl boomed some hot 
 rejoinder. The judge bent upon him a face of cold displeasure. 
 
 "Sit down, sir. You have disregarded my expressed wishes. 
 You have set at nought my ruling, you have now gone beyond 
 bounds. I decline to hear more from you. " 
 
 The man he addressed, one of the leaders of the circuit, 
 whose powerful personality had long been a terror to witnesses, 
 who had dominated the bar, and was accustomed to overbear 
 
 [ 329 3
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 the bench itself, drew himself up with a gesture of astonish- 
 ment, and tossing his brief to his junior bounced from the 
 court snorting his protest. 
 
 "Mr. Temperley, you are with brother Dawkins; is this 
 your case ?" The question fell from the judge in quiet, matter- 
 of-fact accents. Men smiled. 
 
 The junior hurriedly pleaded for an adjournment, which the 
 court refusing, he collected his papers and followed his leader. 
 
 There was a minute's silence during which one heard the 
 muffled tones of the Black Judge beyond the curtains charging. 
 
 Sir Algernon hemmed with the clear low note of a harp, 
 "Gentlemen of the jury, the circumstances, if something un- 
 usual, are not, as I venture to think, unfavourable to the 
 administration of justice. And I wish to impress upon all 
 who hear my voice, that justice, and not a verdict for the 
 Crown, is what we are met to seek. Counsel for the prosecution 
 having thrown up their briefs, a certain rude equality is gained 
 by the case, since the accused, being charged with murder, is 
 debarred the assistance of counsel. " 
 
 ( This was news to me and seemed monstrous unfair, but 
 was the law then and for long after. ) 
 
 "The disability under which, I say, the accused lies is 
 sufficiently heavy, but in this instance is immeasurably aggra- 
 vated by his inability to put into the box two witnesses by 
 whose mouths he had hoped to establish his alibi. 
 
 These persons, who, we are told, are ready to testify that 
 the presence of the accused elsewhere at the instant of the 
 crime made his participation in that crime a physical impossi- 
 bility, are Quakers, whose religious convictions forbid them to 
 take an oath, and whose testimony is therefore legally inad- 
 missible. " 
 
 The judge paused; it was an artifice to rivet attention. 
 
 "You, gentlemen, must have been fortunate in your experi-
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 ence of courts of law if you have failed to notice the shame- 
 ful levity with which the oath is too commonly taken. 
 
 " In the course of this case two witnesses for the Crown, the 
 brothers Proctor" (I pricked my ears ) "have deposed 
 circumstantially to petty details of time and place respecting a 
 casual meeting a twelve-month ago, a meeting after dark ( if 
 these persons are to be believed ) particulars, which must 
 have seemed at the moment wholly unimportant; and when, 
 as you probably observed, the testimony of the postmaster 
 was found discrepant from that of the constable, the witness 
 promptly changed his story and swore with equal pertinacity 
 to his amended version. 
 
 " I mention this point, gentlemen, out of place ( for I must 
 task your patience by reverting to it in my charge ), to shew 
 you how little weight the oath, per se, should have with you, 
 the oath apart from the character of the witness. 
 
 "But here we have two persons whose sense of what is due 
 to the majesty of God is such that they refuse to take His 
 awful name upon their lips even to save the life of their friend. 
 
 "They say (we are informed ), the accused was their guest 
 from the thirtieth of September to the tenth of October; that 
 he spent ten days and nights in their company nursing a sick 
 man, and was never absent for more than an hour. I repeat 
 that they say this, and from my personal experience of Quakers 
 I affirm publicly and without hesitation that I believe them. 
 
 " I do not believe that these persons would travel two hundred 
 miles to tell a deliberate lie and yet shrink from backing it 
 with an oath. 
 
 " The unsubstantiated aspersions upon this sect which pained 
 our ears I stigmatize as unjust and untrue. They were not 
 charged in the opening nor supported by a tittle of evidence; 
 they form no part of the case they were imported to prejudice. 
 I not only withdraw them from your consideration but put to
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 you the direct opposite. The loyalty of the Quakers has never 
 yet been compromised or impugned; their goodwill to the 
 Throne is generally recognized. But apart from this, the morals 
 of the sect will bear comparison with those of any body of per- 
 sons in Britain. 
 
 " I speak what I know. My relations with the Quakers with 
 the Society of Friends, as they prefer to be called having 
 been intimate and wholly to my advantage, and I will not hear 
 them wantonly defamed. I have ever found them scrupulously 
 truthful, and I doubt not that your experience bears out mine, 
 and that you also know them for a people whose bare word we 
 should all receive outside this court, but whose bare word 
 inside this court the law compels us to ignore. " 
 
 The great man paused, watching, as it seemed to me, the 
 effect of his remarks upon the jury. 
 
 It was my first experience of oratory. I could have listened 
 to him for an hour without fatigue, the sweet precision of his 
 balanced periods so took me. No doubt it was the voice, he 
 was famed for his voice, but each word seemed to fall patly 
 just where it should. 
 
 Presently, as satisfied with the result, he turned to some- 
 one whom I could not see and made a sign. 
 
 I had by this grown interested in what was going forward, 
 but found myself ( as a late comer was likely enough to do ) 
 extremely ill-placed for the show. Seated low at the back of 
 the box I saw little beyond the wigs of those in front of me 
 and nothing of the well of the court. 
 
 "Where is the dock?" I asked in a whisper, and found it 
 was near upon my right hand, but so arranged that until the 
 accused rose ( he was sitting ) the occupant was invisible 
 to me. 
 
 "What's the fellow's name ?" said I behind my hand. " Hall- 
 ivord," replied my neighbour in a gruff whisper "the judge's 
 
 [332]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 partiality won't save him; 'tis a matter of identity, and they 
 swear to his mug, sir; swear to it hard and fast." 
 
 I recalled no talk of any Quaker family of the name. The 
 dates were landmarks in my life; it was impossible to forget 
 where I lay on the dates mentioned. 
 
 An official, whom I took to be the Clerk of Arraigns, was 
 upon his feet addressing someone. 
 
 Then a plank creaked, and every face turned towards a man 
 who was rising. 
 
 " My lord ! " The accents thrilled me to the pit of my stomach. 
 I knew the face; I knew the voice; they were the face and voice 
 of Abel Ellwood. 
 
 " But but I know that man ! What has he to do with it ? " 
 I whispered hurriedly into the ear of my unknown neighbour. 
 He half-turned, and looked me over askance as well as our 
 proximity and the gloom of the box permitted. "I am sorry to 
 hear ye say so, sir. That is the prisoner." 
 
 The prisoner ! Abel Ellwood charged with murder! The 
 situation was too absurd for words; it needed a huge blast of 
 laughter to express my feelings; an inclination which grew 
 upon me suddenly to the verge of mastery, taxing to the utter- 
 most my self-control. Was I crazy? Had that bullet crack- 
 ed my thick skull in very truth ? 
 
 Meanwhile, my wits resettling, the opening passages of 
 the defence reached my ears. The man was absolutely himself, 
 paler, perhaps, but as dryly composed in his self-command as 
 though engaged upon his daily business. What he had passed 
 through, what he was feeling, those who knew his heart might 
 guess, but the outer mask of him was strangely impassive. 
 
 "Do I understand I have thy leave to speak ?" He addressed 
 the judge, and awaited the consenting sign. "Then, first let 
 me thank thee for thy last words; those as to the Society of 
 Friends. Whatever may be the issue of this case, and I know 
 
 [333]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 that my life is in higher hands than thine, or those of the jury, 
 thy plain and righteous expressions will be remembered. They 
 cannot fail to bear fruit. I thank thee. " He paused. "For my- 
 self," he resumed, "I am not careful to dress my case with 
 artifice. I will not heap together words where the evidence 
 I offer is refused a hearing. The two witnesses for the Crown 
 who have sworn to my presence at Maidenhead Thicket on 
 the evening of October 5th are mistaken; honestly mistaken. 
 Neither Colonel Gunn " ( I started ) "nor Thomas Doggett 
 had I seen before the day of my committal. That they were 
 passengers by the coach that was stopped is probably true, 
 but 'twas not I that robbed them. Nor until I passed the place 
 in custody on my journey hither was I ever nearer to the scene 
 of the crime than London. 
 
 "My witnesses, those whose testimonies have been received, 
 have spoken to my leaving Milton-on-Derwent on the after- 
 noon of September 3Oth, and to my return on the afternoon of 
 October loth. The two witnesses whose testimonies are re- 
 fused, my friends Heber and Susanna Moorhouse, can speak 
 to my reaching their door on the evening of the former date 
 and my leaving ten days later. 
 
 "I was their guest during those days and nights. My horse 
 stood in their stable. They and I were tied closely by a sick 
 man whom we were nursing. It was a time of almost constant 
 rain. No one came in to us that they or I can remember; cer- 
 tainly no one came upstairs. Nor did I, at least, have occasion 
 to go further than to my horse's stall. No ' he paused and 
 reflected, "there is no one in York whom I could call in evidence 
 of my presence there. I have friends and acquaintances in the 
 city, customers too, but their knowledge that I was detained 
 there for those ten days was gained, I find, from hearsay; 
 they know it now, and they knew it indeed shortly after my 
 leaving, but they did not know it at the time. 
 
 [334]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 "I am told such knowledge is not evidence. 
 
 "It is strange, knowing my own innocence as I know it, 
 as my family and my friends know it, to be baffled thus." 
 
 The speaker made a longer pause. The Red Judge, closely 
 watching, leaned a little forward. "I must not cross-examine 
 you. Believe me, I interpose for your help; you have spoken 
 of a fourth person, a sick man, whose malady detained you 
 within doors during the days in question. Is he still living? 
 Is he also a member of your Society ? Is his evidence unavail- 
 able?" 
 
 "My lord, he is not one of us he is not a Friend. His 
 evidence is vital to me, and would be conclusive. But he is 
 travelling. I am told a subpoena has followed him from one 
 address to another for weeks. But all trace of his present 
 whereabouts is lost." He stopt. "If it be the will of the 
 Almighty, I must submit to His ordering. " Again his voice 
 ceased. The court watched and waited. 
 
 My younger relatives will hardly need to be told that I 
 am far from a ready man. Various incidents in these memoirs 
 will have shewn this infirmity; and, indeed, men of my inches 
 are seldom instant or quick-witted 
 
 For some moments it had been growing upon me that it was 
 I that was wanted, and this comprehension had set me upon 
 needles and pins to learn the right person to apprise of my 
 presence. 
 
 To raise my voice in that concourse, I, who had never so 
 much as opened my lips in public the thought turned me 
 hot. That I must speak, and speak at once, I felt; but whom 
 should I address, how begin ? I declare my tongue grew dry in 
 my mouth, and the palms of my hands pricked with sweat. 
 
 Should I speak from my seat or rise ? Should I begin 
 with "My lord," or " Your worship," or plain "Sir Algernon" ? 
 To bounce into the midst like a jack-pudding at a fair with his 
 
 [335]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 "Here we are again!" seemed indecorous. Presently there would 
 surely be an opening. 
 
 And now, . after a pause, Abel was speaking again, and 
 when he spoke it was in a changed voice, and in tones that 
 pierced my heart. 
 
 "'Oh, that I knew where I might find him!' (might find 
 him!) 'Behold, I go forward, but he is not there' 'and back- 
 ward, but I cannot perceive him!' 'he hideth himself from 
 me!'"' 
 
 His voice, monotonous but clear, had fallen, and fallen 
 until men strained their ears; now he flung his head back with 
 a gesture unusual to him, seeming to remember himself and to 
 desperately rally his faith. 
 
 " 'But He knoweth the way that I take! When He hath 
 tried me I shall come forth as gold.' * But "( his tone fell 
 again ); "but I have prayed. If he were here if he my 
 friend were here " for the first time the voice shook, his 
 eyes closed tightly, his chin sunk upon his breast; "if if my 
 friend George Fanshawe were here!" 
 
 "But I AM here!" 
 
 They say my shout stopped the business in the civil court 
 and was heard across the Market-Place. I sprang to my feet, 
 my eyes stung with tears, and, wholly forgetting what few man- 
 ners I had ever learned, made straight for my friend across 
 the packed grand-jury box, ploughing through cramped knees, 
 and trampling hats and toes in ruthless sort, aye, and if Bob 
 is to be believed, swearing under my breath, but of that I have 
 no recollection, having clean forgotten what I did say, and 
 trusting the recording angel has forgotten it also. 
 
 1 Job ixiii. v. 2, 8. I doubt if ten men in court knew whom he quoted, or that 
 he did quote. I myself did not, nor, I think, did you, sir, before your reading 
 of this note. G. F. 
 
 2 Job xxiii. T. 10. 
 
 [336]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIFE 
 
 The end of the box and the dock were contiguous, divided by a 
 barrier and rail. As I reached this, they tell me, with blazing face 
 and outstretched hands, Abel, who had turned, suddenly whit- 
 ened, swayed, and ere the turnkey beside him could interpose, 
 fell across the partition upon my breast in a dead faint. 
 
 What I should have done I know not, nor have ever heard 
 the proper routine, or form of legal procedure ordered for such 
 an occasion. The hot, crowded court uttered, they tell me, a 
 queer painful sound, and thereafter dropt upon a silence and a 
 wondering what next. But of this I knew nothing; all I wanted 
 was to get to my friend, and after that to find someone to 
 fight. In a word, I was in that congestion of the emotions from 
 which a woman finds relief in weeping, and a man in harsh 
 laughter and muscular action. I would have given a handsome 
 sum for ten minutes outside with a fellow of my own size into 
 whom I might thump a little Christian charity. This judge-and- 
 jury business was too maddeningly stupid when it came to put- 
 ting Abel ( think of it! Abel! ) on trial for murder! 
 
 Holding the slight, small body thus on my shoulder, I drove 
 an elbow into the paunch of a fat court cryer, who seemed over 
 busy, or with too little to do, and bade him fetch a mug of water. 
 
 "Sir, who are you ?" ( it was the judge ). 
 
 "George Fanshawe, sir my lord, I would say George 
 Fanshawe of Chorley, at your service. " 
 
 "How come ye here, sir? or rather, why have ye not ap- 
 peared to your subpoena at the proper time ? " 
 
 "Was never served, Sir Algernon knew nothing of all 
 this until ten minutes ago. But wait a bit, and I'll tell ye all 
 about it. Now, where the dickens is that water ? " for Abel was 
 coming round, tearing himself to pieces with long, hacking 
 sobs, the hard, terrible giving way of a stern, well-controlled 
 man; there can be few tortures worse: it shakes a fellow up 
 for days after. 
 
 [337]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "There, there, old fellow, cheer up! Dammy, we'll lick 
 *em yet! I'm here! lookye, I'm here!" ( Bob declares I used 
 such terms as these, and, what was most wonderful, the judge 
 sate stone pale and uttered no single word of rebuke, whilst men 
 in court gript one another's hands and blew noses.) 
 
 From my new position my view was of the best; wherever 
 my eye fell I recognized some remembered face. There was my 
 good old colonel's pippin cheek, puckered with delight; there, 
 too, were Parson Sinclair and my Lord Mandeville, ready 
 with testimony to Abel's character, had the verdict gone against 
 him (no fear o' that now, thank God! ) And there was the 
 prisoner's father, with both hands in the hands of Isaac Pen- 
 ington, and his face was rapt and wonderful, as of a saint 
 that has reached heaven straight from the stake. 
 
 "George, this will never do. Put me down." 
 
 Abel had regained himself with a wrench and a dead lift. 
 He stood up close-lipped and tottery, more ashamed of his 
 weakness than most men are of sin. 
 
 "You may leave him sir," said the judge, and bade him be 
 seated. "Now, Mr. Fanshawe, do we understand you to offer 
 evidence for the defence ? " 
 
 " By y' ludship's leave I beg to submit the case for the defence 
 is closed. Your ludship will see ' 
 
 This was little Temperley, the junior counsel for the Crown. 
 Sir Algernon turned upon him so swiftly that the bar expected 
 a second scene, but was disappointed. 
 
 "Must I remind you, once more, my learned brother, that 
 I sit here to administer justice, and hold it no part of my duty 
 to help counsel to snatch a verdict upon a punctilio? Here 
 is a witness, possibly the most material witness of all, arrives 
 an hour late, and, for a wonder, unsummoned; strolls into my 
 court as a sightseer, by chance, if I take him correctly. Our 
 fathers would have called his appearance the act of God. 
 
 [338]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 
 
 Let that be; to close his lips would be the act of the devil, 
 sir; and I'll be no party to it. For the matter of that, Mr. 
 Temperley, what do you here ? for the court understood you 
 to throw up your brief in a tiff. " 
 
 "Oh, my lud " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Temperley, 'tis your first case in my court, 
 as I think, but you may as well understand that I am not to be 
 played with, and will put up with the whims and vapours of 
 neither leader nor junior. Whilst counsel hold their briefs, 
 and speak to them, I'm bound to hear them, but once thrown 
 up I am not." 
 
 Mr. Temperley humbly submitted that he had merely 
 followed his chief to use his good offices, and Sir Algernon, now 
 mollified, readmitted him to his position in the case. 
 
 "You shall cross-examine the man when he has given his 
 evidence. Let him be sworn. Now, Mr. Fanshawe!" 
 
 I told my story, the judge listening with silent intentness, 
 rarely making a note. 
 
 "And you make oath that between the dates you have given 
 us the accused was your companion and nurse, by day and by 
 night, with brief intermissions ? " 
 
 "I do, my lord. He held my hand for hours at a time. He 
 fed me. But for him I think I must have lost my reason, 
 if not my life." 
 
 Mr. Temperley rose, hitching back his gown, and posturing 
 with hands on hips. It was a great occasion for a junior. 
 
 "What was the nature of your illness ?" 
 
 "Fever," I replied. 
 
 "Brain-fever?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "How brought on ?" 
 
 " By over-work, and lying out in the wet. " 
 
 He regarded me quizzically, rubbing the side of his nose. 
 
 [339]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "O-verwork and the rest of it! What do ye mean, sir?" 
 
 "Well, sleeping rough, then." 
 
 "Sleep-ing rough? Do you wish the jury to believe that 
 ye had no roof over you, or settled abode at the time ?" 
 
 "I had none at that time." 
 
 "And that ye slept anywhere ? beneath a hedge, for instance ? " 
 
 "Why, seldom so rough as that; 'twas lying in an open 
 shed did for me. " 
 
 He flashed a look of intelligence at the jury. 
 
 "You are an eccentrick, Mr. Fanshawe ?" 
 'Tis the first time I've been told so." 
 
 "No fixed abode.' You slept in open sheds! For how long 
 did this gypsified fancy possess you, sir?" 
 
 "Possibly three months." 
 
 "And were you travelling and lodging alone or in company ?" 
 ( with an insinuating droop in the voice ). 
 
 " I was with a party of Irish. " 
 
 There was a murmur and a sensation in court. 1 The coun- 
 sel, after a calculated pause to allow my surprising admissions 
 to produce their full effect, resumed: 
 
 "And what was the Honourable George Fanshawe doing 
 whilst travelling the country for three months and sleeping 
 rough ( 'sleeping rough' is your term ) in the company 
 of a party of Irish ?" 
 
 "Harvesting." 
 
 A ripple of merriment passed over the court. The man's 
 drift had been obvious, and his hopes of identifying me with 
 some Whiteboy or Jacobin agent were plainly dashed. 
 
 One bubble pricked he blew another. Nodding confidently 
 
 1 The Hon. George Fanshawe was accustomed to say that it was impossible for us 
 to realise the hatred, distrust and contempt with which the Irish were regarded at this 
 time. The horrid barbarities (used by both sides) of the Rising were still going 
 on, and the minds of Englishmen were daily inflamed against their unfortunate 
 fellow-subjects by exaggerated accounts of events of which the bare truth was 
 sufficiently sickening. EXORS. 
 
 [340]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIFE 
 
 to the jury ( a rather lumpish set, to my thinking ), as if to 
 say, "Wait, I'll unmask him yet!" he began again with affected 
 deference, having perused a note handed up to him from his 
 solicitor. 
 
 "You are, as I think, a person of landed estate, Mr. Fan- 
 shawe?" 
 
 "lam." 
 
 "Kindly mention your chief properties. " 
 
 I did so, and had him out of his depth from the first word. 
 
 "And of great wealth vast wealth may I take it ?" 
 
 "Why, possibly; I am a man of means. " 
 
 "And what explanation do ye offer of your extraordinary 
 doings, your eccentricities, sir, for your 'sleeping rough' and 
 'lying wet' for months on end, and for consorting with rebel 
 Irishmen ?" 
 
 " I did not say they were rebels. " 
 
 "Do not fence, sir! ye know they were rebels! Why did a 
 person of your birth and position associate with these mis- 
 creants ? " 
 
 "My lord," said I, "I am here to tell the truth and the whole 
 truth, but not to have colourable statements put into my mouth. 
 I did not, I never have abetted rebels, or countenanced rebellion. 
 I was just a harvestman at the time, one of a gang, earning 
 my daily bread because I had outrun my allowance." 
 
 Sir Algernon nodded. Temperley was at me again like a 
 gamecock. 
 
 "But, ye have just sworn to the possession of landed estates, 
 Mr. Fanshawe, half-a-dozen at least, and to wealth, 'vast 
 wealth,' Mr. Fanshawe ( that is your name, I may take it ? ). 
 Thank you. Well, how is a jury of plain men to reconcile 
 your statements ? Abject poverty in the company of a gang 
 of dirty Irish, snoring o' nights beneath a hedge" ( he would 
 have that hedge!), "and 'vast wealth' and as many landed
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALHY 
 
 estates as ye have fingers on your hand! Come now! The jury 
 await your explanation, sir!" 
 
 "I have come into my property since. A year ago I was as 
 poor as a rook. " 
 
 ' 'As poor as a rook! ' and to-day as rich as a <Jook?" ( he 
 got his laugh ). "And in affluent circumstances you retain your 
 passion for travel ? " 
 
 "I am fond of moving about." 
 
 "Where did you sleep last night ?" 
 
 " At Great Bedwyn." 
 
 "Thirty miles, I think, and not yet noonl You travel fast! 
 Did you post ? " 
 
 "I rode." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 "Alone." 
 
 "That is great work for one horse, sir ? " 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "And that fever affected your head your brain, you say ?" 
 
 "It upset me." 
 
 " It affected your brain, sir, yes or no ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Will you swear you were never beside yourself?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Nor ever deranged? Nor in bedlam? Nor in a mad- 
 house? Nor in a strait-waistcoat? Nor under restraint?" 
 
 "Never in my life!" I laughed outright. 
 
 "You laugh, sir! but this may prove no laughing matter for 
 you. Who are you, sir?" 
 
 "George Fanshawe; the Honourable George Augustus 
 Frederick Chorley Fanshawe, second son of the late Earl of 
 Blakenham and Bramford." 
 
 "Do you swear to that? Now, have a care, sir! the punish- 
 ment of personation of perjury, is severe!" 
 
 [342]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-FirE 
 
 " I am the person I claim to be. " 
 
 He turned his back upon me with a gesture of contemptuous 
 incredulity, and I thought his manner in some way told with the 
 jury. It behoved me to stop this, and I was cheered to observe 
 my good colonel making signs to me. So there was a man 
 ( and a Crown witness ) who would swear I was no adven- 
 turer. But I held more than one trump. Again I made appeal 
 to the judge, keenly watchful as ever. 
 
 "My lord, it seems my identity is challenged. I am lucky 
 in seeing two gentlemen in court who know me. Colonel Gunn, 
 there, and the Honourable Robert Dawnay, who is of the 
 grand jury, can swear to me. " 
 
 "That is so," said Bob rising, "he is George Fanshawe, 
 right enough." 
 
 The colonel was upon his feet, we caught but one word, 
 "pairfeckly," for Temperley was too wise to put in the creden- 
 tials of a witness he aimed at discrediting. So the second 
 bubble was burst. 
 
 He now got away upon a fresh scent. 
 
 "From your account of yourself you seem to have been last 
 year a young gentleman of very ill-regulated life. You will 
 admit as much ?" I would not. 
 
 "And pray how do you fix the day, the month even, on which 
 ye fell down with this fever, this brain-fever of yours, at York ? " 
 
 " 'Twas the first day of the autumn assizes; but I can get 
 nearer than that, for hearing the Minster strike midnight as I 
 lay a-bed I asked the date and was told 'twas the first of 
 October." 
 
 "By the accused?" 
 
 I assented. 
 
 "And what other reason have ye than his bare word ? Had 
 ye an almanack ? Or did ye keep a calendar ? Or write up a 
 diary, Mr. Fanshawe?" 
 
 [343]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Neither one nor the other, but ten days later, on the day 
 he drove with me from York, I saw the carts start from Whipma- 
 whopmagate with the criminals, and that business, as I know, 
 comes at the end of the assize. " 
 
 Sir Algernon's face was immovable, but his eye twinkled 
 and I knew I had made my point. 
 
 "But passing from these trivialities, which, whether real 
 or imaginary, seem wholly immaterial, and may very well be 
 figments of your brain-fever, what evidence can ye give the 
 jury that you were in York at the time ? " 
 
 I pondered. 
 
 "Come now, Mr. Fanshawe, upon your own shewing, ye 
 have recently borne two very discrepant characters. The 
 Honourable George Fanshawe of Chorley," he bowed, "is a 
 personage whose goings and comings are known, and noted, and 
 remembered. But Fanshawe the tramping labourer, the compan- 
 ion of Teague, and Paddy, and Shamus beneath a hedge, here 
 to-day and gone to-morrow, keeping no diary and light-headed 
 with a fever, is a very different person, and may have imagined 
 events which did not occur. 
 
 " Now, sir, can you point to one reputable person who can 
 testify upon oath that he saw you in York between the dates 
 in question? One person? but one, now?" 
 
 For a couple of breaths I was wholly taken aback and saw 
 no way to satisfy him. Was I to fail after all ? Did the judge 
 doubt me ? I turned to the bench and saw my answer in a 
 flash. 
 
 "Why, yes, sir, I can; and that person also, by the greatest 
 of luck in the world, is in this room. I refer you to Sir Algernon 
 himself." 
 
 "To his ludship?" 
 
 "Just to his lordship; none other." And again that move- 
 ment swept the benches all one way like wind among the wheat, 
 
 [344]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY -FIVE 
 
 "My lord!" said I, turning to the red-robed figure beneath 
 the canopy, "may I recall to ye the evening of the last day of 
 September a year ago? A very thick, wet fog it was in York; 
 so thick that there were no carriages about, for the horses would 
 not face it. Will your lordship carry your mind back to an en- 
 gagement you had for that night, a dinner ( the Lord Mayor's 
 feast, as I think it must have been, by the lights at the Mansion 
 House ), and how you had to get thither afoot between two 
 linkmen from your lodging in Lendal ? Am I not right ?" 
 
 "You are right so far," replied the judge; "I remember 
 that fog." 
 
 "Then, my lord, you will surely remember finding a man 
 lying upon the steps of your lodging a man who had just tript 
 and fallen over the horse-block, and upon whom you a'most 
 stumbled as you left your door " 
 
 I paused; all fear, all sense of stage-fright was passed; I was 
 leaning towards the judge, having forgot his great dignity, 
 and addressing him just as man to man, and was now reading 
 his face, that marble face of his, and springing with hope at 
 the dawning of recognition which I found in his eyes. 
 
 But he sate there like a stone sphynx and said nothing. 
 
 "My lord, you addressed that man sharply as he rose 
 sharply, I say, for you were surprised at his nearness and at 
 his being there at all. But your next word was in pity for his 
 want. You offered relief and you were rebuffed. O, my 
 lord! do ye not remember? Think, Sir Algernon! so 
 much hangs upon it; a life, an innocent life, no less. I was 
 that man ! ! ! " 
 
 The silence in court was of that strained sort that falls 
 when a crowded room holds its breath and awaits the word. 
 
 "I do remember you. Mr. Temperley, this is the witness 
 of truth." 
 
 The room breathed again ; I heard the sound. 
 
 [345]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 The zealous little counsel spread his hands abroad with 
 the gesture of despair. "When the bench itself tenders evidence 
 I can but bow," he said, and bent his bewigged head to the in- 
 evitable. "My lud, I will labour this cross-examination no 
 further. The astonishing Mr. Fanshawe, who has sprung him- 
 self in this unexampled fashion upon the case for the Crown, 
 is ^/-together beyond me!" 
 / 
 
 And now, what shall I say ? which way shall I turn ? If this 
 were a stage-play, it should end here. One of my young relatives, 
 more deep in such matters than I, assures me that this scene is 
 a natural "curtain" and would "bring down the house. "Another, 
 a lady this, an eager devourer of the fictions of the " Great 
 Unknown," 1 would have me wind up the story of my early life 
 at this point, and, as she puts it, take a pull at Pegasus; 
 let him cool down, and start him upon another day. 
 
 It is but fair to these young advisers of mine to say that 
 they are at present in ignorance of the sequel. 
 
 For this was neither stage-play nor story-book, nor could we, 
 the actors, make our bows to a huzzaing pit and slip off by the 
 wings to supper and bed. This day, surely one of the great days 
 of my life, and wondrous enough as it stood, was yet but half- 
 spent. Anti-climax indeed ( my young niece's word, this ) 
 the pendulum had swung me from the Bedwyn "Jack to Reading 
 Court House, from the serenity of ignorant security to the foot 
 of the gibbet, and was still swinging, from the cheers of Reading 
 Market-Place to what ? I was to know before night and all too 
 soon. 
 
 In the meantime there was indeed some sort of anti-climax 
 ( my niece's word again, a new one to me ) for Sir Algernon 
 must charge the jury, and these must consider and deliver their 
 
 *Now known to be the imaginative Mr. Walter Scott. G. F. (Now the world- 
 famous Sir Walter. EXORS!) 
 
 [346]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 
 
 verdict, a foregone conclusion about which nobody bothered 
 his head overmuch, and these details are dim in my memory; 
 for at the moment I was oppressed by a sense of the unreality 
 of it all, the too-pat opportuneness of the way in which things 
 had fallen out. This unknown town with its crowd of well- ! 
 known faces, whence, and at whose call, had they sprung upon ' 
 me ? My head ached heartily. I came forth from the gloomy 
 stuffiness of that Court House a very much amazed man. The 
 sense of coincidence persisted for hours. It struck me as like 
 the last scene in some ill-writ comedy wherein all the cast is 
 brought upon the stage in a forced contiguity. 
 
 Yet, save in one particular, there was nothing to justify 
 surprise. Everything, as you will have seen already, was strictly 
 in sequence to the circumstances of the case. The felony 
 having been committed at Maidenhead Thicket, which is in 
 Berkshire, the accused must stand his trial at the county town, 
 Reading; and the witnesses, both for the Crown and for the de- 
 fence, must be there too. Sir Algernon, as the judge riding the 
 Oxford Circuit, was upon the Bench as a matter of course, 
 supported by the grand jury of the county, of which Bob 
 Dawnay was one, for his property lay at Wokingham, not seven 
 miles away. 
 
 Regarded thus, the marvel became no marvel at all, each man 
 of the many being where he was by reason of his duty, or of 
 his sympathy, or upon compulsion ( needs must where a 
 subpoena drives ). It was my own appearance, so explicable 
 to myself, that was the miracle. 
 
 [347]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 
 AT THE "CATHARINE WHEEL" 
 
 VARIOUS are the ways in which men will celebrate a 
 notable deliverance. ; ' ^ 
 
 Say that a fellow of the bagman persuasion be run 
 away with in a hackney coach. Whilst the wheels are spinning 
 and the sparks flying, his appeals to the Deity are fervent 
 enough, yet, when the vehicle is brought to a stand and he steps 
 forth unhurt to find the half of his samples missing from the box, 
 ten to one his first word shall be, "Well, I'm d d!" 
 
 Have we not seen a great city express its gratitude for a 
 victory at sea by four-and-twenty-hours of vulgar horseplay ? 
 Millions of eyes and lips were turned heavenwards, I grant ye, 
 yet such praises as escaped them must needs have found their 
 way to God through intervening quarts of ale and the bottoms 
 of pewter pots! 
 
 For my own part, I'll admit I was joyful enough to desire to 
 set the bells a-ringing, but reflected that such was not the 
 way of the Friends. 
 
 Moreover, my hands were full in a very literal sense. The 
 number of people, strangers to me, who desired to give me 
 the grasp of friendship was something of an embarrassment, 
 for there were several whom I did know and whose hands I de- 
 sired to take. 
 
 [348]
 
 CHAPTER rHIRTT-SIX 
 
 During the adjournment for luncheon which followed the 
 verdict of acquittal, I was fetched into Sir Algernon's presence 
 and very courteously received. 
 
 Some word must have reached him as to the manner of my 
 coming to Reading, for he desired to know more fully from my 
 own lips what little I could tell. From his bearing more than 
 from his speech, and from his reference to certain memoranda 
 which seemed to displease him, I gathered that he was experi- 
 encing a sense of relief. 
 
 Upon my dismissal he accompanied me to the door of the 
 apartment and offered me his hand. "Cousin," said he, "I 
 have heard that of you which I am now convinced is false. My 
 old friend, Mr. Sinclair, assures me so. I incline to believe 
 that, under God, I and mine are your debtors for this mor- 
 ning's work. 
 
 " Be that as it may, I desire only your better acquaintance. 
 Our inherited disputes have divided us too long. May I hope 
 to see ye again soon ? " 
 
 Escaping thence I fell into the arms of Colonel Gunn, with 
 whose importunate hospitality I hardly compromised by dint of 
 an appointment at his lodging. 
 
 Dawnay waylaid me, a very astonished man, willing to hear 
 what I had not the time to tell him these memoirs in short, 
 or the earlier half of them. The dull little town rang with 
 twenty several versions of the match, the ride, and the trial. 
 
 But my heart was elsewhere. There is at the outlet from 
 the Market-Place/*nearest to the Town Hall, a little old inn 
 called the Catharine Wheel and it was there, rather for its 
 quietness than for its accommodation, that the Ellwoods and 
 their party of witnesses were housed. Here in an upper room 
 we assembled, and our manner of celebrating the occasion will 
 seem to you the most singular of all. 
 
 I had been waited for. The door was shut, and a silence 
 
 [349]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirY 
 
 fell upon the circle of bowed heads. Three five seven 
 minutes followed of deep, breathing pause, an awaiting the 
 right word, an expectancy of the angel's descent that should 
 move the brimming waters of our spirits. 
 
 Mandeville's red face of wonder dwells in my memory still. 
 Sinclair understood the matter, and when Isaac Penington 
 knelt ( with the deliberation and unction of a bishop ) he 
 and we all arose. 
 
 After a second pause my dear old master essayed to render 
 his thanks to his Maker, and I doubt not his meaning was read 
 above and the intention accepted. To us, standing mute and 
 breathless, in a kind of painful happiness, such words as forced 
 their way were near unintelligible unless interpreted by the 
 occasion. 
 
 One felt them as one feels the burden of a voluntary. 
 
 D'ye ask what did these two good men say ? Why, if I could 
 bring myself to attempt to give the words and I hold it a 
 sort of petty treason to my friends and lese majeste to my God 
 to report the terms of their interview I profess I should 
 fail. The broken sentences, the eloquent pauses, the tremulous 
 hand, the fluttering, strained eyelid, all pleaded, and were 
 heard, and are recorded elsewhere. 
 
 That was prayer. 
 
 As his father rose, Abel lifted his face and moved around 
 the table to where I stood. His first step was deliberate, as 
 if taken in a meeting-house, but it was with a rush that he 
 reached me, caught me by both arms above the elbows, and so 
 stood. I felt the unconscious potency of his grasp, looking 
 down upon the blanched, working face and tortured lips to 
 which words could not come. 
 
 So we stood in such an embarrassing intimacy, both as near 
 to the breaking-down as needs be, until "My friend!" said 
 he, and never another syllable. 
 
 [350]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-SIX 
 
 Then I knew that this man loved me for myself, and not 
 merely ( as I had fancied ) as his trophy, as one loves the 
 creature one has saved or spent one's self upon. 
 
 And with that the meeting "broke up," as Friends say, and 
 conversation became general, and there was my appearance 
 upon the scene to be explained, whence I had come, and how, 
 to eyes that hung upon every word with unwinking attention 
 and widened with sober wonder. 
 
 "Then thou didst not know of our trouble until ? " 
 
 "Until Abel rose in court." 
 
 "And wast brought to this town to-day ? " 
 
 "By a run-away horse. He pulled up at his stable. They 
 told me 'twas Reading. I suppose it is, eh ? I was never here 
 before. So you see 'twas no doing of mine. I disclaim it, sir. 
 I was used. " 
 
 "Yes; thou hast been used!" said Isaac Penington with 
 luminous eyes that seemed to know so much more of me than I 
 knew of myself. 
 
 "Father," said Abel regaining his old dry manner, "these 
 friends will be hungry, thou wilt be hungry, and I am hungry" 
 ( with his first smile ); "let me see what the people of the house 
 have for us. Friend Mandeville, thou wilt join us ?" 
 
 The direct simplicity of the invitation took the earl aback. 
 For a nobleman to break bread with a Quaker miller would be a 
 thing unheard of, albeit he had travelled two hundred miles to 
 uphold that man's character. Besides, though the Ellwoods 
 should pass, being my lord's neighbours and illumined by the 
 occasion, there were this quaint old fellow Penington, and those 
 pieshop-keeping Moorhouses to be digested; I say Mande- 
 ville was visibly nonplussed, flushing a hotter red than his 
 jolly cheeks usually wore. 
 
 Parson Sinclair watched him with twinkling humour. "No, 
 no, Mandeville! there are no covers laid for us at the Broad
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 Face, and you are as sharp-set as I and the rest of us. Come, 
 man! Yes, Mr. Abel, yes! and many thanks for your hospi- 
 tality." 
 
 "Why, assuredly, if we shan't be in your way," blurted my 
 lord, with a grateful glance at his friend. "I thought 'twas a 
 kind of family party, ye see, and feared to intrude. Heigh!" 
 cried he later when the great jug of nut-brown ale had gone 
 round and a cold sirloin made way for a peck of scarlet cray- 
 fish heaped upon a pewter charger, "Heigh! 'tis a feast for a 
 king! Let us pity Sir Algernon! I picture him nibbling French 
 kickshaws with the High Sheriff, hot sherry and cold soup, and 
 never dreaming of such dainties as ours. Say, Ellwood, couldn't 
 we stock Derwent with these creatures ? They are mighty 
 delicate eating. " 
 
 But his hosts' thoughts were elsewhere. "Ah! father," 
 said Abel, "if mother could know mother and Phoebe!" 
 
 "Aye, lad, thou and I could well afford to spare them a 
 portion of our happiness; they must bear their suspense for 
 how many hours yet ? Our letter should catch the night mail 
 north out of London, eh ? " 
 
 Mandeville's jolly face wreathed itself with smiles. "By 
 your leave, Ellwood, I have seen to that," says he, and rolling 
 in his seat, lugs out his watch. "Why, yes, as I reckon, my sec- 
 ond horseman will be nearing High Wycombe by this, riding 
 post he should get to Hertford before dark " 
 
 "And out-pace the mail? Friend Mandeville, this is like 
 thy kind heart!" cried the father, whilst Abel's face shone. 
 
 "Not at all, my dear sirs, I can't swallow the compliment 
 don't deserve it, God knows. Many's the time I've had my news 
 of a fight brought me so half the length of England spent 
 a mort o' money on my fancies, so why not for once, eh ? O 
 they shall know the news betimes, trust little Renshaw: he will 
 bump the leather as long as he can see, snore all night in a
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-SIX 
 
 chaise, and ride again to-morrow. Your ladies shall hear on't 
 within the twenty-four hours, or I'll trounce the boy for his 
 idleness with my own hand!" 
 
 We all laughed at my lord's heartiness, even the Moorhouses. 
 
 " The bells shall sound them the news if they are out walk- 
 ing," said Sinclair; "my new bells, I wrote peremptorily: a 
 full peal, a grandsire peal, of triple-bob-majors, is my order, 
 and the new ashlar must stand it the best way it can! Ah, you 
 Quakers! must we teach you how to rejoice ? It shall run to a 
 tar-barrel and a sheep roasted whole, when I get home. " 
 
 "Nay, let us call it a fat ox, at once, and at my expense!" 
 said I; "and I'd knock in the head of a cask of October, if I 
 thought Abel would let me. " 
 
 But my friend's hand upon my shoulder meant denial. "The 
 poor fellows will get enough of that, George, without aid of 
 thine." 
 
 "A good offer declined, begad! But 'tis the man's day, and 
 we must just let him have his way, Fanshawe, " laughed my 
 lord. "What beats me," he ran on inconsequently, "is the way 
 things cogged in. There was a second master stag to be saved 
 by hard riding" he lifted his tankard and bowed to Abel 
 " and but one man of all mankind would serve his turn, and 
 but one horse of all horseflesh to cover the road; and here, at 
 the very nick, the man and the horse get together and bring the 
 match off! I say it beats me. " 
 
 He looked around the table with gravity. "Sir, Mr. Abel," 
 he went on, big with an unusual thought, "I tell ye I would 
 have you at my side if ever my back is to the wall, for plainly 
 there is that about ye how shall I say ? If ye were another 
 sort of man we'd call it the devil's own luck nay, I don't 
 mean that ! But, it seems ha! now I have it! When you are 
 at your farthest there's another steps in and takes the matter up, 
 eh ?" Again he glanced round nodding. 
 
 [353]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 " 'This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes,' ' 
 said Isaac Penington. 
 
 "Why, yes sir, you have hit it," assented my lord, "And 
 who may have said that ? Scripture, is it ? Ha, then there's no 
 more to be said." 
 
 [354]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 
 WHAT LAY UNDER THE SHEET 
 
 * f**\ EORGE, thou art looking pale; is the room too 
 
 1 "W hot ? " asked my old master, whom nothing es- 
 
 ^^ caped, "Did thy horse fall? The plaister seems 
 fresh." 
 
 "Just a passing interview by the way, sir"; I reached down 
 my hat and shewed the bullet holes, "A rough salute from 
 a gentleman of the road. Yes, it has left me with a trifling 
 headache, no more." ( But they would hear it all again.) "I 
 protest ye would make me vain if I didn't know how far from 
 a hero I behaved: 'twas 'Hand over!' and 'bang!' went he, 
 and 'whack! ' went I, both together; and the pair of us knocked 
 half silly, I upon my horse's neck and he out of the saddle, 
 bump upon the road. All done in a trice!" 
 
 They sucked in their breaths with the same sound, every 
 pair of eyes at the table rounding with wonder. 
 
 Said the parson who sate upon my right, "This was close 
 shooting; there is powder-rash upon your ear, sir. " 
 
 "You struck him ?" asked Mandeville. 
 
 "A pretty smart crack," said I, "for it broke my whip- 
 stock yours once, my lord. " He nodded. 
 
 "Was the poor man hurt, doost think ?" asked Mrs. Moor- 
 house, a solicitude at which we three gentiles forbore to smile. 
 
 [355]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QJUALirY 
 
 "An* whaat might t' laad ha' bin loike?" enquired her 
 husband, breaking silence for the first time. 
 
 "I cannot say, ma'am; I saw no more of him, probably 
 shaken, no worse. Smallish and darkish, sir, I got but a 
 glimpse of him such another as Abel here "I checked, 
 the sudden change in my friend's face warning me; no man can 
 stand where he had stood that day with impunity. "But, 
 come, that is done with, and since all has gone so swimmingly 
 I bear the rogue no ill-will. " 
 
 Remarked the parson, "The villain chose his man and his 
 moment badly. Mr. Fanshawe was upon his Master's business, 
 and invulnerable as we all are until our work is done. " 
 
 Every dog has his day. This was mine. Never had my future 
 seemed clearer. Thoughts of my little mistress hummed soft 
 and warm around my heart as hived bees just before sunrise. 
 Surely I was certain of her now, so far as her people's consent 
 could ensure me. Ready for her, I was not; worthy, I could 
 never be. "George, you great thick-skulled oaf, you!" ( I was 
 saying to myself), "you have a thumping long lesson to get by 
 rote and only four years to get it in, aye, and much to do, sir, 
 before you dare ask that sweet thing to be your wife ( your 
 wife!) You have things to do, a house to build, for one!" There 
 is no mansion upon my chief property, and I had thoughts of a 
 fine stone hall in the midst of Winteringhame Chase, not far 
 from their old home, Edge-Garth, where I was minded to have 
 them all again, with Abel for my stand-by, adviser, brother-in- 
 arms ( I could not think of him as steward ). 
 
 The only question was, when should I speak ? 
 
 While we sate thus, each happy in his own way, or in watch- 
 ing the happiness of others, there came a knocking, and a 
 constable at the door forme. "George Fanshawe, sir, ye be 
 summoned to the Crowner's Court acrost the street there, and 
 hurry up, sir, for the job is on." 
 
 [356]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-SEfEN 
 
 "May I go with thee, George? I've had little exercise of 
 late, thou knows, " said Abel rising; " 'Tis not for long, father. " 
 
 "Lat them goa," said Mrs. Moorhouse; "he canna abear his 
 friend oot o' his sight, an' no wonder! " 
 
 "A-abel's a good laad," murmured her husband as I closed 
 the door. 
 
 Those of you who know the town of Reading will remember 
 the seven-arched cloister against the church wall on the north 
 side of the Market-Place. Five bays are open, the eastern two 
 enclosed, and within these the inquest was being held. 
 
 Never having witnessed one of these gruesome functions I 
 went with a certain interest mixed with curiosity as to my con- 
 nection with it. 
 
 Constables guarded the gate at which stood a blue wagon. 
 Within the building a pair of trestles supported a shutter upon 
 which lay a sheeted human form. 
 
 The business seemed half over. At a small table were the 
 coroner and his clerk. A jury of burgesses of various degrees 
 sat upon forms, all sweating and impatient, some surly, for the 
 panel had been secured by holding a rope across the street and 
 touching down the first dozen passers-by 
 
 There stood the surgeon, his autopsy made and explained, 
 and there the farmer who had found the corpse upon the road 
 and brought it in. 
 
 "George Fanshawe, yer worship!" announced the summoner, 
 ushering me to the front. 
 
 "Hey? you have found him? This saves time," said the 
 coroner. I was sworn. "You, sir, d'ye know this? " It was 
 my letter to J. Smith of Lambourne. I said so, and searching 
 my pockets, found and handed in the man's reply. Who was he ? 
 I knew not, supposed him a horse dealer, or farmer; we had 
 never met. 
 
 "We get a name to him and no farther," remarked the cor- 
 
 [3571
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 oner, a brisk, irascible lawyer, who interrupted everyone and 
 did all the talking. 
 
 Abel standing close behind me had made a sudden move- 
 ment at the sight of the letter I had produced, but had said 
 nothing. This I remembered later. 
 
 "I thank ye, Mr. What's-yer-name, that's all I want of ye. 
 Your letter was upon the deceased. We happened to hear of you 
 being in the town. The jury will now view the body. " 
 
 I turned to go, but Abel, his arm locked in mine, did not move 
 and fixed me to the spot. He was looking more ill than ever 
 I had known him, but plainly meant to see all that was to be 
 seen and desired my company. 
 
 The sheet, a soiled and darned affair, showing a smear of 
 blood, was turned back, exposing the corpse from the waist up- 
 wards. The afternoon sunshine slanted in and fell pitilessly 
 upon the trestle showing in all its bareness the thing that lay 
 there. 
 
 What I saw was the naked body of a young man of maybe my 
 own age, or somewhat older, small, compact and muscular, 
 the tanned face, neck and hands contrasting strongly with the 
 corpse-whiteness of the trunk. The body lay upon its back 
 with no sign of violence visible at the first sight, and without 
 marks except a design in blue, such as sailors use, worked upon 
 the left fore-arm, a foul anchor between two hearts with the 
 initials E. B. S. 
 
 I had seen enough without seeing the face, and wondered at 
 Abel's interest. The arm that held mine began to shake: still 
 holding me, he moved forward with those who were passing 
 around the head of the trestle in turn. The coroner was speak- 
 ing in crisp, matter-of-fact tones. 
 
 "That is the only wound; the right temple; see? This is 
 the whip-handle ( crop is perhaps the better term ), which was 
 fixed in the wound when the body was found ( you heard the 
 
 [358]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 evidence ). The surgeon removed it. The tine lacerated the 
 brain. Death, judging from the set of the features, must have 
 been practically instantaneous. 
 
 "How this thing came there we have no evidence. It may 
 well have been an accident result of a fall his own whip 
 er Certainly, sir, but ye shouldn't have interrupted me. " 
 This was to Mandeville who had entered behind us unperceived, 
 and had signified a desire to examine the thing. The coroner 
 recognized my lord's quality in some manner, and curbing his 
 impatience, paused in his summary. Mandeville held the horn 
 between thumb and finger for a moment. Returning it to the 
 clerk with a bow, he stept back bestowing upon me a look 
 which I did not understand. 
 
 Moving up in our turn Abel and I had reached the head of 
 the trestle. The face was unknown to me, though dauntingly 
 familiar. Where had I seen it before, or whom did it resemble ? 
 The cropt black head was dusty from the highway, the features 
 smirched, but not disfigured; the eyes half-open. I felt no 
 desire to look twice, and, but for Abel's grasp, would have stept 
 out of the rank. He was poring intently, his rigid white face 
 close above that waxen mask of death. This morbid behaviour 
 was unlike my friend. I glanced aside; there on the clerk's 
 table lay my whip-handle! 
 
 There was no possibility of mistake; the silver collar or 
 ferule shewed its chasing, an earl's coronet and a black-letter 
 $$ t battered and worn down, but, if one knew what was there 
 one saw what was there. Mandeville's glance was explained. 
 
 Would Abel recognize it ? He had often handled the thing 
 and knew its story. He looked. I felt the pause, the quiver 
 of recognition in the arm still fast in my own. And then that 
 clasp loosened, he straightened himself, released me, and 
 passed on. We left the place together as the jury returned a 
 verdict of " Found Dead." 
 
 [3591
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 Mandeville awaited me under the tavern archway. Abel went 
 within-doors alone, walking slowly as a man in a day-dream. 
 My lord watched him go with a sidelong glance of concern. 
 
 "Our man is somewhat upset; nerve all a-jangle, and noth- 
 ing wonderful in that." 
 
 But there was another whose hands were shaking and who 
 took a turn up the yard alone. I felt my lord's eyes between my 
 shoulder-blades as I went, and encountered them at my turn- 
 ing; he had something to say, and I must let him say it. 
 He had used me well. My mind was in tumult, or rather, 
 the two minds of me were at odds, this exulting, that con- 
 demning, and behind both some calmer voice re-stating the 
 bald, accidental fact. 
 
 My lord just then was of the earth, earthy, and saw nothing 
 but the feat. 
 
 We had an old head-keeper at Bramford, who, in his youth, 
 had served a Tollemache of Helmingham, and there, whilst on 
 night duty in the park, had killed a deer-stealer at the cudgels; 
 himself going scarred for the rest of his days, as I remember. 
 Well, that old, bloody tussle had set a seal of distinction upon 
 the man for life in the eyes of his fellow yokels. We men are 
 made so; some of us: Mandeville for one. He looked me up and 
 down with a new respect in his regard. 
 
 "Gad! Fanshawe, y've an arm!" ( fingering the muscle, 
 whistling softly ). "And I'd have sworn my old crab-stock 
 would have borne any usage! A back-hander, ye were telling 
 us ? . . . So ? 'twas the very hell of a swipe, then, and 
 the rogue's nob exactly within distance. Ye came well out on't, 
 by the Lord, yes! How he missed ye at arm's length beats me, 
 for y'are no cock-sparrow. Depend on't, ye ducked as ye struck* 
 or the thing threw high; yet a man of his profession should have 
 known his weapon. He was reputed a master with the pistols. *" 
 I stared. He ran on. "There is no doubt ye saved your own 
 
 [360]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEWN 
 
 life and his, too," jerking his thumb towards the door Abel 
 had entered. 
 
 "I have to thank you, my lord, for your silence," said I. 
 
 He laughed. "Well, I judged ye would have it so, 'least said 
 soonest mended.' Some of these gentry hunt in couples, and the 
 survivor has been known to bear a grudge. You take me ? I pre- 
 sume you will waive the guineas ?" He smiled dryly. 
 
 "Eh, what ?" My face was enough. 
 
 "Man, that was Sam Smith. Oh, the coroner didn't smoke it. 
 A busy fool; if he had had half an inkling he would have made a 
 fine pother, adjourned the inquest and kept you and me kicking 
 our heels here for a couple of days maybe magnified his 
 office, as his sort delights to do upon occasion. " 
 
 "But Sam Smith ? Are you sure ?" 
 
 "Cocksure. Fills the bill to a hair. We in the East Riding 
 
 O 
 
 had good cause to study his points last year; aye, learned to 
 look askew at every little dark fellow, and got, some of us 
 these Proctors did to suspecting and laying informations 
 against an innocent neighbour who looked the part. In fact 
 we made it so hot for this rogue that he changed his country 
 and met his match! 
 
 "How's your head ? What say you to a turn ? The beauties 
 of the place if it has any ? You will ? Come along, then. 
 We'll give our friends the slip for an hour or two. 'Tis a kind- 
 ness all round. Sinclair can stand it 'tis his profession; 
 but for myself, now a little o' that goes a long way. " 
 
 He made an amusing grimace like the big school boy he was. 
 
 "Not that I'd have 'em otherwise like myself or you, 
 now God forbid! I prefer 'em so, and would go far to uphold 
 'em; but well I've a weak stomach for religion, and that's a 
 fact. I take it we shall live the longer, man. Mr. Abel there is 
 almost too good for this world and ye have seen that it 
 takes a sort of miracle to keep him in it. " 
 
 [361]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 So rambling on he treated me to his philosophy, something 
 to my amusement and more to his own, for I am considered a 
 good listener, as is natural to a man with much to learn and 
 nothing to teach. 
 
 My lord was suffering from an over-secretion of energy, and 
 was for working it off in my company. Being both strangers to 
 the place and indifferent where we went in such pleasant 
 weather, we saw some miles of cobbled streets, tiled gable-ends, 
 quaint middle-rows, and tiny shops, but no building of mark. 
 
 They do say that Reading once owned as fine an abbey 
 church as any in England, a royal foundation, planned by the 
 master-builder of his time. They say, too, that what the wars 
 left of this treasure was picked to bits by the townsfolk for 
 building stone. 
 
 My comrade was killing time whilst his horses rested. The 
 life of the back-streets diverted him for an hour, the shop-door 
 gossips, the disputatious neighbours: 
 
 "Birth, ma'am ? 'e ain't never had none, bein' not christened; 
 'cos why ? " the reason followed, provoking a rejoinder that 
 filled door-ways and windows with observant heads, hope- 
 ful of a climax. " 'Tis a snake in sheep's wool ye are, 
 ma'am," etc. 
 
 Each worker or drone of this sun-warmed hive lived its own 
 life. The other end of the town might watch the scales of 
 justice, tingle with anxieties as to an issue involving honour- 
 able life or shameful death; here, within hail of it all, we 
 squabbled, kept shop incuriously. 
 
 Mandeville kept the middle of the street ( as we English 
 do abroad ), regarding the house-fronts askance as one glances 
 at a nest when the bird is on. The habits of the lower orders 
 moved his wonder. 
 
 "How do these people live? Ah, I forgot, you have tried it. 
 Queer experiences; must hear you tell 'em. I say, Sinclair 
 
 [362]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEWN 
 
 and I start early to-morrow; join us we've room and help 
 me with the pheasants; say yes, man!" 
 
 But I was thinking out my next move, nor needed to reply, 
 for a knot of open-mouthed listeners outside a brewery tap 
 blocked the narrow street and diverted my lord's attention. A 
 man of the easiest temper and solicitous only to know all that 
 might be going, he forbore to push by, lending a tolerant ear 
 to the humours of the show. 
 
 A burly fellow in a long blue riding-coat was holding forth 
 to a circle of cronies. He had something of the air of a popular 
 hero in low life, and from the shine and redness of his battered, 
 hard-weather visage, had been kindly entreated by his 
 admirers. 
 
 " Thatcham, 'iss, 'twas at Thatcham us two got wind 
 o'm. Seen 'm nigh-hand the old school-house this side (arly 
 this mornin' 'twas, mind that ). Did us see his mug ? Now, 
 what d'ye take the man for ? No! Sam knows a thing or two, and 
 niver gi's us a smell o' the sight o's phiz 'till his vizard was on. 
 Lord! how 'e rid, did Sam, so soon as us hallered! Bill in there" 
 ( the speaker jerked a thumb in the direction of a shuttered 
 room across the street) "clapt in the persuaders and gets 
 up nigh enough to 'm for to make ready to fire; but Sam 'e gets 
 his shot in first, and down goes pore Bill lump on the 'igh-road. 
 I ups and tries a long shot and feels pretty sure I marked um. 
 Then us both sets down for to ride, ding-dong, hell-for-leather. 
 Ah! yah! we made the pace a cracker, I tell ye, right from 
 Thatcham village to Woolhampton Angel. Once past that and 
 just afore the turn down to Aldermaston, thinks I, ' Us be near 
 enough to try agin/ but Sam, he comes to the same inclusion, 
 for he turns in his saddle and puts a ball into my mare's off- 
 knee, and down ivt come and off goes Sam. But, damn his eyes, 
 I'll nab him yet and touch them guineas; you see!" 
 
 It seemed to me tnat this paladin and his fellow within-doors 
 
 [363]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 must be the couple of catchpolls whom I had passed dismount- 
 ed upon the road that morning. 
 
 Somewhere at the back of a church with a stumpy spire we 
 decided to turn. It was a narrow lane of the staidest respecta- 
 bility. "This will do," said Mandeville, taking an alley paved 
 with bricks at the side of a dull-looking building, apparently 
 untenanted, behind which the passage opened upon a little close 
 or grass-plot overhung by limetrees and shut in by crumbling 
 walls crested with spikes of wild mignonette and draped with 
 ivy-leaved toadflax, plants my little mistress had taught me. 
 
 The place wore an air of gentle neglect, neither garden nor 
 wilderness. The uncut grass was tall and white, its seed long 
 shed, the yellowing leaves whispered over it, and bees went 
 about their business among the sunflowers under the wall. 
 
 Where had we got to ? Trespassing, plainly. From behind a 
 yew came a man with a spade. Wading irresolutely through the 
 high grass as if looking for something lost, he presently found a 
 spot to his liking, spat upon his hands and broke the turf. 
 
 At the sound a head looked over the wall. "What, Chawley, 
 another on 'em ? " 
 
 "Noa, sir, I hear tell 'tis a furriner; an' blame short no- 
 tice, fur 'tis wanted fur to-morrow, think o' that! Now I puts 
 it to ye, who'd chuse fur to be a sexton ? Folkses be that thought- 
 less!" 
 
 Retracing our steps, we learned from a lad that this was the 
 Quakers' burying-ground. 
 
 "By the Lord, we might have known it!" cried Mandeville; 
 " 'tis as snug a bed for tired limbs as you shall find in a week's 
 riding. Think, man, of all the sober, gentle, wise old bodies 
 laid away here this hundred year, and never a parson (so 
 Sinclair tells me ) to pray over 'em or promise 'em a joyful 
 resurrection. It sounds heathenish, yet after what we've seen 
 to-day, dammy if I wouldn't as lief take my chance in that little 
 
 [3641
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-SEfEN 
 
 green garden as in the best consecrated bit of ground in York- 
 shire, aye, in Beverley Minster. What say you ?" 
 
 ' 'Quakers' grave-yard,' " said I, "it spells the heart 
 of quiet. Yes, yes green grass and whispering leaves 
 sprung from well! They've lived their simple, orderly 
 lives five generations of them or so as separate from 
 the folk around 'em in speech and dress as so many 
 foreigners, and have kept their severance in death, for here 
 they come at the last with as few sins on 'em as so many 
 school-girls. " 
 
 "Don't ye believe it, man," cries my lord; "half of them 
 were men men, sir, aye, and the other half were women. 
 Now wherever there are two lads and a lass there's the raw 
 stuff of a tragedy, and where there are two lasses and a lad 
 there's a comedy afoot, whether the dresser has togged the cast 
 as Puritans or the other sort." 
 
 I shook my head. "I know them. There are men lying there 
 who never struck a blow in all their lives, or swore an oath, no, 
 nor their fathers before them. " 
 
 He smiled upon me with tolerant incredulity. We got back to 
 the Market-Place. 
 
 The Catharine Wheel was in a state of subdued excite- 
 ment. Beneath the arch a little knot of neighbours conferred with 
 the woman of the house, holding their aprons before their 
 mouths, an action which signifies mitigated grief, or respect for 
 the dead, in the lower class. 
 
 "To go and claim it the corpse of a puffic stranger 
 well, I never did!" 
 
 "What I sez meself; but there! It saves the parish, ma'am, 
 that's somethink. So, 'e comes to me for a room, does Mr. 
 Ellwood, but I couldn't. 'You can 'ave the lock-up coach-house 
 for the night, sir,' sez I,' but I can not have it into the 'ouse for no 
 money! ' 
 
 [365]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 Tattle which tickled my ear and lies there yet, but failed at 
 the time to reach a preoccupied mind. 
 
 Full of my new resolve I passed upstairs, fully intending 
 to open my heart to my old master, and put my fate to the touch. 
 The child had seemed so near to me all that afternoon. The 
 sight of those flowers had touched my heart. I would speak, 
 tell my mind at least, before joining Dawnay at the Castle. 
 ( Hymus should have come by this. ) 
 
 The corridor was dusk. I mistook the door and found my- 
 self in a darkened room. Some one was there, speaking low; the 
 voice was the voice of the man I sought, my old master's, but 
 touched with such a grief as I had never conceived. This was 
 not the sorrow of penitence nor disappointment, of baffled love 
 or postponed reconciliation. It was the sorrow of one who has no 
 hope, and whatever stroke had stricken my poor friend I felt 
 was remediless. 
 
 "'O my son Absalom! my son my son Absalom! Would 
 God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son my son! ' 
 
 What was this ? A cold shiver passed down my spine. What 
 had befallen since I left this house two hours since ? But one 
 calamity that I could think of nay, no calamity that I could 
 think of would account for such despair in such a soul. 
 
 The death of Mrs. Ellwood, of Abel, of Phoebe; the loss of 
 all three would, as I felt, have bowed him, but would not 
 have broken him thus. The certainty of their eternal welfare, 
 and of his rejoining them in his Master's presence would have 
 upheld him. 
 
 "Who is it ?" he asked, hearing the latch rise. I had hoped 
 to retire unnoticed. "Is it thee George Fanshawe?" 
 The voice was dead; the last word grated upon his tongue; the 
 address was unusual, I had been plain George hitherto. 
 
 "Wouldst thou mind closing that door?" The darkness 
 shook to his convulsive tremors. 
 
 [366]
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 "Pardon him, O most Pitiful! He was but a child, a very 
 wilful child; what are twenty-four little short years to the endless 
 ages of eternity ? Remit if it may be, Thy just sentence, 
 or if not, blot me, I pray Thee, out of the Book of Life!" 
 
 His groaning wrung my heart; I speculated wildly and in 
 vain, but not for long. "This is self," said he. I heard him 
 rise from his knees; he remembered my presence. "Let us find 
 Abel." 
 
 He was in the next room seated, bent over the fennel-pot 
 on the hearth; he arose at our entering. "Hast thou told him, 
 father ? No, do not try thyself further; I will . . . George, 
 something very, very sad, very terrible, has happened. The 
 poor man thou encountered on the road" he paused, 
 I met his eye wondering and nodded assent "was my 
 brother." 
 
 "Your bro Never! Mandeville says he was Sam Smith 
 the highwayman." 
 
 "Samuel Bevan Ellwood was his name. He was my son 
 my son," murmured the father, "cut off in his sins. I must not 
 pray for him. 'As the tree falls.' Ah-h! . . . 'God is not 
 mocked. . . . As a man sows. . . .' Howl loved him! 
 What a bright little boy he was! My God! . . . His poor 
 mother! and now, 'Where their worm dieth not and the fire is not 
 quenched.' " The thought tortured him, would torture whilst 
 life and reason remained to him. He bent over the table sup- 
 ported upon his hands in a misery too exquisite for outward 
 expression. 
 
 I could not bear it thus. "Oh sir, depend on't, the Lord 
 will not be hard on him. If you love him still, so does He, and 
 will make allowance. Perhaps he had no chance." 
 
 "Every chance. I will not reproach my Creator. I am not 
 complaining, Abel; really I am not! 'Shall mortal man be 
 more just than his Maker, shall not the Judge of all the earth 
 
 [367]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 do right?' . . . But but it is too terrible," his faith 
 flickered. "All I have feared has befallen. The worst, the very 
 worst!" 
 
 "But, sir," I urged, "he might he might have been taken 
 and and hanged " 
 
 "And saved at the last, 'though as by fire,' but now " 
 
 I had spoken in haste and warmly, to mitigate if I might 
 the poignancy of their grief, and perhaps, too, to keep myself 
 from thinking of my own. I was fighting this off with blind 
 hands like a sinking man who knows it is all in vain, and when 
 silence fell my heartache grew almost insupportable. The re- 
 membrance of the words I had been conning as I came up the 
 stairs, the phrase I had decided to open the matter with, near 
 overcame me. I could have gone forth into the corridor and 
 cursed my luck like any trooper. 
 
 From this descent and black selfishness I was saved by the 
 sight of my friends' imperious anguish. I understood it all. The 
 ravelled skein I had touched once and again lay distinct; the black 
 thread twined and knotted within I followed to its fracture. 
 
 What remained for me to say ? There was nothing I could 
 say. On their parts, both these sorely-tried men refrained from 
 word or sign which might wound. That such would have been 
 harsh, unjust, unchristian, goes for nought. Are the good al- 
 ways fair, kind, and well-balanced when in the grip of extremity ? 
 My friends were, yet was there one thing which it seemed they 
 could not do. Nor could I. 
 
 As we stood, the narrow space between us might have been 
 covered in a stride. It was not to be passed; it was a chasm such 
 as I have heard tell of in mountain lands, across which men may 
 exchange looks and even words, but touch hands never. 
 
 I know not if the thought were in their hearts that was in 
 mine. The hand that had spilt the life of the son and twin 
 brother could never again rest in theirs. 
 
 [368]
 
 CHAPTER rHIRTT-SEFEN 
 
 The hour was a bad one for me. Across that chasm, widen- 
 ing fast, I seemed to see the sorrowing face of my little mis- 
 tress, never to be mine, growing fainter and more distant, and to 
 hear her " O George, dear George! how could thee do it ?" I 
 knew I had lost her forever, and could never say to her father 
 the word I had come to say. 
 
 The chasm widened, was growing beneath my eyes: the 
 bottom of things seemed a-falling out ( as had happened once 
 before in my life ) ; I shook at the prospect. 
 
 Abel's face there, so near and yet so inaccessible, awoke in me 
 a kind of blind resentment. There was this silent, wooden fel- 
 low, this clock-work automaton driven by a spring called duty, 
 who never so far as I could see gave a passing look to a 
 pretty girl, or entertained a naughty thought; there was he, I 
 say, wrung with real downright grief for a vicious rascal who 
 had stolen his clothes, abused his good name, personated him a 
 hundred times, put him within reach of the hangman! 
 
 That the rascal was his brother went for little ( in my 
 mind ); they had hardly met since their school-days, and held 
 not a thought or a wish in common. Their stand-point as boys 
 might have been the same and broad enough, but that poor 
 dead thief's malpractices and way of life had been breaking 
 that basis away for years past, it had dwindled to a very pin- 
 point; compared to it my community with Blakenham, say, 
 was mile-broad, yet we had found that all too narrow a base 
 for friendship. Why, as I live, until I had been able to do my 
 lord a service and so found out his better parts, I swear I'd 
 have learned of his death with a casual "God bless me!" Yet we 
 had never fallen out beyond bounds, and were reckoned fairly 
 good-hearted fellows in our way. 
 
 It beat me, it beats me still. These were twins, you'll say, 
 and there's no more to be said about it. 
 
 Our eyes met and met again, but though upon the edge of 
 
 1369]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 speech he did not speak. So stands some poor girl before the 
 man who has betrayed her, drawn to him by half her nature, 
 repelling him with half. A word would have turned the balance, 
 but I had no word to say. Bewildered by this unexpected blow 
 and full of pity for all concerned, myself included, I bowed 
 my head and made for the door. 
 
 "Don't go like this; we don't part here, George," said my 
 master. "Thou finds us in bitter distress, but through no fault 
 of thine. An inch more or less, the veriest accident, nay, but 
 for God's finger thou wouldst have lain dead on the road, and 
 Abel been left for execution. It is the will of the Almighty, in- 
 scrutable, terrible," his mind fell back again shuddering and 
 lacerated from contact with the iron fact. 
 
 He rallied after a pause. The world would go on; he had his 
 duties to perform; courtesy demanded something from him 
 though a son lay dead below. 
 
 " But thou hadst something to tell us. " 
 
 Now it was I that was at fault; but a minute before I had 
 come picking my steps upstairs as brimful of warm hopes and 
 honest love as any young fellow in the three kingdoms, and 
 now, my God! the thing was done with, not to be thought of. 
 
 There were few farewells; some hard hand-grips; so you see 
 things were not so bad as I had feared, I had not utterly lost 
 touch with these men; father and son, they would come again 
 in time, to a point, if never quite to the old unreserved freedom. 
 Well, it should be my part to strive for that later. 
 
 I got myself from that room and felt my way down the stair 
 in the mood for any mischief. Sick with playing shuttle to the 
 webs of others, tossed back and forth without resting-place or 
 prospect, I was minded to take things into my own hands and 
 see a little life. 
 
 Moodily pacing a narrow row on my way to the Castle or 
 elsewhere, for in truth I was ready for anything or any company 
 
 [370]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-SErEN 
 
 that would save me from my own, I encountered old Penington. 
 
 "My friend, where art thou going?" says he, with the plain 
 directness which gets to the heart of a matter better than 
 finesse. 
 
 "To the devil!" I rapped. He turned and walked beside me 
 in silence, I also silent. Under such escort I was like to come to 
 little harm, and smiling sourly to think of the figure I must be 
 cutting, reached my inn without another word. 
 
 Under the cedar that stands before it my companion stopt 
 and offered me his hand. "I have no light upon thy path, my 
 friend, but of this I am well assured, that He who hath used 
 thee hath still a use for thee. Farewell. " 
 
 [37i]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 
 THE CUP RUNS OVER 
 
 FOR a wounded spirit there is no anodyne like work. 
 To sit with empty hands, to brood upon my luck 
 with gloomy self-pity, would have been the devil. 
 This, by the mercy of God, I had the sense to see, and having 
 seen, the determination to act upon. 
 
 That winter I hunted, not immoderately, as I thought at 
 the time; yet a doubt assails me since that I rode like a man 
 whom the fiend is riding. Years after, they tell me, I lived in 
 the memory of the Riccol and Wardby Hunt as "that mad 
 Fanshawe." 
 
 Rigorously limiting myself to three days' sport a week, the 
 other three working days were spent in overseeing my estates. 
 It was a case for the master's eye. Mine was pained; I found 
 everywhere a need for leadership; a brutal scramble for the 
 good things of life, and a resolute kicking away of the ladder 
 by which success had risen. 
 
 I will not pretend that at the time I should have put it thus; 
 my untrained eye saw only that all was wrong, but discerned 
 neither cause nor remedy. 
 
 Here were thousands of acres on which no owner had resid- 
 ed for forty years : estates ( all mine ) lying cheek by 
 jowl where the whims of quarrelling bailiff's were law. Up to 
 
 [372]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-EIGHT 
 
 this fence the fox was sacred, beyond he ventured at his peril 
 whilst on this other manor the head of game impoverished my 
 tenants yet brought me no return. I had found man-traps 
 specially designed to break the shin-bones of my labourers; 
 shards of glass laid down in my trout streams; spring-guns in 
 my coverts; and these devilries ( as my newly-opened eyes dis- 
 covered them to be ) planned wholly for the sport or privy 
 gains of some jack-in-office. 
 
 My lands were farmed with an eye to the beasts, but what 
 of my men ? My guides had stared the surly disapproval they 
 durst not express, when I had poked my head into my wretched 
 hovels. It would seem that to look kindly at a labouring man 
 was impolitic, to address him civilly was like to turn his head, 
 whilst to ask if his roof leaked or his chimney drew smacked of 
 Jacobinism and a setting of class against class. 
 
 "They must be kep' down, squire, damn 'em! once ye lats 
 they get sassy and 'tis all up wi' you and me." Such was the 
 advice tendered me by one of my oldest tenants, a red-nosed 
 true-blue in top-boots, his flowered waistcoat covering a 
 paunch like Toby Philpot's on a brown jug. 
 
 I had visited a dozen parishes of mine where for half a 
 century no dissenter had been allowed to hold land; where 
 Methodists worshipped in a sourly-tolerated privacy, their 
 ministers having sat in the stocks as rogues and vagabonds 
 for preaching on the village green. 
 
 Thus was I put to thinking for others, whilst for myself 
 I chanced upon sly doings, a fall of summer-cut oak, unau- 
 thorized by Biddulph, for which, but for my discovery of the 
 fraud, no account would have been rendered. 
 
 "A man I must have a man, not a lawyer in London, 
 but a head, a hand, and, above all else, a heart; and all three 
 upon the spot," said I at last; "and just such a man do I 
 know, but will Abel come ? " 
 
 [373]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 My great uncle's movements during the six years succeeding 
 the events set down in the last paragraph are not certainly known, 
 He kept no diaries, and materials for a connected narrative 
 do not exist. He seems to have travelled much, chiefly within the 
 limits of the British Isles, the Continent being difficult of access 
 at the time and inhospitable to our countrymen. 
 
 Two visits to Sweden he certainly paid, and several to the 
 extreme north of Scotland. 
 
 The following fragment of memoir covers a part of the autumn 
 of 1805. 
 
 The introductory sheets of the brst portion have been lost; 
 it begins disconnectedly. 
 
 . . . outridden my servant, who had posted from Hull 
 with my valises. 
 
 The weather being a St. Martin's summer, cool and delicate, 
 I have seldom enjoyed travelling more than on this occasion. 
 
 Twenty miles short of my destination I must pass through 
 Norton Coldridge. It was market-day, and the business being 
 as good as over, the pitched sacks were being removed from 
 the cross by lean and ragged carters, and the cattle sorted 
 by drovers as hungry and hopeless. 
 
 I had some recollection of holding property in the place, 
 and supposing the Charley drmstobe one of my houses, stayed 
 to bait and refresh myself. 
 
 "The house is very full, sir," said the landlord, regarding 
 me with some concern. "We have no private room available 
 to-day. The 'House o' Commons' is roughish for your wor- 
 ship's quality, but there's the 'House of Lords' upstairs if ye 
 don't mind a little liquor and smoke. May we lay for ye there ?" 
 
 The room was large if somewhat low in the ceiling, and I 
 too old a traveller to be put from my victuals by tobacco or 
 uncongenial company. 
 
 [374]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-EIGHT 
 
 At the round table near the hearth a party of six were sitting 
 over their wine, men of a stamp that was new to me, a class 
 farther removed from ours than from the smock-frocked boors 
 bickering over their spirits and pipes in the room beneath. 
 These would be the new gentlemen farmers, I supposed. 
 There might have been a small squire among them whose father 
 had never reckoned himself ought but a yeoman or signed 
 save with a cross. 
 
 These persons sprawled in unconventional postures very 
 much at their ease, hand in fob and with vest largely un- 
 buttoned, whiffing in a surly silence or all speaking together 
 more and more loudly, enforcing their remarks with gestures 
 of the clenched fist. Yet it was plain they were not quarrel- 
 ling; these were the manners of men supreme upon their own 
 lands and wholly unused to contradiction. 
 
 Their fine clothes seemed hardly to fit the wearers. The 
 untended condition of their hands was perceptible even from 
 where I sat. They hawked and spat with the rustical freedom 
 of men accustomed from youth to brick floors. 
 
 Said one: "There were talk o' peace at the covert-side 
 yesterday. Squire seemed to make out the French was getting 
 sick on't." This view was scouted loudly by the company at 
 large. To talk merely to talk of such an anti-climax 
 showed an unpatriotic spirit. 
 
 'Twas a flam, neighbour Ball. Squire was making a fool 
 on ye. Peace! what wants we wi' peace? War, sir; a good 
 war! Come, now, I give ye a toast: 'A bloody war and a bad 
 harvest!' " 
 
 The sentiment was drunk with enthusiasm, with such vigour 
 indeed as to rouse a sleeping toper who raised a purple face 
 from the table to inform the room that he had heard "as Boney 
 had crossed the Alps crossed 'em in an open boat"; "but," 
 added the creature with conviction, " 'tis a lie, my boys, and I 
 
 [3751
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF Q,UALITT 
 
 for one will ne'er believe it: a shall never land in old Cheshire, 
 not while wheat's at ninety. " 
 
 The talk turned to men and wages, which latter were byway 
 of being fixed by the county bench. Said a fat man in buck- 
 skin breeches and tasselled Hessian boots, thumping the 
 board until the brass buttons on the cuff of his blue cutaway 
 clinked again: "We'll set it at six shilluns, I tells ye, and six 
 shilluns it shall be, by God!" 
 
 His hearers received this ultimatum with phlegmatic com- 
 posure and meditative whiffing. Remarked the soberest, 
 "Wheat's at ninety-five. At your price, Squire, that'll run to 
 three shillings a week to each fambly out o' the rates. " 
 
 "Likely 't do, but that don't affec' me; mine's a close par- 
 ish. " ' replied the stout dictator, taking his wine off with a 
 relish. 
 
 Another voice resumed: "Ellwood says seven's too low; he's 
 for nine shillings. " 
 
 " Damn Ellwood ! " snorted the autocrat. 
 
 "Aye, aye, hot words ne'er filled a bushel. Can ye afford to 
 snap yer fingers at him ?" 
 
 "And why not; tell me that ?" 
 
 " Because he'll start that canal-dock of his if ye do, and 
 draw off every lab'rin' man for ten mile round " 
 
 "And keep the beggars for us thro' the winter? He's wel- 
 come!" 
 
 "Aye, and thro' haysel and harvest, too. Why, man, there's 
 three years' work on that job when once 'tis started. Will ye 
 like that ? Not ye, I think!" 
 
 "Damn him, again says I," retorted the other. "Will young 
 Fanshawe never come home to 'tend to 's affairs ? Is this blasted 
 
 *A parish in which there were no poor rates, its landowner having pulled down 
 every cottage, and drawing his supply of laoour from neighboring pansnes, upon 
 which the burden of supporting his men would fall when their employer discharged 
 them at the approach of winter. ED. 
 
 [376]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-EIGHT 
 
 Quaker to ruin the county, spile the men, p'ison the children 
 wi' book-larnin' and such-like culch, and us, the backbone of 
 the country, sit helpless?" 
 
 "'Atween you and me, Squire, young Fanshawe might side 
 with his steward if he did come home. He's got the pick of 
 our men for years past, and has no kind o' trouble to keep 'em 
 on the estates " 
 
 "No, by God! they're fussed and humoured and messed 
 about; housed as well as my hunters. You never see such 
 cottages! His tenants dursn't lay a stick acrost e'er a one o' 
 their chaps. 'Tis monstrous! Is we Englishmen? I ask meself. 
 The grand jury did ought to make a presentment about it. " 
 
 "Well, they won't do no such thing, you'll see. For one thing, 
 the judge 'd ask the Clerk of the Peace for the Petty Sessions 
 returns, and we all know there be no trouble o' that side o' 
 the county. So now, Squire, what say ye to nine shillings for 
 the winter wage and peace with Ellwood ?" 
 
 The last stage or so of my journey would have supplied 
 balm to my self-esteem could I with honesty have taken credit 
 for the changed aspect of the country-side which met the eye 
 on either hand. 
 
 Instead of sunken capes of thatch, rotten and black where 
 they were not hidden by moss and singreen, my cottages were 
 everywhere well roofed. 
 
 The season being so advanced, their gardens had little to 
 show, yet their emptiness seemed due less to neglect than to 
 husbandry; the winter cabbage stood tall around the new styes: 
 
 Winteringhame had changed little tho' it was three years 
 since I had set eyes on it; what are three years to those hale 
 patriarchs the chase oaks ? Nor was the ranger's lodge altered 
 a whit: Abel was still single and found the house sufficient for 
 his needs. 
 
 1 3771
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 He was afield but expected. A man took my horse. I entered 
 at the back, and passing through the darkening passages, found 
 the parlour he used and sat to await him. 
 
 The stone-barred window opened to the west, a low sun spun 
 pale gold among the leafless boughs, sending an arch of prim- 
 rose-tinted light aloft to die into the blue that darkened at the 
 zenith. The upper half of that room was still light; I saw upon the 
 walls certain antlered heads, spoils of my gun and rifle, sent 
 south for mounting in years before. The lower half was dusk, yet 
 not so dusk but that I could see the table littered with a woman's 
 matters, a basket of tapes and needles, hanks of wool, and the 
 like. In the seat of an easy chair lay a little book of household 
 accounts; even in that light the script and figures were familiar. 
 A stocking half hid it, a stocking frayed at the heel through 
 which peeped the white of the delf nest-egg a woman puts 
 within a garment she is darning: the gleam of it caught my eye, 
 On looking around me I found more woman's gear, this and 
 that, but still my eye returned to that little stocking. It was no 
 man's wear; the selvedge was worked with initials in a red 
 silken cross-stitch hers ! My heart leapt, a wave of delight 
 surged through me whether I would or no. Abel's housekeeper 
 was my little mistress; I should see her again. ( We had met but 
 five times in the six years. ) 
 
 This was not alone more than I had bargained for, but was 
 flatly against all judgement and resolution. It was not to have 
 been, and could lead to nought but a reviving the old hopeless 
 longings packed away and locked in long ago. 
 
 Perhaps after all I was mistaken; to make sure I looked 
 more closely at the stitching, touched, lifted that little stocking, 
 held it to a better light ( I had no right to have laid finger on't ) 
 in a moment it was at my lips! 
 
 "Abel, thou foolish fellow, what are thee meddling with 
 my work for?" 
 
 [378]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHT 
 
 Turning in guilty confusion, I got to my feet; I had been 
 seated with face to the window. 
 
 In the open doorway stood my little mistress, bright 
 against the darkness of the passage behind her, the last of 
 the sunset touching her hair with gold and delighting to 
 dwell upon the faint rose of her cheek as the light of evening 
 does in all that is ruddy in nature. Her eyes were dancing 
 with glee, her lips and throat pulsing with a soft laugh that 
 died as I turned. 
 
 "O, who is it? George! dear George! thee here! How thou 
 startled me! To think " 
 
 "I am truly sorry. You have had my letter? I marked it 
 'post-haste.'" 
 
 "No, where ? when didst thou land ? we thought thee in 
 Sweden. " 
 
 Our words came with a rush, faster and faster: nor whilst 
 speaking had we kept our distance, but were both moving 
 around the table as we spoke and met midway with outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 How it befell I know not, I swear I did not foresee it by the 
 fraction of a second, or forecast it in any wise, but, moving 
 so, into the dark end of the room, from the broad orange light 
 thrown by that mullioned window, we lost our distance, our 
 hands missed touch, it was our arms that met, and in one mom- 
 ent she was in my embrace! And rested there: not for longer 
 than one soft, slow breath, but long enough for us both to know 
 that if the contact were an accident, the resting in contact 
 was the keenest of pleasures. 
 
 "George! what is this? O, what have I done? It cannot 
 be, thou knows, it must not be!" 
 
 Alas! I knew why, or thought I knew. 
 
 We tore as it seemed ourselves apart : I still silent, 
 dumbed by a tumult of emotions: love for my little mistress, 
 
 [3791
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALIFY 
 
 pity for her, scorn of myself, my selfish weakness that had 
 now spoilt her life. I stood with hanging head. 
 
 "Dear George, forget my folly! " ( She took the whole blame 
 to herself.) "Mother will understand." (She dreamed not 
 for a moment of suppression. ) 
 
 "Let us tell your mother, then, and have it over. Is she at 
 The Edge, or here ?" 
 
 "They are at Quarterly Meeting; they return to The Edge 
 to-morrow. About this time to-morrow; we must wait till then. 
 O !" 
 
 Her low voice had a depth of soft pity in it. Silence fell 
 between us, the first embarrassed silence that either could 
 remember, broken presently by her. 
 
 "George, do not blame me too much." 
 
 "You ? myself!" I said, hoarsely. 
 
 "Well, neither of us then, so hardly. This was to be. It is 
 no new thing, as I can see now. It is like like that jar of 
 Abel's stuff he puts crystals into little by little, and they all 
 dissolve, no one would suspect it was not all liquid, then just 
 a tap, a shake, and it finds itself, and in a moment the thing is 
 solid. We were taken unawares. Now we know, what we 
 know. We must be strong, George; thou wilt be strong, and 
 help me to be strong, for O " 
 
 "Phoebe, can't it be? Why can't it just be?" I whispered, 
 the strength of my resolve going every moment, for now I 
 was sure of what I had guessed at one of our previous meet- 
 ings her ignorance of how her brother came by his end. 
 
 I could see her wet eyes shine in the dusk, her lips moved 
 silently; at last the word came. 
 
 "Because we are not of one mind, George. I do not judge 
 thee. Do thy duty as thou sees it, only be sure it is thy duty. " 
 
 Yes, she was stronger than I. That she referred to my rooted 
 desire to be soldiering, I knew. The desire, still baulked as it 
 
 [380]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHT 
 
 had been those seven years and more, lay heavily upon me: I 
 had made no secret of it to the Ellwoods; that they disapproved 
 went without saying; it was a matter never referred to. 
 
 I waved the objection aside. 
 
 "What has this to do with it ? You are you, I am /: we have 
 known one another so long so long! Don't you see ? There 
 is no one else for you, I think," her eyes were as clear as water. 
 " There has never been, and never will be, any other for me, 
 Phoebe. We were made for each other, Phoebe; it should be 
 it must be!" 
 
 I caught her hand; it lay passive in mine. 
 
 "No, George, dear George; for so thou art to me, and will 
 ever be, tho' I must call thee so no longer after to-day save 
 in my prayers no, we must be wise and brave. This is 
 is " 
 
 She shook, she wavered, I felt her tremble, yet, falling back 
 upon some inner source of strength, she raised her head and 
 faced me again. 
 
 "George, this thou art asking is not everything; there are 
 ways of life Everything? Indeed no; the married life is very 
 wonderful, and must be sweet when the husband and wife see 
 eye to eye. Anything short of that is the saddest of mistakes; 
 even so it is often denied to the best of us. There are duties as 
 high, or higher; indeed it is all a matter of duty, of what is 
 one's duty, and that will be made clear, is clear already for 
 me. No, I am not for thee, George; do not urge me, do not over- 
 bear my weakness until it breaks, and I live to despise myself 
 and thou to despise me." 
 
 This was using love to defeat itself. I opened my lips, but 
 moving swiftly to me ( we had fallen apart ), she laid soft small 
 palms that shook upon my shoulders, looking up into my face 
 with a piteous firmness. 
 
 "Yes, thou cares for me, I know it now; and as for me, thou 
 
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 hast seen my spirit too; but O, George, do not, do not abuse thy 
 knowledge! There are others fitter for thee. " 
 
 I shook my head; that plea was absurd whilst those wet 
 eyes were so close to mine, whilst that sweet breath warm 
 from her parted lips played over my face. 
 
 "Yes, fitter," she persisted; "fitter than I could ever be 
 for that life, but for my work here there is none. I am sister 
 and wife and all to Abel he will never take a mate not 
 right hand indeed, but perhaps left hand to his right, or little 
 finger George, to his grasp, just completing the hold. We 
 work with one mind and will. He is so wonderful! And it be- 
 gins to tell. Thou dost not know, I could shew thee. The men 
 love hint at last the best of them they were sorely sus- 
 picious for years; they would not help themselves, or save- 
 It was all drink drink, every penny went so. They seemed 
 unable to believe that we meant well by them, or that if we did 
 that Abel's stewardship would last. 
 
 "But most have come round now. The gardens are getting 
 beautiful and the homes cleaner, and the darling little mites 
 better fed " 
 
 " But why should this stop ? I am not such a brute " 
 
 "O, it would, I know it would," she hurried on, "See, 
 all my time is his now. Mother released me. Dear mother is 
 almost strong again, and with father out of business for 
 The Edge is play after the mill and those long journeys he 
 and she are always together and I am here. And truly my hands 
 are full from morning to night. I could tell thee there > are 
 the classes I take myself, and others we oversee; schools to 
 visit. Some days I am driving all day, George. No, do not take 
 me from my work, Abel's work; he plans everything; this is 
 my place, a place where God has put me, and has trained me 
 for. Indeed I am happy in it, and should be good for nothing 
 elsewhere. " 
 
 [38*]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHT 
 
 What lover ever yet was moved by such a plea ? The strong 
 human impulse welled up within me; after all I was a man, 
 she just a woman and lawful prize. She should be mine. I 
 would win her, trusting to nature and to two warm hearts for 
 the rest. 
 
 Her hands had slipt from my shoulders, they were fluttering 
 upon my breast, one on either side, pushing me from her, 
 forcing us apart, utterly unconscious of herself. The action and 
 attitude touched a chord of memory, a chord still vibrant; just 
 so had her brother stood years before restraining me from the 
 dark waters, death and hell. 
 
 I could have taken her by storm, caught her wrists, her 
 waist, pressed her to my heart, silenced the pleadings of her lips 
 with mine. It was in me to do it; one side of me throbbing urged 
 the experiment. "A bold plunge, she is yours! up manhood!" 
 But she and hers had not so trained me. The other side hung 
 back, holding in leash the ignobler self; I stood convinced against 
 all promptings of sense of the way in which it was ordained for 
 me to walk, the grimly happy path of renunciation. 
 
 She felt herself victor it was now grown too dark for her 
 to read my face her hands fell, she stept back with a stifled 
 sob, secure that her appeal had won the verdict for that 
 time at least. 
 
 The door closed behind her, upon my little mistress, a very 
 woman. Our first love-scene, hers or mine was over; she had 
 left me, and the word "love" had not crossed our lips. 
 
 An explanation was due to my dear old master. The following 
 afternoon found me at his side in The Edge garden, pacing 
 slowly the mossy gravel between espalier pears still beautiful 
 with the late-hanging bronze and purple leaf. 
 
 Having said my say, and said it with a sort of dogged hope- 
 lessness, as a man ashamed not of what he has asked, but 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QU4LITT 
 
 of his weakness in having craved a thing impossible there 
 fell a silence between us. 
 
 Slowly we paced, I had nought to urge; the word, what- 
 ever it might be, lay with him, who seemed in no haste to utter 
 it. I was spared the tortures of hope, and had known the man 
 and his goodness too long to fear him. As his lips remained 
 closed whilst we twice measured the length of the alley, I spoke 
 again, and in my excuse. 
 
 "Sir, 'tis impossible; let us agree on't, and have done with it. 
 You will not blame me, being a young fellow, and she what 
 she is God bless her!" I raised my hat. "Even if she hung in 
 the wind, and I cannot say she does and tho' our hearts 
 might might yet there lies between us what you have 
 mercifully spared her the knowledge of, but what you and I 
 can ne'er forget." 
 
 He turned to me, and his eyes were more than kind. "Nay, 
 George Fanshawe, that has passed. 'Tis true that my poor 
 lad's end is unknown to his sister and mother ( the one and 
 only secret of my married life ) but in that matter I do not 
 believe that the Almighty condemns thee neither do I 
 condemn thee. The darkness of that day is long since lightened, 
 and for that blessed light I have measurably to thank thee, 
 my friend. " 
 
 My face put the question my lips were unable to shape, 
 such was my surprise. 
 
 "Yes, thee; thy words went home. I no longer think so 
 meanly of the All Merciful as to hold Him capable of what 
 the cruellest of His erring children would shrink from inflicting. 
 If I loved poor wayward Samuel and love him still," the 
 water sprang to his eyes "be sure so does He. If I long to 
 restore him if my thoughts turn to the ring, and the robe, 
 and the feast if I still yearn to bring him home again, be 
 sure He does, and will. Thou taught me this, George. Our 
 
 [384]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHT 
 
 people do not hold this view yet; I cannot give thee Scripture 
 for it: it is the new light, here " he laid a hand upon his 
 heart for an instant. " But it shines clearly, and I am not per- 
 mitted to doubt what I have seen. Who am I to limit the 
 pardoning love of my Saviour ? to set bounds to His power to 
 save to restore ? 
 
 "No, George, 'tis not thy sudden deed that parts us, but duty. 
 Thou art at heart a soldier " 
 
 "But that's all done with, sir; Sweden was my last hope: 
 I've wasted my time there; had my answer, and here you see 
 me." 
 
 He let the avowal pass. It was not the circumstance, but 
 the spirit and the will he regarded; and in this matter of bear- 
 ing arms mine were as far from his as ever. This I ignored. 
 
 "So you will not oppose refuse to allow me I mean, 
 I may try again, sir?" Hope was leaping within me like a 
 fountain, had I but known of this last evening she had been 
 mine there and then. The thought of that dead rascal's blood 
 between us had taken the steel out of my attack; "Lord! there 
 shall be no funking next time! But I must secure this dear old 
 saint's leave first," so much I knew. 
 
 "George Fanshawe, if Phoebe will have thee I will not refuse 
 my consent." 
 
 The heart of youth bounded within me; everything was 
 possible, nay easy, nay certain! The face I turned to him 
 blazed: his still wore its form of kindly pity. He knew his 
 daughter. To the side of the matter which would have engrossed 
 the attention of most fathers in such circumstances, the quality 
 and condition of the suitor, the settlements he might offer 
 and the rest on't, this strange man gave not a thought. Rank 
 he valued at a straw, would willingly have dispensed with in 
 Phoebe's case. Money as money had no lure for him; and the 
 estates he estimated as a heavy responsibility. It was no prig- 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF OJJALITT 
 
 gish affectation; this man had the power of seeing things as 
 they are, saw them whilst in life and health as we all come to 
 see them at the last, when on the edge of the grave and know- 
 ledge has come too late. 
 
 But that "if" of my dear old master, which had seemed 
 at its first utterance an earnest of success, changed complexion 
 most strangely as I went to learn my fate. At once I went, 
 leaving my old friend standing deep in thought, or prayer, 
 in the espalier-walk; hit or miss, I would brook no delay. The 
 dyke had given at last in spite of me; being down, the mischief 
 was done, we could never resume our old relation; the thing 
 cried aloud for an understanding. 
 
 But tho' all for putting the question to a definite issue and 
 hearing the best or the worst, I must practice patience; my 
 mistress, who had returned to her father's house that morning, 
 was out; I must await her return. 
 
 Pacing thus the dark, low-ceiled parlour hung about with 
 such works of art as the Quakers allow, a print of William 
 Penn a-making of his treaty with the Indians, and sundry 
 black silhouettes in oval frames, a slow footfall announced 
 the approach of Mrs. Ellwood. 
 
 We had met earlier in the afternoon; whether she knew of 
 my errand or no I could not divine; her smile and address 
 were as kind and unembarrassed as usual. 
 
 "Won't thee be seated, George? I have a weakness for 
 strict equality, thee knows; and how shall we converse on fair 
 terms if I am comfortable in my chair and thee rambling about 
 the room " 
 
 "Like a lost dog ?" I suggested, achieving a smile as I obeyed. 
 She beamed upon me motherly as of old. 
 
 "Nearer, please, George: I thank thee. Now may I speak? 
 I have heard how this stands from Phoebe." 
 
 I bowed: she patted my hand with her thin mittened fingers;
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHTH 
 
 " I see nothing to regret in it so far. It is all natural, and 
 right, and in the Almighty's ordering." 
 
 "Then you consent, Mrs. Ellwood O!" 
 
 "Wait, George, do not outrun me, I am an old woman and 
 slow of foot, thee knows; I said so far. To have known one 
 another for these years is a good and precious thing for you 
 both. Nothing can spoil the memory of that: it is a part of 
 your lives. To have loved one another ah! that too is a gift, 
 a very wonderful gift. You are rich indeed if your experiences 
 end here." 
 
 But the lady was speaking to a lover. 
 
 "Why should the thing stop here ? You consent: her father 
 consents: Phoebe loves me: what else have we to consider ?" 
 
 "The will of God, dear friend." The words were breathed 
 softly: they gave me pause. 
 
 "Think; He made you both for His service. His is the first 
 claim. Wouldest thou not have owned it if He had seen fit 
 to take her to Himself? It may be that He has need of her here 
 below and calls upon thee to resign her to Him." 
 
 Was ever such a woman ? To hear a mother calmly facing 
 the possibility of her daughter's death her only daughter, 
 mind you, and such a daughter! stopped my mouth. 
 
 The lady had spoken slowly with pauses between. When, 
 as she judged, the words had sunk in, she resumed: 
 
 "Thou thinks a woman's duty is to love and to work for a 
 man some man." It was just what I had thought, that and 
 nought else. 
 
 "Such is the Almighty's will for most of us. But there are 
 other paths of service for a woman's feet. Sometimes He calls 
 her to serve not a man, but mankind : to nurse her sister woman, 
 to teach little children, to raise the fallen. 
 
 "Hast thou heard of Robert Raikes ?" 
 
 I had not, and heard now of that Gloucester Quaker who 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 had recently begun the work of gathering into schools the 
 vicious and neglected infancy of that cathedral city. 
 
 "My Phoebe," said her mother with gentle pride, "has 
 stayed with Robert Raikes and studied his methods. She is 
 applying them to the children of thy estates, George Fanshawe. 
 
 "Hast thou heard of Elizabeth Fry?" 
 
 Of that modern saint, even I had heard. 
 
 "My Phoebe has seen much of our friend Elizabeth Fry; 
 has been with her in Newgate." 
 
 I almost leapt. My cheeks loosened with the shock: my 
 little mistress among the crawling filth, the stenches, the foul 
 language and fouler bodies of that den of she-felons! 
 
 "Yes, she learnt much there too, and has been instrumental 
 in bettering matters in Chester jail and Lancaster Castle. Her 
 example has stirred up others, thou sees. She was greatly 
 helped; she appealed in person to the justices in Quarter 
 Session, and we think not wholly in vain. The women's side at 
 Lancaster is said to be a changed place." 
 
 "Mrs. Ellwood, you amaze me! Has Phoebe done this? 
 How ? When ? Is it possible that you knew and allowed it ? " 
 I was afraid to trust myself to say all I felt, a pained astonish- 
 ment, almost amounting to indignation, so possessed me: 
 all this was so utterly at variance with my conception of a 
 woman's round of duty. 
 
 "Oh, I could tell thee more. Our Phoebe is a woman of 
 character, George; she has a will, a quiet force and a fund of 
 sound common sense: she is known already: she corresponds 
 with William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson, Samuel 
 Romilly and others, friends of the slave and oppressed, 
 who are labouring for those who cannot help themselves, 
 George." 
 
 I sat and looked upon my old friend without a word; my 
 ideas of what was fit and permissible for a woman had suddenly 
 
 [388]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-EIGHT 
 
 become inadequate and out-o'-date. Things, opinions, customs, 
 persons had shifted strangely; changed places, altered in value 
 remarkably in the last few moments. 
 
 I was as a seaman returned from a French prison who finds 
 his native land under a new ministry, and his younger brother, 
 let us say, whom he left a schoolboy, grown to be a person of 
 worship and well-considered. 
 
 In these minutes my little mistress, sweet, simple, girlish, 
 the gentlest and freshest of God's creatures, the veriest 
 wild rosebud of a girl, had developed incredibly under my 
 eyes. 
 
 "This has seemed evidently the path marked out for 
 her, George; she has travelled far, watched closely, thought 
 deeply, prayed earnestly. Now she is putting experience into 
 practice." 
 
 The speaker paused; nor was I in haste to urge the pleas 
 which had seemed so unanswerable a minute before. That my 
 mistress had grown ten times better worth the winning in these 
 minutes goes without saying. It was a sense of my own un- 
 worthiness that closed my lips. 
 
 "And you feel she feels that her marrying me would 
 stop all this? Indeed it shall not! I will lay all else aside and 
 help her. Yes, with heart, and soul, and strength I will!" 
 
 "So thou intends, dear friend, so thou wouldst attempt; 
 but, before thou runs, make sure that thou art sent. Is this 
 work also thine ? Thou hast sought for years to re-enter the 
 army. This desire has engrossed thy thoughts, George ? " I 
 nodded assent. 
 
 "But that's at an end. Yes, Mrs. Ellwood, as ye know, I 
 have trained myself for a duty I felt or thought I felt 
 was laid upon me. I need not tell you, for you know, this 
 evil man strides across the map; spares none. Austria was 
 strong; he has stricken her down. 'They that take the sword, 
 
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 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 shall perish by the sword,' you Friends will quote. Ah, but 
 Venice was weak; she struck not a blow; he had not the shadow 
 of a quarrel with her; yet he felled, and bound, and sold her 
 like a slave. Those poor Switzers, too, and the Hollanders, the 
 Free Cities, and the rest. And just because Lord Nelson has 
 broken them upon the seas, and there's no more talk of invasion, 
 and you all sleep sound o' nights, and have stopped looking at 
 the beacons, is England's work finished ? I say No! 
 
 "Well, I thought myself called, but I was mistaken. Heaven 
 can do very well without me; that work is for others. Nobody 
 wants my sword; I may break it and turn Friend." 
 
 The faintest and kindest smile played over the dear lady's 
 face; her hand sought mine in sympathy for the chagrin of a 
 lost ideal which she did not share. 
 
 The door opened, Phoebe stood on the threshold, paler than 
 I would have had her, and needlessly startled. 
 
 "Mother George! I did not know you were within here. 
 Forgive my interruption." She turned to leave, but stayed to 
 reply to her mother's unspoken question. 
 
 "Yes, dear, she is dead; but the children are alive; twin 
 girlies; such morsels! The doctor was not fetched in time; but 
 nothing could have been done he says so; the case was a 
 very bad one; the nurse was drunk and helpless not one of 
 
 >3 
 
 ours. 
 
 "Thou wast single-handed, Phoebe?" 
 
 The girl nodded. Her lips were white; the horror of what she 
 had done and seen was still fresh. 
 
 ''The little ones are well bestowed," she said; "and O, I 
 was forgetting pardon me please, George here are letters 
 for thee. One of Abel's men rode over with them. I met him at 
 the gate." 
 
 I was for putting the packet aside, but both ladies urging 
 me, broke the seals at once. ( A letter was a letter in those days.) 
 
 [390]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 
 
 It was the Colonel's hand, writ from Stockholm the very day 
 I sailed, and must have come by the same ship. The slip of 
 vellum it covered brought a hot flush to my cheek. It was a 
 captain's commission in the service of His Majesty the King of 
 Sweden. At last! and at this particular moment, O the irony 
 of fortune! the saddest stroke of good luck! 
 
 "My dear Mr. Fanshawe " (thus the Colonel, a general officer 
 now ) "you cannot be better pleased to receive than I to des- 
 patch what this covers. 
 
 "By the most propitious chance in this world I got scent 
 of a matter on this very day after making my adieux to your 
 good self, videlicit, an accommodation ( at this time of writing 
 most profoundly secret ) committing the Northern Powers to 
 an alliance with your Government. 
 
 "In fine, my Royal Master has engaged himself with the 
 Governmenti of King George, His Majesty of Prussia and the 
 Czar, for purposes offensive and defensive. The seals were 
 affixed to the treaty and copies exchanged no earlier than 
 yesterday. 
 
 "We are weak in cavalry and are bound by this treaty to 
 raise certain squadrons upon the main. It is in the first of these, 
 the Royal Regiment of Stralsund Hussars, that I have procured 
 your commission as captain. 
 
 "From this you are not to assume that the malefic influences 
 which have so long stood in your way ( and in mine as your 
 well-wisher and patron ) are wholly mollified. The British 
 Ambassador was caught napping no more by your old 
 friend; I did him a service and this is my honorarium. 
 
 "Haste to me as promptly as sails can bring you; bis dot 
 gut cito dat, and thrice welcome he who arrives when wanted. 
 
 "I have represented ye as a devil of a fellow, whether afoot 
 or mounted, attesting yr. performance with pistol against 
 pistol on the field of honour, and of whipstock against bullet in 
 
 [390
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 the arena of chance medley. For the Lord's sake, and for the 
 honour of Clan Cruner, approve my commendations, and 
 "Believe me to remain, 
 
 "Ever your most attached, faithful and 
 
 assiduous well-wisher, and most obed . 
 servt., 
 
 "AENEAS GUNN." 
 
 Having read this letter through twice I sate staring at the 
 thing, drumming upon the table with perplexed fingers, my 
 brows furrowed with thought. 
 
 The ladies perceived that something unusual was upon my 
 mind, and checking their exchange of chat under cover of 
 which I had read, turned to me half-expectant. 
 
 "Forgive me," said I, "for an uncouth fellow little used of 
 late to such company as this. Yes, I have something to tell 
 you. See here, it has come at last! Phoebe, this is my commis- 
 sion. I am bidden to join at once." 
 
 Her eyes grew large, but she held her peace. 
 
 "Come, we are at the parting of the ways. Take me, Phoebe, 
 and I tear this across and am yours for life! 'until it shall 
 please the Lord by death to separate us,' yes, you taught me 
 that!" 
 
 It was not to the mother I spoke, but to the daughter. I 
 looked across at her; her eyes met mine steadily; her parted 
 lips alone shewed the distress of her spirit. 
 
 She was seated now and took the parchment I passed across 
 the table with a steady hand, glanced at it and laid it down. 
 
 Twice did she try to speak, and twice the voice died in her 
 throat. Turning to her mother she looked long, and then 
 laid her head upon the table, her face hidden in her hands. 
 I waited. 
 
 '* This is very wonderful," she said at length, only a little 
 [392]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTr-EIGHT 
 
 above a whisper. "It seems the answer I have sought. Dost 
 thou not see, George, the Almighty has spoken, has made the 
 path plain for us both ? It is not the path I could have chosen 
 for thee, this dreadful path of darkness and storm, confused 
 noise and garments rolled in blood." 
 
 Her face was laid upon her hands again, and when she lifted 
 it the cheeks were wet. 
 
 "Am I not right, George ? Hast thou not prayed for this all 
 these years?" 
 
 I had, as I had learned of her. 
 
 "Then who am I a woman to tempt thee aside from what 
 seems right to thee, from what thou hears God calling thee to ? 
 Go ! O, go ! Oh, what am I saying ? It sounds too cruel ! 
 but here, we only hinder one another. Is it not so ? 
 
 "This is our Father's ordering, I feel it. There is work 
 waiting for thee out there somewhere which only thou 
 canst do. It has always been so with thee, has it not ? Strange, 
 obscure preparings for sudden chances, which were no chances 
 at all! 
 
 "Thou wilt be as dear to God in a red coat as in a drab one, 
 and as surely His servant. 
 
 "Perhaps we do not see all." I knew she spoke of her 
 people. 
 
 "And if and when thy service is accomplished, and mine, 
 and He has spared thee " her voice shook "then then 
 if it seems right But meanwhile, George, dear George, go!" 
 
 She pushed the parchment across to me, our fingers touched; 
 "Go! O, go, George! do not try me too far. Oh, how can they 
 do it, those women up and down, who are sending their men to 
 the fighting ? I have watched and wondered at them, and now it 
 has come to me to me!" 
 
 She arose and came to me around the table and stood holding 
 me by the hands. 
 
 [393]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "Mother, may I ? We may never meet again in this life! 
 Farewell, George farewell my love! May He keep thee!" 
 
 For one marvellous moment our lips met, the next she had 
 fled from my embrace to her mother's bosom. 
 
 I bowed my head and left that room and the house, sent to 
 the wars by a Quakeress. 
 
 [394]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE 
 WHOLLY UNIMPORTANT 
 
 PHOEBE, as was suitable, remained at The Edge 
 with her parents; I rode over to the lodge and found 
 in Abel's massive incurious silence a balm for my 
 distress of spirit. 
 
 To have thrown and lost is little if the stake be reparable, 
 but to have laid the secret hopes of long years, one's heart and 
 life, all I was worth, all I could ever be, upon the table, pledged 
 against a small soft hand, and to have lost: you will admit this 
 was monstrous hard. 
 
 My little mistress had fairly outgeneralled me : had arrayed 
 the half of me, possibly the better half, in arms against my suit 
 and worsted me so. Whilst all the while, there she stood, a 
 very woman, three-parts won, nay, ail-but mine, and O, so 
 infinitely better worth the winning than I had dreamed ! 
 
 Lord ! to what a stature had she grown ! What a climbing 
 spirit was hers! 
 
 For once I slept poorly, and had risen betimes in hopes 
 of riding his first round with Abel, but found that early man 
 was already up and off. Pacing the hall bricks before break- 
 fast awaiting his return, that row of antlers along the wall caught 
 my eye. In a moment I had sprung upon a stool and had one 
 down, then another, and was out at the woodshed. 
 
 [395]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 "Play! play! boys' play!" I muttered as the hatchet 
 crashed and rose. 
 
 "Good morning to thee, George!" It was Abel attracted by 
 the noise. "Whatever are thee doing ?" 
 
 "Putting away childish things. I am a man at last," said 
 I, regarding the wrecks of half-a-dozen good heads with grim 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Phoebe will miss these," he said; "cannot thee spare her 
 one ? This is her favourite, a noble pair of antlers, these. " 
 From the heap where I had thrown them awaiting destruction, 
 he lifted the best, a royal, of six-and-twenty points ( the 
 "muckle hart o' Kinloch Shin" a notable old bully in his day, 
 a stag I had lain out three days and nights to kill ). 
 
 His question put the matter in a new light. 
 
 "What, she cares for the thing? I had not thought of that; 
 keep the lot, Abel, faith I'm sorry I smashed any of them. 
 Lucky ye came when ye did; these few won't signify, there's a 
 plenty left. Is it only Scottish heads, or does she value ?" 
 
 "She admires them all. Those elk from Sweden are strangely 
 fine; yes, I will accept them gladly for her; the house would 
 look commonplace without them. " 
 
 Feeling like a fool I helped him carry them back whence they 
 came. 
 
 He must have divined I was out of sorts, and perhaps set 
 it down to my sudden call to arms, as to which he and I were 
 agreed to differ; and so, minded to help me, as I believe, the 
 good fellow talked more during breakfast than was usual with 
 him, and would have from me the history of the big head, for, 
 said he, "We have none like it in the chase, and I think there 
 can be few up north so heavy now-a-days. " 
 
 So for Phoebe's sake I told him the story of the best of 
 my Scottish heads, the great warlock hart of Corrie Kinloch, a 
 beast known to the grandfathers of my gillies, one whose 
 
 [396]
 
 CHAPTER THIRTT-NINE 
 
 spells had turned more than one bullet cast from the "white 
 money." 
 
 "There, man," said I summing up, "you have the main of 
 a stupid business, and I wonder at a sober soul like yourself 
 taking pleasure in hearing such stuff; the boyish folly of it 
 pah!" 
 
 "Not so," said he, low and pointed as he was used to speak 
 when he had made up his mind on a thing; " 'twas innocent 
 enough according to thy lights at the time ( now it might 
 be otherwise ); 'twas all in thy day's work as one may say. " 
 
 "That's so: I am good for no better. " 
 
 He looked me over with a look I did not understand. 
 
 "Thou hast a fine great frame to keep fit, and a fine clear 
 eye and a delicate ear to preserve in use " 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "That is beyond me; but I can remember a day down south 
 when thy hand and eye were accepted they may be again. 
 
 "This call for thee is no accident, George; since I heard of it 
 my mind has run on the strangest of fancies. " He rose and paced 
 the room with hands behind him and eyes upon the floor: "Do 
 thee know I find it in me to envy thee ? There must be a wild 
 streak in my composition, for since last night this life of mine 
 seems poor and small, George; too easy and certain and 
 secure, somehow. 
 
 "I shall think of thee and wish myself with thee at times, 
 which will be wrong, for I know by this what my right place is, 
 and why I was put into it and yet " 
 
 He smiled upon me tremulously and some moisture dimmed 
 his eye, then with a manifest effort he resumed: "It seemed to 
 me last night as if something weighed upon thy spirits, perhaps 
 I am mistaken, but but if I could help thee in any way ' 
 ( putting aside with the gentlest gesture my unspoken dissent ); 
 
 [397]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 "just to carry thy burden thee have a burden, I think. 
 Well well ! God have thee in His keeping, George, my friend! " 
 
 That I declare was his parting word, for he was ten miles 
 away approving the plans for a great dam when I left the place, 
 nor did it occur to him ( or to me ) to talk business, or to 
 refer to the new canal, or to the pits, and the trolleys that 
 he had planned to run on iron rails from the pits to the fly- 
 boats on the canal, a scheme that presently added some thou- 
 sands yearly to my income. 
 
 We knew one another's minds, you see, up to a point; beyond 
 lay territories unexplored and inaccessible to either. 
 
 What my trouble was he had never guessed. 
 
 [398]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FORTY 
 I ENCOUNTER A KNIGHT-ERRANT 
 
 NOW that I come to think of it, I rode away from Win- 
 teringhame somewhat too leaden-hearted for a young 
 soldier off to the wars by his own choice. 
 
 The charm had vanished from the country-side; that mile- 
 long avenue of oaks which an ancestor of my mother's had 
 planted as the memorial of a visit of some sovereign ( Eliza- 
 beth, surely, for the Maiden Queen would seem to have spent 
 half of her time on progress ), these wide-limbed trees, 
 I say, that had welcomed my home-coming two days earlier, 
 now dript their melting rime over me as I rode beneath them 
 at my going. 
 
 The weather had changed without me and within. 
 
 It cost me not a sigh to leave a place which I had never 
 lived upon for more than a few months at a time, and which 
 still after years of ownership seemed less mine than Abel's. My 
 proprietorship, always shadowy, had seldom appeared to me 
 less real than on that day. Truly I think I would have surren- 
 dered those nine manors in fee simple to any man who could 
 have guaranteed me fifty acres and Phoebe, just the girl as she 
 stood, and one any one of my half-timbered farm-houses for 
 a nest for her. The sickness had come upon me, I longed for a 
 home, quiet and small, and pictured myself and her, Darby and 
 
 [399]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUJLITT 
 
 Joan, with an uneven, quarried floor beneath our feet, and 
 bowed black beams close over our heads as we faced one an- 
 other across the oaken supper-board. 
 
 I saw the back-log upon the hearth, the kettle on its chain, 
 and here was I riding away from it all to die in a ditch. 
 
 What curse was on me that I alone of men must sit muzzled 
 at the feast of life ? No Jack upon my lands but might win his 
 Jill and enjoy her, whilst I, the fellow they all envied, belike, 
 their nominal lord, went hungry and lay cold. 
 
 This, you will perceive, was the reaction consequent upon 
 a great resolve. We are' made so, or I am. There's a flaw in 
 us. The moment of supreme tension, when our hearts, wire- 
 drawn and resonant, respond to angel touches ( to the finger 
 of the very God Himself, I'd say if I dared ), passes: some peg 
 gives, a string slackens, and all is flat again. 
 
 My horse's hooves that had often beaten fine tunes for me 
 had no music that day. Neither march nor chorus would stay 
 with me, only there fluttered in the back of my head as I rode 
 a faint persistent whimpering as of someone whom I knew 
 in grief. When I listened it was still, so I took myself to task 
 for a faint-hearted fool and stayed myself upon the memory of 
 that heroical mistress of mine, how she had stood, how spoken, 
 how looked at our final word. 
 
 A journey begun in this frame should have been a sad busi- 
 ness and left me with only melancholy memories, but, thanks to 
 the heart of youth and the chances of the road, I found myself 
 upborne after the first stage or so, and presently saw that life 
 was a thing tolerable, hopeful even, and by the second day, 
 diverting. 
 
 To begin with, my lady loved me. A simple matter this, 
 you will say, and not outside the course of nature, but to me 
 then ( and still ) a thing astonishing, wonderful to the last 
 degree. My bosom swelled at the thought; was I too, even I, 
 
 [400]
 
 CHAPTER FORT? 
 
 writ among the band ennobled by ladies' love ? I pondered the 
 singularity of it. I believe I sung as I rode. Later, posting across 
 Yorkshire, I found myself smiling upon all whom I met like a 
 young king newly come into his kingdom. The future, I could 
 face it now; I rode at it as one rides at a big, black fence when 
 the pack has changed from scent to view, and strains silently 
 upon a sinking fox. I could see the end of this run. I was certain 
 to pull through; was she not waiting for me ? She had said as 
 much. 
 
 Lord, what a thing it is to see one's duty plain! Mine was to 
 get to my regiment as soon as might be, to get aboard-ship; in 
 short, to let the same brig that brought me from Sweden take 
 me back again. 
 
 But Hull failed me. Gloom hung over its narrow High Street 
 as palpably as a sea fog: gloom, and mutual distrust, and the 
 twinge of recent loss, and fear of more to follow. 
 
 Merchants and their captains conferred at corners with the 
 longest of faces. Bad news had come that day of the Baltic 
 convoy, nine of its richest bottoms made prize by the Dunkerque 
 privateers off Cley; three sunk and many missing. Two old- 
 established houses had stopped at once; others would be com- 
 pelled to follow suit; men watched one another furtively, won- 
 dering whose shutters would go up next, for half the street was 
 hard hit and all were disheartened. 
 
 It was evidently a black day for Hull; but whatever might 
 be the loss, enough for my purpose remained; there lay the 
 "Sarah Petchell" where I had left her, riding to her buoy out 
 in the swift yellow tide-water: what of her next voyage ? 
 
 Her owners' counting-room was upon the first floor of 
 Wilberforce House. The name of the firm was on the door: 
 Syme, Janning and Bayne. The seniors were out, but Mr. Bayne 
 would see me. 
 
 I was shewn into an inner office and found the merchant, 
 
 [401]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 whom I knew by sight, pacing the floor impatiently, talking to 
 himself, and taking snuff. 
 
 "It will not pay, and what's more 'tis wrong. No, 'twill 
 be another loss!" he muttered with his back to me, unconscious 
 of my entering; then, turning on his heel and finding me in the 
 room, said with a preoccupied air, shading his eye for a better 
 view of me: "Ah, Mr. Brayshaw Langshaw Fan- 
 shawe! I am glad to see thee; thy packages will be forwarded 
 by first boat to Goole . . . But, 'twas not this that 
 brought thee here, eh ? Pray be seated. ( Folly, folly! ) What 
 then can we do for thee ? ( Throwing good money after bad 
 and wrong too! )" 
 
 I stated my errand. He spread his palms with the action of 
 a man who disclaims responsibility, and said I had come at an 
 unfortunate juncture, that no ship was sailing from the port 
 for the Baltic: I had doubtless heard the news? He waddled 
 twice across the room and took snuff again, after offering me a 
 pinch. 
 
 "And what grieves me more, and touches me closely," he 
 went on, "is a resolution that my partners (who are not 
 Friends ) have arrived at this very day. They are bent upon 
 reprisals. They insist upon fitting out the brig as a letter-of- 
 marque ( a miserable mistake! ). I am opposed to it on prin- 
 ciple; I am overruled, as thou sees. It is not only unscriptural, 
 as I tell them, but injudicious. (A foolish business, very! ) 
 Yon is no privateer!" he jerked his thumb towards the brig, 
 visible from the window. "Her scantling is too slight: she is 
 not fast enough. Our tonnage-dues have ruined our model: 
 look at her bluff entrance see! A French prize, a schooner 
 or brigantine, would be more suitable they can lie close and 
 beat! She except upon a wind, where is she? Thee, who 
 has sailed in her, must agree with me: she has not the legs for 
 the job. ( I tell them so, but they won't hear me, they are all
 
 CHAPTER FORTr 
 
 for getting our own back; and there's nothing about that in the 
 Sermon on the Mount, as I said to them an hour since.) She 
 is a tub, a mere tub! I counsel keeping her for the coastwise 
 trade until things quiet down, but they are all for carronades! 
 wicked folly! Carronades, thee knows, are things of the past; 
 if they had spoken of long eighteens amidships! But what am 
 I saying ? It is all wrong together, sinful and distressing, and 
 we shall make another total loss. " 
 
 The good man whose perplexity engaged my sympathy, 
 pottered up and down the room oblivious of my presence, wash- 
 ing each hand with its fellow as if endeavouring to remove 
 the guilt he foresaw must adhere to them in consequence of 
 his firm's decision. 
 
 "Riga? ah, yes. I was forgetting. Thee will get nothing 
 from here or north of here. I hardly know what to advise. 
 Try Boston on thy way south; I will give thee a letter to our 
 agent there. London, of course, will be thy best chance. " 
 
 He wrote shakily and with some deletions, and so far for- 
 got himself as to offer me his hand as he gave me the letter. 
 I took it, and heard him as I left the room resume his interrupted 
 soliloquy, "Carronades and chain-shot 'for crippling the 
 rigging.' Oh, the fools! may the Almighty forgive me!" 
 
 The horse-boat set me over at New Holland upon the Lin- 
 colnshire coast, whence I posted south to Sleaford without 
 other misadventure than a broken spring which detained me 
 half a day at some nameless smithy on the wolds. 
 
 The best inn in the place was full and overfull, for a cocking- 
 match was set for the morning, upon which, as I was assured, 
 a pot of money was depending, sportsmen having journeyed 
 from as far afield as Lincoln to back their fancies. 
 
 The company, though well satisfied with themselves, were 
 hardly to my liking; they struck me as raffish, and growing 
 noisier with the coming on of the wine and the appearance 
 
 [403]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALirr 
 
 of the cards set me thinking of bed. Twice was I invited to 
 make up a quartette by older men who plainly regarded them- 
 selves as in some way entitled to exact compliance with their 
 wishes. I felt myself out of my place, no private sitting-room 
 was to be had, so I called for my candle. 
 
 The racket before day-break, the bawling for boots and hot 
 water, the rumble of voices below and the rattle of departing 
 chaises let me know that my fellow guests were away to an 
 early appointment. I descended later to an empty house and, 
 as it seemed, to a solitary breakfast. 
 
 Whilst discussing my rasher and coffee, a drink that was 
 then displacing the breakfast ale to which I was bred, a very 
 young gentleman of the pretty-boy species, who seemed to have 
 slept ill, sauntered into the room blinking and yawning. He 
 glanced around him, the stained and disordered table-linen sur- 
 prised him, the vacant hat-rail drew out his lower lip. Ap- 
 proaching me with a well-bred bow he asked permission to sit 
 at my table, and, thanking me in agreeable tones for my com- 
 pliance, fell to drumming with his fingers as if at a loss and 
 trying to recollect himself. 
 
 "Your pardon, sir, but this will be Sleaford ?" I 
 reassured him upon this point, but, albeit he again thanked me 
 with the politest of phrases, my words seemed hardly to reach 
 him. I regarded him with compassion for his youth's sake, and 
 could guess very well how he felt. He had the air of a smirched 
 cherub. 
 
 "Waitah!" said he presently, addressing himself to a 
 fatherly person who was relaying a table near, "is Captain 
 Rook in the house ?" 
 
 "Gone this two hours, sir." 
 
 "Damn! Or the person they called the 'Count' ? " 
 
 The waiter knew no one by that title. The youth swore 
 again with added emphasis and relapsed into silence. I shot a 
 
 [404]
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 glance at him over the rim of my cup and thought his lip 
 twitched. 
 
 Would he be pleased to order ? The fatherly man stood ex- 
 pectant; but it seemed that the culinary resources of the house 
 failed to allure. A sole? Not he: had they red mullet? They 
 had none. Nor a pair of sweetbreads ? These could doubtless 
 be obtained, but in the meantime would he say kidneys ? He 
 would say nothing so common. My rashers caught his eye, he 
 nodded, "Well done, thin, waitah, mind and a hot plate." 
 He relapsed into a brooding silence. 
 
 I divined something wrong, divined even what the trouble 
 might be, but, pitying the lad from my heart ( for he seemed 
 extraordinary young to be cast upon this tavern life ), held my 
 peace, and thought of my own mistakes at York and elsewhere. 
 
 I would see this play out; my own business might wait an 
 hour: I called for fresh coffee. 
 
 The lad's breakfast lay at his elbow untouched whilst he 
 spread and pressed flat upon the cloth before him several pound 
 notes, upon which he pored incredulously, as it seemed to me, 
 for his mouth fell open as he looked. 
 
 "Damme, I must have a head on me this morning!" he ex- 
 claimed at last, "for the devil is in these notes or in my eyes! 
 Sir, pardon me, but what d'ye make of that ?" I examined the 
 bill he handed across the table for my inspection. 
 
 "Tis no note, this, my dear sir Bank of Engraving! 
 where on earth did ye get this passed upon ye ? What are 
 they all 'Sham-Abram ?' You have been bit, indeed!" 
 
 "Faith, ye may say so: that lot were bites and and I am 
 a ninny." 
 
 He sat back in his chair regarding me across the table with 
 eyes in which his past folly and present predicament were 
 assuming their due features and proper proportions. As the 
 position became clear to him he grew the less able to face it 
 
 [405]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 out, and the man returning with my tray found my com- 
 panion with elbows upon the table and head held between his 
 hands. 
 
 Some movement of mine aroused him; he glanced up, and 
 finding my eye upon him and perhaps some pity or good-will 
 in it, his own filled. He flushed painfully, he was just a boy, as I 
 thought. "Last night mixed my wine," he began, and 
 stopped, confounded by the manifest uselessness of regrets. 
 "Sir!" he broke out, leaning towards me, "You are a gentle- 
 man, I am sure of it!" I believe I bowed. "Yes, I am con- 
 vinced of it," he ran on breathlessly. "In a word, I am in the 
 hell of a scrape, cleaned out, and and that's not the worst 
 of it. The fact is I am a Government servant on the business of 
 my office, and have no right to be here at all. I must be getting on, 
 I must post to Boston, but owing to this damnable chouse, I am 
 left without a guinea to settle my bill, let alone for my posting!" 
 
 One can usually tell by the ring of it whether the tongue is 
 telling the truth; I had never a doubt of him, and replied at 
 once. 
 
 "I am for Boston, too, as it happens, and if you are travel- 
 ling light, as I do, you shall share my chaise. I fear it means 
 that or nothing, for our convives have stripped the stables; 
 I am told the only horses in Sleaford are those I bespoke for 
 myself last night." 
 
 He jumped from his seat with delight, but sank back with 
 a groan, thrusting a hand into an empty fob. 
 
 "For your bill, permit me to settle it; I have been in scrapes 
 in my time. What say you to starting in an hour ? Waiter, both 
 on one, and if you have it in the house, a couple of bottles of 
 that new Dublin soda-water, and hot rashers to follow . . . 
 Now, sir, your head is better already, set to work upon your 
 breakfast!" 
 
 Our chaise rattled round, we were off. The air revived the 
 
 [406]
 
 CHAPTER FORTr 
 
 lad. He chattered and laughed as the wheels trundled and the 
 patched white stern of the boy bumped the saddle in front of us. 
 A more mercurial and light-hearted temperament I have seldom 
 met. He was all for telling me the story and object of his 
 journey whether I would or no; a confused, rambling tale, 
 intelligible probably to himself, possibly to one, like himself, 
 in a Government office, but Greek to me. 
 
 "You see, 'tis properly not our affair at all, for old Sir 
 Moberly, of 'the War,' is at the bottom of it, we believe, or 
 rather that old harridan of his, Lady Betty, who pulls his wires 
 and makes him dance. 
 
 "We in the 'Foreign' got wind of it first from our man at 
 Stockholm, and, strictly speaking, 'twas no business of ours to 
 pull chestnuts out of the fire for Whitehall, but, for once in 
 a way, my chief happened to be on speaking terms with Mober- 
 ly and did him a good turn. Twig ? " 
 
 I saw nothing save the fag-end of one of those squabbles 
 and reconciliations which form the inner life of all public 
 services, and wondered vaguely who was to be sacrificed as 
 the peace offering. 
 
 The boy ran on : "You must know that our fellow in Sweden 
 feels he has slightly committed himself can't very well re- 
 voke so tips us the wink, and now 'tis we that step in. The 
 man is to be stopt, and, to oblige old Moberly ( for, honestly, 
 we don't think the game worth the candle ), we are for stopping 
 him." 
 
 "Stopping whom, did you say?" I asked with no motive 
 beyond keeping the narrator to his point. 
 
 "Why, this man to be sure; an ancient enemy of Lady 
 Betty's, as they say. It is said he grassed a son's of hers by her 
 first husband, a bad lot, no doubt; but a man, and especially 
 a woman, must stand by her family. Anyhow, the thing is 
 placed in my hands, and here you see me, my hunting-leave 
 
 [407]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 stopped ( a bit of a bore that ), posting over half England to 
 hand a despatch to a man I have never set eyes on, and who 
 will call me out, as sure as death, when he sets eyes upon me." 
 
 "As bad as that?" 
 
 "Not a doubt of it, and that is where the fun comes in. 
 We of Downing Street have our reputation to sustain, you see. 
 The 'Ad. 'and the Horse Guards think themselves dashed fine 
 fellows, and call us 'Non-combatants.' It is pure accident 
 merest ill-luck, that none of us juniors has been out. We can't 
 help it, can we, if no one has seen fit to call us out ? I am sure 
 you agree with me, but it is a sore point with us, if I may say 
 so. Here's my chance; I jump at it; I am sure of a run for my 
 money. This fellow is the hell of a fellow, six feet six in his 
 stockings a smiter, I can tell you, and, apart from his pistol, 
 a perfect devil with horse-whip, or whatever comes handiest. 
 So, when that little fool, Apethorpe, who had the first call, 
 looked shy at it, 'Give it to me,' says I, and bay George, they 
 did. Aha! the 'Admiralty ' and the ' Blues ' won't score over this! " 
 
 "But what has this ruffian done?" 
 
 "God knows," he replied unconcernedly; "he is a radical, 1 
 which is enough for us. Well, as I was saying, I knew what I 
 was in for, and have the barkers in my valise. O, I have prac- 
 tised my role. 'No fisticuffs, sir, if you please,' I shall say; 
 'put down your mauleys, and name your friend like a gentle- 
 man!' I shall keep a table between us, and have my card handy. 
 Twig?" 
 
 The lad's laugh was delicious; his absurd delight in antici- 
 pating his first affair was too ridiculous for censure. I would 
 help him later as way opened. 
 
 'Mr. Fanshawe informed me that the term "radical " has within his own recollec- 
 tion altered its signification more than any word in the language. Between the years 
 1790-1828 it was used as a term of reproach, implying active disloyalty tinged 
 further with immorality, infidelity, and disregard for the rights of property. In some 
 country places it seems still used as an insult. EXOR. 
 
 [408]
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 "You seem pretty confident, then, that he means fighting?" 
 
 "Cocksure. He has been out before. O, all the fellows 
 at the 'War' know him by repute. A perfect demon, my dear 
 sir; the black sheep of a darkish-woolled family! Old Moberly, 
 to please the King, or to please Lady Betty, has kept him out 
 of the services until now ( tho' the fellow has interest ), but 
 we learned, as I said, from little Standish " ( the lad tossed em- 
 inent names about in a manner that tickled me mightily) "that 
 our man was leaving for the Continent, shipping under foreign 
 colours, you see. We checkmated him, as far as Sweden is 
 concerned, but the pith of the thing is (as we learn from 'Old 
 Mo' ), that it wasn't the Northern Powers at all, but Boney 
 himself that our friend was to serve under. We couldn't stand 
 that, you know. I take it the shipping is watched. That is not 
 my affair. I am to warn him off privately ( to avoid scandal 
 and questions in the House ), and personally take the con- 
 sequences. Twig?" 
 
 "And you are to find your man in Boston ? D'ye know the 
 place ? Have ye friends there ? " 
 
 "Devil a man, my dear sir! which reminds me that I shall 
 want at least one: why " he turned to me as we sat close- 
 packed and looked me over with mute approval. "I say now, 
 would you act for me ? You've been monstrous good to me al- 
 ready, but that sort of thing, as you know, always leads to more 
 of the sort and, now that I think of it, I haven't given you 
 my card. Musters is my name, Adolphus Musters, of the 
 Dorset branch; the governor sits for Gatton, ye know. Hi! 
 isn't that a kite ? we see but a few of them near London." 
 
 The boy's mind was as mobile as his eye and flashed back 
 and forth at the challenge of each new sight and impression. 
 The day was fair and mild; we rode with the glasses down 
 chatting of this and that, recurring at intervals to his quest, 
 how it would affect his standing in his office, the accepted 
 
 [409]
 
 MEMOIRS OR A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 canons for giving and receiving fire, the rules as to distances, 
 division of light and other matters, in which I was abundantly 
 diverted to find this ferocious young fire-eater deeply versed 
 and prepared with opinions upon vexed questions that might 
 have puzzled the doyen of a military club. 
 
 "The fellow is a Jacobin, not a doubt of it," he remarked 
 apropos of nothing, but I knew of whom he spoke. From some 
 official scruple, or possibly by mere accident, he still withheld 
 the name of his quarry. "They say he is a shocking bad land- 
 lord: estates vilely mismanaged; a nest of papists and dissenters. 
 I hate a dissenter, don't you ? " 
 
 I laughed; he rattled on with the glorious irresponsibility 
 of youth. Did I agree or demur mattered nothing so that I 
 listened and let him talk. Nor did I weary of his chatter, for 
 I saw he was in touch with events. 
 
 "The Ministry?" he cried derisively. I had dropped the 
 word, he caught and tost it back to me. "Now, I'll be sworn 
 ye think the King's cabinet governs this country, eh ? You have 
 their names at your finger's ends ? Figureheads, my dear 
 sir, and like a figurehead just the most useless part of the ship. 
 We lay the course, we steer We? the permanent staff, 
 of course, men whom ye never heard of the half-dozen chief 
 clerks who govern England ! ( My chief, for one. ) 
 
 "Govern it? yes not as absolutely as Melville and Brax- 
 field do in Scotland, I grant ye; they and their Court of Session 
 are making short work of the radicals up north. Why, a man 
 in the 'Home' told me for a fact " He lifted a trap-door, I 
 peeped into a dungeon, 1 an oubliette, inhaled the reek of the 
 place he was off again. 
 
 1 About this time persons of liberal opinions in Scotland were being sentenced to 
 transportation for fourteen years for the crime of constructive treason, which a par- 
 tisan judge had defined as " seeking a legal end by illegal methods." The evidence 
 upon which these unfortunates were found guilty by packed juries was such as an 
 English panel at that time would have refused to listen to, being largely composed of 
 
 [ 4 IO]
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 "We are, in a manner of speaking, omniscient; nothing es- 
 capes us. That is our business what we are there for 
 to know what is going on. A huge machine, you'll be saying, 
 wheels, wheels! but there are wheels within wheels, too. 
 
 "This blackguard that I am running down at such pains, im- 
 agines if he imagines anything that someone high up, 
 exalted personage, say, royalty possibly, conceives a distaste 
 to him. It may be so, but one of us sowed the seed and keeps 
 it watered, and the rest, as is proper, lend a finger as occasion 
 serves. Freemasonry, ye say? Rule of the service, sir; must 
 pull together, or where the dickens would the nation go to ? 
 
 "By the by, I owe ye have I your name ?" ( resettling his 
 stock as lordly as a young prince). "Stop, boy, stay!" he 
 bawled, forestalling my answer; a fox was crossing the road 
 ahead of us. "Pull up! Ha! here they come; I swear they come; 
 let me out of this ! " 
 
 In a moment there was not a pin to choose between us in the 
 matter of boyishness; we sprang from opposite doors and raced 
 for the point of crossing. 
 
 "Curse it! help us up!" he bleated, shaky from overnight 
 cups, his feet slipping upon the mossy rail. I caught him under 
 the arms he was light of bone and swung him to the top of 
 a post and held him erect. "A-yah!" he yelped puppy-fashion, 
 breathless with surprise and as fluttered as a girl at my usage. 
 "Thanks O, eh, but I see them! Say, shall not we give 'em 
 a holloa? O-ver! gone o-ver! ! They have it! no need to lift 
 'em! Can ye hear 'em ? Music! music!" 
 
 A score of heavy-timbered hounds came lumbering over a 
 
 extracts from the works of Tom Paine, supplemented by speeches delivered by 
 persons other than those upon their trial. It was a stupid tyranny. Respectable 
 youths arrested by the Edinburgh city watch for a little rough horse-play 
 after dark in the Cowgate would be packed off to sea on a man-of-war before 
 morning without trial, or notice to their parents, at the sole order of the City Clerk. 
 Bo.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 stale furrow, running a breast-high scent, a furlong ahead of 
 their huntsman, whose heart was with his season's entry left 
 behind in the gorse. Twang Twang Twang I he blew 
 as he galloped, his lew ear cocked for an answering whimper 
 between the blasts. 
 
 The half pack topped the rails by threes and by fives, dropped 
 into the turnpike, flashed over it with a patter of feet and 
 quick breathing, forced the blackthorn opposite, and were 
 away, tolling and yowling across a clover-layer, shouldering one 
 another off the line for the lead. 
 
 Up came the solitary rider, his purple cheeks shaking with 
 their efforts. "How how ?" he cackled breathlessly, 
 taking his horn from this lips and steadying his horse for the 
 jump. 
 
 "Two minutes bare, a clean dog-fox ?" rapped my compan- 
 ion, giving in brief all the information the rider needed. 
 
 A resolute nod, a brilliant grin, the wide mouth opened. 
 "Thankye kindly, gen'lemen, for not a-fouling of my line. 
 O-ver!" The wise old beast rose at the timber, went in and out 
 of the road like a trick horse at a fair, and the moment his 
 hooves touched the grass extended himself valiantly to get upon 
 terms with the racing pack. 
 
 "Pretty! oh, pretty!" sighed the boy, availing himself of my 
 hand to descend. "That fellow has slipped his field, and no mis- 
 take; there is not another soul within sight. And to think that 
 this infernal radical is losing me a week and a half of this! 
 Lord, how that running has made my heart go! Can ye hear it ? 
 pit-a-pat! I am as soft as butter; 'tis the late hours and 
 play and the other thing. I will take less, I swear I will! 
 But I say you didn't strain yourself, I hope, chucking me 
 up there like a doll ? Jove! you're a giant of a fellow! Wish to 
 goodness " 
 
 We had regained the opposite doors of our chaise, the lad
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 still chattering gleefully; I had my hands upon the straps in 
 act to get in, when, "Stay," says he, "what was't ye were 
 telling me when I cut in with my view halloo ? " 
 
 "My name, was it? Yes, I think well, here you have 
 it." 
 
 We were facing one another across the empty chaise, each 
 at an open door. He leaned across, took the card I tendered, 
 glanced at it, his mouth fell open, his eyes widened, he sprang 
 back with every mark of discomposure. 
 
 "Hey hey hey! what?" he stammered. "Oh, but 
 I say now, this not the game most damnably unfair, I 
 protest. To worm my orders, my instructions out of me " 
 he passed from panic to anger, standing braced with a kind- 
 ling eye. 
 
 "What ails the man?" I said, seeing him pant and whiten, 
 and thinking him gone suddenly demented. 
 
 "No, sir, no keep your own side!" he exclaimed appre- 
 hensively, seeing me coming to his help around the back of the 
 chaise. By the time I had reached the spot where he had stood 
 ( moving deliberately, amazed , but nowise vexed ), he had 
 darted into the chaise and out again on t'other side. 
 
 The postboy turned in his saddle, and watched with the 
 broadest of grins the singular evolutions of his fares. 
 
 "My dear sir Mr. Musters," said I, in what were in- 
 tended to be soothing accents, suitable to his supposed com- 
 plaint, but he waved me off, forbidding me to strike him, and 
 offering satisfaction. 
 
 "Get in, man," I replied, "and let us on to Boston." 
 
 "I'll be hanged if I get in; but, if ye will swear to keep 
 your fists off me, I'll unpack my weapons and fight ye here 
 where we stand/' 
 
 "Fight? Who talks of fighting?" The idea was prepos- 
 terous . I would as soon have thought of pistolling a chorister 
 
 [4i3]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF OJJALITT 
 
 of the Chapel Royal. "Heart alive! What should you and I fall 
 out about, let alone fight ? " 
 
 "Right y'are, mister," chimed in the postboy, who went 
 on to beseech us to continue our journey before his horses 
 should take cold. But Mr. Musters was still unpropitiated; 
 keeping his distance, he began unbuttoning his Petersham 
 and presently found and tossed to me a letter. 
 
 "Will ye do me the favour to read that, Mr. George Augustus 
 Fanshawe ? " 
 
 "Why, yes, that is my name," said I, still mystified and 
 slightly nettled, in spite of my amusement, by this cavalier 
 treatment. "What's this ?" I added, letting the cover lie where 
 it had fallen. 
 
 "Read it, sir, read it!" he replied, still edging away. "And 
 don't think for a moment that I'm avoiding ye, but I am a light- 
 weight, a feather-weight, you are six or seven stones the better 
 man, you top me by near a foot, don't now, I beg, disgrace 
 yourself by taking a brutal advantage. I I I am anx- 
 ious I am desirous to give ye sat sat satisfaction; I 
 swear I am lookye, I'll fight ye across this very road, I 
 will indeed!" 
 
 "He has run mad!" said I in desperation to the postboy, 
 who assented, with a rider as to the jim-jams. "If we could let 
 him blood, now, it might save his reason, " I said, speaking to 
 myself. The boy nodded, and dismounting stiffly, produced a 
 fleam from the boot. 
 
 "Us taakes um wi' us for 'mergencies, staggers and sooch," 
 said he, keeping the instrument behind him as he sidled up to 
 his patient; "Easy, ma laad! Soa soa! ( Stand tha handy to 
 set on his head whan I fells him.) " This was to me in a stage 
 whisper, audible at twenty paces, but a lunatic, no more 
 than a horse, is expected to understand surgical technicalities. 
 
 Mr. Adolphus Musters, with an enemy on either flank, a tall 
 
 [4HJ
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 fence behind him, and the chaise in front, sounded a parley. 
 
 "Fellow! keep off! Sir Mr. Fanshawe on your soul and 
 life you will repent this to your dying day. " 
 
 "Woa! woa! then. Steady does it! Who waants ta hurt 
 tha ? Lord, if I had but a twitch to clap on's nose! Doan't 
 lat him pass tha, now!" 
 
 For the patient had thrown himself upon me as the lesser 
 peril. 
 
 "Sir, I put it to ye, is it decent to play horse with a special 
 messenger from your King's Foreign Office ? Colour this how 
 ye may, the tale won't pass; decline to fight if you think fit; 
 set this stable-boy to maltreat me if ye will, but the matter 
 shall nor end here; and, observe, I leave ye no excuse, I have 
 done my part; see, ye are served, this boy is my witness! " 
 
 He darted to where the fallen letter lay, snatched it from 
 the road and fairly thrust it, seal and superscription upper- 
 most, into my hands. 
 
 Again his tone rang true; his manner, and a certain dignity 
 born of duty performed under difficulty, impressed me. This 
 was not the act of a zany. The letter itself thus forced upon my 
 notice bore him out. My name faced me upon the cover; I stood 
 more amazed than ever. 
 
 "How came ye by this, Mr. Musters ?" I enquired, turning 
 the thing in my hand back and front. 
 
 "Be so good as to read it, sir. Yes, it is for you," he verified 
 the address by my card, and to my thinking rose an inch. 
 " Read yes, my part is done, and now" he wavered slightly 
 "I am at your service when and where ye like. " 
 
 Scarce listening, I broke the seal. It was an intimation from 
 his Majesty's Minister for Foreign Affairs that my Swedish 
 commission had been cancelled, and that in view of this cir- 
 cumstance the passport granted to me before my previous 
 visit to Stockholm had been annulled. In short, I was apprised 
 
 [4i5]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 that I should do well to make no further effort to leave the 
 country, and that persistence in so doing would lay me open to 
 the gravest misconception. 
 
 I forget the precise terms : this was the gist of a communica- 
 tion ( semi-official, I fancy they call it ), which even I, unversed 
 in the methods of Downing Street, could not misconstrue; an 
 embargo veiled under the form of advice. 
 
 I was helpless, and tho' ill-used, luckier than I knew at 
 the time. The consideration of which I was imperfectly con- 
 scious, and which at the moment galled me unspeakably, was 
 altogether exceptional. Sir Moberly, if that were his name 
 ( I had never heard of him ), had gone out of his way to gild the 
 pill he prescribed. A poorer man than I, one without my 
 parliamentary interest, would have been arrested out of hand. 
 The baronet undoubtedly credited me with occult powers and 
 sinister designs, my surrender of my patronage to Abel being an 
 action incomprehensible to the sordid borough-mongers of the 
 party in power. Yes,I was fortunate in exciting a certain amount 
 of fear, but for which I had without doubt been left to rot in 
 Holloway until released by death, or by the lapsing of the sus- 
 pension of the Habeas Corpus Act. 1 
 
 This was a facer. My scheme of things went down and lay 
 where it fell; there was no coming up to time after such a 
 knock-out blow as this. I must needs put up with it: no feasible 
 alternative presenting itself to me at the moment. 
 
 I would go back home again and think it over. In the 
 meantime I stood there in the empty, long Lincolnshire turn- 
 pike while a man might count three score slowly, watched by 
 my companions. 
 
 The consciousness of their presence and curious scrutiny 
 
 *A suspension which had hung like a blight over England for years past, a sort 
 of gloomy inter-lunar cav through which the liberties of our country passed between 
 the promise of freedom under Pitt and its fulfilment under Russell. EXORS. 
 
 [ 4 l6]
 
 CHAPTER FORTr 
 
 at last aroused me to the need of decision. My eye had roved 
 from the boy to little Mr. Musters, impartially unconscious of 
 seeing either. The boy stood my gaze unconcernedly enough, 
 the other shifted a foot uneasily, apprehensively; the movement 
 recalled me to what was due to others; I spoke. 
 
 " Sir, this letter ( for which I have to thank you ), changes 
 all my plans. But it need not in fact it must not incon- 
 venience you. We have misunderstood one another, how I do 
 not know; better let that rest " 
 
 "Then you mean to say you won't you don't ?" 
 
 "Fight ? Ah yes, you were talking well, sir, you may take 
 it that I won't and I don't except for something I can 
 understand; and frankly there's nothing between us. Did I 
 say a word ? offensive ? I doubt it. I am trying to remember. 
 No. Come, jump in then: we will resume our journey. Put 
 that thing away, boy!" 
 
 I held the door. Mr. Musters re-entered in silent amaze. 
 I followed; the boy bestowed his fleam in the boot, remounted 
 and shook up his cattle for a start. 
 
 At the first turn of the wheels my companion leant forward, 
 "Hold, where are we going? Wrong way, stop him!" 
 cried he. 
 
 "Why so," said I, regarding him sidelong with anxiety, "I 
 cannot leave you by the wayside, Mr. Musters; you are for 
 Boston, I understand. " 
 
 " But not now, sir, " said he. 
 
 "But you have that fellow to overtake of whom ye were 
 speaking " 
 
 "Sir, that is done. Is it possible ? Don't ye see ? You you 
 are the fellow I mean the man I would say the gentleman." 
 
 As he uttered these words he again grew so exceedingly red, 
 and exhibited such renewed signs of mental perturbation that 
 my fears for his reason returned upon me. 
 
 [417]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 I am certainly dense, as it is called; even among the Scots 
 I was held to be slow in the uptake, as that people phrase it. 
 Yet I have always maintained that upon this occasion I gave 
 no exhibition of dulness. Why should I, unconscious of wrong 
 done or intended, conceive myself to be a proper object of 
 suspicion to my King and his ministers? " But the circumstan- 
 ces," you say. They did not fit, I reply. "You should have recog- 
 nized," do I hear you urge ? Who ? Myself ? Men have bowed 
 to their own reflections in a mirror ( Mr. Pitt did to his in the 
 tall pier-glass in the alcove of the parlour at Clarges Street; 
 it was called Pitt's glass ever after ). No, no! my young friend, 
 you are mighty perspicacious after the event! 
 
 "Indeed, sir, you are the gentleman," repeated Mr. Musters. 
 
 "Then, sir, all I can say is, ye have stopped the wrong man. 
 I do not answer to the description. The person as ye described 
 him a minute back was, let me see a black sheep of low 
 family," he groaned "a devil of a fellow, a Jacobin, a 
 shocking landlord, a radical, and I know not what else. Well, 
 sir, I really am " 
 
 "On your way to take up a cavalry commission in the Swed- 
 ish army!" 
 
 "That is so, though how ye know it beats me. I have breathed 
 no word to you or any man of my plans; the seal was intact " 
 
 "Sir, the suggestion is insulting." 
 
 "The innuendo, for it amounted to no more, was a thought- 
 less one; I was thinking aloud, Mr. Musters; pardon me. 
 Where were we ? " 
 
 "Sir, before I speak I will beg you to control yourself; 
 I accept responsibility for all I said, although as you now 
 know, I was unaware of your identity. I know every word of 
 that letter how else ? I wrote it under orders, of course 
 it originated from my office. You are the man whom I was de- 
 tailed to stop. And now "
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 The absurdity of the situation overcame me, broke upon 
 me all in a moment; I shouted with laughter, roared, and 
 would have rolled if the straitness of our quarters had per- 
 mitted. Peal after peal shook me, I laughed as I had not laughed 
 for years, and only stayed when weak and helpless with merri- 
 ment. Even then as fresh phases in the misunderstanding re- 
 curred to me I renewed my guffaws. 
 
 "Asmiter! Oh !" 
 
 "I can only repeat my offer of " 
 
 "Black wool, ha! ha!" 
 
 "At the first possible moment, Mr. Fanshawe, I am at " 
 
 "A ruffian, ho! ho!" 
 
 "Indeed, that was your own word, but " 
 
 "There are plenty without it! O, but my sides ache! And 
 ye say that ye had never a suspicion ? " 
 
 "On my honour, not the faintest; how should I ? Remember, 
 sir, I had only your description, having never met you in person." 
 
 "Whilst I, though fairly well acquainted with my person, 
 had never seen the description. What a portrait! Ho! ho! Who 
 drew the thing, may I ask ? I am no judge of art, Mr. Musters, 
 but this strikes me as a trifle highly coloured; somewhat in 
 the style of Gilray, is it not ? or might it not be a Rowlandson, 
 now ? Soberly, who furnished these particulars ? Not this Sir 
 Moberly, for I never heard of the man. His wife! Is he 
 married, then ? To whom ? " 
 
 I was now to learn in how small an orbit affairs revolve. 
 It appeared that the Lady Betty, of whom I had heard my com- 
 panion prating half an hour previously with small interest, 
 since how should the spite or prejudice of some woman of whom 
 I knew nothing affect me ? This woman, I say, was by her 
 first marriage a Ganthony, and the mother of the ex-cavalry 
 man whose fall from grace, trial and sentence had been town 
 talk some years earlier. 
 
 [419]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 Here was a family skeleton of the heart-breaking sort. 
 
 Now I doubt not that your experience of skeletons jumps 
 with my own; when it is possible to keep the thing in the cup- 
 board its existence is denied; but when from its size or activity 
 the spectre is visible and can't be ignored 'tis usual to dress 
 the poor thing up in the finest of clothes and invent some 
 tarradiddle, not wholly incredible, to account for its origin and 
 deplorable lack of comeliness. 
 
 By Mr. Musters' account the legend current with the friends 
 of poor Lady Betty seemed to be that the peccant lieutenant 
 had been more sinned against than sinning, ruined first at 
 York and later in Town by a certain epitome of all the vices, 
 a dicer, a duellist, a ruffianly brute of enormous wealth and 
 ruthless cruelty myself in short, just me. 
 
 What I owe to the vindictiveness of this poor lady will only 
 appear on that Day when the secrets of all hearts shall be 
 revealed. Without doubt her wounded spirit had sought solace 
 in pursuing me, in crossing my aspirations and blighting my 
 career, a retribution made possible by her husband's official 
 position. 
 
 I turned these surprising news over in my mind as we rode 
 ( my companion well content to find me in so harmless a hu- 
 mour and seeing a proximate ending to our alarming contiguity 
 if I but remained long enough in my brown study to reach 
 Boston). 
 
 Poor woman! I frankly forgave her. The thought of what 
 my own mother must have suffered during my months of 
 disgrace and absence recurred and pained me. 
 
 How a woman longs for a man child, in what pain she bears 
 him, with what anxieties she nurses and trains him while 
 little, and when grown, the selfish fellow too often stabs her 
 gentle bosom with his ingratitudes, or puts her to the blush 
 with his follies! 
 
 [420]
 
 CHAPTER FORTr 
 
 These reflections held me silent for some miles. Once I 
 startled my fellow-traveller with a question, "But tell me, sir, 
 how got ye my route ? From a merchant in Hull ? " Again I 
 relapsed. 
 
 The mighty tower of the church that they call Boston Stump 
 had been, or had seemed, so near at the time of our re-starting 
 that it had struck me as policy to continue our journey as far as 
 the town, there to bait our horses and to refresh ourselves before 
 returning to Sleaford. 
 
 A parliamentary election was in view, the place hideous 
 with discordant blues and yellows, but what I best remember 
 is that the nominations were being made from a hustings set 
 up within the nave of the church itself, an arrangement which 
 saved the burgesses the expense of a town hall and put to 
 some visible use an enormous building; but in odd taste, surely. 
 
 We left to the boy the choice of a hostel; ( it was the Pea- 
 cock and Royal ). At the door of the room Mr. Musters hung 
 back. " Pardon me, Mr. Fanshawe, but if this means more of 
 your hospitality, I really, you know an affair of this sort 
 must be conducted according to rule, mustn't it, now ? I appeal 
 to you, sir. Here I may be said to be on neutral territory, 
 whilst once inside that door " 
 
 "At least, Mr. Musters," said I seeing there was nothing 
 for it but an explanation, and thinking it best to meet this 
 punctilious young gentleman with punctilios "at any rate, 
 sir, we cannot discuss an affair of honour in a tavern passage. A 
 private apartment is a necessity; here is one; your entering 
 commits you to nothing. " 
 
 He bowed, and, after a moment's hesitation, preceded me hat 
 in hand, but declined to sit. His boyish face betrayed perplexity, 
 vexation, but not apprehension for his personal safety, and I 
 did not fail to observe, with an inward smile, that he no longer 
 thought it needful to have the table between us.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 "And now, my dear sir," I began, "let us attempt to arrive 
 at a creditable understanding. Here we find ourselves, two 
 gentlemen of family, who have been so unfortunate as to 
 have mutually given one another cause for resentment. The 
 situation is unusual, for neither of us has a friend if I under- 
 stand you within a couple of days' posting. " 
 
 "And as principals, Mr. Fanshawe, we cannot possibly 
 confer, can we? It is most irregular!" interjected my an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 /. "Not to be thought of, my dear sir; but a moment, if 
 you please, "for he had moved towards the door deliberately 
 and with something of regret as it seemed to me. "As princi- 
 pals, no; but as seconds, eh ? you take me ? I, for example, 
 am already empowered to act for ye," he started, considered 
 and assented with a nod. "Well, Mr. Musters, what better 
 compliment can I pay ye than to request your good offices 
 upon my behalf? So, that's arranged, we each act as friend 
 for the other; now we may speak freely." 
 
 He brightened at my suggestion, we drew in chairs, and call- 
 ing for a bottle of claret, prepared to unravel the knot if it 
 took a day and a night. 
 
 He broke silence as soon as the drawer had closed the 
 door, "I really think " 
 
 7. "By your leave, sir, for whom are ye speaking, or rather 
 in what person ? Since our capacities are somewhat mixed, had 
 we not better conduct our conference in the third person ? 
 refer to our principals by name, eh ?" 
 
 He." I take ye; well then " 
 
 7. "One moment the question is, who shall speak first. 
 We might claim precedence on the score of having been first 
 instructed, but we waive the privilege. What say ye to bor- 
 rowing the practice of a court martial, where I am told the 
 junior has first say ?" 
 
 [422]
 
 CHAPTER FORTr 
 
 He. "That is we, us, I mean, for I am lots younger " 
 
 /. "Speaking as second, Mr. Musters, you are, but your 
 man, Mr. Fanshawe, is twenty-seven or so, and I we, repre- 
 sent the younger principal. " 
 
 He. " But surely ye will grant it to me us, I mean, as 
 the insulted party ? " 
 
 I bowed, detecting a flaw and conceding the point. 
 
 He. " Well then, sir, I am to tell you that I you we "he 
 nodded, checking himself offupon his fingers, to maintain clarity 
 of head, "demand satisfaction to myself, that is you, of course, 
 for some most damnably scandalous expressions. " 
 
 /. "Used in good faith, I think?" 
 
 77*. "Undoubtedly." 
 
 /. "And under a misapprehension ?" 
 
 He." Certainly." 
 
 /. "And since regretted and withdrawn practically?" 
 
 He. "Er yes, nevertheless " 
 
 /. "And condoned, practically, by your principal?" 
 
 He. "Urn y yes, but" 
 
 7. "Well, we have agreed on the facts, and that's a good 
 thing, for it would be wearisome to have to refer back to our 
 principals. 
 
 "Now, upon the facts I submit, sir, that in the absence 
 of fresh offence ( which ye don't allege, ye know ), your man 
 has no good quarrel; and I go further, I decline decline ab- 
 solutely to allow my man to meet him. " 
 
 He. "Oh, I say now, Mr. Fanshawe " 
 
 7. "Hush! my dear sir, we must stick to our characters " 
 
 He. "But I thought " 
 
 7. "Well, then, a word in your ear; a principal (that is 
 yourself ) is bound by the decision of his second ( that's me ), 
 and 7 say, your second says, d'ye hear ? that upon this ground 
 ye can't and shan't fight." 
 
 [423]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 He considered the point with pursed lip; its cogency appealed 
 to him. "We must play the game," said he with a sigh. "And 
 now, sir, 'tis your turn; I am all attention and may as well say 
 at once that we are ready to give you full satisfaction. " 
 
 7. "Not so fast, sir, we have made no demand upon you 
 as yet: why should we ? we are not the insulted party. " 
 
 I bowed to him across the board as I spoke with all the 
 gravity I was master of; our eyes met: a medley of expres- 
 sions contended for precedence in the pleasant young face, 
 surprise, chagrin, temper, amusement; the last won, a smile 
 flickered, broadened, broke into the ringing laughter of boy- 
 hood. By a common impulse our hands met and were held. 
 
 "Well, I'm " cried he, expressing an opinion about him- 
 self which I did not, and do not share, and which was mighty 
 premature, to say the least on't. 
 
 "And now what shall we do ?" asked he with all the air of 
 a man that has lost the last coach. 
 
 "Do?" I echoed. "Why, man, as we cannot fight, let us 
 feed. Feast if you will, Mr. Musters, for I think ye breakfasted 
 ill, and I, at any rate, am sharp-set." I drew down the bell-cord 
 sharply. "What d'ye say to red mullets ?" he coloured, smiling, 
 "with sweetbreads to follow" he laughed outright; "and 
 whatever they have in the house for a roast, with a couple of 
 bottles of comet port ? Did ye hear that, waiter ? " 
 
 If I thought to have done with his passion for pistols I was 
 mistaken : with the walnuts he was at me again. 
 
 "The fact is, Fanshawe, you are too good. I feel myself in a 
 false position. I am not squeamish as to small debts as a rule, 
 I assure ye. But this is another matter; it isn't the amount, nor 
 your delicacy in " 
 
 "My dear Musters, I don't follow you. Kindly pass the 
 crackers thanks!" 
 
 "No, Fanshawe, I am going to have my say. Well, I am 
 
 [424]
 
 CHAPTER FORTT 
 
 convinced that you would really like to have a shot at some 
 one over this business, but out of the mistaken kindness of 
 your heart you bar me. Now, I swear I don't want to be barred. 
 Quite the other way. You do me no kindness in putting me off. 
 You have no conception what a roasting I am in for when I 
 shew myself at Downing Street! " 
 
 "Preposterous! Seems to me ye hit my line off cleverly at 
 Hull, and stuck to it well, and ran into me rather prettily 
 for so young an entry. What does your chief expect ? " 
 
 "Oh, 'tis not my chief I am funking, but all the office 
 knows I am travelling armed. They will naturally expect 
 I say, now, we couldn't, could we ? You wouldn't care, I sup- 
 pose ? merely to oblige, don't ye know, to to to " 
 
 " Pick a little gentle quarrel with you ? You blood-thirsty 
 young salamander! No, I fear I cannot oblige ye. Think, now, 
 how it would look. Here we sit, cheek by jowl, twin turtles on 
 a bough not more amicable. Have we not posted together, dined 
 it, wined it ? I couldn't really, for, despite your Lady Betty, I 
 have still some rags of reputation to lose. " 
 
 "Dash it all! perhaps I shouldn't have asked it. Yet 'tis too 
 provoking; I'd give anything! I say, Fanshawe, I may rely 
 on your judgement, I take it? You've had your shot before 
 now, they said; you know what a gentleman may and may not 
 do, I mean." 
 
 "I have acted in both capacities before to-day." 
 
 "Begad, ye have!" the lad's eyes burned with the foolish 
 hero-worship of boyhood. 
 
 "I will not advise you wrong, Mr. Musters. I appeal to 
 your own good heart. Whatever you did I should fire in the air, 
 whilst if ye winged me shot your host think!" 
 
 He did think, and sighed anew. 
 
 For myself, I never felt less like sighing. My scheme of life 
 had been re-arranging itself these two hours past. I, so to speak, 
 
 [425]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITT 
 
 saw my line, and was marking my places was impatient 
 to be having a smack at them. 
 
 This boy's comical face of disappointment tickled me. 
 "You are, by no fault of yours, a day behind the fair, Mr. 
 Musters. Had ye caught me ten days ago there's no saying what 
 folly I might not have been capable of ! Posting up to West- 
 minster, perhaps, to pull the noses of Sir Moberly and your 
 chief, since one cannot very well call a lady out. But things 
 have taken a turn with me. Look at me. Do I strike ye as a 
 desperately disappointed fellow ? " 
 
 I was striding up and down the room awaiting our chaise, 
 rosy with hopes and as happy as a school-boy off for the holidays. 
 
 For twopence I would have told this little fellow my good 
 luck. 
 
 [426]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A 
 
 PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 JUST A WOMAN 
 
 THIS journey of mine, begun, as I have said, with a 
 heart attuned to the movements of a funeral march, 
 had very soon bid good-bye to minor chords and 
 muted trumpets. The time had quickened daily; all the way 
 from Humber-side to Sleaford my post-horses had rapped the 
 roads to some old regimental quickstep; it was reels and contre- 
 danses since, faster and sprightlier; the Highland pipes skirled 
 in my head as I had heard them on autumn nights beside the 
 fire of pine-roots, whilst kilted gillies and barefoot lasses 
 spun upon the floor. 
 
 Now that I set my face northward again no tune could keep 
 pace with my spirits save a wild air without an English name, 
 to which my Irish were used to jig when at their merriest. 
 
 And behold a wonder! My return journey witnessed the 
 reverse of the exhilarating buoyancy which I have described; 
 the nearer I drew to where I longed to be the more did I fear 
 my fate. My spirits fell, my mind clouded, I found myself 
 every day more peevish, lonely, irritable and impatient to 
 face what I dreaded and be done with it. 
 
 The loss of my commission and final ruin 1 of my military 
 
 "As I thought at the time ; the Future with its Grief, its astonishing Experience* 
 and long Evening-Tide of Mercies being mercifully hid. G. F.
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 hopes had little or nothing to do with this state of mind ; in 
 some way, how I cannot say, I had come to an understanding 
 with myself as to that, and regarded myself as absolved from 
 further efforts to reach the front. I had offered my sword not 
 once nor twice, it had been declined; I was even willing to 
 recognize the finger of Providence in this interposition, per- 
 haps ( for I am mighty like the rest of mankind ), because 
 this embargo fell so patly with my hopes in another direction. 
 
 Yet just because of this stoppage, its singular timeliness, 
 and all that it meant to me, and all that I saw hinged upon it, 
 I found myself less hopeful of winning my mistress than I 
 had been whilst years of separation and danger seemed to lie 
 between my hope and its fruition. 
 
 I had not earned her. That God should place in my hands 
 this marvellous gift simply as a gift, and not as a reward, 
 seemed to me a thing unnatural. It seems so now. I am no 
 theologian and cannot explain farther the workings of my 
 mind; leave it at this that works would win me heaven I 
 did not think, but that works might win me a wife I did; and 
 finding myself denied scope and yet thrown back into the 
 neighbourhood of my lady, I feared it would be only to learn 
 finally that she was not for me. 
 
 This idea grew almost to the verge of conviction. Stage by 
 stage the traveller got more sober, dowie ( as Gunn would 
 have said ), and anxious. The time was changed in truth not 
 scherzo, nor allegro, only andante; and by when I had crossed 
 the hills and was jolting down westward into my own county 
 I was so well persuaded of my lady's perfections and my own 
 exceeding unworthiness as to have near lost hope altogether 
 of winning her. 
 
 That this view of the Almighty's attitude towards His 
 creatures was unsound must be obvious to you all: we daily 
 enjoy what we did not earn and do not deserve. 
 
 [428]
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 That my frame was unreasonable from the purely human 
 standpoint, goes without saying. Consider our parting. Such 
 despairs were as little warranted by the circumstance as 
 were the buoyant confidences which had shortened the miles 
 for me along this very road nine days before. 
 
 Be that as it may, a lover is not a reasonable being, as all 
 the world knows, save the lovers; and upon the night I 
 reached my place I was as poor a figure of the jolly sweet- 
 heart hastening to his mistress's arms as ye could have found 
 had ye hunted England over. 
 
 Laugh at me if you will ( I myself have laughed at myself ), 
 but, having enjoyed the comedy, pause awhile and think. I 
 swear I do not grudge you a moment's honest merriment so 
 there be no scorn in your grin. 
 
 But, put it to your own heart, my friend ( 'tis to a man I 
 am speaking ) are you, are we, are the best of us, tried by any 
 test or standard, worthy of the wives we win ? What ? you are 
 silent! And now, perchance, you will pardon a fellow of five- 
 and-twenty for being of the same judgement as is the average 
 man of fifty, when some smooth-cheeks of a freebooter, flying 
 the lover's red ensign, lays him aboard and demands his 
 daughter! Think of the outrageousness of the request; consider 
 its calm effrontery; the aggressor has not a tittle of claim, no 
 shadow of legality; he's just a common marauder. If he had 
 asked for his victim's purse, for his watch and seals, had he 
 clapt pistol to his man's head until with quaking hand he had 
 signed some bond or engagement, now, there had presently 
 been a Bow Street runner on his tracks; but since it is merely 
 a daughter, the light of the man's home, the apple of his eye, 
 the law will take no cognizance of the affair, and ten to one the 
 pirate, hostis gentium though he be, gets off clear with his 
 prize, amidst some huzzahing from the rest of the fleet. 
 
 What's this, I ask, but marriage by capture. At bottom 
 
 [429]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 we are savages still. ( And long may we so remain: Amen! ) 
 
 Another tedious digression ? Truly I grow incorrigible, 
 but keep your hearts up; 'twill soon be over. 
 
 The dreariest journey draws to its end at last, and I, frown- 
 ing in the darkness of my chaise, with a face, as I guess, more 
 like a thief's on his way to Tyburn than an honest man's 
 upon his own acres, reached the tall stone posts at the be- 
 ginning of the avenue. 
 
 The wind had chopped round to the south, the day's frost 
 was going out of the ground in fog; so thick was it that the 
 horses twice left the road, so that I alighted and led the beasts, 
 for the boy was strange to the place, and at the last, in pity 
 for his fears, I paid and released him, lest he should fail to find 
 his way back; for beneath the oaks, which still retained much 
 leaf, it was darker than many a midnight. 
 
 Thus, carrying my valise, and feeling my way from post 
 to wall, and from wall to door, I stood at length unannounced 
 and unexpected under the porch of the lodge. 
 
 The front of the house shewed no light at any of its windows. 
 I listened; no sound of life pierced the wet blanket of fog save 
 the quick drip from the tree and the muffled rattle of head- 
 stall chains from the stables where Abel's nags would be clean- 
 ing up their night's baits before lying down. 
 
 I lifted the latch ( upon my lands there has never been 
 need for those bolts and chains and window-bars with which 
 men upon neighbouring estates have sought to fortify them- 
 selves from the despair of their starving labourers ) the 
 entry was almost dark; a rush-wick swimming in grease gave 
 a certain scent and an uncertain light. Still no sound reached 
 me from behind the three closed doors I could see. I set down 
 my burden and stood listening, feeling half foolish. 
 
 Then, without sound of warning, a door opened at the end 
 of the passage and from the dark room beyond my little mis- 
 
 [430]
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 tress slipt out into that flickering dimness and stood. The 
 floating wick flared for a moment, the light fell upon us both, 
 deepening the lower shadows and leaving the floor in mystery. 
 
 At the sight of me she stood, the latch beneath her thumb 
 as if to secure her retreat; indeed, her shoulders rose and her 
 other hand lifted the skirts from her feet as if for flight. 
 
 My throat contracted; would she refuse to meet me ? Had 
 she no word for me ? All the misgivings of my lonely journey 
 crowded upon me, tied my limbs and checked my tongue. 
 
 Thus we stood for perhaps a breath ( which seemed long ). 
 I thought her eyes dimmer and her cheek paler, her hair too, 
 seemed in some disorder had she been crying ? A choking 
 wave of pitying love rose in me. 
 
 Then she moved; thrusting her little face towards me, still 
 holding by the latch, she bent upon me such a look, such a 
 strange, yearning regard, wonder, love and fear. 
 
 Her lips parted, the sounds travelled the space between 
 us soft as a sigh, mere syllabled thought not meant for a warm 
 live human ear. 
 
 "So soon! not killed, then; drowned as I feared 
 and I sent him to it O, how I prayed for this, and now 
 it comes I am so afraid!" 
 
 As she ceased she released the latch and came faltering 
 towards me into the light with little half-reluctant steps, her 
 face convulsed, her wide eyes shining in the flicker. There were 
 tears still wet upon her cheeks. 
 
 And now it was I who should have spoken. I have said so 
 since a hundred times and blamed ( or blessed ) my unreadi- 
 ness. The passage is of no length; in six steps she was close, 
 her face working, her sweet young body shaken with its 
 alarms; there was just the least pause, my hands and lips 
 moved (she says), and "// is alive!" she cried, low and 
 hurried; "George!" and ran into my arms. 
 
 [43i]
 
 MEMOIRS OF A PERSON OF QUALITY 
 
 There she hung, wetted by the fog-drops which clung to 
 every hair of my frize coat and gave me in that half-light the 
 seeming of a corpse risen from the waters; the wet fell from 
 my cap-peak and brows upon her upturned face. What cared 
 she ? Her warm mouth pressed hard to mine in long, breathless, 
 silent kisses. Our very souls met in that embrace. 
 
 "Oh, thou art come back to me alive alive! Art thou 
 alive, truly ? " My pressure reassured her. Again our lips met. 
 
 "Ah," she whispered, "this is more than I deserve; far 
 more! I thought myself so strong; I sent thee away, but that 
 night I broke down. I was like a wild thing; I seemed mad to 
 myself and to mother, and next morning I rode over to bid 
 thee stay." She hid her face; I felt her quiver. "Only mother 
 knew," she whispered. "Oh, how I rode! That poor horse! 
 And after all I was too late thou wast gone. 
 
 "Then news came of the Hull ships; it seemed as though I 
 had killed thee. I prayed oh, how I prayed! I was on 
 my knees just now in there. But what a thing I am! no faith! 
 I had given thee up, made sure thou wast dead drowned. I 
 was praying that any way I might know what had happened; 
 that thou might be permitted to come to appear. And now! 
 Is it not wonderful ? Is it not true where it says, ' He is greater 
 than our hearts?' He does not use us after our deservings; 
 He grants more than we dare ask. Thou art here, alive!" 
 
 She poured her story in quick hot whispers between silences 
 and kisses. Never was such a surrender: its completeness 
 unmanned me, filling me with humility. For the second time 
 in so few years I had entered a house a beggar to find a fortune 
 awaiting me, and this was the richer. 
 
 Poor little heart, what had it suffered! News of the capture 
 of the Humber convoy had reached this west country grange 
 two days before, misdated, and with each circumstance of 
 horror aggravated. All were reported lost, sunk, stranded or 
 
 [432]
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 taken. That I had sailed with it had seemed certain even to 
 the caution of Abel. I had not written. 
 
 The wars were dread times for women. They sat at home 
 and saw the ship sail, the regiment march, and waited, waited 
 for the word which too often never came. 
 
 Like a heath fire that roars here and dies down to break 
 afresh elsewhere, smouldering on, eating into new ground, 
 undefeated, ever at its mischief, so was the time. The tale of 
 slaughter never quite ceased; on battle days the earth or sea 
 oped wide lips and gulped their thousands; between whiles the 
 list grew and grew, not in the Royal services only, but upon 
 every coast and on every sea ships were sunk, burnt, taken, 
 cast away. Ships sailed away into the lonely sea spaces and 
 were never reported. 
 
 Remember the "Lutine." A king's frigate, the crack ship 
 of her class, with a picked crew upon special service, with 
 bullion for her lading, a round million sterling in Pillar dollars 
 and gold doubloons, headed up in their little oaken kegs, a 
 king's ransom. She cleared from Gravesend at sunset on a 
 Saturday night, dropping down with the ebb ( two Winter- 
 inghame lads were in her company ) . Where is she now ? Forty 
 years have gone by and not a stave of her has come ashore on 
 any coast of the world. 1 
 
 The thought of these things pressed upon gentle spirits, 
 upon women's spirits, with the weight of some personal grief; 
 and when to the general bereavement was added the pang of 
 sudden loss, near and close and terrible, do you wonder that 
 a brain was crazed at times ? From this I verily think my return 
 saved my little mistress. 
 
 How long we had stood thus I do not know, for at crises of 
 
 1 Recently there have been some barrels of specie (Pillar dollars) recovered from 
 the sands of the Teiel, which have been attributed to this ill-fated ship, and handed 
 over to the heirs of her underwriters. ED. 
 
 [433]
 
 one's life one loses count of minutes. All I knew, or cared to 
 know, was that we, she and I, had entered into a new world 
 which seemed as near to heaven as might be. 
 
 What a moment! What was this that it had effected, this 
 amazing change ? We were the same, yet not the same. For 
 myself, I stood as I had been standing since my entering that 
 dim-lit, narrow passage; not a foot had I lifted, not a word 
 had I uttered. She, my little mistress, on her part, had opened 
 a door, taken six steps, or less, and whispered a dozen words. 
 
 Around us the faint noises of the house creaked and rustled 
 on; the slow clacking of the jack in the kitchen chimney, tones 
 of voices in this room and in that, lowered to the needs of 
 friends sitting cozily and close and muted by shut doors. 
 Within, all was ordered household peace; and without, the 
 dumb thickness of a world in its winter's sleep; and in the 
 centre of it all were two hearts strained close and beating each 
 to the other, insensible to the flight of time, the past clean 
 sponged off the board, the future as though no future could 
 ever be; a breathless, throbbing present of unutterable bliss. 
 
 I was still a young man, and for all my experiences, younger 
 in mind than my years, and ignorant to a degree of human 
 nature. What a child is I had half forgotten; a boy I knew; 
 a man, one man, myself to wit, I partly understood; but 
 of women of all ages I was most particularly ignorant, and 
 of the heart of a maid where a man is concerned I had not a 
 glimmer. 
 
 What was this ? I began to tremble, to shake, yet not with 
 cold. I had not suspected myself of such scope for passion: 
 it was foreign to my experience ( thank God for that! ) Nor 
 had I dreamed of such capacity in a woman in my little 
 mistress. 
 
 United at last! and so suddenly, so utterly. How shall I put 
 it ? As a child I had watched two raindrops slipping down the 
 
 [434]
 
 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 
 
 pane more and more slowly, with little devious sidestarts and 
 meanderings, nearing, diverging, each going its own way 
 whilst coyly conscious of the other's presence. A gust of wind 
 and they touch, and in the act are lost, another being is gained, 
 a double life, larger and fuller, speeds straight and strong to 
 its goal. 
 
 The rising latch of the parlour door awaked me from my 
 dream. I heard her mother's voice call Phoebe, and upon the 
 word her face filled the opening. She took it all in at a glance, 
 and turned as she stood with warning finger to stay her hus- 
 band and Abel, who seemed close behind her. 
 
 The men saw and hovered doubtfully, struck with the sur- 
 prise of what they beheld; Abel, at least, wholly unprepared. 
 
 The mother's light, quick whisper barely reached my ear: 
 "Let them alone, the dears! In with thee, husband; don't 
 speak! they will never be so happy again!" 
 
 THE END
 
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