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 '(^X/2^^--*^
 
 PELHAM 
 
 OR 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR EDWARD ^ULWER LYTTON, BART. ^ 
 
 ''^Jc suis /'eii se'vkre, tiiais sage — 
 Philosopher niais amoureux — 
 Mon art est de me rendre keureux. 
 J^y rdussis — en /aut-il d^ advantage ? " 
 
 'M complete gentleman^ ivho^ according to Sir Fopling^ ought to dress ivell^ dance 
 •well, fence ■n<ell, have a genius for lo2ie-letters, and an agreeable voice /or a cham- 
 ber." —Kihb.kegb. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK : 
 BELFOKD, CLARKE .fe COMPANY, 
 
 PUBLISUEKS.
 
 TROWS 
 
 IRrNTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPAHY, 
 
 NEW YORK.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EDITION OF 1828.* 
 
 I BELIEVE if we were to question every author upon the sub- 
 ject of his literary grievances, we should find that the most fre- 
 quent of all complaints, was less that of being unappreciated, 
 than that of being misunderstood. All of us write perhaps with 
 some secret object, for which the world cares not a straw ; and 
 while each reader fixes his peculiar moral upon a book, no one, 
 by any chance, hits upon that which the author had in his own 
 heart designed to inculcate. Hence this Edition of " Pelham " 
 acquires that appendage in the shape of an explanatory preface 
 which the unprescient benevolence of the author did not inflict 
 on his readers when he first confided his work to their candor 
 and discretion. Even so, some Candidate for Parliamentary 
 Honors first braves the hustings ; — relying only on the general 
 congeniality of sentiment between himself and the Electors — but 
 alas ! once chosen, the liberal confidence, which took him upon 
 trust is no more, and when he reappears to commend himself to 
 the popular suffrage, he is required to go into the ill-bred ego- 
 tisms of detail — and explain all that he has done and all that 
 he has failed to do, to the satisfaction of an enlightened but too 
 inquisitive constituency. 
 
 It is a beautiful part in the economy of this world, that noth- 
 ing is without its use ; every weed in the great thoroughfares of 
 life has a honey, which Observation can easily extract ; and we 
 may glean no unimportant wisdom from Folly itself, if we distin- 
 guish while we survey, and satirize while we share it. It is in 
 
 * Viz., tlic Second Edition.
 
 iv PREFACE TO THE 
 
 this belief that these volumes have their origin. I have not 
 been willing that even the common-places of society should af- 
 ford neither a record nor a moral ; and it is therefore from the 
 common-places of society that the materials of this novel have 
 been wrought. By treating trifles naturally, they may be ren- 
 dered amusing, and that which adherence to Nature renders 
 amusing, the same cause also may render instructive : for Na- 
 ture is the source of all morals, and the enchanted well, from 
 which not a single drop can be taken, that has not the power of 
 curing some of our diseases. 
 
 I have drawn from the hero of my Work, such a person as 
 seemed to me best fitted to retail the opinions and customs of 
 the class and age to which he belongs ; a personal combination 
 of antitheses — a fop and a philosopher, a voluptuary and a mor- 
 alist — a trifler in appearance, but rather one to whom trifles are 
 instructive, than one to whom trifles are natural — an Aristippus 
 on a limited scale, accustomed to draw sage conclusions from 
 the follies he adopts, and while professing himself a votary of 
 Pleasure, desirous in reality to become a disciple of Wisdom. 
 Such a character I have found it more difficult to portray than 
 conceive : I have found it more difficult still, because I have 
 with it nothing in common,* except the taste for observation, 
 and some experience in the scenes among which it had been 
 cast ; and it will readily be supposed that it is no easy matter to 
 survey occurrences the most familiar through a vision, as it were, 
 essentially and jDcrpetually different from that through which 
 oneself has been accustomed to view them. This difficulty in 
 execution will perhaps be my excuse in failure ; and some addi- 
 tional indulgence may be reasonably granted to an author who 
 has rarely found in the egotisms of his hero a vent for his 
 own. 
 
 With the generality of those into whose hands a novel upon 
 
 * I regret extremely that by this remark I should be necessitated to relinquish the 
 flattering character I have for so many months borne, and to undeceive not a few of 
 my most indulgent critics, who in reviewing my work have literally considered the 
 Author and the Hero one flesh. " We have only," said one of them, to complain of 
 the Author's egotisms ; he is perpetually talking of himself ! "—Poor gentleman ! from 
 the first page to the last, the Author never utters a syllable.— [The few marginal notes 
 in which the Author himself speaks, were not added till the present Edition.]
 
 EDITION OF 1828. V 
 
 manners is likely to fall, the lighter and less obvious the method 
 in which reflection is conveyed, the greater is its chance to be 
 received without distaste and remembered without aversion. 
 This will be an excuse, perhaps, for the appearance of frivoli- 
 ties not indulged for the sake of the frivolity ; under that which 
 has most the semblance of levity I have often been the most 
 diligent in my endeavors to inculcate the substances of truth. 
 The shallowest stream, whose bed every passenger imagines he 
 surveys, may deposit some golden grains on the plain through 
 which it flows ; and we may weave flowers not only into an idle 
 garland, but, like the thyrsus of the ancients, over a sacred 
 weapon. 
 
 It now only remains for me to add my hope that this edition 
 will present the " adventures of a gentleman " in a less im- 
 perfect shape than the last, and in the words of the erudite and 
 memorable Joshua Barnes,* " So to begin my intended dis- 
 course, if not altogether true, yet not wholly vain, nor perhaps- 
 deficient in what may exhilarate a witty fancy, or inform a bad 
 
 moralist." 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 October, 1828. 
 
 * In the Preface to his Gerania.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO " 
 
 THE EDITION OF 1840* 
 
 The holiday time of life, in which his novel was written, while 
 accounting, perhaps in a certaingaiety of tone, for the popularity 
 it has received, may perhaps also excuse, in some measure, its 
 more evident deficiencies and faults. Although I trust the time 
 has passed when it might seem necessary to protest against those 
 critical assumptions which so long confounded the author with 
 the hero ; — although I equally trust that, even were such assump- 
 tions true, it would be scarcely necessary to dispute the justice 
 of visiting upon later and more sobered life, the supposed foibles 
 and levities of that thoughtless age of eighteen, in which this fic- 
 tion was first begun, — yet, perhaps, some short sketch of the ori- 
 gin of a work, however idle, the success of which determined 
 the literary career of the author, may not be considered alto- 
 gether presumptuous or irrelevant. 
 
 While, yet, then a boy in years, but with some experience of 
 the world, which I entered prematurely, I had the good fortune 
 to be confined to my room by a severe illness, towards the end 
 of a London season. All my friends were out of town, and I 
 was left to such resources as solitude can suggest to the tedium 
 of sickness. I amused myself by writing with incredible diffi- 
 culty and lalpor (for till then prose was a country almost as un- 
 known to myself as to Monsieur Jourdain) some half a dozen 
 tales and sketches. Among them was a story called "' Mortimer, 
 or the Memoirs of a Gentleman." Its commencement was al- 
 most word for word the same as that of " Pelham ; " but the de- 
 
 * Viz., in the first collected edition of the Author's prose works.
 
 EDITION OF 1840. vii 
 
 sign was exactly opposite to that of the latter and later work. 
 " Mortimer " was intended to show the manner in which the 
 world deteriorates its votary, and " Pelham," on the contrary, 
 conveys the newer, and, I believe, sounder moral, of showing 
 how a man of sense can subject the usages of the world to him- 
 self instead of being conquered by them, and gradually grow 
 wise by the very foibles of his youth. 
 
 This tale, with the sketches written at the same period, was 
 sent anonymously to a celebrated publisher, who considered the 
 volume of too slight a nature for separate publication, and recom- 
 mended me to select the best of the papers for a magazine. I 
 was not at that time much inclined to a periodical mode of pub- 
 lishing, and thought no more of what, if * migcB to the reader, 
 had indeed been difficiks to the author. Soon afterwards I went 
 abroad. On my return I sent a collection of letters to Mr. Col- 
 burn for publication, which, for various reasons, I afterwards 
 worked up into a fiction, and which (greatly altered from their 
 original form) are now known to the public under the name of 
 " Falkland." 
 
 While correcting the sheets of that tale for the press, I was 
 made aware of many of its faults. But it was not till it had been 
 fairly before the public that I was sensible of its greatest ; namely, 
 a sombre coloring in life, and the indulgence of a vein of senti- 
 ment, which, though common enough to all very young minds 
 in their first bitter experience of the disappointment of the 
 world, had certainly ceased to be new in its expression, and had 
 never been true in its philosophy. 
 
 The effect which the composition of that work produced upon 
 my mind, was exactly similar to that which (if I may reverently 
 quote so illustrious an example) Goethe informs us the writing 
 of '* Werter " produced upon his own. T had rid my bosom of its 
 " perilous stuff," — I had confessed my sins, and was absolved, — 
 I could return to real life and its wholesome objects. Encour- 
 aged by the reception which " Falkland " met with, flattering 
 though not brilliant, I resolved to undertake a rie\Y and more 
 
 * Nttgie^ trifles; difficiks ^^'\^\qw\\.
 
 viii PREFACE TO THE 
 
 important fiction. I had long been impressed with the truth of 
 an observation of Madame de Stael, that a character at once 
 gay and sentimental is always successful on the stage. I re- 
 solved to attempt a similar charter for a novel, making the sen- 
 timent, however, infinitely less prominent than the gaiety. My 
 boyish attempt of the " Memoirs of a Gentleman " occurred to 
 me, and I resolved upon this foundation to build my fiction. 
 After a little consideration I determined, however, to enlarge 
 and ennoble the original character : the character itself, of the 
 clever man of the world corrupted <5_y the world, was not new; it 
 had already been represented by Mackenzie, by Moore in " Ze- 
 luco," and in some measure by the master-genius of Richardson it- 
 self, in the incomparable portraiture of Lovelace. The moral to 
 be derived from such a creation seemed to me also equivocal and 
 dubious. It is a moral of a gloomy and hopeless school. We live 
 in the world \, the great majority of us, in a state of civilization, 
 must, more or less, be men <7/"the world. It struck me that it would 
 be a new, an useful, and perhaps a happy moral, to show in what 
 manner we might redeem and brighten the common-places of 
 life ; to prove (what is really the fact) that the lessons of society 
 do not necessarily corrupt, and that we may be both men of the 
 world, and even, to a certain degree, men of pleasure, and yet 
 be something wiser — nobler — better. With this idea I formed 
 in my mind the character of Pelham ; revolving its qualities long 
 and seriously before I attempted to describe them on paper. 
 For the formation of my story, I studied with no slight attention 
 the great works of my predecessors, and attempted to derive from 
 that study certain rules and canons to serve me as a guide ; and, 
 if some of my younger contemporaries whom I could name 
 would only condescend to take the same preliminary pains that 
 I did, I am sure that the result would be much more brilliant. 
 It oftens happens to me to be consulted by persons about to at- 
 tempt fiction, and I invariably find thai they imagine they have 
 only to sit down and write. They forget that art does not come 
 by inspiration, and that the novelist, dealing constantly with 
 contrast and effect, must, in the widest and deepest sense of the
 
 EDITION OF £840. ix 
 
 word, study to be an artist. They paint pictures for Posterity 
 without having learned to draw. 
 
 Few critics have, hitherto, sufficiently considered, and none, 
 perhaps, have accurately defined, the peculiar characteristics of 
 prose fiction in its distinct schools and multiform varieties : — 
 of the two principal species, the Narrative and Dramatic, I chose 
 for " Pelham " my models in the former ; and when it was object- 
 ed, at the first appearance of that work, that the plot was not 
 carried on through every incident and every scene, the critics 
 evidently confounded the two classes of fiction I have referred 
 to, and asked from a work in one what ought only to be the attri- 
 butes of a work in the other : the dazzling celebrity of Scott, 
 who deals almost solely with the dramatic species of fiction, 
 made them forgetful of the examples, equally illustrious, in the 
 narrative form of romance, to be found in Smollett, in Fielding, 
 and Le Sage. Perhaps, indeed, there is in " Pelham " more of 
 plot and of continued interest, and less of those incidents that 
 do not either bring out the character of the hero, or conduce to 
 the catastrophe, than the narrative order may be said to re- 
 quire, or than is warranted by the great examples I have ventured 
 to name. 
 
 After due preparation, I commenced and finished the first 
 volume of " Pelham." Various circumstances then suspended 
 my labors, till several months afterwards I found myself quietly 
 buried in the country, and with so much leisure on my hands, 
 that I was driven, almost in self-defence from e7min, to continue 
 and conclude my attempt. 
 
 It may serve perhaps to stimulate the courage and sustain the 
 hopes of others to remark, that" the Reader " to whom the MS. 
 was submitted by the publisher, pronounced the most unfavorable 
 and damning opinion upon its chances of success, — an opinion 
 fortunately reversed by Mr. Oilier, the able and ingenious author 
 of " Inesilla," to whom it was then referred. The book was 
 published, and I may add, that for about two months it appeared 
 in a fair way of perishing prematurely in its cradle. With the 
 exception of two most flattering and generously-indulgent notices
 
 X PREFACE TO THE 
 
 in the " Literary Gazette " and the " Examiner," and a very 
 encouraging and friendly criticism in the " Atlas," it was received 
 by the critics with indifference or abuse. They mistook its 
 purport, and translated its satire literally. But about the third 
 month it rose rapidly into the favor it has since continued to 
 maintain. Whether it answered all the objects it attempted I 
 cannot pretend to say ; one at least I imagine that it did answer : 
 I think, above most works, it contributed to put an end to the 
 Satanic mania, — to turn the thoughts and ambition of young 
 gentlemen without neckcloths, and young clerks who were 
 sallow, from playing the Corsair, and boasting that they were 
 villains. If, mistaking the irony of Pelham, they went to the 
 extreme of emulating the foibles which that hero attributes to 
 himself — those were foibles at least more harmless, and even 
 more manly and noble, than the conceit of a general detestation 
 of mankind, or the vanity of storming our pity by lamentations 
 over imaginary sorrows, and sombre hints at the fatal burthen 
 of inexpiable crimes.* 
 
 Such was the history of a publication, which if not actually 
 my first, was the one whose fate was always intended to decide 
 me whether to conclude or continue my attempts as an author. 
 
 I can repeat, unaffectedly, that I have indulged this egotism, 
 not only as a gratification to that common curiosity which is felt 
 by all relative to the early works of an author, who, whatever be 
 his faults and demerits, has once obtained the popular ear ; — 
 but also as affording, perhaps, the following lessons to younger 
 writers of less experience but of more genius than myself. 
 First, in attempting fiction, it may serve to show the use of a 
 critical study of its rules, for to that study I owe every success 
 in literature I have obtained ; and in the mere art of composition, 
 if I have now attained to even too rapid a facility, I must own 
 that facility has been purchased by a most laborious slowness in 
 the first commencement, and a resolute refusal to write a second 
 sentence until I had expressed my meaning in the best manner I 
 
 * Sir Reginald Glanville was drawn purposely of the would-be Byron School as a 
 foil to Pelham. For one who would think of imitating the first, ten thousand would 
 be unawares attracted to the last.
 
 EDITION OF 1840. xi 
 
 could in the first. And, secondly, it may prove the very little 
 value of those "cheers," of the want of which Sir Egerton 
 Brydges* so feelingly complains, and which he considers so 
 necessary towards the obtaining for an author, no matter what 
 his talents, his proper share of popularity. I knew not a single 
 critic, and scarcely a single author, when I began to write. I 
 have never received to this day a single word of encouragement 
 from any of those writers who were considered at one time the 
 dispensers of reputation. Long after my name was not quite 
 unknown in every other country where English literature is 
 received, the great quarterly journals of my own disdained to 
 recognize my existence. Let no man cry out then "for cheers," 
 or for literary patronage, and let those aspirants, who are often 
 now pleased to write to me, lamenting their want of interest and 
 their non-acquaintance with critics, learn from the author (insig- 
 nificant though he be) who addresses them in sympathy and 
 fellowship, — that a man's labors are his best patrons, — that the 
 public is the only critic that has no interest and no motive in 
 underrating him, — that the world of an author is a mighty 
 circle of which enmity and envy can penetrate but a petty seg- 
 ment, and that the pride of carving with our own hands our own 
 name is worth alf the " cheers " in the world. Long live Sidney's 
 gallant and lofty motto, " Aut viam inveniam autfaciatn / " f 
 
 * In the melancholy and painful pages of his autobiography. 
 1 1 will either find a way or make it.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PRESENT EDITION. 
 
 No ! — you cannot guess, my dear reader, how long my pen 
 has rested over the virgin surface of this paper, before even that 
 " No," which now stands out so bluffly and manfully, took heart 
 and stept forth. If, peradventure, thou shouldst, O reader, be 
 that rarity in these days — a reader who has never been an au- 
 thor — thou canst form no conception of the strange aspect which 
 the first page of a premeditated composition will often present to 
 the curious investigator into the initials of things. There is a 
 sad mania now-a-days f or collecting autographs — would that some 
 such collector would devote his researches to the first pages of 
 auctorial manuscripts ! He would then form some idea of the 
 felicitous significance of that idiomatic phrase, " to cudgel the 
 brains ! " — Out of what grotesque zigzags, and fantastic ar- 
 abesques, — out of what irrelevant, dreamy illustrations from the 
 sister art, — houses, and trees, and profile sketches of men, night- 
 mares, and chimeras — out of what massacres of whole lines, pre- 
 maturely and timidly ventured forth as forlorn hopes, — would 
 he see the first intelligible words creep into actual life — shy 
 streaks of light, emerging from the chaos ! For that rash prom- 
 ise of mine, that each work in this edition of works so numer- 
 ous, shall have its own new and special Preface, seems to me 
 hard, in this instance, to fulfil. Another Preface ! what for ? Two 
 Prefaces to " Pelham " already exist, wherein all that I would say is 
 said ! And in going back through that long and crowded interval 
 of twenty years since the first appearance of this work, — what shad- 
 ows rise to beckon me away through the glades and alleys in that dim
 
 PRESENT EDITION. xiii 
 
 labyrinth of the Past ! Infant Hopes, scarce born ere fated, poor 
 innocents, to die — gazing upon me with reproachful eyes, as if 
 I myself had been their unfeeling butcher ; audacious Enter- 
 prises boldly begun, to cease in abrupt whim, or chilling doubt 
 — looking now through the mists, zoophital or amphibious, like 
 those borderers on the animal and vegetable life, which flash on 
 us with the seeming flutter of a wing, to subside away into rooted 
 stems and withering leaves. How can I escape the phantom 
 throng ? How return to the starting-post, and recall the ardent 
 emotions with which youth sprung forth to the goal ? To write 
 fitting Preface to this work, which, if not my first, was the first 
 which won an audience and secured a reader, I must myself be- 
 come a phantom, with the phantom crowd. It is the ghost of my 
 youth that I must call up. What we are, alone hath flesh and 
 blood — what we have been, like the what we shall be, is an idea ; 
 and no more ! An idea how dim and impalable ! This our 
 sense of identity, this " I " of ours, which is the single thread 
 that continues from first to last — single thread that binds flowers 
 changed every day, and withered every night — how thin and 
 meagre is it of itself — how difficult to lay hold of ! When we 
 say " I remember " how vague a sentiment we utter ! how differ- 
 ent it is to say " 1/ccl /" And when in this effort of memory 
 we travel back all the shadow-land of years — when we say " I 
 remember," what is it we retain, but some poor solitary fibre in 
 the airy mesh of that old gossamer, which floated between earth 
 and heaven — moist with the dews and sparkling in the dawn ? — 
 Some one incident, some one affection we recall, but not all the 
 associations that surrounded it, all the companions of the brain 
 or the heart, with which it formed one of the harmonious con- 
 temporaneous ring. Scarcely even have we traced and seized 
 one fine filament in the broken web, ere it is lost again. In the 
 inextricable confusion of old ideas, many that seem of the time 
 we seek to grasp again, l)ut were not so, seize and distract us. 
 From the clear effort we sink into the vague reverie ; the Pres- 
 ent hastens to recall and dash us onward, and few, leaving the 
 actual world around them when they say " I remember " do not
 
 xiv ADVERTISEMENT TO THE 
 
 wake as from a dream, with a baffled sigh, and murmur " No, 
 I forget." And therefore, if a new Preface to a work written 
 twenty years ago, should contain some elucidation of the aims 
 and objects with which it was composed, or convey some idea of 
 the writer's mind at that time, my pen might well rest long over 
 the blank page ; — and houses and trees, the profile sketches of 
 men, nightmares and chimeras, and whole passages scrawled and 
 erased, might well illustrate the barren travail of one who sits 
 down to say " I remember ! " 
 
 What changes in the outer world since this book was writ- 
 ten ! What changes of thrones and dynasties ! Through what 
 cycles of hope and fear has a generation gone ! And in that in- 
 ner world of Thought what old ideas have returned to claim the 
 royalty of new ones ! What news one (new ones then) have re- 
 ceded out of sight, in the ebb and flow of the human mind, which, 
 whatever the cant phrase may imply, advances in no direct 
 steadfast progress, but gains here to lose there ; — a tide, not a 
 march. So, too, in that slight surface of either world, " the man- 
 ners," superficies alike of the action and the thought of an age, 
 the ploughshares of twenty years have turned up a new soil. 
 
 The popular changes in the Constitution have brought the 
 several classes more intimately into connection with each other ; 
 most of the old affectations of fashion and exclusiveness are out 
 of date. We have not talked of equality, like our neighbors the 
 French, but insensibly and naturally, the tone of manners has 
 admitted much of the frankness of the principle, without the 
 unnecessary rudeness of the pretence. I am not old enough 
 yet to be among the indiscriminate praisers of the past, and 
 therefore I recognize cheerfully an extraordinary improvement 
 in the intellectual and moral features of the English world, since 
 I first entered it as an observer. There is a far greater earnest- 
 ness of purpose, a higher culture, more general and genial views, 
 amongst the young men of the rising generation than were com- 
 mon in the last. The old divisions of party politics remain ; 
 but among all divisions there is a greater desire of identification 
 with the people. Rank is more sensible of its responsibilities,
 
 PRESENT EDITION. xv 
 
 property of its duties. Amongst the clergy of all sects, the 
 improvement in zeal, in education, in active care for their flocks, 
 is strikingly noticeable ; the middle class have become more 
 instructed and refined, and yet, (while fused with the highest in 
 their intellectual tendencies, reading the same books, cultiva- 
 ting the same accomplishments) — they have extended their sym- 
 pathies more largely among the humblest. And, in our towns 
 especially, what advances have been made among the operative 
 population ! I do not here refer to that branch of cultivation 
 which comprises the questions that belong to political inquiry, 
 but to the general growth of more refined and less polemical 
 knowledge. Cheap books have come in vogue as a fashion dur- 
 ing the last twenty years — books addressed, not as cheap books 
 were once, to the passions, but to the understanding and the 
 taste — books not written down to the supposed level of unin- 
 formed and humble readers, but such books as refine the gentle- 
 man and instruct the scholar. The arts of design have been 
 more appreciated — the Beautiful has been admitted into the 
 pursuits of labor as a principle — Religion has been regaining 
 the ground it lost in the latter half of the last century. What is 
 technically called education (education of the school and the 
 schoolmaster), has made less progress than it might. But that 
 inexpressible diffusion of oral information which is the only cul- 
 ture the old Athenians knew, and which in the ready transmis- 
 sion of ideas, travels like light froih lip to lip, has been insensi- 
 bly educating the adult generation. In spite of all the dangers 
 that menace the advance of the present century, I am convinced 
 that classes amongst us are far more united than they were in 
 the latter years of George the Fourth. A vast mass of discon- 
 tent exists amongst the operatives, it is true, and Chartism is 
 but one of its symptoms ; yet that that discontent is more obvi- 
 ous than formerly, is a proof that men's eyes and men's ears are 
 more open to acknowledge its existence — to examine and listen 
 to its causes. Thinking persons now occupy themselves with 
 that great reality — the People ; and questions concerning their 
 social welfare, their health, tlieir education, their interests, their
 
 xvf ADVERTISEMENT TO THE 
 
 rights, which philosophers alone entertained twenty years ago, 
 are now on the lips of practical men, and in the hearts of all. 
 It is this greater earnestness — this profounder gravity of pur- 
 pose and of view, which forms the most cheering characteristic 
 of the present time ; and though that time has its peculiar faults 
 and vices, this is not the place to enlarge on them. I have 
 done, and yet may do so, elsewhere. This work is the picture 
 of manners in certain classes of society twenty years ago, and in 
 that respect I believe it to be true and faithful. Nor the less 
 so, that under the frivolities of the hero, it is easy to recognize 
 the substance of those more serious and solid qualities which 
 Time has educed from the generation and the class he repre- 
 sents. Mr. Pelham studying Mills on Government and the 
 Political Economists, was thought by some an incongruity in 
 character at the day in which Mr. Pelham first appeared — the 
 truth of that conception is apparent now, at least to the observ- 
 ant. The fine gentlemen of that day were preparing themselves 
 for the after things, which were already foreshadowed ; and 
 some of those, then best known in clubs and drawing-rooms, 
 have been since foremost and boldest, nor least instructed, in 
 the great struggles of public life. 
 
 I trust that this book may now be read without prejudice from 
 the silly error that long sought to identify the author with the 
 hero. 
 
 Rarely indeed, if ever, can we detect the real likeness of an 
 author of fiction in any single one of his creations. He may 
 live in each of them, but only for the time. He migrates into a 
 new form with every new character he creates. He may have in 
 himself a quality, here and there, in common with each, but 
 others so widely opposite, as to destroy all the resemblance you 
 fancy for a moment you have discovered. However this be, the 
 author has the advantage over his work — that the last remains 
 stationary, with its faults or merits, and the former has the 
 power to improve. The one remains the index of its day — the 
 ether advances with the century. That in a book written in 
 extreme youth, there may be much that I would not write now in
 
 PRESENT EDITION. xvii 
 
 mature manhood, is obvious ; that in spite of its defects, the 
 work should have retained to this day the popularity it enjoyed 
 in the first six months of its birth, is the best apology that can 
 be made for its defects. 
 
 E. B. L. 
 
 London, 1848.
 
 PELHAM; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ou peut-on etre mieux qu'au sein de safamille? * — French JSonp" 
 
 I AM an only child. My father was the younger son of one 
 of our oldest earls, my mother the dowerless daughter of a 
 Scotch peer. Mr. Peiham was a moderate Whig, and gave 
 sumptuous dinners ; — Lady Frances was a woman of taste, and 
 particularly fond of diamonds and old china. 
 
 Vulgar people'know nothing of the necessaries required in good 
 society, and the credit they give is as short as their pedigree. 
 Six years after my birth, there was an execution in our house. 
 My mother was just setting off on a visit to the duchess of 
 D ; she declared it was impossible to gc without her dia- 
 monds. The chief of the bailiffs declared it was impossible to 
 trust them out of his sight. The matter was compromised — the 
 
 bailiff went with my mother to C , and was introduced as 
 
 my tutor " a man of singular merit," whispered my mother, " but 
 so shy ! " Fortunately, the bailiff was abashed, and by losing his 
 impudence he kept the secret. At the end of the week, the 
 diamonds went to the jeweller's, and Lady Frances wore paste. 
 
 I think it was about a month afterwards that a sixteenth 
 cousin left my mother twenty thousand pounds. " It will just 
 pay off our most importunate creditors, and equip me for 
 Melton," said Mr. Peiham. 
 
 " It will just redeem my diamonds, and re-furnish the house," 
 said Lady Frances. 
 
 The latter alternative was chosen. My father went down to 
 run his last horse at Newmarket, and my mother received nine 
 
 ♦ Where can one be belter than in the bosom of one's family ?
 
 2 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 hundred people in a Turkish tent. Both were equally fortu- 
 nate, the Greek and the Turk ; my father's horse lost, in con- 
 sequence of which he pocketed five thousand pounds ; and my 
 mother looked so charming as a Sultana, that Seymour Conway 
 fell desperately in love with her. 
 
 Mr. Conway had just caused two divorces ; and of course all the 
 women in London were dying for him — judge then of the pride 
 which Lady Frances felt at his addresses. The end of the 
 season was unusually dull, and my mother, after having looked 
 over her list of engagements, and ascertained that she had none 
 remaining worth staying for, agreed to elope with her new 
 lover. 
 
 The carriage was at the end of the square. My mother, for 
 the first time in her life, got up at six o'clock. Her foot was 
 on the step, and her hand next to Mr. Conway's heart, when 
 she remembered that her favorite china monster, and her French 
 dog, were left behind. She insisted on returning — re-entered 
 the house, and was coming down stairs with one under each 
 arm, when she was met by my father and two servants. My 
 father's valet had discovered the flight (I forget how), and 
 awakened his master. 
 
 When my father was convinced of his loss, he called for his 
 dressing-gown — searched the garret and the kitchen — looked in 
 the maid's drawers and the cellaret — and finqjly declared he 
 was distracted. I have heard that the servants were quite melted 
 by his grief, and I do not doubt it in the least, for he was 
 always celebrated for his skill in private theatricals. He was 
 just retiring to vent his grief in his dressing-room, when 
 he met my mother. It must altogether have been an awkward 
 encounter, and, indeed, for my father, a remarkably unfortu- 
 nate occurrence : since Seymour Conway was immensely rich, 
 and the damages, would, no doubt, have been proportionally 
 high. Had they met each other alone, the affair might easily 
 have been settled, and Lady Frances gone off in tranquillity ; 
 — those confounded servants are always in the way ! 
 
 I have observed that the distinguishing trait of people accus- 
 tomed to good society, is a calm, imperturbable quiet, which 
 pervades all their actions and habits, from the greatest to the 
 least : they eat in quiet, move in quiet, live in quiet, and lose 
 their wife, or even their money, in quiet ; while low persons 
 cannot take up either a spoon or an affront without making 
 such an amazing noise about it. To render this observation 
 good, and to return to the intended elopement, nothing farther 
 was said upon that event. My father introduced Conway to
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 3 
 
 Brookes's and invited him to dinner twice a week for a whole 
 twelve month. 
 
 Not long after this occurrence, by the death of my grand- 
 father, my uncle succeeded to the title and estates of the 
 family. He was, as people rather justly observed, rather an 
 odd man ; built schools for peasants, forgave poachers, and 
 diminished his farmers' rents ; indeed, on account of these and 
 similar eccentricities, he was thought a fool by some, and a 
 madman by others. However, he was not quite destitute of 
 natural feeling ; for he paid my father's debts, and established 
 us in the secure enjoyment of our former splendor. But this 
 piece of generosity or justice, was done in the most unhandsome 
 manner; he obtained a promise from my father to retire from 
 whist, and relinquish the turf ; and he prevailed upon my 
 mother to conceive an aversion to diamonds, and an indifference 
 to china monsters. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Tell arts they have no soundness, 
 
 But vary by esteeming ; 
 Tell schools they want profoundness, 
 
 And stand too much on seeming. 
 If arts and schools re])ly, 
 Give arts and schools the lie. — The SotiPs Errand. 
 
 At ten years old I went to Eton. I had been educated till 
 that period by my mother, who, being distantly related to 
 
 Lord— , (who had published "Hints upon the Culinary 
 
 Art"), imagined she possessed an hereditary claim to literary 
 distinction. History was her great forte, for she had read all 
 the historical romances of the day ; and history accordingly I 
 had been carefully taught. 
 
 I think at this moment I see my mother before me, reclining 
 on her sofa, and repeating to me some story about Queen 
 Elizabeth and Lord Essex ; then telling me, in a languid voice, 
 as she sank back with the exertion, of the blessings of a literary 
 taste, and admonishing me never to read above half an hour at 
 a time, for fear of losing my health. 
 
 Well, to Eton I went ; and the second day I had been there, 
 I was half killed for refusing, with all the pride of a Pelham, to 
 wash tea-cups. I was rescued from the clutches of my tyrant 
 by a boy not much bigger than myself, but reckoned the best
 
 4 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 fighter, for his size, in the whole school. His name was 
 Reginald Glanville : from that period, we became inseparable, 
 and our friendship lasted all the time he stayed at Eton, which 
 was within a year of my own departure for Cambridge. 
 
 His father was a baronet, of a very ancient and wealthy 
 family ; and his mother was a woman of some talent and more 
 ambition. She made her house one of the most attractive in 
 London. Seldom seen at large assemblies, she was eagerly 
 sought after in the well-winnowed soirees of the elect. Her 
 wealth, great as it was, seemed the least prominent ingredient 
 of her establishment. There was in it no uncalled-for ostenta- 
 tion — no purse-proud vulgarity — no cringing to great, and no 
 patronizing condescension to little people ; even the Sunday 
 newspapers could not find fault with her, and the querulous 
 wives of younger brothers could only sneer and be silent. 
 
 " It is an excellent connection," said my mother, when I 
 told her of my friendship with Reginald Glanville, " and will 
 be of more use to you than many of greater apparent con- 
 sequence. Remember, my dear, that in all the friends you 
 make at present, you look to the advantage: you can derive 
 from them hereafter ; that is what we call knowledge of the 
 world, and it is to get the knowledge of the world that you 
 are sent to a public school." 
 
 I think, however, to my shame, that notwithstanding my 
 mother's instructions, very few prudential considerations were 
 mingled with my friendship for Reginald Glanville. I loved 
 him with a warmth of attachment, which has since surprised 
 even myself. 
 
 He was of a very singular character : he used to wander by 
 the river in the bright days of summer, when all else were at 
 play, without any companion but his own thoughts ; and these 
 were tinged, even at that early age, with a deep and impas- 
 sioned melancholy. He was so reserved in his manner, that 
 it was looked upon as coldness or pride, and was repaid as 
 such by a pretty general dislike. Yet to those he loved, no 
 one could be more open and warm ; more watchful to gratify 
 others, more indifferent to gratification for himself ; an utter 
 absence of all selfishness, and an eager and active benevolence, 
 were indeed the distinguishing traits of his character, I have 
 seen him endure with a careless good-nature the most provok- 
 ing affronts from boj^s much less than himself ; but if I, or any 
 other of his immediate friends, was injured or aggrieved, his 
 anger was almost implacable. Although he was of a slight 
 Irame, yet early exercise had brought strength to his muscles.
 
 AD VENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 5 
 
 and activity to his limbs ; while there was that in his courage 
 and will which, despite his reserve and unpopularity, always 
 marked him out as a leader in those enterprises, wherein we 
 test as boys the qualities which chiefly contribute to secure 
 hereafter our position amongst men. 
 
 Such briefly, and imperfectly sketched, was the character, of 
 Reginald Glanville — the one, who, of all my early companions, 
 differed the most from myself : yet the one whom I loved the 
 most, and the one whose future destiny was the most inter- 
 twined with my own. 
 
 I was in the head class when I left Eton. As I was reckoned 
 an uncommonly well-educated boy, it may not be ungratifying 
 to the admirers of the present system of education to pause 
 here for a moment, and recall what I then knew. I could 
 make fifty Latin verses in half an hour ; I could construe, with- 
 out an English translation, all the easy Latin authors, and many 
 of the difficult ones with it: I could read Greek fluently, and 
 even translate it through the medium of the Latin version tech- 
 nically called a crib.* I thought exceedingly clever, for I had 
 been only eight years acquiring all this fund of information, 
 which, as one need never recall it in the world, you have every 
 right to suppose that I had entirely forgotten before I was five- 
 and-twenty. As I was never taught a syllable of English during 
 this period ; as, when I once attempted to read Pope's poems 
 out of school hours, I was laughed at, and called " a sap ; " as 
 my mother, when I went to school, renounced her own instruc- 
 tions ; and as, whatever school-masters may think to the con- 
 trary, one learns nothing now-a-days by inspiration : so of 
 everything which relates to English literature, English law-s and 
 English history (with the exception of the said story of Queen 
 Elizabeth and Lord Essex), you have the same right to suppose 
 that I was, at the age of eighteen, when I left Eton, in the pro- 
 foundest ignorance. 
 
 At this age, I was transplanted to Cambridge, where I 
 bloomed for two years in the blue and silver of a fellow com- 
 moner of Trinity. At the end of that time (being of royal de- 
 scent) I became entitled to an lionorary degree. I suppose the 
 term is in contradistinction to an honorable degree, which is ob- 
 tained by pale men in spectacles and cotton stockings, after 
 thirty-six months of intense application. 
 
 * It is but just to fiiy that the educational system at public schools is preatly im- 
 proved since the above was written. And take those preat seminaries allopellier, it 
 may be df)ubted whether any institutions more philosophical in theory are belter 
 adapted to secure that union of classical tastes with manly habits and honorable senti 
 ments which distinguishes the English gentleman.
 
 6 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 I do not exactly remember how I spent my time at Cambiidge, 
 I had a piano-forte in my room, and a private Lilliard-room at a 
 village tv.'o miles ofif ; and, between these resources, I managed 
 to improve my mind more than could reasonably have been 
 expected. To say truth, the whole place reeked with vulgarity. 
 The men drank beer by the gallon, and ate cheese by the hundred- 
 weight — wore jockey-cut coats, and talked slang — rode for 
 wagers, and swore when they lost — smoked in your face, and ex- 
 pectorated on the floor. Their proudest glory was to drive the 
 mail — their mightiest exploit to box with the coachman — their 
 most delicate amour to leer at the bar-maid.* 
 
 It will be believed, that I felt little regret in quitting companions 
 of this description. I went to take leave of our college tutor. 
 *' Mr. Pelham," said he, affectionately squeezing me by the hand, 
 "your conduct has been most exemplary ; you have not walked 
 wantonly over the college grass-plats, nor set your dog at the 
 proctor — nor driven tandems by day, nor broken lamps by night — 
 nor entered the chapel in order to display your intoxication — 
 nor the lecture-room, in order to caricature the professors. This 
 is the general behavior of young men of family and fortune ; but 
 it has not been your's. Sir, you have been an honor to your 
 college." 
 
 Thus closed my academical career. He who does not allow 
 that it passed creditably to my teachers, profitably to myself, 
 and beneficially to the world, is a narrow-minded and illiterate 
 man, who knows nothing of the advantages of modern education. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Thus does a false ambition rule us, 
 
 Thus pomp delude, and folly fool us. — Shenstone. 
 
 An open house, haunted with great resort. — Bishop Hall's Satires. 
 
 I LEFT Cambridge in a very weak state of health ; and as 
 nobody had yet come to London, I accepted the invitation of 
 Sir Lionel Garrett to pay him a visit at his country-seat. Accord- 
 ingly, one raw winter's day, full of the hopes of the reviving 
 influence of air and exercise, I found myself carefully packed up 
 in three great-coats, and on the high road to Garrett Park. 
 
 Sir Lionel Garrett was a character very common in England, 
 
 * This, at that time, was a character that could only be applied to the g'ayest, that is 
 the worst, set at the University— and perhaos now the character may scarcely exist.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 7 
 
 and, in describing him, I describe the whole species. He was 
 of an ancient family, and his ancestors had for centuries resided 
 on their estates in Norfolk. Sir Lionel, who came to his majority 
 and his fortune at the same time, went up to London at the age 
 of twenty-one, a raw, uncouth sort of young man, with a green 
 coat and lank hair. His friends in town were of that set whose 
 members are above ton, whenever they do not grasp at its posses- 
 sion, but who, whenever they do, lose at once their aim and their 
 equilibrium, and fall immeasurably below it. I mean that set 
 which I call '•'• the respectable,'' consisting of old peers of an old 
 school ; country gentlemen, who still disdain not to love their 
 wine and to hate the French; generals y^\\o have served m the 
 army ; elder brothers who succeed to something besides a mort- 
 gage ; and younger brothers who do not mistake their capital for 
 their income. To this set you may add the whole of the 
 baronetage — for I have remarked that baronets hang together 
 like bees or Scotchmen ; and if I go to a baronet's house, and 
 speak to some one whom I have not the happiness to know, I 
 always say " Sir John!" 
 
 It was no wonder, then, that to this set belonged Sir Lionel 
 Garrett — no more the youth with a green coat and lank hair, but 
 pinched in, and curled out — abounding in horses and whiskers 
 — dancing all night — lounging all day — the favorite of the old 
 ladies, the Philander of the young. 
 
 One unfortunate evening Sir Lionel Garrett was introduced 
 to the celebrated Duchess of D. From that moment his head 
 was turned. Before then, he had always imagined that he was 
 somebody — that he was Sir Lionel Garrett, with a good-looking 
 person and eight thousand a-year ; he now knew that he was 
 nobody, unless he went to Lady G/s, and unless he bowed to 
 Lady S. Disdaining all importance derived from himself, it 
 became absolutely necessary to his happiness, that all his im- 
 portance should be derived solely from his acquaintance with 
 others. He cared not a straw that he was a man of fortune, of 
 family, of consequence ; he must be a man of ton ; or he was an 
 atom, a nonentity, a very worm, and no man. No lawyer at 
 Gray's Inn, no galley-slave at the oar, ever worked so hard at 
 his task as Sir Lionel Garrett at his. Ton, to a single man, is a 
 thing obtainable enough. Sir Lionel was just gaining the envied 
 distinction, when he saw, courted, and married Lady Harriet 
 Woodstock. 
 
 His new wife was of a modern and not very rich family, and 
 striving like Sir Lionel for the notoriety of fashion ; but of this 
 struggle he was ignorant. He saw her admitted into good soci-
 
 8 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 ety — he Imagined she commanded it ; she was a hanger-on — he 
 believed she was a leader. Lady Harriet was crafty and twenty- 
 four — had no objection to be married, nor to change the name 
 of Woodstock for Garrett. She kept up the baronet's mistake 
 till it was too late to repair it. 
 
 Marriage did not bring Sir Lionel wisdom. His wife was of 
 the same turn of mind as himself : they might have been great 
 people in the country — they preferred being little people in 
 town. They might have chosen friends among persons of re- 
 spectability and rank — they preferred being chosen as acquaint- 
 ance by persons of ton. Society was their being's end and aim, 
 and the only thing which brought them pleasure was the pain of 
 attaining it. Did I not say truly that I would describe indi- 
 viduals of a common species ? Is there one who reads this, who 
 does not recognize that overflowing class of our population, 
 whose members would conceive it an insult to be thought of 
 sufficient rank to be respectable for what they are .'' — who take 
 it as an honor that they are made by their acquaintance .'' — who 
 renounce the ease of living for themselves, for the trouble of 
 living for persons who care not a pin for their existence — who 
 are wretched if they are not dictated to by others — and who toil, 
 groan, travail, through the whole course of life, in order to 
 forfeit their independence ? 
 
 I arrived at Garrett Park just time enough to dress for din- 
 ner. As I was descending the stairs after having performed 
 that ceremony, I heard my own name pronounced by a very 
 soft, lisping voice — " Henry Pelham ! dear, what a pretty name. 
 Is he handsome ? " 
 
 " Rather elegant than handsome," was the unsatisfactory 
 reply, couched in a slow, pompous accent, which I immediately 
 recognized to belong to Lady Harriet Garrett. 
 
 " Can we make something of him ? " resumed the first voice. 
 
 " Something ! " said Lady Harriet, indignantly ; " he will be 
 Lord Glenmorris ! and he is son to Lady Frances Pelham." 
 
 " Ah," said the lisper, carelessly ; " but can he write poetr}', 
 and ]i\2iy pro7jerbes ? " 
 
 " No, Lady Harriet," said I, advancing ; " but permit me, 
 through you, to assure Lady Nelthorpe that he can admire those 
 who do." 
 
 " So you know me then ? " said the lisper : " I see we shall be 
 excellent friends ; " and, disengaging herself from Lady Harriet, 
 she took my arm, and began discussing persons and things, 
 poetry and china, French plays and music, till I found myself 
 beside her at dinner, and most assiduously endeavoring to
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: g 
 
 silence her by the superior engrossments of a be'chamelk dt 
 poisson. 
 
 I took the opportunity of the pause, to survey the little circle 
 of which Lady Harriet was the centre. In the first place, there 
 was Mr. Davison, a great political economist, a short, dark, cor- 
 pulent gentleman, with a quiet, serene, sleepy countenance ; 
 beside him was a quick, sharp little woman, all sparkle and 
 bustle, glancing a small, grey, prying eye round the table, with 
 a most restless activity : this, as Lady Nelthorpe afterwards in- 
 formed me, was a Miss Trafford, an excellent person for a 
 Christmas in the country, whom everybody was dying to have : 
 she was an admirable mimic, an admirable actress, and an ad- 
 mirable reciter ; made poetry and shoes, and told fortunes by 
 the cards, which actually came true ! 
 
 There was also Mr. Womiwood, the noU-me-tatigere of literary 
 lions — an author who sowed his conversation not with fiowers 
 but thorns. Nobody could accuse him of the flattery generally 
 imputed to his speCies : through the course of a long and varied 
 life, he had never once been known to say a civil thing. He 
 was too much disliked not to be sought after ; whatever is once 
 notorious, even for being disagreeable, is sure to be courted. 
 Opposite to him sat the really clever, and affectedly pedantic 
 Lord Vincent, one of those persons who have been '"'' promising 
 young men " all their lives ; who are found till four o'clock in 
 the afternoon in a dressing-gown, with a quarto before them ; 
 who go down into the country for six weeks every session, to 
 cram an impromptu reply ; and who always have a work in the 
 press which is never to be published. 
 
 Lady Nelthrope herself I had frequently seen. She had some 
 reputation for talent, was exceedingly affected, wrote poetry in 
 albums, ridiculed her husband, (who was fox-hunter,) and had a 
 particular taste for the fine arts. 
 
 There were four or five others of the unknown vulgar, young 
 brothers, who were good shots and bad matches ; elderly ladies, 
 who lived in Baker-street, and liked long whist ; and young ones, 
 who never took wine, and said "..V/r.'" 
 
 I must, however, among this number, except the beautiful 
 Lady Roseville, the most fascinating woman, perhaps, of the 
 day. She was evidently the great person there, and, indeed, 
 among all people who paid due deference to ton. was always sure 
 to be so everywhere. I have never seen but one person more 
 beautiful. Her eyes were of the deepest blue ; her complexion 
 of the most delicate carnation ; her hair of the richest auburn ;
 
 10 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 nor could even Mr. Wormwood detect the smallest fault in the 
 rounded yet slender symmetry of her figure. 
 
 Although not above twenty-five, she was in that state in which 
 alone a woman ceases to be a dependant — widowhood. Lord 
 Roseville, who had been dead about two years, had not survived 
 their marriage many months ; that period was, however, suffi- 
 ciently long to allow him to appreciate her excellence, and to tes- 
 tify his sense of it ! the whole of his unentailed property, which 
 was very large, he bequeathed to her. 
 
 She was very fond of the society of literary persons, though 
 without the pretence of belonging to their order. But her manners 
 constituted her chief attraction : while they were utterly different 
 from those of every one else, you could not, in the least minutiae, 
 discover in what the difference consisted : this is, in my opinion, 
 the real test of perfect breeding. While you are enchanted with 
 the effect, it should possess so little prominency and peculiarity, 
 that you should never be able to guess the cause. 
 
 " Pray," said Lord Vincent to Mr. Wormwood, " have you 
 been to P this year ? " 
 
 " No," was the answer. 
 
 "I have," said Miss Traflord, who never lost an opportunity 
 of slipping in a word. 
 
 " Well, and did they make you sleep, as usual, at the Crown, 
 with the same eternal excuse, after having brought you fifty 
 miles from town, of small house — no beds — all engaged — inn 
 close by ? Ah, never shall I forget that inn, with its royal name 
 and its hard beds — 
 
 " 'Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown? ' " 
 
 " Ha, ha ! Excellent ! " cried Miss Trafford, who was always 
 the first in at the death of a pun. " Yes, indeed they did : 
 poor old Lord Belton, with his rheumatism : and that immense 
 General Grant, with his asthma ; together with three ' single 
 men,' and myself, were safely conveyed to that asylum for the 
 destitute." 
 
 "Ah! Grant, Grant!" said Lord Vincent, eagerly, who saw 
 another opportunity of whipping in a pun. " He slept there also 
 the same night I did ; and when I saw his unwieldy person wad- 
 dling out of the door the next morning, I said to Temple, ' Well, 
 thafs the largest Grant lever saw from the Crown' "* 
 
 " Very good," said Wormwood, gravely. " I declare, Vincent, 
 you are growing quite witty. You know Jekyl, of course! 
 Poor fellow, what a really good punster he was — not agreeable 
 
 * It was from Mr. J. Smith that Lord Vincent purloined this pun.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: ii 
 
 though — particularly at dinner — no punsters are, Mr. Davison, 
 what is that dish next to you ? " 
 
 Mr. Davison was a great gourmand : " Salmi de perdreaux 
 aux truffes,^' replied the political economist. 
 
 " Truffles ! " said Wormwood, " havejv?/ been eating any ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Davison, with unusual energy, " and they are the 
 best I have tasted for a long time." 
 
 " Very likely," said Wormwood, with a dejected air. " I am 
 particularly fond of them, but I dare not touch one — truffles 
 are so very apoplectic — you, I make no doubt, may eat them 
 in safety." 
 
 Wormwood was a tall, meagre man, with a neck a yard long. 
 Davison was, as I have said, short and fat, and made without any 
 apparent neck at all — only head and shoulders, like a cod-fish. 
 
 Poor Mr. Davison turned perfectly white ; he fidgeted about 
 in his chair ; cast a look of the most deadly fear and aversion 
 at the fatal dish he had been so attentive to before ; and, mut- 
 tering " apoplectic ! " closed his lips and did not open them 
 asain all dinner-time. 
 
 Mr. Wormwood's object was effected. Two people were si- 
 lenced and uncomfortable, and a sort of mist hung over the spir- 
 its of the whole party. The dinner went on and off, and like 
 all other dinners ; the ladies retired, and the men drank, and 
 talked politics. Mr. Davison left the room first, in order to 
 lookout the word " truffles," in the Encyclopaedia; and Lord 
 Vincent and I went next, " lest (as my companion characteristic- 
 ally observed) that d d Wormwood should, if we stayed a 
 
 moment longer, ' send us weeping to our beds.' " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Oh I la belle chose que la Poste ! * — Lettres de Shignl. 
 Ay — but who is it i" — As you like ih 
 
 I HAD mentioned to my mother my intended visit to Garrett 
 Park, and the second day after my arrival there came the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " My dear Henry, 
 
 '* I was very glad to hear you were rather better than you had 
 been. I trust you will take great care of yourseif. I think 
 flannel waistcoats might be advisable ; and, by-the-by, they are 
 
 ♦ Oh '. what a beauiiful iliincr is — the Post-office.
 
 \2 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 very good for the complexion. Apropos of the complexion : I 
 did not like that blue coat you wore when I last saw you — you 
 look best in black — which is a great compliment, for people 
 must be very distinguished in appearance, in order to do so. 
 
 " You know, my dear, that those Garretts are in themselves 
 anything but unexceptionable ; you will, therefore, take care not 
 to be too intimate ; it is, however, a very good house : most 
 whom you meet there are wordi knowing, for one thing or the 
 other. Remember, Henry, that the acquaintance {fiot the 
 friends) of second or third-rate people are always sure to be 
 good : they are not independent enough to receive whom they 
 like — their whole rank is in their guests : you may be also sure 
 that the menage will, in outward appearance at least, be quite 
 comme ilfaut, and for the same reason. Gain as much knowl- 
 edge de Vart aclinaire as you can : it is an accomplishment ab- 
 solutely necessary. You may also pick up a little acquaintance 
 with metaphysics, if you have any opportunity ; that sort of 
 thing is a good deal talked about just at present. 
 
 " I hear Lady Roseville is at Garrett Park. You must be 
 particularly attentive to her ; )^ou will probably now have an op- 
 portunity defaire votre cotcr that may never again happen. In 
 London, she is so much surrounded by all, that she is quite in- 
 accessible to one ; besides, there you will have so many rivals. 
 Without flattery to you, I take it for granted, that you are the 
 best-looking and most agreeable person at Garrett Park, and it 
 will, therefore, be a most unpardonable fault, if you do not make 
 Lady Roseville of the same opinion. Nothing, my dear son, is 
 like a liaison (quite innocent of course) with a woman of celeb- 
 rity in the world. In marriage a man lowers a woman to his 
 own rank ; in an affaire de cceicr he raises himself to her's. I 
 need not, I am sure, after what I have said, press this point 
 any further. 
 
 " Write to me and inform me of all your proceedings. If 
 you mention the* people who are at Garrett Park, I can tell you 
 the proper line of conduct to pursue with each. 
 
 " I am sure that I need not add that I have nothing but your 
 real good at heart, and that I am your very affectionate mother, 
 
 " Frances Pelham. 
 
 " P. S. Never talk much to young men — remember that it 
 is the women who make reputation in society." 
 
 "Well," said I, when I had read this letter, "my mother is 
 very right, and so now for Lady Roseville." 
 
 I went down, stairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and Lady
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13 
 
 Nelthorpe were in the room, talking with great interest, and, 
 on Miss Trafford's part with still greater vehemence. 
 " So handsome,*' said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached. 
 "Are you talking of me ? " said I. 
 
 " Oh, you vanity of vanities ! " was the answer. " No, we 
 were speaking of a very romantic adventure which has happened 
 to Miss Trafford and myself, and disputing about the hero of it. 
 Miss Trafford declares he is frightful ; / say that he is beautiful. 
 
 Now, you know, Mr. Pelham, as to you " 
 
 " There can be but one opinion ; — but the adventure ? " 
 
 " Is this ! " cried Miss Trafford, in great fright, lest Lady 
 
 Nelthorpe should, by speaking first, have the pleasure of the 
 
 narration. — " We were walking, two or three days ago, by the 
 
 sea-side, picking up shells and talking about the ' Corsair,' when 
 
 a large fierce " 
 
 " Man ! " interrupted I. 
 
 "No, dog,'' (renewed Miss' Trafford), "flew suddenly out of a 
 cave, under a rock, and began growling at dear Lady Nelthorpe 
 and me, in the most savage manner imaginable. He would cer- 
 tainly have torn us to pieces if a very tall " 
 
 " Not so very tall either," said Lady Nelthorpe. 
 
 " Dear, how you interrupt one," said Miss Trafford, pettishly; 
 
 " well, a very short man, then, wrapped up in a cloak " 
 
 " In a great-coat," drawled Lady Nelthorpe. Miss Trafford 
 went on without noticing the emendation, — " had not, with in- 
 credible rapidity, sprung down the rock and " 
 
 " Called him off," said Lady Nelthorpe. 
 
 " Yes, called him off," pursued Miss Trafford, looking round 
 for the symptoms of our wonder at this extraordinary incident. 
 
 "What is the most remarkable,' said Lady Nelthorpe, " is, 
 that though he seemed from his dress and appearance to be 
 really a gendeman, he never stayed to ask if we were alarmed 
 
 or hurt — scarcely even looked at us " 
 
 ("I don't wonder at that! ' said Mr. Wormwood, who, with 
 Lord Vincent, had just entered the room ;) 
 
 " — and vanished among the rocks as suddenly as he ap- 
 peared." 
 
 " Oh, you've seen that fellow, have you ? " said Lord Vin- 
 cent : "so have I, and a devilish queer-looking person he is, — 
 
 'The balls of his broad eyes roll'd in his head. 
 And glared betwixt a yellow and a red; 
 He look'd a lion with a gloomy stare, 
 And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair.* 
 
 Well remembered, and better applied — eh, Mr. Pelham ? "
 
 14 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Really," said I, " I am not able to judge of the application, 
 since I have not seen the hero." 
 
 " Oh, its admirable," said Miss Trafford, " just the descrip- 
 tion I should have given of him in prose. But pray, where, 
 when, and how did you see him ? " 
 
 "Your question is religiously mysterious, tria jitncta in nno" 
 replied Vincent ; " but I will answer it with the simplicity of a 
 Quaker. The other evening I was coming home from one of 
 Sir Lionel's preserves, and had sent the keeper on before, in 
 order more undisturbedly to " 
 
 " Con witticisms for dinner," said Wormwood. 
 
 " To make out the meaning of Mr. Wormwood's last work," 
 continued Lord Vincent. " My shortest way lay through that 
 church-yard about a mile hence, which is such a lion in this 
 ugly part of the country, because it has three thistles and a 
 tree. Just as I got there, I saw a man suddenly rise from the 
 earth, where he appeared to have been lying ; he stood still for 
 a moment, and then (evidently not perceiving me) raised his 
 clasped hands to heaven, and muttered some words I was not 
 able distinctly to hear. As I approached nearer to him, which 
 I did with no ver}^ pleasant sensations, a large black dog, 
 which, till then, had remained coiichant, sprang towards me with 
 
 a loud growl, 
 
 • Sonat liic de nare canina 
 Litera,' 
 
 as Persius has it, I was too terrified to move — 
 ' Obstupui — steteruntque comae — ' 
 
 and I should most infallibly have been converted into dog's 
 meat, if our mutual acquaintance had not started from his 
 reverie, called his dog by the very appropriate name of Terror, 
 and then, slouching his hat over his face, passed rapidly by me, 
 dog and all. I did not recover the fright for an hour and a 
 quarter. I walked — ye gods, how I did walk ! no wonder, by 
 the by, that I me?ided my pace, for as Pliny says truly — 
 " ' Timor est emendator asperrimus.' " * 
 
 Mr. Wormwood had been very impatient during this recital, 
 preparing an attack upon Lord Vincent, when Mr. Davison, 
 entering suddenly, diverted the assault. 
 
 * Most of the quotations from Latin or French authors, interspersed throughout this 
 work, will be translated for the convenience of the general reader ; but exceptions will 
 be made, where such quotations (as is sometimes the case when from the mouth of 
 Lord Vincent) merely contain a play upon words, which are pointless, out of the 
 lanRuafje employed, or which only iterate or illustrate, by a characteristic nedantry, the 
 sentence that precedes or follows them.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 15 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Wormwood, dropping his roll, " how 
 very ill you look to-day, Mr. Davison ; face flushed — veins 
 swelled — oh, those horrid truffles ! Miss TrafiEord, I'll trouble 
 you for the salt." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Be she fairer than the day, 
 Or the flowery meads in May ; 
 If she be not so to me, 
 What care I how fair she be? 
 
 George Withers, 
 
 -It was great pity, so it was, 
 
 That villanous saltpetre should be digged 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd. 
 
 First Part of King Henry IV. 
 
 Several days passed. I had taken particular pains to ingra- 
 tiate myself with Lady Roseville, and, so far as common 
 acquaintance went, I had no reason to be dissatisfied with my 
 success. Anything else, I soon discovered, notwithstanding my 
 vanity, (which made no inconsiderable part in the composition 
 of Henry Pelham) was quite out of the question. Her mind 
 was wholly of a different mould from my own. She was like 
 a being, not perhaps of a better, but of another world than 
 myself : we had not one thought or opinion in common ; we 
 looked upon things with totally differt^nt vision ; I was soon 
 convinced that she was of a nature exactly contrary to what was 
 generally believed — she was anything but the mere mechanical 
 woman of the world. She possessed great sensibility, and 
 even romance of temper, strong passions, and still stronger 
 imagination; but over all these deeper recesses of her charac- 
 ter, the extreme softness and languor of her manners threw a 
 veil which no superficial observer could penetrate. There were 
 times when I could believe that she was inwardly restless and 
 unhappy; but she was too well versed in the art of conceal- 
 ment, to suffer such an appearance to be more than momentary. 
 
 " I must own that I consoled myself very easily for my want, 
 in this particular instance, of that usual good fortune which 
 attends me with the divine sex ; the fact was, that I had another 
 object in pursuit. All the men at Sir Lionel Garrett's were 
 keen sportsmen. Now, shooting is an amusement I was never 
 particularly partial to. I was first disgusted with that species
 
 1 6 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 of rational recreation at a battiic, where, instead of bagging any- 
 thing, / was nearly bagged, having been inserted, like wine in 
 an ice-pail, in a wet ditch for three hours, during which time 
 my hat had been twice shot at for a pheasant, and my leather 
 gaiters once for a hare ; and, to crown all, when these several 
 mistakes were discovered, my intended exterminators, instead 
 of apologizing for having shot at me, were quite disappointed 
 at having missed. 
 
 Seriously, that same shooting is a most barbarous amusement, 
 only fit for majors in the army, and royal dukes, and that sort of 
 people ; the mere walking is bad enough, but embarrassing one's 
 arms, moreover, with a gun, and one's legs with turnip-tops, 
 exposing oneself to the mercy of bad shots and the atrocity of 
 good, seems to me only a state of painful fatigue, enlivened by 
 the probability of being killed. 
 
 This digression is meant to signify, that I never joined the 
 single men and double Mantons that went in and off among Sir 
 Lionel Garrett's preserves. I used, instead, to take long walks 
 by myself, and found, like virtue, my own reward, in the addi- 
 tional health and strength these diurnal exertions produced 
 me. 
 
 One morning, chance threw into my way a bonne fortune, 
 which I took care to improve. From that time the family of a 
 Farmer Sinclair (one of Sir Lionel's tenants) was alarmed by 
 Strange and supernatural noises : one apartment in especial, oc- 
 cupied by a female member of the household, was allowed, even 
 by the clerk of the parish, a very bold man, and a bit of a scep- 
 tic, to be haunted ; the windows of that chamber were wont to 
 open and shut, thin airy voices confabulate therein, and dark 
 shapes hover thereout, long after the fair occupant had, with the 
 rest of the family, retired to repose. But the most unaccount- 
 able thing was the fatality which attended nie, and seemed to 
 mark me out for an untimely death. /, who had so carefully 
 kept out of the way of gunpowder as a sportsman, very narrow- 
 ly escaped being twice shot as a ghost. This was but a poor re- 
 ward for a walk more than a mile long, in nights by no means of 
 cloudless climes and starry skies ; accordingly I resolved to 
 " give up the ghost" in earnest rather than in metaphor, and to 
 pay my last visit and adieus to the mansion of Farmer Sinclair. 
 The night on which I executed this resolve, was rather memor- 
 able in my future history. 
 
 The rain had fallen so heavily during the day, as to render 
 the road to the house almost impassable, and when it was time 
 to leave, I inquired with very considerable emotion, whether
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEXTLEM AN. 17 
 
 there was not an easier way to return. The answer was satis- 
 factory, and my last nocturnal visit at Farmer Sinclair's con- 
 cluded. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Why sleeps he not, when others are at rest ? — Byron. 
 
 According to the explanation I had received, the road I was 
 now to pursue was somewhat longer, but much better, than that 
 which I generally took. It was to lead me home through the 
 
 church-yard of , the same, by-the-by, which Lord Vincent 
 
 had particularized in his anecdote of the mysterious stranger. 
 The night was clear, but windy : there were a few light clouds 
 passing rapidly over the moon, which was at her full, and shone 
 through the frosty air, with all that cold and transparent bright- 
 ness so peculiar to our northern winters, I walked briskly on 
 till I came to the church-yard ; I could not then help pausing 
 (notwithstanding my total deficiency in all romance) to look for 
 a few moments at the exceeding beauty of the scene around me. 
 The church itself was extremely old, and stood alone and grev, 
 in the rude simplicity of the earliest form of gothic architecture : 
 two large dark yew-trees drooped on each side over tombs, 
 which, from their size and decorations, appeared to be the last 
 possession of some quondam lords of the soil. To the left, the 
 ground was skirted by a thick and luxuriant copse of ever- 
 greens, in the front of which stood one tall, naked oak, stern and 
 leafless, a very token of 'esolation and decay; there were but few 
 grave-stones scattered about, and these were, for the most part, 
 hidden by the long wild grass which wreathed and climbed 
 round them. Over all, the blue skies and still moon shed that 
 solemn light, the effect of which, either on the scene or the feel- 
 ings, it is so impossible to describe. 
 
 I was just about to renew my walk, when a tall, dark figure, 
 wrapped up like myself, in a large French cloak, passed slowly 
 along from the other side of the church, and paused by the 
 copse I have before mentioned. I Avas shrouded at that mo- 
 ment from his sight by one of the yew trees ; he stood still only 
 for a few' moments ; he then flung himself upon the earth, and 
 sobbed audibly, even at the spot where I was standing. I was 
 in doubt whether to wait longer or to proceed ; my way lay just 
 by him, and it might be dangerous to interrupt so substantial an 
 apparition. However, my curiosity was excited, and my feel 
 2
 
 i8 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 were half frozen, two cogent reasons for proceeding ; and, to rny 
 truth, I was never much frightened by any thing dead or ali\e. 
 
 Accordingly I left my obscurity, and walked slowly onwards. 
 I had not got above three paces before the figure arose, and 
 stood erect and motionless before me. His hat had fallen off, 
 and the moon shone full upon his countenance ; it was not the 
 wild expression of intense anguish which dwelt on those hueless 
 and sunken features, nor their quick change to ferocity and de- 
 fiance, as his eye fell upon me, which made me start back and 
 feel my heart stand still ! Notwithstanding the fearful ravages 
 graven in that countenance, once so brilliant with the graces of 
 boyhood, I recognized, at one glance, those still noble and strik- 
 ing features. It was Reginald Glanville w'ho stood before me ! 
 I recovered myself instantly ; I threw myself towards him, and 
 called him by his name. He turned hastily ; but I would not 
 suffer him to escape ; I put my hand upon his arm, and drew 
 him towards me. " Glanville ! " I exclaimed, " it is 1 ! it is your 
 old — old friend, Henry Pelham. Good Heavens ! have I met 
 you at last, and in such a scene ? " 
 
 Glanville shook me from him in an instant, covered his face 
 with his hands, and sank down with one wild cry, which went 
 fearfully through that still place, upon the spot from which he 
 had but just risen. I knelt beside him ; I took his hand ; I spoke 
 to him in every endearing term that I could think of ; and, 
 roused and excited as my feelings were, by so strange and sud- 
 den a meeting, I felt my tears involuntarily falling over the hand 
 which I held in my own. Glanville turned; he looked at me 
 for one moment, as if fully to recognize me ; and then throwing 
 himself in my arms, wept like a child. 
 
 It was but a few minutes that this weakness lasted ; he rose 
 suddenly — the whole expression of his countenance was changed 
 — the tears still rolled in large drops down his cheeks, but the 
 proud, stern character which the features had assumed, seemed 
 to deny the feelings which that feminine weakness had betrayed. 
 
 " Pelham," he said, '■'•you have seen me thus ; I had hoped 
 that no living eye would — this is the last time in which I shall 
 indulge this folly. God bless you — we shall meet again — and 
 this night shall then seem to you like a dream." 
 
 I would have answered, but he turned swiftly, passed in one 
 moment through the copse, and in the next had disappeared.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 19 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 You reach a chilling chamber, where you dread 
 Damps. — Crabbe's Borough. 
 
 I COULD not sleep the whole of that night, and the next 
 morning I set off early, with the resolution of discovering where 
 Glanville had taken up his abode ; it was evident from his 
 having been so frequently seen, that it must be in the immediate 
 neighborhood. 
 
 I went first to Farmer Sinclair's ; they had often remarked 
 him, but could give me no other information. I then proceeded 
 towards the coast ; there was a small public-house belonging to 
 Sir Lionel close by the sea shore ; never had I seen a more bleak 
 and dreary prospect than that which stretched for miles around 
 this miserable cabin. How an innkeeper could live there, is a 
 mystery to me at this day — I should have imagined it a spot upon 
 which anything but a sea-gull or a Scotchman would have starved. 
 
 "Just the sort of place, however," thought I, "to hear some- 
 thing of Glanville." I went into the house ; I inquired, and heard 
 that a strange gentleman had been lodging for the last two or 
 three weeks at a cottage about a mile further up the coast. 
 Thither I bent my steps ; and after having met two crows, and 
 one officer on the preventive service, I arrived safely at my 
 new destination. 
 
 It was a house a little better, in outward appearance, than the 
 wretched hut I had just left, for I observe in all situations, and 
 in all houses, that " the public " is not too well served : but the 
 situation was equally lonely and desolate. The house itself, 
 which belonged to an individual, half-fisherman and half-smuggler, 
 stood in a sort of bay, between two tall, rugged, black cliffs. 
 Before the door hung various nets to dry beneath the genial 
 warmth of a winter's sun ; and a broken boat, with its keel upper- 
 most, furnished an admirable habitation for a hen and her family, 
 who appeared to receive en pension an old clerico-bachelor-looking 
 raven. I cast a suspicious glance at the last mentioned person- 
 age, which hopped towards me with a very hostile appearance, 
 and entered the threshold with a more rapid step, in consequence 
 of sundry apprehensions of a premeditated assault. 
 
 "I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female, who
 
 20 rKLHAM ; UK, 
 
 looked like a resuscitated red-herring, "tiiat a gentleman is 
 lodging here." 
 
 " No, sir," was the answer : " he left us this morning." 
 
 The reply came upon me like a shower-bath ; I was both 
 chilled and stunned by so unexpected a shock. The old 
 woman, on my renewing my inquiries, took me up stairs, to a 
 small, wretched room, to which the damps literally clung. In 
 one corner was a flock-bed, still unmade, and opposite to it, a 
 three-legged stool, a chair, and an antique carved oak table, a 
 donation perhaps from some squire in the neighborhood : on 
 this last were scattered fragments of writing-paper, a cracked 
 cup half full of ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I mechan- 
 ically took up the latter, the woman said, in a charming /rt-/*?/.?, 
 which I shall translate, since I cannot do justice to the original : 
 — " The gentleman, sir, said he came here for a few weeks to 
 shoot ; he brought a gun, a large dog, and a small portmanteau. 
 He stayed nearly a month ; he used to spend all the mornings 
 in the fens, though he must have been but a poor shot, for he 
 seldom brought home anything ; and we fear, sir, that he was 
 rather out of his mind, for he used to go out alone at night, and 
 stay sometimes till morning. However, he was quite quiet, and 
 behaved to us like a gentleman ; so it was. no business of ours, 
 only my husband does think — " 
 
 " Pray," interrupted I, " why did he leave you so sud- 
 denly?" 
 
 " Lord, sir, I don't know ! but he told us for several days past 
 that he should not stay over the week, and so we were not sur- 
 prised when he left us this morning at seven o'clock. Poor 
 gentleman, my heart bled for him when I saw him look so pale 
 and ill." 
 
 And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with tears : 
 but she wiped them away, and took advantage of the additional 
 persuasion they gave to her natural whine to say, "If, sir, j'ou 
 know of any young gentleman who likes fen-shooting, and wants 
 a nice, pretty, quiet apartment — " 
 
 " I will certainly recommend this," said I. 
 
 " You see it at present," rejoined the landlady, " quite in a 
 litter like ; but it is really a sweet place in summer." 
 
 " Charming," said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying down the 
 stairs, with a pain in my ear, and the rheumatism in my shoul- 
 der, 
 
 " And this," thought I, " was Glanville's residence for nearly 
 a month ! I wonder he did not exhale into a vapor, or moisten 
 into a green damp."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2\ 
 
 I went home by the church-yard. I paused on the spot where 
 I had last seen him. A small grave-stone rose above the mound 
 of earth on which he had thrown himself ; it was perfectly sim- 
 ple. The date of the year and month (which showed that many 
 weeks had not elapsed since the death of the deceased) and the 
 initials G. D., made the sole inscription on the stone. Beside 
 this tomb was one of a more pompous description, to the mem- 
 ory of a Mrs, Douglas, which had with the simple tumulus nothing 
 in common, unless the inital letter of the surname, correspond- 
 ing with the latter initial on the neighboring grave-stone, might 
 authorize any connection between them, not supported by that 
 similitude of style usually found in the cenotaphs of the same 
 family : the one, indeed, might have covered the grave of a 
 humble villager — the other, the resting-place of the lady of the 
 manor. 
 
 I found, therefore, no clue for the labyrinth of surmise ; and 
 I went home, more vexed and disappointed with my day's expe- 
 dition than I liked to acknowledge to myself. 
 
 Lord Vincent met me in the hall. " Delighted to see you/' 
 
 said he ; " I have just been to (the nearest town), in order 
 
 to discover what sort of savages abide there. Great prepara- 
 tions for a ball — all the tallow candles in the town are bespoken 
 — and I heard a most uncivilized fiddle, 
 
 ' Twang short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry.' 
 
 7)^^ <7«^ milliner's shop was full of fat squiresses, buying muslin 
 ammunition, to make the ball go off; and the attics, even at 
 four o'clock, were thronged with rubicund damsels, who were 
 already, as Shakspeare says of waves in a storm, 
 
 ' Curling their monstrous heads.' " 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Jusqu'au revoir le ciel vous tienne tous en joie.* — Moliere. 
 
 I WAS now pretty well tired of Garret Park. Lady Roseville 
 
 was going to H ,\vhere I also had an invitation. Lord Vincent 
 
 meditated an excursion to Paris, Mr. Davison had already 
 departed. Miss Trafford had been gone, God knows how long, 
 and I was not at all disposed to be left, like " the last rose of 
 
 * Heaven keep you merry till we meet aRain.
 
 22 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 summer," in single blessedness at Garret Park. Vincent, 
 'Wormwood, and myself, all agreed to leave on the same day. 
 
 The morning of our departure arrived. We sat down to break- 
 fast as usual. Lord Vincent's carriage was at the door ; his groom 
 was walking about his favorite saddlehorse. 
 
 "A beautitul mare that is of your's," said I, carelessly looking 
 at it, and reaching across the table to help myself to the pate de 
 foie g)'as. 
 
 " Mare ! " exclaimed the incorrigible punster, delighted with 
 my mistake : " I thought that you would have been better ac- 
 quainted with yoxxx propia quce maribus." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Wormwood, " when I look at you, I am 
 always at least reminded of the roman ' as in prcesenti f ' " 
 
 Lord Vincent drew up and looked unutterable anger. Worm- 
 wood went on with his dry toast, and Lady Roseville, who that 
 morning had, for a wonder, come down to breakfast, good-na- 
 turedly took off the bear. Whether or not his ascetic nature 
 was somewhat modified by the soft smiles and softer voice of 
 the beautiful countess, I can not pretend to say ; but he 
 certainly entered into a conversation with her, not much rougher 
 than that of a less gifted individual might have been. They 
 talked of literature, Lord Byron, conversaziones, and Lydia 
 White.* 
 
 " Miss White," said Lady Roseville, " has not only the best 
 command of language herself, but she gives language to other 
 people. Dinner parties, usually so stupid, are, at her house, 
 quite delightful. There, I have actually seen English people 
 look happy, and one or two even almost natural." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Wormwood, " that is indeed rare. With us 
 everything is assumption. We are still exactly like the English 
 suitor to Portia, in the merchant of Venice. We take our doub- 
 let from one country, our hose from another, and our behavior 
 everywhere. Fashion with us is like the man in one of Le 
 Sage's novels, who was constantly changing his servants, and 
 yet had but one suit of livery, which every new comer, whether 
 he was tall or short, fat or thin, was obliged to wear. We adopt 
 manners, however incongruous and ill suited to our nature, and 
 thus we always seem awkward and constrained. But Lydia 
 White's soirees are indeed agreeable. I remember the last 
 time I dined there, we were six in number, and though we were 
 not blessed with the company of Lord Vincent, the conversation 
 
 was without * let or flaw.' Every one, even S • , said good 
 
 things." 
 
 * Written before the death of that lady.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 23 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Lord Vincent, " and pray, Mr. Wormwood, 
 what did you say ? " 
 
 "Why," answered the poet, glancing with a significant sneer 
 over Vincent's somewhat inelegant person, " I thought of your 
 lordship's figure, and said — grace f'^ 
 
 " Hem — hem ! — ' Gratia maloruvi tajn infida est quain ipsi' as 
 Pliny says," muttered Lord Vincent, getting up hastily, and but- 
 toning his coat. 
 
 I took the opportunity of the ensuing pause to approach Lady 
 Roseville, and whisper my adieus. She was kind and even 
 warm to me in returning them ; and pressed me, with something 
 marvellously like sincerity, to be sure to come and see her 
 directly she returned to London. I soon discharged the duties 
 of my remaining farewells, and in less than half an hour, was 
 more than a mrle distant from Garrett Park and its inhabitants. 
 I can't say that for one who, like myself, is fond of being made 
 a great deal of, there is anything very delightful in those visits 
 into the country. It may be all well enough for married people, 
 who, from the mere fact of being married, are always entitled to 
 certain consideration, put — for instance — into a bed-room, a 
 little larger than a dog-kennel, and accommodated with a look- 
 ing-glass, that does not distort one's features like a paralytic 
 stroke. But we single men suffer a plurality of evils and hard- 
 ships, in intrusting ourselves to the casualties of rural hospital- 
 ity. We are thrust up into any attic repository — exposed to the 
 mercy of rats and the incursions of swallows. Our lavations 
 are performed in a cracked basin, and we are so far removed 
 from human assistance that our very bells sink into silence 
 before they reach half-way down the stairs. But two days 
 before I left Garrett Park, I myself saw an enormous mouse run 
 away with my shaving soap, without any possible means of resist- 
 ing the aggression. Oh ! the hardships of a single man are 
 beyond conception ; and what is worse, the very misfortune of 
 being single deprives one of all sympathy. " A single man can 
 do this, and a single man ought to do that, and a single man 
 may be put here, and a single man may be sent there," are 
 maxims that I have been in the habit of hearing constantly 
 inculcated and never disputed during my whole life; and so, 
 from our fare and treatment being coarse in all matters, they 
 have at last grown to be all matters in course.
 
 24 rELHAM ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Therefore to France. — Henry IV. 
 
 I WAS rejoiced to find myself again in London. I went to 
 my father's house in Grosvenor-square. All the family, viz., he 
 
 and my mother, were down at H ; and despite my aversion 
 
 to the country, I thought I might venture as far as Lady 's 
 
 for a couple of days. Accordingly, to H I went. That is 
 
 really a noble house — such a hall — such a gallery ! I found 
 my mother in the drawing-room, admiring the picture of his late 
 Majesty. She was leaning on the arm of a tall, fair young man. 
 " Henry," said she (introducing me to him), " do you remember 
 your old school-fellow. Lord George Clinton ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said I (though I remembered nothing about him), 
 and we shook hands in the most cordial manner imaginable. 
 By the way, there is no greater bore than being called upon to 
 recollect men, with whom one had been at school some ten 
 years back. In the first place, if they were not in one's own 
 set, one most likely scarcely knew them to speak to ; and in 
 the second place, if they were in one's own set, they are sure to 
 be entirely opposite to the nature we have since acquired : for I 
 scarcely ever knew an instance of the companions of one's boy- 
 hood being agreeable to the tastes of one's manhood : — a strong 
 proof of the folly of people who send their sons to Eton and 
 Harrow to form connections f 
 
 Clinton was on the eve of setting out upon his travels. His in- 
 tention was to stay a year at Paris, and he was full of the blissful 
 expectations the idea of that city had conjured up. We remained 
 together all the evening, and took a prodigious fancy to one 
 another. Long before I went to bed, he had perfectly inocu- 
 lated me with his own ardor for continental adventures ; and, 
 indeed, I had half promised to accompany him. My mother, 
 when I first told her of my travelling intentions, was in despair, 
 but by degrees she grew reconciled to the idea. 
 
 " Your health will improve by a purer air," said she, " and 
 your pronunciation of French is, at present, any thing but correct. 
 Take care of yourself, therefore, my dear son, and pray lose no 
 time in engaging Coulon as your niaitre de da?ise." 
 
 My father gave me his blessing, and a cheque on his banket.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 25 
 
 VViihin three days I had arranged every thing with Chnton and, 
 on the fourth, I returned with him to London. Thence we set 
 off to Dover — embarked — dined, for the first time in our lives, 
 on French ground — were astonished to find so Uttle difference 
 between the two countries, and still more so at hearing even the 
 little children talk French so well * — proceeded to Abbeville — 
 there poor Clinton fell ill : for several days we were delayed in 
 that abominable town, and then Clinton, by the advice of the doc- 
 tors, returned to England. I went back with as far as Dover, 
 and then, impatient at my loss of time, took no rest, night or 
 day, till 1 found myself at Paris. 
 
 Young, well-born, tolerably good-looking, and never utterly 
 destitute of money, nor grudging whatever enjoyment it could 
 procure, I entered Paris with the ability and the resolution to 
 make the best of those beaux jours which so rapidly glide from 
 our possession. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Seest that how gayly my young maister goes ? 
 
 Bishop Hall's Satires. 
 
 Qui vit sans folic, n'est pas si sage qu'il croit. t 
 
 La Rochefoucault. 
 
 I LOST no time in presenting my letters of introduction, and 
 tliey were as quickly acknowledged by invitations to balls and 
 dinners. Paris was full to excess, and of a better description 
 of English than those who usually overflow that reservior of the 
 world. My first engagement was to dine with Lord and Lady 
 Bennington, who were among the very few English intimate in 
 the best French houses. 
 
 On entering Paris I had resolved to set up " a character" for 
 I was always of an ambitious nature, and desirous of being dis- 
 tinguished from the ordinary herd. After various cogitations as to 
 the particular one I should assume, I thought nothing appeared 
 more likely to be obnoxious to men, and therefore pleasing to 
 women, than an egregious coxcomb ; accordingly, I arranged 
 my hair into ringlets, dressed myself with singular plainness 
 and simplicity (a low person, by-the-by, would have done just the 
 contrary), and, putting on an air of exceeding languor, made my 
 maiden appearance at Lord Bennington's. The party was 
 
 * See Addison's Travels for this idea, 
 t Who hves without foUv is not so wise as he thinks.
 
 26 PEL 11 AM; OR, 
 
 small, and equally divided between French and English : the 
 former had been all emigrants, and the conversation was chiefly 
 in our own tongue. 
 
 I was placed, at dinner, next to Miss Paulding, an elderly 
 young lady, of some notoriety at Paris, very clever, very talka- 
 tive, and very conceited. A young, pale, illnatured looking 
 man, sat on her left hand ; this was Mr. Aberton. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Miss Paulding, '' what a pretty chain that 
 is of your's Mr. Aberton." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Aberton, "I know it must be pretty, fori 
 got it at Breguet's with the watch." (How common people al- 
 ways buy their opinions with their goods, and regulate the height 
 of the former by the mere price or fashion of the latter !) 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Pelham," said Miss Paulding, turning to me, 
 " have you got one of Breguet's watches yet ? " 
 
 " Watch ! " said I :'''- do you think /could ever wear a watch ? 
 I know nothing so plebeian. What can any one, but a man of 
 business, who has nine hours for his counting-house and one for 
 his dinner, ever possibly want to know the time for.-" 'An as- 
 signation,' you will say : true, but — if a man is worth having, 
 he is surely worth waiting for ! " 
 
 Miss Paulding opened her eyes, and Mr. Aberton his mouth. 
 A pretty, lively Frenchwoman opposite (Madame d'Anville) 
 laughed, and immediately joined in our conversation, which, on 
 my part, was during the whole dinner, kept up exactly in the 
 same strain. 
 
 Madame d'Anville was delighted, and Miss Paulding aston- 
 ished. Mr. Aberton muttered to a fat, foolish Lord Luscombe, 
 " What a damnation puppy ! " — and every one, even to old 
 
 Madame de G s, seemed to consider me impertinent enough 
 
 to become the rage ! 
 
 As for me, I was perfectly satisfied with the effect I had pro- 
 duced, and I went away the first, in order to give the men an 
 opportunity of abusing me ; for whenever the men abuse, the 
 women, to support alike their coquetry and the conversation, 
 think themselves called upon to defend. 
 
 The next day I rode into the Champs Elysees. I always val- 
 ued myself particularly upon my riding, and my horse was both 
 the most fiery and the most beautiful in Paris. The first per- 
 son I saw was Madame d'Anville. At that moment I was rein- 
 ing in my horse, and conscious, as the wind waved my long 
 curls, that I was looking to the very best advantage ; I made 
 my horse bound towards her carriage, (which she immediately 
 stopped,) and made at once my salutations and my court.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENYLEMAN'. 27 
 
 " I am going," said she, " to the Duchesse D 's this even- 
 ing — it is her night — do come." 
 
 " I don't know her," said I. 
 
 '* Tell me your hotel, and I'll send you an invitation before 
 dinner," rejoined Madame d'Anville. 
 
 " I lodge ! " said I, " at the Hotel de , Rue de Rivoli, on 
 
 the second floor at present ; next year, I suppose, according to 
 the usual gradations in the life of a garcon, I shall be on the 
 third ; for here the purse and the person seem to be playing at 
 see-saw — the latter rises as the former descends." 
 
 We went on conversing for about a quarter of an hour, in 
 which I endeavored to make the pretty Frenchwoman believe 
 that all the good opinion I possessed of myself the day before, 
 I had that mornino; entirelv transferred to her account. 
 
 As I rode home I met Mr. Aberton, with three or four other men ; 
 with that glaring good-breeding, so peculiar to the English, he 
 instantly directed their eyes towards me in one mingled and 
 concentrated stare. " N' importc" thought I, " they must be 
 devilish clever fellows if they can find a single fault either in 
 my horse or myself." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Lud ! what a group the motley scene discloses, 
 
 False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses. 
 
 GoLDSiMirn's Epilogue to tlic Comedy of the Sisters. 
 
 Madame D'Anville kept her promise — the invitation was 
 duly sent, and accordingly, at half past ten, to the Rue d'Anjou 
 I drove. 
 
 The rooms were already full. Lord I'enningfon was standing 
 by the door, and close by him, looking exceedingly disfra/f, was 
 my old friend Lord Vincent. They both came towards me at 
 the same moment. " Strive not," thought I, looking at the 
 stately demeanor of the one, and the humorous expression of 
 countenance in the other — " strive not, Tragedy nor Comedy. 
 to engross a Garrick." I spoke first to Lord Bennington, fori 
 knew he would be the sooner despatched, and then for the next 
 quarter of an hour found myself overflowed wilh all the witti- 
 cisms poor Lord Vincent hafi for days been obliged to retain. I 
 made an engagement (o dine with him at Very's the next day, 
 and then glided off towards Madame D'Anville.
 
 28 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 She was surrounded with men, and talking to each with that 
 vivacity which, in a Frenchwoman, is so graceful, and in an En- 
 glishwoman would be so vulgar. Though her eyes were not di- 
 rected towards me, she saw me approach by that instinctive 
 perception which all coquettes possess, and suddenly altering 
 her seat, made way for me beside her, 1 did not lose so favor- 
 able an opportunity of gaining her good graces, and losing those 
 of all the male animals around her. I sank down on the vacant 
 chair and contrived, with the most unabashed effrontery, and 
 yet, with the most consummate dexterity, to make everything 
 that I said pleasing to her, revolting to some one of her attend- 
 ants. Wormwood himself could not have succeeded better. 
 One by one they dropped off, and we were left alone among the 
 crowd. Then, indeed, I changed the whole tone of my conver- 
 sation. Sentiment succeeded to satire, and the pretence of feel- 
 ing to that of affectation. In short, I was so resolved to please 
 *hat I could scarcely fail to succeed. 
 
 In this main object of the evening I was not however solely 
 employed, I should have been very undeserving of that char- 
 acter for observation which I flatter myself I peculiarly deser\'e, 
 if I had not, during the three hours I stayed at Madame 
 
 D 's, conned over every person remarkable for any thing, 
 
 from rank to a riband. The Duchesse herself was a fair, pretty, 
 clever woman, with manners rather English than French. She 
 was leaning, at the time I paid my respects to her, on the arm 
 of an Italian count, tolerably well known at Paris. Poor 
 
 O i ! I hear he is since married. He did not deserve 
 
 so heavy a calamity ! 
 
 Sir Henry Millington was close by her, carefully packed up 
 in his coat and waistcoat. Certainly, that man is the best 
 padder in Europe, 
 
 " Come and sit by me, Millington," cried old Lady Oldtown ; 
 " I have a good story to tell you of the Due de ." 
 
 Sir Henry, with difficulty, turned round his magnificent 
 head, and muttered out some unintelligible excuse. The fact 
 was, that poor Sir Henry was not that evening made to sit 
 down — he had only his standing up coat on ! Lady Oldtown — 
 heaven knows — is easily consoled. She supplied the place of 
 the baronet with a most superbly mustachioed German, 
 
 " Who," said I to Madame d'Anville, " are those pretty girls 
 in white, talking with such eagerness to Mr, Aberton and 
 Lord Luscombe ? " 
 
 " What ! " said the Frenchwoman, " have you been ten days 
 iu Paris and not been introduced to the Miss Carltons t Let
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 29 
 
 me tell you that your reputation among your countrymen at 
 Paris depends solely upon their verdict." 
 
 " And upon your favor," added I, 
 
 "Ah," said she, "you must have had your origin in France ; 
 you have something about you almost Parisian^'' 
 
 " Pray," said I, (after having duly acknowledged this com- 
 pliment, the very highest that a Frenchwoman can bestow,) 
 "what did you really and candidly think of our countrymen 
 during your residence in England ? " 
 
 " I will tell you," answered Madame d'Anville ; " they are 
 brave, honest, generous, jnais Us sont demi-barbares /" * 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 -Pia mater 
 
 Plus quam se sapere, et virtutibus esse priorem 
 Vult, et ait prope vera.t — Hor. Sat. 
 
 ■Vere (y) mihi festus atras 
 
 Eximet curas. — HoR. Or. 
 
 The next'morning I received a letter from my mother. " My 
 dear Henry," began my affectionate and incomparable parent — 
 
 " Mv DEAR Henry, 
 
 "You have now fairly entered the world, and though at your 
 age my advice may be but little followed, my experience cannot 
 altogether be useless. I shall, therefore, make no apology for 
 a few precepts, which I trust may tend to make you a wiser and 
 a belter man. 
 
 " I hope, in the first place, that you have left your letter at the 
 ambassador's, and that you will not fail to go there as often as 
 
 possible. Pay your court in part'cular to Lady . She is 
 
 a charming person, universally popular, and one of the very few 
 English people to whom one may safely be civil. Apropos of 
 English civility, you have, I hope, by this time discovered that 
 you have to assume a very different manner with French people 
 
 * Rut they are half-barbarians, 
 
 1 With satjc advice, and many a sober truth, tlic pious mother moulds to shape 'he 
 youth.— Hawk F.'s Para/'lirusi-. 
 
 The application of the second motto rests solely upon an untranslatable play o( 
 words.
 
 30 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 from that with our own countrymen : with us, the least appear 
 ance of feeUnof or enthusiasm is certain to be ridiculed every- 
 where ; but in France, you may venture to seem not quite devoid 
 of all natural sentiments ; indeed, if you affect enthusiasm, they 
 will give you credit for genius, and they will place all the 
 qualities of the heart to the account of the head. You know 
 that in England, if you seem desirous of a person's acquaintance, 
 you are sure to lose it ; they imagine you have some design upon 
 their wives or their dinners ; but in France you can never lose 
 by politeness ; nobody will call your civility forwardness and 
 
 pushing. If the Princesse de T , and the Duchess de D , 
 
 ask you to their houses (which indeed they will, directly you 
 have left your letters), go there two or three times a week, if 
 only for a few minutes in the evening. It is very hard to be 
 acquaifited with great French people, but when you are, it is your 
 own fault if you are not intimate with them. 
 
 " Most English people have a kind of diffidence and scruple 
 at^calling in the evening — this is perfectly misplaced ; the French 
 are never ashamed of themselves, like us, whose persons, 
 families, and houses are never fit to be seen, unless they are 
 dressed out for a party. 
 
 " Don't imagine that the ease of French manners is at all 
 all like what lue call ease ; you must not lounge on your chair — 
 nor put your feet upon a stool — nor forget yourself for one 
 single moment, when you are talking with women. 
 
 " You have heard a great deal about the gallantries of the 
 French ladies ; but remember that they demand infinitely greater 
 attention than English women do ; and that after a month's in- 
 cessant devotion, you may lose everything by a moment's neg- 
 lect. 
 
 " You will not, my dear son, misinterpret these hints. I sup- 
 pose, of course, that all your liaisons are platonic. 
 
 " Your father is laid up with the gout, and dreadfully ill-tem- 
 pered and peevish ; however, I keep out of the way as much 
 as possible. I dined yesterday at Lady Roseville's : she praised 
 you very much, said your manners were particularly good, and 
 that no one, if he pleased, could be at once so brilliantly orig- 
 inal, yet so completely bon ton. Lord Vincent is, I understand, 
 at Paris ; though very tiresome with his learning and Latin, he 
 is exceedingly clever and much in vogue ; be sure to cultivate 
 his acquaintance. 
 
 " If you are ever at a loss as to the individual character of a 
 person you wish to gain, the general knowledge of human na- 
 ture will teach you one infallible specific,— 3/?^?//^/;^ ! The quan-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 31 
 
 tity may vary according to the exact niceties of art ; but, in any 
 quantity and in any quality, it is more or less acceptable, and 
 therefore certain to please. Only never (or at least very rarely) 
 flatter when other people, besides the one to be flattered, are 
 by ; in that case you offend the rest, and you make even your 
 intended dupe ashamed to be pleased. 
 
 " In general weak, minds think only of others, and yet seem 
 only occupied with themselves ; you, on the contrary, must ap- 
 pear wholly engrossed with those about you, and yet never have 
 a single idea which does not terminate in yourself : a fool, my 
 dear Henry, flatters himself — a wise man flatters the fool. 
 
 " God bless you, my dear child, take care of your health — 
 don't forget Coulon ; and believe me your most affectionate 
 mother, '' F. P." 
 
 By the time I had read this letter, and dressed myself for the 
 evening, Vincent's carriage was at the door. I hate the affec- 
 tation of keeping people waiting, and went down so quickly 
 that I met his facetious lordship upon the stairs. " Devilish 
 windy," said I, as we were getting into the carriage. 
 
 " Yes," said Vincent ; " but the moral Horace reminds us of 
 our remedies as well as our misfortune — 
 
 ' Jam galeam Pallas, et aegida, 
 Currusque — parat ' — 
 
 viz. : ' Providence that prepares the gale, gives us also a great- 
 coat and a carriage.' " 
 
 We were not long driving to the Palais Royal. Ve'ry's was 
 crowded to excess — " A very low set ! " said Lord Vincent, 
 (who, being half a liberal, is of course a thorough aristocrat,) 
 looking round at the various English who occupied the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 There was, indeed, a motley congregation ; country' esquires ; 
 extracts from the universities ; half-pay officers ; city clerks in 
 frogged coats and mustachios ; two or three of a better-looking 
 description, but in reality half swindlers, half gentlemen : all, 
 in short, fit specimens of that wnndering tribe, which spread 
 over the continent the renown and ridicule of good old England. 
 
 " Garcon,garcon" cried a stout gentleman, who made one of 
 three at the table next to us, " Donnez-nous une sole friie pour 
 un, ct lies poinmes de terre pour trots I " 
 
 " Hump ! " said Lord Vincent ; " fine ideas of English taste 
 these garcons must entertain ; men who prefer fried soles and 
 potatoes to the various delicacies they can command here, might,
 
 32 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 by the same perversion of taste, prefer Bloomfield's poems to 
 Byron's. Delicate taste depends solely upon the physical con- 
 struction ; and a man who has it not in cookery, must want it in 
 literature. Fried sole and potatoes ! If I had written a volume, 
 whose merit was in elegance, I would not show it to such a 
 man ! — but he might be an admirable critic upon ' Cobbett's 
 Register,' or ' Every Man his own brewer.' " 
 
 " Excessively true," said I ; " what shall we order ? " 
 
 " D'abord, des /mitres d' Ostend,^' said Vincent: "as to the 
 rest," taking hold of the carte, " deliberare uttlia mora Jitillissima 
 estr * 
 
 We were soon engaged in all the pleasures and pains of a din- 
 ner. 
 
 " Fetimiis" said Lord Vincent, helping himself to some pou- 
 let a V Austerlitz, "petitnus bene vivere, quod petis, hie est? " f 
 
 We were not, however, assured of that fact at the termina- 
 tion of dinner. If half the dishes were well conceived and 
 better executed, the other half were proportionably bad. Ve'ry 
 is, indeed, no longer the prince of restaurateurs. The low En- 
 glish who have flocked thither, have entirely ruined the place. 
 What waiter — what cook ca?i possibly respect men who take no 
 soup, and begin with a rbti; who know neither what is good 
 nor what is bad ; who eat rognons at dinner instead of at break- 
 fast, and fall into raptures over sauce Robert znd pieds de cochon ; 
 who can not tell, at the first taste, whether the beaune is 
 prejniere qualite, or the fricassee made of yesterday's chicken ; 
 who suffer in the stomach after a champignon, and die with in- 
 digestion of a truffle ? O ! English people, English people ! 
 why can you not stay and perish of apoplexy and Yorkshire 
 pudding at home ? 
 
 By the time we had drunk our coffee it was considerably past 
 nine o'clock, and Vincent had business at the ambassador's be- 
 fore ten ; we therefore parted for the night, 
 
 " What do you think of Very's ? " said I, as we were at the 
 door. 
 
 " Why," replied Vincent, " when I recall the astonishing heat 
 of the place, which has almost sent me to sleep ; the exceeding 
 number of times in which that becasse had been re-roasted, and 
 the extortionate length of our bills, I say of Ve'ry's, what Ham- 
 let said of the world, ' Weary, stale, and unprofitable I ' " 
 
 * To deliberate on things useful is the most useful delay, 
 t We seek to live well — what you seek is here.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 33 
 
 CHAPTER Xlir. 
 
 I would fight with proad swords, and sink point on the first plood dravvc 
 like gentleman's. — The Chronicles of the Canoiigate. 
 
 I STROLLED idly along the Palais Royal (which English 
 people, in some silly proverb, call the capital oi Paris, whereas 
 no Frenchman of any rank, nor French woman of any respecta- 
 bility, is ever seen in its promenades), till, being somewhat 
 curious to enter some of the smaller cafes^ I went into one of 
 the meanest of them, took up 2, Journal des Spectacles, and called 
 for some lemonade. At the next table to me sat two or three 
 Frenchmen, evidently of inferior rank, and talking very loudly 
 over England and the English. Their attention was soon 
 fixed upon me. 
 
 Have you ever observed that if people are disposed to think 
 ill of you, nothing so soon determines them to do so as any act 
 of yours, which, however innocent and inoffensive, differs from 
 their ordinary habits and customs ? No sooner had my lemon- 
 ade made its appearance, than I perceived an increased sensa- 
 tion among my neighbors of the next table. In the first place, 
 lemonade is not much drunk, as you may suppose, among the 
 French in winter ; and, in the second, my beverage had an 
 appearance of ostentation, from being one of the dearest 
 articles I could have called for. Unhappily I dropped my 
 newspaper — it fell under the Frenchmen's table ; instead of 
 calling the gar^on, T was foolish enough to stoop for it myself. 
 It was exactly under the feet of one of the Frenchmen ; I asked 
 him with the greatest civility to move ; he made no reply. I 
 could not, for the life of me, refrain from giving him a slight, 
 very slight push ; the next moment he moved in good earnest ; 
 the whole party sprang up as he set the example. The offended 
 leg gave three terrific stamps upon the ground, and I was 
 immediately assailed by a whole volley of unintelligible abuse. 
 At that time I was very little accustomed to French vehemence, 
 and perfectly unable to reply to the vituperations I received. 
 
 Instead of answering them, T therefore deliberated what was 
 
 best to be done. If, thought I, I walk away, they will think me 
 
 a, coward, and insult me in the streets ; if I challenge them, I 
 
 shall have to fight with men probably no better than shop- 
 
 3
 
 34 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 keepers ; if I strike this most noisy among them, he may be 
 silenced, or he may demand satisfaction : if the former, well and 
 good ; if the latter, why I shall have a better excuse for fighting 
 him than I should have now. 
 
 My resolution was therefore taken. I was never more free 
 from passion in my life, and it was, therefore, with the utmost 
 calmness and composure that, in the midst of my antagonist's 
 harangue, I raised my hand and — quietly knocked him down. 
 
 He rose in a moment. " Soiio/is," said he, in a low tone, " a 
 Frenchman never forgives a blow ! " 
 
 At that moment, an Englishman, who had been sitting 
 unnoticed in an obscure corner of the cafe, came up and took 
 me aside. 
 
 , " Sir," said he, " don't think of fighting the man ; he is a 
 tradesman in the Rue St. Honord. I myself have seen him 
 behind the counter ; remember that ' a ram may kill a 
 butcher: " 
 
 " Sir," I replied, " I ^-hnnk you a thousand times for your 
 information. Fight, however, I must, -nd I'll give you, like the 
 Irishman, my reasons afterwards ; pet ':aps you'll be my second." 
 
 " With pleasure," said iho Englishman (a Frenchman would 
 have said, " withpatn I ") 
 
 We left the cafi together. My countryman asked them if he 
 should go to the gunsmiths for the pistols. 
 
 "Pistols!" said the Frenchman's second; "we will only 
 fight with swords." 
 
 " No, no," said my new friend. " ' On ne prettd pas le lievre 
 au tambourin: We are the challenged, and therefore have the 
 choice of weapons." 
 
 Luckily I overheard this dispute, and called to my second — • 
 *' Swords or pistols," said I, "it is quite the same to me. I am 
 not bad at either, only do make haste." 
 
 Swords, then, were chosen, and soon procured. Frenchmen 
 never grow cool upon their quarrels ; and, as it was a fine, 
 clear, starlight night, we went forthwith to i\-iQ.Bois de Boulogne. 
 We fixed our ground on a spot tolerably retired, and, I should 
 think, pretty often frequented for the same purpose. I was 
 exceedingly confident, f'^r I knew myself to have few equals in 
 the art of fencnig ; and I had all the advantage of coolness, 
 which my hero was a great deal too much in earnest to possess. 
 We jo'.ned swords, and in a few moments I discovered that my 
 opponent's life- was at my disposal. 
 
 " Oest bien,^^ thought I : " for once I'll behave handsomely." 
 
 The Frenchman made a desperate lunge. I struck his
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 35 
 
 sword from his hand, caught it instantly, and, presenting it to 
 him again, said — 
 
 " I think myself peculiarly fortunate that I may now apolo- 
 gize for the affront I have put upon you. Will you permit my 
 sincerest apologies to suffice ? A man who can so well resent 
 an injury, can forgive one." 
 
 Was there ever a Frenchman not taken by a fine phrase ? 
 My hero received the sword with a low bow — the tears came 
 into his eyes. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " you have twice conquered." 
 
 We left the spot with the greatest amity and affection, and re- 
 entered, with a profusion of bows, our ^^m^xzS. fiacres. 
 
 " Let me," I said, when I found myself alone with my 
 second, " let me thank you most cordially for your assistance ; 
 and allow me to cultivate an acquaintance so singularly begun. 
 I lodge at the Hotel de , Rue de Rivoli ; my name is Pel- 
 ham. Yours is — " 
 
 " Thornton," replied my countryman. " I will lose no time 
 in profiting by an offer of acquaintance which does me so much 
 honor." 
 
 With these and various other fine speeches, we employed the 
 time till I was set down at my hotel ; and my companion, 
 drawing his cloak round him, departed on foot, to fulfil (he 
 said, \vith a mysterious air) a certain assignation in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Ger7nain. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Erat homo ingeniosus, acutus, acer, et qui plurimum et salis haberct ct 
 feliis, nee candoris minus.* — Pliny. 
 
 I DO not know a more difficult character to describe than Lord 
 Vincent's. Did I imitate certain writers, who think that the 
 whole art of portraying individual character is to seize hold of 
 some prominent peculiarity and to introduce this distinguishing 
 trait, in all times and in all scenes, the difficulty would be re- 
 moved. I should only have to present to the reader a man, 
 whose conversation was nothing but alternate jest and quotation 
 — a due union of Yorick and Partridge. This would, however, 
 be rendering great injustice to the character I wish to delineate. 
 
 * " He was a clever and able man — acute, sharp — with abundance of wit and no less 
 of candor." — Cooke.
 
 36 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 There were times when Vincent was earnestly engrossed in dis' 
 cussion in which a jest rarely escaped him, and quotation was 
 introduced only as a serious illustration, not as a humorous pe- 
 culiarity. He possessed great miscellaneous erudition, and a 
 memory perfectly surprising for its fidelity and extent. He was 
 a severe critic, and had a peculiar art of quoting from each au- 
 thor he reviewed, some part that particularly told against him. 
 Like most men, if in the theory of philosophy he was tolerably 
 rigid, in its practice he was more than tolerably loose. By his 
 tenets you would have considered him a veiy Cato for stubborn- 
 ness and sternness : yet was he a very child in his concession to 
 the whim of the moment. Fond of meditation and research, he 
 was still fonder of mirth and amusement ; and while he was 
 among the most instructive, he was also the boonest, of com- 
 panions. When alone with me, or with men whom he imagined 
 like me, his pedantry (for more or less, he always was pedantic) 
 took only a jocular tone ; with the savant or the bcl esprit, it be- 
 came grave, searching, and sarcastic. He was rather a contra- 
 dicter than a favorer of ordinary opinions : and this, perhaps, led 
 him not unoften into paradox : yet was there much unsoundness, 
 even in his most vehement notions, and the strength of mind 
 which made him think only for himself, was visible in all the 
 productions it created. I have hitherto only given his conver- 
 sation in one of its moods ; henceforth I shall be just enough oc- 
 casionally to be dull, and to present it sometimes to the reader 
 in a graver tone. 
 
 Buried deep beneath the surface of his character, was a hid- 
 den, yet a restless ambition : but this was perhaps, at present, a 
 secret even to himself. We know not our own characters till 
 time teaches us self-knowledge : if we are wise, we may thank 
 ourselves ; if we are great, we must thank fortune. 
 
 It was this insight into Vincent's nature which drew us closer 
 together. I recognized in the man, who as yet was playing a 
 part, a resemblance to myself, while he, perhaps, saw at times 
 that I was somewhat better than the voluptuary, and somewhat 
 wiser than the coxcomb, which were all that at present it suited 
 me to appear. 
 
 In person, Vincent was short, and ungracefully formed — bu- 
 his countenance was singularly fine. His eyes were dark, bright 
 and penetrating, and his forehead (high and thoughtful) cort 
 reeled the playful smile of his mouth, which might otherwise 
 have given to his features too great an expression of levity. 
 He was not positively ill-dressed, yet he paid no attention to 
 any external art, except cleanliness. His usual garb was a
 
 , ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 37 
 
 brown coat, much too large for him, a colored neckcloth, a spot- 
 less waistcoat, grey trowsers, and short gaiters; add to these 
 gloves of most unsullied doe-skin, and a curiously thick cane, 
 and the portrait is complete. 
 
 In manners, he was civil or rude, familiar or distant, just as 
 the whim seized him ; never was there any address less com- 
 mon, and less artificial. What a rare gift, by-the-by, is that of 
 manners ! how difficult to define — how much more difficult to 
 impart ! Better for a man to possess them, than wealth, beaut}', 
 or even talent, if it fall short of genius — they will more than sup- 
 ply all. He who enjoys their advantages in the highest degree : 
 viz, he who can please, penetrate, persuade, as the object may 
 require, possesses the subtlest secret of the diplomatist and the 
 statesman, and wants nothing but luck and opportunity to 
 become "great." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Le plaisir de la societe entre les amis se cultive par une ressemblance cle 
 gout siir ce qui regarde les moeurs, et par quelque difference d'opinions sur 
 les sciences ; par \k ou Ton s'affermit dans ses sentiments, on Ton s'exerce. 
 et Ton s'intruit par la dispute.* — La Bruyere. 
 
 There was a party at Monsieur de V e's, to which Vin- 
 cent and myself were the only Englishmen invited : accordingly, 
 as the Hotel de V. was in the same street as my hotel, we dined 
 together at my rooms, and walked thence to the minister's 
 house. 
 
 The party was as stiff and formal as such assemblies invariably 
 are, and we were both delighted when we espied Monsieur 
 
 d'A , a man of much conversational talent, and some 
 
 celebrity as an ultra writer, forming a little group in one cor- 
 ner of the room. 
 
 We took advantage of our acquaintance with the urbane French- 
 man to join his party ; the conversation turned almost entirely 
 on literary subjects. Allusion being made to Schlegel's His- 
 tory of Literature, and the severity with which he speaks of 
 Helvetius, and the philosophers of his school, we began to dis- 
 cuss what harm the freethinkers in philosophy had effected. 
 
 * The pleasure of society amongst friends is cultivated by resemblance of taste as to 
 manners, but some difference of opinion as to mental acquisitions. Tlius while it is 
 contirmcd by congeniality of sentiments, it gains exercise and instruction by intellec- 
 tual discussion.
 
 J' 
 
 8 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 " For my part," said Vincent, " I am not able to divine why 
 we are supposed, in works where there is much truth, and little 
 falsehood, much good, and a little evil, to see only the evil and the 
 falsehood, to the utter exclusion of the truth and the good. All 
 men whose minds are sufficiently laborious or acute to love the 
 reading of metaphysical inquiries, will by the same labor and 
 acuteness separate the chaff from the corn — the false from the 
 true. It is the young, the light, the superficial, who are easily 
 misled by error, and incapable of discerning its fallacy ; but tell 
 me if it is the light, the young, the superficial, who are in the 
 habit of reading the abstruse and subtle speculations of the 
 philosopher. No, no ! believe me that it is the very studies Mon- 
 sieur Schlegel recommends which do harm to morality and virtue ; 
 it is the study of literature itself the play, the poem, the novel, 
 which all minds, however frivolous, can enjoy and understand, 
 that constitute the real foes of religion and moral improvement." 
 
 ''''Mafoi,^' cried Monsieur de G. (who was a little writer, and 
 a great reader, of romances,) " why you would not deprive us of 
 the politer literature — you would not bid us shut up our novels, 
 and burn our theatres ! " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " replied Vincent ; " and it is in this particu- 
 lar that I differ from certain modern philosophers of our own 
 country, for whom, for the most part, I entertain the highest 
 veneration. I would not deprive life of a single grace, or a sii>. 
 gle enjoyment ; but Iwould counteract whatever is pernicious in 
 whatever is elegant : if among my flowers there is a snake, I 
 would not root up my flowers, I would kill the snake. Thus, 
 Avho are they that derive from fiction and literature a prejudicial 
 effect .'' We have seen already — the light and superficial ? — but 
 who are they that derive profit from them ? — they who enjoy 
 well regulated and discerning minds ; who pleasure ? — all man- 
 kind / Would it not therefore be better, instead of depriving 
 some of profit, and all of pleasure, by banishing poetry and 
 fiction from our Utopia, to correct the minds which find evil, 
 where, if they were property instructed, they would find good .-^ 
 Whether wo agree with Helvetius, that all men are born with an 
 equal capacity of improvement, or merely go the length with all 
 other metajDhysicians, that education can improve the human 
 mind to an extent yet incalculable, it must be quite clear, that 
 we can give sound views, instead of fallacies, and make common 
 truths as easy to discern and adopt as common errors. But if 
 we effect this, which we all allow is so easy, with our children ; 
 if we strengthen their minds, instead of weakening them, and 
 clear their vision, rather than confuse it, from that moment, we 
 
 1
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 39 
 
 remove the prejudicial effects of fiction, and just as we have 
 taught them to use a knife, without cutting their fingers, we 
 teach them to make use of fiction without perverting it to their 
 prejudice. What philosopher was ever hurt by reading the 
 novels of L * * *, or seeing the comedies of Moliere ? You 
 understand me, then, Monsieur de G., I do, it is true, think that 
 polite literature (as it is termed) is prejudicial to the superficial, 
 but, for that reason, I would not do away with the literature, I 
 would do away with the superficial." 
 
 " I deny," said M. d'A , " that this is so easy a task — you 
 
 cannot make all men wise." 
 
 " No," replied Vincent ! " but you can all children, at least to 
 a certain extent. Since you cannot deny the prodigious effects 
 of education, you ;««j-/ allow that they will, at least, give common 
 sense ; for if they cannot do this, they can do nothing. Now, 
 common sense is all that is necessary to distinguish what is good 
 and evil, whether it be in life or in books : but then your educa- 
 tion must not be that of public teaching and private fooling ; you 
 must not counteract the effects of common sense by instilling 
 prejudice, or encouraging weakness ; your education may not be 
 carried to the utmost goal, but as far as it does go, you must see 
 that the road is clear. Now, for instance, with regard to fiction, 
 you must not first, as is done in all modern education, admit the 
 disease, and then dose with warm water to expel it : you must 
 not put fiction in your child's hands and not give him a single 
 principle to guide his judgment respecting it, till his mind has 
 got wedded to the poison, and too weak, by its long use, to digest 
 the antidote. No : first fortify his intellect by reason, and you 
 may then please his fancy by fiction. Do not excite his imagina- 
 tion with love and glory, till you can instruct his judgment as to 
 what love and glory arc. Teach him, in short, to rc/lcci, before 
 you permit him full indulgence to iviaginc." 
 
 Here there was a pause. Monsieur D'A looked very ill- 
 pleased, and poor Monsieur de G thought that somehow or 
 
 other his romance writing was called into question. In order to 
 soothe them, I introduced some subject which permitted a little 
 national flattery ; the conversation then turned insensibly on the 
 character of the French people. 
 
 " Never," said Vincent, " has there been a character more often 
 described — never one less understood. You have been termed 
 superficial. I think, of all people, that you least deserve the 
 accusation. With regard to the fc7i>, your philosophers, your 
 mathematicians, your men of science, are consulted by those of 
 other nations, as some of their profoundcst authorities. With
 
 40 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 regard to the many, the charge is still more unfounded. Compare 
 your mob, whether of gentlemen or plebeians, to those of 
 Germany, Italy — even England — and I own, in spite of my na- 
 tional prepossessions, that the comparison is infinitely in your 
 favor. The country gentleman, the lawyer, the /^/// /;w?/;r of 
 England, are proverbially inane and ill-informed. With you, the 
 classes of society that answer to those respective grades, have 
 much information in literature, and often not a little in science. 
 In like manner, your tradesmen, and your servants, are of better 
 cultivated and less prejudiced minds than those ranks in England. 
 The fact is, that a// with you pretend to be savans, and this is the 
 chief reason why you have been censured as shallow. We see 
 your fine gentleman, ox your J>dit bourgeois, give himself the airs 
 of a critic or a philosopher ; and because he is neither a Scaliger 
 nor a Newton, we forget that he is only the bourgeois or the petit 
 maitre, and brand all your philosophers and critics with the 
 censure of superficiality, which this shallow individual of a shallow 
 order may justly have deserved. We, the English, it is true, do 
 not expose ourselves thus : our dandies, our tradesmen, do not 
 vent second-rate philosophy on the human mind, nor on les beaux 
 arts : but why is this ? Not because they are better informed 
 than their correspondent ciphers in France, but because they are 
 much worse informed ; not because they can say a great deal 
 more on the subject, but because they can say nothing at all." 
 
 " You do us more than justice," said Mons. d'A , " in 
 
 this instance : are you disposed to do us justice in another ? It 
 is a favorite propensity of your countrymen to accuse us of 
 heartlessness and want of feeling. Think you that this accusa- 
 tion is deserved ? " 
 
 "By no means," replied Vincent. "The same cause that 
 brought on you the erroneous censure we have before mentioned, 
 appears to me also to have created this : viz., a sort of Palais 
 lioyal vanity, common to all your nation, which induces you to 
 make as much display at the shop window as possible. You 
 show great cordiality, and even enthusiasm, to strangers : you 
 turn your back on them — you forget them. ' How heartless ! ' 
 cry we. Not at all ? The English show no cordiality, no en- 
 thusiasm to strangers, it is true : but they equally turn their 
 backs on them, and equally forget them ! The only respect, 
 therefore, in which they differ from you, is the previous kind- 
 ness ; now if we are to receive strangers, I can really see no rea- 
 son why we are not to be as civil to them as possible ; and so far 
 from imputing the desire to please them to a bad heart, I think 
 it a thousand times more amiable and benevolent than telling
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 41 
 
 them a PAnglaise, by your morosity and reserve, that you do 
 not care a pin what becomes of them. If I am only to walk a 
 mile with a man, why should I not make that mile as pleasant 
 to him as I can ? or why, above all, if I choose to be sulky, and 
 tell him to go and be d — d, am I to swell out my chest, color 
 with conscious virtue, and cry, See what a good heart I have ? * 
 
 Ah, Monsieur d'A , since benevolence is inseparable from 
 
 all morality, it must be clear that there is a benevolence in little 
 things as well as in great, and that he who strives to make his 
 fellow-creatures happy, though only for an instant, is a much 
 better man than he who is indifferent to, or (w^hat is worse) de- 
 spises it. Nor do I, to say truth, see that kindness of an ac- 
 quaintance is at all destructive to sincerity to a friend ; on the 
 contrary, I have yet to learn, that you are (according to the cus- 
 toms of your country) worse friends, worse husbands, or worse 
 fathers, than w-e are ! " 
 
 " What ! " cried I, " you forget yourself, Vincent. How can 
 the private virtues be cultivated without a coal fire ? Is not 
 domestic affection a synonymous term with domestic hearth ? 
 and where do you find either, except in honest old England ? " 
 
 " True," replied Vincent ; " and it is certainly impossible for 
 a father and his family to be as fond of each other on a bright 
 day in the 7'iiileries, or at Versat7/es,whh music and dancing, and 
 fresh air, as they would be in a back parlor, by a smoky hearth, 
 occupied entirely by /e l>on />ere, et la homie mere ; while the poor 
 little children sit at the other end of the table, whispering and 
 shivering; debarred the vent of all natural spirits, for fear 
 of making a noise : and strangely uniting the idea of the domes- 
 tic hearth with that of a hob goblin, and the association of dear 
 papa with that of a birch rod." 
 
 We all" laughed at this reply, and Monsieur d'A , rising to 
 
 depart, said, " Well, well, milord, your countiymen are great 
 generalizers in philosophy ; they reduce human actions to two 
 grand touchstones. All hilarity, they consider the sign of a 
 shallow mind; and all kindness, the token of a false heart." 
 
 * Mr. Penlham, it will be remembered, has prevised the reader, that Lord Vincent 
 was somewhat addicted to paradox. His opinions on the French character are to be 
 taken with a certain reserve.— /I aMc>-.
 
 42 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 -Quis sapiens bono 
 
 Confidat fragili ? * — Seneca. 
 Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est.t — HOR. 
 
 When 1 firstwentto Paris I took a French master to perfect me 
 in the Parisian pronunciation. This " Haberdasher of pronouns " 
 was a person of the name of Margot. He was a tall, solemn 
 man, with a face of the most imperturbable gravity. He would 
 have been inestimable as an undertaker. His hair was of a pale 
 yellow ; you would have thought it had caught a bilious com- 
 pliant from his complexion ; the latter was, indeed, of so sombre 
 a saffron, that it looked as if ten livers had been forced into a 
 jaundice, in order to supply its color. His forehead was high, 
 bald, and very narrow. His cheek-bones were extremely promi- 
 nent, and his cheeks so thin, that they seemed happier than Py- 
 ramus and Thisbe, and kissed each other inside without any 
 separation or division. His face was as sharp and almost as 
 long as an inverted pyramid, and was garnished on either side 
 by a miserable half-starved whisker, which seemed scarcely able 
 to maintain itself amidst the general of symptoms of atrophy 
 and decay. This charming countenance was supported by a fig- 
 ure so long, so straight, so shadowy, that you might have taken it 
 for the monument in a consumption ! 
 
 But the chief characteristic of the man was the utter and 
 wonderful gravity I have before spoken of. You could no more 
 have coaxed a smile out of his countenance than you could out 
 of the poker ; and yet Monsieur Margot was by no means a 
 melancholy man. He loved his joke, and his wine, and his din- 
 ner, just as much as if he had been of a fatter frame ; and it was 
 a fine specimen of the practical antithesis, to hear a good story, 
 or a jovial expression, leap friskily out of that long curved 
 mouth ; it was at once a paradox and a pathos — it was the mouse 
 coming out of its hole in Ely Cathedral. 
 
 I said that this gravity was M, Margot's most especial char- 
 
 * What wise man confides in the fragile ? — Seneca. 
 
 t Grammarians dispute, and the matter is still under consideration of the judge.— 
 Horace.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN 43 
 
 acteristic. I forgot ; — be had two others equally remarkable ; 
 the one was an ardent admiration for the chivalrous, the other 
 an ardent admiration for himself. Both of these are traits com- 
 mon enough in a Frenchman, but in Monsieur Margot their ex- 
 cesses rendered them uncom?non. He was a most ultra speci- 
 men of le chevalier amoureux — a mixture of Don Quixote and the 
 Due de Lauzun. Whenever he spoke of the present tense, even 
 en professeur, he always gave a sigh to the preterite, and an anec- 
 dote of Bayard; whenever he conjugated a verb, he paused to 
 tell me that the favorite one of his female pupils wasyi? /' aime. 
 
 In short, he had tales of his own good fortune, and of other 
 people's brave exploits, which, without much exaggeration, were 
 almost as long, and had perhaps as little substance, as himself ; 
 but the former was his favorite topic : to hear him, one would 
 have imagined that his face, in borrowing the sharpness of the 
 needle, had borrowed also its attraction ; — and then the pretti- 
 ness of Monsieur Margot's modesty ! 
 
 ■ " It is very extraordinary," said he, " very extraordinary, for 
 I have no time to give myself up to those affairs : it is not. Mon- 
 sieur, as if I had your leisure to employ all the little preliminary 
 arts of creating la belle passion. Non, Monsieur, I go to church, 
 to the play, to the Tuileries, for a brief relaxation — and me 
 Toila partoiit accable' \^\\h my good fortune. I am not handsome, 
 Monsieur, at least, not very ; it is true, that I have expression, a 
 certain air noble, (my first-cousin. Monsieur, is the Chevalier de 
 Margot,) and above all, soul in my physiogomy ; the women love 
 soul. Monsieur — something intellectual and spiritual always at- 
 tracts them ; yet my success certainly is singular." 
 
 " Bah ! Monsieur,''^ replied I : " with dignity, expression, and 
 soul, how could the heart of any Frenchwoman resist you ? No, 
 you do youself injustice. It was said of Caesar, that he was 
 great without an effort; much more, then, may Monsieur Mar- 
 got be happy without an exertion." 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur ! " rejoined the Frenchman, still looking 
 
 " As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out 
 As sober Lanesbro' dancing with the gout." 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur, there is a depth and truth in your remarks 
 worthy of Montaigne. As it is impossible to account for the 
 caprices of women, so it is impossible for ourselves to analyze 
 the merit they discover in us ; but, Monsieur, hear me — at the 
 house where I lodge there is an I'jiglish lady en pension. Eh 
 bien, Monsieur, you guess the rest ; she has taken a caprice for
 
 44 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 me, and this very night she will admit me to her apartment. 
 She is very handsome, — Ah^ qii^ elle est belle ! laie jolie petite bouche. 
 une denture eblouissante, un nez tout a fait gree, in fine quite z.bou- 
 ton de rose. 
 
 I expressed my envy at Monsieur Margot's good fortune, and 
 when he had sufficiently dilated upon it, he withdrew. Shortly 
 afterwards Vincent entered — " I have a dinner invitation for 
 both of us to-day," said he ; "you will come ? " 
 
 " Most certainly," replied I ; " but who is the person we are 
 to honor ? " 
 
 "A Madame Laurent," replied Vincent; "one of those 
 ladies only found at Paris, who lived upon anything rather than 
 their income. She keeps a tolerable table, haunted with Poles, 
 Russians, Austrians, and idle Frenchmen, peregriuce gentis amce- 
 num hospitium. As yet she has not the happiness to be 
 acquainted with any Englishmen, (though she boards one of our 
 countrywomen, and (as she is desirous of making her fortune as 
 soon as possible) she is very anxious of having that honor". 
 She has heard vast reports of our wealth and wisdom, and flat- 
 ters herself that we are so many ambulatory Indies : in good 
 truth, a Frenchwoman thinks she is never in want of a fortune 
 as long as there is a rich fool in the world. 
 
 Stultitiam patiuntur opes,' 
 
 is her hope : and 
 
 'Ut tn/ortimatn, sic nos te, Celse, feremus,' 
 
 is her motto." 
 
 " Madame Laurent ! " repeated I, " why, surely that is the 
 name of Mons. Margot's landlady." 
 
 "I hope not," cried Vincent, "for the sake of our dinner; he 
 reflects no credit on her good cheer — 
 
 ' Who eats fat dinners, should himself be fat.' " 
 
 "At all events," said I, " we can try the good lady for once. 
 I am very anxious to see a countrywoman of ours, probably the 
 very one you speak of whom Mons. Margot eulogizes in glow- 
 ing colors, and who has, moreover, taken a violent fancy for my 
 solemn preceptor. What think you of that, Vincent ? " 
 
 "Nothing extraordinary," replied Vincent; "the lady only 
 exclaims with the moralist — 
 
 ' Love, virtue, valor, yea, all human charms, 
 Are shrunk and centered in that heap of bones 
 Oh! there are wondrous beauties in i)\& grave!' ''
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 45 
 
 I made some punning rejoinder, and we sallied out to earn an 
 appetite in the Tuileries for Madame Laurent's dinner. 
 
 At the hour of half-past five we repaired to our engagement 
 Madame Laurent received us with the most evident satisfaction, 
 and introduced us forthwith to our countrywoman. She was a 
 pretty, fair, shrewd-looking person, with an eye and lip, which, 
 unless it greatly belied her, showed her much more inclined to 
 be merry and wise, than honest and true. 
 
 Presently Monsieur Margot made his appearance. Though 
 very much surprised at seeing me, he did not appear the least 
 jealous of my attentions to his inamorata. Indeed, the good 
 gentleman was far too much pleased with himself to be suscep- 
 tible to the suspicions common to less fortunate lovers. At 
 dinner I set next to the pretty Englishwoman, whose name was 
 Green. 
 
 "Monsieur Margot," said I, "has often spoken to me of you, 
 before I had the happiness of being personally convinced how 
 true and unexagge rated were his sentiments." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Mrs. Green, with an arch laugh, "you are ac- 
 quainted with Monsieur Margot, then ? " 
 
 " I have that honor,'" said I. " I receive from him every 
 morning lessons both in love and languages. He is perfect mas- 
 ter of both." 
 
 Mrs. Green burst out laughing. 
 
 '■'■ Ah, le pamrreprofesseur !" cried she. " He is too absurd ! " 
 _ " He tells me," said I gravely, " that he is quite accable with 
 his bonnes fortunes — possibly he flatters himself that even you 
 are not perfectly inaccessible to his addresses." 
 
 "Tell me, Mr. Pelham," said the fair Mrs. Green, "can you 
 pass by this street about half-past twelve to night ? " 
 
 " I will make a point of doing so," replied I, not a little sur- 
 prised by the question. 
 
 "Do," said she, "and now let us talk of old England." 
 
 When we went away, I told Vincent of my appointment. 
 
 " What ! " said he, "eclipse Monsieur Margot ! Impossible ! " 
 
 " You are right," replied I, " nor is it my hope ; there is some 
 trick afloat, to which we may as well be spectators." 
 
 " With all my heart ! " answered Vincent ; " let us go till 
 
 then to the Duchesse de G ." I assented, and we drove to 
 
 the Rue de . 
 
 The Duchesse de G was a fine relic of the ancicn regime — 
 
 tall and stately, with her own grey hair en'pe, and surmounted 
 by a high cap of the most dazzling blonde. She had been one 
 of the earliest emigrants, and had stayed for many months with
 
 46 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 my mother, whom she professed to rank amongst her dearest 
 friends. The Duchesse possessed to perfection that singular 
 melange of ostentation and ignorance wliich was so peculiar to 
 the ante-revolutionists. She would talk of the last tragedy with 
 the emphatic tone of a connoisseur, in the same breath that she 
 would ask, with Marie Antoinette, why poor people were so clam- 
 orous for bread, when they might buy such nice cakes for two- 
 pence a-piece ? " To give you an idea of the Irish," said she 
 one day to an inquisitive marquess, " know that they prefer po- 
 tatoes to mutton ! " 
 
 Her soirees were among the most agreeable at Paris — she 
 united all the rank and talent to be found in the ultra party, for 
 she professed to be quite a female Meca^nas ; and whether it was 
 a mathematician or a romance-writer, a naturalist or a poet, she 
 held open house for all, and conversed with equal fluency and 
 self-satisfaction. 
 
 A new play had just been acted, and the conversation, after 
 a few preliminary hoverings, settled upon it. 
 
 " You see," said the Duchesse, *' that we have actors, you 
 authors ; of what avail is it that you boast of a Shakspeare, 
 since your Liseton, great as he is, can not be compared with 
 our Talma .'' " 
 
 " And yet," said I, preserving my gravity with a pertinacity, 
 which nearly made Vincent and the rest of our compatriots 
 assembled lose theirs, " Madame must allow that there is a 
 striking resemblance in their persons, and the sublimity of 
 their acting "i " 
 
 " Pour (a, feji co?wiens" replied this critique de V Ecole des 
 J^em?nes. " Mais cependant Liseton ria pas la nature, rdme, la 
 grandeur de Talma r'' * 
 
 " And will you then allow us 7io actors of merit ? " asked 
 Vincent. 
 
 '•'■ Mais out! — dans Ic genre comigue, par exemple votre buffo 
 Kcan met dix fois plus d' esprit et de dr oiler ie dans ses roles que La 
 Porter^ 
 
 " The impartial and profound judgment of Madame admits 
 of no further discussion on this point," said I. " What does 
 she think of the present state of our dramatic literature ? " 
 
 " Why," replied Madame, " you have many great poets ; but 
 when they write for the stage, they lose themselves entirely i 
 
 * I grant that, but Listen, however, has not the nature, the soul, the grandeur, of 
 Talma. 
 
 t Yes, in comedy, for instance, your Kean has ten times more vivacity and drollery 
 than La Porte.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 47 
 
 your Valter Scote's play of Robe Roi is very inferior to his 
 novel of the same name." 
 
 " It is a great pity," said I, " that Byron did not turn his 
 Childe Harold into a tragedy — it has so much energy, action — 
 variety ! " 
 
 "Very true," said Madame, with a sigh; "but the tragedy 
 is, after all, only suited to our nation — we alone carry it to 
 perfection." 
 
 "Yet," said I, " Go/doni wrote ?ife7a fine tragedies." 
 
 ^'- Eh bienf' said Madame, "one rose does not constitute a 
 garden ! " 
 
 And satisfied with this remark, la femme savante turned to a 
 celebrated traveller to discuss with him the chance of discover 
 ing the North Pole. 
 
 There were one or two clever Englishmen present ; Vincent 
 and I joined them. 
 
 " Have you met the Persian prince yet ? " said Sir George 
 Lynton to me ; " he is a man of much talent, and great desire 
 of knowledge. He intends to publish his observations on 
 Paris, and I suppose we shall have an admirable supplement to 
 Montesquieu's Lettres Fersannes I" 
 
 " I wish we had," said Vincent : " there are few better satires 
 on a civilized country than the observations of visitors less 
 polished ; while on the contrary the civilized traveller, in de- 
 scribing the manners of the American barbarian, instead of 
 conveying ridicule upon the visited, points the sarcasm on the 
 visitor ; and Tacitus could not have thought of a finer or nobler 
 satire on the Roman luxuries than that insinuated by his 
 treatise on the German simplicity." 
 
 " What," said Monsieur d'E (an intelligent ci-dcvani 
 
 emigri), "what political writer is ^t7/^r<)'//>' esteemed as your best: " 
 
 " It is difficult to say," replied Vincent, " since with so many 
 parties we have many idols ; but I think I might venture to name 
 Bolingbroke as among the most popular. Perhaps, indeed, it 
 would be difficult to select a name more frequently quoted and 
 discussed than his ; and yet his political works are not very 
 valuable from political knowledge : — they contain many lofty 
 sentiments, and many beautiful yet scattered truths; but they 
 were written when legislation, most debated, was least under- 
 stood, and ought to be admired ratlier as excellent for the day 
 than admirable in themselves. The life of Bolingbroke would 
 convey a juster moral than all his writings : and the author who 
 gives us a full and impartial memoir of that extraordinary man,
 
 48 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 will have afforded both to the philosophical and political litera- 
 ture of England one of its greatest desiderata." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Monsieur d'E , " that your national 
 
 literature is peculiarly deficient in biography — am I right in my 
 opinion ? " 
 
 " Indubitably ! " said Vincent ; " we have not a single work 
 that can be considered a model in biography (excepting, /^r/z^/j-, 
 Middleton's Life of Cicero). This brings on a remark I have 
 often made in distinguishing your philosophy from ours. It 
 seems to me that you who excel so admirably in biography, 
 memoirs, comedy, satirical observation on peculiar classes, and 
 pointed aphorisms, are fonder of considering man in his relation 
 to society and the active commerce of the world, than in the 
 more abstracted and metaphysical operations of the mind. Our 
 writers, on the contrary, love to indulge rather in abstruse 
 speculations on their species — to regard man in an abstract and 
 isolated point of view, and to see him think alone in his chamber, 
 while you prefer beholding him act with the multitude in the 
 world." 
 
 " It must be allowed," said Monsieur d'E , "that if this be 
 
 true, our philosophy is the most useful, though yours may be the 
 most profound." 
 
 Vincent did not reply. 
 
 " Yet," said Sir George Lynton, " there will be a disadvantage 
 attending your writings of this description, which, by diminishing 
 their general applicability, diminish their general utility. Works 
 which treat upon man in his relation to society, can only be 
 strictly applicable so long as that relation to society treated upon 
 continues. For instance, the play which satirizes a particular 
 class, however deep its reflections and accurate its knowledge 
 upon the subject satirized, must necessarily be obsolete when 
 the class itself has become so. The political pamphlet, admirable 
 for one state, may be absurd in another; the novel which exactly 
 delineates the present age may seem strange and unfamiliar to 
 the next; and thus works which treat of men relatively, and not 
 man in se, must often confine their popularity to the age and even 
 the country in which they were written. While on the other 
 hand, the work which treats of man himself, which seizes, dis- 
 covers, analyzes the human mind, as it is, whether in the ancient 
 or the modern, the savage or the European, must evidently be 
 applicable, and consequently useful, to all times and all nations. 
 He who discovers the circulation of the blood, or the origin of 
 ideas, must be a philosopher to every people who have veins or 
 ideas : but he who even most successfully delineates the manners
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 49 
 
 of one country, or the actions of one individual, is only the 
 philosopher of a single country, or a single age. If, Monsieur 
 
 d'E , you will condescend to consider this, you will see 
 
 perhaps that the philosophy which treats of man in his relations 
 is not so useful, because neither so permanent nor so invariable, 
 as that which treats of man in himself," * 
 
 I was now somewhat weary of this conversation, and though 
 it was not yet twelve, I seized upon my appointment as an ex- 
 cuse to depart — accordingly I rose for that purpose. " I sup- 
 pose," said I to Vincent, " that you will not leave your discus- 
 sion." 
 
 " Pardon me," said he, " amusement is quite as profitable to 
 a man of sense as metaphysics. Allons." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 I was in this terrible situation when the basket stopped. 
 Oriental Tales — History of the Basket. 
 
 We took our way to the street in which Madame Laurent 
 resided. Meanwhile suffer me X.o get rid of myself., and to in- 
 troduce you, dear Reader, to my friend. Monsieur Margot, the 
 whole of whose adventures were subsequently detailed to me 
 by the garrulous Mrs. Green. 
 
 At the hour appointed he knocked at the door of my fair 
 countrywoman, and was carefully admitted. He was attired in 
 a dressing-gown of sea-green silk, in which his long, lean, hun- 
 gry body, looked more like a starved pike than any thing hu- 
 man, 
 
 " Madame," said he, with a solemn air, " I return you my best 
 thanks for the honor you have done me — behold me at your 
 feet ! " — and so saying, the lean lover gravely knelt down on 
 one knee. 
 
 " Rise, sir," said Mrs. Green, " I confess that you have won 
 my heart ; but that is not all — you have yet to show that you 
 
 * Vet Hume holds the contrary opinion to this, and considers a pood comedy more 
 durable than a system of philosophy. Hume is rifjht, if by a system of philosophy is 
 understood — a pile of rucsscs, false but plausible, set up by one ape to be destroyed by 
 the next. Ingenuity cannot rescue error from oblivion ; but the moment Wisdom has 
 discovered Truth, she has obt.-.ined inimf)rtality. — Hut is Hume ripht when he suggests 
 that there may come a time when Addison will be read with delight, but Locke be 
 utterly forpoiten t For my part, if the two were to be matched for posterity, I think 
 the ocfds would be in favor of I^ocke. I very much doubt whether five hundred years 
 hence, Add'son will be read at aJl, and I am quite sure that, a thousand years hence, 
 Locke will not be forgotten.
 
 so PELHAM; OR, 
 
 are worthy of the opinion I have formed of you. It is not, 
 Monsieur Margot, your person that has won me — no : it is 
 your chivalrous and noble sentiments — prove that these are 
 genuine, and you may command all from my admiration." 
 
 '* In what manner shall I prove it, madame 1 " said Monsieur 
 Margot, rising, and gracefully drawing his sea green gown more 
 closely round him. 
 
 "By your courage, your devotion, and your gallantry ! I ask 
 but one proof — you can give it me on the spot. You remember, 
 monsieur, that in the days of romance, a lady threw her glove 
 upon the stage on which a lion was exhibited, and told her lover 
 to pick it up. Monsieur Margot, the trial to which I shall put 
 you is less severe. — Look, (and Mrs. Green threw open the win- 
 dow) — look, I throw my glove out into the street — descend for 
 it." 
 
 " Your commands are my law," said the romantic Margot. " I 
 will go forthwith," and so saying, he went to the door. 
 
 " Hold, sir ! " said the lady, " it is not by that simple manner 
 that you are to descend — you must go the same way as my 
 glove, out of the window.''^ 
 
 " Out of the window, madame ! " said Monsieur Margot, with 
 astonished solemnity ; " that is impossible, because this apart- 
 ment is three stories high, and consequently I shall be dashed 
 to pieces." 
 
 " By no means," answered the dame ; " in that corner of the 
 room there is a basket, to which (already foreseeing your deter- 
 mination) I have affixed a rope ; by that basket you shall descend. 
 See, Monsieur, what expedients a provident love can suggest." 
 
 " H — e — m ! " said, very slowl}-. Monsieur Margot, by no 
 means liking the airy voyage imposed upon him ; " but the rope 
 may break, or your hand may suffer it to slip." 
 
 " Feel the rope," cried the lady, "to satisfy you as to your 
 first doubt ; and, as to the second, can you — ca/i you imagine 
 that my affections would not make me twice as careful of your 
 person as of my own ? Fie ! ungrateful Monsieur Margot ! 
 fie!" 
 
 The melancholy chevalier cast a rueful look at the basket. 
 " Madame," said he, " I own that I am very averse to the plan 
 you propose : suffer me to go down stairs in the ordinary way ; 
 your glove can be easily picked up whether yoi>r adorer goes 
 out of the door or the window. It is only, madame, when 
 ordinary means fail, that we should have recourse to the ex- 
 traordinary." 
 
 " Begone, sir ! " exclaimed Mrs. Green — " begone ! I now
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 51 
 
 perceive that your chivalry was only a pretence. Fool that I 
 was, to love you as I have done ! — fool that I was, to imagine 
 a hero where I now find a " 
 
 " Pause, madame, I will obey you — my heart is firm — see 
 that the rope is ! " 
 
 " Gallant Monsieur Margot ! " cried the lady : and going to 
 her dressing-room, she called her woman to her assistance. The 
 rope was of the most unquestionable thickness, the basket of 
 the most capacious dimensions. The former was fastened to a 
 strong hook — and the latter lowered. 
 
 " I go, madame," said Monsieur Margot, feeling the rope ; 
 "but it really is a most dangerous exploit." 
 
 " Go, monsieur ! and St. Louis befriend you ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " said Monsieur Margot, " let me fetch my coat : the 
 night is cold, and my dressing-gown thin." 
 
 "Nay, nay, my chevalier," returned the dame, " I love you in 
 that gown ; it gives you an air of grace and dignity quite en- 
 chanting." 
 
 " It will give me my death of cold, madame," said Monsieur 
 Margot earnestly. 
 
 " Bah ! " said the Englishwoman : " what knight ever feared 
 cold .-' Besides, you mistake ; the night is warm, and you look 
 so handsome in your gown." 
 
 " Do I ! " said the vain Monsieur Margot, with an iron ex- 
 pression of satisfaction. " If that is the case, I will mind it less ; 
 but may I return by the door ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied the lady; "you see that I do not require too 
 much from your devotion — enter." 
 
 " Behold me 1 " said the French master, inserting his body 
 into the basket, which immediately began to descend. 
 
 The hour and the police of course made the street empty ; the 
 lady's handkerchief waved in token of encouragement and 
 triumph. When the basket was within five yards of the ground, 
 Mrs. Green cried to her lover, who had hitherto been elevating 
 his serious countenance towards her, in sober, yet gallant 
 sadness — 
 
 " Look, look, monsieur — straight before you." 
 
 The lover turned round, as rapidly as his habits would allow 
 him, and at that instant the window was shut, the light extin- 
 guished, and the basket arrested. There stood Monsieur Mar- 
 got upright in the basket, and there stopped the basket, motion- 
 less in the air ! 
 
 What were the exact reflections of Monsieur Margot, in that 
 position, I can not pretend to determine, because he never
 
 52 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 favored me with them ; but about an hour afterwards, Vincent 
 and I (who had been delayed on the road), strolling up the 
 street, according to our appointment, perceived, by the dim 
 lamps, some opaque body leaning against the wall of Madame 
 Laurent's house, at about the distance of fifteen feet from the 
 ground. 
 
 We hastened our steps towards it ; a measured and serious 
 voice, which I well knew, accosted us — 
 
 " P'or God's sake, gentlemen, procure me assistance. I am 
 the victim of a perfidious woman, and expect every moment to 
 be precipitated to the earth." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said I, " surely it is Monsieur Margot whom 
 I hear. What are you doing there .'' " 
 
 - " Shivering with cold," answered Monsieur Margot in a tone 
 tremulously slow. 
 
 '• But what are you in ? for I can see nothing but a dark sub- 
 stance." 
 
 " I am in a basket," replied Monsieur Margot, " and I should 
 be very much obliged to you to let me out of it." 
 
 "Well — indeed," said Vincent (for /was too much engaged 
 in laughing to give a ready reply), "your Chateau-AIargot has 
 but a cool cellar. But there are some things in the world easier 
 said than done. How are we to remove you to a more desira- 
 ble place ? " 
 
 " Ah," returned Monsieur Margot, " how indeed ! There is, 
 to be sure, a ladder in the porter's lodge long enough to dcr 
 liver me ; but then, think of the gibes and jeers of the porter ! 
 — it will get wind — I shall be ridiculed, gentlemen — I shall be 
 ridiculed — and what is worse, I shall lose my pupils." 
 
 " My good friend," said I, " you had better lose your pupils 
 than your life ; and the day-light will soon come, and then, in- 
 stead of being ridiculed by the porter, you will be ridiculed by 
 the whole street ! " 
 
 Monsieur Margot groaned. " Go, then, my friend," said he, 
 " procure the ladder ! Oh, those she devils ! — what could make 
 me such a fool ! " 
 
 Whilst Monsieur Margot was venting his spleen in a scarcely 
 articulate mutter, we repaired to the lodge, knocked up the 
 porter, communicated the accidc7it, and procured the ladder. 
 However, an observant eye had been kept upon our proceedings, 
 and the window above was re-opened, though so silently that I 
 only perceived the action. The porter, a jolly, bluff, hearty- 
 looking fellow, stood grinning below with a lantern, while we
 
 AOrKXTCKES OF A GEXTLEMAX. S3 
 
 set the ladder (which only just reached the basket) agahist the 
 wall. 
 
 The chevalier looked wistfully forth, and then, by the light of 
 the lantern, we had a fair view of his ridiculous figure. His 
 teeth chattered wofuUy, and the united cold without and anxiety 
 within, threw a double sadness and solemnity upon his withered 
 countenance. The night was very windy, and every instant a 
 rapid current seized the unhappy sea-green vesture, whirled it 
 in the air, and threw it, as if in scorn, over the very face of the 
 miserable professor. The constant recurrence of this sportive 
 irreverence of the gales — the high sides of the basket, and the 
 trembling agitation of the inmate, never too agile, rendered it a 
 work of some time for Monsieur Margot to transfer himself 
 from the basket to the ladder. At length, he had fairly got out 
 one thin, shivering leg. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " said the pious professor — when at that in- 
 stant the thanksgiving was checked, and, to Monsieur Margot's 
 inexpressible astonishment and dismay, the basket rose five feet 
 from the ladder, leaving its tenant with one leg dangling out, 
 like a flag from a balloon. 
 
 The ascent was too rapid to allow Monsieur Margot even 
 time for an exclamation, and it was not till he had had sufficient 
 leisure in his present elevation to perceive all its consequences, 
 that he found words to say, with the most earnest tone of thought- 
 ful lamentation, " One could not have foreseen this ! — it is really 
 extremely distressing — would to Heaven that I could get my 
 leg in, or my body out ! " 
 
 While we were yet too convulsed with laughter to make any 
 comment npon the unlooked-for ascent of the luminous Monsieur 
 Margot, the basket descended with such force as to dash the 
 lantern out of the hand of the porter, and to bring the professor 
 so precipitately to the ground, that all the bones in his skin rat- 
 tled audibly. 
 
 '■'■ Mon Z>/>///"said he, " I am done for! Be witness how 
 inhumanly I have been murdered." 
 
 We pulled him out of the basket, and carried him between us 
 into the porter's lodge. But the woes of Monsieur Margot 
 were not yet at their termination. The room was crowded. 
 There was Madame Laurent, — there was the German count, 
 whom the professor was teaching French — there was the French 
 viscount, whom he was teaching German — there were all his 
 fellow-lodgers, the ladies whom he had boasted ^ the men he 
 had boasted to. Don Juan, in the infernal regions, could not 
 have met with a more unwelcome set of old acquaintances than
 
 54 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 Monsieur Margot had the happiness of opening his bewildered 
 eyes upon in the porter's lodge. 
 
 " What !" cried they all, " Monsieur Margot, is that you who 
 have been frightening us so ? We thought the house was at- 
 tacked. The Russian general is at this very moment loading 
 his pistols ; lucky for you that you did not choose to stay longer 
 in that situation. Pray, monsieur, what could induce you to ex- 
 hibit yourself so, in your dressing-gown too, and the night so 
 cold ? Ar'n't you ashamed of yourself ? " 
 
 All this, and infinitely more, was levelled against the miserable 
 professor, who stood shivering with cold and fright ; and turn- 
 ing his eyes first on one, and then on another, as the exclama- 
 tions circulated round the room. 
 
 " I do assure you " at length he began. 
 
 " No, no," cried one, " it is of no use explaining now ! " 
 
 " Mais Messieurs " querulously recommenced the ur> 
 
 happy Margot. 
 
 "Hold your tongue," exclaimed Madame Laurent, "you 
 have been disgracing my house." 
 
 " Mais, Madajne, ecoutez-moi " 
 
 " No, no," cried the German, " we saw you — we saw you." 
 
 " Mais, Mofisieur le Comte " 
 
 ** Fie, fie ! " cried the Frenchman. 
 
 " Mais, Monsie?ir le Vicomte " 
 
 At this every mouth was opened, and the patience of Mon- 
 sieur Margot being by this time exhausted, he fiew into a violent 
 rage ; his tormentors pretended an equal indignation, and at 
 length he fought his way out of the room, as fast as his shat- 
 tered bones would allow him, followed by the whole body, 
 screaming, and shouting, and scolding, and laughing after him. 
 
 The next morning passed without my usual lesson from Mon- 
 sieur Margot ; that was natural enough ; but when the next day, 
 and the next, rolled on, and brought neither Monsieur Margot 
 nor his excuse, I began to be uneasy for the poor man. Ac- 
 cordingly I sent to Madame Laurent's house to inquire after 
 him : judge of my surprise at hearing that he had, early the 
 day, after his adventure, left his lodgings with his small posses- 
 sion of books and clothes, leaving only a note to Madame Lau- 
 rent, enclosing the amount of his debt to her, and that none had 
 since seen or heard of him, 
 
 From that day to this I have never once beheld him. The 
 poor professor lost even the little money due to him for his les- 
 sons — so true is it, that in a man of Monsieur Margot's temper, 
 even interest is a subordinate passion to vanity !
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 55 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 It is good to be merry and wise, 
 
 It's good to be honest and true ; 
 It is good to be off with the old love, 
 
 Before you be en with the new. — Song. 
 
 One morning, when I was riding to the Bois de Boulogne, 
 (the celebrated place of assignation), in order to rneet Madame 
 d'Anville, I saw a lady on horseback, in the most imminent dan- 
 ger of being thrown. Her horse had taken fright at an English 
 tandem, or its driver, and was plunging violently ; the lady was 
 evidently much frightened, and lost her 2oresence of mind more 
 and more every moment. A man who was with her, and who 
 could scarcely manage his own horse, appeared to be exceed- 
 ingly desirous, but perfectly unable, to assist her ; and a great 
 number of people were looking on, doing nothing, and saying, 
 " Mon Dieu, how dangerous ! " 
 
 I have always had a great horror of being a hero in scenes, and 
 a still greater antipathy to '•'•females in distress." However, so 
 great is the effect of sympathy upon the most hardened of us, 
 that I stopped for a few moments, first to look on, and secondly 
 to assist. Just when a moment's delay might have been dan- 
 gerous, I threw mj^self off my horse, seized her's with one hand, 
 by the rein which she no longer had the strength to hold, and 
 assisted her with the other to dismount. When all the peril was 
 over, Monsieur, her companion, managed also to find his legs ; 
 and I did not, I confess, wonder at his previous delay, when I 
 discovered the lady in danger had been his wife. He gave me 
 a profusion of thanks, and slie made them more than complimen- 
 tary, by the glance which accompanied them. Their carriage 
 was in attendance at a short distance behind. The husband 
 went for it — I remained with the lady. 
 
 " Mr. Pelham," she said, " I have heard much of you from my 
 friend Madame d'Anville, and have long been anxious for your 
 acquaintance. I did not think I should commence it with so 
 great an obligation." 
 
 Flattered by being already known by name, and a subject of 
 previous interest, you may be sure that I tried every method to 
 improve the opportunity I had gained ; and when I handed my
 
 56 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 new acquaintance into her carriage, my pressure of her hand 
 was somewhat more than slightly returned. 
 
 " Shall you be at the English ambassador's to-night ? " said 
 the lady, as they were about to shut the door of the carriage. 
 
 " Certainly, \i you are to be there," was my answer. 
 
 "We shall meet then," said Madame, and her look said more. 
 
 I rode into the Bois ; and giving my horse to my servant, as 
 I came near Passy.^ where I was to meet Madame d'Anville, I 
 proceeded thither on foot. I was just m sight of the spot, and 
 indeed of my inamorata, when two men passed, talking very 
 earnestly ; they did not remark me, but what individual could 
 ever escape my notice ? The one was Thornton ; the other — 
 who could he be ? Where had I seen that pale and remarkable 
 countenance before? I looked again. /was satisfied that I 
 was mistaken in my first thought ; the hair was of a completely 
 different color. " No, no," said I, " it is not he : yet how like ! " 
 
 I was distrait and absent during the whole time I was with 
 Madame d'Anville. The face of Thornton's companion haunted 
 me like a dream : and, to say the truth, there were also mo- 
 ments when the recollection of my new engagement for the eve- 
 ning made me tired with that which I was enjoying the trouble- 
 some honor of keeping. 
 
 Madame d'Anville was not slow in perceiving the coldness of 
 my behavior. Though a Frenchwoman, she was rather grieved 
 than resentful. 
 
 " You are growing tired of me, my friend," she said ; " and 
 when I consider your youth and temptations, I cannot be sur- 
 prised at it — yet, I own, that this thought gives me much 
 greater pain than I could have supposed." 
 
 " Bah ! ma belle amie,''' cried I, " you deceive yourself — I 
 adore you — I shall always adore you ; but it's getting very 
 late ! " 
 
 Madame d'Anville sighed, and we parted. " She is not half 
 so pretty or agreeable as she was," thought I, as I mounted 
 my horse, and remembered my appointment at the ambassa- 
 dor's. 
 
 I took unusual pains with my appearance that evening, and 
 drove to the ambassador's hotel in the Rue Faubourg St. 
 Honore', full half an hour earlier than I had ever done before. 
 I had been some time in the rooms without discovering my 
 heroine of the morning. The Duchess of H n passed by. 
 
 " What a wonderfully beautiful woman ! " said Mr. Howard 
 de Howard, a lean gentleman, who valued himself on his ances- 
 tors, to Mr, Aberton.
 
 ADVENTURES OP A GEMTLEMAN. a 
 
 " Ay," answered Aberton, " but to my taste, the Duchesse da 
 Perpignan is quite equal to her — do you know ^er ? " 
 
 " No — yes ! " said Mr. Howard de Howard : " that is, noi" 
 exactly — not well." An Englishman never owns that he does 
 not know a duchess. 
 
 " Hem ! " said Mr. Aberton, thrusting his large hand through 
 his lank light hair. " Hem — could one do any thing, do you 
 think, in that quarter ? " 
 
 " I should think one might, with a tolerable person ! " an- 
 swered the spectral aristocrat, looking down at a pair of most 
 shadowy supporters. 
 
 " Pray," said Aberton, " what do you think of Miss ? 
 
 they say she is an heiress." 
 
 " Think of her ! " said Mr. Howard de Howard, who was as 
 poor as he was thin, " why, I /lave thought of her ! " 
 
 " They say that fool Pelham makes up to her." (Little did 
 Mr. Aberton imagine, when he made this remark, that I was 
 close behind him.) 
 
 " I should not imagine that was true," said the secretary ; 
 " he is so occupied with Madame d'Anville." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Aberton, dictatorially, '' s/ie never had any 
 thing to say to him," 
 
 " Why are you so sure ? " said Mr. Howard de Howard. 
 
 "Why — because he never showed any notes from her, nor 
 ever even said he had a liaison with her ! " 
 
 " Ah ! that is quite enough ! " said Mr. Howard de Howard. 
 " But, is not that the Duchesse de Perpignan ? " 
 
 Mr. Aberton turned, and so did I — our eyes met — his fell — 
 well they might, after his courteous epithet to my name ; how- 
 ever, I had far too good an opinion of myself to care one straw 
 about his ; besides, at that moment, I was wholly lost in my 
 surprise and pleasure, in finding that this Duchesse de Perpig- 
 nan was no other than my acquaintance of the morning. She 
 caught my gaze and smiled as she bowed. " Now," thought 
 I, as I approached her, " let us see if we can not eclipse Mr. 
 Aberton." 
 
 All love-making is just the same, and, therefore, I shall spare 
 the reader my conversation that evening. When he recollects 
 that it was Henry Pelham who was the gallant, I am persuaded 
 that he will be pretty certain as to the success.
 
 5S PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Alea sequa vorax species certissima fiirti 
 
 Non contenta bonis, animum quoque perfida mergit: — 
 
 Furca, furax — infamis, iners, furiosa, ruina.* — Petr. Dial. 
 
 I DINED the next day at Freres Provengaux ; an excellent res- 
 taurateur's, by-tlie-by, where one gets irreproachable gibier, and 
 meets few English. f After dinner, I strolled into the various 
 gambling-houses, with which the Palais Royal abounds. 
 
 In one of these the crowd and heat were so great, that I should 
 immediately have retired if I had not been struck with the intense 
 expression of interest in the countenance of one of the specta- 
 tors at the rouge et noir table. He was a man about forty years 
 of age ; his complexion was dark and sallow ; the features prom- 
 inent, and what are generally called handsome ; but there was a 
 certain sinister expression in his eyes and mouth, which rendered 
 the effect of his physiognomy rather disagreeable than prepossess- 
 mg. At a small distance from him, and playing, with an air 
 which, in its carelessness and nonchalatice., formed a remarkable 
 contrast to the painful anxiety of the man I have just described, 
 state Mr. Thornton. 
 
 At first sight, these two appeared to be the only Englishmen 
 present beside myself ; I was more struck by seeing the former 
 in that scene than I was at meeting Thornton there ; for there 
 was something distinguished in the mien of the stranger, which 
 suited far worse with the appearance of the place, than the air 
 and dress of my ci-devant second. 
 
 " What ! another Englishman "i " thought I, as I turned round 
 and perceived a thick, rough great-coat, which could possibly 
 belong to no continental shoulders. The wearer was standing 
 directly opposite the seat of the swarthy stranger ; his hat was 
 slouched over his face ; I moved in order to get a clearer view 
 of his countenance. It was the same person I had seen with 
 Thornton that morning. Never to this moment have I for- 
 gotten the stern and ferocious expression with which he was 
 
 * Gaming, that direst felon of the breast. 
 
 Steals more than fortune from its wretched thrall. 
 
 Spreads o'er the soul the inert devouring pest. 
 
 And gnaws, and rots, and taints, and ruins all. — Paraphrase. 
 
 t Mr. Pelham could not say as much tor the Frires Provenfciux at present !
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 59 
 
 gazing upon the keen and agitated features of the gambler oppa 
 site. In the eye and lip there was neither pleasure, hatred, nor 
 scorn, in their simple and unalloyed elements ; but each 
 seemed blent and mingled into one deadly concentration of evil 
 passions. 
 
 This man neither played, nor spoke, nor moved. He ap- 
 peared utterly insensible of every feeling in common with those 
 around. There he stood, wrapped in his own dark and inscruta- 
 ble thoughts, never, for one instant, taking his looks from the 
 varying countenance which did not observe their gaze, nor alter- 
 ing the withering character of their almost demoniacal expres- 
 sion. I could not tear myself from the spot. I felt chained by 
 some mysterious and undefinable interest ; my attention was 
 first diverted into a new channel, by a loud exclamation from 
 the dark-visaged gambler at the table ; it was the first he had 
 uttered, notwithstanding his anxiety ; and, from the deep, thrill- 
 ing tone in which it was expressed, it conveyed a keen sympa- 
 thy with the overcharged feelings which it burst from. 
 
 With a trembling hand, he took from an old purse the few 
 Napoleons that were still left there. He set them all at one 
 hazard on the rouge. He hung over the table with a dropping 
 lip ; his hands were tightly clasped in each other ; his nerves 
 seemed strained into the last agony of excitation. I ventured 
 to raise my eyes upon the gaze, which \felt must still be upon 
 the gambler — there it was fixed, and stern as before ! — but it 
 now conveyed a deeper expression of joy than it had hitherto 
 assumed ; yet a joy so malignant and fiendish, that no look of 
 mere anger or hatred could have equally chilled my heart. I 
 dropped my eyes. I redoubled my attention to the cards — the 
 last two were to be turned up. A moment more ! — the fortune 
 was to the noir. The stranger had lost ! He did not utter a 
 single word. He looked with a vacant eye on the long mace, 
 with which the marker had swept away his last hopes, with his 
 last coin, and then, rising, left the room, and disappeared. 
 
 The other Englishman was not long in following him. He 
 uttered a short, low laugh, unheard, perhaps, by any one but 
 myself : and, pushing through the atmosphere of sacres ! and 
 m i lie to?! ?ter res f which, filled that pandemonium, strode quickly 
 to the door. I felt as if a load had been taken from my bosom 
 when he was gone.
 
 6o PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique.* — HoR. Ars Poet. 
 
 I WAS loitering over my breakfast the next morning, and 
 thinking of the last night's scene, when Lord Vincent was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 " How fares the gallant Pelham ? " said he, as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 " Why, to say the truth," I replied, " I am rather under the 
 influence of blue devils this morning, and your visit is like a 
 sun-beam in November." 
 
 " A bright thought," said Vincent, " and I shall make you a 
 very pretty little poet soon ; publish you in a neat octavo, and 
 
 dedicate you to Lady D e. Pray, by-the-by, have you 
 
 ever read her plays ? You know they were only privately 
 printed ? " 
 
 " No," said I, (for in good truth, had his lordship interrogated 
 me touching any other literary production, I should have esteem- 
 ed it a part of my present character to return the same answer). 
 
 " No ! " repeated Vincent ; " permit me to tell you, that you 
 must never seem ignorant of any work not published. To be 
 admired, one must always know what other people don't — and 
 then one has full liberty to sneer at the value of what other peo- 
 ple do know. Renounce the threshold of knowledge. There, 
 every new proselyte can meet you. Boast of your acquaintance 
 with the sanctum, and not one in ten thousand can dispute it 
 with you. Have you read Monsieur de C 's pamphlet ? " 
 
 " Really," said I, " I have been so busy ! " 
 
 " Ah, man ami f" cried Vincent, " the greatest sign of an idle 
 man is to complain of being busy. But you have had a loss : 
 
 the pamphlet is good. C , by the way, has an extraordi- 
 
 n^Lxy, though not an expanded mind : it is like a citizen's garden 
 near London ; a pretty parterre here, and a Chinese pagoda 
 there ; an oak tree in one corner, and a mushroom bed in the 
 other : and above all, a Gothic Ruin opposite the bay window ! 
 You may traverse the whole in a stride ; it is the four quarters 
 
 * The appropriate justice sorts each shade and hue. 
 And gives to each the exact proportion due. — Paraphrase.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 6i 
 
 of the globe in a mole-hill. Yet everything is good in its kind ; 
 and is neither without elegance nor design in its arrangement." 
 
 " What do you think," said I, " of the Earon de the 
 
 minister of .'' " 
 
 " Of him ! " replied Vincent — 
 
 " ' His soul 
 Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole.' 
 
 " It is dark and bewildered — full of dim visions of the an- 
 cient regime ; — it is a bat hovering about the cells of an old 
 abbey. Poor, antique little soul : but I will say nothing more 
 about it — 
 
 * For who would be satirical 
 Upon a thing so very small 
 
 as the soul of the Baron de ! " 
 
 Finding Lord Vincent so disposed to the biting mood, I im- 
 mediately directed his rabies towards Mr. Aberton. 
 
 " Aberton," said Vincent, in answer to my question if he 
 knew that amiable young gentleman — " Yes ! a sort of man 
 who, speaking of the best society, says 7ve — who sticks his best 
 cards on his chimney-piece, and writes himself billets-doux from 
 duchesses. A duodecimo of ' precious conceits,' bound in calf- 
 skin — I know the man well , does he not dress decently, Pel- 
 ham ? " 
 
 " His clothes are well made," said I, candidly. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Vincent, " I should think he went to the best 
 tailor, and said, ' Give me a collar like Lord So and So's ' ; one 
 who would not dare to have a new waistcoat till it had been 
 authoritatively patronized, and who took his fashions, like his 
 follies, from the best proficients. vSuch fellows are always too 
 ashamed of themselves not to be proud of their clothes ; — like 
 the Chinese mariners, they burn incense before the needle!'''' 
 
 " And Mr. Howard de Howard," said I, laughing, " what do 
 you think of him ? " 
 
 " What ! the thin Eupatrid ? " cried Vincent. " He is the 
 mathematical definition of a straight line — length without breadth. 
 His inseparable friend, Mr. Aberton, was running up the Rue 
 St. Honore yesterday in order to catch him, and when I saw 
 him chasing that meagre apparition, I said to Bennington, ' I 
 have found out the real Peter Schlcmil ! ' ' Whom 1 ' (asked 
 his grave lordship, with serious naivete) — ' Mr. Aberton,' said 
 I ; ' don't you see him running after his shadow ? ' But the 
 pride of the lean thing is so amusing! He is fifteenth cousin
 
 62 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 to the duke, and so his favorite exordium is ' Whenever I suc- 
 ceed to the titles of my ancestors.' It was but the other day, 
 that he heard two or three silly young men discussing church 
 and state, and they began by talking irreligion — (Mr. Howard 
 de Howard is too unsubstantial not to be spiritually inclined) — ■ 
 however he only fidgeted in his chair. They then proceeded 
 to be exceedingly disloyal. Mr. Howard de Howard fidgeted 
 again. They then passed to vituperations on the aristocracy ; 
 — this the attenuated pomposity (tnagni nominis umbra) could 
 brook no longer. He rose up, cast a severe look on the abashed 
 youths, and thus addressed them — ' Gentlemen, I have sate by 
 in silence, and heard my King derided, and my God blasphemed ; 
 but now when you attack the aristocracy, I can no longer refrain 
 from noticing so obviously intentional an insult. You have be- 
 come personal.^ " 
 
 " Pray, Vincent," said I, after a short pause, " did you ever 
 meet with a Mr. Thornton at Paris .-' " 
 
 "Thornton, Thornton," said Vincent, musingly; "what, Tom 
 Thornton ? " 
 
 " I should think, very likely," I replied; "just the sort of 
 man who would be Tom Thornton — has a broad face, with a 
 color, and wears a spotted neckcloth ; Tom — what could his 
 name be but Tom ? " 
 
 " Is he about five-and-thirty ? " asked Vincent, " rather short, 
 and with reddish-colored hair and whiskers .'' " 
 
 " Precisely," said I : " are not all Toms alike .-" " 
 
 "Ah," said Vincent, "I know him well: he is a clever, 
 shrewd fellow, but a most unmitigated rascal. He is the son of 
 a steward in Lancashire, and received an attorney's education ; 
 but being a humorous, noisy fellow, he became a great favorite 
 with his father's employer, who was a sort of Meceenas to cud- 
 gel-players, boxers, and horse-jockeys. At his house, Thornton 
 met many persons of rank, but of a taste similar to their 
 host's ; and they, mistaking his vulgar coarseness for honesty, 
 and his quaint proverbs for wit, admitted him into their society. 
 It was with one of them that I have seen him. I believe of 
 late, that his character has been of a very indifferent odor : and 
 what ever has brought him among the English at Paris — those 
 white-washed abominations — those ' innocent blacknesses,' as 
 Charles Lamb calls chimney-sweepers, it does not argue well for 
 his professional occupations. 1 should think however, that he 
 manages to live here ; for wherever there are English fools, 
 there are fine pickings for an English rogue."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 63 
 
 " Ay," said I, " but are there enough fools here to feed the 
 rogues ? " 
 
 " Yes, because rogues are like spiders, and eat each other, 
 when there is nothing else to catch ; and Tom Thornton is safe, 
 as long as the ordinary law of nature lasts, that the greater 
 knave preys on the lesser, — for there cannot possibly be a 
 greater knave than he is ! If you have made his acquaintance, 
 my dear Pelham, I advise you most soberly to look to yoursell, 
 for if he doth not steal, beg, or borrow of you, Mr, Howard de 
 Howard will grow fat, and even Mr. Aberton cease to be a fool. 
 And now most noble Pelham, farewell. // est plus aise (Vetrc 
 sage pour les autres que de Vetre pour soi-fneme.'" * 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 This is a notable couple — and have met 
 
 But for some secret knavery. — Tke Tanner of Tybtirn. 
 
 I HAD now been several weeks in Paris, and I was not al- 
 together dissatisfied with the manner in which they had been 
 spent. I had enjoyed myself to the utmost, while I had, as much 
 as possible, combined profit with pleasure ; viz., if I went to the 
 Opera in the evening, I learned to dance in the morning : if I 
 drove to a soiree at the Duchesse de Perpignan's, it was not till I 
 had fenced an hour at the Salon des Assauts d' Amies ; in short, 
 I took the greatest pains to complete my education. — I wish all 
 young men who frequented the Continent for that purpose could 
 say the same ! 
 
 One day (about a week after the conversation with Vincent, 
 recorded in my last chapter) I was walking slowly along one of 
 the paths in \\\q. Jardiii des Plantes, meditating upon the variou.3 
 excellences of the Rocher de Cancale and the Duchesse de Per- 
 pignan, when I perceived a tall man, with a thick, rough coat, 
 of a dark color (which I recognized long before I did the face of 
 the wearer) emerging from an intersecting path. He stopped a 
 few moments, and looked around as if expecting some one. 
 Presently a woman, apparently about thirty, and meanly dressed, 
 appeared in an opposite direction. She approached him ; they 
 exchanged a few words, and then, the woman taking his arm, 
 they struck into another path, and were soon out of sight. 1 
 
 * It is more easy to be wise for others than for oneself.
 
 64 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 suppose that the reader has already discovered that this man 
 was Thornton's companion in the Bois de Boulogne, and the hero 
 of the gaming-house, in the Palais Royal. I could not have 
 supposed that so noble a countenance, even in its frowns, could 
 ever have wasted its smiles upon a mistress of the low station 
 to which the woman who had met him evidently belonged. 
 However, we all have our little foibles, as the Frenchman said, 
 when he boiled his grandmother's head in a pipkin. 
 
 I myself was, at that time, the sort of person that is always 
 taken by a pretty face, however coarse may be the garments 
 which set it off ; and although I cannot say that I ever stooped 
 so far as to become amorous of a chambermaid, yet I could be 
 tolerably lenient to any man under thirty who did. As a proof 
 of this gentleness of disposition, ten minutes after I had wit- 
 nessed so unsuitable a rencontre, I found myself following a 
 pretty little grisette into a small sort of cabaret, which was, at the 
 time I speak of (and most probably still is), in the midst of the 
 gardens. I sat down, and called for my favorite drink of lemon- 
 ade : the little grisette, who was with an old woman, possibly her 
 mother, and un beau gros garcon, probably her lover, sat oppo- 
 site, and began with all the ineffable coquetries of her country, 
 to divide her attention between the said garcon and myself. 
 Poor fellow he seemed to be very little pleased by the signifi- 
 cant glances exchanged over his right shoulder, and at last, 
 under pretence of screening her from the draught of the opened 
 window, placed himself exactly between us. This, however 
 ingenious, did not at all answer his expectations ; for he had not 
 sutificiently taken into consideration, that / also was endowed 
 with the power of locomotion ; accordingly I shifted my chair 
 about three feet, and entirely defeated the counter march of the 
 enemy. 
 
 But this flirtation did not last long ; the youth and the old 
 woman appeared very much of the same opinion as to its impro- 
 priety ; and accordingly, like experienced generals, resolved to 
 conquer by a retreat ; they drank up their orgeat — paid for it — ■ 
 placed the wavering regiment in the middle, and then quitted the 
 field. I was not, however, of a disposition to break my heart at 
 such an occurrence, and I remained by the window, drinking my 
 lemonade, and muttering to myself, " After all, women are a 
 bore ! " 
 
 On the outside of the cabaret, and just under my window, was a 
 bench, which, for a certain number of sous, one might appropri- 
 ate to the entire and unparticipated use of one's-self and party. 
 An old woman (so at least I suppose by her voice, for T clid not
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 65 
 
 give myself the trouble of looking, — though, indeed as to that 
 matter,'it might have been the shrill treble of Mr. Howard de 
 Howard !) had been hitherto engrossing this settlement with 
 some gallant or other. In Paris, no woman is too old to get an 
 ainant, either by love or money. This couple soon paired off, and 
 was immediately succeeded by another. The first tones of the 
 man's voice, low as they were, made me start from my seat. I 
 cast one quick glance before I resumed it. The new pair were 
 the Englishman I had before noted in the garden, and the female 
 companion who had joined him. 
 
 " Two hundred pounds, you say ? " muttered the man ; " we 
 must have it all." 
 
 " But," returned the woman, in the same whispered voice, " he 
 says, that he will never touch another card." 
 
 The man laughed. " Fool," said he, " the passions are not so 
 easily quelled — how many days is it he had this remittance from 
 England ? " 
 
 " About three," replied the woman. 
 
 "And is it absolutely the ver)' last remnants of his property ? " 
 
 " The last." 
 
 " I am then to understand, that when this is spent there is 
 nothing between him and beggary ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said the woman, with a half sigh. 
 
 The man laughed again, and then rejoined in an altered tone, 
 " Then, then will this parching thirst be quenched at last. I 
 tell you, woman, that it is many months since I have known a 
 day — night — hour, in which my life has been as the life of other 
 men. My whole soul has been melted down into one burning, 
 burning thought. Feel this hand — ay, you may well start — but 
 what is the fever of the frame to that within ? " 
 
 Here the voice sank so low as to be inaudible. The woman 
 seemed as if endeavoring to soothe him ; at length he said — 
 
 "But poor Tyrrell — you will not, surely, suffer him to starve, 
 to die of actual want, abandoned and alone ! " 
 
 "Alone! no!" cried her companion, fiercely. "When the 
 last agonies shall be upon that man — when, sick with weariness, 
 pain, disease, hunger, he lies down to die — when the death- 
 gurgle is in the throat, and the eye swims beneath the last dull 
 film — when remembrance peoples the chamber with Hell, and 
 his cowardice would falter forth its dastard recantation to 
 Heaven — then — may I be t/icrel" 
 
 There was a long pause, only broken by the woman's sobs, 
 which she appeared endeavoring to stifle. At last the man rose, 
 and in a tone so soft that it seemed literally like music, addressed
 
 66 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 her in the most endearing tenrrs. She soon yielded to their 
 persuasion, and replied to them with interest. 
 
 " Spite of the stings of my remorse," she said, " as long as I 
 lose not you, I will lose life, honor, hope, even soul itself ! " 
 
 They both quitted the spot as she said this. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 At length the treacherous snare was laid, 
 Poor pug was caught — to town convey'd ; 
 There sold. How envied was his doom, 
 Made captive in a lady's room ! — Gay's Fables. 
 
 I WAS sitting alone a morning or two after this adventure, when 
 Bedos, entering, announced tine dame. 
 
 This dame was a fine tall thing, dressed out like a print in the 
 Magasin des Modes. She sate herself down, threw up her veil, 
 and, after a momentary pause, asked me if I liked my apart- 
 ment ? 
 
 "Very much," said I, somewhat surprised at the nature of the 
 interrogatory. 
 
 "Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way? " rejoined 
 the lady. 
 
 '■'■ Non — Mille remercimens I" said I — " you are very good to 
 be so interested in my accommodation." 
 
 " Those curtains might be better arranged^ — that sofa replaced 
 with a more elegant one," continued my new superintendent. 
 
 " Really," said I, " I am too too much flattered. Perhaps you 
 would like to have my room altogether : if so, make at least 
 no scruple of saying it." 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the lady, "I have no objection to your 
 staying here." 
 
 " You are too kind," said I, with a low bow. 
 
 There was pause of some moments — I took advantage of it. 
 
 " I think, madame, I have the honor of speaking to — to — 
 to—" 
 
 " The mistress of the hotel," said the lady, quietly. " I 
 merely called to ask you how you did, and hope you were well 
 accommodated." 
 
 " Rather late, considering I have been six weeks in the house," 
 thought I, revolving in my mind various reports I had heard of 
 my present visitor's disposition to gallantry. However, seeing
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 67 
 
 it was all over with me, I resigned myself, with the patience of 
 a martyr, to the fate that I foresaw. I rose, approached her 
 chair, took her hand (very hard and thin it was too), and thanked 
 her with a most affectionate squeeze. 
 
 " I have seen much English ! " said the lady, for the first time 
 speaking in our language. 
 
 " Ah ! " said I, giving another squeeze. 
 
 " You are a handsome gar^on,''^ renewed the lady. 
 
 " I am so," I replied. 
 
 At that moment Bedos entered, and whispered that Madame 
 d'Anville was in the ante-room. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " said I, knowing her jealousy of disposi- 
 tion, " what is to be done ? Oblige me, madame," seizing the 
 the unfortunate mistress of the hotel, and opening the door to 
 the back entrance — " There," said I, " you can easily escape. 
 £on joiu-y 
 
 Hardly had I closed the door, and put the key in my pocket, 
 before Madame d'Anville entered. 
 
 " Is it by your order that your servant keeps me waiting in 
 your ante-room ? " said she, haughtily. 
 
 I endeavored to make my peace : but all my complaisance 
 was in vain — she was jealous of my intimacy with the Duchesse 
 de Perpignan, and glad of any excuse to vent her pique. For- 
 tunately, however, she was going to the Luxembourg ; and 
 my only chance of soothing her anger was to accompany her. 
 
 Down stairs, therefore, we went, and drove to the Luxem- 
 bourg; I gave Bedos, before my departure, various little com- 
 missions, and told him he need not be at home till the evening. 
 Long before the expiration of an hour, Madame d' Anville's ill- 
 humor had given me an excuse for affecting it myself. Tired 
 to death of her, and panting for release, I took a high tone — 
 complained of her ill-temper, and her want of love — spoke rap- 
 idly — waited for no reply, and, leaving her at the Luxembourg, 
 proceeded forthwith to Galignani's, like a man just delivered 
 from a strait-waistcoat. 
 
 Leave me now, for a few minutes in the reading-room at 
 Galignani's, and return to the mistress of the hotel, whom I had 
 so unceremoniously thrust out of my salon. The passage into 
 which she had been put communicated by one door with my 
 rooms, and by another with the staircase. Now, it so happened, 
 that Bedos was in the habit of locking the latter door, and keep- 
 ing the key; the other egress, it will be remembered, I myself 
 had secured ; so tliat the unfortunate mistress of the hotel was 
 no sooner turned into this passage, than she found herself in a
 
 68 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 sort of dwngeon, ten feet by five, and surrounded, like Eve in 
 Paradise, by a whole creation — not of birds, beasts^ and fishes, 
 but of brooms, brushes, linen for the laundress, and — a wood 
 basket ! What she was to do in this dilemma was utterly incon- 
 ceivable ; scream, indeed, she might, but then the shame and 
 ridicule of being discovered in so equivocal a situation, were 
 somewhat more than our discreet landlady could endure. Be- 
 sides, such an expose might be attended with a loss the good 
 woman valued more than reputation, viz., lodgers ; for the pos- 
 sessors of the two best floors were both Englishwomen of a cer- 
 tain rank ; and my landlady had heard such accounts of our na- 
 tional virtue, that she feared an instantaneous emigration of such 
 inveterate prudes, if her screams and situation reached their 
 ears. 
 
 Quietly then, and soberly, did the good lady sit, eyeing the 
 brooms and brushes as they grew darker and darker with the 
 approach of the evening, and consoling herself with the cer- 
 tainty that her release must eventually take place. 
 
 Meanwhile, to return to myself — I found Lord Vincent at 
 Galignani's, carefully looking over " Choice Extracts from the 
 best English Authors." 
 
 " Ah, my good fellow ! " said he, " I am delighted to see you : 
 I made such a capital quotation just now : the young Benning- 
 ton s were drowning a poor devil of a puppy : the youngest (to 
 whom the mother belonged) looked on with a grave, earnest 
 face, till the last kick was over, and then burst into tears. 
 ' Why do you cry so ? ' said I. ' Because it was so cruel in us 
 to drown the poor puppy ! ' replied the juvenile Philocunos. 
 'Pooh!' said I ; 'Quid juvat erxoxes mersdjafn piippe fateri ? ' 
 Was it not good "i — you remember it in Claudian, eh, Pelham ? 
 Think of its being thrown away on those Latinless young lub- 
 bers ! Have you seen anything of Mr. Thornton lately ? " 
 
 " No," said I, " I've not ; but I am determined to have that 
 pleasure soon." 
 
 " You will do as you please," said Vincent, " but you will be 
 like the child playing with edged tools." _ 
 
 " I am not a child," said I, " so the simile is not good. He 
 must be the devil himself, or a Scotchman at least, to take mem." 
 
 Vincent shook his head. " Come and dine with me at the 
 Rocher," said he ; " we are a party of six — choice spirits all." 
 
 " Volontiers ; but we can stroll in the Tuileries first, if you 
 have no other engagement." 
 
 "None," said Vincent, putting his arm in mine. 
 
 After an hour's walk, Vincent suddenly recollected that he had
 
 ADVENTURES OF A G EXILE MAX. 69 
 
 a commission of avery important nature in the Rue J. J. Rousseau. 
 This was — to buy a monkey. " It is for Wormwood," said he, 
 " who has written me a long letter describing its qualities and 
 qualifications. I suppose he wants it for some practical joke — 
 some embodied bitterness — Heaven forbid I should thwart him 
 in so charitable a design ! " 
 
 " Amen," said I ; and we proceeded together to the monkey- 
 fancier. After much deliberation, we at last decided upon the 
 most hideous animal I ever beheld — it was of a — no, I will not 
 attempt to describe it — it would be quite impossible ! Vincent 
 was so delighted with our choice, that he insisted upon carrying 
 it away immediately. 
 
 " Is it quite quiet .'' " I asked. 
 
 " Commc. tin oiseaii" said the man. 
 
 We called a fiacre — paid for Monsieur Jocko, ana drove to 
 Vincent's apartments ; there we found, however, that his valet 
 had gone out and taken the key. 
 
 " Hang it," said Vincent, "it does not signify ! We'll carry 
 petit-monsieur with us to the Rocher." 
 
 Accordingly we all three once more entered \\\q. fiacre, and 
 drove to the celebrated restaurateur's of the Rue Mont Orgueil. 
 Oh, blissful recollections of that dinner ! how at this moment 
 you crowd upon my delighted remembrance ! Lonely and sorrow- 
 ful as I now sit, digesting with many a throe the iron thews of a 
 British beefsteak — more Anglico — immeasurably tough — I see the 
 grateful apparitions of Escallopcs de Saurnon and Laitances de 
 Carpes rise in a gentle vapor before my eyes i breathing a sweet 
 and pleasant odor, and contrasting the dream-like delicacies of 
 their hue and aspect, with the dire and dure realities which now 
 weigh so heavily on the region below my heart ! And thou, most 
 beautiful of all — thou evening star of entremets — thou that 
 delightest in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud of sauces — 
 ^\.(^\'i\\.Q. foie gras ! — Have I forgotten thee ? Do I not, on the 
 contrary, see thee — smell thee — taste thee — and almost die with 
 rapture of thy possession ? What, though the goose, of which 
 thou art a part, has, indeed, been roasted alive by a slow fire, 
 in order to increase thy divine proportions — yet has not our 
 Ahnanach — the Almanack des Gourmands — truly declared that 
 the goose rejoiced amid all her tortures — because of the gloiy 
 that awaited her ? Did she not, in prophetic vision, behold her 
 enlarged and ennobled y?w dilate into pates and steam mio sautes 
 — the companion of truffles — the glory of dishes — the delight — 
 the treasure — the transport of gourmands ! O, exalted among 
 birds — apotheosized goose, did not thy heart exult even when
 
 70 PEL/JAM; OR, 
 
 thy liver parched and swelled within thee, from that most 
 agonizing death ; and didst thou not, like the Indian at the stake, 
 triumph in the very torments which alone could render thee 
 illustrious ? 
 
 After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent punned 
 and quoted ; we laughed and applauded ; and our Burgundy 
 went round with an alacrity to which every new joke gave an 
 additional impetus. Monsieur Jocko was by no the dullest in 
 the party; he cracked his nuts with as much grace as we did 
 our jests, and grinned and chattered as facetiously as the best of 
 us. After coffee we were all so pleased with' one another, that 
 we resolved not to separate, and accordingly we adjourned to 
 my rooms. Jocko and all, to find new revelries and grow bril- 
 liant over Cura^oa punch. 
 
 We entered my salon with a roar, and set Bedos to work at 
 the punch .forthwith. Bedos, that Ganymede of a valet, had 
 himself but just arrived, and was unlocking the door as we 
 entered. We soon blew up a glorious fire, and our spirits 
 brightened in proportion. Monsieur Jocko sate on Vincent's 
 knee — " iV^ monstrom," as he classically termed it. One of our 
 compotatores was playing with it. Jocko grew suddenly in 
 earnest — a grin — a scratch, and a bite, were the work of a 
 moment. 
 
 *' Ne quid nimis — now," said Vincent, gravely, instead of en- 
 deavoring to soothe the afflicted party, who grew into a tower- 
 ing passion. Nothing but Jocko's absolute disgrace could in- 
 deed have saved his life from the vengeance of the sufferer. 
 
 " Whither shall we banish him ? " said Vincent. 
 
 " Oh," I replied, " put him out in that back passage ; the 
 outer door is shut ; he'll be quite safe ; " and to the passage 
 he was therefore immediately consigned. 
 
 It was in this place, the reader will remember, that the hapless 
 dame du Chateau was at that very instant in " durance 
 vile." Unconscious of this fact, I gave Bedos the key, he took 
 the condemned monkey, opened the door, thrust Jocko in, and 
 closed it again. Meanwhile we resumed our merriment. 
 
 '■^ Nunc est bibendiim,'" said Vincent, as Bedos placed the punch 
 on the table. " Give us a toast, Dartmore." 
 
 LordlDartmore was a young man with tremendous spirits, which 
 made up for wit. He was just about to reply, when a loud shriek 
 was heard from Jocko's place of banishment : a sort of scram- 
 ble ensued, and the next moment the door was thrown violently 
 open, and in rushed the terrified landlady, screaming like a sea- 
 gull, and bearing aloft upon her shoulder, from which " bad emi
 
 ADl'ENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 71 
 
 nence " he was grinning and chattering witht he fury of fifty devils. 
 She ran twice round the room, and then sank on the floor in hys- 
 terics, feigned or real. We lost no time in hastening to her 
 assistance ; biat the warlike Jocko, still sitting upon her, refused 
 to permit one of us to approach. There he sat, turning from 
 side to side, showing his sharp, white teeth, and uttering from 
 time to time the most menacing and diabolical sounds. 
 
 " What the deuce shall we do ? " cried Dartmore. 
 
 " Do ? " said Vincent, who was convulsed with laughter, and 
 yet endeavoring to speak gravely : " why, watch like L. Opimius, 
 ' ne qaid respublica detri?nenti caperet.^ " 
 
 " By Jove, Pelham, he will scratch out the lady's l>ea2ix yeux," 
 cried the good-natured Dartmore, endeavoring to seize the mon- 
 key by the tail, for which he very narrowly escaped with an un- 
 mutilated visage. But the man who had before suffered by 
 Jocko's ferocity, and whose breast was still swelling with revenge, 
 was glad of so favorable an opportunity and excuse for wreak- 
 ing it. He seized the poker, made three strides to Jocko, who 
 set up an ineffable cry of defiance — and with a single blow split 
 the skull of the unhappy monkey in twain. It fell with one con- 
 vulsion on the ground and gave up the ghost. 
 
 We then raised the unfortunate landlady, placed her on the 
 sofa, and Dartmore administered a plentiful potation of the 
 Curgaoa punch. By slow degrees she revived, gave three 
 most doleful suspirations, and then, starting up, gazed wildly 
 around her. Half of us were still laughing — my unfortunate self 
 among the number; this the enraged landlady no sooner per- 
 ceived than she imagined herself the victim of some precon- 
 certed villany. Her lips trembled with passion — she uttered the 
 most dreadful imprecations ; and had I not retired into a cor- 
 ner, and armed myself with the dead body of Jocko, which I 
 wielded with exceeding valor, she might, with the simple weap- 
 ons with which nature had provided her hands, have for ever 
 demolished the loves and graces that abide in the face of Henry 
 Pelham. 
 
 When at last she saw that nothing hostile was at present to 
 be affected, she drew herself uj), and giving Bedos a tremen- 
 dous box on the ear, as he stood grinning beside her, marched 
 out of the room. 
 
 We then again rallied around the table, more than ever dis- 
 posed to be brilliant, and kept up till day-break a continued fire 
 of jests upon the heroine of the passage : " a/m qua (as Vincent 
 happily observed) clauditur adversis innoxia simia fatis /"
 
 7i FELHAM; OK, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Show me not thy painted beauties, 
 
 These impostures I defy. — George Withers. 
 
 The cave of Falri smelt not more delicately ; — on every side appeared 
 the marks of drunkenness and gluttony. At the upper end of the cave the 
 sorcerer lay extended, &c. 
 
 Mirglip the Persian, in the Tales of the Genii. 
 
 I WOKE the next morning with an aching head and feverish 
 frame. Ah, those midnight carousals, how glorious they would 
 be if there were «(7next morning ! I look my sauterne and soda- 
 water in my dressing-room : and, as indisposition always makes 
 me meditative, I thought over all I had done since my arrival 
 at Paris. I had become (that. Heaven knows, I soon manage 
 '"o do) rather a talked-of and noted character. It is true that I 
 was everywhere abused — one found fault with my neckcloth — 
 another with my mind — the lank Mr. Aberton declared that I put 
 my hair in papers, and the stuffed Sir Henry Millington said I was 
 a thread-paper myself. One blamed my riding — a second my 
 dancing — a third wondered how any woman could like me, and 
 a fourth said that no woman ever could. 
 
 On one point, however, all — friends and foes — were alike 
 agreed : viz., that I was a consummate puppy, and excessivelv 
 well satisfied with myself. Perhaps, they were not much mis- 
 taken there. Why is it, by-the-by, that to be pleased with one's 
 self is the surest way of offending everybody else ? If any one, 
 male or female, an evident admirer of his or her own perfections, 
 enter a room, how perturbed, restless, and unhappy every indi- 
 vidual of the offender's sex instantly becomes : for them not 
 only enjojTnent but tranquillity is over, and if they could an- 
 nihilate the unconscious victim of their spleen, I fully believe 
 no Christian toleration would come in the way of that last ex- 
 treme of animosity. For a coxcomb there is no mercy — for a 
 coquette no pardon. They are, as it were, the dissenters of 
 society — no crime is too bad to be imputed to them ; they do 
 not believe the religion of others — they set up a deity of their 
 own vanity — all the orthodox vanities of others are offended. 
 Then comes the bigotry — the stake — the auto-da-fe of scandal. 
 What, alas ! is so implacable as the rage of vanity t What
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 73 
 
 SO restless as its persecution ? Take from a man his for- 
 tune, his house, his reputation, but flatter his vanity in each, 
 and he will forgive you. Heap upon him benefits, fill him with 
 blessings : but irritate his self-love, and you have made the 
 very best man ungrateful. He will sting you if he can : you 
 can not blame him ; you yourself have instilled the venom. 
 This is one reason why you must rarely reckon upon gratitude 
 in conferring an obligation. It is a very high mind to which 
 gratitude is not a painful sensation. If you wish to please, you 
 will find it wiser to receive — solicit even — favors, than accord 
 them : for the vanity of the obliger is always flattered — that of 
 the obligee rarely. 
 
 Well, this is an unforeseen digression ; let me return ! I had 
 mixed, of late, very little with the English. My mother's intro- 
 ductions had procured me the entree of the best French houses ; 
 and to them, therefore, my evenings were usually devoted. 
 Alas ! that was a happy time when my carriage used to await 
 me at the door of the Rocher de Cancale, and then whirl me to 
 a succession of visits, varying in their degree and nature as 
 the whim prompted : now to the brilliant soirees of Madame de 
 
 , or to the appartemcrit an troishne of some less celebrated 
 
 daughter of dissipation and ecarte ; — now to the literary conver- 
 saziones of the Duchesse D s, or the Visconte d' , and 
 
 then to the feverish excitement of the gambling-house. Passing 
 from each with the appetite for amusement kept alive by 
 variety ; finding in none a disappointment, and in every one a 
 welcome ; full of the health which supports, and the youth 
 which colors all excess or excitement, I drained, with an 
 unsparing lip, whatever enjoyment that enchanting metropolis 
 could afford. 
 
 I have hitherto said but little of the Duchesse de Perpignan ; 
 I think it necessary now to give some account of that person- 
 age. Ever since the evening I had met her at the ambassador's, 
 I paid her the most unceasing attentions. I soon discovered 
 tliat she had a curious sort of liaison with one of the attaches — a 
 short, ill-made gentleman, with high shoulders and a pale face, 
 who wore a blue coat and a buff waistcoat, wrote bad verses, 
 and thought himself handsome. All Paris said she was 
 excessively enamoured of this youth. As for me, I had not 
 known her four days before I discoverd that she could not be 
 excessively enamoured of anything but an oyster/^// and Lord 
 Byron's Corsair. Her mind was the most marvellous imUange 
 of sentiment and its opposite. In her amours she was Lucretia 
 herself ; in her epicurism Apicius would have yielded to her.
 
 74 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 She was pleased with sighs, but she adored suppers. She 
 would leave everything for her lover, except her dinner. The 
 attache soor\. quarrelled with her, and I was installed into the 
 platonic honors of his office. 
 
 At first, I own that I was flattered by her choice, and though 
 she was terribly exacting of my petits soins, I managed to keep 
 up her affection, and, what is still more wonderful, my own, for 
 the better part of a month. What then cooled me was the 
 following occurrence : — 
 
 I was in her boudoir one evening, when her fenime de cham- 
 bre came to tell us that the Due was in the passage. Not- 
 withstanding the innocence of our attachment, the Duchesse 
 was in a violent fright ; a small door was at the left of the ot- 
 toman on which we were sitting. " Oh, no, no, not there ! " 
 cried the lady ; but I, who saw no other refuge, entered it forth- 
 with, and before she could ferret me out, the Due was in the 
 room. 
 
 In the meanwhile, I amused myself by examining the wonders 
 of the new world into which I had so abruptly immerged ; on a 
 small table before me, was deposited a remarkably-constructed 
 night-cap ; I examined it as a curiosity ; on each side was 
 placed une petite cotelette, de veau cm, sewed on with green- 
 colored silk (I remember even the smallest minutiae :) a beautiful 
 golden wig (the Duchesse never liked me to play with her hair) 
 was on a block close by, and on another table was a set of 
 teeth, d'u7ie blancheur ebouissante. In this manufactory of a 
 beauty I remained for a quarter of an hour ; at the end of 
 that time, the abigail (the Duchess had the grace to disap- 
 pear released me, and I flew down stairs like a spirit from pur- 
 gatory. 
 
 From that moment the Duchesse honored me with her most 
 deadly abhorrence. Equally silly and wicked, her schemes of 
 revenge were as ludicrous in their execution as remorseless in 
 their design : at one time I narrowly escaped poison in a cup of 
 coffee — at another, she endeavored to stab me to the heart with 
 a paper-cutter. 
 
 Notwithstanding my preservation from these attacks, my fair 
 enemy had resolved on my destruction, and another means of 
 attempting it still remained, which the reader will yet have the 
 pleasure of learning, 
 
 Mr. Thornton had called upon me twice, and twice I had 
 returned the visit, but neither of us had been at home to benefit 
 by these reciprocities of politeness. His acquaintance with my 
 mysterious hero of the gambling-house and the Jardin des
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEA'TLEMA.V. 75 
 
 Plantes, and the keen interest I took, in spite of myself, in that 
 unaccountable person, whom I was persuaded I had seen 
 before in some very different scene, and under very different 
 circumstances, made me desirous to improve an acquaintance, 
 which, from Vincent's detail, I should otherwise have been 
 anxious to avoid. I therefore resolved to make another 
 attempt to find him at home ; and my headache being some- 
 what better, I took my way to his apartments in the Faubourg 
 St. Germain. 
 
 I love that quartier ! — If ever I go to Paris again I shall 
 reside there. It is a different world from the streets usually 
 known to, and tenanted by the English — thei-e^ indeed, you 
 are among the French, the fossilized remains of the old regime 
 — the very houses have an air of desolate, yet venerable 
 grandeur — you never pass by the white and modern mansion of 
 a nouveau rkhe ; all, even to the ruggedness of the pave, 
 breathes a haughty disdain of innovation — you cross one of the 
 numerous bridges, and you enter into another time — you are in- 
 haling the atmosphere of a past century ; no flaunting boutique, 
 French in its trumpery, English in its prices, stares you in the 
 face ; no stiff coats and unnatural gaits are seen anglicizing up 
 the melancholy streets. Vast hotels, with their gloomy f rontals, 
 and magnificent contempt of comfort ; shops, such as shops 
 might have been in the aristocratic days of Louis Quatorze, 
 ere British contamination made them insolent and dear ; public 
 edifices, still eloquent of the superb charities of le grand mon- 
 arque — carriages with their huge bodies and ample decorations ; 
 horses, with their Norman dimensions and unlocked honors ; 
 men, on whose more high though not less courteous demeanour, 
 the Revolution seems to have wrought no democratic plebeianism 
 — all strike on the mind with a vague and nameless impression 
 of antiquity ; a something solemn even in gayety, and faded in 
 pomp, appears to linger over all you behold ; there are the Great 
 French people unadulterated by change, unsullied with the 
 commerce of the vagrant and various tribes that throng their 
 mighty mart of enjoyments. 
 
 The strangers who fill the quartiers on this side the Seine 
 pass not there ; between them and the Faubourg there is a gulf ; 
 the very skies seem different — your own feelings, thoughts — 
 nature itself — alter, when you have passed that Styx which 
 divides the wanderers from the inhabitants ; your spirits are not 
 so much damped, as tinged, refined, ennobled by a certain inex- 
 pressible awe — you are girt with the statcliness of eld, and you 
 tread the gloomy streets with the dignity of a man, who is
 
 -,G PELHAM; OR, 
 
 recalling the splendors of an ancient court where he once did 
 homage.* 
 
 I arrived at Thornton's chambers in the Rue St. Dominique. 
 ^^ Monsieur, est-il chez luiV said I to the ancient porteress, who 
 was reading one of Crebillion's novels. 
 
 "6>«/ Monsieur, au giiatricme,''^ was the answer. I turned to 
 the dark and unclean stair-case, and, after incredible exertion 
 and fatigue, arrived, at last, at the elevated abode of Mr. 
 Thornton, 
 
 '■'■ Entrez,''' cried a voice, in answer to m}- rap. I obeyed the 
 signal, and found myself in a room of tolerable dimensions and 
 multiplied utilities. A decayed silk curtain of a dingy blue, 
 drawn across a recess, separated the chambre a couchcr from the 
 salon. It was at present only half drawn, and did not, therefore, 
 conceal the mysteries of the den within ; the bed was still 
 unmade, and apparently of no very inviting cleanliness ; a red 
 handkerchief, that served as a night-cap, hung pendent from 
 the foot of the bed ; at a little distance from it, more towards 
 the pillow, were a shawl, a parasol, and an old slipper. On a 
 table, which stood between the two dull, filmy windows, were 
 placed a cracked bowl, still reeking with the lees of gin-punch, 
 two bottles half full, a mouldy cheese, and a salad dish : on the 
 ground beneath the table lay two huge books, and a woman's 
 bonnet. 
 
 Thornton himself sat by a small consumptive fire, in an easy 
 chair ; another table, still spread with the appliances of break- 
 fast, viz., a coffee-pot, a milk-jug, two cups, a broken loaf, and 
 an empty dish, mingled with a pack of cards, one die, and an 
 open book de mauvais gofit, stood immediately before him. 
 
 Every thing around bore some testimony of low debauchery ; 
 and the man himself, with his flushed and sensual countenance, 
 his unwashed hands, and the slovenly rakishness of his whole 
 appearance, made no unfitting representation of the Genus loci. 
 
 All that I have described, together with a flitting shadow of 
 feminine appearance, escaping through another door, my quick 
 eye discovered in the same instant that I made my salutation. 
 
 Thornton rose, with an air half-careless and half-abashed, 
 and expressed, in more appropriate terms than his appearance 
 warranted, his pleasurable surprise at seeing me at last. There 
 was, however, a singularity in his conversation which gave it an 
 air both of shrewdness and vulgarity. This was, as may before 
 have been noted, a profuse intermixture of proverbs, some stale, 
 
 * It was in 1827 that this was first published : the glory (by this time) has probably 
 Jeft the Faubourc-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 77 
 
 some new, some sensible enough, and all savoring of a vocabu. 
 lary carefully eschewed by every man of ordinary refinement in 
 conversation. 
 
 '* I have but a small tenement," said he, smiling ; " but, 
 thank Heaven, at Paris a man is not made by his lodgings. 
 Small house small care. Fe.v gar^ons have indeed a more 
 sumptuous apartment than myself." 
 
 " True," said I ; " and if I may judge by the bottles on the 
 opposite table, and the bonnet beneath it, you find that no 
 abode is too humble or too exalted for the solace of the senses." 
 
 " 'Fore Gad, you are in the right, Mr. Pelham," replied 
 Thornton, with a loud, coarse, chuckling laugh, which, more 
 than a year's conversation could have done, let me into the 
 secrets of his character, " I care not a rush for the decorations 
 of the table, so that the cheer be good ; nor for the gewgaws of 
 tte head-dress, so long as the face is pretty — ' the taste of the 
 kitchen is better than the smell.' Do you go much to Madame 
 
 B 's in the Rue Gretry — eh, Mr. Pelham ? — ah, I'll be bound 
 
 you do." 
 
 " No," said I, with a loud laugh, but internal shiver ; " but 
 you know where to find le bon vin et les joliesfilles. As for me, 
 I am still a stranger in Paris, and amuse myself but very indif- 
 ferently." 
 
 Thornton's face brightened. " I tell you what, my good 
 
 fellow 1 beg pardon — I mean Mr. Pelham — I can show 
 
 you the best spot in the world, if you can only spare me a little 
 of your time — this very evening, perhaps ? " 
 
 " I fear," said I, " I am engaged all the present week ; but I 
 long for nothing more than to cultivate an acquaintance, seem- 
 ingly so exactly to my own tasted 
 
 Thornton's grey eyes twinkled. " Will you breakfast with me 
 on Saturday ? " said he. 
 
 " I shall be too happy," I replied, 
 
 There was now a short pause. I took advantage of it. " I 
 think," said I, "I have seen you once or twice with a tall, hand- 
 some man, in a loose great-coat of very singular color. Pray, if 
 not impertinent, who is he .-* I am sure I have seen him before 
 in England." 
 
 I looked full upon Thornton as I said this ; he changed color 
 and answered my gaze with a quick glance from his small, glit- 
 tering eye, before he replied, " I scarcely know who you mean, 
 my acquaintance is so large and miscellaneous at Paris. It 
 might have been Johnson, or Smith, or Howard, or anybody, in 
 short."
 
 78 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " It is a man nearly six feet liigh," said I, " thin, and remark- 
 ably well made, of a pale complexion, light eyes, and veiy black 
 hair, mustachios and whiskers. I saw him with you once in the 
 Bois de Boulogne, and once in a hell in the Palais Royal. 
 Surely, now you will recollect who he is .'' " 
 
 Thornton was evidently disconcerted. " Oh!" said he, after 
 a short pause, and another of his peculiarly quick, sly glances. — 
 " Oh, that man ; I have known him a very short time. What is 
 his name ? — let me see ! " and Mr. Thornton affected to look 
 down in a complete reverie of dim remembrances. 
 
 I saw, however, that, from time to time, his eye glanced up 
 to me, with a restless, inquisitive expression, and as instantly 
 retired. 
 
 " Ah," said I, carelessly, " I think I know who he is ! " 
 
 "Who ? " cried Thornton, eagerly, and utterly off his guard. 
 
 "And yet," I pursued, without noticing the interruption, "it 
 scarcely can be — the color of the hair is so very different." 
 
 Thornton again appeared to relapse into his recollections. 
 
 " War — Warbur — ah, I have it now ! " cried he, " Warbur- 
 ton — that's it — that's the name — is it the one you supposed, Mr. 
 Pelham ? " 
 
 " No," said I, apparently perfectly satisfied. " I was quite 
 mistaken. Good morning, I did not think it was so late. On 
 Saturday, then, Mr. Thornton — au plaisir!''^ 
 
 " A cunning dog ! " said I to myself, as I left the apartments. 
 " However, on peut etre trop Jin. I shall have him yet." 
 
 The surest way to make a dupe, is to let your victim suppose 
 you are his. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Voila de I'erudition.* — Les Fevimes Saveiites. 
 
 I FOUND, on my return, covered with blood, and foaming with 
 passion, my inestimable valet — Bedos ! 
 
 " What's the matter ? " said I. 
 
 " Matter ! " repeated Bedos, in a tone almost inarticulate 
 with rage ; and then, rejoicing at the opportunity of unbosoming 
 his wrath, he poured out a vast volley of ivrognes and carognes, 
 against our dame du chateau, of monkey reminiscence. With 
 great difficulty, I gathered at last from his vituperations, that 
 
 * There's erudition for vou.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 79 
 
 the enraged landlady, determined to wreak her vengeance 
 on some one, had sent for him into her appartement, accosted 
 him with a smile, bade him sit down, regaled him with cold vol- 
 au-ve?it, and a glass of Cura^oa, and, while he was felicitating 
 himself on his good fortune, slipped out of the room ; pres- 
 ently, three tall fellows entered with sticks. 
 
 " We'll teach you," said the biggest of them — " we'll teach 
 you to lock up ladies for the indulgence of your vulgar amuse- 
 ment ; " and, without one other word, they fell upon Bedos with 
 incredible zeal and vigor. The valiant valet defended himself, 
 tooth and nail, for some time, for which he only got the more 
 soundly belabored. In the meanwhile the landlady entered, 
 and, with the same gentle smile as before, begged him to make 
 no ceremony, to proceed with his present amusement, and when 
 he was tired with the exercise, hoped he would refresh himself 
 with another glass of Curagoa. 
 
 " It was this," said Bedos, with a whimper, " which hurt me 
 the most, to think she should serve me so cruelly, after I had 
 eaten so plentifully of the vol-au-vent ; envy and injustice I can 
 bear, but treachery stabs me in the heart." 
 
 When these threshers of men were tired, the lady satisfied, 
 and Bedos half dead, they suffered the unhappy valet to with- 
 draw ; the mistress of the hotel give him a note, which she 
 desired, with great civility, that he would transmit to me on my 
 return. This, I found, inclosed my bill, and informed me that, 
 my month being out on the morrow, she had promised my 
 rooms to a particular friend, and begged I would, therefore, 
 have the bontc to choose another apartment. 
 
 " Carry my luggage forthwith," said I, " to the hotel de 
 Mirabeau : " and that very evening I changed my abode. 
 
 I was engaged that day to a literary dinner at the Marquis 
 
 d'Al ; and as I knew I should meet Vincent, I felt some 
 
 pleasure in repairing to my entertainer's hotel. They were just 
 going to dinner as I entered, A good many English were of 
 the party. The good-natured, in all the senses of the word, 
 
 Lady , who always aflected to pet me, cried aloud, " Pelham, 
 
 man Jolt petit mignon^i have not seen you for an age — do give 
 me your arm." 
 
 Madame d'Anville was just before me, and, as I looked at 
 her, I saw that her eyes were full of tears ; my heart smote me for 
 my late inattention, and going up to her, I only nodded to 
 
 Lady , and said, in reply to her invitation, " Non, pcrjide, it 
 
 is my turn to be cruel }i07c>. Remember your flirtation with 
 Mr. Howard de Howard."
 
 So PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Lady , taking Lord Vincent's arm, " your 
 
 jealousy does indeed rest upon ' a trijle light as air.'' " 
 
 " Do you forgive me ? " whispered I to Madame d'Anville, as 
 I handed her to the sa//e a manger. 
 
 " Does not love forgive everything? " was her answer. 
 
 " At least," thought I, " it never talks in those pretty phrases ! " 
 
 The conversation soon turned upon books. As for me, I 
 rarely at that time took a share in those discussions ; indeed, 
 I have long laid it down as a rule, that when your fame, or 
 your notoriety, is once established, you never gain by talking to 
 more than one person at a time. If you don't shine, you are a 
 fool — if you do, you are a bore. You must become either ridic- 
 ulous or unpopular — either hurt your own self-love by stupidity, 
 or that of others by wit. I therefore sat in silence, looking ex- 
 ceedingly edified, and now and then muttering " good ! " " true ! " 
 Thank heaven, however, the suspension of one faculty only 
 increases the vivacity of the others ; my eyes and ears always 
 watch like sentinels over the repose of my lips. Careless and 
 indifferent as I seem to all things, nothing ever escapes me : I 
 have two peculiarities which serve me it may be, instead of tal- 
 ent ; / observe^ and I retnember. 
 
 " You have seen Jouy's ' Hermite de la Chaussee d'Antin 1 ' " 
 said our host to Lord Vincent. 
 
 " I have, and think meanly of it. There is perpetual aim at 
 something pointed, which as perpetually merges into something 
 dull. He is like a bad swimmer, strikes out with great force, 
 makes a confounded splash, and never gets a yard further for it. 
 
 It is a great effort not to sink. Indeed, Monsieur d'A , 
 
 your literature is at a very reduced ebb ; — bombastic in the 
 drama — shallow in philosophy — mawkish in poetry, your writers 
 in the present day seem to think, with Boileau — 
 
 ' Souvent de tons nos maux la raison est le pire.' " * 
 
 " Surely," cried Madame d'Anville, " you will allow De la 
 Martine's poetry to be beautiful .'' " 
 
 " I allow it," said he, " to be among the best you have ; and 
 I know very few lines in your language equal to the two first 
 stanzas in his ' Meditation on Napoleon,' or to those exquisite 
 verses called 'Z^ A?^;' but ^^?^ will allow also, that he wants 
 originality and nerve. His thoughts are pathetic, but not deep ; 
 he whines, but sheds no tears. He has, in his imitation of 
 
 * Often of all our ills the worst is reason.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. Si 
 
 Lord Byron, reversed the great miracle; instead of turning 
 water into wine, he has turned wine into water. Besides, he is 
 so unpardonably obscure. He thinks, with Bacchus — (you re- 
 member, D'A , the line in Euripides, which I will «<?/ quote), 
 
 that ' there is something august in the shades ; ' but he has ap- 
 plied this thought wrongly — in his obscurity there is nothing 
 sublime — it is the back-ground of a Dutch picture. It is only 
 a red herring, or an old hat, which he has invested with such 
 pomposity of shadow and darkness." 
 
 "But his verses are so smooth," said Lady . 
 
 " Ah ! " answered Vincent. 
 
 '"Quand la rime cnfin se trouve au bout des vers, 
 Qu' impoite que le reste y soit mis de travers .?' "* 
 
 " Helas ! " said the Viscount d'A — , an author of no small 
 celebrity himself ; " I agree with you — we shall never again see 
 a Voltaire or a Rousseau." 
 
 " There is but little justice in those complaints, often as they 
 are made," replied Vincent. " You may not, it is true, see a 
 Voltaire or a Rousseau, but you will see their equals. Genius 
 can never be exhausted by one individual. In our country, the 
 poets after Chaucer in the fifteenth century complained of the 
 decay of their art — they did not anticipate Shakspeare. In 
 Hayley's time, who ever dreamt of the ascension of Byron .'' 
 Yet Shakspeare and Byron came like the bridegroom ' in the 
 dead of night;' and you have the same probability of produc- 
 ing — not, indeed, another Rousseau, but a writer to do equal 
 honor to your literature." 
 
 "I think," said Lady , "that Rousseau's 'Julie' is over- 
 rated. I had heard so much of ' La Nouvelle Heloise ' when 
 I was a girl, and been so often told that it was destruction to 
 read it that I bought the book the very day after I was mar- 
 ried, I own to you that I could not get through it." 
 
 " I am not surprised at it," answered Vincent ; " but Rousseau 
 is not the less a genius for all that. There is no plot in his novel 
 to bear out the style, and he himself is right when he says, 'this 
 book will suit few leaders.' One letter would delight every 
 one — four volumes of them are a surfeit — it is the toiijours pcr- 
 drix. But the chief beauty of that wonderful conception of an 
 impassioned and meditative mind is to be found in the inimita- 
 ble manner in whicii the thoughts are embodied, and in the ten- 
 
 * No matter what the stuff, if good the rhyme — 
 The rubble stands cemented with the lime.— Parai'iikase.
 
 82 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 derness, the truth, the profundity of the thoughts themselves. 
 When Lord Edouard says, ' c'est le cheniin des passions qui 7na 
 conduit h la philosophic,^ * he inculcates, in one simple phrase, a 
 profound and unanswerable truth. It is in these remarks that 
 nature is chiefly found in the writings of Rousseau, Too much 
 engrossed in himself to be deeply skilled in the characters of 
 others, that very self-study had yet given him a knowledge of the 
 more hidden recesses of the heart. He could perceive at once 
 the motive and the cause of actions, but he wanted the patience 
 to trace the elaborate and winding progress of their effects. 
 He saw the passions in their home, but he could not follow 
 them abroad. He knew mankiiid in the general, but not men 
 in the detail. Thus, when he makes an aphorism, or reflection, 
 it comes home at once to you as true ; but when he would anal- 
 yze that reflection — when he argues, reasons, and attempts to 
 prove, you reject him as unnatural, or you refute him as false. 
 It is then that he partakes of that inanie commune which he im- 
 putes to other philosophers, ^ de ?iier ce qui est, et d'expliquer ce qui 
 n' est pas: " f 
 
 There was a short pause. "I think," said Madame d'Anville 
 " that it is in those reflections which you admire so much in 
 Rousseau, that our authors in general excel." 
 
 " You are right," said Vincent, " and for this reason — with 
 you, meri of letters are nearly always men of the world. Hence 
 their quick perceptions are devoted to human beings as well as 
 to bocks. They make observations acutely, and embody them 
 with grace ; but it is worth remarking, that the same cause which 
 produced the aphorism, frequently prevents its being profound. 
 These literary gens du mode have the tact to observe, but not 
 the patience, perhaps not the time, to investigate. They make 
 the maxim, but they never explain to you the train of reasoning 
 which led to it. Hence they are more brilliant than true. An 
 English writer will seldom dare to make a maxim, involving, 
 perhaps, in two lines, one of the most important of moral prob- 
 lems, without bringing pages to support his dictum. A French 
 essayist leaves it wholly to itself. He tells you neither how he 
 came by his reasons, nor their conclusion ; ' leplus fou souvent 
 est le plus satis/ait: X Consequently, if less tedious than the 
 English, your reasoners are more dangerous, and ought rather 
 to be considered as models of terseness than of reflection. A 
 man might learn to think sooner from your writers, but he will 
 
 * 'It is the path of the passions which has conducted me to philosophy. 
 t To deny that which is, and explain that which is not. 
 X He who has the least sense is the most satisfied.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. ^z 
 
 learn to thmk justly sooner from ours. Many observations of 
 La Bruyere and Rochefoucault — the latter especially — have 
 obtained credit for truth solely from their point. They possess 
 exactly the same merit as the very sensible — permit me to add 
 — very French line in Corneille : — 
 
 ' Ma plus douce esperance est de perdre I'espoir. ' " * 
 
 The marquis took advantage of the silence which followed 
 Vincent's criticism, to rise from table. We all (except Vincent, 
 who took leave) adjourned to the salon. " Qui est cet homme 
 laV said one, "" comme il est e'pris de lui-meme !" "How silly 
 he is," cried another — " How ugly,''' said a third. " What a 
 taste in literature — such a talker — such shallowness, and such 
 assurance — not worth the answering — could not slip in a word 
 — disagreeable, revolting, awkward, slovenly," were the most 
 complimentary opinions bestowed upon the unfortunate Vincent. 
 The old railed at his mauvais gout, and the young at his 
 viauvais cceur, for the former always attribute whatever does 
 not correspond with their sentiments, to a perversion of taste ; 
 and the latter, whatever does not come up to their enthusiasm, 
 to a depravity of heart. 
 
 As for me, I went home, enriched with two new observations ; 
 first, that one may not speak of anything relative to a foreign 
 country, as one would if one were a native. National censures 
 become particular affronts. Secondly, that those who know 
 mankind in theory, seldom know it in practice ; the very wisdom 
 that conceives a rule, is accompanied with the abstraction, or 
 the vanity, which destroys it. I mean, that the philosopher of 
 the cabinet is often too diffident to put into action his observa- 
 tions, or too eager for display to conceal their design. Lord 
 Vincent values himself upon his science du tnonde. He has 
 read much upon men, he has reflected more ; he lays down 
 aphorisms to govern or to please them. He goes into society ; 
 he is cheated by the one half, and the other half he offends. 
 The sage in the cabinet is but a fool in the salon ; and the 
 most consummate men of the world are those who have consid- 
 ered the least on it. 
 
 * My sweetest hoping is to forfeit hope.
 
 S4 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Falstaff. — What money is in my purse ? 
 
 Pas[e. — Seven groats and two-pence. — Second Part of Henry IV. 
 En iterum Crispiniis ! 
 
 The next day a note was brought me which had been sent to 
 to my former lodgings in the Hotel de Paris : it was from 
 Thornton. 
 
 " My dear Sir," (it began) 
 
 " I am very sorry that particular business will prevent me the 
 pleasure of seeing you at my rooms on Saturday. I hope to be 
 more fortunate some other day. I should be glad to introduce 
 you, the first opportunity, to my friends in the Rue Gretry, for I 
 like obliging my countrymen. I am sure, if you were to go 
 there, you would cut and come again — one shoulder of mut- 
 ton drives down another. 
 
 " I beg you to accept my repeated excuses, and remain, 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 " Your very obedient servant, 
 
 " Thomas Thornton. 
 " Rue St. Dominique, 
 Friday Morning. " 
 
 This letter produced in me many and manifold cogitations. 
 What could possibly have induced Mr. Tom Thornton, rogue 
 as he was, to postpone thus of his own accord, the plucking of 
 a pigeon, which he had such good reason to believe he had en- 
 trapped ? There was evidently no longer the same avidity to 
 cultivate my acquaintance as before ; in putting off our appoint- 
 ment with so little ceremony, he did not even fix a day for an- 
 other meeting. What had altered his original designs towards 
 me ? for if Vincent's account were true, it was natural to suppose 
 that he wished to profit by any acquaintance he might form with 
 me, and therefore such an acquaintance his own interests would 
 induce him to continue and confirm. Either, then, he no longer 
 had the same necessity for a dupe, or he no longer imagined I 
 should become one. Yet neither of these suppositions was prob- 
 able. It was not likely that he should grow suddenly honest,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 85 
 
 or suddenly rich : nor had I, on the other hand, given him any 
 reason to suppose I was a jot more wary than any other indivicl- 
 ual he might have imposed upon. On the contrary, I had ap- 
 peared to seek his acquaintance with an eagerness which said 
 but httle for my knowledge of the world. The more I reflected, 
 the more I should have been puzzled, had I not connected his 
 present backwardness with his acquaintance with the stranger, 
 whom he termed Warburton. It is true, that I had no reason 
 to suppose so : it was a conjecture wholly unsupported, and, in- 
 deed, against my better sense ; yet, from some unanalyzed asso- 
 ciations, I could not divest myself of the supposition. 
 
 " I will soon see," thought I ; and, wrapping myself in my 
 cloak, for the day was bitterly cold, I bent my way to Thornton's 
 lodgings. I could not explain to myself the deep interest I took 
 in whatever was connected with (the so-called) Warburton, or 
 whatever promised to discover more clearly any particulars re- 
 specting him. His behavior in the gambling-house ; his conver- 
 sation with the woman in ihejardift des Plantes ; and the singu- 
 lar circumstance, that a man of so very aristocratic an appear- 
 ance should be connected with Thornton, and only seen in such 
 low scenes, and with such low society, would not have been suffi- 
 cient so strongly to occupy my mind, had it not been for certain 
 dim recollections, and undefinable associations, that his appear- 
 ance when present, and myithoughts of him when absent, perpet- 
 ually recalled. 
 
 As, engrossed with meditations of this nature, I was passing 
 over the Font JVeiif, I perceived the man whom Warburton had 
 so earnestly watched in the gambling-house, and whom my con- 
 jectures identified with the " Tyrrell," who had formed the 
 subject of conversation in the Jardin dcs Plantes, pass slowly 
 before me. There was an appearance of great exhaustion in 
 his swarthy and strongly-marked countenance. He walked 
 carelessly on, neither looking to the right nor the left, with that 
 air of thought and abstraction common to all men in the habit 
 of indulging any engrossing and exciting passion. 
 
 We were just on the other side of the Seine, when I perceived 
 the woman of i\\Q Jardin des Plantes approach. Tyrrell (for that, 
 I afterwards discovered, was really his name) started as she 
 came near, and asked her in a tone of some asperity, where she 
 had been ? As I was but a few paces behind, I had a clear, 
 full view of the woman's countenance. She was about twentv- 
 eight or thirty years of age. Her features were decidedly hand- 
 some, thougli somewhat too sharp and aquiline. Her eyes were 
 ligiit and rather sunken ; and her complexion bespoke some-
 
 86 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 what of the paleness and languor of ill-health. On the whole, 
 the expression of her face, though decided, was not unpleasing, 
 and when she returned Tyrrell's rather rude salutation, it was 
 with a smile, which made her, for the moment, absolutely beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 " Where have I been to ? " she said, in answer to his interrog^ 
 atory ; " Why, I went to look at the New Church which they 
 told me was so superber 
 
 " Methinks," replied the man, " that ours are not precisely 
 the circumstances in which such spectacles are amusing." 
 
 " Nay, Tyrrell," said the woman, as, taking his arm, they 
 walked on together a few paces before me, " nay, we are quite 
 rich now to what we have been ; and, if you do play again, our 
 two hundred pounds may swell into a fortune. Your losses 
 have brought you skill, and you may now turn them into actual 
 advantages." 
 
 Tyrrell did not reply exactly to these remarks, but appeared 
 as if debating with himself. "Two hundred pounds — twenty 
 already gone ! — in a few months, all will have melted away. 
 WHiat is it then now but a respite from starvation .? — but with 
 luck it may become a competence." 
 
 " And why not have luck ? many a fortune has been made 
 with a worse beginning," said the woman. 
 
 " True, Margaret," pursued the gambler, " and even without 
 luck, our fate can only commence a month or two sooner — bet- 
 ter a short doom than a lingering torture." 
 
 " What think you of trying some new game where you have 
 more experience, or where the chances are greater than in that 
 of rouge et noir ? " asked the woman. " Could you not make 
 something out of that tall, handsome man, who Thornton says, 
 is so rich .-• " 
 
 " Ah, if one could ! " sighed Tyrrell, wistfully. " Thornton 
 tells me, that he has won thousands from him, and that they 
 are mere drops in his income. Thornton is a good, easy, care- 
 less fellow, and might let me into a share of the booty; but 
 then, in w'hat games can I engage him ? " 
 
 Here I passed this well-suited pair, and lost the remainder 
 of their conversation. "Well," thought I, "if this precious 
 personage does starve at last, he will most richly deserve it, 
 partly for his designs on the stranger, principally for his opin- 
 ion of Thornton. If he were a knave only one might pity him : 
 but a knave and fool both, are a combination of evil, for which 
 there is no intermediate purgatory of opinion — nothing short of 
 utter damnation."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 87 
 
 I soon arrived at Mr. Thornton's abode. The same old wo 
 man, poring over the same novel of Crebillon, made me the 
 same reply as before ; and accordingly again I ascended the 
 obscure and rugged stairs, which seemed to indicate, that the 
 road to vice is not so easy as one generally supposes. I 
 knocked at the door, and, receiving no answering acknowledg- 
 ment, opened it at once. The first thing I saw was the dark, 
 rough coat of Warburton ; that person's back was turned to me, 
 and he was talking with some energy to Thornton (who lounged 
 idly in a chair, with one ungartered leg thrown over the elbow). 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed the latter, starting from his 
 not ver)' graceful position, " it gives me great pleasure to see 
 you — Mr. Warburton, Mr. Pelham — Mr. Pelham, Mr. Warbur- 
 ton." 
 
 My new-made and mysterious acquaintance drew himself up 
 to his full height, and bowed very slightly to my own acknowl- 
 edgment of the introduction. A low person would have 
 thought him rude. I only supposed him ignorant of the world. 
 No man of the world is uncivil. He turned round, after this 
 stiff condescension, and sank down on the sofa, with his back 
 towards me. 
 
 "I was mistaken," thought I, "when I believed him to be 
 above such associates as Thornton — they are well matched." 
 
 " My dear sir," said Thornton, " I am very sorry I could not 
 see you to breakfast — a particular engagement prevented me — 
 verbum sap. Mr. Pelham, you take me, I suppose — black eyes, 
 white skin, and such an ankle ! " and the fellow rubbed his 
 great hands and chuckled. 
 
 " Well," said I, " I cannot blame you, whatever may be my 
 loss — a dark eye and a straight ankle are powerful excuses. 
 What says Mr. Warburton to them ? " and I turned to the ob- 
 ject of my interrogatory. 
 
 " Really," he answered drily, (but in a voice that struck me 
 as feigned and artificial,) and without moving from his un- 
 courteous position, " Mr. Thornton only can judge of the nice- 
 ties of his peculiar tastes, or the justice of his general excuses." 
 
 Mr, Warburton said this in a sarcastic bitter tone. Thornton 
 bit his lips, more, I should think, at the manner than the words, 
 and his small grey eyes sparkled with a malignant and stern 
 expression, which suited the character of his face far better than 
 the careless levitv which his glances usuallv denoted. 
 
 " They are no such great friends after all," thought I ; " and 
 let me change my attack. Pray," I asked, " among all your 
 numerous acquaintances at Paris, did you ever meet with a Mr.
 
 SS PELHAM; OR, 
 
 Tyrrell ? " Warburton started from his chair, and as instantly 
 reseated himself. Thornton eyed me with one of those peculiar 
 looks which so strongly reminded me of a dog, in deliberation 
 whether to bite or run away. 
 
 " I do know a Mr. Tyrrell ! " he said, after a short pause. 
 
 " What sort of a person is he .'' " I asked, with an indifferent 
 air — " a great gamester, is he not ? " 
 
 " He does slap it down on the colors now and then," replied 
 Thornton. " I hope you don't know him, Mr. Pelham ! " 
 
 " Why ? " said I, evading the question. " His character is not 
 affected by a propensity so common, unless, indeed, you suppose 
 him to be more a gambler than a gamester, viz., more acute than 
 unlucky." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should say any such thing," replied 
 Thornton ; " you won't catch an old lawyer in such imprudence." 
 
 " The greater the truth, the greater the libel," said Warburton, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 "No," resumed Thornton, "I know nothing against Mr. 
 Tyrrell — not/iitig ! He i?iay be a. very good man, and I believe 
 he is ; but as a friend, Mr. Pelham, (and Mr. Thornton grew 
 quite affectionate), I advise you to have as little as possible to 
 do with that sort of people.''^ 
 
 " Truly," said I, " you have now excited my curiosity. Nothing, 
 you know, is half so inviting as mystery." 
 
 Thornton looked as if he had expected a very different reply ; 
 and Warburton said, in an abrupt tone — 
 
 " Whoever enters an unknown road in a fog may easily lose 
 himself." 
 
 " True," said I ; " but that very chance is more agreeable 
 than a road where one knows every tree ! Danger and novelty 
 are more to my taste than safety and sameness. Besides, as I 
 rarely gamble myself, I can lose little by an acquaintance with 
 those who do." 
 
 Another pause ensued — and, finding I had got all from Mr. 
 Thornton and his uncourteous guest that I was likely to do, I 
 took my hat and my departure. 
 
 " I do not know," thought I, "whether I have profited much 
 by this visit. Let me consider. In the first place, I have not 
 ascertained why I was put off by Mr. Thornton — for as to his 
 excuse, it could only have availed one day, and had he been 
 anxious for my acquaintance, he would have named another. 
 I have, however, discovered, first, that he does not wish me to 
 form any connection with Tyrrell ; secondly, from Warburton's 
 sarcasm, and his glance of reply, that there is but little friend-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 89 
 
 ship between those two, whatever be the intitnacy ; and, thirdly, 
 that Warburton, from his dorsal positions, so studiously pre- 
 served, either wished to be uncivil or unnoticed." The latter, 
 after all, was the most probable supposition ; and, upon the 
 whole, I felt more than ever convinced that he was the person 
 I suspected him to be. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Tell how the fates my giddy course did guide, 
 The inconstant turns of every changing hour. 
 
 Pierce Gaveston, by M. Drayton. 
 
 Je me retire done. — Adieu, Paris, adieu! — BoiLEAU, 
 
 When I returned home, I found on my table the following 
 letter from my mother : — 
 
 " My dear Henry, 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear you are so well entertained at Paris 
 
 — that you have been so often the D s and C s ; that 
 
 Coulon says you are his best pupil — that your favorite horse is 
 so much admired — and that you have only exceeded your allow- 
 ance by ;^i,ooo. With some difficulty I have persuaded your 
 uncle to transmit you an order for 1,500/., which will, I trust, 
 make up all your deficiencies. 
 
 " You must not, my dear child, be so extravagant for the fu- 
 ture, and for a very good reason, viz., I do not see how you can. 
 Your uncle, I fear, will not again be so generous, and your father 
 can not assist you. You will therefore see jnore clearly than 
 ever the necessity of marr}-ing an heiress : there are only two in 
 England (the daughters of gentlemen) worthy of you — the most 
 deserving of these has 10,000/. a year, the other has 100,000/. 
 The former is old, ugly, and very ill-tempered : the latter tolera- 
 bly pretty, and agreeable, and just of age , but you will per- 
 ceive the impropriety of even thinking of her till we have tried 
 the other. I am going to ask both to my Sunday soirees^ where 
 I never admit any single men, so that ihcn\ at least, you have no 
 rivals. 
 
 " And now, my dear son, before I enter into a subject of great 
 importance to you, I wish to recall to your mind that pleasure is 
 never an end, but a means — viz., that in your horses and amuse- 
 ments at Paris — your visits and your liaisons — you have always, 
 I trust, remembered that these were only so far desirable as the
 
 90 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 methods of shining in society. I have now a new scene on 
 which you are to enter, with very different objects in view, and 
 where any pleasures you find have nothing the least in com- 
 mon with those you at present enjoy. 
 
 " I know that this preface will not frighten you, as it might 
 many silly young men. Your education has been too carefully 
 attended to, for you to imagine that any step can be rough or 
 unpleasant which raises you in the world. ' To come at once 
 to the point. One of the seats in your uncle's borough of Buye- 
 mall is every day expected to be vacated ; the present member, 
 Mr. Toolington, can not possibly live a week, and your uncle is 
 very desirous that you should fill the vacancy which Mr. Tool- 
 ington 's death will create. Though I called it Lord Glenmor- 
 ris's borough, yet it is not entirely at his disposal, which I think 
 very strange, since my father, who was not half so rich as youl 
 uncle, could send two members to Parliament without the least 
 trouble in the world — but I don't understand these matters. Pos- 
 sibly your uncle (poor man) does not manage them well. How 
 ever, he says no time is to be lost. You are to return immedi- 
 ately to England, and come down to his house in shire. It 
 
 is supposed you will have some contest, but be certain eventu- 
 ally to come in. 
 
 " You will also, in this visit to Lord Glenmorris, have an ex- 
 cellent opportunity of securing his affection : you know it is 
 some time since he saw you, and the greater part of his prop- 
 erty is unentailed. If you come into the house, you must 
 devote yourself wholly to it, and I have no fear of your succeed- 
 ing : for I remember, when you were quite a child, how well you 
 spoke ' My name is Norval,' and ' Romans, countrymen, and 
 lovers,' &c. I heard Mr. Canning speak the other day, and I 
 think his voice is quite like yours. In short, I make no doubt 
 of seeing you in the ministry in a very few years. 
 
 " You see, my dear son, that it is absolutely necessary you 
 
 should set out Immediately. You will call on Lady , and 
 
 you will endeavor to make firm friends of the most desirable 
 among your present acquaintance ; so that you may be on the 
 same footing you are now, should you return to Paris. This a 
 little civility will easily do ; nobody (as I before observed), ex- 
 cept in England, ever loses by politeness ; — by-the-by, that last 
 word is one you must never use — it is too Gloucester-place like. 
 
 " You will also be careful, in returning to England, to make 
 very little use of French phrases ; no vulgarity is more unpleas- 
 ing. I could not help being exceedingly amused by a book 
 written the other day, which professes to give an accurate de-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 91 
 
 scription of good society. Not knowing what to make us say in 
 English, the author has made us talk nothing but French. I 
 have often wondered what common people think of us, since in 
 their novels they always effect to portray us so different from 
 themselves. I am very much afraid we are in all things exactly 
 like them, except in being more simple and unaffected. The 
 higher the rank, indeed, the less pretence, because there is less 
 to pretend to. This is the chief reason why our manners are 
 better than low persons : ours are more natural, because they 
 imitate no one else ; theirs are affected, because they think to 
 imitate ours ; and whatever is evidently borrowed becomes 
 vulgar. Original affectation is sometimes good ton, — imitated 
 affectation, ahvays bad. 
 
 " Well, my dear Henry, I must now conclude this letter, al- 
 ready too long to be interesting. I hope to see you about ten 
 days after you receive this ; and if you can bring me a Cache- 
 mire shawl, it would give me great pleasure to see your taste in 
 its choice. God bless you, my dear son. 
 
 " Your very affectionate, 
 
 " Frances Pelham." 
 
 " P. S. I hope you go to church sometimes : I am sorry to 
 see the young men of the preseni day so irreligious ; it is very 
 bad taste ! Perhaps you could get my old friend, Madame 
 de , to choose the Cachemire ; — take care of your health." 
 
 This letter which I read carefully twice over, threw me into a 
 most serious meditation. My first feeling was regret at leaving 
 Paris ; my second, was a certain exultation at the new prospects 
 so unexpectedly opened to me. The gieat aim of a philosopher 
 is, to reconcile every disadvantage by some counterbalance of 
 good ; where he cannot create this, he should imagine it. I 
 began, therefore, to consider less what I should loose than what 
 I should gain, by quitting Paris. In the first place, I was toler- 
 ably tired of its amusements : no business is half so fatiguing as 
 pleasure. I longed for a change : behold, a change was at 
 hand ! Then, to say truth, I was heartily glad of a pretence for 
 escaping from a numerous cohort oi folks amours, with Madame 
 d'Anville at the head ; and the very circumstance which men 
 who play the German flute and fall in love would have consid- 
 ered the most vexatious, I regarded as the most consolatory. 
 
 My mind being thus relieved from its primary regret at my 
 departure, I now suffered it to look forward to the advantages 
 of my return to England. My love ot excitement antl variety 
 made an election, in which I was to have both the importance
 
 9^ PELHAM; OR, 
 
 of \ fie contest and the certainty of the success, a very agreeable 
 object of anticipation, 
 
 1 was also by this time wearied with my attendance upon 
 women, and eager to exchange it for the ordinary objects of am- 
 bition to men : and my vanity whispered that my success in the 
 one was no unfavorable omen of my prosperity in the other. 
 On my return to England, with a new scene and a new motive 
 for conduct, I resolved that I would commence a different char- 
 acter from that I had hitherto assumed. How far I kept this 
 resolution the various events hereafter to be shown will testify. 
 For myself, I felt that I was now about to enter a more crowded 
 scene upon a more elevated ascent ; and my previous experience 
 of human nature was sufficient to convince me that my safety re- 
 quired a more continual circumspection, and my success a more 
 dignified bearing. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Je noterai cela, madame, dans mon livre. — Moliere. 
 
 I AM not one of those persons who are many days in deciding 
 what may be effected in one. " On the the third day from this," 
 said I to Bedos, " at half-past nine in the morning, I shall leave 
 Paris for England." 
 
 " Oh my poor, wife ! " said the valet, " she will break her 
 heart if I leave her." 
 
 " Then stay," said I. Bedos shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I prefer being with Monsieur to all things." 
 
 " What, even to your wife ? " The courteous rascal placed 
 his hand to his heart and bowed. " You shall not suffer by 
 your fidelity — you shall take your wife with you." 
 
 The conjugal valet's countenance fell. " No," he said, — "he 
 could not take advantage of Monsieur's generosity." 
 
 " I insist upon it — not another word." 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons of Monsieur; but — but my wife 
 is very ill, and unable to travel." 
 
 " Then, in that case, so excellent a husband cannot think of 
 leaving a sick and destitute wife." 
 
 " Poverty has no law ; if I consulted my heart, and stayed, I 
 should starve, et ilfauivivre." * 
 
 * One must live.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 93 
 
 '■^ Je fi'en vols pas la necessite,"* replied I, as I got into my car- 
 riage. That repartee, by the way, I cannot claim as my own ; 
 it is the very unanswerable answer of a judge to an expostula- 
 ting thief. 
 
 I made the round of reciprocal regrets, according to the or- 
 thodox formula. The Duchesse de Perpignan was the last ; — 
 (Madame cl'Anvi! ie I reserved for another day) — that virtuous 
 and wise personage was in the boudoir of reception. I glanced 
 at the fatal door as I entered. I have a great aversion, after 
 any thing has once happened and fairly subsided, to make any 
 allusion to its former existence. I never, therefore, talked to 
 the Duchess about our ancient egaremens. I spoke, this morn- 
 ing of the marriage of one person, the death of another, and 
 lastly, the departure of my individual self. 
 
 " When do you go ? " she said, eagerly. 
 
 " In two days : my departure will be softened, if I can execute 
 any commissions in England for Madame." 
 
 " None," said she ; and then in a low tone (that none of the 
 idlers, who were always found at her morning levees, should hear), 
 she added, " you will receive a note from me this evening." 
 
 I bowed changed the conversation, and withdrew. I dined in 
 my own rooms, and spent the evening in looking over the vari- 
 ous billets-doux, recoived during my sejour at Paris. 
 
 "Where shall I put all these locks of hair ? '' asked Bedos, 
 opening a drawer-full. 
 
 "Into my scrap-book." 
 
 " And all these letters ? " 
 
 " Into the fire." 
 
 I was just getting into bed when the Duchesse de Perpignan's 
 note arrived — it was as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Friend, 
 
 " For that word, so doubtful in our language, I may at 
 least call you in your own. I am unwilling that you should 
 leave this country with those sentiments you now entertain of 
 me, unaltered, yet I cannot imagine any form of words of suffi- 
 cient magic to change them. Oil ! if you knew how much I am 
 to be pitied ; if .you could look for one moment into this lonely 
 and blighted heart ; if you could trace, step by step, the progress 
 I have made in folly and sin, you would see how much of what 
 you now condemn and despise, I have owed to circumstances, 
 rather than to the vice of my disposition. I was born a beauty, 
 educated a beauty, owcti fame, rank, power to beauty ; and it is 
 
 * I don't see the necessity of that.
 
 94 PELHAM; GR, 
 
 to the advantages I have derived from person that I owe the 
 ruin of my mind. You have seen how much I now derive from 
 art ; I loathe myself as I write that sentence ; but no matter : 
 from that moment you loathed me too. You did not take into 
 consideration that I had been living on excitement all my youth, 
 and that in my maturer years I could not relinquish it. I had 
 reigned by my attractions, and I thought every art preferable to 
 resigning my empire : but, in feeding my vanity, I had not been 
 able to stifle the dictates of my heart. Love is so natural to a 
 woman, that she is scarcely a woman who resists it : but in me 
 it has been a sentiment, not a passion. 
 
 " Sentiment, then, and vanity, have been my seducers. I said 
 that I owed my errors to circumstances, not to nature. You 
 will say, that in confessing love and vanity to be my seducers, 
 I contradict this assertion — you are mistaken. I mean, that 
 though vanity and sentiment were in me, yet the scenes in 
 which I have been placed, and the events which I have 
 witnessed, gave to those latent currents of action a wrong and 
 a dangerous direction. I was formed /; ^z;^/ for one whom I 
 did love I could have made every sacrifice. I married a man I 
 hated, and I only learnt the depths of my heart when it was 
 too late. 
 
 "Enough of this; you will leave this country; we shall 
 never meet again — never ! You may return to Paris, but I 
 shall then be no more ; ti'importe — I shall be unchanged to the 
 last. Je mourrai en rcinc. 
 
 " As a latest pledge of what I have felt for you, I send you 
 the enclosed -chain and ring ; as a latest favor, I request you 
 to wear them for six months, and, above all, for two hours in 
 the Tuileries to-morrow. You will laugh at this request : it 
 seems idle and romantic — perhaps it is so. Love has many 
 exaggerations in sentiment, which reason would despise. What 
 wonder, then, that mine, above that of all others, should con- 
 ceive them ? You will not, I know, deny this request. Fare- 
 well ! — in this world we shall never meet again. Farewell ! 
 
 " E. P." 
 
 '* A most sensible effusion," said I to myself, when I had 
 read this billet , " and yet, after all, it shows more feeling and 
 more character than I could have supposed she possessed." 
 I took up the chain : it was of Maltese workmanship ; not very 
 handsome, nor, indeed, in any way remarkable, except for a 
 plain hair ring which was attached to it, and which I found my- 
 self unable to take off, without breaking. " It is a very singular
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 95 
 
 request," thought I, " but then it comes from a very singular 
 person : and as it rather partakes of adventure and intrigue, I 
 shall at all events appear in the Tuileries to-morrow, chained 
 and ringed." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Thy incivility shall not make me fail to do what becomes me ; and since 
 thou hast more valor than courtesy, I for thee will hazard that life which 
 thou wouldst take from me. — Cassandra, "elegantly done into English by SiR 
 Charles Cotterell." 
 
 About the usual hour for the promenade in the TuilerieS, I 
 conveyed myself thither. I set the chain on and ring in full dis- 
 play, rendered still more conspicuous by the dark-colored dress 
 which I always wore. I had not been in the garden ten min- 
 utes, before I perceived a young Frenchman, scarcely twenty 
 years of age, look with a very peculiar air at my new decora- 
 tions. He passed and repassed me, much oftener than the alter- 
 nations of the walk warranted ; and at last, taking off his hat, 
 said in a low tone, that he wished much for the honor of ex- 
 changing a few words with me in private. I saw, at the first 
 glance, that he was a gentleman, and accordingly withdrew with 
 him among the trees, in the more retired part of the garden. 
 
 " Permit me," said he, "to inquire how that ring and chain 
 came into your possession ? " 
 
 " Monsieur, " I replied, " you will understand me, when I 
 say, that the honor of another person is nnplicated in my con- 
 cealment of that secret." 
 
 ''Sir," said the Frenchman, coloring violently, "I have seen 
 them before — in a word, they belong to me ! " 
 
 I smiled — my young hero fired at this. " Oui^ ATonsieur" 
 said he, speaking very loud, and very quick, " they belong to 
 me, and 1 insist upon your immediately restoring them, or vin- 
 dicating your claim to them by arms." 
 
 " You leave me but one answer, Monsieur," said I ; " I will 
 findairiend to wait upon yuu inimedialely. Allow me to in- 
 quire your address?" The Frenchmnn, who was greatly agi- 
 tated, produced a card. We bowed and separated. 
 
 I was glancing over the address I held in my hand, whicl) 
 
 was — C. de Vautran, Rue dc Bourbon, Numero , when my 
 
 ears were saluted with — 
 
 "Now do vou know mc ? — //<(?« shouldst be Alon/.o."
 
 96 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 I did not require the faculty of sight to recognize Lord Vin- 
 cent. " My dear fellow," said I, " I am rejoiced to see you ! " 
 and thereupon I poured into his ear the particulars of my morn- 
 ing adventure. Lord Vincent listened to me with much appar- 
 ent interest, and spoke very unaffectedly of his readiness to 
 serve me, and his regret at the occasion. 
 
 " Pooh ! " said I, " a duel in France is not like one in Eng- 
 land ; the former is a matter of course ; a trifle of common oc- 
 currence ; one makes an engagement to fight, in the same 
 breath as an engagement to dine ; but the latter is a thing of 
 state and solemnity — long faces — early rising — and will-making. 
 But do get this business over as soon as you can, that we may 
 dine at the Rocher afterwards," 
 
 "Well, my dear Pelham," said Vincent, "I cannot refuse 
 you my services; and as I suppose Monsieur de Vaiitran will 
 choose swords, I venture to augur every thing from your skill 
 in that species of weapon. It is the first time I have ever in- 
 terfered in affairs of this nature, but I hope to get v/ell through 
 the present. 
 
 ' Nobilis ornatur lauro collega secundo^ 
 
 as Juvenal says ; au revoir" and away went Lord Vincent, half 
 forgetting all his late anxiety for my life in his paternal pleasure 
 for the delivery of his quotation. 
 
 Vincent is the only punster 1 ever knew with a good heart. 
 No action, to that race in general, is so serious an occupation 
 as the play upon words ; and the remorseless habit of murder- 
 ing a phrase, renders them perfectly obdurate to the simple 
 death of a friend. I walked through every variety the straight 
 paths of the Tuileries could afford, and was beginning to get ex- 
 ceedingly tired, when Lord Vincent returned. He looked very 
 grave, and I saw at once that he was come to particularize the 
 circumstances of the last extreme. " The Bois de Boulogne — 
 pistols — /;/ one hour" were the three leading features of his de- 
 tail. 
 
 " Pistols ! " said I ; " well, be it so. I would rather have had 
 swords, for the young man's sake as much as my own ; but thir- 
 teen paces and a steady aim will settle the business as soon. 
 We will try a bottle of the Chambertin to-day, Vincent." The 
 punster smiled faintly, and for once in his life made no reply. 
 We walked gravely and soberly to my lodgings for the pistols, 
 and then proceeded to the engagement as silently as philosophers 
 should do.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 97 
 
 The Frenchman and his second were on the ground first. I 
 saw that the former was pale and agitated, not, I think, from 
 fear, but passion. When we took our ground, Vincent came to 
 me, and said, in a low tone, " For Heaven's sake, suffer me to 
 accommodate this, if possible ! " 
 
 " It is not in our power," said I, receiving the pistol. I looked 
 steadily at de Vautran, and took my aim. His pistol, owing, 
 I suppose, to the trembling of his hand, went off a moment 
 sooner than he had anticipated — the ball grazed my hat. My 
 aim was more successful — 1 struck him ijn the shoulder — the ex- 
 act place I had intended. He staggered a few paces, but did 
 not fall. 
 
 We hastened towards him — his cheek assumed a still more 
 livid hue as I approached ! he muttered some half-formed curses 
 between his teeth, and turned from me to his second. 
 
 " You will inquire whether Monsieur de Vautran is satisfied," 
 said I to Vincent, and retired to a short distance. 
 
 " His second," said Vincent, (after a brief conference with 
 that person,) " replies to my question, that Monsieur de Vauti'an's 
 wound has left him, for the present, no alternative." Upon this 
 answer I took Vincent's arm, and we returned forthwith to my 
 carriage. 
 
 " I congratulate you most sincerely on the event of this duel," 
 said Vincent. "Monsieur de M — ~- (de Vautran's second) in- 
 formed me, when I waited on him, that your antagonist was one 
 of the most celebrated pistol shots in Paris, and that a lady with 
 whom he had been long in love, made the death of the chain- 
 bearer the price of her favors. Devilish lucky for you, my good 
 fellow, that his hand trembled so ; but I did not know you were 
 so good a shot." 
 
 " Why," I answered, " I am not what is vulgarly termed ' a 
 crack shot ' — I can not split a bullet on a penknife ; but I am 
 sure of a target somewhat smaller than a man : and my hand is 
 as certain in the field as it is in the practice yard." 
 
 " Le sentiment de nos forces les augtnente," * replied Vincent. 
 '* Shall I tell the coachman to drive to the Rocher ? " 
 
 * The conviction of our forces augments them.
 
 98 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Here's a kind host, that makes the invitation, 
 To your own cost, to \\\'&fort bminc collation. 
 
 Wycherly's Gent. Dancing Master. 
 
 Vous pouvez bien juger que ie n'aurai pas grande peine a me console! 
 d'une chose dont je me suis deja console tante de fois. — Lettres de Boileau. 
 
 As I was walking home with Vincent from the Rue Mont-or- 
 gueil, I saw, on entering the Rue St. Honore, two figures before 
 us ; the tall and noble stature of the one I could not for a 
 moment mistake. They stopped at the door of a hotel, which 
 opened in that noiseless manner so peculiar to the Conciergerie 
 of France. I was at the door the moment they disappeared, 
 but not before I had caught a glance of the dark locks and 
 countenance of Warburton, — my eye fell upon the number of 
 the hotel. 
 
 " Surely," said I, " I have been in that house before." 
 
 " Likely enough," growled Vincent, who was gloriously 
 drunk. " It is a house of two-fold utility — you may play with 
 cards, or coquet with women, which you please." 
 
 At these words I remembered the hotel and its inmates im- 
 mediately. It belonged to an old nobleman, who, though on 
 the brink of the grave, was still grasping at the good things on 
 the margin. He lived with a pretty and clever woman, who 
 bore the name and honors of his wife. They kept up two 
 salons., one pour le petit souper, and the other pour le petit jeu. 
 You saw much karte and more love-making, and lost your heart 
 and your money with equal facility. In a word, the marquis 
 and his Jolie petit femme 'WQ.re a wise and prosperous couple, who 
 made the best of their lives, and lived decently and honorably 
 upon other people. 
 
 " Allans, Pelham," cried Vincent, as I was still standing at the 
 door in deliberation; " how much longer will you keep me to 
 congeal in this 'eager and nipping air' — 'Quamdiu patientiam 
 nostram abutere, Catilina.' " 
 
 " Let us enter," said I. " I have the run of the house, and 
 we may find "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 99 
 
 " ' Some young vices — some fair iniquities,' " interrupted 
 Vincent, with a hiccup — 
 
 "' Leade on, good fellow,' quoth Robin Hood, 
 ' Lead on, I do bid thee.' " 
 
 And with these words, the door opened in obedience to my 
 rap, and we mounted to the marquis's tenement au premiere. 
 
 The room was pretty full — the soidisante marquis was flitting 
 from table to table — betting at each, and coquetting with all ; 
 and the marquis himself, with a moist eye and a shaking hand, 
 was affecting the Don Juan with the various Elviras and Annas 
 with which his salon was crowded. Vincent was trying to fol- 
 low me through the crowd, but his confused vision and unsteady 
 footing led him from one entanglement to another, till he was 
 quite unable to proceed. A tall, corpulent Frenchman, six foot 
 by five, was leaning, {a great and weighty objection^ just before 
 him, utterly occupied in the vicissitudes of an ecarte table, and 
 unconscious of Vincent's repeated efforts, first on one side, and 
 then on the other, to pass him. 
 
 At last, the perplexed wit, getting more irascible as he grew 
 more bewildered, suddenly seized the vast incumbrance by the 
 arm, and said to him, in a sharp, querulous tone, " Pray, Mon- 
 sieur, why are you like the lote-tree in Mahomet's Seventh 
 Heaven ? " 
 
 " Sir /" cried the astonished Frenchman. 
 
 " Because," (continued Vincent, answering his own enigma) 
 — "because, beyond you there is 710 passing !'" 
 
 The Frenchman (one of that race who always forgive any 
 thing for a ban mot) smiled, bowed, and drew himself aside. 
 Vincent steered by, and joining me, hiccuped out, " Fortiaque 
 adversis opponite pectora rebus." 
 
 Meanwhile 1 had looked round the room for the objects of 
 my pursuit : to my great surprise I could not perceive them : 
 they may be in the other room, thought I, and to the other room 
 I went; the supper was laid out, and an old bonne w^s quietly 
 helping herself to some sweetmeat. All other human beings (if, 
 indeed, an old woman can be called a human being !) were, 
 however, invisible, and I remained perfectly bewildered as to the 
 non-appearance of Warburton and his companion. I entered 
 the gaming room once more — I looked round in every corner 
 — I examined every face — but in vain; and with a feeling of 
 disappointment very disproportioned to my loss, I took Vin- 
 cent's arm, and we withdrew.
 
 loo PELIIAM; OR, 
 
 The next morning I spent with Madame d'Anville. A French' 
 woman easily consoles herself for the loss of a lover — she con- 
 verts him into a friend, and thinks herself (nor is she much de- 
 ceived) benefited by the exchange. We talked of our grief in 
 maxims, and bade each other adieu in antitheses. Ah ! it is a 
 pleasant thing to drink with Alcidonis (in Marmontel's Tale) of 
 the rose-colored jDhial — to sport with the fancy, not to brood 
 over the passion of youth. There is a time when the heart, 
 from very tenderness, runs over, and (so much do our virtues as 
 well as vices flow from our passions) there is, perhaps, rather 
 hope than anxiety for the future in that excess. Then, if Pleas- 
 ure errs, it errs through heedlessness, not design ; and Love, 
 wandering over flowers, " profifers honey, but bears riot a sting." 
 Ah ! happy time ! in the lines of one who can so well translate 
 feeling into words — 
 
 " Fate has not darkened thee — Hope has not made 
 The blossoms expand it but opens to fade ; 
 Nothing is known of those wearing fears 
 Which will shadow the light of our after years." 
 
 The Improvisatrice. 
 Pardon this digression — not much, it much be confessed in 
 my ordinary strain — but let me, dear reader, very seriously ad- 
 vise thee not to judge of me yet. When thou hast got to the end 
 of my book, if thou dost condemn it or its hero — why " I will 
 let thee alone " (as honest Dogberry advises) " till thou art sober ; 
 and, if thou make me not, than, the better answer, thou art not 
 the man I took thee for." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 It must be confessed, that flattery comes mightily easy to one's mouth in 
 the i)resence of royalty. — Letters of ^TY-va^^ Montague. 
 
 'Tis he. — How came he thence — what doth he here ? — Lara. 
 
 I HAD received for that evening (my last in Paris) an invita- 
 tion from the Duchesse de B . I knew that the party was 
 
 to be small, and that very few besides the royal family would 
 compose it. I had owed the honor of this invitation to my in- 
 timacy with the s, the great friends of the duchesse, and 
 
 I promised myself some pleasure in the engagement. 
 
 There were but eight or nine persons present when I entered 
 the royal chamber. The most distinguished of these I recog'
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. loi 
 
 nizecl immediately as the . He came forward with much 
 
 grace as I approached, and expressed his pleasure at seeing me. 
 
 " You were presented, I think, about a month ago," added 
 
 the , with a smile of singular fascination : " I remember it 
 
 well." 
 
 I bowed low to his compliment. 
 
 " Do you propose staying long at Paris ? " continued the . 
 
 " I protracted," I replied, " my departure solely for the honor 
 
 this evening affords me. In so doing, please your , I have 
 
 followed the wise maxim of keeping the greatest pleasure to the 
 last." 
 
 The royal chevalier bowed to my answer with a smile still 
 sweeter than before, and began a conversation with me which 
 
 lasted for several minutes. I was much struck with the 's air 
 
 and bearing. They possess great dignity, without any affectation 
 of its assumption. He speaks peculiarly good English, and the 
 compliment of addressing me in that language was therefore as ju- 
 dicious as delicate. His observ^ations owed little to his rank : 
 they would have struck you as appropriate, and the air which 
 accompanied them pleased you as graceful, even in a simple in- 
 dividual. Judge, then, if they charmed me in the . The 
 
 upper part of his countenance is prominent and handsome, and 
 his eyes hav^e much softness of expression. His figure is slight 
 and particularly well knit ; perhaps he is altogether more adap- 
 ted to strike in private than with public effect. Upon the whole 
 he is one of those very few persons of great rank whom you would 
 have had pride in knowing as an equal, and have pleasure in 
 acknowledging as a superior.* 
 
 As the paused, and turned with great courtesy to the 
 
 Due de , I bowed my way to the Duchesse de B . 
 
 That personage, whose liveliness and piquancy of manner 
 always make one wish for one's own snke that her rank was 
 less exalted, was speaking with great volubility to a tall, stupid- 
 looking man, one of the ministers, and smiled most graciously 
 upon me as I drew near. She spoke to me of our national 
 amusements. " You are not," said she, " so fond of dancing: as 
 we are. 
 
 "We have not the same exalted example to be at once our 
 motive and our model," said I, in allusion to the Duchesse's 
 
 ♦ The sketch of these unfortunate members of an exiled and illustrious family may not 
 be the less intcrostintj from the reverses which, since the first publication of tliis work, 
 placed the Orleans family on the Rourbon tliroiic. As for the erring Charles X., he 
 was neither a great monarch nor a wise man, but he was, in air, grace, and manner, 
 the most thorough- bred gentleman ' ever met.— H. P
 
 102 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 well-known attachment to that accomplishment. The Duchesse 
 
 d'A came up as I said this, and the conversation flowed on 
 
 evenly enough till the 's whist party was formed. His 
 
 partner M^as Madame de la R , the heroine of La Vende'e, 
 
 She was a tall and very stout woman, singularly lively and 
 entertaining, and appeared to possess both the moral and the 
 physical energy to accomplish feats still more noble than those 
 she performed. 
 
 I soon saw that it would not do for me to stay very long. I 
 had already made a favorable impression, and, in such cases, it 
 is my constant rule immediately to retire. Stay, if it be whole 
 hours, until you have pleased, but leave the moment after your 
 success. A great genius should not linger too long either in 
 the saIo7i or the world. He must quit each with eclat. In 
 obedience to this rule, I no sooner found that my court had 
 been effectually made than I rose to withdraw. 
 
 " You will return soon to Parrs ? " said the Duchesse de 
 B . 
 
 "I cannot resist it," I replied. '■'■ Mon corps rcviendra pour 
 chercher mon ccEiir^ 
 
 " We shall not forget you," said the Duchesse. 
 
 " Your Royal Highness has new given me my cnly induce- 
 ment not to return," I answered, as 1 bowed out of the room. 
 
 It was much to early to go home ; at that time I was too 
 young and restless to sleep till long after midnight ; and while I 
 was deliberating in what manner to pass the hours, I suddenly 
 recollected the hotel in the Rue St. Honore, to \\hich Vincent 
 and I had paid so unceremonious a visit the night before. 
 Impressed with the hope that I might be more successful 
 in meeting Warburton than I had then been, I ordered the 
 coachman to drive to the abode of the old Marquis . 
 
 The salon was as crowded as usual. I lost a few Napoleons 
 at e'carte\ in order to pay my entre'e, and then commenced a 
 desultory flirtation with one of the fair decoys. In this occupa- 
 tion my eye and my mind frequently wandered. I could not 
 divest myself of the hope of once more seeing Warburton before 
 my departure from Paris, and every reflection which confirmed 
 my suspicions of his identity redoubled my interest in his con- 
 nection with Tyrrell and the vulgar de'banch'e of the Rue St. 
 Dominique. I was making some languid reply to my Cynthia 
 of the minute, when my ear was suddenly greeted by an English 
 voice. I looked round, and saw Thornton in close conversation 
 with a man whose back was turned to me, but whom I rightly 
 conjectured to be Tyrrell.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 103 
 
 " Oh ! he'll be here soon," said the former, " and we'll bleed 
 Jiini regularly to-night. It is very singular that you who play so 
 much better should not have yf^w/r^ him yesterday evening." 
 
 Tyrrell replied in a tone so low as to be inaudible, and a 
 minute afterwards the door opened, and Warburton entered. 
 He came up instantly to Thornton and his companion ; and after 
 a few words of ordinary salutation, Warburton said, in one of 
 those modulated but artificial tones so peculiar to himself, " I 
 am sure, Tyrrell, that you must be eager for your revenge. To 
 lose to such a mere tyro as myself, is quite enough to double 
 the pain of defeat, and the desire of retaliation." 
 
 I did not hear Tyrrell's reply, but the trio presently moved 
 towards the door, which till then I had not noticed, and which 
 was probably the entrance to our hostess's boudoir. The soi- 
 disaftte opened it herself, for which kind oifice Thornton gave 
 her a leer and a wink, characteristic of his claims to gallantry. 
 When the door was again closed upon them, I went up to the 
 marquise, and after a few compliments, asked whether the 
 room Messieurs les Anglais had entered was equally open to all 
 guests ? 
 
 " Why," said she, with a slight hesitation, " those gentlemen 
 play for higher stakes than we usually do here, and one of them 
 is apt to get irritated by the advice and expostulations of the 
 lookers-on ; and so after they had played a short time in the 
 salon last night. Monsieur Thornton, a very old friend of mine, 
 (here the lady looked down,) asked me permission to occupy 
 the inner room ; and as I knew him so well 1 could have no 
 scruple in obliging him." 
 
 "Then, I suppose," said I, "that as a stranger, I have not 
 permission to intrude upon them .'' " 
 
 " Shall I inquire ? " asked the marquise. 
 
 " No," said I, " it is not worth while ;" and accordingly I 
 reseated myself, and appeared once more occupied in sa\ing 
 des belles choses to my kind-hearted neighbor. I could not, 
 however, with all my dissimulations, sustain a conversation 
 from which my present feelings were so estranged, for more 
 than a few minutes, and I was never more glad when my com- 
 panion, displeased with my inattention, rose, and left me to my 
 own retiections. 
 
 What could Warburton (if he were the person I suspected) 
 gain by the disguise he had assumed? He was too rich to 
 profit by any sums he could win from Tyrrell, and too much 
 removed from Thornton's station in life, to derive any pleasure 
 or benefit from his acquaintance with that person. ' ilis dark
 
 I04 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 threats of vengeance in thejardin des planks, and his reference 
 to the two hundred pounds Tyrrell possessed, gave me, indeed, 
 some clue as to his real object ; but then — why this disguise! 
 Had he known Tyrrell before, in his proper semblance, and 
 anything passed between them, which rendered this conceal- 
 ment now expedient ? — this, indeed, seemed probable enough ; 
 but, was Thornton entrusted with the secret ? — and if revenge 
 was the object, was that low man a partaker in its execution? 
 or was he not, niore probably, playing the traitor to both ? As 
 for Tyrrell himself, his own designs upon Warburton were 
 sufficient to prevent pity for any fall into the joit he had digged 
 for others. 
 
 Meanwhile, time passed on, the hour grew late, and the 
 greater part of the guests were gone ; still I could not tear my- 
 self away ; I looked from time to time at the door, with an 
 indescribable feeling of anxiety. I longed yet dreaded, for it 
 to open ; I felt as if my own fate were in some degree implicated 
 in what was then agitating within, and I could not resolve to 
 depart, until I had formed some conclusions on the result. 
 
 At length the door opened ; Tyrrell came forth — his counte- 
 nance was perfectly hueless, his cheek was sunk and hollow, the 
 excitement of two hours had been sufficient to render it so. I 
 observed that his teeth were set, and his hand clenched, as they 
 are when we idly seek, by the strained and extreme tension of 
 the nerves, to sustain the fever and the agony of the mind. 
 Warburton and Thornton followed him ; the latter with his usual 
 air of reckless indifference — his quick rolling eye glanced from 
 the marquise to myself, and though his color changed slightly, 
 his nod of recognition was made with its wonted impudence and 
 ease ; but Warburton passed on, like Tyrrell, without noticing 
 or heeding anything around. He fixed his large bright eye 
 upon the figure which preceded him, without once altering its 
 direction, and the extreme beauty of his features, which, not all 
 the dishevelled length of his hair and whiskers could disguise, 
 was lighted up with a joyous but savage expression, which made 
 me turn away, almost with a sensation of fear. 
 
 Just as Tyrrell was leaving the room, Warburton put his hand 
 upon his shoulder — "Stay," said he, "I am going your way, 
 and will accompany you." He turned round to Thornton (who 
 was already talking with the marquise) as he said this, and 
 waved his hand, as if to prevent his following; the next mo- 
 ment, Tyrrell and himself had left the room. 
 
 I could not now remain longer. I felt a feverish restlessness, 
 which impelled me onwards. I quitted the salon, and was on
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 105 
 
 the staircase before the gamesters had descended, Warburton 
 was, indeed, but a few steps before me ; the stairs were but 
 very dimly lighted by one expiring lamp ; he did not turn round 
 to see me, and was probably too much engrossed to hear me. 
 
 " You may yet have a favorable reverse," said he to Tyrrell. 
 
 " Impossible ! " replied the latter, in a tone of such deep an- 
 guish, that it thrilled me to the very heart. " I am an utter 
 beggar — I have nothing in the world — I have no expectation 
 but to starve ! " 
 
 While he was saying this, I perceived by the faint and uncer- 
 tain light, that Warburton's hand was raised to his own coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Have you no hope — no spot wherein to. look for comfort — is 
 beggary your absolute and only possible resource from famine ? " 
 he replied, in a low and suppressed tone. At that moment we 
 were just descending into the courtyard. Warburton was but 
 one step behind Tyrrell : the latter made no answer ; but as he 
 passed from the dark staircase into the clear moonlight of the 
 court, I caught a glimpse or the tears which rolled heavily and 
 silently down his cheeks. Warburton laid his hand upon him. 
 
 "Turn," he cried, suddenly, "your cup is not yet full — look 
 upon me — and remember !" 
 
 I pressed forward — the light shone full upon the countenance 
 of the speaker — the dark hair was gone — my suspicions were 
 true — I discovered at one glance the bright locks and lofty brow 
 of Reginald Glanville. Slowly Tyrrell gazed, as if he were en- 
 deavoring to repel some terrible remembrance, which gathered, 
 with every instant, more fearfully upon him ; until, as the stern 
 countenance of Glanville grew darker and darker in its mingled 
 scorn and defiance, he uttered one low cry, and sank senseless 
 upon the earth. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts. — 
 
 SUAKSPEARE. 
 
 What ho I for England \—IbiJ. 
 
 I HAVE always had an insuperable horror of being placed in 
 what the vulgar call a predicamc7it. In a predicament I was 
 most certainly placed at the present moment. A man at my 
 feet in a fit — the cause of it having very wisely disappeared,
 
 io6 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 devolving upon me the charge of watching, recovering, and con- 
 ducting liome the afflicted person — made a concatenation of dis- 
 agreeable circumstances, as much unsuited to the temper of 
 Henry Pelham, as his evil fortune could possibly have contrived. 
 
 After a short pause of deliberation, I knocked up the porter, 
 procured some cold water, and bathed Tyrrell's temples for 
 several moments before he recovered. He opened his eyes 
 slowly, and looked carefully round with a fearful and suspicious 
 glance : " Gone — gone — (he muttered) — ay — what did he here 
 at such a moment? — vengeance — for what? /could not tell it 
 would have killed her — let him thank his own folly. I do not 
 fear ; I defy his malice." And with these words Tyrrell sprung 
 to his feet. 
 
 "Can I assist you to your home ?" said I; "you are still 
 unwell — pray suffer me to have that pleasure." 
 
 I spoke with some degree of warmth and sincerity ; the un- 
 fortunate man stared wildly at me for a moment, before he re' 
 plied. " Who," said he, at last, " who speaks to me — the lost 
 the guilty — the ruined, in the accents of interest and kindness ? " 
 
 I placed his arm in mine, and drew him out of the yard into 
 the open street. He looked at me with an eager and wistful 
 survey, and then, by degrees, appearing to recover his full con- 
 sciousness of the present, and recollection of the past, he pressed 
 my hand warmly, and after a short silence, during which we 
 moved on slowly towards the Tuileries, he said, — " Pardon me, 
 sir, if I have not sufficiently thanked you for your kindness and 
 attention. I am now quite restored ; the close room in which I 
 have been sitting for so many hours, and the feverish excite- 
 ment of play, acting upon a frame much debilitated by ill health, 
 occasioned my momentary indisposition. I am now, I repeat, 
 quite recovered, and will no longer trespass upon your good- 
 
 nature." 
 
 " Really," said I, " you had better not discard my services 
 yet. Do suffer me to accompany you home ? " 
 
 " Home ! " muttered Tyrrell, with a deep sigh ; " no — no ! " 
 and then, as if recollecting himself, he said, " I thank you, sir, 
 but — but — " 
 
 I saw his embarrassment, and interrupted him. 
 
 " Well, if I can not assist you any further, I will take your 
 dismissal. I trust we shall meet again under auspices better 
 calculated for improving acquaintance." 
 
 Tyrrell bowed, once more pressed my hand, and we parted. 
 I hurried on up the long street towards my hotel. 
 
 When I had got several paces beyond Tyrrell, I turned back
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 107 
 
 to look at him. He was standing in the same place in which I 
 had left him. I saw by the moonlight that his face and hands 
 were raised towards Heaven. It was but for a moment : his 
 attitude changed while I was yet looking, and he slowly and 
 calmly continued his way in the same direction as myself. 
 When I reached my chambers, I hastened immediately to bed, 
 but not to sleep : the extraordinary scene I had witnessed ; the 
 dark and ferocious expression of Glaaville's countenance, so 
 strongly impressed with every withering and deadly passion ; the 
 fearful and unaccountable remembrance that had seemed to 
 gather over the livid and varying face of the gamester ; the mys- 
 tery of Glanville's disguise ; the intensity of a revenge so terribly 
 expressed, together with the restless and burning anxiety I felt 
 — not from idle curiosity, but, from my early and intimate 
 friendship for Glanville, to fathom its cause — all crowded upon 
 my mind with a feverish confusion, that effectually banished 
 repose. 
 
 It was with that singular sensation of pleasure which none 
 but those who have passed frequent nights in restless and painful 
 agitation, can recognize, that I saw the bright sun penetrate 
 through my shutters, and heard Bedos move across my room. 
 
 " What hour will Monsieur have the post-horses ? " said that 
 praiseworthy valet. 
 
 " At eleven," answered I, springing out of bed with joy at the 
 change of scene which the very mention of my journey brought 
 before my mind. 
 
 I was turning listlessly, as I sate at breakfast, over the pages 
 of Galignani's Messenger, when the following paragraph caught 
 my attention : — 
 
 " It is rumored among the circles of the Faubourg, that a 
 
 duel was fought on , between a young Englishman and 
 
 Monsieur D ; the cause of it is said to be the pretensions 
 
 of both to the beautiful Duchesse de P , who, if report be 
 
 true, cares for neither of the gallants, but lavishes her favors 
 upon a certain attach^ to the English embassy." 
 
 "Such," thought I, "are the materials for all iunnan his- 
 tories. Every one who reads, will eagerly swallow tiiis account 
 as true : if an author wore writing the memoirs of the court, he 
 would compile his facts and scandal from this very collection 
 of records ; and yet, though so near the truth, how totally false 
 it is ! Thank Heaven, however, that, at least, I am not sus- 
 pected of the degradation of the duchess's love : — to fight for 
 her may make me seem a fool — to be loved by her would 
 constitute me a villain."
 
 loS PELHAM; OR, 
 
 "The horses, sir! "said Bedos ; and "The bill, sir ?" said 
 the gar^on. Alas ! that those and that should be so coupled 
 together ; and that we can never take our departure without 
 such awful witnesses of our sojourn. Well — to be brief — the 
 bill for once was discharged — the horses snorted — the carriage- 
 door was opened — I entered — Bedos mounted behind — crack 
 went the whips — off went the steeds, and so terminated my 
 adventures at dear Paris. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 O, cousin, you know him — the fine gentleman they talk of so much in 
 town. — Wycherly's Dancing Master. 
 
 By the bright days of m.y youth, there is somethimg truly 
 delightful in the quick motion of four, ay, or even two post- 
 horses ! In France, where one's steeds are none of the swiftest, 
 the pleasures of travelling are not quite so great as in England ; 
 still, however, to a man who is tired of one scene — panting for 
 another — in love with excitement, and yet not wearied of its 
 pursuit — the turnpike-road is more grateful than the easiest 
 chair ever invented, and the little prison we entitle a carriage, 
 more cheerful than the state rooms of Devonshire House. 
 
 We reached Calais in safety, and in good time, the next day. 
 
 "Will Monsieur dine in his rooms, or at the table d'hote?" 
 
 "In his rooms, of course," said Bedos, indignantly deciding 
 the question. A French valet's dignity is always involved in 
 his master's. 
 
 " You are too good, Bedos," said I, " I shall dine at the 
 table d'hote — whom have you there in general ? " 
 
 " Really," said the garfoti, " we have such a swift succession 
 of guests, that we seldom see the same faces two days running. 
 We have as many changes as an English administration." 
 
 " You are facetious," said I. 
 
 " No," returned the gar^on, who was a philosopher as well as 
 a wit ; " no, my digestive organs are very weak, and par conse- 
 quence^ I am naturally melancholy — Ah, ma/oi, tres triste ! '^ and 
 with these words the sentimental plate-changer placed his hand 
 — I can scarcely say, whether on his heart, or his stomach, and 
 sighed bitterly ! 
 
 " How long," said I, " does it want to dinner.'' " My question 
 restored the srarr.nn >^n .himself.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 109 
 
 " Two hours, Monsieur, two hours," and twirling his serviette 
 with an air of exceeding importance, off went my melancholy 
 acquaintance to compliment new customers, and complain of his 
 digestion. 
 
 After I had arranged my toilette — yawned three times, and 
 drunk two bottles of soda-water, I strolled into the town. As I 
 was sauntering along leisurely enough, I heard my name 
 pronounced behind me. I turned, and saw Sir Willoughby 
 Townshend, an old baronet of an antediluvian age — a fossil 
 witness of the wonders of England, before the deluge of French 
 manners swept away ancient customs, and created, out of the 
 wrecks of what had been, a new order of things, and a new race 
 C)f mankind. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Mr. Pelham, how are you ? and the worthy 
 Lady Frances, your mother, and your excellent father, all well ? 
 — I'm delighted to hear it. Russelton," continued Sir Willoughby, 
 turning to a middle-aged man, whose arm he held, " yovi remem- 
 ber Pelham — true Whig — great friend of Sheridan's? — let me 
 introduce his son to you. Mr. Russelton, Mr. Pelham ; Mr. 
 Pelham, Mr. Russelton." 
 
 At the name of the person thus introduced to me, a thousand 
 recollections crowded upon my mind ; the contemporary and 
 rival of Napoleon — the autocrat of the great world of fashion 
 and cravats — the mighty genius before whom aristocracy hath 
 been humbled and ton abashed — at whose nod the haughtiest 
 noblesse of Europe had quailed — who had introduced, by a sin- 
 gle example, starch into neckcloths, and had fed the pampered 
 appetite of his boot-tops on champagne — whose coat and whose 
 friend were cut with an equal grace — and whose name was con- 
 nected with every triumph that the world's great virtue of audacity 
 could achieve — the illustrious, the immortal Russelton, stood be- 
 fore me ! I recognized in him a congenial, though a superior 
 spirit, and I bowed with a profundity of veneration, with which 
 no other human being has ever inspired me. 
 
 Mr. Russelton seemed pleased with my evident respect, and 
 returned my salutation with a mock dignity which enchanted 
 me. He olfereil me his disengaged arm ; I took it with trans- 
 port, and we all three proceeded up the street. 
 
 " So," said Sir Willoughby — "so, Russelton, you like your 
 quarters here ; plenty of sport among the English, I should 
 think : you have not forgotten the art of quizzing ; eh, old fellow ? " 
 
 "Even if I had," said Mr. Russelton, speaking very slowly, 
 " the sight of Sir Willoughby Townshend would be quite suffi- 
 cient to refresh my memory. Yes," continued the venerable
 
 no PELHAM; OR, 
 
 wreck, after a short pause — "yes, I like my residence pretty 
 well ; I enjoy a calm conscience, and a clean shirt ; what more 
 can man desire ? I have made acquaintance with a tame parrot, 
 and I have taught it to say, whenever an English fool withastifif 
 neck and a loose swagger passes him — ' True Briton — true 
 Briton.' I take care of my health, and reflect upon old age. 
 I have read Gil Bias, and the Whole Duty of Man; and, in 
 short, what with instructing my parrot, and improving myself, 1 
 think I pass my time as creditably and decorously as the Bishop 
 
 of Winchester, or my Lord of A himself. So you have 
 
 just come from Paris, I presume, Mr. Pelham ? " 
 
 " I left it yesterday ! " 
 
 " Full of those horrid English, I suppose ; thrusting their 
 broad hats and narrow minds into every shop in the Palais 
 Royal — winking their dull eyes at the damsels of the counter, 
 and manufacturing their notions of French into a higgle for 
 sous. Oh ! the monsters ! — they bring on a bilious attack 
 whenever I think of them : the other day one of them accosted 
 me, and talked me into a nervous fever about partriotism and 
 roast pigs : luckily I was near my own house, and reached it 
 before the thing became fatal ; but only think, had I wandered 
 too far when he met me ! at my time of life, the shock would 
 have been too great ; I should certainly have perished in a fit. 
 I hope at least, they would have put the cause of my death in 
 my epitaph — ' Died, of an Englishman, John Russelton, Esq., 
 aged,' etc. Pah ! You are not engaged, Mr. Pelham ; dine 
 with me to-day ; Willoughby and his umbrella are coming." 
 
 " Volontiers,'" said I, " though I was going to make observa- 
 tions on men and manners at the table d' hbte of my hotel." 
 
 '' I am most truly grieved," replied Mr. Russelton, " at de- 
 priving you of so much amusement. With me you will only find 
 some tolerable Lafitte, and an anomalous dish my ciiisiniere calls 
 a mutton chop. It will be curious to see what variation in the 
 monotony of mutton she will adopt to-day. The first time I 
 ordered ' a chop,' I thought I had amply explained every neces- 
 sary particular ; a certain portion of flesh, and a gridiron : at 
 seven o'clock up came a cbtdette paJiee ! Faiite de ?}iieux, I 
 swallowed the composition, drowned as it was in a most perni- 
 cious sauce. I had one hour's sleep, and the nightmare, in 
 consequence. The next day, I imagined no mistake could be 
 made : sauce was strictly prohibited ; all extra ingredients laid 
 under a most special veto, and a natural gravy gently recom- 
 mended : the cover was removed, and lo ! a breast of mutton, 
 all bone and gristle, like the dying gladiator ! This time mv
 
 AD VENTURES OF A GENTLE MA AT. 1 1 1 
 
 heart was too full for wrath ; I sat clown and wept ! To-day will 
 be the third time I shall make the experiment, if French cooks 
 will consent to let one starve upon nature. For my part, I have 
 no stomach left now for art : I wore out my digestion in youth, 
 swallowing Jack St. Leger's suppers, and Sheridan's promises 
 to pay. Pray, Mr. Pelham, did )'ou try Staub when you were at 
 Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes : and thought him one degree better than Stulz, whom 
 indeed, I have long condemned, as fit only for minors at Oxford, 
 and majors in the infantry." 
 
 "True," said Russelton, with a very faint smile at a pun, 
 somewhat in his own way, and levelled at a tradesman, of whom 
 he was, perhaps, a Httle jealous — " True ; Stultz aims at making 
 gentlemen, not coats ; there is a degree of aristocratic pretension 
 in his stitches, which is vulgar to an appalling degree. You can 
 tell a Stultz coat any where, which is quite enough to damn it ; 
 the moment a man's known by an invariable cut, and that not 
 orginal, it ought to be all over with him. Give me the man who 
 makes the tailor, not the tailor who makes the man." 
 
 " Right, by Jove ! " cried Sir Willoughbv, who was as badly 
 
 dressed as one of Sir E 's dinners. " Right ; just my 
 
 opinion. I have always told my Schneiders to make my clothes 
 neither in the fashion nor out of it ; to copy no other man's coat, 
 and to cut their cloth according to my natural body, not accord- 
 ing to an isosceles triangle. Look at this coat, for instance," 
 and SirWilloughby Townshend made a dead halt, that we might 
 admire his garment the more accurately. 
 
 " Coat ! " said Russelton, with an appearance of the most na'tve 
 surprise, and taking hold of the collar, suspiciously, bv the finger 
 and thumb ; " coat, Sir Willoughby ! do you call this thing a 
 coat?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 J'ai toujours cru que le bon n'etoit que le bfau mis en action. — Rousseau. 
 
 Shortly after Russelton's answer to Sir Willoughby's eulogis- 
 ticobservationson his own attire, I left those two worthies "till 
 I was to join them at dinner : it wanted three houre yet to that 
 time, and I repaired to my quarters to bathe and write letters. 
 I scribbled one to Madame D'Anville, full of antitheses and 
 maxims, sure to charm her ; another to my mother, to prejiare 
 her for my arrival ; and a third to Lord Vincent, giving him
 
 112 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 certain commissions at Paris, which I had forgotten personally 
 to execute. 
 
 My pen is not that of a ready writer ; and what with yawning, 
 stretching, and putting pen to paper, it was time to bathe and 
 dress before my letters were completed. I set off to Russelton's 
 abode in high spirits, and fully resolved to make the most of a 
 character so original. 
 
 It was a very small room in which I found him ; he was 
 stretched in an easy chair before the fire-place, gazing com- 
 placently at his feet, and apparently occupied in anything but 
 listening to Sir Willoughby Townshend, who was talking with 
 great vehemence about politics and the corn-laws. Notwith- 
 standing the heat of the weather, there was a small fire on the 
 hearth, which aided by the earnestness of his efforts to convince 
 his host, put poor Sir Willoughby into a most intense perspira- 
 tion. Russelton, however, seemed enviably cool, and hung over 
 the burning wood like a cucumber on a hotbed. Sir Willoughby 
 came to a full stop by the window, and (gasping for breath) at- 
 tempted to throw it open. 
 
 " What are you doing ? for Heaven's sake, what are you 
 doing ? " cried Russleton, starting up ; " do you mean to kill 
 me ? " 
 
 " Kill you ! " said Sir W^illoughby, quite aghast. 
 
 "Yes; kill me! is it not quite cold enough already in this 
 d — d seafaring place, without making my only retreat, humble 
 as it is, a theatre for thorough draughts ? Have I not had the 
 rheumatism in my left shoulder, and the ague in my little finger, 
 these last six months ? and must you now terminate my misera- 
 ble existence at one blow, by opening that abominable lattice ? 
 Do you think, because your great frame, fresh from the York- 
 shire wolds, and compacted of such materials, that one would 
 think, in eating your beeves, you had digested their hide into 
 skin — do you think, because your limbs might be cut up into 
 planks for a seventy-eight, and warranted waterproof without 
 pitch, because of the density of their pores — do you think, be- 
 cause you are as impervious as an araphorostic shoe, that I, 
 John Russelton, am equally impenetrable, and that you are to 
 let easterly winds play about my room like children, begetting 
 rheums and asthmas and all manner of catarrhs ? I do beg, Sir 
 Willoughby Townshend, that you will suffer me to die a more 
 natural and civilized death ; " and so saying, Russelton sank 
 down into his chair, apparently in the last stage of exhaustion. 
 
 Sir Willoughby, who remembered the humorist in all his de- 
 parted glor}', and still venerated him as a temple where the
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 113 
 
 deity yet breathed, though the altar was overthrown, made to 
 this extraordinary remonstrance no other reply than a long 
 whiff, and a " Well, Russelton, damme but you're a queer fellow." 
 
 Russelton now turned to me, and invited me, with a tone of 
 the most lady-like languor, to sit down near the fire. As I am 
 naturally of a chilly disposition, and fond, too, of beating peo- 
 ple in their own line, I drew a chair close to the hearth, de- 
 clared the weather was very cold, and requested permission to 
 ring the bell for some more wood. Russelton stared for a mo- 
 ment, and then, with a politeness he had not deigned to exert 
 before, approached his chair to mine, and began a conversation, 
 which, in spite of his bad witticisms, and peculiarity of manner, 
 I found singularly entertaining. 
 
 Dinner was announced, and we adjourned to another room ; 
 — poor Sir Willoughby, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, and 
 breathing like a pug in a phthisis — groaned bitterly, when he 
 discovered that this apartment was smaller and hotter than the 
 one before. Russelton immediately helped him to some scald- 
 ing soup — and said, as he told the ser\'ant to hand Sir Wil- 
 loughby the cayenne, "you will find this, my dear Townshend, 
 a very sensible /is'A?^''^ for this severe season." 
 
 Dinner went off tamely enough, with the exception of "our 
 fat friend's " agony, which Russelton enjoyed most luxuriously. 
 The threatened mutton-chops did not make their appearance, 
 and the dinner, though rather too small, was excellently cooked, 
 and better arranged. With the dessert, the poor baronet rose, 
 and pleading sudden indisposition, tottered out of the room. 
 
 When he was gone, Russelton threw himself back in his chair, 
 and laughed for several minutes with a low chuckling sound, till 
 the tears ran down his cheek. 
 
 After a few jests at Sir Willoughby, our conversation turned 
 upon other individuals. I soon saw that Russelton was a soured 
 and disappointed man : his remarks on people were all sarcasms 
 — his mind was overflowed with a suffusion of ill-nature — he bit 
 as well as growled. No man of the world ever, I am convinced, 
 becomes a real philosopher in retirement. People who have 
 been employed for years upon trifles have not the greatness of 
 mind which could alone make them indifferent to whnt they 
 have coveted all their lives, as most enviable aiul important. 
 
 " Have you read 's memoirs ? " said Mr. Russelton. " No ! 
 
 Well, I imagined every one had at least dipped into them. I 
 have often iiad serious thoughts of dignifying my own retire- 
 ment, by the literary employment of detailing my adventures in 
 the world. I think I could throw a new light upon things and
 
 114 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 persons, which my contemporaries will shrink back hke owls at 
 perceiving." 
 
 " Your life," said I, " must indeed furnish matter of equal in- 
 struction and amusement." 
 
 " Ay," answered Russelton : " amusement to the fools, but in- 
 struction to the knaves. I am, indeed, a lamentable example to 
 the fall of ambition. I brought starch into all the neckcloths in 
 England, and I end by tying my own at a three-inch looking- 
 glass at Calais. You are a young man, Mr. Pelham, about to 
 commence life, probably with the same views as (though greater 
 advantages than) myself ; perhaps, in indulging my egotism, I 
 shall not weary without recompensing you. 
 
 " I came into the world with an inordinate love of glory, and 
 a great admiration of the original ; these propensities might 
 have made me a Shakspeare — they did more, they made me a 
 Russleton ! When I was six years old, I cut my jacket into a 
 coat, and turned my aunt's best petticoat into a waistcoat. I 
 disdained at eight the language of the vulgar, and when my 
 father asked me to fetch his slippers, I replied, that my soul 
 swelled beyond the limits of a lackey's. At nine, I was self-in- 
 oculated with propriety of ideas. I rejected malt with the air of 
 His Majesty, and formed a violent affection for maraschino ; 
 though starving at school, I never took twice of pudding, and 
 paid sixpence a week out of my shilling to have my shoes 
 blacked. As I grew up, my notions expanded. I gave myself, 
 without restraint, to the ambition that burnt within me — I cut 
 my old friends, who were rather envious than emulous of my 
 genius, and I employed three tradesmen to make my gloves — 
 one for the hand, a second for the fingers, and a third for the 
 thumb ! These two qualities made me courted and admired by 
 a new race — for the great secrets of being courted are to shun 
 others, and seem delighted with yourself. The latter is obvious 
 enough ; who the deuce sJiould be pleased with you, if you are 
 not pleased with youself .'' 
 
 " Before I left college I fell in love. Other fellows, at my 
 age, in such a predicament, would have whined — shaved only 
 twice a week, and written verses. I did none of the three — the 
 last indeed I tried, but, to my infinite surprise, I found my 
 genius was not universal. .1 began with 
 
 ' Sweet nymph, for whom I wake my muse.* 
 
 " For this, after considerable hammering, I could only think 
 of the rhyme ' shoes ' — so I began again, — 
 
 'Thy praise demands much softer lutes.'
 
 AD VENTURES OF A GENTL EM AN. 1 1 5 
 
 And the fellow of this verse terminated like myself in ' boots.' 
 — Other efforts were equally successful — ' bloom ' suggested to 
 my imagination no rhyme but ' perfume ! ' — ' despair ' only re- 
 minded me of my ' hair,' — and ' hope ' was met, at the end of 
 the second verse, by the inharmonious antithesis of ' soap.' 
 Finding, therefore, that my forte was not in the Pierian line, I 
 redoubled my attention to my dress ; I coated and cravatted with. 
 all the attention the very inspiration of my rhymes seemed to 
 advise ; — in short, I thought the best pledge I could give my 
 Dulcinea of my passion for her person, would be to show her 
 what affectionate veneration I could pay to my own. 
 
 " My mistress could not withhold from me her admiration, 
 but she denied me her love. She confessed Mr. Russelton was 
 the best-dressed man at the University, and had the whitest 
 hands ; and two days after this avowal, she ran away with a great 
 rosy-cheeked extract from Leicestershire. 
 
 " I did not blame her : I pitied her too much — but I made a 
 vow never to be in love again. In spite of all advantages I 
 kept my oath, and avenged myself on the species for the insult 
 of the individual. 
 
 " Before I commenced a part which was to continue through 
 life, I considered deeply on the humors of the spectators. I 
 saw that the character of the more fashionable of the English 
 was servile to rank, and yielding to pretension — they admire you 
 for your acquaintance, and cringe to you for your conceit. The 
 first thing, therefore, was to know great people — the second to 
 control them. I dressed well, and had good horses — that was 
 sufficient to make me sought by the young of my own sex. I 
 talked scandal, and was never abashed — that was more than 
 enough to make me admired among the matrons of the other. 
 It is single men, and married women, to whom are given the St. 
 Peter's keys of Society. I was soon admitted into its heaven — • 
 I was more — I was one of its saints. I became imitated as well 
 as initiated. I was the rage — the lion. Why .^ — was I better — 
 was I richer — was I handsomer — was I cleverer, than my kind .? 
 No, no ; — (and here Russelton ground his teeth with a strong 
 and wrathful expression of scorn) ; — and had I been all — had I 
 been a very concentration and monopoly of all human perfec- 
 tions, they would not have valued me at half the price they did 
 set on me. It was — I will tell you the simple secret, Mr. Peh 
 ham — it was because I trampled on t/ietn, that, like crushed herbs, 
 they sent up a grateful incense in return. 
 
 " Oh ! it was balm to my bitter and loathing temper, to see 
 those who would have spurned me from them, if they dared.
 
 Ii6 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 writhe beneath my lash, as I withheld or inflicted it at will, 
 I was the magician who held the great spirits that longed to 
 tear me to pieces, by one simple spell which a superior har- 
 dihood had won me — and, by Heaven, I did not spare to exert 
 it. 
 
 " Well, well, this is but an idle recollection now ; all human 
 power, says the proverb of every language, is but of short dura- 
 tion, Alexander did not conquer kingdoms for ever ; and Rus- 
 selton's good fortune deserted him at last. Napoleon died in 
 exile, and so shall I ; but we have both had our day, and mine 
 was the brightest of the two, for it had no change till the evening, 
 I am more happy than people would think for — -Je ne suis pas 
 souvent ou mon corps est — I live in a world of recollections, I 
 trample again upon coronets and ermine, the glories of the 
 small great ! I give once more laws which no libertine is so 
 hardy as not to feel exalted in adopting ; I hold my court and 
 issue my fiats ; I am like the madman, and out of the very 
 straws of my cell, I make my subjects and my realm ; and when 
 I wake from these bright visions, and see myself an old, de- 
 serted man, forgotten, and decaying inch by inch in a foreign 
 village, I can at least summon sufficient of my ancient regality 
 of spirit not to sink beneath the reverse. If I am inclined to be 
 melancholy, wiiy, I extinguish my fire, and imagine 1 have de- 
 molished a duchess. I steal up to my solitary chamber, to re- 
 new again, in iny sleep, the phantoms of my youth ; to carouse 
 with princes ; to legislate for nobles ; and to wake in the morn- 
 mg (here Russelton's countenance and manner suddenly 
 changed to an affectation of methodistical gravity), and thank 
 Heaven that I have still a coat to my stomach, as well as to my 
 back, and that I am safely delivered of such villanous company ; 
 ' to forswear sack and live cleanly,' during the rest of my sub- 
 lunary existence." 
 
 After this long detail of Mr. Russelton's, the conversation 
 was but dull and broken. I could not avoid indulging a reverie 
 upon what I had heard, and my host was evidently still revolv- 
 ing the recollections his narration had conjured up; we sat op- 
 posite each other for several minutes, as abstracted and distracted 
 as if we had been a couple two months married; till at last I 
 rose, and tendered my adieus. Russelton received them with 
 his usual coldness, but more than his usual civility, for he fol- 
 lowed me to the door. 
 
 Just as they were about to shut it, he called me back. " Mr. 
 Pelham," said he, " Mr. Pelham, when you come back this way, 
 do look in upon me, and — and as you will be going a good
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 117 
 
 deal into society, just find cut what people say of my manner oj 
 life! "' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 An old worshipful gentleman, that had a great estate, 
 And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate. 
 
 Otd Song 
 
 I THINK I may, wiihout much loss to the reader, pass in silence 
 over my voyage, the next day, to Dover. (Horrible remi- 
 niscence !) I may also spare him an exact detail of all the inns 
 and impositions between that sea-port and London ; nor will it 
 be absolutely necessary to the plot of this history, to linger over 
 every mile-stone between the metropolis and Glenmorris Castle, 
 where my uncle and my mother were impatiently awaiting the 
 arrival of the candidate to be. 
 
 It was was a fine bright evening when my carriage entered 
 the park. I had not seen the place for years ; and I felt my 
 heart swell with something like family pride, as I gazed on the 
 magnificent extent of hill and plain that opened upon me, as I 
 passed the ancient and ivy-covered lodge. Large groups of 
 trees, scattered on either side, seemed, in their own antiquity 
 the witness of that of the family which had given them existence. 
 The sun set on the waters which lay gathered in a lake at the 
 foot of the hill, breaking the waves into unnumbered sapphires, 
 and tinging the dark firs that overspread the margin, with a rich 
 and golden light, that put me excessively in mind of the Duke 
 of -'s livery ! 
 
 When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood ar- 
 ranged in an order so long that it almost startled me, received 
 me with a visible gladness and animation, which showed me, at 
 one glance, the old-fashioned tastes of their master. Who, in 
 these days, ever inspires his servants with a single sentiment of 
 regard or interest for himself or his whole race ? That tribe 
 one never, indeed, considers as possessing a life separate from 
 their service to us : beyond that purpose of existence, we know 
 not even if they exist. As Providence made the stars for the 
 benefit of earth, so it made servants for the use of gentlemen; 
 and, as neither stars nor servants appear except when we want 
 
 * It will be perceived by those readers who are kind or patient enou(fh to reach the 
 conclusion of this work, that Russelton is specified as one of my few dramatis personae 
 of which only the first outline is taken from real life, and from a very noted person- 
 age ; all the rest—all, indeed, which forms and marks the character thus briefly deline- 
 ated, is drawn solely from imagination.
 
 iiS PELHAM; OR, 
 
 them, so I suppose they are in a sort of suspense from being, ex- 
 cept at those important and hap^y moments. 
 
 To return — for if I have any fault, it is to great a love for ab- 
 struse speculation and reflection — I was formally ushered 
 thiough a great hall, hung round with huge antlers and rusty ar- 
 mor, through a lesser one, supported by large stone columns, and 
 without any other adornment than the arms of the family ; then 
 through an ante-room, covered with tapestry, representing the 
 gallantries of King Solomon to the Queen of Sheba ; and lastly, 
 into the apartment honored by the august presence of Lord 
 Glenmorris. That personage was dividing the sofa with three 
 spaniels and a setter ; he rose hastily when I was announced, 
 and then checking the first impulse which hurried him, perhaps, 
 into an unseemly warmth of salutation, held out his hand with a 
 stately air of kindly protection, and while he pressed mine sur- 
 veyed me from head to foot, to see how far my appearance 
 justified his condescension. 
 
 Having, at last, satisfied himself, he proceeded to inquire 
 after the state of my appetite. He smiled benignantly when 
 I confessed that I was excessively well prepared to testify its 
 capacities (the first idea of all kind-hearted, old-fashioned 
 peojDle, is to stuff you), and, silently motioning to the grey-headed 
 servant who stood in attendance, till, receiving the expected sign, 
 he withdrew. Lord Glenmorris informed me that dinner was over 
 for every one but myself, that for me it would be prepared in an 
 instant, that Mr. Toolington had expired four days since, that 
 my mother was at that moment canvassing for me, and that ni}* 
 own electioneering qualities were to open their exhibition with the 
 following day. 
 
 After this communication there was a short pause. " What 
 a beautiful place this is ! " said I, with great enthusiasm. Lord 
 Glenmorris was pleased with the compliment, simple as it was. 
 
 " Yes, " said he, " it is, and I have made it still more so than 
 you have 3'et been able to perceive." 
 
 " You have been planting, probablv, on the other side of the 
 park ? " 
 
 " No," said my uncle, smiling ; " Nature had done every 
 thing for this spot when I came to it, but one ; and the addition 
 of that one ornament is the only real triumph which art ever 
 can achieve." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked I ; " oh, I know — water." 
 
 " You are mistaken," answered Lord Glenmorris ; " it is the 
 ornament of — happy faces. " 
 
 I looked up to my uncle's countenance in sudden surprise. I
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 119 
 
 cannot explain how I was struck with the expression which it 
 wore : so cahnly bright and open ! — it was as if the very day- 
 light had settled there. 
 
 "You don't understand this at present, Henry," said he, 
 after a moment's silence", "but you will find it, of all rules for 
 the improvement of property, the easiest to learn. Enough of 
 this now. Were you not in despair at leaving Paris 1 " 
 
 " I should have been, some months ago ; but when I received 
 my mother's summons, I found the temptations of the continent 
 very light in comparison with those held out to me here." 
 
 " What, have you already arrived at that great epoch, when 
 vanity casts off '\X.% first skin, and ambition succeeds to pleasure ! 
 Why — but thank Heaven that you have lost my moral — your 
 dinner is announced." 
 
 Most devoutly did I thank Heaven, and most earnestly did I 
 betake myself to do honor to my uncle's hospitality. 
 
 I had just finished my repast, when my mother entered. She 
 was, as you might well expect from her maternal affection, quite 
 overpowered with joy, first, at finding my hair grown so much 
 darker, and, secondly at my looking so well. We spent the 
 whole evening in discussing the great business for which I had 
 been summoned. Lord Glenmorris promised me money, and 
 my mother advice ; and I, in my turn, enchanted them, by prom- 
 ising to make the best use of both. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Cor, Your good voice, sir — what say you! 
 
 ind Cit. You shall have it, worthy sir. — Coriolamis. 
 
 The borough of Buyemall had long been in undisputed posses- 
 sion of the Lords of Glenmorris, till a rich banker, of the name 
 of Lufton, had bought a large estate in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood of Glenmorris Castle. This event, which was the precursor 
 of a miglUy revolution in the borough of Buyemall, took place in 
 the first year of my uncle's accession to his property. A few 
 months afterwards, a vacancy in the borough occurring, my uncle 
 procured the nomination of one of his own political party. To 
 the great astonishment of Lord (iiciunorris, and the great grati- 
 fication of the burghers of Buyemall, Mr. Lufton offered him- 
 self in opposition to the Glenmorris candidate. In this age of 
 enlightenment, innovation has no respect for the most sacred
 
 120 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 institutions of antiquity. . The burghers, for the only time since 
 their creation as a body, were cast first into doubt, and secondly 
 into rebellion. The Lufton faction, horresco referens, were tri- 
 umphant, and the rival candidate was returned. From that 
 hour, the Borough of Buyemall was open to all the world. 
 
 My uncle, who was a good easy man, and had some strange 
 notions of free representation, and liberty of election, professed 
 to care very little for this event. He contented himself, hence- 
 forward, with exerting his interest for one of the members, and 
 left the other seat entirely at the disposal of the line of Lufton, 
 which, from the time of the first competition, continued peacea- 
 bly to monopolize it. 
 
 During the last two years, my uncle's candidate, the late Mr. 
 Toolington, had been gradually dying of a dropsy, and the Luf- 
 tons had been so particularly attentive to the honest burghers, 
 that it was shrewdly suspected a bold push was to made for the 
 other seat. During the last month these doubts were changed 
 into certainty. Mr. Augustus Leopold Lufton, eldest son to 
 Benjamin Lufton, Esq., had publicly declared his intention of 
 starting at the decease of Mr. Toolington ; against this person- 
 age behold myself armed and arrayed. 
 
 Such is, in brief, the history of the borough, up to the time in 
 which I was to take a prominent share in its interests and events. 
 
 On the second day after my arrival at the castle, the follow- 
 ing advertisement appeared at Buyemall : — 
 
 " To the Independent Electors of the Borough of Buyemall. 
 
 " Gentlemen, 
 
 " In presenting myself to your notice, I advance a claim not 
 altogether new and unfounded. My family have for centuries 
 been residing amongst you, and exercising that interest which 
 reciprocal confidence, and good offices, may fairly create. Should 
 it be my good fortune to be chosen your representative, you may 
 rely upon my utmost endeavors to deserve that honor. One 
 word upon the principles I espouse : they are those which have 
 found their advocates among the wisest and the best : they are 
 those which, hostile alike to the encroachments of the crown 
 and the licentiousness of the people, would support the real in- 
 terests of both. Upon these grounds, gentlemen, I have the 
 honor to solicit your votes ; and it is with the sincerest respect 
 for your ancient and honorable body, that I subscribe myself 
 your very obedient servant, 
 
 " Henry Pelham. 
 
 " Glenmorris Castle, etc., etc."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLE MAiV. 121 
 
 Such was the first public signification of my intentions ; it 
 was drawn up by Mr. Sharpon, our lawyer, and considered by 
 our friends as a masterpiece : for, as my mother sagely observed, 
 it did not commit me in a single instance — espoused no princi- 
 ple, and yet professed principles which all parties would allow 
 were the best- 
 
 At the first house where I called, the proprietor was a clergy 
 man of good family, who had married a lad}' from Baker-street : 
 of course the Reverend Combermere St. Quintin and his wife 
 valued themselves upon being '■'■genteel.'" I arrived at an un- 
 lucky moment ; on entering the hall, a dirty footboy was carry- 
 ing a yellow-ware dish of potatoes into the back room. Another 
 Ganymede (a sort of footboy-major), who opened the door, and 
 who was still '■^settling himself into his coat," which he had slipped 
 on at my tintinnabulary summons, ushered me with a mouth full 
 of bread and cheese into this said back room. I gave up every- 
 thing as lost, when I entered, and saw the lady helping her young- 
 est child to some ineffable trash, which I have since heard is 
 called "blackberry pudding." Another of the tribe was bawling 
 out, with a loud, hungry tone — " A tatoe, pa ! " The father 
 himself was carving for the little group, with a napkin stuffed 
 into the top button-hole of his waistcoat ; and the mother, with 
 a long bib, plentifully bespattered with congealing gravy, an-i 
 the nectarian liquor of the " blackberry pudding," was sitting, 
 with a sort of presiding complacency, on a high stool, like Juno 
 on Olympus, enjoying rather than stilling the confused hubbub 
 of the little domestic deities, who ate, clattered, spattered, and 
 squabbled around her. 
 
 Amidst all this din and confusion, the candidate for the borough 
 of Buyemall was ushered into the household privacy of the gen- 
 teel Mr. and Mrs. St. Quintin. Up started the lady at the sound 
 of my name. The Rev. Combermere St. Quintin seemed frozen 
 into stone. The plate between the youngest child and the black- 
 berry pudding stood as still as the sun in Ajalon. The morsel 
 between the mouth of the elder boy and his fork had a respite 
 from mastication. The Seven Sleepers could not have been 
 spell-bound more suddenly and completely. 
 
 *' Ah,'' cried I, advancing eagerly, with an air of serious and 
 yet abrupt gladness ; " how lucky that I should find you all at 
 luncheon. I was up and had finished breakfast so early this 
 morning that I am half famished. Only think how fortunate, 
 Hardy, (turning round to one of the members of my committee, 
 who accompanied me) ; I was just saying what would I not give
 
 122 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 to find Mr. St. Quintin at luncheon. Will you allow me, Madam, 
 to make one of your party .'' " 
 
 Mrs. St. Quintin colored and faltered, and muttered out some- 
 thing which I was fully resolved not to hear. I took a chair, 
 looked round the table, not too attentively, and said — " Cold 
 veal ; ah ! ah ! nothing I like so much. May I trouble you, Mr. 
 St. Quintin ? — Hollo, my little man, let's see if you can't give me 
 a potato. There's a brave fellow. How old are 3^ou, my young 
 hero ? — to look at your mother, I should say two, to look at ^ou, 
 six." 
 
 " He is four next May," said his mother, coloring, and this 
 time not painful 1}-. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I, surveying him earnestly ; and then, in a 
 graver tone, I turned to the Rev. Combermere with — " I think 
 you have a branch of your family still settled in France. I met 
 a St. Quintin (the Due de Poictiers) abroad." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Combermere, " yes, the name is still in Nor- 
 mandy, but I was not aware of the title." 
 
 " No ! " said I, with surprise ; " and yet (with another look at 
 the boy), it is astonishing how long family likenesses last. I was 
 a great favorite with all the Diii^'s children. Do you know, I 
 must trouble you for some more veal, it is so very good, and I 
 am so very hungr}'." 
 
 " How long have you been abroad ? " said Mrs. St. Quintin, 
 who had slipped off her bib, and smoothed her ringlets ; for 
 which purposes I had been most adroitly looking in an opposite 
 direction the last three minutes. 
 
 " About seven or eight months. The fact is, that the continent 
 only does for us English people to see — not to inhabit ; and yet, 
 there are some advantages there, Mr. St. Quintin ! — among others, 
 that of the clue respect ancient birth is held in. Here, you know, 
 ' money makes the man,' as the vulgar proverb has it." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. St. Quintin, with a sigh, "it is really dreadful 
 to see those upstarts rising around us, and throwing every thing 
 that is respectable and ancient in to the back ground. Dangerous 
 times these, Mr. Pelham — dangerous times ; nothing but inno- 
 vation upon the most sacred institutions. I am sure, Mr. Pelham, 
 that your principles must be decidedly against these new-fash- 
 ioned doctrines, which lead to nothing but anarchy and confusion 
 — absolutely nothing." 
 
 "I'm delighted to find you so much of my opinion ! " said I. 
 " I cannot endure anything that leads to aiiarchy and confusiony 
 
 Here Mr. Combermere glanced at his wife, — who rose, called 
 to the children, and, accompanied by them, gracefully withdrew.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 123 
 
 " Now then," said Mr. Combermere, drawing his chair nearer 
 to me, — " now, Mr. Pelham, we can discuss these matters. Wo- 
 men are no politicians," — and at this sage aphorism, the Rev. 
 Combemiere laughed a low solemn laugh, which could have come 
 from no other lips. After I had joined in this grave merriment 
 for a second or two, I hemmed thrice, and with a countenance 
 suited to the subject and the host, plunged at once in medias 
 res. 
 
 "Mr. St. Quintin," said I, "you are already aware, I think, 
 of my intention of offering myself as a candidate for the borough 
 of Buyemall. I could not think of such a measure, without call- 
 ing upon you, the very, first person, to solicit the honor of your 
 vote." Mr. Combermere looked pleased, and prepared to reply. 
 "You are the very first person I called upon," repeated I. 
 
 Mr. Combermere smiled. " Well, Mr. Pelham," said he, " our 
 families have long been on the most intimate footing." 
 
 "Ever since," cried I, " ever since Henry the Seventh's time, 
 have the houses of St. Quintin and Glenmorris been allied ! 
 Your ancestors, you know, were settled in the county before 
 ours, and my mother assures me that she has read, in some old 
 book or another, a long account of your forefather's kind recep- 
 tion of mine at the castle of St. Quintin. I do trust, sir, that we 
 have done nothing to forfeit a support so long afforded us." 
 
 Mr. Quintin bowed in speechless gratification ; at length he 
 found voice. " But your principles, Mr. Pelham ? " 
 
 " Quite your's, my dear sir ; quite against anarchy and confu^ 
 sion.'" 
 
 " But the Catholic question, Mr. Pelham ? " 
 
 "Oh! the Catholic question," repeated I, "is a question of 
 great importance; it won't be carried — no, Mr. St. Quintin, no, 
 it won't be carried ; how did you think, my dear sir, that I could, 
 in so great a question, act against my conscience ?" 
 
 I said this with warmth, and Mr. St. Quintin was either too 
 convinced or too timid to pursue so dangerous a topic any further. 
 I blessed my stars when he paused, and, not giving him time to 
 think of anr)ther piece of debatable ground, continued, — "Yes, 
 Mr. St. Quintin, 1 called upon you the very first person. Your 
 rank in the county, your ancient birth, to be sure, demanded it ; 
 but /only considered the long, long time the St. Quintins and 
 Pelhams had been connected." 
 
 "Well," said the Rev. Combermere, "well, Mr. Pelham, you 
 shall have my support ; and I wish, from my very heart, all suc- 
 cess to a young gentleman of such exxellent principles."
 
 124 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 More voices ! 
 
 ■5|6- -iif -3^ Tlf Jk ^ 
 
 Sic. How now, my masters, have you chosen him ? 
 Cit He has our voices, sir ! — Coriolanus. 
 
 From Mr. Combermere St. Qiiintin's we went to a bluff, 
 hearty, radical wine-merchant, whom I had very little probabil- 
 ity of gaining ; but my success with the clerical Armado had 
 inspirited me, and I did not suffer myself to fear, though 1 could 
 scarcely persuade myself to hope. How exceedingly impossible 
 it is, in governing men, to lay down positive rules, even where 
 we know the temper of the individual to be gained ! " You must 
 be very stiff and formal with the St. Quintins," said my mother. 
 She was right in the general admonition, and had I found them 
 all seated in the best drawing-room, Mrs. St. Quintin in her best 
 attire, and the children on their best behavior, I should have 
 been as stately as Don Quixote in a brocade dressing-gown ; 
 but finding them in such dishabille, I could not affect too great 
 a plainness and almost coarseness of bearing, as if I had never 
 been accustomed to anything more refined than I found there; 
 nor might I, by any appearance of pride in myself, put them in 
 mind of the wound their own pride had received. The difficulty 
 was to blend with this familiarity a certain respect, just the same 
 as a French ambassador might have testified towards the august 
 person of George the Third, had he found his Majesty at din- 
 ner at one o'clock, over mutton and turnips. 
 
 In overcoming this difficulty, I congratulated myself with as 
 much zeal and fervor as if I had performed the most important 
 victory ; for, whether it be innocent or sanguinary, in war or at 
 an election, there is no triumph so gratifying to the viciousness 
 of human nature, as the conquest of our fellow beings. 
 
 But I must return to my wine-merchant, Mr. Briggs, His 
 house was at the entrance of the town of Buyemall ; it stood 
 enclosed in a small garden, flaming with crocuses and sunflowers, 
 and exhibiting an arbor to the right, where, in the summer 
 evenings, the respectable owner might be seen, with his waist- 
 coat unbuttoned, in order to give that just and rational liberty to 
 the subordinate parts of the human commonwealth which the 
 increase of their consequence, after the hour of dinner, naturally 
 demands. Nor, in those moments of dignified ease, was the 
 worthy burgher without the divine inspirations of complacent 
 contemplation which the weed of Virginia bestoweth. There,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 125 
 
 as he smoked and puffed, and looked out upon the bright cro- 
 cuses, and meditated over the dim recollections of the hesternal 
 journal, did Mr. Briggs revolve ir his mind the vast importance 
 of the borough of Buyemall to the British empire, and the vast 
 importance of John Briggs to the borough of Buj'emall, 
 
 When I knocked at the door a prettyish maid-servant opened 
 it with a smile, and a glance which the vendor of wine might 
 probably have taught her himself after too large potations of his 
 own spirituous manufactures. I was ushered into a small parlor 
 — where sat, sipping brandy and water, a short, stout monosyl- 
 labic sort of figure, corresponding in outward shape to the name 
 of Briggs — even unto a very nicety. 
 
 " Mr. Pelham," said this gentleman, who was dressed in a 
 brown coat, white waistcoat, buff-colored inexpressibles, with 
 long strings, and gaiters of the same hue and substance as the 
 breeches — " Mr. Pelham, pray be seated — excuse my rising, I'm 
 like the bishop in the story, Mr. Pelham, too old to rise ; " and 
 Mr. Briggs grunted out a short, quick, querulous, "he — he — he," 
 to which, of course, I replied to the , best of my cachinnatory 
 powers. 
 
 No sooner, however, did I begin to laugh, than Mr. Briggs 
 stopped short — eyed me with a sharp, suspicious glance — shook 
 his head, and pushed back his chair at least four feet from the 
 spot it had hitherto occupied. Ominous signs, thought I — I 
 must sound this gentleman a little further, before I venture to 
 treat him as the rest of his species. 
 
 " You have a nice situation here, Mr. Briggs," said I. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Pelham, and a nice vote too, which is somewhat 
 more to your purpose, I believe." 
 
 "Why," said I, "Mr. Briggs, to be frank with you, I do call 
 upon you for the purpose of requesting your vote ; give it me, or 
 not, just as you please. You may be sure I shall not make use 
 of the vulgar electioneering arts to coax gentlemen out of their 
 votes. I ask you for your's as one freeman solicits another : if 
 you think my opponent a fitter person to represent your borough, 
 give your support to him in Heaven's name : if not, and you 
 place confidence in me, I will, at least, endeavor not to betray 
 it." 
 
 " Well done, Mr. Pelham," exclaimed Mr, Briggs : " I love 
 candor — you speak just after my own heart ; but you must be 
 aware that one does not like to be bamboozled out of one's right 
 of election, by a smooth-tongued fellow, who sends one to the 
 devil the moment the election is over — or still worse, to be 
 frightened out of it by some stilf-necked proud co.\comb, with his
 
 126 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 pedigree in his hand, and his acres in his face, thinking he does 
 you a marvellous honor to ask you at all. Sad times these for 
 this free country, Mr, Pelham, when a parcel of conceited pau- 
 pers, like Parson Quinny (as I call that reverend fool, Mr. 
 Combermere St. Quintin), imagine they have a right to dictate to 
 warm, honest men, who can buy their whole family out and out. 
 I tell you what, Mr. Pelham, we shall never do anything for this 
 country till we get rid of those landed aristocrats, with their 
 ancestry and humbug. I hope you're of my mind, Mr. Pelham." 
 
 " Why," answered I, "there is certainly nothing so respectable 
 in Great Britain as our commercial interest. A man who makes 
 himself is worth a thousand men made by their forefathers." 
 
 "Very true, Mr. Pelham," said the wine-merchant, advancing 
 his chair to me ; and then, laying a short, thickset finger upon my 
 arm — he looked up in my face with an investigating air, and said : 
 ■ — " Parliamentary Reform — what do you say to that ? you're not 
 an advocate for ancient abuses and modern corruption, I hope, 
 Mr. Pelham ? " 
 
 " By no means," cried I, with an honest air of indignation — 
 " I have a conscience, Mr. Briggs, I have a conscience as a 
 public man, no less than as a private one ! " 
 
 " Admirable ! " cried my host. 
 
 " No," I continued, glowing as I proceeded, " no> Mr Briggs 
 I disdain to talk too much about my principles before they are 
 tried ; the proper time to proclaim them is \\hen they have 
 effected some good by being put into action. I won't supplicate 
 your vote, Mr. Briggs, as my opponent may do ; there must be a 
 mutual confidence between my supporters and myself. When 
 I appear before you a second time, you will have a right to see 
 how far I have wronged that trust reposed in me as your repre- 
 sentative. Mr. Briggs, I dare say it may seem rude and impoli- 
 tic to address you in this manner ; but I am a plain, blunt man, 
 and I disdain the vulgar arts of electioneering, Mr. Briggs." 
 
 " Give us your fist, sir," cried the wine-merchant, in a trans- 
 port ; " give us your fist ; I promise you my support, and I am 
 delighted to vote for a young gentleman of such excelktit J)rmci- 
 plesr 
 
 So much, dear reader, for Mr. Briggs, who became from that 
 interview my staunchest supporter. I will not linger longer 
 upon this part of my career : the above conversations may serve 
 as a sufficient sample of my electioneering qualifications : and 
 so I shall merely add, that after the due quantum of dining, 
 drinking, spouting, lying, equivocating, bribing, rioting, head- 
 breaking, promise-breaking, and — thank the god Mercury, who
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAiV. 127 
 
 presides over elections — chairing of successful candidateship, I 
 found myself fairly chosen member for the borough of Buy- 
 emall ! * 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Political education is like the keystone to the arch — the strength of the 
 whole depends upon it. — Encycl. Britt. Sup. Art. Education. 
 
 I WAS sitting in the library of Glenmorris Castle, about a 
 week after all the bustle of contest and the eclat of victory had 
 begun to subside, and quietly dallying with the dry toast, which 
 constituted then, and does to this day, my ordinary breakfast, 
 when I was accosted by the following speech from my uncle : — 
 
 " Henry, your success has opened to you a new^career : I trust 
 you intend to pursue it ? " 
 
 " Certainly," was my answer. 
 
 " But do you know, my dear Henry, that though you have 
 great talents, which, I confess, I was surprised in the course of 
 the election to discover, yet they want that careful cultivation, 
 which, in order to shine in the House of Commons, they must 
 receive. Entre nous, Henry ; a little reading would do you no 
 harm." 
 
 " Very well," said I, " suppose I begin with Walter Scott's 
 novels ; I am told they are extremely entertaining." 
 
 " True," answered my uncle, " but they don't contain the 
 most accurate notions of history, or the soundest principles of 
 political philosophy in the world. What did you think of doing 
 to-day, Heniy ? " 
 
 ^^ Not/ling.'" said I, very innocently. 
 
 " I should conceive that to be an usual answer of yours, 
 Henry, to any similar question." 
 
 " I think it is," replied I, with great naivct(^. 
 
 " Well, then, let us have the breakfast things taken away, 
 and do sotncthing this morning." 
 
 "Willingly," said I, ringing the bell. 
 
 The table was cleared, and my uncle began his examination. 
 
 ♦ It is fortunate that Mr. Pelham's election was not for a rotten borough ; so that 
 the satire of this chapter is not yet obsolete nor unsalutary. Parliamentary Reform 
 has not terminated the triclis of canvassing— and Mr. Pelham's descriptions are as 
 applicable now as when first written. All personal canvassing is but for'lhe conven- 
 ience of cunning — the opportunity for manner to disguise principle. Public meetings, 
 in which expositions of opinion must be clear, and will be cross-exarnined, arc the 
 only legitimate mode of canvass. The English begin to discover this truth ; may 
 these scenes serve to quicken their apprehension. — The Author.
 
 12S PELHAM; OR, 
 
 Little, poor man, had he thought, from my usual bearing, and 
 the character of my education, that in general literature there 
 were few subjects on which I was not to the full as well read as 
 himself. I enjoyed his surprise, when, little by little, he began 
 to discover the extent of my information ; but I was mortified 
 to find it was only surprise, 7iot delight. 
 
 " You have," said he, " a considerable store of learning : far 
 more than I could possibly have imagined you possessed ; but 
 it is k?iowledge, not learning, in which I wish you to be skilled. 
 I would rather, in order to gift you with the former, that you 
 were more destitute of the latter. The object of education is to 
 instil principles which are hereafter to guide and instruct us ; 
 fads are only desirable, so far as they illustrate those principles ; 
 principles ought therefore to precede facts ! What then can we 
 think of a system which reverses this evident order, overloads 
 the memory with facts, and those of the most doubtful descrip- 
 tion, while it leaves us entirely in the dark with regard to the 
 principles which could alone render this heterogeneous mass of 
 any advantage or avail ? Learning, without knowledge, is but 
 a bundle of prejudices ; a lumber of inert matter set before the 
 threshold of the understanding to the exclusion of common 
 sense. Pause for a moment, and recall those of your contem- 
 poraries who are generally considered well-informed ; tell me if 
 their information has made them a whit the wiser ; if not, it is 
 only sanctified ignorance. Tell me if names with them are not 
 a sanction for opinion ; quotations, the representatives of 
 axioms .'' All they have learned only serves as an excuse for all 
 they are ignorant of. In one month, I will engage that you 
 shall have a juster and deeper insight into wisdom, than they 
 have been all their lives acquiring ; the great error of education 
 is to fill the mmdjirst with antiquated authors, and then to try 
 the principles of the present day by the authorities and maxims 
 of the past. We will pursue, for our plan, the exact reverse of 
 the ordinary method. We will learn the doctrines of the day, 
 as the first and most necessary step, and we will then glance 
 over those which have passed away, as researches rather curious 
 than useful. 
 
 " You see this very small pamphlet ; it is a paper by Mr. 
 Mill, upon Government. We will know this thoroughlv, and 
 when we have done so, we may rest assured that we have a far 
 more accurate information upon the head and front of all polit- 
 ical knowledge, than two-thirds of the young men whose cultiva- 
 tion of mind you have usually heard panegyrized." 
 
 So saying, my uncle opened the pamphlet. He pointed out
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAA\ ^^9 
 
 to me its close and mathematical reasoning, in which no flaw 
 could be delected, nor deduction controverted ; and he filled 
 up, as we proceeded, from the science of his own clear and en- 
 larged mind, the various parts which the political logician had 
 left for reflection to complete. My uncle had this great virtue 
 of an expositor, that he never over-explained ; he never made a 
 parade of his lecture, nor confused what was simple by unnec- 
 essary comment. 
 
 When we broke ofif our first day's employment, I was quite 
 astonished at the new light which had gleamed upon me. I 
 felt like Sinbad, the sailor, when, in wandering through the 
 cavern in which he had been buried alive, he caught the first 
 glimpse of the bright day. Naturally eager in everything I 
 undertook, fond of application, and addicted to reflect over the 
 various bearings of any object that once engrossed my attention, 
 I made great advance in my new pursuit. After my uncle had 
 brought me to be thoroughly conversant with certain and defi- 
 nite principles, we proceeded to illustrate them from fact. For 
 instance, when we had finished the " Essay upon Government,'' 
 we examined into the several Constitutions of England, British 
 America, and France ; the three countries which pretend the 
 most to excellence in their government : and we were enable to 
 perceive and judge the defects and merits of each, because we 
 \i-2i^, previously to our examination, established certain rules, by 
 which they were to be investigated and tried. Here my skepti- 
 cal indifference to facts was my chief reason for readily admit- 
 ting knowledge. I had no prejudices to contend with ; no obscure 
 notions gleamed from the past ; no popular maxims cherished as 
 truths. Everything was placed before me as before a wholly im- 
 partial inquirer — freed from all the decorations and delusions 
 of sects and parties : every argument was stated with logical 
 precision — every opinion referred to a logical test. Hence, in 
 a very short time, I owned the justice of my uncle's assurance, 
 as to the comparative concentration of knowledge. We went 
 over the whole of Mill's admirable articles in the Encyclopaedia, 
 over the more popular works of Bentham, and thence we plunged 
 into the recesses of political economy. I know not why this 
 study has been termed uninteresting. No sooner had I entered 
 upon its consideration, than I could scarcely tear myself from 
 it. Never from that moment to this have I ceased to pay it the 
 most constant attention, not so much as a study as an amuse- 
 ment ; hut at that time my uncle's object was not to make mc 
 a profound political economist. " I wish," said he, " merely to 
 9
 
 130 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 give you an acquaintance with the principles of the science ; 
 not that you may be entitled to boast of knowledge, but that 
 you may be enabled to avoid ignorance ; not that you may dis- 
 cover truth, but that you may detect error. Of all sciences, 
 political economy is contained in the fewest books, and yet is 
 the most difficult to master ; because all its higher branches 
 require earnestness of reflection, proportioned to the scantiness 
 of reading. Ricardo's work, together with some conversational 
 enlargement on the several topics he treats of, will be enough 
 for our present purpose. I wish, then, to show you, how insep- 
 arably allied is the great science of public policy with that of 
 private morality. And this, Henry, is the grandest object of 
 all. Now to o\xx present study." 
 
 Well, gentle reader, (I love, by-the-by, as you already perceive, 
 that old-fashioned courtesy of addressing you) — well, to finish 
 this part of my life, which, as it treats rather of my attempts at 
 reformation than my success in error, must begin to weary you 
 exceedingly, I acquired more from my uncle's conversation than 
 the books we read, a sufficient acquaintance with the elements 
 of knowledge, to satisfy myself, and to please my instructor. 
 And I must say, in justification of my studies and my tutor, that 
 I derived one benefit from them which has continued with me 
 to this hour — viz., I obtained a clear knowledge of moral prin- 
 *.;iple. Before that time, the little ability I possessed only led 
 me into acts, which, I fear, most benevolent reader, thou hast 
 already sufficiently condemned ; my good feelings — for I was 
 not naturally bad — never availed me the least when present 
 temptation came into my way. I had no guide but passion ; no 
 rule but the impulse of the moment. What else could have 
 been the result of my education ? If I was immoral, it was be- 
 cause I was never taught morality. Nothing, perhaps, is less 
 innate than virtue. I own that the lessons of my uncle did not 
 work miracles — that, living in the world, I have not separated 
 myself from its errors and its follies the vortex was too strong 
 — the atmosphere too contagious : but I have at least avoided 
 the crimes into which my temper would most likely have driven 
 me. I ceased to look upon the world as a game one was to 
 play fairly, if possible — but where a little cheating was readily 
 allowed ; I no longer divorced the interests of other men from 
 my own : if I ever endeavored to blind them, it was neither by 
 unlawful means, nor for a purely selfish end : — if — but come, ' 
 Henry Pelham, thou hast praised thyself enough for the present ; 
 and, after all, thy future adventures will best tell if thou art 
 really amended.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 13* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Mihi jam non regia Roma, 
 
 Sed vacuum Tibur placet. — HoR. 
 
 " My dear child," said my mother to me, affectionately, " you 
 must be very much bored here. To say truth, I am so myself. 
 Your uncle is a very good man, but he does not make his house 
 pleasant ; and I have, lately, been very much afraid that he should 
 convert you into a mere book-worm ; after all, my clear Henry, you 
 are quite clever enough to trust to your own ability. Your great 
 geniuses never read." 
 
 "True, my dear mother," said I, with a most unequivocal yawn, 
 and depositing on the table Mr. Bentham on Popular Fallacies ; 
 " true, and I am quite of your opinion. Did you see in the Post 
 of this morning, how full Cheltenham was ? " 
 
 "Yes, Henry; and now you mention it, I don't think you 
 could do better than to go there for a month or two. As for 
 
 me, I must return to your father, whom I left at Lord H 's : 
 
 a place, e7itre nous, very little more amusing than this — but then 
 one does get one's e'cart^ table, and that dear Lady Roseville, 
 your old acquaintance, is staying there." 
 
 "Well," said I, musingly, "suppose we take our departure 
 the beginning of next week ? — our way will be the same as far 
 as London, and the plea of attending you will be a good excuse 
 to my uncle for proceeding no farther in these confounded 
 books." 
 
 " Cest une affaire finie" replied my mother, " and I will speak 
 to your uncle myself." 
 
 Accordingly, the necessary disclosure of our intentions was 
 made. Lord Glenmorris received it with proper indifference, 
 so far as my mother was concerned ; but expressed much pain at 
 my leaving him so soon. However, when he found I was not 
 so much gratihed as honored by his wishes for my longer 
 sej'oiir, he gave up the point with a delicacy that enchanted me. 
 
 The morning of our departure arrived. Carriage at the door 
 — bandboxes in the passage — breakfast on the table — myself in 
 my great coat — my uncle in his great chair. " My dear boy," 
 said he " I trust we shall meet again soon : you have abilities 
 that may make you capable of effecting much good to your 
 fellow-creatures ; but you are fond of the world, and, though 
 not averse to application, devoted to pleasure, and likely to per- 
 vert the gi^^ts you possess. At all events, you have now learned,
 
 132 PELHAM; OR, \ 
 
 both as a public character and a private indivickial, the difTer- 
 ence between good and evil. Make but this distinction : that 
 whereas, in political science, the rules you have learned may 
 be fixed and unerring, yet the application of them must vary 
 with time and circumstance. We must bend, temporize, and 
 frequently withdraw, doctrines which invariable in their truth, 
 the prejudices of the time will not invariably allow, and even 
 relinquish a faint hope of obtaining a great good, for the cer- 
 tainty of obtaining a lesser; yet in the science of private 
 morals, which relate for the main part to ourselves individually, 
 we have no right to deviate one single iota from the rule of our 
 conduct. Neither time nor circumstance must cause us to mod- 
 ify or to change. Integrity knows no variation ; honesty no 
 shadow of turning. We must pursue the same course — stern 
 and uncompromising — in the full persuasion that the path of 
 right is like the bridge from earth to heaven, in the Mahome- 
 tan creed ; — if we swerve but a single hair's-breadth, we are 
 irrevocably lost." 
 
 At this moment my mother joined us, with a " Well, my 
 dear Henry, everything is ready — we have no time to lose." 
 
 My uncle rose, pressed my hand, and left in it a pocket-book, 
 which I afterwards discovered to be most satisfactorily fdr- 
 nished. We took an edifying and affectionate farewell of each 
 other, passed through the two rows of servants, drawn up in mar- 
 tial array, along the great hall, and went off with the rapidity 
 of a novel upon "fashionable life." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Die — si grave non est — 
 Quae prima iratum ventrem placaverit esca. — Hor. 
 
 I DID not remain above a day or two in town. I had never 
 seen much of the humors of a watering-place, and my love of 
 observing character made me exceedingly inpatient for that 
 pleasure. Accordingly, the first bright morning, I set off 
 Cheltenham. I was greatly struck with the entrance to that 
 town : it is to these watering-places that a foreigner should be 
 taken, in order to give him an adequate idea of the magnificent 
 opulence and universal luxury of England. Our country has, in 
 every province, what France only has in Paris — a capital, con- 
 secrated to gaiety, idleness, and enjoyment. London is both
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 133 
 
 too busy in one class of society, and too pompous in another, to 
 please a foreigner, who has not excellent recommendations to 
 private circles. But at Brighton, Cheltenham, Hastings, Bath, 
 he may, as at Paris, find all the gaieties of society without know- 
 ing a single individual. 
 
 My carriage stopped at the Hotel. A corpulent and 
 
 stately waiter, with gold buckles to a pair of very tight panta- 
 loons, showed me up stairs. I found myself in a tolerable room 
 facing the street, and ga uished with two pictures of rocks and 
 rivers, with a comely flig _t of crows, hovering in the horizon of 
 both, as natural as possible — only they were a little larger than 
 the trees. Over the chimney-piece, where I had fondly hoped 
 to find a looking-glass, was a grave print of General Washing- 
 ton, with one hand stuck out like the spout of a tea-pot. Be- 
 tween the two windows (unfavorable position !) was an oblong mir- 
 ror, to which I immediately hastened, and had the pleasure of 
 seeing my complexion catch the color of the curtains that over- 
 hung the glass on each side, and exhibit the pleasing rurality of 
 a pale green. 
 
 I shrunk back aghast, turned, and beheld the waiter. Had I 
 seen myself in a glass delicately shaded by rose-hued curtains, I 
 should gently and smilingly have said, " Have the goodness to 
 bring me the bill of fare." As it was, I growled out, " Bring me 
 the bill." 
 
 The stiff waiter bowed solemnly, and withdrew slowly. I 
 looked round the room once more, and discovered the additional 
 adornments of a tea-urn, and a book. " Thank Heaven," 
 thought I, as I took up the latter, " it can't be one of Jeremy 
 Bentham's." No ! it was the Cheltenham Guide. I turned to 
 
 the head of amusements — " Dress ball at the rooms every " 
 
 some day or other — which of the seven I utterly forget ; but it 
 was the same as that which witnessed my first arrival in the 
 small drawing-room of the Hotel. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " said I to myself, as Bedos entered with 
 my things, and was ordered immediately to have all in prepara- 
 tion for " the dress-ball at the rooms," at the hour of half-past 
 ten. The waiter entered with the bill, " Soups, chops, cutlets, 
 steaks, roast joints, etc., etc. — lion, birds.'" 
 
 " Get some soup," said I, " a slice or two of lion, and half a 
 dozen birds." 
 
 " Sir," said the solemn waiter, " you can't have less than a 
 whole lion, and we have only two birds in the house." 
 
 " Pray," asked I, "are you in the habit of supplying your larder 
 from J''.xeter 'Change, or do you breed lions here like poultry "i "
 
 134 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Sir," answered the grim waiter, never relaxing into a smile, 
 " we have lions brought us from the country every day." 
 
 " What do you pay for them ? " said I. 
 
 " About three and sixpence a-piece, sir." 
 
 " Humph ! market in Africa overstocked," thought I. 
 
 " Pray, how do you dress an animal of that description ? " 
 
 " Roast and stuff him, sir, and serve him up with currant 
 jelly." 
 
 " What ! like a hare ? " 
 
 " A lion is a hare, sir." 
 
 •' What ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is a hare ! — but we call it a lion, because of the 
 Game laws." 
 
 " Bright discovery," thought I ; " they have a new language 
 in Cheltenham ; nothing's like travelling to enlarge the mind." 
 " And the birds," said I, aloud, " are neither humming-birds nor 
 ostriches, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; they are partridges." 
 
 " Well, then, give me some soup, a cutlet, and a ' bird,' as you 
 term it, and be quick about it." 
 
 " It shall be done with despatch," answered the pompous at- 
 tendant, and withdrew. 
 
 Is there, in the whole course of this pleasant and varying life, 
 which young gentlemen and ladies write verses to prove same 
 and sorrowful, — is there in the whole course of it, one half-hour 
 really and genuinely disagreeble ? — if so, it is the half-hour be- 
 fore dinner at a strange inn. Nevertheless, by the help of phi' 
 losophy and the window, I managed to endure it with great pa- 
 tience : and, though I was famishing with hunger, I pretended the 
 indifference of a sage, even when the dinner was at length an- 
 nounced. I coquetted a whole minute with my napkin, before I 
 attempted the soup, and I helped myself to the potatory food 
 with a slow dignity that must have perfectly won the heart of the 
 solemn waiter. The soup was a little better than hot water, and 
 the sharp-sauced cutlet than leather and vinegar; howbeit, I at- 
 tacked them with the vigor of an Irishman, and washed them 
 down with a bottle of the worst liquor ever dignified with the 
 veiierabile nomen of claret. The bird was tough enough to have 
 passed for an ostrich in miniature ; and I felt its ghost hopping 
 about the stomachic sepulchre to which I consigned it, the 
 whole of that evening, and a great portion of the next day, when 
 a glass of cura^oa laid it at rest. 
 
 After this splendid repast, I flung myself back on my chair
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 135 
 
 with the complacency of a man who has dined well, and dozed 
 away the time till the hour of dressing. 
 
 "Now," thought I, as I placedmyself before my glass, "shall 
 I gently please, or sublimely astonish the ' fashionables ' of 
 Cheltenham ? — Ah, bah ! the latter school is vulgar. Byron 
 spoilt it. Don't put out that chain, Bedos — I wear — the black 
 coat, waistcoat, and trowsers. Brush my hair as much out of 
 curl as you can, and give an air of graceful negligence to my 
 tout cnseml'/e." 
 
 " Oui, Monsieur, j'e comprends,^' answered Bedos. 
 
 I was soon dressed, for it is the design, not the execution, of all 
 great undertakings which requires deliberation and delay. Action 
 cannot be too prompt. A chair was called and Henry Pelhan?' 
 was conveyed to the rooms. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Now see, prepared to lead the sprightly dance, 
 
 The lovely nymphs, and well-dress'd youths advance ; 
 
 The spacious room receives its jovial guest, 
 
 And the floor shakes with pleasing weight oppress'd. 
 
 Art of Dancing: 
 Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrell. — Richard III. 
 
 Upon entering, I saw several heads rising and sinking, to the 
 tune of " Cherry ripe." A whole row of stiff necks, in cravats 
 of the most unexceptionable length and breadth, were just be 
 fore me. A tall thin young man, with dark wiry hair brushec* 
 on one side, was drawing on a pair of white Woodstock gloves, 
 and affecting to look round the room with the supreme indiffer- 
 ence of bon ton. 
 
 "Ah, Ritson," said another young Cheltenhamian to him of 
 the Woodstock gauntlets, " hav'n't you been dancing yet .'' " 
 
 " No, Smith, 'pon honor ! " answered Mr. Ritson ; " it is so 
 overpoweringly hot ; no fashionable man dances now ; — it isn^t 
 the tiling:' 
 
 "Why," replied Mr. Smith, who was a good-natured looking 
 person, with a blue coat and brass buttons, and a gold pin in 
 his neckcloth, " why, they dance at Almack's don't they ? " 
 
 " No, 'pon honor," murmured Mr. Ritson ; " no, they just 
 walk a quadrille or spin a waltz, as my friend. Lord Bobadob, 
 calls it ; nothing more — no, hang dancing, 'tis so vulgar." 
 
 A stout, red-faced man, about thirty, with wet auburn hair,
 
 136 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 a marvellously fine waistcoat, and a badly washed frill, now 
 joined Messrs. Ritson and Smith. 
 
 " Ah, Sir Ralph," cried Smith, " how d'ye do ? been hunt- 
 ing all day, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, old cock," replied Sir Ralph ; " been after the brush 
 till I am quite done up ; such a glorious run ! By G — , you 
 should have seen my grey mare, Smith ; by G — , she's a glorious 
 fencer." 
 
 " You don't hunt, do you, Ritson ? " interrogated Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Yes, I do," replied Mr. Ritson, affectedly playing with his 
 Woodstock glove ; "yes, but I only hunt in Leicestershire widi 
 my friend. Lord Bobadob ; 'tis not the thing to hunt anywhere 
 else." 
 
 Sir Ralph stared at the speaker with mute contempt : while 
 Mr. Smith, like the ass between the hay, stood balancing be- 
 twixt the opposing merits of the baronet and the beau. Mean- 
 while, a smiling, nodding, affected female thing, in ringlets and 
 flowers, flirted up to the trio. 
 
 " Now, really, Mr. Smith, you should deence ; a feeshionable 
 young man, like you — I don't know what the young leedies will 
 say to you." And the fair seducer laughed bewitchingly. 
 
 "You are very good, Mrs. Dollimore," replied Mr. Smith, with 
 a blush and a low bow ; " but Mr. Ritson tells me it is not the 
 thifig to dance." 
 
 " Oh," cried Mrs. Dollimore, " but then he's seech a naughty, 
 conceited creature — don't follow his example, Meester Smith ; " 
 and again the good lady laughed immoderately. 
 
 " Nay, Mrs. Dollimore," said Mr. Ritson, passing his hand 
 through his abominable hair, " you are too severe ; but tell me, 
 Mrs. Dollimore, is the Countess coming here ? " 
 
 "Now, reelly, Mr. Ritson, jv^//, who are the pink of feeshion, 
 ought to know better than I can ; but I hear so." 
 
 " Do you know the countess .'' " said Mr. Smith, in respectful 
 surprise, to Ritson. 
 
 "Oh, very well," replied the Coryphaeus of Cheltenham, 
 swinging his Woodstock glove to and fro ; " I have often danced 
 with her at Almack's." 
 
 " Is she a good deencer ? " asked Mrs. Dollimore. 
 
 " O, capital," responded Mr. Ritson ; " she's such a nice gen- 
 teel little figure." 
 
 Sir Ralph, apparently tired of this " feeshionable " conversa- 
 tion, swaggered away, 
 
 " Pray," said Mrs. Dollimore, " who is that geentleman ? "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 137 
 
 " Sir Ralph Rumford," replied Smith, eagerly, '^ a particular 
 friend of mine at Cambridge." 
 
 " I wonder if he's going to make a long steey ? " said Mrs, 
 Dollimore. 
 
 "Yes, I believe so," replied Mr. Smith, " if we make it agree- 
 able to him." 
 
 " You must poositively introduce him to me," said Mrs. Dolli- 
 more. 
 
 " I will, with great pleasure," said the good-natured Mr. 
 Smith. 
 
 " Is Sir Ralph a ma?i of fashion ? " inquired Mr. Ritson. 
 
 " He's a baronet ! " emphatically pronounced Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Ah ! " replied Ritson, " but he may be a man of rank, with- 
 out being a man of fashion." 
 
 " True," lisped Mrs. Dollimore. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Smith, with an air of puzzled wonder- 
 ment, "but he has 7,000/. a-year." 
 
 "Has he, indeed ."^ " cried Mrs. Dollimore, surprised into her 
 natural tone of voice ; and, at that moment, a young lady, ring- 
 leted and flowered like herself, joined her, and accosted her by 
 the endearing appellation of " Mamma." 
 
 " Have you been dancing, my love ? " inquired Mrs. Dolli- 
 more. 
 
 " Yes, ma ; with Captain Johnson." 
 
 " Oh," said the mother, with a toss of her head ; and, giving 
 her daughter a significant push, she walked away with her to 
 another end of the room, to talk about Sir Ralph Rumford, and 
 his seven thousand pounds a-year. 
 
 " Well ! " thought I, " odd people these ; let us enter a little 
 farther into this savage country." In accordance with this re- 
 flection, I proceeded towards the middle of the room. 
 
 " Who's that ? " said Mr. Smith, in a loud whisper as I passed 
 him. 
 
 " 'Pon honor,'" answered Ritson, " I don't know ! but he's a 
 deuced neat-looking fellow." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Ritson," said my vanity; "you are not so 
 offensive, after all." 
 
 I paused to look at the dancers ; a middle-aged, respectable- 
 looking gentleman was beside me. Common people, after they 
 have passed forty, grow social. My neighbor hemmed twice, and 
 made preparation for speaking. " I may as well encourage 
 him," was my reflection ; accordingly I turned round, with a 
 most good-natured expression of countcnace. 
 
 " A fine room this, sir," said the man inunediately.
 
 138 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 " Very," said I, with a smile, " and extremely well filled.'* 
 
 " Ah. sir," answered my neighbor, "Cheltenham is not as it 
 used to be some fifteen years ago. I have seen as many as one 
 thousand two hundred and fifty persons within these walls " ( cer- 
 tain people are always so d d particularizing) ; "ay, sir," 
 
 pursued my laudator temporis acti, " and half the peerage here 
 into the bargain." 
 
 " Indeed ! " quoth I, with an air of surprise suited to the in- 
 formation I received, " but the societv is very good still, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 "Oh, very ^^;z/^<?/," replied the man; "but not so dashing as 
 it used to be." (Oh ! those two horrid words ! low enough to suit 
 even the author of " .") 
 
 " Pray," asked I, glancing at Messrs. Ritson and Smith, " do 
 you know who those gentlemen are ? " 
 
 " Extremely well ! " replied my neighbor ; " the tall young 
 man is Mr. Ritson ; his mother has a house in Baker-street, and 
 gives quite elega?it parties. He's a most ^^;2/£'£'/ young man \ but 
 such an insufferable coxcomb." 
 
 " And the other ? " said I. 
 
 " Oh ! he's a Mr. Smith ; his father was an eminent brewer, 
 and is lately dead, leaving each of his sons thirty thousand 
 pounds ; the young Smith is a knotving ha7id, and wants to spend 
 his money with spirit. He has a great passion for " high life,' 
 and therefore attaches himself much to Mr. Ritson, who is quite 
 that 7vay inclined.''^ 
 
 " He could not have selected a better model," said I. 
 
 "True," rejoined my Cheltenham Asmodeus, with naive sim- 
 plicity; " but I hope he won't adopt his conceit as well as his <?/<?. 
 gance^ 
 
 " I shall die," said I to myself, " if I talk with this fellow any 
 longer," and I was just going to glide away, when a tall, stately 
 dowager, with two lean, scraggy daughters, entered the room; I 
 could not resist pausing to inquire who they were. 
 
 My friend looked at me with a very altered and disrespectful 
 air at this interrogation. " Who ? " said he, " why the countess 
 of Babbleton and her two daughters, the Honorable Lady Jane 
 Babel, and the Honorable Lady Mary Babel. They are the 
 great people of Cheltenham," pursued he, " and it's afne thing 
 to get into their set." 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Babbleton and her two daughters swept up 
 the room, bowing and nodding to the riven ranks on each side, 
 who made their salutations with the most profound respect. 
 My experienced eye detected in a moment that Lady Babbleton,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 139 
 
 in spite of her title and her stateliness, was exceedingly the re- 
 reverse of good toil., and the daughters (who did not resemble 
 the scrag of mutton, but its ghost) had an appearance of sour af- 
 fability, which was as different from the manners of proper so- 
 ciety as it possibly could be. 
 
 I wondered greatly who and what they were. In the eyes of 
 the Cheltenhamians, they were the countess and her daughters ; 
 and any further explanation would have been deemed quite su- 
 perfluous ; further explanation I was, however, determined to 
 procure, and was walking across the room in profound medita- 
 tion as to the method in which the discovery should be made, 
 when I was startled by the voice of Sir Lionel Garrett : I turned 
 round, and to my inexpressible joy, beheld that worthy baronet. 
 
 " Bless me, Pelham," said he, " how delighted I am to see 
 you. Lady Harriet, here's your old favorite, Mr Pelham." 
 
 Lady Harriet was all smiles and pleasure. " Give me your 
 arm," said she : " I must go and speak to Lady Babbleton — 
 odious woman ! " 
 
 " Do, my dear Lady Harriet," said I, " explain to me what 
 Lady Babbleton was." 
 
 " Why — she was a milliner, and took in the late lord, who was 
 an idiot. — Viola tout ! " 
 
 " Perfectly satisfactorj'," replied L 
 
 " Or, short and sweet, as Lady Babbleton would say," replied 
 Lady Harriet, laughing. 
 
 " In antithesis to her daughters, who are long and sour." 
 
 " Oh, you satirist ! " said the affected Lady Harriet (who was 
 only three removes better than the Cheltenham countess) ; " but 
 tell me, how long have you been at Cheltenham ? " 
 
 " About four hours and a half ! " 
 
 " Then you don't know any of the lions here? " 
 
 "None, except (I added to myself) the lion I had for din- 
 ner." 
 
 " Well, let me despatch Lady Babbleton, and I'll then devote 
 myself to being your nomenclator." 
 
 We walked up to Lady Babbleton, who had already disposed of 
 her daughters, and was sitting in solitar}- dignity at the end of 
 the room. 
 
 " My dear Lady Babbleton," cried Lady Harriet, taking both 
 the hands of the dowager, " I am so glad to see you, and how 
 well you are looking; and your charnung daughters, how are 
 they .'' — sweet girls ! — and how long have you been here ? " 
 
 " We have only just come," replied the ci-dci-atit milliner, half 
 rising, and rustling her plumes in stately agitation, like a ner-
 
 140 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 vous parrot; "we must conform to modern ours, Lady Arriett, 
 though, for my part, I like the old-fashioned plan of dining 
 early, and finishing one's gayeties before midnight; but I set 
 the fashion of good ours as well as I can. I think it's a duty 
 we owe to society, Lady Arriett, to encourage morality by our 
 own example. What else do we have rank for 1 " And, so 
 saying, the counter countess drew herself up with a most edify- 
 ing air of moral clignit}\ 
 
 Lady Harriet looked at me, and perceiving that my eye said 
 " go on," as plainly as eye could possibly speak, she continued 
 — " Which of the wells do you attend. Lady Babbleton ? " 
 
 " All," replied the patronizing dowager. " I like to encour- 
 age the poor people here ; I've no notion of being proud be- 
 cause one has a title, Lady Arriett." 
 
 " No," rejoined the worthy helpmate of Sir Lionel Garrett ; 
 " everybody talks of your condescension. Lady Babbleton ; but 
 are you not afraid of letting yourself down by going every- 
 where ? " 
 
 " Oh," answered the countess, " I admit very few into my set 
 at home, but \ go out promiscuously ;" and then, looking at me, 
 she said, in a whisper, to Lady Harriet, " who is that nice young 
 gentleman .'' " 
 
 " Mr. Pelham," replied Lady Harriet ; and, turning to me, 
 formally introduced us to each other. 
 
 " Are you any relation (asked the dowager) to Lady Frances 
 Pelham .? " 
 
 " Only her son," said L 
 
 " Dear me," replied Lady Babbleton, " how odd ; what a nice 
 elegant woman she is ! She does not go much out, does she ? 
 I don't often meet her." 
 
 " I should not think it likely that your ladyship did meet her 
 much. She does not visit promiscuously." 
 
 " P:very rank has its duty," said Lady Harriet, gravely ; 
 " your mother, Mr. Pelham, may confine her circle as much as 
 she pleases; but the high rank of Lady Babbleton requires 
 greater condescension ; just as the Dukes of Sussex and Glou- 
 cester go to many places where you and I would not." 
 
 " Very true ! " said the innocent dowager ; " and that's a very 
 sensible remark ! Were you at Bath last winter, Mr. Pelham .? " 
 continued the countess, whose thoughts wandered from subject 
 to subject in the most rudderless manner, 
 
 " No, Lady Babbleton, I was unfortunately at a less distin- 
 guished place." 
 
 " What was that ? "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 141 
 
 " Paris ! " 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! I've never been abroad ; I don't think persons 
 of a certain rank should leave Ensrland ; they should stay at 
 home and encourage their own man-aiactories." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried I, taking hold of Lady Babbleton's shawl, 
 " what a pretty Manchester pattern this is." 
 
 " Manchester pattern ! " exclaimed the petrified peeress ; 
 " why it is real cachemire : you don't think I wear anything 
 English, Mr. Pelham ? " 
 
 " I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons, I am no judge 
 of dress ; but to return — I am quite of your opinion, that we 
 Plight to encourage our own manufactories, and not go abroad : 
 but one cannot stay long on the Continent, even if one is de- 
 coyed there. One soon longs for home again." 
 
 " Very sensibly remarked," rejoined Lady Babbleton ; " that's 
 what I call true patriotism and morality. I wish all the young 
 men of the present day were like you. Oh, dear ! — here's a 
 great favorite of mine coming this way — Mr. Ritson ! — do you 
 know him .-' shall I introduce you ? " 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed I — frightened out of my wits, 
 and my manners. " Come, Lady Harriet, let us rejoin Sir 
 Lionel ; " and, ' swift at the word,' Lady Harriet retook my arm, 
 nodded her adieu to Lady Babbleton, and withdrew with me to 
 an obscurer part of the room. 
 
 Here we ^ave way to our laughter for some time — " Is it 
 possible," exclaimed I, starting up — " Can that be Tyrrell t " 
 
 " What's the matter with the man ? " cried Lady Harriet. 
 
 I quickly recovered my presence of mind, and reseated my- 
 self : " Pray forgive me. Lady Harriet," said I ; " but I think, 
 nay I am sure, I see a person I once met under very particular 
 circumstances. Do you observe tliat dark man in deep mourn- 
 ing, who has just entered the room, and is now speaking to Sir 
 Ralph Rumford ? " 
 
 "I do : it is Sir John Tyrrell ! " replied Lady Harriet : "he 
 only came to Cheltenham yesterday. His is a very singular 
 history." 
 
 "What is it ? " said I eagerlv. 
 
 " Wiiy ! he was the only son of a younger bi anch of the 
 Tyrrells ; a very old family, as the name denotes. He was a 
 great deal in a certain roue set, for some years, and was cele- 
 brated for his gallantries. His fortune was, however, perfectly 
 unable to satisfy his expenses ; he took to gambling, and lost 
 the remains of his property. He went abroad, and used to be 
 seen at the low gambling-houses at Paris, earning a very dcgrad-
 
 142 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 ed and precarious subsistence ; till, about three months ago, tWo 
 persons, who stood between him and the title and estates of the 
 family, died, and most unexpectedly he succeeded to both. 
 They say that he was found in the most utter penury and dis- 
 tress, in a small cellar at Paris ; however that may be, he is now 
 Sir John Tyrrell, with a very large income, and, in spite of a 
 certain coarseness of manner, probably acquired by the low 
 company he latterly kept, he is very much liked and even ad- 
 mired, by the few good people in the society of Cheltenham." 
 
 At this instant Tyrrell passed us ; he caught my eye, stopped 
 short, and colored violently. I bowed ; he seemed undecided 
 for a moment as to the course he should adopt ; it was but 
 for a moment. He returned my salutation with great appear- 
 ance of cordiality ; shook me warmly by the hand ; expressed 
 himself delighted to meet me ; inquired where I was staying, 
 and said he should certainly call upon me. With this promise 
 he glided on, and was soon lost among the crowd. 
 
 *' Where did you meet him ? " said Lady Harriet. 
 
 "At Paris." 
 
 " What ! was he in decent society there ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said I. " Good night, Lady Harriet ; " and 
 with an air of extreme lassitude, I took my hat, and vanished 
 from that motley mixture of the fashionably low and the vulgarlj 
 genteel/ 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 • Full man)' a lady 
 
 I have eyed with best regard, and many a time 
 The harmony of their tongues hath unto bondage 
 Drawn my too diligent eyes. 
 
 But you, oh I you, 
 So perfect and so peerless, are create 
 Of every creature's best. — Shakspeare. 
 
 Thou wilt easily conceive, my dear reader, who hast been in 
 my confidence throughout the whole of this history, and whom, 
 though as yet thou hast cause to esteem me but lightly, I already 
 love as my fkmiliar and my friend — thou wilt easily conceive 
 my surprise at meeting so unexpectedly with my old hero of the 
 gambling-house. I felt indeed perfectly stunned at the shock 
 of so singular a change in his circumstances since I had last 
 met him. My thoughts reverted immediately to that scene, 
 and to the mysterious connection between Tyrrell and Glanville.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 143 
 
 How would the latter receive the intelligence of his enemy's 
 good fortune ? was his vengeance yet satisfied, or through what 
 means could it now find vent ? 
 
 A thousand thoughts similar to these occupied and distracted 
 my attention till morning, when I summoned Bedos into the 
 room to read me to sleep. He opened a play of Monsieur 
 Delavigne's, and at the beginning of the second scene I was in 
 the land of dreams. 
 
 I woke about two o'clock ; dressed, sipped my chocolate, and 
 was on the point of arranging my hat to the best advantage, 
 when I received the following note : — 
 
 " My DEAR Pelham, 
 
 " Me tibi commeJido. I heard this morning at your hotel, that 
 you were here ; my heart was a house of joy at the intelligence. 
 I called upon you two hours ago; but, like Antony, 'you revel 
 long o'nights.' Ah, that I could add with Shakspeare, that you 
 were ' notwithstanding ///.' I have just come from Paris, that 
 umbilicus terrce, and my adventures since I saw you, for your 
 private satisfaction, ' because I love you I will let you know ; ' 
 but you must satisfy me with a meeting. Till you do, ' the 
 mighty gods defend you ! ' 
 
 " Vincent." 
 
 The hotel from which Vincent dated this epistle, was in the 
 same street as my own caravanserai, and to this hotel I im- 
 mediately set off. I found my friend sitting before a huge folio, 
 which he in vain endeavored to persuade me that he seriously 
 intended to read. We greeted each other with the greatest 
 cordiality. 
 
 " But how," said Vincent, after the first warmth of welcome 
 had subsided, " how shall I congratulate you upon your new 
 honors ? I was not prepared to find you grown from a roue 
 into a senator. 
 
 ' In gathering votes you were not slack, 
 Now stand as tightly by voiir tack. 
 Ne'er show your lug an' fidgc your back. 
 
 An' hum an' haw; 
 But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 
 
 Before them a'.' 
 
 So saith Burns; advice which, being interpreted, meaneth, that 
 you must astonish the rats of St. Stephen's." 
 
 "Alas!" said I, "all one's clai>traps in that house must be 
 baited."
 
 144 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Nay, but a rat bites at any cheese, from Gloucester to Par- 
 mesan, and you can easily scrape up a bit of some sort. 
 Talking of the House, do you see, by the paper, that the civic 
 senator. Alderman W , is at Cheltenham ? " 
 
 " I was not aware of it. I suppose he's cramming speeches 
 and turtle for the next season," 
 
 " How wonderfully," said Vincent, " your city dignities un- 
 loose the tongue ! directly a man has been a mayor, he thinks 
 himself qualified for a Tully at least. Faith, the Lord Mayor 
 asked me one day, what was the Latin for spouting .'' and I 
 told him, ' hippomanes, or a raging humor in mayors.' " 
 
 After I had paid, through the medium of my risible muscles, 
 due homage to his witticism of Vincent's, he shut up his folio, 
 called for his hat, and he sauntered down into the street. 
 
 " When do you go up to town ? " asked Vincent. 
 
 " Not till my senatorial duties require me." 
 
 " Do you stay here till then ? " 
 
 " As it pleases the gods. But, good heavens ! Vincent, what 
 a beautiful girl ! " 
 
 Vincent turned. " O Dca cerfe,''' murmured he, and stopped. 
 
 The object of our exclamations was standing by a corner 
 shop, apparently waiting for some one within. Her face at the 
 moment I first saw her, was turned full towards me. Never 
 had I seen any countenance half so lovely. She was apparently 
 about twenty ; her hair was of the richest chestnut, and a golden 
 light played through its darkness, as if a sunbeam had been 
 caught in those luxuriant tresses, and was striving in vain to 
 escape. Her eyes were of light hazel, large, deep and shaded 
 into softness (to use a modern expression) by long and very dark 
 lashes. Her complexion alone would have rendered her beau- 
 tiful, it was so clear — so pure ; the blood blushed beneath it, 
 like roses under a clear stream ; if, in order to justify my simile, 
 roses would have the complacency to grow in such a situation. 
 Her nose was of that fine and accurate mould that one so sel- 
 dom sees, except in the Grecian statues, which unites the- 
 clearest and most decided outline with the most feminine 
 delicacy and softness : and the short curved arch which de- 
 scended from thence to her mouth, was so fine — so airily 
 and exquisitely formed, that it seemed as if Love himself 
 had modelled the bridge which led to his most beautiful and 
 fragrant island. On the right side of the mouth was one 
 dimple, which corresponded so exactly with every smile and 
 movement of those rosy lips, that you might have sworn the 
 shadow of each passed there ; it was like the rapid changes of
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 
 
 45 
 
 an April heaven reflected upon a valley. She was somewhat, 
 but not much, taller than the ordinary height ; and her figure, 
 which united all the first freshness and youth of the girl with 
 the more luxuriant graces of the woman, was rounded and 
 finished so justly, that the eye could glance over the whole, 
 without discovering the least harshness or unevenness, or atom 
 to be added or subtracted. But over all these was a light, a 
 glow, a pervading spirit, of which it is impossible to convey the 
 faintest idea. You should have seen her by the side of a 
 shaded fountain on a summer's day. You should have watched 
 her amidst music and flowers, and she might have seemed to 
 you like the fairy that presided over both. So much for poeti- 
 cal description^it is not my forte f 
 
 " What think you of her, Vincent ? " said I. 
 
 " I say, with Theocritus, in his epithalamium of Helen " 
 
 " Say no such thing," said I ; " I will not have her presence 
 profaned by any helps from your memory." 
 
 At that moment the girl turned round abruptly, and re-entered 
 the stationer's shop, at the door of which she had been standing, 
 " Let us enter," said Vincent: " I want some sealing-wax," 
 I desired no second invitation : we marched into the shop. 
 My Armida was leaning on the arm of an old lady. She blushed 
 deeply when she saw us enter ; and, as ill-luck would have it, 
 the old lady concluded her purchases the moment after, and they 
 withdrew. 
 
 " ' Who had thought this clime had held 
 A deity so unparallel'd ! ' " 
 
 justly observed my companion. 
 
 I made no reply. All the remainder of that day I was absent 
 and reserved; and Vincent, perceiving that I no longer laughed 
 at his jokes, nor smik-d at his quotations, told me 1 was sadly 
 changed for the worse, and pretended an engagement, to rid 
 himself of an auditor so obtuse. 
 
 CHAPTER XUI. 
 
 Tout notre mal vicnt de nc pouvoir ctre seuls; de la le jeu, le luxe, la dis- 
 sipation, le vin, Ics feaunes, Tignorance, la inedisance, I'envie, I'ouhli de soi- 
 meme et de Dieu. I.a Bkuvere. 
 
 The next day I resolved to call upon Tyrrell, seeing that he 
 had not yet kept his promise of anticipating me, and being very 
 
 10
 
 J46 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 desirous not to lose any opportunity of improving my acquaint- 
 ance with him ; accordingly, I sent my valet to make inquiries 
 as to his abode. I found that he lodged in the same hotel as 
 myself ; and having previously ascertained that he was at home, 
 I was ushered by the head-waiter into the gamester's apartment. 
 
 He was sitting by the fire in a listless, yet thoughtful attitude. 
 His muscular and rather handsome person was indued in a 
 dressing-gown of rich brocade, thrown on with a slovenly non- 
 chalance. His stockings were about his heels, his hair was 
 dishevelled, and the light, streaming through the half-drawn 
 window curtains, rested upon the grey flakes with which its 
 darker luxuriance was interspersed ; and the cross light in 
 which he had the imprudence or misfortune to sit, fully devel- 
 oped the deep wrinkles which years and dissipation had planted 
 round his eyes and mouth, I was quite startled at the oldness 
 and haggardness of his appearance. 
 
 He rose gracefully enough when I was announced ; and no 
 sooner had the waiter retired, than he came up to me, shook me 
 warmly by the hand, and said, " Let me thank you now for the 
 attention you formerly showed me, when I was less able to ex- 
 press my acknowledgments. I shall be proud to cultivate your 
 intimacy." 
 
 I answered him in the same strain, and, in the course of con- 
 versation, made myself so entertaining, that he agreed to spend 
 the remainder of the day with me. We ordered our horses at 
 three, and our dinner at seven, and I left him till the former 
 were ready, in order to allow him time for his toilet. 
 
 During our ride we talked principally on general subjects, on 
 the various differences of France and England, on horses, on 
 wines, on women, on politics, on all things, except that which 
 had created our acquaintance. His remarks were those of a 
 strong, ill-regulated mind, which made experience supply the 
 place of the reasoning faculties ; there was a looseness in his 
 sentiments, and a licentiousness in his opinions, which startled 
 even nie (used as I had been to rakes of all schools) : his phi- 
 losophy was of that species which thinks that the best maxim of 
 wisdom is — to despise. Of men he spoke with the bitterness of 
 hatred ; of women, with the levity of contempt. France had 
 taught him its debaucheries, but not the elegance which refines 
 them : if his sentiments were low, the language in which they 
 were clothed was meaner still : and that which makes the mo- 
 rality of the upper classes, and which no criminal is supposed 
 to be hardy enough to reject ; that religion which has no scoff- 
 ers, that code which has no impugners, that honor among gentle-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 147 
 
 men, which constitutes the moving principle of the society in 
 which they live, he seemed to imagine, even in its most funda- 
 mental laws, was an authority to which nothing but the inexpe- 
 rience of the young, and the credulity of the romantic, could 
 accede. 
 
 Upon the whole, he seemed to me a "bold, bad man," with 
 just enough of intellect to teach him to be a villain, without that 
 higher degree which shows him that it is the worst course for 
 his interest ; and just enough of daring to make him indifferent 
 to the dangers of guilt, though it was not sufficient to make him 
 conquer and control them. For the rest, he loved trotting bet- 
 ter than cantering — piqued himself upon being manly — wore 
 doe-skin gloves — drawk port-wine, par preference, and considered 
 beef-steaks and oyster-sauce as the most delicate dish in the bill 
 of fare. I think, now, reader, you have a tolerably good view 
 of his character. 
 
 After dinner, when we were discussing the second bottle, I 
 thought it would not be a bad opportunity to question him upon 
 his acquaintance with Glanville. His countenance fell directly 
 I mentioned that name. However, he rallied himself. " Oh," 
 said he, "you mean the soi-disant^'\x\)\xx\.ox\.. I knew him some 
 years back — he was a poor silly youth, half mad, I believe, and 
 particularly hostile to me, owing to some foolish disagreement 
 when he was quite a boy." 
 
 " What was the cause ? " said I, 
 
 " Nothing — nothing of any consequence," answered Tyrrell ; 
 and then added, with an air of coxcombr}', " I believe I was 
 more fortunate than he, in a certain intrigue. Poor Glanville is 
 a little romantic, you know. But enough of this now: shall we 
 go to the rooms ? " 
 
 " With pleasure," said I ; and to the rooms we went. 
 
 CHAPTER XLHI. 
 
 Veteres revocavit artes. — HoR. 
 Since I came hither I have heard strange news. — King Lear. 
 
 Two days after my long conversation with Tyrrell, I called again 
 upon that worthy. To my great surjirise lie liad left ('heltenliain. 
 I then strolled to Vincent : I found him lolling on his sofa, sur- 
 rounded, as usual, with books and papers. 
 
 "Come in, Pelham," said he, as I hesitated at the threshold
 
 148 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 — " come in. I have been delighting myself with Plato all the 
 morning ; I scarcely know what it is that enchants us so much 
 with the ancients. I rather believe, with Schlegel, that it is that 
 air of perfect repose — the stillness of a deep soul, which rests 
 over their writings. Whatever would appear connnonplace 
 amongst us, has with them I know not what of sublimity and 
 pathos. Triteness seems the profundity of truth — wildness, the 
 daring of a luxuriant imagination. The fact is, that in spite of 
 every fault, you see, through all, the traces of original thought ; 
 there is a contemplative grandeur in their sentiments, which 
 seems to have nothing borrowed in its meaning or its dress. 
 Take, for instance, this fragment of Mimnermus, or the shortness 
 of life, — what subject can seem more tame ? — what less striking 
 than the feelings he expresses ? — and yet, throughout every line, 
 there is a melancholy depth and tenderness, which it is impossi- 
 ble to define. Of all English writers who partake the most of 
 this spirit of conveying interest and strength to sentiments and 
 subjects neither novel in themselves, nor adorned in their ar- 
 rangement, I know none that equal Byron : it is indeed the chief 
 beauty of that extraordinary poet. Examine Childe Harold ac- 
 curately, and you will be surprised to discover how very little of 
 real depth or novelty there often is in the reflections which seem 
 most deep and new. You are enchained by the vague but pow- 
 erful beauty of the style ; the strong impress of originality which 
 breathes throughout. Like the oracle of Dodona, he makes 
 the forest his tablets, and writes his inspirations upon the leaves 
 of the trees ; but the source of that inspiration you cannot tell ; 
 it is neither the truth nor the beauty of his sayings which you 
 admire, though you fancy that it is : it is the mystery which ac- 
 companies them." 
 
 " Pray," said I, " do you not imagine that one great cause of 
 this spirit of which you speak, and which seems to be nothing 
 more than a thoughtful method of expressing all things, even 
 to trifles, was the great loneliness to which the ancient poets and 
 philosophers were attached ? I think (though I have not your 
 talent for quoting) that Cicero calls ' the consideration of nature 
 the food of the mind,' and the mind which, in solitude, is con- 
 fined necessarily to a few objects, meditates more closely upon 
 those it embraces ; the habit of this meditation enters and per- 
 vades the system, and whatever afterwards emanates from it is 
 tinctured with the thoughtful and contemplative colors it has re- 
 ceived." 
 
 " Wonderful ! " cried Vincent : " how long have you learnt to 
 read Cicero, and talk about the mind ? "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 149 
 
 " Ah," said I, " I am perhaps less ignorant than I affect to 
 be : it is 7iow my object to be a dandy ; hereafter I may aspire 
 to be an orator — a wit, a scholar, or a Vincent. You will see 
 then that there have been many odd quarters of an hour in my 
 life less unprofitably wasted than you imagine." 
 
 Vincent rose in a sort of nervous excitement, and then reseat- 
 ing himself, fixed his dark black eyes steadfastly upon me 
 for some moments ; his countenance all the while assuming a 
 higher and graver expression than I had ever before seen it 
 wear. 
 
 " Pelham," said he at last, " it is for the sake of moments like 
 these, when your better nature flashes out, that I have sought 
 your society and your friendship. /, too, am not wholly what I 
 appear : the world may yet see that Halifax was not the only 
 statesman whom the pursuits of literature had only formed the 
 better for the labors of business. Meanwhile, let me pass for 
 the pedant, and the bookworm : like a sturdier adventurer than 
 myself, ' I bide my time.' — Pelham — this will be a busy ses- 
 sion ! shall you prepare for it ? " 
 
 " Nay," answered I, relapsing into my usual tone of languid 
 affectation ; " I shall have too much to do in attending to 
 Stultz, and Nugee, and Tattersall and Baxter, and a hundred 
 other occupiers of spare time. Remember, this is my first sea- 
 son in London since my majority. 
 
 Vincent took up the newspaper with evident chagrin ; however, 
 he was foo theoretically the man of the world long to show his 
 displeasure, " Parr — Parr — again," said he ; " how they stuff the 
 journals with that name ! Heaven knows, I venerate learning 
 as much as any man ; but I respect it for its uses, and not for it- 
 self. However, I will not quarrel with his reputation — it is but 
 for a day. Literary men, who leave nothing but their name to 
 posterity, have but a short twilight of posthumous renown. 
 Ap?'opos, do you know my pun upon Parr and the Major." 
 
 " Not I," said I, "■ Majora, canamus ! " 
 
 "Why, Parr and I, and two or three more, were dining once 
 at poorT. M 's, the author of ' The Indian Antiquities.' Ma- 
 jor , a great traveller, entered into a dispute with Parr about 
 
 Babylon ; the Doctor got into a violent passion, and poured out 
 such a heap of quotations on his unfortunate antagonist, that 
 the hitter, stunned bv the clamor, and terrified bv the Greek, was 
 obliged to succumb. Parr turned tiiumphantly tome: "What 
 is your opinion, my lord," said he ; " who is in the right ? " 
 
 ^^ Adz'ers/s MA]OR — I'ar secuudis^^'' answered L 
 
 " Vincent," I said, after I had expressed sufficient adwirati^r.
 
 150 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 at his pun — " Vincent, I begin to be weary of this life ; I shall 
 accordingly pack up my books and myself, and go to Malvern 
 Wells, to live quietly till I think it time for London. After to- 
 day you will, therefore, see me no more." 
 
 " I cannot," answered Vincent, " contravene so laudable a 
 purpose, however I may be the loser." And, after a short and 
 desultory conversation, I left him once more to the tranquil en- 
 joyment of his Plato. That evening I went to Malvern, and there 
 I remained in a monotonous state of existence, dividing my time 
 equally between my mind and my body, and forming myself into 
 that state of contemplative reflection, which was the object of 
 Vincent's admiration in the writings of the ancients. 
 
 Just when I was on the point of leaving my retreat, I received 
 an intelligence which most materially affected my future pros- 
 pects. My uncle, who had arrived at the sober age of fifty, with- 
 out any apparent designs of matrimony, fell suddenly in love 
 with a lady in his immediate neighborhood, and married her, 
 after a courtship of three weeks. 
 
 " I should not," said my poor mother, very generously, in a 
 subsequent letter, " so much have minded his marriage, if the 
 lady had not thought proper to become in the family way ; a 
 thing which I do and always shall consider a most unwarranta- 
 ble encroachment on your rights." 
 
 I will confess that, on first hearing this news I experienced a 
 bitter pang : but reasoned it away. I was already under great 
 obligations to my uncle, and I felt it a very unjust and ungra- 
 cious assumption on my part, to affect anger at conduct I had 
 no right to question, or mortification at the loss of pretensions 
 I had so equivocal a privilege to form. A man of fifty has, per- 
 haps^ a right to consult his own happiness, almost as much as a 
 man of thirty ; and if he attracts by his choice the ridicule of 
 those whom he has never obliged, it is at least from those persons 
 he has obliged that he is to look for countenance and defence. 
 
 Fraught with these ideas, I wrote to my uncle a sincere and 
 warm letter of congratulation. His answer was, like himself, 
 kind, affectionate, and generous ; it informed me that he had 
 already made over to me the annual sum of one thousand 
 pounds ; and that in case of his having a lineal heir, he had, 
 moreover, settled upon me, after his death, two thousand a-year. 
 He ended by assuring me that his only regret at marrying a lady 
 who in all respects was, above a//" women, calculated to make 
 him happy, was his unfeigned reluctance to deprive me of a 
 station, which (he was pleased to say) I not only deserved, but 
 should adorn.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 151 
 
 Upon receiving this letter, I was sensibly affected with my 
 uncle's kindness; and so far from repining at his choice I 
 most heartily wished him every blessing it could afford him, 
 even though an heir to the titles of Glenmorris were one of 
 them. 
 
 I protracted my stay at Malvern some weeks longer than I 
 had intended : the circumstance which had wrought so great a 
 change in my fortune, wrought no less powerfully on my char- 
 acter. 1 became more thoughtfully and solidly ambitious. In- 
 stead of wasting my time in idle regrets at the station I had 
 lost, I rather resolved to carve out for myself one still lofty and 
 more universally acknowledged. I determined to exercise, to 
 their utmost, the little ability and knowledge I possessed ; and 
 while the increase of income, derived from my uncle's generosity, 
 furnished me with what was necessary for my luxury, I was re- 
 solved that it should not encourage me in the indulgence of my 
 indolence. 
 
 In this mood, and with these intentions, I repaired to the 
 metropolis. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia at spes. — HoR. 
 
 And look always that they be shape, 
 
 What garment that thou shalt make 
 
 Of him that can best do 
 
 With all that pertaineth thereto. — Rom. of the Rose. 
 
 How well I can remember the feelings with which I entered 
 London, and took possession of the apartments prepared for 
 me at Mivart's ! A year had made a vast alteration in my mind ; 
 I had ceased to regard pleasure for its own sake ; I rather 
 coveted its enjoyments, as the great sources of worldly dis- 
 tinction. I was not the less a coxcomb than heretofore, nor 
 the less fastidious in my horses and my dress; but I viewed 
 these matters in a light wholly different from that in which I 
 had hitherto regarded them. Beneath all the carelessness of 
 my exterior, my mind was close, keen, and inquiring; and 
 under all the affectations of foppery, and the levity of manner, 
 I veiled an ambition the most extensive in its objects, and a 
 resolution the most daring in the accomplishment of its means. 
 
 I was still lounging over my breakfast, on the second morning 
 of my arrival, when Mr. , the tailor, was announced.
 
 152 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Pelham ; happy to see you returned. Dc 
 I disturb you too early ? shall I wait on you again ? " 
 
 " No, Mr. , I am ready to receive you. You may renew 
 
 my measure." 
 
 " We are a very good figure, Mr. Pelham ; very good figure," 
 replied the Schneider, surveying me from head to foot, while he 
 was preparing his measure ; " we want a little assistance though ; 
 we must be padded well here, we must have our chest thrown 
 out, and have an additional inch across the shoulders ; we must 
 live for effect in this world, Mr. Pelham ; a leetle tighter round 
 the waist, eh .'' " 
 
 "Mr. ," said I, "you will take, first, my exact measure, 
 
 and, secondly, my exact instructions. Have you done the first? " 
 
 " We are done now, Mr. Pelham," replied my man-j?iaker, 
 in a slow, solemn tone. 
 
 " You will have the goodness then to put no stuffing of any 
 description in my coat ; you will not pinch me an iota tighter 
 across the waist than is natural to that part of my body ; and 
 you will please, in your infinite mercy, to leave me as much after 
 the fashion in which God made me, as you possibly can." 
 
 " But, sir, we must be padded ; we are much too thin ; all the 
 gentlemen in the Life Guards are padded, sir." 
 
 " Mr. ," answered I, "you will please to speak of tis with 
 
 a separate, and not a collective pronoun ; and you will let me 
 for once have my clothes such as a gentleman, who, I beg of you 
 to understand, is not a Life Guardsman, can wear without being 
 mistaken for a Guy Fawkes on a fifth of November." 
 
 Mr. looked very discomfited : " We shall not be liked, sir, 
 
 we are made — we shan't, I assure you. I will call on Saturday 
 at eleven o'clock. Good morning, Mr. Pelham ; we shall never 
 be done justice to, if we do not live for effect ; good morning, 
 Mr. Pelham." 
 
 And here, as I am weary of tailors, let me reflect a little upon 
 that divine art of which they are the professors. Alas, for the 
 instability of all human sciences ! A few short months ago, in 
 the first edition of this memorable work, I laid down rules for 
 costume, the value of which Fashion begins already to destroy. 
 The thoughts which I shall now embody, shall be out of the 
 reach of that great innovator, and applicable not to one age, but 
 to all. To the sagacious reader, who has already discovered 
 what portions of this work are writ in irony — what in earnest — 
 I fearlessly commit these maxims ; beseeching him to believe, 
 with Sterne, that " everything is big with jest, and has wit in it, 
 and instruction too, — if we can but find it out ! "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 153 
 
 MAXIMS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Do not require your dress so much to fit as to adorn you. Na- 
 ture is not to be copied, but to be exalted by art. Apelles 
 blamed Protogenes for being too natural, 
 
 II. 
 
 Never in your dress altogether desert that taste which is gen- 
 eral. The world considers eccentricity in great things genius ; 
 in small things, folly. 
 
 III. 
 
 Always remember that you dress to fascinate others, not your- 
 self. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Keep your mind free from all violent affectations at the hour 
 of toilet. A philosophical serenity is perfectly necessary to suc- 
 cess. Helvetius says justly, that our errors arise from our pas- 
 sions. 
 
 V. 
 
 Remember that none but those whose courage is unquestion- 
 able, can venture to be effeminate. It was only in the field that 
 the Spartans were accustomed to use perfumes and curl their 
 hair. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Never let the finery of chains and rings %&q.v(\ your own c\\o\ce. 
 that which naturally belongs to women should appear only worn 
 for their sake. We dignify foppery, vyhen we invest it with a 
 sentiment. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To win the affection of your mistress, appear negligent in 3'our 
 costume — to preserve it, assiduous : the first is a sign of the 
 passion of love ; the second of its respect. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A man must be a profound calculator to be a consummate 
 dresser. One must not dress the same, whether one goes to a min- 
 ister or mistress ; an avaricious uncle, or an ostentatious cousin ; 
 there is no diplomacy more subtle than that of dress.
 
 154 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Is the great man whom you would conciliate a coxcomb ?— 
 go to him in a waistcoat like his own. " Imitation," says the 
 author of Lacon, " is the sincerest flattery." 
 
 X. 
 
 The handsome may be showy in dress, the plain should study 
 to be unexceptionable ; just as in great men we look for some- 
 thing to admire — in ordinary men we ask for nothing to forgive. 
 
 XI. 
 
 There is a study of dress for the aged, as well as for the young. 
 Inattention is no less indecorous in one than in the other ; we 
 may distinguish the taste appropriate to each, by the reflection 
 that youth is made to be loved — age to be respected. 
 
 XII. 
 
 A fool may dress gaudily, but a fool cannot dress well — for 
 to dress well requires judgment ; and Rochefoucault says with 
 truth, " On est quelque fois un sot avec de V esprit, mais on ne Vest 
 jamais avec du jugement.^^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 There may be more pathos in the fall of a collar, or the curl 
 of a lock, than the shallow think for. Should we be so apt as 
 we are now to compassionate the misfortunes, and to forgive the 
 insincerity of Charles I., if his pictures had portrayed him in a 
 bob-wig and a pig-tail .■' Vandyke was a greater sophist than 
 Hume. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The most graceful principle of dress is neatness — the most 
 vulgar is preciseness. 
 
 XV 
 
 Dress contains the two codes of morality — private and public. 
 Attention is the duty we owe to others — cleanliness that which 
 we owe to ourselves. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Dress so that it may never be said of you " What a well- 
 dressed man ! " — but, " What a gentlemanlylike man I "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 155 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Avoid many colors ; and seek, by some one prevalent and 
 quiet tint to sober down the others. Apelles used only four 
 colors, and always subdued those which were more florid, by a 
 darkening varnish. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Nothing is superficial to a deep observer ! It is in trifles that 
 the mind betrays itself. " In what part of that letter," said a 
 king to the wisest of living diplomatists, " did you discover 
 irresolution ? " — " In its ns and gs /" was the answer. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A very benevolent man will never shock the feelings of others, 
 by an excess either of inattention or display : you may doubt, 
 therefore, the philanthropy both of a sloven and a fop. 
 
 XX. 
 
 There is an indifference to please in a stocking down at heel 
 — but there may be malevolence in a diamond ring. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Inventions in dressing should resemble Addison's definition 
 of fine writing, and consist of "refinements which are natural, 
 without being obvious." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 He who esteems trifles for themselves, is a trifler — he who 
 esteems them for the conclusions to be drawn from them, or the 
 advantage to which they can be put, is a philosopher. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Tantot, Monseigneur le Marquis \ cheval — 
 
 Tantot, Monsieur du Mozin de bout ! — UArt de se Promener h Cheval. 
 
 My cabriolet was at the door, and I was preparing to enter, 
 when I saw a groom managing, with difficulty, a remarkably fine 
 and spirited horse. As, at that time, I was chiefly occupied 
 with the desire of making as perfect a stud as my fortune would 
 allow, I sent my cab boy {vulgo Tiger) to inquire of the groom, 
 whether the horse was to be sold, and to whom it belonged.
 
 156 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 " It was not to be disposed of," was the answer, " and it be- 
 longed to Sir Reginald Glanville." 
 
 The name thrilled through me ; I drove after the groom, and 
 inquired Sir Reginald Glanville's address. His house, the groom 
 informed me, was at No. — Pall Mall. I resolved to call that day, 
 but, as the groom said that he was rarely at home till late in the 
 afternoon, I drove first to Lady Roseville's to talk about Al- 
 mack's and the beau jnonde, and be initiated into the newest 
 scandal and satire of the day. 
 
 Lady Roseville was at home ; I found the room half full of 
 women : the beautiful countess was one of the few persons ex- 
 tant who admit people of a morning. She received me with 
 
 marked kindness. Seeing that , who was esteemed, among 
 
 his fiiends, the handsomest man of the day, had risen from his 
 seat, next to Lady Roseville, in order to make room for me, I 
 negligently and quietly dropped into it, and answered his grave 
 and angry stare at my presumption, with my very sweetest and 
 most condescending smile. Heaven be praised, the handsom- 
 est man of the day is never the chief object in the room, when Henry 
 Pelham and his guardian angel, termed by his enemies, his self- 
 esteem, once enter it. 
 
 I rattled on through a variety of subjects till Lady Roseville 
 at last said laughingly, " I see, Mr. Pelham, that you have 
 learned, at least, the art of making ih^frais of the conversation 
 since your visit to Paris," 
 
 "I understand you," answered I ; "you mean that I talk too 
 much ; it is true — I own the offence — nothing is so unpopular ! 
 Even I, the civilest, best-natured, most unaffected person in all 
 Europe, am almost disliked, for that sole and simple crime. Ah ! 
 the most beloved man in society is that deaf and dumb person, 
 cofnment s^appelk-t-in " 
 
 " Yes," said Lady Roseville, " Popularity is a goddess best 
 worshipped by negatives ; and the fewer claims one has to be 
 admired, the more pretensions one has to be beloved." 
 
 " Perfectly true, in general," said I — " for instance, I make 
 the rule, and you the exception. I, a perfect paragon, am hated 
 because I am one ; you, a perfect paragon, are idohzed in spite 
 of it. But tell me, what literary news is there ? I am tired of 
 the trouble of idleness, and in order to enjoy a little dignified 
 leisure, intend to set up as a savant^ 
 
 " Oh, Lady C is going to write a Commentary on 
 
 Ude ; and Madame de Genlis a Proof of the Apocrypha. The 
 
 Duke of N e is publishing a Treatise on ' Toleration ; ' and 
 
 Lord L an Essay on * Self-knowledge.' As for news more
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 157 
 
 remote, I hear that the Dey of Algiers is finishing an ' Ode to 
 Liberty,' and the College of Caffraria preparing a volume of 
 voyages to the North Pole ! " 
 
 " Now," said I, " if I retail this information with a serious air, 
 I will lay a wager that I find plenty of believers ; for fiction, ut- 
 tered solemnly, is much more like probability than truth uttered 
 doubtingly : — else how do the priests of Brama and Mahomet 
 live ? " 
 
 " Ah ! now you grow too profound, Mr. Pelham ! " 
 
 " Cestvrai—hnX—'' 
 
 " Tell me," interrupted Lady Roseville, "how it happens that 
 you, who talk eruditely enough upon matters of erudition, should 
 talk so lightly upon matters of levity ? " 
 
 " Why," said I, rising to depart, " very great minds are apt 
 to think that all which they set rt^/y^ value upon, is of equal im- 
 portance. Thus Hesiod, who, you know, was a capital poet, 
 though rather an imitator of Shenstone, tells us that God be- 
 stowed valor on some men, and on others a genius for dancing. 
 It was reserved for me, Lady Roseville, to unite the two perfec- 
 tions. Adieu ! " 
 
 "Thus," said I, when I was once more alone — "thus do we 
 'play the fools with the time,' until Fate brings that which is 
 better than folly ; and, standing idly upon the sea-shore, till we 
 can catch the favoring wind which is to waft the vessel of our 
 destiny to enterprise and fortune, amuse ourselves with the 
 weeds and the pebbles which are within our reach ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 There was a youlh who, as with toil and travel, 
 Had grown quite weak and grey before his time ; 
 Nor any could the restless grief unravel 
 Which burned within him, withering u|) his prime, 
 And goading him, like fiends, from land to land. — 
 
 P. 15, Shelley. 
 
 From Lady Roseville's I went to Glanville's house. He was 
 at home I was ushered into a beautiful apartment, hung with 
 rich damask, and interspersed with a profusion of mirrors. Be- 
 yond to the right of this room, was a small closet, fitted up with 
 books. This room, evidently a favorite retreat, was adorned at 
 close intervals with girandoles of silver and mother-of-pearl ; 
 the handles of the doors were of the same material.
 
 158 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 This closet opened upon a spacious and lofty saloon, the 
 walls of which were covered with the masterpieces of Flemish 
 and Italian art. Through this apartment I was led, by the ob- 
 sequious and bowing valet, into a fourth room, in which, neg- 
 ligently robed in his dressing-gown, sat Reginald Glanville : — 
 "Good Heavens," thought I, as I approached him, " can this be 
 the man who made his residence, by choice, in a miserable 
 hovel, exposed to all the damps, winds, and vapors, that the 
 prolific generosity of an English Heaven ever begot ? " 
 
 Our meeting was cordial in the extreme. Glanville, though 
 still pale and thin, appeared in much better health than I had 
 yet seen him since our boyhood. He was, or affected to be, in 
 the most joyous spirits ; and when his blue eye lighted up, 'n 
 answer to the merriment of his lips, and his noble and glorious 
 cast of countenance shone out, as if it had never been clouded 
 by grief or passion, I thought as I looked at him, that I had 
 never seen so perfect a specimen of masculine beauty, at once 
 physical and intellectual. 
 
 " My dear Pelham," said Glanville, " let us see a great deal 
 of each other : I live very much alone : I have an excellent cook 
 sent me over from France by the celebrated gourmand Mare- 
 
 chal de . I dine every day exactly at eight, and never 
 
 accept an invitation to dine elsewhere. My table is always laid 
 for three, and you will therefore, be sure of finding a dinner here 
 every day you have no better engagement. What think you of 
 my taste in pictures ? " 
 
 " I have only to say," answered I, " that since I am so often 
 to dine with you, I hope your taste in wines will be one-half as 
 good." 
 
 " We are all," said Glanville, with a faint smile, " we are all, 
 in the words of the true old proverb, ' children of a larger 
 growth.' Our first top is love — our second, display, according 
 as our ambition prompts us to exert it. Some place it in horses 
 — some in honors, some in feasts, and some — void un exemple 
 — in furniture or pictures. So true it is, Pelham, that our earli- 
 est longings are the purest : in love, we covet goods for the sake 
 of the one beloved : in display, for own : thus, our first stratum 
 of mind produces fruit for others ; our second becomes nig- 
 gardly, and bears only sufficient for ourselves. But enough 
 of my morals — will you drive me out, if I dress quicker than you 
 ever saw man dress before ? " 
 
 " No," said I ; " for I make it a rule never to drive out a 
 badly-dressed friend ; take time, and I will let you accompany 
 me."
 
 ' ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 159 
 
 " So be it, then. Do you ever read ? if so, my books are 
 made to be opened, and you may toss them over while I am at 
 my toilet. Look — here are two works, one of poetry — one on 
 the Catholic Question — both dedicated to me. Seymour — my 
 waistcoat. See what it is to furnish a house differently from 
 other people : one becomes a bd esprit, and a Mec^enas, imme- 
 diately. Believe me, if you are rich enough to afford it, that 
 there is no passport to fame like eccentricity. Seymour — my 
 coat. I am at your service, Pelham. Believe hereafter that one 
 may dress well in a short time ! " 
 
 " One may do it, but not two — allons .■'" 
 
 I observed that Glanville was dressed in the deepest mourning, 
 and imagined, from that circumstance, and his accession to the 
 title I heard applied to him for the first time, that his father was 
 only just dead. In this opinion I was soon undeceived. He 
 had been dead for some years. Glanville spoke to me of his 
 family : — " To my mother," said he, " I am particularly anxious 
 to introduce you ; of my sister I say nothing ; I expect you to be 
 surprised with her. I love her more than any thing on earth 
 funv,'' and as Glanville said this, a paler shade passed over his 
 face. 
 
 We were in the Park — Lady Roseville passed us — we both 
 bowed to her ; as she returned our greeting, I was struck with 
 the deep and sudden blush which overspread her countenance- 
 "That can't be for me !" thought L I looked towards Glanville: 
 his countenance had recovered its serenity, and was settled into 
 its usual proud, but not displeasing, calmness of expression. 
 
 " Do you know Lady Roseville well .'' " said L 
 
 " Ver}^," answered Glanville, laconically, and changed the con- 
 versation. As we were leaving the Park, through Cumberland 
 Gate, we were stopped by a blockade of carriages ; a voice, 
 loud, harsh, and vulgarly accented, called out to Glanville by his 
 name. I turned, and saw Thornton. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Pelham, drive on," cried Glanville ; " let 
 me, for once, escape that atrocious plebeian." 
 
 Thornton was crossing the road towards us ; I waved my 
 hand to him civilly enough (for I never cut an}body), and drove 
 rapidly through the other gate, without appearing to notice his 
 design of speaking to us. 
 
 "Thank Heaven ! " said Glanville, and sank back m a reverie, 
 from which I could not awaken him, till he was set down ;it his 
 own door. 
 
 When I returned to Mivart's, I found a card from Lord Daw- 
 ton, and a letter from my mother.
 
 i6o PELHAM; OK, 
 
 " My dear Henry, (began the letter,) 
 
 " Lord Dawton having kindly promised to call upon )'ou, per- 
 sonally, with this note, I cannot resist the opportunity that 
 promise affords me, of saying how desirous I am that you should 
 cultivate his acquaintance. He is, you know, among the most 
 prominent leaders of the Opposition : and should the Whigs, by 
 any possible chance, ever come into power, he would have a 
 great chance of becoming prime minister. I trust, however, 
 that you will not adopt that side of the question. The Whigs 
 are a horrid set of people {politically speaking), vote for the 
 Roman Catholics, and never get into place ; they give very good 
 dinners, however, and till you have decided upon your politics, 
 you may as well make the most of them. I hope, by-the-by, that 
 you will see a great deal of Lord Vincent : every one speaks 
 highly of his talents ; and only two weeks ago, he said, publicly, 
 that he thought you the most promising young man, and the most 
 naturally clever person, he had ever met. I hope that you will be- 
 
 attentive to your parliamentary duties ; and, oh, Henry, be 
 
 sure that you see Cartwright, the dentist, as soon as possible. 
 
 "I intend hastening to London three weeks earlier than I had 
 intended, in order to be useful to you. I have written already 
 to dear Lady Roseville, begging her to introduce you at Lady 
 
 C.'s and Lady ; the only places worth going to at present. 
 
 They tell me there is a horrid, vulgar, ignorant book come out- 
 
 about . As 3'ou ought to be well versed in modern liter 
 
 ature, I hope you will read it, and give me your opinion. Adieu, 
 my dear Henry, ever your affectionate mother, 
 
 "Frances Pelham." 
 
 I was still at my solitary dinner, when the following note was 
 brought me from Lady Roseville : — 
 
 " Dear Mr. Pelham, 
 
 " Lady Frances wishes Lady C to be made acquainted 
 
 with you ; this is her night, and I therefore enclose you a card. 
 
 As I dine at House, I shall have an opportunity of making 
 
 your ^loge before your arrival. Yours sincerely, 
 
 " C. Roseville.'' 
 
 I wonder, thought I, as I made my toilet, whether or not Lady 
 Roseville is enamoured of her new correspondent ? I went very 
 early, and before I retired, my vanity was undeceived. Lady 
 Roseville was playing hartt^, when I entered. She beckoned to 
 me to approach. I did. Her antagonist was Mr. Bedford, a
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. i6t 
 
 natural son of the Duke of Shrewsbury, and one of the best na- 
 tured and best looking dandies about town : there was, of 
 course, a great crowd round the table. Lady Roseville played 
 incomparably ; bets were high in her favor. Suddenly her coun- 
 tenance changed — her hand trembled — her presence or mind 
 forsook her. She lost the game. I looked up, and saw just 
 opposite to her, but apparently quite careless and unmoved, 
 Reginald Glanville. We had only time to exchange nods, for 
 Lady Roseville, rising from the table, took my arm, and walked 
 to the other end of the room, in order to introduce me to my 
 hostess. 
 
 I spoke to her a few words, but she was absent and inatten- 
 tive ; my penetration required no farther proof to convince me 
 that she was not wholly insensible to the attractions of Glan- 
 ville. Lady was as civil and silly as the generality of Lady 
 
 Blanks are : and feeling very much bored, I soon retired to an 
 obscurer corner of the room. Here Glanville joined me. 
 
 " It is but seldom," said he, " that I come to these places ; to- 
 night my sister persuaded me to venture forth," 
 
 " Is she here ? " said I. 
 
 " She is," answered he ; " she has just gone into the refresh- 
 ment-room with my mother; and when she returns, I will intro- 
 duce you." 
 
 While Glanville was yet speaking, three middle-aged ladies, 
 who had been talking together with great vehemence for the 
 last ten minutes, approached us. 
 
 " Which is he i* — which is he } " said two of them, in no in- 
 audible accents. 
 
 " This," replied the third ; and coming up to Glanville, she 
 addressed liim, to my great astonishment, in terms of the most 
 hyperbolical panegyric. 
 
 " Your work is wonderful ! wonderful ! " said she. 
 
 " Oh ! quite — quite ! " echoed the other two. 
 
 " I can't say," recommended the Coryphcca, " that I like the 
 moral — at least not quite ; no, not quite." 
 
 "Not quite," repeated her coadjutrices. 
 
 Glanville drew himself up with his most stately air, and after 
 three profound bows, accompanied by a smile of the most un- 
 equivocal contempt, he turned on his heel, and sauntered away 
 
 " Did your grace ever see such a bear ? " said one of tlu 
 echoes. 
 
 "Never," said the Duchess, with a mortified air; "but 1 
 will have him yet. How handsome he is, for an author ! "
 
 l62 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 I was descending the stairs in the last state of ennui, when 
 Glanville laid his hand on my shoulder. 
 
 " Shall I take you home ? " said he : " my carriage has just 
 drawn up." 
 
 I was too glad to answer in the affirmative. 
 
 " How long have you been an author ? " said I, when we 
 were seated in Glanville's carriage. 
 
 " Not many days," he replied. " I have tried one resource 
 after another — all — all in vain. Oh, God ! that for me there 
 could exist such a blessing as fiction ! Must I be ever the 
 martyr of one burning, lasting, indelible truth!'' 
 
 Glanville uttered these words with a peculiar wildness and 
 energy of tone : he then paused abruptly for a minute, and con- 
 tinued, with an altered voice — 
 
 " Never, my dear Pelham, be tempted by any inducement 
 into the pleasing errors of print; from that moment you are 
 public property ; and the last monster at Exeter 'Change has 
 more liberty than you ; but here we are at Mivart's. Adieu — ■ 
 I will call on you to-morrow, if my wreched state of health will 
 allow me." 
 
 And with these words we parted. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Ambition is a lottery, where, however uneven the chances, there are somi 
 prizes; but in dissipation, every one draws a blank. 
 
 Letters of "Sii-Eva.^^ Montague. 
 
 The season was not far advanced before I grew heartily tired 
 of what are nicknamed its gaieties ; I shrank, by rapid degrees, 
 into a very small orbit, from which I rarely moved. I had al- 
 ready established a certain reputation for eccentricity, fashion, 
 and to my great astonishment, also for talent ; and my pride 
 was satisfied with finding myself universally run after, whilst I 
 indulged my inclinations by rendering myself universally scarce. 
 I saw much of Vincent, whose varied acquirements and great tal- 
 ents became more and more perceptible, both as my own ac- 
 quaintance with him increased, and as the political events with 
 which that year was pregnant, called forth their exertion and 
 display. I went occasionally to Lady Roseville's, and was 
 always treated rather as a long-known friend, than an ordinary 
 acquaintance; nor did 1 undervalue this distinction, for it was
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 163 
 
 part of her pride to render her house not only as splendid, but 
 as agreeable, as her command over society enabled her to effect. 
 
 At the House of Commons my visits would have been duly 
 paid, but for one trifling occurrence, upon which, as it is a very 
 sore subject I shall dwell as briefly as possible. I had scarcely 
 taken my seat before I was forced to relinquish it. My un- 
 successful opponent, Mr. Lufton, preferred a petition against me, 
 for what he called undue means. Heaven knows what he 
 meant ; I am sure the House did not, for they turned me out, 
 and declared Mr. Lufton duly elected. 
 
 Never was there such a commotion in the Glenmorris family 
 before. My uncle was seized with the gout in his stomach, and 
 my mother shut herself up with Tremaine and one China mon- 
 ster for a whole week. As for me, though I writhed at heart, I 
 bore the calamity philosophically enough in external appearance ; 
 nor did I the less busy myself in political matters : with what 
 address and success, good or bad, I endeavored to supply the 
 loss of my parliamentary influence, the reader will see, when it 
 suits the plot of this history to touch upon such topics 
 
 Granville I saw continually. When in tolerable spirits, he 
 was an entertaining, though never a frank nor a communicative 
 companion. His conversation then was lively, yet without wit, 
 and sarcastic, though without bitterness. It abounded also in 
 philosophical reflections and terse maxims, which always brought 
 improvement, or, at the worst, allowed discussion. He was a 
 man of even vast powers — of deep thought — of luxuriant, though 
 dark im.agination, and of great miscellaneous, though, perhaps, 
 ill-arranged erudition. He was fond of paradoxes in reasoning, 
 and supported them with a subtlety and strength of mind, which 
 Vincent, who admired him greatly, told me he had never seen 
 surpassed. He was subject, at times, to a gloom and despond- 
 ency, which seemed almost like aberation of intellect. At those 
 hours he would remain perfectly silent, and apparently forgetful 
 of my presence, and of ever)' object around him. 
 
 It was only then, when the play of his countenance was van- 
 ished, and his features were still and set, that you saw in their 
 full extent, the dark and deep traces of premature decay. His 
 check was hollow and hueless, his eye dim, and of that visionary 
 and glassy aspect which is never seen but in great mental or 
 bodily disease, and which according to the superstitions of some 
 nations, implies a mysterious and unearthly communion of the 
 soul with the beings of another world. From these trances he 
 would sometimes start abruptly, and renew any conversation 
 broken off before, as if wholly unconscious of the length of his
 
 i64 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 rev-erie. At others, he would rise slowly from his seat, and re- 
 tire into his own apartment, from which he never emerged during 
 the lest of the day. 
 
 But the reader must bear in mind that there was nothing arti- 
 ficial or affected in his musings, of whatever complexion they 
 might be ; nothing like the dramatic brown studies, and quick 
 starts, which young gentlemen, in love with Lara and Lord By- 
 ron, are apt to practice. There never, indeed, was a character 
 that possessed less cant of any description. His work, which was 
 a singular, wild tale — of mingled passion and reflection — was, 
 perhaps, of too original, certainly of too abstract a nature, to 
 suit the ordinary novel-readers of the day. It did not acquire 
 popularity for itself, but it gained great reputation for the au- 
 thor. It also inspired every one who read it with a vague and 
 indescribable interest to see and know the person who had com- 
 posed so singular a work. 
 
 This interest he was the first to laugh at, and to disappoint. 
 He shrank from all admiration and from all sympathy. At the 
 moment when a crowd assembled round him, and every ear was 
 bent to catch the words, which came alike from so beautiful a 
 lip, and so strange and imaginative a mind, it was his pleasure 
 to utter some sentiment totally different from his written opin- 
 ions, and utterly destructive of the sensation he had excited. 
 But it was very rarely that he exposed himself to these " trials 
 of an author." He went out little to any other house but Lady 
 Roseville's, and it was seldom more than once a week that he 
 was seen there. Lonely, and singular in mind and habits, he 
 lived in the world like a person occupied by a separate object, 
 and possessed of a separate existence from that of his fellow-be- 
 ings. He was luxurious and splendid, beyond all men, in his 
 habits, rather than his tastes. His table groaned beneath a 
 weight of silver, too costly for the daily service even of a prince ; 
 but he had no pleasure in surveying it. His wines and viands 
 were of the most exquisite description ; but he scarcely tasted 
 them. Yet, what may seem inconsistent, he was averse to all 
 ostentation and show in the eyes of others. He admitted very 
 few into his society — no one so intimately as myself. I never 
 once saw more than three persons at the table. He seemed, in 
 his taste for the arts, in his love of literature, and his pursuit af- 
 ter fame, to be as he himself said, eternally endeavoring to for- 
 get, and eternally brought back to remembrance. 
 
 " I pity that man even more than I admire him," said Vincent 
 to me, one night when we were walking home from Glanville's 
 house. " He is, indeed, the decease nulla medicabilis herb^
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 165 
 
 Whether it is the past or the present that afflicts him — whether 
 it is the memory of past evil, or the satiety of present good, he 
 has taken to his heart the bitterest philosophy of life. He does 
 not reject its blessings — he gathers them around him, but as a 
 stone gathers moss — cold, hard unsoftened by the freshness and 
 the greenness which surround it. As a circle can only touch 
 a circle in one place, everything that life presents to him, wher- 
 ever it comes from — to whatever portion of his soul it is applied 
 — can find but one point of contact ; and that is the soreness 
 of affliction : whether it \i\\\(tohUvio or the otiiim that he requires, 
 he finds equally that he is for ever in want of one treasure : — 
 * negiie gemmis neque purpura venule nee auro.^ " 
 
 CHAPTER XLVHI. 
 
 Mons. Joiirdain. Etes-vous fou de Taller quereller — lui qui entend la 
 tierce et la quarte, et qui sait tuer un homme par raison demonstrative ? 
 
 Le M&itre a Danser, Je me moque de sa raison demonstrative, et de sa 
 tierce et de sa quarte. — Molieke. 
 
 " Hollo, my good friend ; how are you } — d d glad to see 
 
 you in England," vociferated a loud, clear, good-humored voice, 
 one cold morning, as I was shivering down Brook-street into 
 Bond-street. I turned, and beheld Lord Uartmore, of Rocker 
 de Cancale memory. 1 returned his greeting with the same cor- 
 diality with which it was given ; and I was forthwith saddled 
 with Dartmore's arm, and dragged up Bund-street, into that 
 borough of all noisy, riotous, unrefined good fellows, yclept 
 's Hotel. 
 
 Here we were soon plunged into a small, low apartment, which 
 Dartmore informed me was his room, and which was crowded 
 with a score of the most stalwart youths that I ever saw out of a 
 marching regiment. 
 
 Dartmore was still gloriously redolent of O.xford : his com- 
 panions were all extracts from Christ-church ; and his favorite 
 occupations were boxing and hunting — scenes at the Fives' 
 Courts — nights in the Cider Cellar — and mornings at Bow- 
 street. Figure to yourself a fitter companion for the hero and 
 writer of these adventures ! The table was covered with box- 
 ing-gloves, single-sticks, two ponderous pair of dumb-bells, a 
 large pewter pot of porter, and four foils ; one snapped in the 
 midille.
 
 1 66 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 " Well," cried Dartmore, to two strapping youths, with their 
 coats off, " which was the conqueror ? " 
 
 "Oh, it is not yet decided," was the answer; and forthwith 
 the bigger one hit the lesser a blow with his boxing-glove, hea\'y 
 enough to have felled Ulysses, who, if I recollect aright, was 
 rather '•'■ a game blood ^' in such encounters. 
 
 This slight salute was forthwith the prelude to an encounter, 
 which the whole train crow^ded round to witness ; — I, among 
 the rest, pretending an equal ardor, and an equal interest, and 
 hiding, like many persons in a similar predicament, a most 
 trembling spirit beneath a most valorous exterior. 
 
 When the match (which terminated in favor of the lesser 
 champion) was over, " Come, Pelham," said Dartmore, " let me 
 take up the gloves with you ! " 
 
 " You are too good ! " said I, for the first time using my 
 drawing-room drawl. A wink and a grin went round the room. 
 
 " Well, then, will you fence with Staunton, or play at single- 
 stick with me ? " said the short, thick, bullying, impudent, vul- 
 gar Earl of Calton. 
 
 " Why," answered I, " T am a poor hand at the foils, and a 
 still worse at the sticks ; but I have no objection to exchange a 
 cut or two at the latter with Lord Calton." 
 
 " No, no ! " said the good-natured Dartmore ; — " no ! Calton 
 is the best stick-player I ever knew ; " and then whispering to 
 me, he added, " and the hardest hitter — and he never spares, 
 either." 
 
 "Really," said I aloud, in my most affected tone, "it is a great 
 pit}', for I am excessively delicate ; but as I said I would engage 
 him, I don't like to retract. Pray let me look at the hilt : I hope 
 the basket is strong : I would not have my knuckles rapped foi 
 the world — now for it. I'm in a deuced fright, Dartmore ; " and 
 so saying, and inwardly chuckling at the universal pleasure de- 
 picted in the countenances of Calton and the by-standers, who 
 were all rejoiced at the idea of the " dandy being drubbed," I 
 took the stick, and pretended great awkwardness, and lack of 
 grace in the position I chose. 
 
 Calton placed himself in the most scientific attitude, assuming 
 at the same time an air of hautetir and nonchalame, which seemed 
 to call for the admiration it met. 
 
 " Do we allow hard hitting ? " said I. 
 
 " Oh ! by all means," answered Calton, eagerly. 
 
 "Well," said I, settling my own chapeau, "had not you battel 
 put on your hat ? "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAiV. 167 
 
 " Oh no," answered Calton, imperiously; " I can take pretty 
 good care of my head ; " and with these words we commenced. 
 
 I remained at first nearly upright, not availing myself in the 
 least of my superiority in height, and only acting on the defen- 
 sive. Calton played well enough for a gentleman ; but he was 
 no match for one\vho had, at the age of thirteen beat the Life 
 Guardsmen at Angelo's. Suddenly, when I had excited a gen- 
 eral laugh at the clumsy success with which I warded off a most 
 rapid attack of Calton's, I changed my position, and keeping 
 Calton at arm's length till I had driven him towards a corner, 
 I took advantage of a haughty imprudence on his part, and, by 
 a comiuon enough move in the game, drew back from a stroke 
 aimed at my limbs, and suffered the whole weight of my weapon 
 to fall so heavily upon his head, that I felled him to the ground 
 in an instant. 
 
 I was sorry for the severity of the stroke the moment after it 
 was inflicted ; but never was punishment more deserved. We 
 picked up the discomfited hero, and placed him on a chair to 
 recover his senses ; meanwhile I received the congratulations of 
 the conclave with a frank alteration of manner which delighted 
 them ; and I found it impossible to get away till I had promised 
 to dine with Dartmore, and spend the rest of the evening in the 
 society of his friends. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 -Heroes mischievously gay, 
 
 Lords of the street and terrors of the way, 
 Flushed as they are with folly, youth, and wine. 
 
 Johnson's London. 
 
 Hoi. Novi hominem tanquam te — his humor is lofty, his discourse per- 
 emptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his 
 general behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. — Shakspeare. 
 
 I WENT a little after seven o'clock to keep my dinner engage- 
 
 inent at 's ; for very young men are seldom unpunctual at 
 
 dinner. We sat down, six in number, to a repast at once incredi- 
 bly bad, and ridiculously extravagant; turtle without fat — veni- 
 son without flavor — champagne with the taste of a gooseberry, 
 and hock with the properties of a pomegranate.* Such is the 
 constant habit of young men : they think anything expensive is 
 necessarily good, and they purchase poison at a dearer rate than 
 the most medicine-loving hypochondriac in England ! 
 
 * Which is not an astringent fruit.
 
 I6S PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 Of course, all the knot declared the dinner was superb; called 
 in the master to eulogize him in person, and made him, to his 
 infinite dismay, swallow a bumper of his own hock. Poor 
 man ! they mistook his reluctance for his difiidence, and forced 
 him to wash it away in another potation. With many a wry face 
 of grateful humility, he left the room, and we then proceeded 
 to pass the bottle with the suicidal determination of defeated 
 Romans. You may imagine that we were not long in arriving 
 at the devoutly wished-for consummation of comfortable ine- 
 briety ; and with our eyes reeling, our cheeks burning, and our 
 brave spirits full ripe for a quarrel, we sallied out at eleven 
 o'clock, vowing death, dread, and destruction to all the sober 
 portion of his majesty's subjects. 
 
 We came to a dead halt in Arlington-street, which, as it was 
 the quietest spot in the neighborhood, we deemed a fitting 
 place for the arrangement of our forces. Dartmore, Staunton 
 (a tall, thin, well-formed, silly youth), and myself, marched first, 
 and the remaining three followed. We gave each other the 
 most judicious admonitions as to propriety of conduct, and then, 
 with a shout that alarmed the whole street, we renewed our wav. 
 We passed on safely enough till we got to Charing-Cross, having 
 only been thrice upbraided by the watchmen, and once threat- 
 ened by two carmen of prodigious size, to whose wives or sweet- 
 hearts we had, to our infinite peril, made some gentle overtures. 
 When, however, we had just passed the Opera Colonnade, we 
 were accosted by a bevy of buxom Cyprians, as merry and as 
 drunk as ourselves. We halted for a few minutes in the midst 
 of the kennel, to confabulate with our new friends and a very 
 amicable and intellectual conversation ensued. Dartmore was 
 an adept in the art of slang, and he found himself fairly matched 
 by more than one of the fair and gentle creatures by whom we 
 were surrounded. Just, however, as we were all in high glee, 
 Staunton made a trifling discovery, which turned the merriment 
 of the whole scene into strife, war, and confusion. A bounc- 
 ing lass, whose hands were as ready as her charms, had quietly 
 helped herself to a watch which Staunton wore a al mode, in his 
 waistcoat-pocket. Drunken as the youth was at that time, and 
 dull as he was at all others, he was not without the instinctive 
 penetration with which all human bipeds watch over their individ- 
 ual goods and chattels. He sprang aside from the endear- 
 ments of the syren, grasped her arm, and in a voice of querulous 
 indignation accused her of the theft. 
 
 " Then rose the cry of women — shrill 
 As shriek of goshawk on the hill."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 169 
 
 Never were my ears so stunned. The angry authors in the 
 adventures of Gil Bias were nothing to the disputants in the 
 kennel at Charing-Cross ; we rowed, swore, slanged, with a 
 Christian meekness and forbearance which would have rejoiced 
 Mr. Wilberforce to the heart, and we were already preparing 
 ourselves for a more striking engagement, when we were most 
 unwelcomely interrupted by the presence of three watchmen. 
 
 "Take away this — this — d d woman," hiccuped out Staun- 
 ton, " she has sto — len — (hiccup) — my watch " — (hiccup). 
 
 " No such thing, watchman," hallooed out the accused, " the 
 
 b counter-skipper never had any watch ! he only filched a 
 
 twopenny-halfpenny gilt-chain out of his master, Levi, the pawn- 
 broker's window, and stuck it in his eel-skin to make a show : ye 
 did, ye pitiful, lanky-chopped son of a dog-fish, ye did." 
 
 " Come, come," said the watchman, " move on, move on." 
 
 " You be d d, for a Charley ! " said one of our gang. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! master jackanapes, I shall give you a cooling in 
 the watch-house, if you tips us any of your jaw. I dare say the 
 young ojnan here, is quite right about ye, and ye never had any 
 watch at all, at all." 
 
 " You are a liar ! " cried Staunton ; " and you are all in with 
 each other, like a pack of rogues as you are." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, young gemman," said another watchman,* 
 who was a more potent, grave, and reverend signor than his 
 comrades, "if you do not move on instantly, and let those 
 decent young omen alone, I'll take you all up before Sir Rich- 
 ard." 
 
 *' Charley, my boy," said Dartmore, " did you ever get 
 thrashed for impertinence ? " 
 
 The last mentioned watchman took upon himself the reply to 
 this interrogatory by a very summary proceeding : he collared 
 Dartmore, and his companions did the same kind ofiice to us. 
 This action was not committed with impunity : in an instant 
 two of the moon's minions, staffs, lanterns, and all, were meas- 
 uring their length at the foot of their namesake of royal mem- 
 ory; the remaining Dogberry was, however, a tougher assailant; 
 he held Staunton so firmly in his gripe, that the poor youth 
 
 could scarcely breathe out a faint and feeble d ye of defiv 
 
 ance, and with his disengaged hand he made such an admirable 
 use of his rattle, that we were surrounded in a (rice. 
 
 As when an ant-hill is invaded, from every quarter and crev» 
 ice of the mound arise and pour out an angry host, of whose 
 
 * The reader wHI remember U1.1t this work w:is written before tlic institution of the 
 New Pohce.
 
 I70 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 previous existence the unwar}' assailant had not dreamt ; so from 
 every lane, and alley, and street, and crossing, came fast and far 
 the champions of the night. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Dartmore, "we must fly; smn'e qui peuC 
 We wanted no stronger admonition, and accordingly, all of us 
 who were able, set off with the utmost velocity with which God 
 had gifted us. I have some faint recollection that I myself 
 headed the flight. I remember well that I dashed up the Strand, 
 and dashed down a singular little shed, from which emanated 
 the steam of tea, and a sharp, querulous scream of " All hot — 
 all hot ; a penny a pint." I see, now, by the dim light of retro- 
 spection, a vision of an old woman in the kennel, and a pewter 
 pot of mysterious ingredients precipitated into a greengrocer's 
 shop, " te virides inter /auros,'" as Vincent would have said. On 
 we went, faster and faster, as the rattle rang in our ears, and the 
 tramp of the enemy echoed after us in hot pursuit. 
 
 " The devil take the hindmost," said Dartmore, breathlessly 
 (as he kept up with me). 
 
 " The watchman has saved his majesty the trouble," answered 
 I, looking back and seeing one of our friends in the clutch of 
 the pursuers. 
 
 " On, on ! " was Dartmore's only reply. 
 
 At last, after innumerable perils, and various immersements 
 into back passages, and courts, and alleys, which, like the chi- 
 caneries of law, preserved and befriended us, in spite of all the 
 efforts of justice, we fairly found ourselves in safety in the midst 
 of a great square. 
 
 Here we paused, and after ascertaining our individual safeties, 
 we looked round to ascertain the sum-total of the general loss. 
 Alas ! we were woefully shorn of our beans — we were reduced 
 one-half : only three out of the six survived the conflict and the 
 flight. 
 
 " Half," (said the companion of Dartmore and myself whose 
 name was Tringle, and who was a dabbler in science, of which 
 he was not a little vain) " half is less worthy than the whole ; 
 but the half is more worthy than nonentity." 
 
 " An axiom," said I, " not to be disputed ; but now that we 
 are safe, and have time to think about it, are you not slightly of 
 opinion that we behaved somewhat scurvily to our better half, 
 in leaving it so quietly in the hands of the Philistines ? " 
 
 " By no means," answered Dartmore, " In a party, whose 
 members make no pretensions to sobriety, it would be too hard 
 to expect that persons who are scarcely capable of taking care
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. \;\ 
 
 of themselves should take care of other people. No ; we have 
 in all these exploits, only the one maxim of self-preservation." 
 
 " Allow me," said Tringle, seizing me by the coat, " to ex- 
 plain it to you on scientific principles. You will find, in hydro- 
 statics, that the attraction of cohesion is far less powerful in 
 fluids than in solids ; viz. that persons who have been convert- 
 ing their ^ solid flesh ' into wine-skins, cannot stick so close to 
 one another as when they are sober." 
 
 " Bravo, Tringle ! " cried Dartmore ; " and now, Pelham, I 
 hope your delicate scruples are, after so luminous an edaircisse- 
 me?it, set at rest for ever." 
 
 "You have convinced me," said I; "let us leave the un- 
 fortunates to their fate, and Sir Richard. What is now to be 
 done > " 
 
 "Why, in the first place," answered Dartmore, "let us re- 
 connoitre. Does any one know this spot ? " 
 
 " Not I," said both of us. We inquired of an old fellow, who 
 was tottering home under the same Bacchanalian auspices as 
 ourselves, and found we were in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 
 " Which shall we do ? " asked I, " stroll home ; or parade the 
 streets, visit the Cider-Cellar, and the Finish, and kiss the first 
 lass we meet in the morning bringing her charms and carrots to 
 Covent Garden Market ? " 
 
 "The latter," cried Dartmore and Ti ingle, "without doubt." 
 
 " Come, then," said I, " let us investigate Holborn, and dip 
 into St. Giles's, and then find our way into some more known 
 corner of the globe." 
 
 "Amen!" said Dartmore, and accordingly we renewed our 
 march. We wound along a narrow lane, tolerably well known, 
 I imagine, to the gentleman of the quill, and entered Holborn. 
 There was a beautiful still moon above us, which cast its light 
 over a drowsy stand of hackney coaches, and shed a 'silver 
 sadness ' over the thin visages and sombre vestments of two 
 guardians of the night, who regarded us, we thought, with a 
 very ominous aspect of suspicion. 
 
 We strolled along, leisurely enough, till we were interrupted 
 by a miserable-looking crowd, assembled round a dull, dingy, 
 melancholy shop, from which gleamed a solitary candle, whose 
 long, spinster-like wick was flirting away with an east wind, at a 
 most unconscionable rate. Upon the haggard and worn coun- 
 tenances of the by-standers, was depicted one general and sym- 
 pathizing expression of eager, envious, wistful anxiety, which 
 predominated so far over the various characters of each, as to 
 communicate something of a likeness to all. It was an impress
 
 172 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 of such a seal as you might imagine, not the arch-fiend, but one 
 of his subordinate shepherds, would have set upon each of his 
 flock. 
 
 Amid this crowd, I recognized more than one face which I 
 had often seen in my equestrian lounges through town, peering 
 from the shoulders of some obtrusive, ragamuffin, wages-less 
 lackey, and squalling out of its wretched, unpampered mouth, 
 the everlasting query of " Want your oss held, SirV The rest 
 were made up of unfortunate women of the vilest and most rag- 
 ged description, aged itinerants, with features seared with fam- 
 ine, bleared eyes, dropping jaws, shivering limbs, and all mortal 
 sighs of hopeless and aidless, and, worst of all, breadless in- 
 firmity. Here and there an Irish accent broke out in the oaths 
 of national impatience, and was answered by the shrill, broken 
 voice of some decrepit but indefatigable votaries of pleasure — 
 {pleasure !) but the chief character of the meeting was silence; 
 — silence, eager, heavy, engrossing ; and, above them all, shone 
 out the quiet moon, so calm, so holy, so breathing of still happi- 
 ness and unpolluted glory, as if it never looked upon the traces 
 of human passion, and misery, and sin. We stood for some 
 moments contemplating the group before us, and then, follow- 
 ing the steps of an old, withered crone, who, with a cracked 
 cup in her hand, was pushing her way through the throng, we 
 found ourselves in that dreary pandaemonium, at once the origin 
 and refuge of humble vices — a Gin-shop. 
 
 "Poor devils," said Dartmore, to two or three of the nearest, 
 and eagerest among the crowd, "come in, and I will treat you." 
 
 The invitation was received with a promptness which must have 
 been the most gratifying compliment to the inviter ; and thus 
 Want, which is the mother of Invention, does not object, now 
 and then, to a bantling by Politeness. 
 
 We stood by the counter while o\xr protege's were served, in si- 
 lent observation. In low vice, too me, there is always something 
 too gloomy, almost too fearful for light mirth ; the contortions of 
 the madman are stronger than those of the fool, but one does 
 not laugh at them ; the sympathy is for the cause — not the effect. 
 
 Leaning against the counter at one corner, and fixing his eyes 
 deliberately and unmovingly upon us, was a man about the age 
 of fifty, dressed in a costume of singular fashion, apparently pre- 
 tending to an antiquity of taste, correspondent with that of the 
 material. This person wore a large cocked-hat, set rather jaun- 
 tily on one side, and a black coat, which seemed an omnium 
 gatherum of all abominations that had come in its way for the 
 last ten years and which appeared to advance equal claims (from
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 173 
 
 the manner it was made and worn), to the several dignities of 
 the art military and civil, the arama and the toga : — from the 
 neck of the wearer hung a blue ribbon of amazing breadth, and 
 of a very surprising assumption of newness and splendor, by no 
 means in harmony with the other parts of the tout ensemble ; this 
 was the guardian of an eye-glass of block tin, and of dimensions 
 correspondent with the size of the ribbon. Stuck under the 
 right arm, and shaped fearfully like a sword, peeped out the hilt 
 of a ver}"^ large and sturdy-looking stick, " in war a weapon, in 
 peace a support." 
 
 The features of the man were in keeping with his garb ; they 
 betokened an equal mixture of the traces of poverty, and the 
 assumption of the dignities reminiscent of a better day. Two 
 small light-blue eyes were shaded by bushy and rather imperi- 
 ous brows, which lowered from under the hat, like Cerberus out 
 of his den. These, at present, wore the dull, fixed stare of habit- 
 ual intoxication, though we were not long in discovering that 
 they had not yet forgotten to sparkle with all the quickness, and 
 more than the roguery of youth. His nose was large, promi- 
 nent, and aristocratic ; nor would it have been ifl-fornied, had 
 not some unknown cause pushed it a little nearer towards the 
 left ear, than would have been thought, by an equitable judge of 
 beauty, fair to the pretensions of the right. The lines in the 
 countenance were marked as if in iron, and had the face been 
 perfectly composed, must have given to it a remarkably stern 
 and sinister appearance ; but at that moment there was an arch 
 leer about the mouth, which softened, or at least altered the ex- 
 pression the features habitually wore, 
 
 " Sir," said he, (after a few minutes of silence,) " Sir," said 
 he, approaching me, " will you do me the honor to take a pinch 
 of snuff ? " and so saying he tapped a curious copper box, with 
 a picture of his late majesty upon it. 
 
 " With great pleasure," answered I, bowing low, " since the 
 act is a prelude to the pleasure of your acquaintance." 
 
 My gentleman of the gi.n-shop opened his box with an air, as 
 he replied — " It is but seldcjm that I meet, in places of this 
 description, gentlemen of the exterior of yourself and your 
 friends. I am not a person \tx\ easily deceived by the outward 
 man. Horace, sir, could not have included vie., when he said. 
 Specie decipimiir. I perceive that you are surprised at hearing 
 me quote Latin. Alas ! sir, in my wandering and various man- 
 ner of life I may say, with Cicero and Pliny, that the study of 
 letters has proved my greatest consolation. ' Gaiidium wi/ii,' 
 snys the latter author, ^ et solatium in Uteris: nihil tam hrt/an
 
 174 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 quod his non Icetius, nihil tarn triste quod non per has sit minus 
 triste.' G — d d — n ye, you scoundrel, give me my gin ! ar'n't 
 you ashamed of keej^ing a gentleman of my fashion so long 
 waiting ? " 
 
 This was said to the sleepy dispenser of the spirituous pota- 
 tions, who looked up for a moment with a dull stare, and then 
 rejDlied, " Your money first, Mr. Gordon — you owe us seven- 
 pence half-penny already," 
 
 " Blood and confusion ! speakest thou to me of half-pence 1 
 Know that thou art a mercenary varlet ; yes, knave, mark that, 
 a mercenary varlet." The sleepy Ganymede replied not, and 
 the wrath of Mr. Gordon subsided into a low, interrupted, in- 
 ternal muttering of strange oaths, which rolled and grumbled, 
 and rattled in his throat, like distant thunder. 
 
 At length he cheered up a little — " Sir," said he, addressing 
 Dartmore, " it is a sad thing to be dependent on these low per- 
 sons ; the wise among the ancients were never so wrong as 
 when they panegyrized poverty : it is the wicked man's tempter, 
 the good man's perdition, the proud man's curse, the melan- 
 choly man's halter." 
 
 " You are a strange old cock," said the unsophisticated 
 Dartmore, eyeing him from head to foot ; " there's half a 
 sovereign for you." 
 
 The blunt blue eyes of Mr. Gordon sharpened up in an 
 instant ; he seized the treasure with an avidity of which, the 
 minute after, he seemed somewhat ashamed ; for he said, play- 
 ing with the coin in an idle, indifferent manner — " Sir, you 
 show a consideration, and, let me add, sir, a delicacy of feeling, 
 unusual at your years. Sir, I shall repay you at my earliest 
 leisure, and in the meanwhile allow me to say, that I shall be 
 proud of the honor of your acquaintance," 
 
 "Thank-ye, old boy," said Dartmore, putting on his glove be- 
 fore he accepted the offered hand of his new friend, which, though 
 it was tendered with great grace and dignity, was of a marvel- 
 lously dingy and soapless aspect. 
 
 " Harkye, you d — d son of a gun ! " cried Mr. Gordon, abruptly 
 turning from Dartmore, after a hearty shake of the hand, to the 
 man at the counter — " Harkye ! give me change for this half-sov- 
 ereign, and be d — d to you — and then tip us a double gill of your 
 best ; you whey-faced, liver-drenched, pence-griping, belly-griping, 
 pauper-cheating, sleepy-souled Arismanes of bad spirits. Come, 
 gentlemen, if you have nothing better to do, I'll take you to 
 my club ; we are a rare knot of us, there — all choice spirits ; 
 some of them are a little uncouth, it is true, but we are not all
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 175 
 
 born Chesterfields. Sir, allow me to ask the favour of your 
 name ? " 
 
 " Dartmore." 
 
 " Mr. Dartmore, you are a gentleman. Hollo ! you Liquor- 
 pond-street of a scoimdrel — having nothing of liquor but the name, 
 you narrow, nasty, pitiful alley of a fellow, with a kennel for a 
 body, and a sink for a soul ; give me my change and my gin, you 
 scoundrel ! Humph, is that all right, you Procrustes of the 
 counter, chopping our lawful appetites down to your rascally 
 standard of seven-pence halfpenny ? Why don't you take a 
 motto, you Paynim dog ? Here's one for you — ' Measure for 
 measure, and the devil to pay ! ' Humph, you pitiful toadstool 
 of a trader, you have no more spirit than an empty water-bottle ; 
 and when you go to h — 11, they'll use you to cool the bellows. 
 I say, you rascal, why are you worse off than the devil in a hip- 
 bath of brimstone t — because, you knave, the devil then would 
 only be half d — d, and you're d — d all over ! Come, gentle- 
 men, I am at your service." 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 The history of a philosophical vagabond, pursuing novelty, and losing 
 content. — Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 We followed our strange friend through the crowd at the door, 
 which he elbowed on either side with the most aristocratic dis- 
 dain, perfectly regardless of their jokes at his dress and manner ; 
 he no sooner got through the throng, than he stopped short 
 (though in the midst of the kennel) and offered us his arm. 
 This was an honor of which we were by no means desirous ; for, 
 to say nothing of the shabbiness of Mr. Gordon's exterior, there 
 was a certain odor in his garments which was possibly less dis- 
 pleasing to the wearer than to his acquaintance. Accordingly, 
 we pretended not to notice this invitation, and merely said, we 
 would follow his guidance. 
 
 He turned up a narrow street, and after passing some of the 
 most ill-favored alleys I ever had the happiness of beholding, 
 he stopped at a low door ; here he knocked twice, and was at 
 last admitted by a slip-shod yawning wench, with red arms and 
 a profusion of sandy hair. This Hebe, Mr. Gordon greeted 
 with a loving kiss, which the kissee resented in a very unequiv- 
 ocal strain of disgustful reproach. 
 
 " Hush ! my Queen of Clubs ; my Sultana Sootina ! " said Mr.
 
 176 PELhAM ; OK, 
 
 Gordon; "hush! or these gentlemen will think you in earnest 
 I have brought three new customers to the club." 
 
 This speech somewhat softened the incensed Houri of Mr. 
 Gordon's Paradise, and she very civilly asked us to enter. 
 
 " Stop ! " said Mr. Gordon with an air of importance, " I must 
 just step in and ask the gentlemen to admit you ; — merely a form 
 — for a word from me will be quite sufficient." And so sayings 
 he vanished for about five minutes. 
 
 On his return, he said, with a cheerful countenance, that we 
 were free of the house, but that we must pay a shilling each as 
 the customary fee. This sum was soon collected, and quietly 
 inserted in the waistcoat-pocket of our chaperon, who then con- 
 ducted us up the passage into a small, back room, where were 
 sitting about seven or eight men, enveloped in smoke, and moist- 
 ening the fever of the Virginian plant with various preparations 
 of malt. On entering, I observed Mr. Gordon deposit, at a sort 
 of bar, the sum of threepence, by which I shrewdly surmised he 
 had gained the sum of two and ninepence by our admission. 
 With a ver}' arrogant air, he proceeded to the head of the table, 
 sat himself down with a swagger and called out, like a lusty 
 roisterer of the true kidney, for a pint of purl and a pipe. Not 
 to be out of fashion, we ordered the same articles of luxury. 
 
 After we had all commenced a couple of puiTs at our pipes, I 
 looked round at our fellow-guests ; they seemed in a very poor 
 state of body, as might naturally be supposed ; and, in order to 
 ascertain how far the condition of the mind was suited to that 
 of the frame, I turned round to Mr. Gordon, and asked him in 
 a whisper to give us a few hints as to the genus and character- 
 istics of the individual components of his club. Mr. Gordon 
 declared himself delighted with the proposal, and we all ad- 
 journed to a separate table at the corner of the room, where Mr. 
 Gordon, after a deep draught at the purl, thus began : — 
 
 " You observe yon thin, meagre, cadaverous animal, with 
 rather an intelligent and melancholy expression of countenance 
 — his name is Chitterling Crabtree : his father was an eminent 
 coal-merchant, and left him 10,000/. Crabtree turned politician. 
 When fate wishes to ruin a man of moderate abilities and mod- 
 erate fortune, she makes him an orator. Mr. Chitterling Crab- 
 tree attended all the meetings at the Crown and Anchor — sub- 
 scribed to the aid of the suffering friends of freedom — harangued, 
 argued, sweated, wrote — was fined and imprisoned — regained 
 his liberty, and married — his wife loved a community of goods 
 no less than her spouse, and ran off with one citizen, while he 
 was running on to the others. Chitterling dried his tears • and
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. T77 
 
 COTitented himself with the reflection that ' in a proper state of 
 things ' such an event could not have occurred. 
 I '' Mr. Crabtree's money and life were now half gone. One 
 does not subscribe to the friends of freedom and spout at their 
 dinners for nothing. But the worst drop was yet in the cup. 
 An undertaking of the most spirited and promising nature, was 
 conceived by the chief of the friends^ and the dearest familiar 
 of Mr. Chitterling Crabtree. Our worthy embarked his fortune 
 in a speculation so certain of success ; — crash went the specula- 
 tion, and off went the friend — Mr. Crabtree was ruined. He 
 was not, however, a man to despair at trifles. What were bread, 
 meat, and beer to the champion of equality ! He went to the 
 meeting that very night : he said he gloried in his losses — they 
 were for the cause : the whole conclave rang with shouts of ap- 
 plause, and Mr. Chitterling Crabtree went to bed happier than 
 ever. I need not pursue his history farther ; you see him here — • 
 verbum sap. He spouts at the ' Ciceronian,' for half a crown 
 a-night, and to this day subscribes sixpence a-week to the cause 
 of ' liberty and enlightenment all over the world.' " 
 
 " By heaven ! " cried Dartmore, " he is a fine fellow, and my 
 father shall do something for him." 
 
 Gordon pricked up his ears, and continued, — " Now, for the 
 second person, gentlemen, whom I am about to describe to you. 
 You see that middle-sized, stout man, with a slight squint, and a 
 restless, lowering, cunning expression ? " 
 
 " What ! him in the kerseymere breeches and green jacket ? " 
 said I. 
 
 " The same," answered Gordon. " His real name when he 
 does not travel with an alias, is Job Jonson. He is one of the 
 most remarkable rogues in Christendom ; he is so noted a cheat, 
 that there is not a pickpocket in England who would keep com- 
 pany with him if he had anything to lose. He was the favorite 
 of his father, who intended to lea\c hiin all his fortune, which 
 was tolerably large. He robbed him one day on the high road ; 
 his father discovered it, and disinherited him. He was placed 
 at a merchant's office, and rose, step by step, to be head clerk, 
 and intended son-in-law. Three niglUs before his marriage, he 
 broke open the till, and was turned out of doors the next morning. 
 If you were going to do him the greatest favor in ihe world, he 
 could not keep his hands out of your pocket till you had done it. 
 In short, he has rogued himself cnit of a dozen fortunes, and a 
 hundred friends, and managed, with incredible dexterity and 
 success, to cheat himself into beggary and a pot of beer." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said I, "but I think a sketch of your
 
 178 PELIIAM; OK, 
 
 own life must be more amusing than that of any one else : am 
 I impertinent in asking for it ? " 
 
 " Not at all," replied Mr. Gordon ; "you shall have it in as 
 few words as possible. 
 
 *' I was born a gentleman, and educated with some pains : 
 they told me I was a genius, and it was not very hard to per- 
 suade me of the truth of the assertion. I wrote verses to a won- 
 der — robbed orchards according to military tactics — never played 
 at marbles without explaining to my competitors the theory of 
 attraction — and was the best-informed, most mischievous, little 
 rascal in the whole school. My family were in great doubt what 
 to do with so prodigious a wonder ; one said the law, another 
 the church, a third talked of diplomacy, and a fourth assured my 
 mother, that if I could but be introduced at court, I should be lord 
 chamberlain in a twelvemonth. While my friends were deliberat- 
 ing, I took the liberty of deciding : I enlisted, in a fit of loyal 
 valor, in a marching regiment ; my friends made the best of a bad 
 job, and bought me an ensigncy. 
 
 " I recollect I read Plato the night before I went to battle ; 
 the next morning they told me I ran away. I am sure it was a 
 malicious invention, for if I had, I should have recollected it ; 
 whereas, I was in such a confusion that I cannot remember a sin- 
 gle thing that happened in the whole course of that day. About 
 six months afterwards, I found myself out of the army, and in 
 gaol ; and no sooner had my relations released me from the lat- 
 ter predicament, than I set off on my travels. At Dublin, I lost 
 my heart to a rich widow (as I thought) ; I married her, and 
 found her as poor as myself. Heavens knows what would have 
 become of me, if I had not taken to drinking ; my wife scorned 
 to be outdone by me in anything ; she followed my example, and 
 at the end of a year I followed her to the grave. Since then 
 I have taken warning, and been scrupulously sober — Betty, my 
 love, another pint of ])url. 
 
 "I was now once more a freeman in the prime of my life ; 
 handsome, as you see, gentlemen, and with the strength and 
 spirit of a young Hercules. Accordingly I dried my tears, 
 turned marker by night at a gambling house, and buck by day, 
 in Bond-street (for 1 had returned to London). I remember 
 well one morning, that his present Majesty was pleased, en pas- 
 sant^ to admire my buckskins — tempora miitaniur. Well, gentle- 
 men, one night at a brawl in our salon^ my nose met with a rude 
 hint to move to the right. I went, in a great panic, to the sur- 
 geon, who mended the matter by moving it to the left. There, 
 thank God ! it has rested in quiet ever since. It is needless to
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 179 
 
 tell you the nature of the quarrel in which this accident occur- 
 red ; however, my friends thought it necessary to remove me 
 from the situation I then held. I went once more to Ireland, 
 and was introduced to ' a friend of freedom.' I was poor ; that 
 circumstance is quite enough to make a patriot. They sent me . 
 to Paris on a secret mission, and when I returned, my friends 
 were in prison. Being always of a free disposition, I did not 
 envy them their situation : accordingly I returned to England. . 
 Hal'/.ng at Liverpool, with a most debilitated purse, I went into 
 a silversmith's shop to brace it, and about six months afterwards, 
 I found myself on a marine excursion to Botany Bay. On my 
 return from that country, I resolved to turn my literary talents 
 to account. I went to Cambridge, wrote declamations, and 
 translated Virgil at so much a sheet. My relations (thanks to 
 my letters, neither few nor far between) soon found me out ; they 
 allowed me (they do so still) half a guinea a week ; and upon 
 this and my declamations 1 manage to exist. Ever since, my 
 chief residence has been at Cambridge. I am an universal fa- 
 vorite with both graduates and undergraduates I have reformed 
 my life and my manners, and have become the quiet, orderly 
 person you behold me. Age tames the fiercest of us — 
 
 " ' Non sum qualis eiam,' 
 
 " Betty, bring me my purl, and be d — d to you. 
 
 " It is now vacation time, and I have come to town with the 
 idea of holding lectures on the state of education. Mr. Dart- 
 more, your health. Gentlemen, yours. My story is done, — and 
 I hope you will pay for the purl." * 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 I hate a drunken rogue. — Twelfth Night. 
 
 We took an affectionate leave of Mr. Gordon, and found our- 
 selves once more in the open air ; the smoke and the purl had 
 
 Poor Jemmy Gordon— thou art no more ! The stones of Cambridpc no lontjer prate 
 of thy whereabout !— Death hath removed thee; — may it wf/ be to that bourne where 
 alone thy oaths can lie outdone ! He was indeed a sinj^ular character, that Jemmy 
 Gordon, as many a generation of Cantabs can attest! — His lonj; stick and his cocked 
 hat— and his tattered Lucretius, and his mijjhty eyc-f,'lass, how famiharly do they 
 intcrminfi^le with our recollections of Trinity and of Trumpin^rton Streets ! If I have 
 riL'htly heard, his death was the consequence of a fractured limb. Laid by the le),' in 
 a lofty attic, his spirit was not tamed :— the noises lie made were astoundinjj to the 
 last. — Tlie jfrim foe carried him off in a whirlwind of slanff I I do not say '/'<■(«<<• to 
 his manes,' for quiet would be the worst hell that could await him : — and heaven itself 
 would be torture to Jemmy (iordon, if he were not allowed to swear in it ' —Noisiest 
 of reprobates, fare thee well ! — H. P.
 
 iSo PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 contributed greatly to the continuance of our inebriety, and we 
 were as much averse to bed as ever. We conveyed ourselves, 
 laughing and rioting all the way, to a stand of hackney-coaches. 
 We entered the head of the flock, and drove to Piccadilly. It 
 set us down at the corner of the Haymarket. 
 
 " Past two ! " cried the watchman, as we sauntered by him. 
 
 " You lie, you rascal," said I, " you have passed three now." 
 
 We were all merry enough to laugh at this sally ; and seeing 
 a light gleam from the entrance of the Royal Saloon, we 
 knocked at the door, and it was opened unto us. We sat down 
 at the only spare table in the place, and looked round at the 
 smug and 71 arm int c\i\ztr\s with whom the room was filled. 
 
 " Hollo, waiter ! " cried Tringle, " some red wine negus — I 
 know not why it is, but the devil himself could never cure me 
 of thirst. Wine and I have a most chemical attraction for each 
 other. Yow know that we always estimate the force of attrac- 
 tion between bodies by the force required to sepc^rate them ! " 
 
 While we were all three as noisy and nonsensical as our best 
 friends could have wished us, a new stranger entered, approached, 
 looked round the room for a seat and seeing none, walked 
 leisurely up to our table, and accosted me with a — " Ha ! Mr. 
 Pelham, how d'ye do ? Well met ; by your leave I will sip my 
 grog at your table. No offence I hope — more the merrier, eh ? 
 — Waiter, aglass of hot brandy and water — not too weak. D'ye 
 hear?" 
 
 Need I say that this pithy and pretty address proceeded from 
 the mouth of Mr. Tom Thornton .-' He was somewhat more 
 than half drunk, and his light, prying eyes twinkled dizzily in 
 his head. Dartmore, who was, and is, the best-natured fellow 
 alive, hailed the signs of his intoxication as a sort of free- 
 masonr}-, and made way for him beside himself. I could not 
 help remarking, that Thornton seemed singularly less sleek than 
 heretofore : his coat was out at the elbows, his linen was torn 
 and soiled ; there was not a vestige of the vulgar spruceness 
 about him which was formerly one of his most prominent char- 
 acteristics. He had also lost a great deal of the florid health 
 formerly visible in his face ; his cheeks seemed sunk and hag- 
 gard, his eyes hollow, and his complexion sallow and squalid, in 
 in spite of the flush which intemperance spread over it at the 
 moment. However, he was in high spirits, and soon made 
 himself so entertaining that Dartmore and Tringle grew charmed 
 Avith him. 
 
 As for me, the antipathy I had to the man sobered and si- 
 lenced me for the rest of the night ; and finding that Dartmore
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. iSi 
 
 and his friend were eager for an introduction to some female 
 friends of Thornton's, whom he mentioned in terms of high 
 praise, I tore myself from them, and made the best of my way 
 home. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 Illi mors gravis incubat 
 Qui, notus nimis omnibus, 
 Ignotus moritursibi. — Seneca. 
 
 Nous serons par nos lois les juges des ouvrages. 
 
 Les Fejjimes Savants. 
 
 Whilst we do speak, our fire 
 Doth into ice expire ; 
 Flames turn to frost, 
 
 And, ere we can 
 
 Know how our crow turns swan, 
 
 Or how a silver snow 
 Springs there, where jet did grow. 
 Our fading spring is in dull winter lost. 
 
 Jaspar Mayne. 
 
 Vincent called on me the next day. " I have news for you," 
 said he, "though somewhat of a lugubrious nature. Liigcte Ven- 
 eres Cupidinesque ! You remember the Duchesse de Perpig- 
 nan ? " 
 
 " I should think so," was my answer. 
 
 "Well, then," pursued Vincent, "she is no mores Her death 
 was worthy of her life. She was to give a brilliant entertainment 
 to all the foreigners at Paris : the day before it took place, a 
 dreadful eruption broke out on her complexion. She sent for 
 the doctors in despair. ' Cure me against to-morrow,' she said, 
 ' and name your own reward.' ' Madame, it is impossible to do 
 so with safety to your heaUh.' '■An diable with your health!' 
 said the Duchesse ; ' what is health to an eruption ? ' The doc- 
 tors took the hint ; an external apjolication was used — the Duch- 
 esse woke in the morning as beautiful as ever — the entertainment 
 took place — she was the Armida of the scene. Supper was an- 
 nounced. She took the arm of the ambassador, and moved 
 
 through the crowd amidst the audible admiration of all. She 
 stopped for a moment at the door; all eyes were upon her. A 
 fearful and ghastly convulsion passed over her countenance, her 
 lips trembled, she fell on the floor with the most terrible con- 
 tortions of face and frame. They carried her to bed. She re- 
 mained for some days insensible ; when she recovered, she
 
 I82 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 asked for a looking-glass. Her whole face was drawn on one 
 side ; not a wreck of beauty was left ; — that night she poisoned 
 herself ! " 
 
 I cannot express how shocked I was at this information. 
 Much as I had cause to be disgusted with the conduct of that 
 unhappy woman, I could find in my mind no feeling but com- 
 miseration and horror at her death ; and it was with great diffi- 
 culty that Vincent persuaded me to accept an invitation to Lady 
 Roseville's for the evening, to meet Glanville and himself. 
 
 However, I cheered up as the night came on ; and though 
 my mind was still haunted with the tale of the morning, it 
 was neither in a musing nor a melancholy mood that I entered 
 the drawing-room at Lady Roseville's — " So runs the world 
 away ! " 
 
 Glanville was there in his customary mourning. 
 
 " Pelham," he said, when he joined me, " do you remember at 
 
 Lady 's one night, I said I would introduce you to my 
 
 sister ? I had no opportunity then, for we left the house be- 
 fore she returned from the refreshment-room. May I do so 
 now ? " 
 
 I need not say what was my answer. I followed Glanville 
 into the next room ; and, to my inexpressible astonishment and 
 delight, discovered in his sister the beautiful, the never forgot- 
 ten stranger I had seen at Cheltenham. 
 
 For once in my life I was embarrassed — my bow would have 
 shamed a major in the line, and my stuttered and irrelevant 
 address, and alderman in the presence of His Majesty. How- 
 ever, a few moments sufficed to" recover me, and I strained every 
 nerve to be as agreeable as possible. 
 
 After I had conversed with Miss Granville for some time. 
 Lady Roseville joined us. Stately and Juno-like, as was that 
 charming personage in general, she relaxed into a softness of 
 manner to Miss Granville, that quite won my heart. She drew 
 her to a part of the room, where a very animated and chiefly 
 literary conversation was going on — and I, resolving to make 
 the best of my time, followed them, and once more found my- 
 self seated beside Miss Glanville. Lady Roseville was on the 
 other side of my beautiful companion ; and I observed that, 
 whenever she took her eyes from Miss Glanville, they always 
 rested upon her brother, who, in the midst of the disputation 
 and the disputants, sat silent, gloomy, and absorbed. 
 
 The conversation turned upon Scott's novels ; thence on noV' 
 els in general ; and finally on the particular one of Anastasius. 
 
 " It is a thousand pities," said Vincent, " that the scene of
 
 ADVENTURES 01' A GENTLEMAN. 183 
 
 that novel is so far removed from us. But it is a great misfor- 
 tune for Hope that — 
 
 ' To learning he narrowed his mind, 
 And gave up to the East what was meant for mankind.' 
 
 One often loses, in admiration at the knowledge of peculiar 
 custom, the deference one would have paid to the masterly grasp 
 of universal character." 
 
 "It must require," said Lady Roseville, "an extraordinary 
 combination of mental powers to produce a perfect novel." 
 
 " One so extraordinar}^," answered Vincent, " that, though we 
 have one perfect epic poem, and several which pretend to perfec- 
 tion, we have not one perfect novel in the w'orld.* Gil Bias ap- 
 proaches more to perfection than any other ; but it must be con- 
 fessed that there is a want of dignity, of moral rectitude, and of 
 what I may term moral beauty, throughout the whole book. If 
 an author could combine the various excellences of Scott and Le 
 Sage, with a greater and more metaphysical knowledge of 
 morals than either, we might expect from him the perfection we 
 have not yet discovered since the days of Apuleius." 
 
 '' Speaking of morals," said Lady Roseville, " do you not 
 think every novel should have its distinct object, and inculcate, 
 throughout, some one peculiar moral, such as many of Mar- 
 montel's and Miss Edgeworth's ? " 
 
 " No ! " answered Vincent; "every good novel has one great 
 end — the same in all — viz. the increasing our knowledge of the 
 heart. It is thus that a novel-writer must be a philosopher. 
 Whoever succeeds in showing us more accurately the nature of 
 ourselves and species, has done science, and, consequently, 
 virtue, the most important benefit ; for every truth is a moral. 
 27us great and universal end, I am led to imagine, is rather 
 crippled than extended by the rigorous attention to the one iso- 
 lated moral you mention. 
 
 " Thus Dryden, in his Essay on the Progress of Satire, very 
 rightly prefers Horace to Juvenal, so far as instrudioti is con- 
 cerned ; because the miscellaneous satires of the former are 
 directed against every vice — the more confined ones of the 
 latter (for the most part) only against one. All mankind is the 
 field the novelist should cultivate — all truth, the moral he should 
 strive to bring home. It is in occasional dialogue, in desultory 
 maxims, in deductions from events, in analysis of character, 
 
 * For Don <^)uixotc is not what Lord Vincent terms a w^rv/, viz., the actual reprc« 
 scntation of real life.
 
 1 84 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 that he should benefit and instruct. It is not enough — and T 
 wish a certain novelist who has lately arisen would remember 
 this — it is not enough for a writer to have a good heart, amiable 
 sympathies, and what are termed high feelings, in order to 
 shape out a moral, either true in itself, or beneficial in its incul- 
 cation. Before he touches his tale, he should be thoroughly 
 acquainted with the intricate science of morals, and the meta- 
 physical, as well as the more open, operations of the mind. If 
 his knowledge is not deep and clear, his love of the good may 
 only lead him into error ; and he may pass off the prejudices of 
 a susceptible heart for the precepts of virtue. Would to Heaven 
 that people would think it necessary to be instructed before 
 they attempt to instruct ! ' Dire simplement que la vcrtii est 
 vertu parce qu^elle est bonne en sojtfonds, et le vice tout au cojitraire, 
 ce Ji'est pas les faire connoUre^ For me, if I were to write a 
 novel, I would first make myself an acute, active, and vigilant 
 observer of men and manners. Secondly, I would, after having 
 thus noted effects by action in the world, trace the causes by 
 books, and meditation in my closet. It is then, and not till 
 then, that I would study the lighter graces of style and decora- 
 tion ; nor would I give the rein to invention, till I was convinced 
 that it would create neither monsters of men, nor falsities of 
 truth. For my vehicles of instruction or amusement, I would 
 have people as they are — neither worse nor better — and the 
 moral they should convey, should be rather through jest or 
 irony, than gravity and seriousness. There never was an im- 
 perfection corrected by portraying perfection ; and if levity and 
 ridicule be said so easily to allure sin, I do not see why they should 
 not be used in defence of virtue. Of this we may be sure, that as 
 laughter is a distinct indication of the human race, so there never 
 was a brute mind or a savage heart that loved to indulge in 
 it." * 
 
 Vincent ceased. 
 
 " Thank you, my lord," said Lady Roseville, as she took 
 Miss Granville's arm and moved from the table. " For once 
 you have condescended to give us your own sense, and not 
 other people's ; you have scarce made a single quotation," 
 
 " AccejDt," answered Vincent rising, 
 
 " ' Accept a miracle instead of wit.' " 
 
 * The Sage of Malmesbury expresses a very different opinion of the philosophy of 
 laughter, and, for my part, I think his doctrine, in great measure, though not alto- 
 gether, true. See Hobbes on Human Nature, and the answer to him in Campbell's 
 Rhetoric. — Author.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 185 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 Oh ! I love !— Methinks 
 This word of love is fit for all the world, 
 And that, for gentle hearts, another name 
 Should speak of gentler thoughts than the world owns. 
 
 B. Shelley. 
 
 -For me, I ask no more than honor gives 
 
 To think me yours, and rank me with your friends. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Callous and worldly as I may seem, from the tone of these 
 memoirs, I can say, safely, that one of the most delicious even- 
 ings I ever spent,- was the first of my introduction to Miss Glan- 
 ville. I went home intoxicated with a subtle spirit of enjoy- 
 ment that gave a new zest and freshness to life. Two little 
 hours seemed to have changed the whole course of my thoughts 
 and feelings. 
 
 There was nothing about Miss Glanville like a heroine — I 
 hate your heroines. She had none of that " modest ease," and 
 " quiet dignity," of which certain writers speak with such ap- 
 plause. Thank Heaven, she was alive ! She had great sense, 
 but the playfulness of a child ; extreme rectitude of mind, but 
 with the tenderness of a gazelle : if she laughed, all her counte- 
 nance, lips, eyes, forehead, cheeks, laughed too : " Paradise 
 seemed opened in her face : " if she looked grave, it was such a 
 lofty and upward, yet sweet and gentle gravity, that you might 
 (had you been gifted with the least imagination) have supposed, 
 from the model of her countenance, a new order of angels 
 between the cherubim and the seraphim, the angels of Love 
 and Wisdom. She was not, perhaps, quite so silent in society 
 as my individual taste would desire ; but when she spoke, it 
 was with a propriety of thought and diction which made me 
 lament when her voice had ceased. It was as if something 
 beautiful in creation had stopped suddenly. 
 
 Enough of this now. I was lazily turning (the morning after 
 Lady Roseville's) over some old books, when Vincent entered. 
 I observed that his face was flushed, and his eyes sparkled with 
 more than their usual brilliancy. He looked carefully round 
 the room, and then, approaching his chair towards mine, said, 
 in a low tone — 
 
 " Pelham, I have something of importance on my mind which 
 I wish to discuss with you ; but let me entreat you to lay aside 
 your usual levity, and pardon me if I say affectation ; meet me
 
 l86 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 with the candor and plainness which are the real distinctions of 
 your character." 
 
 " My Lord Vincent," I replied ; " there are, in your words, a 
 
 depth and solemnity which pierce me, through one of N 's 
 
 best stuffed coats, even to the very heart. I will hear you as 
 you desire, from the alpha to the omega of your discourse." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Vincent, " I have often seen that, in 
 spite of your love of pleasure, you have your mind continually 
 turned towards highenand graver objects, and I have thought 
 the better of your talents, and of your future success, for the 
 little parade you make of the one, and the little care you appear 
 to pay to the other : for 
 
 ' 'tis a common proof, 
 That lowliness is young Ambition's ladder.' 
 
 I have also observed that you have, of late, been much to Lord 
 Dawton's ; I have even heard that you have been twice closeted 
 with him. It is well known that that person entertains hopes 
 of leading the opposition to the grata arva of the Treasury 
 benches ; and notwithstanding the years in which the Whigs 
 have been out of office, there are some persons who pretend to 
 foresee the chance of a coalition between them and Mr. Gas' 
 kell, to whose principles it is also added that they have been 
 gradually assimilating." 
 
 Here Vincent paused a moment, and looked full at me. I 
 met his eye with a glance as searching as his own. His look 
 changed, and he continued. 
 
 " Now listen to me, Pelham : such a coalition never can take 
 place. You smile : I repeat it. It is my object to form a third 
 party ; perhaps, while the two great sects ' anticipate the cab- 
 inet designs of fate,' there may suddenly come by a third, ' to 
 whom the whole shall be referred.' Say that you think it not 
 impossible that you may join us, and I will tell you more." 
 
 I paused for three minutes before I answered Vincent. I 
 then said — " I thank you very sincerely for your proposal : tell 
 me the names of two of your designed party, and I will answer 
 you." 
 
 " Lord Lincoln and Lord Lesborough." 
 
 " What ! " said I — " the Whig, who says in the Upper House, 
 that whatever may be the distresses of the people, they shall 
 not be gratified at the cost of one of the despotic privileges of 
 the aristocracy. Go to ! — I will have none of him. As to Les- 
 borough, he is a fool and a boaster — who is always puffing his
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 187 
 
 own vanity with the windiest pair of oratorical bellows that ever 
 were made by air and brass, for the purpose of sound and 
 smoke, ' signifying nothing.' Go to ! — I will have none of him 
 either." 
 
 " You are right in your judgment of my confreres,^'' answered 
 Vincent ; " but we must make use of bad tools for good pur= 
 poses." 
 
 " No — no ! " said I ; " the commonest carpenter will tell you 
 the reverse." 
 
 Vincent eyed me suspiciously. " Look you ! " said he : " I 
 know well that no man loves, better than you, place, power, 
 and reputation. Do you grant this ? " 
 
 " I do," was my reply. 
 
 " Join with us ; I will place j^ou in the House of Commons 
 immediately : if we succeed, you shall have the first and the best 
 post I can give you. Now — ' under which king, Bezonian, 
 speak or die ! ' " 
 
 " I answer you in the words of the same worthy you quote," 
 said I — " ' A foutra for thine office.' — Do you know, Vincent, 
 that I have, strange as it may seem to you, such a thing as a 
 conscience ? It is true I forget it now and then ; but in a public 
 capacity, the recollection of others would put me very soon \\\ 
 mind of it. I know your party well. I cannot imagine — forgive 
 me — one more injurious to the country, nor one more revolting 
 to myself ; and I do positively affirm, that I would sooner feed 
 my poodle on paunch and liver, instead of cream and fricassee, 
 than to be an instrument in the hands of men like Lincoln and 
 Lesborough ; who talk much, who perform nothing — who join 
 ignorance of every principle of legislation to indifference for 
 every benefit to the people : — who are full of ' wise saws,' but 
 empty of ' modern instances ' — who level upwards, and trample 
 downwards — and would only value the ability you are pleased to 
 impute to me, in the exact proportion that a sportsman values 
 the ferret, that burrows for his pleasure, and destroys for his 
 interest. Nowx party can't stand ! " 
 
 Vincent turned pale — "And how long," said he, have you 
 learnt * the principles of legislation,' and this mighty affection 
 for the ' benefit of the people ? ' " 
 
 " Ever since," said I, coldly, " I learnt any thing ! The first 
 piece of real knowledge I ever gained was, that my interest was 
 incorporated with that of the beings with whom I had the 
 chance of being cast : if I injure them, I injure myself : if I can 
 do them any good, I receive the benefit in common with the 
 rest. Now. as I have a great love for that personage who has
 
 iSS PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 now the honor of addressing yon, I resolved to be honest for his 
 sake. So much for my affection for the benefit of the people. 
 As to the Httle l<:nowledge of the principles of legislation, on 
 which you are kind enough to compliment me, look over the 
 books on this table, or the writings in this desk, and know, that 
 ever since I had the misfortune of parting from you at Chelten- 
 ham, there has not been a day in which I have spent less than 
 six hours reading and writing on that sole subject. But enough 
 of this — will you ride to-day .-" " 
 Vincent rose slowly — 
 
 " ' Gli arditi (said he) tuoi voti 
 Gia noti mi sono; 
 Ma invano a quel trono, 
 Tu aspiri con me : 
 Trema per te ! ' " 
 
 " ' lo trema ' (I replied out of the same opera) — ' lo trema — 
 dite!''' 
 
 " Well," answered Vincent, and his fine high nature overcame 
 his momentary resentment and chagrin at my rejection of his 
 offer — " Well, I honor you for your sentiments, though they are 
 opposed to my own. I may depend on your secrecy? " 
 
 " You may," said I. 
 
 " I forgive you, Pelham," rejoined Vincent : " we part friends." 
 
 " Wait one moment," said I, " and pardon me, if I venture to 
 speak in the language of caution to one in every way so supe- 
 rior to myself. No one (I say this with a safe conscience, for I 
 never flattered my friend in my life, though I have often 
 adulated my enemy) — no one has a greater admiration for your 
 talents than myself ; I desire eagerly to see you in the station 
 most fit for their display : pause one moment before you link 
 yourself, not only to a party, but to principles that cannot stand. 
 You have only to exert yourself, and you may either lead the 
 opposition, or be among the foremost in the administration. 
 Take something certain, rather than what is doubtful ; or at 
 least stand alone : — such is my belief in your powers, if fairly 
 tried, that if you were not united to those men, I would promise 
 you faithfully to stand or fall by you alone, even if we had not ' 
 through all England another soldier to our standard ; but " 
 
 " I thank you, Pelham," said Vincent, interrupting me : " till 
 we meet in public as enemies, we are friends in private — I de- 
 sire no more. Farewell."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 189 
 
 CHAPTER LIV, 
 
 II vaut mieux employer notre esprit a supporter les infortunes qui nous 
 arrivent, qu'a prevoir celles qui nous peuvent arriver. — Rochekoucault. 
 
 No sooner had Vincent departed than I buttoned my coat, 
 and sallied out through a cold easterly wind to Lord Dawton's. 
 It was truly said by the political quoter, that I had been often 
 to that nobleman's, although I have not thought it advisable to 
 speak of my political adventures hitherto, I have before said 
 that I was ambitious ; and the sagacious have probably already 
 discovered that I was somewhat less ignorant than it was my 
 usual pride and pleasure to appear. I had established, among 
 my uncle's friends, a reputation for talent ; and no sooner had I 
 been personally introduced to Lord Dawton, than I found my- 
 self courted by that personage in a manner equally gratifying 
 and uncommon. When I lost my seat in Parliament, Dawton 
 assured me that, before the session was over, I should be re- 
 turned for one of his boroughs ; and though my mind revolted 
 at the idea of becoming dependent on any party, I made little 
 scruple of promising eonditionally to ally myself to his. So far 
 had affairs gone, when I was honored with Vincent's proposal. 
 I found Lord Dawton in his library, with the Marquis of Clan- 
 donald (Lord Dartmore's father, and, from his rank and property, 
 classed among the highest, as, from his vanity and restlessness, he 
 was among the most active, members of the opposition). Clan- 
 donald left the room when I entered. Few men in office are 
 wise enough to trust the young ; as if the greater zeal and sin- 
 cerity of youth did not more than compensate for its appetite 
 for the gay', or its thoughtlessness of the serious. 
 
 When we were alone, Dawton said to me, " We are in great 
 
 despair at the motion upon the , to be made in the Lower 
 
 House. We have not a single person whom we can depend upon, 
 for the sweeping and convincing answer we ought to make ; and 
 through we should least muster our full force in voting, our whip- 
 per-in, poor , is so ill that I fear we shall make but a very 
 
 pitiful figure." 
 
 " Give me," said I, " full permission to go forth into the high- 
 ways and by-ways, and I will engage to bring a whole legion of 
 dandies to the House door. I can go no farther ; your other 
 agents must do the rest." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear friend," said Lord Dawton, eagerly ; 
 " thank you a thousand times : we must really get you in the
 
 igo PELHAM; OR, 
 
 House as soon as possible ; you will serve us more than I can 
 express." 
 
 I bowed, with a sneer I could not repress. Dawton pretended 
 not to observe it. " Come," said I, " my lord, we have no time 
 to lose. I shall meet you, perhaps, at Brookes's, to-morrow 
 evening, and report to you respecting my success." 
 
 Lord Dawton pressed my hand warmly, and followed me to the 
 door. 
 
 " He is the best premier we could have," thought I ; " but he 
 deceives himself, if he thinks Henry Pelham will play the jackall 
 to his lion. He will soon see that I shall keep for myself what 
 he thinks I hunt for him." I passed through Pall Mall, and 
 thought of Glanville. I knocked at his door : he was at home. 
 I found him leaning his cheek upon his hand, in a thoughtful 
 position ; an open letter was before him. 
 
 " Read that," he said, pointing to it. 
 
 I did so. It was from the agent to the Duke of , and 
 
 containing his nomination to an opposition borough. 
 
 " A new toy, Pelham," said he, faintly smiling ; " but a little 
 longer, and they will all be broken — the rattle will be the last." 
 
 " My dear, dear Glanville," said I, much affected, "do not 
 talk thus ; you have everything before you." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Glanville, "you are right, for every thing 
 left for me is in the grave. Do you imagine that I can taste 
 one of the possessions which fortune has heaped upon me ; that 
 I have one healthful faculty, one sense of enjoyment, among the 
 hundred which other men are ' heirs to ? ' When did you ever see 
 me for a moment happy } I live, as it were, on a rock, barren, 
 and herbless, and sapless, and cut off from all human fellowship 
 and intercourse. I had only a single object left to live for, when 
 you saw me at Paris ; I have gratified that, and the end and pur 
 pose of my existence is fulfilled. Heaven is merciful ; but a lit' 
 tie while, and this feverish and unquiet spirit shall be at rest." 
 
 I took his hand and pressed it. 
 
 " Feel," said he, " this dry, burning skin ; count my pulse 
 through the variations of a single minute, and you will cease 
 either to pity me, or to speak to me of life. For months I have 
 had, night and day, a wasting — wasting fever, of brain and heart, 
 and frame ; the fire works well, and the fuel is nearly consumed." 
 
 He paused, and we were both silent. In fact, I was shocked 
 at the fever of his pulse, no less than affected at the despondency 
 of his words. At last I spoke to him of medical advice. 
 
 " ' Canst thou,' " he said, with a deep solemnity of voice and 
 manner, " ' administer to a mind diseased — pluck from the
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. igr 
 
 memory.' * * * * Ah ! away with the quotation and the re- 
 flection." And he sprang from the sofa, and, going to the win- 
 dow, opened it and leaned out for a few moments in silence. 
 When he turned again towards me, his manner had regained its 
 usual quiet. He spoke about the important motion approaching 
 
 on the , and promised to attend ; and then, by degrees, I 
 
 led him to talk of his sister. 
 
 He mentioned her with enthusiasm. " Beautiful as Ellen is," 
 he said, " her face is the very faintest reflection of her mind. 
 Her habits of thought are so pure, that every impulse is a virtue. 
 Never was there a person to whom goodness was so easy. 
 Vice seems something so opposite to her nature, that I cannot 
 imagine it possible for her to sin." 
 
 " Will you not call with me at your mother's ? " said I. " I 
 am going there to-day." 
 
 Glanville replied in the affirmative, and we went at once to 
 Lady Glanville's in Berkeley-square. We were admitted into his 
 mother's boudoir. She was alone with Miss Glanville. Our 
 conversation soon turned from commonplace topics to those of 
 a graver nature ; the deep melancholy of Glanville's mind 
 imbued all his thoughts, when he suffered himself to express 
 them. 
 
 " Why," said Lady Glanville, who seemed painfully fond of 
 her son, " why do you not go more into the world ? You suffer 
 your mind to prey upon itself, till it destroys you. My dear, 
 dear son, how very ill you seem ! " 
 
 Ellen, whose eyes swam in tears, as they gazed upon her bro- 
 ther, laid her beautiful hand upon his, and said, " For my mother's 
 sake, Reginald, do take more care of yourself : you want air, 
 and exercise, and amusement." 
 
 "No," answered Glanville, "I want nothing but occupation ; 
 
 and, thanks to the Duke of , 1 have now got it. I am chosen 
 
 member for ." 
 
 "I am too happy," said the proud mother; "you will now be 
 all I have ever predicted for you ; " and, in her joy at the mo- 
 ment, she forgot the hectic of his cheek, and the hollowness of 
 his eye. 
 
 " Do you remember," said Reginald, turning to his sister, 
 "those beautiful lines in my favorite Ford — 
 
 'Glories 
 Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams, 
 And shadows soon decaying. On the stage 
 Of my mortality, my youth has acted 
 Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length
 
 192 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 By varied pleasures — sweetened in the mixture, 
 But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp, 
 With every sensuality our giddiness 
 Doth frame an idol — are inconstant friends 
 When any troubled passion makes us halt 
 On the unguarded castle of the mind.' " 
 
 " Your verses," said I, " are beautiful, even to me, who have 
 no soul for poetry, and never wrote a line in my life. But I 
 love not their philosophy. In all sentiments that are impreg- 
 nated with melancholy, and instil sadness as a moral, I question 
 the wisdom, and dispute the truth. There is no situation in life 
 which we cannot sweeten, or embitter, at will. If the past is 
 gloomy, I do not see the necessity of dwelling upon it. If the 
 mind can make one vigorous exertion, it can another : the same 
 energy you put forth in acquiring knowledge, would also enable 
 you to baffle misfortune. Determine not to think upon what is 
 painful ; resolutely turn away from every thing that recalls it ; 
 bend all your attention to some new and engrossing object ; do 
 this, and you defeat the past. You smile, as if this were impos- 
 sible ; yet it is not an iota more so, than to tear one's self from 
 a favorite pursuit, and addict one's self to an object unwelcome 
 to one at first. This the mind does continually through life : so 
 can it also do the other, if you will but make an equal exertion. 
 Nor does it seem to me natural to the human heart to look much 
 to the past ; all its plans, its projects, its aspirations, are for the 
 future ; it \^for the future, and in the future, that we live. Our 
 very passions, when most agitated, are most anticipative. Re- 
 venge, avarice, ambition, love, the desire of good and evil, are 
 all fixed and pointed to some distant goal ; to look backwards, 
 to like walking backwards — against our proper formation : the 
 mind does not readily adopt the habit, and when once adopted, 
 it will readily return to its natural bias. Oblivion is, there- 
 fore, a more easily obtained boon than we imagine. Forgetful- 
 ness of the past is purchased by increasing our anxiety for 
 the future." 
 
 I paused for a moment, but Glanville did not answer me ; and, 
 encouraged by a look from Ellen, I continued — " You remember 
 that, according to an old creed, if we were given memory as a 
 curse, we were also given hope as a blessing. Counteract the 
 one by the other. In my own life, I have committed many 
 weak, perhaps many wicked actions ; I have chased away their 
 remembrance, though I have transplanted their warning to the 
 future. As the body involuntarily avoids what is hurtful to it, 
 without tracing the association to its first experience, so the
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 193 
 
 mind insensibly shuns what has formerly afflicted it, even with- 
 out palpably recalling the remembrance of the affliction. 
 
 " The Roman philosopher placed the secret of human happi- 
 ness in the one maxim — ' not to admire.' I never could exactly 
 comprehend the sense of the moral : my maxim for the same ob- 
 ject would be — 'never to regret.' " 
 
 " Alas ! my dear friend," said Glanville — " we are great phi- 
 losophers to each other, but not to ourselves ; the moment we 
 begin io feel sorrow, we cease to reflect on its wisdom. Time 
 is the only comforter ; your maxims are very true, but they con- 
 firm me in my opinion — that it is in vain for us to lay down fixed 
 precepts for the regulation of the mind so long as it is depend- 
 ent upon the body. Happiness and its reverse are constitutional 
 in many persons, and it is then only that they are independent 
 of circumstances. Make the health, the frames of all men, alike 
 — make their nerves of the same susceptibility — their memories 
 of the same bluntness, or acuteness — and I will then allow that 
 you can give rules adapted to all men ; till then, your maxim, 
 ' never to regret,' is as idle as Horace's ' never to admire.' It 
 may be wise to you — it is impossible to me ! " 
 
 With these last words, Glanville's voice faltered, and I felt 
 averse to push the argument further. Ellen's eye caught mine, 
 and gave me a look so kind, and almost grateful, that I forgot 
 every thing else in the world. A few moments afterwards a 
 friend of Lady Glanville's was announced, and I left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 Intus, ct in jecore aep;ro, 
 
 Nascuntur domini. — Peksius. 
 
 The next two or three days I spent in visiting all my male 
 friends in the Lower House, and engaging them to dine with 
 
 me, preparatory to the great act of voting on 's motion. I 
 
 led them myself to the House of Commons, and not feeling suf- 
 ficiently interested in the debate to remain, as a stranger, where 
 I ought, in my own opinion, to have acted as a performer, I 
 went to Brooke's to wait the resuU. Lord Gravelton, a stout, 
 bluff, six-foot nobleman, with a voice like a Stentor, was " blow- 
 ing up" the waiters in the coffee-room. Mr. , the author of 
 
 , was conning the Courier in a corner ; and Lord Armadil- 
 
 leros, the haughtiest and most honorable peer in the calendar,
 
 194 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 was monopolizing the drawing-room, with his right foot on one 
 hob and his left on the other. I sat myself down in silence, and 
 looked over the " crack article" in the Edinburgh. By and by, 
 the room got fuller ; every one spoke of the motion before the 
 House, and anticipated the merits of the speeches, and the num- 
 bers of the voters. 
 
 At last a principal member entered — a crowd gathered round 
 him. " I have heard," he said, " the most extraordinary speech, 
 for the combination of knowledge and imagination, that I ever 
 recollect to have listened to." 
 
 " From Gaskell, I suppose ? " was the miiversal cry. 
 
 " No," said Mr. , " Gaskell has not yet spoken. It was frouT 
 
 a young man who has only just taken his seat. It was received 
 with the most unanimous cheers, and was, indeed, a remarkable 
 display." 
 
 " What 's his name 1 " I asked, already half foreboding the 
 answer. 
 
 "I only just learnt it as I left the House," replied Mr. ; 
 
 " the speaker was Sir Reginald Glanville." 
 
 Then, every one of those whom I had often before heard cen^ 
 sure Glanville for his rudeness, or laugh at him for his eccentric- 
 ity, opened their mouths in congratulations to their own wisdom, 
 for having long admired his talents and predicted his success. 
 
 I left the " turba Remi seqiiens fortunatn ; " I felt agitated and 
 feverish ; those who have unexpectedly heard of the success of 
 a man for whom great affection is blended with greater interest, 
 can understand the restlessness of mind with which I wandered 
 into the streets. The air was cold and nipping. I was button- 
 ing my coat round my chest, when I heard a voice say, " You 
 have dropped your glove, Mr. Pelham." 
 
 The speaker was Thornton. I thanked him coldly for his civ- 
 ility, and was going on, when he said, " If your way is up Pall 
 Mall, I have no objection to join you for a few minutes." 
 
 I bowed with some hauteur ; but as I seldom refuse any oppor- 
 tunity of knowing more perfectly individual character, I said I 
 should be happy of his company so long as our way lay together, 
 
 " It is a cold night, Mr. Pelham," said Thornton, after a pause, 
 " I have been dining at Hatchett's, with an old Paris acquaint- 
 ance : I am sorry we did not meet more often in France, but I 
 was so taken up with my friend Mr. Warburton." 
 
 As Thornton uttered that name, he looked hard at me, and 
 then added, " By the by, I saw you with Sir Reginald Glanville 
 the other day ; you know him well, I presume ? " 
 
 " Tolerably well," said I, with indifference.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEA'TLEMAN. 195 
 
 " What a strange character he is," rejoined Thornton ; " /also 
 have known him for some years," and again Thornton looked 
 pryingly into my comitenance. Poor fool 1 it was not for a pene- 
 tration like his to read the cor inscrutabile of a man born and 
 bred like me, in the consummate dissimulation of bon ton. 
 
 " He is very rich, is he not ? " said Thornton, after a brief si 
 lence. 
 
 " I believe so," said I. 
 
 " Humph ! " answered Thornton. " Things have grown better 
 with him, in proportion as they grew worse with me, who have 
 had ' as good luck as the cow that stuck herself with her own 
 horn.' I suppose he is not too anxious to recollect me — 'pov- 
 erty parts fellowship.' Well, hang pride, say I ; give me an hon- 
 est heart all the year round, in summer or winter, drought or 
 plenty. Would to heaven some kind friend would lend me twenty 
 pounds ! " 
 
 To this wish I made no reply. Thornton sighed. 
 
 "Mr. Pelham," renewed he, "it is true I have known you 
 but a short time — excuse the liberty I take — but if you could 
 lend me a trifle, it would really assist me very much." 
 
 "Mr. Thornton," said I, "if I knew you better, and could 
 serve you more, you might apply to me for a more real assist- 
 ance than any bagatelle I could afford you would be. If twenty 
 pounds would really be of service to you, I will lend them to 
 you, upon this condition, that you never ask me for another 
 farthing." 
 
 Thornton's face brightened. " A thousand, thousand — " he 
 began. 
 
 " No," interrupted I, " no thanks, only your promise." 
 
 " Upon my honor," said Thornton, "I will never ask you for 
 another farthing." 
 
 " There is honor among thieves," thought I, and so'I took out 
 the sum mentioned, and gave it to him. In good earnest, 
 though I disliked the man, his threadbare garments and altered 
 appearance moved me to compassion. While he was pocketing 
 the money, which he did with tlie most unequivocal delight, a 
 tall figure passed us rapidly. We both turned at the same in- 
 stant, and recognized Glanville. He had not gone seven yards 
 beyond us, before we observed his steps, which were very irreg- 
 ular, pause suddenly ; a moment afterwards he fell against the 
 iron rails of an area ; we hastened towards him ; he was appar- 
 ently fainting. His countenance was perfectly livid, and 
 marked with the traces of extreme exhaustion. I sent Thorn-
 
 196 PELIIAM ; OR, 
 
 ton to the nearest public-house for some water ; before he re^ 
 turned, Granville had recovered. 
 
 " All — all — in vain," he said, slowly, and unconsciously, 
 " death is the only Lethe." 
 
 He started when he saw me. I made him lean on my arm, 
 and we walked on slowly. 
 
 " I have already heard of your speech," said I. Glanville 
 smiled with the usual faint and sicklied expression, which made 
 his smile painful even in its exceeding sweetness. 
 
 " You have also already seen its effects ; the excitement was 
 too much for me." 
 
 " It must have been a proud moment when you sat down," 
 said I. 
 
 " It was one of the bitterest I ever felt — it was fraught with 
 the memory of the dead. What are all honors to me now .'' — O 
 God ! O God ! have mercy upon me ! " 
 
 And Granville stopped suddenly, and put his hand to his 
 temples. 
 
 By this time Thornton had joined us. When Glanville's eyes 
 rested upon him, a deep hectic rose slowly and gradually over 
 his cheeks. Thornton's lip curled with a malicious expression. 
 Glanville marked it, and his brow grew on the moment as black 
 as night. 
 
 " Begone ! " he said in a loud voice, and with a flashing eye, 
 " begone instantly ; I loathe the very sight of so base a thing." 
 
 Thornton's quick, restless eye, grew like a living coal, and he 
 bit his lip so violently that the blood gushed out. He made, 
 however, no other answer than — 
 
 "You seem agitated to-night, Sir Reginald; I wish your 
 speedy restoration to better health. Mr. Pelham, your servant." 
 
 Glanville walked on in silence till we came to his door ; we 
 parted there ; and, for want of any thing, better to do, I saun- 
 tered towards the M Hell. There were only about ten or 
 
 twelve persons in the rooms, and all were gathered round the 
 hazard table — I looked on silently, seeing the knaves devour the 
 fools, and younger brothers make up in wit for the deficiencies 
 of fortune. 
 
 The Honorable Mr. Blagrave come up to me ; " Do you 
 never play ? " said he. 
 
 " Sometimes," was my brief reply. 
 
 " Lend me a hundred pounds ! " rejoined my kind acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " I was just going to make you the same request," said I. 
 
 Blagrave laughed heartily. " Well," said he, "be my secuj.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 197 
 
 ity to a Jew, and I'll be yours. My fellow lends me money at 
 
 only forty per cent. My governor is a d d stingy old fellow, 
 
 for I am the most moderate son in the universe. I neither 
 hunt nor race, nor have I any one favorite expense, except gamb- 
 ling, and he don't satisfy me in that — now I call such conduct 
 shameful ! " 
 
 " Unheard-of barbarity," said I ; " and you do well to ruin 
 your property by Jews, before you have it ; you could not avenge 
 yourself better on ' the governor.' " 
 
 " No, hang it," said Blagrave, " leave me alone for that ! 
 Well, I have got five pounds left, I shall go and slap it down." 
 
 No sooner had he left me than I was accosted by Mr. , a 
 
 handsome adventurer, who lived the devil knew how, for the 
 devil seemed to take excellent care of him. 
 
 " Poor Blagrave ! " said he, eyeing the countenance of that 
 ingenious youth. " He is a strange fellow — he asked me the 
 other day, if I ever read the History of England, and told me 
 there was a great deal in it about his ancestor, a Roman Gen- 
 eral, in the time of William the Conqueror, called Caractacus. 
 He told me at the last Newmarket, that he had made up a capi- 
 tal book, and it turned out that he had hedged with such dex- 
 terity, that he must lose one thousand pounds, and he inig/it\ose. 
 
 two. Well, well," continued , with a sanctified expression ; 
 
 " I would sooner see those real fools here, than the confounded 
 scoundrels, who pillage one under a false appearance. Never, 
 Mr. Pelham, trust to a man at a gaming-house ; the honestest 
 look hides the worst sharper ! Shall you try your luck to- 
 night ? " 
 
 " No," said I. " I shall only look on." 
 
 sauntered to the table, and sat down next to a rich young 
 
 man, of the best temper and the worst luck in the world. 
 
 After a few throws, said to him. " Lord , do put your 
 
 money aside — you have so much on the table, that it interferes 
 with mine — and that is really so unpleasant. Suppose you put 
 some of it in your pocket." 
 
 Lord took a handful of notes, and stuffed them care- 
 lessly in his coat-pocket. Five minutes afterwards I saw ^ 
 
 insert his hand, empty, in his neighbor's pocket, and bring it 
 out/u// — and half an hour afterwards he handed over a fifty 
 pound note to the marker, saying, " There, sir, is my debt to you. 
 
 God bless me. Lord , how you /ia7>e won ; I wish you would 
 
 not leave all your money about — do put it in your pocket with 
 the rest." 
 
 Lord (who had perceived the trick, though he was too in
 
 198 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 dolent to resist it) laughed. " No, no, ," said he, " you must 
 
 let me keep some .f'' 
 
 ■ colored, and soon after rose. " D — n my luck ! " said 
 
 he, as he passed me. " I wonder I continue to play — but there 
 are such sharpers in the room. Avoid a gaming-house, Mr, Pel- 
 ham, if you wish to live." 
 
 " And' let live," thought I. 
 
 I was just going away, when I heard a loud laugh on the 
 stairs, and immediately afterwards Thornton entered, joking with 
 one of the markers. He did not see me ; but approaching the 
 table, drew out the identical twenty pound note I had given him, 
 and asked for change with the air of a viillionaire. I did not 
 wait to witness his fortune, good or ill ; I cared too little about 
 it. I descended the stairs, and the servant, on opening the door 
 for me, admitted Sir John Tyrrell. " What," I thought, " is the 
 habit still so strong.? " We stopped each other, and after a few 
 words of greeting, I went, once more, up stairs with him. 
 
 Thornton was playing as eagerly with his small quota as Lord 
 
 C with his ten thousands. He nodded with an affected air 
 
 of familiarity to Tyrrell, who returned his salutation with the 
 most supercilious hauteur ; and very soon afterwards the bar- 
 onet was utterly engrossed by the chances of the game. I had, 
 however, satisfied my curiosity, in ascertaining that there was no 
 longer any intimacy between him and Thornton, and accord- 
 ingly once more I took my departure. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 -The times have been 
 
 That when the brains were out, the man would die, 
 And there an end — but now they rise again. — Macbeth. 
 
 It was a strange thing to see a man like Glanville, with costly 
 tastes, luxurious habits, great talents peculiarly calculated foi 
 display, courted by the highest members of the state, admired 
 for his beauty and genius by half the women in London, yet liv- 
 ing in the most ascetic seclusion from his kind, and indulging 
 in the darkest and most morbid despondency. No female was 
 ever seen to win even his momentary glance of admiration. All 
 the senses appeared to have lost, for him, their customary allure- 
 meats. He lived among his books, and seemed to make his fa- 
 vorite companions amidst the past. At nearly all hours of the 
 night he was awake and occupied, and at day-break his horse was
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 199 
 
 always brought to his door. He rode alone for several hours, and 
 then, on his return, he was employed till the hour he went to the 
 House, in the affairs and politics of the day. Ever since his de- 
 hut^ he had entered with much constancy into the more leading 
 debates, and his speeches were invariably of the same command- 
 ing order which had characterized his first. 
 
 It was singular that, in his parliamentary display, as in his 
 ordinary conversation, there were none of the wild and specula- 
 tive opinions, or the burning enthusiasm of romance, in which 
 the natural inclination of his mind seemed so essentially to de- 
 light. His arguments were always remarkable for the sound- 
 ness of the principles on which they were based, and the logical 
 clearness with which they were expressed. The feverish fervor 
 of his temperament was, it is true, occasionally shown in a re* 
 markable energy of delivery, or a sudden and unexpected burst 
 of the more impetuous powers of oratory ; but these were so ev- 
 idently natural and spontaneous, and so happily adapted to be 
 impressive of the subject, rather than irrelevant from its bear- 
 ings, that they never displeased even the oldest and coldest 
 cynics and calculators of the House. 
 
 It is no uncommon contradiction in human nature (and in 
 Glanville it seemed peculiarly prominent) to find men of imag- 
 ination and genius gifted with the strongest common sense, for 
 the admonition or benefit of others, even while constantly neg- 
 lecting (o exert it. for themselves. He was soon marked out as 
 the most promising and important of all the junior members of 
 the House ; and the coldness with which he kept aloof from 
 social intercourse with the party he adopted, only served to in- 
 crease their respect, though it prevented their affection. 
 
 Lady Roseville's attachment to him was scarcely a secret •, 
 the celebrity of her name in the world of ton made her least 
 look or action the constant subject of present remark and after 
 conversation ; and there were too many moments, even in the 
 watchful publicity of society, when that charming but impru- 
 dent person forgot everything but the romance of her attach- 
 ment. Glanville seemed not only perfectly untouched by it, but 
 even wholly unconscious of its existence, and preserved invaria- 
 bly, whenever he was forced into the crowd, the same stern, 
 cold, unsympathizing reserve, which made him, at once, an ob- 
 ject of universal conversation and dislike. 
 
 Three weeks after Glanville's first speech in the House, I 
 called upon him, with a proposal from Lord Dawton. After we 
 had discussed it, we spoke on more familiar topics, and, at last, 
 he mentioned Thornton. It will be observed that we had never
 
 2CX5 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 conversed respecting that person ; nor had Granville once allud- 
 ed to our former meetings, or to his disguised appearance and 
 false appellation at Paris. Whatever might be the mystery, it 
 was evidently of a painful nature, and it was not, therefore, for 
 me to allude to it. This day he spoke of Thornton with a tone 
 of indifference. 
 
 "The man," he said, " I have known for some time; he was 
 useful to me abroad, and, notwithstanding his character, I re- 
 warded him well for his services. He has since applied to me 
 several times for money, which is spent at the gambling-house 
 as soon as it is obtained. I believe him to be leagued with a 
 gang of sharpers of the lowest description ; and I am really un- 
 willing any farther to supply the vicious necessities of himself 
 and his comrades. He is a mean, mercenary rascal, who would 
 scruple at no enormity, provided he was paid for it ! " 
 
 Glanville paused for a few moments, and then added, while 
 his cheek blushed, and his voice seemed somewhat hesitating 
 and embarrassed — 
 
 " You remember Mr. Tyrrell, at Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes," said I — " he is, at present, in London, and — " Glan- 
 ville started as if he had been shot. 
 
 " No, no," he exclaimed wildly — " he died at Paris, from 
 want, — from starvation." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said I ; "he is now Sir John Tyrrell, 
 and possessed of considerable property. I saw him myself, 
 three weeks ago." 
 
 Glanville, laying his hand upon my arm, looked in my face 
 with a long, stern, prying gaze, and his cheek grew more ghastly 
 and livid with every moment. At last he turned, and muttered 
 something between his teeth ; and at that moment the door 
 opened, and Thornton was announced. Glanville sprang 
 towards him, and seized him by the throat ! 
 
 " Dog ! " he cried, "you have deceived me — Tyrrell lives ! " 
 
 " Hands off ! " cried the gamester, with a savage grin of de- 
 fiance — " Hands off ! or, by the Lord that made me, you shall 
 have gripe for gripe ! " 
 
 "Ho, wretch!" said Glanville, shaking him violently, while 
 his worn and slender, yet still powerful frame, trembled with 
 the excess of his passion ; " dost thou dare to threaten me ! " 
 and with these words he flung Thornton against the opposite 
 wall with such force, that the blood gushed out of his mouth and 
 nostrils. The gambler rose slowly, and wiping the blood from 
 his face, fixed his malignant and fiery eye upon his aggressor,
 
 . , ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. ■- 201 
 
 with an expression of collected hate and vengeance, that made 
 my very blood creep. 
 
 " It is not my day now," he said, with a calm, quiet, cold 
 voice, and then, suddenly changing his manner, he approached 
 me with a sort of bow, and made some remark on the weather. 
 
 Meanwhile, Glanville had sunk on the sofa exhausted, less by 
 his late effort than the convulsive passion which had produced 
 it. He rose in a few moments, and said to Thornton, " Pardon 
 my violence ; let this pay your bruises ; " and he placed a long 
 and apparently well-filled purse in Thornton's hand. That ver- 
 itable philosophe took it with the same air as a dog receives the 
 first caress from the hand which has just chastised him ; and 
 feeling the purse between his short, hard fingers, as if to ascertain 
 the soundness of its condition, quietly slid it into his breeches- 
 pocket, which he then buttoned with care, and pulling his waist- 
 coat down, as if for further protection to the deposit, he turned 
 towards Glanville, and said, in his usual quaint style of vulgarity— 
 
 " Least said. Sir Reginald, the soonest mended. Gold is a 
 good plaister for bad bruises. Now, then, your will : — ask 
 and I will answer unless you think Mr. Pelham — de tropT 
 
 I was already at the door, with the intention of leaving the 
 room, when Glanville cried, " Stay, Pelham, I have but one 
 question to ask Mr. Thornton. Is John Tyrrell still living?" 
 
 " He is ! " answered Thornton, with a sardonic smile. 
 
 " And beyond all want ? " resumed Glanville. 
 
 " He is ! " was the tautological reply. 
 
 " Mr. Thornton," said Glanville, with a calm voice, " I have 
 now done with you — you may leave the room ! " 
 
 Thornton bowed with an air of ironical respect, and obeyeo 
 the command. 
 
 I turned to look at Glanville. His countenance, always bet 
 ter adapted to a stern, than a soft expression, was perfectly 
 fearful : every line in it seemed dug into a furrow ; the brows 
 were bent over his large and flashing eyes with a painful inten- 
 sity of anger and resolve, his teeth were clenched firmly as if by 
 a vice, and the thin upper lip, which was drawn from them with 
 a bitter curl of scorn, was as white as death. His right hand 
 had closed upon the back of the chair, over which his tall ner- 
 vous frame leant, and was grasping it with an iron force, which 
 it could not support : it snapped beneath his hand like a hazel 
 stick. This accident, slight as it was, recalled him to himself. 
 He apologized with apparent self-possession for his disorder, 
 and, after a few words of fervent and affectionate farewell on 
 my iDart, 1 left him to the solitude which 1 knew he desired.
 
 202 
 
 PELHAM ; OR. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 While I seemed only intent upon pleasure, T locked in my heart the con- 
 sciousness and vanity of power ; in the levity of the lip, I disguised the 
 knowledge and the workings of the brain ; and I looked, as with a gifted 
 eye, upon the mysteries of the hidden depths, while I seemed to float an 
 idler with the herd only upon the surface of the stream. — Falkland. 
 
 As I walked home, revolving the scene I had witnessed, the 
 words of Tyrrell came into my recollection — viz. that the cause 
 of Glanville's dislike to him had arisen in Tyrrell's greater suc- 
 cess in some youthful liaison. In this account I could not see 
 much probability. In the first place, the cause was not suffi- 
 cient to produce such an effect ; and, in the second, there was 
 but little likelihood that the young and rich Glanville, possessed 
 of the most various accomplishments, and the most remarkable 
 personal beauty, should be supplanted by a needy spendthrift 
 (as Tyrrell at that time was), of coarse manners, and unpolished 
 mind ; with a person not, indeed, unprepossessing, but some 
 what touched by time, and never more comparable to Glanville's 
 than that of the Satyr to Hyperion. 
 
 While I was meditating over a mystery which excited my 
 curiosity more powerfully than anything, not relating to him- 
 self, ought ever to occupy the attention of a wise man, I was ac- 
 costed by Vincent : the difference in our politics had of late 
 much dissevered us, and when he took my arm, and drew me up 
 Bond-street, I was somewhat surprised at his condescension. 
 
 " Listen to me," he said ; " once more I offer you a settlement 
 in our colony. There will be great changes soon : trust me,_so 
 radical a party as that you have adopted can never come in : 
 ours, on the contrary, is no less moderate than liberal. This is 
 the last time of asking ; for I know you will soon have exposed 
 your opinions in public more openly than you have yet done, 
 and then it will be too late. At present, I hold, with Hudibras, 
 and the ancients, that it is — 
 
 * More honorable far, servare 
 Civem, than slay an adversary.' " 
 
 " Alas, Vincent," said I, " I am marked out for slaughter : 
 for you cannot convince me by words, and so, I suppose, you 
 must conquer me by blows. Adieu, this is my way to Lord 
 Dawton's : where are you going ? " 
 
 " To mount my horse, and join the J)ana juventus." said
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 203 
 
 Vincent, with a laugh at his own witticism, as we shook hands, 
 and parted. 
 
 I grieve much, my beloved reader, that I cannot unfold to 
 thee all the particulars of my political intrigue. I am, by the 
 very share which fell to my lot, bound over to the strictest 
 secrecy, as to its nature, and the characters of the chief agents 
 in its execution. Suffice it to say, that the greater part of my 
 time was, though furtively, employed in a sort of home diploma- 
 cy, gratifying alike to the activity of my tastes, and the vanity 
 of my mind. I had filled Dawton, and his coadjutors, with an 
 exaggerated opinion of my abilities ; but I knew well how to sus- 
 tain it. I rose by candle-light, and consumed, in the intensest 
 application, the hours which every other individual of our party 
 wasted in enervating slumbers, from the hesternal dissipation 
 or debauch. Was there a question in political economy 
 debated, mine was the readiest and the clearest reply. Did a 
 period in our constitution become investigated, it was I to whom 
 the duty of expositor was referred. From Madame d'Anville, 
 with whom (though lost as a lover) I constantly corresponded 
 as a friend, I obtained the earliest and most accurate detail of 
 the prospects and manoeuvres of the court in which her life was 
 spent, and in whose more secret offices her husband was em- 
 ployed. I spared no means of extending my knowledge of even 
 the minutest point which could add to the reputation I enjoyed. 
 I made myself acquainted with the individual interests and 
 exact circumstances of all whom it was our object to intimidate 
 or to gain. It was I who brought to the House the younger 
 and idler members, whom no more nominally powerful agent 
 could allure from the ball-room or the gaming-house. 
 
 In short, while, by the dignity of my birth, and the independ- 
 ent hauteur of my bearing, I pieserved the rank of an equal 
 amongst the highest of the set, I did not scruple to take upon 
 myself the labor and activity of the most subordinate. Dawton 
 declared me his right hand ; and though I knew myself rather 
 his head than his hand, I pretended Uj feel proud of the appel- 
 lation. 
 
 Meanwhile, it was my pleasure to wear in society the eccen- 
 tric costume of character I had first adopted, and to cultivate 
 the arts which won from women the smile that cheered and en- 
 couraged me in my graver contest with men. It was only to 
 Ellen Glanville that I laid aside an affectation, which, I knew, 
 was little likely to attract a taste so refined and unadulterated as 
 hers. I discovered in her a mind which, while it charmed me by 
 its tenderness and freshness, elevated me bv its loftiness of
 
 204 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 thought. She was, at heart, perhaps, as ambitious a?s myself ; 
 but while my aspirations were concealed by affectation, hers were 
 softened by her timidity, and purified by her religion. There 
 were moments when I opened myself to her, and caught a new 
 spirit from her look of sympathy and enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes," thought I, " I do long for honors, but it is that I may 
 ask her to share and ennoble them." In fine, I loved as other men 
 loved — and I fancied a perfection in her, and vowed an emula- 
 tion in myself, which it was reserved for Time to ratify or 
 deride. 
 
 Where did I leave myself ? as the Irishman said ; — on my road 
 to Lord Dawton's. I was lucky enough to find that personage 
 at home ; he was writing at a table covered with pamphlets and 
 books of reference. 
 
 " Hush ! Pelham," said his lordship, who is a quiet, grave, 
 meditative little man, always ruminating on a very small cud — 
 " hush ! or do oblige me by looking over this history, to find out 
 the date of the council of Pisa." 
 
 " That will do, my young friend," said his lordship, after I had 
 furnished him with the information he required — " I wish to 
 Heaven, I could finish this pamphlet by to-morrow : it is intended 
 
 as an answer to , But I am so perplexed with business 
 
 that " 
 
 "Perhaps," said I, "if you will pardon my interrupting you, 
 I can throw your observations together — make your Sibylline 
 leaves into a book. Your lordship will find the matter, and I 
 will not spare the trouble." 
 
 Lord Dawton was profuse in his thanks ; he explained the 
 subject, and left the arrangement wholly to me. He could not 
 presume to dictate. I promised him, if he lent me the neces- 
 sary books, to finish the pamphlet against the following even- 
 ing. 
 
 " And now," said Lord Dawton — " that we have settled this 
 
 affair — what news from France ? " — 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * # # * 
 
 " I wish," sighed Lord Dawton, as we were calculating our 
 forces, " that we could gain over Lord Guloseton." 
 
 " What, the facetious epicure 1 " said I. 
 
 " The same," answered Dawton : " we want him as a dinner- 
 giver ; and, besides, he has four votes in the Lower House." 
 
 "Well," said I, "he is indolent and independent — it is not 
 impossible." 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 #
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 205 
 
 " Do you know him ? " answered Dawton. 
 " No," said I. 
 
 Dawton sighed. — " And young A ? " said the statesman, 
 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Has an expensive mistress, and races. Your lordship might 
 be sure of him, were you in power, and sure not to have him 
 while you are out of it." 
 
 " And B. .'' " rejoined Dawton. 
 
 # # 4t= # * « # 
 
 ******* 
 
 ******
 
 PELHAM; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIIL 
 
 Mangez-vous bien, Monsieur ? 
 
 Oui, et bois encore mieux. — Alons. de Porceatignac. 
 
 My pamphlet took prodigiously. The authorship was attrib- 
 uted to one of the ablest members of the Opposition ; and 
 t?iough there were many errors in style, and (I now think — then 
 I did not, or I should not, have written them,) many 
 sophisms in the reasoning, yet it carried the end proposed 
 by all ambition of whatever species — and imposed upon the 
 taste of the public. 
 
 Some time afterwards, I was going down the stairs at Almack's 
 when I heard an altercation, high and grave, at the door of 
 reception. To my surprise, I found Lord Guloseton and a very 
 young man in great wrath ; the latter had never been to Almack's 
 before, and had forgotten his ticket. Guloseton, who belonged 
 to a very different set from that of the Almackians, insisted that 
 his word was enough to bear his juvenile companion through. 
 The ticket-inspector was irate and obdurate, and, having seldom 
 or never seen Lord Guloseton himself, paid very little respect to 
 his authority. 
 
 As I was wrapping myself in my cloak, Guloseton turned to 
 me, for passion makes men open their hearts : too eager for an 
 opportunity of acquiring the epicure's acquaintance,! offered to 
 get his friend admittance in an instant; the offer was delightedly 
 accepted, and I soon procured a small piece of pencilled paper 
 
 from Lady which effectually silenced the Charon, and 
 
 opened the Stygian via to the Elysium beyond. 
 
 Guloseton overwhelmed me with his thanks. I remounted 
 the stairs with him — took every opportunity of ingratiating jmy- 
 self — received an invitation to dinner on the following day, 
 and left Willis's transported at the goodness of my fortune.
 
 2o8 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 At the hour of eight on the ensuing evening, I had just made 
 my entrance in Lord Guloseton's drawing-room. It was a small 
 apartment, furnished with luxury and some taste. A Venus of 
 Titian's was placed over the chimney-piece, in all the gorgeous 
 voluptuousness of her unveiled beauty — the pouting lip, not 
 silent though shut — the elociuent lid drooping over the eye, whose 
 glances you could so easily imagine — the arms — the limbs — the 
 attitude, so composed, yet so full of life — all seemed to indicate 
 that sleep was not forgetfulness, and that the dreams of the 
 goddess were not wholly inharmonious with the waking realities 
 in which it was her gentle prerogative to indulge. On either 
 side, was a picture of the delicate and golden hues of Claude ; 
 these were the only landscapes in the room ; the remaining 
 pictures were more suitable to the Venus of the luxurious 
 Italian. Here was one of the beauties of Sir Peter Lely ; there 
 was an admirable copy of the Hero and Leander. On the table 
 lay the Basia of Johannes Secundus, and a few French works on 
 Gastronomy. 
 
 As for the genius loci — you must imagine a middle-sized, mid- 
 dle-aged man, with an air rather of delicate than florid health. 
 But little of the effects of his good cheer was apparent in the 
 external man. His cheeks was neither swollen nor inflated — 
 his person, though not thin, was of no unwieldy obesity — the 
 tip of his nasal organ was, it is true, of a more ruby tinge than 
 the rest, and one carbuncle, of tender age and gentle dyes, 
 diffused its mellow and moonlight influence over the physi- 
 ognomical scenery — his forehead was high and bald, and the 
 few locks which still rose above it, were carefully and gracefully 
 curled a Fantiqiie. Beneath a pair of grey shaggy brows, (which 
 their noble owner had a strange habit of raising and depressing, 
 according to the nature of his remarks,) rolled two very small 
 piercing, arch, restless orbs, of a tender green ; and the mouth, 
 which was wide and thick-lipped, was expressive of great 
 sensuality, and curved upwards in a perpetual smile. 
 
 Such was Lord Guloseton. To my surprise no other guest 
 but myself appeared. 
 
 " A new friend," said he, as we descended into the dining- 
 room, " is like a new dish — one must have him all to oneself, 
 thoroughly to enjoy and rightly to understand him." 
 
 " A noble precept," said I, with enthusiasm. " Of all vices, 
 indiscriminate hospitality is the most pernicious. It allows 
 neither conversation nor dinner, and, realizing the mythological 
 fable of Tantalus, gives us starvation in the midst of plenty." 
 You are right," said Guloseton, solemnly ; " I never ask 
 
 (<
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2og 
 
 above six persons to dinner, and I never dine out ; for a bad 
 dinner, Mr. Pelham, a bad dinner is a most serious — I may add, 
 the most serious calamit}%" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " for it carries with it no consolation : a 
 buried friend may be replaced — a lost mistress renewed — a 
 slandered character be recovered — even a broken constitution 
 restored ; but a dinner, once lost, is irremediable ; that day is 
 for ever departed ; an appetite once thrown away can never, till 
 the cruel prolixity of the gastric agents is over, be regained. 
 ' II y a taut dc mattresses,' (says the admirable Corneille,) ' il 7iy 
 a qiiun diner.' " 
 
 " You speak like an oracle — like the Cook's Oracle, Mr. Pel- 
 ham : may I send you some soup ? — it is a la Carmelite. But 
 what are you about to do with that case ? " 
 
 " It contains," said I, " my spoon, my knife, and my fork. 
 Nature afflicted me with a propensity, which, through these 
 machines, I have endeavored to remedy by art. I eat with too 
 great a rapidity. It is a most unhappy failing, for one often 
 hurries over in one minute, what ought to have afforded the 
 fullest delight for the period oifive. It is, indeed, a vice which 
 deadens enjoyment, as well as abbreviates it ; it is a shameful 
 waste of the gifts, and a melancholy perversion of the bounty 
 of Providence. My conscience tormented me ; but the habit, 
 fatally indulged in" early childhood, was not easy to overcome. 
 At last I resolved to construct a spoon of peculiarly shallow 
 dimensions, a fork so small, that it could only raise a certain 
 portion to my mouth, and a knife rendered blunt and jagged, so 
 that it required a proper and just time to carve the goods ' the 
 gods provide me.' My lord, ' the lovely Thais sits beside me ' 
 in the form of a bottle of Madeira. Suffer me to take wine with 
 you .? " 
 
 " With pleasure, my good friend ; let us drink to the memory 
 of the Carmelites, to whom we are indebted for this inimitable 
 soup." 
 
 " Yes ! " I cried. " Let us for once shake off the prejudices 
 of sectarian faith, and do justice to one order of those incom- 
 parable men, who, retiring from the cares of an idle and sinful 
 world, gave themselves with undivided zeal and attention to the 
 theory and practice of the profound science of gastronomy. It 
 is reserved for us to pay a grateful tribute of memory, to those 
 exalted recluses, who, through a long period of barbarism and 
 darkness preserved, in the solitude of their cloisters, whatever 
 of Roman luxury and classic dainties have come down to this 
 later age. We will drink to the Carmelites as a sect, but we
 
 210 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 will drink also to the monks as a body. Had we lived in those 
 days, we had been monks ourselves ! " 
 
 "It is singular," answered Lord Guloseton — "(by the by, 
 what do you think of this turbot ?) — to trace the history of the 
 kitchen ; it affords the greatest scope to the philosopher and 
 the moralist. The ancients seemed to have been more mental, 
 more imaginative, than we are, in their dishes ; they fed their 
 bodies as well as their minds upon delusion : for instance, they 
 esteemed beyond all price the tongues of nightingales, because 
 they tasted the very music of the birds in the organs of their utter- 
 ance. That is what I call the poetry of gastronomy ! " 
 
 "Yes," said I, with a sigh, "they certainly had, in some 
 respects, the advantage over us. Who can pore over the sup- 
 pers of Apicius without the fondest regret ? The venerable 
 Ude * implies, that the study has not progressed. ' Cookery 
 (he says, in the first part of his work) possesses but few inno- 
 vators.'" 
 
 " It is with the greatest diffidence," said Guloseton, (his 
 mouth full of truth and turbot,) " that we may dare to differ 
 from so great an authority. Indeed, so high is my veneration 
 for that wise man, that if all the evidence of my sense and 
 reason were on one side, and the dictum of the great Ude upon 
 the other, I should be inclined — I think, I should be determined 
 — to relinquish the former, and adopt the latter." t 
 
 " Bravo, Lord Guloseton," cried I warmly. " ' Qji'un Cuisi- 
 nier est tin mortel divin ! ' Why should we not be proud of our 
 knowledge in cookery ? it is the soul of festivity at all times, and 
 to all ages. How many marriages have been the consequence 
 of meeting at dinner "i How much good fortune has been the 
 result of a good supper ? At what moment of our existence are 
 we happier than at table ? There hatred and animosity are 
 lulled to sleep, and pleasure alone reigns. Here the cook, by 
 his skill and attention, anticipates our wishes in the happiest 
 selection of the best dishes and decorations. Here our wants 
 are satisfied, our minds and bodies invigorated, and ourselves 
 qualified for the high delights of love, music, poetry, dancing, 
 and other pleasures ; and is he, whose talents have produced 
 these happy effects, to rank no higher in the scale of man than 
 a common servant ? X 
 
 " ' Yes,' cries the venerable professor himself, in a virtuous 
 and prophetic paroxysm of indignant merit — ' yes, my disciples, 
 
 * Qu. The venerable Bede ? — Printrr' s De-iiil. 
 
 t See the speech of Mr. Brougham in honor of Mr. Fox. 
 
 X Ude, verbatim.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 211 
 
 if you adopt, and attend to the rules I have laid down, the self- 
 love of mankind will consent at last, that cookery shall rank in 
 the class of the sciences, and its professors deserve the name 
 of artists I '" * • 
 
 " My dear, dear Sir," exclaimed Guloseton, with a kindred 
 glow, " I discover in you a spirit similar to my own. Let us 
 drink long life to the venerable Ude ! " 
 
 " I pledge you with all my soul," said I, filling my glass to 
 the brim. 
 
 " What a pity," rejoined Guloseton, " that Ude, -whose, practi- 
 cal science was so perfect, should ever have written, or suffered 
 others to write, the work published under his name ! True it is 
 that the opening part, which you have so feelingly recited, is 
 composed with a grace, a charm beyond the reach of art ; but 
 the instructions are vapid and frequently so erroneous, as to 
 make us suspect their authenticity ; but, after all, cooking is 
 not capable of becoming a written science — it is the philosophy 
 of practice ! " 
 
 "Ah! by Lucullus," exclaimed I, interrupting my host, 
 *' what a visionary bechameUc ! Oh, the inimitable sauce ! these 
 chickens are indeed worthy of the honor of being dressed. 
 Never, my lord, as long as you live, eat a chicken in the coun- 
 try ; excuse a pun, you will have foul fare. 
 
 ' J'ai toujours redoute la volaille perfide, 
 Qui brave les efforts d'une dent intrepide. 
 Souvent, par un ami dans ses champs entraine. 
 J'ai reconmi le soir Ic coq infortime 
 Qui m'avait le matin a I'aurore naissante 
 Reveille hrusquement de sa voix glapissante ; 
 Je I'avais admire dans le sein de la cour ; 
 Avec des yeux jaloux, j'avais vu son amour. 
 HeJas! le'malhcureux, ahjurant sa tendresse, 
 Exercait au souper sa fureur vengresse.' t 
 
 Pardon the prolixity of the quotation for the sake of its value." 
 " I do, I do," answered Guloseton, laughing at the humor of 
 the lines : till, suddenly checking himself, he said, *' We must 
 
 * Ude, verbatim. 
 
 t Ever I dread (wtien duped a day to spend 
 At his snu^' villa, by some fatal friend) 
 (irim chanticleer, whose breast, devoid of ruth, 
 Braves the stout effort of the desperate tooth. 
 Oft have I recognized at eve, the bird 
 Whose morninfi notes my ear prophetic heard. 
 Whose tender courtship won my pain'd regard, 
 Amidst the plumed seraglio of the yard. 
 Tender no more— behold him in your plate — 
 And know, while eating, you avenge his fate.
 
 212 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 be grave, Mr. Pelham ■, it will never do to laugh. What would 
 become of our digestions ? " 
 
 " True," said I relapsing into seriousness ;" and if you will 
 allow me one more quotation, you will see what my author adds 
 with regard to any abrupt interruption. 
 
 ' Defendez que personne, au milieu d'un banquet 
 Ne vous Vienna donner un avis indiscret ; 
 Ecartex ce facheux qui vers vous s'achemine ; 
 Rien ne doit deranger I'honnete homnie qui dine.' " * 
 
 " Admirable advice," said Guloseton, toying with a filet mig- 
 non lie poulet. " Do you remember an example in the Bailly of 
 Suffren, who, being in India, was waited upon by a deputation 
 of natives while he was at dinner ? ' Tell them,' said he, ' that 
 the Christian religion peremptorily forbids every Christian, 
 while at table, to occupy himself with any earthly subject, 
 except the function of eating.' The deputation retired in the 
 profoundest respect at the exceeding clevotion of the French 
 general." 
 
 "Well," said I, after we had chuckled gravely and quietly, 
 with the care of our digestion before us, for a few minutes — 
 " well, however good the invention was, the idea is not entirely 
 new, for the Greeks esteemed eating and drinking plentifully, a 
 sort of offering to the gods ; and Aristotle explains the very 
 word, Soivai, or feasts, by an etymological exposition, ' that it 
 was thought a duty to the gods to be drunk ; ' no bad idea of our 
 classical patterns of antiquity. Polypheme, too, in the Cyclops 
 of Euripides, no doubt a very sound theologian, says, his stom- 
 ach is his only deity ; atid Xenophon tells us, that as the 
 Athenians exceeded all other people in the number of their 
 gods, so they exceeded them also in the number of their feasts. 
 May I send your lordship a quail ? " 
 
 " Pelham, my boy," said Guloseton, whose eyes began to roll 
 and twinkle with a brilliancy suited to the various liquids which 
 ministered to their rejoicing orbs ; " I love you for your clas- 
 sics. Polypheme was a wise fellow, a very wise fellow, and it 
 was a terrible shame in Ulysses to put out his eye ! No wonder 
 that the ingenious savage made a deity of his stomach ; to what 
 known visible source, on this earth, was he indebted for a 
 keener enjoyment — a more rapturous and a more constant 
 delight ? No wonder he honored it with his gratitude, and sup- 
 
 * At meals no access to the indiscreet ; 
 All are intruders on the wise who eat. 
 In that blest hour, your bore's the veriest sinner ! 
 Nought must disturb a man of worth — at dinner.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAr\r. 213 
 
 plied it witli his peace-offerings ; — let us imitate so great an 
 example : — let us make our digestive receptacles a temple, to 
 which we will consecrate the choicest goods we possess ; — let 
 us conceive no pecuniary sacrifice too great, which procures for 
 our altar an acceptable gift ; — let us deem it an impiety to hesi- 
 tate, if a sauce seems extravagant, or an ortolan too dear ; and 
 let our last act in this sublunary existence be a solemn festival 
 in honor of our unceasing benefactor ! " 
 
 " Amen to your creed ! " said I : " edibilatory Epicurism 
 holds the key to all morality : for do we not see now how sinful 
 it is to yield to an obscure and exaggerated intemperance ? — 
 would it not be to the last degree ungrateful to the high source 
 of our enjoyment, to overload it with a weight which would op- 
 press it with languor or harass it with pain ; and finally to 
 drench away the effects of our impiety with some nauseous po- 
 tation which revolts it, tortures it, convulses, irritates, enfeebles 
 it, through every particle of its system ? How wrong in us to 
 give way to anger, jealousy, revenge, or any evil passion ; for 
 does not all that affect the mind operate also upon the stomach ; 
 and how can we be so vicious, so obdurate, as to forget, for a 
 momentary indulgence, our debt to what you have so justly 
 designated our perpetual benefactor ? " 
 
 " Right," said Lord Guloseton, " a bumper to the Morality 
 of the Stomach." 
 
 The dessert was now on the table. " I have dined well," 
 said Guloseton, stretching out his legs with an air of supreme 
 satisfaction ; " but — " and here my philosopher sighed deeply 
 — " we cannot dine again till to-7nornnv I Happy, happy, happy 
 common people, who cannot eat supper ! Would to Heaven, 
 that I might have one boon — perpetual appetite — a digestive 
 Houri, which renewed its virginity every time it was touched. 
 Alas ! for the instability of human enjoyment. But now that 
 we have no immediate hope to anticipate, let us cultivate the 
 pleasures of memory. What thought you of the vcau a la 
 Danphinc ( " 
 
 " Pardon me if I hesitate at giving my opinion, till I have 
 corrected my judgment by yours." 
 
 " Why then, I own 1 was somewhat displeased — disap- 
 pointed as it were — with that dish ; the fact is, veal ought to be 
 killed in its very first infancy; they suffer it to grow to too 
 great an age. It becomes a sort of hobby-dchoy, and possesses 
 nothing of veal, but its insipidity, or of beef but its toughness." 
 
 "Yes " said I, "it is only in their veal, that the French sur- 
 pass us; tiieit other meats want the ruby juices and elastic
 
 214 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 freshness of ours. Monsieur L allowed this truth with a 
 
 candor worthy of his vast mind. Mon DIai ! what claret ! — 
 what a body ! — and, let me add, what a soul., beneath it ! Who 
 would drink wine like this .-' it it only made to taste. It is the 
 first love — too pure for the eagerness of enjoyment ; the rapture 
 it inspires is in a touch, a kiss. It is a pity, my lord, that we 
 do not serve perfumes at dessert ; it is their appropriate place. 
 In confectionary (delicate invention of Sylphs,) we imitate the 
 forms of the rose and the jasmine ; why not their odors too ? 
 What is nature without its scents ? — and as long as they are ab- 
 sent from our desserts, it is in vain that the bard exclaims — 
 
 ' L'observateur de la belle Nature 
 
 S'extasie en voyant des fleurs en confiture.' " 
 
 " It is an exquisite idea of yours," said Guloseton — " and the 
 next time you dine here we will have perfumes. Dinner ought 
 to be a reunion of all the senses — 
 
 ' Gladness to the ear, nerve, heart, and sense.' " 
 
 There was a momentary pause. " My lord," said I, "what a 
 lusty lusciousness in this pear ! it is like the style of the old 
 English poets. What think you of the seeming good under- 
 standing between Mr. Gaskell and the Whigs ? " 
 
 " I trouble myself little about it," replied Guloseton, helping 
 himself to some preserves — " politics disturb the digestion," 
 
 " Well," thought I, " I must ascertain some point in this 
 man's character easier to handle than his epicurism ; all men 
 are vain : let us find out the peculiar vanity of mine host." 
 
 " The ultra-Tories," said I, " seem to think themselves exceed^ 
 ingly secure ; they attach no importance to the neutral mem- 
 bers ; it was but the other day Lord told me that he did 
 
 not care a straw for Mr. , notwithstanding he possessed 
 
 four votes. Heard you ever such arrogance .'' " 
 
 " No, ineeed," said Guloseton, with a lazy air of indifference 
 — " are you a favorer of the olive ? " 
 
 " No," said I, " I love it not ; it hath an under taste of sour- 
 ness, and an upper of oil, which do not make harmony to my 
 palate. But, as I was saying, the Whigs, on the contrary, pay 
 the utmost deference to their partisans ; and a man of fortune, 
 rank, and parliamentary influence, might have all the power, 
 without the trouble, of a leader." 
 
 " Very likely," said Guloseton, drowsily.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 215 
 
 ** I must change my battery," thought I ; but while I was 
 meditating a new attack, the following note was brought me : 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Pelham, come out to me : I am waiting 
 in the street to see you ; come directly, or it will be too late to 
 render me the service I would ask of you. 
 
 " R. Glanville." 
 
 I rose instantly. " You must excuse me, Lord Guloseton, I 
 am called suddenly away." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed the gourmand ; " some tempting viand 
 — -post prandia CaUirhoe I " 
 
 " My good lord," said I, not heeding his insinuation — " I 
 leave you with the greatest regret." 
 
 " And I part from you with the same ; it is a real pleasure to 
 see such a person at dinner." 
 
 " Adieu ! my host — '_/£? vais vivre et manger en sage. ' " 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 I do defy him, and I spit at him, 
 
 Call him a slanderous coward and a villain — 
 
 Which to maintain I will allow him odds. — Shakspeare. 
 
 I FOUND Glanville walking before the door with a rapid and 
 uneven step. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " he said, when he saw me ; " I have been 
 twice to Mivart's to find you. The second time, I saw your 
 servant, who told me where you were gone. I knew you well 
 enough to be sure of your kindness." 
 
 Glanville broke off abruptly ; and after a short pause, said, 
 with a quick, low, hurried tone — " The office I wish you to take 
 upon yourself is this: — go immediately to Sir John Tyrrell, with 
 a challenge from me. Ever since I last saw you, I have been 
 hunting out that man, and in vain. He had then left town. 
 He returned this evening, and quits it to-morrow : you have no 
 time to lose." 
 
 " My dear Glanville," said I, " I have no wish to learn any 
 secret you would conceal from me ; but forgive me if I ask 
 some further instructions than those you have afforded me. 
 Upon what plea am I to call out Sir John Tyrrell 1 and what 
 answer am I to give to any excuses he may make ? " 
 
 " I have anticipated your reply," said Glanville, with ill-sub-
 
 2i6 PELHAM; OR, \ 
 
 dued impatience ; " you have only to give this paper : it will 
 prevent all discussion. Read it ; I have left it unsealed for 
 that purpose." 
 
 I cast my eyes over the lines Glanville thrust into my hand ; 
 they ran thus : 
 
 " The time has at length come for me to demand the atone- 
 ment so long delayed. The bearer of this, who is, probably, 
 known to you, will arrange, with any person you may appoint, 
 the hour and place of our meeting. He is unacquainted with 
 the grounds of my complaint against you, but he is satisfied of 
 my honor : your second will, I presume, be the same with re- 
 spect to yours. It is for me only to question the latter, and to 
 declare you solemnly to be void alike of principle and courage, 
 a villain and a poltroon, Reginald Glanville." 
 
 *' You are my earliest friend," said I, when I had read this 
 soothing epistle ; " and I will not flinch from the place you 
 assign me : but I tell you fairly and frankly, that I would sooner 
 cut olT my right hand than suffer it to give this note to Sir 
 John Tyrrell." 
 
 Glanville made no answer ; we walked on, till suddenly 
 stopping, he said, " My carriage is at the corner of the street ; 
 you must go instantly ; Tyrrell lodges at the Clarendon ; you 
 will find me at home on your return." 
 
 I pressed his hand, and hurried on my mission. It was, I 
 own, one peculiarly unwelcome and displeasing. In the first 
 place, I did not like to be made a party in a business of the 
 nature of which I was so profoundly ignorant. Secondly, if 
 the affair terminated fatally, the world would not lightly con- 
 demn me for conveying to a gentleman of birth and fortune, a 
 letter so insulting, and for causes of which I was so ignorant. 
 Again, too, Glanville was more dear to me than any one, judg- 
 ing only of my external character, would suppose ; and, con- 
 stitutionally indifferent as I am' to danger for myself, I trembled 
 like a woman at the peril I was instrumental in bringing upon 
 him. But what weighed upon me far more than any of these 
 reflections, was the recollection of Ellen. Should her brother 
 fall in an engagement in which I was his supposed adviser, 
 with what success could I hope for those feelings from her, 
 which, at present, constituted the tenderest and the brightest 
 of my hopes ? In the midst of these disagreeable ideas, the 
 carriage stopped at the door of Tyrrell's hotel. 
 
 The waiter said Sir John was in the cofTee-room ; thither I
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 217 
 
 immediately marched. Seated in the box nearest the fire sat 
 Tyrrell, and two men of that old-fashioned r^«/ set, whose mem- 
 bers indulged in debauchery, as if it were an attribute of manli- 
 ness, and esteemed it, as long as it were hearty and English, 
 rather a virtue to boast of, than a vice to disown. Tyrrell nod- 
 ded to me familiarly as I approached him ; and I saw, by the 
 half-emptied bottles before him, and the flush of his sallow 
 countenance, that he had not been sparing of his libations. I 
 whispered that 1 wished to speak to him on a subject of great 
 importance ; he rose with much reluctance, and, after swallow- 
 ing a large tumbler-full of port wine to fortify him for the task, 
 he led the way to a small room, where he seated himself, and 
 asked me, with his usual mixture of bluntness and good-breed- 
 ing, the nature of my business. I made him no reply : I con- 
 tented myself with placing Glanville's billet doux in his hand. 
 The room w'as dimly lighted with a single candle, and the 
 small and capricious fire, near which the gambler was seated, 
 threw its upwai-d light, by starts and intervals, over the strong 
 features and deep lines of his countenance. It would have 
 been a study worthy of Rembrandt. 
 
 I drew my chair near him, and half shading my eyes with my 
 hand, sat down in silence to mark the effect the letter would 
 produce. Tyrrell (I imagine) was a man originally of hardy 
 nerves, and had been thrown much into the various situations of 
 life where the disguise of all outward emotion is easily and in- 
 sensibly taught ; but whether his frame had been shattered by 
 his excesses, or that the insulting language of the note touched 
 him to the quick, he seemed perfectly unable to govern his feel- 
 ings ; the lines were written hastily, and the light, as I said be- 
 fore, was faint and imperfect, and he was forced to pause over 
 each word as he proceeded, so that " the iron " had full time to 
 *' enter into his soul." 
 
 Passion, however, developed itself less impetuously in him 
 than in Glanville : in the latter, it was a rapid transition of pow- 
 erful feelings, one angry wave dashing over another; it was the 
 passion of a strong and keenly susceptible mind, to which every 
 sting was a dagger, and which used the force of a giant to dash 
 away the insect which attacked it. In Tyrrell, it was a passion 
 acting on a callous mind but a broken frame — his hand trem- 
 bled violently — his voice faltered — he could scarcely command 
 the muscles which enabled him to speak ; but tliere was no 
 fiery start — no indignant burst — no flashing forth of the soul : — 
 in him, it was the body overcoming and paralyzing the mind ; 
 in Glanville, it was the mind governing and convulsing the body.
 
 2iS PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Mr. Pelham," he said at last, after a few preliminary efforts 
 to clear his voice, " this note requires some consideration. I 
 know not at present whom to appoint as my second — will you 
 call upon me early to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I am sorry," said I, " that my sole instructions were to get 
 an immediate answer from you. Surely either of the gentlemen 
 I saw with you would officiate as your second .-* " 
 
 Tyrrell made no reply for some moments. He was endeav- 
 oring to compose himself, and in some measure he succeeded. 
 He raised his head with a haughty air of defiance, and tearing 
 the paper deliberately, though still with uncertain and trembling 
 fingers, he stamped his foot upon the atoms. 
 
 "Tell your principal," said he, "that I retort upon him the 
 foul and false words he uttered against me ; that I trample upon 
 his aspersions with the same scorn I feel towards himself ; and 
 that before this hour to-morrow I will confront him to death as 
 through life. For the rest, Mr. Pelham, I cannot name my 
 second till the morning ; leave me your address, and you shall 
 hear from me before you are stirring. Have you anything fur- 
 ther with me 1 " 
 
 " Nothing," said I, laying my card on the table. " I have ful- 
 filled the most ungrateful charge ever intrusted to me. I wish 
 you good night." 
 
 I re-entered the carriage, and drove to Glanville's. I broke 
 into the room rather abruptly ; Glanville was leaning on the ta- 
 ble, and gazing intently on a small miniature. A pistol-case lay 
 beside him : one of the pistols in order for use, and the other 
 still unarranged ; the room was, as usual, covered with books 
 and papers, and on the costly cushions of the ottoman lay the 
 large, black dog, which I remembered well as his companion of 
 yore, and which he kept with him constantly, as the only thing 
 in the world whose society he could at all times bear : the ani- 
 mal lay curled up, with its quick, black eye fixed watchfully 
 upon its master, and directly I entered, it uttered, though with- 
 out moving, a low, warning growl. 
 
 Glanville looked up, and in some confusion thrust the picture 
 into a drawer of the table, and asked me my news. I told him 
 word for word what had passed. Granville set his teeth, and 
 clenched his hand firmly ; and then, as if his anger was at once 
 appeased, he suddenly changed the subject and tone of our con- 
 versation. He spoke with great cheerfulness and humor on 
 the various topics of the day ; touched upon politics ; laughed 
 at Lord Guloseton, and seemed as indifferent and unconscious
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 219 
 
 of the event of the morrow as my peculiar constitution would 
 have rendered myself. 
 
 When I rose to depart, for I had too great an interest in him 
 to feel much for the subjects he conversed on, he said, " I shall 
 write one line to my mother, and another to my poor sister ; you 
 will deliver them if I fall, for I have sworn that one of us shall 
 not quit the ground alive. I shall be all impatience to know the 
 hour you will arrange with Tyrrell's second. God bless you, 
 and farewell for the present." 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 Charge, Chester, charge! — Marmion. 
 
 Though this was one of the first mercantile transactions of my life, I had 
 no doubt about acquitting myself with reputation. 
 
 Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 The next morning I was at breakfast, when a packet was 
 brought me from Tyrrell ; it contained a sealed letter to Glan- 
 ville, and a brief note to myself. The letter I transcribe : — 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " The enclosed letter to Sir Reginald Glanville will explain 
 my reasons for not keeping my pledge : suffice it to state to you, 
 that they are such as wholly to exonerate me, and fairly to sat- 
 isfy Sir Reginald. It will be useless to call upon me ; I leave 
 town before you will receive this. Respect for myself obliges me 
 to add that, although there are circumstances to forbid my meet- 
 ing Sir Reginald Glanville, there are none to prevent my de- 
 manding satisfaction of any one, whoever he fnay h\ who shall 
 deem himself authorized to call my motives into question. 
 
 " I have the honor, etc., 
 
 "John Tyrrell." 
 
 It was not till I had thrice read this letter that I could credit 
 its contents. From all I had seen of Tyrrell's character, I had 
 no reason to suspect him to be less courageous than the general- 
 ity of worldly men. And yet, when I considered the violent 
 language of Glanville's letter, and Tyrrell's apparent resolution 
 the night before, I scarcely knew to what more honorable motive 
 than the want of courage to attribute his conduct. However, I 
 lost no time in despatching the whole packet to Glanville, with 
 a few lines from myself, saying I would call in an hour.
 
 220 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 When I fulfilled this promise, Glanville's servant told me his 
 master had gone out immediately on reading the letters I had 
 sent, and had merely left word that he should Aot return home 
 the whole day. That night he was to have brought an impor- 
 tant motion before the House. A message from him, pleading 
 sudden and alarming illness, devolved this duty upon another 
 tnember of his party. Lord Dawton was in despair ; the motion 
 was lost by a great majority ; the papers, the whole of that week, 
 were filled with the most triumphant abuse and ridicule of the 
 Whigs. Never was that unhappy and persecuted party reduced 
 to so low an ebb : never did there seem a fainter probability of 
 their coming into power. They appeared almost annihilated — a 
 mere notninis umbra. 
 
 On the eighth day from Glanville's disappearance, a sudden 
 event in the cabinet threw the whole country into confusion ; 
 the Tories trembled to the very soles of their easy slippers of 
 sinecure and office ; the eyes of the public were turned to the 
 Whigs ; and chance seemed to effect in an instant that change in 
 their favor which all their toil, trouble, eloquence, and art, had 
 been unable for so many years to render even a remote proba- 
 bility. 
 
 But there was a strong though secret party in the state that 
 concealed under a general name, worked only for a private end, 
 and made a progress in number and respectability, not the less 
 sure for being but little suspected. Foremost among the leaders 
 of this party was Lord Vincent. Dawton, who regarded them 
 with fear and jealousy, considered the struggle rather between 
 them and himself, than any longer between himself and the To- 
 ries ; and strove, while it was yet time, to reinforce himself by a 
 body of allies, which, should the contest really take place, might 
 be certain of giving him the superiority. The Marquis of Ches- 
 ter was among the most powerful of the neutral noblemen : it 
 was of the greatest importance to gain hin to the cause. He 
 was a sturdy, sporting, independent man, who lived chiefly in 
 the country, and turned his ambition rather towards promoting 
 the excellence of quadrupeds, than the bad passions of men. 
 To this personage Lord Dawton implored me to be the bearer oi 
 a letter, and to aid, with all the dexterity in my power, the pur- 
 pose it was intended to effect. It was the most consequential 
 mission yet intrusted to me, and I felt eager to turn my diplo' 
 matic energies to so good an account. Accordingly, one bright 
 morning I wrapped myself carefully in my cloak, placed my in' 
 valuable person safely in my carriage, and set off to Chester 
 Park, in the county of Suffolk.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 221 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 Hinc canibus blandis rabies venit. — Virgil, Georg. 
 
 I SHOULD have mentioned, that the day after I sent to Glan- 
 ville Tyrrell's communication, I received a short and hurried note 
 from the former, saying, that he had left London in pursuit of 
 Tyrrell, and that he would not rest till he had brought him to 
 account. In the hurry of the public events in which I had been 
 of late so actively engaged, my mind had not had leisure to dwell 
 much upon Glanville ; but when I was alone in my carriage, 
 that singular being, and the mystery which attended him forced 
 themselves upon my reflection, in spite of all the importance of 
 my mission. 
 
 I was leaning back in my carriage, at (I think) Ware, while 
 they were changing horses, when a voice, strongly associated 
 with my meditations, struck upon my ear. I looked out, and saw 
 Thornton standing in the yard, attired with all his original smart- 
 ness of boot and breeches : he was employed in smoking a ci- 
 gar, sipping brandy and water, and exercising his conversational 
 talents in a mixture of slang and jockeyism, addressed to two or 
 three men of his own rank of life, and seemingly his compan- 
 ions. His brisk eye soon discovered me, and he swaggered to 
 the carriage door with that ineffable assurance of manner which 
 was so peculiarly his own. 
 
 "Ah, ah, Mr. Pelham," said he, "going to Newmarket, I sup- 
 pose .'' bound there myself — like to be found among my betters. 
 Ha, ha — excuse a pun : what odds on the favorite ? What, you 
 won't bet, Mr. Pelham? close and sly at present ; wgW, the silent 
 sow sups up all the broth — eh ! — " 
 
 "I'm not going to Newmarket," I replied: "I never attend 
 races." 
 
 "Indeed!" answered Thornton. "Well, if I was as rich as 
 you, I would soon make or spend a fortune on the course. 
 Seen Sir John Tyrrell .'' No ! He is to be there. Nothing can 
 cure him of gnmbling — what's bred in the bone, etc. Good day, 
 Mr. Pelham — won't keep you any longer — sharp shower coming 
 on. ' The devil will soon be basting his wife with a leg of mut- 
 ton,' as the proverb says : — servant, Mr. Pelham." 
 
 And at these words my post-boy started, and released me from 
 my bete noire. I spare my reader an account of my miscellane- 
 ous reflections on Thornton, Dawton, Vincent, politics, Glan-
 
 222 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 ville, and Ellen, and will land him, without further delay, ai; 
 Cliester Park. 
 
 I was ushered through a large oak hall of the reign of James 
 the First, into a room strongly resembling the principal apart- 
 ment of a club ; two or three round tables were covered with 
 newspapers, journals, racing calendars, etc. An enormous fire- 
 place was crowded with men of all ages, I had almost said, of all 
 ranks ; but, however various they might appear in their mien 
 and attire, they were wholly of the patrician order. One thing, 
 however, in this room, belied it likeness to the apartment of a 
 club, viz., a number of dogs, that lay in scattered groups upon 
 the floor. Before the windows were several horses, in body- 
 cloths, led to exercise upon a plain in the park, levelled as 
 smooth as a bowling-green at Putney ; and, stationed at an oriel 
 window, in earnest attention of the scene without, were two 
 men ; the tallest of these was Lord Chester. There was a stiff- 
 ness and inelegance in his address which prepossessed me 
 strongly against him. "Zifj" manieres que Von neglige comme de 
 petites choses, sont souvent ce qui fait que les hommcs decident de vous 
 en Men ou en mal.'''' * 
 
 I had long since, when I was at the University, been intro- 
 duced to Lord Chester ; but I had quite forgotten his person, 
 and he the very circumstance. I said in a low tone, that I was 
 the bearer of a letter of importance from our mutual friend, Lord 
 Dawton, and that I should request the honor of a private inter- 
 view at Lord Chester's first convenience. 
 
 His lordship bowed, with an odd mixture of the civility of a 
 jockey and the hauteur of a head groom of the stud, and led the 
 way to a small apartment, which I afterwards discovered he 
 called his own. (I never could make out, by the way, why, in 
 England, the very worst room in the house is always appropri- 
 ated to the master of it, and dignified by the appellation of 
 "the gentleman's own.") I gave the Newmarket grandee the 
 letter intended for him, and quietly seating myself, awaited the 
 result. 
 
 He read it through slowly and silently, and then, taking out a 
 huge pocket-book, full of racing bets, horses' ages, jockey opin- 
 ions, and such like memoranda, he placed it with much solemnity 
 among this dignified company, and said, with a cold, but would- 
 be courteous air, " My friend, Lord Uawton, says you are entirely 
 in his confidence, Mr. Pelham. I hope you will honor me with 
 your company at Chester Park for two or three days, during 
 
 * "The manners which one neglects as trifles, are often precisely that by which men 
 decide on you favorably or the reverse."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 223 
 
 which time I shall have leisure to reply to Lord Dawton's letter. 
 Will you take some refreshment ? " 
 
 I answered the first sentence in the affirmative, and the latter in 
 the negative ; and Lord Chester, thinking it perfectly unnecessary 
 to trouble himself with any further questions or remarks, which 
 the whole jockey club might not hear, took me back into the 
 room we had quitted, and left me to find, or make, whatever 
 acquaintance I could. Pampered and spoiled as I was in the 
 most difficult circles of London, I was beyond measure indig- 
 nant at the cavalier demeanor of this rustic thane, who, despite 
 his marquisate and his acres, was not less below me in the aristoc- 
 racy of ancient birth, than in that of cultivated intellect. I 
 looked round the room, and did not recognize a being of my 
 acquaintance : I seemed literally thrown into a new world : the 
 very language in which the conversation was held, sounded strange 
 to my ear. I had always transgressed my general rule of know- 
 ing all men in all grades, in the single respect of sporting 
 (haractcrs : they were a species of bipeds that I would never 
 recognize as belonging to the human race. Alas ! I now found 
 the bitter effects of not following my usual maxims. It is a 
 dangerous thing to encourage too great a disdain of one's 
 inferiors : pride must have a fall. 
 
 After I had been a whole quarter of an hour in this strange 
 place, my better genius came to my aid. Since I found no 
 society among the two-legged brutes, I turned to the quadrupeds. 
 At one corner of the room lay a black terrier of the true 
 English breed ; at another was a short, sturdy, wiry one, of the 
 Scotch. I soon formed a friendship with each of these canine 
 Felei, (little bodies with great souls), and then by degrees allur- 
 ing them from their retreat to the centre of the room, I fairly 
 endeavored to set them by the ears. Thanks to the national 
 antipathy, I succeeded to my heart's content. The contest 
 soon aroused the other individuals of the genus — up the}- started 
 from their repose, like Roderic Dliu's merry men, and inconti- 
 nently flocked to the scene of battle. The example became 
 contagious. In a very few moments, the whole room was a scene 
 of uproarious confusion ; the beasts yelled, and bit, and struggled 
 with the most delectable ferocity. To add to the effect, the 
 various owners of the dogs crowded round — some to stimulate, 
 others to appease the fury of the combatants. At length, the 
 confiict was assuaged. By dint of blows, and kicks, and remon- 
 strances from tlieir dignified proprietors, the dogs slowly with- 
 drew, one with the loss of half an ear, another with a month 
 increased by one-half of its natural dimexisions, and. in slv.iri.
 
 224 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 every one of the combatants with some token of the severity of 
 the conflict. I did not wait for the thunder-storm I foresaw in 
 the inquiry as to the origin of the war : I rose with a nonchalant 
 yawn of ennui, marched out of the apartment, called a servant, 
 demanded my own room, repaired to it, and immersed the inter- 
 nal faculties of my head in Mignet's History of the Revolution, 
 while Bedos busied himself in its outward embellishment. 
 
 CHAPTER LXn. 
 
 -Noster ludos, spectaverat una, 
 
 Luserat in campo, Fortunae filius, omnes. — HoR. 
 
 I DID not leave my room till the first dinner-bell had ceased 
 a sufficient time to allow me the pleasing hope that I should 
 have but a few moments to wait in the drawing-room, previously 
 to the grand epoch and ceremony of an European day. The 
 manner most natural to me, is one rather open and easy ; but I 
 pique myself peculiarly upon a certain (though occasional) air 
 which keeps impertinence aloof. This day I assumed a double 
 quantum of dignity, in entering a room which I well knew would 
 not be filled with my admirers; there were a few women around 
 Lady Chester, and, as I always feel reassured by a sight of the 
 dear sex, I walked towards them. 
 
 Judge of my delight, when I discovered, amongst the group, 
 Lady Harriet Garrett. It is true that I had no particular pre- 
 dilection for that lady ; but the sight of a negress I had seen 
 before, I should have hailed with rapture in so desolate and 
 inhospitable a place. If my pleasure at seeing Lady Harriet 
 was great, her's seemed equally so at receiving my salutation. 
 She asked me if I knew Lady Chester — and on my negative 
 reply, immediately introduced me to that personage. I now 
 found myself quite at home ; my spirits rose, and I exerted 
 every nerve to be as charming as possible. — In youth, to en- 
 deavor is to succeed. 
 
 I gave a most animated account of the canine battle, inter- 
 spersed with various sarcasms on the owners of the combatants, 
 which were by no means ill-received either by the marchioness 
 or her companions ; and, in fact, when the dinner was announced, 
 they all rose in a mirth sufficiently unrestrained to be anything 
 but patrician : for my part, I offered my arm to Lady Harriet, 
 and paid her as many compliments on crossing the suite that
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 225 
 
 led to the dining-room, as would have turned a much wiser head 
 than her ladyship's. 
 
 The dinner went off agreeably enough, as long as the women 
 stayed, but the moment they quitted the room, I experienced 
 exactly the same feeling known unto a mother's darling, left 
 for the first time at that strange, cold, comfortless place — 
 ycleped a school. 
 
 I was not, however, in a mood to suffer my flowers of oratory 
 to blush unseen. Besides, it was absolutely necessary that I 
 should make a better impression upon my host. I leant, 
 therefore, across the table, and listened eagerly to the various 
 conversations afloat : at last I perceived on the opposite side 
 Sir Lionel Garret, a personage whom I had not before even in- 
 quired after, or thought of. He was busily and noisily em- 
 ployed in discussing the gamelaws. Thank Heaven, thought I, 
 I shall be on firm ground there. The general interest of the 
 subject, and the loudness with which it was debated, soon drew 
 all the scattered conversation into one focus. 
 
 " What ! '' said Sir Lionel, in a high voice, to a modest 
 shrinking youth, probably from Cambridge, who had supported 
 the liberal side of the question — " what ! are our interests to be 
 never consulted ? Are we to have our only amusement taken 
 away from us ? What do you imagine brings country gentlemen 
 to their seats ? Do you not know, sir, the vast importance our 
 residence at our country houses is to the nation ? Destroy the 
 game-laws, and you destroy our very existence as a people ! " 
 
 " Now," thought I, "it is my time." "Sir Lionel," said I, 
 speaking almost from one end of the table to the other, " I 
 perfectly agree with your sentiments ; I am entirely of opinion, 
 first, that it is absolutely necessary for the safety of the nation 
 that game should be preserved ; secondly, that if you take away 
 game you take country gentlemen : no two propositions can be 
 clearer than these ; but I do differ from you with respect to the 
 intended alterations. Let us put wholly out the question, the 
 interests of the poor people, or of society at large : those are 
 minor matters, not worthy of a moment's consideration ; let us 
 only see how far our interests as sportsmen will be affected. I 
 think by a very few words I can clearly prove to you, that the 
 proposed alterations will make us much better off than we are 
 at present." 
 
 1 then entered shortly, yet fully enough, into the nature of 
 
 the laws as they now stood, and as they were intended to be 
 
 changed. I first spoke of the two great disadvantages of the 
 
 present system to country gentlemen ; viz., in the number of 
 
 ic
 
 226 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 poachers, and the expense of preserving. Observing that I was 
 generally and attentively listened to, I dwelt upon these two 
 points with much pathetic energy ; and having paused till I had 
 got Sir Lionel and one or two of his supporters to confess that 
 it would be highly desirable that these defects should if possible, 
 be remedied, I proceeded to show how, and in what manner it 
 was possible. I argued, that to effect this possibility was the 
 exact object of the alterations suggested ; 1 anticipated the ob- 
 jections ; I answered them in the form of propositions as clearly 
 and concisely stated as possible ; and as I spoke with great 
 civility and conciliation, and put aside every appearance of care 
 for any human being in the world who was not possessed of a 
 qualification, I perceived at the conclusion of my harangue that 
 I had made a very favorable impression. That evening com- 
 pleted my triumph : for Lady Chester and Lady Harriet made 
 so good a story of my adventure with the dogs, that the matter 
 passed off as a famous joke, and I was soon considered by the 
 whole knot as a devilish amusing, good-natured, sensible fellow. 
 So true is it that there is no situation which a little tact cannot 
 turn to our own account : manage yourself well, and you may 
 manage all the world. 
 
 As for Lord Chester, I soon won his heart by a few feats of 
 horsemanship, and a few extempore inventions respecting the 
 sagacity of dogs. Three days after my arrival, we became insep- 
 arable ; and I made such good use of my time, that in two more, 
 he spoke to me of his friendship for Dawton, and his wish for a 
 dukedom. These motives it was easy enough to unite, and at 
 last he promised me that his answer to my principal should be 
 as acquiescent as I could desire ; the morning after this promise 
 commenced the great day at Newmarket. 
 
 Our whole party were of course bound to the race-ground, and 
 with great reluctance I was pressed into the service. We were 
 not many miles distant from the course, and Lord Chester 
 mounted me on one of his horses. Our shortest way lay through 
 rather an intricate series of cross roads : and as I was very lit- 
 tle interested in the conversation of companions, I paid more 
 attention to the scenery we passed, than is my customary wont : 
 for I study Nature rather in men than fields, and find no land- 
 scape afford such variety to the eye, and subject to the contem- 
 plation, as the inequalities of the human heart. 
 
 But there were to be fearful circumstances hereafter, to stamp 
 forcibly upon my remembrance some traces of the scenery which 
 now courted and arrested my view. The chief characteristics of 
 the country were broad, dreary plains, diversified at times by dart'
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 227 
 
 plantations of fir and larch ; the road was rough and ston}^, and 
 here and there a melancholy rivulet, swelled by the first rains of 
 spring, crossed our path, and lost itself in the rank weeds of 
 some inhospitable marsh. 
 
 About six miles from Chester Park, to the left of the road, 
 stood an old house with a new face ; the brown, time-honored 
 bricks which composed the fabric, were strongly contrasted by 
 large Venetian windows newly inserted in frames of most osten- 
 tatious white. A smart, green veranda, scarcely finished, ran 
 along the low portico, and formed the termination to two thin 
 rows of meagre and dwarfish sycamores, which did duty for an 
 avenue, and were bounded on the road side by a spruce white 
 gate, and a sprucer lodge, so moderate in its dimensions, that it 
 would scarcely have boiled a turnip ! — if a rat had got into it, he 
 might have run away with it ! The ground was dug in various 
 places, as if for the purpose of further improvements, and here and 
 there a sickly little tree was carefully hurled round, and seemed 
 pining its puny heart out at the confinement. 
 
 In spite of all these well-judged and well-thriving graces of 
 art, there was such a comfortless and desolate appearance about 
 the place, that it quite froze one to look at it ; to be sure, a damp 
 marsh on one side, and the skeleton rafters and beams of an 
 old stable on the other, backed by a few dull and sulky-looking 
 fir-trees, might in some measure create, or at least considerably 
 add to, the indescribable cheerfulness of the tout etisemblc. \\niile 
 I was curiously surveying the various parts of this northern "Z>/- 
 lices,'" and marvelling at the choice of two crows who were slowly 
 walking over the unwholesome ground, instead of making all 
 possible use of the black wings Avith which Providence had gifted 
 them, I perceived two men on horseback wind round from the 
 back part of the building, and proceed in a brisk trot down the 
 avenue. We had not advanced many paces before they over- 
 took us ; the foremost of ihem turned round as he passed me ; 
 and pulling up his horse abruptly, discovered to my dismayed 
 view the features of Mr. Thornton. Nothing abashed by the 
 slightness of my bow, or the grave stares of my lordly compan- 
 ions, who never forgot the dignity of my birth, in spite of the 
 vulgarity of their tastes, Thornton instantly and familiarly ac- 
 costed me. 
 
 "Told you so, Mr. Pelham — silent sow, etc. — Sure I should 
 have the pleasure of seeing you, though you kept it so snug. 
 Well, will you bet now ? No ! — Ah, you're a sly one. Stay- 
 ing here at that niee-Iookini!; house — belongs to Dawson, an old 
 friend of mine — shall be happy to introduce you 1 "
 
 228 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Sir," said I, abruptly, " yon are too good. Permit me to re- 
 quest that you will rejoin your friend Mr. Dawson," 
 
 " Oh," said the imperturbable Thornton, " it does not signify ; 
 he won't be affronted at my lagging a little. However," (and 
 here he caught my eye, which was assuming a sternness that 
 perhaps little pleased him,) " however, as it gets late, and my 
 mare is none of the best, I'll wish you good morning." With 
 these words Thornton put spurs to his horse and trotted off. 
 
 " Who the devil have you got there, Pelham ? " said Lord 
 Chester. 
 
 " A person," said I, " who picked me up at Paris, and insists 
 on the right of ' treasure trove ' to claim me in England. But 
 will you let me ask, in my turn, whom that cheerful mansion we 
 have just left, belongs to .-• " 
 
 "To a Mr. Dawson, whose father was a gentleman farmer who 
 bred horses, a very respectable person, — fen- 1 made one or two ex- 
 cellent bargains with him. The son was always on the turf and 
 contracted the worst of its habits. He bears buta very indiffer- 
 ent character, and will probably become a complete blackleg. 
 He married, a short time since, a woman of some fortune, and 
 I suppose it is her taste which has so altered and modernized 
 his house. Come, gentlemen, we are on even ground — shall 
 we trot ? " 
 
 We proceeded but a few yards before we were again stopped 
 by a precipitous ascent, and as Lord Chester was then earnest- 
 ly engaged in praising his horse to one of the cavalcade, I had 
 time to remark the spot. At the foot of the hill we were about 
 slowly to ascend, was a broad, unenclosed patch of waste land ; 
 a heron, flapping its enormous wings as it rose, directed my at- 
 tention to a pool overgrown with rushes, and half-sheltered on 
 one side by a decayed tree, which, if one might judge from the 
 breadth and hollowness of its trunk, had been a refuge to the 
 wild bird, and a shelter to the wild cattle, at a time when such 
 were the only intruders upon its hospitality ; and when the coun- 
 try, for miles and leagues round, was honored by as little of 
 man's care and cultivation as was at present the rank waste 
 which still nourished the gnarled and venerable roots of that 
 single tree. There was something remarkably singular and gro- 
 tesque in the shape and sinuosity of its naked and spectral 
 branches ; two of exceeding length stretched themselves forth, 
 in the very semblance of arms held out in the attitude of sup- 
 plication ; and the bend of the trunk over the desolate pond, the 
 form of the hoary and blasted summit, and the hollow trunk half 
 riven asunder in the shape of limbs, seemed to favor the gigan-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 229 
 
 tic deception. You miglit have imagined it an antediluvian 
 transformation, or a daughter of the Titan race, preserving, in 
 her metamorphosis, her attitude of entreaty to the merciless 
 Olympian. 
 
 This was the only tree visible ; for a turn of the road, and the 
 unevenness of the ground, completely veiled the house we had 
 passed, and the few low firs and sycamores which made its only 
 plantations. The sullen pool — its ghost-like guardian — the 
 dreary heath around, the rude features of the country beyond, 
 and the apparent absence of all human habitation, conspired to 
 make a scene of the most dispiriting and striking desolation. I 
 know not how to account for it, but, as I gazed around in silence, 
 the whole place appeared to grow over my mind, as one which I 
 had seen, though dimly and drearily, as in a dream, before ; and 
 a nameless and unaccountable presentiment of fear and evil 
 sank like ice into my heart. We ascended the hill, and, the rest 
 of the road being of a kind better adapted to expedition, we 
 mended our pace and soon arrived at the goal of our journey. 
 
 The race-ground had its customary complement of knaves and 
 fools — the dupers and the duped. Poor Lady Chester, who had 
 proceeded to the ground by the high road (for the way we had 
 chosen was inaccessible to those who ride in chariots, and whose 
 charioteers are set up in high places,) was driving to and fro, 
 the very picture of cold and discomfort ; and the few solitary 
 carriages which honored the course, looked as miserable as if 
 they were witnessing the funeral of their owners' persons, rather 
 than the peril of their characters and purses. 
 
 As we rode along the betting-post. Sir John Tyrrell passed us : 
 Lord Chester accosted him familiarly, and the baronet joined us. 
 He had been a votary of the turf in his younger days, and he 
 still preserved all his ancient predilection in its favor. 
 
 It seemed that Chester had not met him for many years, and 
 after a short and characteristic conversation of " God bless me, 
 how long since I saw you ! — good horse you're on ; — look thin ; 
 — admirable condition ; — what have you been doing ? — grand 
 action; — a'n't we behindhand? — famous fore-hand; — recollect 
 old Queensbury i* — hot in the mouth ; — gone to the devil ; — 
 what are the odds ? " Lord Chester asked Tyrrell to go home 
 with us. The invitation was readily accepted. 
 
 "With impotence of will 
 We wheel, thmiph ghastly shadows interpose 
 Round us, and r(jund each olher." * 
 
 * Shelley.
 
 230 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 Now, then, arose the noise, the clatter, the swearing, the 
 lying, the perjury, the cheating, the crowd, the bustle, the hurry, 
 the rush, the heat, the ardor, the impatience, the hope, the ter- 
 ror, the rapture, the agony of the race. The instant the first 
 heat was over, one asked me one thing, one bellowed another ; 
 I fled to Lord Chester : he did not heed me. I took refuge 
 with the marchioness ; she was as sullen as an east wind could 
 make her. Lady Harriet would talk of nothing but the horses : 
 Sir Lionel would not talk at all. I was in the lowest pit of 
 despondency, and the devils that kept me there were as blue as 
 Lady Chester's nose. Silent, sad, sorrowful, and sulky, I rode 
 away from the crowd, and moralized on its vicious propensities. 
 One grows marvellously honest when the species of cheating 
 before us is not suited to one's self. Fortunatelv, my better 
 angel reminded me, that about the distance of three miles from 
 the course lived an old college friend, blessed, since we had 
 met, with a parsonage and a wife. I knew his tastes too well 
 to imagine that any allurement of an equestrian nature could 
 have seduced him from the ease of his library and the dignity 
 of his books ; and hoping, therefore, that I should find him at 
 home, turned my horse's head in an opposite direction, and, 
 rejoiced at the idea of my escape, bade adieu to the course. 
 
 As I cantered across the far end of the heath, my horse 
 started from an object upon the ground ; it was a man wrapped 
 from head to foot in a long horseman's cloak and so well 
 guarded as to the face, from the raw inclemency of the day, 
 that I could not catch even a glimpse of the features, through 
 the hat and neck-shawl which concealed them. The head was 
 turned, with apparent anxiety, toward the distant throng ; and 
 imagining the man belonging to the lower orders, with whom I 
 am always familiar, I addressed to him, en passant, some trifling 
 remark on the event of the race. He made no answer. There 
 was something about him which induced me to look back sev- 
 eral moments after I had left him behind. He had not moved 
 an inch. There is such a certain uncomfortableness always 
 occasioned to the mind by stillness and mystery united, that 
 even the disguising garb, and motionless silence of the man, 
 innocent as I thought they must have been, impressed them- 
 selves disagreeably on my meditations as I rode briskly on. 
 
 It is my maxim never to be unpleasantly employed, even in 
 thought, if I can help it ; accordingly I changed the course of 
 my reflection, and amused myself with wondering how matri- 
 mony and clerical dignity sat on the indolent shoulders of my 
 old acquaintance.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 231 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 And as for me, tho' I can but lite 
 
 On bookes for me to read, I me delight. 
 
 And to hem give I faith and full credence, 
 
 And in mine heart have hem in reverence, 
 
 So heartily that there is game none, 
 
 That fro' my bookes maketh me to gone. — Chaucer. 
 
 Christopher Clutterbuck was a common individual of a 
 common order, but little known in this busy and toiling world. 
 I cannot flatter myself that I am about to present to your notice 
 that rara avis, a new character — yet there is something interest- 
 ing, and even unhackneyed, in the retired and simple class to 
 which he belongs : and before I proceed to a darker period of 
 my memoirs, I feel a calm and tranquillizing pleasure in the rest 
 which a brief and imperfect delineation of my college compan- 
 ion affords me. My friend came up to the University with the 
 learning which one about to quit the world might, with credit, 
 have boasted of possessing, and the simplicity which one about 
 to enter it would have been ashamed to confess. Quiet and shy, 
 in his habits and his manners, he was never seen out of the 
 precincts of his apartments, except in obedience to the stated 
 calls of dinner, lectures, and chapel. Then his small and 
 stooping form might be marked, crossing the quadrangle with a 
 hurried step, and cautiously avoiding the smallest blade of the 
 barren grass-plots, which are forbidden ground to the feet of all 
 the lower orders of the collegiate oligarchy. Many were the 
 smiles and the jeers, from the worse natured and better 
 appointed students, who loitered idly along the court, at the 
 rude garb and saturnine appearance of the humble under- 
 graduate ; and the calm countenance of the grave, but amiable 
 man, who then bore the honor and onus of mathematical 
 lecturer at our college, would soften into a glance of mingled 
 approbation and pity, as he noted the eagerness which spoke 
 from the wan cheek and emaciated frame of the ablest of his 
 pupils, hurrying — after each legitimate interruption — to the en- 
 joyment of the crabbed characters and worm-worn volumes, 
 which contained for him all the seductions of pleasure, and all 
 the temptations of youth. 
 
 It is a melancholy thing, which none but those educated at a 
 college can understand, to see the debilitated frames of the 
 aspirants for academical honors ; to mark the prime — the ver- 
 dure — the glory — the life — of life wasted irrevocably away in a
 
 -3= PELHAM; OR, 
 
 labor ineptianim, which brings no harvest either to others or 
 themselves. For the poet, the philosopher, the man of science, 
 we can appreciate the recompense if we commiserate the sacri- 
 fice ; from the darkness of their retreat there goes a light — from 
 the silence of their studies there issues a voice, — to illumine or 
 convince. We can imagine them looking from their privations 
 to the far visions of the future, and hugging to their hearts, in 
 the strength of no unnatural vanity, the reward which their 
 labors are certain hereafter to obtain. To those who can an- 
 ticipate the vast dominions of immortality among men, what 
 boots the sterility of cabined and petty present i But the mere 
 man of languages and learning — the machine of a memory 
 heavily but unprofitably employed — the Columbus wasting at 
 the galley oar the energies which should have discovered a 
 world — for him there is no day-dream of the future, no grasp at 
 the immortality of fame. Beyond the walls of his narrow room 
 he knows no object ; beyond the elucidation of a dead tongue 
 he indulges no ambition ; his life is one long school-day of lexi- 
 cons and grammars — a Fabric of Ice, cautiously excluded from 
 a single sunbeam — elaborately useless, ingeniously unprofitable; 
 and leaving, at the moment it melts away, not a single trace of 
 the space it occupied, or the labor it cost. 
 
 At the time I went to the University, my poor collegian had 
 attained all the honors his employment could ever procure him. 
 Yit had been a Pitt scholar ; he was a senior wrangler, and a Fellow 
 of his college. It often happened that I found myself next to 
 him at dinner, and I was struck by his abstinence, and pleased 
 with his modesty, despite the gaucherie of his manner, and the 
 fashion of his garb. By degrees I insinuated myself into his 
 acquaintance ; and as I had always some love of scholastic 
 lore, I. took frequent opportunities of conversing with him upon 
 Horace, and consulting him upon Lucian. 
 
 Many a dim twilight have we sat together, reviving each 
 other's recollection, and occasionally relaxing into the grave 
 amusement of capping verses. Then, if by any chance my inge- 
 nuity or memory enabled me to puzzle my companion, his good 
 temper would lose itself in a quaint pettishness, or he would 
 hurl against me some line of Aristophanes, and ask me, with a 
 raised voice, and arched brow, to give him a fitting answer to 
 that. But if, as was much more frequently the case, he fairly 
 ran me down into a pause and confession of inability, he would 
 rub his hands with a strange chuckle, and offer me, in the bounteous- 
 ness of his heart, to read aloud a Greek Ode of his own, while he 
 treated me " to a dish of tea." There was much in the sfood
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 233 
 
 man's innocence, and guilelessness of soul, which made me love 
 him, and I did not rest till I had procured him, before I left the 
 University, the living which he now held. Since then, he mar- 
 ried the daughter of a neighboring clergyman, an event of which 
 he had duly informed me ; but, though this great step in the life 
 of " a reading man " had not taken place many months since, I 
 had completely, after a hearty wish for his domestic happiness, 
 consigned it to a dormant place in my recollection. 
 
 The house which I now began to approach was small, but 
 comfortable ; perhaps there was something melancholy in the 
 old-fashioned hedges, cut and trimmed with mathematical pre- 
 cision, which surrounded the glebe, as well as in the heavy archi- 
 tecture and dingy bricks of the reverend recluse's habitation. 
 To make amends for this, there was also something peculiarly 
 still and placid about the appearance of the house, which must 
 have suited well the tastes and habits of the owner. A small, 
 formal lawn was adorned with a square fish-pond, bricked round, 
 and covered with the green weepings of four willows, which 
 drooped over it from their station at each corner. At the oppo- 
 site side of their Pierian reservoir, was a hermitage, or arbor of 
 laurels, shaped in the stiff rusticity of the Dutch school, in the 
 prevalence of which it was probably planted ; behind this arbor, 
 the ground, after a slight railing, terminated in an orchard. 
 
 The sound I elicited from the gate bell seemed to ring through 
 that retired place with singular shrillness ; and I observed at the 
 opposite window, all that bustle of drawing curtains, peeping 
 faces, and hasty retreats, which denote female anxiety and per- 
 plexity, at the unexpected approach of a stranger. 
 
 After some time the parson's single servant, a middle-aged, 
 slovenly man, in a loose frock, and grey kerseymere nondescripts, 
 opened the gate, and informed me that his master was at home. 
 With a few earnest admonitions to my admitter — who was, like 
 the domestics of many richer men, both groom and valet — re- 
 specting the safety of my borrowed horse, I entered the house : 
 the servant did not think -it necessary to inquire my name, but 
 threw open the door of the study, with the brief introduction of 
 — " A gentleman, sir." 
 
 Clutterbuck was standing, with his back towards me, upon a 
 pair of library steps, turning over some dusky volumes ; and be- 
 low stood a pale, cadaverous youth, with a set and serious 
 countenance, that bore no small likeness to Clutterbuck him- 
 self. 
 
 " Mon Dieii" thought I, " he cannot have made such good use 
 of his matrimonial state as to have raised this lanky impression
 
 234 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 of himself in the space of seven months!" The good man 
 turned round, and ahnost fell off the steps with the nervous 
 shock of beholding me so near him ; he descended with precipita- 
 tion, and shook me so warmly and tightly by the hand, that he 
 brought tears into my eyes, as well as his own. 
 
 "Gently, my good friend," said I — ^^ pane, precor, or you will 
 force me to say, ' ibimus iind, ambo,flentes valido connexifoedere.' " 
 
 Clutterbuck's eyes watered still more, when he heard the grate- 
 ful sounds of what to him was the mother tongue. He surveyed 
 me from head to foot with an air of benign and fatherly com- 
 placency, and dragging forth from its sullen rest a large arm- 
 chair, on whose cushions of rusty horse-hair sat an eternal cloud 
 of classic dust, too sacred to be disturbed, he pliwiped me down 
 upon it, before I was aware of the cruel hospitality. 
 
 " Oh ! my nether garments," thought I. " Quantiis stidor 
 inerit Bedoso, to restore you to your pristine purity ! " 
 
 " But whence come you ? " said my host, who cherished rather 
 a formal and antiquated method of speech. 
 
 " From the Pythian games," said I ; " the campus hight New- 
 market. Do I see right, or is not your insignis juvenis marvel- 
 lously like you ? Of a surety he rivals the Titans, if he is only a 
 seven months' child ! " 
 
 "Now, truly, my worthy friend," answered Clutterbuck, "you 
 indulge in jesting ! The boy is my nephew, a goodly child, and 
 pains-taking I hope he will thrive at our gentle mother. He 
 goes to Trinity next October. Benjamin Jeremiah, my lad, this 
 is my worthy friend and benefactor, of whom I have often spoken ; 
 go, and order him of our best — he will partake of our repast ! " 
 
 " No, really," I began ; but Clutterbuck gently placed the 
 hand, whose strength of affection 1 had already so forcibly ex- 
 perienced, upon my mouth, " Pardon me, my friend," said he. 
 " No stranger should depart till he had broken bread with us ; 
 how much more than a friend ! Go, Benjamin Jeremiah, and 
 tell your aunt that Mr. Pelham will dine with us ; and order, 
 furthermore, that the barrel of oysters sent unto us as a present, 
 by my worthy friend Dr. Swallow'em, be dressed in the fashion 
 that seemeth best ; they are a classic dainty, and we shall think 
 of our great masters the ancients while we devour them. And 
 — stop, Benjamin Jeremiah, see that we have the wine with the 
 black seal ; and — now — go, Benjamin Jeremiah ! " 
 
 " Well, my old friend," said I, when the door closed upon the 
 sallow and smileless nephew, " how do you love the connubial 
 yoke ? Do you give the same advice as Socrates ? I hope, at 
 least, it is not from the same experience."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 235 
 
 "Hem!" answered the grave Christopher, in a tone that 
 struck me as somewhat nervous and uneasy, " you are become 
 quite a humorist since we parted. I suppose you have been 
 warming your wit by the lambent fires of Horace and Aristoph- 
 anes ! " 
 
 " No," said I, " the hving allow those whose toilsome lot is 
 to mix constantly wilh them, but little time to study the monu- 
 ments of the dead. But, in sober earnest, are you as happy as 
 I wish you .'' " 
 
 Clutterbuck looked down for a moment, and then, turning 
 towards the table, laid one hand upon a manuscript, and pointed 
 with the other to his books. "With this society," said he, 
 " how can I be otherwise ? " 
 
 I gave him no reply, but put my hand upon his manuscript. 
 He made a modest and coy effort to detain it, but I knew that 
 writers were like women, and making use of no displeasing 
 force, I possessed myself of the paper. 
 
 It was a treatise on the Greek participle. My heart sickened 
 within me ; but, as I caught the eager glance of the poor author, 
 I brightened up my countenance into an expression of pleasure, 
 and appeared to read and comment upon the difficilcs nugcB with 
 an interest commensurate to his own. Meanwhile the youth 
 returned. He had much of that delicacy of sentiment which 
 always accompanies mental cultivation, of whatever sort it may 
 be. He went, with a scarlet blush over his thin face, to his 
 uncle, and whispered something in his ear, which, from the an- 
 gry embarrassment it appeared to occasion, I was at no loss to 
 divine. 
 
 " Come," said I, " we are too long acquainted for ceremony. 
 Yowx placcns uxor, like all ladies in the same predicament, thinks 
 your invitation a little unadvised ; and, in real earnest, I have 
 so long a ride to perform, that I would rather eat your oysters 
 another day ! " 
 
 " No, no," said Clutterbuck, with greater eagerness than his 
 even temperament was often hurried into betraying — "no, I will 
 go and reason with her myself. ' Wives, obey your husbands,' 
 saith the preacher ! " And the quondam senior wrangler al- 
 most upset his chair in the perturbation with which he arose 
 ixQxw it. 
 
 I laid my hand upon him. "Let me go myself," said I, 
 " since you will have me dine with you. ' The sex is ever to a 
 stranger kind,' and I shall probably be more persuasive than you, 
 in despite of your legitimate authority." 
 
 So saying, I left the room, with a curiosity more painful than
 
 236 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 pleasing, to see the collegian's wife. I arrested the man-servant, 
 and ordered him to usher and announce me, 
 
 I was led instanter into the apartment where I had discovered 
 all the signs of female inquisitiveness, which I have before de- 
 tailed. There I discovered a small woman, in a robe equally slat- 
 ternly and fine, with a sharp pointed nose, small, cold, grey eyes, and 
 a complexion high towards the cheek-bones, but waxing of a 
 light green before it reached the wide and querulous mouth, 
 which, well I ween, seldom opened to smile upon the unfortunate 
 possessor of her charms. She, like the Rev. Christopher, was 
 not without her companions ; a tall meagre woman, of advanced 
 age, and a girl, some years younger than herself, were introduced 
 to me as her mother and sister. 
 
 My entri occasioned no little confusion, but I know well how 
 to remedy that. I held out my hand so cordially to the wife, 
 that I enticed, though with evident reluctance, two bony fingers 
 into my own, which I did not dismiss without a most mollifying 
 and affectionate squeeze ; and drawing my chair close towards 
 her, began conversing as familiarly as if I had known the whole 
 triad for years. I declared my joy at seeing my old friend so 
 happily settled — commented on the improvement of his looks — 
 ventured a sly joke at the good effects of matrimony — praised a 
 cat couchant, worked in worsted by the venerable hand of the 
 eldest matron — offered to procure her a real cat of the true 
 Persian breed, black ears four inches long, with a tail like a 
 squirrel's ; and then slid, all at once, into the unauthorized 
 invitation of the good man of the house. 
 
 " Clutterbuck," said I, " has asked me very warmly to stay 
 dinner ; but, before I accepted his offer, I insisted upon coming 
 to see how far it was confirmed by you. Gentlemen, you are 
 aware, my dear Madame, know nothing of these matters, and I 
 never accept a married man's invitation till it has the sanction 
 of his lady ; I have an example of that at home. My mother 
 (Lady Frances) is the best-tempered woman in the world : but 
 my father could no more take the liberty (for I may truly call it 
 such) to ask even his oldest friend to dinner, without consulting 
 the mistress of the house, than he could think of flying. No one 
 (says my mother, and she says what is very true), can tell about 
 the household affairs, but those who have the management of 
 them ; and in pursuance of this aphorism, I dare not accept any 
 invitation in this house, except from its mistress." 
 
 " Really," said Mrs. Clutterbuck, coloring, with mingled em- 
 barrassment and gratification, " you are very considerate and 
 polite, Mr. Pelham •. I only wish Mr. Clutterbuck paid half youi
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. zvj 
 
 attention to these things ; nobody can tell the trouble and incon' 
 venience he puts me to. If I Aa^/ known, a little time before, 
 that you were coming — but now I fear v.'e have nothing in th.: 
 house ; but if you can partake of our fare, such as it is, Mr. 
 Pelham— " 
 
 "Your kindness enchants me," I exclaimed, " and I no longer 
 scruple to confess the pleasure I have in accepting my old 
 friend's offer." 
 
 This affair being settled, I continued to converse for some 
 minutes with as much vivacity as I could summon to my aid, 
 and when I went once more to the library, it was with the com- 
 fortable impression of having left those as friends, whom I had 
 visited as foes. 
 
 The dinner hour was four, and, till it came, Clutterbuck and I 
 amused ourselves " in commune wise and sage." There was 
 something high in the sentiments and generous in the feelings 
 of this man, which made me the more regret the bias of mind 
 which rendered them so unavailing. At college he had never 
 (i//is dissimills in nostro tempore natis /) cringed to the possessors 
 of clerical power. In the duties of his station as dean of the 
 college, he was equally strict to the black cap and the lordly hat. 
 Nay, when one of his private pupils, whose father was possessed 
 of more church preferment than any nobleman in the peerage, 
 disobeyed his repeated summons, and constantly neglected to 
 attend his instructions, he sent for him, resigned his tuition, and 
 refused any longer to accept a salary which the negligence of 
 his pupil would not allow him to requite. In his clerical tenets 
 he was high : in his judgment of others he was mild. His 
 knowledge of the liberty of Greece was not drawn from the igno- 
 rant historian of her Republics ; * nor did he find in the con- 
 templative mildness and gentle philosophy of the ancients, 
 nothing but a sanction for modern bigotry and existing aliuses. 
 
 It was a remarkable trait in his conversation, that though he 
 imdulged in many references to the old authors, and allusions 
 to classic customs, he never deviated into the innumerable quo- 
 tations with which his memory was stored. No words, in spite 
 of all the quaintness and antiquity of his dialect, purely Latin 
 or Greek, ever escaped his lips, except in our engagements at 
 capping verses, or when he was allured into accepting a chal 
 lenge of learning from some of its pretenders ; then, indeed, he 
 could pour forth such a torrent of authorities as effectually si- 
 
 * It is really a disprace to our University, that any of its colleges should accept as a 
 reference, or even tolerate as an author, the presumptuous bigot who has bequeathed 
 to us, in his History of Greece, the masterpiece of a declaimcr without energy, and of 
 a pedant without learning.
 
 238 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 lenced his opponent ; but these contests were rarely entered in- 
 to, and these triumphs moderately indulged. Yet he loved the 
 use of quotations in others, and I knew the greatest pleasure I 
 could give him was in the frequent use of them. Perhaps he 
 thought it would seem like an empty parade of learning in one 
 who so confessedly possessed it, to deal in the strange words of 
 another tongue, and consequently rejected them, while, with an 
 innocent inconsistency, characteristic of the man, it never oc- 
 curred to him that there was any thing, either in the quaintness 
 of his dialect or the occupations of his leisure, which might sub- 
 ject him to the same imputation of pedantry. 
 
 And yet, at times, when he warmed in his subject, there was 
 a tone in his language as well as sentiment, which might not be 
 improperly termed eloquent ; and the real modesty and quiet 
 enthusiasm of his nature, took away, from the impression he 
 made, the feeling of pomposity and affectation with which other- 
 wise he might have inspired you. 
 
 " You have a calm and quiet habitation here," said I ; "the 
 very rooks seem to have something lulling in that venerable caw 
 which it always does me such good to hear." 
 
 " Yes," answered Clutterbuck, *' I own that there is much 
 that is grateful to the temper of my mind in this retired spot. 
 I fancy that I can the better give myself up to the contempla- 
 tion which makes, as it were, my mtellectual element and food. 
 And yet I dare say that in this (as in all other things) I do 
 strongly err ; for I remember that during my only sojourn in 
 London, I was wont to feel the sound of wheels and of the 
 throng of steps shake the windows of my lodging in the Strand, 
 as if it were but a warning to recall my mind more closely to 
 its studies : — of a verity that noisy evidence of man's labor 
 reminded me how little the great interest of his rolling world 
 were to me, and the feeling of solitude amongst the crowds 
 without, made me cling more fondly to the company I found 
 within. For it seems that the mind is ever addicted to contra- 
 ries, and that when it be transplanted into a soil where all its 
 neighbours do produce a certain fruit, it doth, from a strange 
 perversity, bring forth one of \ different sort. You would little 
 believe, my honored friend, th t in this lonely seclusion, I can- 
 not at all times prohibit my t loughts from wandering to that 
 gay world of London, which^ during my tarry therein, occupied 
 them in so partial a degree. You smile, my friend, nevertheless 
 it is true ; and when you reflect that I dwelt in the western 
 department of the metropolis, near vmto the noble mansion of 
 Somerset House, and consequently in the very centre of what
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 239 
 
 the idle call Fashion, you will not be so surprised at the occa- 
 sional migration of my thoughts." 
 
 Here the worthy Clutterbuck paused and sighed slightly, 
 " Do you farm, or cultivate your garden," said I ; " they are no 
 ignoble nor unclassical employments ? " 
 
 " Unhappily," answered Clutterbuck, " I am inclined to 
 neither ; my chest pains me with a sharp and piercing pang 
 when I attempt to stoop, and my respiration is short and asth- 
 matic ; and, in truth, I seldom love to stir from my books and 
 papers. I go with Pliny to his garden, and with Virgil to his 
 farm ; those mental excursions are the sole ones I indulge in ; 
 and when I think of my appetite for application, and my love of 
 idleness, I am tempted to wax proud of the propensities which 
 reverse the censure of Tacitus on our German ancestors, and 
 incline so fondly to quiet, while they turn so restlessly from 
 sloth." 
 
 Here the speaker was interrupted by a long, low, dry cough, 
 which penetrated me to the heart. " Alas ! " thought I, as I 
 heard it, and looked upon my poor friend's hectic and hollow 
 cheek, " it is not only his mind that will be the victim to the 
 fatality of his studies." 
 
 It was some moments before I renewed the conversation, and 
 I had scarcely done so before I was interrupted by the entrance 
 of Benjamin Jeremiah, with message from his aunt that dinner 
 would be ready in a few minutes. Another long whisper to 
 Christopher succeeded. The cidevant fellow of Trinity looked 
 down at his garments with a perplexed air. I saw at once that 
 he had received a hint on the propriety of a change of raiment. 
 To give him due leisure for this, I asked the youth to show me 
 a room in which I might perform the usual ablutions previous 
 to dinner, and followed him up stairs to a comfortless sort of 
 dressing-room, without a fire-place, where I found a yellow-ware 
 jug and basin, and a towel, of so coarse a huckaback, that 1 did 
 not dare adventure its rough texture next my complexion — my 
 skin is not made for such rude fellowship. When I was ten- 
 derly and daintily anointing my hands with some hard water, of 
 no Blandusian spring, and that vile composition cntiiled Wind- 
 sor soap, I heard the difficult breathing of poor Clutterbuck on 
 the stairs, and soon after he entered the adjacent room. Two 
 minutes more, and his 'servant joined him, for I heard the 
 rough voice of the domestic say, "There is no more of the wine 
 with the black seal left, sir ! " 
 
 " No more, good Dixon t you are mistaken grievously. I 
 had two dozen not a week since."
 
 240 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " Don't know, I am sure, sir ! " answered Dixon, with a care- 
 less and half-impertinent accent ; " but there are great things, 
 like alligators, in the cellar, which break all the bottles ! " 
 
 " Alligators in my cellar ! " said the astonished Clutterbuck. 
 
 " Yes, sir — at least a venomous sort of reptile like them, 
 which the people about here call efts !" 
 
 "What!" said Clutterbuck, innocently, and evidently not 
 seeing the irony of his own question ; " What ! have the efts 
 broken two dozen bottles in a week ? Of an exceeding surety, 
 it is strange that a little creature of the lizard species should be 
 so destructive — perchance they have an antipathy to the vinous 
 smell ; I will confer with my learned friend. Dr. Dissectall, 
 touching their strength and habits. Bring up some of the port, 
 then, good Dixon." 
 
 " Yes, sir. All the corn is out ; I had none for the gentle- 
 man's horse." 
 
 " Why, Dixon, my memory fails me strangely, or I paid you, 
 the sum of four pounds odd shillings for corn on Friday last." 
 
 " Yes, sir : but your cow and the chickens eat so much ; and 
 then blind Dobbin has four feeds a-day, and Farmer Johnson 
 always puts his horse in our stable, and Mrs. Clutterbuck and 
 the ladies fed the jackass the other day in the hired donkey- 
 chaise ; besides, the rats and mice are always at it." 
 
 " It is a marvel unto me," answered Clutterbu<^k, " how det- 
 rimental the vermin race are ; they seem to have noted my poor 
 possessions as their especial prey ; remind me that I write to 
 Dr. Dissectall to-morrow, good Dixon." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and now I think of it — " But here Mr. Dixon was 
 cut short in his items, by the entrance of a third person, who 
 proved to be Mrs. Clutterbuck. 
 
 " What, not dressed yet, Mr. Clutterbuck ! what a dawdler 
 you are ! — and do look — was ever a woman so used ? You have 
 wiped your razor upon my nightcap — you dirty, slovenly " 
 
 "I crave you many pardons ; I own my error ! " said Clutter- 
 buck, in a nervous tone of interruption. 
 
 " Error, indeed ! " cried Mrs. Clutterbuck, in a sharp, over- 
 stretched querulous falsetto, suited to the occasion : " but this 
 is always the case — I am sure my poor temper is tried to the ut- 
 most — and Lord help thee, idiot ! you have thrust those spindle 
 legs of yours into your coatsleeves instead of your breeches ! " 
 
 " Of a truth, good wife, your eyes are more discerning than 
 mine ; and my legs, which are, as you say, somewhat thin, have 
 indued themselves in what appertaineth not unto them ; but for 
 all that, Dorothea, I am not deserving of the epithet of idiot, with
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 241 
 
 which you have been pleased to favor me ; although my humble 
 faculties are, indeed, of no eminent or surpassing order — " 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Mr. Clutterbuck, I am sure, I don't know 
 what else you are, muddling your head all day with those good- 
 for-nothing books. And now do tell me, how you could think 
 of asking Mr. Pelham to dinner, when you knew we had nothing 
 in the world but hashed mutton and an apple-pudding ? Is that 
 the way, sir, you disgrace your wife, after her condescension in 
 marrying you .'' " 
 
 " Really," answered the patient Clutterbuck, " I was forgetful 
 of those matters ; but my friend cares as little as myself about 
 the grosser tastes of the table ; and the feast of intellectual con- 
 verse is all that he desires in his brief sojourn beneath our 
 roof." 
 
 " Feast of fiddlesticks. Mr. Clutterbuck ! did ever man talk 
 such nonsense ? " 
 
 " Besides," rejoined the fnaster of the house, unheeding this 
 interruption, " we have a luxury even of the palate, than which 
 there are none more delicate, and unto which he, as well as my- 
 self, is, I know, somewhat unphilosophically given ; I speak of 
 the oysters, sent here by our good friend Dr. Swallow'em." 
 
 " What do you mean, Mr. Clutterbuck ? My poor mother and 
 I had those oysters last night for our supper. I am sure she, 
 and my sister, are almost starved ; but you are always wanting 
 to be pampered up above us all." 
 
 " Nay, na}'," answered Clutterbuck, " you know you accuse 
 me wrongfully, Dorothea ; but now I think of it, would it not be 
 better to modulate the tone of our conversation, seeing that our 
 guest (a circumstance which until now quite escaped my recol- 
 lection) was shown into the next room, for the purpose of wash- 
 ing his hands, the which, from their notable cleanliness, seemed 
 to me wholly unnecessary. I would not have him overhear you, 
 Dorothea, lest his kind heart should imagine me less happy than 
 — than — it wishes me ! " 
 
 "Good God, Mr. Clutterbuck ! " were the only words I heard 
 farther : and with tears in my eyes, and a suffocating feeling in 
 my throat, for the matrimonial situation of my unfortunate 
 friend, I descended into the drawing-room. The only one yet 
 there was the pale nephew : he was bending painfully over a 
 a book ; I took it fromliim ; it was " Bentley upon Phalaris." 
 I could scarcely refrain from throwing it into the hre — " another 
 victim ! " thought I. — Oh, the curse of an English education ! 
 
 By and by, down came the mother and the sister, tlien Clutter- 
 buck, and lastly, bedizened out with gewgaws and trumpery, — ■
 
 242 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 the wife. Born and nurtured as I was in the art of the voltt, 
 sciol/o^pensieri stretti* I had seldom found a more arduous task ot 
 •dissimulation than that which I experienced now. However, the 
 hope to benefit my friend's situation assisted me : the best way, I 
 thought, of obtaining him more respect from his wife, will be 
 by showing her the respect he meets with from others : accord- 
 ingly, I sat down by her, and having first conciliated her atten- 
 tion by some of that coin, termed compliments, in which there 
 is no counterfeit that does not have the universal effect of real, 
 I spoke with the most profound veneration of the talents and 
 learning of Clutterbuck — I dilated upon the high reputation he 
 enjoyed — upon the general esteem in which he was held — upon 
 the kindness of his heart — the sincerity of his modesty — the in- 
 tegrity of his honor — in short, whatever I thought likely to 
 affect her ; most of all, I insisted upon the high panegyrics be- 
 stowed upon him by Lord this, and the Earl that, and wound 
 up, with adding that I was certain he would die a bishop. My 
 eloquence had its effect ; all dinner-time, Mrs. Clutterbuck 
 treated her husband with even striking consideration : my 
 words seemed to have gifted her with a new light, and to have 
 wrought a thorough transformation in her view of her lord and 
 master's character. Who knows not the truth, that we have 
 dim and short-sighted eyes to estimate the nature of our own 
 kin, and that we borrow the spectacles which alone enable us 
 to discern their merits or their failings from the opinion of 
 strangers ! It may be readily supposed that the dinner did not 
 pass without its share of the ludicrous — that the waiter and the 
 dishes, the family and the host, would have afforded ample 
 materials no less for the student of nature in Hogarth, than of 
 caricature in Bunbury ; but I was too seriously occupied in pur- 
 suing my object, and marking its success, to have time even 
 for a smile. Ah ! if ever you would allure your son to diplo- 
 macy, show him how subservient he may make it to benevolence. 
 
 When the women had retired, w^e drew our chairs near to 
 each other, and, laying down my watch on the table, as I 
 looked out upon the declining clay, I said, " Let us make the 
 best of our time ; I can only linger here one half-hour longer." 
 
 " And how, my friend," said Clutterbuck, " shall we learn 
 the method of making the best use of time ? there, whether it 
 be in the larger segments, or the petty subdivisions of our life, 
 rests the great enigma of our being. Who is there that has 
 ever exclaimed — (pardon my pedantry, I am for once driveft 
 into Greek) — Eureka ! to this most difficult of the sciences ? " 
 
 * The open countenance and closed thoughts.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 243 
 
 " Come," said I, "it is not for you, the favored scholar — the 
 honored academician — whose hours are never idly employed, to 
 ask this question ! " 
 
 "Your friendship makes too flattering the acumen of your 
 judgment," answered the modest Clutterbuck. " It has indeed 
 been my lot to cultivate the fields of truth, as transmitted into 
 our hands by the wise men of old ; and I have much to be thank- 
 ful for, that I have, in the employ, been neither curtailed in my 
 leisure, nor abashed in my independence — the two great goods 
 of a calm and meditative mind : yet are there moments in which 
 I am led to doubt of the wisdom of my pursuits ; and when, with 
 a feverish and shaking hand, I put aside the books which have 
 detained me from my rest till the morning hour, and repair unto 
 a couch often baffled of slumber by the pains and discomforts of 
 this worn and feeble frame, I almost wish I could purchase the 
 rude health of the peasant by the exchange of an idle and 
 imperfect learning for the ignorance, content with the narrow 
 world it possesses, because unconscious of the limitless creation 
 beyond. Yet, my dear and esteemed friend, there is a dignified 
 and tranquillizing philosophy in the writings of the ancients 
 which ought to teach me a better condition of mind ; and when 
 I have risen from the lofty, albeit, somewhat melancholy strain, 
 which swells through the essays of the graceful and tender Cicero, 
 I have indeed felt a momentary satisfaction at my studies, and 
 an elation even at the petty success with which I have cher- 
 ished them. But these are brief and fleeting moments, and de- 
 serve chastisement for their pride. There is one thing, my Pel- 
 ham, which has grieved me bitterly of late, and that is, that in 
 the earnest attention which it is the — perhaps fastidious — cus- 
 tom of our University, to pay to the minutiae of classic lore, I do 
 now oftentimes lose the spirit and beauty of the general bear- 
 ing ; nay, I derive a far greater pleasure from the ingenious 
 amendment of a perverted text, than from all the turn and 
 thought of the sense itself : while I am straightening a crooked 
 nail in the wine-cask, I suffer the wine to evaporate ; but to this 
 I am somewhat reconciled, when I reflect that it was also the 
 misfortune of the great Porson, and the elaborate Parr, men with 
 whom 1 blush to find myself included in the same sentence." 
 
 " My friend," said I, " I wish neither to wound your modesty, 
 nor to impugn your pursuits ; but think you not it would be bet- 
 ter, both for men and for yourself, if, while you are yet in, the 
 vigor of your age and reason, you occupy your ingenuity and 
 application in some more useful and lofiy work, than that which 
 you suffered me to glance at in your library ; and, moreover, ai
 
 244 PELHAM : 0A\ 
 
 the great object of him who would perfect his mind, is first to 
 strengthen the faculties of his body, would it not be prudent in 
 you to lessen for a time your devotion to books ; to exercise 
 yourself in the fresh air — to relax the bow, by loosing the string; 
 to mix more with the living, and impart to men in conversation, 
 as well as in writing, whatever the incessant labor of many years 
 may have hoarded ? Come, if not to town, at least to its vicin- 
 ity ; the profits of your living, if even tolerably managed, will 
 enable you to do so without inconvenience. Leave your books 
 to their shelves, and your flock to their curate, and — you shake 
 your head — do I displease you ? " 
 
 "No, no, my kind and generous adviser ; — but as the twig was 
 set, the tree must grow. I have not been without that ambition 
 which, however vain and sinful, is the first passion to enter the 
 wayward and tossing vessel of our soul, and the last to leave its 
 stranded and shattered wreck ; but mine found and attained its 
 object at an age when in others it is, as yet, a vague and unset 
 tied feeling ; and it feeds now rather upon the recollections of 
 what has been, than ventures on a sea of undried and strange 
 expectation. As for my studies ! how can you, who have, and 
 in no moderate draught, drunk of the old stream of Castaly, — 
 how can you ask me now to change them ? Are not the ancients 
 my food, my aliment, my solace in sorrow — my sympathizers, 
 my very benefactors, in joy ? Take them away from me, and 
 you take away the very winds which purify and give motion to the 
 obscure and silent current of my life. Besides, my Pelham, it 
 cannot have escaped your observation, that there is little in my 
 present state which promises a long increase of days : the few 
 that remain to me must glide away like their predecessors ; and 
 whatever be the infirmities of my body, and the little harass- 
 ments which, I am led to suspect, do occasionally molest the 
 most fortunate, who link themselves unto the unstable and fluc- 
 tuating part of creation, which we term women, more especially 
 in an hymeneal capacity — whatever these may be, I have my 
 refuge and my comforter in the golden-souled and dreaming 
 Plato, and the sententious wisdom of the less imaginative 
 Seneca. Nor, when I am reminded of my approaching dissolu- 
 tion by the symptoms which do mostly at the midnight hour 
 press themselves upon me, is there a small and inglorious pleas- 
 ure in the hope that I may meet, hereafter, in those Islands of 
 the Blest which they dimly dreamt of, but which are opened un- 
 to my vision, without a cloud, or mist, or shadow of uncertainty 
 and doubt, with those bright spirits which we do now converse 
 with so imperfectly ; that I may catch from the vej'y lips of Ho-
 
 ADVEXTUKES OF A GEXTLEMA.Y. 245 
 
 mer, the unclouded gorgeousness of fiction, and from the 
 accents of Archimedes, the unadulterated calculations of 
 truth ! " 
 
 Clutterbuck ceased ; and the glow of his enthusiasm diffused 
 itself over his sunken e3'e and consumptive cheek. The boy, 
 who had sat apart, and silent, during our discourse, laid his head 
 upon the table, and sobbed audibly ; and I rose, deeply affected, 
 to ofifer to one for whom they were, indeed unavailing, the 
 wishes and blessing of an eager, but not hardened disciple of 
 the world. We parted : on this earth we can never meet again. 
 The light has wasted itself away beneath the bushel. It will 
 be six weeks to-morrow since the meek and noble-minded aca- 
 demician breathed his last ! 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 'Tis but a single murder. — Lillo's Fatal Curiosity. 
 
 It was in a melancholy and thoughtful mood that I rode away 
 from the parsonage. Numerous and hearty were the maledic- 
 tions I bestowed upon a system of education which, while it was 
 so ineffective with the many, was so pernicious to the few. Mis- 
 erable delusion ( thought I), that encourages the ruin of health 
 and the perversion of intellect, by studies that are as unprofit- 
 able to the world as they are destructive to the possessor — that 
 incapacitate him for public, and unfit him for private, life; — 
 and that, while they expose him to the ridicule of strangers, ren- 
 der him the victim of his wife, and the prey of his domestic ! 
 
 Busied in such reflections, I rode quickly on, till I found my- 
 self, once more, on the heath. I looked anxiously round for the 
 conspicuous equipage of Lady Chester, but in vain ; the ground 
 was thin — nearly all the higher orders had retired ; the common 
 people, grouped together, and clamoring noisily, were withdraw- 
 ing : and the shrill voices of the intinerant hawkers of cards and 
 bills had, at length, subsided into silence. I rode over the 
 ground, in the hope of finding some solitary straggler of our 
 party. Alas ! there was not one ; and with much reluctance at, 
 and distaste to, my lonely retreat, I turned in a homeward di- 
 rection from the course. 
 
 The evening had already set in, but there was a moon in the 
 cold grey sky, that I could almost have thanked, in a sonnet, for 
 a light which 1 felt was never more welcomely dispensed, when I
 
 246 PELHAM ; OK, 
 
 thought of the cross-roads and dreary country I had to pass be- 
 fore I reached the longed-for haven of Chester Park. After I 
 had left the direct road, the wind, which had before been pierc- 
 ingly keen, fell, and I perceived a dark cloud behind, which be- 
 gan slowly to overtake my steps. I care little, in general, for 
 the discomfort of a shower ; yet, as when we are in one misfor- 
 tune we always exaggerate the consequence of a new one, I looked 
 upon my dark pursuer with a very impatient and petulant frown, 
 and set my horse on a trot, much more suitable to my inclination 
 than his own. Indeed, he seemed fully alive to the cornless 
 state of the parson's stable, and evinced his sense of the circum- 
 stance by a very languid mode of progression, and a constant 
 attempt, whenever his pace abated, and I suffered the rein to 
 slumber upon his neck, to crop the rank grass that sprang up on 
 either side of our road. I had proceeded about three miles on 
 my way, when I heard the clatter of hoofs behind me. My even 
 pace soon suffered me to be overtaken ; and, as the stranger 
 checked his horse, when he was nearly by my side, I turned to- 
 wards him, and beheld Sir John Tyrrell. 
 
 " Well," said he, " this is really fortunate ; for I began to fear 
 I should have my ride, this cold evening, entirely to myself." 
 
 " I imagined that you had long reached Chester Park by this 
 time," said I. "Did not you leave the course with our party ? " 
 
 " No," answered Tyrrell ; " I had business, at New-market, 
 with a rascally fellow of the name of Dawson. He lost to me 
 rather a considerable wager, and asked me to come to town 
 with him after the race, in order to pay me. As he said he 
 lived on the direct road to Chester Park, and would direct, and 
 even accompany me through all the difficult part of the ride, I 
 the less regretted not joining Chester and his party ; and you 
 know, Pelham, that when pleasure pulls one way, and money 
 another, it is all over with the first. Well, — to return to my 
 rascal — would you believe, that when we got to Newmarket, he 
 left me at the inn, in order, he said, to fetch the money ; and 
 after having kept me in a cold room, with a smoky chimney, for 
 more than an hour, without making his appearance, I sallied out 
 into the town, and found Mr. Dawson quietly seated in a hell 
 with that scoundrel Thornton, whom I did not conceive, till 
 then, he was acquainted with. It seems that he was to win, at 
 hazard, sufficient to pay his wager ! You may fancy my anger, 
 and the consequent increase to it, when he rose from the table, 
 approached me, expressed his sorrow, d — d his ill luck, and in- 
 formed me that he could not pay for three months. You know 
 that I could not ride home with such a fellow — he might have
 
 A D VENTURES OF A GENTLE MA . \ '. 247 
 
 robbed me by the way — so I returned to my inn — dined — ordered 
 my horse — set off — inquired my way of every passenger I passed, 
 and after innumerable misdirections — here I am ! " 
 
 " I cannot sympathize with you," said I, "since I am bene- 
 fitted by your misfortunes. But do you think it very necessary 
 to trot so fast ? I fear my horse can scarcely keep up with 
 yours." 
 
 Tyrrell cast an impatient glance at my panting steed, " It is 
 cursed unlucky you should be so badly mounted, and we shall 
 have a pelting shower presently." 
 
 In complaisance to I'yrrell, I endeavored to accelerate my 
 steed. The roads were rough and stony ; and I had scarcely 
 got the tired animal into a sharp trot, before — whether or no by 
 some wrench among the deep ruts and fiinty causeway — he fell 
 suddenly lame. The impetuosity of Tyrrell broke out in oaths, 
 and we both dismounted to examine the cause of my horse's 
 hurt, in the hope that it might only be the intrusion of some 
 pebble between the shoe and the hoof. While we were yet in- 
 vestigating the cause of our misfortune, two men on horseback 
 overtook us. Tyrrell looked up. " By Heaven," said he, in a 
 low tone, " it's that dog Dawson, and his worthy coadjutor, Tom 
 Thornton." 
 
 " What's the matter, gentlemen ? " cried the bluff voice of the 
 latter, " Can I be of any assistance ? " and without waiting our 
 reply, he dismounted, and came up to us. He had no sooner 
 felt the horse's leg, than he assured us it was a most severe 
 strain, and that the utmost I could effect would be to walk the 
 brute gently home. 
 
 As Tyrrell broke out into impatient violence at this speech, 
 the sharper looked up at him with expression of countenance I 
 by no means liked, but in a very civil and even respectful tone, 
 said, " if you wish. Sir John, to reach Chester park sooner than 
 Mr. Pelham can possibly do, suppose you ride on with us ; I 
 will put you in the direct road before I quit you." (Good-breed- 
 ing, thought I, to propose leaving me to find my own way 
 through this labyrinth of ruts and stones !) However, Tyrrell 
 who was in a vile humor, refused the offer, in no very courteous 
 manner ; and adtled, that he should continue with me as long 
 as he could, and did not doubt that when he left me he should 
 be able to find his own way. Thornton pressed the invitation 
 still closer, and even offered sotto voce, to send Dawson on be- 
 fore, should the baronet object to his company. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said Tyrrell, " leave me alone, and busy yourself 
 about your own affairs." After so tart a reply, Thornton
 
 248 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 thought it useless to say more ; he remounted, and with a silent 
 and swaggering nod of familiarity, soon rode away with his 
 companion. 
 
 " I am sorry," said I, as we were slowly proceeding, " that 
 you rejected Thornton's ofifer." 
 
 " Why, to say truth," answered Tyrrell, " I have so very bad 
 an opinion of him, that I was almost afraid to trust myself in 
 his company on so dreary a road. I have nearly (and he knows 
 it), to the amount of two thousand pounds about me ; for I was 
 very fortunate in my betting-book to-day." 
 
 " I know nothing about racing regulations," said I ; " but I 
 thought one never paid sums of that amount upon the ground ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " answered Tyrrell, but I won this sum, which is 
 eighteen hundred pounds, of a country squire from Norfolk, 
 M'ho said he did not know when he should see me again, and 
 insisted on paying me on the spot : faith I was not nice in the 
 matter. Thornton was standing by at the time, and I did not 
 half like the turn of his eye when he saw me put it up. Do you 
 know, too," continued Tyrrell, after a pause, '* that I had a 
 d — d fellow dodging me all day, and yesterday too ; wherever I 
 go, I am sure to see him. He seems constantly, though dis- 
 tantly, to follow me ; and what is worse, he wraps himself up so 
 well, and keeps at so cautious a distance, that I can never catch 
 a glimpse of his face." 
 
 I know not why, but at that moment the recollection of the 
 mufHed figure I had seen upon the course, flashed upon me. 
 
 " Does he wear a long horseman's cloak .'' " said I. 
 
 " He does," answered Tyrrell, in surprise ; have you observed 
 him ? " 
 
 " I saw such a person on the race-ground," replied I ; " but 
 only for an instant ! " 
 
 Farther conversation was suspended by a few heavy drops 
 which fell upon us ; the cloud had passed over the moon, and 
 was hastening rapidly and loweringly over our heads. Tyrrell 
 was neither of an age, a frame, nor a temper, to be so indiffer- 
 ent to a hearty wetting as myself. 
 
 " Come, come," he cried, " you i7iust put on that beast of 
 yours — I can't get wet, for all the horses in the world." 
 
 I was not much pleased with the dictatorial tone of this 
 remark. " It is impossible," said I, " especially as the horse is 
 not my own, and seems considerably lamer than at first; but 
 let me not detain you." 
 
 " Well ! " cried Tyrrell, in a raised and angry voice, which
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLE MA A'. 249 
 
 pleased me still less than his former remark ; " but how I am 
 to. find my way, if I leave you ? " 
 
 " Keep straight on," said I, "for a mile farther, then a sign- 
 post will direct you to the left ; after a short time, you will have 
 a steep hill to descend, at the bottom of which is a large pool, 
 and a singularly shaped tree ; then again, keep straight on, till 
 you pass a house belonging to Mr. Dawson " 
 
 " Hang it, Pelham, make haste ! " exclaimed Tyrrell, im- 
 patiently, as the rain began now to descend fast and heavy. 
 
 "When you have passed that house," I resumed coolly, rather 
 enjoying his petulance, "you must bear to the right for six miles, 
 and you will be at Chester Park in less than an hour." 
 
 Tyrrell make no reply, but put spurs to his horse. The pat- 
 tering rain and the angry heavens soon drowned the last echoes 
 of the receding hoof-clang. 
 
 For myself, I looked in vain for a tree ; not even a shrub was 
 to be found ; the fields lay bare on either side, with no other 
 partition but a dead hedge, and a deep dyke. ''■Melius fit paten- 
 tid,'^ etc., thought I, as Horace said, and Vincent would say ; 
 and in order to divert my thoughts from my situation, I turned 
 them towards my diplomatic success with Lord Chester. Pres- 
 ently, for I think scarcely five minutes had elapsed since Tyr- 
 rell's departure, a horseman passed me at a sharp pace ; the 
 moon was hid by the dense cloud ; and the night, thoughnot 
 wholly dark, was dim and obscured, so- that I could only 
 catch the outline of the flitting figure. A thrill of fear crept 
 over me, when I saw that it was enveloped in a horse's cloak. 
 I soon rallied : — " There are more cloaks in the world than 
 one," said I to myself; "besides, even if it be Tyrrell's dodger, 
 as he calls him, the baronet is better mounted than any highway 
 man since the days of Du Val ; and is moreover, strong enough 
 and cunning enough to take admirable care of himself." With 
 this reflection I dismissed the occurrence from my thoughts, 
 and once more returned to self-congratulations upon my own in- 
 comparable genius. "I shall now," I thought, "have well 
 earned my seat in Parliament: Dawton will indisputably be, if 
 not the prime, the principal minister in rank and influence. 
 He cannot fail to promote me for his own sake, as well as mine ; 
 and when I have once fairly got my legs in St. Stephen's, I 
 shall soon have my hands in office : ' power,' says some one, ' is 
 a snake that when it once finds a hole into which it can intro- 
 duce its head, soon manages to wriggle in the rest of its body.' " 
 
 With such meditations I endeavored to beguile the time, and 
 cheat myself into forgetfulness of the lameness of my horse, and
 
 250 FELHAM ; OR, 
 
 the dripping wetness of the rider. At last the storm began 
 sullenly to subside : one impetuous torrent, ten fold more vio- 
 /ent than those that had preceded it, was followed by a moment- 
 ary stillness, which was again broken by a short relapse of a 
 less formidable severity, and, the moment it ceased, the beauti- 
 ful moon broke out, the cloud rolled heavily away and the sky 
 
 shone forth, as fair and smiling as Lady at a ball, after she 
 
 has been beating her husband at home. 
 
 But at that instant, or perhaps a second before the storm 
 ceased, I thought I heard the sound of a human cry. I paused, 
 and my heart stood still — I could have heard a gnat hum : the 
 sound was not repeated ; my ear caught nothing but the plash- 
 ing of the rain-drops from the dead hedges, and the murmur of 
 the swollen dykes, as the water pent within them rolled hur- 
 riedly on. By and by, an owl came suddenly from behind me, 
 and screamed as it flapped across my path ; that, too, went 
 rapidly away : and with a smile, at what I deemed my own 
 fancy, I renewed my journey. I soon came to the precipitous 
 descent I have before mentioned ; I dismounted, for safety, 
 from my drooping and jaded horse, and led him down the hill. 
 At a distance beyond I saw something dark moving on the 
 grass which bordered the road ; as I advanced, it started forth 
 from the shadow, and fled rapidly before me, in the moonshine 
 — it was a riderless horse. A chilling foreboding seized me : I 
 looked round for some weapon, such as the hedge might afford ; 
 and finding a strong stick of tolerable weight and thickness, I 
 proceeded more cautiously, but more fearlessly than before. 
 As I wound down the hill, the moonlight fell upon the remark- 
 able and lonely tree I had observed in the morning. Bare, wan, 
 and giant-like, as it rose amidst the surrounding waste, it bor- 
 rowed even a more startling and ghostly appearance from the 
 cold and lifeless moonbeams which fell around and upon it like 
 a shroud. The retreating steed I had driven before me, paused 
 by this tree. I hastened my steps, as if by an involuntary 
 impulse, as well as the enfeebled animal I was leading would 
 allow me, and discovered a horseman galloping across the waste 
 at full speed. The ground over which he passed was steeped 
 in the moonshine, and I saw the long and disguising cloak, in 
 which he was enveloped, as clearly as by the light of day. I 
 paused : and as I was following him with my looks, my eye fell 
 upon some obscure object by the left side of the pool. I threw 
 my horse's rein over the hedge, and firmly grasping my stick, 
 hastened to the spot. As I approached the object, I perceived 
 that it was a human figure ; it was lying still and motionless ;
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 251 
 
 the limbs were half immersed in the water — the face was 
 turned upwards — the side and throat were wet with a deep red 
 stain — it was of blood : the thin, dark hairs of the head were 
 clotted together over a frightful and disfiguring contusion. I 
 bent over the face in a shuddering and freezing silence. It 
 was the countenance of Sir John Tyrrell ! 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 -Marry, he was dead — 
 
 And the right valiant Banquo walked too late : 
 Whom you may say, if it please you, Fleance killed, 
 For Fleance fled \— Macbeth. 
 
 It is a fearful thing, even to the hardiest nerves, to find our- 
 selves suddenly alone with the dead. How much more so, if 
 we have, but a breathing interval before, moved and conversed 
 with a warm and living likeness of the motionless clay before 
 us ! 
 
 And this was the man from whom I had parted in coldness 
 — almost in anger — at a word — a breath ! I took up the heavy 
 hand — it fell from my grasp ; and as it did so, I thought a 
 change passed over the livid countenance. I was deceived ; it 
 was but a light cloud flitting over the moon ; — it rolled away, 
 and the placid and guiltless light shone over that scene of dread 
 and blood, making more wild and chilling the eternal contrast 
 of earth and heaven — man and his Maker — passion and immu- 
 tability — death and eternal life. 
 
 But that was not a moment of reflection — a thousand thoughts 
 hurried upon me, and departed as swift and confusedly as they 
 came. My mind seemed a jarring and benighted chaos of the 
 faculties which were its elements ; and I had stood several 
 minutes over the corpse before, by a vigorous effort, I shook off 
 the stupor that possessed me, and began to think of the course 
 that it now behoved me to pursue. 
 
 The house I had noted in the morning was, I knew, within a 
 few minutes' walk of the spot ; but it belonged to Dawson, upon 
 whom the first weight of my suspicions rested. I called to 
 mind the disreputable character of that man, and the still more 
 daring and hardened one of his companion Thornton. I re- 
 membered the reluctance of the deceased to accompany them, 
 and the well-grounded reason he assigned ; and, my suspicions 
 amounting to certainty, I resolved rather to proceed to Chester
 
 252 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 Park, and there give the alarm, than to run the unnecessary 
 risk of interrupting the murderers in the very lair of their retreat. 
 And yet, thought I, as I turned slowly away, how if they were 
 the villains, is the appearance and flight of the disguised horse- 
 man to be accounted for ? 
 
 Then flashed upon my recollection all that Tyrrell had said 
 of the dogged pursuit of that mysterious person, and the cir- 
 cumstance of his having passed me upon the road so imme- 
 diately after Tyrrell had quitted me. These reflections (asso- 
 ciated with a name that I did not dare breathe even to myself, 
 although I could not suppress a suspicion which accounted at 
 once for the pursuit, and even for the deed,) made me waver in, 
 and almost renounce, my former condemnation of Thornton and 
 his friend : and by the time I reached the white gate and dwarf- 
 ish avenue which led to Dawson's house, I resolved, at all 
 events, to halt at the solitary mansion, and mark the effect my 
 information would cause. 
 
 A momentary fear for my own safety came across me, but was 
 as instantly dismissed : — for even supposing the friends were 
 guilty, still it would be no object to them to extend their re- 
 morseless villany to me ; and I knew that I could sufficiently 
 command my own thoughts to prevent any suspicion I might 
 form, from mounting to my countenance, or discovering itself in 
 my manner. 
 
 There was a light in the upper story ; it burned still and 
 m.otionless. How holy seemed the tranquillity of life, contrasted 
 with the forced and fearful silence of the death scene I had just 
 witnessed ! I rang twice at the door — no one came to answer 
 my summons, but the light in the upper window moved hurriedly 
 to and fro. 
 
 " They are coming," said I to myself. No such thing — the 
 casement above was opened — I looked up, and discovered, to my 
 infinite comfort and delight, a blunderbuss protruded eight 
 inches out of the window in a direct line with my head ; I re- 
 ceded close to the wall with no common precipitation. 
 
 " Get away, you rascal," said a gruff, but trembling voice, 
 " or I'll blow your brains out." 
 
 " My good sir," I replied, still keeping my situation, " I come 
 on urgent business, either to Mr. Thornton or Mr. Dawson ; and 
 you had better, therefore, if the delay is not very inconvenient, 
 defer the honor you offer me, till I have delivered my message." 
 
 " Master and 'Squire Thornton are not returned from New- 
 market, and we cannot let any one in till they come home," re- 
 plied the voice, in a tone somewhat mollified by my rational re-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 253 
 
 monstrance ; and while I was deliberating what rejoinder to 
 make, a rough, red head, like Liston's in a farce, poked itself 
 cautiously out under cover of the blunderbuss, and seemed to 
 reconnoitre my horse and myself. Presently another head, but 
 attired in the more civilized gear of a cap and flowers, peeped 
 over the first person's left shoulder ; the view appeared to re- 
 assure them both. 
 
 " Sir," said the female, " my husband and Mr. Thornton are 
 not returned ; and we have been so much alarmed of late, by 
 an attack on the house, that I cannot admit any one till their 
 return." 
 
 " Madam," I replied, reverently dofiing my hat, " I do not 
 like to alarm you by mentioning the information I should have 
 given to Mr. Dawson ; only oblige me by telling them, on their 
 return, to look beside the pool on the Common ; they will then 
 do as best pleases them." 
 
 Upon this speech, which certainly was of no agreeable tend- 
 ency, the blunderbuss palpitated so violently, that I thought it 
 highly imprudent to tarry any longer in so perilous a vicinity ; 
 accordingly, I made the best of my way out of the avenue, and 
 once more resumed my road to Chester Park. 
 
 I arrived there at length ; the gentlemen were still in the 
 dining-room, I sent out for Lord Chester, and communicated 
 the scene I had witnessed, and the cause of my delay. 
 
 " What ! Brown Bob lamed ? " said he, " ancl Tyrrell — poor — 
 poor fellow, how shocking ! We must send instantly. Here, 
 John ! Tom ! Wilson ! " and his lordship shouted and rang the 
 bell in an indescribable agitation. 
 
 The under butler appeared, and Lord Chester began — " My 
 head groom — Sir John Tyrrell is murdered — violent sprain in 
 off leg — send lights with Mr. Pelham — poor gentleman — an 
 express instantly to Dr. Physicon — Mr. Pelham will tell you 
 all — Brown Bob — his throat cut from ear to ear — what shall be 
 done ? " and with this coherent and explanatory harangue, the 
 marquis sank down in his chair in a sort of hysteric. 
 
 The under butler looked at him in suspicious bewilderment. 
 " Come," said I, " I will explain what his lordship means ; " 
 and, taking the man out of the room, I gave him, in brief, the 
 necessary particulars. I ordered a fresh horse for myself, and 
 four horsemen to accompany me. While these were preparing, 
 the news was rapidly spreading, and I was soon surrounded, 
 by the whole house. Many of the gentlemen wished to accom- 
 pany me ; and Lord Chester, who had at last recovered from 
 his stupor, insisted upon heading the search. We set off, to
 
 254 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 the number of fourteen, and soon arrived at Dawson's house -. 
 the light in the upper room was still burning. We rang, and 
 after a brief pause, Thornton himself opened the door to us. 
 He looked pale and agitated, 
 
 " How shocking ! " he said directly — "we are only just re 
 turned from the spot." 
 
 " Acconpsj'y us, Mr, Thornton," said I, sternly, and fixing my 
 eye upon him. 
 
 " Certainly," was his immediate answer, without testifying 
 any confusion — " I will fetch my hat." He went into the 
 house for a moment. 
 
 '' Do you suspect these people ? " whispered Lord Chester. 
 
 " Not suspect," said I, " but doubt'' 
 
 We proceeded down the avenue : " Where is Mr, Dawson ? " 
 said I to Thornton, 
 
 " Oh, within ! " answered Thornton. " Shall I fetch him ? " 
 
 " Do," was my brief reply. 
 
 Thornton was absent some minntes ; when he reappeared, 
 Dawson was following him. " Poor fellow," said he to me in a 
 low tone — " he was so shocked by the sight, that he is still all 
 in a panic ; besides, as you will see, he is half drunk still," 
 
 I made no answer, but looked narrowly at Dawson ; he was 
 evidently, as Thornton said, greatly intoxicated ; his eyes swam, 
 and his feet staggered as he approached us ; yet, through all 
 the natural effects of drunkenness, he seemed nervous and 
 frightened. This, however, might be the natural (and conse- 
 quently innocent) effect of the mere sight of an object so full 
 of horror ; and, accordingly, I laid little stress upon it. 
 
 We reached the fatal spot : the body seemed perfectly un- 
 moved. " Why," said I, apart to Thornton, while all the rest 
 were crowding fearfully round the corpse — " why did you not 
 take the body within .^ " 
 
 " I was going to return here with our sen'^ant for that pur- 
 pose," answered the gambler; "for poor Dawson was both too 
 drunk and too nervous to give me any assistance." 
 
 " And how came it," I rejoined, eyeing him searchingly, " that 
 you and your friend had not returned home when I called there, 
 although you had both long since passed me on the road, and I 
 had never overtaken you .-' " 
 
 Thornton, without any hesitation, replied — " Because, during 
 the violence of the shower, we cut across the fields to an old shed, 
 which we recollected, and we remained there till the rain had 
 ceaserl," 
 
 " They are probably innocent," thought I — and I turned to
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 255 
 
 look once more at the body, which our companions had now 
 raised. There was upon the head a strong contusion, as if in- 
 flicted by some blunt and heavy instrument. The fingers of the 
 right hand were deeply gashed, and one of them almost dissev- 
 ered : the unfortunate man had, in all probability, grasped the 
 sharp weapon from which his other wounds proceeded ; these 
 were one wide cut along the throat, and another in the side ; 
 either of them would have occasioned his death. 
 
 In loosening the clothes, another wound was discovered, but 
 apparently of a less fatal nature ; and in lifting the body, the 
 broken blade of a long sharp instrument, like a case-knife, 
 was discovered. It was the opinion of the surgeon, who after- 
 wards examined the body, that the blade had been broken by 
 coming in contact with one of the rib-bones ; and it was by this 
 that he accounted for the slightness of the last-mentioned wound. 
 I looked carefully among the fern and long grass, to see if I 
 could discover any other token of the murderer : I'hornton as- 
 sisted me. At the distance of some feet from the body, I thought 
 I perceived something glitter. I hastened to the place, and 
 picked up a miniature. I was just going to cry out, when 
 Thornton whispered — " Hush ! I know the picture ; it is as I sus- 
 pected ! " 
 
 An icy thrill ran through my ver}' heart. With a desperate 
 but trembling hand, I cleansed from the picture the blood, in 
 which, notwithstanding its distance from the corpse, the greater 
 part of it was bathed. I looked upon the features ; they were 
 those of a young and singularly beautiful female. I recognized 
 them not : I turned to the other side of the miniature ; upon it 
 were braided two locks of hair — one was the long, dark ringlet 
 of a woman, the other was of alight auburn. Beneath were four 
 letters. I looked eagerly at them. *' My eyes are dim," said I, 
 in a low tone to Thorton, "I cannot trace the initials." 
 
 " But / can," replied he, in the same w'hispered key, but with 
 a savage exultation, which made my heart stand still : " they 
 are G. D. , R. G. ; they are initials of Gertrude Douglas and 
 Reginald Glanville.'' 
 
 1 looked up at the speaker — our eyes met — I grasped his hand 
 vehemently. He understood me. "Put it up," said he ; '' wc 
 will keep the secret." All this, so long in the recital, passed in 
 the rapidity of a moment. 
 
 " Have you found anything there, Pelham ? " shouted one of 
 our companions. 
 
 " No," cried I, thnisting the miniature in my bosom, and turn- 
 ing unconcernedly away.
 
 =56 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 We carried the corpse to Dawson's house. The poor wife 
 was in fits. We heard her scream as we laid the body upon a 
 t.'ible in the parlor. 
 
 " What more can be done ? " said Lord Chester. 
 
 " Nothing," was the general answer. No excitement makes 
 people insensible to the chance of catching cold ! 
 
 " Let us go home then, and send to the nearest magistrate," 
 exclaimed our host : and this proposal required no repetition. 
 
 On our way, Chester said to me, " That fellow Dawson looked- 
 devilish uneasy — don't you still suspect him and his friend?" 
 
 " / do not 1^' answered I, emphatically. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVL 
 
 And now I'm in the world alone, 
 
 ■SIS' '5j\ 3p ■3lf ■Sp ^ 
 
 But why for others should I groan, 
 
 When none will sigh for me ? — Byron. 
 
 The whole country was in confusion at the news of the mur- 
 der. All the myrmidons of justice were employed in the most 
 active research for the murderers. Some few persons were 
 taken up on suspicion, but were as instantly discharged. 
 Thornton and Dawson underwent a long: and riecorous examina- 
 tion ; but no single tittle of evidence against them appeared : 
 they were consequently dismissed. The only suspicious cir- 
 cumstance against them, was their delay on the road : but the 
 cause given, the same as Thornton had at first assigned to me, 
 was probable and natural. . The shed was indicated, and, as if 
 to confirm Thornton's account, a glove belonging to that person 
 was found there. To crown all, my own evidence, in which I 
 was constrained to mention the circumstance of the muffled 
 horseman having passed me on the road, and being found by 
 me on the spot itself, threw the whole weight of suspicion upon 
 that man, whoever he might be. 
 
 All attempts, however, to discover him were in vain. It was 
 ascertained that a man, muffled in a cloak, was seen at Newmar- 
 ket, but not remarkably observed ; it was also discovered, that 
 a person so habited had put up a grey horse to bait in one of 
 the inns at Newmarket; but in the throng of strangers neither 
 the horse nor its owner had drawn down any particular remark. 
 
 On furthur inquiry, testimony differed ; y^?/r or yfz'^ inen, in 
 cloaks, had left their horses at the stables ; one ostler changed
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 2S7 
 
 the color of the steed to brown, a second to black, a third de- 
 posed that the gentlemen was remarkably tall, and the waiter 
 swore solemnly he had given a glass of brandy and water to an 
 unked-\ooVvt\^ gentleman, in a cloak, who was remarkably short. 
 In fine, no material point could be proved, and though the ofii- 
 cers were still employed in active search, they could trace noth- 
 ing that promised a speedy discovery. 
 
 As for myself, as soon as I decently could, I left Chester 
 Park, with a most satisfactory despatch in my pocket, from its 
 possessor to Lord Dawton, and found myself on the road to 
 London. 
 
 Alas ! how different were my thoughts, how changed the 
 temper of my mind, since I had last traveled that road ! Then 
 I was full of hope, energ\', ambition — of interest for Reginald 
 Granville — of adoration for his sister ; and no7u, I leaned back 
 listless and dispirited, without a single feeling to gladden the 
 restless and feverish despair which, ever since that night, had 
 possessed me ! What was ambition henceforth to me t The 
 most selfish amongst us must have some human being to whom 
 to refer — with whom to connect, to associate, to treasure, the 
 triumphs and gratifications of self. Where now for my heart 
 was such a being? My earliest friend, for whom my esteem 
 was the greater for his sorrows, my interest the keener for his 
 mystery, Reginald Glanville, was a murderer ! a dastardly, a 
 barbarous felon, whom the chance of an instant might convict ! 
 — and she — she, the only woman in the world I had ever really 
 loved — who ever pierced the thousand folds of my ambitious 
 and scheming heart — she was the sister of the assassin ! 
 
 Then came over my mind the savage and exulting eye of. 
 Thornton, when it read the damning record of Glanville's 
 guilt ; and in spite of my horror at the crnne of my former 
 friend, I trembled for his safety ; nor was I satisfisd with my- 
 self at my prevarication as a witness. It was true that I had 
 told the truth, but I had not told all the truth ; and my heart 
 swelled proudly and bitterly against the miniature which 1 still 
 concealed in my bosom. 
 
 To save a criminal, in whose safety I was selfishly concerned, 
 I felt that I had tampered with my honor, paltered with the 
 truth, and broken what justice, not over-harshly, deemed a per- 
 emptory and inviolable duty. 
 
 It was with a heightened pulse, and burning checks, that I 
 entered London; before midnight I was in a high fever; they 
 sent for the vultures of physic — I was bled copiously — I was 
 kept quiet in bed for six days ; at the end of that time, my con-
 
 258 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 stitution and youth restored me. I took up one of the news- 
 jDapers listlessly ; Glanville's name struck me ; I read the para- 
 graph which contained it — it was a high-flown and fustian 
 panegyric on his genius and promise. I turned to another col- 
 umn : it contained a long speech he had the night before made 
 in the House of Commons. 
 
 " Can such things be ?" thought I ; yea, and thereby hangs a 
 secret and an anomaly in the human heart. A man may com- 
 mit the greatest of crimes, and (if no other succeed to it) it 
 changes not the current of his being ; to all the world — to all 
 intents — for all objects, he may be the same. He may equally 
 serve his country — equally benefit his friends — be generous — 
 brave — benevolent, all that he was before. One crime, how- 
 ever heinous, does not necessarily cause a revolution in the 
 system — it is only the perpetual course of sins, vices, follies, 
 hovvever insignificant they may seem, which alters the nature 
 and hardens the heart. 
 
 My mother was out of town when I returned there. They 
 had written to her during my illness, and while I was yet mus- 
 ing over the day's journal, a letter from her was put into my 
 hand. I transcribe it. 
 
 " My Dearest Henry, 
 
 " How dreadfully uneasy I am about you ! write tome directly. 
 I would come to town myself, but am staying with dear Lady 
 Dawton, who will not hear of my going ; and I cannot offend 
 her for your sake. By-the-bye, why have you not called upon 
 Lord Dawton ? but, I forgot, you have been ill. My dear, dear 
 child, I am wretched about you, and how pale your illness will 
 make you look ! just, too, as the best part of the season is com- 
 ing on. How unlucky ! Pray, don't wear a black cravat when 
 you next call on Lady Roseville ; but choose a very fine baptiste 
 one — it will make you look rather delicate than ill. What phy- 
 sician do you have ? I hope, in God, that it is Sir Henry Hal- 
 ford. I shall be too miserable if it is not. I am sure no one can 
 conceive the anguish I suffer. Your father, too, poor man, has 
 been laid up with the gout for the last three days. Keep up 
 your spirits my dearest child, and get some light books to entertain 
 you : but, pray, as soon as you are well, do go to Lord Dawton 's 
 — he is dying to see you ; but be sure not to catch cold. How 
 did you like Lady Chester ? Pray take the greatest care of your- 
 self, and write soon to 
 
 " Your wretched, and most affectionate mother, 
 
 " F. P."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 259 
 
 a 
 
 P.S. How dreadfully shocking about that poor Sir John 
 Tyrrell ! " 
 
 I tossed the letter from me. Heaven pardon me if the mis- 
 anthropy of my mood made me less grateful for the maternal so- 
 licitude than I should otherwise have been. 
 
 I took up one of the numerous books with which my table was 
 covered ; it was a worldly work of one of the French reasoners ; it 
 gave a new turn to my thoughts — my mind reverted to its former 
 projects of ambition. Who does not know what active citizens 
 private misfortune makes us 1 The public is like the pools of 
 Bethesda — we all hasten there, to plunge in and rid ourselves 
 of our afflictions. 
 
 I drew my portfolio to me, and wrote to Lord Dawton. Three 
 hours after I had sent the note, he called upon me. I gave him 
 Lord Chester's letter, but he had already received from that no- 
 bleman a notification of my success. He was profuse in his 
 compliments and thanks. 
 
 "And, do you know," added the statesman, "that you have 
 quite made a conquest of Lord Guloseton t He speaks of you 
 publicly in the highest terms : I wish we could get him and his 
 votes. We must be strengthened, my dear Pelham ; everything 
 depends on the crisis." 
 
 " Are you certain of the cabinet ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; it is not yet publicly announced, but it is fully known 
 amongst us, who comes in, and who stays out. I am to have 
 the place of ." 
 
 " I congratulate your lordship from my heart. What post do 
 you design for me ? " 
 
 Lord Dawton changed countenance. " Why — really — Pelham, 
 we have not yet filled up the lesser appointments, but you shall 
 be well remembered — well, my dear Pelham — be sure of it." 
 
 I looked at the noble speaker with a glance which, I flatter 
 myself, is peculiar to me. Is, thought I, the embrjo minister 
 playing upon me as upon one of his dependent tools ? Let him 
 beware ! The anger of the moment passed away. 
 
 " Lord Dawton," said I, "one word, and I have done discuss- 
 ing my claims for the present. Do you mean to place me in 
 Parliament as soon as you are in the cabinet ? What else you 
 intend for me, I question not." 
 
 " Yes, assuredly, Pelham. How can you doubt it ? " 
 
 " Enough ! — and now read this letter from France."
 
 26o . PELHAM; OK, 
 
 Two days after my interview with Lord Dawton, as I was riding 
 leisurely through the Green Park, in no very bright and social 
 mood, one of the favored carriages, whose owners are permitted 
 to say, '"'■ Hie iter est nobis" overtook me. A sweet voice ordered 
 the coachman to stop, and then addressed itself to me. 
 
 " What ! the hero of Chester Park returned, without having 
 once narrated his adventures to me ? " 
 
 " Beautiful Lady Roseville," said I, " I plead guilty of negli- 
 gence — not treason. I forgot, it is true, to appear before you, 
 but I forget not the devotion of my duty now that I behold you. 
 Command, and I obey." 
 
 " See, Ellen," said Lady Roseville, turning to a bending and 
 blushing countenance beside her, which I then first perceived — 
 " see what it is to be a knight-errant ; even his language is 
 worthy of Amadis of Gaul — but — (again addressing me) your 
 adventures are really too shocking a subject to treat lightly. 
 We lay our serious orders on you to come to our castle this night; 
 we shall be alone." 
 
 " Willingly shall I repair to your bower, fayre ladie ; but tell 
 me, I beseech you, how many persons are signified in the word 
 'alone?'" 
 
 " Why," answered Lady Roseville, '• I fear we may have a few 
 people with us ; but I think, Ellen, we may promise our cheva- 
 lier that the number shall not exceed twelve." 
 
 I bowed and rode on. What worlds would I not have given 
 to have touched the hand of the countess's companion, though 
 only for an instant. But — and that fearful but, chilled me, like 
 an icebolt, I put spurs to my horse, and dashed fiercely on- 
 wards. There was rather a high wind stirring, and I bent my 
 face from it, so as scarcely to see the course of ray spirited and 
 impatient horse. 
 
 " What ho, sir ! — what ho ! " cried a shrill voice — " for Heaven's 
 sake, don't ride over me before d\vi\\&x, whatever you do after it ! " 
 
 I pulled up. " Ah, Lord Guloseton ! how happy I am to see 
 you ; pray forgive my blindness, and my horse's stupidity." 
 
 " 'Tis an ill wind," answered the noble gourmand, " which 
 blows nobody good ; — an excellent proverb, the veracity of whicli 
 is daily attested ; for however unpleasant a keen wind may be, 
 there is no doubt of its being a marvellous whetter of that great- 
 est of Heaven's blessings — an appetite. Little, however, did 
 I accept that besides blowing me a relish for my saute defoiegras, 
 it would also blow me one who might, probably, be a partaker 
 of my enjoyment. Honor me with your company at dinner to- 
 day."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEXTLEMA.V. 2G1 
 
 " What saloon will you dine in, my Lord Lucullus ? " said I, 
 in illusion to the custom of the epicure, by whose name I ad- 
 dressed him. 
 
 " The saloon of Diana," replied Guloseton — " for she must 
 certainly have shot the fine buck of which Lord H. sent me the 
 haunch that we shall have to-day. It is the true old Meynell 
 breed. I ask you not to meet Mr. So-and-so and Lord What- 
 d'ye-call-him : I ask you to meet a saute defoiegras, and a haunch 
 of venison." 
 
 " I will most certainly pay them my respects. Never did I 
 know before how far things were better company than persons. 
 Your lordship has taught me that great truth." 
 
 " God bless me ! " cried Guloseton, with an air of vexation, 
 *' here comes the Duke of Stilton, a horrid person, who told me 
 the other day, at my petit diner, when I apologized to him for 
 some strange error of my artistes, by which common vinegar had 
 been substituted for Chili — who told me — what think you he 
 told me ? You cannot guess, — he told me, forsooth, that he did 
 not care what he ate ; and, for his part, he could make a very 
 good dinner off a beef-steak ! Why the deuce, then, did he 
 come and dine with me? Could he have said anything more 
 cutting ? Imagine my indignation, when I looked round my 
 table and saw so many good things tlirown away on such an 
 idiot." 
 
 Scarcely was the last word out of the gourmand's mouth before 
 the noble personage so designated joined us. It amused me to 
 see Guloseton's contempt (which he scarcely took the pains to 
 suppress) of a person whom all Europe honored, and his evident 
 weariness of a companion, whose society every one else would 
 have coveted as the summufn bonujn of worldly distinction. As 
 for me, feeling anything but social, I soon left the ill-matched 
 pair, and rode into the other park. 
 
 Just as I entered it, I perceived, on a dull, yet cross-looking 
 pony, Mr. Wormwood, of bitter memory. Although we had not 
 met since our mutual sojourn at Sir Lionel Garrett's, and were 
 then upon very cool terms of acquaintance, he seemed resolved 
 to recognize and claim me. 
 
 " My dear sir," said he, with a ghastly smile, " I am rejoiced 
 once more to see you ; bless me, how pale you look ! I heard 
 you had been very ill. Pray, have you been yet to that man 
 who professes to cure consumption in the worst stages ? " 
 
 " Yes," said I, " he read me two or three letters of reference 
 from the patients he had cured. His last, he said, was a gen- 
 tleman very far gone — a Mr. Wormwood."
 
 262 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 " Oh, you are pleased to be facetious," said the cynic, coldly — 
 " but pray do tell me about that horrid affair at Chester Park. 
 How disagreeable it must have been to you to be taken up on 
 on suspicion of the murder I " 
 
 " Sir," said I, haughtily, "what do you mean ? " 
 
 •' Oh, you were not — wer'n't you ? Well, I always thought 
 it unlikely ; but every one says so " 
 
 " My dear sir," I rejoined, " how long is it since you have 
 minded what every body says ? If I were so foolish, I should 
 not be riding with you now; but /have always said in contra- 
 diction to every body, and even in spite of being universally 
 laughed at for my singular opinion, that you, my dear Mr, Worm- 
 wood, were by no means silly, nor ignorant, nor insolent, nor in- 
 trusive ; that you were, on the contrary, a very decent author, and 
 a very good sort of man ; and that you were so benevolent, that 
 you daily granted, to some one or other, the greatest happiness 
 in your power : it is a happiness, I am now about to enjoy, and 
 it consists in wishing you '•goodbye!''' And without waiting 
 for Mr. Wormwood's answer, I gave the rein to my horse, and 
 was soon lost among the crowd, which had now begun to assem- 
 ble. 
 
 Hyde Park is a stupid place. The English of the fashionable 
 world make business an enjoyment, and enjoyment a business : 
 they are born without a smile ; they rove about public places 
 like so many easterly winds — cold, sharp, and cutting ; or like a 
 group of fogs on a frosty day, sent out of his hall by Boreas, for 
 the express purpose of looking black at one another. When they 
 ask you, " how you do," you would think they were measuring 
 the length of your coffin. They are ever, it is true, laboring to 
 be agreeable ; but they are like Sisyphus, the stone they roll up 
 the hill with so much toil, runs down again, and hits you a thump 
 on the legs. They are sometimes polite, but invariably uncivil; 
 their warmth is always artificial — their cold never ; they are stiff 
 without dignity, and cringing without manners. They offer you 
 an affront, and call it " plain truth ; " they wound your feelings, 
 and tell you it is manly " to speak their mind ; " at the same 
 time, while they have neglected all the graces and charities of arti- 
 fice, they have adopted all its falsehood and deceit. While they 
 profess to abhor servility, they adulate the peerage ; while they 
 tell you they care not a rush for the minister, they move heaven 
 and earth for an invitation from the minister's wife. Then their 
 amusements ! — the heat — the dust — the sameness — the slowness, 
 of that odious park in the morning ! and the same exquisite scene 
 repeated in the evening, on the condensed stage of a rout-room.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAiY. 263 
 
 where one has more heat, with less air, and a narrower dungeon, 
 with diminished possibility of escape ! — we wander about like 
 the damned in the story of Vathek, and we pass our lives, like 
 the royal philosopher of Prussia, in conjugating the verb, Je- 
 M ennuis. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 In solo Vivendi causa palato est. — ^Juvenal. 
 
 They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived company; 
 
 with other fashionable topics, such as pictures, taste, Shakspeare, and the 
 musical glasses. — Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 The reflections which closed the last chapter will serve to 
 show that I was in no very amiable or convivial temper, when I 
 drove to Lord Guloseton's dinner. However, in the world, it 
 matters little what may be our real mood, the mask hides the 
 bent brow and the writhing lip. 
 
 Guloseton was stretched on his sofa, gazing with upward eye 
 at the beautiful Venus which hung above his hearth. " You are 
 welcome, Pelham ; I am worshipping my household divinity ! " 
 
 I prostrated myself on the opposite sofa, and made some an- 
 swer to the classical epicure, which made us both laugh heartily. 
 We then talked of pictures, painters, poets, the ancients, and 
 Dr. Henderson on Wines ; we gave ourselves up, without re- 
 straint, to the enchanting fascination of the last-named subject ; 
 and, our mutual enthusiasm confirming our cordiality, we went 
 down stairs to our dinner, as charmed with each other as boon 
 companions always should be. 
 
 " This is as it should be," said I, looking round at the well- 
 filled table, and the sparkling spirits immersed in the ice-pails ; 
 " a genuine /r/^/z^/y dinner. It is very rarely that I dare entrust 
 myself to such extempore hospitality — miscrum est aliend vivere 
 quadrd. ; — a friendly dinner, a family meal, are things from 
 which I fly with undisguised aversion. It is very hard, that in 
 England, one cannot have a friend, on pain of being shot or 
 poisoned ; if you refuse his familiar invitations, he thinks you 
 mean to affrcmt him, and says something rude, for which you 
 are forced to challenge him ; if you accept them, you perish be- 
 neath the weight of boiled mutton and turnips, or " 
 
 "My dear friend," interrupted Guloseton, with his mouth full, 
 "it is very true ; but this is no time for talking; let us eat.'" 
 
 I acknowledged the justice of the rebuke, arvd we did not in-
 
 264 PEUIAM ; 0A\ 
 
 terchange another word beyond the exclamations of surprise, 
 pleasure, admiration, or dissatisfaction, called up by the objects 
 which engrossed our attention, till we found ourselves alone 
 with our dessert. 
 
 When I thought my host had imbibed a sufficient quantity of 
 wine, I once more renewed my attack. I had tried him before 
 upon that point of vanity which is centred in power, and politi- 
 cal consideration, but in vain ; I now bethought me of another. 
 
 " How few persons there are," said I, " capable of giving 
 even a tolerable dinner — hov/ many capable of admiring one 
 worthy of estimation ! I could imagine no greater triumph for 
 the ambitious epicure, than to see at his board the first and 
 most honored persons of the state, all lost in wonder at the 
 depth, the variety, the purity, the munificence of his taste ; all 
 forgetting, in the extorted respect which a gratified palate never 
 fails to produce, the more visionary schemes and projects which 
 usually occupy their thoughts ; — to find those whom all England 
 are soliciting for posts and power, become, in their turn, eager 
 and craving aspirants for places at his table ; — to know that all 
 the grand movements of the ministerial body are planned and 
 agitated over the inspirations of his viands and the excitement 
 of his wine. From a haunch of venison, like the one of which 
 we have partaken to-day, what noble and substantial measures 
 might arise ! From a saute de foic, whAt delicate' subtleties of 
 finesse might have their origin ! From a ragout a la financiere, 
 what godlike improvements in taxation ! Oh, could such a lot 
 be mine, I would envy neither Napoleon for the goodness of his 
 fortune, nor S for the grandeur of his genius." 
 
 Guloseton laughed. " The ardor of your enthusiasm blinds 
 your philosophy, my dear Pelham ; like Montesquieu, the liveli- 
 ness of your fancy often makes you advance paradoxes which 
 the consideration of your judgment would afterwards condemn. 
 For instance, you must allow that if one had all those fine per- 
 sons at one's table, one would be forced to talk more, and con- 
 sequently to eat less : moreover, you would either be excited by 
 your triumph, or you would not, — that is indisputable ; if you 
 are not excited, you have the bore for nothing ; if you are ex- 
 cited, you spoil your digestion : nothing is so detrimental to the 
 stomach as the feverish inquietude of the passions. All philoso- 
 phies recommend calm as the to kalon of their code ; and 
 you must perceive, that if, in the course you advise, one has oc- 
 casional opportunities of pride, one also has those of mortifica- 
 tion. Mortification ! terrible word ; how many apoplexies have
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 26$ 
 
 arisen from its source ! No. Pelham, away with ambition ; fill 
 your glass, and learn, at last, the secret of real philosophy." 
 
 "Confound the man !" was my mental anathema. — "Long 
 life to the Solomon of sautes," was my audible exclamation, 
 
 " There is something," resumed Guloseton, " in your coun- 
 tenance and manner, at once so frank, lively, and ingenuous, 
 that one is not only prepossessed in your favor, but desirous, 
 of your friendship. I tell you, therefore, in confidence, that 
 nothing more amuses me than to see the courtship I receive 
 from each party. I laugh at all the unwise and passionate 
 contests in which others are engaged, and I would as soon think 
 of entering into the chivalry of Don Quixote, or attacking the 
 visionary enemies of the Bedlamite, as of taking part in the fury 
 of politiaans. At present, looking afar off at their delirium, I 
 can ridicule it ; were I to engage in it, I should be hurt by it. I 
 have no wish to become the weeping, instead of the laughing, 
 philosopher. I sleep well now — I have no desire to sleep ill 
 I eat well — why should I lose my appetite ? I am undisturbed 
 and unattacked in the enjoyments best suited to my taste — for 
 what purpose should I be hurried into the abuse of the journal- 
 ists and the witticisms of pamphleteers ? I can ask those whom 
 I like to my house — why should I be forced into asking those 
 whom I do not like ? In fine, my good Pelham, why should I 
 sour my temper and shorten my life, put my green old age into 
 flannel and physic, and become, from the happiest of sages the 
 most miserable of fools ? Ambition reminds me of what Bacon 
 says of anger — ' It is like rain, it breaks itself upon that which 
 it falls on.' Pelham, my boy, taste the Chateau Margbt.'' 
 
 However hurt my vanity might be in having so ill succeeded 
 in my object, I could not help smiling with satisfaction at my 
 entertainer's principles of wisdom. My diplomatic honor, how- 
 ever, was concerned, and I resolved yet to gain him. If, here- 
 after, I succeeded, it was by a very different method from any I 
 had yet taken ; meanwhile, I departed from the house of this 
 modern Apicius with a new insight into the great book of man- 
 kind, and a new conclusion from its pages ; viz., that no virtue 
 can make so perfect a philosopher as the senses. There is no 
 content like that of the epicure — no active code of morals so 
 difficult to conquer as the inertness of his indolence ; he is the 
 only being in the world for whom the present has a supremer 
 gratification than the future. 
 
 My cabriolet soon whirled me to Lady Roaeville's door ; the 
 first }>erson I saw in the drawing-room, was Ellen. She lifted 
 up her eyes with that fanuliar sweetness with which they had
 
 266 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 long since learnt to welcome me. " She is the sister of a mur- 
 derer ! " was the thought that curdled my blood, and I bowed 
 distantly and passed on. 
 
 I met Vincent. He seemed dispirited and dejected. He 
 already saw how ill his party had succeeded ; above all, he was 
 enraged at the idea of the person assigned by rumour to fill the 
 place he had intended for himself. This was a sort of rival to 
 his lordship, a man of quaintness and quotation, with as much 
 learning as Vincent, equal wit, and — but that personage is still 
 in office, and I will say no more, lest he should think I flatter. 
 
 To our subject. It has probably been observed that Lord 
 Vincent had indulged less of late in that peculiar strain of.learned 
 humor formerly his wont. The fact is, that he had been playmg 
 another part; he wished to remove from his character that 
 appearance of literary coxcombry with which he was charged. 
 He knew well how necessary, in the game of politics, it is to 
 appear no less a man of the world than of books ; and though 
 he was not averse to display his clerkship and scholastic infor- 
 mation, yet he endeavored to make them seem rather valuable 
 for their weight, than curious for their fashion. How few there 
 are in the world who retain, after a certain 'age, the character 
 originally natural to them ! We all get, as it were, a second 
 skin ; the little foibles, propensities, eccentricities, we first in- 
 dulged through affectation, conglomerate and encrust till the 
 artificiality grows into the nature. 
 
 " Pelham," said Vincent, with a cold smile, " the day will be 
 yours ; the battle is not to the strong — the Whigs will triumph. 
 ' Fiigere Pudor, verum que, fidesqiie ; in quorum subiere locum 
 fraudesque dolique itisidieeque, etvis, et amor sceleratus habendi.' " * 
 
 "A pretty modest quotation," said I. "You must allow, at 
 
 least, that the armor sceleratus habendi was also, in some moderate 
 
 degree, shared by the Pudor and Fides which characterize your 
 
 party ; otherwise I am at a loss how to account for the tough 
 
 - struggle against us we have lately had the honor of resisting." 
 
 "Never mind," replied Vincent, "I will not refute you : — It 
 is not for us, the defeated, to argue with you, the victors. But 
 pray, (continued Vincent, with a sneer which pleased me not,) 
 pray, among this windfall of the Hesperian fruit, what nice little 
 apple will fall to your share ? " 
 
 " My good Vincent, don't let us anticipate ; if any such apple 
 should come into my lap, let it not be that of discord between 
 us." 
 
 * " Shame, Truth, and Faith have flown ; jn their stead creep in frauds, craft, snares, 
 force, and the rascally love of gain."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 267 
 
 " Who talks of discord ? " asked Lady Roseville, joining us. 
 
 " Lord Vincent," said I, " fancies himself the celebrate^ fruit, 
 on which was written, detur pulchriori^ to be given to the fairest. 
 Suffer me, therefore, to make him a present to your ladyship." 
 
 Vincent muttered something which, as I really liked and es- 
 teemed him, I was resolved not to hear ; accordingly I turned 
 to another part of the room : there I found Lady Dawton — she 
 was a tall, handsome woman, as proud as a liberal's wife ought 
 to be. She received me with unusual graciousness, and I sat 
 myself beside her. Three dowagers, and an old beau of the old 
 school, were already sharing the conversation with the haughty 
 countess. I found that the topic was society. 
 
 " No," said the old beau, who was entitled Mr. Clarendon, 
 " society is very different from what it was in my younger days. 
 
 You remember, Lady Paulet, those delightful parties at D 
 
 House ? Where shall we ever find anything like them .'' Such 
 ease, such company — even the mixture was so piquant ; if one 
 chanced to sit next a bourgeois, he was sure to be distinguished 
 for his wit or talent. People were not tolerated, as now, merely 
 for their riches." 
 
 " True," cried Lady Dawton, " it is the introduction of low 
 persons, without any single pretension, which spoils the society 
 of the present day ! " And the three dowagers sighed amen, to 
 this remark. 
 
 " And yet," said I, " since I may safely say so here without 
 being suspected of a personality in the shape of a compliment, 
 don't you think, that without any such mixture we should be 
 very indifferent company ? Do we not find those dinners and 
 soirees the pleasantest where we see a minister next to a punster, 
 a poet to a prince, and a coxcomb like me next to a beauty like 
 Lady Dawton ? The more variety there is in the conversation, 
 the more agreeable it becomes ! " 
 
 "Very just," answered Mr. Clarendon ; "but it is precisely 
 because I wish for that variety that I dislike a miscellaneous 
 society. If one does not know the person beside whom 
 one has the happiness of sitting, what possible subject can one 
 broach with any prudence. I put politics aside, because, thanks 
 to party spirit, we rarely meet those we are strongly opposed to ; 
 but if we sneer at the methodists, our neighbor may be a saint 
 — if we abuse a new book, he may have written it — if we ob- 
 serve that the tone of the piano-forte is bad, his father may 
 have made it — if we complain of the uncertainty of the commer- 
 cial interest, his uncle may have been gazetted last week, I 
 name no exaggerated instances,; on the contrary, I refer these
 
 268 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 general remarks to particular individuals, whom all of us have 
 probably met. Thus, you see, that a variety of topics is pro- 
 scribed in a mixed company, because some one or other of them 
 will be certain to offend." 
 
 Perceiving that we listened to him with attention, Mr. Claren- 
 don continued — " Nor is this more than a minor objection to the 
 great mixture prevalent amongst us ; a more important one 
 may be found in the universal imitation it produces. The 
 influx of common persons being once permitted, certain sets re- 
 cede, as it were, from the contamination, and contracts into very 
 diminished coteries. Living familiarly solely amongst them- 
 selves, however they may be forced into visiting promiscuously, 
 they imbibe certain manners, certain peculiarities in mode and 
 words — even in an accent or a pronunciation, which are confined 
 to themselves : and whatever differs from these little eccentrici- 
 ties, they are apt to condemn as vulgar and suburban. Nor, the 
 fastidiousness of these sets making them difficult of intimate ac- 
 cess, even to many of their superiors in actual rank, those very 
 superiors, by a natural feeling in human nature, of prizing what 
 is rare, even if it is worthless, are the first to solicit their ac- 
 quaintance ; and, as a sign that they enjoy it, to imitate those 
 peculiarities which are the especial hieroglyphics of this sacred 
 few. The lower grades catch the contagion, and imitate those 
 they imagine most likely to know the essentials of the mode ; 
 and thus manners, unnatural to all, are transmitted second-hand, 
 third-hand, forth-hand, till they are ultimately filtered into some- 
 thing worse than no manners at all. Hence, you perceive all 
 people timid, stii¥, unnatural, and ill at ease ; they are dressed 
 up in a garb which does not fit them, to which they have never 
 been accustomed, and are as little at home as the wild Indian 
 in the boots and garments of the more civilized European." 
 
 " And hence," said I, " springs that universal vulgarity of 
 idea, as well as manner, which pervades all society — for nothing 
 is so plebeian as imitation." 
 
 "Avery evident truism !" said Clarendon. " What I lament 
 most, is the injudicious method certain persons took to change this 
 order of things, and diminish the de'sagnmeiis of the mixture we 
 speak of. I remember well, when Ahnack's was first set up, 
 the intention was to keep away the rich rbturiers from a place, 
 the tone of which was also intended to be contrary to their own. 
 For this purpose the patronesses were instituted, the price of 
 admission made extremely low, and all ostentatious refreshments 
 discarded : it was an admirable institution for the interests of 
 the little olisfarchv who ruled it — but it has only increased the
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 269 
 
 general imitation and vulgarity. Perhaps the records of that 
 institution contains things more disgraceful to the aristocracy of 
 England, than the whole history of Europe can furnish. And 
 how could the Messieurs et Mesdames Jourdains help following the 
 servile and debasing example of Monseigneur le Ducct Pair? " 
 
 " How strange it is," said one of the dowagers, " that of all 
 the novels on society with which we are annually inundated, 
 there is scarcely one which gives even a tolerable description 
 of it ! " 
 
 " Not strange," said Clarendon, with a formal smile, " if your 
 ladyship will condescend to reflect. Most of the writers upon 
 our little great world have seen nothing of it : at most, they 
 have been occasionally admitted into the routs of the B.'s and 
 C.'s of the second, or rather the third set. A very few are, it 
 is true, gentlemen ; but gentlemen, who are not writers, are as 
 bad as writers who are not gentlemen. In one work, which, 
 since it is popular, I will not name, there is a stiffness and stilt- 
 edness in the dialogue and descriptions perfectly ridiculous. 
 The author makes his countesses always talking of their family, 
 and his earls always quoting the peerage. There is as much 
 fuss about state, and dignity, and pride, as if the greatest among 
 us were not far too busy with the petty affairs of the world to 
 have time for such lofty vanities. There is only one rule nec- 
 essary for a clever writer who wishes to delineate the beau mojide. 
 It is this : let him consider that ' dukes, and lords, and noble 
 princes,' eat, drink, talk, move, exactly the same as any other 
 class of civilized people — nay, the very subjects in conversation 
 are, for the most part, the same in all sets — only, perhaps, they 
 are somewhat more familiarly and easily treated with us than 
 among the lower orders, who fancy rank is distinguished by 
 pomposity, and that state affairs are discussed with the solem- 
 nity of a tragedy — that we are always my lording and my lad)- 
 ing each other — that we ridicule commoners, and curl our hair 
 with Debrett's Peerage." 
 
 We air laughed at this speech, the truth of which we readily 
 acknowledged. 
 
 "Nothing," said Lady Dawton, "amuses me more than to 
 see the great distinction which novel-writers make between the 
 titled and the untitled ; they seem to be perfectly unaware that 
 a commoner, of ancient family and large fortune, is very often 
 of far more real rank and estimation, and even weight, in what 
 they are pleased to term fas/iioti, than many of the members of 
 the Upper House. And what amuses me as much, is the tio 
 distinction they make between all people who have titles ■ —
 
 270 FELHAM ; OR, 
 
 Lord A , the little baron, is exactly the same as Lord Z , 
 
 the great marquess, equally haughty and equally important." 
 
 " Mais^ nion Dieu,'' said a little French count, who had just 
 joined us ; " how is it that you can expect to find a description 
 of society entertaining, when the society itself is so dull ? — the 
 closer the copy, the more tiresome it must be. Your manner, 
 pour vous amuser, consists in standing on a crowded staircase, 
 and complaining that you are terribly bored. L'on s'accoiitume 
 difficilenient d, une vie qui se passe stir rescaiier.'' 
 
 "It is very true," said Clarendon, "we cannot defend our- 
 selves. We are a very sensible, thinking, brave, sagacious, 
 generous, industrious, noble-minded people; but it must be con- 
 fessed, that we are terrible bores to ourselves and all the rest 
 of the world. Lady Paulet, if you are going so soon, honor me 
 by accepting my arm." 
 
 " You should say your hand,^'' said the Frenchman. 
 
 " Pardon me," answered the gallent old beau ; " I say, with 
 your brave countryman when he lost his legs in battle, and was 
 asked by a lady, like the one who now leans on me, whether he 
 would not sooner have lost his arms t ' No, madam,' said he, 
 (and this. Monsieur le Comte, is the answer I give to your rebuke,) 
 * I want my hands to guard my heart.' " 
 
 Finding our little knot was now broken up,_I went into another 
 part of the room, and joind Vincent, Lady Roseville, Ellen, and 
 one or two other persons who were assembled round a table 
 covered with books and prints. Ellen was sitting on one 
 side of Lady Roseville ; there was a vacant chair next her, but 
 I avoided it, and seated myself on the other side of Lady Rose- 
 ville. 
 
 " Pray, Miss Glanville," said Lord Vincent, taking up a thin 
 volume, " do you greatly admire the poems of this lady .? " 
 
 " What, Mrs. Hemans ? " answered Ellen. " 1 am more 
 enchanted with her poetry than I can express : if that is ' 'llic 
 Forest Sanctuary ' which you have taken up, I am sure you will 
 bear me out in my admiration." 
 
 Vincent turned over the leaves with the quiet cynicism of 
 manner habitual to him ; but his countenance grew animated 
 after he had read two pages. "This is, indeed, beautiful," 
 said he, " really and genuinely beautiful. How singular that 
 such a work should not be more known ! I never met with it 
 before. But whose pencil-marks are these .? " 
 
 " Mine, I believe," said Ellen, modestly. 
 
 And Lady Roseville turned the conversation upon Lord Byron. 
 
 " I must confess, for my part," said Lord Edward Neville
 
 ADVENTURE'S OF A GENTLEMAN. 271 
 
 (an author of some celebrity and more merit), " that I am 
 exceedingly wear}' of those doleful ditties with which we have 
 been favored for so many years. No sooner had Lord Byron 
 declared himself unhappy, than every young gentleman with a 
 pale face and dark hair, thought himself justitied in frowning in 
 the glass and writing Odes to Despair. A.11 persons who could 
 scribble two lines were sure to make them into rhymes of 
 'blight ' and ' night.' Never was there so grand 2. penchant for 
 the iriste." 
 
 " It would be interesting enough," observed Vincent, " to 
 trace the origin of this melancholy mania. People are wrong to 
 attribute it to poor Lord Byron — it certainly came from Ger- 
 many ; perhaps Werter was the first hero of that school." 
 
 " There seems," said I, " an unaccountable prepossession among 
 all persons, to imagine that whatever seems gloomy must be pro- 
 found, and whatever is cheerful must be shallow. They have 
 put poor Philosophy into deep mourning, and given her a coffin 
 for a writing-desk, and a skull for an inkstand." 
 
 " Oh," cried Vincent, " I remember some lines so applicable 
 to your remark, that I mast forthwith interrupt you, in order to 
 introduce them. Madame de Stael said, in one of her works, 
 that melancholy was a source of perfection. Listen now to my 
 author — 
 
 'Une femme nous dit, et nous prouve en effet, 
 Qu'avant quelques mille ans I'homme sera parfait, 
 Qu'il devra cet etat a la vielancolie. 
 On sait que le trisft'sse aiinonce le genie ; 
 Nous avons deja fait des jirogres etonnans ; 
 Que de tristes ecrits — que de tristes romans ! 
 Des plus noires horreurs nous sommes idolatres, 
 Et la melancolie a gagne nos theatres.' " * 
 
 " What ! " cried I, " are you so well acquainted with my favor- 
 ite book ? " 
 
 " Yours ! " exclaimed Vincent. " Gods, what a sympathy ; t 
 it has long been my most familiar acquaintance -, but — 
 
 " 'Tell us what hath chanced to-day. 
 That Cassar looks so sad?' " 
 
 ♦ "A woman tells us, and in fact she proves, 
 
 Than man, Ihoutili slowly, to perfection moves 
 Rut to be ixrfict, tirst we must l)C sad ; 
 Cienifts, we know, is melancholy mad. 
 Already Time our startling prof^ress hails; 
 What cheerless essays ! — what disastrous tales ! 
 Hi>rror has crown the amusement of the age. 
 And Mirth despairuij; yawns, and Hies the stage." 
 
 f La G-utfonomic, I'oc'iLe, p;a J. berchoux.
 
 -/- 
 
 FELHAM; OR, 
 
 My eye followed Vincent's to ascertain the meaning of this 
 question, and rested upon Glanville, who had that moment en- 
 tered the room. I might have known that he was expected, by 
 Lady Roseville's abstraction, the restlessness with which she 
 started at times from her seat, and as instantly resumed it ; 
 and the fond expecting looks towards the door, every time it 
 shut or opened, which denote so strongly the absent and dream- 
 ing heart of the woman who loves. 
 
 Glanville seemed paler than usual, and perhaps even sadder; 
 but he was less distrait and abstracted ; no sooner did he see, 
 than he approached me, and extended his hand with great 
 cordiality. His hand ! thought I, and I could not bring myself 
 to accept it ; I merely addressed him in the common-place 
 salutation. He looked hard and inquisitively at me, and then 
 turned abruptly away. Lady Roseville had risen from her 
 chair — her eyes followed him. He had thrown himself on a 
 settee near the window. She went up to him, and sat herself 
 by his side. I turned — my face burned — my heart beat — I was 
 now next to Ellen Glanville ; she was looking down, apparently 
 employed with some engravings, but I thought her hand trem- 
 bled. 
 
 There was a pause. Vincent was talking with the other 
 occupiers of the table : a woman, at such times, is always the 
 first to speak. " We have not seen you, Mr. Pelham," said 
 Ellen, " since your return to town." 
 
 " I have been very ill," I answered, and I felt my voice falter. 
 Ellen looked up anxiously at my face ; I could not brook those 
 large, deep, tender eyes, and it now became my turn to occupy 
 myself with the prints. 
 
 " You do look pale," she said, in a low voice. I did not 
 trust myself with a further remark — dissimulator as I was to 
 others, I was like a guilty child before the woman I loved. 
 There was another pause — at last Ellen said, " How do you 
 think my brother looks ? " 
 
 I started ; yes, he was her brother, and I was once more my- 
 self at that thought. I answered so coldly, and almost haught- 
 ily, that Ellen coloured, and said with some dignity that she 
 should join Lady Roseville. I bowed slightly, and she with- 
 drew to the countess. I seized my hat and departed — but not 
 utterly alone — I had managed to secrete the book which Ellen's 
 hand had marked : through many a bitter day and sleepless 
 night, that book has been my only companion ;■ I have it before 
 me now ; and it is open at a page which is yet blistered with 
 the traces of former tears !
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 273 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 Our mistress is a little given to philosophy : what disputations shall 
 
 we have here by and by? — Gil Blas. 
 
 It was now but seldom that I met Ellen, for I went little into 
 general society, and grew every day more engrossed in political 
 affairs. Sometimes, however, when, wearied of myself, and my 
 graver occupations, I yielded to my mother's solicitations, and 
 went to one of the nightly haunts of the goddess we term Pleas- 
 ure and the Greeks Moria, the game of dissipation (to use a 
 Spanish proverb) shuffled us together. It was then that I had 
 the most difficult task of my life to learn and to perform ; to 
 check the lip — the eye — the soul — to heap curb on curb, upon 
 the gushings of the heart, which daily and hourly yearned to 
 overflow ; and to feel, that while the mighty and restless tides 
 of passion were thus fettered and restrained, all within was a 
 parched and arid wilderness, that wasted itself, for want of very 
 moisture, away. Yet there was something grateful in the sadness 
 with which I watched her form in the dance, or listened to her 
 voice in the song ; and I felt soothed, and even happy, when my 
 fancy flattered itself, that her step never now seemed so light, 
 as it was wont to be when in harmony with mine, nor the songs 
 that pleases her most, so gay as those that were formerly her 
 choice. 
 
 Distant and unobserved, I loved to feed my eyes upon her 
 pale cheek and downcast eye ; to note the abstraction that came 
 over her at moments, even when her glance seemed brightest, 
 and her lip most fluent ; and to know, that while a fearful mys- 
 tery might for ever forbid the union of her hands, there was an 
 invisible, but electric chain, which connected the sympathies of 
 our hearts. 
 
 Ah ! why is it, that the noblest of our passions should be also 
 the most selfish ? — that while we would make all earthly sacri- 
 fice for the one we love, we are perpetually demanding a 
 sacrifice in return ; that if we cannot have the rapture of bless- 
 ing we find a consolation in the power to afflict ; and that we 
 acknowledge, while we reprobate, the maxim of the sage : "ZV;^ 
 veutfaire tout le bonheiir, ou, si cella ?ie se pent ainsi, tout le mal- 
 heur dc ce qu'on a'nney * 
 
 The beauty of Ellen was not of that nature which rest solely 
 upon the freshness of youth, nor even the magic of expression ; 
 
 ♦ " One wishes to make all the happiness, or, if that is forbidden, all the unhappincsi 
 of the bcinj; wc love."
 
 274 PELHAAI ; OR, 
 
 it was as faultless as it was dazzling; no one could deny its ex- 
 cess or its perfection ; her praises came constantly to my ear, 
 into whatever society I went. Say what we will of the power of 
 love, it borrows greatly from opinion : pride, above all things, 
 sanctions and strengthens affection. When all voices were 
 united to panegyrize her beauty, — when I knew, that the powers 
 of her wit — the charms of her conversation — the accurate judg- 
 ment, united to the sparkling imagination, were even more re- 
 markable characteristics of her mind, than loveliness of her per- 
 son, I could not but feel my ambition, as well as my tenderness, 
 excited : I dwelt with a double intensity on my choice, and with 
 a tenfold bitterness on the obstacle which forbade me to indulge 
 it. 
 
 Yet there was one circumstance, to which, in spite of all the 
 evidence against Reginald, my mind still fondly and eagerly 
 clung. In searching the pockets of the unfortunate Tyrrell, the 
 money he had mentioned to me as being in his possession, could 
 not be discovered. Had Glanville been the murderer, at all 
 events he could not have been the robber. It was true that in 
 the death scuffle, which in all probability took place, the money 
 might have fallen from the person of the deceased, either among 
 the long grass which grew rankly and luxuriantly around, or in 
 the sullen and slimy pool, close to which the murder was perpe- 
 trated ; it was also possible, that Thornton, knowing that the de- 
 ceased had so large a sum about him, and not being aware that 
 the circumstance had been communicated to me or any one else, 
 might not have been able (when he and Dawson first went to 
 spot) to resist so great a temptation. However, there was a 
 slight crevice in this fact, for a sunbeam of hope to enter, and I 
 was too sanguine, by habitual temperament and present passion, 
 not to turn towards it from the general darkness of my thoughts. 
 
 With Glanville I was often brought into immediate contact, 
 both united in the same party, and engaged in concerting the 
 same measures : we frequently met in public, and sometimes 
 even alone. However, I was invariably cold and distant, and 
 Glanville confirmed rather than diminished my suspicions, by 
 making no commentary on my behavior, and imitating it in the 
 indifference of his own. Yet, it was with a painful and aching 
 heart, that I marked in his emaciated form and sunken cheek, 
 the gradual, but certain progress of disease and death ; and while 
 all England rang with the renown of the young, but almost un- 
 rivalled orator, and both parties united in anticipating the cer- 
 tainty and brilliancy of his success, I felt how improbable it was, 
 that, even if his crimee scaped the unceasing vigilance of justice,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 275 
 
 this l!ving world would long possess an}'' traces of his genius but 
 the remembrance ol his name. There was something in his love 
 of letters, his habits of luxury and expense, the energy of his 
 mind — the solitude, the darkness, the hauteur, the reserve of his 
 manners and life, which reminded me of the German Wallen- 
 stein ; nor was he altogether without the superstition of that evil, 
 but extraordinary man. It is true that he was not addicted to 
 the romatic fables of astrology, but he was an earnest, though 
 secret, advocate of the world of spirits. He did not utterly dis- 
 believe the various stories of their return to earth and their visits 
 to the living ; and it would have been astonishing to me, had I 
 been a less diligent observer of human inconsistencies, to mark a 
 mind, otherwise so reasoning and strong, in this respect so cred- 
 ulous and weak ; and to witness its reception of a belief, not 
 only so adverse to ordinary reflection, but so absolutely contra- 
 dictory to the philosophy it passionately cultivated, and the 
 principles it obstinately espoused. 
 
 One evening, I, Vincent, and Clarendon, were alone at Lady 
 Roseville's, when Reginald and his sister entered. I rose to de- 
 part ; the beautiful Countess would not sufifer it ; and when I 
 looked at Ellen, and saw her blush at my glance, the weakness 
 of my heart conquered and I remained. 
 
 Our conversation turned partly upon books, and principally 
 on the science du cceur et du mo7ide, for Lady Roseville was iiii 
 pen philosophe, as well as more than nn pen litteraire ; and her 
 house, like those of Du Ueffands and D'Epinays of the old French 
 regime, was one where serious subjects were cultivated, as well 
 as the lighter ones ; where it was the mode to treat no less upon 
 things than to scandalize /^ri-w/j"; and where maxims on men 
 and'/eflections on manners were as much in their places, as strict- 
 ures on the Opera and invitations to balls. 
 
 All who were now assembled were more or less suited to one 
 another"; all were people of the world, and yet occasional students 
 of the closet; but all had a different method of expressing their 
 learning or their observations. Clarendon was dry, formal, 
 shrewd, and possessed of the suspicious philosophy common 10 
 men hackneyed in the world. Vincent relieved his learning by 
 the quotation or metaphor, or originality of some sort, with which 
 it was expressed. Lady Roseville seldom spoke much, but when 
 she did, it was rather with grace than solidity. She was natur- 
 ally melancholy and pensive, and her observations partook of. 
 the colorings of her mind ; but she was also a dafne de la conr, ac' 
 customed to conceal, and her language was gay and trilling, while 
 the sentiments it clothed were pensive and sad.
 
 276 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 Ellen Glanville was an attentive listener, but a diffident speaker. 
 Though her knowledge was even masculme for its variety and 
 extent, she was averse from displaying it ; the childish, the lively, 
 the tender, were the outward traits of her character — the flowers 
 were above, but the mine was beneath ; one noted the beauty 
 of the first — one seldom dreamt of the value of the last. 
 
 Glanville's favorite method of expressing himself was terse 
 and sententious. He did not love the labor of detail : he conveyed 
 the knowledge of years in an axiom. Sometimes he was fanci- 
 ful, sometimes false ; but, generally dark, melancholy, and 
 bitter. 
 
 As for me, I entered more into conversation at Lady Rose- 
 ville's than I usually do elsewhere ; being, according to my favor- 
 ite philosophy, gay on the serious, and serious on the gay ; and, 
 perhaps, this is a juster method of treating the two than would 
 be readily imagined : for things which are usually treated with 
 importance, are, for the most part, deserving of ridicule : and 
 those which we receive as trifles, swell themselves into a conse- 
 quence we little dreamt of, before they depart, 
 
 Vincent took up a volume : it was Shelley's Posthumous Poems, 
 " How fine," said he, " some of these are ! but they are fine frag- 
 ments of an architecture in bad taste : they are imperfect in 
 themselves, and faulty in the school they belong to ; yet, such as 
 they are, the master-hand is evident upon them. They are like 
 the pictures of Paul Veronese — often offending the eye, often irri- 
 tating the judgment, but breathing of something vast and lofty 
 — their very faults are majestic ; — this age, perhaps no other, 
 will ever do them justice — but the disciples of future schools 
 will make glorious pillage of their remains. The writings of 
 Shelley would furnish matter for a hundred volumes; they are 
 an admirable museum of ill-arranged curiosities — they are dia- 
 monds awkwardly set ; but one of them, in the hands of a skil- 
 ful jeweller, would be inestimable ; and the poet of the future 
 will serve him as Mercury did the tortoise in his own translation 
 from Homer — make him ' sing sweetly when he's dead ! ' Their 
 lyres will be made out of his shell.'" 
 
 " If I judge rightly," said Clarendon, " his literary faults were 
 these ; he was too learned in his poetry, and too poetical in his 
 learning. Learning is the bane of a poet. Imagine how beau- 
 tiful Petrarch would be without his platonic conceits ; fancy the 
 luxuriant imagination of Cowley, left to run wild among the lofty 
 objects of nature, not the minute peculiarities of art. Even Mil- 
 ton, who made a more graceful and gorgeous use of learning, 
 than, perhaps, any other poet, would have been far more popular
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 277 
 
 if he had been more familiar, Poetr}- is for the multitude — eru- 
 dition for the few. In proportion as you mix tliem, erudition 
 will gain in readers, and poetry lose." 
 
 " True," said Glanville ; "and thus the poetical, among philos- 
 ophers, are the most popular of their time ; and the philosophical 
 among poets, the least popular of theirs." 
 
 "Take care," said Vincent, smiling, "that we are not misled 
 by the point of your deduction; the remark is true, but with a 
 certain reservation, viz. , that the philosophy which renders a 
 poet less popular, must be the philosophy of learni?ig, not of wis- 
 dom. Whenever it consists in the knowledge of the plainer 
 springs of the heart, and not in abstruse inquiry into its metaphys- 
 ical and hidden subtleties, it necessarily increases the popularity 
 of the poems; because, instead of being limited to the few, it 
 comes home to every one. Thus, it is the philosophy of Shaks- 
 peare, which puts him into every one's hands and hearts — 
 while that of Lucretius, wonderful poet as he is, makes us often 
 throw down the book because it fatigues us with the scholar. 
 Philosophy, therefore, only sins in poetry, when, in the severe 
 garb of learning, it becomes harsh and crabbed, and not ' musi- 
 cal as is Apollo's lute.' " 
 
 " Alas ! " said I, " how much more difficult than of yore edu- 
 cation is become ! formerly, it had only one object — to acquire 
 learning ; and now, we have not only to acquire it, but to know 
 what to do with it when we have — nay, there are not a few cases 
 where the very perfection of learning will be io appear ignorant." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Glanville, " the very perfection of wisdo7n 
 may consist in retaining actual ignorance. Where was there ever 
 the individual who, after consuming years, life, health, in the 
 pursuit of science, rested satisfied with its success, or rewarded 
 by its triumph "i Common sense tells us that the best method 
 of employing life \s to enjoy it. Common sense tells us, also, the 
 ordinary means of this enjoyment ; health, competence, and the 
 indulgence, but the moderate indulgence, of our passions. What 
 have these to do with science ? " 
 
 " I might tell you," replied Vincent, " that I myself have been 
 no idle nor inactive seeker after the hidden treasures of mind ; 
 and that, from my own experience, I could speak of pleasure, 
 pride, complacency, in the pursuit, that were no inconsiderable 
 augmenters of my stock of enjoyment ; but 1 have the candor 
 to confess, also, that I have known disappointment, mortification, 
 despondency of mind, and infirmity of body, that did more than 
 balance the account. The fact is, in my opinion, that the indi- 
 vidual is a sufferer for his toils, but then the mass is benefited
 
 278 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 by his success. It is we who reap, in idle gratification, what 
 the husbandman has sown in the bitterness of hibor. Genius 
 did not save Milton from poverty and blindness — nor Tasso from 
 the mad-house — nor Galileo from the inquisition ; they were the 
 sufferers, but posterity the gainers. The literary empire reverses 
 the political ; it is not the many made for one — it is the one 
 made for many. Wisdom and Genius must have their martyrs 
 as well as Religion, and with the same results, viz., semen ecclesice 
 est sanguis inarty7-orum. And this reflection must console us for 
 their misfortunes, for, perhaps, it was sufficient to console them. 
 In the midst of the most affecting passage in the most wonderful 
 work, perhaps, ever produced, for the mixture of universal 
 thought with individual interest — I mean the last two cantos of 
 Childe Harold — the poet warms from himself at his hopes of be- 
 ing remembered 
 
 ' In his line 
 
 ' With his land's language.' 
 
 Ana who can read the noble and heart-speaking apology of Al- 
 gernon Sydney, without entering into his consolation no less than 
 his misfortunes ? Speaking of the law being turned into a snare 
 instead of a protection, and instancing its uncertainty and dan- 
 ger in the times of Richard the Second, he says, ' God only 
 knows what will be the issue of the like practices in these our 
 days; perhaps He will in his mercy speedily visit his afflicted 
 people ; / die in the faith that he zvill do it, though I know not the 
 time or- ways J " 
 
 " I love," said Clarendon, " the enthusiasm which places 
 comfort in so noble a source • but, is vanity, think you, a less 
 powerful agent than philanthropy ? Is it not the desire of 
 shining before men that prompts us to whatever may effect it ? 
 and if it can create, can it not also support ? I mean, that if 
 you allow that to shine, to dazzle, to enjoy praise, is no ordinary 
 incentive to the commencement of great works, the conviction 
 of future success for this desire becomes no inconsiderable 
 reward. Grant, for instance, that this desire produced the 
 ' Paradise Lost,' and you will not deny that it might also sup- 
 port the poet through his misfortunes. Do you think that he 
 thought rather of the pleasure his work should afford to posterity, 
 than of the przisQS posterity should extend to his work ? Had not 
 Cicero left us such frank confessions of himself, how patriotic, 
 how philanthropic we should have esteemed him ! JVow we know 
 both his motive and his meed was vanity, may we not extend 
 the knowledge of human nature which we have gained in this
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 279 
 
 instance by applying it to others ? For my part, I should be 
 loth to inquire how large a quantum of vanity mingled with the 
 haughty patriotism of Sydney, or the unconquered soul of 
 Cato." 
 
 Glanville bowed his head in approval. 
 
 " But," observed I, ironically, " why be so uncharitable to 
 this poor and persecuted principle, since none of you deny the 
 good and great actions it effects ; why stigmatize vanity as a 
 vice, when it creates, or, at least, participates in, so many vir- 
 tues ? I wonder the ancients did not erect the choicest of their 
 temples to its worship. As for me, I shall henceforth only 
 speak of it as the prijiium mobile of whatever we venerate and 
 admire, and shall think it the highest compliment I can pay to 
 a man, to tell him he is emi/ie?itly vain /" 
 
 " 1 incline to your opinion," cried Vincent, laughing. " The 
 reason we dislike vanity in others, is because it is perpetually 
 hurting our own. Of all passions (if for the moment I may call 
 it such) it is the most indiscreet ; it is forever blabbing out its 
 own secrets. If it would but keep its counsel, it would be as 
 graciously received in society, as any other well-dressed and 
 well-bred intruder of quality. Its garrulity makes it despised. 
 But in truth it must be clear, that vanity in itself is neither a 
 vice nor a virtue, any more than this knife, in itself, is danger- 
 ous or useful ; the person who employs gives it its qualities : 
 thus, for instance, a great mind desires to shine, or is vaifi, in 
 great actions ; a frivolous one, in frivolities ; and so on through 
 the varieties of the human intellect. But I cannot agree w'ith 
 Mr. Clarendon that my admiration of Algernon Sydney (Cato I 
 never rt'iV/ admire) would be at all lessened by the discovery, 
 that his resistance to tyranny in a great measure originated in 
 vanity, or that the same vanity consoled him, when he fell a 
 victim to that resistance ; for what does it prove but this, that, 
 among the various feelings of his soul, indignation at oppression 
 (so common to all men) — enthusiasm for liberty, (so predomi- 
 nant in him) — the love of benefiting others — the noble ]3ride of 
 being, in death, consistent with himself ; among all ihese feel- 
 ings, among a crowd of others equally honorable and pure — 
 there was also one, and perhaps no inconsiderable feeling, of 
 desire that his life and death should be hereafter appreciated 
 justly ? Contempt of fame is the contempt of virtue. Never 
 consider that vanity an offence which limits itself to wishing for 
 the praise of good men for good actions ; * next to our own 
 esteem,' says the best of the Roman philosophers, ' it is a virtue 
 to desire the esteem of others.' "
 
 28o PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " By your emphasis on the word esteem,^'' said Lady Roseville, 
 " I suppose you attach some peculiar importance to the word ? " 
 
 " I do," answered Vincent, " I use it in contra-distinction to 
 admiration. We may covet general admiration for a bad zction — 
 (for many bad actions have the clinquant, which passes for real 
 gold) — but one can expect general esteem only for a good one." 
 
 " From this distinction," said Ellen, modestly, " may we not 
 draw an inference, which will greatly help us in our considera- 
 tion of vanity ? may we not deem that vanity which desires 
 only the esteem of others, to be invariably a virtue, and that 
 which only longs for admiration to be frequently a vice ? " 
 
 " We may admit your inference," said Vincent ; " and before 
 I leave this question, I cannot help remarking upon the folly of 
 the superficial, who imagine, by studying human motives, that 
 philosophers wish to depreciate human actions. To direct our 
 admiration to a proper point, is surely not to destroy it; yet 
 how angry inconsiderate enthusiasts are, when we assign real, 
 in the place of exaggerated feelings ! Thus the advocates for 
 the doctrine of utility — the most benevolent, because the most 
 indulgent, of all philosophers — are branded with the epithets of 
 selfish and interested ; decriers of moral excellence, and disbe- 
 lievers in generous actions. Vice has no friend like the preju- 
 dices which call themselves virtue. Le pretexte ordinaire de cetix 
 quifo7it le malheiir des autres est qii'ils veulent leiir bien^ * 
 
 My eyes were accidentally fixed on Glanville as Vincent ceas- 
 ed ; he looked up, and colored faintly as he met my look ; but 
 he did not withdraw his own — keenly and steadily we gazed up- 
 on each other, till Ellen, turning round suddenly, remarked the 
 unwonted meaning of our looks, and placed her hand in her 
 brother's, with a sort of fear. " 
 
 It was late ; he rose to withdraw, and passing me, said in a 
 low tone, " A little while, and you shall know all." I made no 
 answer — -he left the room with Ellen. 
 
 " Lady Roseville has had but a dull evening, I fear, with our 
 stupid saws and ancient instances," said Vincent. The eyes of 
 the person he addressed were fixed upon the door; I was stand- 
 ing close by her, and, as the words struck her ear, she turned 
 abruptly ; — a tear fell upon my hand — she perceived it, and 
 though! would not look upon \v^x face, I saw that her very neck 
 blushed ; but she, like me, if she gave way to feeling, had 
 learned too deep a lesson from the world, not readily to resume 
 her self-command ; she answered Vincent rallyingly, upon his 
 
 * " The ordinary pretext of those who make the misery of others is, that they wish 
 their {food."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 281 
 
 bad compliment to us, and received our adieus with all her 
 customary grace, and more than her customary gaiety. 
 
 CHAPTE-R LXIX. 
 
 Ah ! Sir, had I but bestowed half the pains in learning a trade, that I 
 have in learning to be a scoundrel, I might have been a rich man at this 
 day; but, rogue as I am, still I may be your friend, and that perhaps, when 
 you least expect it. — Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 What with the anxiety and uncertainty of my political pros- 
 pects, the continued whirlpool in which I lived, and above all, the 
 unpropitious state of my belle passion^ my health gave way ; my 
 appetite forsook me — my sleep failed me — I lost my good looks, 
 and my mother declared, that I should have no chance with an 
 heiress ; all these circumstances together were not without their 
 weight. So I set out one morning to Hampton Court, for the 
 benefit of the country air. 
 
 It is by no means an unpleasant thing to turn one's back 
 upon the great city in the height of its festivities.. Misanthropy 
 is a charming feeling for a short time, and one inhales the 
 country, and animadverts on the town, with the most melan- 
 choly satisfaction in the world. I sat myself down at a* pretty 
 little cottage, a mile out of the town. From the window of my 
 drawing-room I revelled in the luxurious contemplation of three 
 pigs, one cow, and a straw yard ; and I could get to the Thames 
 in a walk of five minutes, by a short cut through a lime-kiln. 
 Such pleasing opportunities of enjoying the beauties of nature, 
 are not often met with : you may be sure, therefore, that I made 
 the most of them. I rose earl}-, walked before breakfast, for 
 my health, and came back with a most satisfactory headache, 
 for my pains. I read for just three hours, walked for two 
 more, thought over Abernethy, dyspepsia, and blue pills, till din- 
 ner ; and absolutely forgot Lord Dawton, ambition, Guloseton, 
 epicurism ay, all but — of course, reader, you know whom I am 
 about to except, — the ladye of my love. 
 
 One bright, laughing day, I threw down my book an hour 
 sooner than usual, and sallied out with a lightness of foot and 
 exhilaration of spirit, to which I had long been a stranger. I 
 had just sprung over a stile that led into one of those green 
 shady lanes, which make us feel that the old poets who loved, 
 and lived for nature, were right in calling our island " the merry 
 England " — when I was startled by a short, quick bark, on one
 
 232 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 side of the hedge. I turned sharply round ; and, seated "upon 
 the sward, was a man, apparently of the pedlar profession ; a 
 large deal box was lying open before him ; a few articles of lin- 
 en, and female dress, were scattered round, and the man himself 
 appeared earnestly occupied in examining the deeper recesses 
 of his itinerant warehouse. A small black terrier flew towards 
 me with no friendly growl. " Down," said I ; "all strangers are 
 not foes — though the English generally think so." 
 
 The man hastily looked up ; perhaps he was struck with the 
 quaintness of my remonstrance to his canine companion ; for, 
 touching his hat, civilly, he said — "The dog. Sir, is very quiet; 
 he only means to give ;;/:' the alarm by giving it to you ; for, 
 dogs seem to have no despicable insight into human nature, and 
 know well that the best of us may be taken by surprise." 
 
 " You are a moralist," said I, not a little astonished in my 
 turn by such an address from such a person. " I could not 
 have expected to stumble upon a philosopher so easily. Have 
 you any wares in your box likely to suit me ? if so, I should like 
 to purchase of so moralizing a vender ! " 
 
 " No, Sir," said the seeming pedlar, smiling, and yet at the 
 same time hurrying his goods into his box, and carefully turning 
 the key — " no. Sir, I am only a bearer of other men's goods ; 
 my morals are all that I can call my own, and those I will sell 
 you at your own price." 
 
 " You are candid, my friend," said I, " and your frankness, 
 alone, would be inestimable in this age of deceit, and country of 
 hypocrisy." 
 
 " Ah, Sir ! " said my new acquaintance, " I see already that 
 you are one of those persons who look to the dark side of 
 things ; for my part, I think the present age the best that ever 
 existed, and our own country the most virtuous in Europe." 
 
 " I congratulate you, Mr. Optimist, on your opinions," quoth 
 I ; " but your observation leads me to suppose, that you are 
 both an historian and a traveller : am I right ? " 
 
 " Why," answered the box-bearer, " I have dabbled a little in 
 books, and wandered not a little among men. I am just re- 
 turned from Germany, and am now going to my friends in Lon- 
 don, I am charged with this box of goods : Heaven send me 
 the luck to deliver it safe ! " 
 
 " Amen," said I ; " and with that prayer and this trifle I wish 
 you a good morning." 
 
 "Thank you a thousand times, Sir, for both," replied the man 
 — " but do add to your favors by informing me of the right road 
 to the town of * * * *."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2S3 
 
 " I am going in that direction myself : if you choose to ac- 
 company me part of the way, I can ensure your not missing the 
 rest." 
 
 " Your honor is too good ! " returned he of the box, rising 
 and slinging his fardel across him — ''it is but seldom that a 
 gentleman of your rank will condescend to walk three paces 
 with one of mine. You smile, Sir ; perhaps you think I should 
 not class myself among gentlemen ; and yet I have as good a 
 right to the name as most of the set. I belong to no trade — I 
 follow no calling : I rove where I list, and rest where I please : 
 in short, I know no occupation but my indolence, and no law 
 but my will. Now, Sir, may I not call myself a gentleman ? " 
 
 " Of a surety ! " quoth I. " You seem to me to hold a mid- 
 dle rank between a half-penny captain and the king of the 
 gipsies." 
 
 " You have hit it, Sir," rejoined my companion, with a slight 
 laugh. He was now by my side and as we walked on, I had 
 leisure more minutely to examine him. He was a middle- 
 sized, and rather athletic man, apparently about the age of 
 thirty-eight. He was attired in a dark-blue frock coat, which 
 was neither shabby nor new, but ill made, and much too large 
 and long for its present possessor ; beneath this was a faded 
 velvet waistcoat, that had formerly, like the Persian ambassador's 
 tunic, "blushed with crimson, and blazed with gold;" but 
 which might now have been advantageously exchanged in Mon- 
 month-street for the lawful sum of two shillings and ninepence ; 
 under this was an inner vest of the cashmere shawl pattern, which 
 seemed much too new for the rest of the dress. Though his 
 shirt was of a very unwashed hue, I remarked with some sus- 
 picion, that it was of a very respectable fineness ; and a pin, 
 which might be paste, or could be diamond, peeped below a 
 tattered and dingy black kid stock, like a gipsy's eye beneath 
 her hair. 
 
 His trowsers were of a light grey, and the justice of Provi- 
 dence, or of the tailor, avenged itself upon them, for the prodi- 
 gal length bestowed upon their ill-assorted companion, the coat ; 
 for they were much too tight for the muscular limbs they con- 
 cealed, and, rising far above the ankle, exhibited the very pic- 
 ture of Italy upon the map. 
 
 The face of the man was common-place and ordinary ; one 
 sees a hundred such, every day, in Fleet-street or on the 
 'Change ; the features were small, irregular, and somewhat Hat : 
 yet when you looked twice upon the countenance, there was 
 something marked and sinj;ular in the expression, which fully
 
 284 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 atoned for the commonness of the featuree. The right eye 
 turned away from the left, in that watchful squint whicli seems 
 constructed on the same considerate plan as those Irish guns, 
 made for shooting round a corner ; his eye-brows were large and 
 shaggy, and greatly resembled bramble bushes, in which his fox- 
 like eyes had taken refuge. Round these vulpine retreats was 
 a labyrinthean maze of those wrinkles, vulgarly called crow's- 
 feet ; deep, intricate, and intersected, they seemed for all the 
 world like the web of a Chancery suit. Singular enough, the 
 rest of the countenance was perfectly smooth and unindented; 
 even the lines from the nostril to the corners of the mouth, 
 usually so deeply traced in men of his age, were scarcely more 
 ajDparent than in a boy of eighteen. 
 
 His smile was frank — his voice clear and hearty — his address 
 open, and much superior to his apparent rank of life, claiming 
 somewhat of equality, yet conceding a great deal of respect ; 
 but, notwithstanding all these certainly favorable points, there 
 was a sly and cunning expression in his perverse and vigilant 
 eye and all the wrinkled demesnes in its vicinity, that made me 
 mistrust even while I liked my companion ; perhaps, indeed, he 
 was too frank, too familiar, too degage, to be quite natural. Your 
 honest men may soon buy reserve by experience. Rogues are 
 communicative and open, because confidence and openness 
 costs them nothing. To finish the description of my new ac- 
 quaintance, I should observe that there was something in his 
 countenance, which struck me as not wholly unfamiliar ; it was 
 one of those which we have not, in all human probability, seen 
 before, and yet, which (perhaps, from their very commonness) 
 we imagine we have encountered a hundred times. 
 
 We walked on briskly, notwithstanding the warmth of the 
 day ; in fact, the air was so pure, the grass so green, the laugh- 
 ing noon-day so full of the hum, the motion, and the life of cre- 
 ation, that the feeling produced was rather that of freshness 
 and invigoration than of languor and heat. 
 
 " We have a beautiful country, Sir," said my hero of the box. 
 " It is like walking through a garden, after the more sterile and 
 sullen features of the Continent. A pure mind. Sir, loves the 
 country ; for my part, I am always disposed to burst out in 
 thanksgiving to Providence when I behold its works, and like 
 the valleys in the psalm, I am ready to laugh and sing." 
 
 "An enthusiast," said I, "as well as a philosopher! perhaps 
 (and I believed it likely), I have the honor of addressing a poet 
 also." 
 
 " Why, Sir," replied the man, " I have made verses in m)
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 285 
 
 life ; in short, there is little I have not done, for I was always a 
 lover of variety ; but, perhaps, j'our honor will let me return the 
 suspicion. Are you not a favorite of the muse ? " 
 
 " I cannot say that I am," said I. " I value myself only on 
 my common sense — the very antipodes to genius, you know, 
 according to the orthodox belief." 
 
 " Common sense ! " repeated my companion, with a singular 
 and meaning smile, and a twinkle with his left eye. " Common 
 sense ! Ah, that is not my forte^ Sir. You, I dare say, are one 
 of those gentlemen whom it is very difificult to take in, either 
 passively or activel}^, by appearance, or in act ! For my part, I 
 have been a dupe all my life — a child might cheat me ! I am 
 the most unsuspicious person in the world." 
 
 " Too candid by half," thought I. " The man is certainly a 
 rascal : but what is that to me .'' I shall never see him again ; " 
 and, true to my love of never losing sight of an opportunity of 
 ascertaining individual character, I observed that I thought 
 such an acquaintance very valuable, especially if he were in 
 trade ; it was a pity, therefore, for my sake, that my companion 
 had informed me that he followed no calling. 
 
 " Why, Sir," said he, " I am^ occasionally, in emplojanent ; 
 my nominal profession is that of a broker. I buy shawls and 
 handkerchiefs of poor countesses, and retail to rich plebeians. 
 I fit up new-married couples with linen, at a more moderate 
 rate than the shops, and procure the bridegroom his present of 
 jewels, at forty per cent less than the jewellers ; nay, I am as 
 friendly to an intrigue as a marriage ; and when I cannot sell 
 my jewels, I will my good offices. A gentleman so handsome as 
 your honor, may have an affair upon your hands : if so, you may 
 rely upon my secrecy and zeal. In short, I am an innocent, 
 good-natured fellow, who does harm to no one for nothing, and 
 good to every one for something." 
 
 " I admire your code," quoth I, " and whenever I want a me- 
 diator between Venus and myself, will employ you. Have you 
 always followed your present idle profession, or were you 
 brought up to any other 1 " 
 
 " 1 was intended for a silversmith," answered my friend, " but 
 Providence willed it otherwise ; they taught me from childhood 
 to repeat the Lord's prayer; Heaven heard me, and delivered 
 me from temptation — there is, indeed, something terribly seduc- 
 ing in the face of a silver spoon ! " 
 
 ".Well," said I, "ycni are the honestest knave I ever met, and 
 one would trust you with one's purse for tiie ingenuousness with 
 which you own you would steal it. Pray, think you it is proba-
 
 286 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 ble that I have ever had the happiness to meet you before ? I 
 cannot help fancying so — yet as I have never been in the watch- 
 house, or the Old Eailey, my reason tells me that I must be mis- 
 taken." 
 
 " Not at all, Sir," returned my worthy : " I remember you 
 well, for I never saw a face like yours that I did ;/<?/ remember, 
 I had the honor of sipping some British liquors in the same room 
 with yourself, one evening ; you were then in company with my 
 friend Mr, Gordon, 
 
 " Ha ! " said I, " I thank you for the hint, I now remember 
 well, by the same token, he told me that you were the most in- 
 genious gentleman in England; and that you had a happy pro- 
 pensity of mistaking other people's possessions for your own. 
 I congratulate myself upon so desirable an acquaintance." 
 
 My friend, who was indeed no other than Mr. Job Jonson, 
 smiled with his usual blandness, and made me a low' bow of 
 acknowledgment before he resumed : — 
 
 " No doubt, Sir, Mr. Gordon informed you right. I flatter 
 myself few gentlemen understand better than myself, the art of 
 appropriation ; though I say it who should not say it, I deserve 
 the reputation I have acquired. Sir, I have always had ill for- 
 tune to struggle against and have always remedied it by two 
 virtues — perseverance and ingenuity. To give you an idea of 
 my ill fortune, know that I have been taken up twenty-three 
 times on suspicion ; of my perseverance know that twenty-three 
 times I have been taken up justly ; and of my ingenuity, know 
 that I have been twenty-three times let off, because there was 
 not a tittle of legal evidence against me ! " 
 
 " I venerate your talents, Mr. Jonson," replied I, " if by the 
 name of Jonson it pleaseth you to be called, although, like the 
 heathen deities, I presume that you have many titles, whereof 
 some are more grateful to your ears than others." 
 
 " Nay," answered the man of two virtues — " I am never 
 ashamed of my name ; indeed, I have never done any thing to 
 disgrace me, I have never indulged in low company, nor profli- 
 gate debauchery ; whatever I have executed by way of profes- 
 sion, has been done in a superior and artist-like manner ; not in 
 the rude bungling fashion of other adventurers. Moreover, I 
 have always had a taste for polite literature, and went once as 
 an apprentice to a publishing bookseller, for the sole purpose 
 of reading the new works before they came out. In fine, I have 
 never neglected any opportunity of improving my mind ; and 
 the worst that can be said against me is, that I have remem- 
 bered my catechism, and taken all possible pains ' to learn and
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 287 
 
 labor truly, to get my living and do my duty in that state of 
 life, to which it has pleased Providence to call me.' " 
 
 " I have often heard," answered I, " that there is honor 
 among thieves ; I am happy to learn from you, that there is also 
 religion ; your baptismal sponsors must be proud of so diligent 
 a godson." 
 
 " They ought to be, Sir," replied Mr. Jonson, " for I gave 
 them the first specimens of my address : the story is long, but 
 if you ever give me an opportunity, I will relate it." 
 
 " Thank you," said I ; " meanwhile I must wish you a good 
 morning ; your road now lies to the right. I return you my best 
 thanksfor your condescension in accompanying so undistinguish- 
 ed an individual as myself." 
 
 " Oh never mention it, your honor," rejoined Mr. Jonson. " I 
 am always too happy to walk with a gentleman of your 'common 
 sense.' Farewell, Sir; may we meet again." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Jonson struck into his new road and we 
 parted.* 
 
 I went home, musing on my adventure, and delighted with 
 my adventurer. When I was about three paces from the door 
 of my home, I was accosted, in a most pitiful tone, by a poor 
 old beggar, apparently in the last extreme of misery and disease. 
 Notwithstanding my political economy, I was moved into alms- 
 giving by a spectacle so wretched. I put my hand into my pock- 
 et, my purse was gone ; and, on searching the other, lo — my 
 handkerchief, my pocket-book, and a gold locket, which had 
 belonged to Madame d'Anville, had vanished too. 
 
 One does not keep company with men of two virtues, and re- 
 ceive compliments upon one's common sense, for nothing ! 
 
 The begger still continued to importune me. 
 
 "Give him some food and half a crown," said I, to my land- 
 lady. Two hours afterwards, she came to me — " Oh, Sir, my- 
 silver tea-pot — that villain the beggar /" 
 
 A light flashed upon me — "Ah, Mr. Job Jonson! Mr. Job 
 Jonson !" cried 1, in an indescribable rage; " out of my sight, 
 woman ! out of my sight ! " I stopped short; my speech failed 
 me. Never tell me that shame is the companion of guilt — the 
 sinful knave is never so ashamed of himself as is the innocent fool 
 who suffers by him. 
 
 • If any one should think this sketch from nature exaggerated, I refer him to the 
 "Memoirs of James Hardy Vaux."
 
 288 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 Then must I plunge again into the crowd, 
 
 And follow all that peace disdains to seek. — Byron. 
 
 In the quiet of my retreat I remained for eight days — during 
 which time I never looked once at a newspaper — imagine how 
 great was my philosophy ! On the ninth, I began to think it 
 high time for me to hear from Dawton ; and finding that I had 
 eaten two rolls for breakfast, and that certain untimely wrinkles 
 began to assume a more mitigated appearance, I bethought me 
 once more of the " Beauties of Babylon." 
 
 While I was in this kindly mood towards the great city and its 
 inhabitants, my landlady put two letters in my hand — one was 
 from my mother, the other from Guloseton. I opened the latter 
 first ; it ran thus — 
 
 " Dear Pelham, 
 
 " I was very sorry to hear you had left town — and so unexpect- 
 edly too. I obtained your address at Mivart's and hasten to 
 avail myself of it. Pray come to town immediately. I have 
 received some chevreuil as a present, and long for your opinion ; 
 it is too nice to keep : for all things nice were made but to grow 
 bad when nicest : as Moore, I believe, says of flowers, substitut- 
 ing sweet and fleetest forbad and nicest ; so, you see, you must 
 come without loss of time. 
 
 " But yoii, my friend — how can you possibly have been spend- 
 ing your time ? I was kept awake all last night, by thinking what 
 you could have for dinner. Fish is out of the question in the 
 country ; chickens die of the pip everywhere but in London ; 
 game is out of season ; it is impossible to send to Giblett's for 
 meat ; it is equally impossible to get it anywhere else ; and as 
 for the only two natural productions of the country, vegetables 
 and eggs, I need no extraordinary penetration to be certain that 
 your cook cannot transmute the latter into an omelette aux huitres, 
 nor the former into legumes a la crane. 
 
 " Thus you see, by a series of undeniable demonstrations, you 
 viust absolutely be in a state of starvation. At this thought, tears 
 rush into my eyes : for Heaven's sake, for my sake, for your 
 own sake, but above all, for the sake of the chevreuil, hasten to 
 London. I figure you to myself in the last stage of atrophy — 
 airy as a trifle, thin as the ghost of a greyhound. 
 
 *' I need say no more on the subject. I may rely on your own
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 2S9 
 
 discretion to procure me the immediate pleasure of your company. 
 Indeed, were I to dwell longer on your melancholy situation, my 
 feelings would overcome me, — Mais rci'enons a nos vioutons : (a 
 most pertinent phrase, by the bye — oh ! the French excel us in 
 everything, from the paramount science of cookery, to the little 
 art of conversation.) 
 
 " You must tell me your candid, your unbiassed, your deliber- 
 ate opinion of chevreuil. For my part, I should not wonder at 
 the mythology of the northern heathen nations, which places 
 hunting among the chief enjoyments of their heaven, were chev- 
 reuil the object of their chase ; but nihil est o?nni parte beattim ; 
 — it wants 7^?/, my dear Pelham, it wants fat : nor do I see how 
 to remedy this defect ; for were we by art to supply the fat we 
 should deprive ourselves of the Havor bestowed by nature ; and 
 this, my dear Pelham, was always my great argument for libertv. 
 Cooped, chained, and confined in cities, and slavery, all things 
 lose the fresh and gcmroiis tastes, which it is the peculiar bless- 
 ing of freedom and the country to afford. 
 
 " Tell me, my friend, what has been the late subject of your 
 reflections ? My thoughts have dwelt, much and seriously, on 
 the ' terra incognita,' the undiscovered tracts in the pays culi- 
 naire, which the profoundest investigators have left untouched 
 
 and unexplored in veal. But more of this hereafter ; — the 
 
 lightness of a letter is ill suited to the depths of philosophical 
 research. 
 
 " Lord Dawton sounded me upon my votes yesterday. ' A 
 thousand pities too,' said he, ' that you never speak in the 
 House of Lords.' — '■ Orator fit,' said I — ^orators are subject to 
 apoplexy.'' 
 
 "'Adieu, my dear friend, for friend you are, if the philosopher 
 was right in defining true friendship to consist in liking and 
 disliking the same things. You hate parsnips au natnrel — so 
 do I ; you \o\q pates defoie gras, ct moi aussi ; — nous voila done 
 Ics meilleurs amis du monde I 
 
 " GULOSETON." 
 
 So much for my friend, thought T — and now for my mother 
 — opening the maternal epistle, which 1 herewilh transcribe : — 
 
 " My Dear Henry, 
 
 " Lose no time in coming to town. Every day the ministers 
 are filling up the minor places, and it requires a great stretch 
 of recollection in a politician to remember <he- absent. Mr, 
 
 '9
 
 290 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 V said yesterday, at a dinner party where I was present, 
 
 tliat Lord Dawton had promised him the Borough of . Now 
 
 you know, my dear Henry, that was the very borough he prom- 
 ised to you : you must see further into this. Lord Dawton is a 
 good sort of man enough, but refused once to fight a duel ; 
 therefore, if he has disregarded his honor in one instance, he 
 may do so in another: at all events, you have no time to lose. 
 
 " The young Duke of gives a ball to-morrow evening : 
 
 Mrs. pays all the expenses, and I know for a certainty that 
 
 she will marry him in a week ; this as yet is a secret. There 
 will be a great mixture, but the ball will be worth going to. 
 I have a card for you. 
 
 '"Lady Huffemall and I think that we shall not patronize the 
 future duchess ; but have not yet made up our minds. Lady 
 Roseville, however, speaks of the intended match with great 
 respect, and says that since we admit convenance, as the chief 
 rule in matrimony, she never remembers an instance in which 
 it has been more consulted. 
 
 " There are to be several promotions in the peerage. Lord 
 
 ■ 's friends wish to give out that he will have a dukedom ; 
 
 mats fen doiile. However, he has well deserved it ; for he not 
 only gives the best dinners in town, but the best account of 
 them in the Morning Post afterwards ; which I think is very 
 properly upholding the dignity of our order. 
 
 " I hope most earnestly that you do not (in your country 
 retreat) neglect your health ; nor, I may add, your mind ; and 
 that you take an opportunity every other day of practising 
 waltzing, which you can very well do with the help of an arm- 
 chair. I would send you down (did I not expect you here so 
 
 soon) Lord Mount E 's ' Musical Reminiscences ; ' not only 
 
 because it is a very entertaining book, but because I wish you 
 to pay much greater attention to music than you seem inclined 
 to do. * * * * Who is never very refined in his bans mots, says 
 that Lord M. seems to have considered the world a concert, in 
 which the best performer plays first fiddle. It is, indeed, quite 
 delightful to see the veneration our musical friend has for the 
 orchestra and its occupants. I wish to heaven, my dear Henry, 
 he could instil into you a little of his ardor. I am quite morti- 
 fied at times by your ignorance of tunes and operas : nothing 
 tells better in conversation than a knowledge of music, as you 
 will one day or other discover. 
 
 " God bless you, my dearest Henry. Fully expecting you, I 
 have sent to engage your former rooms at Mivart's ; do not let 
 me be disappointed. Yours, etc., F. P."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 291 
 
 I read the above letter twice over, and felt my cheek glow 
 and my heart swell as I perused the passage relative to Lord 
 Dawton and the borough. The new minister had certainly, for 
 some weeks since, been playing a double part with me : it would 
 long ago have been easy to procure me a subordinate situation 
 — still easier to place me in parliament ; yet he had contented 
 himself with doubtful promises and idle civilities. What, how- 
 ever, seemed to me most unaccountable was, his motive in 
 breaking or paltering with his engagement ; he knew that I had 
 served him and his party better than half his corps : he prO' 
 fessed, not only to me, but to society, the highest opinion of my 
 abilities, knowledge, and application ; he saw, consequently, 
 how serviceable I could be as a friend ; and, from the same 
 qualities, joined to the rank of my birth and connections, and 
 the high and resentful temper of my mind, he might readily 
 augur that I could be equally influential as a foe. 
 
 With this reflection, I stilled the beating of my heart, and the 
 fever of my pulse. I crushed the obnoxious letter in my hand, 
 walked thrice up and down the room, paused at the bell — rang 
 it violently — ordered post-horses instantly, and in less than an 
 hour was on the toad to London. 
 
 How different is the human mind, according to the diiTerence 
 of place ! In our passions, as in our creeds, we are the mere 
 dependants of geographical situation. Nay, the trifling varia- 
 tion of a single mile will revolutionize the whole tides and tor- 
 rents of our hearts. The man who is meek, generous, benevo- 
 lent, and kind, in the country, enters the scene of contest, and 
 becomes forthwith fiery or mean, selfish or stern, just as if the 
 virtues were only for solitude, and the vices for the city. I have 
 ill expressed the above reflection ; n'importe — so much the bet- 
 ter shall I explain my feelings at the time I speak of — for I was 
 then too eager and engrossed to attend to the niceties of words. 
 On my arrival at Mivart's, I scarcely allowed myself time to 
 change my dress before I set out to Lord Dawton. He shall 
 afford me an explanation, I thought, or a recompense, or a re- 
 venge. I knocked at the door — the minister was out. " Give 
 him this card," said I to the porter, " and say I shall call to- 
 morrow at three." 
 
 I walked to Brookes's — there I met Mr. V . My 
 
 acquaintance with him was small ,• but he was a man of talent, 
 and what was more to my purpose, of open manners. I went 
 up to him, and we entered into conversation. " Is it true," 
 said I, " that I am to congratulate you upon the certainty of 
 your return fur Lord Dawton's borough of 1 
 
 )>
 
 292 PEL f/ AM; OR, 
 
 " I believe so," replied V . " Lord Dawton engaged it 
 
 to me last week, and Mr. H , the present member, has ac- 
 cepted the Chiltern Hundreds. You know all our family sup- 
 ported Lord Dawton warmly in the present crisis and my 
 return for this borough was materially insisted upon. Such 
 things are, you see, Mr. Pelhara, even in these virtuous days of 
 parliamentary purity." 
 
 " True," said I, dissembling my chagrin, " yourself and Daw- 
 ton have made an admirable exchange. Think you the minis- 
 try can be said to be fairly seated ? " 
 
 " By no means ; everything depends upon the motion of , 
 
 brought on next week. Dawton looks to that as to the decisive 
 battle for this session." 
 
 Lord Gavelton now joined us, and I sauntered away with the 
 utmost (seeming) indifference. At the top of St. James's-street, 
 Lady Roseville's well-known carriage passed me — she stopped 
 
 for a moment. " We shall meet at the Duke of 's to-night," 
 
 said she, " shall we not ? " 
 
 " If you go — certainly," I replied. 
 
 I went home to my solitary apartment ; and if I suffered 
 somewhat of the torments of baffled hope and foiled ambition, 
 the pang is for the spectator. My lighter moments are for the 
 world — my deeper for myself ; and, like the Spartan boy, I 
 would keep even in the pangs of death, a mantle over the teeth 
 and fangs which were fastening upon my breast. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXL 
 
 Nccet empta dolore voluptas. — OviD. 
 
 The Jirsf person I saw at the Duke of 's was Mr. Mivart — 
 
 he officiated as gentleman usher : the seco7id was my mother — 
 she was, as usual, surrounded by men, " the shades of heroes 
 that have been," remnants of a former day, when the feet of the 
 young and fair Lady Frances were as light as her head, and she 
 might have rivalled, in the science de la danse, even the graceful 
 
 Duchess of B d. Over the dandies of her own time she still 
 
 preserved her ancient empire ; and it was amusing enough to 
 hear the address of the • ci-devant jeunes ho7mnes who continued, 
 through habit, the compliments began thirty years since through 
 admiration. 
 
 My mother was, indeed, what the world calls a very charming.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 293 
 
 agreeable woman. Few persons were more popular in society : 
 her manners were perfection — her smile enchantment : she lived, 
 moved, breathed, only for the world, and the world was not un- 
 grateful for the constancy of her devotion. Yet, if her letters 
 have given my readers any idea of her character, they will per- 
 ceive that the very desire of supremacy in t07i, gave (Heaven for- 
 give my filial impiety !) a sort of demi-vulgarism to her ideas; 
 for they who live wholly for the opinion of others, always want 
 that self-dignity which alone confers a high cast upon the senti- 
 ments ; and the most really unexceptionable in mode, are fre- 
 quently the least genuinely patrician in mind. 
 
 I joined the maternal party, and Lady Frances soon took an 
 opportunity of whispering, "You are looking very well, and very 
 handsome ; I declare you are not unlike me, especially about the 
 eyes. I have just heard that Miss Glanville will be a great 
 heiress, for the poor Sir Reginald cannot live much longer. She 
 is here to-night ; pray do not lose the opportunity." 
 
 My cheek burned like fire at this speech, and my mother, 
 quietly observing that I had a beautiful color, and ought there- 
 fore immediately to find out Miss Glanville, lest it should vanish 
 by the least delay, turned from me to speak of a public break- 
 fast about shortly to be given. I passed into the dancing-room ; 
 there I found Vincent ; he was in unusually good spirits. 
 
 " Well," said he, with a sneer, " you have not taken your seat 
 yet. I suppose Lord Dawton's representative, whose place you 
 are to supply, is like Tlieseus ; scdet in ceterniimque sedebit. A 
 thousand pities you can't come in before next week ; we shall 
 then have fiery motions in the Lower House, as the astrologers 
 say." 
 
 I smiled. ^^ Ah mon cher!" said I, "Sparta hath many a 
 worthier son than me ! Meanwhile, how get on the noble Lords 
 Lesborough and Lincoln? 'sure such a pair were never seen, so 
 justly formed to meet by nature ! ' " 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Vincent, coarsely, " they shall get on well 
 enough, before you get in. Look to yourself, and remember 
 that ' Cajsar plays the ingrate.' " 
 
 Vincent turned away ; my eyes were riveted on the ground ; 
 
 the beautiful Lady passed by me : " What, you in a reverie ? " 
 
 said she, laughing ; " our very host will turn thoughtful next ! " 
 
 "Nay," said I, "in your absence would you have me glad.' 
 However, if Moore's mythology be true — Beauty loves Folly the 
 better for borrowing something from Reason ; but, come, this is 
 a place not for the grave, but the giddy. Let us join the waltz- 
 ers."
 
 294 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 " I am engaged. 
 
 " I know it I Do you think I would dance with any woman 
 who was not engaged ? — there would be no triumph to one's van- 
 ity in that case. AHofis, you ;;?//^/ prefer me to an engagement ; " 
 and so saying, I led off my prize. 
 
 Her intended partner was Mr. V ; just as we had joined 
 
 the dancers, he spied us out, and approached with his long, 
 serious, respectful face : the music struck up, and the next mo- 
 ment poor V- was very nearly struck down. Fraught with 
 
 the most political spite, I whirled up against him ; apologized 
 with my blandest smile, and left him wiping his mouth, and rub- 
 bing his shoulder, the most forlorn picture of Hope in adversity, 
 that can possibly be conceived. 
 
 I soon grew weary of my partner, and, leaving her to fate, 
 rambled into another room. There, seated alone, was Lady 
 Roseville. I placed myself beside her ; there was a sort of free- 
 masonry between her and myself ; each knew something more 
 of the other than the world did, and read his or her heart, by 
 other signs than words. I soon saw that she was in no mirthful 
 mood : so much the better — she was the fitter companion for a 
 baffled aspirant like me. 
 
 The room we were in was almost deserted, and finding our- 
 selves uninterrupted, the stream of our conversation flowed into 
 sentiment. 
 
 " How little," said Lady Roseville, " can the crowd know of 
 the individuals who compose it ! As the most opposite colors 
 may be blended into one, and so lose their individual hues, and 
 be classed under a single name, so every one here will go home, 
 and speak of the ''gay scene,' without thinking for a moment, how 
 many breaking hearts may have composed it." 
 
 "I have often thought," said I, "how harsh we are in our 
 judgments of others — how often we accuse those persons of be- 
 ing worldly, who merely seem so to the world. Who, for instance, 
 that saw you in your brightest moments, would ever suppose that 
 you could make the confession you have just made .'' " 
 
 " I would not make such a confession to many beside your- 
 self," answered Lady Roseville. " Na)', you need not thank me. 
 I am some years older than you ; I have lived longer in the 
 world ; I have seen much of its various characters ; and my ex- 
 perience has taught me to penetrate and prize a character like 
 yours. While you seem frivolous to the superficial, I know you 
 to have a mind not only capable of the most solid and important 
 affairs, but habituated by reflection to consider them. You ap- 
 pear effeminate, I know that none are more daring — indolent,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 295 
 
 none are more actively ambitious — utterly selfish, and I know 
 that no earthly interest could bribe you into meanness or injus- 
 tice — no, nor even into a venial dereliction of principle. It is 
 from this estimate of your character, that I am frank and open 
 to you. Besides, I recognize something in the careful pride 
 with which you conceal your higher and deeper feelings, resem- 
 bling the strongest actuating principle in my own mind. All 
 this interests me warmly in your fate ; may it be as bright as my 
 presentiments forebode ! " 
 
 1 looked into the beautiful face of the speaker as she con- 
 cluded ; perhaps, at that solitary moment, my heart was un- 
 faithful to Ellen ; but the infidelity passed away like the breath 
 from the mirror. Coxcomb as I was, I knew well how passion- 
 less was the interest expressed for me. Rover as I had been, I 
 knew also, how pure may be the friendship of a woman, — -pro- 
 vided she loves another ! 
 
 I thanked Lady Roseville, warmly, for her opinion. " Per- 
 haps," I added, " dared I solicit your advice, you would not 
 find me wholly undeserving of your esteem." 
 
 *' My advice," answered Lacly Roseville, " would be, indeed, 
 worse than useless, were it not regulated by a certain knowledge 
 which, perhaps, you do not possess. You seem surprised. Eh 
 bien ; listen to me — are vou not in no small decree lie with Lord 
 Dawton ? — do you not expect something from him worthy of 
 your rank and merit ? " 
 
 " You do, indeed, surprise me," said L " However close my 
 connection with Lord Dawton may be, I thought it much more 
 secret than it appears to be. However, I own that I have a 
 right to expect from Lord Dawton, not, perhaps, a recompense 
 of service, but, at least, a fulfilment of promises. In this ex- 
 pectation I begm to believe I shall be deceived." 
 
 " You will ! " answered Lady Roseville. " Bend your head 
 lower — the walls have ears. You have a friend, an unwearied 
 and earnest friend, with those now in power ; directly he heard 
 
 that Mr.V was promised the borough, which he knew had 
 
 been long engaged to you, he went straight to Lord Dawton. 
 He found him with Lord Clandonald : however, he opened the 
 matter immediately. He spoke with great warmth of your 
 claims — he did more — he incorporated them with his own, which 
 are of no mean order, and asked no other recompense for him- 
 self than the fulfilment of a long-made promise to you. Daw- 
 ton was greatly confused, and Lord Clandonald replied, for 
 him, that certainly there was no denying your talents — that they 
 were very great — that you had, unquestionably, been of much
 
 296 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 service to their party, and that, consequent!)', it must be pohtic 
 to attach you to their interests ; but that there was a certain 
 fierte and assumption, and he might say (mark the climax) inde- 
 pendence about you, wliich could not but be highly displeasing in 
 one so young ; moreover, that it was impossible to trust to you — that 
 you pledged yourself to no party — that you spoke only of condi- 
 tions and terms — that you treated the proposal of placing you in 
 Parliament rather as a matter of favor on your part than on Lord 
 Dawton's — and, in a word, that there was no relying upon you. 
 Lord Dawton then took courage, and chimed in, with a long 
 
 panegyric on V and a long account of what was due to 
 
 him, and to the zeal of his family : adding, that, in a crisis 
 like this, it was absolutely necessary to engage a certain rather 
 than a doubtful and undecided support ; that, for his part, if he 
 placed you in Parliament, he thought you quite as likely to 
 prove a foe as a friend ; that owing to the marriage of yout 
 uncle, your expectations were by no means commensurate with 
 your presumption, and that the same talents which made your 
 claims to favor as an ally, created also no small danger in 
 placing you in any situation where you could become hurtful as 
 an enemy. All this, and much more to the same purpose, was 
 strenuously insisted upon by the worthy pair ; and your friend 
 was obliged to take his leave, perfectly convinced that, unless 
 you assumed a more complaisant bearing, or gave a more de- 
 cided pledge, to the new minister, it was hopeless for you to 
 expect anything from him, at least for the present. The fact is, 
 he stands too much in awe of you, and would rather keep you 
 out of the House than contribute an iota towards obtaining you 
 a seat. Upon all this you may rely as certain," 
 
 "I thank you from my heart," said I warmly, seizing and 
 pressing Lady Roseville's hand, " You tell me what I have 
 long suspected ;. I am now upon my guard, and they shall find 
 that I can ^fend as^well as (/t'fend. But it is no time for me to 
 boast ; oblige me by informing me of the name of my unknown 
 friend ; I little thought there was a being in the world who 
 would stir three steps for Henry Pelham," 
 
 "That friend," replied Lady Roseville, with a faltering voice 
 and a glowing cheek, " was Sir Reginald Glanville." 
 
 " What ! " cried I, " repeat the name to me again, or — " I 
 paused, and recovered myself. " Sir Reginald Glanville," I 
 resumed haughtily, " is too gracious to enter into my affairs. I 
 must be strangely altered if I need the officious zeal of a7iy in- 
 termeddler to redress my wrongs." 
 
 *' Nay, Mr. Pelham," said the countess, hastily, " you do
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 297 
 
 Glanville — you do yourself injustice. For him, there never 
 passes a day in which he does not mention you with the 
 highest encomiums and the most affectionate regard. He says 
 of late, that you have altered towards him, but that he is not 
 surprised at the change — he never mentions the cause ; if I am 
 not intruding, suffer me to inquire into it ; perhaps (oh ! how 
 happy it would make me) I may be able to reconcile you ; if you 
 knew — if you could but guess half of the noble and lofty char- 
 acter of Reginald Glanville, you would suffer no petty difference 
 to divide you." 
 
 "It is no petty difference," said I, rising, " nor am I permit- 
 ted to mention the cause. Meanwhile, may God bless you, 
 dearest Lady Roseville, and preser\'e that kind and generous 
 heart from worse pangs than those of disappointed ambition, or 
 betrayed trust." 
 
 Lady Roseville looked down — her bosom heaved violently ; 
 she felt the meaning of my words. I left her, and returned 
 home. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXn. 
 
 Good Mr. Knave give me my due, 
 
 I like a tart as well as you ; 
 
 But I would starve on good roast beef, 
 
 Ere I would look so like a thief. — The Queen of Hearts. 
 
 -Nunc vino pcllite curas : 
 
 Cras ingens iterabimus a;quor. — HoR. 
 
 The next morning I received a note from Guloseton, asking 
 me to dine with him at eight, to meet his chevreiiil. I sent back 
 an answer in the affirmative, and then give myself wholly up to 
 considering what was the best line of. conduct to pursue with 
 regard to Lord Dawton. " It would be pleasant enough," said 
 Anger, " to go to him, to ask him boldly for the borough so 
 often pledged to you, and, in case of his refusal, to confront, to 
 taunt, and to break with him." '"True," replied that more 
 homely and less stage-effect arguer, which we term Knowledge 
 of the World ; " but this would be neither useful nor dignified 
 — common sense never quarrels with any one. Call upon Lord 
 Dawton, if you will — ask him for his promise with your second 
 best smile, and receive his excuses with your very best. Then 
 do as you please — break with him or not — you can do either 
 with grace and quiet ; never make a scene about anything — • 
 reproach and anger always ^/c; make a scene." "Very true,"
 
 298 PELITAM; OR, 
 
 said I, in answer to the latter suggestion — and having made up 
 my mind, I repaired a quarter before three to Lord Dawton's 
 house. 
 
 " Ah, Pelham," said the httle minister, " delighted to see you 
 look so much the better from the country air; you will stay in 
 town now, I hope, till the end of the season ? " 
 
 " Certain!}', Lord Dawton, or, at all events, till the prorogation 
 of Parliament ; how, indeed, could I do otherwise, with your 
 lordship's kind promise before my eyes ? Mr. , the mem- 
 ber for your borough of , has, I believe, accepted the Chil- 
 
 tern Hundreds? I feel truly obliged to you for so promptly 
 fulfilling your promise to me." 
 
 " Hem ! my dear Pelham, hem ! " murmured Lord Dawton. 
 I bent forward as if in the attitude of listening respect, but 
 really the more clearly to perceive, and closely to enjoy, his con- 
 fusion. He looked up and caught my eye, and not being too 
 much gratified with its involuntary expression, he grew more 
 embarrassed ; at last he summoned courage. 
 
 " Why, my dear Sir," he said, " I did, it is true, promise you 
 that borough ; but individual friendship must frequently be sacri- 
 ficed to the public good. All our party insisted upon returning 
 
 Mr. V in place of the late member : what could I do .'' I 
 
 mentioned your claims ; they all, to a man, enlarged upon your 
 rival's : to be sure he is an older person, and his family is very 
 powerful in the Lower House : in short, you perceive, my dear 
 Pelham — that is you are aware — you can feel for the delicacy of 
 my situation — one could not appear too eager for one's own 
 friends at first, and I \\2iS forced to concede." 
 
 Lord Dawton was now fairly delivered of his speech ; it was 
 therefore, only left me to congratulate him on his offspring. 
 
 " My dear lord," I began, "you could not have pleased me 
 
 better: Mr. V is a most estimable man, and I would not, 
 
 for the world, have had you suspected of placing such a trifle 
 as your own honor — that is to say — your promise to me, before 
 the commands — that is to say, the interests — of your party ; but 
 
 no more of this now. Was your lordship at the Duke of 's 
 
 last night ? " 
 
 Dawton seized joyfully the opportunity of changing the con- 
 versation, and we talked and laughed on indifferent matters till 
 I thought it time to withdraw ; this I did with the most cordial 
 appearance of regard and esteem ; nor was it till I had fairly 
 set my foot out of his door, that I suffered myself to indulge 
 the " black bile " at my breast. I turned towards the Green 
 Park, and was walking slowly along the principal mall with my
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 299 
 
 hand behind me, and my eyes on the ground, when I heard my 
 own name uttered. On looking back, I perceived Lord Vincent 
 on horseback ; he stopped and conversed with me. In the humor 
 I was in with Lord Dawton, I received him with greater warmth 
 than I had done of late ; and he also, being in a social mood, 
 seemed so well satisfied with our rencontre, and my behavior, 
 that he dismounted to walk with me. 
 
 " This park is a very different scene now," said Vincent, 
 *' from what it was in the times of ' The Merry Monarch ; ' yet 
 it is still a spot much more to my taste than its more gaudy and 
 less classical brother of Hyde, There is something pleasingly 
 melancholy, in walking over places hunted by history ; for all of 
 us live more in the past than the present." 
 
 " And how exactly alike in all ages," said I, " men hav^e been ! 
 On the very spot we are on now, how many have been actuated 
 by the same feelings that now actuate us — how many have made 
 perhaps exactly the same remark just made by you ! It is this 
 universal identity, which forms our most powerful link with those 
 that have been — there is a satisfaction in seeing how closely we 
 resemble the Agamemnons of gone times, and we take care to 
 lose none of it, by thinking how closely we also resemble the 
 Thersiteses." 
 
 "True," replied Vincent: "if wise and great men did but 
 know how little difference there is between them and the foolish 
 or the mean, they would not take such pains to be wise and 
 great ; to use the Chinese proverb, ' they sacrifice a picture, to 
 get possession of its ashes.' It is almost a pity that the desire 
 to advance should be so necessary to our being ; ambition is 
 often a fine, but never a felicitous feeling. Cyprian, in a beauti- 
 ful passage on envy, calls it ' the moth of the soul : ' but per- 
 haps, even that passion is less gnawing, less a ' tabes pectoris,' 
 than ambition. You are surprised at my heat — the fact is, I 
 am enraged at thinking how mucli we forfeit, when we look /// 
 only, and trample unconsciously, in the blindness of our aspira- 
 tion, on the affections which strew our path. Now, you and I 
 have been utterly estranged from each other of late. Why ? — 
 for any dispute — any disagreement in private — any discovery of 
 meanness — treachery, unworthiness in the other? No! merely 
 because I dine with Lord Lincoln, and you with Lord Dawton 
 Tflilii tout. Well say the Jesuits, that they who live for the pub- 
 lic must renounce all private ties ; the very day we become 
 citizens, we are to cease to be men. Our privacy is like Leo 
 Dcciiuiis ; directly it dies, all peace, comfort, joy, and sociahty
 
 300 PEL HAM; OR 
 
 are to die with it : and an iron age, ' barbara vis etdira jnalorum 
 omnium incomfnoda ' to succeed." 
 
 " It is a pity that we struck into different paths," said I : " no 
 pleasure would have been to me greater than making our polit- 
 ical interests the same ; but — " 
 
 " Perhaps there is no but," interrupted Vincent ; " perhaps, 
 like the two knights in the hackneyed story, we are only giving 
 diflFerent names to the same shield, because we view it on dif- 
 ferent sides ; let us also imitate them in their reconciliation, as 
 well as their quarrel, and since we have already run our lances 
 against each other, be convinced of our error, and make up our 
 difference." 
 
 I was silent ; indeed, I did not like to trust myself to speak. 
 Vincent continued : — 
 
 " I know," said he, " and it is in vain for you to conceal it, 
 
 that you have been ill-used by Dawton. Mr. V is my first- 
 
 Cousin ; he came to me the day after the borough was given ta 
 him, and told me all that Clandonald and Dawton had said to 
 him at the time. Believe me, they did not spzre you ; — the 
 former you have grievously offended ; you know that he has 
 quarrelled irremediably with his son Dartmore, and he insists 
 that you are the friend and abettor of that ingenuous youth, in 
 all his debaucheries and extravagance — iu i//um corrumpi si?iis. 
 I tell you this without hesitation, for I know that you are less 
 vain than ambitious, and I do not care about hurting you in the 
 one point, if I advance you in the other. As for me, I own to 
 you candidly and frankly, that there are no pains I would spare 
 to secure you to our party. Join us, and you shall, as I have 
 often said, be on the parliamentary benches of our corps, with- 
 out a moment of unnecessary delay. More I cannot promise you, 
 because I cannot promise more to myself; but from that instant 
 your fortune, if I augur aught aright from your ability, will be 
 in your hands. You shake your head — surely you must see 
 that our differences are not vehement — it is a difference not of 
 measures, but men. There is but a verbal disagreement 
 between us ; and we must own the wisdom of the sentence 
 recorded in Aulus Gellius, that ' he is but a madman, who splits 
 the weight of things upon the hair-breadths of words.' You 
 laugh at the quaintness of the quotation ; quaint proverbs are 
 of the truest." 
 
 If my reader should think lightly of me, when I own that i 
 felt wavering and irresolute at the end of this speech, let him 
 for a moment place himself in my situation — let him feel indig 
 nant at the treachery, the injustice, the ingratitude of one man;
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 301 
 
 and, at the very height of his resentment, let him be soothed, 
 flaitered, courted, by the offered friendship and favor of another. 
 Let him personally despise the former, and esteem the latter ; 
 and let him above all be co7tvinced, as well as persuaded, of the 
 truth of Vincent's hint, viz., that no sacrifice of principle, nor 
 of measures, was required — nothing but an alliance against men, 
 not measures. And who were those men ? bound to me by 
 a single tie — meriting from my gratitude a single considera- 
 tion .'' No ! the men, above all others, who had offered me the 
 greatest affront, and deser\^ed from me the smallest esteem. 
 
 But, however human feelings might induce me to waver, I 
 felt that it was not by them only I was to decide. I am not a 
 man whose vices or virtues are regulated by the impulse and 
 passion of the moment : if I am quick to act, I am habitually 
 slow to deliberate. I turned to Vincent, and pressed his hand : 
 " I dare not trust myself to answer you now," said I : " give 
 me till to-morrow ; I shall then have both considered and 
 determined." 
 
 I did not wait for his reply. I sprang from him, turned down 
 the passage which leads to Pall Mall, and hastened home 
 once more to commune with my own heart, and — not to be 
 still. 
 
 In these confessions I have made no scruple of owning my 
 errors and my foibles ; all that could occasion mirth or benefit 
 to the reader were his own. I have kept a veil over the darker 
 and stormier emotions of my soul ; all that could neither amuse 
 nor instruct him are mine ! 
 
 Hours passed on — it became time to dress — I rang for Bedos 
 — dressed as usual — great emotions interfere little with the 
 mechanical operations of life — and drove to Guloseton's. 
 
 He was unusually entertaining ; the dinner too was unusually, 
 good ; but thinking that I was sufficiently intimate with my 
 host not to belie my feelings, I remained distrait, absent, and 
 dull. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, my friend ? " said the good- 
 natured epicure ; " you have neither applauded my jokes, nor 
 lasted my fj77///cy/t'^; and your behavior has trifled alike with 
 my chevreiiil and my feelings ? " — l^ie proverb is right, in say- 
 ing grief is communicative." I confess that I was eager to 
 unbosom myself to one upon whose confidence I could depend. 
 Guloseton heard me with great attention and interest — " Little," 
 said he, kindly, " little as I care for these matters myself, I can 
 feel for those who do ; I wish I could serve you better than by 
 advice. However, you cannot, I imagine, hesitate to accept
 
 302 PELHAM; GR, 
 
 Vincent's offer. What matters it whether you sit on one bench 
 or on another, so that you do not sit in a thorough draught — or 
 dine at Lord Lincohi's, or Lord Dawton's, so long as the cooks 
 are equally good ? As for Dawton, I always thought him a 
 shuffling, mean fellow, who buys his wines at the second price, 
 and sells his offices at the first. Come, my dear fellow, let us 
 drink to his confusion." 
 
 So saying, Guloseton filled my glass to the brim. He had 
 sympathized with me — I thought it, therefore, my duty to sym- 
 pathize with him ; nor did we part till the eyes of the bon vivant 
 saw more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in 
 the philosophy of the sober. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXHL 
 
 Si ad honestatem nati sumus, ea aut sola expetenda est, aut certe 
 
 omni ponderc gravior est habenda quam reliqua omnia. 
 
 TULLY. 
 Cos. Brutus, I do observe ycru now of late : 
 I have not from your eyes that gentleness 
 And show of love as I was wont to hzve.— Julius Casar. 
 
 I ROSE at my usual early hour ; sleep had tended to calm, 
 and, I hope, also, to better, my feelings. I had now leisure to 
 reflect, that I had not embraced my party from any private or 
 interested motive ; it was not, therefore, from a private or inter- 
 ested motive that I was justified in deserting it. Our passions 
 are terrible sophists ! When Vincent had told me, the day be- 
 fore, that it was from men, not measures, that I was to change, 
 • and that such a change could scarcely deserve the name, my 
 heart adopted the assertion, and fancied it into truth. 
 
 I now began to perceive the delusion ; were government as 
 mechanically perfect as it has never yet been (but as I trust it 
 may yet be), it would signify little who were the mere machines 
 that regulated its springs : but in a constitution like ours, the 
 chief character of which — pardon me, ye De Lolmeites — is its 
 uncertainty ; where men invariably make the measures square to 
 the dimensions of their own talent or desire ; and where, revers- 
 ing the maxim of the tailor, the measures so rarely make the 
 men ; it required no penetration to see how dangerous it was to 
 entrust to the aristocratic prejudice of Lincoln, or the vehe- 
 ment imbecility of Lesborough, the execution of the very same 
 measures which might safely be committed to the plain sense of
 
 ADV£:NTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 303 
 
 Dawton, and, above all, to the great and various talents of his 
 coadjutors. But what made the vital difference between the 
 two parties was less in the leaders than the body. In the Daw- 
 ton faction, the best, the purest, the wisest of the day were en- 
 rolled ; they took upon themselves the origin of all the active 
 measures, and Lord Dawton was the mere channel through 
 which those measures flowed ; the plain, the unpretending, and 
 somewhat feeble character of Lord Dawton's mind, readily con- 
 ceded to the abler components of his party the authority it was 
 so desirable that they should exert. In Vincent's party, with 
 the exception of himself, there was scarcely an individual with 
 the honesty requisite for loving the projects they affected to pro- 
 pose, or the talents that were necessar}- for carrying them into 
 effect, even were their wishes sincere ; nor was either the haughty 
 Lincoln, or his noisy and overbearing companion, Lesborough, 
 at all of a temper, to suffer that quiet, yet powerful interference 
 of others, to which Dawton unhesitatingly submitted. 
 
 I was the more resolved to do all possible justice to Dawton's 
 party, from the inclination I naturally had to lean towards the 
 other ; and in all matters, where private pique or self-interest 
 can possibly penetrate, it has ever been the object of my ma- 
 turer consideration to direct my particular attention to that side 
 of the question which such undue partisans are the least likely 
 to espouse. While I was gradually, but clearly, feeling my way 
 to a decision, I received the following note from Guloseton : — 
 
 " I said nothing to you last night of what is now to be th?j 
 subject of my letter, lest you should suppose it arose rather 
 from the heat of an extempore conviviality, than its real source 
 viz., a sincere esteem for your mind, a sincere affection for youi 
 heart, and a sincere sympathy in your resentment and your in- 
 terest. 
 
 " They tell me that Lord Dawton's triumph or discomfiture 
 
 rests entirely upon the success of the motion upon , 
 
 brought before the House of Commons, on the . I 
 
 care, you know, very little, for my own part, which way this 
 question is decided ; do not think, therefore, that I make any 
 sacrifice when I request you to suffer me to follow your advice 
 in the disposal of my four votes. 1 imagine, of course, that you 
 wish them to adopt the contrary side to Lord Dawton ; and 
 upon receiving a line from you to that effect, they shall be em- 
 powered to do so. 
 
 "Pray, oblige me also by taking the merit of this measure 
 upon yourself, and saying (wherever it may be useful to you,)
 
 304 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 how entirely both the voters and their influence are at your dis- 
 posal. I trust we shall yet play the Bel to this Dragon, and 
 fell him from his high places. 
 
 " Pity me, my dear friend ; I dine out to-day, and feel already, 
 by an intuitive shudder, that the soup will be cold and the 
 sherry hot. Adieu. 
 
 " Ever yours. 
 
 " GULOSETON." 
 
 Now, then, my triumph, my vanity, and my revenge might be 
 fully gratified. I had before me a golden opportunity of dis- 
 playing my own power, and of humbling that of the minister. 
 My heart swelled high at the thought. Let it be forgiven me, 
 if, for a single moment, my previous calculations and morality 
 vanished from my mind, and I saw only the offer of Vincent, 
 and the generosity of Guloseton. But I checked the risings of 
 my heart, and compelled my proud spirit to obedience. 
 
 I placed Guloseton's letter before me, and, as I read it once 
 more in order to reply to it, the disinterested kindness and del- 
 icacy of one, whom I had long, in the injustice of my thoughts, 
 censured as selfish, came over me so forcibly, and contrasted 
 so deeply with the hollowness of friends more sounding, alike 
 in their profession and their creeds, that the tears rushed to my 
 eyes. 
 
 A thousand misfortunes are less affecting than a single kind- 
 ness. 
 
 I wrote, in answer, a warm and earnest letter of thanks for an 
 offer, the kindness of which penetrated me to the soul. I de- 
 tailed at some length the reasons which induced me to the de- 
 cision I had taken ; I sketched also the nature of the very im- 
 portant motion about to be brought before the House, and de- 
 duced from that sketch the impossibility of conscientiously op- 
 posing Lord Dawton's party in the debate. I concluded with 
 repeating the expressions my gratitude suggested ; and, after de- 
 clining all interference with Lord Guloseton's votes, ventured to 
 add, that had I interfered, it would have been in support of 
 Dawton ; not as a man, but a minister — not as an individual 
 friend, but a public servant. 
 
 I had just despatched this letter when Vincent entered ; I 
 acquainted him, though in the most respectful and friendly terms, 
 with my determination. He seemed greatly disappointed, and 
 endeavored to shake my resolution ; finding this was in vain, he 
 appeared at last satisfied, and even affected with my reasons. 
 When we parted, it was with a promise, confirmed by both, that
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLE MAiV. 305 
 
 no public variance should ever again alter our private opinion 
 of each other. 
 
 When I was once more alone, and saw myself brought back 
 to the very foot of the ladder I had so far and so fortunately 
 climbed; when I saw that, rejecting all the overtures of my 
 friends, I was left utterly solitary' and unaided among my foes — 
 when I looked beyond, and saw no faint loop-hole of hope, no 
 single stepping-stone on which to recommence my broken but un- 
 wearied career — perhaps one pang of regret and repentance at 
 my determination came across me : but there is something marvel- 
 lously restorative in a good conscience, and one soon learns to 
 look with hope to the future, when one can feel justified in turn^ 
 ing with pride to the past. 
 
 My horse came to the door at my usual hour for riding : with 
 what gladness I sprang upon his back, felt the free wind fresh- 
 ening over my fevered cheek, and turned my rein towards the 
 green lanes that border the great city on its western side. I 
 know few counsellors more exhilarating than a spirited horse. I 
 do not wonder that the Roman emperor made a consul of his 
 steed. On horseback I always best feel my powers, and survey 
 my resources : on horseback I always originate my subtlest 
 schemes, and plan their ablest execution. Give me but a light 
 rein, and a free bound, and I am Cicero — Cato — Ccesar ; dis- 
 mount me, and I become a mere clod of the earth which you con- 
 demn me to touch : fire, energy, ethereality^ have departed ; I 
 am the soil without the sun — the cask without the wine — the 
 garments without the man. 
 
 I returned homeward with increased spirits and collected 
 thoughts : I urged my mind from my own situation, and suf- 
 fered it to rest upon what Lady Roseville had told me of Regi- 
 nald Glanville's interference in my behalf. That extraordinary 
 man still continued powerfully to excite my interest ; nor could 
 I dwell, without some yearning of the kindlier affections, upon 
 his unsolicited, and, but for Lady Roseville's communication, 
 unknown exertions in my cause. Although the officers of jus- 
 tice were still actively employed in the pursuit of Tyrrell's mur- 
 derer, and although the newspapers were still full of speculations 
 on their indifferent success, public curiosity had begun to flag 
 upon the inquiry. I had, once or twice, been in Glanville's com- 
 pany when the murder was brought upon the tapis, and narrowly 
 examined his behavior upon a subject which touched him so 
 fearfully. I could not, however, note any extraordinary confu- 
 sion or change in his countenance ; perhaps the pale cheek grew 
 somewhat pal^r, the dreaming eye more abstracted, and the ab 
 20
 
 3o6 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 sent spirit more wandering than before ; but many other causes 
 than guilt could account for signs so doubtful and minute. 
 
 " You shall soon know all," the last words which he had ad- 
 dressed to me, yet rang in my ears ; and most intensely did I 
 anticipate the fulfilment of this promise. My hopes too — those 
 flatterers, so often the pleasing antithesis of reason — whispered 
 that this was not the pledge of a guilty, man ; and yet he had 
 said to Lady Roseville, that he did not wonder at my estrange- 
 ment from him : such words seemed to require a less favorable 
 construction than those he had addressed to me ; and, in making 
 this mental remark, another, of no flattering nature to Glanville's 
 disinterestedness, suggested itself ; might not his interference for 
 me with Lord Dawton, arise rather from policy than friendship ? 
 — might it not occur to him, if, as I surmised, he was acquainted 
 with my suspicions, and acknowledged their dreadful justice, 
 that it would be advisable to propitiate my silence } Such were 
 among the thousand thoughts which flashed across me, and left 
 my speculations in debate and doubt. 
 
 Nor did my reflections pass unnoticed the nature of Lady 
 Roseville's affection for Glanville. From the seeming coldness 
 and austerity of Sir Reginald's temperament, it was likely that 
 this was innocent, at least in act ; and there was also something 
 guileless in the manner in which she appeared rather to exult in, 
 than to conceal, her attachment. True that she was bound by 
 no ties ; she had neither husband nor children, for whose sake 
 love became a crime : free and unfettered, if she gave her heart 
 to Glanville, it was also allowable to render the gift lawful and 
 perpetual by the blessing of the church. 
 
 Alas ! how little can woman, shut up in her narrow and limited 
 circle of duties, know of the wandering life and various actions 
 of her lover ! Little, indeed, could Lady Roseville, when, in 
 the heat of enthusiasm, she spoke of the lofty and generous 
 character of Glanville, dream of the foul and dastardly crime of 
 which he was more than suspected ; nor, while it was, perhaps, 
 her fondest wish to allay herself to his destiny, could her wildest 
 fancies anticipate the felon's fate, which, if death came not in a 
 hastier and kinder shape, must sooner or later await him. 
 
 Of Thornton I had neither seen nor heard aught since my 
 departure from Lord Chester's ; that reprieve was, however, 
 shortly to expire, I had scarcely got into Oxford-street, in my 
 way homeward, when I perceived him crossing the street with 
 another man. I turned round to scrutinize the features of his 
 companion, and, in spite of a great change of dress, a huge pair 
 of false whiskers, and an artificial appearance of increased age,
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAJV. 307 
 
 mv habit of observing countenances enabled me to recognize, 
 on the instant, my intellectual and virtuous friend, Mr. Job Jon- 
 son. They disappeared in a shop, nor did I think it woith 
 while to further observe them, though I still bore a reminiscitory 
 spite against Mr. Job Jonson, which I was fully resolved to 
 wreak at the first favorable opportunity. 
 
 I passed by Lady Roseville's door. Though the hour was 
 late, and I had, therefore, but a slight chance of finding her at 
 home, 3'et I thought the chance worth the trouble of inquiry. 
 To my agreeable surprise, I was admitted ; no one was in the 
 drawing-room. The servant said. Lady Roseville was at that 
 moment engaged, but would very shortly see me, and begged I 
 would wait. 
 
 Agitated as I was by various reflections. I walked (in the 
 restlessness of my mood) to and fro the spacious rooms which 
 formed Lady Roseville's apartments of reception. At the far 
 end was a small boudoir, where none but the goddess's favored 
 few were admitted. As I approached towards it, I heard voices, 
 and the next moment recognized the deep tones of Glanville. 
 I turned hastily away, lest I should overhear the discourse ; but 
 I had scarcely got three steps, when the convulsed sound of a. 
 woman's sob came upon my ear. Shortly afterwards, steps de- 
 scended the stairs, and the street-door opened. 
 
 The minutes rolled on, and I became impatient. The servant 
 re-entered — Lady Roseville was so suddenly and seriously in- 
 disposed, that she was unable to see me. I left the house, and 
 full of bewildered conjectures, returned to my apartments. 
 
 The next day was one of the most important in my life. 1 
 was standing wistfully by my fire-place, listening with the most 
 mournful attention to a broken-winded hurdy-gurdy, stationed 
 opposite to my window, when Bedos announced Sir Reginald 
 Glanville. It so happened, that I had that morning taken the 
 miniature I had found in the fatal field, from the secret place in 
 which I usually kept it, in order closely to examine it, lest any 
 proof of its ownership, more convincing than the initials and 
 Thornton's interpretation, might be discovered by a minuter 
 investigation. 
 
 The picture was lying on the table when Glanville en- 
 tered : my first impulse was to seize and secrete it ; my second 
 to suffer it to remain, and to watch the effect the sight of it 
 might produce. In following the latter, I thought it, however, 
 as well to choose my own time for discovering the miniature ; 
 and, as I moved to the table, I threw my handkerchief carelessly 
 over it. Glanville came up to me at once, and his countenance,
 
 308 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 usually close and reserved in its expression, assumed a franker 
 and bolder aspect. 
 
 " You have lately changed towards me," he said — " mindful 
 of our former friendship, I have come to demand the reason," 
 
 " Can Sir Reginald Glanville's memory," answered I, "supply 
 him with no probable cause ? " 
 
 " It can," replied Glanville, " but I would not trust only to 
 that. Sit down, Pelham, and listen to me. I can read your 
 thoughts, and I might affect to despise their import — perhaps 
 two years since I should — at present I can pity and excuse 
 them. I have come to you now, in the love and confidence of 
 our early days, to claim as then your good opinion and esteem. 
 If you require any explanation at my hands, it shall be given. 
 My days are approaching their end. I have made up my ac- 
 counts with others — I would do so with you. I confess that I 
 would fain leave behind me in your breast, the same affection- 
 ate remembrance I might heretofore have claimed, and which, 
 whatever be your suspicions, I have done nothing to forfeit. I 
 have, moreover, a dearer interest than my own to consult in 
 this wish — you color, Pelham — you know to whom I allude ; for 
 my sister's sake, if not for my own, \o\\ will hear me." 
 
 Glanville paused for a moment. I raised the handkerchief 
 from the miniature — I pushed the latter towards him — " Do you 
 remember this ? " said I, in a low tone. 
 
 With a wild cry, which thrilled through my heart, Glanville 
 sprang forward and seized it. He gazed eagerly and intensely 
 upon it, and his cheek flushed — his eyes sparkled — his breast 
 heaved. The next moment he fell back in his chair, in one of 
 the half swoons, to which, upon a sudden and violent emotion, 
 the debilitating effects of his disease subjected him. 
 
 Before I could come to his assistance, he had recovered. He 
 looked wildly and fiercely upon me. " Speak," he cried, " speak 
 — where got you this — where ? — answer, for mercy's sake ! " 
 
 "Recollect yourself," said I sternly. "I found that token of 
 your presence upon the spot where Tyrrell was murdered." 
 
 " True, true," said Glanville, slowly, and in an absent and ab- 
 stracted tone. He ceased abruptly, and covered his face with his 
 hands ; from this attitude he started with some sudden impulse. 
 
 " And tell me," he said, in a low, inward, exulting tone, " was 
 it — was it red with the blood of the murdered man ? " 
 
 " Wretch ! " I exclaimed, " do you glory in your guilt .-' " 
 
 " Hold ! " said Glanville, rising, with an altered and haughty 
 air ; " it is not to your accusations that I am now to listen : if 
 you are yet desirous of weighing their justice before you decide
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 309 
 
 up'M them, 3'^ou will have the opportunity ; I shall be at home at 
 ten this night; come to me, ^wd you shall knoza all. At present, 
 the sight of this picture has unnerved me. Shall I see you ? " 
 
 I made no other rejoinder than the brief expression of my 
 assent, and Glanville instantly left the room. 
 
 During the whole of that day, my mind was wrought up into 
 a state of feverish and preternatural excitement. I could not 
 remain on the same spot for an instant ; my pulse beat with the 
 irregularity of delirium. For the last hour I placed ray watch 
 before me, and kept my eyes constantly fixed upon it. It was 
 not only Glanville's confession that I was to hear ; my own fate, 
 my future connection with Ellen, rested upon the story of that 
 night. For myself, when I called to mind Glanville's acknowl- 
 edgment of the picture, and his slow and involuntary remem- 
 brance of the spot where it was found, I scarcely allowed my 
 *:emper, sanguine as it was, to hope. 
 
 Some minutes before the hour of ten, I repaired to Glanville's 
 house. He was alone — the picture was before him. 
 
 I drew my chair towards him in silence, and accidentally 
 lifting up my eyes, encountered the opposite mirror. I started 
 at my own face ; the intensity and fearfulness of my interest 
 had rendered it even more hueless than that of my companion. 
 
 There was a pause for some moments, at the end of which 
 Glanville thus began. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 I do but hide 
 Under these words, like embers, every spark 
 Of that which has consumed me. Quici: and dark 
 The grave is yawning; — as its roof shall cover 
 My limbs with dust and worms, under and over. 
 So let oblivion hide the gxi^i.—Jidian and Maddah. 
 
 * ^ -S^E- ^ ^ ^ 
 
 With thee the very future fled, 
 
 I stand amid the past alone, 
 A tomb which still shall guard the dead, 
 
 Though every earlhlier trace be flown; 
 A tomb o'er which the weeds that love 
 
 Decay — their wild luxuriance wreathe 
 The cold and callous stone above — 
 
 And only thou and death beneath. 
 
 From Unpiddishcd Poems by . 
 
 THE HISTORY OF SIR REGINALD GLANVILLE. 
 
 "You remember my character at school — the difficulty 
 with which you drew nie froii] tjie yisionary and abstracted
 
 31 o PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 loneliness which, even at that time, was more consonant to my 
 taste, than all the sports and society resorted to by other boys 
 — and the deep, and, to you, inexplicable delight with which I 
 returned to my reveries and solitude again. That character has 
 continued through life the same ; circumstances have strength- 
 ened, not altered it. So has it been'with you ; the temper, the 
 habits, the tastes, so strongly contrasted with mine in boyhood, 
 have lost nothing of that contrast. Your ardor for the various 
 ambition of life is still the antipodes to my influence : your dar- 
 ing, restless, thoughtful resolution in the pursuit, still shames 
 my indolence and abstraction. You are still the votary of the 
 world, but will become its conqueror — I its fugitive — and shall 
 die its victim. 
 
 " After we parted at school, I went for a short time to a 
 
 tutor's in shire. Of this place I soon grew weary ; and, 
 
 my father's death rendering me in a great measure my own 
 master, I lost no time in leaving it. I was seized with that 
 mania for travel common to all persons of my youth and dis- 
 position. My mother allowed me an almost unlimited com- 
 mand over the fortune eventually to be my own ; and, yielding 
 to my wishes, rather than her fears, she suffered me, at the age 
 of eighteen, to set out for the Continent alone. Perhaps the 
 quiet and reserve of my character made her think me less ex- 
 posed to the dangers of youth, than if I had been of a mora 
 active and versatile temper. This is no uncommon mistake ; a 
 serious and contemplative disposition is, however, often the 
 worst formed to acquire readily the knowledge of the world, 
 and always the most calculated to suffer deeply from the ex 
 perience. 
 
 " I took up my residence for some time at Spa. It is, yov 
 know, perhaps, a place dull enough to make gambling the onlj 
 amusement ; every one played — and I did not escape the con- 
 tagion ; nor did I wish it : for, like the minister Godolphin, my 
 habitual silence made me love gaming for its own sake, because 
 it was a substitute for conversation. This pursuft brought me 
 acquainted with Mr. Tyrrell, who was then staying at Spa ; he 
 had not, at that time, quite dissipated his fortune, but was daily 
 advancing towards so desirable a consummation. A gambler's 
 acquaintance is readily made, and easily kept, — providing you 
 gamble too. 
 
 " We became as intimate as the reserve of my habits ever 
 suffered me to become with any one but you. He was many 
 years older than I — had seen a great deal of the world — had 
 mixed much in its best societies, and at that time, whatever was
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 31 1 
 
 the vulgarity of his mind, had little of the coarseness of manner 
 which very soon afterwards distinguished him ; evil communi- 
 cation works rapidly in its results. Our acquaintance was, 
 therefore, natural enough, especially when it is considered that 
 my purse was entirely at his disposal — for borrowing is ' twice 
 blessed,' in him that takes and him that gives — the receiver be- 
 comes complaisant and conceding, and the lender thinks fa- 
 vorably of one he has obliged. 
 
 "We parted at Spa, under a mutual promise to write. I for- 
 get if this promise was kept — probably not : we were not, how- 
 ever, the worst friends for being bad correspondents. I con- 
 tinued my travels for about an other year : I then returned to 
 England, the same melancholy and dreaming enthusiast as 
 before. It is true that we are the creatures of circumstances; 
 but circumstances are also, in a great measure, the creatures of 
 us. I mean, they receive their influences from the previous 
 bent of our own minds ; what raises one would depress another, 
 and what vitiates my neighbor might correct me. Thus the ex- 
 perience of the world makes some persons more worldly — others 
 more abstracted ; and the indulgence of the senses becomes a 
 violence to one mind, and a second nature to another. As for 
 me, 1 had tasted all the pleasures youth and opulence can 
 purchase, and was more averse to them than ever. I had 
 mixed with many varieties of men — I w'as still more riveted to 
 the monotony of self. 
 
 "I cannot hope, while I mention these peculiarities, that I 
 am a very uncommon character : I believe the present age has 
 produced many such. Some time hence, it will be a curious 
 inquiry to ascertain the causes of that acute and sensitive mor- 
 bidity of mind, which has been, and still is, so epidemic a 
 disease. You know me well enough to believe, that I am not 
 fond of the cant of assuming an artificial character, or of creat- 
 ing a fictitious interest ; and I am far from wishing to impose 
 upon you a malady of constitution for a dignity of mind. You 
 must pardon my prolixity. I own that it is very painful to me 
 to come to the main part of my confessions, and I am endeav- 
 oring to prepare myself by lingering over the prelude." 
 
 Glanville paused here for a few moments. In spite of the 
 sententious coolness with which he pretended to speak, I saw 
 that he was powerfully and painfully affected. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "to resume the thread of my narra- 
 tive; after I had stayed some weeks with my mother and sister, 
 I took advantage of their departure for the continent, and re- 
 solved to make a tour through England. Rich people, and I
 
 312 ■ PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 have always been very rich, grow exceedingly tired of the 
 embarrassment of their riches ; I seized with delight the idea 
 of traveling without carriages and servants ; I took merely a 
 favorite horse, and the black dog, poor Terror, which you see 
 now at my feet, 
 
 " The day I commenced this plan was to me the epoch of a 
 new and terrible existence. However, you must pardon me if I 
 am not here sufficiently diffuse. Suffice it, that I became ac- 
 quainted with a being whom, for the first time in my life, I 
 loved ! This miniature attempts to express her likeness ; the 
 initials at the back, interwoven with my own, are hers." 
 
 " Yes," said I incautiously, " they are the initials of Gertrude 
 Douglass." 
 
 " What ! " cried Glanville, in a loud tone, which he instantly 
 checked, and continued in an indrawn, muttered whisper : 
 " How long is it since I heard that name ! and now — now — " 
 he broke off abruptly, and then said, with a calmer voice, " I 
 know not how you have learnt her name ; perhaps you will 
 explain ! " 
 
 " From Thornton," said I. 
 
 " And he has told you more ? " cried Glanville, as if gasping 
 for breath — " the histor}'^ — the dreadful " 
 
 " Not a word," said I, hastily ; " he was with me when I 
 found the picture, and he explained the initials." 
 
 "It is well ! " answered Glanville, recovering himself. "You 
 will see presently if I have reasons to love that those foul and 
 sordid lips should profane the story I am about to relate. 
 Gertrude was the only daughter; though of gentle blood, she 
 was no match for me, either in rank or fortune. Did I say just 
 now that the world had not altered me ? See my folly ; one 
 year before I saw her, and I should not have thought her^ but 
 myself^ honored by a marriage ; — twelve little months had suf- 
 ficed to — God forgive me ! I took advantage of her love — her 
 innocence — she fled with me — but not to the altar ! " 
 
 Again Glanville paused, and again, by a violent effort, con- 
 quered his emotion, and proceeded : — 
 
 " Never let vice be done by halves — never let a man invest all 
 his purer affections in the woman he ruins — never let him cher- 
 ish the kindness, if he gratifies the selfishness, of his heart. A 
 profligate who really loves his victim, is one of the most wretched 
 of beings. In spite of my successful and triumphant passion — • 
 in spite of the first intoxication of possession, and the better and 
 deeper delight of a reciprocity of thought — feeling, sympathy, 
 for the first time, found ; — in the midst of all the luxuries my
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEjVTLEMAJV. 313 
 
 wealth could produce, and of the voluptuous and spring-like hues 
 with which youth, health, and first love, clothe the earth which 
 the loved one treads, and the air which she inhales : in spite of 
 these, in spite of all, I was anything but happy. If Gertrude's 
 cheek seemed a shade more pale, or her eyes less bright, I re- 
 membered the sacrifice she had made me, and believed that shs 
 felt it too. It was in vain, that, with the tender and generous de- 
 votion — never found but in woman — she assured me that my love 
 was a recompense for all ; the more touching was her tenderness, 
 the more poignant was my remorse. I never loved but her; I 
 have never, therefore, entered into the common-place of passion, 
 and I cannot, even to this day, look upon her sex as ours do in 
 general. I thought, I think so still, that ingratitude to a woman 
 is often a more odious offence — I am sure it contains a more 
 painful penalty — than ingratitude to a man. But enough of this ; 
 if you know me, you can penetrate the nature of my feelings — ■ 
 if not, it is in vain to expect your sympathy. 
 
 " I never loved living long in one place. We travelled over 
 the greater part of England and France. What must be the en- 
 chantment of love when accompanied with innocence and joy, 
 since, even in sin, in remorse, in grief, it brings us a rapture to 
 which all other things are tame ! Oh ! those were moments 
 steeped in the very elixir of life ; overflowing with the hoarded 
 fondness and sympathies of hearts too full for words, and yet 
 too agitated for silence, when we journeyed alone, and at night, 
 and, as the shadows and stillness for the waning hours gathered 
 round us, drew closer to each other, and concentrated this breath- 
 ing world in the deep and embracing sentiment of our mutual love ! 
 It was then that I laid my burning temples on her bosom, and 
 felt, while my hand clasped hers, that my visions were realized, 
 and my wandering spirit had sunk unto its rest. 
 
 " I remember well that, one night, we were travelling through 
 one of the most beautiful parts of England ; it was in the very 
 height and flush of summer, and the moon (what scene of love — 
 whether in reality or romance — has anything of tenderness, or 
 passion, or divinity, where her light is not!) filled the intense 
 skies of June with her presence, and cast a sadder and paler 
 beauty over Gertrude's cheek. She was always of a melancholy 
 and despondent temper ; perhaps, for that reason, she was more 
 congenial to my own ; and when I gazed upon her that night, I 
 was not surprised to see her eyes filled with tears. 'You will 
 laugh at me,' she said, as I kissed them off and inquired into 
 the cause ; 'but I feel a presentiment that I can not shake off; 
 it tells me that you will travel this road again before many months
 
 314 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 are past, and that I shall not be with you, perhaps not upon the 
 earth.' She was right in all her forebodings, but the suggestion 
 of her death ; — that came later. 
 
 " We took up our residence for some time at a beautiful situa- 
 tion, a short distance from a small watering-place. Here, to my 
 great surprise, I met with Tyrrell. He had come here partly to 
 see a relation from whom he had expectations, and partly to re- 
 cruit his health, which was much broken by his irregularities 
 and excesses. I could not refuse to renew my old acquaintance 
 with him ; and indeed, I thought him too much of a man of the 
 world, and of society, to feel with him that particular delicacy, 
 in regard to Gertrude, which made me in general shun all inter- 
 course with my former friends. He was in great pecuniary em- 
 barrassment — much more deeply so than I then imagined ; for I 
 believed the embarrassment to be only temporary. However, 
 my purse was then, as before, at his disposal, and he did not 
 scruple to avail himself very largely of my offers. He came fre- 
 quently to our house ; and poor Gertrude, who thought I had, 
 for her sake, made a real sacrifice in renouncing my acquaintance, 
 endeavored to conquer her usual ditifidence, and that more pain- 
 ful feeling than diffidence, natural to her station, and even to 
 affect a pleasure in the society of my friend, which she was very 
 far from feeling. 
 
 " I was detained at for several weeks by Gertrude's con- 
 finement. The child — happy being ! — died a week after its birth. 
 Gertrude was still in bed, and unable to leave it, when I received 
 a letter from Ellen, to say that my mother was then staying at 
 Toulouse, and dangerously ill ; if I wished once more to see her, 
 Ellen besought me to lose no time in setting off for for the con- 
 tinent. You may imagine my situation, or rather you can not, 
 for you can not conceive the smallest particle of that intense 
 love I bore to Gertrude. To you — to any other man, it might 
 seem no extraordinary hardship to leave her even for an uncer- 
 tain period — to me it was like tearing away the very life from my 
 heart. 
 
 " I procured her a sort of half companion, and half nurse ; I 
 provided for her everything that the most anxious and fearful 
 love could suggest ; and, with a mind full of forebodings too 
 darkly to be realized hereafter, I hastened to the nearest sea-port, 
 and set sail for France. 
 
 " When I arrived at Toulouse, my mother was much better, 
 but still in a very uncertain and dangerous state of health. I 
 stayed with her for more than a month, during which time every 
 post brought me a line from Gertrude, and bore back a message
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 315 
 
 from ' my heart to hers ' in return. This was no mean consola- 
 tion, more especially when each letter spoke of increasing" health 
 and strength. At the month's end, I was preparing to return — . 
 my mother was slowly recovering, and I no longer had any fears 
 on her account ; but, there are links in our destiny fearfully in- 
 terwoven with each other, and ending only in the anguish of our 
 ultimate doom. The day before that fixed for my departure, I 
 had been into a house where an epidemic disease raged ; that 
 night I complained of oppressive and deadly illness — before 
 morning I was in a high fever. 
 
 " During the time I was sensible of my state, I wrote con- 
 stantly to Gertrude, and carefully concealed my illness; but for 
 several days I was delirious. When I recovered, I called 
 eagerly for my letters — there were none : — 7ione ! I could not 
 believe I was yet awake ; but days still passed on, and not a line 
 from England — from Gertrude. The instant I was able, I in- 
 sisted upon putting horses to my carriage ; I could bear no longer 
 the torture of my suspense. By the most rapid journeys my de- 
 bility would allow me to bear, I arrived in England. I travelled 
 
 down to by the same road that I had gone over with her ! 
 
 the words of hir foreboding, at that time, sank like ice into my 
 heart, ' You will travel this road again before many months are 
 past, and I shall not b3 with you ; perhaps, I shall not be upon 
 the earth ! ' At that thought I could have called unto the grave 
 to open for me. Her unaccountable and lengthened silence, in 
 spite of all the urgency and entreaties of my letters for a reply, 
 filled me with presentiments the most fearful. Oh, God — oh, 
 God, they were nothing to the truth ! 
 
 "At last I arrived at : my carriage stopped at the very 
 
 house — my whole frame was completely frozen with dread — I 
 trembled from limb to limb- -the ice of a thousand winters 
 seemed curdling through my blood. The bell rang — once, twice 
 — no answer — I would have leaped out of the carriage — I would 
 have forced an entrance ; but I was unable to move. A man 
 fettered and spjU-bound by an incubus, is less helpless than I 
 was. At last, an old female I had never seen before, appeared. 
 
 " ' Where is she ! How ! — ' I could utter no more — my eyes 
 were fixed upon the inquisitive and frightened countenance 
 opposite to my own. Those eyes, I thought, might have said 
 all that my lips could not ; I was deceived — the old woman un- 
 derstood me no more than I did her : another person appeared 
 — I recognized the face — it was that of a girl, who had been one 
 of our attendants. Will you believe, that at that sight, the sight 
 of one I had seen before, and could associate with the rcmem-
 
 3i6 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 brance of the breathing, the living, the present Gertrude, a thrill 
 of joy flashed across me — my fears seemed to vanish — my spell 
 to cease ! 
 
 " I sprang from the can iage ; I caught the girl by the robe, 
 'Your mistress,' said I, 'your mistress — she is well — she is alive — 
 speak, speak ! ' The girl shrieked out ; my eagerness, and, per- 
 haps, my emaciated and altered appearance, terrified her ; but 
 she had the strong nerves of youth, and was soon re-assured. 
 She requested me to step in, and she would tell me all. My 
 wife (Gertrude always went by that name) was alive, and, she be- 
 lieved, well, but she had left that place some weeks since. 
 Trembling, and still fearful, but in heaven, comparatively to my 
 former agony, I followed the girl and the old woman into the 
 house. 
 
 "The former got me some water. ' Now,' said I, when I had 
 drunk a long and hearty draught, ' I am ready to hear nil — my 
 wife has left this house, you say — for what place ? ' The girl 
 hesitated and looked down ; the old woman who was somewhat 
 deaf and did not rightly understand my questions, or the nature 
 of the personal interest I had in the reply, answered, — 'What 
 does the gentleman want ? the poor young lady who was last 
 here ? Lord help her ! ' 
 
 " ' What of her ? ' I called out in a new alarm. ' What of 
 her ? Where has she gone ? Who took her away ? ' 
 
 " ' Who took her ! ' mumbled the old woman, fretful at my 
 impatient tone ; ' who took her ? luhy, the mad doctor to be sure! ' 
 
 " I heard no more ; my frame could support no longer the 
 agonies my mind had undergone ; I fell lifeless on the floor. 
 
 " When I recovered, it was at the dead of the night. I was in 
 bed, the old woman and the girl were at my side. I rose slowly 
 and calmly. You know, all men who have ever suffered much, 
 know the strange anomalies of despair — the quiet of our veriest 
 anguish. Deceived by my bearing, I learned by degrees from 
 my attendants, that Gertrude had some weeks since betrayed 
 certain symptoms of insanity; that these, in a very few hours, 
 arose to an alarming pitch. From some reason the woman 
 could not explain, she had, a short time before, discarded the 
 companion I had left with her ; she was, therefore, alone among 
 servants. I'hey sent for the ignorant practitioners of the place ; 
 they tried their nostrums without success; her madness in- 
 creased ; her attendants, with that superstitious horror of 
 insanity common to the lower classes, became more and more 
 violently alarmed ; the landlady insisted on her removal ; and 
 — and — I told you, Pelham — I told you — they sent her away —
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 317 
 
 sent her to a mad house ! All this I listened to ! — all ! — ay, 
 and patiently. I noted down the address of her present abode ; 
 
 it was about the distance of twenty miles from •. I ordered 
 
 fresh horses and set off immediately. 
 
 " I arrived there at day-break. It was a large, old house, 
 which, like a French hotel, seemed to have no visible door : 
 dark and gloomy, the pile appeared worthy of the purpose to 
 which it was devoted. It was a long time before we aroused any 
 one to answer our call ; at length I was ushered into a small 
 parlor — how minutely I remembered every article in the room ! 
 — what varieties there are in the extreme passions ! sometimes 
 the same feeling will deaden all the senses — sometimes render 
 them a hundredfold more acute ! 
 
 "At last, a man of a smiling and rosy aspect appeared. He 
 pointed to a chair — rubbed his hands — and begged me to un- 
 fold my business ; few words sufificed to do that, I requested to 
 see his patient ; I demanded by what authority she had been put 
 under his care. The man's face altered. He was but little 
 pleased with the nature of my visit. ' The lady,' he said, coolly, 
 ' had been entrusted to his care, with an adequate remuneration, 
 by Mr. Tyrrell; without that gentleman's permission, he could 
 not think even of suffering me to see her.' I controlled my pas- 
 sion ; I knew something, if not of the nature of private mad- 
 houses, at least of that of mankind. I claimed his patient as my 
 wife : I expressed myself obliged by his care, and begged his 
 acceptance of a further remuneration, which I tendered, and 
 which was eagerly accepted. The way was now cleared : there 
 is no hell to which a golden breach will not win your admittance. 
 
 " The man detained me no longer ; he hastened to lead the 
 way. We passed through various long passages ; sometimes 
 the low moan of pain and weakness came upon my ear — some- 
 times the confused murmur of the idiot's drivelling soliloquy. 
 From one passage, at right angles with the one through which 
 we proceeded, broke a fierce and thrilling shriek; it sank at 
 once into silence — perhaps bctieath the lash ! 
 
 " We were now in a different department of the building — all 
 was silence — hushed — deep — breathless ; this seemed to me 
 more awful than the terrible sounds I had just heard. My 
 guide went slowly on, sometimes breaking the stillness of the 
 dim gallery by the jingle of the keys — sometimes a muttered 
 panegyric on himself and his humanity. I neither heeded nor 
 answered him. 
 
 " We read in the annals of the Inquisition, of every limb, 
 nerve, sinew of the victim, being so nicely and accurately
 
 3i8 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 Strained to their utmost, that the frame would not bear the ad- 
 ditional screwing of a single hair-breadth. Such seemed my 
 state. We came to a small door, at the right hand ; it was the 
 last but one in the passage. We paused before it. ' Stop,' 
 said I, ' for one moment ; ' and I was so faint and sick at heart, 
 that I leaned against the wall to recover myself, before I let 
 him open the door ; when he did, it was a greater relief than I 
 can express, to see that all was utterly dark. ' Wait, sir,' said 
 the guide, as he entered ; and a sullen noise told me that he 
 was unbarring the heavy shutter. 
 
 " Slowly the grey cold light of the morning broke in ; a dark 
 figure was stretched upon a wretched bed, at the far end of the 
 room. She raised herself at the sound. She turned her face 
 towards me ; I did not fall, nor faint, nor shriek ; I stood mo- 
 tionless, as if fixed into stone ; and yet it was Gertrude upon 
 whom I gazed. Oh, Heaven ! who but myself could have rec- 
 ognized her ? Her cheek was as the cheek of the dead — the 
 hueless skin clung to the bone — the eye was dull and glassy for 
 one moment ; the next it became terrible and preternaturally 
 bright — but not with the ray of intellect, or consciousness, or 
 recognition. She looked long and hard at me ; a voice, hollow 
 and broken, but which still penetrated my heart, came forth 
 through the wan lips, that scarcely moved with the exertion. 
 ' I am very cold,' it said — ' but if I complain, you will beat me.' 
 She fell down again upon the bed, and hid her face. 
 
 " My guide, who was leaning carelessly by the window, 
 turned to me with a sort of smirk — 'This is her way, sir,' he 
 said ; * her madness is of a very singular description : we have 
 not, as yet, been able to discover how far it extends ; sometimes 
 she seems conscious of the past, sometimes utterly oblivious of 
 everything : for days she is perfectly silent, or, at least, says 
 nothing more than you have just heard; but, at times, she raves 
 so violently, that — that — but I never use force where it ca?i be 
 helped.^ 
 
 " 1 looked at the man, but I could not answer, unless I had 
 torn him to pieces on the spot. I turned away hastily from the 
 room : but I did not quit the house without Gertrude — I placed 
 her in the carriage, by my side — notwithstanding all the protes- 
 tations and fears of the keeper ; these were readily silenced by 
 the sum I gave him ; it was large enough to have liberated 
 half his household. In fact, I gathered from his conversation, 
 that Tyrrell had spoken of Gertrude as an unhappy female 
 whom he himself had seduced, and would now be rid of. I
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAIV 319 
 
 thank you, Pelham, for that frown, but keep your indignation 
 till a fitter season for it. 
 
 "I took my victim, for I then regarded her as such, to a se- 
 cluded and lonely spot : I procured for her whatever advice Eng- 
 land could afford ; all was in vain. Night and day I was by her 
 side, but she never, for a moment, seemed to recollect me : yet 
 were there times of fierce and overpowering delirium, when my 
 name was uttered in the transport of the most passionate enthusi- 
 asm-whenmyfeatures as absent, though not present, were recalled 
 and dwelt upon with all the minuteness of the most faithful de- 
 tail ; and I knelt by her in all those moments, when no other 
 human being was near, and clasped her one hand, and wiped 
 the dew from her forehead, and gazed upon her convulsed and 
 changing face, and called upon her in a voice which could once 
 have allayed her wildest emotions; and had the agony of seeing 
 her eye dwell upon me with the most estranged indifference, or 
 the most vehement and fearful aversion. But, ever and anon, 
 she uttered words which chilled the marrow of my bones ; 
 words which I would not, dared not believe, had any meaning or 
 method in their madness — but which entered into my brain, and 
 preyed there like the devouring of a fire. There was a truth in 
 those ravings — a reason in that incoherence — and my cup was 
 not yet full. 
 
 " At last, one physician, who appeared to me to have more 
 knowledge than the rest, of the mysterious workings of her 
 dreadful disease, advised me to take her to the scene of her 
 first childhood : ' Those scenes,' said he justly, ' are in all stages 
 of life the most fondly remembered ; and I have noted, that in 
 many cases of insanity places are easier called than persons ; 
 perhaps, if we can once awaken one link in the chain, it will 
 communicate to the rest.' 
 
 " I took this advice, and set off to Norfolk. Her early home 
 was not many miles distant from the church-yard where you 
 once met me, and in that church-yard her mother was buried. 
 6"//^ had died before Gertrude's flight; the father's death had 
 followed it : perhaps my sufferings were a just retribution ! 
 The house had gone into other hands, and I had no difficulty in 
 engaging it. Thank Heaven, I was spared the pain of seeing any 
 of Gertrude's relations. 
 
 " It was night when we moved to the house. I had placed with- 
 in the room where she used to sleep, all the furniture and books, 
 with which it appeared, from my inquiries, to have been formerly 
 filled. We laid her in t'ne bed that had held that faded and al- 
 tered form, in its freshest and i^urest years. I shrouded myself
 
 320 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 in one corner of the room, and counted the dull minutes till the 
 day-light dawned. I pass over the detail of my recital — the ex- 
 periment partially succeeded — would to God that it had not ! 
 would that she had gone down to her grave with her dreadful se- 
 cret unrevealed ! would — but — " 
 
 Here Glanville's voice failed him, and there was a brief silence 
 before he re-commenced. 
 
 " Gertrude now had many lucid intervals ; but these my pres- 
 ence were always sufficient to change into a delirious raving 
 even more incoherent than her insanity had ever yet been. She 
 would fly from me with the most fearful cries, bury her face in 
 her hands, and seem like one oppressed and haunted by a 
 supernatural visitation, as long as I remained in the room ; the 
 moment I left her, she began, though slowly, to recover. 
 
 " This was to me the bitterest afifiiction of all — to be forbidden 
 to nurse, to cherish, to tend her, was like taking from me my 
 last hope ! But little can the thoughtless or the worldly dream 
 of the depths of a real love ; I used to wait all day by her door, 
 and it was luxury enough to me to catch her accents, or hear her 
 move, or sigh, or even weep ; and all night, when she could not 
 know of my presence, I used to lie down by her bedside ; and when 
 I sank into a short and convulsed sleep, I saw her once more, in 
 my brief and fleeting dreams, in all the devoted love,, and glow- 
 ing beauty, which had once constitnted the whole of my happi- 
 ness, and 7ny world. 
 
 " One day I had been called from my post by her door. They 
 came to me hastily — she was in strong convulsions. I flew up 
 the stairs, and supported her in my arms till the fits had ceased : 
 we then placed her in bed ; she never rose from it again : but 
 on that bed of death, the words, as well as the cause of her for- 
 mer insanity, were explained — the mystery was unravelled. 
 
 " It was a still and breathless night. The moon, which was 
 at its decrease, came through the half-closed shutters, and, be- 
 neath its solemn and eternal light, she yielded to my entreaties, 
 and revealed all. The man — my friend — Tyrrell — had polluted 
 her ear with his addresses, and when forbidden the house, had 
 bribed the woman I had left witli her to convey his letters; — 
 she was discharged — but Tyrrell was no ordinary villain ; he en- 
 tered the house one evening, when no one but Gertrude was 
 there. — Come near me, Pelham — nearer — bend down your ear 
 — he used force, violence ! That night Gertrude's senses de 
 serted her — you know the rest. 
 
 " The moment that I gathered, from Gertrude's broken sen- 
 tences, their meaning, that moment the demon entered into my
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 321 
 
 soul. All human feelings seemed to fly from my heart ; it shrank 
 into one burning, and thirsty, and fiery want — and that want 
 was for revenge ! I would have sprung from the bedside, but 
 Gertrude's hand clung to me, and detained me ; the damp, chill 
 grasp grew colder and colder — it ceased — the hand fell — I turned 
 — one slight, but awful shudder, went over that face, made yet 
 more wan by the light of the waning and ghastly moon — one 
 convulsion shook the limbs — one murmur passed the falling 
 and hueless lips. I cannot tell you the rest — you know — you can 
 guess it. 
 
 " That day week we buried her in the lonely church-yard — 
 where she had, in her lucid moments, wished to lie — by the side 
 of her mother." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 I breathed, 
 
 But not the breath of human life ; 
 A serpent round my heart was wreathed, 
 And stung my very thought to strife. — The Giaour. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, the most painful part of my story is at an 
 end. You will now be able to account for our meeting in the 
 
 church-yard at . I secured myself a lodging at a cottage 
 
 not far from the spot which held Gertrude's remains. Night af- 
 ter night I wandered to that lonely place, and longed for a couch 
 beside the sleeper, whom I mourned in the selfishness of my soul. 
 I prostrated myself on the mound : I humbled myself to tears. 
 In the overflowing anguish of my heart I forgot all that had aroused 
 its stormier passions into life. Revenge, hatred, — all vanished. 
 I lifted up my face to the tender heavens : I called aloud to the 
 silent and placid air ; and when I turned again to that uncon- 
 scious mound, I thought of nothing but the sweetness of our 
 early love, and the bitterness of her early death. It was in such 
 moments that your footstep broke upon my grief : the instant 
 others had seen me — other eyes penetrated the sanctity of my 
 regret — from that instant, whatever was more soft and holy in 
 the passions and darkness of my mind seemed to vanish away 
 like a scroll. I again returned to the intense and withering re- 
 membrance which was henceforward to make the very key and 
 pivot of my existence. I again recalled the last night of Ger- 
 trude's life ; I again shuddered at the low, murmured sovmds, 
 whose dreadful sense broke slowly upon my soul. I again felt 
 21
 
 322 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 the cold — cold, damp grasp of those wan and dying fingers ; and 
 I again nerved my heart to an iron strength, and vowed deep, 
 deep-rooted, endless, implacable revenge. 
 
 " The morning after the night you saw me, I left my abode. 
 I went to London and attempted to methodize my plans of venge- 
 ance. The first thing to discover, was Tyrrell's present resi- 
 dence. By accident, I heard he was at Paris, and, within two 
 hours of receiving the intelligence, I set off for that city. On 
 arriving there, the habits of the gambler soon discovered him 
 to my search. I saw him one night at a hell. He was evidently 
 in distressed circumstances, and the fortune of the table was 
 against him. Unperceived by him, I feasted my eyes on his 
 changing countenance, as those deadly and wearing transitions 
 of feeling, only to be produced by the gaming table passed over 
 it. While I gazed upon him, a thought of more exquisite and 
 refined revenge, than had yet occurred to me, flashed upon my 
 mind. Occupied with the ideas it gave rise to, I went into the 
 adjoining room, which was quite empty. There I seated myself, 
 and endeavored to develop, more fully, the rude and imperfect 
 outline of my scheme. 
 
 " The arch tempter favored me with a trusty coadjutor in my 
 designs. I was lost in a reverie, when I heard myself accosted 
 by name. I looked up, and beheld a man whom I had often 
 
 seen with Tyrrell, both at Spa, and (the watering-place 
 
 where, with Gertrude, I had met Tyrrell). He was a person of 
 low birth and character ; but esteemed, from his love of coarse 
 humor, and vulgar enterprise, a man of infinite parts — a sort of 
 Yorick — by the set most congenial to Tyrrell's tastes. By this 
 Undue reputation, and the levelling habit of gaming, to which he 
 addicted, he was raised, in certain societies, much above his 
 proper rank : need I say that this man was Thornton .■* I was 
 but slightly acquainted him ; however, he accosted me cordially, 
 and endeavored to draw me into conversation. 
 
 " ' Have you seen Tyrrell ? ' said he ; 'he is at it again ; 
 what's bred in the bone, you know, etc' I turned pale with 
 the mention of Tyrrell's name, and replied very laconically, to 
 what purpose, I forget. — ' Ah ! ah ! ' rejoined Thornton, eyeing 
 me with an air of impertinent familiarity — ' I see you have not 
 
 forgiven him ; he played you but a shabby trick at ; 
 
 seduced your mistress, or something of that sort ; he told me 
 all about it : pray, how is the poor girl now ? ' 
 
 " I made no reply ; I sank down and gasped for breath. All 
 I had suffered seemed nothing compared to the indignity I then 
 endured. She — she — who had once been my pride — my honor —
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 323 
 
 life — to be thus spoken of — and . I could not pursue the 
 
 idea. I rose hastily, looked at Thornton with a glance, which 
 might have abashed a man less shameless and callous than him- 
 self, and left the room. 
 
 " That night, as I tossed restless and feverish on my bed of 
 thorns, I saw how useful Thornton might be to me in the prose- 
 cution of the scheme I had entered into ; and the next morning 
 I sought him out, and purchased (no very difficult matter) both 
 his secresy and his assistance. My plan of vengeance, to one 
 who had seen and observed less of the varieties of human 
 nature than you have done, might seem far-fetched and unnat- 
 ural ; for while the superficial are ready to allow eccentricity as 
 natural in the coolness of ordinary life, they never suppose it 
 can exist in in the heat of the passions — as if, in such moments, 
 anything was ever considered absurd in the means which was 
 favorable to the end. Were the secrets of one passionate and 
 irregulated heart laid bare, there would be more romance in 
 them, than in all the fables which we turn from with incredulity 
 and disdain, as exaggerated aud over-drawn. 
 
 "Among: the thousand schemes for retribution which had 
 chased each other across my mind, the death of my victnn was 
 only the ulterior object. Death, indeed — the pang of one mo- 
 ment — appeared to me but very feeble justice for the life of 
 lingering and restless anguish to which his treachery had con- 
 demned me ; but my penance, my doom, I could have forgiven : 
 it was the fate of a more innocent and injured being which irri- 
 tated the sting and fed the venom of my revenge. That revenge 
 no ordinary punishment could appease. If fanaticism can only 
 be satisfied by the rack and the flames, you may readily con- 
 ceive a like unappeasable fury, in a hatred so deadly, so con- 
 centrated, and so just as mine — and if fanaticism persuades it- 
 self into a virtue, so also did my hatred. 
 
 "The scheme which I resolved upon was, to attach Tyrrell 
 more and more to the gaming-table, to be present at his infatua- 
 tion, to feast my eyes upon the feverish intensity of his sus- 
 pense — to reduce him, step by step, to the lowest abyss of 
 poverty — to glut my soul with the abjectness and humiliation of 
 his penurv — to strip him of all aid, consolation, sympathy, and 
 friendship — to follow him, unseen, to his wretched and squalid 
 home — to mark the struggles of the craving nature with the 
 loathing pride — and, finally, to watch the frame wear, the eye 
 sink, the lip grow livid, and all the terrible and torturing prog- 
 ress of gnawing want, to utter starvation. Then, in that last 
 state, but not before, 1 might reveal myself — stand by the hope-
 
 324 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 less and succorless bed of death — shriek out in the dizzy ear a 
 name, which could treble the horrors of remembrance — snatch 
 from the struggling and agonizing conscience the last plank, the 
 last straw, to which in its madness, it could cling, and blacken 
 the shadows of departing life, by opening to the shuddering 
 sense the threshold of an impatient and yawning hell. 
 
 " Hurried away by the unhallowed fever of these projects, I 
 thought of nothing but their accomplishment. I employed 
 Thornton, who still maintained his intimacy with Tyrrell, to de- 
 coy him more and more to the gambling-house ; and, as the un- 
 equal chances of the public table were not rapid enough in their 
 termination to consummate the ruin even of an impetuous and 
 vehement gamester, like Tyrrell, so soon as my impatience de- 
 sired, Thornton took every opportunity of engaging him in 
 private play, and accelerating my object by the unlawful arts of 
 which he was master. My enemy was every day approaching 
 the farthest verge of ruin ; near relations he had none, all his 
 distant ones he had disobliged ; all his friends, and even his 
 acquaintance, he had fatigued by his importunity, or disgusted 
 by his conduct. In the whole world there seemed not a being 
 who would stretch forth a helping hand to save him from the 
 total and penniless beggary to which he was hopelessly advanc- 
 ing. Out of the wrecks of his former property, and the gener- 
 osity of former friends, whatever he had already wrung, had 
 been immediately staked at the gaming-house and immediately 
 lost. 
 
 " Perhaps this would not so soon have been the case, if 
 Thornton had not artfully fed and sustained his expectations. 
 He had been long employed by Tyrrell in a professional capac- 
 ity, and he knew well all the gamester's domestic affairs ; and 
 when he promised, should things come to the worst, to find some 
 expedient to restore them, Tyrrell easily adopted so flattering a 
 belief. 
 
 " Meanwhile, I had taken the name and disguise under favor 
 of which you met me at Paris, and Thornton had introduced me 
 to Tyrrell as a young Englishman of great wealth, and still 
 greater inexperience. The gambler grasped eagerly at an ac- 
 quaintance, which Thornton readily persuaded him he could 
 turn to such account : and I had thus every facility of marking, 
 day by day, how my plot thickened, and my vengeance hastened 
 to its triumph. 
 
 " This was not all. I said, there was not in the wide world a 
 being who would have saved Tyrrell from the fate he deserved 
 and was approaching. I forgot there was one who still clung to
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 325 
 
 him with affection, and for whom he still seemed to harbor the 
 better and purer feelings of less degraded and guilty times. 
 This person (you will guess readily it was a woman) I made it 
 my especial business and care to wean away from my prey ; I 
 would not suffer him a consolation he had denied to me. I 
 used all the arts of seduction to obtain the transfer of her affec- 
 tions. Whatever promises and vows — whether of love or 
 wealth — could effect, were tried ; nor, at last, without success 
 — / triumphed. The woman became my slave. It was she 
 who, whenever Tyrrell faltered in his course to destruction, 
 combated his scruples, and urged on his reluctance ; it was she 
 who informed me minutely of his pitiful finances, and assisted, 
 to her utmost, in expediting their decay. The still more bitter 
 treachery of deserting him in his veriest want I reserved till the 
 fittest occasion, and contemplated with a savage delight. 
 
 " I was embarrassed in my scheme by two circumstances : 
 first, Thornton's acquaintance with you ; and, secondly, Tyrrell's 
 receipt (some time afterwards) of a very unexpected sum of two 
 hundred pounds, in return for renouncing all further -Bind possible 
 claim on the purchasers of his estate. To the fonner, so far as 
 it might interfere with my plans, or lead to my detection, you 
 must pardon me for having put a speedy termination ; the latter 
 threw me into great consternation — for Tyrrell's first idea was 
 to renounce the gaming-table, and endeavor to live upon the 
 trifling pittance he had acquired, as long as the utmost economy 
 would permit, 
 
 " This idea, Margaret, the woman I spoke of, according to 
 my instructions, so artfully and successfully combated, that 
 Tyrrell yielded to his natural inclination, and returned once 
 more to the infatuation of his favorite pursuit. However, I had 
 become restlessly impatient for the conclusion to this prefatory 
 part of my revenge, and, accordingly, Thornton and myself 
 arranged that Tyrrell should be persuaded by the former to risk 
 all, even to his very last farthing, in a private game with me. 
 Tyrrell, who believed he should readily recruit himself by my 
 unskilfulness in the game, fell easily into the snare ; and on the 
 second night of our engagement, he not only had lost the whole 
 of his remaining pittance, but had signed bonds owning to a 
 debt of far greater amount than he, at that time, could ever 
 even have dreamt of possessing. 
 
 " Flushed, heated, almost maddened with my triumph, I 
 yielded to the exultation of the moment. I did not know you 
 were so near — I discovered myself — you remember the scene. 
 I went joyfully home : and for the first time since Gertrude's
 
 326 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 death, 1 was happy ; but there I imagined my vengeance only 
 would begin ; I revelled in the burning hope of marking the 
 hunger and extremity that must ensue. The next day, when 
 Tyrrell turned round, in his despair, for one momentary word of 
 comfort from the lips to which he believed, in the fond credulity 
 of his heart, falsehood and treachery never came, his last 
 earthly friend taunted and deserted him. Mark me, Pelham— i 
 I was by, and heard her ! 
 
 " But here my power of retribution was to close : from the 
 thirst still unslaked and unappeased, the cup was abruptly 
 snatched. Tyrrell disappeared — no one knew whither. I set 
 Thornton's inquiries at work. A week afterwards he brought 
 me word that Tyrrell had died in extreme want, and from very 
 despair. Will you credit, that at hearing this news, my first 
 sensations were only rage and disappointment ? True, he had 
 died, died in all the misery my heart could wish, but I had not 
 seen him die ; and the death-bed seemed to me robbed of its 
 bitterest pang. 
 
 " I know not to this day, though I have often questioned him, 
 what interest Thornton had in deceiving me by this tale ; for 
 my own part, I believe that he himself was deceived;* certain 
 it is (for I inquired), that a person, very much answering to 
 Tyrrell's description, had perished in the state Thornton 
 mentioned ; and this might therefore, in all probability, have 
 misled him, 
 
 " I left Paris, and returned, through Normandy, to England 
 (where I remained some weeks) ; there we again met : but I 
 think we did 7iot meet till I had been persecuted by the inso- 
 lence and importunity of Thornton. The tools of our passions 
 cut both ways ; like the monarch, who employed strange beasts 
 in his army, we find our treacherous allies less destructive to 
 others than ourselves. But I was not of a temper to brook the 
 tauntings, or the encroachment of my own creature ; it had 
 been with but an ill giacc that I had endured his familiarity, 
 when I absolutely required his services, much less could I suffer 
 his intrusion when those services — services not of love, but hire 
 — were no longer necessary. Thornton, like all persons of his 
 stamp, has a low pride, which I was constantly offending. He 
 had mixed with men, more than my equals in rank, on a 
 familiar footing, and he could ill brook the hauteur with which 
 my disgust at his character absolutely constrained me to treat 
 him. It is true, that the profuseness of my liberality was such, 
 that the mean wretch stomached affronts for which he was so 
 
 ♦ It seems (from subsequent investigation) that this was reaily the case.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 327 
 
 largely paid ; but, with the cunning and malicious spite natural 
 to him, he knew well how to repay them in kind. While he as- 
 sisted, he affected to ridicule, my revenge ; and though he soon 
 saw that he durst not, for his very life, breathe a syllable openly 
 against Gertrude, or her memory, yet he contrived, by genera] 
 remarks, and covert insinuations, to gall me to the very quick, 
 and in the very tenderest point. Thus a deep and cordial an- 
 tipathy to each other arose, and grew, and strengthened, till I 
 believe, like the fiends in hell, our mutual hatred became our 
 common punishment. 
 
 " No sooner had I returned to England, than I found him 
 here, awaiting my arrival. He favored me with frequent visits 
 and requests for money. Although not possessed of any secret 
 really important affecting my character, he knew well, that he 
 was possessed of one important to my quiet ; and he availed 
 himself to the utmost of my strong and deep aversion even to 
 the most delicate recurrence to my love to Gertrude, and its un- 
 hallowed and disastrous termination. At length, however, he 
 wearied me : I found that he was sinking into the very dregs 
 and refuse of society, and I could not longer brook the idea of 
 enduring his familiarity and feeding his vices. 
 
 " I pass over any detail of my own feelings, as well as my 
 ouhvard and worldly history. Over my mind, a great change 
 had passed ; I was no longer torn by violent and contending 
 passions ; upon the tumultuous sea a dead and heavy torpor 
 had fallen ; the very winds, necessary for health, had ceased • 
 
 ' I slept on the abyss without a surge.' 
 
 One violent and engrossing passion is among the worst all 
 immoralities, for it leaves the mind too stagnant and exhausted 
 for those activities and energies which constitute our real duties. 
 However, now that the tyrant feeling of my mind was removed, 
 I endeavored to shake off the apathy it had produced, and return 
 to the various occupations and business of life. Whatever 
 could divert me from my own dark memories, or give a moment- 
 ary motion to the stagnation of my mind, I grasped at with 
 the fondness and eagerness of a child. Thus, you found me 
 surrounding myself with luxuries which palled upon my taste 
 the instant that their novelty had passed : now, for the vanity of 
 literary fame ; now, for the emptier baubles which riches could 
 procure. At one time I shrouded myself in my closet, and 
 brooded over the dogmas of the learned, and the errors of the 
 wise ; at another, I plunged into the more engrossing and active
 
 32S PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 pursuits of the living crowd which rolled around me, — and flat- 
 tered my heart, that amidst the applause of senators, and the 
 whirlpool of affairs, I could lull to rest the voices of the past, 
 and the spectre of the dead. 
 
 " Whether these hopes were effectual, and the struggle not in 
 vain, this haggard and wasting form, drooping day by day into 
 the grave, can declare ; but I said I would not dwell long upon 
 this part of my history, nor is it necessary. Of one thing only, 
 not connected with the main part of my confessions, it is right 
 for the sake of one tender and guiltless being, that I should 
 speak. 
 
 " In the cold and friendless world with which I mixed, there 
 was a heart which had years ago given itself wholly up to me. 
 At that time I was ignorant of the gift I so little deserved, or 
 (for it was before I knew Gertrude) I might have returned it, 
 and been saved years of crime and anguish. Since then, the 
 person I allude to had married, and, by the death of her husband, 
 was once more free. Intimate with my family, and more es- 
 pecially with my sister, she now met me constantly ; her com- 
 passion for the change she perceived in me, both in mind and 
 person, was stronger than even her reserve, and this is the only 
 reason why I speak of an attachment which ought otherwise to 
 be concealed : I believe that you already understand to whom I 
 allude, and since you have discovered her weakness, it is right 
 that you should know also her virtue ; it is right that you should 
 learn, that it was not in her the fantasy, or passion of a moment, 
 but a long and secreted love ; that you should learn, that it was 
 her pity, and no unfeminine disregard to opinion, which be- 
 trayed her into imprudence, and that she is, at this moment, in- 
 nocent of everything, but the folly of loving me. 
 
 " I pass on to the time when I discovered that I had been, 
 eitherintentionally or unconsciously, deceived, and that my en- 
 emy yet lived ! lived in honor, prosperity, and the world's 
 blessings. This information was like removing a barrier from 
 a stream hitherto pent into quiet and restraint. All the stormy 
 thoughts, feelings, and passions, so long at rest, rushed again 
 into a t£rrible and tumultuous action. The newly-formed 
 stratum of my mind was swept away ; everything seemed a 
 wreck, a chaos, a convulsion of jarring elements : but this is a 
 trite and tame description of my feelings ; words would be but 
 commonplace to express the revulsion which I experienced ! 
 yet, amidst all, there was one paramount and presiding thought, 
 to which the rest were as atoms in the heap — the awakened 
 thought of vengeance ! — but how was it to be gratified ?
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 329 
 
 " Placed as Tyrrell now was in the scale of society, every 
 method of retribution but the one formerly rejected, seemed at 
 an end. To that one, therefore, weak and merciful as it ap- 
 peared to me, I resorted — you took my challenge to Tyrrell — 
 you remember his behavior — Conscience doth indeed make 
 cowards of us all ! The letter inclosed to me in his to you, con- 
 tained only the commonplace argument urged so often by those 
 who have injured us : viz., the reluctance at attempting our life 
 after having ruined our happiness. When I found that he had 
 left London, my rage knew no bounds ; I was absolutely frantic 
 with indignation ; the earth reeled before my eyes ; I was almost 
 suffocated by the violence — the whirlpool — of my emotions. I 
 gave myself no time to think, — I left town in pursuit of my foe, 
 
 " I found that— still addicted, though, I believe, not so madly 
 as before, to his old amusements — he was in the neighborhood 
 of Newmarket, awaiting the races, shortly to ensue. No sooner 
 did 1 find his address, than I wrote him another challenge, still 
 more forcibly and insultingly worded than the one you took. 
 In this I said that his refusal was of no avail; that I had sworn 
 that my vengeance should overtake him ; and that sooner or 
 later, in the face of heaven and despite of hell, my oath should 
 be fulfilled. Remember those words, Pelham : I shall refer to 
 them hereafter. 
 
 "Tyrrell's reply was short and contemptuous; he affected to 
 treat me as a madman. Perhaps (and I confess that that inco- 
 herence of my letter authorized such suspicion) he believed I 
 really was one. He concluded by saying, that if he received 
 more of my letters, he should shelter himself from my aggres- 
 sions by the protection of the law. 
 
 " On receiving this reply, a stern, sullen, iron spirit entered 
 into my bosom. I betrayed no external mark of passion ; I sat 
 down in silence — I placed the letter and Gertrude's picture 
 before me. There, still and motionless, I remained for hours. 
 I remember well, I was awakened from my gloomy reverie by 
 the clock, as it struck the first hour of the morning. At that 
 lone and ominous sound, the associations of romance and dread 
 which the fables of our childhood connect with it, rushed coldly 
 and fearfully into my mind ; the damp dews broke out upon my 
 forehead, and the blood curdled in my limbs. In that moment 
 I knelt down and vowed a frantic and deadly oath — the words 
 of which I would not now dare to repeat — that before three 
 days expired, hell should no longer be cheated of its prey. I 
 rose — I Hung myself on my bed, and slept. 
 
 " The next day I left my abode. I purchased a strong and
 
 330 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 swift horse, and, disguising myself from head to foot in a long 
 horseman's clock, I set off alone, locking in my heart the calm 
 and cold conviction, that my oath should be kept. I placed, 
 concealed in my dress, two pistols ; my intention was to follow 
 Tyrrell wherever he went, till we could find ourselves alone, and 
 without the chance of intrusion. It was then my determination 
 to/orce him into a contest, and that no trembling of the hand, 
 no error of the swimming sight, mighi betray my purpose, to 
 place us foot to foot, and the mouth of each pistol almost to 
 the very temple of each antagonist. Nor was I deterred for 
 a moment from this resolution by the knowledge that my own 
 death must be as certain as my victim's. On the contrary, I 
 looked forward to dying thus, and so baffling the more lingering, 
 but not less sure, disease, which was daily wasting me away, 
 with the same fierce, yet not unquiet delight with which men 
 have rushed into battle, and sought out a death less bitter to 
 them than life. 
 
 " For two days, though I each day saw Tyrrell, fate threw 
 into my way no opportunity of executing my design. The 
 morning of the third came — Tyrrell was on the race ground : 
 sure that he would remain there for some hours, I put up my 
 wearied horse in the town, and seating myself in an obscure 
 corner of the course, was contented with watching, as the ser- 
 pent does his victim, the distant motions of my enemy. Perhaps 
 you can recollect passing a man seated on the ground, and 
 robed in a horseman's cloak. I need not tell you that it was 
 I whom you passed and accosted. I saw you ride by me ; but 
 the moment you were gone, I forgot the occurrence, I looked 
 upon the rolling and distant crowd, as a child views the figures 
 of the phantasmagoria, scarcely knowing if my eyes deceived 
 me, feeling impressed with some stupefying and ghastly sensa- 
 tion of dread, and cherishing the conviction that my life was 
 not as the life of the creatures that passed before me. 
 
 " The day waned — I went back for my horse — I returned to 
 the course, and, keeping at a distance as little suspicious as 
 possible, followed the motions of Tyrrell. He went back to 
 the town — rested there — repaired to a gaming-table — stayed at 
 it a short time — returned to his inn, and ordered his horse. 
 
 " In all all these motions I followed the object of my pursuit; 
 and my heart bounded with joy when I, at last, saw him set 
 out alone, and in the advancing twilight. I followed him till he 
 left the main road. Now, I thought, was my time. I redoubled 
 my pace, and had nearly reached him, whem some horsemen 
 appearing, constrained me again to slacken my pace. Various
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 331 
 
 other similar interruptions occurred to delay my plot. At 
 length all was undisturbed. I spurred my horse, and was 
 nearly on the heels of my enemy, when I perceived him join 
 another man — this \^2a you — I clenched my teeth, and drew 
 my breath, as I once more retreated to a distance. In a short 
 time two men passed me, and I found, that, owing to some ac- 
 cident on the road, they stopped to assist you. It appears by 
 your evidence on a subsequent event, that these men were 
 Thornton and his friend Dawson : at the time, they passed too 
 rapidly, and I was too much occupied in my own dark thoughts, 
 to observe them : still I kept up to you and Tyrrell, sometimes 
 catching the outline of your figures through the moonlight, at 
 others, (with the acute sense of anxiety,) only just distinguishing 
 the clang of your horses' hoofs on the stony ground. At last, 
 a heavy shower came on ; imagine my joy, when Tyrrell left 
 you and rode off alone ! 
 
 " I passed you, and followed my enemy as fast as my horse 
 would permit ; but it was not equal to Tyrrell's, which was 
 almost at its full speed. How^ever, I came, at last, to a very 
 steep, and almost precipitous, descent. I was forced to ride 
 slowly and cautiously ; that, however, I the less regarded, from 
 my conviction that Tyrrell must be obliged to use the same pre- 
 caution. My hand was on my pistol with the grasp of pre- 
 meditated revenge, when a shrill, sharp solitary cry broke on 
 my ear. 
 
 " No sound followed — all was silence. I was just approach- 
 ing towards the close of the descent, when a horse without its 
 rider passed me. The shower had ceased, and the moon broken 
 from the cloud some minutes before; by its light, I recognized 
 the horse rode by Tyrrell ; perhaps, I thought, it has thrown 
 its master, and my victim will now be utterly in my power, I 
 pushed hastily forward in spite of the hill, not yet wholly passed. 
 I came to a spot of singular desolation — it was a broad patch 
 of waste land, a pool of water was on the right, and a remark- 
 able and withered tree hung over it. I looked round but saw 
 nothing of life stirring. A dark and imperfectly developed 
 object lay by the side of the pond — I pressed forward — merci- 
 ful God ! my enemy had escaped my hand, and lay in the still- 
 ness of death before me ! " 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, interrupting Cilanville, for I could con- 
 tain myself no longer, " it was not hy you then that Tyrrell fell ? " 
 With these words, I grasped his hand ; and, excited as I had 
 been by my painful and wrought-up interest in his recital, I burst
 
 332 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 into tears of gratitude and joy. Reginald Glanville was inno- 
 cent — Ellen was not the sister of an assassin ! 
 
 After a short pause, Glanville continued — 
 
 "I gazed upon the upward and distorted face, in a deep and 
 sickening silence ; an awe, dark and undefined, crept over my 
 heart ; I stood beneath the solemn and sacred heavens, and felt 
 that the hand of God was upon me — that a mysterious and fear- 
 ful edict had gone forth — that my headlong and unholy wrath 
 had, in the very midst of its fury, been checked, as if but the idle 
 anger of a child — that the plan I had laid in the foolish wisdom 
 of my heart, had been traced, step by step, by an all-seeing eye, 
 and baffled in the moment of its fancied success, by an inscru- 
 table and awful doom. I had wished the death of my enemy — 
 lo ! my wish was accomplished — how, I neither knew nor guessed 
 — there, a still and senseless clod of earth, without power of of- 
 fence or injury he lay beneath my feet — it seemed as if, in the 
 moment of my uplifted arm, the Divine avenger had asserted His 
 prerogative — as if the angel which had smitten the Assyrian, had 
 again swept forth, though against a meaner victim — and, while 
 he punished the guilt of a human criminal, had set an eternal 
 barrier to the vengeance of a human foe ! 
 
 " I dismounted from my horse, and bent over the murdered 
 man. I drew from my bosom the miniature, which never forsook 
 me, and bathed the lifeless resemblance of Gertrude in the blood 
 of her betrayer. Scarcely had I done so, before my ear caught 
 the sounds of steps ; hastily I thrust, as I thought, the miniature 
 in my bosom, remounted, and rode hurriedly away. At that 
 hour, and for many which succeeded to it, I believe that all sense 
 was suspended. I was like a man haunted by a dream, and 
 wandering under its influence ; or as one whom a spectre pur- 
 sues, and for whose eye, the breathing and busy world is but as 
 a land of unreal forms and fiitting shadows, teeming with the 
 monsters of darkness, and the terrors of the tomb. 
 
 " It was not till the next day that I missed the picture. I re- 
 turned to the spot — searched it carefully, but in vain — the mini- 
 ature could not be found ; I returned to town, and shortly after- 
 wards the newspapers informed me of what had subsequently oc- 
 curred. I saw, with dismay, that all appearances pointed to me 
 as the criminal, and that the officers of justice were at that mo- 
 ment tracing the clue which my cloak, and the color of my horse, 
 afforded them. My mysterious pursuit of Tyrrell : the disguise 
 I had assumed ; the circumstance of my passing you on the road, 
 and of my flight when you approached, all spoke volumes 
 against me. A stronger evidence yet remained, and it was re-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. ^^t, 
 
 served for Thornton to indicate it — at this moment my life is in 
 his hands. Shortly after my return to town, he forced his way 
 into my room, shut the door — bolted it — and, the moment we 
 were alone, said, with a savage and fiendish grin of exultation 
 and defiance, — ' Sir Reginald Glanville, you have many a time 
 and oft insulted me with your pride, and more with your gifts ; 
 now it is my time to insult and triumph over you — know that one 
 word of mine could sentence you to the gibbet,' 
 
 " He then minutely summed up the evidence against me, and 
 drew from his pocket the threatening letter I had last written to 
 Tyrrell. You remember that therein I said my vengeance was 
 sworn against him, and that, sooner or later, it should overtake 
 him. 'Couple,' said Thornton, coldly, as he replaced the letter 
 in his pocket — 'couple these words with the evidence already 
 against you, and I would not buy your life at a farthing's value.' 
 
 " How Thornton came by this paper, so important to my safety, 
 I know not : but when he read it, I was startled by the clanger it 
 brought upon me : one glance sufficed to show me that I was ut- 
 terly at the mercy of the villain who stood before me : he saw 
 and enjoyed my struggles. 
 
 " 'Now,' said he, ' we know each other ; — at present I want a 
 thousand pounds ; you will not refuse it me, I am sure ; when 
 it is gone I shall call again ; till then you can do without me. 
 I flung him a cheque for the money, and he departed. 
 
 " You may conceive t"he mortification I endured in this sacri- 
 fice of pride to prudence : but those were no ordinary motives 
 which induced me to submit to it. Fast approaching to the 
 grave, it mattered to me but little whether a violent death should 
 shorten a life to which a limit was already set, and which I was 
 far from being anxious to retain : but I could not endure the 
 thought of bringing upon my mother and my sister, the wretched- 
 ness and shame which the mere suspicion of a crime so enor- 
 mous, would occasion them ; and when my eye caught all the cir- 
 cumstances arrayed against me, my pride seemed to suffer a less 
 mortification even in the course I adopted than in the thought of 
 the felon's gaol, and the criminal's trial ; the hoots and execra- 
 tion of the mob, and the death and ignominious remembrance 
 of the murderer. 
 
 " Stronger than either of these motives, was my shrinking and 
 loathing aversion to whatever seemed at all likely to unrip the 
 secret history of the past. I sickened at the thought of Gertrude's 
 name and fate being bared to the vulgar eye, and exposed to the 
 comment, the strictures, the ridicule of the gaping and curious 
 public. It seemed to me, therefore, but a very poor exertion of
 
 334 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 philosophy to conquer my feelings of humiliation at Thoi nton's 
 insolence and triumph, and to console myself with the reflection, 
 that a few months must rid me alike of his exactions and my life, 
 
 " But, of late, Thornton's persecutions and demands have risen 
 to such a height, I have been scarcely able to restrain my indig- 
 nation and control myself into compliance. The struggle is too 
 powerful for my frame ; it is rapidly bringing on the fiercest and 
 last contest I shall suffer, before ' the wicked shall cease from 
 troubling, and the weary be at rest.' Some days since, I came 
 to a resolution, which I am now about to execute ; it is to leave 
 this country and take refuge on the continent. There I shall 
 screen myself from Thornton's pursuit, and the danger which it 
 entails upon me ; and there, unknown and undisturbed, I shall 
 await the termination of my disease. 
 
 But two duties remained to me to fulfil before I departed ; I 
 have now discharged them both. One was due to the warm- 
 hearted and noble being who honored me with her interest and 
 affection — the other to you. I went yesterday to the former ; ] 
 sketched the outline of that history which I have detailed to 
 you. I showed her the waste to my barren heart, and spoke to 
 her of the disease which was wearing me away. How beautiful 
 is the love of woman ! She would have followed me over the 
 ■world — received my last sigh, and seen me to the rest I shall 
 find, at length ; and this without a hope, or thought of recom- 
 pense, even from the worthlessness of my love. 
 
 " But, enough ! — of her my farewell has been taken. Youi 
 suspicions I have seen and forgiven — for they were natural ; it 
 was due to me to remove them : the pressure of your hand tells 
 me, that I have done so : but I had another reason for my con 
 fessions. I have M'orn away the romance of my heart, and 1 
 have now no indulgence for the little delicacies and petty scru 
 pies which often stand in the way of our real happiness. I havt 
 marked your former addresses to Ellen, and, I confess, with 
 great joy ; for I know, amidst all your worldly ambition, and 
 the eiTcrusted artificiality of your exterior, how warm and gener- 
 ous is your real heart — how noble and intellectual is your real 
 mind : and were my sister tenfold more perfect than I believe 
 her, I do not desire to find on earth one more deserving of her than 
 yourself. I have remarked your late estrangement from Ellen ; 
 and, while I guessed, I felt that, however painful to me, I ought 
 to remove, the cause : she loves you — though, perhaps, you know 
 it not — much and truly ; and since my earlier life has been 
 passed in a selfish inactivity, I would fain let it close with the 
 reflection of having served the beings whom I prize so dearly,
 
 AD TEXTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 335 
 
 and the hope that their happiness will commence with my 
 death. 
 
 " And now, Pelham, I have done ; I am weak and exhausted, 
 and cannot bear more — even of your society, now. Think over 
 what I have last said, and let me see you again to-morrow ; on 
 the day after, I leave England forever." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 But wilt thou accept not 
 The worship the heart lifts above, 
 
 And the Heavens reject not. 
 The desire of the moth for the star, 
 
 Of the night for the morrow, 
 The devotion to something afar 
 
 From the sphere of our sorrow ?— P. B. Shelley. 
 
 It was not with a light heart — for I loved Glanville too well, 
 not to be powerfully affected by his awful history — but with a 
 chastised and sober joy, that I now behold my friend innocent 
 of the guilt of which my suspicions had accused him, while the 
 only obstacle to my marriage with his sister was removed. True 
 it was that the sword yet hung over his head, and that while he 
 lived, there could be no rational assurance of his safety from the 
 disgrace and death of the felon. In the world's eye, therefore, 
 the barrier to my union with Ellen would have been far from be^' 
 ing wholly removed ; but at that moment, my disappointments had 
 disgusted me with the world, and I turned with a double yearn- 
 ing of heart to her whose pure and holy love could be at once 
 my recompense and retreat. 
 
 Nor was this selfish consideration my only motive in the con- 
 duct I was resolved to adopt ; on the contrary, it was scarcely 
 more prominent in my mind, than those derived from giving to 
 a friend who was now dearer to me than ever, his only consola- 
 tion on this earth, and to Ellen the safest protection, in case of 
 any danger to her brother. With these, it is true, were mingled 
 feelings which, in happier circumstances, might have been those 
 of transport at a bright and successful termination to a deep and 
 devoted love ; but these I had, while Glanville's very life was 
 so doubtful, little right to indulge, and I checked them as soon as 
 they arose. 
 
 After a sleepless night I repaired to Ladv Glanville's house.
 
 336 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 It was long since I had 3een there, and the servant who admit- 
 ted me seemed somewhat surprised at the earliness of my visit. 
 I desired to see the mother, and waited in the parlor till she 
 came. I made but a'scanty exordium to my speech. In very 
 few words I expressed my love to Ellen, and besought her me- 
 diation in my behalf ; nor did I think it would be a slight consid- 
 eration in my favor, with the fond mother, to mention Glanville's 
 approbation of my suit. 
 
 " Ellen is up stairs in the drawing-room," said Lady Glanviile. 
 " I will go and prepare her to receive you — if you have her con- 
 sent, you have mine." 
 
 " Will you suffer me then," said I, " to forestall you ? Forgive 
 my impatience, and let me see her before you do." 
 
 Lady Glanviile was a woman of the good old school, and stood 
 somewhat upon forms and ceremonies. I did not, therefore, 
 await the answer, which I foresaw might not be favorable to my 
 success, but with my customary assurance, left the room, and 
 hastened up stairs. I entered the drawing-room, and shut the 
 door. Ellen was at the far end ; and as I entered with a light 
 step, she did not perceive me till I was close by. 
 
 She started when she saw me ; and her cheek, before very 
 pale, deepened into crimson. " Good Heavens ! is it you ! " 
 she said falteringly. " I — I thought — but — but excuse me for 
 an instant, I will call my mother." 
 
 " Stay for one instant, I beseech you — it is from your mother 
 that I come — she has referred me to you." And with a trem- 
 bling and hurried voice, for all my usual boldness forsook me, 
 I poured forth, in rapid and burning words, the history of my 
 secret and hoarded love — its doubts, fears, and hopes. 
 
 Ellen sank back on her chair, overpowered and silenced by 
 her feelings, and tlie vehemence of my own. I knelt, and took 
 her hand ; I covered it with my kisses — it was not withdrawn 
 from them. I raised my eyes, and beheld in hers all that my 
 heart had hoped, but did not dare to portray. 
 
 "You — you," said she — when at last she found words — "I 
 imagined that you only thought of ambition and the world — I 
 could not have dreamt of this." She ceased, blushing and em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 " It is true," said I, " that you had a right to think so, for, till 
 this moment, I have never opened to you even a glimpse of my 
 veiled heart, and its secret and wild desires ; but do you think 
 that my love was the less a treasure, because it was hidden ? or 
 the less deep because it was cherished at the bottom of my soul ? 
 No — no ; believe me, that love was not to be mingled with the
 
 b 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 337 
 
 ordinary objects of life — it was too pure to be profane by the 
 levities and follies which are all of my nature that 1 have per- 
 mitted myself to develope to the world. Do not imagine, that, 
 because I have seemed an idler with the idle — selfish with the 
 interested — and cold, and vain, and frivolous, with those to 
 whom such qualities were both a passport and a virtue ; do not 
 imagine that I have concealed within me nothing more worthy 
 of you and of myself ; my very love for you shows that I am 
 wiser and better than I have seemed. Speak to me, Ellen — ■ 
 may I call you by that name — one word — one syllable ! speak 
 to ine, and tell me that you have read my heart, and that you 
 will not reject it ! " 
 
 There came no answer from those dear lips ; but their soft and 
 tender smile told me that I might hope. That hour I still recall 
 and bless ! that hour was the happiest of my life. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. 
 
 2d Part of Henry VI. 
 
 From Ellen, I hastened to the house of Sir Reginald. The 
 hall was in all the confusion of approaching departure. I 
 sprang over the paraphernalia of books and boxes which ob- 
 structed my way, and bounded up the stairs. Glanville was, as 
 usual, alone : his countenance was less pale than it had been 
 lately, and when I saw it brighten as I approached, I hoped, in 
 the new happiness of my heart, that he might bafitle both his 
 enemy and his disease. 
 
 I told him all that had just occurred between Ellen and myself. 
 "And now," said I, as I clasped his hand, "I have a proposal 
 to make, to which you must accede : let me accompany you 
 abroad ; I will go with you to whatever corner of the world you 
 may select. We will plan together every possible method of 
 concealing our retreat. Upon the past I will never speak to you. 
 In your hours of solitude I will never disturb you by an unwel- 
 come and ill-timed .sympathy. I will tend upon you, watch over 
 you, bear with you, with more than ihe love and tenderness of a 
 brother. V'ou shall see me only when you wish it. Your loneli- 
 ness shall never be invaded. When you get better, as I presage 
 you will, I will leave you to come back to England, and provide 
 for the worst, by ensuring your sister a protector. I will then 
 22
 
 338 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 return to you alone, that your seclusion may not be endangered 
 by the knowledge, even of Ellen, and you shall have me by your 
 side till— till— " 
 
 ''The last ! " interrupted Glanville. " Too — too generous Pel- 
 ham, I feel — these tears (the first I have shed for a long, long 
 time) tell you, that I feel to the heart — your friendship and 
 disinterested attachment; but in the moment your love for Ellen 
 has become successful, I will not tear you from its enjoyment. 
 Believe me, all that I could derive from your society, could not 
 afford me half the happiness I should have in knowing that you 
 and Ellen were blest in each other. No — no, my solitude will, 
 at that reflection, be deprived of its sting. You shall hear from 
 me once again ; my letter shall contain a request, and your ex- 
 ecuting that last favor must console and satisfy the kindness of 
 your heart. For myself, I shall die as I have lived — alone. All 
 fellowship with my griefs would seem to me strange and un- 
 welcome." 
 
 I would not suffer Glanville to proceed. I interrupted him 
 with fresh arguments and entreaties, to which he seemed at last 
 to submit, and I was in the firm hope of having conquered his 
 determination, when we were startled by a sudden and violent 
 noise in the hall. 
 
 " It is Thornton," said Glanville, calmly, " I told them not 
 to admit him, and he is forcing his way." 
 
 Scarcely had Sir Reginald said this, before Thornton burst 
 abruptly into the room. 
 
 Although it was scarcely noon, he was more than half in- 
 toxicated, and his eyes swam in his head with a maudlin 
 expression of triumph and insolence as he rolled towards us. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! Sir Reginald," he said, " thought of giving me the 
 slip, eh ? Your d — d servants said you were out ; but I soon 
 silenced them. Egad, I made them as nimble as cows in a 
 cage — I have not learnt the use of my fists for nothing. So, 
 you're going abroad to-morrow ; without my leave, too, — pretty 
 good joke that, indeed. Come, come, my brave fellow, you need 
 not scowl at me in that way. Why, you look as surly as a 
 butcher's dog with a broken head," 
 
 Glanville, who was livid with ill-suppressed rage, rose haughtily. 
 
 " Mr. Thornton," he said, in a calm voice, although he was 
 trembling in his extreme passion, from head to foot, "I am not 
 now prepared to submit to your insolence and intrusion. You 
 will leave this room instantly. If you have any further demands 
 upon me, I will hear them to-night at any hour you please to 
 appoint."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 339 
 
 " No, no, my fine fellow," said Thornton, with a coarse 
 chuckle ; " you have as much wit as three folks, — two fools, and 
 a madman ! but you won't do me, for all that. The instant my 
 back is turned, yours will be turned too ; and by the time I call 
 again, your honor will be half-way to Calais. But — bless my 
 stars, Mr. Pelham, is that you ? I really did not see you before ; 
 I suppose you are not in the secret ? " 
 
 " I have no secrets from Mr. Pelham," said Glanville ; " nor 
 do I care if you discuss the whole of your nefarious transactions 
 with me in his presence. Since you doubt my word, it is be- 
 neath my dignity to vindicate it, and your business can as well 
 be despatched now, as hereafter. You have heard rightly, that 
 I intend leaving England to-morrow : and now, sir, what is your 
 will } " 
 
 " By G — , Sir Reginald Glanville ! " exclaimed Thornton, who 
 seemed stung to the quick by Glanville's contemptuous coldness, 
 " you shall not leave England without my leave. Ay, you may 
 frown, but I say you shall not ; nay, you shall not budge a foot 
 from this very room unless I cry, ' Be it so ! ' " 
 
 Glanville could no longer restrain himself. He would have 
 sprung towards Thornton, but I seized and arrested him. I 
 read, in the malignant and incensed countenance of his perse- 
 cutor, all the danger to which a single imprudence would have 
 exposed him, and I trembled for his safety. 
 
 I whispered, as I forced him again to his seat, " Leave me 
 alone to settle with this man, and I will endeavor to free you 
 from him." I did not tarry for his answer, but, turning to 
 Thornton, said to him coolly and civilly ; " Sir Reginald Glan- 
 ville has acquainted me with the nature of your very extraordi- 
 nary demands upon him. Did he adopt my advice, he would 
 immediately place the affair in the hands of his legal advisers. 
 His ill health, how-ever, his anxiety to leave P^ngland, and his 
 wish to sacrifice almost everything to quiet, induce him, rather 
 than take this alternative, to silence your importunities, by 
 acceding to claims, however illegal and unjust. If, therefore, 
 you now favdr Sir Reginald with your visit, for the purpose of 
 making a demand previous to his quitting England, and which, 
 consequently, will be the last to which he will concede, you will 
 have the goodness to name the amount of your claim, and 
 should it be reasonable, I think Sir Reginald will authorize me 
 to say that it shall be granted." 
 
 "Well, now!" cried Thornton, " that's what I call talking 
 like a sensible man : and though I am not fond of speaking to 
 a third person, when the principal is present, yet as you have
 
 340 PELHAM ; ON, 
 
 always been \exy civil to me, I have no objection to treating 
 with you. Please to give Sir Reginald this paper : if he will 
 but take the trouble to sign it, he may go to the Falls of Niagara 
 for me ! I won't interrupt him — so he had better put pen to 
 paper, and get rid of me at once, for I know I am as welcome 
 as snow in harvest." 
 
 I took the paper, which was folded up, and gave it to Glan- 
 ville, who leant back on his chair, half exhausted by rage. He 
 glanced his eye over it, and then tore it into a thousand pieces, 
 and trampled it beneath his feet : " Go ! " exclaimed he, " go, 
 rascal, and do your worst ! I will not make myself a beggar to 
 enrich you. My whole fortune would but answer this de- 
 mand." 
 
 "Do as you please. Sir Reginald," answered Thornton, grin- 
 ning, " do as you please. It's not a long walk from hence to 
 Bow-street, nor a long swing from Newgate to the gallows ; do 
 as you please, Sir Reginald, do as you please ! " and the villain 
 flung himself at full length on the ottoman, and eyed Glanville's 
 countenance with an easy and malicious efifrontery, which 
 seemed to say, " I know you will struggle, but you cannot help 
 yourself." 
 
 I took Glanville aside : " My dear friend," said I, *' believe 
 me, that I share your indignation to the utmost ; but we must 
 do anything rather than incense this wretch : what is his de- 
 mand ? " 
 
 " I speak literally," replied Glanville, " when I say, that it 
 covers nearly the whole of my fortune, except such lands as are 
 entailed upon the male heir ; for my habits of extravagance 
 have very much curtailed my means : it is the exact sum I had 
 set apart, for a marriage gift to my sister, in addition to her own 
 fortune." 
 
 " Then," said I, " you shall give it him ; your sister has no 
 longer any necessity for a portion ; her marriage with me pre- 
 vents that — and with regard to yourself, your wants are not 
 many — such as it is, you can share my fortune." 
 
 " No — no — no ! " cried Glanville ; and his generous nature 
 lashing him into fresh rage, he broke from my grasp, and 
 moved menacingly to Thornton. That person still lay on the 
 ottoman, regarding us with an air half contemptuous, half ex' 
 ulting. 
 
 "■Leave the room instantly," said Glanville, " or you will re- 
 pent it ! " 
 
 '' What ! another murder, Sir Reginald ! " said Thornton. 
 " No, I am not a sparrow, to have my neck wrenched by a wo
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAA'. 341 
 
 man's hand like yours. Give me my demand — sign the paper, 
 and I will leave you for ever and a day." 
 
 " I will commit no such folly," answered Glanville. " If you 
 will accept five thousand pounds, you shall have that sum ; but 
 were the rope on my neck, you should nor wring from me a 
 farthing more ! " 
 
 " Five thousand ! " repeated Thornton ; " a mere drop — a 
 child's toy — why, you are playing with me, Sir Reginald — nay, 
 ■I am a reasonable man, and will abate a trifle or so of my just 
 claims, but you must not take advantage of my good nature. 
 Make me snug and easy for life — let me keep a brace of hunters 
 — a cosy box — a bit of land to it, and a girl after my own heart, 
 and I'll say quits with you. Now, Mr. Pelham, who is a long- 
 headed gentleman, and does wo\.spit on his own blanket, knows well 
 enough that one can't do all this for five thousand pounds ; 
 make it a thousand a year — that is, give me a cool twenty thou- 
 sand — and I won't exact another sou. Egad, this drinking 
 makes one deuced thirsty — Mr. Pelham, just reach me that glass 
 of water — I hear bees in my head !'" 
 
 Seeing that I did not stir, Thornton rose, with an oath against 
 pride ; and swaggering towards the table, took up a tumbler of 
 water, which happened accidentally to be there : close by it was 
 the picture of the ill-fated Gertrude. The gambler, who was 
 evidently so intoxicated as to be scarcely conscious of his mo- 
 tions or words, (otherwise, in all probability, he would, to bor- 
 row from himself a proverb illustrative of his profession, have 
 played his cards better,) took up the portrait. 
 
 Glanville saw the action, and was by his side in an instant. 
 " Touch it not with your accursed hands ! " he cried, in an un- 
 governable fur}^ " Leave your hold this instant, or I will dash 
 you to pieces." 
 
 Thornton kept a firm gripe of the picture. " Here's a to-do ! " 
 said he, tauntingly : " was there ever such work about a poor 
 (using a word too coarse for repetition) before ? " 
 
 The word had scarcely passed his lips, when he was stretched 
 at his full length upon the floor. Nor did Glanville stop there. 
 With all the strength of his nervous frame, fully requited for the 
 debility of disease by the fury of the moment, he seized the 
 gamester as if he had been an infant, and dragged him to the 
 door: the next moment, I heard his hea\y frame rolling down 
 the stairs with no decorous slowness of descent. 
 
 Glanville re-aj^peared. " Good Heavens ! " I cried, " what 
 have you done ? " But he was too lost in his still unappeased 
 rage to heed me. He leaned, panting and breathless, against
 
 342 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 the wall, with clenched teeth, and a flashing eye, rendered more 
 terribly bright by the feverish lustre natural to his disease. 
 
 Presently I heard Thornton re-ascend the stairs ; he opened 
 the door, and entered but one pace. Never did human face 
 wear a more fiendish expression of malevolence and wrath. " Sir 
 Reginald Glanville," he said, " I thank you heartily. He must 
 have iron nails who scratches a bear. You have sent me a 
 challenge, and the hangman shall bring you my answer. Good 
 day, Sir Reginald — good day, Mr. Pelham ; " and so saying, he 
 shut the door, and, rapidly descending the stairs, was out of the 
 house in an instant. 
 
 " There is no time to be lost," said I ; " order post horses to 
 your carriage, and be gone instantly." 
 
 "You are wrong," replied Glanville, slowly recovering himself. 
 " I must not fly ; it would be worse than useless ; it would seem 
 the strongest argument against me. Remember that if Thornton 
 has really gone to inform against me, the officers of justice would 
 arrest me long before I reached Calais ; or even if I did elude 
 their pursuit so far. I should be as much in their power in 
 France as in England : but, to tell you the truth, I do not think 
 Thornton will inform. Money, to a temper like his, is a stronger 
 temptation than revenge ; and before he has been three minutes 
 in the air, he will perceive the folly of losing the golden harvest 
 he may yet make of me, for the sake of a momentary passion. 
 No : mv best plan will be to wait here till to-morrow, as I origi- 
 nally intended. In the meanwhile he will, in all probability, pay 
 me another visit, and I will make a compromise with his de- 
 mands." 
 
 Despite my fears, I could not but see the justice of these 
 observations, the more especially as a still stronger argument 
 than any urged by Glanville, forced itself on my mind ; this was 
 my internal conviction, that Thornton himself was guilty of the 
 murder of Tyrrell, and that, therefore, he would, for his own 
 sake, avoid the new and particularizing scrutiny into that dread- 
 ful event, which his accusation of Glanville would necessarily 
 occasion. 
 
 Both of us were wrong. Villains have passions as well as 
 honest men ; and they will, therefore, forfeit their own interest 
 in obedience to those passions, while the calculations of prudence 
 invariably suppose that interest is their oJily rule. 
 
 Glanville was so enfeebled by his late excitement, that he be- 
 sought me once more to leave him to himself. I did so, under 
 a promise that he would admit me again in the evening ; for 
 notwithstanding my persuasion that Thornton would not put his
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEiVTLEMAX. 343 
 
 threats into execution, I could not conquer a latent foreboding 
 of dread and evil. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 Away with him to prison — where is the provost ? 
 
 Aleasure for Measure. 
 
 I RETURNED home, perplexed by a thousand contradictory 
 thoughts upon the scene I had just witnessed ; the more I re- 
 flected, the more I regretted the fatality of the circumstances 
 that had tempted Glanville to accede to Thornton's demand. 
 True it was, that Thornton's self-regard might be deemed a suf- 
 ficient guarantee for his concealment of such extortionate transac- 
 tions : moreover, it was difficult to say, when the formidable array 
 of appearances against Glanville was considered, whether any 
 other line of conduct than that which he had adopted, could, 
 with safeity have been pursued. 
 
 His feelings, too, with regard to the unfortunate Gertrude, I 
 could fully enter into, and sympathize with ; but, in spite of all 
 these considerations, it was with an inexpressible aversion that I 
 contemplated the idea of that tacit confession of guilt, which 
 his compliance with Thornton's exactions so unhappily implied ; 
 it was, therefore, a thought of some satisfaction, that my rash and 
 hasty advice, of a still further concession to those exactions, had 
 not been acceded to. My present intention, in the event of 
 Glanville's persevering to reject my offer of accompanying him, 
 was to remain in England, for the purpose of sifting the murder; 
 nor did I despair of accomplishing this most desirable end, 
 through the means of Dawson ; for there was but little doubt in 
 my own mind, that Thornton and himself were the murderers, 
 and I hoped that address or intimidation might win a confession 
 from Dawson, although it might probably be unavailing with his 
 hardened and crafty associate. 
 
 Occupied with these thoughts, I endeavored to while away 
 the hours till the evening summoned me once more to the prin- 
 cipal object of my reflections. The instant Glanville's door 
 was opened, I saw, by one glance, that I had come too late ; 
 the whole house was in confusion ; several of the servants were 
 in the hall, conferring with each other, with that mingled mys- 
 tery and agitation which always accompany the fears and conjec- 
 tures of the lower classes. I took aside the valet, who had lived 
 with Glanville for some years, and who was remarkably attached
 
 344 PELHAM ; OK, 
 
 to his master, and learned, that, somewhat more than an hour 
 before, Mr. Thornton had returned to the house, accompanied 
 by three men of very suspicious appearance. " In short, sir," 
 said the man, lowering his voice to a whisper, " I knew one of 
 them by sight; he was Mr. S., the Bow-Street ofificer ; with these 
 men, Sir Reginald left the house, merely saying, in his usual 
 qviet manner, that he did not know when he should return." 
 
 I concealed my perturbation, and endeavored, as far as I was 
 able, to quiet the evident apprehensions of the servant. " At 
 all events, Seymour," said I, " I know that I may trust you suf- 
 ficiently to warn you against mentioning the circumstance any 
 farther ; above all, let me beg of you to stop the mouths of those 
 idle loiterers in the hall — and be sure that you do not give any 
 unnecessary alarm to Lady and Miss Glanville." 
 
 The poor man promised, with tears in his eyes, that he would 
 obey my injunctions; and, with a calm face, but a sickening 
 heart, I turned away from the house. I knew not whither to di- 
 rect my wanderings ; fortunately I recollected that I should, in 
 all probability, be among the first witnesses summoned on Glan- 
 ville's examination, and that perhaps, by the time I reached 
 home, I might already receive an intimation to that effect ; ac- 
 cordingly, 1 retraced my steps, and, on re-entering my hotel, 
 was told by the waiter, with a mysterious air, that a gentleman 
 was waiting to see me. Seated by the window in my room, and 
 wiping his forehead with a red silk pocket-handkerchief, was a 
 short thickset man, with a fiery and rugose complexion, not al- 
 together unlike the aspect of a mulberry : from underneath a 
 pair of shaggy brows peeped two singularly small eyes, which 
 made ample amends, by their fire, for their deficiency in size — 
 they were black, brisk, and somewhat fierce in their expression. 
 A nose of that shape vulgarly termed bottled, formed the " arch 
 sublime," the bridge, the twilight, as it were, between the purple 
 sun-set of one cheek, and the glowing sun-rise of the other. 
 His mouth was small, and drawn up at each corner, like a purse 
 — there was something sour and crabbed about it ; if it was like 
 a purse, it was like the purse of a miser : a fair round chin had 
 not been condemned to single blessedness — on the contrary, it 
 was like a farmer's pillion, and carried double ; on either side 
 of a very low forhead, hedged round by closely mowed bristles 
 of a dingy black, was an enormous ear of the same intensely 
 rubicund color as tha:; inflamed pendant of flesh which adorns the 
 throat of an enraged turkey-cock ; — ears so large, and so red, I 
 never beheld before — they were something preposterous ! 
 
 This enchanting figure, which was attired in a sober suit of
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 345 
 
 leaden black, relieved by a long gold watch-chain, and a plenti- 
 ful decoration of seals, rose at my entrance with a solemn grunt, 
 and a still more solemn bow. I shut the door carefully, and 
 asked him his business. As I had foreseen, it was a request 
 
 from the magistrate at , to attend a private examination on 
 
 the ensuing day. 
 
 " Sad thing, sir, sad thing," said Mr. ; " it would be quite 
 
 shocking to hang a gentleman of Sir Reginald Glanville's qual- 
 ity — so distinguished an orator, too ; sad thing, sir, — very sad 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh ! " said I, quietly, " there is not a doubt as to Sir Regi- 
 nald's innocence of the crime laid to him ; and, probably, 
 
 Mr. , I may call in your assistance to-morrow, to ascertain 
 
 the real murderers — I think I am possessed of some clue." 
 
 Mr. pricked up his ears — those enormous ears ! " Sir," ho. 
 
 said, "I shall be happy to accompany you — ^very happy; giv<« 
 me the clue you speak of, and I will soon find the villains. 
 Horrid thing, sir, murder — very horrid. It's too hard that a 
 gentleman cannot take his ride home from a race, or a merry- 
 making, but he must have his throat cut from ear to ear — ear 
 to ear, sir ; " and with these words, the speaker's own auricular 
 protuberances seemed, as in conscious horror, to glow with a 
 double carnation. 
 
 "Very true, Mr. ! '' said I ; "say I will certainly attend 
 
 the examination — till then good by ! " At this hint, my fiery- 
 faced friend made a low bow, and blazed out of the room, like 
 the ghost of a kitchen fire. 
 
 Left to myself, I revolved, earnestly and anxiously, every cir- 
 cumstance that could tend to diminish the appearances against 
 Glanville, and direct suspicion to that quarter where I was con- 
 fident the guilt rested. In this endeavor I passed the time till 
 morning, when 1 fell into an uneasy slumber, which lasted some 
 hours ; on waking, it was almost time to attend the magistrate's 
 appointment. I dressed hastily, and soon found myself in the 
 room of inquisition. 
 
 It is impossible to conceive a more courteous, and yet more 
 equitable man, than the magistrate whom I had the honor of 
 attending. He spoke with great feeling on the subject for which 
 I was summoned — owned to me, that Thornton's statement was 
 very clear and forcible — trusted that my evidence would contra- 
 dict an account which he was very loath to believe ; and then 
 proceeded to the ciuestion. I saw, with an agony which I can 
 scarcely express, that all my answers made powerfully against 
 the cause I endeavored to support. I was obliged to own thai
 
 346 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 a man on horseback passed me soon after Tyrrell had quitted 
 me ; that, on coming to the spot where the deceased was found, 
 I saw this same horseman on the very place : that I believed, 
 nay, that I was sure, (how should I evade this ?) that this man 
 was Reginald Glanville. 
 
 Farther evidence, Thornton had already offered to adduce. 
 He could prove, that the said horseman had been mounted on 
 a grey horse, sold to a person answering exactly to the de- 
 scription of Sir Reginald Glanville ; moreover, that that horse 
 was yet in the stables of the prisoner. He produced a letter, 
 which, he said, he had found upon the person of the deceased, 
 signed b}''Sir Reginald Glanville, and containing the most deadly 
 threats against Sir John Tyrrell's life ; and, to crown all, he 
 called upon me to witness, that we had both discovered upon 
 the spot where the murder was committed, a picture belonging 
 to the prisoner, since restored to him, and now in his posses- 
 sion. 
 
 At the close of his examination, the worthy magistrate shook 
 his head, in evident distress ! " I have known Sir Reginald 
 Glanville personally," said he : " in private as in public life, I 
 have always thought him the most upright and honorable of 
 men. I feel the greatest pain in saying, that it will be my duty 
 fully to commit him for trial." 
 
 1 interrupted the magistrate ; I demanded that Dawson should 
 be produced. " I have already," said he, " inquired of Thorn- 
 ton respecting that person, whose testimony is of evident impor- 
 tance ; he tells me that Dawson has left the country, and can 
 give me no clue of his address." 
 
 " He lies ! " cried I, in the abrupt anguish of my heart ; " his 
 associate shall be produced. Hear me, I have been, next to 
 Thornton, the chief witness against the prisoner, and when I 
 swear to you, that, in spite of all appearances, I most solemnly 
 believe in his innocence, you may rely on my assurance, that 
 there are circumstances in his favor which have not yet been 
 considered, but which I will pledge myself hereafter to adduce." 
 I then related to the private ear of the magistrate my firm con- 
 viction of the guilt of the accuser himself. I dwelt forcibly upon 
 the circumstance of Tyrrell's having mentioned to me that 
 Thornton was aware of the large sum he had on his person, and 
 of the strange disappearance of that sum, when his body was 
 examined in the fatal field. After noting how impossible it was 
 that Glanville could have stolen the money, I insisted strongly 
 on the distressed circumstances — the dissolute habits, and the 
 hardened character, of Thornton — I recalled to the mind of the
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 347 
 
 magistrate the singularity of Thornton's absence from home 
 when I called there, and the doubtful nature of his excuse : 
 much more I said, but all equally in vain. The only point where 
 I was successful, was in pressing for a delay which was granted 
 to the passionate manner in which I expressed my persuasion 
 that I could confirm my suspicions by much stronger data be- 
 fore the reprieve expired, 
 
 " It is very true," said the righteous magistrate, " that there 
 are appearances somewhat against the witness : but certainly 
 not tantamount to anything above a slight suspicion. If, how 
 ever, you positively think you can ascertain any facts, to eluci- 
 date this mysterious crime, and point the inquiries of justice to 
 another quarter, I will so far strain the question, as to remand 
 the prisoner to another day — let us say the day after to-morrow. 
 If nothing important can before then be found in his favor he 
 must be committed for trial." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 Nihil est furacius illo : 
 Non fuit Autolyci tarn piceata manus. — Martial. 
 
 Quo tencani vultiis mutantem Protea nodo ? — Horat. 
 
 When I left the magistrate, I knew not whither my next step 
 should tend. There was, however, no time to indulge the idle 
 stupor which Glanville's situation at first occasioned ; with a 
 violent effort, I shook it off, and bent all my mind to discover 
 the best method to avail myself, to the utmost, of the short re- 
 prieve I had succeeded in obtaining. At length, one of those 
 sudden thoughts which, from their suddenness, appear more 
 brilliant than they really are, flashed upon my mind. I remem- 
 bered the accomplished character of Mr. Job Jonson, and the 
 circumstance of my having seen him in company with Thorn- 
 ton. Now, although it was not very likely that Thornton should 
 have made Mr. Jonson his confidant, in any of those affairs 
 which it was so essentially his advantage to confine exclusively 
 to himself ; yet the acuteness and penetration visible in the 
 character of the worthy Job, might not have lain so fallow 
 during his companionship with Thornton, but tiiat it might have 
 made some discoveries which would considerably assist me in 
 my researches ; besides, as it is literally true in the systema- 
 tized roguery of London, that " birds of a feather flock to-
 
 348 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 gether," it was by no means unlikely that the honestjob might be 
 honored with the friendship of Mr. Dawson, as well as the com- 
 pany of Mr. Thornton ; in which case I looked forward with 
 greater confidence to the detection of the notable pair. 
 
 I could not, howev^er, conceal from myself, that this was but 
 a very unstable and ill-linked chain of reasoning ; and there 
 were moments, when the appearances against Glanville wore so 
 close a semblance of truth, that all my friendship could scarcely 
 drive from my mind an intrusive suspicion that he might have 
 deceived me, and that the accusation might not be groundless. 
 
 This unwelcome idea did not, however, at all lessen the 
 rapidity with which I hastened towards the memorable gin-shop, 
 where I had whilom met Mr. Gordon : there I hoped to find 
 either the address of that gentleman or of the " Club," to which 
 he had taken me, in company with Tringle and Dartmore : 
 either at this said club, or of that said gentleman, I thought it 
 not unlikely, that I might hear some tidings of the person of 
 Mr, Job Jonson — if not, I was resolved to return to the office, 
 
 and employ Mr. , my mulberry-cheeked acquaintance of the 
 
 last night, in search after the holy Job. 
 
 Fate saved me a world of trouble : as I was hastily walking 
 onwards, I happened to turn my eyes on the opposite side of 
 the way, and discovered a man dressed in what the newspapers 
 term the very height of fashion, viz. : in the most ostentatious 
 attire that ever flaunted at Margate, or blazed in the Palais 
 Royal. The nether garments of iXixs pctit-tnaitre consisted of a 
 pair of blue tight pantaloons, profusely braided, and terminating 
 in Hessian boots, adorned with brass spurs of the most bur- 
 nished resplendency ; a black velvet waistcoat, studded with 
 gold stars, was backed by a green frock coat, covered, notwith- 
 standing the heat of the weather, with fur, and frogged and cor- 
 donne with the most lordly indifference, both as to taste and 
 expense : a small French hat, which might not have been much 
 
 too large for my lord of , was set jauntily in the centre of a 
 
 system of long black curls, which my eye, long accustomed to 
 penetrate the arcana of habilatory art, discovered at once to be 
 a wig. A fierce black mustachio, very much curled, wandered 
 lovingly fiom the upper lip towards the eyes, which had an un- 
 fortunate prepossession for eccentricity in their direction. To 
 complete the picture, we must suppose some coloring — and this 
 consisted in a very nice and delicate touch of the rouge pot, 
 which could not be called by so harsh a term as paint ; — say 
 rather that it was a tinge ! 
 
 No sooner had I set my eyes upon this figure, than I crossed
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 349 
 
 over to the side of the way which it was adorning, and followed 
 its motions at a respectful but observant distance. 
 
 At length my frchiqiiet marched into a jeweller's shop in 
 Oxford street ; with a careless air, I affected, two miuutes after- 
 wards, to saunter into the same shop ; the shopman was show- 
 ing his bijouterie to him of the Hessians with the greatest re- 
 spect ; and, beguiled by the splendor of the wig and waistcoat, 
 turned me over to his apprentice. Another time, I might have 
 been indignant at perceiving that the air noble, on which I had 
 so piqued myself, was by no means so universally acknowledged 
 as I had vainly imagined : — at that moment I was too occupied to 
 think of my insulted dignity. While I was pretending to appear 
 wholly engrossed with some seals, I kept a vigilant eye on my 
 superb fellow-customer ; at last, I saw him secrete a diamond 
 ring, and thrust it, by a singular movement of the fore-finger, up 
 the fur cuif of his capacious sleeve ; presently, some other 
 article of minute size disappeared in the like manner. 
 
 The gentleman then rose, expressed himself very well satisfied 
 by the great taste of the jeweller, said he should look in again 
 on Saturday, when he hoped the set he had ordered would be 
 completed, and gravely took his departure amidst the prodigal 
 bows of the shopman and his helpmates. Meanwhile, I bought 
 a seal of small value, and followed my old acquaintance, for the 
 reader has doubtless discovered, long before this, that the gentle- 
 man was no other than Mr. Job Jonson. 
 
 Slowly and struttingly did the man of two virtues perform the 
 whole pilgrimage of Oxford street. He stopped at Cumberland- 
 gate, and, looking round, with an air of gentlemanlike inde- 
 cision, seemed to consider whether or not he should join the 
 loungers in the park : fortunately for the well-bred set, his 
 doubts terminated in their favor, and Mr. Job Jonson entered 
 the park. Every one happened to be thronging to Kensington 
 Gardens, and the man of two virtues accordingly cut across the 
 park as the shortest, but the less frequented way thither, in or- 
 der to confer upon the seekers of pleasure the dangerous honor 
 of his company. 
 
 As soon as I percei\'ed that there were but few persons in the 
 immediate locality to observe me, and that those consisted of a 
 tall guardsman and his wife, a family of young children with their 
 nurse r)'-maid, and a debilitated East India Captain, walking for 
 the sake of his liver, I overtook the incomparable Job, made 
 him a low bow, and thus reverently accosted him — 
 
 " Mr. Jonson, I am delighted once more to meet you — suffer 
 me to remind you of the very pleasant morning I passed with
 
 350 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 you in the neighborhood of Hampton Court. I perceive, by 
 your mustachios and military dress, that you have entered the 
 army, since that day ; I congratulate the British troops on so 
 admirable an acquisition." 
 
 Mr. Jonson's assurance forsook him for a moment, but he 
 lost no time in regaining a quality which was so natural to his 
 character. He assumed a tierce look, and, relevant sa mous- 
 tache^ sourit amerement, like Voltaire's governor.* — " D — me, 
 sir," he cried, " do you mean to insult me .'' I know none of 
 your Mr. Jonsons, and I never set my eyes upon you before." 
 
 " Lookye, my dear Mr. Job Jonson," replied I, " as I can 
 prove not only all I say, but much more that I shall not say — 
 such as your little mistakes just now, at the jeweller's shop in 
 Oxford street, etc., etc., perhaps it would be better for you not 
 to oblige me to create a mob, and give you in charge — pardon 
 my abruptness of speech — to a constable ! — Surely there will be 
 no need of such a disagreeable occurrence, when I assure you, 
 in the first place, that I perfectly forgive you for ridding me of 
 the unnecessary comforts of a pocket-book and handkerchief, 
 the unphilosophical appendage of a purse, and the effeminate 
 love-token of a gold locket ; nor is this all — it is perfectly 
 indifferent to me, whether you levy contributions on jewellers or 
 gentlemen, and I am very far from wishing to intrude upon 
 your harmless occupations, or to interfere with your innocent 
 amusements. I see, Mr. Jonson, that you are beginning to 
 understand me ; let me facilitate so desirable an end by an 
 additional information, that, since it is preceded with a promise 
 to open my purse, may tend somewhat to open your heart ; I 
 am at this moment in great want of your assistance — favor me 
 with it, and I will pay you to your soul's content. Are we 
 friends now, Mr. Job Jonson ? " 
 
 My old friend burst out into a loud laugh. "Well, sir, I 
 must say that your frankness enchants me. I can no longer 
 dissemble with you ; indeed, I perceive it would be useless ; 
 besides, I always adored candor — it is my favorite virtue. Tell 
 me how I can help you, and you may command my services." 
 
 " One word," said I : " will you be open and ingenuous with 
 me ? I shall ask you certain questions, not in the least affect- 
 ing your own safety, but to which, if you would serve me, you 
 must give me (and, since candor is your favorite virtue, this will 
 be no difficult task) your most candid replies. To strengthen 
 you in so righteous a course, know also that the said replies 
 will come verbatim before a court of law, and that, therefore it 
 
 * Don Fernand d'Ibarra, in the " Candidc.'"
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 331 
 
 will be a matter of prudence to shape them as closely to the 
 truth as your inclinations will allow. To counterbalance diis 
 information, which, I own, is not very inviting, I repeat that 
 the questions asked you will be wholly foreign to your own 
 affairs, and that, should you prove of that assistance to me 
 which I anticipate, I will so testify my gratitude as to place 
 you beyond the necessity of pillaging rural young gentlemen 
 and credulous shopkeepers for the future ; — all your present 
 pursuits need thenceforth only be carried on for your private 
 amusement." 
 
 " I repeat, that you may command me," returned Mr. Jonson, 
 gracefully putting his hand to his heart. 
 
 " Pray then," said I, " to come at once to the point, how 
 long have you been acquainted with Mr. Thomas Thornton? " 
 
 " For some months only," returned Job, without the least 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " And Mr. Dawson ? " said I. 
 
 A slight change came over Jonson's countenance ; he hesita- 
 ted. " Excuse me, sir," said he ; " but I am, really, perfectly 
 unacquainted with you, and I may be falling into some trap of 
 the law, of which. Heaven knows, I am as ignorant as a babe 
 unborn." 
 
 I saw the knavish justice of this remark : and in my predomi- 
 nating zeal to serve Glanville, I looked upon the mcom'enience 
 of discovering myself to a pickpocket and sharper, as a consid- 
 eration not worth attending to. In order, therefore, to remove 
 his doubts, and at the same time, to have a more secret and 
 undisturbed place for our conference, I proposed to him to ac- 
 company me home. At first, Mr. Jonson demurred, but I soon 
 half-persuaded and half-intimidated him into compliance. 
 
 Not particular!)^ liking to be publicly seen with a person of 
 his splendid description and celebrated character, I made him 
 walk before me to Mivart's, and I followed him closely, never 
 turning my eye either to the right or left, lest he should en- 
 deavor to escape me. There was no fear of this, for Mr. Jon- 
 son was both a bold and a crafty man, and it required, perhaps, 
 but little of his penetration to discover that I was no officer nor 
 informer, and that my comnumication had been of a nature 
 likely enough to terminate in his advantage; there was, there- 
 fore, but little need of his courage in accompanying me to my 
 hotel. 
 
 There was a good many foreigners of rank at Mivart's, and 
 the waiters took my companion for an ambassador at least ; he
 
 352 FELHAM; OR, 
 
 received their homage with the mingled dignity and condescen- 
 sion natural to so great a man. 
 
 As the day was now far advanced, I deemed it but hospitable 
 to offer Mr. Job Jonson some edible refreshment. With the 
 frankness on which he so justly valued himself, he accepted my 
 proposal. I ordered some cold meat and two bottles of wine ; 
 and, mindful of old maxims, deferred my business till his repast 
 was over. I conversed with him merely upon ordinary topics, 
 and, at another time, should have been much amused by the 
 singular mixture of impudence and shrewdness which formed 
 the stratum of his character. 
 
 At length his appetite was satisfied, and one of the bottles 
 emptied ; with the other before him, his body easily reclining 
 on my library chair, his eyes apparently cast downwards, but 
 ever and anon glancing up at my countenance with a searching 
 and curious look, Mr. Job Jonson prepared himself for our con- 
 ference ; accordingly I began : — 
 
 " You say that you are acquainted with Mr. Dawson ; where 
 is he at present ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Jonson, laconically. 
 
 " Come," said I, " no trifling — if you do not know, j^ou can 
 learn." 
 
 " Possibly I can, in the course of time," rejoined honest Job. 
 
 " If you cannot tell me his residence at once," said I, " our 
 conference is at an end ; that is a leading feature in my in- 
 quiries." 
 
 Jonson paused before he replied — " You have spoken to me 
 frankly; let us do nothing by halves — tell me, at once, the 
 nature of the service I can do you, and the amount of my re- 
 ward, and then you shall have my answer. With respect to 
 Dawson, I will confess to you that I did once know him well, 
 and that we have done many a mad prank together, which I 
 should not like the bugaboos and bulkies to know ; you will, 
 therefore, see that I am naturally reluctant to tell you anything 
 about him, unless your honor will inform me of the why and the 
 wherefore." 
 
 I was somewhat startled by this speech, and by the shrewd, 
 cunning eye which dwelt upon me as it was uttered ; but, how 
 ever, I was by no means sure that acceding to his proposal 
 would not be my readiest and wisest way to the object I had in 
 view. Nevertheless, there was some preliminary questions to 
 be got over first : perhaps Dawson might be too dear a friend 
 to the candid Job, for the latter to endanger his safety ; or 
 perhaps (and this was more probable) Jonson might be per-
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 353 
 
 fectly ignorant of anything likely to aid me ; in this case my 
 communication would be useless ; accordingly I said, after a 
 short consideration — 
 
 " Patience, my dear Mr. Jonson — patience ; you shall know 
 all in good time ; meanwhile I must — even for Dawson's sake 
 — question you blindfold. What, now, if your poor friend Daw- 
 son were in imminent danger, and you had, if it so pleased you, 
 the power to save him ; would you not do all you could ? " 
 
 The small coarse features of Mr. Job grew blank with a cu' 
 rious sort of disappointment : " Is that all ? " said he. " No\ 
 unless I were well paid for my pains in his behalf, he might go 
 to Botany Bay, for all I care." 
 
 " What ! " I cried, in a tone of reproach, " is this your friend- 
 ship ? I thought, just now, that you said Dawson had been an 
 old and firm associate of yours." 
 
 "An old one, )^our honor, but not a firm one. A short time 
 ago, I was in great distress, and he and Thornton had, deuce 
 knows how ! about two thousand between them ; but I could 
 not worm a stiver out of Dawson — that gripe-all, Thornton, got 
 it all from him." 
 
 " Two thousand pounds ! " said I, in a calm voice, though my 
 heart beat violently, " that's a great sum for a poor fellow like 
 Dawson. How long ago is it since he had it ? " 
 
 " About two or three months," answered Jonson. 
 
 " Pray," I asked, " have you seen much of Dawson lately ? " 
 
 " I have," replied Jonson. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I. " I thought you told me, just now, that 
 you were unacquainted with his residence ? " 
 
 " So I am," replied Jonson, coldly ; " it is not at his own 
 house that I ever see him." 
 
 I was silent, for I was now rapidly and minutely weighing the 
 benefits and disadvantages of trusting Jonson as he had desired 
 me to do. 
 
 To reduce the question to the simplest form of logic, he had 
 either the power of assisting my investigation, or he had not ; if 
 not, neither could he much impede it, and, therefore, it mattered 
 little whether he was in my confidence or not ; if he had <lie 
 power, the doubt was, whether it would be better for me to ben- 
 efit by it openly, or by stratagem ; that is — whether it were 
 wiser to state the whole case to him, or continue to gain what- 
 ever I was able by dint of a blind examination. Now, the dis- 
 advantage of candor was, that if it were his wish to screen Daw- 
 son and his friend, lie would be prepared to do so, and even to 
 put them on their guard against my suspicions ; but the indiffcr
 
 354 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 ence he had testified with regard to Dawson seemed to render 
 this probability very small. The benefits of candor were more 
 prominent : Job would then be fully aware that his own safety 
 was not at stake ; and should I make it more his interest to 
 serve the innocent than the guilty, I should have the entire ad- 
 vantage, not only of any actual information he might possess, 
 but of his skill and shrewdness in providing additional proof, or 
 at least suggesting advantageous hints. Moreover, in spite of 
 my vanity and opinion of my own penetration, I could not but 
 confess that it was unlikely that my cross examination would be 
 very successful with so old and experienced a sinner as Mr. Jon- 
 son. " Set a thief to catch a thief,'' is among the wisest of wise 
 sayings, and accordingly I resolved in favor of a disclosure. 
 
 Drawing my chair close to Jon son's, and fixing my eye upon 
 his countenance, I briefly proceeded to sketch Glanville's situa- 
 tion (only concealing his name) and Thornton's charges. I 
 mentioned my own suspicions of the accuser, and my desire of 
 discovering Dawson, whom Thornton appeared to me artfully to 
 secrete. Lastly, I concluded with a solemn promise, that if my 
 listener could by any zeal, exertion, knowledge, or contrivance 
 of his own, procure the detection of the men who, I was con- 
 vinced, were the murderers, a pension of three hundred pounds 
 a year should be immediately settled upon him. . 
 
 During my communication, the patient Job sat mute and still, 
 fixing his eyes on the ground, and only betraying, by an occa- 
 sional elevation of the brows, that he took the slightest interest 
 in the tale : when, however, I touched upon the peroration, which 
 so tenderly concluded with the mention of three hundred pounds 
 a year, a visible change came over the countenance of Mr. Jon- 
 son. He rubbed his hands with an air of great content, and 
 one sudden smile broke over his features, and almost buried his 
 eyes amid the intricate host of wrinkles which it called forth : 
 the smile vanished as rapidly as it came, and Mr. Job turned 
 round to me with a solemn and sedate aspect. 
 
 " Well, your honor," said he, " I'm glad you've told me all : 
 we must see what can be done. As for Thornton, I'm afraid we 
 shan't make much out of him, for he's an old offender, whose 
 conscience is as hard as a brickbat ; but of Dawson I hope bet- 
 ter things. However, you must let me go now, for this is a mat- 
 ter that requires a vast deal of private consideration. I shall 
 call upon you to-morrow, sir, before ten o'clock, since you say 
 matters are so pressing , and I trust you will then see that you 
 have no reason to repent of the confidence you have placed in a 
 man of honor. "
 
 ADVEIVTUKES OF A GENTLEMAN: 355 
 
 So saying, Mr. Job Jonson emptie<:l the remainder of the bottle 
 into his tumbler, held it up to the light with the gusto of a con- 
 noisseur, and concluded his potations with a hearty smack of 
 the lips, followed by a long sigh. 
 
 "Ah, your honor," said he, "good wine is a marvellous whet- 
 ter of the intellect ; but your true philosopher is always mod- 
 erate : for my part, I never exceed my two bottles." 
 
 And with these words, this true philosopher took his depart- 
 ure. 
 
 No sooner was I freed from his presence, than my thoughts 
 flew to Ellen ; I had neither been able to call nor write the 
 whole of the day ; and I was painfully fearful lest my precaution 
 with Sir Reginald's valet had been frustrated, and the alarm of 
 his imprisonment had reached her and Lady Glanville. Har- 
 assed by this fear, I disregarded the lateness of the hour, and 
 immediately repaired to Berkeley-square. 
 
 Lady and Miss Glanville were alone and at dinner : the ser- 
 vant spoke with his usual unconcern. " They are quite well ? " 
 said I, relieved, but still anxious : and the servant replying in 
 the affirmative, I again returned home, and wrote a long and, I 
 hope, consoling letter to Sir Reginald. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 K. Henry. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. 
 Say. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his. 
 
 Second Part of Henry IV. 
 
 Punctual to his appointment, the next morning came Mr. 
 Job Jonson, I had been on the rack of expectation for the last 
 three hours previous to his arrival, and the warmth of my wel- 
 come must have removed any little diffidence with which so 
 shamefaced a gentleman might possibly have been troubled. 
 
 At my request, he sat himself down, and seeing that my 
 breakfast things were on the table, remarked what a famous 
 appetite the fresh air always gave him. I took the hint, and 
 pushed the rolls towards him. He immediately fell to work, 
 and, for the next quarter of an hour, his mouth was far too well 
 occupied for the intrusive impertinence of words. At last the 
 things were removed, and Mr. Jonson began. 
 
 "I have thought well over the matter, your honor, and I be- 
 lieve we can manage to trounce the rascals — for I agree with
 
 3S6 PELHAM ; OK, 
 
 you, that there is n-ot a doubt that Thornton and Dawson are the 
 real criminals ; but the atTair, sir, is one of tlie greatest difficulty 
 and importance — nay, of the greatest personal danger. My life 
 may be the forfeit of my desire to serve you — you will not, 
 therefore, be surprised at my accepting your liberal offer of 
 three hundred a year, should I be successful ; although I do 
 assure you, sir, that it was my original intention to reject all re- 
 compense, for I am naturally benevolent, and love doing a good 
 action. Indeed, sir, if 1 were alone in the world, I should 
 scorn any remuneration, for virtue is its own reward ; but a real 
 moralist, your honor, must not forget his duties on any considera- 
 tion, and I have a little family to whom my loss would be an ir- 
 reparable injury ; this, upon my honor, is my only inducement for 
 taking advantage of your generosity ; " and, as the moralist 
 ceased, he took out of his waistcoat pocket a paper, which he 
 handed to me with his usual bow of deference. 
 
 I glanced over it — it was a bond, apparently drawn up in all 
 the legal formalities, pledging myself, in case Job Jonson, be- 
 fore the expiration of three days, gave that information which 
 should lead to detection and punishment of the true murderers 
 of Sir John Tyrrell, deceased, to insure to the said Job Jonson 
 the yearly annuity of three hundred pounds. 
 
 " It is with much pleasure that I shall sign this paper," said 
 I ; " but allow vc\e, par parejithese, to observe that since you only 
 accept the annuity for the sake of benefiting your little family, 
 in case of your death, this annuity, ceasing with your life, will 
 leave your children as penniless as at present." 
 
 " Pardon me, your honor," rejoined Job, not a whit daunted at 
 the truth of my remark, ^^J can msiife ! " 
 
 " I forgot that," said I, signing and restoring the paper : *' and 
 now to business." 
 
 Jonson gravely and carefully looked over the interesting docu- 
 ment I returned to him, and carefully lapping it in three envel- 
 opes, inserted it in a huge red pocket-book, which he thrust into 
 an innermost pocket in his waistcoat. 
 
 " Right, sir," said he slowly; "to business. Before I begin, 
 you must, however, promise me, upon your honor as a gentle- 
 man, the strictest secrecy as to my communications." 
 
 I readily agreed to this, so far as that secrecy did not impede 
 my present object ; and Job, being content with this condition, 
 resumed. 
 
 " You must forgive me, if, in order to arrive at the point in 
 question, I set out from one which may seem to you a little dis- 
 tant."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GEXTLEMAX. 357 
 
 I nodded my assent, and Job continued. 
 
 " I have known Dawson for some years ; my acquaintance 
 with him commenced at Newmarket, for I have always had a 
 slight tendency to the turf. He was a wild, foolish fellow, easily 
 led into any mischief, but ever the first to sneak out of it ; in 
 short, when he became one of //j, which his extravagance soon 
 compelled him to do, we considered him as a very serviceable 
 tool, but one who, while he was quite wicked enough to begin a 
 bad action, was much too weak to go through with it ; accord- 
 ingly he was often employed, but never trusted. By the word us, 
 which I see has excited your curiosity, I merely mean a body 
 corporate, established furtively and restricted solely to exploits 
 on the turf. I think it right to mention this (continued Mr. Jon- 
 son, aristocratically), because I have the honor to belong to 
 many other societies to which Dawson could never have been 
 admitted. Well, sir, our club was at last broken up, and Daw- 
 son was left to shift for himself. His father was still alive, and 
 the young hopeful, having quarrelled with him, was in the great- 
 est distress. He came to me with a . pitiful stor}% and a more 
 pitiful face ; so I took compassion upon the poor devil, and 
 procured him, by dint of great interest, admission into a knot 
 of good fellows, whom I visited, by the way, last night. Here I 
 look him under my especial care; and, as far as I could, with 
 such a dull-headed dromedary, taught him some of the most ele- 
 gant arts of my profession. However, the ungrateful dog soon 
 stole back to his old courses, and robbed me of half my share 
 of a booty to which I had helped him myself. I hate treachery 
 and ingratitude, your honor ; they are so terribly ungentleman- 
 like! 
 
 " I then lost sight of him till between tw-o and three months 
 ago, when he returned to town and attended our meetings in 
 company with Tom Thornton, who had been chosen a member 
 of the club some months before. Since we had met, Dawson's 
 father had died, and I thought his flash appearance in town 
 arose from his new inheritance. I was mistaken : old Dawson 
 had tied up the property so tighdy, that the young one could 
 not scrape enough to pay his debts ; accordingly, before he came 
 to town, he gave up his life interest in the property to his credit- 
 ors. However that be. Master Dawson seemed at the top of 
 Fortune's wheel. He kept his horses, and sported the set to 
 champagne and venison : in short, there would have been no 
 end to his extravagance, had not Thornton sucked him like a 
 leech. 
 
 "It was about that time that I asked Dawson for a trifle to
 
 3S8 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 keep me from gaol : for I was ill in bed, and could not help myself. 
 Will you believe, sir, that the rascal told me to go and be d — d, 
 and 'I'hornton said amen ? I did not forget the ingratitude of 
 wvj protege \X\o\x^\ I recovered I appeared entirely to do so. No 
 sooner could I walk about, than I relieved all ray necessities. 
 He is but a fool who starves, with all London before him ! In 
 proportion as my finances improved, Dawson's visibly decayed. 
 With them, decreased also his spirits. He became pensive and 
 downcast ; never joined any of our parties, and gradually grew 
 quite a useless member of the corporation. To add to his mel- 
 ancholy, he was one morning present at the execution of an un- 
 fortunate associate of ours ; this made a deep impression upon 
 him ; from that moment he became thoroughly moody and de- 
 spondent. He was frequently heard talking to himself, could not 
 endure to be left alone in the dark, and began rapidly to pine 
 away. 
 
 " One night when he and I were seated together, he asked 
 me if I had never repented of my sins, and then added, with a 
 groan, that I had never committed the heinous crime he had. I 
 pressed him to confess, but he would not. However, I coupled 
 that half avowal with his sudden riches, and the mysterious cir- 
 cumstances of Sir John Tyrrell's death ; and dark suspicions 
 came into my mind. At that time, and indeed ever since Daw- 
 son reappeared, we were often in the habit of discussing the no- 
 torious murder which then engrossed public attention ; and as 
 Dawson and Thornton had been witnesses on the inquest, we 
 frequently referred to them respecting it. Dawson always turn- 
 ed pale, and avoided the subject ; Thornton, on the contrary, 
 brazened it out with his usual impudence. Dawson's aversion 
 to the mention of the murder now came into my remembrance 
 with double weight, to strengthen my suspicions ; and, convers- 
 ing with one or two of our comrades, I found that my doubts 
 were more than shared, and that Dawson had frequently, when 
 unusually oppressed with his hypochondria, hinted at his commit- 
 tal of some dreadful crime, and at his increasing remorse for it. 
 
 " By degrees, Dawson grew worse and worse — his health de- 
 cayed, he started at a shadow — drank deeply, and spoke, in his 
 intoxication, words that made the hairs of our green men stand 
 on end. 
 
 " ' We must not suffer this,' said Thornton, whose hardy effront- 
 ery enabled him to lord it over the jolly boys as if he were their 
 chief : ' his ravings and humdurgeon will unman all our young- 
 sters.' And so, under this pretence, Thornton had the unhappy 
 man conveyed away to a secret asylum, known only to the chiefs
 
 ADVENTURES OE A GENTLEMAA'. 
 
 359 
 
 of the gang, and appropriated to the reception of persons who, 
 from the same weakness as Dawson, were hkely to endanger 
 others or themselves. There many a poor wretch has been se- 
 cretly immured, and never suffered to revisit the light of Heaven. 
 The moon's minions, as well as the monarch's, must have their 
 State prisoners, and their State victims. 
 
 " Well, sir, I shall not detain you much longer. Last night, 
 after your obliging confidence, I repaired to the meeting ; Thorn- 
 ton was there, and very much out of humor. When our mess- 
 mates dropped off, and we were alone at one corner of the room, 
 I began to talk to him carelessly about his accusation of your 
 friend, w^ho, I have since learnt, is Sir Reginald Glanville — an 
 old friend of mine, too ; ay, you may look, sir, — but I can stake 
 my life to having picked his pocket one night at the Opera ! 
 Thornton was greatly surprised at my early intelligence of a 
 fact hitherto kept so profound a secret ; however, I explained 
 it away by a boast of my skill in acquiring information ; and he 
 then incautiously let out, that he was exceedingly vexed with 
 himself for the charge he had made against the prisoner, and 
 very uneasy at the urgent inquiries set on foot for Dawson. More 
 and more convinced of his guilt, I quitted the meeting and went 
 to Dawson's retreat. 
 
 " For fear of his escape, Thornton had had him closely con- 
 fined in one of the most secret rooms in the house. His soli- 
 tude and the darkness of the place, combined with his remorse, 
 had worked upon a mind, never too strong, almost to insanity. 
 He was writhing with the most acute and morbid pangs of con- 
 science that my experience, which has been pretty ample, ever 
 witnessed. The old hag who is the Hecate (you see, sir, I have 
 had a classical education) of the place, was very loath to admit 
 me to him, for Thornton had bullied her into a great fear of the 
 consequences of disobeying his instructions ; but she did not 
 dare to resist my orders. Accordingly I had a long interview 
 with the unfortunate man ; he firmly believes that Thornton in- 
 tends to murder him ; and says, that if he could escape from his 
 dungeon, he would surrender himself to the first magistrate he 
 could find. 
 
 " I told him that an innocent man had been apprehended for 
 the crime of which I knew he and Thornton were guilty; and 
 then taking upon myself the office of a preacher, I exhorted him 
 to atone, as far as possible, for his past crime, by a full and faith- 
 ful confession, that would deliver the innocent and punish the 
 guilty. I held out to him the hope that this confession might 
 perhaps serve the purpose of king's evidence, and obtain him a
 
 J 
 
 60 PELHAM : OR, 
 
 pardon for Iiis crime ; and I promised to use my utmost zeal and 
 diligence to promote his escape from his present den. 
 
 " He said, in answer, that he did not wish to live ; that he 
 differed the greatest tortures of mind ; and that the only com- 
 fort earth held out to him would be to ease his remorse by a 
 full acknowledgment of his crime, and to hope for future mercy 
 by expiating his offence on the scaffold ; all this, and much more 
 to the same purpose, the hen-hearted fellow told me with sighs 
 and groans. I would fain have taken his confession on the 
 spot, and carried it awav with me, but he refused to give it to me, 
 or to any one but a parson, whose services he implored me to 
 procure him. I told him, at first, that the thing was impossible ; 
 but, moved by his distress and remorse, I promised, at last, to 
 bring one to-night, who should both administer spiritual comfort 
 to him and receive his deposition. My idea at the moment was 
 to wj'i'^/^ disguise in the dress oi\}i\^ pater cove* and perform the 
 double job : — since then I have thought of a better scheme. 
 
 " As my character, you see, your honor, is not so highly prized 
 by the magistrates as it ought to be, any confession made to me 
 might not be of the same value as if it were made to any one 
 else — to a gentleman like you, for instance ; and, moreover, it 
 will not do for me to appear in evidence against any of the 
 fraternity ; and for two reasons : first, because I have sworn a 
 solemn oath never to do so ; and, secondly, because I have a 
 very fair chance of joining Sir John Tyrrell in kingdom come 
 if I do. My present plan, therefore, if it meets your concurrence, 
 would be to introduce your honour as the parson, and for you to 
 receive the confession, which, indeed, you might take down in 
 writing. This plan, I candidly confess, is not without great 
 difficulty, and some danger ; for I have not only to impose you 
 upon Dawson as a priest, but also upon Brimstone Bess as one 
 of our jolly boys ; since I need not tell you that any real parson 
 might knock a long time at her door before it would be opened 
 to him. You must, therefore, be as mum as a mole unless she 
 cants to you, and your answers must then be such as I shall dic- 
 tate ; otherwise she may detect you, and, should any of the true 
 men be in the house, we should both come off worse than we 
 went in." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Job," replied I, " there appears to me to be a 
 much easier plan than all this ; and that is, simply to tell the Bow- 
 street officers where Dawson may be found, and I think they 
 
 * Gipsy slang— a parson, or minister— but generally applied to a priest of the low- 
 est order.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN'. 361 
 
 would be able to carry him awaj' from the arms of Mrs. Brimstone 
 Bess, without any great difficulty or danger." 
 Jonson smiled. 
 
 " I should not long enjoy my annuity, your honor, if I were to 
 set the runners upon our best hive. I should be stung to death 
 before the week were out. Even you, should you accompany me 
 to-night, will never know where the spot is situated, nor would 
 you discover it again if you searched all London, with the whole 
 police at your back. Besides, Dawson is not the only person in 
 the house for whom the law is hunting — there are a score others 
 whom I have no desire to give up to the gallows — hid among the 
 odds and ends of the house, as snug, as plums in a pudding. 
 Honor forbid that I should betray them — and for nothing too ! 
 No, sir, the only plan I can think of is the one I proposed ; if 
 you do not approve of it, (and it certainly is open to exception,) 
 I must devise some other : but that may require delay." 
 
 " No, my good Job," replied I, " I am ready to attend you : 
 but could we not manage to release Dawson, as well as take his 
 deposition ? — his personal evidence is worth all the written ones 
 in the world." 
 
 " Very true," answered Job, " and if it be possible to give Bess 
 the slip we will. However, let us not lose what we may get by 
 grasping at what we may not ; let us have the confession first, 
 and we'll try for the release afterwards. I have another reason 
 for this, sir, which, if you knew as much of penitent prigs as I 
 do, you would easily understand. However, it may be explained 
 by the old proverb of 'the devil was sick,' etc., As long as 
 Dawson is stowed away in a dark hole and fancies devils in every 
 corner, he may be very anxious to make confessions, which, in 
 broad day-light, may not seem to him so desirable. Darkness 
 and solitude are strange stimulants to the conscience, and we 
 may as well not lose any advantage they give us." 
 
 " You are an admirable reasoner," cried 1, " and I am impatient 
 to accompany you — at what hour shall it be ? " 
 
 " Not much before midnight," answered Jonson ; " but your 
 honor must go back to school and learn lessons before then. 
 Suppose Bess were to address you thus : ' Well, you parish bull 
 prig, are you for lushing lackey, or pattering in the hum box ! '"* 
 I'll be bound you would not know how to answer." 
 
 " I am afraid you are right, Mr. Jonson," said I, in a tone of 
 self-humiliation. 
 
 " Never mind," replied the compassionate Job, " we are all 
 born ignorant — knowledge is not learnt in a day. A few of 
 
 ♦ " Well, you parson thief, are you for drinking gin, or talking in the pulpit ? "
 
 362 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 the most common and necessary words in our St. Giles's Greek, 
 I shall be able to teach you before night ; and I will, beforehand, 
 prepare the old lady for seeing a young hand in the profession. 
 As I must disguise you before we go, and that cannot well be 
 done here, suppose you dine with me. at my lodgings." 
 
 " I shall be too happy," said I, not a little surprised at the 
 offer. 
 
 " I am in Charlotte street, Bloomsbury, No. — . You must ask 
 for me by the name of Captain De Courcy," said Job, with 
 dignity: "and we'll dine at five, in order to have time for your 
 preliminary initiation." 
 
 " With all my heart," said I ; and Mr. Job Jonson then rose, 
 and, reminding me of my promise of secrecy, took his depar- 
 ture. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 Pectus praeceptis format amicis. — Hor. 
 Est quodam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra. — Ibid. 
 
 With all my love of enterprise and adventure, I cannot say that 
 I should have particularly chosen the project before me for my 
 evening's amusement, had I been left solely to my own will ; 
 but Glanville's situation forbade me to think of self : and, so far 
 from shrinking at the danger to which I was about to be expos- 
 ed, I looked forward with the utmost impatience to the hour of 
 rejoining Jonson_ 
 
 There was yet a long time upon my hands before five o'clock; 
 and the thought of Ellen left me no doubt how it should be 
 passed. I went to Berkeley-square : Lady Glanville rose eagerly 
 when I entered the drawing-room. 
 
 " Have you seen Reginald 1 " said she, " or do you know 
 where he has gone ? " 
 
 I answered, carelessly, that he had left town for a few days, 
 and, I believe, merely upon a vague excursion, for the benefit 
 of the country air. 
 
 " You reassure us," said Lady Glanville ; " we have been 
 quite alarmed by Seymour's manner. He appeared so confused 
 when he told us Reginald had left town, that I really thought 
 some accident had happened to him." 
 
 I sate myself by Ellen, who appeared wholly occupied in the 
 formation of a purse. While I was whispering into her eat 
 words which brought a thousand blushes to her cheek, Ladj
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 363 
 
 Glanville interrupted me, by an exclamation of " have you seen 
 the papers to-day, Mr. Pelham ? " and on my reply in the nega- 
 tive, she pointed^to an article in the Morning Herald, which she 
 said had occupied their conjectures all the morning — it ran 
 thus : — 
 
 " The evening before last, a person of rank and celebrity was 
 
 privately carried before the Magistrate at . Since then, he 
 
 has undergone an examination, the nature of which, as well as 
 the name of the individual, is as yet kept a profound secret." 
 
 I believe that I have so firm a command over my countenance 
 that I should not change tint nor muscle to hear of the greatest 
 calamity that could happen to me. I did not therefore betray a 
 single one of the emotions this paragraph excited within me, 
 but appeared, on the contrary, as much at a loss as Lady Glan- 
 ville, and wondered and guessed with her, till she remembered 
 my present situation in the family, and left me alone with Ellen. 
 
 Why should the tete-a-tetc of lovers be so uninteresting to the 
 world, when there is scarcely a being in it who has not loved ? 
 The expressions of every other feeling come home to us all — 
 the expressions of love weary and fatigue us. But the interview 
 of that morning was far from resembling those delicious meet- 
 ings which the history of love at that early period of its existence 
 so often delineates. I could not give myself up to happiness 
 which a moment might destroy : and though I veiled my anxiety 
 and coldness from Ellen, I felt it as a crime to indulge even the 
 appearance of transport, while Glanville lay alone and in prison, 
 with the charge of murder yet uncontroverted, and the chances 
 of its doom undiminished. 
 
 The clock had struck four before I left Ellen, and without re- 
 turning to my hotel, I threw myself into a hackney-coach, and 
 drove to Charlotte-street. The worthy Job received me with 
 his wonted dignity and ease ; his lodgings consisted of a first floor, 
 furnished according to all the notions of Bloomsbury elegance — 
 viz., new, glaring Brussels carpeting ; convex mirrors, with 
 massy gilt frames, and eagles at the summit ; rosewood chairs 
 with chintz cushions ; bright grates, with a flower-pot, cut out of, 
 yellow paper, in each ; in short, all that especial neatness of up- 
 holstering paraphernalia, which Vincent used, not inaptly, to des- 
 ignate by the title of "the tea-chest taste." Jonson seemed not 
 a little proud of his apartments — accordingly, I complimented 
 him upon their elegance. 
 
 " Under the rose be it spoken," said he, " the landlady, wlio 
 is a widow, believes me to be an officer on half-pay, and thinks I 
 wish to marry her, poor woman! my black locks and green
 
 364 PELHAM ; OR, 
 
 coat have a witchery that surprises even me : who would be a 
 slovenly thief, when there are such advantages in being a smart 
 one ? " 
 
 " Right, Mr. Jonson ! " said I ; " but shall I own to you that 
 I am surprised that a gentleman of your talents should stoop to 
 the lower arts of the profession. I always imagined that pocket- 
 picking was a part of your business left only to the plebeian pur- 
 loiner ; now I know, to my cost, that you do not disdain that 
 manual accomplishment." 
 
 " Your honor speaks like a judge," answered Job ; " the fact 
 is, that I should despise what you rightly designate 'the lower 
 arts of the profession,' if I did not value myself upon giving 
 them a charm, and investing them with a dignity, never bestow- 
 ed upon them before. To give you an idea of the superior dex- 
 terity with which I manage my sleight of hand, know, that four 
 times I have been in that shop where you saw me borj-ow the 
 diamond ring, which you now remark upon my little finger; 
 and four times have I brought back some token of my visita- 
 tions ; nay, the shopman is so far from suspecting me, that he 
 has twice favored me with the piteous tale of the very losses I 
 myself brought upon him; and I make no doubt that I shall 
 hear, in a few days, the whole history of the departed diamond, 
 now in my keeping, coupled with that oi your honor' s appear- 
 ance and custom } Allow that it would be a pity to suffer pride 
 to stand in the way of the talents with which Providence has 
 blessed me ; to scorn the little delicacies of art, which I execute 
 so well, would, in my opinion, be as absurd as for an epic 
 poet to disdain the composition of a perfect epigram, or a con- 
 summate musician the melody of a faultless song." 
 
 " Bravo ! Mr. Job," said I ; "a truly great man, you see, can 
 confer honor upon trifles." More I might have said, but was 
 stopped short by the entrance of the landlady, who was a fine, 
 fair, well-dressed, comely woman, of about thirty -nine years and 
 eleven months ; or, to speak less precisely, between thirty and 
 forty. She came to announce that dinner was served below. 
 We descended, and found a sumptuous repast of roast beef and 
 fish ; this primary course was succeeded by that great dainty 
 with common people — a duck and green peas. 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Jonson," said I, " you fare like a prince ; 
 your weekly expenditure must be pretty considerable for a single 
 gentleman." 
 
 " I don't know," answered Jonson, with an air of lordly in- 
 difference — " I have never paid my good hostess any coin but 
 compliments, and in all probability never shall,"
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 365 
 
 Was there ever a better illustration of Moore's admonition — 
 ' O ladies, beware of a gay young knight,' &c. 
 
 After dinner we remounted to the apartments Job emphatically 
 called his own ; and he then proceeded to initiate me in those 
 phrases of the noble language of " Flash " which might best 
 serve my necessities on the approaching occasion. The slang 
 part of my Cambridge education had made me acquainted with 
 some little elementary knowledge, which rendered Jonson's 
 precepts less strange and abstruse. In this lecture " sweet and 
 holy," the hours passed away till it became time for me to dress. 
 Mr. Jonson then took me into the penetralia of his bed-room. 
 1 stumbled against an enormous trunk. On hearing the involun- 
 tary anathema which this accident conjured up to my lips, 
 Jonson said — " Ah, sir ! — do oblige me by trying to move that 
 box." 
 
 I did so, but could not stir it an inch. 
 
 " Your honor never saw di Jewel box so heavy before, I think," 
 said Jonson, with a smile. 
 
 " A jewel box ! " 
 
 "Yes," returned Jonson — " a jewel box, for it is full oi pre- 
 cious stones ! When I go away — not a little in my good land- 
 lady's books — I shall desire her, very importantly, to take the 
 greatest care of ' my box.' Egad ! it would be a treasure to 
 MacAdam ; he might pound its flinty contents into a street." 
 
 With these words, Mr. Jonson unlocked a wardrobe in the 
 room, and produced a full suit of rusty black. 
 
 " There ! " said he, with an air of satisfaction — " there ! this 
 will be your first step to the pulpit." 
 
 I doffed my own attire, and with " some natural sighs " at the 
 deformity of my approaching metamorphosis, I slowly indued 
 myself in the clerical garments ; they were much too wide, and 
 a little too short for me ; but Jonson turned me round as if I 
 were his eldest son, breeched for the first time, and declared, 
 with an emphatical oath, that the clothes fitted me to a hair. 
 
 My host next opened a tin dressing-box of large dimensions, 
 from which he took sundry powders, lotions, and paints. Noth- 
 ing but my extreme friendship for Glanville could ever have sup- 
 ported me through the operation I then underwent. My poor 
 complexion, thought I, with tears in my eyes, it is ruined for- 
 ever ! To crown all — Jonson robbed me, by four clips of his scis- 
 sors, of the luxuriant locks which, from the pampered in- 
 dulgence so long accorded to them, might have rebelled against
 
 366 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 the new dynasty which Jonson now elected to the crown. This 
 dynasty consisted of a shaggy but admirably made wig, of a 
 sandy color. When thus completely attired from head to foot, 
 Job displayed me to myself before a full-length looking-glass. 
 
 Had I gazed at the reflection forever, I should not have recog- 
 nized either my form or visage. I thought my soul had under- 
 gone a real transmigration, and not carried to its new body a 
 particle of the original one. What appeared the most singular 
 was, that I did not seem even to myself at all a ridiculous or 
 oiitre figure ; so admirably had the skill of Mr. Jonson been em- 
 ployed. I overwhelmed him with encomiums, which he took 
 au piea de la lettre. Never, indeed, was there a man so vain of 
 being a rogue. 
 
 " But," said I, why this disguise ? Your friends will, proba- 
 bly, be well versed enough in the mysteries of metamorphosis, 
 to see even through your arts ; and, as they have never beheld 
 me before, it would very little matter if I went xw propria per- 
 
 ^ 5 J 
 
 sotia. 
 
 " True," answered Job, " but you don't reflect that without 
 disguise you may hereafter be recognized ; our friends walk in 
 Bond-street as well as your honor; and, in that case, you might 
 be shot without a second, as the saying is." 
 
 " You have convinced me, said I ; " and now, before we start, 
 let me say one word further respecting our o/?/'ect. I tell you, 
 fairly, that I think Dawson's written deposition but a secondaiy 
 point : and for this reason, should it not be supported by any «>- 
 cumstantial or local evidence, hereafter to be ascertained, it may 
 be quite insufficient fully to acquit Glanville (in spite of all ap- 
 pearances), and criminate the real murderers. If, therefore, it 
 h^ possible to carry off Dawson, after having secured his confes- 
 sion, we must. I think it right to insist more particularly on 
 this point, as you appeared to me rather averse to it this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " I say ditto to your honor," returned Job ; *' and you may be 
 sure that I shall do all in my power to effect your object, not 
 only from that love of virtue which is implanted in my mind, 
 when no stronger inducement leads me astray, but from the more 
 worldly reminiscence, that the annuity we have agreed upon is 
 only to be given in case of success — not merely for 7vell-mcaning 
 attempts. To say that I have no objection to the release of Daw- 
 son, would be to deceive your honor, — I own that I have, — and 
 the objection is, first, my fear lest he shovXA peach respecting other 
 affairs besides the murder of Sir John Tyrrell ; and, secondly, 
 my scruples as to appearing to interfere with his escape. Both
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEiMAM. 367 
 
 of these chances expose me to great danger ; however, one does 
 not get three hundred a-year for washing one's hands, and I must 
 balance the one against the other." 
 
 " You are a sensible man, Mr. Job," said I, " and I am sure 
 you will richly earn and long enjoy your annuity." 
 
 As I said this, the watchman beneath our window called 
 " past eleven ! " and Jonson, starting up, hastily changed his 
 own gay gear for a more simple dress, and throwing over all a 
 Scotch plaid, gave me a similar one, in which I closely wrapped 
 myself. We decended the stairs softly, and Jonson let us out 
 into the street by the " open sesame" of a key which he retained 
 about his person. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 Et cantare pares, et respondere parati. — ViRGiL. 
 
 As we walked on into Tottenham-court-road, where we ex- 
 pected to find a hackney-coach, my companion earnestly and 
 strenuously impressed on my mind the necessity of implicitly 
 obeying any instructions or hints he might give me in the 
 course of our adventure. " Remember," said he, forcibly, 
 " that theJeast deviation from them will not only defeat our ob- 
 ject of removing Dawson, but even expose our lives to the most 
 imminent peril." I faithfully promised to conform to the mi- 
 nutest tittle of his instructions. 
 
 We came to a stand of coaches. Jonson selected one, and 
 gave the coachman an order ; he took care it should not reach 
 my ears. During the half-hour we passed in this vehicle, Job 
 examined and re-examined me in my " canting catechism," as he 
 termed it. He expressed himself much pleased with the quick- 
 ness of my parts, and honored me with an assurance that in less 
 than three months he would engage to make me as complete a 
 rufiler as ever nailed a swell. 
 
 To this gratifying compliment I made the best return in my 
 power. 
 
 "You must not suppose," said Jonson, some minutes after- 
 wards, " from our use of this language, that our club consists of 
 the lower order of thieves — quite the contrary ; we are a knot of 
 gentlemen adventurers who wear the best clothes, ride the best 
 hacks, frequent the best gaming-houses as well as the ^enteelest 
 haunts, and sometimes k&cp the ^rsi company, in London. We 
 arc limited in number : we have nothing in common with ordi
 
 36S PELHAM; OK, 
 
 nary prigs, and should my own little private amusements (as yon 
 appropriately term them) be known in the set, I should have a 
 very fair chance of being expelled for ungcntle?nanlike practices. 
 We rarely, condescend to speak " flash " to each other in our 
 ordinary meetings, but we find it necessary for many shifts to 
 which fortune sometimes drives us. The house you are going 
 this night to visit, is a sort of colony we have established for 
 whatever persons amongst us are in danger of blood-money.* 
 There they sometimes lie concealed for weeks together, and are 
 at last shipped off for the continent, or enter the world under a 
 new alias. To this refuge of the distressed we also send any of 
 the mess who, like Dawson, are troubled with qualms of con- 
 science which are likely to endanger the commonwealth: there 
 they remain, as in a hospital, till death or a cure ; in short, we 
 jDut the house, like its inmates, to any purposes likely to frus- 
 trate our enemies and serve ourselves. Old Brimstone Bess, to 
 whom I shall introduce you, is, as I before said, the guardian of 
 the place ; and the language that respectable lady chiefly in- 
 dulges in, is the one into which you have just acquired so good 
 an insight. Partly in compliment to her, and partly from in- 
 clination, the dialect adopted in her house is almost entirely 
 ' flash ! ' and you, therefore, perceive the necessity of appearing 
 not utterly ignorant of a tongue which is not only the language 
 of the country, but one with which no true boy, however high in 
 his profession, is ever unacquainted." 
 
 By the time Jonson had finished this speech, the coach 
 stopped — I looked eagerly out of the window — Jonson ob- 
 sen'ed the motion : " We have not got half-way yet, your honor," 
 said he. We left the coach, which Jonson requested me to pay, 
 and walked on. 
 
 "Tell me frankly, sir," said Job, "do you know where you 
 are ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," repled I, looking wistfully up a long, dull, 
 ill-lighted street. 
 
 Job rolled his sinister eye towards me with a searching look, 
 and then turning abruptly to the right, penetrated into a sort of 
 co\'ered lane, or court, which terminated in an alley, that brought 
 us suddenly to a stand of three coaches ; one of these Job hailed 
 — we entered it — a secret direction was given, and we drove 
 furiously on, faster than I should think the crazy body of hack- 
 ney chariot ever drove before. I observed that we had now 
 entered a part of the town which was singularly strange to me ; 
 the houses were old, and for the most part of the meanest de- 
 
 * Rewards for the apprehension of thieves, etc.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 369 
 
 (fcription ; we appeared to me to be threading a labyrinth of 
 alleys ; once, I imagined that I caught, through a sudden open- 
 ing, agUmpseof the river, but we passed so rapidly, that my 
 eye might have deceived me. At length we stopped : the 
 coachman was again dismissed, and I again walked onwards, 
 under the guidance and almost at the mercy of my honest con> 
 panion. 
 
 Jonson did not address me — he was silent and absorbed, and 
 I had therefore full leisure to consider my present situation. 
 Though (thanks to my physical constitution) I am as callous to 
 fear as most men, a few chilling apprehensions certainly fiitted 
 across my mind, when I looked round at the dim and dreary 
 sheds — houses they were not — which were on either side of our 
 path ; only, here and there, a single lamp shed a sickly light 
 upon the dismal and intersecting lanes (though lane is to lofty 
 a word), through which our footsteps woke a solitary sound. 
 Sometimes this feeble light was altogether wiihheld, and 1 
 could scarcely catch even the outline of my companion's mus- 
 cular frame. However, he strode on through the darkness with 
 the mechanical rapidity of one to whom every stone is familiar. 
 I listened eagerly for the sound of the watchman's voice ; — in 
 vain — that note was never heard in those desolate recesses. 
 My ear drank in nothing but the sound of our ov/n footsteps, or 
 the occasional burst of obscene and unholy merriment from 
 some half-closed hovel, where Infamy and Vice were holding 
 revels. Now and then, a wretched thing, in the vilest extreme 
 of want, and loathsomeness, and rags, loitered by the unfrequent 
 lamps, and interrupted our progress with solicitations which 
 made my blood run cold. By degrees even these tokens of life 
 ceased — the last lamp was entirely shut from our view — we were 
 in utter darkness. 
 
 "We are near our journey's end now," whispered Jonson. 
 
 At these words a thousand unwelcome reflections forced them- 
 selves involuntarily on my mind : I was about to plunge into 
 the most secret retreat of men whom long habits of villany and 
 desperate abandonment had hardened into a nature which had 
 scarcely a sympathy with my own ; unarmed and defenceless, I 
 was about to penetrate a concealment upon which their lives 
 perhaps depended ; what could I anticipate from their vengeance, 
 but the sure hand and the deadly knife, wliich their self-preser- 
 vation would more tlian justify to such lawless reasoners ? And 
 who was my companion ? One who literally gloried in the per- 
 fection of his nefarious practices ; and who, if he had stopped 
 short of the worst enormities, seemed neither to disown the
 
 370 PEI.HAM; OR, 
 
 principle upon which they were committed, nor to balance for a 
 a moment between his interest and his conscience. 
 
 Nor did he attempt to conceal from me the danger to which I 
 was exposed ; much as his daring habits of life, and the good 
 fortune which had attended him, must have hardened his nerves, 
 even he seemed fully sensible of the peril he incurred — a peril 
 certainly considerably less than that which attended /^z^. temerity. 
 Bitterly did I repent, as these reflections rapidly passed mv 
 mind, my negligence in not providing myself with a single weapon 
 in case of need; the worst pang of death is the falling without 
 a struggle. 
 
 However, it was no moment for the indulgence of fear ; it 
 was rather one of those eventful periods which so rarely occur 
 in the monotony of common life, when our minds are sounded 
 to their utmost depths : and energies, of which we dreamt not 
 when at rest in their secret retreats, arise like spirits at the sum- 
 mons of the wizard, and bring to the invoking mind an unlooked- 
 for and preternatural aid. 
 
 There was something too in the disposition of my guide, which 
 gave me a confidence in him, not warranted by the occupations 
 of his life ; an easy and frank boldness, an ingenuous vanity of 
 abilities, skilfully, though dishonestly exerted, which had noth- 
 ing of the meanness and mystery of an ordinary villian, and 
 which being equally prominent with the rascality they adorned, 
 prevented the attention from dwelling upon the darker shades 
 of his character. Besides, I had so closely entwined his inter- 
 est with my own, that I felt there could be no possible ground 
 either for suspecting him of any deceit towards me, or of omit- 
 ting any art or exertion which could conduce to our mutual 
 safety or our common end. 
 
 Forcing myself to dwell solely upon the more encouraging 
 side of the enterprise I had undertaken, I continued to move 
 on with my worthy comrade, silent and in darkness, for some 
 minues longer — Jonson then halted. 
 
 " Are you quite prepared, sir ? " said he, in a whisper : " if 
 your heart fails, in Heaven's name let us turn back : the least 
 evident terror will be as much as your life is worth." 
 
 My thoughts were upon Reginald and Ellen, as I replied — 
 
 " You have told and convinced me that I may trust in you, and 
 I have no fears ; m}' present object is one as strong to me as 
 life." 
 
 " I would we had a ^//;/z," rejoined Job, musingly ; " 1 should 
 like to see your face ; but will you give me your hand, sir .-* "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 371 
 
 " I did, and Jonson held it in his own for more than a min- 
 ute. 
 
 " 'Fore Gad, sir, said he at last, " I would you were one of 
 us. You would live a brave man, and die a game one. Your 
 pulse is like iron ; and your hand does not sway — no — not so 
 much as to wave a dove's feather : it would be a burning shame 
 if harm came to so stout a heart." Job moved on a few steps. 
 " Now, sir," he whispered, " remember your flash ; do exactly 
 as I may have occasion to tell you ; and be sure to sit away 
 from the light, should we be in company." 
 
 With these words he stopped. By the touch (for it was too 
 dark to see,) I felt that he was bending down, apparently in a 
 listening attitude ; presently he tapped five times at what I sup- 
 posed was the door, though I afterwards discovered it was the 
 shutter to the window ; upon this, a faint light broke through 
 the crevices of the boards, and a low voice uttered some sound, 
 which my ear did not catch. Job replied in the same key, and 
 in words which were perfectly unintelligible to me ; the light dis- 
 appeared ; Job moved round, as if turning a corner. I heard 
 the heavy bolts and bars of a door slowly withdrawn ; and in a 
 few moments, a harsh voice said, in the thieves' dialect — 
 
 " Ruffling Job, my prince of prigs, is that you .-' are you come 
 to the ken alone, or do you carry double ? " 
 
 " Ah, Bess, my covess, strike me blind if my sees don't tout 
 your bingo muns in spite of the darkmans. Egad, you carry a 
 bene blink aloft. Come to the ken alone — no ! my blowen ; 
 did not I tell you I should bring a pater cove, to chop up the 
 whiners for Dawson ? " * 
 
 " Stubble it, you ben, you deserve to cly the jerk for your 
 patter ; come in, and be d — d to you." f 
 
 Upon this invitation, Jonson, seizing me by the arm pushed 
 me into the house, and followed. " Go for a glim, Bess, to light 
 in the black 'un with proper respect. I'll close the gig of the 
 crib." 
 
 At this order, delivered in an authoritative tone, the old 
 woman, mumbling "strange oaths " to herself, moved away; 
 when she was out of hearing. Job whispered, 
 
 " Mark, I shall leave the bolts undrawn ; the door opens with 
 a lalcli, which you press thus — do not forget the spring; it is 
 easy, but peculiar ; should you be forced to run for it, you will 
 
 ♦"Strike me blind if my eyes don't see your brandy face in spite of the nipfht 
 Come to the house alone— no ! my woman ; did I not tell you I should bring a parson-* 
 to say j>rayers for Dawson ? " 
 
 y i>r 
 Ho: 
 
 Id your tongue, fool, you deserve to be whipped for your chatter."
 
 372 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 also remember, above all, when you are out of the door, to turn 
 fo the right, and go straight forwards." 
 
 The old woman now reappeared with a light, and Jonson 
 ceased, and moved hastily towards her: I followed. The old 
 woman asked whether the door had been carefully closed, and 
 Jonson, with an oath at her doubts of such a matter, answered 
 in the affirmative. 
 
 We proceeded onwards, through a long and very narrow pas- 
 sage, till Bess opened a small door to the right, and introduced 
 us into a large room, which, to my great dismay, I found already 
 occupied by four men, who were sitting, half immersed in smoke, 
 by an oak table, with a capacious bowl of hot liquor before 
 them. At the back-ground of this room, which resembled the 
 kitchen of a public-house, was an enormous screen, of antique 
 fashion ; a low fire burnt in the grate, and beside it was one of 
 those high-backed chairs seen frequently in old houses and old 
 pictures. A clock stood in one corner, and in the opposite 
 nook was a flight of narrow stairs, which led downwards, proba- 
 bly to a cellar. On a row of shelves were various bottles of the 
 different liquors generally in request among the " flash " of the 
 gentry, together with an old-fashioned fiddle, two bridles, and 
 some strange looking tools, probably of more use to true boys 
 than to honest men. 
 
 Brimstone Bess was a woman about the middle size, but with 
 bones and sinews which would not have disgraced a prize- 
 fighcer ; a cap, that might have been cleaner, was rather thrown 
 than put on the back of her head, developing, to full advantage, 
 the few scanty locks of grizzled ebon which adorned her counte- 
 nance. Her eyes, large, black, and prominent, sparkled with a 
 fire half vivacious, half vixen. The nasal feature was broad and 
 fungous, and, as well as the whole of her capacious physiognomy, 
 blushed with the deepest scarlet : it was evident to see that 
 many a full bottle of " British compounds " had contributed to 
 the feeding of that burning and phosphoric illumination, which 
 was indeed, " the outward and visible signs of an inward and 
 spiritual grace." 
 
 The expression of the countenance was not wholly bad. 
 Amidst the deep traces of searing vice and unrestrained passion 
 — amidst all that was bold and unfeminine, and fierce and crafty, 
 there was a latent look of coarse good-humor, a twinkle of the 
 eye that bespoke a tendency to drollery, an upward curve of the 
 lip that showed, however the human creature might be debased, 
 it still cherished its grand characteristic — the propensity to 
 laughter.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 373 
 
 The garb of this Dame Leonarda was by no means of that 
 humble nature which one might have supposed. A gown of 
 crimson silk, flounced and furbelowed to the knees, was taste- 
 fully relieved by a bright yellow shawl ; and a pair of heavy 
 pendants glittered in her ears, which were of the size proper to 
 receive " the big words " they were in the habit of hearing. 
 Probably this finery had its origin in the policy of her guests, 
 who had seen enough of life to know that age, which tames all 
 other passions, never tames the passion of dress in a woman's 
 heart. 
 
 No sooner did the four revellers set their eyes upon me than 
 they all rose. 
 
 " Zounds, Bess ! " cried the tallest of them, " what cull's this ? 
 Is this a bowsing ken for every cove to shove his trunk in ? " 
 
 " What ho, my kiddy ? " cried Job, " don't be glimflashy : why 
 you'd cry beef on a blater ; * the cove is a bob cull, and a pal 
 of my own ; and moreover, is as pretty a Tyburn blossom as 
 ■ever was brought up to ride a horse foaled by an acorn." 
 
 Upon this commendatory introduction I was forthwith sur- 
 rounded, and one of the four proposed that I should be immedi- 
 ately " elected." 
 
 This motion, which was probably no gratifying ceremony, Job 
 negatived with a dictatorial air, and reminded his comrades that 
 however thev micht find it convenient to lower themselves occa- 
 sionally, yet that they were gentlemen sharpers, and not vulgar 
 cracksmen and clyfakers, and that, therefore, they ought to wel- 
 come me with the good breeding appropriate to their station. 
 
 Upon this hint, which was received with mingled laughter and 
 deference, (for Job seemed to be a man of might among these 
 Philistines,) the tallest of the set, who bore the euphonious 
 appellation of Spider-shanks, politely asked me if I would 
 " blow a cloud with him ! " and upon my assent, (for I thought 
 such an occupation would be the best excuse for siler.ce,) he 
 presented me with a pipe of tobacco, to which Dame Brimstone 
 applied a light, and I soon lent my best endeavors to darken 
 still farther the atmosphere around us. 
 
 Mr. Job Jonson then began artfully to turn the conversation 
 away from me to the elder confederates of his crew ; these 
 were all spoken of under certain singular appellations which 
 might well baffle impertinent curiosity. The name of one was 
 "the Gimlet," another, " Crack Crib," a third, "the Magician," 
 a fourth, " Cherry-colored Jowl." The tallest of the present 
 
 * " Don't be angry ! Why you'J cry bcqf on a calf — the man is a good fellow, and a 
 comrade of my own," etc.
 
 374 PELBAM; OR, 
 
 company was called (as I before said) " Spider-shanks," and 
 the shortest, " Fib Fakescrew ; " Job himself was honored by 
 the venerabile nomcn of " Guinea Pig." At last Job explained 
 the cause of my appearance ; viz., his wish to pacify Dawson's 
 conscience by dressing up one of the pals, whom the sinner 
 could not recognize, as an " autem bawler," and so obtaining 
 him the benefit of the clergy without endangering the gang by 
 his confession. This detail was received with great good 
 humor, and Job, watching his opportunity, soon after rose, and, 
 turning to me, said — 
 
 " Toddle, my bob cull — we must track up the dancers and 
 tout the sinner." * 
 
 I wanted no other hint to leave my present situation. 
 
 " The ruffian cly thee, Guinea Pig, for stashing the lash," t 
 said Spider-shanks, helping himself out of the bowl, which was 
 nearly empty. 
 
 " Stash the lush ! " % cried Mrs. Brimstone, " a}^ and toddle 
 off to Ruggins. Why, you would not be boosing till lightman's 
 in a square crib like mine, as if you were in a flash panny ! " 
 
 " That's bang up, mort ! " cried Fib. " A square crib, in- 
 deed ! ay, square as Mr. Newman's court-yard — ding-boys on 
 three sides, and the crap on the fourth ! " § 
 
 This characteristic witticism was received with great applause ; 
 and J on son, taking a candlestick from the fair fingers of the 
 exasperated Mrs. Brimstone, the hand thus conveniently re- 
 leased immediately transferred itself to Fib's cheeks, with so 
 hearty a concussion that it almost brought the rash jester to the 
 ground. Jonson and I lost not a moment in taking advantage 
 of the confusion this gentle remonstrance appeared to occasion ; 
 but instantly left the room and closed the door. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIII. 
 
 'Tis true that we are in great danger ; 
 The greater, therefore, should our courage be. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 We proceeded a short way, when we were stopped by a door 5 
 this Job opened, and a narrow staircase, lighted from above by 
 
 * " Move, my good fellow, we must go up stairs, and look at the sinner." 
 
 + " The devil take thee, for stopping the drink." 
 
 X " Stop the drink, ay, and be off to bed. You would not be drinking till day— in an 
 honest house like mine, as if you were in a disreputable place ! " 
 
 § " That's capital. A square crib (honest house) ! Ay, square as Newgate coach' 
 yard — ro^'ues on three sides, and the gallows on the fourth."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 375 
 
 a dim lamp, was before us. We ascended, and found ourselves 
 in a sort of gallery : here hung another lamp, beneath which 
 Job opened a closet. 
 
 " This is the place where Bess generally leaves the keys," 
 said he ; "we shall find them here, I hope." 
 
 So saying. Master Job entered, leaving me in the passage ; 
 but soon returned with a disappointed air. 
 
 "The old haridan has left them below," said he ; "I must 
 go down for them ; your honor will wait here till I return." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, honest Job immediately de- 
 scended, leaving me alone with my own reflections. Just opposite 
 to the closet was the' door of some apartment ; I leant accident- 
 ally against it ; it was only ajar, and gave way; the ordinary 
 consequence in such accidents is a certain precipitation from 
 the centre of gravity. I am not exempt from the general lot, 
 and accordingly entered \\\t room in a manner entirely contrary 
 to that which my natural inclination would have prompted me 
 to adopt. My ear was accosted by a faint voice, which pro^ 
 ceeded from a bed at the opposite corner : it asked, in the 
 thieves' dialect, and in the feeble accents of bodily weakness, who 
 was there ? I did not judge it necessary to make any reply 
 but was withdrawing as gently as possible, when my eye rested 
 upon a table at the foot of the bed, upon which, among two or 
 three miscellaneous articles, were deposited a brace of pistols, 
 and one of those admirable swords, made according to the mod- 
 ern military regulation, for the united purpose of cut and thrust. 
 The light which unabled me to discover the contents of tha 
 room, proceeded from a rush-light placed in the grate ; thia 
 general symptom of a valetudinarian, together with some othei 
 little odd matters (combined with the weak voice of the speaker), 
 impressed me with the idea of having intruded into the chamber 
 of some sick member of the crew. Kmbolded by this notion, 
 and by perceiving that the curtains were drawn closely around 
 the bed, so that the inmate could have optical discernment of 
 nothing that occurred without, 1 could not resist taking two 
 soft steps to the table, and quietly removing a weapon, whose 
 bright face seemed to invite me as a long-known and long-tried 
 friend. 
 
 This was not, however, done in so noiseless a manner, but 
 what the voice again addressed me, in a somewhat louder key, 
 by the appellation of " Brimstone Ikss," asking, with sundry 
 oaths, "what was the matter?" and reciuesting something to 
 drink. I need scarcely say that, as before, I made no reply, 
 but crept out of the room as gently as possible, blessing my
 
 376 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 good fortune for having thrown into my way a weapon with the 
 use of which, above all others, I was acquainted. Scarcely had 
 I regained the passage, before Jonson reappeared with the keys ; 
 I showed him my treasure (for indeed it was of no size to con- 
 ceal). 
 
 " Are you mad, sir? " said he, " or do you think that the best 
 way to avoid suspicion is to walk about with a drawn sword in 
 your hand.'' I would not have Bess see you for the best dia- 
 mond I ever borrowed^ With these words Job took the sword 
 from my reluctant hand. 
 
 " Where did you get it ? " said he. 
 
 I explained in a whisper, and Job, reopening the door I had 
 so unceremoniously entered, laid the weapon softly on a chair 
 that stood within reach. The sick man, whose senses were of 
 course rendered doubly acute by illness, once more demanded, 
 in a fretful tone, who was there ! And Job replied, in the flash 
 language, that Bess had sent him up to look for her keys, which 
 she imagined she had left there. The invalid rejoined by a 
 request to Jonson to reach him a draught, and we had to under- 
 go a further delay until his petition was complied with ; we 
 then proceeded up the passage till we came to another flight of 
 steps, which led to a door ; Job opened it, and we entered a 
 room of no common dimensions. 
 
 " This," said he, " is Bess Brimstone's sleeping apartment ; 
 whoever goes into the passage that leads not only to Dawson's 
 room but to the several other chambers occupied by such of the 
 gang as require particular care, must pass first through this 
 room. You see that bell by the bedside — I assure you it is no 
 ordinary tintinnabulum ; it communicates with every sleeping 
 apartment in the house, and is only rung in cases of great alarm, 
 when every boy must look well to himself ; there are two more 
 of this description, one in the room which we have just left, 
 another in the one occupied by Spider-shanks, who is our watch- 
 dog, and keeps his kennel below. Those steps in the common 
 room, which seem to lead to a cellar, conduct to his den. As 
 we shall have to come back through this room, you see the diffi- 
 culty of smuggling Dawson — and if the old dame rung the 
 alarm, the whole hive would be out in a moment." 
 
 After this speech, Job led me from the room by a door at the 
 opposite end, which showed us a passage similar in extent and 
 fashion to the one we had left below ; at the very extremity of 
 this was the entrance to an apartment, at which Jonson stopped. 
 
 " Here," said he, taking from his pocket a small paper book 
 and an irjk-horn ; " here, your honor, take these, you ma_y want
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAIV. 377 
 
 to note the heads of Dawson's confession ; we are now at his 
 door." Job then applied one of the keys of a tolerably sized 
 bunch to the door, and the next moment we were in Dawson's 
 apartment. 
 
 The room, which, though low and narrow, was of considerable 
 length, was in utter darkness, and the dim and flickering light 
 which Jonson held only struggled with, rather than penetrated 
 the thick gloom. About the centre of the room stood the bed, 
 and sitting upright on it, with a wan and hollow countenance, 
 bent eagerly towards us, was a meagre, attenuated figure. My 
 recollection of Dawson, whom, it will be remembered, I had only 
 seen once before, was extremely faint, but it had impressed me 
 with the idea of a middle-sized and rather athletic man, with a 
 fair and florid complexion : the creature I now saw was totally 
 the reverse of this idea. His cheeks were yellow and drawn in : 
 his hand, which was raised in the act of holding aside the cur- 
 tains, was like the talons of a famished vulture, so thin was it, so 
 long, so withered in its hue and texture. 
 
 No sooner did the advancing light allow him to see us dis- 
 tinctly, than he half sprung from the bed and cried, in that pecu- 
 'iar tone of joy which seems to throw off from the breast a suffo- 
 ;ating weight of previous terror and suspense, " Thank God, 
 thank god ! it is you at last ; and you have brought the clergy- 
 man — rGod bless you, Jonson ; you are a true friend to me." 
 
 " Cheer up, Dawson," said Job ; " I have smuggled in this 
 worthy gentleman, who, I have no doubt, will be of great com- 
 fort to you — but you must be open with him, and tell all." 
 
 "That I v.'ill — that I will," cried Dawson, with a wild and 
 vindictive expression of countenance — " if it be only to hang hi7n. 
 Here, Jonson, give me your hand, bring the light nearer — I say, 
 — ht\ the devil — the fiend — has been here to-day and threatened 
 to murder me ; and I have listened, and listened, all night, and 
 thought I heard his step along the passage, and up the stairs, 
 and at the door; but it was nothing. Job, nothing — and you are 
 come at last, good, kind, worthy Job. Oh ! 'tis so horrible to be 
 left in the the dark, and not sleep — and in this large, large room, 
 which looks like eternity at night — and one does fancy such 
 sights. Job — such horrid, horrid sights. Feel my wristband, 
 Jonson, and here at my back, you would think they had been 
 pouring water over me, but it's only the cold sweat. Oh ! 'tis a 
 fearful thing to have a bad conscience. Job; but you won't leave 
 me till daylight, now, that's a dear, good Job ! " 
 
 " For shame, Dawson," said Jonson ; " pluck up, and be a 
 man ; you are like a baby frightened by its nurse. Here's the
 
 378 PELIIAM; OR, 
 
 clergj'man come to heal your poor wounded conscience ; will 
 you hear him 7um> ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Dawson, "yes ! — but go out of the room — I can't 
 tell all if you're here ; go, Job, go ! — but you're not angry with 
 me ? — I don't mean to offend you." 
 
 " Angry ! " said Job ; " Lord help the poor fellow ! no, to be 
 sure not. I'll stay outside the door till you've done with the 
 clergyman — but make haste, for the night's almost over, and it's 
 as much as the parson's life is worth to stay here after day- 
 break." 
 
 " I 2C'i7l make haste," said the guilty man, tremulously ; " but 
 Job, where are you going — what are you doing ? leave the light ! 
 /ie?'e, Job, by the bedside." 
 
 Job did as he was desired, and quitting the room, leaving the 
 door not so firmly shut but that he might hear, if the penitent 
 spoke aloud, every particular of his confession. 
 
 I seated myself on the side of the bed, and taking the skeleton 
 hand of the unhappy man, spoke to him in the most consolatory 
 and comforting words I could summon to my assistance. He 
 seemed greatly soothed by my efforts, and at last implored me to 
 let him join me in prayer. I knelt down, and my lips readily 
 found words for that language, which, whatever be the formula 
 of our faith, seems, in all emotions which come home to our 
 hearts, the most natural method of expressing them. It is here, 
 by the bed of sickness or remorse, that the ministers of God 
 have their real power ! it is here that their ofhce is indeed a di- 
 vine and unearthly mission ; and that, in breathing balm and com- 
 fort, in healing the broken heart, in raising the crushed and de- 
 graded spirit, they are the voice and oracle of the FATHER, 
 who made us in benevolence, and will judge us in mercy ! I 
 rose, and after a short pause, Dawson, who expressed himself 
 impatient for the comfort of confession, thus began — 
 
 " I have no time, sir, to speak of the earlier part of my life. 
 I passed it upon the race-course and at the gaming-table — all 
 that was, I know, very wrong and wicked ; but I was a wild, idle 
 boy, and eager for anything like enterprise or mischief. Well, 
 sir, it is now more than three years ago since I first met with one 
 Tom Thornton ; it was at a boxing match. Tom was chosen 
 chairman, at a sort of club of the farmers and yeomen ; and be- 
 ing a lively, amusing fellow, and accustomed to the company of 
 gentlemen, was a great favorite with all of us. He was very civil 
 to me, and I was quite pleased with his notice. I did not, how- 
 ever, see much of him then, nor for more than two years after- 
 wards ; but some months ago we met again. I was in very poor
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 379 
 
 circumstances, so was he, and this made us closer friends than 
 we might otherwise have been. He lived a great deal at the 
 gambling-houses, and fancied he had discovered a certain method 
 of winning* at hazard. So, whenever he could not find a gentle- 
 man whom he could cheat with false dice, tricks at cards, etc., 
 he would go into any hell to try his infallible game. I did not, 
 however, perceive that he made a good living by it : and though 
 sometimes, either by that method or some other, he had large 
 sums of money in his possession, yet they were spent as soon as 
 acquired. The fact was, that he was not a man that could ever 
 grow rich ; he was extremely extravagant in all things — loved 
 women and drinking, and was always striving to get into the 
 society of people above him. In order to do this, he affected 
 great carelessness of money ; and if, at a race or a cock-fight, 
 any real gentlemen would go home with him, he would insist 
 upon treating them to the best of everything. 
 
 " Thus, sir, he was always poor, and at his wits' end for 
 means to supply his extravagance. He introduced me to three 
 or ionr gentlemen, zs he called them, but whom I have since 
 found to be markers, sharpers, and blacklegs; and this set soon 
 dissipated the little honesty my own habits of life had left me. 
 They never spoke of things by their right names ; and, there- 
 fore, those things never seemed so bad as they really were — to 
 swindle a gentleman did not sound a crime when it was called 
 ' macing a swell,' — nor transportation a punishment, when it 
 was termed, with a laugh, ' lagging a cove.' Thus, insensibly, 
 my ideas of right and wrong, always obscure, became perfectly 
 confused ; and the habit of treating all crimes as subjects of 
 jest in familiar conversation, soon made me regard them as 
 matters of very trifling importance. 
 
 " Well, sir, at Newmarket races, this Spring meeting, Thorn- 
 ton and I were on the look out. He had come down to stay, 
 during the races, at a house I had just inherited from my father, 
 but which was rather an expense to me than an advantage ; 
 especially as my wife, who was an innkeeper's daughter, was 
 very careless and extravagant. It so happened that we were 
 both taken in by a jockey, whom we had bribed very largel}', 
 and were losers to a very considerable amount. Among other 
 people, I lost to a Sir John Tyrrell. I expressed my vexation 
 to Thornton, who told me not to mind it, but to tell Sir John 
 that I would pay him if he came to the town ; and that he was 
 quite sure we could win enough, by his certain game at hazard, 
 to pay off my debt. He was so very urgent, that I allowed my 
 
 ♦ A very common delusion, bot]i_;»nonK sliarpcrs and their prey.
 
 38o PELHAM; OR, 
 
 self to be persuaded ; though Thornton has shice told me that 
 his only motive was to prevent Sir John's going to the Marquess 
 of Chester's (where he was invited) with my lord's party ; and 
 so to have an opportunity of accomplishing the crime he then 
 meditated. 
 
 " Accordingly, as Thornton desired, I asked Sir John Tyrrell 
 to come with me to Newmarket. He did so. I left him, joined 
 Thornton, and went to the gambling-house. Here we were 
 engaged in Thornton's sure game, when Sir John entered. I 
 went up and apologized for not paying, and said I would pay 
 him in three months. However, Sir John was very angry, and 
 treated me with such rudeness, that the whole table remarked 
 it. When he was gone, I told Thornton how hurt and indignant 
 I was at Sir John's treatment. He incensed me still more — 
 exaggerated Sir John's conduct — said that I had suffered the 
 grossest insult; and at last put me into such a passion, that I 
 said that if I was a gentleman, I would fight Sir John Tyrrell 
 across the table. 
 
 " When Thornton saw I was so moved, he took me out of 
 the room, and carried me to an inn. Here he ordered dinner, 
 and several bottles of wine. I never could bear much drink : 
 he knewTliis, and artfully plied me with wine till I scarcely knew 
 what I did or said. He then talked much of our destitute sit- 
 uation — affected to put himself out of the question — said he was 
 a single man, and could easily make shift upon a potato — but 
 that I was encumbered with a wife and child, whom I could not 
 suffer to starve. He then said, that Sir John Tyrrell had pub- 
 licly disgraced me — that I should be blown upon the course — 
 that no gentleman would bet with me again, and a great deal 
 more of the same sort. Seeing what an effect he had produced 
 upon me, he then told me that he had seen Sir John receive a 
 large sum of money, which would more than pay our debts, and 
 set us up like gentlemen, and, at last, he proposed to me to rob 
 him. Intoxicated as I was, I was somewhat startled at this 
 proposition. However, the slang terms in which Thornton 
 disguised the greatness and danger of the offence, veiy much 
 diminished both in my eyes — so at length I consented. 
 
 " We went to Sir John's inn, and learnt that he had just set 
 out : accordingly we mounted our horses and rode after him. 
 The night had already closed in. After we had got some dis- 
 tance from the main road, into a lane, which led both to my 
 house and Chester Park — for the former was on the direct way 
 to my lord's — we passed a man on horseback. I only observed 
 that he was wrapped in a cloak — but Thornton said, directly
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 381 
 
 we had passed him, ' I know that man well — he has been follow- 
 ing Tyrrell all day — and though he attempts to screen himself, 
 I have penetrated his disguise : — he is Tyrrell's mortal enemy.' 
 
 '"Should the worst come to the worst,' added Thornton 
 (words which I did not at that moment understand), ' we can 
 make him bear the blame.' 
 
 " When we got some way further, we came up to Tyrrell and 
 a gentleman whom, to our great dismay, we found that Sir 
 John had joined — the gentleman's horse had met with an acci- 
 dent, and Thornton dismounted to offer his assistance. He 
 assured the gentleman, who proved afterwards to be a Mr. 
 Pelham, that the horse was quite lame and that he would scarcely 
 be able to get it home ; and he then proposed to Sir John to 
 accompany us, and said that we would put him in the right road ; 
 this offer Sir John rejected very haughtily, and we rode on. 
 
 " ' It's all up with us,' said I ; ' since he has joined another 
 person.' 
 
 " ' Not at all,' replied Thornton ; ' for I managed to give the 
 horse a sly poke with my knife ; and if I know anything of Sir 
 John Tyrrell, he is much too impatient a spark to crawl along a 
 snail's pace with any companion, especially with this heavy 
 shower coming on.' 
 
 " But,' said I, for I now began to recover from my intoxica- 
 tion, and to be sensible of the nature of our undertaking, ' the 
 moon is up, and unless this shower conceals it Sir John will rec- 
 ognize us ; so you see, even if he leave the gentleman, it will be 
 no use, and we had better make haste home and go to bed.' 
 
 " Upon this, Thornton cursed me for a faint-hearted fellow, 
 and said that the cloud would etfectually hide the moon — or, if 
 not — he added — 'I know how to silence a prating tongue.' ^t 
 these words I was greatly alarmed, and said, that if he meditated 
 murder as well as robbery, I would have nothing farther to do 
 with it. Thornton laughed, and told me not to be a fool. While 
 we were thus debating, a heavy shower came on ; we rode hastily 
 to a large tree by the side of a pond, which, though bare and 
 withered, was the nearest shelter the country afforded, and was 
 only a very short distance from my house. I wished to go home, but 
 Thornton would not let me ; and as I was always in the habit of 
 yielding, I remained with him, though very reluctantly, under the 
 tree. 
 
 " Presently, we heard the trampling of a horse. 
 
 '*'It is he — it is he,' cried Thornton, with a savage tone of 
 exultation, ' and alone ! — He ready — we must make a rush — I 
 will be the one to bid him to deliver — you hold your tongue.*
 
 382 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 " The clouds and rain had so overcast the night, that, aUhough 
 it was vs.o'i perfectly dark, it was sufficiently obscure to screen our 
 countenances. Just as Tyrrell approched Thornton dashed for- 
 ward, and cried, in a feigned voice — ' Stand, on your peril ! ' I 
 followed, and we were now both by Sir John's side. 
 
 " He attempted to push by us — but Thornton seized him by 
 the arm — there was a stout struggle, in which as yet I had no 
 share ; at last, Tyrrell got loose from Thornton, and I seized 
 him — he set spurs to his horse, which was a very spirited and 
 strong animal — it reared upwards and very nearly brought me 
 and my horse to the ground — at that instant, Thornton struck 
 the unfortunate man a violent blow across the head with the 
 butt-end of his heavy whip — Sir John's hat had fallen before in 
 the struggle, and the blow was so stunning that it felled him upon 
 the spot. Thornton dismounted, and made me do the same — • 
 'There is no time to lose,' said he ; ' let us drag him from the 
 roadside, and rifle him.' We accordingly carried him (he was still 
 senseless) to the side of the pond before mentioned. While we 
 were searching for the money Thornton spoke of, the storm 
 ceased and the moon broke out — we were detained some mo- 
 ments by the accident of Tyrrell's having transferred his pocket- 
 book from the pocket Thornton had seen him put it in on the 
 race-ground to an inner one. 
 
 " We had just discovered and seized the pocket-book, when Sir 
 John awoke from his swoon, and his eyes opened upon Thornton, 
 who was still bending over him, and looking at the contents of 
 the book to see that all was right ; the moonlight left Tyrrell in 
 no doubt as to our persons ; and struggling hard to get up, he 
 cried, ' I know you ! I know you ! you shall hang for this.' No 
 sooner had he uttered this imprudence, than it was all over with 
 him. ' We will see that. Sir John,' said Thornton, setting his 
 knee upon Tyrrell's chest, and nailing him down. While thus 
 employed, he told me to feel in his coat-pocket for a case-knife. 
 
 " ' For God's sake,' cried Tyrrell, with a tone of agonizing ter- 
 ror which haunts me still, ' sjjare my life ! ' 
 
 " ' It is too late,' said Thornton, deliberately, and taking the 
 knife from my hands, he plunged it into Sir John's side, and as 
 the blade was too short to reach the vitals, Thornton drew it 
 backwards and forwards to widen the wound. Tyrrell was a 
 strong man, and still continued to struggle and call out for mercy 
 • — Thornton drew out the knife — Tyrrell seized it by the blade, 
 and his fingers were cut through before Thornton could snatch 
 it from his grasp ; the wretched gentleman then saw all hope 
 was over : he uttered one loud, sharp cry of despair. Thornton
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN: 383 
 
 put one hand to his mouth, and with the other gashed his throat 
 from ear to ear. 
 
 " ' You have done for him and for us now,' said I, as Thornton 
 slowly rose from the body. 'No,' replied he, ' lool:, he still 
 moves ; ' and sure enough he did, but it was in the last agony. 
 However, Thornton, to make all sure, plunged the knife again 
 into his body : the blade came in contact with a bone, and 
 snapped in two : so great was the violence of the blow, that, 
 instead of remaining in the flesh, the broken piece fell upon the 
 ground among the long fern and grass. 
 
 " While we were employed in searching for it, Thornton, whose 
 ears were much sharper than mine, caught the sound of a horse. 
 * Mount ! Mount ! ' he cried, ' and let us be off ! ' We sprung 
 upon our horses, and rode away as fast as we could. I vv^ished 
 to go home, as it was so near at hand ; but Thornton insisted on 
 making to an old shed, about a quater of a mile across the fields : 
 thither, therefore, we went." 
 
 " Stop," said I : "what did Thornton do with the remaining 
 part of the case-knife ? Did he throw it away, or carry it with 
 him ? " 
 
 " He took it with him," answered Dawson, " for his name was 
 engraved on a silver plate on the handle ; and he was therefore 
 afraid of throwing it into the pond, as I advised, lest at any time 
 it should be discovered. Close by the shed there is a plantation 
 of young firs of some extent : Thornton and I entered, and he 
 dug a hole with the broken blade of the knife, and buried it, 
 covering up the hole again with the earth.' 
 
 " Describe the place," said I. Dawson paused, and seemed 
 to recollect. I was on the very tenterhooks of suspense, for I 
 saw w^ith one glance all the importance of his reply. 
 
 After some moments, he shook his head : " I cantwt describe 
 the place," said he, " for the wood is so thick ; yet I know the 
 exact spot so well, that, were I in any part of the plantation, I 
 could point it out immediately." 
 
 I told him to pause again, and recollect himself; and at all 
 events, to try to indicate the place. However, his account was 
 so confused' and perplexed, ihat I was forced to give up the 
 point in despair, and he continued. 
 
 " After we had done this, Thornton told me to hold the horses, 
 and said he would go alone, to spy whether we might return ; 
 accordingly he did so, and brought back word, in about half an 
 hour, that he had crept cautiously along till in sight of the place, 
 and then, throwing himself down on his face by the ridge of a 
 bank, had observed a man (who he was sure was the person
 
 384 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 with a cloak we had passed, and who, he said, was Sir Reginald 
 Glanville) mount his horse on the very spot of the murder, and 
 ride off, while another person (Mr. Pelham) appeared, and 
 also discovered the fatal place. 
 
 " ' There is no doubt now,' said he, ' that we shall have the 
 hue-and-cry upon us. However, if you are staunch and stout- 
 hearted, no possible danger can come to us ; for you may leave 
 me alone to throw the whole guilt upon Sir Reginald Glanville.' 
 
 " We then mounted, and rode home. We stole up stairs by 
 the back way. Thornton's linen and hands were stained with 
 blood. The former he took off, locked up carefully, and burnt 
 the first opportunity : the latter he washed ; and that the water 
 might not lead to detection, drank it. We then appeared as if 
 nothing had occurred, and learnt that Mr. Pelham had been to 
 the house ; but as, very fortunately, our out-buildings had been 
 lately robbed by some idle people, my wife and servants had 
 refused to admit him. I was thrown into great agitation, and 
 was extremely frightened. However, as Mr. Pelham had left a 
 message that we were to go to the pond, Thornton insisted upon 
 our repairing there to avoid suspicion." 
 
 Dawson then proceeded to say that, on their return, as he 
 was still exceedingly nervous, Thornton insisted on his going to 
 bed. When our party from Lord Chester's came to the house, 
 Thornton went into Dawson's room, and made him swallow a 
 large tumbler of brandy ; * this intoxicated him so as to make 
 him less sensible to his dangerous situation. Afterwards, when 
 the picture was found, which circumstance Thornton communi- 
 cated to him, along with that of the threatening letter sent by 
 Glanville to the deceased, which was discovered in Tyrrell's 
 pocket-book, Dawson recovered courage, and justice being en- 
 tirely thrown on a wrong scent, he managed to pass his examin- 
 ation without suspicion. He then went to town with Thornton, 
 and constantly attended " the club " to which Jonson had before 
 introduced him ; at first, among his new comrades, and while 
 the novel flush of the money he had so fearfully acquired lasted, 
 he partially succeeded in stifling his remorse. But the success 
 of crime is too contrary to nature to continue long; his poor 
 wife, whom, in spite of her extravagant and his dissolute habits, 
 he seemed really to love, fell ill and died ; on her death-bed she 
 revealed the suspicions she had formed of his crime, and said 
 that those suspicions had preyed upon and finally destroyed her 
 health : this awoke him from the guilty torpor of his conscience. 
 His share of the money, too, the greater part of which Thorn- 
 
 * A common practice with thieves who fear the weak nerves of their accomplices.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 3S5 
 
 ton had bullied out of him, was gone. He fell, as Jo'j h^d said, 
 into despondency and gloom, and often spoke to Thornton so 
 forcibly of his remorse, and so earnestly of his gnawing and 
 restless desire to appease his mind by surrendering himself to 
 justice, that the fears of that \allain grew at length so thoroughly 
 alarmed, as to procure his removal to his present abode. 
 
 It was here that his real punishment commenced : closely 
 confined to his apartment, at the remotest corner of the house, 
 his solitude was never broken but by the short and hurried visits 
 of his female gaoler, and (worse even than loneliness) the occa^ 
 sional invasions of Thornton. There appeared to be in that 
 abandoned wretch, what, for the honor of human nature, is but 
 rarely found, viz., a love of sin, not for its objects, but itself. 
 With a malignity, doubly fiendish from its inutility, he forbade 
 Dawson the only indulgence he craved — a light during the dark 
 hours ; and not only insulted him for his cowardice, but even 
 added to his terrors by threats of effectually silencing them. 
 
 These fears had so wildly worked upon the man's mind, that 
 prison itself appeared to him an elysium to the hell he endured : 
 and when his confession was ended, and I said, " If you can be 
 freed from this place, would you repeat before a magistrate all 
 that you have now told me .-' " he started up in delight at the 
 very thought. In truth, besides his remorse, and that inward 
 and impelling voice which, in all the annals of murder, seems 
 to urge the criminal onwards to the last expiation of his guilt — 
 besides these, there mingled in his mind a sentiment of bitter, 
 yet cowardly, vengeance, against his inhuman accomplice ; and 
 perhaps he found consolation for his own fate, in the hope of 
 wreaking upon Thornton's head somewhat of the tortures that 
 ruffian had inliicted upon him. 
 
 I had taken down in my book the heads of the confession, 
 and I now hastened to Jonson, who, waiting without the door, 
 had (as I had anticipated) heard all. 
 
 " You see," said I, " that, however satisfactory this recital 
 has been, it contains no secondary or innate proofs to confirm 
 it ; the only evidence with which it could furnish us, v/ould be 
 the remnant of the broken knife, engraved with Thornton's 
 name ; but you have heard from Dawson's account, how impos- 
 sible it would be in an extensive wood, for any one to discover 
 the spot but himself. You will agree with me, therefore, that 
 we must not leave this house without Dawson." 
 
 Job changed color slightly. 
 
 " I see as clearly as you do," said he, " that it will be neces- 
 sary for my annuity, and your friend's full acquittal, to procure
 
 386 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 Dawson's personal evidence, but it is late now ; the men may 
 be still drinking below; Bess may be still awake and stirring ; 
 even if she sleeps, how could we pass her room without disturb- 
 ing her ? I own that I do not see a chance of effecting his 
 escape to-night, without incurring the most probable peril of 
 having our throats cut. Leave it, therefore, to me to procure 
 his release as soon as possible — probably to-morrow, and let us 
 now quietly retire, content with what we have yet got." 
 
 Hitherto I had implicitly obeyed Job : it was now my turn (o 
 command. " Look you," said I, calmly but sternly, " I have 
 come into this house under your guidance, solely to procure the 
 evidence of that man ; the evidence he has, as yet, given, may 
 not be worth a straw ; and, since I have ventured among the knives 
 of your associates, it shall be for some purpose. I tell you 
 fairly that, whether you befriend or betray me, I will either 
 leave these walls with Dawson or remain in them a corpse." 
 
 "You are a bold blade, sir," said Jonson, who seemed 
 rather to respect than resent the determination of my tone, 
 " and we will see what can be done ; wait here, your honor, while 
 I go down to see if the boys are gone to bed, and the coast is 
 clear." 
 
 Job descended, and I re-entered Dawson's room. When 1 
 told him that we were resolved, if possible, to effect his escape, 
 nothing could exceed his transport and gratitude ; this was, in- 
 deed, expressed in so mean and servile a mannner, mixed with 
 so many petty threats of vengeance against Thornton, that I 
 could scarcely conceal my disgust. 
 
 Jonson returned, and beckoned me out of the room. 
 
 " They are all in bed, sir," said he — " Bess as well as the 
 rest ; indeed, the old girl has lushed so well at the bingo, that 
 she sleeps as if her next morrow was the day of judgment. I 
 have, also, seen that the street-door is still unbarred, so that, 
 upon the whole, we have, perhaps, as good a chance to-night as 
 we may ever have again. Ail my fear is about that cowardly 
 lubber. I have left both Bess's doors wide open, so we have 
 nothing to do but to creep through ; as for me, I am an old file, 
 and could steal my way through a sick man's room, like a sun- 
 beam through a key-hole." 
 
 " Well," said I, in the same strain, " I am no elephant, and 
 my dancing-master used to tell me I might tread on a butterfly's 
 wing without brushing off a tint : (poor Coulon ! he little thought 
 of the use his lessons would be to me hereafter !) — so let us be 
 quick. Master Job." 
 
 " Stop," said Jonson ; " I have yet a ceremony to perform
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 387 
 
 with our caged bird. I must put a fresh gag on his mouth ; for 
 though, if he escapes, I must leave England, perhaps for ever, 
 for fear of the jolly boys, and, therefore, care not what he blabs 
 about me ; yet there are a few fine fellows amongst the club, 
 whom I would not have hurt for the Indies; so I shall make 
 Master Dawson take our last oath — the Devil himself would not 
 break that, I think ! Your honor will stay outside the door, for 
 we can have no witness while it is administered." 
 
 Job then entered ; I stood without ; — in a few minutes I 
 heard Dawson's voice in the accents of supplication. Soon af- 
 ter Job returned. " The craven dog won't take the oath," said 
 he, " and may my right hand rot above ground before it shall 
 turn key for him unless he does." But when Da\vson saw that 
 Job had left the room and withdrawn the light, the conscience- 
 stricken coward came to the door, and implored Job to return. 
 " Will you swear, then ? " said Jonson ; " I will, I will," was 
 the answer. 
 
 Job then re-entered — minutes passed away — Job re-appeared, 
 and Dawson was dressed, and clinging hold of him — "All's 
 right ! " said he to me, with a satisfied air. 
 
 The oath had been taken — what it was I know not — hut it 
 was never broken* 
 
 Dawson and Job went first — I followed — we passed the pas- 
 sage, and came to the chamber of the sleeping Mrs. Brimstone. 
 Job bent eagerly forward to listen, before he entered : he took 
 hold of Dawson's arm, and beckoning to me to follow, stole, 
 with a step that the blind mole would not have heard, across the 
 room. Carefully did the practised thief veil the candle he car- 
 ried with his hand, as he now began to pass by the bed. I saw 
 that Dawson trembled like a leaf, and the palpitation of his 
 limbs made his step audible and heavy. Just as they had half- 
 way passed the bed, I turned my look ort Brimstone Bess, and 
 observed, with a shuddering thrill, her eyes slowly open, and fix 
 upon the forms of my companions. Dawson's gaze had been 
 bent in the same direction, and when he met the full, glassy 
 stare of the beldame's eyes, he uttered a faint scream. This 
 completed our danger : had it not been for that exclamation, 
 Bess might, in the uncertain vision of drowsiness, have passed 
 over the third person, and fancied it was only myself and John- 
 son, in our way from Dawson's apartment ; but no sooner had 
 her ear caught the sound, then she started up, and sat erect on 
 her bed, gazing at us in mingled wrath and astonishment. 
 
 * Those conversant with the annals of Newgate well know how religiously the oaths 
 of these fearful Freemasonrics are kept.
 
 3S8 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 That was a fearful moment — we stood riveted to the spot! 
 "Oh, my kiddies," cried Bess, at last finding speech, "you are 
 in Queer-street, I trow ! Plant your stumps, Master Guinea Pig ; 
 you are going to stall off the Daw's baby in prime twig, eh ? 
 But Bess stags you, my cove ! Bess stags you."* 
 
 Jonson looked irresolute for one instant, but the next he 
 had decided. " Run, run," cried he, " for your lives ; " and he 
 and Dawson (to whom fear did indeed lend wings) were out of 
 the room in an instant. I lost no time in following their exam- 
 ple ; but the vigilant and incensed hag was too quick for me ; 
 she pulled violently the bell, on which she had already placed 
 her hand: the alarm rang like an echo in a cavern-; below — 
 around — far — near — from wall to wall — from chamber to cham- 
 ber, the sound seemed multiplied and repeated ! and in the 
 same breathing point of time she sprang from her bed and 
 seized me, just as I had reached the door. 
 
 " On, on, on," cried Jonson's voice to Dawson, as they had 
 already gained the passage, and left the whole room, and the 
 staircase beyond, in utter darkness. 
 
 With a firm, muscular, nervous gripe, which almost showed a 
 masculine strength, the hag clung to my throat and breast ; be- 
 hind, among some of the numerous rooms in the passage we 
 had left, I heard sounds which told too plainly how rapidly the 
 alarm had spread. A door opened — steps approached — my fate 
 seemed fixed ; but despair gave me energy : it was no time for 
 the ceremonials due to the beau sexe. I dashed Bess to the 
 ground, tore myself from her relaxing grasp, and fled down the 
 steps with all the precipitation the darkness would allow. I 
 gained the passage, at the far end of which hung the lamp, now 
 weak and waning in its socket, which, it will be remembered, 
 burnt close by the sick man's chamber that I had so unintention- 
 ally entered. A thought flashed upon my mind, and lent me 
 new nerves and fresh speed ; I flew along the passage, guided 
 by the dying light. The staircase I had left shook with the 
 footsteps of my pursuers. I was at the door of the sick thief — 
 I burst it open — seized the sword as it lay within reach on the 
 chair, where Jonson had placed it and feeling, at the touch of 
 the familiar weapon, as if the might of ten men had been trans- 
 ferred to my single arm, I bounded down the stairs before me — 
 passed the door at the bottom, which Dawson had fortunately 
 left open — flung it back almost upon the face of my advancing 
 enemies, and found myself in the long passage which led to the 
 
 * " Halt,— Master Guinea Pif,', you arc going to steal Dawson away, eh ? But Bess 
 sees you, my man, Bess sees you ! "
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 389 
 
 Street-door, in safety, but in the thickest darkness. A light 
 flashed from a door to the left ; the door was that of the 
 "Common room" which we had first entered; it opened, and 
 Spider-shanks, with one of his comrades, looked forth, the 
 former holding a light. I darted by them, and, guided by 
 their lamp tied along the passage, and reached the door. Im- 
 agine my dismay — when, either through accident, or by the de- 
 sire of my fugitive companions to impede pursuit, I found it 
 unexpectedly closed ! 
 
 The two villains had now come up to me ; close at their 
 heels were two more, probably my pursuers from the upper apart- 
 ments. Providentially the passage was, (as I before said) extreme- 
 ly narrow, and as long as no tire-arms were used, nor a general 
 rush resorted to, I had little doubt of being able to keep the 
 ruffians at bay, until I had hit upon the method of springing the 
 latch, and so winning my escape from the house. 
 
 While my left hand was employed in feeling the latch, I made 
 such good use of my right, as to keep my antagonists at a safe 
 distance. The one who was nearest to me was Fib Fakescrew ; 
 he was armed with a weapon exactly similar to my own. The 
 whole passage rung with oaths and threats. " Crash the cull — 
 down with him — down with him before he dubs the jigger. Tip 
 him the degan. Fib, fake him through and through ; if he pikes, 
 we shall all be scragged."* 
 
 Hitherto, in the confusion, I had not been able to recall Job's 
 instructions in opening the latch ; at last I remembered, and 
 pressed the screw — the latch rose — I opened the door, but not 
 wide enough to escape through the aperture. The rufhans saw 
 
 my escape at hand. " Rush the b cove ! rush him ! " cried 
 
 the loud voice of one behind ; and, at the word. Fib was thrown 
 forwards upon the extended edge of my blade ; scarcely with an 
 effort of my own arm the sword entered his bosom, and he fell 
 at my feet bathed in blood ; the motion which the men thought 
 woulcl prove my destruction, became my salvation; staggered 
 by the fall of their companion, they gave way : I seized advan- 
 tage of the momentary confusion, threw open the door, and, 
 mindful of Job's admo'nition, turned to the right, and fled on- 
 wards with a rapidity which baffled and mocked pursuit. 
 
 * " Kill the fellow, down with him before he opens the door. Stab him through and 
 through ; if he gets off we shall all be hanged."
 
 390 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 Ille viam secat ad naves sociosque revisit. — Virgil. 
 
 The day had already dawned, but all was still and silent ; my 
 footsteps smote the solitary pavement with a strange and un- 
 answered sound. Nevertheless, though all pursuit had long 
 ceased, I still continued to run on mechanically, till, faint and 
 breathless, I was forced to pause. I looked round, but could 
 recognize nothing familiar in the narrow and filthy streets ; 
 even the names of them were to me like an unknown language, 
 after a brief rest I renewed my wanderings, and at length came 
 to an alley called River Lane ; the name did not deceive me, 
 but brought me, after a short walk, to the Thames ; there, to my 
 inexpressible joy, I discovered a solitary boatman, and trans- 
 ported myself forthwith to the Whitehall-stairs, 
 
 Never, I ween, did gay gallant, in the decaying part of the 
 season, arrive at those stairs for the sweet purpose of accom- 
 panying his own mistress, or another's wife, to green Richmond 
 or sunny Hampton, with more eager and animated delight than 
 I felt when rejecting the arm of the rough boatman, and leaping 
 on the well-known stones. I hastened to that stand of " jarvies " 
 which has often been the hope and shelter of belated member 
 of St. Stephen's, or bewetted fugitive from the Opera — startled 
 a sleeping coachman — flung myself into his vehicle, — and de- 
 scended at Mivart's. 
 
 The drowsy porter surveyed, and told me to be gone ; I had 
 forgotten, till then, my strange attire. " Pooh, my friend," said I, 
 "may not Mr. Pelham go to a masquerade as well as his bet- 
 ters ? " My voice and words undeceived my Cerebus, and I 
 was admitted ; I hastened to bed, and no sooner had I laid my 
 head on my pillow, than I fell fast asleep. It must be confessed, 
 that I had deserved " tired Nature's sweet restorer." 
 
 I had not been above a couple of hours in the land of dreams, 
 when I was awakened by some one grasping my arm : the 
 events of the past night were so fresh in my memory, that I 
 sprung up, as if the knife was at my throat — my eyes opened 
 upon the peaceful countenance of Mr. Job Jonson. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, sir, you are safe ! I had but a very faint 
 hope of finding you here when I came." 
 
 "Why," said I, rubbing my eyes, "it is very true that I am 
 safe, honest Job : but, I believe, I have few thanks to givejw^ 
 for a circumstance so peculiarly agreeable to myself. It would
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 391 
 
 have saved me much trouble, and your worthy friend, Mr. Fib 
 Fakescrew, some pain, if you had left the door open — instead 
 of shutting me up with your dub, as you are pleased to call 
 it!" 
 
 "Very true, sir," said Job, "and I am extremely sorry at the 
 accident ; it was Dawson who shut the door, through utter un- 
 consciousness, though I told him especially not to do it — the 
 poor dog did not know whether he was on his head or his 
 heels." 
 
 " You have got him safe," said I, quickly. 
 
 " Ay, trust me for that, your honor. I have locked him up at 
 home while I came here to look for you." 
 
 " We will lose no time in transferring him to safer custody," 
 said I, leaping out of bed ; " but be off to Street directly." 
 
 " Slow and sure, sir," answered Jonson. " It is for you to do 
 whatever you please, but my part of the business is over. I 
 shall sleep at Dover to-night, and breakfast at Calais to-morrow. 
 Perhaps it will not be very inconvenient to your honor to furnish 
 me with my first quarter's annuity in advance, and to see that 
 the rest is duly paid into Lafitte's, at Paris, for the use of 
 Captain de Courcy. Where I shall live hereafter is at present 
 uncertain ; but I dare say there will be few corners except old 
 England and tieiv England in which I shall not make merry on 
 your honor's bounty." 
 
 " Pooh ! my good fellow," rejoined I, " never desert a country 
 to which your talents do so much credit ; stay here, and reform 
 on your annuity. If ever I can accomplish my own wishes, I 
 will consult yours still farther; for I shall always think of your 
 services with gratitude, — though you did shut the door in my 
 face." 
 
 "No, sir," replied Job — "life is a blessing I would fain enjoy 
 a few years longer ; and, at present, my sojourn in England 
 would put it wofully in danger of '•dub law.^ Besides, I begin 
 to think that a good character is a very agreeable thing, when 
 not too troublesome : and, as I have none left in England, I 
 may as well make the experiment abroad. If your honor will 
 call at the magistrate's, and take a warrant and an ofifxer, for 
 the purpose of ridding me of my charge, at the very Instant I 
 see my responsibility at an end, I will have the honor of bid- 
 ding you adieu." 
 
 " \Vell, as you please," said I. — " Curse your scoundrel's 
 cosmetics ! How the deuce am I ever to regain my natural com- 
 plexion ! Look ye, sirrah ! you have painted me with a long 
 wrinkle on the left side of my mouth, big enough to engulf al/
 
 392 PELHAM; OK, 
 
 the beauty I ever had. Why, water seems to have no effect 
 upon it ! " 
 
 " To be sure not, sir," said Job, cahnly — " I should be but a 
 poor dauber, if my paints washed off with a wet sponge." 
 
 " Grant me patience ! " cried I, in a real panic : " how in the 
 name of Heaven, are they to wash off ! Am I, before I have 
 reached my twenty-third year, to look like a methodist parson 
 on the wrong side of forty, you rascal ! " 
 
 " The latter question, your honor can best answer," returned 
 Job. " With regard to the former, I have an unguent here, if 
 yon will suffer me to apply it, which will remove all other colors 
 than those which nature has bestowed upon you." 
 
 W^ith that. Job produced a small box; and, after a brief 
 submission to his skill, I had the ineffable joy of beholding ray- 
 -self restored to my original state. Nevertheless, my delight 
 was somewhat checked by the loss of my curls ; I thanked 
 Heaven, however, that the damage had been sustained after 
 Ellen's acceptation of my addresses. A lover confided to one, 
 should not be too destructive, for fear of the consequences to the 
 remainder of the female world : — compassion is ever due to the 
 fair sex. 
 
 My toilet being concluded, Jonson and I repaired to the 
 magistrate's. He waited at the corner of the street, while I 
 entered the house — 
 
 " 'Twere vain to tell what shook the h6ly Man, 
 Who looked, not lovingly, at that divan." 
 
 Having summoned to my aid the redoubted Mr. of mul- 
 berry-cheeked recollection, we entered a hackney-coach, and 
 drove to Jonson's lodgings. Job mounting guard on the box. 
 
 " I think, sir," said Mr. , looking up at the man of two 
 
 virtues, " that I have had the pleasure of seeing that gentleman 
 before." 
 
 " Very likely," said I, " he is a young man greatly about 
 town," 
 
 When we had safely lodged Dawson (who seemed more col- 
 lected, and even courageous, than I had expected) in the coach. 
 Job beckoned me into a little parlor. I signed him a draft on 
 my bankers for one hundred pounds — though at that time it 
 was like letting the last drop from my veins — and faithfully 
 promised, should Dawson's evidence procure the desired end 
 (of which, indeed, there was now no doubt,) that the annuity 
 should be regularly paid, as he desired. We then took an af- 
 fectionate farewell of each other.
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 393 
 
 " Adieu, sir ! " said Job, " I depart into a new world — that of 
 honest men ! " 
 
 " If so," said I, " adieu indeed ! — for on this earth we shall 
 never meet again ! " 
 
 We returned to Street. As I was descending from the 
 
 coach, a female, wrapped from head to foot in a cloak, came 
 eagerly up to me, and seized me by the arm. " For God's sake," 
 said she, in a low, hurried voice, " come aside, and speak to me 
 for a single moment." Consigning Dawson to the sole charge 
 of the officer, I did as I was desired. \\'hen we had got some 
 paces down the street, the female stopped. Though she held 
 her veil closely drawn over her face, her voice and air were not 
 to be mistaken : I knew at once. "Glanville," said she, with 
 great agitation, " Sir Reginald Glanville ; tell me, is he in real 
 danger ? " She stopped short — she could say no more. 
 
 " I trust not ! " said I, appearing not to recognize the speaker. 
 
 " I trust not ! " she repeated ; " is that all > " And then the 
 passionate feelings of her sex overcoming every other considera- 
 tion, she seized me by the hand, and said — " Oh, Mr. Pelham, 
 for mercy's sake, tell me, is he in the power of that villain 
 Thornton? You need disguise nothing from me: I know all 
 the fatal history," 
 
 " Compose yourself, dear, dear Lady Roseville," said I, 
 soothingly ; " for it is in vain any longer to affect not to know 
 you. Glanville is safe ; I have brought with me a witness whose 
 testimony musf release him." 
 
 " God bless you, God bless you ! " said Lady Roseville, and 
 she burst into tears ; but she dried them directly, and recov- 
 ering some portion of that dignity which never long forsakes 
 a woman of virtuous and educated mind, she resumed, proudly, 
 yet bitterl)' — " It is no ordinary motive, no motive which you 
 might reasonably impute to me, that has brought me here. Sir 
 Reginald Glanville can never be anything more to me than a 
 friend — but, of all friends, the most known and valued. I 
 learned from his servant of his disappearance ; and my acquaint- 
 ance with his secret history enabled me to account for it in the 
 most fearful manner. In short, I — I — but explanations are idle 
 now ; you will never say that you have seen me here, Mr. Pel- 
 ham : you will endeavor even to forget it — farewell." 
 
 Lady Roseville, then drawing her cloak closely round her, 
 left me with a fleet and light step, and, turning the corner of 
 the street, disappeared. 
 
 I returned to my charge : I demanded an immediate inter- 
 view with the magistrate. " I have come," said I, " to redeem
 
 394 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 my pledge, and procure the acquittal of the innocent." I then 
 briefly related my adventures, only concealing (according to my 
 promise) all description of my helpmate. Job ; and prepared the 
 worthy magistrate for the confession and testimony of Dawson. 
 That unhappy man had just concluded his narration, when an 
 officer entered, and whispered the magistrate that Thornton was 
 in waiting. 
 
 " Admit him," said Mr. , aloud. Thornton entered with 
 
 his usual easy and swaggering air of effrontery : but no sooner 
 did he set his eyes upon Dawson, than a deadly and withering 
 change passed over his countenance. Dawson, could not bridle 
 thecowardly petulance of his spite, " They know all, Thornton ! " 
 said he, with a look of triumph. The villain turned slowly from 
 him to us, muttering something we could not hear. He saw 
 upon my face, upon the magistrate's, that his doom was sealed : 
 his desperation gave him presence of mind, and he made a 
 sudden rush to the door ; — the officers in waiting seized him. 
 Why should I detail the rest of the scene ? He was that day 
 fully committed for trial, and Sir Reginald Glanville honorably 
 released, and unhesitatingly acquitted. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. 
 
 Uii hymen qu'on souhaite 
 Entre les gens comme nous est chose bientot-faite, 
 Je te veux ; me veux-tu de meme ? — Moliere. 
 
 So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The main interest of my adventures — if, indeed, I may flatter 
 myself that they ever contained any — is now over ; the mystery is 
 explained, the innocent acquitted, and the guilty condemned. 
 Moreover, all obstacles between the marriage of the unworthy 
 hero with the peerless heroine being removed, it would be but 
 an idle prolixity to linger over the preliminary details of an 
 orthodox and customary courtship. Nor is it for me to dilate 
 upon the exaggerated expressions of gratitude, in which the affec- 
 tionate heart" of Glanville found vent for my fortunate exertions 
 on his behalf. He was not willing that any praise to which I 
 might be entitled for them, should be lost. He narrated to 
 Lacly Glanville and Ellen my adventures with the comrades of 
 the worthy Job ; from the lips of the mother, and the eyes of
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 395 
 
 the dear sister, came my sweetest addition to the good fortune 
 which had made me the instrument of Glanville's safety and 
 acquittal. I was not condemned to a long protraction of that 
 time, which, if it be justly termed the happiest of our lives, we, 
 (viz., all true lovers,) through that perversity common to human 
 nature, most ardently wish to terminate. 
 
 On that day month which saw Glanville's release, my bridals 
 were appointed. Reginald was even more eager than myself in 
 pressing for an early day ; firmly persuaded that his end was 
 rapidly approaching, his most prevailing desire was to witness 
 our union. This wish, and the interest he took in our happiness, 
 gave him an energy and animation which impressed us with the 
 deepest hopes for his ultimate recovery ; and the fatal disease 
 to which he was a prey, nursed the fondness of our hearts by 
 the bloom of cheek, and brightness of eye, with which it veiled 
 its desolating and gathering progress. 
 
 From the eventful day on which I had seen Lady Roseville, 
 
 in Street, we had not met. ■ She had shut herself up in her 
 
 splendid home, and the newspapers teemed with regret at the 
 reported illness and certain seclusion of one whose fetes and 
 gayeties had furnished them with their brightest pages. The 
 only one admitted to her was Ellen. To her, she had for some 
 time made no secret of her attachment — and from her the daily 
 news of Sir Reginald's health was ascertained. Several times, 
 when at a late hour I left Glanville's apartments, I passed the 
 figure of a woman, closely muffled, and apparently watching be- 
 fore his windows — which, owing to the advance of summer, were 
 never closed — to catch, perhaps, a view of his room, or a pas- 
 sing glimpse of his emaciated and fading figure. If that sad and 
 lonely vigil was kept by her whom I suspected, deep, indeed, 
 and mighty was the love, which could so humble the heart, and 
 possess the spirit, of the haughty and high-born Countess of 
 Roseville ! 
 
 I turn to a very different personage in this ve'rifable histoire. 
 My father and mother were absent at Lady H.'s when my mar- 
 riage was fixed ; to both of them I wrote for their approbation 
 of my choice. From Lady Frances I received the answer which 
 I subjoin : — 
 
 " Mv Dearest Son, 
 
 " Your father desires me to add his congratulations to mine, 
 upon the election you have made. I shall hasten to London, to 
 be i^resent at the ceremony. Although you must not be offend- 
 ed with me, if I say, that with your person, accomplishments,
 
 396 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 birth, and (above all) high toji, you might have chosen among the 
 loftiest and wealthiest families in the country; yet I am by no 
 means displeased or disappointed with your future wife. To say 
 nothing of the antiquity of her name (the Glanvilles intermarried 
 with the Pelhams, in the reign of Henry IL), it is a great step 
 to future distinction to marry a beauty, especially one so cele- 
 brated as Miss Glanville — perhaps it is among the surest ways 
 to the cabinet. The forty thousand pounds which you say Miss 
 Glanville is to receive, make, to be sure, but a slender income ; 
 though, when added to your own fortune, that sum in ready money 
 would have been a great addition to the Glenmorris propert};. 
 if your uncle — I have no patience with him — had not married 
 again. 
 
 " However, you will lose no time as getting into the House — 
 at all events the capital will insure your return for a borough, 
 and maintain you comfortably till you are in the administratidn ; 
 when of course it matters very little what your fortune may be 
 — tradesmen will be too happy to have your name in their books ; 
 be sure, therefore, that the money is not tied up. Miss Glan- 
 ville must see that her own interest, as well as yours, is concerned in 
 your having the unfettered disposal of a fortune which, if restrict- 
 ed, you would find it impossible to live upon. Pray, how is Sir 
 Reginald Glanville ? Is his cough as bad as ever ? By the by, 
 how is his property entailed ? 
 
 " Will you order Stonor to have the house ready for us on 
 Friday, when I shall return home in tmie for dinner ? Let me 
 again congratulate you, most sincerely, on your choice. I alwavs 
 thought you had more common sense as well as genius, than any 
 young man I ever knew : you have shown it in this important 
 step. Domestic happiness, my dearest Henry, ought to be pecu- 
 Uarly sought for by every Englishman, however elevated his sta- 
 tion ; and when I reflect upon Miss Glanville's qualifications, 
 and her celebrity as a beauty, I have no doubt of your possess- 
 ing the felicity you deserve. But be sure that the fortune is not 
 settled away from you ; poor Sir Reginald is not (I believe) at all 
 covetous or worldly, and will not, therefore, insist upon the 
 point. 
 
 " God bless you, and grant you every happiness. 
 " Ever, my dear Henry, 
 
 *' Your very affectionate Mother, 
 
 " F. Pelham." 
 
 " P.S. — I think it will be better to give out that Miss Glan- 
 ville has eighty thousand pounds. Be sure, therefore, that yow 
 do not contradict me."
 
 ADVENTURES OF A gentleman: 397 
 
 The days, the weeks flew away. Ah, happy days ! yet I do not 
 regret while I recall vou ! He that loves much fears even in his 
 best-founded hopes. What were the anxious longings for a trea- 
 sure — in my view only, not in my possession — to the deep joy 
 of finding it forever my own. 
 
 The day arrived — I was yet at my toilet, and Bedos in the 
 greatest confusion ; — (poor fellow, he was as happy as myself !) 
 when a letter was brought me, stamped with the foreign post 
 mark. It was from the exemplary Job Jonson, and though I 
 did not even open it on that day, yet it shall be more favored by 
 the reader — viz,, if he will not pass over, without reading, the 
 following effusion : — 
 
 "Rue des Moulins, No. — , Paris. 
 " Honored Sir, 
 
 " I arrived in Paris safely, and reading in the English papers 
 the full success of our enterprise, as well as in the Morning Post 
 of the — ih, your approaching marriage with Miss Glanville, I 
 cannot refain from the liberty of congratulating you upon both, 
 as well as of reminding you of the exact day on which the first 
 
 quarter of my annuity will be due : — it is the of ; for I 
 
 presume your honor kindly made me a present of the draft for 
 one hundred pounds, in order to pay my travelling expenses. 
 
 " I find that the boys are greatly incensed against me ; but as 
 Dawson was too much bound by his oath to betray a tittle against 
 them, I trust I shall ultimately pacify the club, and return to 
 England. A true patriot, sir, never loves to leave. his native 
 country. Even were I compelled to visit Van Diemen's Land, 
 the ties of birth-place would be so strong as to induce me to 
 seize the first opportunity of returning ! lamnot, your honor, very 
 fond of the French — they are an idle, frivolous, penurious, poor 
 nation. Only think, sir, the other day I saw a gentleman of the 
 most noble air secrete something at a cafe, which I could not 
 clearly discern : as he wrapped it carefully in paper, before he 
 placed it in his pocket, I judged that it was a silver cream-ewer 
 at least ; accordingly, I followed him out, and from pure curios- 
 ity — I do assure your honor, it was from no other motive— I 
 transferred this purloined treasure to my own pocket. You will im- 
 agine, sir, the interest with which I hastened to a lonely spot in 
 the Tuileries, and carefully taking out the little packet, unfolded 
 paper by paper, till I came to — yes, sir, till I c.ime \o— five In nips 
 of sugar ! (Jh, the French are a mean i;eople — a very mean peo- 
 ple — I hope I shall soon be able to return to England. Mean- 
 while, I am going into Holland, to see how those rich burghers 
 spend their time and their money. I suppose poor Dawson, as
 
 39S PELIIAM; OR, 
 
 well as the rascal Thornton, will be hung before you receive 
 this — they deserve it richly — it is such fellows who disgrace the 
 profession. He is but a very poor bungler who is forced to 
 cut throats as well as pockets. And now, your honor, wishing 
 you all happiness with your lady, 
 '' 1 beg to remain, 
 
 " Your very obedient humble servant, 
 '■^ " Ferdinand de Courcy, etc., etc." 
 
 Struck with the joyous countenance of my honest valet, as I 
 took my gloves and hat from his hand, I could not help wishing 
 to bestow upon him a blessing similar to that I was about to 
 possess. " Bedos," said I, " Bedos, my good fellow, you left 
 your wife to come to me ; you shall not suffer by your fidelity : 
 send for her — we will find room for her in our future establish- 
 ment." 
 
 The smiling face of the Frenchman underwent a rapid change. 
 '■'■Mafoi" said he, in his own tongue ; " Monsieur is too good. 
 An excess of happiness hardens the heart ; and so, for fear of 
 forgetting my ingratitude to Providence, I will, with Monsieur's 
 permission, suffer my adored wife to remain where she is." 
 
 After so pious a reply, I should have been worse than wicked 
 had I pressed the matter any farther. 
 
 I found all ready at Berkeley-square. Lady Glanville is one 
 of those good persons who think a marriage out of church is no 
 marriage at all ; to church, therefore, we went. Although Regi- 
 nald was now so reduced that he could scarcely supi^ort the least 
 fatigue, he insisted on giving Ellen away. He was that morning, 
 and had been for the last two or three days, considerably better, 
 and our happiness seemed to grow less selfish in our increasing 
 hope of his recovery. 
 
 When we returned from church, our intention was to set off 
 immediately to Hall, a seat which I had hired for our re- 
 ception. On re-entering the house, Glanville called me aside — 
 I followed his infirm and tremulous steps into a private apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Pelham," said he, " we shall never meet again ! No matter 
 — you are now happy, and I shall shortly be so. But there is 
 one office I have yet to request from your friendship ; when I 
 am dead, let me be buried by her side, and let one tombstone 
 cover both." 
 
 I pressed his hand, and, with tears in my eyes, made him the 
 promise he required. 
 
 " It is enough," said he ; "I have no further business with
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 399 
 
 life. God bless you, my friend, my brother ; do not let a 
 thought of me cloud your happiness." 
 
 He rose, and we turned to quit the room ; Glanville was lean- 
 ing on my arm ; when he had moved a few paces towards the 
 door, he stopped abruptly. Imagining that the pause proceeded 
 from pain or debility, I turned my eyes upon his countenance 
 — a fearful and convulsive change was rapidly passing over it — 
 his eyes stared wildly upon vacancy. 
 
 " Merciful God — is it — can it be ? " he said, in a low inward 
 tone. 
 
 Before I could speak, I felt his hand relax its grasp upon my 
 arm — he fell upon the floor — I raised him — a smile of ineffable 
 serenity and peace was upon his lips; his face was the face of 
 an angel, but the spirit had passed away ! 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVI. 
 
 Now haveth good day, good men all, 
 
 Haveth good day, young and old ; 
 
 Haveth good day, both great and small, 
 
 And graunt merci a thousand fold ! 
 
 Gif ever I might full fain I wold, 
 
 Don ought that were unto your leve, 
 
 Christ keep you out of cares cold, 
 
 For now 'tis time to take my leave. — Old Song. 
 
 Several months have now elapsed since my marriage. I am 
 living quietly in the country, among my books, and looking for- 
 ward with calmness, rather than impatience, to the time which 
 shall again bring me before the world. Marriage with me is not 
 that sepulchre of all human hope and energy which it often is 
 with others. I am not more partial to my arm chair, nor more 
 averse to shaving, than of yore. I do not bound my prospects to 
 the dinner hour, nor my projects to "migrations from the blue 
 bed to the brown." Matrimony found me ambitious : it has not 
 cured me of the passion : but it has concentrated what was 
 scattered, and determined what was vague. If I am less anxious 
 than formerly for the reputation to be acquired in society, I am 
 more eager for honor in the world ; and instead of amusing my 
 enemies and the saloon, I trust yet to be useful to my friends 
 and mankind. 
 
 Whether this is a hope altogether vain and idle ; whether I 
 have, in the self-conceit common to all men, (thou will per*
 
 400 PELHAM; OR, 
 
 chance add, peculiarly prominent in myself !) overrated both the 
 power and the integrity of my mind (for the one is bootless 
 without the other,) neither I nor the world can yet tell. " Time," 
 says one of the fathers, " is the only touchstone which distin- 
 guishes the prophet from the boaster." 
 
 Meanwhile, gentle reader, during the two years which I pur- 
 pose devoting to solitude and study, I shall not be so occupied 
 with my fields and folios, as to become uncourteous to thee. If 
 ever thou hast known me in the city, I give thee a hearty invita- 
 tion to come and visit me in the country. I promise thee that 
 my wines and viands shall not disgrace the companion of 
 Guloseton ; nor my conversation be much duller than my book. 
 I will compliment thee on thy horses, — thou shalt congratulate 
 me upon my wife. Over old wine we will talk over new events ; 
 and, if we flag at the latter, why, we will make ourselves amends 
 with the former. In short, if thou art neither very silly npr very 
 wise, it shall be thine own fault if we are not excellent friends. 
 
 I feel that it would be but poor courtesy in me, after having 
 kept company with Lord Vincent through the tedious journey of 
 these pages, to dismiss him now without one word of valedic- 
 tion. May he, in the political course he has adopted, find all 
 the admiration which his talents deserve ; and if we ever meet 
 as foes, let our heaviest weapon be a quotation, and our bitter- 
 est vengeance a jest. 
 
 Lord Guloseton regularly corresponds with me, and his last 
 letter contained a promise to visit me in the course of the 
 month, in order to regain his appetite (which has been much 
 relaxed of late) by the country air. 
 
 My uncle wrote to me, three weeks since, announcing the 
 death of the infant Lady Glenmorris bad brought him. Sincerely 
 do I wish that his loss may be supplied. I have already suffi- 
 cient fortune for my wants, and sufficient hope for my desires. 
 
 Thornton died as he had lived — the reprobate and the ruffian. 
 " Pooh," said he, in his quaint brutality, to the worthy clergy- 
 man who attended his last moments with more zeal than suc- 
 cess ; " Pooh, what's the difference between gospel and go — 
 spell ? we agree like a bell and its clapper — you're prating 
 
 while I'm hanging.^ 
 
 Dawson died in prison, penitent and at peace. Cowardice, 
 which spoils the honest man, often redeems the knave. 
 
 From Lord Dawton I have received a letter, requesting me to 
 accept a borough (in his gift), just vacated. It is a_ pity that 
 generosity — such a prodigal to those who do not want it — should 
 often be such a niggard to those who do. I need not specifv
 
 ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 401 
 
 my answer. I hope yet to teach Lord Dawton, that to forgive 
 the minister is not to forget the affront. Meanwhile, I am con- 
 tent to bury myself in my retreat, with my mute teachers of 
 logic and legislature, in order, hereafter, to justify his lordship's 
 good opinion of my abilities. Farewell, Brutus, we shall meet 
 at Philippi ! 
 
 It is some months since Lady Roseville left England : the 
 last news we received of her, mformed us that she was livinir at 
 Sienna, in utter seclusion, and very infirm health. 
 
 " The day drags thro', though storms keep out the sun, 
 And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on." 
 
 Poor Lady Glanville ! the mother of one so beautiful, so 
 gifted, and so lost. What can I say of her which "you, and 
 
 you, and you " all who are parents, cannot feel, a thousand 
 
 times more acutely, in those recesses of the heart too deep for 
 words or tears. There are yet many hours in which I find the 
 sister of the departed in grief that even her husband cannot 
 console : and I / my friend, my brother, have I forgot- 
 ten thee in death } I lay down the pen, I turn from my em- 
 ployment — thy dog is at my feet, and looking at me, as if con- 
 scious of my thoughts, with an eye almost as tearful as my own. 
 
 But it is not thus that I will part from my Reader ; our greet 
 ing was not in sorrow, neither shall be our adieus. For thee, 
 who hast gone with me through the motley course of my con- 
 fessions, I would fain trust that I have sometimes hinted at thy 
 instruction, when only appearing to strive for thy amusement. 
 But on this I will not dwell ; for the moral insisted upon often 
 loses its effect ; and all that I will venture to hope is, that 
 I have opened to thee one true, and not utterly hackneyed, page 
 in the various and mighty volume of mankind. In this busy 
 and restless world I have not been a vague speculator, nor an 
 idle actor. While all around me were vigilant, I have not laid me 
 down to sleep — even for the luxury of a poet's dream. Like the 
 school-boy, I have considered study rt-x study, but action as delight. 
 
 Nevertheless, whatever I have seen, or heard, or felt, has been 
 treasured in my memory, and brooded over by my thoughts. 
 I now place the result before you — 
 
 " Sicut incus est mos, 
 
 Nescio quid mcditans nugarum ; 
 
 but not perhaps, 
 
 "totus in illis."* 
 
 * " Accordintj to my custom, meditating, I scarcely know what of trifles; but not, 
 perhaps, wholly wrapt in them."
 
 402 PELHAM ; OR, ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Whatever society — whether in a higher or lower grade — • 
 I have portrayed, my sketches have been taken rather as a 
 witness than a copyist ; for I have never shunned that circle, 
 nor that individual, which presented life in a fresh view, or man 
 in a new relation. It is right, however, that I should add, that 
 as I have not wished to be an individual satirist, rather than a 
 general observer, I have occasionally, in the subordinate char- 
 acters (such as Russelton and Gordon), taken only the outline 
 from truth, and filled up the colors at my leisure and will.* 
 
 With regard to myself I have been more candid. I have not 
 only shown — non pared nianu — my faults, but (grant this is a 
 much rarer exposure) my foil) ks ; and, in my anxiety for your 
 entertainment, I have not grudged you the pleasure of a laugh 
 — even at my own expense. Forgive me, then, if I am not a 
 fashionable hero — forgive me if I have not wept over a " blighted 
 spirit,'" nor boasted of a •' British heart ; " and allow that a man 
 who, in these days of alternate Werters and Worthies, is neither 
 the one nor the other, is, at least, a novelty in print, though, I 
 fear, common enough in life. 
 
 And now, my kind reader, having remembered the proverb, 
 and in saying one word to thee having said two for myself, I 
 will no longer detain thee. Whatever thou mayest think of me 
 and my thousand faults, both as an author and a man, believe 
 me it is with a sincere and affectionate wish for the accomplish- 
 ment of my parting words, that I bid theQ— farewell ! 
 
 * May the Author, as well as the Hero, be permitted, upon this point, to solicit atten- 
 tion and belief. In all the lesser characteis, of which \.\it /Irst idea was taken from 
 life, especially those referred to in the text, he has, for reasons perhaps obvious enough 
 without the tedium of recitaX^ purposely introduced sufficient variation and addition 
 to remove, in his own opinion, the odium either of a copy or of a caricpture. The 
 Author thinks it the more necessary in the present edition to insist upon til's, with all 
 honest and sincere earnestness, because in the first it was too much iba custom of 
 criticism to judge of his sketches from a resemblance to some supposed CiSginals, and 
 not from adherence to that sole source of all legitimate imitation — Nature ; — Nature as 
 exhibited in the general mass, not in the isolated instance. It is the duty of the novel- 
 ist rather to abstract than to copy: — all humors — all individual peculiarities are his 
 appropriate and fair materials: not so are the hutnorist and the individual ! Obser» 
 vation should resemble the eastern bird, and, while it nourishes itself upon the suction 
 of a thousand flowers never be seen to settle upon one I 
 
 THE END.
 
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