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 DE MONTFORT : 
 
 THE OLD ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 Now ready, in 3 vols, post 8vo, 
 
 FERRERS. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE REIGN OF GEORGE II. 
 
 By CHARLES OLLIER. 
 
 " Such a work as this has not appeared since ' Oliver Twist.' 
 In some respects we prefer it to that well-known story ; for, with 
 equal spirit, it has far more refinement of thought and grace of 
 expression. There is no maudlin sentimentality about it — no 
 pandering to depraved tastes. The whole story is told with terse, 
 simple, manly vigour, the vigour of health — not of convulsion. 
 The Author does not hid us admire the magnanimity of ruffians ; 
 in a word, he is an an ti- Jack Sheppardist." — Svv.
 
 DE MONTFORT 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE OLD ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 
 
 * For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get ; and what thou 
 hast forgefst." — Measure for Measure. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1842.
 
 LONDON: 
 
 oii.p.ert & riv1noton, printers, 
 st. John's square.
 
 
 8c£> 
 
 THE 
 
 AUTHOR TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 This novel was commenced several years 
 ago, when the Author was very young and 
 had little literary experience. Yet it was 
 so fortunate as to be favourably received 
 by the present publisher, even in an unfi- 
 nished state. On continuing it, the Author 
 felt dissatisfied with the subject ; but the 
 fact of its having been accepted, in some 
 degree imposed upon him the necessity of 
 completing it. After a considerable in- 
 terval it was printed, but the Author's 
 absence from England prevented his hav- 
 ing an opportunity of revising the whole of 
 a2
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 it. These circumstances form the ground 
 of the apology which he begs to offer for a 
 work, disfigured both by inaccuracies and 
 excrescences ; mongrel in kind, meagre in 
 design, yet so heterogeneous as regards its 
 contents, that it literally comprises a 
 sample of every thing — from ' marbles to 
 manslaughter.' 
 
 Dec. 1841.
 
 THE 
 
 OLD ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A christening in 1742 — The first mourning-suit— Mount- 
 Manor — The nurse's lesson — The quoit — My mother's 
 chaplain — The hall — The squire — The squire's lady — 
 Country dinner parties — Sports of the times — Eton — The 
 eousins — The school-house — The dame — Cicely — A birth- 
 day — Black Bessy — The race — The slaughtered deer — 
 Blood-hounds — The pursuit — The hut — Isaac. 
 
 I was born in 1742, in a large mansion in 
 LincolnVinn Fields, which had been for several 
 preceding generations the town residence of 
 my family. Heir to a distinguished title and 
 considerable fortune, my arrival was anxiously 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 THE OLD 
 
 anticipated, and enthusiastically welcomed. In 
 my childhood, I remember to have heard my 
 nurses relate wonders of the preparations made 
 for me ; of the fineness of my lawns and lenos, 
 the richness of my laces, the costliness of my 
 robes ; of an elegantly-wrought cane cradle, 
 quilted with satin, the curtains bordered with 
 swan's down ; of a gold and jewelled pap-boat ; 
 of a pincushion, with a device stuck in diamond- 
 headed pins ; of embroidered stays, caps, bind- 
 ers, and kerseymere wrappers, the work of deli- 
 cate hands, and the presents of noble ladies. 
 
 Of the celebration in the country — how bells 
 pealed, cannons were fired, streamers waved, 
 and bonfires blazed ; how many oxen were 
 roasted, how many butts of beer, barrels of ale, 
 and pipes of wine were drained ; and for how 
 many days feasting, drinking, and dancing, pro- 
 longed the demonstrations of rejoicing. 
 
 And of the christening at the expiration of 
 the month — how the entrance to the hall, the 
 hall itself, the staircase, the ante-room, and my
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 3 
 
 mothers bed-chamber, were all carpeted with 
 white cloth, and decorated with festoons of 
 flowers and coloured lamps ; how my lady, in a 
 night-gown of white satin, with all her diamonds, 
 her head in full coupee, sat upon a bed lined 
 with white satin, having yellow velvet hangings 
 fringed with gold, and golden cords and tassels, 
 the counterpane of yellow satin, flowered with 
 silver, the pillows, likewise, covered with satin, 
 and edged with Flemish lace at five guineas a 
 yard. — And then, what a brilliant concourse of 
 the great met together ! The ladies in train- 
 gowns, with hoops four yards in circumference, 
 and head-dresses a foot and a half high, with 
 their standing lace collars, stomachers and fans ; 
 their lords with perruques, patches, swords, and 
 ruffles ; — then the galaxy of lights, the crowd, 
 the heat, the crush, the compliments, the es- 
 sences. — Of how many times my mother fainted 
 away while returning salutations ; of the eau-de- 
 luce, the surfeit water, and burnt feathers ; — of 
 the praises of the infant's beauty, and the 
 b 2
 
 4 THE OLD 
 
 admiration of the infant's robes ; of the titled 
 sponsors ; of the silver font, and the perfumed 
 water ; of the munificence of the nurse's vails ; 
 of the health-drinking, the tea-taking, the china 
 services, the size of the christening cake, the 
 quality of the caudle, whereof even royalty con- 
 descended to partake from a gold cup on a gold 
 salver, presented by the Earl, my father, kneeling, 
 in a bag-wig, and full court suit of tissued cra- 
 mome, worth from three hundred and fifty to 
 four hundred pounds. 
 
 My eyes opened on all the evidences of afflu- 
 ence ; the first sounds my ears drank were words 
 of love and kindness. A number of dependants 
 watched my steps, noted my acts, and listened 
 to my childish expressions, with the reverence 
 due to oracles. Luxury and homage became so 
 much a part of life that I was scarcely conscious 
 there could be existence without them. 
 
 The earliest distinct recollection I have of 
 any event is of my father's death, or rather of 
 circumstances connected with it.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. O 
 
 I remember the vexation I experienced at a 
 cessation of the rides along the Oxford road 
 which I had been accustomed to take in my 
 coach and four with my nurses. I remember 
 standing before a mirror, after they had put on 
 my first mourning suit, and contemplating with a 
 mixture of awe and satisfaction my own person, 
 in the reflection of a boy about five years of age, 
 •of an exceedingly pale complexion, with large dark 
 hazel eyes, and glossy auburn hair, dressed in 
 a black velvet coat and silk hose, with diamond 
 knee and shoe buckles. I remember also being 
 led through several apartments hung with black, 
 to the side of a bed with sable draperies and 
 plumes, whereon lay in state my father's corpse. 
 I was bidden to kiss his hand ; it was so white, 
 so cold, that, already oppressed by the stillness 
 and gloom around, I was terrified, and burst 
 into tears. They carried me away. Next 
 morning they desired me to keep quiet, and 
 not to play; the maids were all crowding to 
 the windows ; there was a procession ; my father, 
 b 3
 
 THE OLD 
 
 I learnt, was going to be buried. His remains 
 were conveyed into the country, and interred 
 near Mount Manor. We shortly followed ; 
 my mother had been sincerely attached to her 
 husband ; she never returned to town. 
 
 Mount Manor, — I describe it of course from 
 later recollection, — was a demesne of vast extent 
 and great beauty. The mansion was a square 
 building of grey stone, with an imposing facade, 
 and extending wings flanked by small round 
 towers. It had an air of grandeur, as it stood 
 on an ascent, backed by dark woods, amid a pic- 
 turesque old park, adorned by broad sheets of 
 water. On approaching it, the superb entrance 
 arch that marked the division of the property 
 from the forest lands, the well-kept road, the 
 handsome lodges, the thick plantations, the trim 
 shrubberies, the fragrant parterres, the smooth 
 lawns, the stately avenues, the noble carriage- 
 drive, excited expectations which the interior 
 amply gratified. 
 
 The hall presented a striking coup cFcriL Its
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 7 
 
 ceiling was high and vaulted ; a large oriel 
 window of stained glass depicted a life-sized 
 subject. The carved walnut-wood panels were 
 hung with ancestral portraits and banners, 
 casques, breast-plates, shields, and lances, in 
 the highest state of preservation. Two brazen 
 lions couched on each side of the hearth of a 
 huge fire-place, surmounted by a granite mantel- 
 piece ; the floor was of chequered marble, grey, 
 white, and black ; the chairs of ebony, inlaid 
 with ivory and silver, of an antique half-mitre 
 form, emblazoned with coats of arms ; the wide 
 staircase of polished oak, partially covered with 
 stamped crimson leather, its dark balustrade 
 studded with gilt balls. 
 
 Through another hall, larger, but similar in 
 appearance, containing several pieces of statuary, 
 and remarkable for the beauty of its fretted ceiling, 
 the library was entered. It was a long gloomy 
 chamber, lined with cedar, in which was pre- 
 served a specimen of antiquity, an oaken book- 
 case of rude construction, but elaborately carved. 
 b 4
 
 8 THE OLD 
 
 Its few and simple shelves had once been 
 sufficient to contain the whole bibliotheque 
 amassed and transmitted from generation to 
 generation, then deemed wonderfully large, 
 as amounting to nearly a hundred volumes ; 
 the collection had now swelled into thousands, 
 decorously arrayed in sober-coloured gilt vel- 
 lum, beside immense piles of manuscripts and 
 pamphlets, which since their acquisition had 
 scarcely seen the light, except to be aired and 
 dusted. Over the doors were a few small paint- 
 ings, and some busts in the niches. The whole 
 was sombre and quiet ; the character of the 
 apartment suited to its purpose. A rare fresco 
 painting was in the ante-room adjoining. In 
 short, Mount Manor possessed many things 
 worthy of note ; but it would be tedious to 
 dwell in minute description on the several with- 
 dra wing-rooms, green, grey, and orange ; on the 
 common dining-room ; on the great banquet- 
 hall ; on the galleries ; on the state bedchambers, 
 or on the tapestry, the china, the enamels,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 3 
 
 the japan, the cabinets, the commodes, the 
 stands, the racks, the screens, the boxes, the 
 chests, the reputed Rubens, Titians, Rem- 
 brandts, Holbeins, Vandykes, Wouvermans, 
 Lelys, Knellers, and Canalettis, which formed 
 part of the peculiar furniture with which they 
 were fitted. The lower apartments looked out on 
 verdant terraces and pleasant gardens, the upper 
 upon the various scenes of the park, its grassy 
 undulations, its bright hillocks, its cool and 
 deeply-shadowed recesses, commanding glimpses 
 of the wilder landscape beyond. 
 
 Hearing myself often styled the young earl, 
 I inquired of my nurse what the term meant ? 
 " An earl, dearee," she answered, " is a very 
 great man." These chance words were not un- 
 heeded ; they fell like the wind-blown seeds of 
 some poisonous plant upon an untenanted soil, 
 and germinated in my young mind the passion of 
 pride, which flattery and false indulgence soon 
 fostered into rankness. 
 
 I had neither brother nor sister, therefore my 
 b 5
 
 10 THE OLD 
 
 childhood was, for the most part, companionless. 
 One day, when I was nearly ten years old, it 
 happened that my attendants had left me alone 
 in the apartment appropriated to me. Grown 
 tired of my playthings and solitude, I walked 
 with a sigh to a window overlooking the court- 
 yard. The noontide rays gleamed brightly upon 
 the white flag- stones, the birds were hopping 
 and chirping among the green-leaved boughs of 
 some neighbouring trees which drooped over the 
 walls, and there lounging and basking in the 
 sunshine was a ruddy, happy-looking boy, a 
 young stable-helper, loitering away his leisure in 
 careless play with a quoit. The scene was cheer- 
 ful : I compared it with the lonely dulness of 
 my own chamber, and the broken remnants of 
 gaudy toys that lay scattered around. The lad 
 began to whistle a lively tune. I could no 
 longer resist a desire to break through my 
 restraint. I bounded to the door, flung it wide, 
 scampered down stairs, and stood by the side of 
 the boy-groom the next moment. "lam come
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 11 
 
 to have a game of play with you," I said ; " but 
 I do not want any body to see me ; let us go 
 farther back in the court ." Gilbert, for such I 
 found was his name, was at first shy and 
 distant ; he hung his head and looked askance : 
 whilst I, with the awkward familiarity of con- 
 scious condescension, endeavoured to put him 
 at his ease. Hidden from view in a corner, 
 we began to divert ourselves with pitching the 
 quoit, or rather horse-shoe. Gilbert was by a year 
 or more my senior, stronger and more expert, 
 so that he had considerable advantage of me ; 
 as soon as he perceived it, all his deference and 
 constraint vanished, he became excessively free 
 and talkative. I was vexed at my repeated 
 failures, and redoubled my efforts in throwing : 
 worse and worse ; my want of power was evident. 
 At length he took the quoit from me, saying, 
 " Look here, master, let me show you/ 1 " Mas- 
 ter !" I repeated, irritated beyond expression 
 both at my own unskilfulness and the presump- 
 tion, as I then began to consider it, of the stable- 
 b 6
 
 12 THE OLD 
 
 boy. "Do you know, Gilbert, that I am an 
 earl f 
 
 " Yes," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " And do you know," I rejoined, assuming an 
 air of particular dignity, " what an earl is, Gil- 
 bert? An earl" — and here my utterance was 
 impeded by a choking sensation, the mixed 
 ebullition of pride and passion — " An earl is a 
 very great man !" Gilbert crossed his hands be- 
 hind him and leaned against the wall. " You a 
 great man !" said he, and his large blue eyes 
 surveyed me with a mingled expression of con- 
 tempt and merriment ; " Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 The blood rushed to my face ; I darted for- 
 ward, and struck him violently on his temple 
 with the quoit ; he fell stunned upon the ground ; 
 his face was in one instant covered with gore.: I 
 fled screaming into the house. The domestics, 
 alarmed by my signs, for words I could not 
 utter, hastened to seek the cause ; I rushed 
 onward to my mother's apartments, threw my- 
 self on my knees before her, and hid my face in
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 13 
 
 her lap. As she could learn nothing from my 
 sobs, she rang the bell, and inquired what had 
 happened. The servant having informed her, 
 she raised my head, smoothed her dress, wiped 
 my eyes deliberately with her lace-bordered per- 
 fumed handkerchief, and said, in her usual calm 
 tone, and with her usual placid, dignified manner, 
 "There, there, my dear Hubert, be composed; no- 
 thing has happened to you, my love : though you 
 did extremely wrong to degrade yourself by asso- 
 ciating with him. The boy will soon be well, 
 Hubert. Do not be foolish, my dear ; do not 
 cry any more. Remember, he is only a groom T 
 The countess had a chaplain, one Hugh Evans, 
 a Welshman, to whom the charge of my educa- 
 tion was for some years consigned. He was a 
 middle-aged corpulent man, with a heavy ple- 
 thoric countenance, pursy mouth, and dull pro- 
 truding eyes, of unvarying solemnity of deport- 
 ment, and remarkable taciturnity. Under his 
 tuition, each day's application embraced little 
 more than a Latin exercise and lesson, and the
 
 14 THE OLD 
 
 reading of an English homily. But the time 
 devoted to study, though brief, was rendered 
 wearisome by the mechanical method and apa- 
 thetic manner of my preceptor. I had no motive 
 of emulation to prompt my progress, and Evans 
 was too indolently indifferent to incite me, 
 either by reward or reproof. The hours passed 
 in the library, like those in the chapel, I looked 
 upon merely as constituting an unpleasant form, 
 to which I submitted from habit, without hav- 
 ing any idea of its motive or utility. Next to 
 my tutor, books were my aversion ; and I es- 
 caped from the use of the one, and the presence 
 of the other, with a sensation of delight which 
 gave additional zest to my rides, drives, walks, 
 and recreations. 
 
 It was the custom of Evans to summon me 
 each afternoon, as soon as he had dined. I 
 generally found him reclining, with footstool and 
 arm-chair, beside a table amply spread with 
 dessert ; his face swollen, and flushed with the 
 purple hue of the grape, his eyes dilated and
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 15 
 
 sleepy from repletion. Filling a bumper, and 
 raising it in his right hand, he would lay the 
 ponderous left on my head, and say to me in a 
 deep husky tone, " My son — tempus fugit — make 
 the best use of it," at the same moment quaffing 
 with avidity. " Vir bonus es — Be good (this Bur- 
 gundy is excellent). I esteem nothing so much 
 as a good Christian (push nearer that plate of figs). 
 — Deum cole, regem honora — Worship God, ho- 
 nour the king — hate the French, the Whigs, and 
 the Devil. Amicos dilige, senior em in reverentia 
 liabeto — this sweetmeat is delicious ; refrain from 
 eying it so greedily — Aliena ne concupiscas — 
 Ccena brevisjuvat — Temperance is a feast. 
 
 " Now, bear in mind what I have said to you 
 — Dulce est desipere in loco — There is a time to 
 play — You may employ yourself as you please 
 whilst I meditate. Go into the study; I will 
 come presently — Respect the clergy. Qua? lege- 
 ris memento — Recollect what you read. Desidi- 
 osus nefueris — Temperantia est optima medicinal 
 And ere my shutting the door after me, brought
 
 THE OLD 
 
 a conclusion to his address. I usually saw him 
 drain the last remaining drop of wine, and lean 
 back with closed eyes to court his accustomed 
 slumbers. As might be expected, the precepts 
 thus delivered had but little effect; I remem- 
 bered, without regarding them, they formed part 
 of a religious creed, of a moral code, to which, with 
 the inexplicable inconsistency so common among 
 men whose education and circumstances have 
 been in any way similar to my own, I gave implicit 
 belief, but not the slightest practical observance. 
 
 My inheritance occupied a great part of the 
 county in which we resided, consequently we 
 had no equals among our near neighbours, for at 
 that time property and descent were the basis 
 of consideration ; the classes of society were 
 denned by that scale : ton then could never have 
 looked with disdain on rank, nor, as in later 
 vears, could the modish mistress of a card-built 
 villa have excluded from her circle, as an un- 
 fashionable, the owner of half a province. 
 
 Amongst the few individuals possessing small
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 17 
 
 independencies, who formed a grade interme- 
 diate, and superior to the tenantry, Squire Dorn- 
 ton and his lady were almost the only persons 
 with whom our acquaintance extended beyond 
 mere recognition. Their house, a plain square 
 building of red brick, coeval in antiquity with 
 our own, was situated at about half a mile's 
 distance from us. 
 
 Behind the dwelling, a well-stocked farm-yard 
 and teeming orchard adjoined a succession of 
 hay and corn fields ; before it, a neat lawn and 
 gay flower-garden, protected by quickset hedges, 
 sloped to a range of rich pasture meadows, 
 which, being intersected by broad rows of lofty 
 elms, assumed a parklike appearance : numbers 
 of choice and highly-conditioned cattle, grouping 
 for shade or shelter under the spreading trees, 
 standing amid the gleaming pools, grazing the 
 luxuriant herbage, or reposing upon its soft 
 bright verdure, adorned and varied the scene. 
 This beautiful plain sank, at some distance, into 
 a narrow valley, through which sparkled a little
 
 18 THE OLD 
 
 stream, much frequented by anglers, and then 
 rose into a chain of wooded hills, bounding the 
 view on that side. 
 
 On the other hand the road swept towards a 
 small village, whose slender church-spire was 
 just distinguishable above the humble roofs 
 that surrounded it. Hidden awhile in a grove 
 of firs, broken again by a wooden bridge that 
 arched over the waters of the before-mentioned 
 stream, the line of highway became visible here 
 and there amid the irregular excrescences of a 
 warren, and was once more lost to sight in an 
 abrupt descent, from whence emerging, it wound 
 snakelike round the eminence on which our 
 mansion stood. 
 
 The squire to whom I have alluded is asso- 
 ciated in recollection with most of the very early 
 incidents of my life ; as I write of him, the scenes 
 connected with that period, in each of which he 
 was a prominent feature, recur with picturelike 
 vividness. Imagination brings him before me 
 under various aspects. In his capacity of ma-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 19 
 
 gistrate and justice of the peace, enveloped in 
 his flowing satin night-gown, with pendant night- 
 cap, plain neck-bands, and quilted slippers, in- 
 stalled in a crimson-cushioned, high, straight- 
 backed chair, beside a huge grate filled with 
 blazing logs, at the upper end of a large parlour. 
 The apartment, with its minutest details, is 
 distinctly reproduced before my mind's eye. The 
 antiquely carved furniture, the panelled walls, and 
 polished floor of dark oak ; the vast fireplace 
 and old-fashioned mantel-piece, with its long- 
 necked china jars, and the homely ornaments 
 suspended above ; some framed samplers, a row 
 of miniatures, and an enormous ostrich egg ; 
 the oval mirror opposite, surmounted by a pair 
 of stag's antlers, and flanked by the family 
 portraits; the corner cupboard ostentatiously 
 displaying its treasures of plate and glass ; the 
 large folding screen, the japanned cabinet, and 
 clock with curiously inlaid case ; the damask cur- 
 tains festooned above the deep recesses of the 
 window, and the glass door, leading by a wide
 
 20 THE OLD 
 
 gravel walk, trimly bordered with box, beneath 
 an arch of dipt yew, to a white alcove. 
 
 Fancy also delineates such a group of cul- 
 prits or claimants as were frequently assembled 
 on these occasions. The village damsel sobbing- 
 out her confession in her snowy apron ; the 
 drunken husband summoned to answer the com- 
 plaints of his shrewish wife ; the whimpering 
 urchin detected in robbing the farmer's orchard ; 
 the careworn widow soliciting parish relief for 
 her crippled son or bed-ridden daughter ; the 
 bold-faced gipsy thief, the whining vagrant, 
 the skulking poacher. In general these suppli- 
 cants for money or mercy had much to hope 
 and little to fear from him. The admonition 
 received by the frail rustic was accompanied by 
 a roguish twinkle of his merry dark eye, and 
 concluded by a compliment or a jest, which 
 divested it of all its awfulness ; the tippler, in 
 the jollity of the squire's ruddy countenance 
 and ruby nose, found an indication of sympathy 
 with his tastes that belied the reproof; the
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 21 
 
 delinquent urchin's tears were stopped, and his 
 contrition rewarded by the gift of a cake or a 
 silver penny. To all he was liberal and lenient ; 
 to all but the particular objects of his magis- 
 terial aversion, vagrants and poachers, whom he 
 deemed the most criminal and the only unpar- 
 donable class of offenders. As related to them, 
 suspicion was conviction, and he carried the 
 severity of his proceedings to an extent that 
 verged on persecution. This was one of the 
 many minor peculiarities which gave an effect of 
 originality to an otherwise ordinary character, 
 one composed of limited intelligence, strong 
 prejudice, inveterate obstinacy, jovial humour, 
 hasty temper, proud independence, and uncom- 
 promising integrity, united to coarse manners 
 and a robust appearance. 
 
 But not only as wielding the sceptre of pro- 
 vincial authority do I recall him ; he is present 
 to me under more genial aspects. I see him, as 
 I was wont, halting on his dappled gray at the 
 door of the smart country inn, to quaff the 
 11
 
 22. THE OLD 
 
 tankard of foaming ale presented to him by the 
 gratified landlord, who looks on with smiling 
 complacency, while his buxom wife and blushing 
 daughter receive the honour of a salute and a 
 sly pinch. I see him in the fields, directing the 
 operations, or lightening, by good-natured fami- 
 liarity, the labours of his men ; assisting at the 
 festivities of harvest-home, sheep-shearing, and 
 other rural merry-makings ; dispensing the good 
 cheer, promoting the sports. Or at the cele- 
 bration of some humble marriage or christen- 
 ing (surrounded by happy lads in gay vests and 
 ribbon-decked shirt-sleeves, blooming lasses in 
 smart boddices, spotless kerchiefs, and garlanded 
 hats, with their venerable relatives in holiday 
 attire), increasing and enjoying the satisfaction 
 of all about him. I see him mounted on his 
 sleek dark blood mare, equipped with cocked 
 hat, tie-wig, full-skirted crimson coat, embroi- 
 dered vest, short buckskins, boot-hose, and mas- 
 sive spurs, accompanied by his portly whipper-in 
 amidst a noble pack of hounds. Or emerging
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 23 
 
 from the porch of the ancient church, preceded 
 by his sandy-haired man Reuben, who was wont 
 to enter carrying the family bible and prayer- 
 book, covered with black leather, and confined 
 by silver clasps, with a solemn importance de- 
 rived from his Sunday apparel, — a pale pea-green 
 coat fringed with silver, an enormous bouquet 
 attached to his chintz waistcoat, and yellow knee- 
 breeches decorated with white streamers. 
 
 The squire was followed by his wife, a tall, 
 bony dame, habited in a chocolate grogram, 
 quilted petticoat, and ample muslin apron, with 
 stomacher, ruffles, mittens, a large green fan, 
 ponderous gold ear-hoops, and a lappet head- 
 dress, surmounted by a small round hat, trimmed 
 with puffings of purple ribbon. Ordinarily from 
 her stay-hook hung pincushion, scissors, bodkin- 
 case, and sundry bunches of keys ; for Mistress 
 Dornton was a notable housewife. She superin- 
 tended the milking of the cows, the feeding of 
 the poultry, the meals of the men ; salting, 
 brewing, baking, washing ; the manufacture of
 
 24 THE OLD 
 
 butter, cheese, puddings, pies, pickles, preserves, 
 and various home-made wines, employing all 
 intervals in knitting, sewing, and spinning. 
 Notwithstanding the simplicity of her education, 
 and the seclusion of her life, Mistress Dornton 
 had views beyond the limits of the sphere in which 
 she was placed. Though contented with, nay, even 
 proud of her own and her husband's station, she 
 yet desired that her son, on whom she doated, 
 might occupy a more conspicuous position. For 
 him she was ambitious and scheming, and in her 
 meditations for his advancement, the importance 
 of connection as a first measure occurred to her. 
 My mother was of reserved manners and re- 
 tired habits. Since her lord's demise, she had 
 mixed with the world no farther than to make 
 a few annual visits to country 7 seats within a day "s 
 journey, to receive those of the neighbourhood 
 who felt themselves entitled to pay their court 
 to her, or to entertain some of them periodi- 
 cally at a ceremonious dinner. Under pretext 
 of drinking the health of, and giving a welcome
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 25 
 
 to, the company, I was permitted at an early age 
 to appear on these occasions at the dessert. Upon 
 the ladies retiring, the silent formality that had 
 prevailed was succeeded by the loud disputes 
 and boisterous merriment of the sporting agri- 
 culturists, who vied with each other in describing 
 their exploits in hunting, shooting, and fishing, 
 and in displaying their acumen in the crafts of 
 bull and bear baiting, cock-fighting, dog-fighting, 
 rat-catching, and bird-snaring, amusements much 
 in vogue at that period. I listened with avidity, 
 and imbibed an ardent desire to participate in 
 their adventures. They were pleased with the 
 interest I evinced, and, perhaps, with the eager 
 hospitality with which I, a boy-host, encouraged 
 their excesses. I became a prodigious fa- 
 vourite among them, while my good looks, fine 
 clothes, and title, ingratiated me sufficiently with 
 the females. The squire communicated to his 
 wife the wish I expressed to be allowed to take a 
 part in their sports, and she, in the hope of 
 creating an intimacy between myself and her 
 vol. i. c
 
 26 THE OLD 
 
 son, which might ultimately be of service to the 
 latter, prevailed on my mother, by persuading 
 her that restriction would depress the " noble 
 spirit'''' I possessed, to allow me the chief dis- 
 posal of my time, — for two years it was princi- 
 pally spent with the Dorntons and their associates. 
 At the age of twelve, my guardians sent me to 
 Eton, and at my mother's request, Hugh Evans 
 accompanied me in the capacity of private tutor. 
 
 I felt perhaps less than might be expected on 
 a first separation from my parent, and rather 
 triumph than regret on quitting my friends. 
 Pleasure at the notion of change and curiosity 
 absorbed me. Arrived, I soon began to repine 
 at my comparative loss of liberty ; however, I 
 speedily contrived to evade the laws I could not 
 defy ; and thus cunning, a quality which, under 
 the epithet of cleverness, I found greatly es- 
 teemed amongst my schoolfellows, was a trait 
 added to my character. 
 
 Having made some progress in Latin, and an 
 attempt at Greek, I returned from Eton for
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 27 
 
 my first vacation, with a very elevated notion 
 of myself and my acquirements. Absence and 
 newer faces had rendered me disdainfully indif- 
 ferent to my country companions. I met their 
 cordial greetings with a haughty coldness. The 
 alteration in my manner did not fail to be ob- 
 served ; it was especially noted by Mistress 
 Dornton, who, perceiving in it a check to the 
 plans she had formed for her son, represented 
 her views on the subject to her husband, ex- 
 patiating on all that might be lost if this, the 
 first link of a connexion, were broken^ and pro- 
 posing, as a remedy, to preclude the evils of 
 separation, by letting Philip also go to Eton. 
 The squire demurred at the expense, and men- 
 tioned another objection. He had adopted a 
 nephew, the child of a favourite sister, whose 
 circumstances were indigent, and had under- 
 taken that he should be reared like his own. 
 As a man tenacious of his word, he was un- 
 willing to give one boy greater advantages than 
 the other. Time and importunity removed this 
 c 2
 
 28 THE OLD 
 
 impediment ; the matter was adjusted : Philip 
 and Basil Lambert both followed me to school. 
 
 The cousins were very dissimilar in person 
 and disposition. Philip, in externals, was greatly 
 favoured by nature. His regular features, florid 
 complexion, bright blue eyes, and curly dark 
 brown hair, were of a beauty almost feminine, 
 and, combined with a slight active figure, pro- 
 duced a striking effect. Philip was amiable, 
 quick-witted, gay, weak, frivolous, and vain, fond 
 of pleasure and idleness. 
 
 Basil was of commanding stature and athletic 
 frame, but his proportions wanted elegance. 
 His face could not be termed handsome, hi.-^ 
 features being somewhat coarse, and his skin 
 dusky ; yet the broad forehead, powerful brow, 
 and dark thoughtful eyes were so highly indica- 
 tive of intellectual energy, as to redeem him 
 from plainness. His indefatigable application 
 to study, and his aversion to companionship were 
 marks of singularity that would have incurred 
 the dislike of his fellows, but that the mildness
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 29 
 
 of his manners, the evenness of his temper, 
 joined to the decision and courage he evinced 
 whenever occasion demanded, involuntarily ob- 
 tained their respect. Overlooked at first on 
 account of his want of taste or skill in the exer- 
 cises which served us as pastimes, his moral su- 
 periority gradually and imperceptibly gained him 
 so much influence, that at length every doubt or 
 dissension was referred to his arbitration. He 
 nevertheless continually avoided interference, 
 seeming averse to the authority with which he 
 was invested. Though he formed no intimacies 
 among his school acquaintance, he gave proofs 
 of the strongest attachment to his cousin, but 
 even to him he was rather a Mentor than a 
 companion. 
 
 I was evidently regarded by Basil with indif- 
 ference, nor did I receive from him that defer- 
 ence to my rank which my pride required ; this 
 was a perpetual cause of pique and irritation. 
 Philip had been taught by his mother to venerate 
 my dignity, to consider me as his model, and to 
 c 3
 
 SO THE OLD 
 
 be sedulous in cultivating my friendship. Alter- 
 nately nattered and satiated by his subserviency, 
 I sometimes shared with him those indulgences 
 which my ampler means enabled me to procure, 
 and sometimes vented on him the tyrannical 
 caprices of my ill-humour. At these times Basil 
 never failed to be his defender, and would 
 warmly dispute my right to domineer over his 
 cousin ; but his remonstrances produced neither 
 sense of error nor concession. Yet I would 
 willingly have been on good terms with Basil ; 
 I had endeavoured in vain to extend my sway to 
 him, and my failure only increased my desire to 
 obtain his consideration. In spite of advances 
 on my side, his coldness towards me remained 
 imperturbable, and he resented each affront to 
 Philip long after it had been forgotten by his 
 pliant cousin. 
 
 We returned to our homes for the holydays, 
 and there a new subject of division arose. I 
 had frequently attended my mother in her visits 
 to the village school-house. It was an old gabled
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. ol 
 
 building, rendered picturesque by the patches of 
 bright green moss and flowering weeds on its 
 thatched roof, and the roses, honeysuckles, and 
 jessamine that clustered round its casements 
 and chimneys. A lilac and laburnum tree threw 
 their boughs over a large porch opening into a 
 garden, gay in summer with hollyhocks, tiger- 
 lilies, sunflowers, lupins, flags, stocks, sweet- 
 peas, sweet-williams, pinks, carnations, lavender, 
 london-pride, and marygolds in abundance, 
 which was separated from the road by a sweet- 
 briar hedge and neat wicket. The afternoon 
 sunshine fell on this porch, as it had a south- 
 western aspect ; and the white-haired, specta- 
 cled dame, aged enough to delight in warmth, 
 was mostly to be seen sitting there at her spin- 
 ning-wheel ; every now and then, when not en- 
 gaged in hearing a lesson, or setting a task, 
 casting an anxious look through the open door- 
 way, to watch the actions of her scholars, who, 
 busied with slates, books, and samplers, were 
 closely ranged on wooden benches within. A 
 c 4
 
 32 THE OLD 
 
 low stool beside the dame was the seat of her 
 little grand-daughter, a fair rosy-cheeked child 
 with silken hair, which, according to the quaint 
 fashion of that period, was gathered behind into 
 a roll beneath a small cap, as snowy as the bib- 
 apron and linen sleeve-bands that relieved her 
 long-skirted black stuff coat. 
 
 Cecily, notwithstanding that her attention 
 was often diverted from her book or sewing by 
 the cooing of a pair of doves in a wicker-cage 
 above her head, or the movement of a pet 
 tortoiseshell cat that usually lay at her feet, was 
 an apt pupil. Her skill in needle- work was the 
 pride of her grandam. She had also an ex- 
 cellent memory, which was stored with a sur- 
 prising number of simple fables, Psalms, Scrip- 
 ture verses, and hymns. Some of these she 
 was accustomed to repeat, and also to read a 
 chapter in the Bible, whenever my mother 
 visited the school-house : and I recollect often 
 listening with infinite pleasure to the sweet clear 
 tones of her soft young voice, though I gave
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 33 
 
 but little heed to the precepts it conveyed. 
 My mother generally deputed me to distribute 
 her rewards to the scholars ; but it was only to 
 Cecily that I felt a satisfaction in presenting 
 the thimble, pincushion, or housewife : in short, 
 my fancy selected her as a favourite, why, I 
 scarcely knew ; perhaps the timid respect be- 
 trayed by her in the low curtsey that welcomed 
 my approach, and the air of innocent astonish- 
 ment with which she surveyed my appearance, 
 were gratifying to my juvenile vanity. 
 
 Mistress Dornton and the squire were partial 
 to Cecily ; they often invited her to their house. 
 The sedateness of her nature rendered her a 
 playmate unsuitable to Philip ; but Basil took 
 the greatest delight in obliging and instructing 
 her, and she entertained for him a sisterly 
 fondness. 
 
 As she grew older, reserve took the place 
 
 of shyness in her manner towards me ; she was 
 
 more distant than heretofore, though she seemed 
 
 less sensible of the condescension of my fami- 
 
 c 5
 
 34 THE OLD 
 
 liarity : this I attributed to Basil's influence ; 
 and, at the age of thirteen, I suffered an 
 acute jealousy of a rival two years my senior, 
 hardly equalled in after life. With the design 
 of supplanting him, I prevailed on my mother 
 to permit Cecily to visit us. I prepared a feast 
 for her in my grotto ; I exhibited a wondrous 
 doll, which had been in the family almost a 
 century, and the whole of my curiosities and 
 treasures. I sent her home loaded with sweet- 
 meats, shells, and exotics, and such other gifts 
 as I imagined acceptable. Cecily was grateful ; 
 and I had evidently made some progress in her 
 regard, for I overheard her telling Basil, that 
 she did " not think the young lord so bad a 
 boy," when an unlucky accident put me hors 
 de combat. 
 
 Returning home from an excursion on my 
 pony, attended by a servant, I crossed a green 
 which sloped from the back of the school-house 
 to a brook. A fine pointer was scouring in 
 advance of me, and a large bull-dog panting
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. oO 
 
 along at my side. I perceived that the former 
 was in pursuit of something ; yielding to an idle 
 and mischievous impulse, I encouraged the 
 chase ; both dogs seized upon the unfortunate 
 animal. I arrived at the spot where they were 
 engaged, and discovered by the collar round 
 her throat poor Cecily's cherished tortoiseshell 
 mangled to death. This was a serious grief to 
 the affectionate child ; and the circumstance 
 was recorded against me in her mind as an 
 instance of cruelty and wantonness. In vain 
 I strove to make reparation ; I was punished 
 by the annoyance I experienced at finding that, 
 according to Basil's advice, she had parted with 
 a pair of silver shoe-buckles and a cornelian 
 heart, which I had given her as a compensation, 
 to a pedlar, for money to purchase a Testament 
 with wood-cuts, and a type large enough to 
 suit her grandmother's sight. 
 
 The chagrin this subject occasioned me was 
 not concealed from the countess, whose dignity 
 took alarm ; and for fear mine should be further 
 c 6
 
 36 THE OLD 
 
 compromised by such intimacies, she resolved 
 immediately to withdraw me from them, by 
 procuring me more equal society ; and, in con- 
 sequence, every subsequent vacation was spent 
 with a party of young friends, either abroad or 
 at home. 
 
 My fourteenth birthday arrived. The bright 
 sunshine of a May morning piercing through the 
 curtains unsealed my eyes, the warbling of the 
 birds aroused me to the consciousness of antici- 
 pated pleasure. I looked from my window; 
 preparations for festivity were visible every- 
 where. On the fresh turf and under the ex- 
 tending trees were placed numbers of chairs, 
 benches, and tables, for the accommodation of 
 the yeomanry. In the most agreeable and pic- 
 turesque situations of the park, tents had been 
 pitched ; and on the calm shining lake lay a 
 cluster of little boats> decorated with many- 
 coloured pendants, and flags bearing various 
 mottoes. A platform had also been erected for 
 a band, and awnings, festooned with garlands,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 37 
 
 were provided to shade the dancers from the 
 heat. Observing these objects with inferior 
 interest, I eagerly endeavoured to descry a line 
 of ground which, in compliance with my par- 
 ticular desire, had been marked out as a race- 
 course. My joyous impatience would scarcely 
 permit me to bestow sufficient assiduity on my 
 toilette : as promptly as I could I sought the 
 stable. 
 
 " How is Black Bessy V I asked one of the 
 grooms. 
 
 " I am afraid your lordship will not be able 
 to run her to-day ." 
 
 " Not run her ! impossible, she must run. I 
 have not another that stands a chance of beating 
 Lord Bosworth's Culloden." 
 
 The, groom advised, explained, entreated, of 
 course in vain. I was an earl ; and how could 
 an earl's favourite be ill, and on his birthday ? — 
 as I said, " it was impossible. " 
 
 Noon came ; the park was thronged with 
 tenantry, all with holiday faces and holiday
 
 .38 THE OLD 
 
 garb. More select guests, drawn together from 
 considerable distances, took their appointed sta- 
 tions near the winning post. The principal 
 exhibition was preceded by a foot-race, to this 
 succeeded a pony-race. The prizes being ad- 
 judged and delivered, and all the company 
 arrived, my cousin Bosworth and I appeared in 
 our jockey costume. Black Bessy and Culloden 
 were brought out. As Isaac took the cloth off 
 my beautiful mare, I surveyed her symmetry 
 with triumph, and drew from it an augury of 
 certain success. Isaac's eye caught mine; he 
 shook his head. I vaulted on ; the signal was 
 given, and away we started. Lord Bosworth 
 and another youth were my competitors. At 
 the first touch, Bessy sprang forward like a 
 deer ; in a few seconds I had a decided advan- 
 tage. Eager to secure victory, I lashed im- 
 petuously, but without effect ; her spirits seemed 
 to flag, her speed was not accelerated. She 
 was still foremost ; but I found them gaining 
 upon me : in a moment we were even : in
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 39 
 
 another Lord Bosworth had passed me. I 
 pressed my mare forwards, I buried the spur 
 in her flank ; she rallied ; she overtook him. 
 I heard a mingled cry of my name and Bos- 
 worth's rise from the crowd ; the winning-post 
 was in sight ; together we laboured on. I felt 
 dizzy with the movements of the mass on each 
 side, and almost deafened with their shouts, 
 Culloden gained half a head ; a pang shot 
 through my heart ; I spurred, I goaded the 
 generous beast that bore me. With an effort 
 she was once more close upon him ; the struggle 
 grew desperate ; — we came in together. 
 
 " It is a drawn battle," said Bosworth, dis- 
 mounting ; " but Culloden would have beaten 
 your Bessy in a longer run." 
 
 <• I think not." 
 
 " Will you take a bet upon it for another 
 day V he asked with what I fancied a sneer. 
 
 " A hundred to one ; and no time like the 
 present. In ten minutes my mare will be ready 
 for you."
 
 40 THE OLD 
 
 Bosworth accepted my challenge. As soon 
 as Isaac had opportunity, he came to me, and 
 whispered some ominous words. " Nonsense, 
 don't tell me," was my answer to his advice. 
 
 At our second starting, Bessy seemed fagged ; 
 the elasticity of motion for which I had prized 
 her was gone : in vain I applied whip and spur, 
 and used every art to incite her ; in vain she 
 laboured. I saw my competitors pass ; I saw 
 them distance me ; I heard shouts ringing in 
 the air; and then I caught a glimpse of one 
 of them, on the opposite side of the course, 
 within a few yards of the goal. 
 
 My mare stopped suddenly ; I dismounted. 
 Her head was thrown up ; the distended eye- 
 balls were blood-red ; the foam fell like flakes 
 of snow from her mouth and nostrils, as she 
 champed and snorted convulsively. The swollen 
 veins, that had started as if bursting through 
 the shining skin in which they quivered, the 
 strained sinews, the violent pulsations of her 
 frame, were symptoms of agony that banished
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 41 
 
 my selfish feelings of irritation and disappoint- 
 ment. I leaped over the cordon that marked 
 the course ; I bounded across the turf towards 
 a piece of water, and returned with a handful 
 of moist grass. The mare lay biting the earth, 
 and writhing in torture. She groaned, she 
 gasped ; I called for help, though help could not 
 then avail ; I made signals to the crowd, I was 
 unheeded. My poor mare gave a plunge ; she 
 rolled from side to side ; she stretched herself 
 at full length ; she died. 
 
 I could not believe it. I knelt down, and put 
 my ear to her mouth ; respiration had ceased. 
 I laid my hands on the long tassels of her 
 braided and knotted mane ; the cold damp might 
 have been rung from them. I watched with 
 intense eagerness for a movement ; swiftness 
 and strength had passed from those beautiful 
 limbs for ever. 
 
 I called to her ; I caressed her ; I threw my 
 arms round her neck ; I strove to raise her 
 head ; I lifted it to my shoulder ; it sank ; it
 
 42 THE OLD 
 
 fell again heavily to the ground. I gazed till 
 tears of regret and remorse blinded my sight ; I 
 threw myself on the body and wept passionately. 
 
 The tramp of horses' feet aroused me. Look- 
 ing up, I saw Bosworth and Isaac. Shame in- 
 stantly banished the better feeling of contrition. 
 I could not endure the odium I knew would be 
 attached to the cruelty of which I perceived 
 myself guilty. It occurred to me that I might 
 be shielded by laying the blame upon Isaac. I 
 accused him vehemently of having caused the 
 death of my favourite ; I even asserted that he 
 had done so with malicious intent. My story, 
 however improbable, was countenanced and cre- 
 dited ; I was universally pitied, and Isaac dis- 
 missed abruptly in disgrace. 
 
 Three years after this elapsed without any 
 incident worthy of note ; but it happened rightly 
 that in the sequel I experienced a painful lesson 
 in witnessing the effects of my injustice. Among 
 the numerous herd of deer belonging to our 
 park, my mother had one pet stag. How often
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 43 
 
 I remember to have heard her admire its sleek 
 dappled coat, its spreading antlers, its soft loving 
 eyes, its innocent face, its delicate motions ; and 
 to have seen the creature, half pleased and half 
 fearful, taking sweet biscuits and tender green 
 boughs from her white hands. 
 
 This stag was missing ; tracks of gore had 
 been noticed in a wood which skirted the road, 
 and it was therefore concluded that it had been 
 made the prey of some deer-stalker. My mother 
 was grieved, and I was the more indignant, from 
 conceiving the particularity of the selection a 
 designed insult. Having a pair of famous blood- 
 hounds, I set out in quest of the offender, ac- 
 companied by the squire as a magistrate, and 
 by a ranger. These dogs were of the Cuba 
 breed crossed by the English mastiff, extremely 
 powerful, though not of great size; strong- 
 limbed, wide-chested, broad-headed, with square 
 mouths and long ears, short bristly hair, and 
 prominent eyes, set wide apart, of a dark brown
 
 44 THE OLD 
 
 that would turn fire-red as they glared on a foe 
 or a stranger. 
 
 Being put on the scent, they turned into the 
 plantations, and led along a narrow pathway till 
 we reached a gate which opened on the high- 
 way. The sun shone out broadly, yet the air 
 was cool ; large masses of snowy clouds fantas- 
 tically shaped floated upon a sky of the deepest 
 blue : the splendour of the season enhanced the 
 loveliness of nature. We traversed a heath 
 covered with wild thyme and golden furze, from 
 which rose the richest perfume, until our road 
 was met by three others, where, on a grassy 
 mound, a young tree, springing from a group of 
 little rocks, waved above the grave of a criminal. 
 Here our canine guides were at fault, but, re- 
 covering their clue, they made onwards up a 
 steep ascent, crowned by a clump of pine trees. 
 We paused amongst their lofty trunks, straight, 
 smooth, and rounded as the gigantic pillars of 
 some primitive temple, and, leaving our horses
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 45 
 
 with the ranger, the squire and I descended into 
 the wooded ravine which lay beneath us by a 
 narrow and sinuous path, which became every 
 moment more broken and insecure. Oak, elm, 
 ash, beech, birch, and lichen, overgrown with 
 ivy, moss, wild honeysuckle, and flowering 
 creepers ; the yellow broom, the blossoming 
 Aaron-rod, nut-trees, blackberry bushes, thorn, 
 furze, briar, holly, and other brushwood, inter- 
 mingled with fern, primrose roots, foxglove, lilies 
 of the valley, lords and ladies, harebells, blue- 
 bells, bird's-eyes, forget-me-not, and scarlet 
 strawberries, formed a pleasant wilderness, which 
 appeared almost impervious. 
 
 In spite of the opposition of tangled branches, 
 we forced our way downwards. Some loose 
 stones rolled before us ; splashing, as they fell, 
 they warned us that we stood on the verge of a 
 dark and sullen stream. We were about to 
 retreat, but the dogs continued to snuff the 
 ground, and at length uttered their deep loud 
 bay. It resounded through the woods.
 
 46 THE OLD 
 
 While listening, we observed some white smoke 
 issuing from among the trees. We crossed the 
 water by wading, and persisting in our search, 
 soon broke upon a hut. The hounds, in full 
 cry, burst into the dwelling, and seized upon 
 their victim : we followed. They had fastened 
 on the garments of a man kneeling with his head 
 bowed upon his hands by the side of a miserable 
 pallet, on which a female figure lay stretched. 
 We approached, and discovered it to be a corpse. 
 
 " I apprehend you," said the magistrate, " on 
 suspicion of felony." 
 
 The man rose ; his face was turned towards 
 us with a gloomy stare. I beheld Isaac. 
 
 " Let me bury my wife," he answered ; and 
 the deep solemnity of his tone and manner, ut- 
 terly inexpressive of either surprise or dread, 
 was rather that of command than entreaty. 
 
 " This," said the squire, pointing to the muti- 
 lated carcase of a deer which lay on the floor 
 beside a hanger-knife, " if identified, is sufficient 
 evidence"
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 47 
 
 Isaac started from his abstraction. 
 
 " You will not want it, sir ; I confess the 
 theft : but," added he, turning fiercely upon me, 
 "my lord here is guilty of robbery too. 11 
 
 " Silence, fellow I 11 interrupted Mr. Dornton ; 
 " do you know 11 
 
 " I have nothing to fear, sir, 11 continued Isaac. 
 " for I have nothing to lose ; what I say to his 
 face I would say at the bar. I was an honest 
 man, ay, and a rich one ; for out of the wages 
 of my labour I had enough and to spare. Falsely, 
 cruelly, wickedly, he took away my character, 
 and in doing so he took away my bread. If 
 there was law for the poor, as there is for the 
 great, is not this robbery \ I would have picked 
 stones, but the parish, afraid of disobliging my 
 lady, refused to give me work. My wife fell 
 sick ; her heart was broken by my disgrace. 
 Our savings dwindled till they were gone ; in a 
 little while we had neither money nor food ; my 
 children (he motioned to five or six who were 
 
 11
 
 48 THE OLD 
 
 crowded together in a corner) came crying to 
 me ; my wife was wasting for want of nourish- 
 ment. I stole. From you, who had so wronged 
 me, I thought it no sin ; yet I waited — I waited 
 too long. The meat I brought to make broth 
 for her is still on the fire : she did not live to 
 taste it." 
 
 His voice trembled ; his gaze was fixed with 
 a mournful intensity on the face of the dead 
 woman. I was moved. 
 
 " You will not prosecute," said the squire in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " Let us go home. Isaac' 1 — 
 
 He raised his dark sinewy hand, and put aside 
 the purse I had tendered. 
 
 " Keep your money, my lord, it will not bring 
 back my wife. Oh ! Rachel, Rachel, my best 
 friend," he exclaimed ; " how many years we 
 might still have spent together in peace ! T 
 could forgive all, if you were yet alive. Prose- 
 cute me, my lord," he adjoined bitterly, " trans-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 49 
 
 port me, hang me ; but remember, if I have 
 slain your deer, you have killed my wife. If I 
 am a thief, are not you a murderer f 1 
 
 His words were true, and they were terrible 
 to me. " See to this unfortunate man," I fal- 
 tered, and precipitately left the hut. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 50 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Cambridge — The expulsion — Coming of age — Pevensey castle 
 — A visit — The duchess — The fat lap-dog — The broken 
 china — Mr. Desbrowe's cement — Brighton, 1763 — The 
 grand tour — Paris in 1765 — Life a la mode — Society — 
 The sylphs — The galanterie — Consideration of artistes — 
 Volange the Buffo — The Countess Stainville and Clairville 
 des Italiens— Mole of the Comedie Francais — Mile. Clairon 
 and Mile. Dumenil — Rivalry between ladies of the court 
 and the theatre — Mile. Guimard of the Opera— The chaus- 
 se'e d'Antin — Dinner parties — Etiquette — Parfilage — Les 
 Galons — Petits jeux — Comedie de societe'. — Royal apart- 
 ments. 
 
 At eighteen I went to Cambridge, where I found 
 half the youth of rank and fortune in the three 
 kingdoms, and an assembly of more vicious or 
 empty-headed idlers it would be impossible to 
 encounter. Adopting all that was there in vogue, 
 I indulged in wine parties, and in smoking,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 51 
 
 swearing, and dicing, drove four-in-hand, learnt 
 to wrestle and box, with other similar acquire- 
 ments. 
 
 Basil and Philip also concluded their educa- 
 tions at Cambridge. Though separated by ma- 
 ternal care from them during the vacations, our 
 having continued together at Eton had prevented 
 our becoming strangers. At college we remained 
 much upon our former terms. Philip was still 
 my most servile copyist and adulator. In return 
 for a number of not very creditable services, 
 which he did not hesitate to perform, I intro- 
 duced him to my own set, by whom he was alter- 
 nately tolerated and insulted. 
 
 To cultivate that sort of connexion he be- 
 lieved essential in pursuit of the ignis fatuus — 
 preferment, which his mother's weak ambition 
 had pointed out to him, he lived in a style that 
 entailed expenses absurdly disproportioned to 
 his means. His engaging manners, his showy 
 person, and agreeable flow of spirits, tended to 
 increase his temptations, and, under my auspices. 
 d 2
 
 THE OLD 
 
 he launched, in our company, upon a stream of 
 pleasure, which, for him whose bark was but 
 indifferently freighted, terminated in an abyss. 
 Soon wearied by the recital of the difficulties in 
 which he was involved, I, like the rest of his 
 "velvet friends,' discarded and disowned him. 
 Some other, who, in courting us for what he 
 deemed his own interest, courted us only to his 
 own ruin, supplied his place at our tables, — his 
 ready laugh, his jest, his song. Philip Dornton, 
 who had catered for our amusement with so 
 much pains, was dismissed unthanked. He. 
 like the wine that brimmed our goblets, had 
 sparkled, been praised, drained, and forgotten : 
 no more amongst us, and to us he existed no 
 longer. 
 
 Basil had persevered in an independent course; 
 he mixed only with those who sought and valued 
 his society; a few grave, studious young men, 
 more virtuous, more amiable, more informed 
 than any of the class with whom I associated, 
 because less affluent ; for it is the misfortune of
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 53 
 
 the immediate inheritors of titles and property, 
 that their position, while it enables them to 
 command the greatest opportunities of education, 
 at the same time too often defeats education's 
 best purposes. Supposing the sentiments and 
 example of their instructors to coincide with 
 the precepts they find in the works put into 
 their hands (which is not often the case), and 
 that it be proved to them with all the instance 
 of the most precise and logical reasoning, that 
 virtue is necessary to happiness, wisdom to vir- 
 tue, knowledge to wisdom, and application to 
 knowledge ; that it is only a man's moral qua- 
 lities that can entitle him to respect, or his 
 mental that will obtain for him admiration ; yet 
 the circumstances by which they are surrounded 
 appear to disprove these propositions, and every 
 day's experience shows them the doctrine of the 
 world at variance with that of the study. 
 
 With powerful seductions to evil, with weak 
 incentives to good, believing pleasure happiness, 
 they are apt to cast aside the guidance of prin- 
 p3
 
 54 THE OLD 
 
 ciple, and abandon themselves to the impulses of 
 inclination. They are envied as the favourites 
 of Fortune ; but, like those of Circe, her smiles 
 are destruction. 
 
 It is otherwise with young men of mediocrity, 
 To win regard, wealth, fame, or station, they 
 must cultivate engaging, amiable, or useful 
 qualities ; it is necessary they should be what 
 is desirable. The others have the fatal power 
 of option; and this difference has so material 
 a bearing upon character, that any prevalence 
 of imbecility or depravity in the upper ranks 
 is less surprising than the existence of those 
 admirable exceptions, who demand and deserve 
 exemption from these epithets. 
 
 Basil took his degree, and gained academic 
 honours. A fellowship was offered him ; to the 
 amazement of all concerned, as he had origi- 
 nally expressed a wish to enter the church, it 
 was declined. His reasons were questioned, 
 and avowed ; his creed differed from that esta- 
 blished. Actuated by conscientious motives, he
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 00 
 
 maintained with ardour and firmness the opinions 
 he had formed. In consequence, he was expel- 
 led the university. 
 
 I returned soon after ; having been distin- 
 guished only by my taste and profuseness, which 
 gave patronage to all those novelties most re- 
 markable for expense and inutility. Yet those 
 I left behind did not fail, in exchanging adieus, 
 to add their prognostications that I should make 
 a figure on town. 
 
 My coming of age was celebrated at Mount 
 Manor with an eclat that gave it publicity ; and 
 I then set out to make the grand tour, accom- 
 panied by a gentleman who, having passed the 
 greater part of his life in the best society on 
 the Continent, and fulfilled the task of Cicerone 
 very satisfactorily on several preceding occa- 
 sions, was selected by my guardians as parti- 
 cularly fitted for the task. 
 
 Mr. Desbrowe's appearance was highly pre- 
 possessing. Though nearly sixty, he was still 
 extremely handsome. His powdered hair, 
 n 4
 
 56 THE OLD 
 
 dressed in the fashion of the time, displayed 
 advantageously a noble forehead, and a fine 
 aquiline nose ; large grey eyes, glancing quietly, 
 somewhat sleepily, beneath dark brows ; and a 
 mouth, remarkable for the whitest teeth and 
 the blandest smiles, composed a countenance 
 pervaded by an expression at once peculiar and 
 pleasing. His figure was tall and spare ; a 
 slight stoop, instead of detracting from its ele- 
 gance, enhanced it by producing an effect of ease ; 
 and the extraordinary beauty of his hands gave 
 a charm to his habit of frequent but gentle action. 
 Every movement indeed, his mode of unfolding 
 a handkerchief, picking up a fan, presenting a 
 snuff-box, offering a seat, or returning a saluta- 
 tion, was a model of elaborate grace. Not less 
 admirable was his style of conversation, in its 
 adaptation to the tastes and ages of those with 
 whom he talked, in the acuteness of his remarks, 
 the fluency and precision of his expression, and 
 the suavity of the tone in which they were con- 
 veyed. Not, properly speaking, a man of eru-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 57 
 
 dition, but sufficiently versed in the classics to 
 avail himself of the ornaments of mythological, 
 historical, and poetic allusion ; familiar with 
 modern languages and literature, and intimately 
 acquainted with general and particular statistics, 
 with the manners of courts and nations ; a keen 
 observer of character and events, he had accu- 
 mulated a fund of anecdote, and a variety of 
 information, which, enlivened by a sprightly 
 fancy, prodigal in compliment and repartee, was 
 employed with a felicitous judgment, that gave 
 him the art of adding the zest of variety, by 
 passing agreeably from topic to topic, and ex- 
 tracting entertainment from all, without ex- 
 hausting any. 
 
 Comme Vabeille, il savait cuellir le miel sans 
 fietrir la fleur. He also possessed a number of 
 other accomplishments ; in dancing and fencing 
 he might rival Gallini and Angelo ; his episto- 
 lary taste had been formed by a study of the 
 delightful effusions that had elevated letter- 
 writing under Louis XIV. into an esteemed 
 d 5
 
 OO THE OLD 
 
 branch of composition ; and his talent for epi- 
 gram and poetical jeu cF esprit, had been exer- 
 cised and cultivated amongst the wits who had 
 adorned and survived the reign of Queen Anne. 
 Desbrowe, in person, air, carriage, and acquire- 
 ment, was the beau ideal of a finished gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 At the conclusion of the peace of Fontaine- 
 bleau, I set forth. From Brighton I addressed 
 the following letter to my mother : — 
 
 " Brighton. 
 
 11 Your ladyship, I trust, has suffered no un- 
 easiness on account of my having failed in the 
 promise I made of writing from Pevensey Castle. 
 The apology I have to offer is, that my stay 
 there was curtailed to one day, by reason of my 
 finding the place intolerable. Owing to the 
 Earl of Northampton's recent decease, there 
 was of course no company ; and, unfortunately, 
 her grace of Beaufort is too old, and her ward 
 too young, to be attractive. Having fully deli- 
 vered your condolements, and patiently replied to
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 59 
 
 the innumerable family enquiries of our relatives, 
 I escaped, as soon as possible, by pleading a tra- 
 veller's fatigue as an excuse for retiring. Next 
 morning I rode over to Hurstmonceaux with my 
 tutor or companion — which, pray, is he? — Mr. 
 Desbrowe. Returned to Pevensey we found the 
 Duchess and Lady Elizabeth busy at their work- 
 frames ; the conversation turning upon new 
 books, Mr. Desbrowe produced a volume of Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montague's Letters, and read a 
 few passages with so much ability, that the 
 ladies begged to hear more. 
 
 " Meanwhile I began to divert myself by pit- 
 ting her grace's fat lap-dog against a china mon- 
 ster, wonderfully resembling the animal's own 
 form. Daphne growled and barked an accompa- 
 niment to some of Lady Mary's most interesting 
 descriptions ; her angry anticks were irresistibly 
 ludicrous. Lady Elizabeth laughed, her grace 
 looked grave, Mr. Desbrowe closed his book ; I 
 replaced the ornament, but in doing so heed- 
 lessly the chain of my spur loosened, and struck 
 d 6
 
 60 THE OLD 
 
 against an inestimable green tea-pot so violently 
 as to shatter it. I am for ever disgraced. Mr. 
 Desbrowe repaired the mischief by a simple pro- 
 cess of cement, and made the most of the brief 
 opportunity I afforded him for ingratiating him- 
 self, by designing a centre pattern for a silk 
 coverlid, which her grace projects. The duchess 
 is charmed with his assiduity — she says, ' I am 
 very fortunate. "* 
 
 " Delayed by the miserable state of the roads, 
 we did not arrive here till yesterday ; we found 
 the best inn crowded, and were obliged to put 
 up at the second ; though Brighton consists of 
 six or seven streets, there are no lodging-houses 
 proper for accommodation. Dr. RusseFs general 
 prescription of sea-bathing has drawn together 
 a flock of invalids, purposing to become his 
 patients. A view of the sea-shore here realizes 
 one's notion of the pool of Jordan. Persons 
 undress in sheds or shades, as they are termed, 
 erected on the shingle, and are carried in decent 
 wraps into the water.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 61 
 
 u Visiting the Wick spring, and the new bat- 
 tery which has been raised on the site of the 
 Eastgate of the Gun-garden, I met the Duke and 
 Duchess of Marlborough, Lord Abergavenny, 
 Mr. and Lady Jane Evelyn. We have hired a 
 sailing packet to convey us across. The tide will 
 serve early to morrow. I shall give your lady- 
 ship note of our arrival at Dieppe. Pray do 
 not suffer yourself to feel anxiety on my ac- 
 count ." 
 
 Remaining in Paris only a few days, as we 
 had the intention of making a long stay there 
 on our return, I hurried through the principal 
 countries of Europe, and glanced at its chief 
 wonders; pausing a little while at the Hague, 
 Dresden, Berlin, Petersburg, Vienna, Naples, 
 Madrid, and Lisbon, for my presentation at the 
 courts of the Stadtholder, William V., of Prince 
 Ferdinand of Brunswic, of Frederic of Prussia, 
 of Catherine II. of Russia, of the Empress Maria 
 Theresa, of Ferdinand IV., Charles III., and 
 Joseph I., we found ourselves again in the metro- 
 11
 
 62 THE OLD 
 
 polis of France, and took an hotel in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Germain. 
 
 Paris, in 1765, under Louis XV., had reached 
 that ultimatum of magnificence and luxury which 
 is commonly the precursor of a nation's overthrow 
 or decay. It was a splendid temple of corrup- 
 tion, wherein vice, gorgeously enshrined and 
 veiled beneath refinement, was worshipped, un- 
 der the name of pleasure, by youth, beauty, 
 and rank. The brilliancy of its aspect might 
 have been seductive to a matured mind ; it was 
 irresistibly so to a mixed unsystematized cha- 
 racter like mine, made up of inconsistencies, 
 directed by impulse, varying under varied cir- 
 cumstances, as the chameleon's hue diners in 
 different lights. 
 
 My rank readily procured me an introduction 
 into the great world, and in a little while 1 
 made way even into those chosen circles — for ex- 
 clusiveness had already originated in France — 
 whence rank alone would have been banished, 
 if unsupported by distinguished person, amiable
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. Oo 
 
 manners, and good style. The entree effected, 
 les succes de societe were to be obtained with 
 less difficulty. A repartee or a piece of gal- 
 lantry was sufficient to confer reputation, and I 
 was so happy as to signalize myself by both. 
 The repartees I have forgotten ; some little 
 pieces of gallantry, talked of amongst others, 
 I describe — 
 
 There was a fashion of sending superb pre- 
 sents anonymously, said to be the gifts of sylphs ; 
 and all Paris was amused with effecting these 
 surprises, or guessing from whom they pro- 
 ceeded. Mile. Duthe had about 600 livres in 
 jewels conveyed to her by an invisible hand. 
 Some lady received a gold sweetmeat box, stud- 
 ded with diamonds, containing bons-hons wrap- 
 ped in bank notes to the amount of 800 livres. 
 Madame de la Garde found one morning that 
 each of her papillotes was worth five livres. 
 Another day, when I was present, a bevy of 
 beauties were amusing themselves with confess- 
 ing their wishes. One coveted a diamond bee ;
 
 64 THE OLD 
 
 another a ruby necklace ; a third a secretary 
 completely furnished in porcelain ; a fourth a 
 Persian carpet, &c. To the satisfaction, though 
 not probably to the surprise, of these ladies, 
 each desire was fulfilled in as short a time as 
 possible. The part I had in this expensive kind 
 of gallantry was discovered through the neck- 
 lace being taken some short while after to the 
 identical jeweller from whom it had been pro- 
 cured, to be new strung. 
 
 I found the society very brilliant, and the 
 fashionable mode of life amusing. Imitating the 
 Parisians, I bathed, breakfasted in my chamber, 
 dispatched a few billets-doux, or sonnets, written 
 by my valet, gave audience to a bevy of trades- 
 people, who came to beg my suggestions and 
 to secure my patronage of novelties ; completed 
 my toilet, hurried to attend that of some woman 
 of quality ; and thence to pay my homage to 
 some favourite actress or opera dancer. 
 
 Artistes rather than the arts, and literati 
 rather than literature, were then excessively
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 65 
 
 countenanced by the great ; they were inces- 
 santly sought, and every way distinguished. 
 The example of Frederic of Prussia had influ- 
 enced this fashion, which at length became a 
 ridiculous rage, especially in regard to dramatic 
 performers. 
 
 The carriages of the nobility besieged their 
 doors ; titled beauties crowded their levees ; no 
 assembly was considered perfect without them, 
 and the presents and favours lavished upon them 
 seemed intended to bribe the honour of their 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Volange, the buffo, was one of the deities of 
 the minute. A piece in which he acted was 
 played twice a day during a whole year ! His 
 bust was to be seen painted on Sevres, in all 
 varieties of ornament, in every lady's cabinet, — 
 boudoir was a term then only employed by 
 courtisannes, — and at that time his friends at 
 court were endeavouring to procure for him 
 the order of St. Michael. 
 
 Females of the highest rank shared the extra-
 
 66 THE OLD 
 
 ordinary rage after these persons. Mole, of 
 the Comedie Francais was persecuted by high- 
 born dames. Nothing could equal his success 
 except his fatuity. He was heard to boast 
 that he had possessed for years a first-rate esta- 
 blishment without any trouble or expenditure, 
 since the Countess d'Egmont took care of his 
 cellar, his table was supplied by Princess Kinski, 
 Mesdames de Langeac and Flammarens re- 
 newed his furniture, the Baroness d'Orvil had 
 the charge of his ordinary wardrobe, while his 
 theatrical properties were supervised by the 
 Princess d'Henin, and the Marquise de THopi- 
 tal paid for his fancies. 
 
 The fair professors obtained at least equal 
 consideration. Miles. Olairon and Dumenil were 
 the first tragedians. Clairon was an old fa- 
 vourite ; Dumenil had not long shared her suf- 
 frages ; the public supported the former ; the 
 court amateurs the newer and younger aspirant. 
 DumeniFs style of acting was adjudged to be 
 the more natural and touching; Clairon's the
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 67 
 
 more studied and powerful. They were the rival 
 queens of Paris ; but they seemed to divide 
 without disputing their empire ; at least until 
 the occasion of Olairon's re-appearing on the 
 stage at a later period, when they were placed 
 by the Dauphine, Marie-Antoinette, and the 
 Comtesse du Barri, at the heads of two parties, 
 to wage a warfare which was only a pretext 
 for the personal animosity of their several sup- 
 porters. 
 
 During my first stay in the French capital, 
 they jointly gave a representation ; between the 
 play and farce both came forward, and threw 
 some small silver medals into the pit, crying, 
 " Vive le Roi F* The people responded, " Vive 
 le Roi et Mile. Clairon ! — Vive le Roi et Mile. 
 Dumenil /" 
 
 Freron having severely satirized Mademoiselle 
 Clairon in one of the journals, she went to 
 the gentlemen of the king^ bedchamber, and 
 threatened, if she were not revenged on him, to 
 retire from the boards. A rumour of this pos-
 
 68 THE OLD 
 
 sibility caused an extraordinary alarm through- 
 out Paris. An order was obtained from the 
 king to send Freron to Fort l'Eveque. The 
 literary world protested against the measure ; 
 the court and capital were divided on the 
 question ; a contest as violent as that of the 
 Guelphs and Ghibellines arose. Freron had 
 powerful friends ; but the minister would listen 
 to no intercession in his favour. At last, the 
 Duchesse de Grammont, sister to the premier, 
 obtained his pardon. Clairon, disapproving this, 
 addressed a letter to Versailles, in which she 
 lamented to perceive that her services were no 
 longer valued, since the king suffered her to be 
 abused with impunity. The Due de Choiseul 
 made her the following reply : 
 
 " Madam, you and I are alike on a theatre ; 
 but with this difference, you choose the charac- 
 ters most agreeable to yourself, and are sure of 
 meeting (except only from a few persons of bad 
 taste like the despicable Freron) with universal 
 approbation ; my tasks are generally most un-
 
 ENGLISH XOBLEMAX. 69 
 
 pleasant, and act as I may, I am criticised, 
 condemned, hissed, and ridiculed ; — but I do not 
 for all this resign. Let us sacrifice our private 
 resentments to the good of our country, and let 
 us both continue to serve it in the best way 
 we can/"' 
 
 An incredible extent of competition existed 
 between ladies of society and of the stage. The 
 latter, from the exorbitance of their salaries, 
 the vast profits accruing from their private en- 
 gagements, and the munificence of the presents 
 they were continually receiving, were enabled 
 to vie with, and often to outshine, the first nobi- 
 lity in dress, equipage, retinue, and establish- 
 ment. Mile. Guimard, an opera dancer, was one 
 of those most noted for taste and prodigality. 
 It is scarcely possible to give an idea of the ele- 
 gance and luxury that characterized her residence 
 in the Chaussee d'Autin. The gorgeous gilding, 
 the fine carving, the exquisite paintings that 
 embellished the tinted walls and ceilings, the 
 porcelain parquets, the Persian carpets, the rich
 
 70 THE OLD 
 
 hangings, the soft couches, the burnished furni- 
 ture, cushioned with ruby, or emerald, or jasper- 
 coloured velvets, the marbles, the mirrors, the 
 ormolu, the bronzes, the numberless candelabras, 
 the choice modern pictures, cabinets by Greuze, 
 figure-pieces by Pajou, marine views by Vernet, 
 the delicate sculptures, the tiny founts playing 
 in silver basins, the chrystal vases holding bou- 
 quets of growing roses, the profusion of bijoux, 
 produced an effect which was then only eclipsed 
 in Paris by the petits appartemens of Versailles. 
 Mile. Guimard's averaged income was enor- 
 mous, but as it never sufficed to her expenditure, 
 she was always involved. She gave three sup- 
 pers weekly ; the first for the nobility, the second 
 for artistes of all descriptions, the third for her 
 favourites, — perfect Saturnalia. There was an 
 elegant little theatre in her house erected in a 
 large salon ; round it were private boxes with 
 gilt lattices, in which foreign visitors of distinc- 
 tion, or those ladies who were too fastidious to 
 appear publicly, witnessed the representations.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 71 
 
 The performers were selected from the Comedie 
 Francais, assisted occasionally by amateurs of 
 rank. Mile Guimard usually danced in the tri- 
 fling ballets which succeeded them. 
 
 Though not of the first rank (Mile. Arnoux 
 was the first danseuse of the Opera), her per- 
 formance was always airy and pleasing : she had 
 more taste than art. Her figure was very long 
 and slender, but so flexible, that every move- 
 ment was grace, and her attitudes and panto- 
 mime unrivalled ; her head small, her face charm- 
 ing, her skin very white, her hands perfect : she 
 walked admirably. In other respects Mile. Gui- 
 mard was what opera-dancers generally are, man- 
 nered, artificial, and superficial, uninformed, fond 
 of show and good eating; fascinating at first, insi- 
 pid afterwards ; dissipated, insatiable in obtaining 
 money, as careless in expending it ; capable now 
 and then of acts of generosity and disinterested- 
 ness, as was instanced on the occasion of the 
 Prince de Soubise's memorable bankruptcy, when 
 Mile. Guimard, at the head of her compeers,
 
 72 THE OLD 
 
 came forward to relinquish, for his assistance, 
 the pensions, amounting to some thousands, 
 which he had assigned them. 
 
 But this excellent trait excited very little 
 attention ; much less than the first exhibition of 
 her new equipage at Long-Champs, shortly after 
 my arrival in Paris. This coach was a superb 
 specimen of the prevailing taste : the body, white 
 and gold, with porcelain entablatures, presented 
 groups of flowers exquisitely painted ; on each 
 door-pannel was an escutcheon, whence issued a 
 branch of myrtle, having the Graces as sup- 
 porters; for the crest, a Cupid. The frame- 
 work was of gilt leather ; the lining, amber vel- 
 vet, starred with gold ; each wheel represented 
 a sun and rays. The harness was of purple 
 velvet, ornamented with gold. Six small white 
 horses drew the vehicle. There were a coach- 
 man and two postillions, a Swiss in splendid 
 uniform behind, and four running footmen when 
 she made visits. 
 
 After my morning calls, a ride in the Bois de
 
 ENGLISH XOBLEMAX. 73 
 
 Boulogne, a reconnoitre in the Thuilleries, or a 
 game at billiards, and two o'clock, the fashion- 
 able hour of dining, arrived. The dinner parties 
 I found more agreeable than those of England. 
 There was none of the formality arising from 
 the observance of precedency. When a servant 
 had announced that the dinner was served, those 
 ladies who happened to be nearest the door 
 quitted the withdrawing-room first, the others 
 followed, and the gentlemen brought up the rear. 
 Arrived in the satte a manger, the host motioned 
 to two persons to place themselves on each side 
 of him, the hostess did the same as respected 
 her end of the table, the rest of the company 
 made their own arrangements, and thus every 
 body having a chance of being placed by the 
 one he preferred, this time, instead of being 
 occupied, as is so often the case with us, in 
 getting over the preliminaries with a stranger, 
 was commonly productive of a very unconstrained 
 and pleasant tete-a-tete. 
 
 After the cloth was removed, the ladies rose 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE OLD 
 
 and retired to wash their hands ; the gentlemen 
 passed into an anti-roorn for the same purpose : 
 they met again for the dessert, and quitted the 
 table together. In the salon the ladies amused 
 themselves with embroidery or parfilage, while 
 the men chattered, retailed anecdotes and epi- 
 grams, and sometimes read a brochure or a 
 poem. 
 
 Parfilage was a curious employment for 
 women of rank, but it had obtained so gene- 
 rally as almost to have superseded all other kind 
 of fancy-work. It consisted in separating the 
 bullion from the silk of gold-lace, fringe, frogs, 
 hat-loops, or sword-knots, for the purpose of 
 selling it to the Jews at half the price of new ; 
 and it was quite ordinary to hear ladies begging 
 and bespeaking the spoiled finery of their male 
 acquaintance to furnish material for their dexte- 
 rous industry; these contributions were termed 
 qahns. The shop-keepers, taking advantage of 
 the folly, invented a number of ingenious and 
 expensive toys, composed entirely of galons ;
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 75 
 
 sheep, clogs, squirrels, cradles, carriages in 
 miniature, &c, were offered, admired, and then 
 pulled to pieces for parfilage. It gave opportu- 
 nity for innumerable galanteries. 
 
 I had a masqued ball at my hotel, at which I 
 appeared personifying Phoebus, in a costume 
 purposely composed of cloth of gold and bullion, 
 worth two hundred pounds, which I sent next 
 day to a lady. 
 
 Between four and five some of the dinner 
 party went away to make calls, evening visiters 
 came in, and the others soon disappeared to go 
 to the theatre, which closed at ten o'clock, or to 
 dress for a bal pare, or to show themselves in 
 the royal apartments — (in the queen's, to join in 
 prayers or hear a sermon ; in the king's, to be 
 one au jeu du ro% and pay homage to his 
 favourite), — or to look in at some of the bureaux 
 cVesprit or a soiree devoted to play, music, pro- 
 verbes, or vaudevilles. Then came the supper 
 at nine, after it some coucher to attend ; after 
 that La Guimard's, La Duthes, or elsewhere, a 
 e 2
 
 76 • THE OLI> 
 
 medianoche and the indescribable revels that 
 succeeded. 
 
 Mr. Desbrowe rather encouraged than endea- 
 voured to control my taste for dissipation ; his 
 pursuits were distinct from mine : he appeared 
 incessantly occupied, but in what manner I was 
 not at the pains of ascertaining. However, I 
 could not fail to remark that he had a multitude 
 of correspondents of rank, both male and female, 
 and a proportionate number of commissions.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 77 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The hotel de * * * * — Gabrielle — Aux petit soins — City excur- 
 sions — The mercer's daughter — The gouvernante — The 
 Thuilleries — An interrupted tete-a-tete — La maison de 
 campagne — The toilette — Le livre d'heures — Lovers and 
 saints — The patches — The duel — The hoar-hunt — Louis 
 XV. — Le petit Trianon — Le souper — Les convives — The 
 fete — The water party — The fan — Feu — The packet of let- 
 ters — La demoiselle de compagnie — The discovery. 
 
 Mr. Desbrowe and I happening to dine tete-a- 
 Ute, he asked me to go with him that evening 
 to the hotel de * * * * 
 
 " The request astonishes me from you," I 
 replied. 
 
 " Why so r 
 
 " I have understood it is a house where there 
 is always high play. ,, 
 
 e3
 
 78 THE OLD 
 
 " Yes ; but the society one meets is the most 
 select in Paris ; and in the fascinations of 
 the hostess, to whom I intend recommending 
 you particularly, you will find a preservative 
 against temptation.'" 
 
 " We will go." 
 
 I ordered my vis-a-vis. We arrived at the 
 hotel ; it was blazing with lamps ; the gates 
 were tin-own open ; on each side stood a porter. 
 Several carriages were in the court-yard, a 
 string of sedans before the hall-door, link-men 
 swearing, and flambeaux flaring, — within, a file 
 of servants. We followed a page up-stairs 
 into an ante-room ; another presented a salver 
 for our cards, and carried them for exami- 
 nation. 
 
 Meanwhile we had leisure to adjust our neck- 
 bands, frills, and bouquets, before the mirror- 
 pannels, and to place our laced hats under our 
 arms in the most approved mode. As I arranged 
 a ribbon that hung round my neck, I congratu- 
 lated myself upon the happy result produced by
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 79 
 
 my salmon-coloured suit, embroidered with sil 
 ver, and my blue perruque-tie. My patches I 
 thought too had never been put on more be- 
 comingly. 
 
 We were ushered into the salon. Mr. Des- 
 browe led me towards Madame de * * * *, 
 the mistress of the house. Our introduction 
 took place. The polite formula of the age was 
 somewhat redundant, but well-bred persons, 
 from habit, performed these ceremonies with so 
 graceful a facility, that the courtesy of the 
 ancien regime was as remarkable for its ease as 
 for its dignity. 
 
 Some gentlemen, who had been engrossing 
 Madame, resigned their places to us, which, 
 after a few requisite compliments, we accepted. 
 Being seated next her on a pile of cushions, I 
 began to examine the lady upon whom Mr. Des- 
 browe had been expatiating during our ride. 
 What immediately struck me was the singularity 
 of her appearance ; while the head-dresses of all 
 the other ladies present were edifices that seemed 
 e 4
 
 80 THE OLD 
 
 to emulate the Tower of Babel, hers more resem- 
 bled the style of Marion de TOrme, or La Mothe- 
 Houdancourt. With the capricious eccentricity 
 of a professed beauty, she wore neither rouge 
 nor powder. The colour and quality of her hair 
 were particular ; it was of a pale yellow, as 
 bright as gold, as soft as silk, parted across a 
 smooth forehead, and adorned with a bandeau 
 of pearls, from the centre of which hung a jewel 
 of sapphires and diamonds ; it fell in rich waves 
 upon her exquisitely curved shoulders. Her face 
 was a perfect oval, her brows were arched, her 
 eyes full, mild, and expressive, her nose was 
 delicately aquiline, her mouth agreeable, her 
 chin small and well turned, her bust and shape 
 luxuriant, her arms gracefully rounded, her 
 hands and feet minute. The excessive fairness 
 of her skin had scarcely need of contrast, but 
 the Pompadour blue damask night-gown she 
 wore appeared to me extremely advantageous 
 to it. She was so lovely a woman that even the 
 petite-maitresse affectation with which she was
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 81 
 
 tainted I thought enchanting ; the more so as 
 I was not then sufficiently blase to relish the 
 relief of simplicity. As soon as we fell into 
 conversation, she apologized for the deficiencies 
 of her toilette, explaining without hesitation — 
 
 " Ce matin, pendant que ma coeffeuse me 
 peignait, et me lavait la tete, FAbbe Boisgelin 
 vint ; me trouvant toute echevelee, il voulut abso- 
 lument me coeffer a Tantique. Convenez que 
 j'ai Fair desolee d' Ariadne apres le depart de son 
 amant." 
 
 " De tout, Madame; votre mise ne laisse 
 rien a desirer, — sinon qu'on soupire que ce bleu 
 celeste (I touched her robe,) nous cache comme 
 celle la-haut, le Paradis. ,, 
 
 Gabrielle smiled ; she always smiled when 
 she listened, and always laughed when she an- 
 swered ; her liveliness was unbroken ; but her 
 gaiety seemed a mere habit, there was no glad- 
 ness in it ; her laugh was purely to exhibit her 
 fine teeth. 
 
 Our conversation was interrupted in a few 
 e 5
 
 82 THE OLD 
 
 minutes by a fresh arrival ; and I, in my turn, 
 rose and relinquished my seat. Having paid my 
 compliments to those of my acquaintance, and 
 sauntered through the inner rooms, which were 
 filled with parties at play, I returned to my hotel ; 
 thither Gabrielle's image pursued me ; she haunted 
 my dreams, and my first thought in awaking, 
 was the anticipated pleasure of calling on her. 
 I found her alone, with the exception of her 
 dame de compagnie, who was sent away for her 
 essence-bottle ; which it appeared, from the tar- 
 diness of her return, could not be easily found. 
 I presented Madame with a bouquet confined by 
 a diamond hoop. She had been playing on her 
 lute, at least the instrument lay beside her ; she 
 took it up and sang me a sprightly air very 
 charmingly. I exhausted every available expres- 
 sion of admiration ; the demoiselle came back ; 
 I chatted, and Gabrielle laughed ; if she had not 
 been so handsome, I should have thought her 
 a blockhead ; persons were announced ; I stole 
 her glove and withdrew. Next morning I rode
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 83 
 
 beside her carriage in the Bois de Boulogne, 
 made one in her lottery, and sent her a tiny 
 greyhound with a gold chain and collar. The 
 day after, by appointment, I joined her in the 
 promenade of the Thuilleries ; we took chairs 
 under the shade of a chesnut-tree, and I pro- 
 cured Madame some wafers and orgeat; this 
 was the scene of an unlucky contre-temps. 
 
 It was then a practice, with young men of 
 fashion, to make excursions into the city in quest 
 of adventures among the bourgeoise beauties, 
 under pretext of eating shell-fish in perfection 
 there. I had frequently participated in these 
 frolics. On one occasion I entered a mercer's 
 warehouse, ostensibly to choose some velvets 
 and embroideries, but in reality with the hope of 
 procuring a sight of his daughter, whose beauty 
 I had heard extolled. My endeavours to ingra- 
 tiate myself with the good man succeeded so far 
 that he begged me to honour him by tasting his 
 liqueurs ; for which purpose I was introduced 
 into a room, where I found the pretty damsel 
 e 6
 
 84 THE OLD 
 
 with the gouvernante or housekeeper. This oppor- 
 tunity of commencing an intimacy was not lost. 
 To forward our several views, my friend and 
 I had contrived to establish a former valet-de- 
 chambre in the heart of the city as a fortune- 
 teller. His name was soon whispered, and the 
 females of the quarter nocked to consult him. 
 In pursuance of our instructions he took care to 
 inflate the minds of those upon whom we had 
 fixed with the most liberal promises of future 
 grandeur and happiness, and directed that the 
 realization of his prophecies should be sought by 
 their repairing to certain spots at certain hours, 
 where those engaged in duping these credulous 
 creatures were of course ready to receive them. 
 The little Mathilde was one of the first imposed 
 upon; and her gouvernante was easily induced 
 to accompany her to any place in which she 
 was likely to find a good repast. But this con- 
 duct, on the part of the old lady, was not so 
 indiscreet as might appear, since Mathilde was 
 as prudent as she was vain. Day after day our
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 85 
 
 meetings terminated in the same manner: Ma- 
 thilde received my presents and protestations ; 
 the gouvernante devoured the good things I pro- 
 vided. There I at length perceived the affair 
 would rest, and there I determined to leave 
 it, for I was wearied with Mathilde's prettiness 
 and naivete : the gouvernante taxed my patience 
 even more than my purse, so I resolved to put 
 an end to the acquaintance. 
 
 On quitting Mathilde, as I designed for the 
 last time, I was more prodigal of professions 
 than ever, and took my leave, exacting a promise 
 that she would think of me till we met again. 
 To return ; my conversation with Gabrielle was 
 growing every moment more tender, and so 
 much was I engrossed that I scarcely raised my 
 eyes from her face to examine any of the dames 
 who, attended by their gallants and followed by 
 their lacqueys, swept past us continually. Once 
 T noticed a little figure tossing her high head- 
 dress with an air of petulance that was meant
 
 86 THE OLD 
 
 for disdain, and soon after we were disturbed by 
 two females placing themselves at the back of 
 our tree, and the coughing, hemming, and rust- 
 ling that succeeded ; which, however, did not 
 excite my curiosity sufficiently to induce me to 
 look round. 
 
 The broken chain of our conversation was 
 soon renewed. As I was asseverating the sin- 
 cerity of a compliment I had just whispered, I 
 heard a sob, followed by a loud burst of grief, 
 and then a voice I recognised pronounced — 
 
 " Hush, my darling ; be calm. Have I not 
 told you that the men are a set of ungrateful 
 wretches !"" 
 
 " Oh ! don't talk to me P replied Mathilde; 
 and rising, she advanced towards us. Kage 
 sparkled in her dark eyes, and heightened her 
 deep colour ; she bit her pretty lip, she pressed 
 down her stomacher, and then, after a struggle, 
 she uttered, " Monsieur !" 
 
 La Bonne twitched her gown.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 87 
 
 " Let me alone, Marguerite !" 
 
 " Monsieur !" she reiterated vehemently ; 
 " Monsieur !" 
 
 " Well, my love ; go on." 
 
 Disconcerted at my coolness, she turned her 
 attack upon my companion. 
 
 " Madame (her broken speech had the pecu- 
 liar tone of crying passion), I entreat you, have 
 the goodness to inform me what is your business 
 now with my admirer f 
 
 "Who is this young woman V was GabriehVs 
 quiet expression of astonishment ; meanwhile 
 Marguerite was trying to draw off her charge. 
 
 " Only think — think, my dear child, you are 
 addressing a lady of quality, perhaps of the 
 highest rank — contain yourself," she whispered 
 significantly. " Consider ; contain yourself, if 
 only for the sake of your father's custom !"" 
 
 " For heaven's sake, what is the meaning of 
 all this 2" said Gabrielle, turning towards me 
 with her smile. 
 
 " Why, really this is a very pretty little girl,
 
 88 THE OLD 
 
 exceedingly fond of oysters, and who seems to 
 be determined that I shall introduce her at 
 court." 
 
 " Wretch ! traitor V exclaimed Mathilde ; 
 "such risks as I have run to see you in spite of 
 my father's prohibition !" 
 
 " Mon Dieu !" ejaculated Marguerite ; " it's 
 twelve o'clock, and your aunt always dines at 
 half-past on holidays; come, make haste. I 
 have had no luncheon, and the air of the Thuil- 
 leries gives one such an appetite. I am starv- 
 ing ; come, make haste, make haste," and 
 so saying, she dragged the sobbing Mathilde 
 away. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, I gave Madame 
 a history of the whole affair, which I treated very 
 lightly. She received it in excellent humour, 
 and affected to be much amused ; but I was 
 gratified by perceiving, notwithstanding her 
 badinage^ that the subject occasioned her some 
 little uneasiness. 
 
 Calling at her hotel next day, I found that a
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 89 
 
 whim had taken her to a country house near 
 Ohoisy-le-roi. I set off so early the following 
 day, that I arrived there before she had quitted 
 her apartment ; but no difficulty was made as 
 to my admittance. It was a fine-sized room ; 
 three large windows, overhung by vines and 
 roses, opened upon a stone terrace, whence came 
 the fragrance of a number of orange-trees. The 
 ceilings and doors were richly carved and gilded ; 
 on the walls were silk hangings, the ground a 
 dark green bearing a paler leaf and a silver 
 lily ; the floor was composed of different woods, 
 curiously inlaid and highly polished. In the 
 centre, before a toilette covered with lace, on 
 which were arranged innumerable boxes, pin- 
 cushions, saucers, trays, phials, cosmetics, es- 
 sences, and all the paraphernalia of dressing, 
 was spread a piece of tapestry. The furniture 
 was of white and gold, cushioned with green 
 velvet cut on straw-coloured satin. Opposite 
 the windows was an arched recess, so large as 
 almost to deserve the name of an inner apart-
 
 90 THE OLD 
 
 ment. It was separated at pleasure from the 
 outer one by folding doors of cedar wrought into 
 the most delicate tracery of birds and flowers, 
 and lined with tapestry, which represented the 
 portraits of the queen Jeanne d'Albret and her 
 favourite Theodore d'Aubigne, under the sem- 
 blance of a shepherdess in the act of giving a 
 garland from her crook to a shepherd who 
 restores her a stray lamb. 
 
 In this recess stood a couch of simple form, 
 with magnificent draperies. Madame had just 
 returned to it from her bath ; as I entered, she 
 was adjusting her linen by a mirror affixed in 
 the canape, after having fastened on a whalebone 
 ceinture, while her valet arranged her pillows, 
 threw on a coverlid of superb embroidery, and 
 sprinkled eau de luce about her. 
 
 I took a seat. A silver tray full of cards and 
 notes was placed on the small marble table 
 beside her bed. She sipped her chocolate, opened 
 and examined them, whilst her chaplain, who 
 was kneeling before a crucifix in a little closet
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 91 
 
 or oratory adjoining, read the matinal service. 
 As soon as the ceremony was over, opening a 
 "Book of Hours 11 gorgeously illuminated, she said 
 to me, without any consciousness of ridicule, 
 
 " Look here ; I will show you the miniatures 
 of all the elite of my acquaintance. This Saint 
 
 Cecile is the Countess de S , a dear friend 
 
 of mine." 
 
 " Extremely beautiful. " 
 
 " Yes, but she is inconceivably flattered : in 
 fact, she is very plain ; so plain, and with so 
 much vanity, that not having any admirers, she 
 is obliged to circulate fictions of her impru- 
 dences. She desired to be painted as a Magdalen, 
 and she was dreadfully mortified when I told her 
 I did not believe she had any sins of that kind 
 to repent of. This St. Genevieve is the witty 
 
 Madame de F ; she is handsome, but such 
 
 a coquette ! I remember her trying to carry 
 off one of my adorers, this divine St. Francois. 
 Poor fellow ! he was ruined by play, and de- 
 stroyed himself: the thought makes me sad
 
 92 THE OLD 
 
 whenever I pray to him. I must have you in 
 my book ; there is St. George vacant, and you 
 are English. When will you sit ? But I must 
 send you away now, for here is my woman with 
 my clothes." 
 
 I passed into an ante-room, in which were the 
 Due de Broglio, TAbbe Millon, TAbbe Jarente, 
 Comte de Stainville-Choiseul, FAbbe Peron, 
 Marquis Louvois, Due de Fronsac, M. Kouille, 
 and Rudix de Sainte Foix, fermier-general. 
 When we were admitted, we found Madame 
 enveloped in a large peignoir under the hands 
 of her coeffeuse. A circle was formed round her, 
 all officiating ; several others subsequently ar- 
 rived, and the babbling of tongues was inces- 
 sant. They criticised the administration, and the 
 trimmings of her gown. The Due de Broglio pre- 
 sented a cabinet-sized copy, executed in enamel 
 and gold, of Durand's " Hercules spinning at 
 the feet of Omphale," which was received by 
 Madame with a vivacity of admiration that made 
 us all envious of the giver. Then novelties were
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 93 
 
 discussed ; the invention of the stove and chim- 
 ney turning on a pivot, so as to serve two 
 rooms at once ; the mirrors on the camera- 
 obscura principle, by which views of the 
 country were obtained in the midst of Paris, as 
 well as a sight of the interiors of other houses ; 
 an invention voted to have its inconveniences. 
 This led to a multitude of anecdotes ; Madame 
 laughed a gorge deploye, and we did not fail to 
 join in chorus. Private scandal introduced pub- 
 lic ; Barbara of Spain and Farinelli the court 
 musician, Catherine and Orloff, the princess 
 dowager and Lord Bute, were alike its subjects. 
 Then somebody repeated the Due d'Ayens last- 
 witticism, and somebody matched it with the Due 
 de Branca's last absurdity. LTAbbe Millon, 
 availing himself of a momentary pause, produced 
 " Les Noels sur la Cour ;" and this bitter satire 
 was listened to with that mixture of delight and 
 apprehension, created by the pleasure of having 
 one's friends exposed and the dread of finding 
 one's self attacked. The reading was interrupted
 
 94 THE OLD 
 
 by a serious dispute between two young noblemen, 
 as to the position of a patch on Gabrielle's left 
 cheek ; cards were exchanged, and a duel was 
 fought next morning. Before I left the house, 
 I received from Madame a privilege ticket to 
 attend a royal hunt in the forest of Senart. 
 
 The manner in which the chase was followed 
 in France rendered it to me an insipid diver- 
 sion ; but on this occasion Gabrielle's presence 
 redeemed it from any deficiency of interest : 
 making one of her numerous escort, we followed 
 in the monarch's train. Louis was tall, his figure 
 fine, his mien imposing ; his features were large, 
 regular, and prominent ; the contour of his face 
 noble ; his eyes full, of a peculiarly deep blue, 
 soft, yet penetrating in their regard ; his com- 
 plexion darkly saturnine, and the expression of 
 his countenance usually so sombre as to give 
 seeming accuracy to the epithet bestowed on 
 him of " Vhomme leplus ennuye de son royaume" 
 Part of the forest was encompassed by a cordon 
 of men in uniform ; others, termed piqiieun, 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAX. 95 
 
 armed with poles, advanced from different 
 points, shouting and beating the bushes to drive 
 the game forward. A spot was cleared where 
 the king and his retinue stood ; which, com- 
 prising the most beautiful women of quality, 
 seen to the greatest advantage, well mounted, 
 with their plumed hats and Polish pelisses, — for 
 redingotes were not then known ; the flower of 
 the French nobility, a multitude of attendants 
 in varied costume ; gay equipages, and prancing 
 steeds with decorated housings, — produced a bril- 
 liant spectacle. Its pictorial effect was height- 
 ened by the relief of the fresh verdure, and the 
 cool twilight-like shadows of the forest. 
 
 We remained some time inactive. At length 
 a wild boar rushed from the thicket. The king 
 discharged a carbine ; it slightly grazed the 
 animal ; another was supplied, and the former 
 reloaded. The second shot pierced the boars 
 shoulder ; the exasperated beast darted forward 
 between the fore-legs of the king's horse, which 
 rearing, fell back upon his haunches. The
 
 96 THE OLD 
 
 boar made a thrust that ripped open the steed's 
 chest; the king, spear in hand, leaped with 
 alacrity to the ground : an animated combat 
 ensued. Meanwhile, twenty lances were levelled 
 in readiness to point a death-blow ; but only 
 necessity warranted interference in the king's 
 sport ; and a hundred more were vigilantly 
 guarding the thicket. 
 
 The boar being dispatched, his majesty re- 
 mounted ; the princes of the blood took the field. 
 Flushed with exertion and excitement, the king 
 cast his eyes upon the beauties who surrounded 
 him. 
 
 " Is he not handsome now V said Gabrielle ; 
 " il a le regard si douoo. This place always 
 recalls to my mind a disappointment I had 
 when I was quite young, soon after my mar- 
 riage. It was here the Marquese de Pompadour, 
 then Madame d'Etioles, first endeavoured to 
 attract his Majesty's attention. Happening to 
 be next her one day, I encountered some glances 
 which, helas I were not, as I hoped, intended
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 97 
 
 for me : soon after, at the Hotel de Ville, he 
 threw her the handkerchief. You know that 
 
 story " 
 
 It was now permitted to all to join indis- 
 criminately in the sport, and a regular battue 
 commenced. The king, soon tired of looking 
 on, withdrew, followed by most of the company. 
 I was honoured by his notice, and was even 
 invited to make one at a supper in le petit 
 Trianon. As it was a party devoted entirely 
 to the worship of Bacchus, no ladies were pre- 
 sent, and domestics were wisely banished. The 
 necessity for their officiating was superseded by 
 the use of the confidant table, which, descending 
 through the floor, at the end of each course, 
 arose again in a few seconds with another. 
 Supplementary ones, termed servantes, of a 
 smaller size, were placed beside each guest, 
 furnished with a pencil and card, by means of 
 which any unanticipated want was communi- 
 cated to those in waiting below. The guests 
 were the Due de Richelieu, the Due d'Ayen, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 .98 THE OLD 
 
 the Due cTAguillon, the Marquis Chauvelin, and 
 the Due de Brancas. 
 
 The Due de Richelieu was a superannuated 
 fop, but a fop of the choicest essence. Consum- 
 mately vain without fatuity, and artificial with- 
 out affectation, he retained in his old age all the 
 pretensions of his youth ; but as he was a shrewd 
 man of the world, who mingled caustic observa- 
 tion with pleasant humour, an excellent racon- 
 teur, and one who never spoke of his bonnes for- 
 tunes but in the past tense (though ever his own 
 hero), he was always entertaining. The Marquis 
 de Chauvelin was esteemed both as a diplomatist 
 and a military tactician ; he was unaffected, sensi- 
 ble, and pleasing. The Due d^Ayen was a satirical 
 wit, whose sarcasms were celebrated. The Due 
 d'Aguillon was of a certain age, handsome, un- 
 assuming, and somewhat subdued in manner; 
 renowned for his bravery, talented, and said to 
 be ambitious. The Due de Duras was a fool 
 of the first quality, but he knew it. He was 
 good-natured, and. if he seldom spoke for fear
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 99 
 
 of committing himself, when he did, he furnished 
 no inconsiderable share of the amusement. 
 
 Nothing of that time could exceed the ele- 
 gant splendour, the luxurious accommodation, 
 and exquisite taste displayed in all that sur- 
 rounded us. The dishes were of the rarest 
 delicacy, some of them even prepared by his 
 Majesty himself, who, with apron and nightcap 
 on, in conjunction with the Prince de Dombes, 
 spent a great portion of his retirement amongst 
 stew-pans and casseroles in the exercise of his 
 favourite art, emulating his chef, the celebrated 
 Mouthier, in the execution of a sauce or a 
 ragout : the wines were of the finest flavour : 
 as to the conversation that accompanied the 
 repast, it was more distinguished by ease than 
 refinement, by pleasantry than by originality : as 
 Louis, though nowise deficient in natural intel- 
 lect, from the indolence of his disposition, and 
 the sacrifice which, during his youth, had been 
 made of his education to his health, was not 
 greatly calculated to contribute to the feast of
 
 100 THE OLD 
 
 reason ; and those present, if more profound, 
 were too thoroughly courtiers to cast him for an 
 instant in the back-ground. But his majesty 
 was learned in gastronomy, and, imitating his 
 tone, we were all enthusiastic gourmets. The 
 king was also an admirer of the drama, and an 
 ardent lover of the fair sex : these circumstances 
 afforded topics ; and though nothing either novel 
 or brilliant was elicited, the whole had that light- 
 ness, that fluency, that absence of effort and 
 pretension, which, aided by a finished manner, 
 imparts a charm to the small-talk of even an 
 ordinary man of the world, rarely, perhaps never, 
 found in the elevated conversation of the pro- 
 fessed Wit. 
 
 Louis XV. had a personal grandeur, a dig- 
 nity of presence, which redeemed him from con- 
 tempt, even in the most disgraceful situations. 
 Owing somewhat to this influence probably, as 
 well as to a habit of long- practised deference, 
 in proportion to their sovereign's relaxation 
 from state, the respect of his intimates seemed
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 1 J 
 
 to increase. This was a necessary policy, for 
 though Louis frequently sought to forget he was 
 a king, he would never have pardoned a subject's 
 being equally oblivious. However, our libations 
 became more and more frequent ; our conversa- 
 tion more unrestrained ; distinction of rank was 
 the last remaining fetter. Challenges were ex- 
 changed until both victors and vanquished, over- 
 come by the still more potent spirit of wine, 
 sank brutalized upon the floor. 
 
 The latest incident I remember was a dispute 
 who could boast superior symmetry of limb. 
 The king, in an attempt to exhibit his leg (cer- 
 tainly one of the handsomest ever seen), losing 
 his balance, was prostrated. I believe I was the 
 last who succumbed ; for I recollect perfectly 
 the doors being unfastened, and the domestics, 
 as if knowing their cue, entering and bearing 
 us off to separate chambers. 
 
 I left Trianon, with its rose-tree groves, its 
 fountains, its allees, its mystic statues, its mar- 
 ble basins, its fairy lakes, and fanciful bridges, 
 f3
 
 102 THE OLD 
 
 and reached Paris on the following day in time 
 to join a water-party which Gabrielle had ar- 
 ranged. We were towed down the Seine in a 
 commodiously furnished barge, filled with youth 
 and beauty. The sun slept on the fair bosom 
 of the river, and the bland spring air fanned us 
 as we reclined beneath the canopy, chatting or 
 musing with that pleasant dreaminess induced 
 by our lazy movement. 
 
 We arrived opposite a delightful villa ; a boat 
 advanced to meet us, picturesquely ornamented 
 with shells and sea- weed, and bearing groups of 
 river-gods and naiads, blowing their conchs, by 
 whom we were escorted to land in triumph. 
 Here we were suddenly assailed by volleys of 
 sweetmeats, poured upon us from a party of 
 wood-nymphs, satyrs, and fauns, who had 
 emerged from the shades of the garden. 
 
 A mock combat, between the rival deities, 
 ensued. Pan and his myrmidons being victo- 
 rious, were about to make the ladies of our 
 company prisoners, when in the attempt, struck
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 103 
 
 by their charms, the captors became trans- 
 formed into captives. Kneeling, they laid their 
 sylvan trophies at the feet of the fair; the 
 nymphs, on their part, were as humane in con- 
 quest ; each gently fettered her prize with oak- 
 leaf garlands, and we were led, to the sound of 
 pipes and reeds, towards an immense grotto, 
 carpeted with moss and glistening with chrys- 
 tal spars, in which a magnificent collation 
 had been prepared : our host, Pan, did the 
 honors. 
 
 The utensils were all of appropriate forms, 
 the goblets shaped like the rinds of fruits, the 
 plates depicting the amours of the groves, and 
 in the centre of the board was a fountain, which, 
 at a touch, gave forth sparkling wines. A me- 
 lody, from unseen instruments, accompanied the 
 repast, which, by a concerted effect, seemed to 
 re-echo amongst distant hills. 
 
 When we had done sufficient justice to the 
 feast, Flora and Pomona appeared, at whose 
 bidding we passed into a bower, fragrant with 
 f 4
 
 104 THE OLD 
 
 exotics, wherein a table was spread with fine 
 fruits, having a similar fountain of wines. The 
 spirits of earth, air, and water, entered, and 
 sung us some complimentary stanzas in rather 
 lengthy recitative. Then followed their dancing 
 satellites, and, in spite of their transparent garb 
 and aerial movements, these etherial creatures 
 were discovered to possess a striking resem- 
 blance to some of the well-known coryphees of 
 the Opera. After returning to our barge, a 
 brilliant display of fire-works, and the harmonies 
 of a band, continued to give us adieux^ until we 
 lost sight of the banks of the villa. 
 
 The mummery of this fete had been very 
 tedious to my English tone of mind, but it ex- 
 cited the ecstacies of my companions. We floated 
 back with the tide. The evening was still; a 
 few pale stars looked forth from the grey sky, 
 and the smooth serene surface of the broad river 
 wore an aspect of lethargic calm ; shadows fell 
 around us imperceptibly, till they gathered into 
 gloom. The shores, at first boldly defined, be-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 105 
 
 came dim, vague forms, and then receding from 
 the eye, dark shapeless masses, which blended 
 with the horizon. 
 
 Our view circumscribed, we turned towards 
 each other ; night had so stolen on us that only 
 the softened outline of face and forms was dis- 
 tinguishable. The conversation had sunk into a 
 low under-tone, and the most buoyant spirits 
 seemed either exhausted with excitement or 
 subdued by the tranquillity of nature. I was 
 not insensible to the influences of the scene, and 
 I craved to have the interest of a sentiment 
 imparted to it. Le rage cFaimer possessed me ; 
 and there was Gabrielle ! The desire of loving 
 created the object, not the object the desire : 
 and this is usually the case in a man's first pas- 
 sion. With the aid of music and starlight, and 
 an hour's romance (the most heartless persons 
 are frequently imaginative), I improvised a very 
 pretty sonnet : its evidences did not escape Mr. 
 Desbrowe. As I returned home, putting his 
 f 5
 
 106 THE OLD 
 
 arm within mine, he said, " Your lordship will 
 admit I have not often troubled you, and will 
 therefore be more ready to give a few minutes 
 attention to the remarks I feel it my duty 
 to make. Had I foreseen that Madame would 
 have so seriously engaged your admiration, I 
 should never have incurred responsibility by 
 volunteering to introduce you. She is the 
 widow of a man of family; and, notwith- 
 standing her levity, which here is but the bel 
 air, you can hope nothing from her except 
 on honourable terms. Probably, my lord," he 
 added, with a searching gaze, "you have not 
 surmised this V 
 
 " I have never considered the subject, my 
 dear Sir ; I rarely look beyond the present 
 moment." 
 
 " Well, my lord, take care you do not entan- 
 gle your affections ; for, though I admit her to 
 be very lovely, still young, accomplished, fasci- 
 nating, with graces that would adorn any sta- 
 ll
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 107 
 
 tion, unexceptionable in conduct, and, as I firmly 
 believe, holding a high position in society; in 
 short, every way desirable. Yet — yet — " 
 
 " Proceed." 
 
 " You, my lord, are of age, your own master ; 
 possessed of resources so ample, that it would 
 be ridiculous to debar your choice for a pecu- 
 niary question. The lady's fortune, I under- 
 stand, is dependent on her widowhood ; but she 
 is a foreigner. There might, though I do not 
 think there would, be prejudices in your family 
 to surmount. An acquaintance with her, doubt- 
 less, would speedily overcome them, and indeed 
 is an unworthy prejudice to be placed in compe- 
 tition with your happiness. — In short, my lord, 
 I will say no more ; I have no right to combat 
 any resolution you may have formed. " 
 
 " Desbrowe, I have formed none : but give 
 me your advice."" 
 
 " My private opinion, I confess, my lord, 
 would be strangely at variance with that which 
 it is the duty of my office to proffer. What 
 f 6
 
 108 THE OLD 
 
 would they who have confided you to me say, if 
 I were to promote a match which might not 
 meet their approbation V 
 
 " But if it constitutes my felicity" — 
 
 " Of that your lordship is the best judge. I 
 think you will prove so," he added significantly ; 
 " marriage, of all affairs, is that in which it is 
 most essential that every man should think and 
 act for himself ; and in the case before us, there 
 is but one little flaw amidst a thousand beauties, 
 one objection against incomparable advantages." 
 
 " Subtract it from the advantages, and the 
 balance is in her favour." 
 
 " Infinitely. I see your lordship has decided. 
 Well, if it must be so, I shall surrender you 
 with pleasure to so fair a guardian. You may 
 expect a little opposition, but her ladyship's 
 maternal kindness will soon induce her concur- 
 rence. You will do me the justice to represent 
 to her, my lord, how very far I have been from 
 promoting the event. The representations I 
 have made should be re-iterated, but that I am
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 109 
 
 aware, from your lordship's characteristic firm- 
 ness and decision, it would be futile." 
 
 We parted. " Desbrowe," I thought, " is em- 
 barrassed between his conscientiousness and his 
 candour. I believe I am in love, but matrimony 
 I should never have dreamed of except through 
 his attempt at dissuasion ." The idea grew on 
 me. I resolved to make a declaration of my 
 sentiments, and if not received as a lover, then 
 — then — I knew not what. 
 
 A few days more passed ; I was still a dan- 
 gler. Anxious for an explanation, but as ner- 
 vously fearful of incurring it as most men are 
 the first time in a similar enterprise. I met 
 Madame at a masqued ball. As the demi- 
 loup of black velvet only concealed the upper 
 part of the face, she was easily distinguish- 
 able ; besides, she wore a necklace which I had 
 given her. 
 
 My share of our conversation was embar- 
 rassed ; I was pre-occupied with the idea of 
 introducing my subject. Several times I ad-
 
 110 THE OLD 
 
 vanced towards the point, but she, affecting not 
 to perceive the aim of my abstract dissertations, 
 drew me into other topics. At length, having 
 been defeated in all my circumspect approaches, 
 I tried the effect of a sudden sally. Seizing her 
 fan, I pencilled on it some words which would 
 not admit of misconstruction. The anxiety with 
 which I perused her features as she read them 
 may be conceived. Their expression was unpro- 
 pitious. I repented my rashness. She snapped 
 the fan in pieces — I almost trembled. She burst 
 forth into a passion of words. She was shocked, 
 indignant. Her vehemence increased with its 
 vent. My apologies were overborne in the out- 
 pouring of her reproaches. In my life I never 
 saw a woman's virtuous horror more violent. 
 I was seeking for a means of escape, when our 
 tete-a-tete, immensely to my relief, was inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 On the morrow I called at her hotel, intend- 
 ing to make all the amende in my power, and 
 was amazed to find myself interdicted.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. Ill 
 
 " Madame is not to be seen," growled the 
 porter. 
 
 Our acquaintance was at an end. I walked 
 away annoyed and dispirited. A dominant 
 object, a principal interest, was all at once 
 annihilated, erased from the programme of 
 my existence. Gabrielle had certainly occu- 
 pied me but a very short time. Before I 
 had known her I had felt no want, no vacuity ; 
 but I had known her: she had engrossed me, 
 had been my primum mobile, — all else secondary 
 and relative. It was impossible I could return 
 to my former state, and equally so that I could 
 be reconciled to the present blank. I endea- 
 voured in vain to fill it ; my time hung heavily. 
 I was restless in privacy, fatigued, impatient 
 of diversions. As my desire for amusement 
 increased, my zest for it diminished. Society 
 seemed to have lost its brilliancy, pleasure 
 its charm. The women I thought grown plain, 
 the men tedious. In solitude I yawned, and 
 wondered how I could have tolerated life before
 
 112 THE OLD 
 
 I knew Gabrielle. My melancholy augmented. 
 I ate less, and drank more than usual. The 
 question of marriage presented itself. I shut 
 myself up at home to reflect ; my decisions, 
 as different influences predominated, were vari- 
 ous. At night imagination took the lead, and 
 Gabrielle, at any sacrifice, was to be mine ; 
 by day pride and prudence were awake, sug- 
 gesting that my coronet claimed to be far 
 otherwise matched. The vision of a peeress 
 with her rent-roll contended against Gabrielle, 
 endowed only with her beauty. Interest seemed 
 to plead versus happiness ; and then reason 
 stepped in, remarking that interest and hap- 
 piness might be compatible, — that the peeress 
 might add GabriehVs beauty to her rent-roll. I 
 was only skin-deep in love, or I could not have 
 admitted the possibility ; yet Gabrielle's cause 
 was not altogether lost. 
 
 From my meditations on this subject I was 
 awakened near dawn by the policemen's cry of 
 "feu J" — The hotel was in flames. — My valet
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 113 
 
 rushed into my room ; he raved, he tore his hair, 
 he confessed having been accidentally the cause 
 of the disaster ; he implored pardon ; he cursed 
 himself with an amazing variety of imprecations ; 
 he did all that was useless. As my life was the 
 only thing in my possession that I esteemed of 
 any great value, my first consideration was to 
 secure it. Never before nor since have I toilet- 
 ted with so much celerity. In five minutes I 
 was in the street. 
 
 Fire engines were a late invention, and so 
 imperfectly constructed and plied, that they were 
 of little use in subduing the fury of the element. 
 As the alarm had been given early, though the 
 house was burnt to the ground, no lives were 
 lost, and most of the property was saved. 
 Taking a fiacre, I repaired to a friend's hotel. 
 Every thing belonging to me that had been res- 
 cued was restored by the police ; amongst the 
 rest, a packet of letters was put into my hands 
 which had been previously examined by the in- 
 tendant, with a view of discovering their owner,
 
 114 
 
 THE OLD 
 
 their addresses having been torn off and the sig- 
 natures erased. 
 
 My name frequently occurring in them, they 
 were supposed to concern me, and therefore sur- 
 rendered to my keeping. In the world's accepta- 
 tion of the word, I was honourable ; that is, I 
 had pride enough to remark, and courage enough 
 to resent, any affront that might be offered me ; 
 but this sense did not extend to nice scruples. 
 I would not have broken a seal ; yet I did not 
 feel that a letter without that protection should 
 be equally sacred. In a word, impelled by 
 curiosity, I perused these epistles. That some of 
 them were not recent I was assured by the very 
 fashion of the paper, broadly bordered with green 
 or blue, and, by the dates, I found that the cor- 
 respondence had commenced fifteen years back, 
 and had been revived and continued at different 
 intervals. The packet comprised the history of 
 a life — the life of Gabrielle, Madame de M * * *. 
 The earliest were mere billets, traced in feeble 
 characters, which time had rendered still fainter.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 115 
 
 bearing evidence of nervous haste. They exhi- 
 bited Gabrielle, at the age of eighteen, in her 
 native city of Frankfort, the humble companion 
 of a lady of rank, replying to an admirer through 
 the medium of one of the basket-women that sell 
 fruit and flowers at the Opera. He imagines 
 her to be a young countess, the niece of her 
 protectress. She undeceives him ; and her ex 
 pressions portray simplicity, humility, and can- 
 dour. The acquaintance, notwithstanding, is 
 continued clandestinely, and with it the corre- 
 spondence lengthens ; GabriehVs sentiments de- 
 pict her fond, confiding, guileless ; but with vanity 
 sufficient to make her easily accessible to flattery. 
 She is obliged to quit Frankfort with the family 
 to whom she is attached ; she paints the pangs 
 of separation with all the vividness of feeling. 
 Soon after, it appears, that she consents to re- 
 turn to Frankfort alone. Here is a considera- 
 ble interval. The next series breathe the most 
 eloquent complaints. They describe her destitu- 
 tion, and infer his desertion. These appeals are
 
 116 THE OLD 
 
 evidently unanswered. Some chance brings to 
 her aid a compassionate friend; he is deeply 
 interested in her sorrows, though unaware of 
 their precise nature. Ignorant of her error, 
 he offers her marriage. Impelled by want, she 
 makes another attempt to wring assistance from 
 the man who has abandoned her, by endeavour- 
 ing to arouse his jealousy. It only elicits his 
 strenuous recommendation that she should profit 
 by the opportunity which accident has presented. 
 She marries. By this step she passes from the 
 character of the deceived to that of the deceiver. 
 Here that mixture of strength and weakness, 
 which is so peculiar to the female character, is 
 exhibited. Her lover has proved himself worth- 
 less, but her affections still cling to him. For 
 as the ivy, that shoots timidly around a temple 
 in its glory, flourishes most when it has fallen 
 into ruin and decay, so does love, ofttimes, in 
 woman's heart. What follows is an exposi- 
 tion of the petty ruses of intrigue. The last 
 holds of principle are undermined. To fur-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 117 
 
 nish the lover selfish indulgences, the generous 
 and unsuspicious husband is defrauded. But 
 these depredations are discovered ; a separation 
 ensues ; Gabrielle is once more forsaken. Dis- 
 gusted by her lover's ingratitude, she bitterly 
 gives vent to her scorn ; she has learnt to de- 
 spise him and the world ; yet she imitates what 
 she despises, she acts upon his lessons and her 
 own experience. Some years elapse, and when the 
 correspondence is renewed, she is transformed 
 from an ardent creature of impulse, into a cold, 
 designing woman of the world, who engages with 
 mankind only to dupe them. So callous is she 
 become, that she enters into a league with her 
 former lover, based only upon their individual 
 interests. She has gained a position in society, 
 which is supported by the produce of gaming, 
 and intrigues veiled with much art. Her tenure is, 
 however, precarious ; she has a scheme for gloss- 
 ing over her tarnished reputation. The ci-devant 
 lover, a mere adventurer, who has played many 
 parts on the world's stage, is equally anxious to
 
 118 THE OLD 
 
 secure for his old age the resource of a sinecure. 
 Another admirer of GabriehVs has influence with 
 Madame de Pompadour, the disposer of places 
 and pensions ; it is in her power to procure for 
 him this desideratum ; on his side he has an 
 intimate connexion with a young nobleman, on 
 whom she forms designs, which the compact 
 between them obliges him to assist. That the 
 conditions had been fulfilled, on his side, I could 
 witness, for to Desbrowe these letters were 
 addressed, and I was the destined victim. In- 
 dignation was the sensation I first experienced 
 on making the discovery ; it was succeeded by 
 self-congratulation, mingled with pity for the 
 unfortunate Gabrielle. I contrasted her, as she 
 had unconsciously painted herself in the com- 
 mencement of her career, with her present 
 being ; I looked " upon that picture and on 
 this." 
 
 Sending the packet to Mr. Desbrowe with his 
 dismissal, I quitted Paris.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 119 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 England — My mother's reader — The pleasant hour — The 
 marginal-note — The new squire — The new hall — A foreign 
 letter — Political survey of France — Ministers and mis- 
 tresses — The court — Fermiers generaux — The secular 
 clergy — Monastic orders — The press — Philosophers and 
 literati — Patriots, encyclopaedists, and economists — Prus- 
 sian military discipline — The sick-chamber — Death — The 
 alcove — A sudden departure. 
 
 I travelled rapidly towards Calais, and, 
 hiring a sailing vessel, embarked for England, 
 The day was raw and dismal. A small rain fell 
 uninterruptedly. Wrapped in a roquelaure, I 
 ensconced myself in the corner of my carriage 
 which was on board, and gave way to reflections 
 on Gabrielle, Desbrowe, the world, its vanities, 
 its deceptions, and my satiety; for I mistook
 
 120 THE OLD 
 
 for satiety the temporary disgust, occasioned by 
 a moment's disappointment ; but mine was, in 
 reality, the mere pettishness of a child vexed in 
 its play, who quits it for an instant only to 
 return with renewed eagerness. A good supper, 
 at the best hotel in Dover, a night's repose, the 
 succession of fine to gloomy weather, and the 
 exciting whirl of six horses at full speed, banished 
 entirely my sombre mood. Hope came with her 
 promises, and life stretched before me one conti- 
 nuous prospect of pleasure. I exulted in my youth, 
 my vigour, my personal appearance, my wealth, 
 my rank ; I revelled in visions of the future. 
 
 What was there that with these I could not 
 command \ What desire was to be pronounced 
 unattainable 1 Ambition I cast aside. " I have all 
 that others toil for," I thought. I enter upon the 
 course with those means of enjoyment which most 
 men gain only as they approach its conclusion. 
 Many long years are before me, and none shall 
 be in vain. I have the power of happiness, and 
 happy I will be !
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 121 
 
 My late impression had already passed. I 
 triumphed in the acknowledgment; auguring 
 that only such transient clouds would ever cross 
 the brilliancy of my horizon. My heart was 
 again vacant and ready to be re- filled. 
 
 The survey of other countries had created a 
 habit of observation ; and I regarded the scenes, 
 which I had before passed by unnoticed, with a 
 newly-derived interest. England, with its gardens, 
 its hop-grounds, its verdant pasturage, its richly 
 cultivated lands, its thriving towns, its busy 
 hamlets, its commodious farms, its pretty rural 
 abodes, excited feelings of admiration ; which, 
 as T approached and traversed my own posses- 
 sions, when the pride of property and the love of 
 home were added to the sentiment of patriotism, 
 amounted almost to extasy. My arrival was 
 unexpected, but I was instantly recognised. A 
 crowd gathered round the carriage as it stopped 
 at the turnpike-gate ; and a passing farmer, 
 setting spurs to his horse, anticipated my arrival 
 by a few minutes at the village. In consequence, 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 J 22 THE OLD 
 
 every casement and doorway was crowded. Old 
 men and dames bowed their heads reverently ; 
 the youths twirled their hats and hurraed, the 
 maidens blushed and smiled as they received my 
 notice of their curtseys, and a mob of boys and 
 children, yelling and throwing flowers, followed 
 me till the lodge-gates excluded them. The 
 village-bells were instantly put in requisition, 
 and their merry chime, in addition to the sound 
 of wheels, brought two or three of the men- 
 servants wondering into the hall. These do- 
 mestics had been born in the family, and had im- 
 bibed an hereditary veneration and attachment 
 for the person of their master. It was gratify- 
 ing to read in their countenances the expression 
 of heartfelt pleasure, which attested the sincerity 
 of their humble welcome. My first enquiry 
 respected my mother; I learnt that she was 
 absent on an airing. Repairing to her ordinary 
 sitting-room, to wait her return, I was surprised 
 to perceive, as I entered, a female in one of the 
 window-benches, occupied over a tambour-frame ;
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAX. 123 
 
 she might be about nineteen : her face and form 
 had all the fulness of womanhood, with the fresh- 
 ness of first youth. Her complexion was exceed- 
 ingly pure and animated, with a bright bloom; 
 her nose small and straight ; her eyebrows ebon, 
 but delicately marked, the lashes, then downcast, 
 long, black, and silken ; the lips cherry red. Her 
 sunny chesnut hair was turned over a roll from 
 her clear forehead, and fell behind each ear in 
 a wavy tress. She wore a plain-coloured linen 
 gown, with a muslin handkerchief folded across 
 her fair bosom, and plaited ruffles. I thought I 
 had never seen any dress more becoming. She 
 raised her beaming face, and her large, earnest, 
 dark-brown eyes met mine ; she started, her 
 bloom deepened to a blush. The embarrassment 
 was but of a moment's duration. Becovering 
 her composure and maidenly sedateness, " I 
 trust," said she, curtseying lowly, " your lordship 
 has returned in health." Her voice brought to 
 my recognition — Cicely. 
 
 " Madam, I thank you, I am well ; and it 
 g2
 
 124 THE OLD 
 
 adds very much to the pleasure of my arrival to 
 find you here, as, I hope, an inmate." 
 
 " Your lordship honors me. 11 
 
 She gathered up the implements of her work. 
 " I presume, from my lady's absence, she has not 
 been taught to expect you. Shall I bid one of 
 the men ride and take her ladyship word of it V 
 
 " No, madam; I would not have you give 
 yourself so much trouble. I will await her lady- 
 ship's own time of coming in." 
 
 Cicely bowed in acquiescence, and was about 
 to leave the chamber. 
 
 " But you will not deprive me of your so- 
 ciety, which is my only resource for passing the 
 interim. Pray do not go ; I am very anxious 
 to learn what has occurred in the neighbourhood 
 since I was here. I have a thousand inquiries 
 to make. ,1 
 
 " I beg your lordship will excuse me ; I can- 
 not permit myself to trespass.' 1 And curtsey- 
 ing again, she withdrew. 
 
 I was charmed with the modesty that en-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 125 
 
 hanced her loveliness, and astonished at the 
 purity of her accent, the elevation of her phrase, 
 and the composure that gave a dignity to her 
 reserved carriage. What wonders had time done 
 for little Cicely. 
 
 It was not long before I perceived my mother's 
 stately figure alighting from her emblazoned cha- 
 riot. She was immediately informed of my ar- 
 rival ; but, though a woman of deep, if not quick 
 feeling, it was one of her peculiarities to be rarely 
 demonstrative of any emotion. Nor was this 
 occasion an exception; for she pursued her 
 custom of retiring to her chamber to adjust 
 her dress, always a grey silk with a short black- 
 hooded mantle ; and the ceremony was not cur- 
 tailed, as I judge from the time which elapsed, 
 before I had leave to attend her. 
 
 Having extended her hand for me to kiss, and 
 given me her welcome and blessing, she re- 
 marked upon my having omitted to announce 
 my coming. I excused myself by giving some 
 account of the circumstances which had precipi- 
 g 3
 
 126 THE OLD 
 
 tated my return to England. She descanted on 
 the snares of the world, the eligibility of mar- 
 riage as a safeguard, alluded to her own en- 
 feebled state of health, and the improbability of 
 her life's being prolonged; this I was grieved 
 to find confirmed by the change which had taken 
 place since I had seen her last. Her frame, 
 naturally slight, had become still thinner; her 
 face was very wan, and its habitual serious- 
 ness shadowed into sadness ; her hair too had be- 
 come silvered. She spoke of the necessity of a 
 mistress to govern an establishment ; she en- 
 quired my sentiments on the subject — my plans. 
 I had no objection to matrimony. I professed 
 perfect submission to her wishes. I was willing 
 to be entirely guided by her. — She was satisfied. 
 It was arranged that I should remain a short 
 time at Mount Manor, and that my lady should 
 then accompany me to town to open our long- 
 neglected residence, to provide for my entree, 
 and assist me in the choice of a wife. I assented 
 cheerfully to remain at Mount Manor whilst the
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 127 
 
 preparations for our removal were made, pro- 
 jecting to amuse myself with Cicely ; for I 
 judged that an inexperienced girl who could 
 have seen no one of pretensions at all compara- 
 ble to mine, like the bird ensnared by the first 
 gaze of the basilisk, would at once fall fascinated 
 by my notice. 
 
 I learnt from the Countess, that on the death 
 of Cicely's grandmother, she had taken her 
 favourite under her protection, as reader and com- 
 panion. She passed great encomiums on Cicely's 
 sweetness of temper, the goodness and gentle- 
 ness of her disposition, her modesty and virtues. 
 I was careful not to appear interested in these 
 details, nor anxious to procure her company, 
 which in reality I took every means of seeking. 
 
 Among other events that had taken place in 
 the neighbourhood during my absence, I found 
 that Squire Dornton had been carried to the 
 grave. His son's extravagance had seriously im- 
 paired his property and credit. The old man's 
 pride, as well as his affection, was wounded ; ho 
 g 4
 
 128 THE OLD 
 
 could not bear to look upon his lessened stock, and 
 his thinned timber, nor endure the consciousness 
 of his own diminished consideration. A succes- 
 sion of bad crops increased his losses, and, to 
 use the provincial phrase, " he took his misfor- 
 tunes to heart, and never held up his head again. " 
 A fall from his horse as he returned from the corn- 
 market in a state of intoxication produced a con- 
 cussion which was fatal. With his last words 
 he bequeathed his pardon and blessing to Philip. 
 All else, except a few trifling legacies, — a silver 
 tea-canister to Cicely, and to me a brace of 
 pointers, which he had trained expressly, — was 
 left, according to a testament made under the 
 influence of incensed feeling, to his widow. 
 
 The fond mother instantly summoned Philip, 
 who had long been absent, to share with her the 
 wreck of the Squire's property. He returned 
 duteous and repentant, and was assiduously en- 
 gaged in endeavouring to restore order to their 
 affairs — determined to atone by unremitting assi- 
 duity and steadiness for the mischiefs his impro-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 129 
 
 vidence had occasioned — when an unlucky piece 
 of good-fortune arrived, which was brilliant 
 enough to put to flight all his sage resolves, and 
 to awaken once more the latent ambition of his 
 mother. A rich great-uncle died, and left Philip 
 his heir. All Mrs. Dornton's brightest hopes 
 were realized. 
 
 "Now, Philip" as she said, "was a gentle- 
 man ; and nobody would carry it better. He 
 might keep company with the best in the land 
 and who knows, for Philip was a handsome lad 
 and a scholar, but he might marry a great lady I 
 at least, with his property, he ought to make a 
 figure ; and there was no time to be lost." 
 
 But Philip represented to her that before he 
 could invite fine acquaintances, he must have a 
 house suitable to receive them. 
 
 Mrs. Dornton was astonished. " She should 
 have thought Fairlands fit for the Blood-royal. 
 To be sure, days were altered ; people cared more 
 now for rooms than for dinners, and Philip knew 
 best. It would fret her a little at first to see 
 g 5
 
 ISO THE OLD 
 
 the old walls pulled down. She had lived at 
 Fairlands thirty years ; she knew every inch 
 about it ; and certainly, for kitchens, and cel- 
 lars, and pantries, and dairies, and closets, and 
 store-rooms, there was not a more convenient 
 house in the county. But, what must be, must 
 be; and (as she said) Philip knew best." So 
 it was settled at first that it should be altered ; 
 and then it was judged necessary to rebuild it 
 altogether. 
 
 In place of the red brick, I beheld a formal 
 white building, with rows of long, flat, narrow 
 windows, instead of the capacious bays, and a 
 stiff square entrance-hall, with a flight of steps 
 and columns, vice the simple pointed porch and 
 its benches. The yew tree, the dial, the clipped 
 box-hedges, the alcove, had all disappeared. 
 Laurels, young firs, poplars, and willows, suc- 
 ceeded them. The meadows were converted into 
 a meagre park, encompassed by palings ; the 
 wrought-iron gates, with their massive brick 
 pillars and great stone walls, were removed for 
 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN*. 131 
 
 light cross-barred wooden ones. Stables and 
 offices occupied the site of the farm-yard; the 
 whole wore a new face. 
 
 Philip had an excellent stud, and one of the 
 best packs in the kingdom. He was of a new 
 order of English squires. The preceding gene- 
 ration were a homely and comparatively a moral 
 race. Agriculture was their employment, field- 
 sports their recreation. They were honest, in- 
 dustrious, contented ; they had as little idea of 
 ranging from their spouses as from their resi- 
 dences. Even their excesses originated in hos- 
 pitality. 
 
 The next, a wild, hair-brained, fool-hardy set, 
 inheriting the produce of their ancestors 1 pains, 
 seemed to consider themselves created for the 
 express purpose of dissipating it. Assuming the 
 style of gentlemen farmers, they abandoned the 
 management of their land to a bailiff, and having 
 bereft themselves of necessary occupation, in order 
 to fill their time, thus wholly leisure, they were 
 
 G C
 
 132 THE OLD 
 
 obliged to make a business of amusement. They 
 relinquished practical agriculture for horse- 
 breaking, coach-driving, and farrier} 7 . Racing, 
 under their auspices, became a science, gam- 
 bling a profession, and grooms and jockeys rose 
 rapidly in the social scale. They were remark- 
 ably vicious, and still more remarkably foolish, 
 since their object was not so much to gratify 
 themselves as to astonish others. They drank 
 Champagne and Burgundy as their fathers had 
 drank home-brewed ale. But the result was as 
 different as the nature of the intoxication. The 
 old squires slept soundly under the table, or 
 were carried home by the instinct of their jog- 
 trot nags. The young ones sallied forth to 
 break lamps, carry off knockers, floor watchmen, 
 and finish the rest of the night in the round- 
 house. Ruinous wagers on ridiculous feats were 
 in vogue. They introduced mistresses and 
 steeple-chases, and that mixture of jockey and 
 coachee dandyism, the New-market cut, which,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. loo 
 
 some years later than the period to which this 
 refers, entirely superseded the cocked hats and 
 full-skirted coats. 
 
 Philip opened his house, and was prodigal of 
 good cheer; but the classes of society were 
 then strictly denned, and each intrenched itself 
 within a particular rank. His table was sur- 
 rounded by persons of his own grade ; all the 
 gentry flocked to the New Hall from far and 
 near, but Mrs. Dornton's ambition was still un- 
 satisfied, not a single titled name graced the 
 fillagree card-racks in the yellow drawing-room. 
 
 My return was hailed by her. Philip had 
 justly been incensed at my having deserted him 
 in his utmost need ; but his was a nature easily 
 softened. Time and prosperity had diminished 
 his resentment ; his mother appeased his mor- 
 tified pride by suggesting plausible reasons for 
 my conduct ; the warmth of my recognition 
 achieved the rest. 
 
 We were again intimate. I rode with him, 
 praised his horses, and hunted with his pack ;
 
 loit THE OLD 
 
 he dined with me, I returned the visit. Mis- 
 tress Dornton was enchanted ; she soon ven- 
 tured to unfold her wish that I would introduce 
 Philip to London, and I consented to do so as 
 soon as I should be myself established. 
 
 To return to Cicely. Shortly after my arrival, 
 going one morning to my mother in her closet, 
 I found Cicely perusing aloud to her some old 
 history. She was an excellent reader, com- 
 bining taste and judgment, with rare organic 
 perfection. The facts narrated possessed all the 
 strong interest of fiction ; the sweetness of her 
 delivery imparted a charm to the quaint lan- 
 guage of the writer. I stole quietly to the em- 
 brasure of a window, and seating myself unob- 
 served, passed an hour, which it is still pleasant 
 to remember, looking out sometimes into the 
 park to watch the fantasies of light, as the sun- 
 beams flitted here and there ; now glossing the 
 barks and branches, and bringing every leaf of 
 the foliage it brightened into distinctness ; now 
 streaming gorgeously behind the trees ; and now
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 135 
 
 fading until their gigantic trunks cast dark and 
 solemn shadows, then again shining out, and 
 checquering the ground with the minute tracery 
 almost of every fibre. Often did I turn to 
 gaze on Cicely's changeful countenance, as it 
 varied with the different sentiments excited by 
 the account of battles lost or won, of brilliant 
 feats of arms, of disastrous chances ; and listen- 
 ing to the natural melody of her voice, as I had 
 listened in my boyhood. — The lecture was no 
 sooner concluded than Cicely withdrew. 
 
 Early another day I was walking in the shrub- 
 beries, when from a wicket opening into a road 
 bordered with elms and chesnuts, whose meeting 
 boughs formed a beautiful vista of green arches, 
 terminated by the first house of the village, I 
 saw Cicely advancing. She wore a chintz petti- 
 coat and muslin apron, and a black fardingale 
 gathered up behind, which discovered pretty 
 ancles and neat buckled shoes. A small straw- 
 hat surmounted her round-eared cap, a sprig of 
 may-thorn was in her bosom, a basket hung on
 
 136 THE OLD 
 
 her arm, her countenance glowed with health, 
 exercise, and cheerfulness. I opened the wicket; 
 she thanked me with a grace not at all rustic, 
 and then with an obeisance which seemed to 
 prohibit the conversation I was endeavouring to 
 engage her in, she quickened her pace and 
 passed on. 
 
 I encountered her frequently, and it was ever 
 thus : far from seeking, as my vanity and my 
 experience had induced me to anticipate, to 
 attract my attention or engage my admiration, 
 her sustained reserve placed a distance between 
 us which I found it impossible to lessen. This 
 impediment was to me a great incentive. Be- 
 side its novelty, it was very far from displeasing, 
 since it afforded amusement in the exercise of 
 my tactics. I began seriously to resolve on the 
 conquest of Cicely, though as yet I could per- 
 ceive no means by which she was to be assailed. 
 It was evident that she entertained no veneration 
 for my caste, and that her respect was accorded 
 me merely as the son of her benefactress. The
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 137 
 
 advantages of my person and address had failed to 
 impress her; nor would she give me an opportunity 
 to bring into the field that well- managed superfi- 
 ciality which, in conversation, Iliad hitherto found 
 so successful. One time, as I was returning from 
 inspecting some improvements, I observed Cicely 
 sitting under the shade of the ilex-trees, which 
 grew thickly together upon ground broken into 
 banks that were covered with violets. I mecha- 
 nically directed my steps towards her, but, before 
 I reached the spot she was gone, a summons 
 from my mother had hastened her away. Here, 
 however, were her vacant stool, her open book, 
 and a little half- withered nosegay. I stood 
 gazing on these objects with a strange, novel 
 feeling of pleasure, that was suddenly converted 
 into pain, — a quick, bitter, stinging, jealous 
 pain, — as I perceived the page in Comus, on 
 which she had been poring, had pencilled marks 
 and comments in a masculine hand-writing. This 
 was sufficient to excite tormenting conjecture ; 
 for such trifles are weighty matters to new-born
 
 138 THE OLD 
 
 love, — love ! I started as I made the acknow- 
 ledgment. " Yes," I mused, " I do love, and 
 for the first time." My fancy, like Noah's dove, 
 has flown again and again from the ark of my 
 heart, and hitherto found no resting-place ; but 
 now it will return no more. It is not that she 
 is lovelier than others I have known, than 
 others I have possessed. Their eyes were bright, 
 though they beamed with delusive fires ; their 
 lips beautiful, though they breathed tones of 
 endearment as false as — as — the ones which re- 
 sponded to them. Hours of passion ! that have 
 left no trace in memory. A moment, all in all, 
 — the next mutually forgotten. It is not that she 
 is lovelier, but her purity constitutes the charm."' 
 Immediately after, on opening the post-bag, I 
 found a letter, bearing a foreign post-mark, for 
 Cicely. The handwriting of the address was 
 similar to that I had seen on the margin of her 
 book. Who could be her correspondent ? In the 
 present state of our intercourse I could not hope 
 to have my curiosity satisfied. A chance, however.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 139 
 
 favoured me. On entering my mother's closet, 
 subsequently, I found Cicely reading aloud this 
 identical epistle. I made a motion of retiring, 
 but her ladyship detained me. " This letter is 
 from abroad, my dear son. Cicely, I think, can 
 have no objection to let you hear it ; and, per- 
 haps, if you have sufficient leisure, it may afford 
 you entertainment ." I expressed my satisfac- 
 tion at the proposal, very moderately, and seated 
 myself. " Have you relations abroad V I could 
 not forbear asking. 
 
 " No, my Lord ; these letters are from Basil 
 Lambert.' 1 
 
 " Indeed ! is he travelling V " Yes," replied 
 Cicely ; " after having quitted Cambridge, he 
 went to Gottingen to complete his studies; he 
 has since been making an extensive pedestrian 
 tour, for," she added with regret, " he has not 
 the means of seeing countries in any other 
 way." 
 
 Cicely was unusually communicative ; I could 
 only attribute it to a strong interest in her sub- 
 
 vol. i. g 10
 
 140 THE OLD 
 
 ject. I felt acutely jealous. My passion was 
 already mature. The rapidity with which it had 
 ripened is not unaccountable. Love, which in 
 so many ways resembles intoxication, has one 
 close point of comparison, — the person on whom 
 it acts is more likely to be suddenly inebriated 
 from having previously been partially affected. My 
 penchant for Gabrielle had but prepared me for 
 a more powerful impression. 
 
 " This letter," prefaced Cicely, " is from 
 Paris." The substance of its contents was as 
 follows : — 
 
 " My dear Cicely, 
 
 " I have already given you an account of the 
 most remarkable places I have visited here, or 
 rather of my impressions of them. You will 
 find their origin and purposes described better 
 and more fully in many books, but I doubt 
 if any mere description will afford you an ade- 
 quate idea of them. I have also communicated 
 to you such little traits of the people as struck 
 me, and the few incidents that have varied my 
 7
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 141 
 
 obscure and quiet way of life. Still you are 
 unsatisfied. You ask me to write longer letters 
 — to tell you more about France. My turn of 
 thought is so serious, that I can never hope to 
 amuse, and the subject which almost engrosses 
 my attention here, the political state of this 
 country, is a very grave one. I doubt if it will 
 interest you, or if you will comprehend me ; but 
 as you ask it, I will try. 
 
 " I find France suffering under an accumula- 
 tion of political evils, and symptoms of a ter- 
 rible crisis at hand. In addition to the ancient 
 vices of her constitution, the reign of Louis the 
 Fourteenth bequeathed an encroaching despo- 
 tism, and the regency of the Duke of Orleans 
 financial disorder. The present king has con- 
 tributed extensively both to the conservation 
 of abuses, by his tenacity of the privileges of 
 le bon plaisir, and to the increase of national 
 embarrassment by the appropriation of public 
 moneys to his private purposes. Louis, in the 
 seclusion of his petits appartemens, indolent and 
 
 Gil
 
 142 THE OLD 
 
 frivolous, lives only to amuse himself. The 
 court takes its tone from royalty, the city 
 from the court. Rendered needy by their 
 boundless and fantastic extravagance, unscru- 
 pulous by their need, the nobility vie with each 
 other in obtaining sinecures, pensions, and 
 pecuniary favours by the meanest subserviency. 
 But these sycophants of royalty, out of the 
 atmosphere of the court are extremely arro- 
 gant and tyrannical; openly expressing their 
 contempt for the people, on whom they commit 
 aggressions with impunity. Does a tradesman 
 refuse unlimited credit, or repeat a demand for 
 payment, a lettre de cachet consigns him for 
 years to a state prison. Does a citizen, driven 
 over in one of their midnight courses, or beaten 
 by their lacqueys for a frolic, prefer a complaint, 
 he shares the same fate. The provincial no- 
 blesse, remote from the dissipation of the me- 
 tropolis, are more respectable, but as the feudal 
 system still exists in full force, each in his own 
 terrain is a despot ; and in many instances the
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 143 
 
 oppressed peasantry groan beneath the heavy 
 yoke of their bondage. Equally odious as les 
 droits du seigneur are les droits du pdre de fa- 
 milies which place the persons of their off- 
 spring, even when adults, entirely at their dis- 
 posal. Children tremble before their parents; 
 respect is merged into dread. The most trivial 
 act of disobedience, an offensive word, an irre- 
 verent jest, where parental authority is so 
 rigorously enforced, may be punished by a long 
 captivity. And these lettres de cachet, which 
 have doomed so many innocent victims to be 
 carried off from the face of the earth — from 
 social life, with all its hopes, joys, and ties, to 
 the darkness and solitude of some dungeon, so 
 terrible that despairing misery prays for the 
 blank of unconsciousness, or for the release of 
 death ; these lettres de cachet are the perquisites 
 of the premier, who distributes them to any 
 persons he has inducement to oblige, just as he 
 might give franks or opera-tickets ! 
 
 " As the clergy and nobility are exempt from 
 
 g 12
 
 144 THE OLD 
 
 taxes, they press more heavily on the industrious 
 portion of the community. The labourer toils 
 in the scorching heat of summer and the chill of 
 winter, — the frugal artisan deprives himself of 
 the most necessary comforts, not to make pro- 
 vision for his old age, or for his family, but to 
 fill coffers that are to be plundered by unworthy 
 favourites. These hardly earned coins, the pro- 
 duce of spent strength and strained sinews, of 
 care, of privation, are destined to be showered 
 upon the play table, to be squandered thought- 
 lessly — to be lavished on the venal. 
 
 " The prodigalities of the court necessarily 
 render the taxes oppressive. They are still 
 farther increased by the vicious plan of admi- 
 nistration. The fermiers-generaux are persons 
 who rent the imposts laid by the king on the 
 nation. These places are in the appointment of 
 the minister, or of the most influential favourite, 
 lately Madame Pompadour, who assisted at the 
 cabinet councils. Whoever bestows these grants 
 receives on each nomination a large present of
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 145 
 
 money, termed a pot de mn. To profit by their 
 bargains, and to cover the enormous expen- 
 diture occasioned by the maintenance of sub- 
 alterns and spies for the prevention of fraud, 
 to the amount of eighty thousand men, the 
 fermiers distress the people by enormous exac- 
 tions, which have sometimes been evaded ; in 
 consequence, a fine has been instituted, and 
 such is the cupidity of the fermiers, to whom it 
 reverts, that to avail themselves of it, they are 
 continually laying traps for the unwary. Go- 
 vernment dares not interfere. Its perpetual 
 embarrassments oblige it to conciliate the finan- 
 ciers whose credit enables them at any crisis to 
 supply the required funds. 
 
 " The clergy possess twelve millions of livres 
 income, subject only to an annual contribution, 
 which is scarcely felt by any but the poor toiling 
 cures, whom it robs of nearly half their miserable 
 stipends. The inferior clergy are rigidly com- 
 pelled to remain in their dioceses, but the abbes 
 and bishops, particularly the administrative 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 146 THE OLD 
 
 bishops, who have the power of meddling with 
 state affairs and finances, are to be seen con- 
 stantly in the metropolis, assisting at fashionable 
 toilettes, crowding in ante-rooms, fawning in the 
 court-circles, caballing every where for the best 
 benefices, the proceeds of which they dissipate 
 in scandalous luxury. They are inveterate 
 against the monastic orders, whom they are 
 desirous of extirpating, that they may appro- 
 priate their possessions; and, indeed, the dis- 
 order of these recluses are very great; as, for 
 instance, the Cordeliers are proverbially addicted 
 to intoxication; the Bernardines and Celestins 
 to gluttony ; those of the monastery of Cellaux 
 and the Victorins to indolence and sloth. 
 
 These national evils have long been perceived 
 by the middle classes, and are now loudly com- 
 plained of. The corrupt state of the body 
 politic cannot be denied ; but I fear, those who 
 come forward to prescribe, and they are many, 
 are rather empirics than physicians, and that 
 their remedies may produce results as much to
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 147 
 
 be deprecated as the disease. Already has a 
 literary war been declared against existing pre- 
 judices and abuses, but there are evidences of a 
 spirit abroad tending to destroy rather than to 
 correct, which threatens, instead of renovating 
 and adapting the imperfect parts of the consti- 
 tutional edifice, to level it altogether. 
 
 " The separate, but approximating schools of 
 Voltaire and Rousseau, have for disciples all the 
 youth of France belonging to the unprivileged 
 classes. In the provinces, as in the capital, 
 they form themselves into societies ; each prin- 
 cipal town has its academy, which gives prizes 
 for essays, and here these tyros find an opportu- 
 nity of gratifying their literary vanity, or of 
 giving vent to their enthusiasm, by promulgating 
 crude and wild theories on all matters of govern- 
 ment. The sects of Patriots, Encyclopedists, 
 and Economists too, perturb the public mind 
 by their writings. 
 
 " These investigations, as well as any kind of 
 strictures on practical subjects, are prohibited 
 h 2
 
 148 THE OLD 
 
 in France. A rigorous literary inquisition is 
 established, charged with examining all manu- 
 scripts. Unfortunately the censors who com- 
 pose it are persons totally incompetent. Very 
 often the dismissed tutor, secretary, or even 
 valet-de-chambre of some great man, is nomi- 
 nated ; for it is a practice with the noblesse 
 to leave the wages of the chefs of their house- 
 hold in arrears, and compound for them at the 
 end of a certain term, by putting their people 
 on the pension list, or procuring for them the 
 inferior places under government. And it is 
 no slight mortification to eminent writers to 
 have their productions interlined, erased, and 
 altered, by men unworthy of reading them ; 
 men who have no other capability for their 
 office than a servile and interested attachment 
 to those in power : yet to these indignities they 
 must submit, or incur the penalty which so 
 many others have suffered, of imprisonment or 
 exile. Such severities are in many cases un- 
 just, and always impolitic. The forbidden works
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 149 
 
 come before the public through the medium of 
 the foreign presses. The authors, animated by 
 a sense of injury, and the security of incognito, 
 write with augmented vehemence and boldness ; 
 those who otherwise would have been moderate, 
 become virulent ; those whose design was to in- 
 duce the people to remonstrate, endeavour to 
 inspire them to revolt ; and their essays are read 
 with greater avidity from the attempt that has 
 been made to suppress them. Popular opinion 
 is a current that must be turned by art, it 
 cannot be checked by force. 
 
 " I have gone little into general society here, 
 not having introductions ; but an acquaintance I 
 made accidentally, has procured me the advan- 
 tage of being admitted to the literary re-unions 
 at the houses of Madame du Deffand, and Made- 
 moiselle de FEspinasse. Madame du Deffand 
 was formerly very intimate with the Duchesse de 
 Maine, whose circle of clever friends rendered 
 the Hotel de Rambouillet so celebrated. After 
 the death of the Duchesse, the persons she was 
 h 3
 
 150 THE OLD 
 
 accustomed to meet there continued to visit her, 
 and she now opens her rooms to them — a com- 
 fortable suite in the Convent of St. Joseph — 
 every evening. They assemble between six and 
 seven, and sometimes stay to sup. Madame du 
 Deffand has never published any work, she owes 
 the sort of celebrity attached to her name to her 
 intimacy with all the literary personages of the 
 last half century, and to her conversational 
 talent ; ' No man is a hero to his valet de cTiambre* 
 is one of her sayings which has almost passed 
 into a proverb. It was she who called Mon- 
 tesquieu's Esprit des Loix — de V Esprit sur les 
 his; and who, upon an author's producing an 
 elaborate work to prove self-love the chief mo- 
 tive of all our actions, remarked, that he had 
 only published a fact which every body was 
 taking pains to conceal. Perhaps, this opinion 
 was formed from a knowledge of her own 
 character, which is very egotistical. The fol- 
 lowing story is told respecting her. Her most 
 intimate friend, Pont Veyle, died. Some hours
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 151 
 
 after this event she joined a large supper party. 
 As soon as she appeared, several persons in- 
 quired about Pont Veyle. Alas ! she answered, 
 he died at six this evening, or I should not have 
 been able to come here. A still more horrible 
 trait is cited of Fontenelle. Fontenelle was 
 particularly fond of asparagus dressed with oil. 
 One day a very old friend called on him, whom 
 Fontenelle pressed to stay and dine, telling 
 him they should have asparagus. I will, replied 
 the Abbe, on condition that half of the aspa- 
 ragus is dressed with butter; — Fontenelle re- 
 luctantly consented, and gave the order for this 
 alteration. Before dinner was served, however, 
 his old friend fell down speechless in an apo- 
 plectic fit. Fontenelle rang the bell for assist- 
 ance, but instantly rushed to the kitchen, 
 crying, ' All with oil — all with oil now.' Ma- 
 dame du Deffand professes to be an esprit fort ; 
 and, therefore, her constant occupation about 
 minutiae, and interest in frivolities, is the more 
 striking. She has ranged herself under the 
 h 4
 
 152 THE OLD 
 
 banners of the latest philosophy. Conduct is 
 generally the result of opinion ; but her opinions 
 are said to be assumed, in justification of her 
 conduct, which was formerly so irregular as to 
 distinguish her unpleasantly in the ranks in 
 which her birth had placed her. Anticipating 
 expulsion, she forsook them, and became a rally- 
 ing point for democrats and liberals. Made- 
 moiselle de TEspinasse, now a middle aged, 
 little, plain woman, marked with the small pox, 
 was placed at an early age by unknown parents, 
 in the Convent St. Joseph. Pleased with her 
 intelligence, Madame du Deffand adopted her as 
 companion ; but, after a series of years, a sort 
 of rivalry sprung up between them. Made- 
 moiselle became too prominent in the circle of 
 her protectress — they parted. Madame du 
 Luxembourg furnished rooms for her in the Rue 
 Belle Chasse, where, though poor, plain, and 
 without the reputation conferred by authorship, 
 she contrives to draw a crowd round her when- 
 ever she chooses to be at home. There I have met 
 Grimm, the German philosopher, a clever man ;
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 153 
 
 but, if my impression is to be trusted, as sinister 
 as his countenance. His appearance is extremely 
 singular. I can give you but little idea of its 
 effect by describing him as very tall, very thin, 
 very ugly, with large protruding eyes, of a glassy 
 lustre, and a tanned and wrinkled visage, covered 
 with white paint so evidently, that it has obtain- 
 ed for him the sobriquet of Tirante the White \ 
 Diderot ; — whom I have observed enough to dis- 
 cover, is always studying effect. Nothing is 
 more amusing than the preparation of his ab- 
 ruptness, the calculation of his enthusiasm, 
 the art of his simplicity; he is an amiable 
 person, however, except when his self-love is 
 piqued ; but, unfortunately, his self-love is piqued 
 every moment ; — D'Alembert, who affects a great 
 attachment for Diderot — an attachment which 
 may be doubted, as he is jealous of his friend's 
 renown. One can scarcely form a notion of 
 authors from their writings; but, most of all, 
 one could never have imagined D'Alembert from 
 
 1 The name of a character in an old French romance. 
 H 5
 
 154 THE OLD 
 
 D'Alembert^s. He has the manners of a petit- 
 maitre, aad a great deal of small talk ; is 
 very playful, but nobody ever hid more malice 
 in pleasantry. He is the best-tempered and 
 the most ill-natured man alive. He has been 
 compared, and justly, though it is an odd simile 
 for a philosopher, to a kitten, which scratches 
 while it frolics, and makes a soft paw only to 
 what it fears ; as he does to the great, whom he 
 would bite if he dared ; — Marmontel, very cold 
 and pedantic, a man who stalks into society, wrapt 
 up in the cumbrous dignity of his literary reputa- 
 tion, which he never casts aside for an instant ; 
 always, to appearance, lost in reverie, except 
 when, by starts he awakes to an animation, and 
 warms to enthusiasm in talking of his own 
 writings ; the sensitive Rousseau, with his slight 
 figure, his pale, melancholy face, his pleasant 
 smile, his gentle manners, — Rousseau, " in love 
 with grief," making his own evils, for the solace 
 of lamenting them ; refusing wealth and sighing 
 at poverty ; flying from notice, disdaining patron-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 155 
 
 age, and murmuring at neglect ; — Madame de 
 Genlis, with her restless vivacity and insatiable 
 vanity, her harp, her acting, and her authorship : 
 (but, Cicely, I shall tire you with portraits ;) 
 Maupertuis, Helvetius, Montesquieu, Montaigne, 
 Fontenelle, Buffon, De Lille, Condorcet, Bailli, 
 La Condamine, Madame Cottin, Mesdames Eo- 
 berts, Keralio, Duboccago, and St. Leon, TAbbe 
 Barthelemi, Porgens, Madame Beauharnois, Pi- 
 pelet, Viot, La Ferandiere, &c. All the lite- 
 rati of the day are philosophers, and all the 
 philosophers politicians. Their works and their 
 conversations are alike engrossed by the existing 
 state of things ; the necessity and the means of 
 amelioration. — Now to talk of England and of 
 ourselves . . . . . ." 
 
 I felt infinitely relieved by the tenor of this 
 letter. To my perception it bore no evidence of 
 any feeling warmer than friendship, and for that 
 friendship I could easily account. Cicely had 
 been his pupil even from childhood ; to him she 
 h 6
 
 156 THE OLD 
 
 owed her cultivation. Here my thoughts flowed 
 into a different channel; I reflected with sur- 
 prise on the nature of the correspondence, so 
 foreign to Cicely's age, sex, and station, which 
 proved her to possess a rare intelligence and 
 a mental advancement, extraordinary at that 
 period, when females of the middle classes were 
 entirely engrossed by household avocations, and 
 the acquirements of those of higher rank were 
 limited in general to music and embroidery. 
 Cicely appeared to me in a new light. Acci- 
 dent had revealed her superiority, which was 
 enhanced in my eyes by the unpretending exte- 
 rior that had concealed it. Admiration and 
 esteem elevated the character of my passion ; 
 still she was unapproachable. 
 
 Day after day fled by, and that fixed for our 
 departure had been again and again postponed. 
 My excuses for delay were exhausted, when a 
 serious occasion arose. My mother was sud- 
 denly taken ill : suddenly is an erroneous phrase, 
 it was but the unlooked-for falling of a ruin,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 157 
 
 which had long been undermined. Physicians 
 were immediately summoned ; they pronounced 
 her constitution much impaired, even her reco- 
 very doubtful. My apprehensions were poignant. 
 Actuated by the earnest solicitude of a sincere 
 attachment, for amid so much of evil in my 
 nature, one strong, yet pure, affection was unex- 
 tinguished, I exerted every means to procure her 
 relief. Cicely was my assistant. Nothing could 
 be more touching than her judicious, her unwea- 
 ried attentions. In ministering to the patient, we 
 were so brought together, that the formality 
 between us was soon diminished, and ultimately 
 dispelled. But though Cicely's kindness, pa- 
 tience, and skill, made me think her still more 
 admirable ; — though, as I saw her gazing anxiously 
 upon the sufferer, or moving hither and thither 
 with quiet assiduity to perform, as no one else 
 could, a number of little offices, or whispering 
 into the dull ear of pain words meant to fortify 
 and soothe, it seemed to me that she was lovelier 
 than ever ; — though she was near me hour after
 
 158 THE OLD 
 
 hour, by day and by night, as we had watched to- 
 gether alone, attendants in the ante-room, — yet 
 was I so intensely absorbed by alternations of 
 hope and fear, so excited by each change in my 
 mother's state, that selfishness was banished for 
 awhile, and no dream of passion profaned the 
 chamber wherein Death was hovering. 
 
 It was midnight ; the twelfth from my mo- 
 ther's seizure. The physician in the house had 
 retired for a little while to rest ; he had given 
 us hopes. A stillness reigned throughout the 
 apartment. Cicely was upon her knees in prayer. 
 One shaded lamp burned dimly. My mother 
 had long been silent, motionless, as if in sleep. 
 Suddenly she spoke ; her words were inaudible. 
 I drew back the heavy velvet curtain ; I bent 
 down to listen. " My son, Hubert," she mur- 
 mured faintly, " raise me. Where is Cicely f 1 
 We placed the pillows to support her head. 
 
 " Water." 
 
 Cicely presented a beverage. My mother 
 drank of it.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 159 
 
 " Bid the nurses leave us." 
 
 " They are in the next room, my lady." 
 
 " Close the doors." Cicely obeyed. 
 
 " I have something to say to both." 
 
 " Will not your ladyship delay V? 
 
 " Dear mother, you are yet too feeble." 
 
 She shook her head. " I must delay no longer. 
 My testament" (she spoke with difficulty) u is in 
 the cedar-box in the library, the key in the 
 cabinet in my dressing-room. Hubert, continue 
 my bounties to the poor ; Cicely has the list of 
 them. Good Cicely — in my will I have remem- 
 bered, but not sufficiently. Hubert" 
 
 " I comprehend your wishes. Do not fatigue 
 yourself. If it indeed must be thus, all shall be 
 observed." 
 
 She strove to raise herself a little. 
 
 " Now, hear me, mark me. Marry, Hubert ; 
 but let your wife be such a woman as I and as 
 your father would have welcomed for a daughter, 
 one of rank and reputation ; no Catholic, no 
 foreigner. — Remember !"
 
 160 THE OLD 
 
 " Mother, I promise." 
 
 " Then take my blessing ; my last, my Son, 
 my last." 
 
 She folded me in her embrace, she held me to 
 her heart. The effort was too much ; her arms 
 fell from my neck, and she sank down. 
 
 " Bury me by your father." 
 
 The murmur was scarcely passed, ere her eyes, 
 which were fixed upon me, glazed; her jaw 
 dropped, her form was rigid. 
 
 " Help ! help !" I exclaimed in a paroxysm. 
 "Rebecca ! — Nurse ! — call them! Summon 
 Doctor Arnold ! Spare her! spare her!" I cried, 
 casting myself at the foot of the bed with clasped 
 hands raised on high, " Spare her !" 
 
 And it seemed to me that the agonizing in- 
 tensity of my wish must have power even to rend 
 from death his prey. 
 
 A crowd gathered round me, and one voice 
 broke the silence. " My lord ! my lord ! she 
 is gone /" .... 
 
 My grief was acute. I had honoured my mo-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 161 
 
 ther. I was proud of my descent from a woman 
 of great family, and most virtuous carriage ; I 
 respected her character even to her prejudices ; 
 for I had imbibed them. I loved her for her un- 
 varying kindness. I mourned her as a friend, as 
 well as a parent. And thus one source of hal- 
 lowed feeling, which might have flowed into 
 many other kindly channels, was suddenly dried 
 up ; my heart was left to all the evil of interests 
 concentrated in self. 
 
 For days my sorrow was violent. Cicely en- 
 deavoured to console me, and, at length, I 
 awoke to the pleasure of being soothed by her. 
 She had seen me, under recent circumstances, 
 in the most favourable phase ; and I, who in 
 the brilliancy of my externals should never 
 have been otherwise but indifferent to her, — 
 despondent and afflicted, had acquired her pity 
 and regard. 
 
 I felt a satisfaction in having my mother's 
 interment attended with all the pomp that I 
 considered suitable to her station. A great con-
 
 16' 2 THE OLD 
 
 course of noble relatives and friends assisted at 
 her obsequies. The exertion of making these ar- 
 rangements drew me from my abstraction. From 
 the recollection of the dead I turned to the 
 contemplation of the living — of myself — of Cicely. 
 I had been educated for the world ; and to live 
 for it and in it appeared to me the end of my 
 creation. At present, pleasure was distasteful ; 
 but even amidst my depression, I was aware 
 that it would not be always so. Feeling as well 
 as usage compelled the postponement of my 
 entree into society in London ; but I soon began 
 to ruminate on much connected with it. Cicely 
 I deemed indispensable to my happiness. I was 
 anxious to leave Mount Manor ; but to leave it 
 without securing Cicely, was to forfeit her. Time 
 and absence might diminish the interest I had 
 excited ; besides, her present unprotected state, 
 and the circumstance that her benefactress had 
 left me a discretionary power, on which her pro- 
 vision depended, augmented the chances in my 
 favour.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 163 
 
 Having decided on an immediate overture, 
 and concerted the mode, I seized the first favour- 
 able opportunity. Cicely was sitting in an alcove 
 in a remote part of the grounds, where our inter- 
 view could not be observed. I entered and pre- 
 mised thus — 
 
 " Cicely, I intend to leave Mount Manor. I 
 am obliged to be in town on business, relative to 
 my mother's will, for a few days. It is uncertain, 
 indeed, when I shall return. You may imagine 
 how painful these scenes are. I should have no 
 objection to shutting up the house, but on your 
 account. What is to become of you V 
 
 " Do not think of me, my lord. I have re- 
 sources." 
 
 " Not think of you ! Are you not my care, 
 my charge, my mother's dear bequest ? Believe 
 me, Cicely, you are my very chief consideration. 
 This trial has visibly affected you. You have 
 lost your bloom. A change is necessary for your 
 health and spirits. You must follow me to Lon-
 
 164 THE OLD 
 
 don. I will provide a residence which, if you 
 are satisfied with it, shall be permanently your 
 home." 
 
 She would have spoken. I went on. " Some 
 little pleasant retreat, near enough to town, to 
 combine the amusements of the city with the 
 delights of the country; where you may have 
 your garden, your trees, your birds, your flowers, 
 your books, and insure for life comfort, quiet, 
 and independence." 
 
 " No, no, my lord, not independence. I am 
 very sensible, very grateful ;" and in the sim- 
 plicity of her innocence she thanked me with 
 glistening eyes, " but I cannot become an idle 
 incumbent on your bounty. I could not endure 
 such obligation." 
 
 " Obligation, there would be none. You 
 should repay me" — my pulses quickened with 
 nervous excitement as I dared the words, for I 
 felt that I was hastening a crisis — " by your 
 society, by your affection, Cicely." 

 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 165 
 
 Her face grew very pale, her eyes wandered. 
 She looked perplexed, as if she doubted, and yet 
 feared my meaning. 
 
 " My lord, I do not understand you !" 
 
 " I think you will not. I know not well how 
 to be more explicit." 
 
 I paused a moment ; then stooping towards 
 her, I whispered hurriedly, " Be mine, — all but 
 in name — my wife i 11 The blood rushed to her 
 face, and neck, and brow, suffusing them with 
 crimson. She rose ; she looked upon me. 
 Scarcely knowing what I said, I still proceeded — 
 
 " The kind of life to which I have alluded, I 
 fancied most fitted to your tastes ; but if you 
 covet luxury, distinction, they shall be yours ; all 
 that my means can give/ 1 
 
 " No more, my lord, I beg. 11 
 
 She passed me swiftly, and left the alcove. I 
 feared that I had failed. I could have bandied 
 word for word, persuasion for objection, but 
 here I was defeated by the strangeness of her 
 manner. I had not anticipated such a denoue-
 
 J 66 , THE OLD 
 
 merit to my explanation, nor could I interpret it. 
 Was this calmness or amazement ? I had been 
 premature ; but having made the venture, I 
 thought the only course was to pursue it. I fol- 
 lowed her. 
 
 " Cicely, you are angry. In seeking to pos- 
 sess myself of more, I have forfeited the small 
 portion of your regard I had acquired. I have 
 pained you. Acquit me of intention to insult. 11 
 
 " My lord, 11 she returned coldly, " the insult 
 does not affect me. The shame of the proposal 
 is yours, not mine. I confess myself surprised, 
 grieved, disappointed I 11 
 
 " Grieved ! disappointed i 11 I reiterated, mis- 
 led by a sudden conception, " Then you had 
 divined my attachment, Cicely ; you anticipated 
 proffers of a different nature V 
 
 " My lord ! I never thought of you but as my 
 lady's son. I am disappointed, grieved, not for 
 my own sake, but for yours, to find you what 
 you are. What proffers could I dream of \ I ? — 
 one promised to another. 11 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 167 
 
 ;; Promised !" I gasped, "to whomf 1 
 
 " To Basil Lambert." 
 
 "Is it possible? You do not, Cicely, you 
 cannot love him. He is not worthy of you, 
 — you, Basil's wife. He has entrapped you, while 
 a child, into some promise that you fancy bind- 
 ing. This is all folly ; think, think better of it.' 1 
 
 Cicely smiled. 
 
 " You seem to take for granted my inclina- 
 tions are nowise concerned. " 
 
 " You cannot love him, — you know not what 
 love is. Oh, Cicely, if you would listen to me, 
 I could teach you/ 1 
 
 " My lord, my lord, you know not what love is. 
 — I could say much, but it would be in vain. 
 The evil work of years is not to be reformed by 
 a few feeble words, however earnest may be the 
 purpose which dictates them. Therefore the 
 briefest answer is the best, — I will not listen to 
 you." 
 
 " You are severe. The world thinks differ- 
 ently of these things. Nay, do not be alarmed.
 
 168 THE OLD 
 
 I will not renew a subject which is unacceptable; 
 chiefly, I must still hope, because it has been 
 premature. If you had known me longer, Cicely, 
 and if you were assured how fondly, deeply — " 
 
 " My lord, I cannot hear you. Remember, 
 that in all obligations, I am a wife." 
 
 " You do not love him. Oh tell me, Cicely, 
 if I have not your heart : it is not his V 
 
 " The fact of my engagement surely implies 
 as much. I will not question your lordship's 
 right to the avowal ; but, trusting it may termi- 
 nate this conversation, I give it. If I know any 
 thing of my affections, as truly as my pledge, 
 they are Basil Lambert's !" 
 
 My pride was wounded. My feelings, which 
 had flowed impetuously, ebbed. I was silent for 
 a little while, and when I spoke again, it was in 
 a calmer manner and with a lighter tone. " Well, 
 you are to be nothing to me. It must be so. 
 There is one dream broken. These are disap- 
 pointments which in life one must meet, and 
 bear. Time does wonders ; perhaps it may
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 169 
 
 teach me to be philosophical and resigned ; but," 1 
 I added, for the tide turned, and sentiment rose 
 once more, " it can never make me forget you, 
 never render me less interested in your welfare, 
 Cicely;" and I took her hand, — "remember me, 
 if at any period you should need a friend " 
 
 These are the common phrases with which 
 men retreat after a discomfiture ; but on this 
 occasion I was sincere. The process of the 
 heart's ossification is gradual. As there is no 
 woman, however depraved, who has not once 
 been innocent ; so there is no man, however 
 blase, that has not been inartificial. We begin 
 by imagining feeling, then we experience it, 
 then we counterfeit it, and sometimes go on till 
 we imagine what we counterfeit. 
 
 But Cicely, as I perceived by the manner of 
 her acknowledgments, estimated my professions 
 very lightly. I imagined her unjust, and I felt 
 bitterness ; for, like all persons with whom 
 good sentiments are rare, I was particularly 
 sensitive about having them doubted. Our con- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 J 70 THE OLD 
 
 versation dropped. " Madam,"" said I, M I will 
 no longer trespass upon you ;" and bowing, with 
 a great deal of ceremony, I withdrew, agitated 
 by a variety of sensations, — mortification at my 
 defeat, — regret at having risked it, — increased 
 love for Cicely, — conviction of her indifference to 
 me, — and a jealous detestation of my rival. I 
 turned into a by-path in the shrubberies, which 
 I continued to pace for some hours. I was in- 
 terrupted by the tramp of feet. Kaising my 
 eyes from the ground on which they had been 
 fixed in the unconsciousness of reverie, I saw 
 a servant followed by a countryman taking the 
 back way to the house. " Who is that, Thomas ?"" 
 
 " Please your lordship, Giles Hodson is come 
 for mistress Cicely's chattels." 
 
 Was Cicely about to leave? I hurried in. 
 She was gone. Farmer Forster had brought 
 his dame's horse and pillion for her. On my 
 dressing-table was a note. It had these words : — 
 
 " Your lordship will not be surprised that 
 what has occurred hastens my intended depar-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 171 
 
 ture from Mount Manor, or that I use this as 
 the least embarrassing mode of saying, Farewell. 
 " Your lordship's 
 
 " most obedient well-wisher, 
 
 " Cicely." 
 I read these few lines again and again, arriv- 
 ing always at the same conclusion, that she was 
 lost to me, and that I was miserable. I was, in 
 fact, as miserable as a man of my temperament, 
 which knew no very powerful extremes, could be. 
 That evening I was shut into the house by a 
 violent storm, and while the dark clouds gathered 
 and burst into heavy rain, and the thunder 
 rolled, and the lightning flashed, I walked the 
 gloomy library in a state of mind as troubled as 
 the elements. The tempest ceased at length. 
 It was almost night. I went out. A glass-door 
 led, from a drawing-room next the library, by a 
 double flight of stone-steps with an iron balus- 
 trade, ornamented with grotesquely cast heads, 
 into the grounds. The sky was wild and lurid. 
 The atmosphere was clearing, but still damp ; 
 i 2
 
 172 THE OLD 
 
 the gravel fresh . and red, the turf and foliage 
 more verdant ; the birds twittered, as they do 
 always before and after rain. The wind had de- 
 spoiled the full-blown roses, and the ground was 
 strewed with their leaves, the sweet, fragile jes- 
 samine drooped, the poor, little, modest heliotrope 
 was beaten down, while the gaudy, many-coloured 
 tulip, looked only gayer, and the star-like flowers 
 of the cuba japonica, trained upon the walls, were 
 as bright as new gold. The long-striped Indian 
 grass was moist and tangled ; a tiny pearl hung 
 from each fringed bell of the elegant fucia^ large 
 drops, like passion-tears, lay on the crimson 
 cheek of the peony ; the tall water-lily reared 
 the ivory cup, in which it had caught Heaven's 
 ambrosia ; the full, soft, snowy Guelder-roses, 
 and the delicate almond-trees were dripping ; the 
 acacias, the cystis, the arbutus, the arbor-vitae, 
 the Spanish brooms, looked green and glossy ; 
 the cypresses upon the terrace, the New England 
 pines, the spruce, and scotch, and silver firs in 
 the plantations, and the gigantic out-spreading,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 1 73 
 
 solitary Lebanon cedar upon the lawn, darker and 
 more solemn. The light, young trees had shaken 
 off the rain as speedily as youth does its griefs, 
 while those of greater age and growth, as the 
 mulberry, the oak, and the chesnut, were still 
 weighed down by the liquid undischarged from 
 their broad leaves. I wandered on till I came 
 to a great avenue, so closely planted with limes 
 that it was shady even at noonday in mid-sum- 
 mer, and now sombre indeed. At the bottom 
 was the alcove, in which, a few hours before, I 
 had conversed with Cicely. I entered it, and 
 throwing myself upon the chair in which she 
 had been seated, rested my head upon my hand, 
 and my arm upon the window-frame, and sat 
 watching the bats flittering in the dusk, and the 
 faint light playing across the broadway at the 
 distant opening of the allee. My spirits had 
 abandoned me ; I felt hopelessly wretched. At 
 first, I dwelt on no particular cause of sorrow, 
 but gave myself up to a vague, heavy oppression. 
 I remembered the resolves of happiness I had 
 i 3
 
 174 THE OLD 
 
 formed, and the recollection seemed to mock 
 me. The world, which I had then thought 
 could attaint me with no grief, I now believed 
 could offer me no joy. For, as every object 
 has two sides, so every subject has two views, 
 and the human mind calls each by turns the 
 right. — Then, as if to account to myself for my 
 depression, I took a survey of my situation ; de- 
 preciating the good, exaggerating the evil of my 
 lot, and pausing with something like compla- 
 cency, whenever I found food for " bitter fancies." 
 My lonely childhood, my companionless youth, 
 my isolated manhood, passed in review before 
 me ; my orphan state, my early bereavement 
 of a father. I pondered upon my late loss, I 
 mourned anew my dead mother. And then, in 
 my musings, I pictured to myself how the tenant- 
 less chambers of my habitation, and its deserted 
 domain, had been peopled by my ancestors, and 
 all that w 7 as now dreary and mournful had been 
 gladdened by social life. And how that once 
 numerous family, with its far-spreading branches,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 175 
 
 had nigh become extinct ; and despondency 
 prophesied that I, too, should live without ties, 
 and die solitary and childless. " These gifts of 
 fortune," I said, " are my bane. They are the 
 barrier between me and happiness ; for happi- 
 ness is Cicely ! Not a drudging peasant on my 
 estate but is more to be envied than me ; for 
 each has freedom of choice. They all know 
 what I may never hope for, — love in a home !" 
 
 I was wrought into an excess of emotion by 
 my self-commiseration. I leaned back in my 
 chair, for some moments, overcome. A large 
 tear, unperceived, rolled down my cheek. I 
 started as it fell upon my hand. " Fool ! fool !" 1 
 exclaimed, " why am I dreaming here \ Pshaw ! 
 can it be ? and all this for an obscure country 
 maiden. Well, I have loved her, I have grieved 
 for her : it has been, and it has passed, I am not 
 the less what I was ; with the world before me, 
 and a thousand other beauties. I will conquer 
 these feelings ; she shall go from my memory, 
 i 4
 
 176 THE OLD 
 
 as she has gone from my sight ; from this hour 
 I banish, I forget her. 11 
 
 And I did, but not wholly ; the recollection 
 of my disappointment long survived the disap- 
 pointment itself; and would often come, un- 
 bidden, casting a gloom over my gayest moments. 
 Sometimes, too, when my fancy was engaged by 
 other objects, her image would arise, and throw 
 them into shadow ; and from each new love 1 
 returned in regretful remembrance to her, re- 
 peating, " I shall never feel again what I did for 
 Cicely. 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAX. 177 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Paris again — Fetes, bals pares, bal de costume — Ambigus — 
 Proverbes — Blonde and brunette — Morals and manners — 
 Les chevaliers d'entreprise — The disguise — Dorothee — 
 The convent garden — Duel a la barriere — The pavilion — 
 A marriage de convenance — The disappointed bridegroom 
 — Taking the veil— The nun's bequest. 
 
 Ix a few days I found myself in London trans- 
 acting business with my ci-devant guardian, the 
 
 Marquis of L , who pressed me to accompany 
 
 him to his country-seat, where he promised me 
 an introduction to his daughter. But, in my 
 present state of mind, I had a feverish and rest- 
 less longing for change ; and the idea of remain- 
 ing in town was irksome : declining his lordship's 
 proposal, therefore, with the excuse that I had 
 made arrangements for travelling, I took route 
 i 5
 
 ITS THE OLD 
 
 as soon as possible to the Continent, intending 
 to divert myself by a leisurely observation of the 
 countries and cities I had before only surveyed ; 
 but meeting a number of old associates in Paris, 
 I was induced, by the amusements into which 
 they drew me, to protract the stay I had at first 
 designed should be brief, and finally to abandon 
 my project of proceeding farther. My vanity 
 was amply indemnified for the mortification it 
 had lately experienced, by the sensation my 
 return created in the best circles. My appear- 
 ance seemed to re-animate the declining season. 
 Fetes, diners, soirees, bals pares, bals de costume, 
 sonpers en petit comite, and ambigus, succeeded 
 rapidly, vying with each other in splendour, in- 
 genuity, and agremen. Of all I was the object. 
 For a pleasant, good-looking Englishman was then 
 a rara avis abroad. Notwithstanding every exer- 
 tion, I found it impossible to answer the demands 
 upon my time, a circumstance which did not 
 depreciate my estimation. But often, amongst 
 these dissipations, in the brilliant salon or at the 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 179 
 
 festive table, a heavy gloom would fall suddenly 
 on me. The scene present disappeared from 
 my consciousness, exchanged for some dark one 
 of the past, and, amid the excitements of music, 
 and dance, and song, and wit, and beauty, and 
 wine, and light, and splendour, while I jested, and 
 smiled, and nattered, and seemed to listen, my 
 heart was heavily oppressed, my mind was wan- 
 dering to far other thoughts. The momentary 
 glow was chilled, the momentary gleam over- 
 shadowed by images of sorrow and death, by 
 recollections of Cicely and of my mother, of the 
 estranged and the departed. 
 
 Philip Dornton came to Paris. In a letter, 
 charging him with a commission, I had hap- 
 pened to say, " You should see this capital C 
 he availed himself of the very slight hint with 
 alacrity. I introduced him to my cousin, Lord 
 Bosworth. Bosworth patronised Philip, and 
 proned him about everywhere. Philip was 
 charmed, and conceived a real friendship for 
 him. I was surprised, for Bosworth was ex- 
 i G
 
 180 THE OLD 
 
 elusive, but I judged that he intended in some 
 way to render him serviceable. 
 
 Bos worth and I, shortly before, had passed 
 an evening at a house in the Champ de Mars. 
 There was a the given, and after it a proverbe 
 played in a little theatre in the garden. A 
 green platform, considerably elevated, consti- 
 tuted the stage ; a phalanx of trees, admirably 
 clipped, made the wings and the back ; an arch 
 of treillage the proscenium. The stage was 
 separated from the orchestra, and the orchestra 
 from the parterre by low box hedges. The 
 seats, well cushioned, rose above each other. 
 A lattice screen encircled the whole, which was 
 illuminated by coloured lamps. " Bonne re- 
 nommee vaut mieux que ceinture doree l ," wa s 
 
 1 In the sixteenth century the lower classes of females in 
 France had a rage for gilt belts. The Pope condemned them 
 as a vanity, but woman is, as she has been defined, " an 
 animal delighting in finery ;" and, in defiance of his Holiness, 
 they persisted in retaining the favourite ornament, though the 
 wearers were subjected to a penalty. There was a similar 
 sort of contention about the time of the first crusade, in con- 
 sequence of a prohibition issued against the shoes worn with
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 181 
 
 the proverb selected. After a light prelude 
 from the band, the curtains were drawn back 
 on each side, and the scene, a picturesque fair, 
 discovered. Groups, in provincial costume, 
 danced in the back ground. In the front, a 
 young seigneur was seen in the act of offering 
 a pair of gilt belts to two peasant girls. 
 
 Lisette, the coquette of the village, was 
 charmingly played by a piquante brunette, Ma- 
 dame la Marquise, whose figure was greatly 
 favoured by the black just-au-corps, the lawn 
 gorgerette, and short scarlet jupon, she wore. 
 An interesting blonde looked la sage fille ad- 
 mirably. The action of the piece was as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 Lisette, enchanted, accepts the present ten- 
 dered her, draws it round her waist in an 
 ecstasy of admiration, and figures about display- 
 gilt points, or beaks, that turned up as high as the knees, and 
 were attached by chains to the waist ; probably a ridiculous 
 exaggeration of some oriental fashion : and the Pope met 
 with a resistance which, perhaps, in that age, nothing else 
 could have excited.
 
 1S2 THE OLD 
 
 ing it. Jeannette declines the other. Lisette 
 endeavours to persuade her, rallies her, laughs 
 at her, in vain. The dance ended, the girls 
 come down, and crowd round Lisette to look 
 at the wonder, which is passed from one to 
 another. A country youth advances to claim 
 Lisette for his partner just as the seigneur is 
 taking her hand. She rebuffs Colin with dis- 
 dain, and goes off proudly with the noble. 
 After some very good by-play between the dis- 
 comfited Colin and the neglected Jeannette, who 
 endeavours, and succeeds in calming his passion, 
 they pair off. There is a general dance, and 
 at its conclusion, after all have promenaded, the 
 count and Lisette occupy the centre, and the 
 curtains close upon a tableau, in which he is 
 seen gallantly adding a salute to his obeissance ; 
 and the rest, some pointing, some whispering, 
 are looking on with curiosity and surprise. 
 
 The next scene disclosed is a village. The 
 count is present with his bride. A procession 
 of villagers meet, and welcome her. On this
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. lOo 
 
 occasion, as is customary, the seigneur is about 
 to bestow a marriage portion, and to select a 
 husband for one, the most meritorious, of the 
 young females. The girls seem to consider 
 Lisette has the best chance : they lead her 
 forward. The seigneur singles out Jeannette, 
 who is standing aloof, and places her hand in 
 Colin's. Colin is overjoyed; the others felici- 
 tate them ; Lisette bursts into tears ; and the 
 curtain falls. Every body was pleased with 
 the sketch. The marquise had fascinated Bos- 
 worth ; and 1 was somewhat attracted by her 
 vis-a-vis. Intrigue was as great a passion with 
 the French ladies of that time as gaming with 
 our English women. But no one confessed or 
 recognised its existence. Platonism was a 
 favourite system. By a conventional under- 
 standing, originating in general convenience, all 
 liaisons were supposed friendships. But though 
 morals were never more lax, manners were 
 never more refined ; and it is always thus. 
 In the infancy of man, and in the infancy of
 
 184 THE OLD 
 
 nations, the biensednces are disregarded, through 
 unconsciousness of evil. In more advanced 
 stages, propriety of demeanour is substituted 
 for purity of conduct. In proportion, as the 
 deformities of vice grow prominent, pains are 
 taken to conceal them. Decency is pourtrayed 
 as wrapped in draperies ; but innocence as a 
 naked babe. 
 
 Women of fashion might then have as many 
 lovers as years, while they remained on good 
 terms with their husbands, and were counte- 
 nanced by their relatives ; but a free sentiment, 
 or an odd jest, came under the denomination 
 of a mauvais ton, which invariably incurred the 
 secession of society. 
 
 Bosworth was a little, slender man, of an 
 agreeable plainness, a character very difficult to 
 be deciphered, and a peculiar humour, relished 
 by every body but his enemies. He was rather 
 scarce than repmidu ; but whenever he did give 
 himself up to society, he was always lively, 
 gallant, and entertaining.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 185 
 
 Boswortk had been the cavaliere servente of 
 Mile. Heinel, a German opera dancer, who had 
 lately made so much progress in public favour, 
 that it was considered probable she would, ere 
 long, displace the Arnoux. The competition 
 between them was the amusement of Paris. 
 But Mile. Heinel envied Mile. Guimard's splen- 
 dour as much as Mile. Arnoux's fame. It 
 was her ambition to eclipse both her rivals. 
 Believing all Englishmen to be rich, and, in- 
 deed, none except persons of some consider- 
 ation then travelled, she had laid siege to Bos- 
 worth ; but neither his income, nor his libe- 
 rality, was superabundant, and he found her 
 demands troublesome, especially after the growth 
 of his sentiment for the marquise, who, delighted 
 to make a deserter from the enemy's camp, 
 conditioned for the sacrifice of Mile. Heinel. 
 Bosworth consented, but she could not be dis- 
 missed sans /agon. For, like the rest of the 
 theatricals, she not only had her partisans 
 among the populace and the public, but warm
 
 186 THE OLD 
 
 supporters in some of the young nobility, who, 
 at the head of a legion of small literati, jour- 
 nalists, pamphleteers, epigram-makers, and bal- 
 lad-rhymers, ranged themselves under the ban- 
 ners of different fair artistes, in readiness to 
 revenge any supposed insult or injury, and to 
 fight their battles either with pen or sword as 
 ardently as the preux chevaliers of old. 
 
 Bosworth had recourse to stratagem. He 
 conceived the project of transferring Mile. 
 Heinel to Philip Dornton, and accomplished it 
 in this way. 
 
 Bosworth told Philip that a lady had con- 
 fessed herself enamoured of him. Philip was 
 delighted. Bosworth introduced him to Mile. 
 Heinel. Philip made every effort to show his 
 appreciation of her preference, and Mile. Heinel, 
 from the vivacity of his attentions, concluded 
 she had made a conquest at first sight. Philip's 
 visit ended. Bosworth expatiated upon his 
 friend's immense wealth and profuse generosity. 
 La belle, affecting indifference, took note of all
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 187 
 
 he chose to tell her. Bosworth was with her 
 next day. She could not fail to remark that 
 he seemed pre-occupied and amused. He said 
 yes and no in the wrong places, and smiled 
 when she complained of a headache. 
 
 " How odd, vous autres Anglais are, 11 said she 
 in her strange jargon, with her indescribable 
 accent. " You are such people for bifstakes. — 
 How you laugh when I scold. Vraiment, Herr 
 Botchword, milord, ce n'est pas bien.* 1 
 
 u Ah I 11 she screamed, " my poor beau couvre 
 pied a terre, and you not pick it up ; and you 
 know I am in rest, and must not move for 
 the ruin of my premier pas. Milord ! milord ! 
 you hear ? I may talk till I am deaf. What 
 have you got I You laugh. Why laugh \ You 
 laugh at me ?" 
 
 Bosworth exculpated himself. 
 
 " Something singular had occurred that he 
 could not put out of his head. 11 
 
 " And what T 
 
 " Oh never mind, pretty. 11
 
 188 THE OLD 
 
 " Ah, bah ! par exemple, I know very well you 
 laugh at me wid my hair bagged in dis crape/ 1 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you." 
 
 "Then tell me what it is?" 
 
 " I cannot, really." 
 
 " But I will know. I insiste. Unless you 
 confess you laugh ad me, and then I protest 
 I will never never see you again — to-day." 
 
 ' ; No, no ; let us talk of something else." 
 
 " Bud you must. Come now, mon cher." 
 
 " After all it is nothing particular ; only Mr. 
 Domton." 
 
 " Mr. Domton, eh bien H 
 
 " Do you remember him V 
 
 " Oh yes ! that is, no ! only juste that he 
 dined here. Oontinuez." 
 
 " He begged me to assure you of his de- 
 votion." 
 
 " Ah, very well ; go on." 
 
 " That is all. Are you satisfied V 
 
 ; ' And wad is there to laugh adt V 
 
 " Only his choosing me for his proxy."
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAX. 189 
 
 " Ainsi, il n'en sait rien. And why not come 
 himself r 
 
 " Oh, he is the shyest man in the world. 1 ' 
 
 " Fi, done ! Encore, nVt-il rien dit de plus V 
 
 " Si beaucoup." 
 
 "EhquoiT 
 
 " He makes you a tender of new furniture, 
 a set of jewels of your own choosing, a carriage 
 and four English horses." 
 
 "Ala bonne heure ! voila un amant un peu 
 comme il faut ! Saute Guimard, je vous de- 
 passerai." 
 
 " What are you thinking off 
 
 " Of thanking this gentleman." 
 
 " Of course ; and declining his offers.'" 
 
 " II n'y aurait pas le sens commun." 
 
 " My angel !" 
 
 " Et pourquoi ne dusse-je pas faire chemin 
 comme les autres V 
 
 " But, my love, you are very well off already/ 1 
 
 " Une vilaine maison a louer, an old caleche 
 avec deux chevaux de Flandres."
 
 190 THE OLD 
 
 " But hear me. / will give you a new car- 
 riage, new furniture, and new horses." 
 
 " Mon cher Botch word, you know I love you 
 bedder dan all de world. But when — ?" 
 
 " Will you swear to me eternal fidelity T 
 
 " Ah si, de bien bon coeur ; but when the 
 furniture f 1 — 
 
 " As soon as the rents rise in England." 
 
 "And that is to be— T 
 
 " Very soon. Perhaps in ten or a dozen 
 years." 
 
 " Bah ! mauvais plaisant. Your horses will 
 come for my funeral. 1,1 
 
 "But hear me, darling. I am sorry I have 
 told you all this nonsense." 
 
 " Nonsense ! ma foi ! Carriage and furniture, 
 dey are not at all nonsenses." 
 
 " Don't tantalize yourself with thinking of 
 these fine things. I will undertake to make 
 your acknowledgments very properly to Mr. 
 Dornton." 
 
 " I can make dem bedder myself."
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 191 
 
 " What do you mean F 1 
 
 " I must have de tings. 11 
 
 " How ! have you not vowed P 1 
 
 " There is no question of that. 1 " 
 
 " You know that I love you too well to share 
 your favours with another." 
 
 " Dat is all very well, milord ; but what sig- 
 nify I I must have de tings V 
 
 " Mademoiselle, allow me to ask if you are 
 serious f 1 
 
 " Mais oui, certainement. 11 
 
 Bos worth strode up and down the room, 
 grimacing like an Otello. 
 
 " Celeste/ 1 
 
 " Je vous defends d'y plus penser, mi- 
 lord r 
 
 " You must give up me or Mr. Dornton. 11 
 
 " I will give up Mr. Dornton ;" but she added 
 in her petite voix, " Mon cher Botchword, I must 
 have de tings. 11 
 
 " Ce n^st fait, je vous renonce a jamais." 1 
 " I am sorry, but if you will, what can be
 
 192 THE OLD 
 
 said? I am profondement affligee, but I must 
 have de tings." 
 
 Bosworth pursued the mystification, as this sort 
 of practical joke, then very common, and much 
 admired, was termed, by recommending Philip 
 to call on Mile. Heinel, who, of course, received 
 him very graciously. She made a gracious allu- 
 sion to his obliging proffers. Philip was at a 
 loss to guess her meaning, which he attributed 
 to his own imperfect comprehension of her lan- 
 guage ; he stammered and blushed so much, 
 that, in compassion to his embarrasment, she 
 desisted from farther demonstration of her gra- 
 titude, contenting herself with a marked kind- 
 ness of manner, excessively nattering to Philip. 
 Mutually imagining themselves indebted to each 
 other, they were equally impressive. Philip's 
 vanity was elevated, and he assented undoubt- 
 ingly to the wish she expressed, that he would 
 assist in the choice of a carriage, horses, and 
 furniture. He spent a few mornings very plea- 
 santly in displaying his taste in the selection of
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. Vjo 
 
 whatever was most elegant, without any regard 
 to cost; not a little proud of his attendance 
 upon a person of her celebrity, and piquing him- 
 self a good deal on the powers of captivation 
 which had excited so disinterested an attach- 
 ment. 
 
 But when the bills for the articles were sent 
 in, there was a cruel reverse. Philip, through 
 false shame and indecision, conceded to the un- 
 justifiable demands upon him, ascribing, in his 
 ignorance of the facts, all the odium of the trans- 
 action to Mile. Heinel. He hastened to return 
 to England, disgusted with Frenchwomen and 
 love a la mode de Paris. 
 
 The marquise, the comtesse, Bosworth, and 
 I were domesticated together in a country- 
 house party. At the beginning of our flirtation 
 I thought the comtesse a pleasant, agreeable wo- 
 man, rather handsome ; and her quietness was a 
 relief to the exaggerated tone of the other ladies, 
 who were always laughing or fainting, in ecstasy 
 or in despair. In a short time I remarked that 
 
 VOL. I. k
 
 194 THE OLD 
 
 though she listened very complacently and an- 
 swered a propos, " Est-il possible ? en effet ! Jest 
 Men celaT our tete-a-tetes were rather heavy. 
 In a day or two more I discovered that except 
 when she was eating she had always the vapours. 
 That her nose was too long ; that I did not 
 like yeux marcassins ; that a French blonde is 
 very whity-brown by day-light ; that the anima- 
 tion of Bosworth's sparkling little marquise was 
 quite exhilarating, and finally that I saw no 
 reason why we should not change partners. 
 I thought, moreover, that the marquise seemed 
 to share my opinion. She was piqued at the 
 preference I had given her friend ; and pique, 
 like pity, is a sufficiently good beginning. We 
 were playing at petite jeucc, and one of them was 
 bouts rimes. I passed her a little verse, in which I 
 described myself as a repentant infidel, converted 
 from false worship to a knowledge of the true 
 divinity. She did not miss the application : we 
 became excellent friends. Bosworth was an- 
 noyed at my carrying off the marquise; he
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 195 
 
 vowed a retaliation, which some years after he 
 executed very seriously. In due time I grew tired 
 of the marquise, as I had of her predecessors : 
 she was obliged to go to one of her estates ; I 
 promised to follow her, and stayed in Paris 
 expressly to put an end to our acquaintance. 
 
 It was then that I, with a set of intimates, 
 instituted among ourselves an order, the object 
 of which was to seek, under a variety of dis- 
 guises, uncommon adventures, for the amuse- 
 ment of narrating them at suppers, given by the 
 members alternately, on stated nights, at their 
 hotels. We took the style of Chevaliers <FEn- 
 treprise, and at these meetings wore an uniform 
 and a badge. It was conditioned that all rela- 
 tions made should be strictly true, and the con- 
 fidences held sacred by the members, on penalty 
 of expulsion. Our band comprised the hand- 
 some and elegant Chevalier D'Arc, illegitimate 
 son of the Comte de Toulouse ; the Prince de 
 Soubise, accomplished and captivating in his ex- 
 terior, but ridiculously eccentric in the extent 
 k 2
 
 196 THE OLD 
 
 of his addiction to theatricals. (He dissipated 
 his fortune in patronising them, and spent 
 almost all his time either in his boxes at 
 the representations, or behind the scenes ; in 
 meddling with their disputes, in making their 
 engagements, in busying himself about bene- 
 fits, or in assisting at the production of new 
 pieces. He knew every performer of note in 
 Europe ; he was a talking biography of the 
 professors, a living bulletin of their healths, 
 a walking gazette of their affairs ; their charge 
 d'affaires, or, more properly, their prime minis- 
 ter. Though his powerful connexions, his great 
 wealth, and the marked favour of his sovereign 
 offered him an influential position at court, he 
 abandoned the business of the state to other 
 hands, regarding with contemptuous indifference 
 any other politics than those of the green-room. 
 A change in the cabinet was to him infinitely 
 less important than one in a company. He 
 cared not what became of the country, so long 
 as the chorus was perfect and the corps de ballet
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 197 
 
 complete; and at the very crisis of the revo- 
 lution was so greatly occupied with settling a 
 fracas between the opera-people, that he re- 
 mained to the last totally unaware of its ap- 
 proach;) the Adonis-like boy, the Due de 
 Lauzun, already equally celebrated by his ga- 
 lant and gallant exploits ; — the agreeable (his 
 morgue , and his pretensions to the British crown 
 excepted) Marquis Fitz-James ; the Comte 
 de Lauragais ; le Sieur de Jaucour, and one or 
 two others ; all young, brilliant, distinguished, 
 vrais grands seigneurs, but no less mauvais 
 
 The entertainment derived from this associa- 
 tion was inconceivable. Every nights narration 
 presented a new romance or comedy of real life. 
 We voted our convivial evenings the most 
 amusing of any we passed; but the mischiefs 
 that ensued were incalculable. How many 
 victims, how many broken hearts, and em- 
 bittered existences were the cost of this pastime, 
 of this novel excitement, may be guessed ; it 
 k 3
 
 198 THE OLD 
 
 will be sufficient to narrate what arrived from 
 my own share. 
 
 Assuming the profession and costume of a 
 teacher of languages, I offered my services to 
 the superior of a convent, who had several young 
 ladies with her, for their education, and was 
 engaged to give lessons in English to one of 
 
 them, Dorothee de L . I found my pupil 
 
 very interesting in person. She was tall, slender, 
 and finely shaped. Nothing could exceed the 
 gracefulness of her long, arching throat, the 
 sweeping curves of her low-falling shoulders, or 
 the symmetry of her rounded waist. Her hair 
 was black and silken; her complexion a clear 
 olive ; her face somewhat infantine ; the features 
 petites, except the Madonna brow ; and her large 
 eyes of the darkest, deepest blue, pervaded by 
 an expression of the most winning sweetness. 
 An elderly sister sat in the room with us. She 
 was too much engrossed by her embroidery to 
 be vigilant. Dorothee had a quick comprehen- 
 sion, a strong memory, and great application.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 199 
 
 I was most assiduous, and endeavoured to render 
 my instructions as agreeable as possible, by in- 
 termingling a little pleasantry and gallantry with 
 the conjugation of verbs and the repetition of 
 rules. Dorothee began to feel my visits a relief 
 to the monotonous routine of her convent life. 
 Directly she could bear any part in it, our time 
 was wholly given to conversation. Her ac- 
 quaintance with the language progressed rapidly 
 and our intimacy matured proportionably. Ge- 
 neral and ordinary topics only were still discussed 
 in our interviews, but successive variations in 
 their tone marked degrees farther and farther 
 removed from indifference. When I perceived 
 that I had interested her, I discovered my dis- 
 guise, pretending that I had been induced to 
 adopt it as a means of introduction, through 
 having seen her at church. She readily gave 
 credence to this, as well as to many other 
 flattering falsehoods ; for she was young, inex- 
 perienced, and blinded by a first passion. In 
 return, she entrusted to me her little history. 
 k 4
 
 200 THE OLD 
 
 I learnt that she was the second daughter of a 
 poor noble, who, unable to make another pro- 
 vision, had given her the option between taking 
 the veil and accepting an opulent, but aged 
 admirer. Dorothee had equally dreaded these 
 evils, and I perceived that her hopes hailed me 
 as her deliverer. Notwithstanding Marie^ su- 
 pineness, I disliked the restraint of her presence, 
 and to procure an interview with Dorothee alone 
 I imagined a device, which successfully effected 
 its purpose. I told Dorothee that my imposture 
 was suspected ; that unless my visits were dis- 
 continued, an eclaircissement unpleasant to her 
 might take place. She was alarmed ; but her 
 regrets at the idea of losing my society equalled 
 her apprehensions. She was too ingenuous to 
 conceal them : they implied a confession of at- 
 tachment ; I was gratified, but my heart beat 
 no response : yet Dorothee, if not gifted with a 
 high order of intellect, possessed a refined and 
 feminine intelligence, and a nature only too con- 
 fiding and easily awakened to affection. She
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 201 
 
 was accomplished and elegant ; in short, a wo- 
 man who deserved to have been loved as she was 
 capable of loving. But my imagination was 
 occupied by Cicely. Yet I feigned far other 
 sentiments ; — without any definite view or precise 
 aim, but merely because it seemed necessary to 
 follow up what I had been led into from frolic ; 
 and Dorothee, never dreaming that men pursue 
 for excitement, and deceive for entertainment ; 
 never doubting but that I, like her, loved, and 
 loved for the first time ; and what woman in her 
 heart's prosperity, in the brief reign of her 
 power, ever represents to herself how temporary 
 is the place she holds, how frail its tenure, how 
 many have gone before, how many will succeed 
 her ? Dorothee was not critical ; and I, though 
 neither perjuring myself by vows, nor committing 
 myself by protestations, gave her reason to sup- 
 pose that my sentiments were all that she could 
 desire. At an interview, which I had allowed 
 her to imagine would be our last, she was 
 unable to conceal her emotion. I seized mv
 
 202 THE OLD 
 
 advantage, and suggested the practicability of 
 our meeting secretly. She blushed, hesitated ; 
 scruples and wishes were at variance ; the still 
 small voice of prudence, and the louder whisper 
 of love. She deemed that she could trust me ; 
 that she could rely on herself. She demurred : 
 I pleaded : she consented. 
 
 We contrived to meet at night in a remote 
 part of the convent garden. I was first at the 
 appointed spot. I stood in a grove. It was 
 again midsummer, and midnight. The trees 
 were in full leaf ; the flowers in full bloom ; 
 the air balmy ; the sky cloudless and starry ; 
 the moon refulgent. The dew-drops on the 
 plants and grass glittered like diamonds; all 
 was so still that I heard light foot-falls in 
 the adjoining wood long before I distinguished 
 by her flowing robe, floating veil, and hanging 
 crucifix, that Dorothee approached. She ad- 
 vanced to meet me with beaming eyes and a 
 fond smile. I thought of Cicely : and I gave a 
 sigh of regret for the one, while I greeted 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 203 
 
 the other with the warmest and fondest of 
 words. 
 
 She had evidently come prepared to elicit 
 from me something definite as regarded my 
 views, or had resolved to bid me farewell. But 
 pride, sensitiveness, and timidity, made her 
 hesitate to demand an explanation ; and I art- 
 fully evaded all her attempts. She was re- 
 assured by my tenderness. She forgot her re- 
 solves in my caresses. She felt sure that I 
 loved her ; and having no idea of the separation 
 of passion and affection, she deemed that a suf- 
 ficient guarantee. 
 
 We parted fondly, but sadly. The heavens 
 were still serene ; the moon waning, but still 
 bright; the dew still trembling on the leaves: 
 nature was as fresh and fair as ever. Dorothee 
 alone was changed. The poisonous breath of 
 passion had whispered too near. Her first 
 secret — the secret of love too unreservedly re- 
 vealed, changed the young girl's heart. It was 
 
 vol. i. k 6
 
 204 THE OLD 
 
 the germ of a canker in the bud. She felt 
 herself less pure. Another and another em- 
 brace ; — we had parted indeed ; and as Doro- 
 thea's form receded among the trees, I stood 
 a moment in the little pathway gazing after 
 her. 
 
 I thought again of Cicely. How would she 
 judge me ? But I turned, and leaped the low 
 wall that separated the garden from the grounds, 
 and hurried on to a postern gate, of which I 
 had a key, threw myself on my horse, and 
 rode to Paris at a pace which, for the moment, 
 banished reflection. 
 
 It was the night of one of our comite sup- 
 pers. The party were in high spirits ; the 
 repast was perfect ; wines flowed, anecdotes 
 sparkled, mot was repaid by mot, and saillie 
 called forth repartie, until wit became merri- 
 ment. I alone was depressed, loaded with the 
 weight of self-reproach. They recounted their
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 205 
 
 exploits. I listened with pain ; their jests 
 seemed sacrilegious. I was importuned for my 
 confession. I revealed nothing. Remorse was 
 busy with me. I awoke to the horror of our 
 confederacy. I abhorred myself and my com- 
 panions. I seemed to breathe an atmosphere 
 of impurity. I longed to break from them, to 
 flee. Their levity jarred upon my dissonant 
 feelings; their mirth appeared demoniac, sar- 
 donic. 
 
 I looked back, — and it is a terrible moment 
 which comes to most of us, that first retro- 
 spection, — and reviewed my career. I recog- 
 nised its waste, its worthlessness, its depravity. 
 In that hour I was smitten with compunction. 
 I loathed vice. I yearned to return to virtue 
 as to an injured and offended, but still beloved, 
 mother ; to be reconciled to her, to embrace 
 her, to purge away the stains, to annul the 
 records of the past, to begin life afresh. But 
 it could not be. The past was not to be re- 
 called, nor its deeds undone. I felt hopeless,
 
 206 THE OLD 
 
 despairing ; as if, therefore, amendment were 
 in vain, and I lost beyond redemption. My 
 emotion was strong. It shook me. I rose 
 abruptly from the table : the guests rallied 
 me. I replied by a jest, and hastened from the 
 house. Morning was breaking. The stars were 
 gone ; the sky grey ; the east streaked with 
 the red hues of dawn. I threaded the streets 
 that were still dark from their narrowness and 
 the height of the houses. I passed the Pont- 
 neuf. Most of the dingy habitations were quite 
 closed. Here and there a light glimmered. 
 There was not a single boat in movement on 
 the Seine. A few figures were seen creeping 
 about the decks of the moored vessels, and the 
 smoke curling from some of them betokened 
 preparations for breakfast. At the stalls at 
 each end of the bridge, where in the day-time 
 they let out parasols to protect the complexion 
 of the petits-maitres who traversed it, were now 
 seen groups of wretched looking people, refresh- 
 ing themselves with coffee manufactured by some
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 207 
 
 Sycoraxes. I walked on, not without marvelling 
 at the extremes which met brooding under the 
 wings of that great and then gloomy city ; of 
 the near neighbourhood of pomp and penury; 
 of daintiness and squalor, of surfeit and starva- 
 tion, of profusion and privation, of pleasure, 
 luxury, and pageantry, misery and crime. 
 
 At my hotel I found a prettily-folded, scented 
 billet, — the broad margin embossed, and the cor- 
 ners filled with Cupids, — containing a challenge, 
 neatly written with a crow-quill, from the Mar- 
 quis de . It appeared that Madame, en- 
 raged at my desertion, had revenged herself by 
 making a confession, of which this was the 
 result; though it was not quite clear whether 
 my offence was having made love, or having 
 ceased to make love to his wife. The business 
 was managed very civilly. In compliment to 
 my country, Monsieur de V. begged to suggest 
 pistols, instead of small swords. Ours was one 
 of the first duels a la barriere. But though 
 intended to follow the English practice, its mode
 
 208 THE OLD 
 
 differed materially. We met in a field at the 
 back of a hospital, on the outskirts of Paris. 
 A sunk fence was the barrier between us. The 
 distance having been measured, we were placed 
 on either side of it, about twelve feet. At a 
 signal, we walked forward, presenting. On 
 being within five paces of each other, the word 
 was given, and we fired, face to face. Both 
 were severely wounded. I was confined to bed 
 for some weeks. Scarcely had I recovered, when 
 I received a letter from Dorothee, informing 
 me she had quitted the convent, that her father 
 had decided on her marriage, and that she 
 besought me to give her my assistance and 
 counsel. It was impossible not to heed this 
 appeal, however embarrassing it might be. 
 
 Making acquaintance with her brother, I 
 procured an invitation to her father's house at 
 Fontenai-aux-roses. There was a gay fete the 
 evening I arrived, but Dorothee was not pro- 
 duced. I was glad of it, for I dreaded the 
 inevitable explanation.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 209 
 
 The giddiness of the scene was irksome to my 
 pre-occupied mind. I retired early to a small 
 pavilion in the garden, which was allotted me. 
 I had been within only a few instants when a 
 little tap at the door surprised me. I opened it ; 
 there was Dorothee. " I am grown very bold," 
 said she. " You will think me so ; but, indeed, 
 indeed, only necessity!" She threw her arms 
 round my neck, she hid her face on my breast. 
 I do not remember. I was not, even at the 
 time, distinctly conscious of what was spoken by 
 either of us. I endeavoured to soothe her ; she 
 waited, I perceived, that I might be induced to 
 speak upon a subject which her delicacy shrunk 
 from advancing. Hopeless, at length, with a sud- 
 den energy of desperate resolution, she cast her- 
 self at my feet, she clasped my knees, and, with 
 tears, and sobs, and passionate words, and wild fer- 
 vour, she besought me to receive her in marriage. 
 
 I was pained, deeply pained. t I felt that I 
 had degraded this young, and good, and beau- 
 tiful creature. I pitied her from my soul ; but,
 
 210 THE OLD 
 
 alas ! when pity is the only feeling that woman 
 excites, she has little to trust to. Ere that word 
 is pronounced, the spell of her power is dis- 
 solved, and the sceptre in her hand changed to a 
 broken reed. I repented, I was grieved ; I 
 would have given much to restore her to her- 
 self, to recal the past, but the reparation she 
 demanded seemed too great a sacrifice. I did 
 not love her. I thought in palliation that she 
 had been lightly won. A tissue of sophistical 
 arguments, half reasons, half excuses, suggested 
 themselves; and, in reply to Dorothee, I in- 
 formed her of the solemn promise I had given to 
 my mother on her death-bed, that I would never 
 be united to a Catholic or foreigner. 
 
 DorotheVs education had imbued her with a 
 religious respect for promises. She would have 
 regarded any attempt at dissuasion from the 
 observance of mine as a temptation to sin. She 
 submitted without a murmur, without a reproach ; 
 but I saw the extent of her suffering, even in her 
 resignation.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 211 
 
 Touched by her gentleness, I proffered all the 
 consolation that words could afford. I led her 
 forth through the parterres that surrounded the 
 pavilion to a raised terrace that ran on each side 
 of the garden. It was covered by a thickly- 
 flowered treillage, and beneath its shades we 
 walked together for hours. Exerting the influ- 
 ence I had acquired over her plastic mind, I 
 gradually tranquillised her, and prepared her to 
 consider the necessity and the advantages, under 
 existing circumstances, of consenting to the alli- 
 ance projected by her father. I was successful. 
 The marriage-day was subsequently fixed, and 
 then it came. 
 
 Grand preparations had been made, provision 
 for a great repast. The saloons were decorated, 
 the servants new liveried. The guests arrived ; 
 the relatives, the bridesmaids, and the bride- 
 groom, aged and infirm, but painted, patched, 
 and perfumed, more bent than ever under his 
 cumbrous finery. The fans and gloves were in 
 readiness for the ladies, the bouquets and favours
 
 212 THE OLD 
 
 for the gentlemen, the superb ecrin of diamonds, 
 the veil, the corheille de mariage. They were 
 all assembled, and murmuring at the delay of 
 the bride. She came forth at length, but pale, 
 haggard, bewildered. The service was com- 
 menced in the house-chapel. Those congregated 
 knelt with bowed heads in silence. Dorothee 
 appeared lost in abstraction or devotion. All 
 at once the brightness of a glorious day was 
 overcast ; the light that had streamed through 
 the high and painted windows was withdrawn, 
 the reflected colours faded, a gloom filled the 
 chapel, the sky became dark as at night. A 
 whirlwind arose, the thunder rolled, drowning 
 the priests'* voices ; the lightning flashed awfully, 
 gusts of wind extinguished the tapers, and the 
 host on the altar trembled. Dorothee was struck 
 with superstitious terrors ; she clasped her 
 hands, she shrieked forth an adjuration — 
 
 '« Mother of God! Mary! Holy Virgin! 
 save me !" and fell in strong convulsions on the 
 pavement. A scene of alarm and confusion
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 213 
 
 ensued. They bore her away to her chamber, 
 and it was months ere she left it. When she 
 did, it was to take the veil in the Convent de 
 Nancy. The decrepid bridegroom was incon- 
 solable ; but death shortly after disposed of him 
 more fitly. 
 
 It is impossible to describe my feelings on 
 being informed of this event. In the penalty 
 of regret I paid for my error I learned that the 
 interests of others are so inseparably inter- 
 woven with our own, that it is impossible to 
 commit even an unpremeditated injury without 
 incurring retribution, by, in some degree, shar- 
 ing its consequences. Again and again have I 
 mourned over that fault ; again and again have 
 I sorrowed as imagination has pictured to me 
 DorotheVs profession. I have often thought 
 of her till I fancied I saw her in her bridal 
 array, covered with jewels, the church crowded 
 with robed priests, and cowled monks, and sur- 
 pliced choristers, curious friends and spectators : 
 the incense was scattered, the organ pealed, the
 
 214 THE OLD 
 
 chaunts swelled ; I heard her pronounce the 
 vows ; and then that vision passed, and another 
 was present, — her cell ; and I shuddered to think 
 how her form would waste, and her sweet face 
 grow wan in prayer and penance for a sin of 
 my temptation : how she, so formed to grace 
 the world, and, what is better, to bless a home, 
 would pine away a joyless life, immured in the 
 melancholy cloister : but, above all, I have been 
 moved even to anguish in looking upon the long 
 mesh of silken hair, shorn from her head ere 
 she passed for ever into seclusion, which she 
 had enclosed to me with one single word — 
 Farewell !
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The suite of a travelled man — London out of the season — 
 The maccaroni — Town life en garcon in 1766 — The young 
 squire in London — England's Gil Bias — An artist's me'nage 
 — A sketch of the adventures of a page, musician, painter, 
 actor, singer, soldier, and diplomatist — The exploits of a 
 mauvais sujet — A tale of a sedan — Politics and a politician 
 of the old school — A full-length portrait. 
 
 I returned to England in the autumn of 1766, 
 and declining my ci-devant guardian the Marquis 
 
 of A 's offer of rooms in his house, while my 
 
 residence in LincolnVinn-Fields was rendered 
 habitable, — as I could not, in conscience, quarter 
 on him my troublesome suite, an Italian cook, 
 a French hair-dresser, a German music-master, 
 a cosmopolitan secretary, a black page, and a 
 Mahommedan bath-intendant, besides English
 
 216 THE OLD 
 
 grooms and valets, — I took a set of apartments 
 in St. James's. 
 
 Though the fashionable tribes had migrated 
 from town, its lounges still swarmed with Mac- 
 caroni, who not being able to exist out of the 
 metropolitan atmosphere, either lingered in re- 
 trospection of the old season, or had returned to 
 anticipate the new. At this period of the year, 
 when to these vowed assassins of time every 
 occurrence is an event, an event of any kind 
 a desideratum, — an arrival w r as really a welcome 
 incident. Besides the hope of new news, a new 
 man was at least a new topic ; and, if not an 
 acquisition, might prove what was still more 
 desirable, — a quiz. I had met many of them 
 abroad, and the rest soon became known to me. 
 In general they contrived to unite those absur- 
 dities which Garrick has satirized under his oppo- 
 site characters of Flash and Fribble. Having, 
 like myself, travelled, they added to a native 
 passion for barbarous sports an affected taste, 
 of foreign importation, for gallantry, gaming,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 217 
 
 and gormandise : they lisped round oaths ! 
 played single-stick in court-suits, redolent of 
 essences, wore stays and swords, shared their 
 time between the chocolate-houses, the millinery 
 and glove shops, the stables, the pit, the ring, 
 and the play. It was not long before I dis- 
 covered from the assiduity with which my friend- 
 ship was cultivated, that I was considered an 
 important addition to their order ; soon, indeed, 
 the extent of my acquaintance astonished even 
 myself; its ranks were swelled by grooms, 
 coachmen, dog-fanciers, jockeys, trainers, farriers, 
 black- legs, bottle-holders, apprentices, markers, 
 candle-snuffers, &c. with whom, in making an 
 experiment of the amusements most favoured by 
 young Englishmen of fashion, I found intercourse 
 unavoidable. These persons, however, had been 
 broken into the tact of observing the particular 
 times and places which permitted approach or 
 recognition. The fellow who on his own ground 
 turned to one with a familiar " I say," encoun- 
 tered in Rotten-row bowed with the respectful 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 2J8 THE OLD 
 
 humility of a paid tradesman. Far more an- 
 noying a circumstance was the necessary tolera- 
 tion of that influx of country green-horns, the 
 new squires, who came upon town at once shy 
 and conceited, embarrassed and offensively pre- 
 suming, and ignorant enough to conceive the 
 fact of having elbowed one in these resorts, 
 a sufficient plea for obtrusion everywhere. In 
 a lounge through Cranboume-alley, I one morning 
 met their type, Philip Dornton, arm-in-arm with 
 a boy-noble, and England's Gil Bias, the noto- 
 rious Captain Laroon. 
 
 The son of an indigent, though clever land- 
 scape-painter, Marcellus first drew breath in a 
 little, dark parlour, at the back of his father's 
 shop, in the murky atmosphere of Bow-street ; a 
 shop which, however, was the rendezvous of a 
 number of artists, authors, and musicians, almost 
 all then alike equally poor and obscure, though 
 several of them persons whose talents subse- 
 quently acquired fortune and reputation. Mar- 
 cellus was familiar from infancy with De Foe,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 219 
 
 Richardson, Fielding, Hogarth, Roubilliac, Rys- 
 brach, Carleni, Scheemakers, old Nollekens, and 
 many others whose names are now either little 
 known or wholly forgotten; though at this period 
 they mingled, seeming equals in claims and ex- 
 pectations with their more fortunate contempo- 
 raries. Marcellus practised the profession his 
 father followed, and at the early age of fifteen, 
 besides painting with so much ability as to have 
 become a valuable assistant to the elder Laroon, 
 had obtained, through his intercourse with a 
 variety of artists, many other acquirements. He 
 played skilfully on the violin, and tolerably on 
 one or more instruments ; composed ; though 
 no great adept in reading and writing, made 
 verses ; and had learnt by ear to speak French, 
 German, and Italian with fluency. 
 
 The singular circumstances, the mixed scenes, 
 which this abode and resort of obscure genius, 
 his home, doubtless presented ; the contrast of 
 the dirt, disorder, and discomfort, inevitable in a 
 small dwelling, tenanted by a number of poor 
 l 2
 
 220 THE OLD 
 
 artists, mongrel-foreign in their habits, as well 
 as extraction, a dwelling open to all comers, — 
 with the careless contentment of the inmates, 
 who, born and bred in a similar state of things, 
 felt no annoyance, and, therefore, attempted no 
 improvement : the irregular mode of life pursued 
 by the several members of this large family, each 
 of whom gaining his bread by his abilities, in 
 some way or other, independent of the rest, and 
 master of his own time, divided it between ap- 
 plication to his means of livelihood and that 
 positive idleness which, to such persons, is the 
 greatest recreation : the light-heartedness, in 
 the midst of apparent misery, natural to a 
 set of beings who had become accustomed 
 to endurance, who recognised only one evil 
 — want, an evil they were prepared to defy; 
 for they could limit their desires to their 
 means, could fast as cheerfully as they could 
 feast merrily ; their labour always brought 
 them bread, and if it brought no more, with 
 bread they could be satisfied : their thought-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 221 
 
 lessness of the morrow, their animal enjoyment 
 of a mere existence: their extreme poverty, 
 opposed to the hospitality that offered its last 
 morsel to the visitant, while the next was yet to 
 be earned : their partial ignorance and partial 
 cultivation; the mixture of refinement and coarse- 
 ness that appeared in their ad libitum society : 
 the struggles, disappointments, successes, the 
 near view of the more or less celebrated men 
 who composed it, — though too familiar to have 
 made much impression at the time, must have 
 supplied Marcellus, in after-life, with many curi- 
 ous reminiscences. The boy's talents and ac- 
 complishments procured for him, when he was 
 about fifteen, a change of situation, which, doubt- 
 less, appeared almost like transition to a new ex- 
 istence. From the half-starved independence of 
 unsuccessful industry, from the profound retire- 
 ment of obscurity in a great city, Marcellus was 
 suddenly translated to the comparative ease and 
 comfort of superior servitude and the pageant- 
 like scenes of the most brilliant courts of Europe ; 
 l 3
 
 222 THE OLD 
 
 being carried abroad as page in the suite of one 
 of our ambassadors, whom he accompanied to 
 the congress, thence passing into the service of 
 several others. 
 
 No sooner had Marcellus grown into man- 
 hood, than tired, probably, of carrying billets- 
 doux, and dicing in ante- chambers, having seen 
 and heard enough of the tracasserie of courts, 
 and the twaddle of cabinets, he threw off his 
 livery, returned to England, and for awhile re- 
 sumed the employment of his pallet and brush. 
 His days were now devoted to painting ; in the 
 evenings, for recreation, he frequented some 
 coffee-houses in the neighbourhood of the great 
 theatres. 
 
 Marcellus was a superior musician, possessed 
 a fine and cultivated voice, a talent for narration 
 and mimicry, a fund of humour, and an inex- 
 haustible flow of spirits. He soon found himself 
 included in the convivial re-unions of performers, 
 obtained a sort of fellowship, was tempted into 
 the profession, debuted at Drury-lane, and re-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 223 
 
 mainecl there two seasons as an actor and singer. 
 Actuated, probably, more by a love of change 
 than any other motive, he then entered the 
 army as a private, and served with distinction 
 during several campaigns in Flanders and in 
 Spain ; he fought also against the rebels at 
 Preston, and subsequently was employed with 
 success in a private diplomatic mission. 
 
 After " having thus flown over many profes- 
 sions," seen much of the world, and still more of 
 life, acted in many a stirring scene, encountered 
 a number of strange, wild, and whimsical adven- 
 tures, 'tis pitiful to say " he settled merely in a" 
 profligate, and became a reckless and disreput- 
 able character upon town. His unparalleled, 
 though too versatile abilities, which, concentrated 
 towards any single aim, might have effected so 
 much, wasted in a variety of pursuits, obtained 
 him scarcely a competency : celebrity should 
 have been his ; he reached only notoriety. 
 
 This extraordinary man retained, to ad- 
 l4
 
 224 THE OLD 
 
 vanced age, the most vigorous health; a fine, 
 and comparatively youthful person, a daring 
 courage, a mad vivacity, an insatiable love of 
 fun, frolic, and variety, and a more than juvenile 
 propensity to mischief. He was the instigator 
 and abettor of a thousand humorous exploits 
 and wicked pranks, the ringleader of midnight 
 rioters, the chosen companion of boys, who 
 looked up to the veteran mauvais sujet as a 
 model, and followed him as a chief. 
 
 To Marcellus is owing the invention of a num- 
 ber of practical jokes, which have since been, 
 and will probably continue to be, perpetrated 
 with as much zest as they were originally, by 
 several generations of youthful peers and ap- 
 prentices. 
 
 He was the first who made war upon street- 
 lamps and knockers, — novelties in his time, — and 
 called surgeons from their beds to the assistance 
 of persons in perfect health. He took delight 
 in producing, under favour of night, metamor-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 225 
 
 phoses in the street-signs, so that by the aid of 
 paint-pots, brushes, a ladder, tools, and his reck- 
 less followers, the sun that had set upon white 
 horses and dun cows, rose upon blue and green 
 ones; the hosier's fleecy lamb swung above a 
 wig-shop, in place of the barber's pole ; fishes 
 were exchanged for gloves ; a wooden muffin 
 marked a hatter's ; and an extraordinary growth 
 of horns in all the animals astonished the pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 Hogarth has made Laroon a prominent figure 
 in his picture of Morning, or Covent-garden 
 Market, in which he is drawn, with some of his 
 associates around him, in the act of flourishing 
 a large cabbage -stalk as he stands (the chief 
 author of a scene of devastation just revealed by 
 the daybreak) amid the vegetable ruins of a 
 number of overturned stalls, braving the clamour 
 of the infuriated owners. 
 
 One of his practices was, on coming out of 
 the play-house, to cast, unperceived, a quantity 
 of saltpetre into the torch of any link-boy who 
 l 5
 
 226 THE OLD 
 
 chanced at the moment to be engaged, for the pur- 
 pose of enjoying the sport of following and watch- 
 ing the effects of surprise or superstition, excited 
 either in the mind of the stranger or those whom 
 he encountered, by the singularity of the blue- 
 burning flame. Another of the doings recorded of 
 him, is his having contrived to cut out the centre 
 of the bottom of a sedan, in which he pretended 
 to have occasion to be waiting, for the chance of 
 producing a ludicrous scene at the expense of the 
 next occupant. It happened that, taking the 
 chair to go to a rout, a middle-aged maccaroni 
 stepped in, whose gouty legs and feet were dressed 
 with the nicest attention to advantage, in highly- 
 polished shoes and speckless silk stockings. A 
 link-boy closed the door, and away trotted the 
 porters ; when lo ! a third pair of legs, even 
 those of the immaculate hose, soon lent their aid 
 to the progress of the sedan. At the moment 
 the chair was raised, the elderly gentleman had 
 slipped up to his waist through the aperture, and 
 as his body was encompassed, though his legs 
 11
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 227 
 
 had a kind of involuntary freedom, he found 
 himself hurried along, Men malgre lui, in the 
 singular predicament of being obliged to carry 
 his own vehicle. His expostulations, however 
 vehement, were but so many soliloquies ; for if 
 any sounds escaped the four sides of the box in 
 which he was enclosed, the jingling of the glasses 
 prevented their reaching the ears of the bearers. 
 On then, this victim of mischief was compelled 
 to run, at a rate that made him breathless, 
 through mud and mire ! At length the snail- 
 like phenomenon, part man, part sedan, attracted 
 a crowd, who followed it with hue and cry until 
 the chair was stopped at its destination. Then 
 emerged, his red-heeled pumps coated with mud, 
 his whole nether person grievously bespattered, 
 and affording a strange contrast to the pristine 
 perfection of the upper portion of his toilet, the 
 annoyed fop, who, crest-fallen, wet-footed, and 
 lame, hopped like a fowl, with dripping plumage, 
 into the nearest place of shelter. 
 
 Many other anecdotes of Laroon's frolics are 
 l 6
 
 228 THE OLD 
 
 extant; some, though too lengthy to describe 
 here, more creditable to his wit, if as little to 
 his wisdom, as those related. 
 
 Philip Dornton, delirious with the excite- 
 ment of the novel scenes of a town life, and as 
 eager to astonish me by talking familiarly of all 
 the doings that had most astonished himself, as a 
 boy who comes home full of school for his first 
 holidays, arrested me by the lapel of my coat, 
 and with torrent-like volubility hurried over all 
 his chief topics of interest. Interpolating his 
 discourse with " glorious, 1 ' " famous, 11 " capital, 11 
 "prime, 11 "sport, 11 "spree, 11 "dash, 11 and "style; 11 
 he talked in a breath of a hopping-match, of 
 pigeon-shooting, of cock-fights, of a forthcoming 
 battue of rats, in a barn stocked for the purpose ; 
 the odds on the ferrets ; of the Red-house, Bat- 
 tersea, the White-house, Shooters'-hill, of the 
 Fives and the Racket-court, of billiards and 
 tennis, of the Hole, of driving out the mail, of 
 suppers in the cellars, and finishes in St. Paul's; 
 of all that had been done yesterday, or was to
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 229 
 
 be done to-day and to-morrow; and with an 
 eagerness which showed that, beyond that period, 
 to him there existed no time, out of his set no 
 beings, of his circle no events. He boasted 
 that he was carried to Slaughter's every morn- 
 ing about nine, and after a two hours' night, and 
 a breakfast of dried cod, mutton-ham, and rum- 
 shrub, found himself as fresh as a rose ; offered 
 to show me his splendid bloods, and new curri- 
 cle ; begged me to take a bout with the foils, or 
 a look at the dog-kennel, and then run down to 
 Wimbledon- common for the glorious sport of a 
 dog and a donkey in crackers. I shook him off. 
 disgusted with his vulgarity and folly ; and 
 from that moment resolving to avoid all that 
 could possibly include his set, I gave myself up 
 to the better dissipation of general society. 
 My entree was made under the auspices of the 
 
 Marquis of A , who had a fine house in 
 
 Pall-mall, frequented by the finest of fine com- 
 pany, and enjoyed not only an important position 
 in society, but a great degree of public estima-
 
 230 THE OLD 
 
 tion. His title was one of the most considered ; 
 for if not very ancient, it was not of recent date ; 
 had never been disgraced, if it had never been 
 distinguished ; and the means of supporting it 
 were sufficient. Lord A was generally re- 
 puted a very respectable man ; he rendered to 
 every one what was his due, if he rendered no 
 more ; a moral man, for he was decorous in ex- 
 ternals ; a good man, for he committed no 
 scandalous evil ; a man of taste, for he flattered 
 fashionable beauty and courted fortunate talent ; 
 was an admirer wherever there were other ad- 
 mirers, a patron wherever there were other 
 patrons ; a man of science, for some abstruse 
 works had been dedicated to him ; a lover of the 
 arts, because he occasionally bought pictures 
 and virtii, as he did mirrors and candelabras, to 
 complete the furniture of his house ; and a friend 
 of the lettered, because the celebrated men of 
 the day were sometimes to be seen at the bottom 
 of his table. The marquis had through life 
 been a busy politician, in an age when politics
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 231 
 
 had seemed to belong exclusively to the higher 
 orders. Sought by idleness and satiety as an 
 excitement, the business of interest taking turn 
 with the business of pleasure, politics had be- 
 come a favourite diversion, a kind of jeu du roi, 
 however, at which only persons of a particular 
 condition were entitled to engage; a game of 
 mingled chance and skill, wherein a certain set 
 of subjects, kings and queens, marriage- trea- 
 ties in lieu of hearts, declarations of peace or 
 war in place of clubs and aces, spades for the 
 people, and so forth, were shuffled, dealt, and 
 played with like a pack of cards ; majorities 
 were trumps, and acts of parliament the tricks ; 
 but no more was cared for measures than for 
 points, except on account of what was indi- 
 vidually won or lost by the game ; at which the 
 stakes were places, peerages, pensions, ribbons, 
 and vendable patronage. 
 
 Nothing but a knowledge of the excitement 
 attending this as well as every other species of 
 gambling, can explain how so commonly, under
 
 232 THE OLD 
 
 the old system, men entirely destitute of all 
 qualifications for legislation, ignorant of the 
 theory, indifferent to the practical results of 
 government, devoid even of ambition, were to be 
 seen consuming their lives in the harassing 
 chicanery of political intrigue, purely for the 
 sake of emoluments of which they were not, 
 or should not have been necessitous. The last 
 century, indeed, in one respect, may fairly lay 
 claim to be entitled England's golden age ; for 
 never was the power of that metal more extended 
 or despotic. The great landholders openly bar- 
 tered their influence, the freeholders their votes ; 
 in the lower house members let their voices by 
 the session to their leaders in the lords, and 
 the lords put themselves, their friends, and 
 friends' friends up at auction between govern- 
 ment and opposition. In all this there was con- 
 tinual occasion for intrigue, and proportionate 
 occupation for intriguers. 
 
 The marquis, though he had never stood very 
 high, was rarely out of office. He was a com-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 233 
 
 plete speculator in politics, and generally made a 
 job of every change of ministry. He cultivated 
 and maintained a private friendship with the 
 heads of all parties, and was constantly referred 
 to to bring about coalitions, for which species of 
 negotiation he was admirably calculated. 
 
 The marquis was a man of secondary abilities; 
 or rather of first-rate abilities in a secondary 
 line. He was a person of great utility to any 
 party, obnoxious to none, for he had never been 
 prominent ; and as utility is often more valuable, 
 because more rare than showier qualities, he 
 succeeded in deriving more personal profit from 
 mediocrity than many do from greatness. Not 
 having, like most men, rather it is to be believed 
 from egotism than candour, at any time been 
 drawn into the indiscretion of insisting on pro- 
 claiming to the world a full, true, and particular 
 account of his political creed ; making a prac- 
 tice of opposing every measure singly, oftener 
 by vote than argument, and always on grounds 
 of expediency rather than principle ; though his
 
 234 THE OLD 
 
 lordship's politics were quite of the self-adjusting 
 order, he had managed entirely to escape the 
 imputation of inconsistency. 
 
 A conduct so irreproachable, and character 
 so respectable, rendered Lord A a consi- 
 derable make- weight in any administration ; and, 
 accordingly, his name was commonly thought of 
 by all who made lists to fill up some place after 
 the first half-dozen had been disposed of. Lord 
 A possessed a number of requisites for suc- 
 cess in his metier. Faculties concentrated in 
 the direction of a sole aim, time and attention 
 devoted to a single pursuit, that of pecuniary 
 advantage ; a perfect control of impulse, a total 
 absence of feeling, the result of a long habit 
 of sacrificing every sentiment as it arose, pre- 
 possession, prejudice, gratitude, resentment, 
 even self-love to the demands of self-interest ; 
 a guarded conduct not to be surprised, an 
 equanimity of temper not to be perturbed, a 
 good-humoured patience that smiled at defeat, 
 an invincible politeness opposed, segis-like, to
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 235 
 
 all attacks, from the slippery smoothness of 
 whose surface every weapon recoiled pointless, 
 the union of apparent pliability with real per- 
 tinacity, which receded only to return with more 
 advantage, and never gave but to gain ground ; 
 a keen perception of the motives of others, an 
 instantaneous power of separating the ostensible 
 from the real, and of reading the language of 
 expression into meaning, with an equal ability 
 himself in translating the meanest inducements 
 into the most magnanimous of sentiments. No 
 man, indeed, could be better skilled in that 
 assumption of loyalty, patriotism, justice, can- 
 dour, disinterestedness, moderation, and liberal- 
 ity, which form the technical cant of public 
 men; and he was the more fluent, that he 
 employed this elevated idiom always to his in- 
 timates ; and, it may fairly be presumed, from 
 habit, in thought even to himself. 
 
 Lord A "s existence resembled that of the 
 
 spider, for it was passed in spreading meshes 
 spun from his brain, often broken, often brushed
 
 236 THE OLD 
 
 away, and ever indefatigably renewed. His 
 mornings were devoted to business, that is, 
 chiefly spent in perusing a number of billets, 
 marked on the outside " immediate," and on 
 the inside "confidential," and in inditing and 
 dispatching replies, neatly penned, studiously 
 worded, ambiguous, elaborate nothings, couched 
 with a circumspection that succeeded in evading 
 the possibility of compromise, by rendering them, 
 if not unintelligible, at least utterly meaningless, 
 and folded with a care that defied curiosity. 
 
 Then followed a consultation between Lord A 
 
 and his great coadjutor, Mons. Le Chef, during 
 which they planned the temptation of patriotic 
 virtue by a sauce, its surrender to a ragout. 
 
 Le Chef having disappeared to prepare for 
 the execution of his conceptions, the marquis 
 addressed himself to the task of forming a list, 
 not of the next cabinet, but equal in difficulty, 
 of his next dinner party. What changes might 
 arise, what divisions and rapprochements take 
 place, between the 'period of issuing the cards
 
 ENGLISH XOBLEMAX. 237 
 
 and the arrival of the nominated day. How 
 many of the included it might by that time 
 be desirable to exclude ; how many of the 
 omitted to admit : it was a subject for the 
 nicest calculation. 
 
 After the business at the House, Lord A 
 
 invariably took a drive, ride, or saunter, but 
 neither for air, exercise, nor amusement; he 
 merely pursued his occupation. In a quiet canter 
 or a lounge information of dissensions was ex- 
 tracted, hints of overtures were dropped, opi- 
 nions sifted, intimacies advanced, the seeds of 
 future designs scattered, or present ones ma- 
 tured. His lordship drew his arm through that 
 of some young man who was about to take his 
 seat, and talked of the weather, and the town, 
 
 of a pleasant stay at , of a charming 
 
 party, and excellent preserves. Was he fond 
 of shooting ? Did he know the duke ? But 
 he believed he must; for he, the marquis, re- 
 membered to have heard his grace speak in 
 very high terms of his, the young man's, pro-
 
 238 THE OLD 
 
 mise. A pause. " And what were they doing 
 at the opera ? He had heard there was to be 
 a new thing, but he had been so continually 
 busy on committees of late that he had not 
 been able to get down to a rehearsal. By the 
 way, in the strictest confidence, what did his 
 companion think of the abilities of a certain 
 distinguished personage whom he had happened 
 to name not an hour ago V Who ever heard 
 his own commendation cited, and deemed the 
 panegyrist a fool ? The young man, of course, 
 had ever regarded his grace with admiration, 
 and was extremely anxious to cultivate the 
 honour of his acquaintance. The marquis was 
 happy in being able to forward his young friend's 
 wishes ; and thus a new recruit was enlisted, 
 
 and soon after sent to to be drilled for 
 
 the service of his party. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Lord A 
 
 might be observed complimenting one woman on 
 the taste of her clothes, another on the bril- 
 liancy of her wit, looking admiration at a third,
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 239 
 
 hovering near a fourth ; but, to a certainty, each 
 of these ladies had influence with an important 
 husband, brother, or lover. The intervening 
 time having been occupied in the execution of a 
 variety of similar duties, four o'clock brought 
 his lordship's hour of preparation for the dinner- 
 table, the chief scene of the business of the day, 
 where overtures were made by tit-bits, princi- 
 ples, pledges in toasts, and campaigns planned 
 with cherry-stones. The marquis was a diplo- 
 matist in the minutest circumstances of life ; as 
 all his own motions were studied, he divined 
 meanings, and foresaw results in the most trivial 
 occurrences, or the smallest actions of others. 
 The precise or neglected fall of a ruffle, the 
 careless or agitated vibration of a cane, the in- 
 crease or decrease of an appetite, afforded him 
 data for calculation. Both his mind and body 
 were ever in a state of restless activity. He 
 was one of the throng of busy worldlings that 
 people capitals, on whom the meditative moral- 
 ist, from the elevation of his mental superiority,
 
 240 THE OLL 
 
 looks down in the same mood in which he gazes 
 upon the swarming denizens of the ant-hill, half 
 in wonder, half in pity, at the spectacle of per- 
 petual movement and incessant toil, which has 
 for object to house a grain, or to obtain posses- 
 sion of a straw !
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 241 
 
 CHAPTER VII, 
 
 The House of Lords — Taking a seat — Reveries and realities 
 — Politics and parties in 1766 — Leicester-house — A sketch 
 of the characters of the Princess Dowager and Lord Bute 
 — The royalties at Kew — The patriot — Some account of 
 Wilkes and his North Briton — Forensic oratory — Its rise 
 in England — Reporting — Reciprocal influences — The new 
 sera — Character of Lord Chatham. 
 
 Being without any hereditary politics, for my 
 father s party, the Black-tan, or Old Walpolians, 
 was extinct, I placed myself in the hands of my 
 guardian, who made the best bargain he could of 
 me and my influence. 
 
 Having been introduced by him to several 
 leading men, I took the oaths and my seat. 
 Predetermined as I had been, to struggle against 
 
 M
 
 242 THE OLD 
 
 any attack of sentiment, the solemnity of the 
 form, the historical associations connected with 
 the chamber, the imposing fiction of assuming 
 the functions of an hereditary legislator, the tem- 
 
 orary gravity and decorum that gave a majestic 
 
 >he assembly, the effect of the court 
 
 iress [lie tapestry, and portraits, altoge- 
 
 iier struck me very forcibly. Among the pictures 
 
 veie the likenesses of one or two of my ances- 
 
 .0, aho had done honour to our name. As I 
 
 looked on them, through the medium of my 
 
 excited fancy, they seemed to retu a gaze 
 
 arnestly, and appealing, as if to rouse me intc 
 energy and action. For a moment the fitful 
 fever of enthusiasm burned fiercely; I felt myself 
 capable of equalling, aye, of excelling all that any 
 man had accomplished before me ; resolved to 
 achieve distinction, renown, — to run a brilliant 
 career, and, of course, to start on it instantly ; 
 in short, like Rasselas. I "determined to do 
 something, though, as yet, T scarcely knew ho^ 
 
 >r what." But, the 1 ending bi"'^ r1 oVV 3 the fe-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 243 
 
 vent pulse tamed, as soon as I attempted to shape 
 these designs, vast in abstract, into practicability. 
 It is far easier for obscurity to rise into note, 
 than for rank to eclipse its peers : the very 
 elevation of my station, then, was an obstacle. 
 Besides, power and celebrity — real and durable 
 celebrity, for that which springs quickly perishes 
 speedily — were not to be seized on, but to be 
 acquired ; not to be won by a few bold efforts, 
 but to be earned by patience, diligence, submis- 
 sion, time, and degrees, conditions which were 
 to me impossibilities. The craft of the politician, 
 like any other, must be learned, and to learn was 
 a task of which I, fortune's spoiled child, soon 
 wearied. Adventitious circumstances, personal 
 advantages, had stamped me at once a leader in 
 the world of fashion, but in the world of business 
 I found that, at least, in the first instance, I 
 must take a subordinate station, and if I rose, 
 could onlv rise through the ranks. To one who, 
 like myself, had always been a prominent object, 
 it was tedious and mortifying to be compelled to 
 m 2
 
 244 THE OLD 
 
 enact a mute back-figure in a scene, while others 
 were playing great parts, making long speeches, 
 and carrying off the applause ; to be absent or 
 present, to say Ay or No as instructed, and above 
 all to speak no more than was set down for me, 
 or at least to have my oration curtailed, deprived 
 of its most powerful effects, and tempered into 
 tameness by the revising hand of a political 
 superior ; in fine, discovering that I wanted 
 both pliancy and perseverance, that I was too 
 proud and too indolent for the metier of a states- 
 man, I relinquished my intention of taking an 
 active part in politics. Still it was impossible to 
 live in the world without being in some degree 
 informed of and interested in what, coupled 
 with private scandal, forms the staple of general 
 conversation : insensibly I fell into the majority 
 of society, and, neither wholly engrossed nor 
 wholly indifferent, was content to observe, to 
 reflect, and to talk. When I first entered the 
 arena, I descried no great struggle of great 
 parties, combatting for the triumph of great
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 245 
 
 principles, and elevated by a belief of the im- 
 portance of the results of the contest into a for- 
 getfulness of themselves, in devotion to their 
 cause ; but a number of petty factions continu- 
 ally engaged in petty skirmishes, for petty objects 
 of selfish interest. Every thing at the moment 
 was unsettled. It could scarcely be said that 
 either a ministry or an opposition existed ; for 
 the ministry was on the point of resigning, and 
 the different parties of the opposition were too 
 much occupied by their particular intrigues to 
 supplant it, to make common cause any longer. 
 The Temple and Grenville, the Townshend and 
 Shelbourne, the Cumberland and Bedford, the 
 Richmond and Sandwich, the Fox and Digby, 
 Newcastle and Hardwicke, cliques, floated like 
 nebulae in the political horizon : now, anxious to 
 gain strength and security, on the point of 
 coalescing ; now fearful of forming a mis-alliance, 
 retreating, hesitating, and negotiating. To ob- 
 tain possession of the young king was the 
 primary object of all parties ; but his majesty, 
 m 3
 
 246 THE OLD 
 
 put upon his guard by the warnings of each 
 respecting the designs of their rivals, resisted, 
 by firm yet temperate policy, every attempt to 
 enthral him, and kept up a sort of balance of 
 power which effectually prevented any from ob- 
 taining ascendancy. He had freed himself from 
 the Mentorship of Lord Bute, had refused to 
 recognise the dictatorship of Pitt, had repelled 
 the authority of the Duke of Cumberland, the 
 interference of his aunt, the Princess Amelia, 
 and had bounded the influence of his mother. 
 The Princess-Dowager was a woman of excellent 
 character and of good sense, though somewhat 
 confined views. Her notions had been formed 
 in the limited sphere of a German court, and were 
 just wherever that scale might apply. Exiled 
 young, by the law of custom, from her home and 
 country, the first friend she found in a strange 
 land was her husband. It was natural that she 
 should enter into his resentments, and the slights 
 she received from the king on the prince's 
 account, afford her at least some apology for
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 247 
 
 having adopted them. Jealousies on the one 
 hand begot animosities on the other : that 
 George the Second forgot the father in the 
 sovereign, that he discarded parental tenderness 
 ere his son had failed in filial duty, is, perhaps, 
 a slight palliation ; but, however unamiable the 
 prince and princess might appear as public cha- 
 racters during the discreditable contest referred 
 to ; however mean in the intrigues they counte- 
 nanced to extend their party, or however weak in 
 the promised distribution of offices and dignities 
 in reversion, their private lives oner a pleasing 
 picture. Liberal and discriminating patrons of 
 the arts, they had the merit, not only of render- 
 ing homage to celebrity, but of appreciating 
 obscure genius. Their little court, the resort of 
 talent and agremen, was a charming society, in 
 which, surrounded by their children, and re- 
 markable only for dignified affability and sim- 
 plicity, they were to be seen, the promoters of 
 every harmless diversion, and paragons of do- 
 mestic happiness. Accident introduced Lord 
 M 4
 
 248 THE OLD 
 
 Bute, without the usual forms and gradations, 
 at once to their intimate acquaintance. He 
 possessed a taste for literature and the arts in 
 general, was a collector of prints and medals, 
 a herbalist, a cutter- out of black paper, a whist - 
 player ; in short, had a variety of small talents, 
 and was an agreeable addition to the number of 
 those familiars who were permitted to drop in at 
 Leicester House, draw stools round the fire, and 
 pass the evening in conversation, cards, and 
 music, or make one in a frolicsome night expe- 
 dition by hackney coach, to a fortune-teller or a 
 conjuror. Above all, Lord Bute was no courtier. 
 Unlike the rest of those by whom the prince and 
 princess were surrounded, his fidelity was not to 
 be suspected, nor his defection dreaded ; for he 
 had no expectations from any other party. 
 When the prince's premature and unexpected 
 death arrived, to baffle the surest calculations, 
 all who had an opportunity of hedging deserted 
 the princess. Bute remained true to her ; for 
 the dictates of duty and of interest were in
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 249 
 
 unison. This circumstance drew closer the 
 bond already formed, by regard on the one side 
 and gratitude on the other. The princess, a 
 cautious and timid woman, made no active use 
 of the party she might, in right of her relation 
 to the heir-presumptive, have commanded, but 
 adopted the better policy of acquiescent modera- 
 tion. She had, however, acquired a habit of 
 gossiping politics and court-scandal ; had been 
 for years accustomed to a confidant ; a confidant 
 was indispensable, and Bute, in that character, 
 supplied her husband. Besides Lord Bute's 
 being a safe depositary of secrets, the calibre of 
 Jiis mind was very similar to hers. The talents 
 of both were mediocre ; their general views con- 
 fined and crude. Born and bred in a court, her 
 royal highness had been early initiated in its 
 tracasseries : removed from Saxe-Gotha to St. 
 James's, she beheld a similar piece of mechanism 
 to that with which she had become acquainted, 
 but on a larger scale. With feminine quickness 
 of perception, she divined motives, anticipated 
 m 5
 
 250 THE OLD 
 
 measures, parried them with prompt dexterity, 
 or encountered them with a temper which it 
 seemed impossible for any injuries to exasperate. 
 But her abilities were only adapted to the defen- 
 sive ; she wanted the energy and self-reliance 
 essential to domination ; she desired power, yet 
 feared responsibility. 
 
 Regarding her son's succession to the crown 
 as to an estate, she conceived that her maternity 
 gave her a right to some share of direction, and 
 confident in the singleness of her desire for his 
 welfare, never dreamed but that her capabilities 
 were equal to her intentions. Still aware of the 
 strong prejudice existing against female inter- 
 ference in politics, even in a country where 
 females are legally held capable of governing, 
 she formed the plan of enjoying what she ima- 
 < )ined to be her natural share of influence through 
 the instrumentality of Lord Bute, without any 
 appearance of power. After having been for 
 some time as ex-governor, his majesty's private 
 adviser, Lord Bute, was reluctantly forced into
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 251 
 
 office, for which he knew himself incompetent. 
 If it be true, that "the most disadvantageous 
 peace is better than the justest war," his admi- 
 nistration, though not glorious, was not mis- 
 chievous. He retired voluntarily and without 
 plunder, and never sought to obtrude his advice 
 or services from the moment he perceived them 
 undesired. 
 
 Lord Bute had all the shrewdness, with all the 
 integrity of the Scot, and the mixture of economy 
 and generosity so peculiar to that character. 
 " Some men are born great, some achieve great- 
 ness, and some have greatness thrust upon 
 them ;" his lordship was of the latter class. He 
 rose, but neither by sycophancy nor intrigue : he 
 took a fair, and no more than a fair advantage of 
 circumstances. He was fitted for a favourite, 
 not for a statesman : never was favourite more 
 blameless or more odious. In 1766 his sedan 
 carried him regularly every evening to Leicester- 
 house. The Duke of Northumberland, Lady 
 Middlesex, Lord Inchiquin, Doctor Lee, and a 
 m 6
 
 252 THE OLD 
 
 few more, still formed a tea-drinking coterie 
 there ; but their part in politics was limited 
 to discussion. The other court wore a mean 
 and dull aspect to strangers. Their majesties 
 lived with the most frugal simplicity, and repre- 
 sented as little as possible. The Queen was a 
 very amiable woman, who did a great deal of 
 needle- work, and every year gave a child to the 
 state. The King divided his time between the 
 discharge of business, domestic recreations, and 
 the care of counteracting by regimen his tendency 
 to corpulency. He was allowed on all hands to 
 be a very good sort of man, and, nevertheless, 
 was exceedingly unpopular. The war raged 
 violently between the crown and the people. 
 Wilkes, a ruined man of pleasure, born and bred 
 in the very hot-bed of aristocracy, seeking a new 
 excitement for a mind satiated by every species 
 of dissipation, and a new resource for confirmed 
 habits of extravagance, found the one in the 
 notoriety of a sudden transformation to a furious 
 democrat, and the other in the policy of render-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 253 
 
 ing himself sufficiently formidable to government 
 to be worth purchasing. His writings would 
 have fallen still-born in a later day. Unlike the 
 studied, clear, strong, pointed manner of his 
 successor, Junius, Wilkes's style, formed by 
 the tone of the drawing-room, is careless, feeble, 
 and diffuse ; and though not without elegance, 
 and bearing marks of familiarity with polite 
 literature, seems to have been little calculated for 
 the comprehension or taste of his class of readers. 
 But he had the advantage of being the first 
 writer who had included the populace as the 
 public, who had addressed himself professedly 
 to the lower orders. He flattered their amour 
 propre by assisting their importance, awakened 
 the jealousy of the people by the insidious word 
 favourite, and their national prejudices by the 
 opprobrious epithet of Scot. Arraying Lord 
 Bute in misrepresentation, Wilkes held him up 
 to odium ; and thus having created a party, and 
 for that party an object of attack, he placed 
 himself at its head, and armed with the weapon
 
 254 THE OLD 
 
 of his pen, and the paper bullets of his brain, 
 stood forth a patriot and their champion. The 
 scheme answered : he became the idol of three- 
 fourths of the nation, and what was more to his 
 purpose, the terror of the remainder, for govern- 
 ment found it necessary to buy him. After 
 some difficulties as to price, and some years of 
 agitations while negotiations were pending, the 
 bargain was concluded, and Wilkes sunk again 
 into that position in society, for which his 
 limited though agreeable talents best qualified 
 him. The turbulence of his manhood passed 
 like the profligacy of his youth ; he was received 
 by the ranks from which he had renegaded. A 
 new Wilkes subsequently arose in Junius ; and 
 forgetting and forgot by the fickle multitude, he 
 became only remarkable as one of the pleasantest 
 men of his day. 
 
 When I first became an observer, a number 
 of causes had already mined the foundations of 
 that ancient order of things which is now so 
 fast disappearing. In my father's time the two
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 255 
 
 Houses of Parliament, though nominally deli- 
 berative, had been actually merely declaratory 
 assemblies ; since all-important measures were 
 discussed and settled elsewhere, chiefly at party- 
 dinners. The real, I may say the sole, business 
 of the House was division ; debate, admittedly 
 a form, abbreviated as far as our ceremonious 
 usages would allow. — Political warfare being 
 mostly carried on in the dark ambush of in- 
 trigue, oratory was but little regarded. Its rise 
 was coeval, and, indeed, may be said to have 
 been chiefly owing to the practice of reporting 
 the parliamentary speeches, which was com- 
 menced by Doctor Samuel Johnson in the 
 British Magazine, and afterwards continued by 
 Macaulay. These outlines, for they were no 
 more, though not remarkable for exactitude, and 
 conveying none of the characteristics of style, 
 being gathered from the conversation of mem- 
 bers who dropped into the Westminster coffee- 
 houses, during, or after dinner hours, "to fight 
 their battles o'er again," were read with the
 
 '2!)6 THE OLD 
 
 greatest avidity, and by a re-action this newly- 
 begotten interest affected the House. The 
 speaker, who had addressed coldly and care- 
 lessly auditors whom he knew either utterly 
 indifferent or sufficiently informed on his sub- 
 ject, pre-determined on either side by party 
 obligations founded on personal interest, — who 
 had reasoned without earnestness, aware that 
 the most plausible sophistry, or the most forci- 
 ble truths, had been forestalled by an argument 
 still more persuasive if not more convincing, 
 the douceur conveyed in the pressure of the 
 manager's hand, — had a new stimulus from the 
 moment the debates were transmitted, however 
 imperfectly, to the public. He felt himself 
 addressing an extended auditory ; the sphere of 
 his effects was enlarged ; a nation listened. A 
 nation which, no longer supine, as if incapable, 
 appeared all at once to have attained puberty 
 of intellect, had begun to examine accounts, 
 to question proceedings, to scrutinize the ad- 
 ministration of its stewards, and asserting, for
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 257 
 
 the first time, the full powers of its majority, 
 to look upon public men not as governors but 
 servants. From this period politicians found 
 it necessary to be legislators, and ministers 
 statesmen. The character as well as the style 
 of forensic debate became elevated ; our speak- 
 ers were compelled to assume a virtue if they 
 had it not ; and oratory from utter neglect 
 rose into so cultivated an art, that at the sub- 
 sequent epoch, distinguished by the names of 
 Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan, and Erskine, the 
 Houses seemed converted into theatres for the 
 display of rival talent. 
 
 I entered the Upper House shortly before 
 Lord Chatham- took his seat there. Though 
 out of office, this great man was now in the 
 very zenith of his ascendancy. His prophetic 
 voice had already terrified the Rockingham 
 ministry into the repeal of the stamp- act, the 
 seal of their dismissal, and it was inevitable 
 that he must return on his own terms. This 
 was the most brilliant epoch of his life, from
 
 258 THE OLD 
 
 that moment his star waned. Opposition was 
 the original and natural sphere of his genius. 
 A younger brother, possessed only of an an- 
 nuity of one hundred pounds, and r cornetcy 
 of horse, without the aids of forfcime or power- 
 ful patronage, he achieved his entrance into the 
 House, and abandoning in effect the military 
 profession, adopted that of a patriot. Besides, 
 that the vantage ground of assault offers the 
 young adventurer a readier opportunity of dis- 
 tinguishing himself; that it is easier to gain 
 laurels in attacking than defending, because the 
 inclinations of the majority generally favour the 
 enterprise of demolishing rather than the task 
 of preserving existing institutions, — a propensity 
 incidental to immaturity of intellect in every 
 stage, from childhood to dotage, — the character 
 of Pitt's abilities particularly qualified him to 
 figure in opposition. He united qualities, which, 
 singly possessed, had given other men reputa- 
 tion, for his oratorical talents were of every 
 kind ; he could narrate, argue, cajole, and de-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 259 
 
 claim ; but his greatest superiority lay in de- 
 nunciation. After having listened with a calm 
 and concentrated attention that had already 
 produced intimidation, he burst upon his oppo- 
 nents with the grandeur and the power of a 
 tempest. His form dilated, his eyes flashed, 
 his voice uttered thunders ; scathing sarcasms 
 lightened from his lips, and, thick and fast as 
 hail-stones, terrible reproaches fell, wounding 
 wherever they struck. The energy of his in- 
 vective was relieved by the pathos of his lament, 
 by the impressive solemnity of his warning ; 
 there indeed his eloquence reached sublimity ; 
 and such was its effect, that instead of a poli- 
 tician by profession, pleading for the fees of 
 peerage and pension, one might have believed 
 him some holy and inspired prophet of old stand- 
 ing forth to avert the doom of his country. 
 
 Pitt possessed a domination in Parliament 
 which no other individual ever before or since 
 acquired. He was the dictator of his House, 
 as Johnson of his club, and both a priori from
 
 260 THE OLD 
 
 extraneous and fortuitous causes. Both were 
 men whose endowments exceeded their attain- 
 ments; to whom nature, by physical means, 
 had given a power of ascendancy over their 
 contemporaries. Chatham's commanding stature 
 and powerful frame rendered him prominent ; 
 the deliberation and decision of his movements, 
 the calm thoughtfulness of his aspect, his lofty 
 bearing, his air of conscious and confident su- 
 periority begot deference by prepossession, and, 
 above all, — incalculable advantage ! — expectation. 
 Ere he spoke, he attracted and fixed all eyes : 
 he looked like one who would utter oracles, and 
 his hearers were prepared to receive as such 
 whatever fell from him. Admiration was drawn 
 upon by anticipation. When he spoke, his slow, 
 perfect, and emphatic enunciation, the depth 
 and fulness of the tones which, without effort, 
 reached the most distant ear in the assembly, 
 were in the highest degree impressive. At the 
 close of the first period the House settled into 
 silence : at the fall of the second an absolute
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 261 
 
 stillness reigned. The clearness of his delivery 
 gave perspicuity to every thought; its vigour 
 point to his wit, and terrific power to his de- 
 nunciation. Moreover, his eloquence had the 
 advantageous peculiarity of carrying conviction 
 of his own conviction ; and there was an imposing 
 grandeur in his mien and presence, an external 
 impress, it might be true or false, of greatness 
 of soul, of moral as well as mental superiority, 
 the effect of which was invaluable. 
 
 Chatham had passed, and passed successfully, 
 through the world's most noxious region, public 
 life, wherein independence of mind and purity 
 of principle not only cannot thrive, but cannot 
 live. Assuredly his nature did not delight in 
 baseness. It is probable that the interests of 
 his country were secondary only to his own; 
 that he never descended unnecessarily to artifice ; 
 but that he could descend is evident from the fact 
 of his having preserved his popularity with the 
 nation by palming upon them the delusion that 
 the support of an Hanoverian army in Germany
 
 262 THE OLD 
 
 was the best method of preventing the loss of 
 our possessions in America, in order to obtain 
 his sovereign's favour by a compromising com- 
 plaisance. 
 
 In short, as far as a politician can be, Chatham 
 appears to have been honest : he seems to have 
 believed, as a general maxim, that " honesty is 
 the best policy," and 3 as a general practice, to 
 have pursued it : not, perhaps, so much because 
 it was honesty, as because it was the best policy. 
 Posterity may judge him not so infallible a 
 statesman as did his contemporaries, but his re- 
 putation as an orator will be proportionably 
 increased.
 
 NGLISH NOBLEMAN. 263 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The aristocrat's entrance into English society — The aristo- 
 crat's character— Quality misses — A dinner-party in Pall- 
 mall — Sketches of the Countess of Harrington — Lady 
 Waldegrave — Duchess of Hamilton — Lady Middlesex, &c. 
 — Lord North — The Duchess of Queensberry — Lady Hali- 
 fax—Gibbon—Hill— Hannah Glass— Goldsmith— Nolle- 
 kens — Richard Bentley — Lord Halifax. 
 
 Young, rich, titled, distinguished in appear- 
 ance, accomplished in manner, fluent on com- 
 mon topics, my pride, my vanity, my caprice, my 
 impetuosity, my selfishness, my self-will, were 
 hidden under these agreeable externals : I was 
 miversally allowed to be a very amiable person.
 
 264 the ol:) 
 
 as well as a most desirable match. The chape- 
 rons and mammas looked graciously upon me, 
 the Ladies Pens and Betties, the Misses Dollies 
 and Sukeys, adjusted their tuckers, and flirted 
 their fans with most assiduous coquetry when- 
 ever I approached ; and at this period I flatter 
 myself as many sighs were given to the man, as 
 smiles were lavished on the peer; but without 
 effect. I hovered around the numerous beauties 
 who clustered in every place of fashionable re- 
 sort, looking gay as the many-coloured lamps of 
 Ranelagh and Vauxhall; like them, lighted up 
 each night for attraction, and lying by in the 
 day time, dull, vacant, and vapid, — I chatted with 
 one, minueted with another, smiled on and flat- 
 tered all; but, though determined upon mar- 
 riage, sedulously preserved myself free from en- 
 tanglement, for as yet I had met no woman who 
 united the requisites on which I insisted. 
 
 In the course of every day and night, I saw a 
 hundred young girls of fashion, but their pre-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 265 
 
 tensions were as equal as they were similar. 
 Manufactured of the same materials by the same 
 process, coeffees by the same hair-dressers, chaus- 
 sees by the same shoemakers, their figures 
 formed by the same staymakers, their manners 
 by the same dancing-masters, their minds by the 
 same sort of maids and mothers, they naturally 
 resembled each other, as nearly as do tulips 
 reared in the same bed : on close inspection, 
 this or that might be found more or less hand- 
 some, or differing in size or colour, but an endless 
 sameness pervaded the variety. 
 
 I sought " a bright, particular star :" the pro- 
 mised wife of my imagination was, in the first 
 instance, to be such a woman as, under that 
 title, I should be proud to show the world. The 
 most important appendage of my establishment, 
 she must be as proportionably creditable to my 
 taste and station as my stud, picture gallery, or 
 any other article of monture ; of high rank and 
 character; she must bring me distinguished con- 
 nexions and a large dowry, be calculated for 
 
 vol. I. N
 
 266 THE OLD 
 
 decided effect in society, and to that end an 
 acknowledged wit, beauty, and miracle of ac- 
 complishments and fine breeding ; moreover, the 
 object not only of mine, but of general admira- 
 tion. In London, a brilliant leader of ton, the 
 glass of fashion, and the mould of form, the 
 observed of all observers ; in the country, as 
 domestic and amiable as she pleased. Nothing 
 short of these conditions was acceptable. 
 
 It was with this resolution, arrived at for the 
 hundredth time, that, blind to fate and the 
 future, after completing my second toilette, I 
 stepped into my chair, and was carried to a din- 
 ner at the Marquis of A "s, in Pall-mall. 
 
 It was a pleasant and somewhat warm afternoon 
 in the early part of spring, and, though months of 
 fairer and brighter days sometimes succeed each 
 other, unnoticed at a later period, everybody, 
 because it was almost the first of the year, talked 
 of its cheerfulness and brightness as of an event. 
 The streets were numerously peopled, for the sun- 
 shine which brought hope, that seemed strength
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 267 
 
 to the sick, and hilarity to the vigorous, drew 
 forth all who could possibly leave their homes. 
 Many a youthful hand-in-hand group, with glad, 
 shining faces, might be observed, who had ob- 
 tained half holyday on the plea of the fine after- 
 noon ; many a bent figure, creeping near the 
 rails of the areas, who, in a slight alleviation 
 from suffering, effected by the change of tem- 
 perature, felt almost equal enjoyment. Almost 
 every cell of the mighty hive sent forth its bees 
 and drones ; the pavement was thronged with the 
 hurrying busy, and the sauntering idle. Along 
 the edges of the causeway flitted a number of 
 sedans ; now and then one met a great state- 
 coach, laden with footmen, or a rumbling jarvey. 
 I was detained some time in St. MartinVlane. 
 the way being blocked up by a vast concourse 
 of persons assembled to see the York stage- 
 was^on disencumbered of its still and live lum- 
 ber. Opposite the marquis's house was another 
 crowd, looking on at a dance of milk-maids, 
 who, healthy, pretty, and rosy, in blue gowns, 
 n 2
 
 268 THE OLD 
 
 checked aprons, and white neckerchiefs, with 
 wreaths of hawthorn round their straw-hats, and 
 posies of cowslips, primroses, and violets at their 
 waists, were figuring away, according to annual 
 custom on May-day, to the accompaniment of 
 their own singing, and the clattering of the 
 bright pans depending from the new yokes on 
 their shoulders. The tingle of the muffin, and 
 the deafening toll of the dustman's bell, mingled 
 with the loud tintara that announced my arrival 
 at the gates. A lusty porter underwent the 
 fatigue of showing himself, and bowing, and four 
 well-gilded footmen, in white and yellow, as tall 
 and straight, and with legs as handsome as those 
 of the footmen the fairy gave Cinderella, ap- 
 peared on the steps to answer the summons. 
 
 It was half-past four. The freshly-illumined 
 candelabras burned dimly in the daylight ; the 
 hall and vast staircase were redolent of culinary 
 steam, escaping from the nether regions. I 
 passed through an ante-room, in which I ob- 
 served a little portly gentleman, attired in black.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 26.9 
 
 divesting himself of his scarlet cloak, the insignia 
 of the medical profession, and a group, occupied 
 in examining a statue, and was ushered into the 
 reception-room. It was a large apartment, lined 
 with Indian satin-paper, the ceilings and cor- 
 nices fine specimens of the excellence to which 
 the arts of carving and gilding had been carried. 
 From the centre, under the protection of a cir- 
 cle of winged cherubim heads, depended a chan- 
 delier of multifarious branches and enormous 
 circumference ; which, like the rest of the things, 
 bore evidence of having been very recently un- 
 covered. The daylight came staring in from 
 three great windows, unsoftened by the shade of 
 drapery or blind, for the long scanty strips 
 of buff damask, nominally curtains, had been 
 carefully drawn back, and fell with scarce 
 a fold beneath a vandyked, velvet valance, 
 studded with gilt stars. There was no fashion- 
 able litter in the drawing-rooms of that period. 
 Then, as now, books, bijouterie, new prints, and 
 new music, made a part of furniture ; but the 
 n 3
 
 270 THE OLD 
 
 books were in book-cases, the bijoux in cabi- 
 nets, the new music in stands, and the prints 
 generally in frames : there was perhaps not 
 quite so much taste, or not so much display. 
 The middle of this apartment presented only a 
 vast expanse of Turkey carpet. Four capacious, 
 high-backed, gilt-framed, tight-stuffed, claw- 
 footed, pea-green satin sofas, without cushions, 
 flowered in tent-stitch with carnations and auri- 
 culas, graced the sides of the room, accompanied 
 by corresponding chairs and settees, intermingled 
 with cabinets and chiffoniers at intervening dis- 
 tances. An ottoman, and a China jar three 
 feet high, stood on each side of the fire-place ; 
 the mantel was too elevated to admit a looking- 
 glass above it, but opposite the windows hung a 
 pair of large mirrors, like the paintings over the 
 door- ways, projecting obliquely from the wall. 
 The sofas and settees were occupied by ladies, 
 who, aided by their hoops and ample vestments, 
 contrived to cover an extent of space incon- 
 ceivable to their Grecian-draperied grand-daugh-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 271 
 
 ters. Amid the assemblage of silks, satins, 
 laces, tissues, embroideries, feathers, flowers, 
 ribbons, fringes, and jewels, in every variety of 
 form, which at first confused and dazzled the 
 eye, many fair faces and fine forms were dis- 
 coverable. There was the still " gloriously 
 handsome," as Horace Walpole termed her, 
 Countess of Harrington, now in the autumn of 
 life, but with all the attractions that sometimes 
 belong to that season ; among them embonpoint 
 and a sparkling malice, the result of mingled 
 shrewdness, originality and habitual good hu- 
 mour, which lent a piquant animation to every 
 look and gesture ; her fair and modest daughter, 
 Lady Elizabeth Foster, looking like a bud be- 
 side a rose, or a star by the moon : the pretty 
 Duchess of Richmond ; the still prettier young 
 widow, Laura, Lady Waldegrave, afterwards 
 Duchess of Gloucester, pronounced in her time, 
 by a most competent authority, " the first match 
 for beauty in England," and doubtless so con- 
 sidered by all who preferred to the ordinary style 
 n 4
 
 '±i- THE OLD 
 
 of blondes and brunettes, the more rare combi- 
 nation of nut-brown eyes, nut-brown hair, and a 
 clear, warm-brown complexion, in its tints "like 
 red poppies grown with corn," enlivened by a 
 brilliant set of teeth ; the stately Duchess of 
 Hamilton and Argyle; one of those twin-beauties, 
 the famous Gunnings, whose "luck" has ^iveri 
 Ireland a proverb, and. of course, sister to the 
 equally celebrated Countess of Coventry ; Mrs. 
 Townly Warde, an excessively fine sultana sort 
 of woman, and a bride — you may see her por- 
 trait among the hand-maids of Pharaoh's daugh- 
 ter, in Sherwins picture of the finding of Moses; 
 the lovely little Mrs. Cholmondeley, an eleganU 
 and hd esprit ; besides Lady Middlesex, petUe 
 and not too young, mats pas mal, and Mrs. 
 Montagu, who had pretensions to good looks, as 
 well as to even* thing else. There was only one 
 positively plain woman in the room, Miss Rollo, 
 who, of course, was a blue ; only one dowdy one. 
 poor good Lady Halifax. As close as possible 
 to her side, in all the alarm and strangeness of
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 27*3 
 
 her first rouge and her first dinner party, nestled 
 a young girl, with a small, round, plaited, gauze 
 cap on her head, rather pretty in her rose silk 
 gown, white lutestring petticoat and stomacher, 
 and new set of pearls. An elderly beau, very 
 studiously dressed and profusely scented, with 
 the deferential stoop and lowered tone then 
 modish in addressing females, was talking to 
 Lady Halifax, with an air of profound interest, 
 respecting the weather, occasionally, at any 
 period or pause in the conversation, raising, in 
 a ringed hand, white as cosmetics could make it, 
 an eye-glass, suspended on a pink ribbon, which, 
 after having been employed in taking a prelimi- 
 nary survey of half the room, was set, as he once 
 more engaged the chaperon, at her ladyship's 
 convoy. This personage was Lord Chalkston, 
 the Lord Chalkston whom, with his valet Bow- 
 man, Garrick and Colman have drawn as Ogleby 
 and Canton, in their comedy of the Clandestine 
 Marriage. 
 
 Conversing with the marquis, stood a person 
 N 5
 
 274 THE OLD 
 
 of unwieldy figure, in a cinnamon-coloured suit, 
 with precisely such a head as one sees on the 
 coinage of George the Third ; the same full, 
 fleshy contour, prominent features, pleasant 
 mouth, heavy, over-hanging brow, and somewhat 
 retreating forehead. A Garrick wig, of five 
 curls on each side in front, with a tie behind, 
 and a pair of remarkably large, opaque-orbed 
 eyes, completed the resemblance, but the indi- 
 vidual was Lord North. Without aspiring to 
 the orator, Lord North was the soundest and 
 most finished speaker of his day ; without any 
 pretensions to the man of fashion, the truest 
 gentleman. He deserved this epithet, not 
 merely in respect to his manners, but with 
 reference to all his actions and expressions, 
 public and private. It has been justly remarked 
 of him, that among all his political opponents he 
 had never a single enemy. His benignity and 
 goodness were talismans too potent for envy or 
 hatred. Devoid of vanity himself, he had yet 
 consideration for that infirmity in others. Tern-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 275 
 
 perate in victory, as well as elevated in defeat, 
 he disarmed without wounding his adversaries. 
 Perhaps the very ease and simplicity that cha- 
 racterized equally his cleverest sayings and best 
 actions, occasioned his probity, eloquence, and 
 talents to be rather underrated by his contempo- 
 raries. Lord North had a constant play of quiet 
 wit, so happily under the control of discretion, 
 that it amused without ever offending or alarm- 
 ing. He was quite as dignified, though not as 
 lofty, as Lord Chatham ; and his affability was 
 more agreeable, because there was no perceptible 
 condescension in it. 
 
 u My Lord North," said the Countess of 
 Harrington, " I have been wishing, I can't say 
 how long, to talk to you. I have the most 
 charming scheme ; indeed it is quite an enter- 
 prise. Ever since the notion first came into 
 my mind I have been teasing Lord Harrington ; 
 but he will have nothing to do with it, and tells 
 me I must ask you." 
 
 n6
 
 276 THE OLD 
 
 " Madam, I shall be most happy to be taken 
 into your counsels. " 
 
 " You must know then, my lord, that I have 
 two passions ; a great love for my country, and 
 a great love for china. I should like to see 
 England excel every other kingdom in its manu- 
 factures, and I should like to have the most 
 beautiful set of teacups in the world. 11 
 
 " In one production already, madam, our 
 land is certainly unrivalled, and that is female 
 beauty,*" replied his lordship, bowing round the 
 circle with old-fashioned gallantry. 
 
 " I have been looking out a spot in the 
 suburbs that will just answer the purpose, 
 and with your advice and assistance I mean to 
 found " 
 
 " A hospital V cried one. 
 
 " An asylum V cried another. 
 
 " A nunnery ? A museum f 
 
 "No; a hong. 11 
 
 " A what?' 1 was the general interrogation.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 277 
 
 " A pottery ! a pottery V and her ladyship's 
 beautiful eyes sparkled with delight as lively as 
 that of a child just promised a new plaything. 
 
 " Lord North, I congratulate you on your 
 appointment. 11 His lordship begged leave to 
 kiss hands. " Prime minister of a pottery I 11 
 laughed the merry Duchess of Queensberry : 
 merry in spite of locks as snowy as her hood 
 and apron. It was " her mad grace of Queens- 
 berry, 11 as she was styled by her contemporaries ; 
 this droll and saucy duchess, who, in her earlier 
 day had been banished from the dull court of 
 George II. ostensibly for upholding her protege, 
 — Gay, the author of the Beggars Opera, who 
 had given offence to the court ostensibly by the 
 license of his wit, but in reality by having ridi- 
 culed Queen Caroline's pretensions to science, — 
 who in consequence formed a court of taste in 
 opposition to the court of royalty, and drew away 
 to her own all the choice spirits of the other \ 
 
 1 Among many of this eccentric lady's extant letters is a 
 eurious one addressed to Queen Caroline, which begins, " The
 
 278 THE OLD 
 
 " My dearest creature, what can you mean f" 
 exclaimed her Grace of Richmond, " there are 
 a hundred potteries in England." 
 
 " Very true ; but this pottery par excellence 
 is to be supplied, if I can accomplish it, — and 
 the only difficulty is the India company, — with 
 the chekoa, the real clay, from China. A ship- 
 load V 
 
 " Would make teacups enough for your lap- 
 dogs to amuse themselves with breaking all your 
 life -time " 
 
 " Take care, Queensberry. I know you will 
 be the first to die with envy. Oh ! they will 
 be beautiful. Miss Moser and Angelica Kauff- 
 man have designed such flower patterns for me ! 
 and 1 have such charming little groups in me- 
 dallion by Sir Joshua ! I am sure, if we had 
 the proper clay, we could surpass Dresden and 
 Sevres." 
 
 Duchess of Queensberry is surprised and well pleased to re- 
 ceive an order to quit the court, where she never came for 
 pleasure," &c.
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 279 
 
 " I believe," said I, "we understand the art 
 of burning just as well as they do in China." 
 
 " Our colours," observed Lord North, " are 
 less brilliant than theirs. Their mode of pre- 
 paration is a secret worth knowing." 
 
 u But, then, how incalculably we might sur- 
 pass them in design," rejoined the countess, 
 taking a scent- jar from the mantel-piece. " Now 
 look ; can anything be more grotesque, more 
 hideous than these figures ?" 
 
 " Here's a heresy !" cried Lady Waldegrave. 
 " Why, my love, it's the very odiousness that's 
 the beauty of them : and did not I see you 
 yourself but t'other day bringing home a whole 
 coachful of the frightfullest monsters you could 
 find at Patterson's V 
 
 "To be sure I did : but then Patterson is 
 the most ruinous creature. He really can talk 
 one into any thing. The day you mention he 
 gave us quite a lecture on these monsters, which, 
 it seems, are not precisely what I believe all 
 of us have fancied them, idols, but only repre-
 
 280 THE OLD 
 
 sentations of divine attributes, or qualities em- 
 bodied ; as, for instance, omniscience described 
 by a cluster of heads, succour by the multifa- 
 rious arms and hands, retribution by the stinging 
 serpents, and so forth ; in short, illustrations of 
 the Confucian philosophy : images, not gods ; 
 venerated, but not worshipped, except by the 
 illiterate. It was all mighty clever and in- 
 structive, like everything he says ; and I came 
 away as usual, with my head quite full and my 
 purse quite empty." 
 
 " He certainly is the most surprising person," 
 replied the Duchess of Hamilton. "I do be- 
 lieve he has read every book he sells. And as 
 to his commentaries on Shakespeare, I have 
 made a point of going to see each play after 
 I have heard him talk upon it, and have enjoyed 
 them wonderfully more than I ever did before. 
 Mr. Malone and Mr. Steevens, both clever men 
 and good judges, are to be seen constantly in 
 his rooms whenever there is a book-sale, and 
 they tell me only to hear him."
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 281 
 
 " And where is Mr. Patterson's S? inquired 
 Lady Halifax with simplicity. 
 
 Astonishing creature ! looked their graces ; 
 but the reply was — 
 
 " Is it possible, madam, that you come to 
 town every year and don't know that Mr. Pat- 
 terson lives in King-street, Soho-square V 
 
 " I never go to auctions, madam. " 
 
 " Never go to auctions ! and pray for what 
 reason f 1 
 
 " Not being in want of any thing. Horton 
 is in very good repair. Our town-house was 
 furnished when my lord's mother was married : 
 and as it is in her taste, I do not wish alteration. 
 I have had several wardrobes left me by legacy ; 
 so that for furniture and clothes " 
 
 " But your fancies V 
 
 " Madam, I was not bred a woman of fashion. 
 I never remember to have had any, except for a 
 pair of canary-birds that I hoarded my pin-money 
 to buy ; and that was when I was quite a girl, 
 long, long before I married or had children.' 1
 
 282 THE OLD 
 
 " Well," answered the countess, " if you could 
 once be persuaded to hear Mr. Patterson, I am 
 sure you would afterwards allow that visiting 
 an auction room may be a very agreeable mode 
 of improvement . ,, 
 
 " Does not your ladyship think it a very 
 expensive one V 
 
 And this Lady Halifax uttered simply as a 
 suggestion, without the least intention of con- 
 veying a reproof. She was a meek, humble- 
 minded creature, quite unconscious of possess- 
 ing a more than ordinary share of strong sense 
 and firmness of character. Exempt by tem- 
 perament and habit from most of the foibles of 
 her sex, in her perfect propriety of conduct 
 seemed only the result of inclination. She was 
 virtuous without making any sacrifices to virtue, 
 for her sole pleasures were her duties, and, unlike 
 those who renounce and still desire, there was 
 no gangrene in her heart towards others of gayer 
 tastes and gayer lives ; she differed from, but did 
 not blame them.
 
 ENGLISH NO|,EMAN. 288 
 
 "I must confess," pursued Lady Harrington, 
 " I like every thing better for being dear, be- 
 cause what is dear cannot be common. 11 
 
 " I suppose, 11 remarked the Duchess of Hamil- 
 ton, " every body will read now that Patterson 
 has begun to sell books by lots. When libraries 
 were sold whole, books were the property, and 
 reading the amusement, only of people of qua- 
 lity : but lately I see everywhere a number of 
 stalls, with lean, unwashed artificers about 
 them. 11 
 
 " Perhaps poor authors, 11 ventured Lady Eli- 
 zabeth. 
 
 " My love, 11 whispered Lady Harrington, lay- 
 ing her finger on her lip as she glanced sig- 
 nificantly from her daughter to a group of per- 
 sons who had just entered. 
 
 These were some of the lions, considered at 
 that period an essential part of every large 
 entertainment; and generally as quiet and re- 
 served during exhibition as the well-trained of 
 their quadruped namesakes.
 
 284 THE OLD 
 
 In a suit of flowered velvet, with bag and 
 sword, smirking and tip-toeing like a dancing- 
 master, advanced the historian Gibbon. One 
 could see by the way in which he drew up his 
 mellifluous mouth, a small, round aperture, which, 
 from the length of his chin, appeared nearly in 
 the centre of his visage, that, as he paid his 
 compliments to the ladies, he was polishing the 
 periods of his finical phraseology with even more 
 than ordinary solicitude. 
 
 Making the circuit of the room, 
 
 " With sleek appearance and with ambling pace, 
 And type of vacant head and vacant face," 
 
 as Churchill sings, was " the proteus Hill, 1 "' 
 afterwards Sir John Hill, " actor, inspector, 
 doctor, botanist," the author of the vegetable 
 system in twenty-six folio volumes, and several 
 other almost as gigantic works, who, notwith- 
 standing, could never make a dinner out of the 
 press, until, to recreate his imagination, it may 
 be supposed, he produced Hannah Glass's far-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 285 
 
 famed Cookery-Book. Holding another by the 
 button-hole, in earnest conversation, was the 
 little portly physician I had seen divesting him- 
 self of the scarlet cloak in the ante-room, Dr. 
 Oliver Goldsmith. Beside him stood an under- 
 sized, big-headed man, with a hooked nose, short 
 neck, narrow shoulders, corpulent body, and 
 bow-legs, except the hump, exceedingly like 
 Punchinello, attired in a drab-suit, laced with 
 silver, a preposterous pair of ruffles, and blue 
 and white striped stockings ; this was the sculp- 
 tor Nollekens, then newly risen into note. Nol- 
 lekens excelled in bust-making. The first busts 
 which brought him reputation were those of 
 Garrick and Sterne. He afterwards executed 
 more than two hundred and fifty, including 
 among his sitters almost all the celebrated per- 
 sonages of his time. His figures, though soft, 
 round, and possessing an illusion of warmth and 
 breathing, are extremely faulty ; the hands, feet, 
 and ancles of his goddesses, in particular, betray 
 the fact that they were studied from vulgar life,
 
 286 THE OLD 
 
 for Nollekens had little acquaintance with the 
 classics, and no taste for the antique. In young, 
 full forms, his ignorance of anatomy is not so 
 discernible as in such of his groups as Daedalus 
 and Icarus, or the Laocoon ; and some of his 
 women and children, the sitting Venus, the 
 Venus chiding Cupid, the Oupid and Psyche, 
 the Graces, for example, are chef-cFoeuvres of 
 embodied beauty. Nollekens amassed a vast 
 fortune by rare assiduity and excessive parsi- 
 mony. One of his most considerable sources 
 of profit was derived from buying and selling 
 antiques, for which the fashionable world, at that 
 time, had suddenly affected a passion, aptly sati- 
 rized by Foote in his farce of " Taste. ,, 
 
 Taking advantage of this engouement and the 
 general ignorance of unprofessional persons on 
 the subject of the arts, Nollekens made a prac- 
 tice of purchasing mutilated heads, headless 
 trunks, legs without feet, arms without hands, 
 in short, fragments of various ages, countries, 
 and masters, which he so skilfully cemented, by
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 287 
 
 mixing scrapings of the marble with the plaister, 
 that it was impossible to detect the seams, and 
 having supplied fingers, toes, noses, or whatever 
 else they needed from his studio, he christened 
 them Juno, Venus, Pallas, or Mercury, and 
 exhibited them for sale as the work of some 
 great sculptor of antiquity, in a wonderful state 
 of preservation. In the same group with Nolle- 
 kens stood his brother- artist, that rare genius, 
 Fuseli, a superior looking man, though short in 
 stature, with a finely developed brow, a clear 
 olive complexion, aquiline nose, firm mouth, and 
 eyes bold and brilliant as the eagle's. Looking 
 from one of the windows was a tall, slender, 
 interesting gentleman, whom, from the listless- 
 ness of his air and attitude, melancholy seemed 
 to have marked for her own. Richard Bentley, 
 the son of the erudite Doctor Bentley, the 
 grandson of the learned and pious bishop, him- 
 self a person of various and acknowledged ac- 
 quirements, who, with talents from which the 
 world expected much, accomplished so little, 
 12
 
 288 THE OLD 
 
 that the highest distinction which remains to 
 him is that of having been the dependent friend 
 of Horace Walpole. Bentley was one of for- 
 tune's step-sons, amiable and gifted, but unloved 
 by her. Bred to no profession, his abilities 
 wanted an aim ; the small independence he pos- 
 sessed, while it induced him to regard the exer- 
 cise of his talents rather as an amusement than 
 a resource, was insufficient to his tastes and 
 habits. His want of prudence involved him in 
 distresses, his distresses laid him under obliga- 
 tions, and to repay these obligations, the genius 
 which, devoted steadily to any single pursuit, 
 might have proved profitable to himself and 
 valuable to the world, was frittered away in the 
 service of his friends, upon the execution of a 
 variety of trifles. 
 
 " Why does one love roses better in winter 
 than in summer, or point-lace than pillow, but 
 because it is dear V said Lady Harrington, ad- 
 dressing her party in continuance of the colloquy, 
 several other conversations and dialogues being
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 289 
 
 meanwhile carried on, in different parts of the 
 room, which it is impossible to give, unless they 
 were written in score. 
 
 " Don't ye think our argument would sound 
 better if we said, because it is rare ? " suggested 
 Lady Waldegrave. 
 
 " Oh ! I would not argue for the world," cried 
 Lady Halifax. 
 
 " Why, my dear, is it worse than going to an 
 auction V laughed her Grace of Queensberry. 
 
 " Here comes your lord," exclaimed Lady 
 Harrington, " and we will make him take up the 
 gauntlet for you, and see what chance he has 
 among us quick-tongued women. Lord Halifax, 
 your liege lady has named you as her champion, 
 and as a good knight and true, you are bound to 
 answer in the lists all challengers." 
 
 " Willingly, 1 '' replied Lord Halifax, "for I am 
 sure there is right in any cause she espouses." 
 Lord Halifax turned towards his wife with a kind 
 smile, and the beam of grateful affection which 
 
 vol. i". o
 
 290 THE OLD 
 
 irradiated her face, as she looked up to that of 
 her handsome husband, endowed it also for a 
 moment with an approach to beauty. 
 
 He was, indeed, " the god of her idolatry," 
 her admiration of him was enthusiastic, it 
 amounted to veneration. Nor was it strange. 
 An amiable, if not a good man, gifted with 
 talents showy if not solid, possessing many of 
 the qualities of mind essential to greatness, 
 although deficient in those of character; ble- 
 mished rather by foibles than faults, eloquent, 
 cultivated, energetic, if impetuous, vain, and too 
 much addicted to splendour and display ; in the 
 prime of life, " his blushing honours thick upon 
 him," and the future, the terrible future, still 
 bright with promise ; gay, gallant, accomplished, 
 with manners formed for popularity and captiva- 
 tion ; " half all men^s hearts were his," and more 
 than half those of the other sex. 
 
 The daughter of a parvenu named Dunk, 
 Lady Halifax had brought the earl a consider-
 
 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN. 2.91 
 
 able fortune, a homely person, and devoted 
 affection ; the affection was valued and the per- 
 son not despised. Lady Halifax, the plain and 
 plebeian Lady Halifax, was a happy wife, and 
 the envy of many fair and noble dames. 
 
 END of vol. I. 
 
 Gilbert & Rivington, Printers, St. John's Square, London.