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 CECIL: 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A COXCOMB 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 He was such a delight,— such a coxcomb,— such a jewel of a man ! 
 
 Byron's Jouknal. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1843.
 
 §2-3 
 
 V. \ 
 
 g PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 I 
 
 CO 
 
 - ADDRESS 
 
 (X) 
 
 FROM THE THRONE OF CECIL I. • 
 
 LO KING OF THE COXCOMBS. 
 
 Q *' My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 •' In meeting you again at the commencement 
 
 of a New Edition, I have the satisfaction to 
 
 acquaint you that I continue to receive from the 
 
 V< leading critics of the day, ass-urances of their 
 
 f^ friendly disposition, and their earnest desire to 
 
 maintain peace. 
 
 *' The posture of affairs in the critical world 
 had long been a cause of uneasiness and a source 
 of danger to literary tranquillity. With a view 
 to avert the evils which a continuance of this
 
 iv PREFACE TO THE 
 
 state of things was calculated to occasion, I have 
 concluded with the ' Quarterly Review,^ the 
 ' Edinburgh Review,' the ' Westminster Re- 
 view,"* the ' Spectator,' ' Examiner,' and 
 ' Athenaeum,' a convention intended to effect 
 the pacification of New Burlington Street; to 
 maintain the integrity and independence of the 
 Empire of Coxcombry; and thereby afford a 
 guarantee for the future entertainment of Europe 
 and the European colonies. 
 
 " In this, my ' Second Edition,' I lay the first 
 evidence of the existence of this convention before 
 you. 
 
 " I rejoice to be able to inform you that the 
 measures I have adopted in execution of these 
 engagements, (by issuing cards of invitation for 
 weekly literary dinners throughout the London 
 season,) have been attended with signal success ; 
 and I trust that the objects which the contract- 
 ing parties had in view, are on the eve of being 
 happily accomplished. 
 
 " In the course of these operations, my Chefs
 
 SECOND EDITION. V 
 
 de cuisine have co-operated with my Printer's 
 devils, and have displayed upon all occasions 
 their accustomed acumen and skill. 
 
 " Having deemed it necessary to send to the 
 Club of Crockford a friend of high standing in 
 the world of fashion, to demand reparation and 
 redress for certain injuries inflicted upon my 
 reputation as a scholar, and certain indignities 
 offered to my authority as a puppy, this pleni-, 
 potentiary is still in negociation with the Com- 
 mittee of the Club ; and it will be a source of 
 much gratification to me if that heterogeneous 
 assemblage shall be induced, by its own sense of 
 justice, to bring these matters to a speedy set- 
 tlement by an amicable arrangement. 
 
 " Serious differences have arisen between the 
 ' Spectator' and the Publishers, about the exe- 
 cution of a tacit treaty between those Powers for 
 regulating the preliminaries of Puffery. Both 
 parties have accepted my mediation ; and I hope 
 to be able to effect a reconciliation between them 
 upon terms honourable to both.
 
 VI PREFACE TO THE 
 
 " I have concluded with the Daily Papers 
 treaties for the suppression of the Martyrdom of 
 Authors, which I have directed to be laid before 
 you. 
 
 *' Gentlemen ov the House of Commons 
 
 (More especially Henry Pelham, Vivian Grey, 
 
 and Brookside Milnes, Esquires), 
 
 " I have directed the estimates of my author- 
 ship, gathered from the most authentic critical 
 organs of the day, to be laid before you. 
 
 " However sensible of the importance of ac- 
 cording limited faith to such authorities, I feel it 
 to be my duty to recommend that adequate in- 
 dulgence be shown, by such established autho- 
 rities as your honourable selves, towards the errors 
 and infirmities of a new writer. 
 
 " My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 " Measures will be submitted to you without 
 delay, which have for their object the more 
 speedy and effectual perpetuation of my literary
 
 SECOND EDITION. VU 
 
 reign. The vital importance of this subject to 
 the fashionable world, is sufficient to -insure for 
 it your early and most serious consideration. 
 
 " The powers of the Patronesses appointed 
 under the Act for the better regulation of the 
 manners and fashions of Almacks', expire at the 
 termination of the present season ; and I feel 
 anxious that you should earnestly direct your at- 
 tention to those enactments of exclusivism, which* 
 so deeply concern the bon ton of the community. 
 
 It is with entire confidence that I recur to the 
 loyalty and good faith of my subjects. Though 
 wavering in their notions of my identity, they 
 have hitherto evinced, without exception, a 
 becoming sense of the dignity of my throne ; a 
 sentiment which I shall make it my duty to 
 maintain inviolate by the inflexibility of my 
 decrees, and a contemptuous disregard to the 
 weak inventions of my enemies ; and thus ef- 
 fectually promote the happiness and welfare of 
 my Self, and all classes of my subjects."
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " Go little book ! — (to Paternoster Row,) 
 I cast thee on the waters, — go thy ways I 
 
 And if, as I suspect, thy vein 's so-so, 
 
 The world will find thee after many days." 
 
 So sang a great poet ! — So saith Cecil Danby. 
 
 Timid authors, as yet unprivileged to address 
 their readers in the plural number, are exceed- 
 ingly apt to inscribe their Nota Benes to their 
 " little book." Mine, I flatter myself, is a 
 prodigious one, and requires no patting on the 
 back. I consequently do not hesitate to speak 
 out to my public, like a man. No need of clap- 
 trap speeches from the hustings. I am sure of 
 my election ; that is — if merit ever carries the 
 day.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 Nothing more absurd than to appeal to the 
 indulgence of the public, or the leniency of the 
 press. The public is about as indulgent as the 
 head- usher of a preparatory school, or as her 
 Majesty's Attorney-general ; while as to the 
 press, its humanity shows " begrimed and black" 
 beside that of Greenacre or Courvoisier. 
 
 Critics resemble Eastern mutes, who exist by 
 bowstringing their fellow-creatures, and venting 
 their envious spite on the beauties committed to 
 their hands. Nothing generous, — nothing manly 
 in their nature. The cleverest of them sees in 
 the cleverest book only an occasion to let fly 
 some well-hoarded joke ; like the schoolboy who, 
 in a general illumination for some national vic- 
 tory, cares only for his little foolish squib or 
 cracker, whizzing in a corner. 
 
 As to the various quarterlies, their articles are 
 only so many sealed tenders sent in to Govern- 
 ment for Under-secretaryships to the powers 
 that be, — or want to be. Every now and 
 then, indeed, when the public shows symptoms
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 of discovering that " tlieir bullets are made of 
 lead, lead, lead," they fire off articles of cork 
 and feather. 
 
 But even these occasional explosions of gas, 
 (which resemble the pink paper wherewith apo- 
 thecaries embellish their vials and pillboxes by 
 way of rendering the physic more palatable,) 
 serve only to render darkness visible, like a 
 sexton's rushlight in a charnel-house. Better 
 adhere to their dulness. Ne sutor ultra crepi- 
 dam. No review beyond its heavy artillery : 
 " adeo nihil motum ex antiquo, probabile est." 
 
 Such Tartuffes, too, as they are ; — high- 
 waymen, who, like Robin Hood, pillage and 
 plunder disguised in the demure weeds of a 
 churchman ! Every now and then they raise 
 an outcry of infection, as for the plague or 
 cholera, and establish a cordon sanitaire as in 
 the instance of the modern French novelists ; 
 like coiners, who give out that some house is 
 haunted, to pursue their fraudulent practices un- 
 suspected in the cellars.
 
 viil PREFACE 
 
 I discern from hence their puzzled look in 
 perusing these accusations ! — Like the young 
 Sultan on the death of his father, they know not 
 what attitude to take. Ten to one, they will try 
 to Burke my book, and render it the prey of the 
 resurrectionists ; that^ is, instead of drawing at- 
 tention to its merits by an impartial criticism, 
 will take me, like Romeo, and " cut me out in 
 little stars,^' — dissecting me to ornament their 
 hideous museum. Bless their five wits ! Every 
 inch of me would be discovered in their dull 
 pages, glittering like diamonds on the brow of 
 some dingy dowager ! " 
 
 It is some comfort that their denunciations are 
 as little attended to as those of Cassandra, — or 
 the striking of the parish clock, — or the morn- 
 ing gun of a garrison, — or the ringing for arri- 
 vals at Bath, — or the tolling for funerals at 
 
 Hastings, — or Lord 's promises to pay, — or 
 
 any other matter of course. As to influencing the 
 public taste, they have about as much power as 
 the railway train upon the engine that impels 
 it. The public taste drags them after it, like
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 SO many baggage waggons, to "which it con- 
 signs its goods and chattels. No author was 
 ever written up, except by his publisher, (in a 
 cheque,) — or written down, except by himself. 
 
 So now, having reviewed the reviewers, I dare 
 their worst. They may '' damn by faint praise," 
 — they may show the white feather, or goose- 
 quill, by shirking my challenge ;— they may im- 
 mortalise themselves by my annihilation, like 
 Major Sirr by the capture of Lord Edward Fitz- 
 gerald, or Bertrand de Gourdon by the man- 
 slaughter of Richard Coeur de Lion. 
 
 Let them only, I beseech, eschew excessive 
 laudation. I am still in the swaddling sheets of 
 infant authorship ; and the Crowner'*s Quests, as 
 reported in the public journals, will instruct them 
 how many promising babes are daily destroyed by 
 excessive doses of Godfrey''s Cordial. Besides, 
 that single act of honesty might get their hands 
 out, and destroy their practice. 
 
 Meanwhile I am able to favour the public with 
 a private view of a criticism promised me by a 
 friend in the confidence of the " Times'" news-
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 paper, — on payment of a small gratuity. It may 
 have already appeared in that luminous journal, 
 as editors keep this sort of article cut and dry 
 for the first comical book sent in for reviewal. — I 
 really cannot take upon me to say. — I never read 
 the " Times," unless when I have lost my poodle 
 or a bunch of keys, and choose to ascertain that 
 my advertisement has been correctly inserted. 
 The notice is to run as follows : — 
 
 CECIL ; or the Adventures of a Coxcomb. — 
 3 Vols. 8vo. — JBentlei/. 
 
 " Flippancy, when it does not merely consist 
 in spirting forth commonplaces, learned by heart 
 at some early period in life, to form a stock-in- 
 trade, from which payments may be thrown out 
 pro bono publico whenever occasion shall require, 
 and which, so paradoxical in its nature, is not at 
 all diminished thereby, but still remains an inex- 
 haustible source of pleasantries and dogmas, — 
 flippancy, when more than this, is not necessarily 
 a vice. Your dull, heavy, inanimate log cannot 
 be flippant with good grace ; it requires talent to
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 skim a surface glibly, to dart among a number of 
 ideas without fathoming one. Skating is an art 
 as well as diving. To make a good flippant 
 writer, there are many requisites : his mind must 
 have been well educated ; he must have acquired 
 an easy versatility, a nice mixture of courage and 
 caution, the one to startle his reader with some 
 strange fantasy, the other to steer clear, while in 
 his rapid course, of what may be dangerous, or at 
 any rate, too much for him. If he knows nothing 
 very profoundly, he must know something of a 
 great many matters ; and just that which will suit 
 his purpose to fling into an image or point an 
 allusion. He must also catch the tone of society, 
 to pass off his little vagaries on the public ; the 
 good sense not to shock anybody, though occa- 
 sionally tempted into irreverence ; and, above all, 
 a very tolerable opinion of liimself, which he need 
 be at no pains to conceal, but should rather put 
 forward, as if his careless manner of dismissing 
 objects half-considered did not at all proceed from 
 his own incompetence to go deeper, but rather as 
 if such little things as the interests of nations,
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 philosophy, science, literature, and the fine arts, 
 were not of so much importance that his august 
 self should take too much trouble about them, 
 although very familiar with all, and perfectly 
 ready to sport good-humouredly with any. In a 
 word, your first-rate flippant writer must be a very 
 pleasant, clever, well-bred, lively, smart, slippery, 
 facetious, and last, not least, unblushing sort of 
 person." 
 
 Such is the opinion entertained of me by the 
 " Times." If, on the other hand, any gentleman 
 find cause for oflfence in these my pages, I am 
 to be found at the Traveller's any time from three 
 to eight ; or at Crockey's any time from eleven 
 to six in the morning. My weapons are Man- 
 tons. — my friends the two most long-winded 
 K. C. Bs. of the United Service. Unless prosed 
 to death previously by my seconds, I shall on the 
 slightest summons, have the honour to be, their 
 most obedient humble servant. 
 
 C. D.
 
 CECIL; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A COXCOMB. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Vanitas, — vanitatis !" 
 
 Biographers are fond of attributing the 
 dispositions of their heroes to heroic sources. 
 Since it is my fate to tell my own story. I 
 choose to tell it in my own way ; and am free 
 to confess that the leading trait of my cha- 
 racter has its origin in the first glimpse I caught 
 of myself, at twelve months old, in the swing- 
 glass of my mother's dressing-room. I looked, 
 and became a coxcomb for life ! 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 '^ CECIL. 
 
 My Self consisted, at that epoch, of a splendid 
 satin cockade, with a puny infant face there- 
 unto attached ; while a flowing robe of em- 
 broidered cambric, four feet by ten, disguised 
 my nonentityism, — and veiled, — 
 
 Thought shrinks from all that lurked below ! 
 
 The spectacle, enhanced by a showy sash of 
 gorgeous ribbon, was the very thing to capti- 
 vate a baby''s eye ; and it was soon discovered 
 that Master Cecil was always screaming, unless 
 danced up and down by the head nurse within 
 view of the reflection of his own fascinating 
 little person. 
 
 " Take him to the glass, nurse !" was my 
 mother's invariable mode of pacifying my shrieks, 
 when my fractiousness interrupted the process 
 of her toilet, rendering it inconvenient to con- 
 template her beauties in her own. " Take him 
 to the glass, poor little fellow !' He loves to 
 look at his ribbons fluttering in the light." 
 
 I suspect that, even then, what I loved to
 
 CECIL. 3 
 
 look at, was the same personal reflection tliat 
 delighted the eyes of her ladyship. But no 
 matter. 
 
 When my little self, or rather my great 
 nurse, grew tired of the dancing system, there 
 were other glittering objects in my mother's 
 sanctum which I found almost equally attractive, 
 — jewels, feathers, flowers, and frippery of all 
 descriptions. I usually visited her at dressing- 
 time. The baby was less in her ladyship's way 
 while' adoring, 
 
 With liGcad uncover'd, the cosmetic pow'rs, 
 than when adored, in her turn, by the men 
 of wit and pleasure about town ; Colonels in 
 the Guards, and Memberlings of parliament, 
 who had the honour of being inscribed in the 
 list of the young and fashionable Lady Orming- 
 ton. As soon as I grew old enough to roll 
 about the Axminster carpet, the rich garlands 
 interwoven in whose soft tissue delighted my 
 eyes by their gay colours, the nurse was desired 
 to leave me ; and while the lady-mother and 
 
 B 2
 
 4 CECIL. 
 
 the lady's-maid were engrossed in their mys- 
 teries, paying no more attention to me than 
 / to my neglected rattle, I watched unnoticed 
 the play of the waving satin train they were 
 adjusting, the glitter of the diamond tiara, and 
 the turn of the snowy feather. Gewgaws were 
 my earliest playthings ; and my primer consisted 
 of the flourishing capitals at the head of a mil- 
 liner's bill. 
 
 I have described my face as puny; but I 
 know not why I pay it so poor a compliment, 
 since tfi'ere is no one to gainsay me and do it 
 rightly ; for it was unquestionably to my per- 
 sonal charms I was indebted for my entree into 
 Lady Ormington's sanctum sanctorum. I was 
 the first of her children admitted to be danced 
 before her glass, or roll upon her soft carpet. 
 Yet I had a brother and a sister ; a brother 
 destined to inherit the honours of the family ; 
 and a sister born, it was to be hoped, to share 
 its aflfections. But the Honourable John squinted, 
 and the Honourable Julia had red hair ; and our
 
 CECIL. ^ 
 
 lady-mother was as heartily ashamed of them 
 both, as if they had been palmed upon her 
 from the workhouse. 
 
 From the day of my birth, on the contrary, 
 nurses and toadies were unanimous in protest- 
 ing that / was the living image of my sweet 
 mamma; and as my sweet mamma was the 
 daughter of a country Squire, whose face had 
 been her fortune, and whose fortune it was to 
 win the heart and hand, or rather the hand and 
 coronet, of the Right Honourable Lord Orming- 
 ton, she might be reasonably excused Tot some 
 maternal partiality for her miniature, adorned 
 with a satin cockade and twelve yards of su- 
 perfine French cambric. 
 
 My mother's instinctive vocation was for the 
 toilet. Her beauty had been her st^ping-stone 
 to distinction ; and she seemed to think too much 
 care could not be bestowed on its adornment, as 
 devotees erect a shrine to a favourite divinity. 
 It was true, the worship was gratuitous. There 
 was nothing further to gain ; no more hands, at
 
 6 CECIL. 
 
 least, and no more coronets. As for hearts, it is 
 to be hoped that Lady Ormington neither bran- 
 dished the powder-pufF, nor spread the rustling 
 hoop, with any mal-intentions towards those fra- 
 gile superfluities of the human frame divine. 
 
 But if fashionable notoriety constituted the 
 object of her desires, the ambition was gratified. 
 There was an Ormington ^joz^/", and an Ormington 
 vis-a-vis; an Ormington green and an Orming- 
 ton minuet. In those unlettered times Annuals 
 were not : but the languishing portrait, limned 
 by Cosway, was charmingly engraved by Barto- 
 lozzi ; and the Right Hon. Lady Ormington, 
 leaning on a demi-column, with " Sacred to friend- 
 ship ^' engraven on the plinth, a stormy sunset 
 in the background, and a bantam-legged silken 
 spaniel staring its eyes out in the foreground, 
 figured in all the printsellers' windows ; immor- 
 talized by certain stanzas, silken as the spaniel and 
 flat as the landscape, from what Dr. Johnson and 
 courtesy used to call " the charming pen of ^rs. 
 Greville."
 
 CECIL. 7 
 
 I recollect contriving to convert the favourite 
 scarf of her ladyship into a bridle for my rock- 
 ing-horse, on the day when the said engraving, 
 richly framed, was first placed in her boudoir. 
 So delighted was she with the print, (which, I 
 concluded, was intended as a cadeau, for I never 
 saw it again,) that she magnanimously overlooked 
 my misdemeanour. 
 
 There was something else, by the way, which 
 we all seemed inclined to overlook ; i. e. the Right 
 Honourable Lord Ormington. I hardly recollect 
 hearing his name mentioned, either in the dress- 
 ing-room, drawing-room, or nursery. The scho- 
 larship derived from the important great letters 
 heading the Christmas bill of Madame Lebrun, 
 had not assisted me a sufficient number of steps 
 up the ladder of learning to enable me to deci- 
 pher the newspapers, even if my " sweet mamma" 
 had not been too fine a lady to admit them into 
 her boudoir ; or I might have found it written 
 down there in malice, that his Lordship was one 
 of the heaviest prosers, supporting, in the Upper
 
 8 CECIL. 
 
 House, the country-gentleman interest of Great 
 Britain. As it was, I knew nothing about him, 
 except that there was a cross, gaunt, pig-tailed old 
 fellow, much scouted by the livery of the house, 
 who went by the name of " my Lord''s own man ;"" 
 and that every evening, as the under-nurse was 
 hushing us off to sleep, the rumble of wheels from 
 the door of our house in Hanover Square used 
 to be hailed with a remark of — " There he goes 
 to the 'ouse ; — much good may it do "'em ! "— 
 
 Upon whom his Lordship's departure for the 
 House was likely to confer a benefit, I was not of 
 an age to trouble my head. Let us hope that the 
 nurses pluralized the nation ; referring the collec- 
 tive interests of the three kingdoms to the col- 
 lective wisdom of Parliament. 
 
 Time progressed. I had fallen in the world 
 four feet and a cockade — from my nurse's arms to 
 a go-cart. To contemplate myself in the glass, I 
 was now forced to climb into a chair. But I was 
 rewarded for my pains. The puny face had ex- 
 panded into a fine open countenance, surrounded
 
 CECIL. i> 
 
 by hyacinthine curls. Impossible to see a more 
 charming little fellow ! Lady Ormington seemed 
 to fancy that everybody was as pleased to look at 
 me, as / was to look at myself; for I now super- 
 seded the spaniel in the Ormington vis-a-vis, and 
 was as constantly seen lounging out of one win- 
 dow as Sir Lionel Dashwood lounging in at the 
 other. Many people fancied they could discern 
 a resemblance between us. For my part, I think 
 Sir Lionel bore a much stronger affinity to the 
 spaniel, my predecessor, both in point of fawning* 
 and foolishness. I don''t know why I abuse him, 
 though ; for, while he never alluded to John and 
 Julia otherwise than as " those unfortunate crea- 
 tures," he invariably qualified myself as " Cecil, 
 my boy !'' or, — " There 's a darling !" — 
 
 I can scarcely say whether it were Lord Or- 
 mington's predilections, or my mother's, that kept 
 us resident in town eight months of the year. 
 The only point on which they seemed to feel in 
 common, was a detestation of Ormington Hall : 
 perhaps because, at the family place, there was no 
 
 B 5
 
 10 CECIL. 
 
 pretext of parliament or parties to keep them 
 asunder. My sweet mamma, however, usually 
 spent her summers at Spa, occasionally visiting 
 Paris ; and the breaking out of the war was a 
 serious evil to a family which it reduced to the 
 necessity of domestic peace. I remember feeling 
 as strongly inclined to join the outcry against 
 Pitt and Cobourg as the Convention ; for, while 
 John and Julia were left safe at the Hall, I had 
 always been promoted to the honours of La Sau- 
 veniere ; and the rooks, the avenue, and Dr. 
 Droneby, were antipathetic to my nature. I was 
 really in despair at the closing of the Continent ! 
 Bonbons^ marechale powder, chocolat de sante, 
 pommade a la vanille — how were we to exist 
 without these necessaries of life ? What was 
 to become of England, and her stupid martello- 
 towers, — the Pitt-posts, as they were called — 
 for which the country was to supply railing ! — 
 
 A worse evil than war, however, impended over 
 me. John had long disappeared from the nursery. 
 On returning from our last expedition to Flan-
 
 CECIL. 11 
 
 ders, we found that, during our absence, the 
 young gentleman had been made over to roast 
 mutton, Latin grammar, and Dr. Droneby ; while 
 Miss Julia was transferred to a school-room as 
 cold as a church, and a governess as stately as 
 the steeple. The head-nurse, who had presided 
 over my cockade, seemed to think it a good rid- 
 dance. A similar opinion was expressed by Lord 
 Ormington and his own man, when, six months 
 afterwards, the lady herself was postchaised off 
 from the hall in one direction, while I was post?- 
 chaised off in another to a preparatory purga- 
 tory at Chiswick ; where they began with me 
 as in a lunatic asylum, by cutting off my 
 curls, choosing my head to be as unfurnished 
 without as within. I remember weeping bit- 
 terly for the loss of my nurse and my locks. 
 I was ashamed to look myself in the face after 
 being shorn thus vilely. But the only look- 
 ing-glass within reach was a thing as large, as 
 a half-crown, in the lid of an enamel bonbonniere, 
 given me at parting by my mother. Moreover,
 
 12 CECIL. 
 
 I dared not cry too loud over my disfigurement ; 
 for the horrible Dalilah by whom my clustering 
 curls had been curtailed, talked of corduroys, 
 highlows, and a leathern cap, in case I was re- 
 fractory. The dread of seeing myself transformed 
 into an errand-boy suppressed my tears. 
 
 Let me pass lightly over my school-days, 
 though, Heaven knows, they passed heavily 
 enough over me ! Biographers, whether of them- 
 selves or others, seem to luxuriate in pictures 
 of academic innocence. For my part, I have 
 a horror of birch and bread-and-milk, even in 
 reminiscence. There is something excruciating 
 to a well-born young gentleman in being reduced 
 to the toilet of a Newfoundland dog; viz. a 
 rousing shake, a plunge into cold water, and 
 the eternal rusty coat of the day before. 
 
 Even at Eton, I was a miserable dog. In the 
 first place, because I was called Danby Junior 
 (The Honourable John having the advantage of 
 me) ; and in the second, because the duncehood, 
 which had been passed over as a minor evil at the
 
 CECIL. 13 
 
 preparatory, seemed likely to be flogged out of 
 me among the antique towers where " grateful 
 Science still adorns her Henry's holy shade," and 
 where humbugging tutors still adore the flagella- 
 tion of innocent defaulters in classic lore. John 
 was a regular sap — Droneby and roast mutton 
 had made a scholar of him. Ugly little brute ! 
 what was he good for but Homer and cordu- 
 roys ? — 
 
 At college, he obtained still further advantages 
 over me. He was beginning, indeed, to have 
 the best of it everywhere. From the date of the 
 abrogation of my curls, I was out of favour, even 
 in the boudoir. Sir Lionel Dashwood had been un- 
 able to repress an ejaculation of " little horror !" 
 on seeing me again ; and by the time John was 
 entered at college, a something of a paralytic 
 attack seemed to remind my sweet mamma that 
 the Right Honourable Lord Ormington was to 
 survive in her elder son, when her noble spouse 
 took up his rest in the family vault, instead of on 
 the benches of St. Stephen's.
 
 14" CECIL. 
 
 Neither he, nor I, nor Dashwood, nor even 
 Dash, were now admitted into the dressing-room. 
 Matters were growing too serious there. With 
 sons of eighteen, ladies who have stood godmother 
 to a minuet or a taffeta, are not fond of exposing 
 to investigation the mystery of their washes and 
 pommades. The Jlacons, which formerly con- 
 tained bouquet de Florence or verveine, now held 
 the lights and shades of her ladyship's com- 
 plexion. Blue veins were sealed in one packet, 
 and a rising blush was corked up in a crystal phial. 
 Eyebrows — eyelashes — lips — cheeks — chin — 
 an ivory forehead, and a pearly row of teeth, — all 
 were indebted for their. irresistibilities to a certain 
 Pandora's box of a dressing-case, furnished by 
 Thevenot, which sent forth Lady Ormington, 
 full-armed for conquest, like the goddess that 
 emerged from the brain of the father of the gods. 
 
 But her ladyship was no longer the same wo- 
 man as in the days of the spaniel and the cock- 
 ade. It was not alone because Dashwood was 
 in the Bench and I out of favour, that, I dis-
 
 CECIL. 15 
 
 covered a change. But she was growing almost 
 domestic, almost reasonable. She had given up 
 balls, — would not hear of an opera-box, — and for 
 a year and a half scarcely stirred out of her own 
 boudoir. In place of Sir Lionel there was a 
 pet apothecary, who came every day with his 
 little budget of scandal, just as Madame Lebrun 
 had formerly made her appearance with her little 
 box of laces ; and though certain persons, to wit, 
 two old-maidenly sisters of Lord Ormington, two 
 card-playing, blue, Honourable Misses Danby, 
 with brown-holland complexions and tongues of 
 a still deeper dye, protested that the only dis- 
 order afflicting their noble sister-in-law was an 
 ugly daughter, of an age' to be presented at 
 court, her ladyship resigned herself to the sacri- 
 fices exacted by an elegant valetudinarianism. 
 
 In winter, she seldom rose till candle-light ; 
 in summer, the muslin curtains of her chamber 
 were never undrawn. A perpetual demi-jour 
 surrounded her. Though blessing her stars for 
 not being hereditarily exposed to the cruel
 
 16 CECIL. 
 
 revelations of the peerage, so as to be hope- 
 lessly branded with the shame of having at- 
 tained her eight-and-thirtieth year, she could 
 not blind herself to the fact, as betrayed in 
 the very looking-glass which had exercised so 
 singular an influence over my nature. Eight- 
 and-thirty was written there^ in words as ter- 
 rible as those of Belshazzar's warning, — even in 
 characters of crowds-feet ! — 
 
 Eight-and- thirty is a frightful epoch in the 
 life of a woman of fashion. Hot rooms and 
 cosmetics place it on a level with fifty, in the 
 lady of a country Squire. The struggle be- 
 tween departing youth and coming age is never 
 more awful'! A little older, and the case be- 
 comes too clear for dispute. At forty, she 
 gives up the field, allowing that time has the 
 best of it. But for the five preceding years, 
 those years during which, though no longer 
 pretty, a woman may be still handsome, the 
 tug of war is terrific. A woman never prizes 
 her beauty half so much as when it is forsaking
 
 CECIL. 17 
 
 her ; never comprehends the value of raven locks 
 till revealed by the contrast of the first grey 
 hair ; never finds out that her waist was slim 
 and her form graceful, till she has been accused 
 of enbonpoint. 
 
 Brother coxcombs ! if you would have a pro- 
 per value set upon your homage, pay your 
 court to a woman of eight-and-thirty. The 
 flutter of a little miss of sixteen, is nothing 
 to the agitation with which the poor grateful 
 soul uplifts her head above the waters of ob- 
 livion, in which she was succumbing. At that 
 crisis a dreadful revolution occurs in the female 
 heart. The finer sensibilities have lost their 
 edge; self- veneration is impaired by the slights 
 of society: the injustice of the world, in scan- 
 dalizing virtue and exalting vice, has produced, 
 par contrecoup, a peevish misappreciation of 
 the value of reputation. After all, was it worth 
 while to break so many hearts ? Others, less 
 cruel, are more respected. She puzzles herself 
 in wondering whether they are more happy.
 
 18 CECIL. 
 
 It is a dangerous thing to wonder on such sub- 
 jects. It is like a hypochondriac feeling the 
 edge of a razor. 
 
 At forty, she wonders no longer. She has 
 resumed her trust in excellence, her reverence 
 for the spotlessness of virtue ; thanks Heaven 
 for her escape ; and renouncing for ever the in- 
 fluence of the puppies, betakes herself for conso- 
 lation to the tabbies. Cards, — universal panacea ! 
 — cards that knit up the ravelled sleeve of care, 
 boon Nature's kind restorer, balmy cards, — in- 
 spire her with a new insight into the purposes 
 of existence ! Lovelace himself might do his 
 worst ! The votary of whist 
 
 In matron meditation, fancy free ! 
 
 One might almost fancy it easier to be a grand- 
 •mother than a mother ! — 
 
 ' Foreseeing no improvement to Lady Orming- 
 ton'^s delicacy of health, my father at length 
 decided that Julia should be introduced into 
 society by his sisters. So much the better for
 
 CECIL. 19 
 
 her ! The poor girl, who was really plain, looked 
 twenty times as well in contrast with their fright- 
 ful faces, as when approximated with her sweet 
 mamma''s still lovely features. Julia was not 
 altogether amiss, when seen between Miss Mary 
 and Miss Agatha Danby. 
 
 Lord Ormington generously provided them 
 with a family coach and an opera-box ; and the 
 daughter, of whom his right honourable lady had 
 seen so little during her schoolday martyrdom, 
 took up her quarters with her maiden aunts in 
 Queen Anne Street, almost without her absence 
 being perceived ; leaving the woman of eight- 
 and- thirty to hope that the beau-monde would 
 not trouble itself to trace the connection be- 
 tween the beautiful Lady Ormington, and a 
 Miss Danby in the enjoyment of red hair and 
 eighteen years of age. 
 
 Of Julia, beyond this, I knew nothing. Hav- 
 ing seen her banished by my mother, . and sharing 
 to the utmost her ladyship's abhorrence of the 
 Judas complexion, I looked upon her as a species
 
 20 CECIL. 
 
 of Paria. Of all physical defects, red hair is one 
 of the least remediable. The blackest of wigs 
 only renders the disfigurement more glaring. Ap- 
 ply what pigment you will to the eyebrows, the 
 lashes remain a burning accusation. Nay, were 
 even the eyelashes put in mourning, there is a 
 peculiarity of complexion induced by the coat- 
 ing of the epidermis, as ineffaceable as the black- 
 ness of the Ethiopian or the spots of the leopard. 
 I scarcely wondered that Lady Ormington should 
 give up Julia as hopeless. Who would marry 
 her ? — Who perpetuate in his race a stigma so 
 repellent ? — Unless Miss Mary and Miss Aga- 
 tha were kind enough to die, leaving her their 
 heiress, she must inevitably succeed to their 
 honours of honourable single blessedness. 
 
 I have survived to see wondrous reforms in 
 Great Britain, even leaving out of the question 
 that of its United Parliament. In the days of 
 my cockadehood, it was cited as an exemplary 
 thing on the part of the charming Lady Orm- 
 ington, to have even one of her three children
 
 CECIL. SJi 
 
 sprawling about her dressing-room. The elegiac 
 poets wrote verses about it ; and every other 
 ugly little anecdote affecting her renown, was 
 hushed at the clubs by the rejoinder of — " but 
 then she is such a mother ! " — 
 
 The cockade generation of succeeding times 
 is far better off in the world. The cockade 
 generation of to-day is at a premium. One 
 might fancy all the little boys one meets were 
 heirs apparent, 
 
 " For them, the Tyrian murrey swimmeth ;" 
 and all the little girls, countesses in embryo. 
 They are not only clothed in purple and fine 
 linen, Flanders lace and Oriental cashmeres, 
 but we hear of nursery governesses, nursery 
 footmen, the childrens"* carriage, the childrens' 
 pair of horses ! — Now that Turkey is brought 
 down from her stilts, I am of opinion that the 
 only despotism extant in Europe is the nursery- 
 archy of Great Britain, with its viziers and ja- 
 nizaries, — head nurses and apothecaries, — ladies' 
 doctors and Lilliputian warehouses. — I thank
 
 22 CECIL. 
 
 Heaven, I was born a coxcomb, for coxcombs 
 are bachelors by prescriptive right ; and it would 
 have stung me to the soul' to find myself tied 
 down like Gulliver, in my middle age, by the 
 authority of a regiment of pigmies. 
 
 To return to my mother. No sooner had 
 Julia grappled herself so fast to the fond bosoms 
 of her maiden aunts that they proposed to her 
 parents retaining her as a permanent inmate, than 
 Lady Ormington was pleased to accomplish the 
 recovery of her health. Luckily for her, a great 
 revolution had occurred during her seclusion : 
 and revolutions in politics have the singular 
 faculty of accomplishing revolutions in dress, — 
 as the moment -hand and hour-hand of a dial 
 are actuated by the same movement. The Reign 
 of Terror had frightened people out of their 
 wits, and out of their hair-powder. Buckles 
 had given place to shoe-ties ; and love-locks 
 and chignons to crops a la victime, and d la 
 guillotine. London, it is true, had not ap- 
 proached nearer to revolutionary terrors than
 
 CECIL. 2S 
 
 by making a bonfire of Lord Mansfield's wig 
 and MSS. But being accustomed to accept 
 its fashions from Paris, neat as imported, their 
 powder went off, and their locks were polled, 
 as though the clubs and the coteries of St. 
 James's Street and Hanover Square, had pre- 
 pared themselves for the cart or the scaffold. 
 
 The transformation thus effected was pecu- 
 liarly favourable to Lady Ormington. The hair, 
 so long snowed over by the powder-puff, came 
 out a rich auburn ; and in her Roman crop and 
 a tunic a PAgrippine, she was still a bewitch- 
 ing creature. Several of her adorers underwent 
 a relapse ; and we all know that a relapse is the 
 most fatal period of a disorder. 
 
 All I now knew of her ladyship's triumphs, 
 however, was derived from the newspapers. I 
 was banished from her presence, from the mo- 
 ment of my degradation into a schoolboy; Even 
 after being entered at Christ Church, I re- 
 mained an exile from her good graces. On 
 taking leave of her on my way to the Univer-
 
 24 CECIL. 
 
 sity, she complained bitterly that my father 
 should send me to Oxford. " What was the 
 use of college ? — I should only become a brute 
 of a fox-hunter ! — It was quite enough for John 
 to acquire a taste for buckskins and High Tory- 
 ism, without infecting me with those Oxonian 
 propensities. She wished me to go straight into 
 the Guards. I knew quite enough for the 
 Guards. The humiliation of maternity would 
 be less galling, if she had a son in the Guards. 
 In the Guards, I should be on the spot to 
 swear at her chairmen when drunk, or her coach- 
 man if disorderly. John was unpresentable ; 
 but, if properly drilled and tutored, dressed 
 and re-dressed, she should not be so much 
 ashamed of me^ when on guard among the 
 Guards ! "— 
 
 An involuntary smile overspread my features 
 while hinting my suspicions that I was intended by 
 my father for the Church ; and a faint shriek burst 
 from Lady Ormington's lips at the announcement. 
 The horror of being mother to a parson ! — a li-
 
 CECIL. 25 
 
 censed dealer in sermons, — a privileged preacher 
 of prose, — a fellow in a black coat, holding a 
 patent to exhort her to repentance ! After all, I 
 believe some feeling of maternal affection lingered 
 at the bottom of her heart ; for, as I held the 
 salts-bottle to her nose, she faintly ejaculated, 
 " Cecil ! were I to see you in a shovel- hat, I 
 would not survive it ! " — The idea of the cockade 
 of my infancy, the Antinous^ curls of my boy- 
 hood, giving place to a shovel, was too much for 
 her ! — 
 
 It would have been far too much fov me ! I, 
 Cecil Danby, whose name was already whispered 
 in St. James's Street, as having taxed my bill at 
 the Christopher on account of a semi-tone too 
 much in the complexion of the ceil de perdrix, at 
 my last dinner-party, — /, to be swamped in a 
 country-parsonage ! It is true, my father's church 
 patronage was such as a bishop might have en- 
 vied; it is true, his lordship's parliamentary 
 interest was such as might in time have made me 
 a bishop — But the wig ! — "^Angels and ministers 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 CECIL. 
 
 of grace " (and of the Chiircli of England,) de- 
 fend us, — the episcopal wig ! I could almost as 
 soon have borne to defy the derision of puppy- 
 life as a Judge or a Lord Chancellor ! — 
 
 It did not much signify. Alma Mater proved 
 as little in conceit with me as Lady Ormington. 
 In less than a year of my matriculation, I was 
 rusticated : why, it is not my province or pleasure 
 to communicate to the reader. If my contem- 
 porary, he may happen to know ; if my junior, 
 let him read, mark, and learn in the archives of 
 my college. Le secret di'ennuyer est celui de 
 tout dire ; and autobiographers are consequently 
 the greatest bores of the press. I love a little 
 mystery. So did the public, till Mrs. Radcliffe 
 gave them a surfeit of it. The only mysteries in 
 fashion now-a-days are speeches from the throne 
 and visitation sermons. 
 
 I commenced this chronicle of my adventures 
 with a predetermination against " University In- 
 telligence." College life, — a cursed vulgar, stupid 
 thing in itself, — has been writtefh down still lower
 
 CECIL. 27 
 
 of late years by smart periodicals and fashionable 
 novelists. Instead, therefore, of sketches of 
 Christchurch in the year of (dis)grace 180 — , 
 suffer me to favour you, gentle public, with the 
 " Portrait of a Young Gentleman," as I figured 
 that season in the eyes of the fair sex and the 
 foul, in the city of high-churchmen and sausages. 
 Standing five feet seven in my pumps, and five 
 feet ten in my boots, with a trifling hint of the 
 Piping Faun softening the severity of my Roman 
 nose and finely-chiselled mouth, I should, per- 
 haps, have passed for effeminate, but that the 
 sentimental school was just then in the ascend- 
 ant. People went to the play to cry at the 
 " Stranger" or " Penruddock," and subscribed to 
 a circulating-library to weep over " The Father 
 and Daughter." The severest poetry tolerated 
 by May Fair was that of Hayley, William 
 Spencer, and Samuel Rogers. In short, people 
 had supped full of horrors during the Revolu- 
 tion, and were now devoted to elegiac measures. 
 My languid smile and hazel eyes were the very 
 
 c 2
 
 '28 CECIL. 
 
 thing to settle the business of the devoted beings 
 left for execution. 
 
 Self-reliance was one of the strong points of 
 my character. I had always a predisposition to 
 woman slaughter, with extenuating circumstances, 
 as well as a stirring consciousness of the exter- 
 minating power. But, as the most tremendous- 
 looking piece of ordnance is non-existent for her 
 Majesty''s service, till after progressing through 
 the department of the proving-house at Wool- 
 wich Warren, I almost blushed for my own beau- 
 ties, till they had been labelled with the fiat 
 of " deadly poison" by the experience of the 
 angelic sex. 
 
 I attained my majority without a catastrophe — 
 the cause of much heart-burning, but not a single 
 heart-break ! The plebeian conquests of the Uni- 
 versity, or the sighs of the lady*'s-maid and vicar s 
 daughter at Ormington Hall are unworthy of 
 record ; their sensibility being quite as much at 
 the service of my elder brother, with his fright- 
 ful phiz and ill-built coat. My pen lends itself
 
 CECIL. 29 
 
 only to adventures proper and specific to the 
 Honourable Cecil Danby, the arch-coxcomb of 
 his coxcombical times. 
 
 Not that I was without rivals near the throne. 
 At Oxford, where my acquaintance lay more 
 among the moderns than the ancients, I picked 
 up, or truth to say, was picked up, by a man — 
 ay, a man ! — though I, but six months his junior, 
 remained a boy, — destined to play a distinguished 
 part on the stage of puppyism. In the course, 
 of my first lounge down the High Street, I was 
 rash enough to show my rawness by inquiring the 
 name of a figure much resembling one of the 
 models serving as signs to a Parisian clothes- 
 shop ; and, " Not know Jack Harris.'^"" was the 
 bitter reproof of my ignorance concerning one 
 never, of course, heard of beyond the bounds of 
 the University. 
 
 I did not know Jack Harris ; and I suspect 
 no one knew him less than my rebuker, who was 
 no other than my whipper-snapper cousin Lord 
 Squeamy. But I was willing to extend my
 
 so CECIL. 
 
 knowledge ; and Squeamy accordingly chirrupped 
 in my ear that Harris was a nobody, who had 
 made himself somebody, and gave the law to 
 everybody. This was accomplished per force of 
 some talent and much impudence. Squeamy did 
 not call it impudence. The word was too sub- 
 stantive for his puny lips. He called it coolness. 
 " Jack Harris was the coolest fellow in the 
 world ! " 
 
 " A man of family ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows."*' 
 
 " A man of fortune ? " 
 
 " Nobody has an idea." 
 
 " He must indeed be cool and clever then," 
 was my secret reflection, " to have kept his se- 
 cret among people so distinguished by inquisi- 
 tiveness and ill-manners, as the academic youth 
 of Britain." 
 
 I soon discovered, in my proper person, that 
 Jack Harris was something more than impudent. 
 He was impertinent. Impudence is the quality 
 of a footman ; impertinence, of his master. Im-
 
 CECIL. 31 
 
 pudence is a thing to be rebutted with brute 
 force; impertinence requires wit for the putting 
 down. Had Jack Harris been simply impudent, 
 he would have been repaid with a kick ; he was 
 impertinent, and his superiority was recognised 
 with a low bow. 
 
 His talents, meanwhile, received still higher 
 recognition. Some time previous to my rusti- 
 cation, Jack Harris took an honour. He had 
 probably tact to perceive that he was not suffi-^ 
 ciently well-born to aspire to the honours of 
 duncehood. It sat well upon such fellows as 
 Squeamy and myself to defy all pretence to 
 scholarship ; for in college life there is no middle 
 course^ for a nobleman. A lord must be cited 
 either for the highest acquirements, or the bold- 
 est contempt of them ; whereas your Jack Har- 
 ris, or your John Thompson, Esquire, is bound 
 to afford evidence of possessing the plebeian use 
 of his faculties. Harris quitted college, accord- 
 ingly^^ with the reputation of being an excellent 
 scholar, wanting only application to be the first
 
 32 CECIL. 
 
 man of his year. No one had ever seen him 
 with a book or a pen in his hand ; and my sub- 
 sequent knowledge of him has often led me to 
 conjecture how hard must have been the course 
 of secret study, by which he enabled himself to 
 reconcile the pursuits of a man of pleasure with 
 the acquirements of a sap. 
 
 The first thing that startled me in Jack, was 
 his refusing to make my acquaintance. I could 
 detect the negative air with which he received a 
 proposal to that effect, whispered by that ninny 
 of ninnies, Squeamy. Involuntarily, his eyebrow 
 became elevated, and his lip depressed ; saying as 
 plain as lip and eyebrow could speak, — " thank 
 you — I know quite enough of the family." At 
 that moment I should have had much pleasure in 
 knocking him down ; but, as I said before, it is 
 impudence and not impertinence that challenges 
 physical correction. I accordingly prepared my- 
 self for moral castigation of his offence. 
 
 Ten days afterwards, at the close of a supper- 
 party in which I distinguished myself by the
 
 CECIL. 3S 
 
 display of certain saucinesses studied in my boy- 
 hood under Sir Lionel, Jack carelessly requested 
 the favour of an introduction. 
 
 Squeamy's lack-lustre eye was upon me. I 
 saw' a smile of triumph almost irradiate his un- 
 meaning face, evidently anticipating an act of 
 retribution. Had he been at my elbow, he 
 would doubtless have suggested a dead cut. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure !" cried I, rising 
 and offering my hand to the offender. " The ^ 
 acquaintance cannot fail to be a mutual benefit. 
 I shall be proud to place my rawness under the 
 tutorage of Mr. Harris, as regards the habits and 
 customs of that part of His Majesty's dominions 
 called Oxford ; and equally pleased to afford him 
 some hints concerning those of a less circum- 
 script region, denominated the world." 
 
 The blow was felt, and resented as it deserved ; 
 that is, by a pressure of the hand denoting sym- 
 pathy and bad fellowship. As Saladin and 
 Coeur de Lion may have rushed into each other^'s 
 embrace after the mutual trial of skill described 
 
 c 5
 
 34 CECIL. 
 
 by Scott in " The Talisman," the two coxcombs 
 recognised each other's merits by a secret sign, 
 mystic as the tokens of free masonry. — We be- 
 came allies for life ! 
 
 Jack Harris was an amusing fellow, — that is, 
 amusing for the University. I should never 
 have got rusticated, but from the ennui con- 
 sequent upon his quitting Oxford. In my 
 own defence, I was forced to descend to the 
 vulgar exploits of gownsmen to keep myself 
 awake. 
 
 On arriving in town after undergoing the ex- 
 treme penalty of the law (of the University), I 
 underwent, of course, a further sentence of pa- 
 rental condemnation. Lord Ormington favoured 
 me with a longer sentence than I had ever heard 
 from his lips. *' I expected no better of you," 
 said he; " you have disgraced yourself, and 
 done justice to my prognostications."*' Lady 
 Ormington merely observed, " Rusticated ! — 
 What is rusticated ? " — and on learning that the 
 verb had no reference to rusticity, was satisfied
 
 CECIL. 35 
 
 that it meant something very incomprehensible 
 and very uninteresting ; like the capitals M.A. 
 or D.D., which she had never been able to in- 
 terpret otherwise, than a Double Dose of divi- 
 nity, and More Anon of promised preferment. 
 
 But Jack Harris was better versed in the 
 obliquities of the case, as well as more inclined 
 to dissert thereon, than either my genitor or 
 genitrix. 
 
 " A sad affair !" said he, gravely, at the con- 
 clusion of my narrative. " I fear, my dear Cec, 
 (or as the Clubs would write it) Cis, you stand 
 convicted of heinous vulgarisms. Think how 
 your prospects in life might be injured by the 
 rumour that you have condescended to break 
 lamps, and carry your poodle to chapel, like 
 any other blackguard of fashion. With respect 
 to expulsion, to a man in your position in life 
 it is xather a feather in your cap. Next to a 
 high honour, it was your only mode of obtaining 
 college eminence. You had no professional pro- 
 spects to injure ; and people of the world attach
 
 86 CECIL. 
 
 little importance to the pranks of a gentleman 
 commoner, which implies only a sillier sort of 
 schoolboy." 
 
 Instead of being affronted, I congratulated him 
 in my turn upon the exquisiteness of the little Lon- 
 don snuggery in which he had installed himself. 
 
 "I don't complain!'' replied Jack, looking 
 round with an air of ineffable coxcombry upon 
 furniture composeji of the richest foreign woods 
 and marbles. " I am an easy fellow in these 
 particulars. Provided things are clean and com- 
 fortable, I make no pretence to ostentation .'"' 
 
 " I suspect you have a pretension to non- 
 ostentation," said I, — " the less vulgar affecta- 
 tion, perhaps, of the two."" 
 
 " Not so bad, for a beginning ! " retorted Jack 
 Harris, coolly. " You are, however, safe in venting 
 your sarcasms on my establishment ; for it will 
 be long enough before you set up a household 
 of your own, to incur retaliation. Yours, my 
 dear Cis, will be the poet's and the younger 
 brother's portion, an airy attic, containing three
 
 CECIL. 37 
 
 cane-bottomed chairs and a painted chest of 
 drawers." 
 
 " Had you heard the admonishment with 
 which Lord Ormington received me this nrorn- 
 ing, you might have judged it problematical 
 whether he would afford me either lodging or 
 board," said I, laughing. 
 
 " You will be bored enough, I fancy, if he 
 should afford you lodging ! " cried Jack, know- 
 ingly ; " or rather, his lordship's lodging will 
 prove harder than board." 
 
 " I should be somewhat soft to accept it," 
 replied I. " If I can persuade him to continue 
 my Oxford allowance, I will look out a bach- 
 elor den, within distance of the Clubs and the 
 Opera, and — " 
 
 " Get through the probation of your whelp- 
 hood as best you may ! " interrupted Jack. 
 '' Cis, my boy ! — take my advice on the matter. 
 As long as you can, live at free quarters. If I 
 had Lord Ormington's house in Hanover Square 
 to fall back upon, his man-cook, and choice cellar
 
 38 CECIL. 
 
 of wines, (as the auctioneers have it,) would I 
 mulct myself, think you, of rent and taxes at the 
 rate of ten guineas per inch, for a snail-shell in 
 Dean Street, Park Lane ? — / have my way to 
 make in town ; yours is made for you. Between 
 ourselves, Cis, it was my intention, on quitting 
 Oxford, not to consort with a single fellow less 
 than ten years my senior. At your age and mine, 
 one must live for one's improvement. No man 
 has a right to study his pleasure or convenience, 
 till after thirty. It takes till then to make up 
 his mind and his charact-er. Once established, 
 let him follow the bent of his inclinations.^' 
 
 "You intend, then,'' cried I, interrupting 
 him, " to improve yourself by the society of 
 fogrums ? " — 
 
 " I intended/, — but I recant. You, my old 
 chum, shall march hand in hand with me in the 
 path of perfectionment. We have been boys 
 together, — we will cease to be boys together, or 
 rather together we will learn to be men — " 
 
 " Of fashion — " added I, " for such I conceive
 
 CECIL. 39 
 
 to be the object of what you call making up a 
 character. But for my part, I frankly tell you 
 that, having as you say Lord Ormington's house, 
 cook, and cellar, — such as they are, — to fall back 
 upon, I shall give myself no great trouble about 
 the matter. You observed just now that I was 
 able to dispense with scholarship. I consider 
 myself at least as well able to dispense with the 
 labour of ambition.'" 
 
 " Ambition ? ''' — reiterated Jack Harris. — 
 " What signifies the object to be attained ? 
 Vart de parvenir is still the same, whether it be — 
 
 Th' applause of listening Senates to command, 
 
 or to conquer the plaudits of the Clubs. For 
 my part, T despise both ! Provided I secure the 
 roses of life, confound its laurels. — By the way, 
 Harris, where did you get that love of a waist- 
 coat ? " said I, perceiving that Jack was nettled 
 at finding his affectation outdone, and his air of 
 patronage discountenanced. 
 
 " It was got for me," he replied, with a pe-
 
 40 CECIL. 
 
 culiar smile. " These rumours of wars make 
 one shudder to think how soon the Continent 
 may close again, to the utter discouragement of 
 our attempts at humanization. There is only 
 Paris for a waistcoat ! — London produces buck- 
 skins and boots, — Germany has its coats, — but 
 nothing like Paris for a waistcoat ! ^' — 
 
 I saw he was determined I should inquire 
 into the origin of his^ and disappointed him. 
 But I could scarcely support the air avantageux 
 with which he first glanced at the pattern and 
 then at me, as if with a tacit assertion of supe- 
 riority. That the waistcoat was neither French 
 nor a gift, I was persuaded. Jack would not, 
 however, have troubled himself to assume the 
 air of a man a bonnes fortunes, but for a fore- 
 gone conclusion. 
 
 " By the way, Cis,"" said he, when, after ta- 
 king leave of him, I was about to retread the 
 miniature staircase carpeted in all directions to 
 the briak, so that neither the blind mole nor 
 Jack Harris could hear a foot fall, — '* one little
 
 CECIL 41 
 
 piece of advice, — the advice of a man who has 
 six months the start of you on the pave — in our 
 case more than six years — the smart of my expe- 
 rience being yet recent. — Drop Oxford ! Be not 
 a hint of the ' damned spot' perceptible, either 
 in the garnish of your discourse or of your gar- 
 ments. A man fresh from the University is 
 sure to be leavened with slang or pedantry. 
 Avoid both ! — Cut the college cut, — or prepare to 
 be cut in your turn ! " 
 
 I could have killed him for the protecting 
 air with which he uttered this warning. I was 
 Lord Ormington's son, that is, I was Lady 
 Ormington's son. Who was Jack Harris, that 
 he should assume to be a plummet over me ? 
 Alas ! it was less who he was, than what he w^as, 
 that endowed him with the right ! He was 
 a monstrous clever fellow ; or, with a problema- 
 tical fortune and doubtful origin, he would not 
 have come to be called Jack Harris by the best 
 men of his time. 
 
 Next to the mortification of Harris's non-
 
 42 CECIL. 
 
 chalance, was tlie dryness of my father. Lord 
 Ormington, indignant at losing in me tlie fa- 
 mily incumbent of a family living of two thou- 
 sand a year, referred me, in the fewest possible 
 words, in the fewest possible days after my ar- 
 rival in town, to his men of business, Messrs. 
 Hanmer and Snatch, of Southampton-buildings, 
 for intimation of his paternal projects for my 
 settlement in life. 
 
 There is something offensive in being des- 
 patched, even by one's father, to Southamp- 
 ton-buildings. When a gentleman intends to 
 shoot you, he refers you to his friend ; when to 
 persecute you according to the law, to his man of 
 business. I felt the menace as it was intended ; 
 but I went. Old Hanmer was my father's man. 
 In such firms, there is usually a thinking partner 
 and a talking partner. Hanmer was the talker ; 
 the partner who received orders from the clients, 
 while Snatch gave orders to the clerks. ' I had 
 seen him once or twice in my boyhood at Orm- 
 ington Hall, when he brought down a post-
 
 CECIL. 43 
 
 chaise full of deeds to be executed, and carried up 
 a post-chaise full of venison or pheasants on 
 which execution was to be done. Hanmer had a 
 good-humoured jocular face, of most unlaw yer- 
 like promise ; and was especially odious to me as 
 a man who made merry with a solemn subject. 
 I never liked Shakspeare's grave-diggers ; and 
 above all things I hate a comical physician or 
 punning lawyer, whose good humour is as nau- 
 seous as the lump of sugar in a black dose pre- 
 pared for the use of schools. 
 
 I was compelled to swallow him, however, 
 or, at least, consult him as the way-post of my 
 future career. Having borrowed a horse of 
 Jack Harris, I sauntered, at an hour when 
 least likely to find Christians in the streets, and 
 most likely to find a lawyer at his ofiice, to- 
 wards what have since been facetiously deno- 
 minated by the press, the wilds of Blooms- 
 bury. 
 
 The irritation of my mind probably rendered 
 me inarticulate in my inquiries of an odd sort
 
 44 CECIL. 
 
 of pepper-and-salt nondescript that opened the 
 door ; or, perhaps, my appearance announced 
 a person somewhat different from the usual 
 clients of Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch. For 
 instead of conveying me into the chambers of 
 the old lawyer, Pepper-and-salt ushered me to 
 a barn on the first floor, which, I suppose, called 
 itself by courtesy a drawing-room. 
 
 Having desired me to " please to step in," 
 which I did please, a certain confusion at a 
 table in one corner of the room made it ap- 
 parent that some one else was pleased to step 
 out. There was a lady seated at the table, 
 writing, drawing, sketching — no matter what, 
 who had her back towards me. But as there 
 were petticoats in the case, I took Jack Harris's 
 advice, forgot Oxford, and was civil ; begging 
 I might not disturb her, and feeling, with per- 
 fect sincerity, that whether old Hanmer's draw- 
 ing-room contained or not a piece of quizzical 
 human furniture, in addition to its quizzical 
 chairs and tables, mattered not a jot.
 
 CECIL. 45 
 
 Advancing towards the fire-place, though it 
 was April, and the weather balmy, I took up 
 that national position on the hearth-rug, from 
 which John Bull, like 
 
 Andes, giant of the western star, 
 
 Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world. 
 
 In the present instance I looked over some- 
 thing,, which was something worth looking at. 
 The fire-place commanded the table where old 
 Hanmer's better half, or quarter, his wife, or 
 daughter, or niece, was fussing together her 
 rattletraps preparatory to escape. I sup- 
 pose it was the recollection of Jack Harris's 
 waistcoat that determined me to stare her out 
 of countenance. For, to own the truth, my 
 practice was to include in one vast horde 
 (good to sew on buttons, get up fine linen, and 
 compound cheese-cakes,) all that portion of the 
 sex not entitled to walk at a coronation or kiss 
 hands on a birthday. A single glance, how- 
 ever, at the beautiful creature who was shutting
 
 46 CECIL. 
 
 up her writing-box in the corner of old Han- 
 mer''s humdrummery, brought a flush of surprise 
 to my cheek and a stammering apology to my 
 lips. 
 
 Never had I seen so sweet a face, so grace- 
 ful a figure ! — Falling shoulders, trimly waist, 
 a profusion of chestnut curls, falling from the 
 smallest head I had ever seen, on either side 
 a throat as white as it was slender, — all were 
 exquisite ! There was an air of elegance, more 
 distinguished than even the air of fashion, in 
 the girl; and though her mourning-dress was 
 simple to homeliness, she seemed far from op- 
 pressed by a sense of my affability, when I once 
 more " begged that I might not disturb her, 
 as I was merely waiting the arrival of Mr. 
 HanmerV She requested me to take a seat, 
 much as Lady Ormington might have offered 
 the same courtesy to her apothecary, and left 
 the room ! 
 
 My first impulse, on her departure, was to
 
 CECIL. 47 
 
 turn round and look in the glass ; no uncom- 
 mon movement with me, certainly ; but, on 
 the presei>t occasion, it was accompanied by a 
 note of interrogation, rather than of admiration. 
 I wanted to ascertain why it was that girl <5)f 
 Hanmer's had been able to confront me with- 
 out confusion. Had I, in anticipation of my 
 fusty visit to my father's man of business, ne- 
 glected to arm myself with my usual implements 
 of destruction ? — No ! — My tie was sublime, my 
 shirt frill of " lawn as white as driven snow ;'"* 
 my buckskins and tops unimpeachable ! (Shud- 
 der not, gentle reader, and more especially reader 
 fair ! remember that I write of a year whose 
 decimal is zero, 180 — !) There was every 
 reason the young lady's civilities should be in- 
 coherent, and her curtsey tremulous. I felt, 
 therefore, inexpressibly injured by her self-pos- 
 session. 
 
 My meditations were interrupted by the en- 
 trance of old Hanmer, rubbing his hands and
 
 48 CECIL. 
 
 drawing in his breath with a hissing inspiration, 
 while good-humour shone upon his cushioned 
 cheeks, and sparkled in the cold blue eyes, which 
 looked as if they had frozen into icicles the 
 shaggy white eyebrows overhanging them like 
 stalactites. I abhor people who enter a room 
 rubbing their hands, and drawing in their breath. 
 It is the favourite entree en scene of dentists, 
 attorneys, and other excruciators of the public 
 mind and body. My bow to the man of busi- 
 ness was studiously indicative of repugnance. 
 
 " Glad to see ye, Mr. Danby — glad to see 
 ye ! Take a chair !" — cried he, not a whit abashed 
 by th€ non-extension of my hand to meet the 
 one he offered. I saw by his nonchalance that 
 my father had invested him with some sort of 
 authority over me, — that he was to be bully en 
 chef, or en second. 
 
 " My lord pretty well this morning?" — con- 
 tinued he, after I had fastidiously chosen a chair. 
 '« I had the honour of seeing his lordship yester- 
 day forenoon ;" and he spoke with a sort of pro-
 
 CECIL. 49 
 
 prietary feeling of my lord, as if in daily attend- 
 ance upon Lis moral nature as the apothecary 
 upon his gout. 
 
 " Lord Ormington sent me hither, sir," said 
 I, as grandly as twenty and a half, with its modi- 
 cum of beard and whiskers, is able to look at 
 a barbose old monster of sixty-five, " to learn 
 his pleasure on the subject of my future career." 
 And I tried to insinuate into my tone an impli- 
 cation that my father"'s pleasure and my own, need • 
 not necessarily be con corporate. 
 
 Old Hanmer regarded me with the complacent 
 smile of pity with which the ogre may have 
 examined the condition of Hop-o'-my-Thumb, 
 ere he put him by in a child-coop to be killed 
 when wanted for table. The man of business 
 had no mind, perhaps, to grind my bones to 
 make his bread, because at present my bones 
 were marrowless as those of Banquo''s ghost. 
 He saw that I should make prettier pickings 
 hereafter. 
 
 " My dear young gentleman," said he, with 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 CECIL. 
 
 the most nauseous friendship, '' it grieves me 
 much to be under the necessity of explaining, in 
 the name of my noble client Lord Ormington, 
 his heartfelt disappointment at the recent-r-" 
 
 I spare my readers the preamble. Most of 
 them must be capable of figuring to themselves 
 the sermon of a rich lord's man of business, 
 commissioned to inflict an exhortation upon a 
 younger son. The pith of the argument was 
 — " You can't go into the Church, Mr. Cecil 
 Danby — you shan't go into the army. If you 
 choose to embrace a diplomatic career, there is 
 an opening in the Foreign Office. But I will 
 neither accept the obliging offers of my friend 
 Lord Votefilch to advance you in diplomatic 
 life, nor continue your present allowance of four 
 hundred per annum, unless you pledge yourself 
 to punctual rational habits, and submission to 
 the powers that be." 
 
 I seemed to have acquired one of the indis- 
 pensables to my advancement in diplomatic life ; 
 for instead of closing with the offer, I replied,
 
 CECIL. 51 
 
 with a countenance and voice most mysteriously 
 inconclusive, that '' I would reflect upon the 
 proposal, and have the honour of delivering my 
 ultimatum in the course of a day or two." 
 
 I had, of course, already made up my mind, — 
 that is, as much mind as I had to make up, — to 
 accept the offer. Nothing could have suited me 
 better. I had anticipated a hundred horrors ; — a 
 residence on my father's Irish estates (where the 
 agency was worth two thousand a-year and the 
 rent-roll three) ; or extinction in a parsonage witli 
 a private tutor, during the half-year still to elapse 
 previous to my coming of age. To a minor, 
 half a year is half a century ! In that said 
 month of April, with the London season before 
 me, I would not have bartered the ensuing six 
 months, against an eventual mitre or Mastership 
 of the Rolls. 
 
 The career of diplomacy flattered my dearest 
 ambitions. Diplomacy is almost the only pro- 
 fession where a man gains nothing by appearing a 
 beast. Slovenliness is esteemed an evidence of 
 
 n 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of ILLli^ui^
 
 
 52 CECIL. 
 
 scholarship in almost every calling save that 
 which renders one the mouthpiece of kings, — re- 
 deeming their gracious majesties from the trouble 
 of communicating per speaking-trumpet from 
 one end of Europe to the other. Downing- 
 street, exchanged only for some foreign mission, 
 enchanted me. The diplomatist''s is a> metro- 
 politan existence. The diplomatist is fated to 
 progress, like a child learning its alphabet, from 
 capital to capital. His post lies in some focus, 
 concentrating the rays of civilization ; — his place 
 is the bulFs-eye of the target. The diplomatist 
 can never subside into the common-places of 
 life. 
 
 Instead, however, of making these cogent re- 
 flections manifest to the man of business, I 
 observed, rising at the same time to take leave, 
 that I regretted to have been the means of driv- 
 ing Mrs. Hanmer from the room. I never knew 
 an old fellow of sixty-five who was not pleased 
 at having a pretty wife of eighteen ascribed to 
 ym, however inveterate his bachelorhood ; and a
 
 CECIL. 53 
 
 glance towards the table and the writing-box 
 served, of course, as note explanatory to my erro- 
 neous text. 
 
 " Mrs. Hanmer? — ^^' repeated he, exactly in 
 the tone I had anticipated. " Oh ! ay, — you 
 mean Emily. It was no interruption, my dear 
 sir. I was expecting you this morning. — I had 
 desired you should be shown in here. — It was 
 her own fault if she did not choose to remain 
 in her room." 
 
 To me, the fault appeared a venial transgression. 
 The case was clear. " Emily," whether Miss 
 Hanmer or Miss Anything else, had evidently 
 heard of Cecil Danby, and wished to ascertain 
 if common fame had been a flatterer. But then, 
 since aware that the daughter of Lord Orming- 
 ton's man of business had the honour of standing 
 in the presence of Lord Ormington''s son, pray 
 why was not her deportment more demonstrative 
 of her consciousness of the fact ? 
 
 Determined to vouchsafe no interest in her 
 favour, and looking unutterable solemnities at
 
 54} CECIL. 
 
 old Hatimer, in rebuke to his voluble familiarity, 
 I now made my parting bow. 
 
 On entering the house, I had taken little heed 
 of the meanness of the staircase, or the unworthi- 
 ness of the thing in pepper-and-salt ; considering 
 it all highly becoming in the abode of my father's 
 attorney. If attorneys had houses with staircases 
 and serving men, such was probably hoc genus 
 omne : but as I went out, it struck me with dis- 
 gust that a being so inexpressibly lovely as Emily, 
 nay, so thoroughly on a par, in manners and 
 appearance, with any Lady Emily I had ever 
 seen announced in my mother's drawing-room, 
 should be condemned to so mediocre an existence. 
 The creaking stair, the yellow paint, omitted in 
 a central stripe intended for a carpet — though 
 carpet there was none, — the dirty hall, with its 
 worn-out floor-cloth ; the very street-door, with 
 its unsightly bolts and chains, were such as should 
 never have met those soft eyes, overshaded by 
 such lashes, and gracing a countenance equally 
 worthy of a diamond coronet or garland of roses.
 
 CECIL. 55 
 
 Soutliampton Buildings, however, was not the 
 place for a soliloquy. So, throwing a shilling to 
 the boy holding Jack Harris's horse at old Han- 
 mer's door, and trusting that Emily might be 
 peeping from the window of her own room, I 
 leaped into my saddle with the air of the Cheva- 
 lier Bayard, and made the best of my way to- 
 wards the haunts of civilization.
 
 56 CECIL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Immortalia mortal! sermone notantes. — Lucret. 1. v. 
 
 Comme les gens dont la taille est bien priscy il s'habillait 
 avec esprit, et se portait une espece de culte. 
 
 Michel Raymond. 
 
 I HAD seen little of my brother during my 
 college days. John was a Cambridge man. John, 
 as became his ugliness, had taken honours ; and 
 John, as also became his ugliness, was not only 
 devoted to study, but pursuing it at Ormington 
 Hall. He usually remained there, long after the 
 rest of the family were settled in Hanover Square; 
 and even when in town, seemed to take delight 
 in maintaining the same distance between himself 
 and my mother now he was a man, that she had 
 maintained betwixt herself and him when he was
 
 CECIL. 57 
 
 a boy. With my father'^s sanction, he occupied 
 sober lodgings of his own, not very far from the 
 residence of his maiden aunts ; and, except when 
 Lord Ormington gave a political dinner, seldom 
 dined at home. 
 
 This suited me extremely. John was still the 
 same ponderous lump of clay banished by its 
 mamma to the nursery in its infancy, and self- 
 banished to the study in its maturity; and I 
 felt that to be seen walking down St. Jameses 
 Street, hooked to the arm of such an elder bro- 
 ther, would be to stand for my picture to Digh- 
 ton. I accordingly established myself with him on 
 the footing of " How are you, John ?" — " How 
 are you, Cecil?" and as such intimations of fra- 
 ternal coolness are by no means uncommon in 
 that model country of the domestic affections, 
 Great Britain, no one was surprised to see us 
 nod to each other in the street, aware that we 
 must have nodded in each other's company in all 
 other times and places. 
 
 Jack Harris noted with a smile, that " 'twas no 
 
 D 5
 
 -58 CECIL. 
 
 wonder we should dislike each other, without a 
 feature or idea in common ; " and as Lord Orming- 
 ton's and his elder son's ideas and features were 
 not only in common, but uncommonly common, 
 — extraordinairement ordinaire — I was by no 
 means jealous of their sympathies. 
 
 My father was a man such as one rarely sees 
 out of England ; reserved, without being con- 
 templative, — convivial, without being social ; not 
 mistrustful, yet having confidence in nobody; 
 cold, unexpansive, undemonstrative ; fulfilling his 
 petty duties so gravely, as to impress people with 
 a notion they were of some consequence ; and by 
 his gravity of air and paucity of words impart- 
 ing a tone of mystery to his insignificance. 
 
 He seemed afraid of letting himself know what 
 he was about. Yet he had nothing to fear. God 
 knows he never did anything worth speaking of ! 
 He was a moral man. His business with Han- 
 mer, with his banker, or with Lord Votefilch, 
 might have been transacted at Charing Cross 
 without injury to his fame or public virtue.
 
 CECIL. " 59 
 
 Yet he seemed to dread that even his own man 
 should be aware on Tuesday that on Wednesday 
 he had an appointment with either of the three ; 
 and as to his wife — but for thai reserve there 
 was, perhaps, sufficient motive. 
 
 "When, at the close of two days' cogitation, I 
 approached him with the intention of signifying 
 my acceptance of his terms, it did not surprise 
 me to find myself a second time referred to 
 Southampton Buildings : "on everything relat-, 
 ing to business," he said, " it was his wish to 
 communicate with me through a third person." 
 
 But that I anticipated some such regulation, 
 I should not have volunteered my " ultimatum " 
 to his lordship. It was my intention to make 
 my way a second time up the creaking staircase, 
 lacking a carpet ; and lest the sang-froid evinced 
 by Emily at our last interview should prove the 
 means of disappointing me, I rode straight 
 to Hanmer's door, without warning or appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " Mr. Hanmer was not at home, and Mr.
 
 60 CECIL. 
 
 Snatch had quitted London on business, by the 
 Leeds mail, the preceding night.*" 
 
 The murmured ejaculation, not intended to 
 reach beyond my lips, unluckily caught the ear 
 of Pepper-and-Salt. 
 
 " I could speak to the head-clerk if I liked. 
 The head-clerk would be disengaged in the course 
 of a quarter of an hour." 
 
 Satan, or some other of the invisible esquires 
 of the body to Adam's grandsons, at that mo- 
 ment seemed to flourish before my eyes the 
 waistcoat of Jack Harris, which I had seen 
 dazzling the eyes of Fop's-alley the preceding 
 night, at the Opera. 
 
 " Pray be so good as to inform Miss Emily," 
 said I, " that I have a message to leave with 
 her, from Lord Ormington." 
 
 The latter name had an instantaneous effect 
 upon Pepper-and-Salt. It was that of the pre- 
 siding divinity of the house of business of Han- 
 mer and Snatch. The deed-boxes most reveren- 
 tially lodged of their whole cliency, were those
 
 CECIL. 61 
 
 inscribed with the designation of " the Right 
 Honourable Lord Ormington," — their solitary 
 link with the peerage. It was from the park and 
 preserves of Ormington Hall, that corn, wine and 
 oil, — haunches of venison and leashes of phea- 
 sants, — reached the meagre kitchen of the firm. 
 To Pepper-and-Salt, accordingly, his lordship 
 appeared to be the fountain of all goodness, — 
 the King of Cockaigne, — a man to be venerated 
 even in the person of his messenger, ^ 
 
 Without further hesitation, he conducted me 
 once more into the drawing-room ; then hurried 
 off, observing, that he would see whether Miss 
 Emily could be spoken to. For there was no 
 Miss Emily in the chilly chamber, no fire in 
 the grate, no writing-box on the little table. 
 Her intrusion on the last occasion had perhaps 
 excited the displeasure of her father, and brought 
 down upon her a sentence of perpetual banish- 
 ment. In that case, she would not now venture 
 to obey my summons. 
 
 In so short a time, however, as to afford no
 
 62 CECIL. 
 
 hope that she had added a single touch to her 
 toilet on the announcement of my name, the 
 graceful creature who had produced so startling 
 an effect upon me at our first interview, glided 
 into the room. Still, no embarrassment — still, 
 no emotion ! — Nay, she did not even request 
 me to be seated ; and I stood, looking like an 
 oaf, with my hat and riding-cane in my hand, 
 like a subject receiving orders from his sovereign. 
 
 " You wished to speak to me ? '' said the 
 sweetest voice I ever heard, as if in compassion 
 to my awkwardness. 
 
 " Understanding that Messrs. Hanmer and 
 Snatch were absent from town — " said I, wholly 
 incapable of assuming the tone of superiority I 
 had premeditated — 
 
 " The clerks of the establishment, sir, are 
 on the spot, to supply their place," observed 
 Emily, almost haughtily. 
 
 " I was anxious," I stammered, as if not 
 noticing her interruption, " to request the favour
 
 CECIL. 63 
 
 that you would charge yourself with a confidential 
 message to your father." 
 
 In a moment, every part of Emily''s person, 
 that was visible to eyes profane, became flushed 
 by the deepest crimson ; and her eyes seemed to 
 dilate with some inexplicable emotion, — surprise, 
 or indignation, — or both. — I saw that I was 
 somehow or other confoundedly in the wrong. 
 She made no answer. But I neither dared rei- 
 terate my question, nor hazard another. I was 
 conscious of looking like a pickpocket. 
 
 " What do you wish me to communicate to 
 Mr. Hanmer on his return ? — " . said she, after a 
 minute's silence, and in so subdued a tone, that 
 indignation, at all events, was not the passion I 
 had excited. 
 
 " Simply that you signify 'my acceptance of 
 the terms proposed to me through his media- 
 tion," said I, not daring to excite her surprise, 
 by the preposterous fact that herself and Mr. 
 Hanmer of Southampton Buildings, were the
 
 b4? CECIL. 
 
 chain of communication between a peer of the 
 realm and his son, residing under the same 
 roof. 
 
 " I have the honour of speaking to Mr. 
 Danby? — " she inquired, coldly. 
 
 I bowed my affirmative. 
 
 " I will not fail to deliver your message," 
 she continued, advancing her hand towards the 
 bell, by way of an intimation, and not a very 
 gracious one, that my audience was at an end. 
 There was no remedy. Away I went, like a 
 beaten dog ; having effected nothing by my im- 
 pertinent intrusion, except a still deeper descent 
 in Emily's opinion, — and my own. 
 
 " Southampton Buildings ! — an attorney's 
 daughter ! — " muttered I, as if to revenge myself 
 by the contemptuous inflexion with which I pro- 
 nounced the words ; when, having attained by a 
 northerly cut the New Road, I galloped off in 
 the direction of the west-end. And again, the 
 waistcoat of Jack Harris seemed to flutter before
 
 CECIL. 65 
 
 my eyes, as a memento of my insignificance in 
 the field whose myrtles are laurels. 
 
 On the strength of my "ultimatum," I was 
 now mounted on a horse of my own ; as I had 
 good reason to discover, on encountering the 
 smile of Jack Harris in Rotten Row. Harris 
 was one of those who never break out into con- 
 demnation ; a withering glance or smile was suf- 
 ficient. Towards myself, he affected indulgence. 
 At me, he looked leniently, as much as to say, 
 " poor fellow ! it is not his fault if taken in by 
 a dealer to purchase a beast disgraceful to a gen- 
 tleman's stable." A t my elder brother, he would 
 have sneered outright ; at such a fellow as old 
 Hanmer, gazed with horror. But his clemency 
 was far more galling than his utmost rigour of the 
 law. A boy can never stand being treated as 
 a boy, more especially by another boy assuming 
 the importance of a man. 
 
 " Who was that with whom you were riding 
 to-day in the Park.^ — " observed my mother,
 
 66 CECIL. 
 
 (the Ormington vis-a-vis, now that Julia was 
 rusticating with my aunts in the country, per- 
 mitting itself to be seen once more in the ring.) 
 
 " A college chum." 
 
 " A what ?' — " reiterated my mother, opening 
 her eyes as wide as Emily had done that morning, 
 but without the accompanying blush. 
 
 " Jack Harris, a Christchurch-man,"" said I, not 
 deigning to notice the shrug with which she 
 listened to the announcement. 
 
 " Yet he had nothing of the horrible Oxford 
 cut ? — " observed my mother, as if muttering to 
 the spaniel nestling under her white hand on the 
 sofa. At that moment, Harris's warning about 
 dropping the University, recurred to my mind. 
 
 " It will give you pleasure, perhaps, to learn," 
 said I, perceiving that she was about to coax her- 
 self as well as her lap-dog into a doze, — " that 
 Lord Ormington has procured me a clerkship in 
 one of the public offices." 
 
 " A WHAT ! — " again reiterated my mother,
 
 CECIL. 67 
 
 twenty times more shocked than at my Ox- 
 onianism. 
 
 " A clerkship. As soon as I can compass a 
 legible hand and the rule of three, I am to be 
 provided for by Government, at the rate of 75/. 
 per annum," 
 
 " You have not surely accepted ? — ^" exclaimed 
 my mother, shoving away poor Bibiche with more 
 vivacity than I had ever seen her exhibit. " He 
 has no right to expose you to such a degrada- 
 tion ! — that were a breach of all our compacts !" 
 
 In compassion to her emotion, I condescended 
 to expound, that the 75/. per annum, at twenty, 
 was a necessary preliminary to the ambassadorial 
 12,000/. per annum crowning a diplomatic ca- 
 reer ; and that, of my brother clerks in the office, 
 three were sons of Earls and four of Members of 
 Parliament. 
 
 " So that, some day or other, you will be an 
 ambassador ? — " said she, resuming her languor 
 and her spaniel.
 
 68 CECIL. 
 
 ^^ Deo, or rather, diabolo volente !^'' I re- 
 plied. 
 
 " In that case, I am glad you are going to stay- 
 in town," said she. " I will give you one of my 
 Opera-tickets, and introduce you to the Duchess 
 of Moneymush. I dare say you will get on very 
 well. When Lord Ormington said something 
 about the necessity for your living at home to 
 redeem your character, after disgracing yourself at 
 Oxford, I thought it would be a bore. But if you 
 manage properly, you need not be in any one's 
 way ! — You have only two things to avoid, — 
 play and politics. Play and politics are for elder 
 sons. It would be the making of John to go 
 into Parliament or upon the turf. But John is 
 such a stupid young man, that there is no doing 
 anything with him ! John does nothing but 
 read. John Avas never intended to play a gentle- 
 man ''s part in the world."" 
 
 " And how do you recommend me to fill up 
 my time? — " said I, by way of humouring her 
 absurdity.
 
 CECIL. 69 
 
 " Not in exhibiting yourself as the companion 
 of a Mr. Harris, whom one never heard of," she 
 replied. — " Ah ! my dear Lady Harriet, how are 
 you.'^" cried she, interrupting herself, on perceiv- 
 ing that a pretty little woman had entered the 
 room unnoticed by either of us. " You are 
 come to take me to the Duchess's loo, and I 
 have not even begun to dress ! " 
 
 " Make haste, then," replied her friend, drag- 
 ging a chair to the front of the fire, and seating 
 herself as if at home. " You forgot your ap- 
 pointment, I suppose, in the pleasure of lecturing 
 your son. Pray are you the young gentleman 
 who has got himself expelled from Oxford ?*" 
 she continued, addressing me over her shoulder, 
 and extending her hand towards a fire-screen, 
 as if to command me to reach it for her. The 
 movement discovered to me the pretty, but 
 somewhat passe^ face of a woman half a dozen 
 years younger than my mother, whom I had 
 no difficulty in recognising as one of the in- 
 timates of the fashionable coterie collected round
 
 70 CECIL. 
 
 Lady Ormington since my settlement at the 
 University. 
 
 " And who cannot regret, still less repent, 
 a step that procures him the honour of pre- 
 senting himself to Lady Harriet Vandeleur,"'*' 
 said I, offering the screen with an air of gal- 
 lantry which I flattered myself was irresistible. 
 
 Her reply was a burst of laughter. 
 
 " Is the Grandison style of set compliment 
 still in vogue, then, at our seats of learning.'^" 
 cried she, turning and contemplating me from 
 head to foot. " My dear Lady Ormington, 
 off to your dressing-room, I beseech you, for 
 we are late already : and / will continue your 
 jobation to this junior incumbrance of yours. 
 He is not so ill-looking ! — I was afraid we should 
 find him much more of a cub. — Leave him in 
 my hands, and I will see what is to be made 
 of him." 
 
 I was again on the point of being betrayed 
 into a set compliment, expressive of my de- 
 light at falling to the share of such a precep-
 
 CECIL. 71 
 
 tress. But sometliing in the arch eyes of Lady 
 Harriet warned me to desist. She was an Irish- 
 woman, with a naivete bordering on effrontery. 
 It would have been effrontery in an ugly woman ; 
 but in the pretty, pouting, piquante Lady Har- 
 riet, it was almost enchanting. 
 
 " Is the cub to sit or stand, or will you 
 permit him to kneel ?" said I, falling into her 
 vein, the moment my mother quitted the room. 
 
 " Your height and figure warrant my re- 
 fusing you a chair," she replied. '' But I have 
 a mind to ascertain the colour of your eyes, 
 which flashed so furiously just now, because 
 I condescended to laugh at you. So even draw 
 a chair and let me proceed in my investigation." 
 
 I replied, of course, to the summons, by 
 falling at her feet. 
 
 " Not ill done, as regards attitude,'' said 
 she, examining me without embarrassment, " but 
 a blunder as regards intention. By hazarding 
 a burlesque declaration, you admit your con- 
 viction that you shall never be tempted into
 
 72 CECIL. 
 
 a serious one. In your ignorance whether I 
 am maid, wife, or widow, you are right : any 
 but the last, might take you at your word, and 
 you would stand committed ! So now rise ; — 
 gently, — or you will throw down the dejeuner of 
 Chelsea china, with which Lady Ormington has 
 the bad taste to encumber her rooms ! Take 
 your seat yonder, with the modesty becoming 
 the junior member of the house ; and contrive, 
 if you can, not to look hampered in your own 
 cravat." 
 
 The etourderie of Lady Harriet struck me 
 dumb. I was tamed, as brutes are, by the 
 coolness of their keepers. I had not even courage 
 to inform her that I was perfectly aware of her 
 being a rich widow ; very much disposed to re- 
 tain the right of having her own way, — that way 
 not being matrimonially eligible. 
 
 " Is it not a horrible vulgarism," said she, 
 (again adverting to the china, that I might 
 recover the breath of which her sang-froid had 
 deprived me,) " to cram a habitable room with
 
 CECIL. 73 
 
 little tables, showered over with trumpery, of 
 which one risks the fracture of a hundred pounds' 
 worth, at every turn ? One might as well lay 
 out, for show, one's stomacher and diamond neck- 
 lace ! Look at my friend Lady Ormington's 
 confusion of cabinets and tables, rivalling an old 
 curiosity shop, or Weeks's museum ! Twenty 
 years hence, I suppose, we shall' see this vile 
 system established, till even the little mouse- 
 traps of Marylebone have their knick-knackery 
 and Birmingham virtu.'*'' 
 
 In my boyish susceptibility, I fancied she 
 was talking at me ; my rooms at Oxford having 
 been renowned for their foppery. I stood ac- 
 countant for as great a sin as Lady Ormington, 
 and consequently broke out bravely. 
 
 "As you say, an odious weakness!" cried 
 I ; — " dillettanteism at the wrong end of the 
 telescope ! If people must affect the fine arts, 
 be it nobly. A fine Dominichino, a Giovanni 
 di Bologna, delights the eye of a guest, and 
 affords a diploma of taste to the possessor. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 CECIL. 
 
 Whereas these less than nothings of Sevres or 
 enamel, require a microscopic eye. Were Nol- 
 lekens's Venus, for instance, smiling upon her 
 pedestal in yonder corner, I should adore her 
 in the distance, without losing sight of Lady 
 Harriet Vandeleur ; and enable myself to decide 
 at a glance whether the smallest foot in Europe, 
 slippered by Taylor, be not a prettier sight than 
 the same charming feature in its primeval sym- 
 metry." 
 
 '^ A merveille ! ^^ cried Lady Harriet. "An- 
 other time don't call a foot a feature. It is Wil- 
 liam Spencerish. The school is obsolete. Try 
 reality. We are all pretending to be "natural 
 with all our might, , till the affectation of nature 
 has become as natural as any other affectation. 
 And now, pray what is Mr. Cecil Danby going 
 to do with his younger sonship, after proving 
 himself too wicked to become a son of the 
 mother Church ? — Not a man of wit and fashion 
 about town, I trust ? — The ranks are overflow- 
 ing: — an inundation of the nihil! — The army,
 
 CECIL. 75 
 
 too, is out of date. Since the renewal of the 
 war, nobody has cared to go into anything but 
 the Household brigade ; and the sort of crea- 
 tures one used to country-quarter upon the bogs 
 and moors, come down upon us in hundreds and 
 tens of hundreds, even into ^the king's chamber. 
 For pity's sake, don't let us find you in the 
 squadron."" 
 
 ''I am about to devote myself to the cause 
 of my country in a more modest capacity," said 
 I, — " by sketching dogs and horses on His 
 Majesty's blotting paper in Downing-street." 
 
 " Official ? " — cried Lady Harriet, withdrawing 
 her feet from the fender, and throwing the lustre 
 of her large dark eyes full upon my face, as a 
 watchman turns the searching light of his lan- 
 tern. " You are becoming natural indeed ! — 
 You are flinging away the poetry of life with a 
 vengeance ! — Official ? — Have you reflected on 
 what it will be to extend your finger tips to mine, 
 black with the inky business of the state ? 
 Have you considered — " 
 
 B 2
 
 76 CECIL. 
 
 " You authorize me then to decline a diplo- 
 matic career? — " cried I, starting up as if about 
 to rush out of the room. " I have not heard 
 Lord Ormington's carriage drive off. I shall 
 perhaps be in time to catch him on his way 
 to the House of Lords." 
 
 " Let me recommend you not to jest with 
 Lord Ormington,"" said she gravely, — motioning 
 me to be re- seated ; " it is playing with edged 
 tools. If you are to be pushed by his interest 
 in public life, accept and be thankful. — Do you 
 go with us to the Duchess''s to-night ? " 
 
 " Am I to have that honour ? — I wait your 
 Ladyship's orders ! — " said I, again mistaking 
 myself and her so far as to play the gallant. 
 
 " Then I order you to stay at home. Nay, I 
 order you to stay at home till qualified for 
 society. At present you do not approach within 
 millions of miles of even the very small thing 
 indispensable to obtain endurance among us. 
 You would easily make a sensation, — but a sen- 
 sation is a vulgar triumph. To keep up the
 
 CECIL. 77 
 
 excitement of a sensation, you must always be 
 standing on your head, (morally speaking,) and 
 the attitude, like everything overstrained, would 
 become fatiguing to yourself and tedious to 
 others. Whereas, to obtain permanent favour, 
 as an agreeable well-bred man, requires simply an 
 exercise of the understanding. To ascertain whe- 
 ther you possess one, first get rid of your con- 
 ceit. Ilfaut apprendre a vous effacerT 
 
 " I will learn anything you deign to teach 
 me," said I. '' But how could ^om teach me to 
 be humble ; when the mere favour of your in- 
 terest would a thousand-fold increase the self- 
 conceit you reprobate ? ""^ — 
 
 " From Oxford, yet a logician ? — I thought 
 young men went to the University to get rid of 
 their learning ? — However, for my own sake, I 
 shall take you in hand. For as it must be my 
 fate to see a great deal of the pet son of my 
 bosom friend, it would be a serious evil were I 
 always to find him presuming, abrupt, and cox- 
 combical as to-night. Don't bristle up so fu-
 
 78 CECIL. 
 
 riously ; — you will gain nothing by it but being 
 laughed at. I tell you again, that the brusquerie 
 which sit^ well upon me, or rather which my 
 beaux i/eux^ and the beaux yeux de ma cassette 
 united, cause to be excused in me, would be de- 
 testable in a very young man whose eyes are not 
 particularly fine, and whose cassette is more than 
 questionable. To succeed among us, you must 
 reduce your laugh to a smile, your voice to a 
 whisper, your assertions to surmises. For some 
 years to come, you have no right to have an 
 opinion of your own. You will be coughed 
 down by the ' most potent, grave, and reverend 
 signors,' who are ten years older than yourself. 
 For it is of them the jury is composed. The 
 men of thirty carry all before them in London ; 
 men old enough to pretend to tact, but not to 
 wisdom. As soon as we grow really wise, we be- 
 come indulgent, — witness myself, who am three 
 and thirty, — yet kind enough, in quoting your 
 deformities, to wish you may amend them. And 
 now, good night. I hear the rustling of Lady
 
 CECIL. 79 
 
 Ormington''s sarsnet ; for which signal I am grate- 
 ful, as I perceive that you are about to explode." 
 
 I had in fact been making sundry efforts to 
 interrupt her, but without success. There was 
 no putting down her audacity. 
 
 *' Good night ! " — said she, kissing her hand 
 in the Italian fashion. " You are not yet suffi- 
 ciently in my good graces to admit of accepting 
 your arm to the carriage. Prove your docility 
 by staying at home, while we proceed to throw 
 away our time, money, and tempers at the card 
 table. Read some improving book, — Gram- 
 mont's Memoirs, or one of Madame de Souza's 
 novels, — which will teach you good French and 
 better manners." 
 
 When, in spite of her prohibition, I had con- 
 ducted her to the carriage, and taken remarkably 
 fast hold of the hand which she placed on mine 
 as she stepped in, I found myself almost out of 
 breath with pique and wonder. 
 
 I was a Christchurch man ; yet here was a 
 pretty woman, who had both looked and talked
 
 80 CECIL. 
 
 me down. There was only one word of her 
 rambling discourse, which operated as a saving 
 grace in Lady Harriet's favour. I should have 
 called her bold, — I should have called her 
 flighty, — I should have called her flippant, — 
 nay, I would have repeated after her own au- 
 thority, that she was three-and-thirty, and after 
 my own, that she looked her age ; but for the 
 monosyllable " yet ! " — That " yet" was a peace- 
 maker ! She did not " yet" like me sufficiently, 
 to put up with my boorishness. 
 
 This was throwing down the gauntlet. This 
 was challenging a pretension. The ambitions of 
 the Foreign Office were too prolix for the hot 
 blood of twenty and six months. I might be an 
 ambassador at forty, — an ambassador with a bald 
 head and chinchilla whiskers. The prospect 
 was too remote ! But a pretty woman who told 
 me so frankly, that she did not " yet" like me, 
 was a more immediate incentive. I swore, — 
 as my uncle Toby swore, that Lefevre should 
 not die, — that she should not like me ! — that,
 
 CECIL. 81 
 
 by Heavens ! she should love me, — to despera- 
 tion, — to madness ! — 
 
 But to efFect this, I recollected that I must 
 begin with falling in love myself. As I saun- 
 tered into the book-room, to take down an edition 
 of Grammont, which in its gaudy suit of scarlet 
 and gold, looked wonderfully like a militia cap- 
 tain dressed for the levee, I muttered to mj^elf 
 the ejaculation, which immortalized poor stupid 
 Rocca, by eventually uniting him with Madame 
 de Stael. "- JeVaimerai tellement qu'ellejinira" 
 par rnepouser ! "-— I am not sure that I said 
 epouser ; but it was a peu-pres. — The fact is, 
 that marriage is no word for the lips of a younger 
 brother. 
 
 Next day, I contemplated Jack Harris''s waist- 
 coat with calmness. I felt myself on the road 
 to preferment. I was convinced that there were 
 waistcoats in the loom for me ; and consequently 
 discovered that his was frightful : — a waistcoat 
 calculated, according to Lady Harriet''s system, to 
 produce a sensation, — to induce questions.— Il 
 
 E 6
 
 S2 CECIL. 
 
 had already ordered myself half a dozen of the 
 plainest pattern, and simplest fashion ; such as 
 would enable no one to swear half an hour after 
 parting from me, whether I had a waistcoat on or 
 not. 
 
 I took care not to utter a syllable to him, 
 either of my over-haughty attorney's daughter, 
 or my over-familiar, fashionable widow. Time 
 enough to talk about them when I had something 
 to boast of. To talk about them prematurely, 
 and to a Jack Harris, might prevent my ever 
 having cause for boasting. I told him therefore, 
 that I had not accompanied Lady Ormington to 
 the Duchess of Money musk, *' because it was a 
 bore." 
 
 It was the fashion in those days, to call one's, 
 mother a bore. Mothers have rather risen in 
 the market since, and fathers have gone down. 
 Fathers soon afterwards came to be called '' the 
 governor ; " but all this was by the generation 
 that grew up in the nursery, before the nursery 
 became council-chamber to the house. The
 
 CECIL. 83 
 
 creatures who are cockading it now-a-days, have 
 every reason to call their parents your Majesties, 
 and address them on their knees, — I mean the 
 children on their own knees, not upon the knees 
 of their parents. 
 
 Jack Harris sank a fathom in my esteem, by 
 the frankness with which he allowed me to 
 discern his surprise, that any one should think 
 it a bore to go to the loo party of a Duchess of 
 Moneymusk ! — I was unaffectedly surprised that 
 any one should think a duchess worth thinking of ; * 
 not only because my head and heart were running 
 upon pretty widows and attorneys' daughters, 
 but because the habits of my youth familiarized 
 me with social distinctions ; and it would have 
 been as difficult for a mere duchess to impose 
 upon the sprawling pet of Lady Ormington's 
 boudoir^ as for a man to be a hero to his valet-de- 
 chamhre. Jack was no longer to me the infal- 
 lible, — the Solon, — the Lycurgus, — who had 
 imposed his high-sounding code upon my boyish 
 inexperience.
 
 84^ CECIL. 
 
 His a plomh delighted me no longer. It was 
 the a plomh of the adroit mountebank, not of 
 the graceful opera dancer. His vivacity had lost 
 its charm ; there was a brazen twang in its note. 
 The pirouettes and entrechats of Lady Harriet, 
 on the contrary, kept me constantly on the qui- 
 vive, and her sallies, if they had not quite a 
 silver sound, were at least Corinthian metal. I 
 saw that though Jack Harris might do very well 
 to launch me on the waves of the great world, 
 it w^as Lady Harriet who must officiate as my 
 pilot. Of the three modes in which society may 
 be contemplated, from above, below, or level 
 ground, I preferred the last. Since I "was to 
 live with those of my own class, it was better to 
 examine them on a fair footing, and not from 
 the point of view appropriate to a parvenu, like 
 Jack Harris. 
 
 Quod petiit, spernit ; repetit quod nuper omisit 
 Aestuat, et vitae disconvenit ordine toto. 
 
 In the existing order of things, which con- 
 demned him to an IshmaeFs portion in the land,
 
 CECIL. 85 
 
 there was everything to provoke his animosities or 
 rouse his envy ; but for me, the son of the free 
 woman, an aristocrat, one of the privileged, the 
 malediction that became his lips, or the petty 
 arts indispensable to his progress in life, would 
 have been out of place. Our principles of action 
 could never be in common. He might be honest, 
 — / must be honourable. Generosity might be- . 
 come him ; from me, nothing short of magna- 
 nimity would suffice. All this, at least, I whis- 
 pered to myself, as a plea for paying a long visit 
 on the morrow to Lady Harriet Vandeleur, and 
 for merely nodding to Jack Harris, as we crossed 
 each other at a brisk trot on Constitution 
 Hill. 
 
 That night, I received a professional letter from 
 Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch. If there be an ob- 
 ject in this world from which every particle of 
 the poetry of life is excluded — the very caput 
 mortumcn of the crucible of common-place — it is 
 a lawyer's letter. There is a savour of pounce 
 about it, a dryness, — a sententiousness, — as if a
 
 86 CECIL. 
 
 pen plucked from the wing of that dullest of birds, 
 the owl, had ministered to its indictment. Yet, 
 strange to say, I tore open old Hanmer''s long, 
 narrow, wire-wove, wafered epistle, his thirteen- 
 and-two-pennyworth of epistolary civilities, with 
 an impatience savouring of the lover. " /e ne 
 suispas la rose, maisfai vecu avec elk /"" — Gods ! 
 that ever the poetry of Hafiz should attach itself 
 to a missive conveyed by the twopenny post from 
 Southampton Buildings ! — 
 
 Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch, (for old Hanmer 
 addressed me as Wolsey addressed the Pope, in 
 the first person, though hooking in rex mens into 
 a parenthesis, " for partner and self,") Messrs. 
 Hanmer and Snatch informed me, that Messrs. 
 Drummond and Company had orders to pay one 
 hundred pounds a quarter to self or order ; and 
 that I was to present self, without further orders, 
 on the Monday next ensuing, at the office of His 
 Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs, in Down- 
 ing Street, where Lord Votefilch would have the 
 honour of explaining to me the nature of my
 
 CECIL. 87 
 
 duties, and introducing me into the department 
 to whicli my services were devoted. 
 
 I did not pause to exult in the petty triumph 
 of being handed into office by one of His Ma- 
 jesty's ministers, while Jack Harris would pro- 
 bably have been shouldered forward by some 
 junior clerk. I was examining the date of the 
 letter, as if there were magic in the words 
 " 13, Southampton Buildings ! "—The sight of the 
 Lesbian promontory would scarcely have excited 
 more emotion in the heart of a young gentleman 
 well grounded in his Ovid ! — I certainly had no 
 reason to expect that old Hanmer, in writing 
 to me professionally, would hazard mention of 
 " Emily :" yet, strange to say, I did not reach 
 the signature of the letter without a sensation 
 of disappointment. Some emanation, some hint, 
 some reference, some something, of Aer, ought to 
 have intermingled itself imperceptibly with that 
 soulless epistle ! — 
 
 Such was my mode of characterizing, at twenty- 
 and-a-halfj a letter conveying a permanent in-
 
 88 CECIL. 
 
 come of four hundred per annum, and an ap- 
 pointment leading in a direct line to an em- 
 bassy ! — 
 
 I know better now I — Now, I can discern more 
 poetry in such a despatch, than in the collected 
 works of Crabbe, Scott, Byron, Wordsworth, 
 Moore, Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley, and the 
 Countess of Blessington. — Ahem !■ —
 
 CECIL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Ca ! quelle figure allons nous prendre, Don Juan ou 
 Lovelace ? — Don Juan est use comme la soutane d'un semi- 
 nariste. Lovelace est un peu plus inedit. Dans sa per- 
 ruque poudree, il a bien meilleur air que Don Juan, ce 
 mauvais racleur de guitare." 
 
 Nam quodcunque suis mutatum finibus exit 
 Continue hoc mors est illius quod fuit ante. 
 
 LUCRET. 
 
 Shak SPEAKERS commentators, who, by the 
 way, have originated more rubbish than either 
 the demolition of Swallow Street or the con- 
 struction of Regent Street, — '' the force of rub- 
 bish can no further go," — have disputed much 
 in disserting on Othello's tender rhapsody, whe- 
 ther the whited-brown generalissimo originally 
 complained that his '^way of life," or his '-'May 
 of life," had "fallen into the sere and yellow 
 leaf." The quarto edition says one thing, the
 
 90 CECIL. 
 
 folio edition says another thing, and the various 
 buzz-wigs, who have overlaid the great poet with 
 their leaden weight, say a hundred other con- 
 tradictory things. 
 
 I, Cecil Danby, decide for the " May of life ;" 
 for what so characteristic of youth and hope as 
 May, — the summer-month of the soul, whatever 
 the calendar may say to the contrary ? 
 
 It was May when I took possession of my 
 liberty, and the town ; and what a month it was 
 to me ! — Though, in point of fact, I became, for 
 the first time, a slave, the slave of the nation, 
 on the trifling acknowledgment of seventy-five 
 pounds per annum, paid quarterly, I fancied my- 
 self, for the first time, my own master. For I 
 had youth, health, spirits ; and the world, — that 
 ugly, old, brown, leathery, football of Fate, — 
 seemed to me then, young, healthy, happy, hope- 
 ful as myself. I looked upon it as a fresh flower, 
 bursting from its calyx, and exhaling a thousand 
 perfumes ! — Pah ! I would hold my nose now, 
 at the mere thought of its festering exhalations ! —
 
 CECIL. 91 
 
 Yet the world, errors and steam excepted, re- 
 mains, I suppose, pretty much as I found it. 
 The eye of twenty-and-a-half discerned only its 
 passions and its picturesque ; while the eye of 
 
 ty-and-a-half descries its turnpike-roads and 
 
 conventionalities. 
 
 Pass a sloe-leaf plucked from the nearest hedge 
 through the hands of half-a-dozen different men, 
 and each shall s^e it in a various point of view. 
 The first, if a botanist, will note its specific 
 character ; the second, if a chemist, will opine 
 upon its juices ; the third, an artist, will descant 
 upon its colouring ; and the fourth, a teaman, 
 will examine its eligibility to become Souchong or 
 Bohea. Even so differently do men decide upon 
 the phases of society ! — At that time, I regarded 
 London as the garden of the Hesperides, where 
 demi-goddesses and the golden apples of prefer- 
 ment awaited the all-subduing club of that great 
 Alcides, Cecil Danby. To Jack Harris, it was a 
 game of skill, where the cleverest player wins the 
 greatest number of court-cards, — Anglice, where
 
 92 CECIL. 
 
 a low-born man consorts with the greatest number 
 of lords and ladies. My brother looked upon it 
 as an unmeaning hubbub, interrupting the great 
 business of life ; i. e. the study of dusty, fusty, 
 musty tomes, in a musty, fusty, dusty library : 
 and my father, as a place where a man was com- 
 pelled every Christmas to the unprofitable waste 
 of certain monies, carefully screwed out of his 
 tenants four times a-year. 
 
 Let posterity decide which was the greatest 
 blockhead ! — Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch would 
 have stood out for the wisdom of my father. 
 The ghosts of Scaliger or Dr. Valpy might have 
 backed the Honourable John. The parson of 
 the parish, and Mr. N. P. Willis, would have 
 sided with Jack Harris. But, for mi/ part, I 
 had on my side St. James's Street and the 
 charming Lady Harriet Vandeleur ! — 
 
 On second thoughts, I am not so sure that 
 London is altogether now as then. When I 
 said " steam excepted," I should have added 
 " smoke." Every year, the atmosphere as well
 
 CECIL. 93 
 
 as the plot, thickens. Every year, manufactories 
 arise in the Borough of Southwark, to suffocate 
 the denizens of London and Westminster. We 
 no longer send to Birmingham for our buttons, 
 or Dorchester for our ale. Like some bumpkin 
 Squire, we take pride in brewing at home. 
 " London's column," though still " a tall bully,**' 
 has rivals in a forest of steam-chimneys t'other 
 side the water ; and, like other old foxes, we may 
 end in being smoked out. 
 
 The suburbs, too, like a lady's hoop, have 
 extended themselves so widely, as to treble the 
 dimensions of the body they enclose. The lungs 
 of London are compressed by the enlargement 
 of the circumjacent membranes ; and the at- 
 mosphere assigned her is not only less clear and 
 salubrious, but her breathing pores are stopped 
 up, and air-vessels abridged. Her gardens are 
 built over. Paddington-fields smoke, like a 
 cigar-divan, from thousands of ignominious issues ; 
 and Willan's farm, instead of feeding hundreds 
 of cows, affords lawn to five villas, dens to twenty
 
 94 CECIL. 
 
 lions, and areas and dust-Loles to five hundred 
 genteel residences, " for the reception of small 
 families of respectability." The solitary tree in 
 St. Paul's Churchyard, will soon be the only" 
 green thing left to exalt the imaginations of our 
 sparrows by the rustling of its leaves ; for, lo ! 
 the builders have passed like a swarm of locusts 
 over the land, and left all barren. 
 
 At the period of my' debut, I swear there 
 was occasionally seen a glimpse of blue sky over 
 Hyde Park ! — Our recent ambassador, M. le 
 Doctrinaire Guizot, who, during his first fort- 
 night in London, was continually passing his 
 hand before his eyes, convinced by the mistiness 
 of his vision that cataract was impending, might 
 have seen his way clearly then to the affaires 
 etrangeres, in a physical as well as in a moral 
 sense. 
 
 I enlarge on all this, lest the dandies of 
 to-day may find it difficult to account for my 
 boasted enjoyment of good health and spirits. 
 As regards the former, there was less quackery
 
 CECIL. 95 
 
 in the world, — no homoeopathy, no dephlogis- 
 tication ; as regards the latter, less smother in 
 the air. People in general were more agreeable. 
 Knowledge did not pretend to be useful. So- 
 ciety, now so blue, was couleur de rose. There 
 were almost as many courteous readers as there 
 are now writers ; and authors were a sort of 
 people who dined with a great man on a Sunday, 
 in their best clothes, when, indeed, they had 
 a coat to boast of. Like mothers, they have 
 since risen amazingly in the market. They owe 
 that to Scott and Byron. Sir Walter was the 
 first who wrote up authorship ; and, to quote 
 the words of his lordly contemporary, '' it was 
 not the least conquest of his fertilizing and 
 mighty genius ."" 
 
 But if there was little good writing in London 
 during the first half dozen years of the nine- 
 teenth century, there was a prodigious quantity 
 of good talking. In war-time, the dinners, 
 from the hands of native cooks, were so in- 
 fernally bad, that diners-out were forced to have
 
 96 CECIL. 
 
 recourse to colloquial entertainment. In the best 
 
 days of Conversation S and Lord , 
 
 and , , (fill up the blanks for yourself, 
 
 good sir, as you do your assessed tax-papers, 
 but more honestly ; for in them you write down 
 your pointer a cur, and yourself an ass, by pro- 
 testing that the demi-lions on your tea-spoons 
 are not armorial bearings,) in the days, I say, 
 when these blanks were prizes at a dinner-party, 
 
 Roast was the saddle, and the pudding boil'd ; 
 
 and entrees, or, as the female cooks denominate 
 them, " made-dishes," implied four anomalous 
 compounds placed at the angles of the table, 
 and rarely impinged, emitting savours of some- 
 thing between a perfumer''s and an apothecary''s 
 shop, — black, spicy, opaque, and mysterious, as 
 one of RadclifFe's romances. Some such diet 
 probably constituted 
 
 th' insane food 
 That took her reason prisoner, 
 
 ere she concocted '' The Italian."
 
 CECIL. 97 
 
 Now that these peppery substitutes for sa- 
 voury viands have given place to epigrammes 
 d'agneau a pointes d'asperges, the epigrams of 
 the table-talkers have become far less pointed. 
 
 The fools who come to talk, remain to eat ; 
 
 and the light soujfles and piquant Mayonnaise 
 stop their mouths with a honne bouche, instead 
 of a bon mot, 
 
 I have proved to my own satisfaction, at least, 
 (by way of taper burnt to the memory of the 
 dead,) that those in possession of the ear of 
 the town were better worth hearing. I would 
 fain prove, in order that a tribute to the fair 
 sex may keep in countenance my tribute to the 
 foul, that those in possession of its eyes were 
 better worth looking at. Who will deny the 
 beauty of the Mannerses, — Villierses, — two Lady 
 Williamses whom I could name, and two or three 
 Lady Others, whom I can not ; to say nothing 
 
 of my friend Lady , next to Fountain's 
 
 Abbey, the finest ruin now extant. — They 
 
 VOL I. F
 
 98 CECIL. 
 
 were loveliness itself ! — Witness tlie miniatures 
 of Mrs. Mee, — witness the journals of Sir Lum- 
 
 ley, — or the ghost of Sir Harry . It is 
 
 true they enabled one to judge somewhat too ac- 
 curately of their symmetry. In the scanty gowns 
 into which they were squeezed, like pillows into 
 their cases, little was left for the imagination , 
 whereas, in the present day, beauty in her five- 
 and-twenty breadths of petticoat, lies concealed, 
 like the mummy of Cheops within the laby- 
 rinths of the great pyramid. — 
 
 Lady Harriet Vandeleur was just the fairy 
 on whom these tight-fitting habiliments sat to 
 admiration ! — With her snow white skin, fair 
 ringlets, nez retrousse, and large luminous dark 
 eyes, she reminded me of one of those French 
 hichons, which look so earnest about nothing, 
 perched on a silken cushion in a lady's chamber, 
 or lying among the folds of her lawn apron. 
 Nothing angulous or unsightly was revealed by 
 the winding-sheet in which she was swathed. 
 A single row of pearls, or riviere of brilliants,
 
 CECIL. 99 
 
 adorned her white neck in the ball-room ; an 
 almost invisible Venetian chain, on minor oc- 
 casions. How preferable to the harness-like 
 ponderosity of modern carcanets, allowing as 
 little of the human frame divine of a pretty 
 woman to remain perceptible as one sees of 
 the table-cloth at a country christening ! — 
 
 Coquette, — jilt, — flirt, — angel, — Lady Harriet 
 excelled in refinement of taste. Her house was 
 charming; neither overloaded like my mother's 
 with bijouterie and gaudes ; nor aiFectedly simple, 
 like the matter-of-factory of Jack Harris. Fancy 
 had some scope, but her wings were clipped. 
 She was allowed a flutter, not a flight. In- 
 tuition seemed to have dictated my code of 
 virtil on our first acquaintance ; for the little 
 widow's rooms were adorned with a few chefs- 
 (Tceuvre by the first masters ; a few cabinets, 
 in their places, not thrusting themselves im- 
 portunately forward, like a young member in 
 the House, or a young miss in a ball-room ; and 
 
 a sufficiency of rich furniture, as studiously en 
 
 f2
 
 100 CECIL. 
 
 suite as that of my poor mother was mismatched 
 and fanciful. 
 
 Poor Lady Ormington had, in fact, never 
 recovered her first glimpse of the chinoiseries 
 of the boudoirs of Paris and Trianon, in Marie 
 Antoinette's time ; when my father, under the 
 domination of her bright eyes, was weak enough 
 to pass his honeymoon on the banks of the 
 Seine. Snatched from the simplicity of a coun- 
 try parsonage into a paradise of buhl and or- 
 moulu, her ladyship's ideas received an inefface- 
 able impression, which produced and re-produced 
 itself in her tawdry domain in Hanover Square. 
 Apple-green and turquoise-blue, — lacquer and 
 Japan, — Chelsea and Sevres, — ebony encrusted 
 with ivory or mother-of-pearl, — dainty bonbon- 
 nieres of Dutch enamel, — • curious snuff-boxes, 
 which, on the lid, displayed the lady wife, and 
 by a secret spring, the lady fair of theLauzuns 
 and Richelieus of their day, — abounded in her 
 brittle domain. Her existence was all Watteau, 
 — all a vignette, — all Pompadour, — all powder-
 
 CECIL. 101 
 
 pufF, all musk, all ambergris ! Time need 
 have had gold sand in his glass, and an agate 
 handle to his scythe, to deal with such a life 
 of trifling ! — 
 
 There was more trait in the frivolity of her 
 friend. It was Greuze, rather than Watteau — 
 it was Voltaire, not Parny. I am speaking, bien 
 entendu, of Lady Harriet as I saw her, face to 
 face, not as I recollect her, reminiscence to re- 
 miniscence. To the Cecil Danby of twenty-and- 
 a-half, she was irresistible — an epitome of all that 
 was pleasant (but wrong) in woman. 
 
 I was never sure of her. Compared with her, a 
 weather-cock was a fixture and a cameleon per- 
 manent. — A bevy of those 
 
 Gay creatures of the elements 
 That in the colours of the rainbow live ; 
 
 a swarm of humming-birds — a French brocade — 
 a Neapolitan brigand — an edition of Horace 
 Walpole, — do not combine a greater variety of 
 hues and fantasticalities. After uttering a series 
 of brilliant repartees and biting truths, that
 
 102 CECIL. 
 
 would have made the fortune of Conversation S., 
 or a witty parody like Canning's Pocket-book, 
 she was indignant if one presumed to consider 
 her anything but a fool ; yet, after behaving 
 like one for four-and-twenty hours, (by angling 
 for gudgeons, such as my cousin Lord Squeamy 
 or Sir Moulton Drewe, and flinging them back, 
 when caught, into the waters,) she would not. 
 suffer me to presume one half-quarter of an inch 
 upon her folly. On the slightest act of forward- 
 ness. Lady Harriet made me draw in my horns 
 and sulk back into my shell ; like any other 
 wretched snail, who, presuming to trail itself 
 upon a rose, gets a thorn in its side for its 
 pains. 
 
 It was like poetry after prose, — it was like 
 grace after meat, — it was like a ballet with An- 
 giolini after an opera without Catalani, — when, at 
 the close of my official day, I was admitted into 
 the charming drawing-rooms in Grosvenor Place ; 
 confronting the elms of Buckingham gardens, 
 and opening into a gay conservatory fresh with a
 
 CECIL. 103 
 
 profusion of the sweetest flowers. Pimlico was 
 then a remote suburb of London, losing itself in 
 gravel-pits and fields covered with scrubby herb- 
 age, vainly endeavouring to look green. Lady 
 Harriet preferred the situation, as the thing in 
 town that most resembled the country ; a place 
 where the houses affected rurality, with laburnum 
 bushes, and other odd conceits, trained over their 
 frontage. I remember that, in my short cut 
 across the Park, along the Birdcage-walk to 
 Buckingham-gate, I always felt as though I were 
 living in the reign of Queen Anne, and as if 
 Lady Harriet were living at the Antipodes. On 
 the days I paid my court to her, there was no 
 getting near St. James's Street ; for Downing 
 Street, Grosvenor Place, and the Clubs, formed 
 the extremities of a triangle. 
 
 The lovely tyrant was never visible till four 
 o''clock ; but rising at noon {Taurore des jolies 
 femmes)^ how did she employ the interim? — In 
 the circle I usually found assembled round her, 
 consisting of about a dozen of the tlite of the
 
 104 CECIL. 
 
 day, there was no one to excite my jealousy: 
 the men were chiefly old roues, men of forty, — 
 men who, in the eyes of twenty-and-a-half, pos- 
 sessed about the attraction that a venerable classic, 
 though printed by Aldus and bound by Du Seuil 
 possesses in those of a schoolboy, compared with 
 some new romance by M. G. Lewis, in gaudy 
 accoutrements of modern calf. Lady Harriet 
 might as well have selected, as an object of 
 jealousy, one of the wrinkled and painted cats 
 abounding in her loo-playing coterie, as / one 
 of the ci-devant jeunes gens, contemporaries of 
 Sir Lionel Dashwood, who were the Celadons 
 of the bergerie in Grosvenor Place. Like some 
 boy-navigator, who, with 
 
 Youth at the prow and Pleasure at the helm, 
 neglects the lead, I was close upon the Goodwin 
 Sands, and fancied myself in fifty fathom water. 
 But how, then, did she fill up the hours 
 when I was idling through the business of the 
 state in Downing Street ? — How was it with her 
 from noon till four o'clock ? — I had seen in
 
 CECIL. 105 
 
 my cockadehood Lady Ormington devote half-a- 
 dozen consecutive hours to the toilet — paint- 
 ing, patching, frizzing, — fastidious in the turn 
 of a feather, — irresolute in the disposal of a re- 
 pentir (I allude, of course, to the curl of that 
 name). But those were the days of elaboracy, 
 when the mere act of lacing was the affair of 
 an hour ; whereas Lady Harriet was one of the 
 least dressy of the present school of dishabille. 
 Morning, noon, or night, — I lie, afternoon or 
 night being the only epochs at which I saw* 
 her, — she was invariably attired in a muslin 
 dress of exquisite whiteness and fineness ; having 
 her hair dressed in the simplest fashion, without 
 trinkets or ribbons to set off face or figure. — 
 Her simplicity amounted almost to the puritanical. 
 It was clearly, therefore, not her toilet'*s fragrant 
 task which caused her door to be denied ; though, 
 at the happy hour appointed for her manifes- 
 tation to eyes profane, when I was admitted into 
 her presence, she had just the bright enjouS look 
 of a person who has been spending her time to 
 
 t5
 
 106 CECIL. 
 
 her heart's content; — eyes beaming with intel- 
 ligence, — lips yivid with quickened circulation, — 
 cheeks brightened by the consciousness of beauty. 
 Dull or cunning indeed must be the woman's 
 countenance, that does not betray to a jealous man 
 whether she has been too well amused during his 
 absence! — 
 
 I had no opportunity of resolving my doubts. 
 Chance had favoured me with a tete-a-tete at our 
 first interview ; but from that period I never saw 
 her alone. We met in the throng of the world, 
 or at her own house ; but I could never manage 
 to arrive there till between four and five, when 
 her rooms were crowded. Nay, once, when by 
 dint of shirking my officialities and crossing the 
 Park at the pace of pedestrian Barclay, I managed 
 to arrive in Grosvenor Place as the clock was 
 striking four, I found myself distanced by a cer- 
 tain Colonel Morley, a fellow in the Guards, 
 ugly as the devil, and, like that great potentate, 
 extremely well-mannered and prepossessing. 
 
 I do not mean that Morley was prepossessing
 
 CECIL. 107 
 
 to me. There was something in his shrewd 
 glance that cut me to the soul. The superiority 
 affected by Jack Harris roused my indignation ; 
 but the unaffected contempt of the guardsman 
 depressed me to the earth. So sure as I entered 
 Lady Harriet's presence with something witty or 
 agreeable in petto, the calm, investigating eye of 
 Morley threw a fatal damp over my spirits. My 
 squibs were damaged, and would not go off; my 
 fireworks exploded in my own face : and, when 
 floundering in the midst of an entertaining anec- 
 dote which his malice marred in the telling, he 
 used quietly to ask me, what next ? — had I not 
 forgotten something ? — was that all ? — How could 
 I do otherwise than detest such a man ! — He was 
 my evil genius, — and an evil genius I was sure 
 to meet at Philippi. 
 
 One morning, when several of the habitues of 
 the house had taken leave of Lady Harriet on 
 the threshold of her little conservatory, at the 
 ringing of the postman's bell, — the usual signal 
 for her airing, — I managed to linger a moment
 
 108 CECIL. 
 
 behind the rest, and was rewarded for the quiet 
 way in which I accomplished my little man- 
 oeuvre, by the gift of a branch of heliotrope. 
 
 "A token of approbation and encouragement, 
 Mr. Cecil Danby,"" said she, still continuing to 
 examine her flowers and occupy herself with their 
 arrangement. " You have made fair progress. 
 You have almost mastered the most difficult of 
 London lessons, — to subside into a fraction of 
 the multitude, and satisfy yourself with being 
 a mere link in the chain of society. Those who 
 pretend to more, will never become even that. 
 You have no right, at present, to individualize ; 
 but must live and move, and have your be- 
 ing, in the life, movement, and sensibility of the 
 mass." 
 
 " In one respect, I certainly feel with the 
 mass!" cried I, with warmth; "in my ador- 
 ation of — " 
 
 " My carriage is at the door," interrupted Lady 
 Harriet; "and if you have no better acknow- 
 ledgment to offer for my graciousness than such 
 platitudes — "
 
 CECIL. 109 
 
 " Your graciousness ! — " I ejaculated, with an 
 appropriate sigh of reproach. 
 
 " Don't treat it too lightly," she replied ; " for 
 it is more the result of my indulgence than of 
 your merits. You are doing pretty well. You 
 have learned to dress simply, to ride a quiet hack, 
 and place yourself in the background of the 
 picture. But you have still worlds of wisdom to 
 acquire. You talk too much ; you laugh too 
 much. — Your teeth are good, and your spirits 
 high ; but this does not suffice as an excuse for 
 being heard in company, when others, with greater 
 minds and smaller voices, are compelled to silence 
 by your chattering. — Look at Colonel Morley. — ''' 
 
 " Thank you ; I had rather not. — He is bet- 
 ter to listen to than look at — " 
 
 " A case directly contrary to your own," was 
 her provoking retort upon my impertinence. 
 " You would do well, however, to study and 
 take pattern by the well-bred insouciance with 
 which he contents himself to remain unnoticed, in 
 order that a cleverish lad, who has his way to make 
 in the world, may have a fair field for his debute
 
 110 CECIL. 
 
 Was this sufficiently insulting ? — But for the 
 dimples softening the sarcastic smile accompany- 
 ing her attack, and for the exquisite whiteness 
 of the little hand that withdrew itself out of a 
 verbena-bush to emphasize her harangue, I think, 
 I should, — I scarcely knew what ! — 
 
 " Where is the flower I gave you ?" said Lady 
 Harriet ; discerning, perhaps, something of the 
 vacillation of my feelings in the expression of my 
 face. 
 
 I replied by laying my hand, with an expres- 
 sive gesture, upon my heart. 
 
 "Be so good as to put it in your button- 
 hole,'" said she, coolly. " Do you suppose I 
 like you well enough to give you a flower, which 
 I do not intend you to make a show of .^ — I gave 
 it as the French Emperor bestowed a decoration. 
 The Legion of Honour would cease to create 
 heroes, if worn en cachette.'''' 
 
 On my arrival in town, an order from Lady 
 Harriet Vandeleur to make an exhibition of her 
 cadeau would have flattered my vanity. I knew
 
 CECIL. Ill 
 
 better now. I saw that she had no fear of being 
 compromised by me ; and scarcely was I in the 
 street, before I flung down the sprig of helio- 
 trope upon the pavement, trusting Lady Harriet 
 would note it lying there, on her way to the 
 carriage. 
 
 Nam cupidfe conculcatur nimis antb metutum. 
 Young gentlemen of tender years, when in 
 love, are almost as susceptible about being 
 laughed at, as very elderly gentlemen labour- 
 ing under the same distemper. I was angry. 
 I assured myself that I was not going to be 
 made a plaything by a coquette : — that I would 
 not remain the butt of a Colonel Morley. — For 
 a week, — for a fortnight, — (ten days I believe 
 in reality, but the profound ennui to which I 
 was a victim, made me fancy it a fortnight,) — I 
 abstained from the house ; secretly flattering my- 
 self with a hope of receiving one of those little 
 three-cornered notes, scribbled a ;;a^fes de mouche, 
 which I had seen lying superscribed with other 
 names, on her ladyship's table.
 
 112 CECIL. 
 
 But I waited in vain ! — No note, — not even 
 a message ! — I contrived to make myself apparent 
 twice a week to the inmates of Lady Harriet's 
 opera-box ; and posted myself resolutely at the 
 opposite side of the room, whenever we met at as- 
 semblies. But this was not often. She belonged 
 to a set which rarely forfeited caste in the in- 
 discriminate mobs of large parties ; and to the 
 small ones, I was not yet sufficiently in fashion 
 to obtain an entree. 
 
 I could bear it no longer. Lady Harriet's 
 piquant society was as essential to me, as a pinch 
 of macauba to a snuff-taker. I found myself 
 growing lethargic ; yawned in the face of Lord 
 Votefilch, while he was pointing out to me, that 
 I neglected to dot my Ts, in a precis ; and in 
 that of my mother, while informing me that 
 Dr. Blaine had cruelly insinuated into her mind 
 that poor Bibiche was suffering from a liver com- 
 plaint. Still smarting under these double repri- 
 mands, I rushed to Grosvenor Place. 
 
 " When did you come to town, Mr. Danby .^*"
 
 CECIL. 113 
 
 inquired Lady Harriet, in a patronising tone, 
 breaking off her conversation with the young 
 Marchioness of Devereux, the prettiest of the 
 brides of the season. 
 
 " I have not left London," said I, provoked 
 at being compelled to proclaim a fact, of which 
 I knew her to be perfectly aware. 
 
 " I mistook, then, what Lady Ormington told 
 me about you. I am sure she said something 
 about absence, I dare say she spoke of your 
 being absent and out of spirits, and I mistook 
 it, for absent and out of town.*" 
 
 " I must still plead not guilty," — said I, — 
 " having enjoyed excellent health and spirits ; 
 and not the less for having ascertained by ocular 
 demonstration, at the Opera and elsewhere, that 
 your Ladyship was enjoying the same advan- 
 tages." 
 
 " How very bad the Opera is getting ! — Unless 
 they do something better for us before the 
 close of the season, I shall give up my box next
 
 114 CECIL. 
 
 year," said Lady Harriet, suddenly addressing her 
 fair visitor. 
 
 *^ People always say so — nothing better is done, 
 — yet they renew their engagement ! — " replied 
 the Marchioness, smiling. " However bad the 
 Opera may be, I believe we can better spare a 
 better thing." 
 
 " At the beginning and end of the season, 
 when there is nothing going on," observed Lady 
 Harriet ; '' but just now, one has as little time for 
 it, as patience." 
 
 / had no patience with her hypocrisy ; for 
 never was she known to miss an opera ! — I 
 went that night, and planted myself, as usual, 
 opposite her box, with the view of bringing 
 her, if not to shame, to remorse. As I ex- 
 pected, she was there ; as I did not expect, the 
 pretty Marchioness was her companion. 
 
 " I thought you were Fami de la maison of 
 the pretty widow," observed Jack Harris, accost- 
 ing me familiarly, as I directed my moody looks 
 towards the box of Lady Harriet ; which, being
 
 CECIL. 115 
 
 on the pit tier, allowed the curious in fashionable 
 movements, to obtain a suspicion of Colonel 
 Morley and Sir Moulton Drewe, occupying the 
 back-ground. " How come you to be standing 
 here, with your eyes fixed upon her like those 
 of Romeo on Juliet's balcony, while others, 
 armed, ' with love's light wings,* have over- 
 topped the barrier ? — " 
 
 " Because I am fonder of the warbling of 
 Catalani, than of the gabbling of even the pret- 
 tiest woman in the world." 
 
 " But the divertissement, my dear fellow ! 
 —The divertissement^^ the providence des dmes 
 tendres,'"* cried Jack Harris. And as he spoke, 
 I saw him glance at a new waistcoat, in nature 
 and origin evidently an improvement on the last ! 
 
 I would have given worlds, at that moment, to 
 have been in possession of a sprig of heliotrope, 
 even in my button-hole. 
 
 Lady Harriet was right. Such a trophy was 
 not without its value. Still more would I have 
 given for the privilege of intruding into her box,
 
 116 CECIL. 
 
 which I had forfeited by my foolish irascibility. 
 Three weeks before, I might have laid Jack Har- 
 ris low with envy, and shrivelled up his gay 
 waistcoat at a glance, by my familiar attitude in 
 that envied spot. But now, I dared no more 
 confront the scrutinising eye of Morley or the 
 reprehensions of Lady Harriet, than leap on the 
 stage and take a part in the ballet ! — I was inex- 
 pressibly vexed. For boys such as we then were, 
 half the agonies of life arise from petty rubs of 
 vanity. Self-consequence is our idol ; an idol 
 that imposes a perpetual hair-shirt and never- 
 ending flagellation upon its votaries ! 
 
 I saw that Lady Harriet was contemptuously 
 regarding us ; and not to afford her the triumph 
 of fancying she imposed upon me, affected to 
 talk and laugh familiarly with the companion she 
 had pointed out to my avoidance ; passing in 
 review the beauties present, with all the imperti- 
 nence of a novice. When, lo ! while affecting to 
 run my eye along the several tiers, it rested sud- 
 denly upon a face, half hidden by the curtain of
 
 CECIL. 117 
 
 one of the upper boxes, which put a period to 
 my mirth ! " Aut Erasmus, aut diabolus." It 
 was either Emily''s or an angel's; — beautiful as 
 ever, — so beautiful, that the surprise of seeing 
 her there, was quickly followed by still greater 
 surprise, when I reflected that I had allowed 
 nearly a month to elapse without recalling her 
 to my recollection. 
 
 Freely as we had been discussing the women 
 present, (and Jack Harris belonged to the class of 
 men superabounding in London, who, without 
 access to good society, familiarize themselves at 
 public places with the names and persons of those 
 between whom and them there is a great gulph 
 fixed, but concerning whom they assume the pri- 
 vilege of uttering the grossest scandals,) I recoiled 
 from exposing Emily to the blasphemies of his 
 sacrilegious tongue. Nay, when following the 
 direction of my eye, and noticing my sudden 
 flush, he exclaimed, — but I will not record what 
 he exclaimed, — further than that it contained a 
 fitting tribute to the loveliness of the fair inconnue.
 
 118 CECIL. 
 
 I forbore to hazard a syllable implying 
 knowledge of her name or person ; but I was 
 now more eager than ever to shake him off. 
 Nay, my eagerness was dictated by a feeling 
 so much more genuine than the dread of ex- 
 posing myself to the quizzing of a Lady Har- 
 riet Vandeleur, that I succeeded. I was intent 
 upon a nearer survey of Emily's box; for, if 
 there with her father alone, Lord Ormington^s 
 son had every pretext for intruding upon Lord 
 Ormington's man of business. 
 
 Having hurried up one stair case, accordingly, 
 and down another, in order to give the slip to 
 Jack Harris, who in spite of his assumption of 
 superiority, neglected no opportunity of clinging 
 in public to my arm, I made my way to the upper 
 tier of boxes ; pigeon-holes, to which I had oc- 
 casionally glanced upwards from Fop's Alley, as a 
 boy looks upon a kite traversing the fields of air, 
 and with about as much idea of ever finding my- 
 self elevated to the same enviable attitu,de. 
 
 No sooner had the box-keeper complied with
 
 CECIL. 119 
 
 my request, and opened an empty box for me, 
 than I ascertained that old Hanmer was not on 
 guard. Emily's chaperon was an elderly woman, 
 arrayed like herself in mourning of the simplest 
 fashion, and stationed behind her as if in stu- 
 dious concealment ; perhaps to command a better 
 view of the stage, — perhaps because too homely 
 to warrant display at the opera. I had little 
 leisure, however, for conjectures. My whole at- 
 tention was engrossed by the beauty of her com- 
 panion. I had thought her handsome as she 
 stood, cold and contemptuous, in the dull draw- 
 ing-room in Southampton Buildings. But now, 
 with the brilliant light of the chandelier irradia- 
 ting her fair face and tinging with gold her 
 chestnut ringlets, I was startled by her surpassing 
 loveliness. 
 
 For a month past, my eyes had rested upon 
 nothing but those withered complexions and 
 hardened countenances of fashionable life, which, 
 when viewed in a mass, with their paint and 
 varnish of ton fresh upon the surface, excite
 
 120 CECIL. 
 
 neither surprise nor disgust. But the aspect of 
 this young, bright, innocent-looking creature, so 
 impressed me with admiration of its freshness and 
 purity, that there needed no severer criticism 
 upon the deficiencies of Lady Harriet and her 
 companions. 
 
 Unconscious that she was the object of pecu- 
 liar attention, Emily's eyes were fixed upon the 
 stage; and her smiling face seemed to reflect 
 back all the brightness and interest of the ballot 
 of " Anacreon ; ou TAmour fugitif," in which 
 Deshayes and his wife were displaying their 
 matchless graces. She was a study for an artist ; 
 with her white, gracile, swan-like throat, stretched 
 forward, so that the auburn ringlets hung tendril- 
 like over the hand supporting her cheek. 
 
 Without even so much excuse for the liberty 
 of a visit to her box as to that of Lady Hamet, 
 I found it impossible to resist temptation. — No 
 reminiscence of Jack Harris's waistcoat, however, 
 among my motives. My feelings were for once 
 genuine ! —
 
 CECIL. 121 
 
 I could have found it in my heart to reward 
 with a sufficient kick, the insolent smile of the 
 box-keeper, when pointing out the box I de- 
 sired him to open the door. I saw, as plainly 
 as though he had spoken, the vile surmises pass- 
 ing in his mind concerning its inmates. 
 
 But that his key was already in the door of 
 the box, methinks I should have rescinded my 
 order. Another moment, however, and I had 
 passed the Rubicon ; and was blending with * 
 my incoherent excuses the most courteous in- 
 quiries after the health of Mr. Hanmer, whom 
 had I met in the street I should have found 
 some difficulty in recognising. 
 
 Emily's answers were as cold as succinct. 
 There is a favourite phrase of " putting people 
 in their place." If it was in my place she put 
 me, it proved to be a very humble one ; for 
 after encountering her chilling glances, I swear 
 I could have crept into a nut-shell. 
 
 I attempted the remarks that were probably 
 made in every other box that night, to every 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 \22 CECIL. 
 
 other woman present, concerning the prodigious 
 voice of Catalani, and the victorious rashness 
 of her genius. But Emily would not be be- 
 guiled into more than monosyllables in reply. 
 She evidently considered me as much out of 
 place in her aerial den at the Opera, as in her 
 horrible drawing-room in Southampton Build- 
 ings ; and after flinging a word or two at my 
 head, as if throwing a stone, turned suddenly 
 towards her venerable companion, to whom she 
 had made no movement to present me, and 
 began to converse cheerfully with her in some 
 unknown tongue. Ignorant as most young men 
 who have received a first-rate education, I knew 
 not exactly what. It might be Spanish, — it 
 might be Portuguese, — it might be Polish, 
 Hungarian, or Russ. All I knew was, that it 
 was neither French nor English, — German nor 
 Italian ; and further, neither Eton nor Oxford 
 enabled me to determine. 
 
 In the mouth of the elder lady, it was a grave, 
 sonorous language ; in that of Emily, rich and
 
 CECIL. 123 
 
 flowing. Her countenance brightened as slie 
 talked, till it became almost as intelligent as 
 before my arrival in the box. Even though 
 she deigned not to notice my presence, it was a 
 sufficient enjoyment to listen to her melodious 
 intonation and watch the " liquid lustre melting 
 from her eyes." 
 
 Rather from awkwardness than audacity, — 
 rather because I knew not how to retreat, than 
 because resolved to stay in her despite, I stood 
 my ground ; and upon a sudden exclamation of 
 delight, whereby she directed the attention of 
 her chaperon to what was passing on the stage, 
 I even deliberately took possession of the unoc- 
 cupied chair, immediately opposite to Emily, on 
 pretext of sudden interest in the performance. 
 Perhaps I wished to draw a little nearer to her, — 
 perhaps I wanted to exhibit myself to the roue 
 world in the pit, in company with the most beau- 
 tiful woman in the house, — perhaps I was even 
 anxious to attract the attention of Lady Harriet 
 Vandeleur to my superior good fortune. At all 
 
 G 2
 
 1^4 CECIL. 
 
 events, the movement afforded me an excuse for 
 expressing to Emily my regret that she should 
 occupy so vile a box, where seeing or hearing 
 were alike out of the question. 
 
 " Would you permit me," I added, in my 
 most insinuating tone, " to send you, some night, 
 my mother's box, which is on the ground tier, 
 half a dozen from the stage, and commanding an 
 excellent coup d'ceil of the ballet ? — *" 
 
 She gazed at me with a calmly inquiring eye ; 
 but uttered not a syllable. 
 
 " Had Lord Ormington been aware,'' said 
 I, by way of recalling to her mind the exact 
 nature of the link connecting us with each 
 other, " that you were fond of the Opera, I 
 am convinced he would long ago have had the 
 honour of offering it to Mr. Hanmer." 
 
 I was convinced of no such thing ; for Lord 
 Ormington would just as soon have thought of 
 interfering with my mother's Oj)era-box, as she 
 of disposing of his service of plate. But I 
 chose Hanmer's daughter to bear in mind the
 
 CECIL. 125 
 
 courtesy due to the son of her father's favou- 
 rite client. 
 
 Again, after a very slight bend of the head 
 by way of acknowledgment, did she turn to- 
 wards the grave old matron in black, with a 
 thousand lively comments upon what was going 
 on, either in her own box or in the ballet. 
 With the vulgar susceptibility of ignorance, I 
 was convinced, at every fresh smile and ejacu- 
 lation, that they were talking of me / At length, . 
 I felt so thoroughly uncomfortable, that I ha- 
 zarded no further attempt at softening her rigour 
 beyond a deferential bow, and hastily departed. 
 
 " You were scarcely fair with me, Cis, in 
 allowing me to run on unchecked, while passing 
 my opinion just now upon your lovely friend ! '' 
 cried Jack Harris, whom I encountered in the 
 lobby of the fifth tier ; and who, I saw plainly, 
 had ascended so much above his usual Opera 
 altitude, only that he might interrogate the 
 box-keeper touching the two mysterious ladies. 
 " Another time, my dear fellow, spare my feel-
 
 126 CECIL. 
 
 ings and your own, by saying ' I canH be ex- 
 plicit, but I won't be unfriendly. Do not per- 
 sist in your inquiries."* " 
 
 " I should have been sorry to excite your 
 curiosity by any prohibition half so mysterious ! " 
 replied I, assuming the tone of coolness with 
 which he so often martyrized me. '-' Nor was 
 I aware that it was essential you should be 
 warned, to a day and a minute, whenever I 
 had occasion to form an agreeable acquaintance." 
 
 Having uttered these oracular words, I left 
 him, looking vexed and malicious ; and, in the 
 recklessness caused by the triumph of the mo- 
 ment, made my way straight to the box of Lady 
 Harriet ; having noticed, fron\ the opposite post, 
 that Drewe and Morley had quitted her, as even 
 the most devoted men are apt to quit the most 
 charming of women, when the back of their box 
 does not command a view of the dancing. 
 
 Why was it that both the Marchioness and 
 her friend received me so affably ? — Why was 
 it that, throughout the remainder of the night,
 
 CECIL. 127 
 
 their conversation with me was so unintermit- 
 tingly kept up, that it would have been dif- 
 ficult to find a moment for leaving them ? — Had 
 my recent emotion imparted unusual expression 
 to features not altogether deficient in merit ? — 
 Had the ambition of conquering in the fifth 
 tier, endowed me with the power of conquest 
 in the first ? — Had they noticed me leaning 
 familiarly over the box of that lovely creature ? 
 — or were they, after all, simply intent upon 
 avenging the base desertion of their recreant 
 knights by a manifest flirtation ? — 
 
 The latter supposition presented itself in time 
 to prevent my making a fool of myself. The 
 dread of being accepted as a pis aller, saved me. 
 The torch might burn and sparkle as brightly 
 as it listed, but they should see that Cecil Dan by 
 was not the silly moth to singe his wings. I made 
 myself irresistible. The jargon of London life, 
 which at first appeared so difficult of acquire- 
 ment, is as easy as lying, when studied by an 
 enlightened mind. Early education had taught
 
 1^8 CECIL. 
 
 me. the rudiments. I had stood in the stocks 
 of fashion in my infancy ; and my toes being 
 properly turned out, dancing came as by in- 
 tuition. I was already a tolerable trifler ; could 
 recite a piquant anecdote without losing the 
 point, hroder upon a slender hint of scandal, 
 and twist a hon mot so artfully, that my fair 
 audi tresses had a right to suppose it hazarded 
 by themselves. 
 
 To the Marchioness, I chattered ; with Lady 
 Harriet, I listened ; and consequently, was suc- 
 cessful with both. It has been told of a late 
 nobleman, equally distinguished by his abilities 
 and absence of mind, that, having talked to 
 himself in his travelling-carriage the whole way 
 from Brighton to London, he ended, at Hyde 
 Park Corner, by inviting himself to dinner, as 
 the pleasantest companion he had ever travelled 
 with. Lady Harriet evidently thought as much 
 of mt ; because what passed for dialogue between 
 us, was as much a monopolylogue as those of 
 Mathews.
 
 CECIL. 129 
 
 Never had I seen her so gracious ! — Not a 
 sarcasm, not a reproof! Kind, encouraging, 
 it needed all the beauty of the expressive face 
 on which, for an hour past, I had been gazing, 
 to convince me that the charming little widow 
 from whose mouth dropped pearls and diamonds, 
 and in whose large eyes sparkled shrewdness 
 and wit, was three-and-thirty years of age, a 
 hardened fraction of that adamantine temple of 
 worldliness, called the heau monde ! 
 
 After wincing under the hauteur of Emily, 
 such brilliancy ought to have dazzled, — such 
 affability ought to have overwhelmed me ! — Far 
 from it I — The chaste moonlight imparts no 
 charm to the glaring sunshine ; though glaring 
 sunshine disposes us for the refreshing softness 
 of the tranquil moon. For the first time, I 
 discerned effort in Lady Harriet's wit, and rest- 
 lessness in her vanity. But, as my admiration 
 declined, my embarrassment vanished. My 
 tongue was loosed. I became natural in her 
 presence ; that is, natural as the clipped hedges 
 
 G 5
 
 130 CECIL. 
 
 and formal parterres of a Dutch garden. My 
 fair friends were content, however, with the 
 gaudy blossoms tendered by my gallantry. Both 
 of them smiled upon me '' delightfully with all 
 their might;" and accordingly, at the most 
 earnest moment of the conversation, I started 
 up, as if recollecting an engagement, made a 
 profound bow, and, — 
 
 nee ultra 
 
 Errorem foveo, 
 
 vanished ! — 
 
 Nothing in the world provokes a woman of the 
 world more than that the man who has found 
 refuge in her comfortable Opera-box, and amused 
 himself with her lively chat, should take his pre- 
 cipitate departure five minutes before the con- 
 clusion of the ballet ; — a deliberate avowal that 
 he disdains the honour (that is, that he chooses 
 to shirk the bore) of escorting her to her carriage. 
 But to leave her alone in her glory, — to leave 
 her, when the kindnesses lavished upon you have 
 been the means of keeping more assiduous beaux
 
 CECIL. 131 
 
 from the field, — is an " ungrateful injury,'' past 
 all forgiveness ! 
 
 Morley, I knew, was off to White's. Morley 
 was the strongest whist-man of his day ; one of 
 those whom one knows as well where to find, at a 
 certain hour of the night throughout the season, 
 as the police inspector at his station-house, or 
 the premier during the session of parliament. 
 Squeamy and Drewe were lounging, as usual, in 
 the pit, directly under Lady Harriet's box. I 
 made it my business to pin them there firmly by , 
 the button, — too happy in being button-held by 
 /we, usually so supercilious in my acceptance of 
 their acquaintance, — so that she could have no 
 hopes of us ! No mistaking our united inten- 
 tions to convoy nothing but ourselves and our 
 canes out of the Opera House that night. In- 
 deed, I had already engaged my companions to 
 sup with me at Watier's, a new club, the head- 
 quarters of the roues, of which our three Insig- 
 nificances were component parts. 
 
 My plan was to remain there, en evidence^ till
 
 182 CECIL. 
 
 the last moment ; then, just as the curtain was 
 falling, rush up to the skiey regions of the fifth 
 tier, in order to ascertain by what fortunate cava- 
 lier Emily and her chaperon were escorted. I 
 did not foresee that the stairs would be crowded 
 with people hurrying down ; and that, as usual, 
 where a single person attempts to combat the 
 mass, the mass would have the best of it. The 
 upper part of the house was half empty before 
 I reached the spot. 
 
 Everybody in the unlucky habit of frequent- 
 ing the London theatres, either in those days or 
 these, must have found their choler excited, on 
 some occasion or other, by the coarseness of the 
 Rule-Britannia class of the community fre- 
 quenting the galleries ; and just as often, by the 
 indecorum of a class of men, who, if better born 
 and bred, are scarcely better mannered, — dandies 
 of a secondary order, whose gallantry consists in 
 staring women out of countenance, and whose 
 heroism in knocking a man down ! 
 
 On reaching the door of the box which so 
 strongly excited my interest, I found it besieged
 
 CECIL. 133 
 
 by a gi-oup of Lovelaces of this description ; and, 
 unless I am much mistaken, my eye caught a 
 glimpse of Jack Harris himself, hurrying off 
 on my approach, as if ashamed of being seen in 
 such company. But the lights were all but ex- 
 tinguished, and I was unable positively to de- 
 termine. Even the box-keepers were gone ; and 
 but that the doors of all the adjoining boxes 
 stood open, while that of Miss Hanmer's re- 
 mained closed, I should have concluded that I 
 was too late, and that Emily had already taken 
 her departure. 
 
 Something in the triumphant air of the scamps 
 stationed in the vicinity, convinced me they were 
 lying in ambush for her exit, to molest her with 
 insult. But how to obtain admittance, in the 
 boxkeeper''s absence, with a tender of my ser- 
 vices ? — I knocked at the door of the box ; — no 
 answer ! — At length, it occurred to me to enter 
 the one adjoining, and lean over for a parley. 
 Anxiety on her account imparted courage for 
 so bold an intrusion. I was boiling with rage. 
 I felt convinced that she was held prisoner by
 
 134 CECIL. 
 
 these blackguards. It was in perfect good faith, 
 it was with the truest and best intentions, that I 
 pushed my way into the next box, drew aside 
 the intervening curtain, and addressed her. 
 
 For a moment, I suspect, Emily mistook me 
 for an auxiliary of her persecutors ; for her first 
 movement, on hearing herself spoken to, was to 
 retreat into a corner behind her companion. I 
 raised my voice, however, to re-assure her. 
 
 " I fear you have no one to see you to your 
 carriage ! — '*'' said L " Will you do me the 
 favour to accept my arm ? — " 
 
 A few hurried words addressed to her com- 
 panion, in which I could detect, though altered 
 by a foreign accent, the names of Lord Orming- 
 ton and Mr. Hanmer, seemed intended to ex- 
 plain the connection between us. But the 
 agitated tone in which they were uttered, served 
 to convince me that I had not mistaken their 
 situation ; that they were alone, — unprotected, 
 — terrified. — Emily advanced to the front of 
 the box, to explain that they accepted my offer
 
 CECIL. 135 
 
 with gratitude ; and the sight of her blanched 
 cheeks and tremulous lips excited so much emo- 
 tion in my breast, that I forgot to congratulate 
 myself on having vanquished her scruples or 
 humbled her pride. 
 
 "I fear, — I greatly fear, — "" cried I, " that 
 you have experienced some annoyance ? — If you 
 would only point out to me, as we go down, the 
 individual by whom — "" 
 
 She stopped me. " If I profit by your kind- 
 ness," said she, "it is only on condition that • 
 you take no notice of anything that has occurred, 
 or may occur, concerning us. Nothing would 
 annoy me half so much as to become the object 
 of a dispute in public.'"* 
 
 "Do me the favour then to admit me into 
 your box till you are sufficiently composed for a 
 sortie," said I, "in order that it may be seen 
 you have an authorized protector." 
 
 No need of the precaution. On making my 
 way round, the coast was already clear. I had 
 consequently no difficulty in persuading Miss
 
 136 CECIL. 
 
 Hanmer to hasten from the spot, where only a 
 glimmering light remained to render our situation 
 more embarrassing. 
 
 " The gentleman who accompanied us hither, 
 the husband of Madame d'Acunha," said Emily, 
 in a low voice, (as we hurried down stairs toge- 
 ther, closely followed by the old lady, whom she 
 seemed to introduce by the latter name,) " must 
 have met with some accident, which prevented 
 his rejoining us. He usually leaves us during 
 the ballet, to obtain a better place in the pit ; 
 but has never before failed to be in time for es- 
 corting us out.*''' 
 
 " And you have consequently been exposed to 
 annoyance ! — I am convinced of it ! — It is use- 
 less to deny it ! — " cried I, with swelling bosom, 
 when, on reaching the lobbies adjoining the 
 crush-room, now nearly empty, I perceived the 
 four vulgar brutes already noticed, leaning against 
 the wall, as if to wait our passing. They were 
 indulging in noisy mirth. It was the epoch of 
 " coaching ;" and with the abuse of propriety
 
 CECIL. 137 
 
 distinguishing tlie genuine Bond-street lounger, 
 these individuals were dressed in the bang-up 
 style, -which the Barouche Club had brought into 
 fashion, — their dialect being the newly-discovered 
 European tongue, called slang. — I saw at a glance 
 that I, Cecil Danby, should irremediably soil 
 my fingers by contact with such gentry ; and 
 with the most valiant intentions, was grateful to 
 Emily^s moderation, when she persisted in as- 
 suring me I was mistaken. Instead of casting 
 a triumphant glance upon the baffled enemy, she 
 quietly, but firmly, impelled me in a contrary 
 direction toward the chair door. 
 
 I inquired if it was there her carriage was 
 waiting ? — 
 
 *' I have no carriage," she replied, without the 
 slightest embarrassment. " Perhaps you will 
 have the goodness to call a hackney-coach for us, 
 as Monsier d'Acunha Avould have done, had he 
 been here."" 
 
 I was horrified ! — not at the idea of calling a 
 hackney-coach ; not even at the degradation
 
 138 CECIL. 
 
 awaiting the beautiful and queenly creature 
 leaning on my arm ; but at the prospect of 
 leaving her alone, while I proceeded along those 
 horrible avenues of Shepherd' s-market, which the 
 awkward issues of the Opera-house at that period 
 rendered inevitable. Candour was my only al- 
 ternative. " I dare not leave you," said I. 
 " Accompany me out, and a link-boy will pro- 
 cure us a coach." 
 
 At the chair door, stood Jack Harris, in com- 
 pany with two other Christchurch-men, — cigars 
 in their mouths, — hands in their pockets, — inso- 
 lence in their eyes ! — 
 
 " Please to want a coach, sir ? — '''' cried half a 
 dozen link-boys, surrounding us, as we emerged 
 into the dirty passage. 
 
 " Please to want a coach, sir ? — " mimicked 
 the voices of half a dozen other frequenters of the 
 detestable spot, on perceiving that we were not 
 attended by a servant, and that my companions 
 were not in what is termed full-dress. 
 
 Heaven knows I cared nothing about " pleas-
 
 CECIL. 139 
 
 ing to want a coach."'' I flatter myself my worldly 
 position justifies my being seen in such a ve- 
 hicle, whenever or wherever it suits my conve- 
 nience ; and saving for their cursed noise, the 
 chorus of link-boys would have little moved my 
 spleen. But that Emily should be exposed, 
 under such circumstances, to the sneers of Jack 
 Han-is and his companions, wounded me to the 
 quick ! The whole gang was now united, and 
 followed us leisurely to the spot, where, after the 
 departure of the sedan chairs, a few miserable 
 king's coaches, looking as if they wanted only a 
 touch to tumble to pieces, were permitted to jolt 
 their way up to the pavement. 
 
 One of these, summoned by the link-man's 
 twang, was already drawn up and awaiting us ; the 
 iron steps rattling, and the dirty straw invitingly 
 displayed by the light of half a dozen links, the 
 proprietors of which stood requesting the ladies 
 to take their time, in a tone that sounded won- 
 derfully like a threat. A beastly fellow of a 
 coachman, whose rusty clothes seemed to have as
 
 140 CECIL. 
 
 much difficulty in adhering to him as the com- 
 ponent parts of his coach and horses to each other, 
 was pushing them back, with a hand that held a 
 wisp of hay,, while the other kept open the 
 CTeaking door. 
 
 What an equipage for Emily ! — As it stared 
 me in the face, I seemed to feel that Jack Harris 
 and his rampant crew were staring at it from 
 behind me ! — I could hear their repressed laugh- 
 ter. I could imagine all that was passing in their 
 minds ! — 
 
 Do me not the injustice, kind reader, to sup- 
 pose that it was for the Honourable Cecil Danby 
 the flush mounted to my cheek. I know not how 
 it might be with me now, after the demoralization 
 of an ill-spent life. But I was then only twenty 
 and seven months. I had still a heart, — ay, 
 and as full of magnanimity as the leading article 
 of a newspaper is full of the first person plural. 
 
 " You must allow me to accompany you home. 
 I do not consider you safe ! "" said I, whispering 
 through the chestnut curls into the neatly hemmed
 
 CECIL. 141 
 
 little ear of Emily. " Do me justice. I have 
 no presumptuous views in pressing my services 
 upon you. But you are watched by those who 
 would scruple at nothing in pursuing Iheir ag- 
 gressions. If you choose it, I will even take 
 my place with the coachman ; but you shall not 
 proceed so far as Southampton Buildings un- 
 attended." 
 
 Emily answered not a word. I could make 
 nothing of her silence, save that it gave consent. 
 Fool that I was, not to suspect the truth, — that 
 it proceeded from her tears ! — 
 
 The moment I had placed her and the old 
 lady in the coach, I jumped in after them ; and, 
 having flung the link-boys their reward, whis- 
 pered the address to the surly old brute who was 
 slamming the door. At that moment, the glare 
 of half-a-dozen links, assembled to grace our de- 
 parture, fell upon the faces of the facetious group, 
 of which Jack Harris formed a part ; displaying, 
 under varied forms of expression, amazement, 
 envy, and derision !
 
 14:2 CECIL. 
 
 I did not dwell upon their insolence, further 
 than by grinding between my teeth certain im- 
 precations, purporting to take a more developed 
 shape hereafter ; for, though perplexed by the 
 darkness, and distracted by the jarring and jang- 
 ling of the vehicle, the sobs of Emily were 
 audible from the shoulder of her companion, into 
 whose arms she had thrown herself. 
 
 I had just self-command to forbear offering, 
 consolations which would have aggravated her 
 uneasiness. My business there was to be a silent 
 and unobtrusive guardian. The old lady, — or, 
 since such was her name, Madame d''Acunha, — 
 was well satisfied to engross the conversation, by a 
 torrent of words, of which the purport was suffi- 
 ciently revealed by the successive tones of rage, 
 fear, resentment, varying her ejaculations. Un- 
 less the truant, the delinquent, the absent-with- 
 out-leave Monsieur d'Acunha, were far gone in 
 apoplexy or some other lethargic seizure, I would 
 not have been in his skin at their next meeting ! 
 She probably threatened quite as loudly the ag-
 
 CECIL. 143 
 
 gressors who had presumed on their unprotected 
 situation ; but of this, as no proper name served 
 as index to her invectives, I was unable to 
 judge. 
 
 All my thoughts, moreover, were engrossed by 
 the grief of Emily. I fancied, (what is not one 
 able to fancy at twenty-and-a-half!) that I could 
 detect in her weeping, as clearly as in Madame 
 d^'Acunha^s abuse, inflexions of wounded pride, of 
 suffering delicacy. I was even in hopes that my 
 turn might come, and tears of penitent gratitude 
 signalize her recognition of my modest merit. 
 But her sobs subsided to sighs, and her sighs to 
 silence, without a sound having escaped her lips 
 indicative of consciousness of my presence ! 
 
 I could not stand this long. " You are bet- 
 ter now, I trust ? — '' said I, still preserving appro- 
 priate calmness of manner and attitude. Had I 
 and old Madame d'Acunha been tete-a-tete in the 
 coach, I could not have maintained a more de- 
 corous perpendicularity. 
 
 " As much better as I can be with the con-
 
 144 CECIL. 
 
 sciousness of having been troublesome to every- 
 body, and a burthen to myself," she replied, with 
 much emotion. " Mr. Hanmer warned me that I 
 was imprudent in yielding to my passionate love 
 of music so far as to venture to the Opera, at- 
 tended only by those whose ignorance of the 
 English language might expose us to difficulties. 
 But habit renders bold. I have now so repeat- 
 edly occupied the same box without attracting 
 notice or annoyance, that I ceased even to ap- 
 prehend it.*" 
 
 " But since your father was aware of the 
 danger," I observed, " why not himself attend 
 you to the theatre ? — " 
 
 " You have twice given me reason to suppose 
 that you regard me as the daughter of Mr. Han- 
 mer," was her mild reply. " Your kindness en- 
 titles you to explanations which, as a stranger, I 
 feared could not be very interesting. I am his 
 ward. I have been but a few months in Eng- 
 land. I am an inmate of his house. My name 
 is Emily Barnet."
 
 CECIL. 145 
 
 There was something in the explicit frankness 
 of her explanation, which reminded me of Frank- 
 lin and his boot-jack. 
 
 " I trust," said I, '' you will not the less per- 
 mit me to consider myself (connected, as I am, 
 by peculiar ties with Mr. Hanmer,) privileged to 
 officiate as your protector whenever or where- 
 soever my aid may be wanting." 
 
 ■" You have been most kind, and I am deeply 
 sensible of the obligation," replied Emily, with 
 some sensibility ; " but you must forgive me for 
 assuring you that any further acquaintance be- 
 tween us would be wholly unacceptable to my 
 guardian." 
 
 This was throwing down the glove of de- 
 fiance some what cavalierly ! but I had no leisure 
 to remonstrate. Emily's tears had prolonged 
 themselves so unreasonably, that we were ap- 
 proaching Southampton Buildings. I perceived, 
 mK)reover, that we were not only near the term 
 of our journey, but dodged by a hackney-coach, 
 evidently intent upon keeping up with us. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 CECIL. 
 
 Though careful not to breathe a hint of my 
 suspicions, I congratulated myself silently on 
 my foresight in not having allowed them to 
 return home alone. At Mr. Hanmer's door, I 
 was preparing to jump out, when Emily delayed 
 me with an urgent request that, after depositing 
 hei\ I would proceed with Madame d'Acunha, 
 to her residence in Burton Crescent. 
 
 " Were she to alight here, to spare you this 
 trouble," said Emily, '' Mr. Hanmer would be- 
 come aware that something unusual had occurred, 
 and experience uneasiness for the future. Do 
 me the favour, therefore, to take care of my 
 friend home. She speaks no English, or would 
 add her acknowledgments to my own." 
 
 So saying, she sprang out of the coach, the 
 steps of which had been let down during her 
 address. I had not even found time to offer her 
 my hand; and Pepper-and-Salt, with a tallow- 
 candle in his hand, was now on guard over us ! 
 All that remained was to get rid of the old lady
 
 CECIL. 147 
 
 with as much celerity as I had been got rid of 
 by the young one. 
 
 But, while giving my attention to Emily's 
 parting request, the artful dodger of a hackney- 
 coach had escaped me ! — No vestige of it in any 
 direction ! — Having tracked Miss Barnet into 
 the house, its mission was accomplished; for I 
 don't suppose it signified much to Jack Harris at 
 what number in Burton Crescent might reside 
 the worshipful helpmate of the missing Monsieur 
 d'Acunha. 
 
 " A pretty finale to my evening's amusements, 
 upon my soul!'' — cried I, on finding myself 
 jogging along the then gloomy and half-finished 
 streets adjoining Burton Crescent. " I — Cis 
 Danby — to be benighted in the wilds of Blooms- 
 bury ! — And for what ? — To play the squire to 
 an old cat in a rusty bombazine gown, with a 
 complexion only half a degree less dingy ! " 
 
 The mansion in which Madame d'Acunha 
 had requested to be deposited, appeared suffi- 
 
 H 2
 
 148 CECIL. 
 
 ciently respectable to warrant better habiliments 
 and a more creditable equipage ; and now that I 
 was alone in the coach, I could perceive, power- 
 ful even beyond its fustiness, the searching and 
 delicious fragrance of vanille^ which appears to 
 form the natural atmosphere of the women of 
 Portugal. 
 
 It was not, however, till fairly ensconced in 
 the easy chair of my own room in Hanover 
 Square, (which, by the way, did not by any 
 means correspond with Jack Harris's predic- 
 tions,) that I became fully sensible of the strange- 
 ness of my fortune in the events of the even- 
 ing. 
 
 Petted by Lady Harriet, — smiled upon by 
 the ' Marchioness, — thanked — gratefully and af- 
 fectionately thanked, by Emily ! — It was surely 
 enough to turn a stronger head than the one 
 which had never sat straight upon its shoulders, 
 since the demoralizing epoch of its first cockade ! —
 
 CECIL. 149 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In fact, there *s not much interesting in 't, 
 Unless it be in hot-press and good print. 
 
 Proctor. 
 
 n semblait voler a des eonquetes, et n'avoir qu'a se 
 
 mettre en frais de bonne volonte, pour inspirer autour de 
 
 lui de I'amour. 
 
 Brucker. 
 
 It is time, methinks, that I afford some 
 slight idea of the temple consecrated by my 
 mother's devotion and my own, to the worship 
 of that memorable individual, the Honourable 
 Cecil Danby ; for though it was only the same 
 double room on the third floor of the house 
 in Hanover Square, occupied by my nursery in 
 my cockadehood, and by John and myself, con- 
 jointly, in our school-days, it had now assumed 
 a character of higher interest for posterity.
 
 150 CECIL. 
 
 Lady Ormington, like the majority of silly 
 ■women, had a passion for furnishing. Before 
 the high-pressure education movement came into 
 play, writing ill-spelt letters, and running up 
 upholsterers' bills, were among the least mis- 
 chievous avocations of those whose game was 
 loo, and whose virtue, the charity that covereth 
 a multitude of sins. 
 
 My rooms, gentle reader ! (or, on this oc- 
 casion more especially, reader fair !) my rooms, 
 as I found them on arriving for my first Ox- 
 ford vacation, were hung with a highly glazed 
 white paper, matched with highly glazed white 
 furniture ; the whole being vivified by a gay 
 pattern of blue convolvulus. Even the carpet 
 exhibited, on its pale grey ground, the same 
 design, and the Worcester china was what 
 George Robins would call en suite. Nothing could 
 be more summer-like and cheering. The fur- 
 niture was of the darkest rose-wood ; the shower- 
 bath white japan. But the triumph of the 
 whole was the dressing-table, on whose spot-
 
 CECIL. 151 
 
 less marble slab stood the crystal and gold be- 
 longings of the dressing-box, manufactured for 
 me by Gray, under the immediate directions of 
 Lady Ormington. 
 
 The most refined coxcombry breathed in the 
 aiTangements of my sanctuary. Something, how- 
 ever, of the old bachelor was perceptible in the 
 exactness of its distribution. The boot-jack 
 knew its appointed place ; and the nail-nippers 
 would not have been at their ease unless laid 
 side by side with the razor-strop. Unluckily, 
 the small groom, (for as yet tigers were not — 
 " We had not got the name, but had the 
 thing,*") who, as the characteristic curse of my 
 younger sonhood, supplied the place of valet, 
 did not always understand this as well as the 
 boot-jack and nail-nippers ; and for the first three 
 weeks Tim flourished in my service, seldom less 
 than fifty threats of annihilation per diem were 
 extorted by his negligence. ' I might possibly 
 have put one of them into execution, had I 
 contemplated any likelihood of replacing • the
 
 152 CECIL. 
 
 little sinner within many inches of his merito- 
 rious exiguity. 
 
 Small grooms were just " come in," — as they 
 say of green peas, strawberries, and fashions. 
 Women have in all ages been addicted to trifles 
 of this description, such as pages, dwarfs, and 
 i ' marmosets. But it remained for our own times 
 J to attach to the six feet two of full developed 
 
 manhood, three feet, or less, by way of hench- 
 man to its valour. I have heard of brats born 
 in a mews and in a stable bred, deliberately 
 stunted, like puppies, and by the same spirituous 
 potions, in order to accomplish them for a tiger- 
 hood. 
 
 Tim, — " my boy," as FalstafF used to call his 
 page, and as we then all called our tigers, — had 
 won my affections by the pluck with which I 
 saw him bear a severe fall from one of Lady 
 Ormington's horses, to the back of which, poor 
 atom ! he had been lifted by his father, her 
 ladyship's Irish coachman. I promoted him on 
 the spot to tops and buckskins ; and a few days
 
 CECIL. 153 
 
 afterwards, not an eye in the ring but was bent 
 with envy and admiration upon the natty little 
 puppet who made so knowing a figure upon my 
 bay mare. I was offered any money for Tim 
 by Sir Moulton Drewe. But as Lady Harriet 
 Vandeleur had inquired " where I could possibly 
 have picked up that love of a groom ! — '" I 
 would not part with him " for any money/' — 
 
 Tim soon proved himself invaluable, — an 
 enormous addition to my personal consequence: 
 I stood higher in the world by three feet. I was 
 one of the few who, by taking thought, have 
 added a cubit to their stature. 
 
 " Yon 's a varmint little chap o' yourn, sir,'' 
 said Fetlock the dealer, to me, one day, as I was 
 lounging in his yard with Sir Moulton Drewe. 
 " Come o' the roight sort, I reckon ; — a truss 
 o' the ould load, — a foal o' the true dam. — I 
 s'pose he '11 get to Newmarket in time. — As 
 good a whip, sir, — (Connaught Bill, the lad's 
 father, I mean !) — as ever turned a family coach 
 out of a yard ; ay ! and as showy with the ribbons 
 
 H 5
 
 154 CECIL. 
 
 in hand and his levee wig on, as ever sat a 'am- 
 mercloth, is Connaught Bill ! — Many 's the judge 
 'ould give his heyes for sich a presence as his''n. 
 But I must say, sir, for her ladyship Lady 
 Ormington, your mamma, sir, that her lady- 
 ship knows a good thing when she 's got it ! 
 I sold my lady them greys of hern, sir ; — and 
 her ladyship wrote me out a cheque for the 
 money on Drummond, sir, like a gemman ! — A 
 long price in them times, sir, three hundred 
 guineas. But I never heard no complaints ; and 
 when her la'ship was wanting summut neat for 
 you, sir, last season, she sends to me, and, ' Mr. 
 Fetlock, sir — ,* says her la'ship, ' you ""11 please 
 to look out a good-looking 'ack for my son,** 
 says she.—' Don't stand to a guinea or two 
 for price,' says her la'ship,— ' 'cause the paying 
 is my affair ; and I don't look to a trifle, so as 
 he gets summut as is not showy, but well-bred 
 and the roight thing,* says she. — And, dang 
 it ! that showed the roight thing, I take it, 
 Mr. Danby, sir ! All your vulgar chaps, of
 
 CECIL. 155 
 
 nobody knows who, as comes 'ere to my yard, 
 witli the tin ringing in tlieir pockets, the first 
 thing they sings out for — ' Fetlock,' says 
 they, ' haven't 'ee got summut showy — smn- 
 mut as *11 cut a splash in the Park r' — Lor' 
 bless 'ee, sir, her la'ship, Lady Ormington, be 
 too much of a lady to wish a son of her'n to 
 be cutting splashes in the Park ! — and I 'm main 
 glad, I assure you^ sir, to see that chap o' Con- 
 naught Bill's in such good training, I be.*' 
 
 I have, I trust, brought my lares and penates 
 sufficiently before my readers, to enable them to 
 conjecture my agremens personnels, when rous- 
 ing myself at the matin summons of Tim, and 
 stretching my manly limbs in my airy French 
 bed. On the morning after the Opera affair, I 
 slept as soundly as if the bunches of bright blue 
 convolvulus over my head were so many poppies. 
 I was even moved to say something almost as 
 uncivil as Solomon said in his haste, concerning 
 Downing Street and its regulations, when Tim 
 drew aside my curtains in the dead of morning.
 
 156 CECIL. 
 
 " Plase yer honour, taln't Downing Strate at 
 all at all I*" — cried the little fellow, laying a tri- 
 angular billet on my pillow. " Only Lady Haw- 
 yet's jontleman be a waiting for an answer, sir." 
 
 " Lady Harriet?"- — Yes — the three-cornered 
 messenger of bliss was come at last ! — Piqued, 
 by heavens ! — I seemed to see an embroidered 
 waistcoat in the perspective, as I tore open the 
 little treasure with all the eagerness of a child 
 demolishing a flower. 
 
 Reader ! — (entre nous), dost thou know the lit- 
 tle, conscious, fluttering, demi-semi tone of kind- 
 ness in which a woman addresses the man who 
 is neither acquaintance, friend, nor lover, — but 
 something more than the one, — less than the 
 other, — and whom she fears perhaps as much as 
 she wishes to convert into the third ? — Art thou 
 acquainted with the letter that neither " dears" 
 nor " my dears " thee ? — that calls thee neither 
 Sir, — nor Mr. So and So ; — neither Henry, 
 Harry, nor Hal ; — but bursting at once into a 
 strain of familiarity, as into a challenge, in medias
 
 CECIL. 157 
 
 res, gives thee to understand that the sweet 
 creature writes as she would speak ; and would 
 fain have thee read with the same candid and 
 eager spirit thou hadst listened ? — 
 
 A very great man committed himself by putting 
 it into print that he knew no greater happiness 
 than to sit by the fire and read good novels ! 
 I could have surprised him with a brighter notion : 
 — to lie in an airy French bed, showered over 
 with blue convolvulus, and read such billets as 
 I describe ; such billets, in short, as the follow- 
 ing from Lady Harriet Vandeleur. Am I (Heaven 
 and Watier''s forgive my breach of trust !) — am 
 I justified in making it public ? — 
 
 " Be pleased to come and dine with us to-day 
 at Richmond. If you are at my door at four. 
 Lady Devereux will give you a place in her 
 barouche. We go early, that we may do a little 
 rural before dinner ; though I scarcely know whe- 
 ther the lilacs and laburnums are sufficiently in 
 bloom to satisfy the demands of nightingales or
 
 158 CECIL. 
 
 fine ladies. By tlie way, what do you mean by 
 defying my prohibitions, and being seen with 
 that dreadful Mr. Harris — Harrison — you know 
 whom I mean — the Oxford man, who wears 
 flashy waistcoats, and takes off his gloves to 
 exhibit his rings ? — I have another quarrel with 
 you of the same kind. But we will fight out 
 both at Richmond." 
 
 The other quarrel, my exulting heart assured 
 me, regarded Emily ! Lady Harriet had heard 
 of my escorting a nameless beauty, a lady of 
 equivocal appearance, publicly at the Opera;—— 
 nay, had seen me in her box. — Exquisite tri- 
 umph ! — I was to be called to order by a repri- 
 mand ! — 
 
 *f Plase your honour. Lady Hawyet's jontle- 
 man 'ould be glad to know what answer for my 
 lady?" demanded Tim, advancing towards the 
 bedside, as he saw me about to commence a 
 third reperusal of the billet. '' Lady Hawyet's 
 jontleman be werry partic'lar about waiting."
 
 CECIL. 159 
 
 *' I will send an answer presently,'"' said I, 
 already resolved that the " presently" should 
 extend far into the morning ; and the answer, 
 when received, reduce the little beauty to de- 
 spair. Ten Lady Harriets and twenty pretty 
 marchionesses would not have tempted me to 
 Richmond, — 
 
 Just as her ladyship^s invitation determined 
 me to absent myself, did Emily's prohibition ex- 
 cite me to return to Southampton Buildings. 
 
 A visit of ceremony — of inquiry — was indis- 
 pensable. — No need to alarm old Hanmer with 
 allusions to what had passed. For a man of any 
 skill, nothing so easy as to make old Six-and- 
 eightpence the instrument of conveying my mes- 
 sage to his w^ard, without consciousness of his 
 mission. Between the claims of office-hours, 
 therefore, and the remoteness of my Mecca in 
 Bloomsbury, Lady Devereux's barouche (even 
 had I been inclined for it) was out of the 
 question. 
 
 I repeated this to myself fifty times while. 1
 
 160 CECIL. 
 
 was dressing. Always mistrust your own mo- 
 tives when you repeat a thing to yourself fifty 
 times. Nothing more suspicious than to find 
 yourself laying down the law to yourself with 
 such damnable iteration ; — more particularly those, 
 who, like myself, have no time to lose in argu- 
 ment ; — for time and tide, public offices and 
 the green curtain, wait for no man. 
 
 I was forced to be in Downing Street every 
 day, by ten of the clock. Such was the com- 
 pact between Votefilch and Lord Ormington, 
 such the compact between Lord Ormington and 
 myself; the balance of the scales resting on the 
 fulcrum of my strict obedience, being beggary 
 or four hundred and seventy-five pounds a-year ! 
 I was past the age for idylls and empty pockets. I 
 had learned to talk with Voltaire of " le superjiu, 
 chose si necessaire T' — and consequently thanked 
 my mother sincerely for the gift of an excellent 
 Breguet repeater; owing to. which, and my pru- 
 dence, I was seldom many minutes behind my 
 time.
 
 CECIL. 161 
 
 Lord Ormington^s voice, however insignificant 
 in the House to which he devoted it, was in his 
 own as the fiat of the gods ! Even routine 
 acquires an air of forcibility, if powerfully per- 
 severed in. The regularity of his hours and 
 habits, and the obstinacy of his. reserve, endowed 
 him as he advanced in life with the mysterious 
 importance conceded to the ebb and flow of 
 the tides. There is something portentous and 
 awful in the periodical appearance of heavenly 
 bodies, or disappearance of mundane ones. I 
 swear that the nightly driving off of Lord 
 Ormington's carriage, was beginning to inspire 
 me with respect. 
 
 More than once, Lady Harriet had warned me 
 against irreverence towards his lordship ; and 
 very much more than once, had my mother 
 checked me by an anxious look, when I was 
 hazarding against him the sort of gay persijlage, 
 which an old man is slow to perceive, but which, 
 if he once perceives, he rarely fails to visit with 
 vengeance. She seemed horribly afraid of my
 
 162 CECIL. 
 
 offending him ; and in process of time I began 
 to participate in her deference. 
 
 My respect extended even to his colleagues. 
 Branded with the ignominious shame of cadet- 
 ship, and consequently doomed by the obsolete 
 barbarisms of feudal law to feed on husks in 
 order that my elder brother might luxuriate on 
 the fatted calf, I was well pleased, since my 
 apprenticeship in public life was inevitable, to 
 serve it under such a master of his craft as Lord 
 Votefilch. He was a clever arbitrary man, a 
 Napoleon on a Lilliputian scale; — ^great in cen- 
 tralization,-— having an undeviating system of 
 official subordination, and keeping his young- 
 sters admirably drilled. 
 
 There was a good deal stirring then in the 
 administration of our foreign policy. " There 
 were giants on the earth in those days.'' Na- 
 poleon and Wellington were making war, — Met- 
 ternich and Nesselrode making peace ; and / was 
 making myself useful, by transcribing in cyphers 
 which I did not understand, despatches which
 
 CECIL. 163 
 
 no one understood. Yet, somehow or other, 
 my amour propre was interested in my vocation. 
 I was the fly on the wheel. Whenever second 
 editions were trumpeted through the streets by 
 the newsmen's horns, I kept saying to myself, 
 like that deluded insect, What a devil of a dust 
 we are kicking up !- — After having simply mend- 
 ed the pens for the Secretary who mended the 
 style of Lord VotefilcVs protocols, I looked 
 down upon Sir Moulton Drewe and my cousin 
 Squeamy as poor useless creatures, unworthy the 
 noble soil of the land that pretends to rule the 
 waves, while every year it yields up a circum- 
 ferential foot or two to their presumptuous in- 
 cursions. 
 
 Joking apart, Votefilch was a great man for 
 the arduous times he lived in. Planted between 
 a double battery, perpetually exposed in parlia- 
 ment to the broadsides of a powerful opposition, 
 and in office to the puzzlement arising from the 
 shifting policy of such of the powers of Europe 
 as were not already engulphed in the greatest
 
 164 CECIL. 
 
 despotism of modern times, the cannonarchy of 
 Napoleon, his lordship stood firm as a Colossus, 
 or as a donkey 
 
 By his ovm weight made stedfast and immoveable. 
 His patience had the shin of a buffalo ; his tem- 
 per was the sort of granite, on which you may 
 hammer for hours without eliciting a spark. 
 It is difficult to rate too highly this species of 
 impassibility in a public man. In official life, 
 he, whose shrinking susceptibility betrays his 
 vulnerable point, attracts such incessant showers 
 of arrows, that he has neither leisure nor self- 
 possession for the accomplishment of his wiser 
 purposes. 
 
 Now the Right Honourable Secretary of State 
 for Foreign affairs had the highest esteem for 
 the Right Honourable Lord Ormington. Lord 
 Ormington was one of the heavy pieces of ord- 
 nance, invaluable to government in certain emer- 
 gencies. When vexatious questions were press- 
 ed by the opposition, he was always ready to 
 rise and generalize with plausibilities, while the
 
 CECIL. 16o 
 
 Stunned party recovered its senses, and gathered 
 itself up for reply ; — a sort of moral |)ozn^ d^orgiie^ 
 giving breathing space to the solos. — Nothing, 
 in fact, but the importance of his services, would 
 have pleaded with Votefilch, to admit into his 
 office a young gentleman with hands so white, 
 and pretensions so towering, as those of the Ho- 
 nourable Cecil Danby. For he was essentially 
 a practical man; — an astronomer not an astrolo- 
 ger; — one who regarded poetry as a mild species 
 of insanity ; — quarrelled with the Woods and 
 Forests, because they would not mend the roads 
 with the ruins of Fotheringay Castle ; — and 
 could perceive no irony in Hamlet's assignment 
 of purpose to the ashes of " Imperial Csesar." 
 It seemed a relief to his mind, that emperors, 
 when turned to clay, could be turned to ac- 
 count. 
 
 Gods ! how I ramble ! — Old fellows always 
 do, from the moment they are pinned down into 
 their gouty chair. — Reminiscence is as trackless 
 as anv other land of dreams ; and the mind
 
 166 CECIL. 
 
 goes floating on, like the wind, whithersoever it 
 listeth. 
 
 At five o'clock, on the day from which I 
 started into these digressions, gentle reader, 
 little Tim held my horse in Southampton Build- 
 ings while I left my card for old Hanmer. 
 
 " Since your master is not at home, say I 
 will call again another day," said I, addressing 
 Pepper-and-Salt, in a key that might have been 
 audible in the King's Theatre, from Lady 
 Harriet Vandeleur'*s box, to that of Madame 
 d'Acunha. " All the family are well, T trust ? — " 
 
 And the jerking, stultified looks and gestures 
 of the poor wretch, as he replied with grateful 
 civility, that " he was werry much obliged to 
 me. Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch were both 
 of 'em remarkable stout," almost put me 
 out of conceit of my stratagem. 
 
 I wondered whether Emily overheard us ? It 
 was indispensable she should see that, though 
 obedient to her commands, I was not unmindful 
 of her welfare. But whether I had her approval
 
 CECIL. 167 
 
 or not, I had my own. It was a real triumph 
 to feel that I had sacrificed a pleasant party to 
 Richmond, in order to effect my visit of inquiry 
 to Southampton Buildings. 
 
 Four and twenty hours afterwards, I began to 
 wonder what Lady Harriet Vandeleur thought of 
 my desertion. I knew what other people thought 
 of it. Though I had positively resolved to cut 
 Jack Harris, — to cut him irretrievably, — with a 
 bill-hook, — with a poleaxe, — with whatever in- 
 strument effected the surest dismemberment, — the 
 fellow walked straight up to me in St. James's 
 Street with such an air of candour, that one 
 might as easily have thought of cutting one's own 
 image in the glass, — 
 
 " My dear Cis," said he, " how truly unkind 
 of you not to warn me at once, last night, that I 
 was on tender ground. — You well know my regard 
 for you, and that I would ride a lame horse five 
 miles in a pouring rain, to avoid giving you the 
 slightest annoyance. — Yet you permitted me to 
 make a jest of a person every way entitled to my
 
 1G8 CECIL. 
 
 respect, even if not commanding it tKrough her 
 influence over your feelings. Accept my sincere 
 apologies, as well as my congratulations on your 
 happiness, in the acquaintance of the prettiest 
 woman in town."*** 
 
 " Are you talking of Lady Harriet Vande- 
 leur ?^' — cried I, pretending to misunderstand him. 
 
 " You are perfectly aware, my dear fellow, 
 of whom I am talking. As to Lady Harriet, 
 no one will ever talk of her beauty, so long as her 
 countenance remains distorted by the envy and 
 jealousy it exhibited last night, during your flirta- 
 tion with the lovely Emily." 
 
 How the deuce did he know that her name 
 was Emily ? — I would not condescend to inquire ! 
 — If I encouraged his familiarity, he would, ten 
 to one, ask me to present him to Lady Harriet, 
 or the Marchioness of Devereux, or some other 
 woman to whom his audacity must have been in- 
 supportable. 
 
 The next time I entered the Opera House, I 
 prepared myself to view with a throbbing heart,
 
 CECIL. 169 
 
 the scene of my interesting adventure; more 
 particularly as I knew that Lady Harriet was 
 gone to a breakfast at Payne's Hill, and would 
 be absent from her post of observation. That 
 Emily would be absent too, was equally certain, 
 and a source of very different feelings. It would, 
 however, be something to place myself in the 
 seat she had occupied, and devote my thoughts 
 and recollections to her image. 
 
 To my utter surprise however, not only had 
 Madame d*Acunha resumed her place by her 
 husband, (a burly, square-looking, chocolate- 
 coloured Portuguese, who might have put to 
 flight a regiment of Jack Harrises,) but Miss 
 Barnet was again their companion ; not seated in 
 front of the box, indeed, — but the eyes of a 
 lover readily espied her. 
 
 " I have taken the liberty of intruding upon 
 you to express a hope, that you sustained no 
 injury from your fatigues the other night," said 
 I, with all the awkwardness of a school-boy. 
 Finding myself graciously received, I alluded 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 CECIL 
 
 slightly, to having already relieved my anxieties 
 on her account, by collateral inquiry. 
 
 " You are surprised, perhaps, to find me here 
 again ?"*' said Emily, with a blush inferring more 
 than words, that she felt in need of apology. 
 " But as we have exacted of Monsieur d'Acunha 
 not to leave us again, and shall quit the theatre 
 early in the ballet, I had not courage to deprive 
 myself of the Flauto Magico." 
 
 I muttered something stupid, about being the 
 last person to find fault with any measure enabling 
 me to see her again. But she did not seem to 
 listen. D'Acunha, to whom she presented me 
 on my entrance, interrupted us, with an offer of 
 his place, that I might have a better view of 
 Tramezzani's remarkably bad acting ; to which 
 I replied by taking a seat at the back of the box, 
 beside Emily. Her companions were soon so 
 thoroughly absorbed in the music, as to afford me 
 almost the enjoyment of a tete-a-tete. 
 
 She was looking just as usual. Not a plait 
 altered in her black gown, — not a curl in
 
 CECIL. 171 
 
 the arrangement of her beautiful hair. It must 
 havp been her graciousness, therefore, which im- 
 parted a thousand new attractions to her beauty. 
 I saw her smile for the first time. For the first 
 time, her eyes assumed an expression of interest 
 when I addressed her. 
 
 " You English people," said she, when the 
 close of the act enabled us to converse with free- 
 dom, " can very little enter into the love of 
 music engendered by the climate and early as- 
 sociations of southern countries. With you, 
 music is a luxury, — with us, a necessary of life. 
 I need not inform you that the establishment 
 of my guardian boasts little to flatter the ima- 
 gination. I have been three months a prisoner 
 in England, — cold, barren, cheerless, solemn 
 England ; and the severest convent of my na- 
 tive country, with the harmonies of its religious 
 service and fragrance of its genial atmosphere, 
 would have been, comparatively, a garden of 
 Eden." 
 
 " Do not found your ideas of England exclu-
 
 172 CECIL. 
 
 sively upon the experience of Southampton 
 Buildings!" cried I. " Our summers have 
 their orange blossoms as well as your own, 
 and our — " 
 
 '' No, no ! — don't pretend to tell me that you 
 have as much taste for music as animates the 
 poorest water-carrier in Lisbon ! — "' interrupted 
 Emily. " I have rarely missed a representa- 
 tion at this theatre. Impossible to see a colder 
 or less attentive audience ! — Perhaps you have 
 too many other pleasures to affix much import- 
 ance to music. You come here with such a 
 display of luxury, that it is easy to see you 
 stand in no need of it as a consolation. It 
 constitutes only one of the refinements of 
 fashion. With us, it is more. It is part of 
 our religion ; — it is part of our foretaste of 
 heaven; — a balm for sorrow, — a substitute for 
 the prosperities of life.*" — 
 
 " Doomed to the society of old Hanmer, and 
 the attendance of Pepper-and-Salt ! " — was my 
 silent and involuntary reflection, as I fixed my
 
 CECIL. 173 
 
 eyes upon the countenance beaming with sensi- 
 bility, that gave force to her expressions. '' Poor 
 girl ! — no wonder she has recourse to the Flauto 
 Magico to sweeten her imagination — ^"^ 
 
 " Are you likely to remain long in this 
 country ? — " said I, with the benevolent project 
 of effecting, through my mother, some improve- 
 ment in her position. 
 
 '* Alas ! who can say ! — We are refugees. 
 My father is a Lisbon merchant, resident at 
 Cintra. The aspect of public affairs in Portugal 
 determined him to profit by the departure of his 
 friends, the d'*Acunhas, to afford me a home in 
 England ; and apprehensive, perhaps, that their 
 ignorance of the customs of this country might 
 endanger, my comfort, he obtained a provisional 
 shelter for me in the house of his old acquaint- 
 ance and correspondent, Mr. Hanmer. Twenty 
 years have elapsed since my father quitted Eng- 
 gland. He was, therefore, unable to appre- 
 ciate — he did not exactly understand — he — 
 in short — for why should I not speak openly ?
 
 174 CECIL. 
 
 — I have written to entreat that he will either 
 recall me, or find me a more suitable abode." 
 
 I was inexpressibly gratified by her frankness ; 
 the more so, that her previous reserve sufficed 
 to prove she did not lightly accord her con- 
 fidence. 
 
 As we grew more intimate, I even ventured 
 to tax her with her hauteur at our two first 
 interviews. 
 
 " Would you have had me otherwise ? — " 
 cried she. " Consider how bitterly my pride 
 was hurt on finding myself treatedbya stranger 
 as a subordinate of Mr. Hanmer's establish- 
 ment." 
 
 " I addressed you, surely, as his daughter ? — " 
 
 " During my residence with him, I had 
 heard enough of Lord Ormington and his af- 
 fairs, to understand that his lordship's son was 
 scarcely ignorant of Mr. Hanmer's being un- 
 married." 
 
 " Conceive how little interest I can have at- 
 tached to the private affairs of my father's so-
 
 CECIL. 175 
 
 licitor ! — Believe me, my offence was uninten- 
 tional." — 
 
 " At least let us now proclaim an amnesty ! " 
 cried Emily. '' My pride has been sufficiently 
 rebuked by finding myself in need of the kind- 
 ness of one to whom it had been unjustly ex- 
 hibited. Be your own indiscretion visited, in 
 its turn, by a little compunction for having 
 driven me to the resource of hauteur as a gua- 
 rantee against intrusion. My situation at Mr. 
 Hanmer's is a peculiar one. Without intending 
 to wound my feelings, he gave me to understand, 
 on learning our first interview — but we will 
 say no more about it! — War is over! — In 
 place of disagreeable reminiscences, let us set 
 about the improvement of peace." 
 
 I had always lived in the company which 
 has the assurance to call itself the best. In 
 that best, Lady Ormington was cited for the 
 elegance of her manners. The world, that super- 
 ficial observer, is apt to mistake appearance for 
 deportment ; and the merit for which a woman
 
 176 CECIL. 
 
 is indebted to the amount of her milliner's bill 
 and the slenderness of her waist, is often set 
 down to grace of manner. I do not mean to 
 say that my mother's were faulty. She could 
 be charming enough, when worth her while. 
 But she never played to empty benches. Like 
 the country manager who could not afford to 
 give the snow-storm in his Christmas panto- 
 mime with white paper, when the audience was 
 thin, she often " snowed brown," and was peev- 
 ish and ungracious till further notice. 
 
 Lady Harriet, too, was a person remarked 
 for what the great world call high-breeding. 
 My notion of high-breeding is the manner that 
 raises others to your level, without at any mo- 
 ment allowing you to descend to theirs, — the 
 essential characteristic of high birth. But Lady 
 Harriet, instead of placing other people at their 
 ease, only contrived to show how much she was 
 at ease herself, often at the cost of comfort to 
 her associates. She was restless, too — nay, 
 worse, she was artificial. Her naivete was cal-
 
 CECIL. 177 
 
 culated, her impromptus were fails a loisir. 
 She could be courtly and refined enough, it 
 is true. But to be courtly does not imply to 
 be well-bred. 
 
 In Emily's manner, on the contrary, I de- 
 scried indications of that intuitive elegance, as 
 inseparable from certain natures as fragrance 
 from certain flowers. When offended, she was 
 a queen ; — when pleased, a child. — Of the con- 
 ventions of society, she knew nothing. All her 
 ideas of decorum emanated from instinctive mo-* 
 desty. My coxcombry was as much thrown 
 away upon her, as the beauty of some exquisite 
 piece of mechanism on a savage. But when 
 she approved — when by chance I gave ut- 
 terance to a sentiment that found sympathy with 
 her own, — the moisture of her eye was instan- 
 taneous ; or if some chance expression — some 
 passing sarcasm — happened to divert her, her 
 pearly teeth became visible in a moment, bright- 
 ening the cordial smiles respondent to my efforts 
 for her entertainment. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 CECIL. 
 
 For I did try to entertain her. Every opera- 
 night, I was as faithful to my post, as Spagno- 
 letti to his. The d'Acunhas, aware of the an- 
 noyance to which Emily had been subjected 
 by the homage paid to her beauty, favoured her 
 wish to remain constantly in the back-ground; 
 and between their passionate love of music, and 
 approval of Emily's modest retreat from the pub- 
 lic gaze, I had the field to myself. 
 
 I was now perfectly at home among them. 
 Though ordinary-looking people enough, there 
 was something in their unsociable isolation in 
 the midst of a great metropolis, that redeemed 
 them from vulgarity. Emily gave me to un- 
 derstand that their affairs, as well as those of 
 her father, were deeply involved in the pre- 
 carious destinies of their native country ; and 
 that their whole time was absorbed in business 
 connected with the finances of Portugal, save 
 the half dozen hours a week which they snatched 
 for the consolation of music. 
 
 They were at enmity, it seemed, with old
 
 CECIL. 179 
 
 Hanmer ; misunderstandings having arisen out of 
 their mutual position relative to the guardianship 
 of Miss Barnet; and this was, I conclude, the 
 motive of their silence respecting my growing in- 
 timacy with his ward. Though nothing passed 
 between us on the subject, I saw distinctly that 
 my name was never mentioned to him, either by 
 Emily or her friends. 
 
 Luckily for me that the Opera was only twice 
 a-week ! — The career of fashion and fortune I had 
 traced for myself would unquestionably have beef! 
 nipped in the bud. To pass more of my time in 
 the society of a rational being, rational without 
 homeliness, rational without a single drawback, 
 (save that she was only Emily Barnet, and I, the 
 Honourable Cecil Danby,) must have endangered 
 my coxcombry as well as my heart. 
 
 Yet I don't know ! The limitation of my 
 pleasures only served, perhaps, to increase the risk. 
 I could see her at no other time or place. Other 
 sources of diversion were ever open to me. Emily 
 alone, imprisoned in the dirty old den of my
 
 180 CECIL. 
 
 father's man of business, was as-imcome-atable as 
 a queen surrounded by her household brigade. 
 Had it been any other person's man of business, 
 I would have defied him ; but old Hanmer would 
 have assuredly communicated my visits to Lord 
 Ormington ; and Lord Ormington's displeasure, 
 as I have said before, was not to be trifled with. 
 
 Meanwhile, the happiness of the hour sufficed 
 me. At twenty-and-a-half, one stands between 
 yesterday and to-morrow, independent of either. 
 To-day contains an empire ; and Heaven knows 
 I had all things to put me in conceit with my 
 reign ! The liberalities of my mother rendered 
 my allowance almost superfluous. It was her 
 duty, she said, to take care that my first season in 
 town reflected no disgrace upon herself. 
 
 " Next year," said her ladyship, " if you do 
 vulgar or foolish things, it is i^ou who will be put 
 to shame ; for by that time you will have ob- 
 tained a name. At present, people would only 
 say, in alluding to your blunders, ' It is that 
 silly son of Lady Ormington's ! ' I must really
 
 CECIL. 181 
 
 beg, therefore, Cis, that you will be more cau- 
 tious in your conduct. You made me get you 
 
 invitations to the Duchess's loo-parties, to 
 
 House, to the Marchioness of Devereux's, to 
 twenty other places, which do not open their 
 doors indiscriminately ; and, after all my trou- 
 ble, you have not shown your face at one of 
 them!" 
 
 " My face is highly flattered that its absence 
 should be remarked," said I, coolly. " It is more 
 than would have happened to its honourable elder 
 brother's." 
 
 " Perhaps so. But John is at least consistent. 
 John does not care for the world, and never 
 plagues me for invitations. By the way, your 
 brother is come to town." 
 
 '« Yes, I saw him yesterday in Albemarle 
 Street. I believe he quizzicalizes at the Alfred." 
 
 «' 1 11 tell you what he does not do, Cecil. 
 He is not seen skulking down the back-stairs at 
 the Opera, with women in bonnets, whom he 
 shuffles into a hackney-coach ! "
 
 182 CECIL. 
 
 " I am heartily glad to hear it," replied I, 
 gravely; "for he is not the man who can afford 
 to follow his own conceits in such matters. If 
 Danby were seen giving his arm to a woman who 
 looked like a housemaid, he would naturally be 
 mistaken for a footman ! " 
 
 " While 1/ou, I suppose, flatter yourself that 
 you are only taken for a roue ! However, there 
 is roue and roue; and I can promise you, Cis, 
 that obscure follies of that description — "" 
 
 " Follies of what description ?" cried I, inter- 
 rupting her. " Explain these mysterious al- 
 lusions to bonnets. By whom have I ever been 
 seen loitering on any back stairs, save those of 
 St. James's ?'' — 
 
 " By Lady Harriet Vandeleur, I conclude ; 
 who informed me you were degenerating horribly ; 
 that you did nothing you ought — " 
 
 "Nothing I ought?" — cried I, again in- 
 terrupting her. " Lord Votefilch considers me a 
 model for the official youth of Britain ! — He has 
 even given me sundry hints, that if I did not
 
 CECIL. 183 
 
 write so cursed bad a hand, and spelt a little bet- 
 ter, he would make me his private secretary ! *" 
 
 " I am sure you don't write much worse than 
 other young men ! '^ exclaimed my mother, peev- 
 ishly. " However, I suppose you only say it to 
 make me nervous ; for I know, through Hanmer, 
 who heard it from Lord Ormington, that they are 
 perfectly satisfied with you at the office." 
 
 This was rather a discursive mode for the 
 intelligence to reach my mother ! However, I 
 was getting pretty well accustomed to our family 
 oddities. 
 
 Lady Ormington's sarcasms about ladies in 
 bonnets, did not suffice to frighten me from my 
 usual resorts. The charm I found in Emily^s 
 society was far beyond my dread of vulgar cen- 
 sure ; nor did I enjoy it the less, for my con- 
 viction that mine was not diagreeable to herself. 
 She made no effi^rt to attract me. There was 
 no eagerness in her manner of recommending 
 herself; nor any pretensions, on my part, to the 
 character of a lover. As we became more inti-
 
 184 CECIL. 
 
 mate, I refrained from even the demonstrations 
 of admiration Inevitable on our first acquaint- 
 ance. I had my own dignity to maintain, as 
 she hers ; and though content that she should 
 be aware of my deep devotion, chose to remain 
 le plus debout possible pour etre a genoux. 
 
 This did not injure my cause. Emily had 
 every pretext for accepting my civilities as those 
 of a mere acquaintance ; and no sooner had she 
 ceased to fear that a show of kindness, on her 
 part, might draw down upon her the crisis of a 
 declaration, than she became perfectly at her 
 ease. 
 
 A child could not have let fall its words more 
 artlessly than Emily, when describing the habits 
 of her early life ; her father's house at Cintra ; 
 her orange-gardens, her mountains, her thickets 
 of myrtle, her choir of nightingales ; her despair 
 when apprized of the necessity of quitting all 
 these, to dwell among strangers in a foreign coun- 
 try — a northern country — a Protestant country ! 
 
 "And yet," she added, with a smile, "how
 
 CECIL. 185 
 
 far I was from surmising all the horrors of Eng- 
 land, or imagining the mean narrowness of a house 
 of business in Southampton Buildings ! — I have 
 heard my father speak of Mr. Hanmer as enor- 
 mously wealthy. Yet what enjoyment does he 
 allow himself? — In what intellectual effort does 
 he indulge ? — Books, music, flowers, are as much 
 unknown in his house, as if such things had 
 no existence. My father, too, is a man of busi- 
 ness. My father is a mere merchant ; but our 
 house is bright with pictures, — our gardens gay 
 with flowers ! — A day spent without music or 
 reading, would seem a lost day to us^ — How 
 is this ? — Are all your professional people as 
 dull, cold, and inelegant, as those I see ? — Is 
 conversation considered, in all your societies, an 
 idle waste of words ? " — 
 
 " The conversation in which you deign to 
 take a part, would everywhere be appreciated ! " 
 I replied. But I could not but look with com- 
 passion on this plant of a Southern clime, crushed 
 by the practical habits of our middle classes ;
 
 186 CECIL. 
 
 checked for the joyousness of spirit which, in 
 every country but money-making England, is 
 cherished and encouraged ; and censured for care- 
 lessness of forms, the growth of an inferior order 
 of society. 
 
 All my care was to soothe the vexations of 
 Emily, and remedy her sense of isolation. I 
 tried to connect her, through my sympathy, with 
 the sympathies of others. I described London 
 society to her, in all its subdivisions ; country 
 society, in all its ponderous complications. I 
 told her what we were, what we had been, what 
 we ought to be. The merest trifles illustrative 
 of our social existence, seemed to amuse her. 
 The details of my mother's establishment were 
 laid before her, as minutely as an interior by 
 Mieris ; nay, even my own apartments, with all 
 their common-place associations, were painted for 
 her amusement, as I have painted them for that 
 of the reader. 
 
 It was curious enough that my object was 
 to reconcile her with England, and reduce her
 
 CECIL. 187 
 
 into one of the million, while the influence 
 she exercised over myself sufficed to detach me 
 from the mass. Till I knew her, I had acted 
 upon the impulses of others ; had existed but as 
 a leaf upon the tree. I had now an individual 
 identity, derived from an existence as dear as 
 it was dangerous ! — 
 
 A disagreeable surprise was about to startle 
 me to new perceptions. I have described the 
 era of which I am writing, as the age of slang. 
 But those only who retain personal recollections 
 of the coaching " peers of many capes," with 
 their bang-up pastimes, the ring and the road, 
 their vociferousness at public places, their bru- 
 tality at the Fives-Court, their activity at 
 O. P. rows and Opera riots, can form an idea 
 of the eccentric peculiarity of my brother's mild 
 reserve and studious seclusion, in the midst of 
 the general uproar. Danby was certainly not 
 one of those who are fated to make a noise in 
 the world ! 
 
 " I have seen your brother ! — " said Emily
 
 188 CECIL. 
 
 one night, as I assumed my usual place by her 
 side. 
 
 " I trust he had the honour of pleasing 
 you ? " said I, almost coxcombically. But my 
 gaiety subsided at the thought that she had 
 perhaps, in her turn, attracted his attention. 
 
 '' May I ask," I resumed, " where Danby 
 was so fortunate as to meet you ? '* — 
 
 " You are very formal, — very ceremonious to- 
 night !" — cried she, in some surprise. '' Having 
 heard that ' Mr. Danby' was in the drawing- 
 room with my guardian, and being unaware that 
 you had a brother, — " 
 
 " You wished to ascertain whether I cut as 
 awkward a figure as ever on the hearth-rug in 
 Southampton Buildings !" — 
 
 " What would Mr. Hanmer have said, pray, 
 on finding us such intimate acquaintance ? — No ! 
 no ! I indulged my curiosity by a still more 
 disgraceful proceeding. I was foolish enough 
 to watch from my window the horse waiting in 
 the street, till I saw its master jump into his 
 saddle."
 
 CECIL. 189 
 
 " Then you certainly did not see my bro- 
 ther ! — "said I, interrupting her. " Danby was 
 never known to jump in his life — not even at 
 a conclusion ! " — 
 
 " Why play upon my imperfect knowledge of 
 your language? — It was your brother; though 
 certainly nothing in his appearance indicated the 
 relationship. But Mr. Hanmer mentioned at 
 dinner that Lord Ormington''s son had been with 
 him, preparatory to taking his seat in parlia- 
 ment/' 
 
 " Parliament ? — Danby in parliament ? — Am 
 I fated to receive all my news of home through 
 the medium of Southampton Buildings ?" cried I 
 pettishly, deeply vexed at the prospect of worldly 
 distinctions wasted on this elder brother. 
 
 Why is it, by the way, that, according to the 
 attestation of ancient history and modern gossip, 
 from the days of Cain and Abel, and Jacob and 
 Esau, down to those of the two Cheniers dnd the 
 two Danby s, there has existed so much fraternal 
 discordance between almost every pair of brothers ?
 
 190 CECIL. 
 
 Is it that between two sons parental affection 
 hath its ups and downs, like a swing or a balance ? 
 — Or does it arise from the inherent perversity of 
 human nature ? — I must confess I had, in my 
 early youth, an antipathy to ugly John ! — Not 
 because he was my elder brother. No ! — I swear 
 my feelings towards him were as those of Faul- 
 conbridge. I would not have exchanged fortunes 
 with him, to have exchanged faces. Ormington 
 Hall and Hanover Square would have been poor 
 compensation for the wretchedness of bearing 
 about that frightful physiognomy, — that ignoble 
 person, — those stooping, narrow shoulders, — those 
 long graceless arms, — eyes that, conscious of de- 
 fect, quailed under those of others, — and hair 
 approaching to the reprobated Judas hue ! — Life 
 was not worth living for, with these defeatures ! 
 I would not have been a duke on such a pe- 
 nalty ! — 
 
 Emily's information, meanwhile, was as au- 
 thentic as it was strange. The very next day, 
 Lord Votefilch, in taking some papers from my
 
 CECIL. 191 
 
 hands, congratulated me, that " his Majesty's 
 government was about to receive an accession 
 of strength by my brother's entrance into par- 
 liament." 
 
 I said nothing, — I only smiled. — But my 
 smile, I conclude, was significant. 
 
 " We have very high accounts of the abi- 
 lities of Mr. Danby," added he, gravely, as if 
 replying to my smile. 
 
 " From Lord Ormington, my lord ? — " 
 
 " No, sir. — His lordship recommended his 
 second son to our attention ; but he tendered 
 us, at the same time, the services of his elder. 
 He brings in Mr. Danby for his own borough. 
 There was no occasion for overlauding him. 
 The obligatioti is conferred on ws." 
 
 I bit my lips. 
 
 *' It is from Cambridge we have heard so 
 much in his honour," persisted his lordship. 
 " Mr. Danby distinguished himself nobly at the 
 University ; but he has distinguished himself still 
 more, by subsequently devoting his time in de-
 
 192 CECIL. 
 
 fiance of all the temptations of society, to a 
 course of severe study. Your brother, sir, has 
 been brought up in the old school. Your bro- 
 ther brings more into the market than mere 
 talent. 
 
 'Qs ovbev rj iiadrjo-iSj 7]v firj vovs TrapijJ" — 
 
 Old Votefilch, I saw, was vain of his own 
 academic distinctions. The old fellow was slily 
 slipping on his crown of laurels, under shelter 
 of my brother's wing. 
 
 " I sincerely trust, my lord," said I, '' that 
 Danby may add another name to the catalogue 
 of those who, to the honours of the University, 
 have added the more glorious distinctions of 
 public life. May your lordship not be disap- 
 pointed in your expectations !" 
 
 On the following Saturday, his Majesty's 
 lieges were acquainted by his Majesty's Ga- 
 zette, that 
 
 '' For the borough of Rigmarole, John Alex- 
 ander Danby, commonly called the Honourable 
 John Alexander Danby, was returned to serve
 
 CECIL. 193 
 
 in this present parliament, vice John Julius 
 Fudge, Esq., who had accepted the Chiltem 
 Hundreds." 
 
 I suppose I ought to have felt proud at this 
 announcement : — I felt angry. Fate was heap- 
 ing a great deal too mijch upon the Honourable 
 John Alexander. He was beginning to mono- 
 polize the good things of this world. After 
 being exiled to the nursery in his nankin frock, 
 and to lodgings in his superfine blue one, to 
 be thus suddenly snatched into public notice ! 
 — Lady Ormington cared as little for him, as 
 she had done three-and-twenty years before. 
 But Granta, it seemed, " bragged of him, as of 
 a virtuous and well-governed youth ; " and his 
 Majesty's cabinet ministers had been pleased to 
 lend their long ears to her vauntings. Even 
 Emily Barnet spoke of him, as if interested 
 in his success. For my part, I should have 
 cared as much for that of our chetif cousin, little 
 Squeamy. 
 
 " You will go and hear your brother make 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 CECIL. 
 
 his first speech ? " cried Emily, whose heart 
 was warm with the sympathies of every generous 
 affection. 
 
 " I wish I had nothing worse to do with my 
 time, than dance attendance in the House of 
 Commons, for the chance of hearing the Ho- 
 nourable Member for Rigmarole give utterance 
 to a few words inaudible in the gallery ! " — cried 
 I. " However, Danby is just as little likely 
 to come and listen to an harangue of mine, 
 unless from the dock of the Old Bailey, or a 
 cart at Tyburn. He despises me as the young 
 Hopeless of the family ; and we might pass for 
 a fashionable couple, so complete is our aliena- 
 tion. Do not look so shocked ! " — cried I, 
 startled by her grave countenance. 
 
 "Is it the abhorrence of cant and exaggera- 
 tion, which so often betrays you English people 
 into abuse of your relations and calumny of 
 yourselves.'^'" — said she, in reply. " Bossuet 
 tells us to beware of those who exceed in good- 
 ness ; as there is nothing more suspicious than
 
 CECIL. 195 
 
 a pretension to exorbitant virtues. But I see 
 no reason for falling into the opposite ex- 
 treme." 
 
 This well-earned reproof vexed me, as seem- 
 ing to take part with my brother. I was born 
 without a genius for family affection. I am 
 much inclined to doubt whether such instincts 
 exist ; or rather, whether the love of kindred be not 
 the mere result of education. In mine, sympa- 
 thy with any living thing, save Dash and Bibiche, 
 had never been even hinted at by my mother. 
 I might have been reared in a tribe of Iroquois, 
 with more exhortation to humanity. As to John 
 and Julia, once or twice, when our respective 
 nurses interfered with our fisticuffs, and inflicted 
 upon: Master and Miss Danby, on whom alone 
 they were permitted to exercise their jurisdic- 
 tion, the study of that pleasing lyric of the 
 mellifluous Watts, 
 
 Birds in their little nests agree, 
 my mother was sure to mar the business by 
 
 K 2
 
 196 CECIL. 
 
 carrying me off to Gunter's or Wetten's, and re- 
 warding my domestic sufferings with pralines and 
 maccaroons. 
 
 As to proceeding to the House of Commons, 
 to behold poor Danby vibrate like a pendulum 
 between his two long arms, " two eel skins 
 stuffed," while giving utterance to his maiden 
 stammer, though neither the eloquence of Wind- 
 ham or Grattan, Curran or Canning, ever at- 
 tracted me into that den of — honest men, I 
 might have made the sacrifice to my sense of 
 what was due to the family name, had he 
 deigned to express a proper desire for my coun- 
 tenance. But in this, as in all else, he main- 
 tained towards me the haughtiest reserve. As a 
 matter of taste, politics delighted me not, nor 
 politicians neither. At a dinner-party, they are 
 crammed down one's throat by one''s neighbours, 
 as fish sauces are forced upon one by the but- 
 ler. But I was not much of a dining-out 
 man ; and when political dinners occurred in 
 Hanover Square, usually hurried incog, to
 
 CECIL. 197 
 
 Sabloniere's, and skulked en polisson to the 
 theatre. 
 
 It was consequently an unlooked-for blow, 
 when, one morning as I took my accustomed place 
 at the office, t. e. before the fire-place, with my 
 hands under the skirts of ray coat, I was beset with 
 congratulations by the " seven other devils worse 
 than myself,*" who shared with me in Downing 
 Street the laborious task of cursing the climate, 
 and inquiring how went the enemy, (I don't mean 
 the enemy in Spain, but the enemy at the Horse 
 Guards ; I don''t mean H. R. H. the Commander- 
 in-chief, but the time-keeper of London and 
 Westminster.) For a moment, I fancied I was 
 going to be married ; and longed to satisfy my- 
 self whether Emily or Lady Harriet was the 
 favoured fair ; — more especially, as each of them 
 brandished a morning paper, to give force to 
 his felicitations, as the tragedians of England 
 smite their bosom or touch their sword, in 
 allusion to their conscience or their valour. 
 The newspapers evidently contained the germ of
 
 198 CECIL. 
 
 my good fortune. The newspapers li;ad probably 
 hitched me into some announcement of *' Fa- 
 shionable Hymeneals.*' 
 
 I was wrong. The newspapers announced 
 the apotheosis of the Honourable John Danby, 
 not the demise of his brother ! — The newspapers 
 set forth that his Majesty's government had to 
 congratulate itself on an accession of the most 
 powerful nature, in the person of the Member 
 for Rigmarole. A new Chatham was born unto 
 them, — a " heaven-bom minister," — risen like a 
 Phoenix from the ashes of him of whom port- 
 wine and Austerlitz had deprived the British 
 Empire. 
 
 Could such things be 
 And overcome me like a summer cloud. 
 Without my special wonder ? 
 
 Could I, Cecil the coxcomb, be wide awake, 
 and Danby, the Honourable John, — the awk- 
 ward, squinting boy, — have become a man, and a 
 man of genius? — My whole frame tingled with 
 irritation at the supposition ! —
 
 CECIL. 199 
 
 '' You are a made man, Cis, my boy ! " 
 cried young Lord Chippenham, one of my clerkly 
 colleagues. 
 
 " I sincerely wish you joy, Mr. Danby ; " 
 added Halbert Herries, another of my brother 
 slaveys. Congratulations (damn them !) were 
 showered upon me, like bouquets on an opera 
 dancer. 
 
 As I sauntered up St. James's Street, at the 
 close of the day, — and now that Lady Harriet's 
 influence was in abeyance I no longer made 
 short cuts across the Birdcage walk, — matters 
 went still worse. The Cocoa-tree stared at me 
 with all its leaden eyes, as I lounged along. 
 The Albion, albeit unused to demonstration, 
 rushed to its new bay-window to gaze. Boodle's 
 shrugged its round shoulders as I passed ; even 
 the chairmen of White's and Brookes's, seemed 
 to whisper to each other (for Connaught Bill 
 and his cub had rendered my name familiar in 
 their mouths as household words,) " Arrah 
 now, isn't yeonder broth iv a boy, own brother to
 
 200 CECIL. 
 
 the new great parlfment man, what 's to bate 
 Charlie and Billy to everlasting smitherens ? " 
 
 To be immortalized by a leaf from the laurels 
 of John Danby, — to be brightened by a ray from 
 his luminous countenance, — " Oh ! what a fall- 
 ing off was there ! " — Was such the reward of all 
 my labour ? — Was it for this I had excruciated 
 myself in boots, agonizing as the shirt of Nessus ? 
 Was it for this I had closeted myself for consul- 
 tation with Stultz, with a degree of mystery, 
 worthy of Guido Fawkes and Garnet ? — Was 
 it for this I had abjured hunting, for the sake 
 of my figure, and shooting, for love of my com- 
 plexion ? — Was it for this I had anointed my- 
 self with the oil of Macassar above my fellows ? — 
 Was it for this I had delivered to Hendrie, under 
 the patent of my seal, the original recipe for the 
 Danby washball ? — To be overcrowed by an elder 
 brother, — a squinting elder brother, — a man un- 
 known to White's, ignored by Watier'^s ; — whom, 
 had he pleaded the loss of his ticket to the door- 
 keepers of the Argyle Rooms, not a humanized
 
 CECIL. 201 
 
 being, from Colonel Greville to the linkboys, could 
 have identified as a man of (dis-) respectability ! — 
 
 I was afraid to dine at my Club that day. 
 All the world seemed in league to fling iny 
 brother in my teeth. I was afraid even Sablo- 
 niere's might fail to respect my incognito. Even 
 at the Bedford, or some other slang house of my 
 unaccustomed haunts, I should be recognized 
 and pointed out as the Castor of Pollux the 
 politician. — In the plenitude of my weakness, 
 I determined to dine at home. 
 
 Never shall I forget Lord Ormington's face that 
 day !— Monk Lewis had just then brought into 
 fashion, Tales of Wonder treating of dead bodies 
 taken possession of by the evil one, and playing 
 a posthumous part in the world. Here was a talc 
 of wonder mise en action ! — His lordship, usually 
 as dull and dumb as if defunct, appeared sud- 
 denly animated, — suddenly spiritualized, — till at 
 the last he spake with his tongue. The devil 
 was in him that day. He was almost jocose. 
 He actually asked me to take wine.
 
 ^02 CECIL. 
 
 Strange to say, my mother waxed silent in 
 proportion to the fluency of her lord. Her lady- 
 ship and I seemed dumb-foundered, because 
 Danby had taken to speaking, and Lord Orm- 
 ington to talking. With me she was as pettish 
 as if I had on one of Jack Harris's flashy waist- 
 coats ; actually resenting the triumphs of my 
 father's favourite, as a delinquency on the part 
 of her own. 
 
 The most superficial observer might have dis- 
 covered that some very unusual occurrence had 
 taken place in the family ; for his lordship's car- 
 riage was announced half an hour earlier than 
 usual. For once, he was bound to the Com- 
 mons, instead of the Lords. A world of pater- 
 nity sparkled in his triumphant looks! — The 
 pigtail of my lord's own man seemed to vibrate 
 with delight when, as he brought in his lord- 
 ship's coffee, he whispered that the chariot was in 
 waiting. 
 
 '* I do not inquire whether you have read your 
 brother's speech," said Lord Ormingtoh, as he
 
 CECIL. 203 
 
 was about to quit the room, with far more of the 
 nobleman in his air than I had ever yet seen him 
 assume. — '' I know that you have not ; — I did 
 not even expect it of you !" — and his manner 
 plainly implied, "being totally incompetent to 
 apprehend its merits and intention." " But lest 
 you should commit yourself in the world by ig- 
 norance of its purport," — he continued, fixing 
 his eyes firmly upon mine, — " know that it was 
 on the Catholic question, — that it earned away 
 the House ; — and that I possess in the future 
 representative of my family, a son for whom the 
 esteem of the kingdom will shortly afford con- 
 firmation of my own." 
 
 Such was the first item of family intelligence 
 which Lord Ormington condescended to commu- 
 nicate to me, otherwise than through the profes- 
 sional mouths of Messrs. Hanmer and Snatch, of 
 Southampton Buildings ! —
 
 204 CECIL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A very set 
 Smooth speech, his first and maidenly transgression 
 Upon debate : the papers echoed yet 
 With his debut, which made a strong impression, 
 And rank'd with what is every day display'd — 
 The best, first speech that ever yet was made. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Ce sont de ces nuances qui echappent souvent a 1' ana- 
 lyse, et qui laissent pourtant une impression inefi^a9able. 
 
 Eugene Sue. 
 
 Emancipation was the Irish giant of my 
 youth, as Daniel O'Connell of my age ; and 
 aptly indeed might Catholic Hibernia exclaim 
 to evangelic England, as the taunter in Tom 
 Thumb— 
 
 You made the giant first and then you kill'd it ! — 
 It was a good giant enough, however, in its 
 time, to have its head smitten off by the riders
 
 CECIL. 205 
 
 in the quintain ; a capital cockshy for parliamen- 
 tary schoolboys, — an excellent coral to assist the 
 dentition of teething statesmen. — 
 
 Everybody familiar with the routine of public 
 schools, is conversant with the list of magnani- 
 mities set apart by the masters, as themes for the 
 twaddling of the inexperienced in belles leltres ; 
 such as " Marathon,"—'' Regulus,"— " The Re- 
 vival of the Arts,^'— '' The Clemency of Titus,*'— 
 and so forth ; concerning each of which well-worn 
 topics, the Dr. Dronebys of successive genera- 
 tions are as conversant with every epithet and 
 every argument to be put in requisition, as if 
 already printed in small pica among the pages of 
 Blair's Lessons, or Stretchs Beauties of History. 
 
 Even so must the Speakers of the House have 
 regarded for a quarter of a century the an- 
 nual orations on Catholic emancipation. I can 
 scarcely persuade myself that the intolerance of 
 England was spouted out of countenance by 
 the braying of these donkeys, as the walls of 
 Jericho were overthrown by the braying of trum- 
 pets ; but the canvas did very well as a sampler
 
 206 CECIL. 
 
 to be flourished upon by the " promising young 
 men." My brother'^s periods were about as much 
 to the purpose as Rode's variations ; and had I 
 not forsworn politics in the narrative of my ad- 
 ventures, I would bring forward a little theory 
 of my own on this point, almost worthy the so- 
 lemnities of a Quarterly Review. 
 
 Stung to the quick by the triumph of Lord 
 Orniington"'s son in the House, I was not sorry to 
 find that Lady Ormington''s had distinguished 
 himself in the coteries by a mot aptly concentra- 
 ting the pith of the Irish question. 
 
 " So your brother has immortalized himself by 
 a speech upon Ireland ?" said Lady Harriet Van- 
 deleur, addressing me across the Duchess of 
 Moneymusk's dinner-table, evidently for the pur- 
 pose of provocation. 
 
 " Poor Ireland ! — " was my reply, (accom- 
 panied by a significant elevation of the shoul- 
 ders — implying — " will no one let her alone ?" 
 " The question of her legislation seems to me to 
 resolve itself into the proposition suggested by
 
 CECIL. 20 
 
 Camille Desmoulins, concerning France and the 
 Convention : — ' La Convention a trouve la 
 France sans culotte; sa gloire et son chef-d''ceuvre 
 seront de la rendre culottee ! "* Whoever shall 
 rid green Erin of her rags, will work greater 
 wonders in her behalf than by allowing her to tell 
 her own beads, or palaver in her own parliament." 
 
 The diners-out applauded ; for they were dis- 
 pleased by the triumph of a man like Danby, 
 unknown to fame through their premonitory 
 flourish of trumpets. But they dared not pro- 
 test against him. There was no plausible " be- 
 cause" to preface their "dissentients." His 
 speech was allowed to be a good speech. The 
 Universities were pleased, because it showed a 
 spice of scholarship ; the country, because it was 
 indited in manly English ; the town, because its 
 wisdom was not altogether devoid of wit. As if 
 wit were more or less than the animus of wis- 
 dom : — legitimate offspring of an union between 
 good sense and good spirits ! 
 
 Still, amid all these plaudits, Thersites found
 
 208 CECIL. 
 
 something to rail at. The bitter bile of sarcasm 
 engendered by the repletion of society, brought a 
 sneer to its jaundiced cheek. Single-speech Ha- 
 milton was quoted ; and the speech of the Ho- 
 nourable Member for Rigmarole, when printed, 
 was decided to be a prize essay. The knowing 
 ones pretended to discover a cotton weft through 
 the rich pile of the velvet. 
 
 When the subject was broached in my pre- 
 sence, I took refuge, like other felse prophets, in 
 mysticism. My French quotation having served 
 my cause so well, I replied to all questions con* 
 cerning the abilities of my brother — ^' Entre 
 fapparent et le reel, il y a tout un ahime ! '*' — 
 much as my boy Tim would have hinted that 
 " the proof of the puddin"* was in the ating." 
 
 One day, shortly after the sudden sprouting of 
 the Danby laurels, I received a note from my 
 Fee-faw-fum, Lord Votefilch, begging me to look 
 out certain confidential documents, the where- 
 about of which in Downing- street was exclu- 
 sively known to myself, and bring them to him at
 
 CECIL. 209 
 
 the House. The Opposition had thrown a hand 
 grenade into the ministerial camp ; and it was 
 necessary to clear away the wreck caused by its 
 explosion. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, backed by my Trea- 
 sury countersign, I was in waiting, to make my 
 way like other groundlings as occasion offered, 
 to the Treasury bench. There was a great hub- 
 bub. That tumultuous assemblage which calls 
 itself a deliberative body, was considerably out 
 of order; the light troops of the Opposition 
 having been skirmishing like Pandours I When 
 lo ! as I stood writing in pencil on the back of 
 my hat a few lines addressed to his lordship the 
 Hon. Sec, requesting instruction, a sudden lull 
 succeeded to the raging of the billows : — " after 
 the tempest, a still small voice ! " — 
 
 In a moment, you might have heard a pin fall. 
 There is always something awful in the self-still- 
 ing of a public assembly ; — a tribute from the 
 passions of the many to the power of the one ; — 
 
 The power of thought, — the magic of the mind, —
 
 210 CECIL. 
 
 that power which no man could hold, "unless 
 it were given him from above ! " 
 
 Even I, though thwarted by having my habits 
 and privacy invaded by the dirty work of the 
 nation, and who had arrived at the House in a 
 bitter bad temper, even I could not refuse to 
 hear the voice of the charmer when I found him 
 charming so wisely that even the cunning old ser-^ 
 pents of debate-shirkers, crept out of their holes 
 in the lobby ; while the murmurs of the Opposi- 
 tion died away, like a night-storm at the dawn of 
 morning. 
 
 It is an interesting sight, for people sufficiently 
 Catholic in their spirit to cast away party feel- 
 ing and interest themselves in the lights and sha- 
 dows of public life, to watch the gradual develop- 
 ment of opinion consequent on a fine piece of ora- 
 tory, in an enlightened assemblage. Such a public 
 assembly as the parliament of 1810, was an instru- 
 ment that responded visibly, or rather audibly, to 
 the touch of a skilful player. He whose hand I 
 found upon the chords, was a player less adroit
 
 CECIL. 211 
 
 than powerful ; the ear recognised at once the 
 inspiration of genius. I was so placed that my 
 eye commanded the Opposition benches ; but not 
 a glimpse of the speaker. I saw him only 
 as a divinity is manifested, — in the deep devotion 
 of his worshippers, and the despair of the devils 
 he hath cast out. The brows of the leading 
 Opposition members were contracted, — their lips 
 compressed ! — But not a vestige of scorn, not 
 a gesture of levity. — They bore the sledge-ham- 
 mer blows dealt upon them, with the surly self- 
 respecting desperation of an Indian at the stake ; 
 and one may generally estimate the strength of 
 an antagonist, by the attitude in which his attack 
 is parried. 
 
 Could I have allowed it to enter into the pos- 
 sibility of things that I, Cecil Danby, was igno- 
 rant of any matter which it imported me to know, 
 I should certainly have addressed myself to my 
 nearest neighbour, to inquire the name of this 
 powerful debater, this intellectual Milo, who had 
 silenced the bellowing of John Bull and was
 
 212 CECIL. 
 
 carrying him off upon his shoulders. But for 
 worlds, I would not have committed a sin of 
 ignorance on such a point, in such a place ! The 
 voice of the speaker was new to me. Husky in 
 the onset, perhaps from infirmity, perhaps from 
 excitement, it gradually cleared, and — 
 
 Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes, 
 
 as the soul of the orator expanded, and the 
 moral overpowered the material in his sensitive 
 nature. My heart thrilled as I listened. Half 
 an hour before, I was not sure that I possessed 
 one ! — 
 
 There are as many modes of oratory as there 
 are ways to dress eggs, — and there are even va- 
 rious modes, each of which, others besides my 
 friend Connaught Bill and his whelp Tim might 
 be pardoned for calling the best. The mode of 
 the N. N. to whom I was yielding breathless 
 attention, was the very type of style for a highly- 
 born, highly-bred, highly-educated, and conse- 
 quently high-minded young man,; " young Har-
 
 CECIL. 213 
 
 ry with his beaver up," ripe for an Agincourt of 
 the mind ; — " young Harry," fighting for his 
 country without violating the still holier bond of 
 fellow-creatureship ; — " young Harry," feeling 
 himself a prince, without forgetting himself to be 
 a man ! — Good Lord ! I am speechifying^ too ! 
 The parliamentary epidemic seems to exercise 
 a posthumous contagion, — like the infection of 
 the plague, communicated by the dust of the 
 dead after a century ""s interment ! — 
 
 Joking apart, I was carried away, like the rest. 
 Of the whole house, no cheers more enthusiastic 
 than my own ! 
 
 On the subsiding of the uproar consequent 
 upon this eloquent speech, (which embodied a 
 reply as forcible as elegant, to a ferocious attack 
 upon the foreign policy of government,) I found 
 myself eagerly surrounded — warmly congratu- 
 lated. — 
 
 " I have thanks to offer to yourself, my dear 
 Danby, as well as to your brother," said Lord 
 Votefilch, when informing me thq,t my documents
 
 214 CECIL. 
 
 were no longer wanted; ''for I am convinced 
 that it must be your information whicli has placed 
 our invaluable champion in a situation to come 
 forward thus readily. The finest reply that 
 has been heard within these walls these ten 
 years ! — Not a living orator, sir, has a chance 
 against your brother ! — The Napoleon of debate ! 
 — If an usurper, he knows how to make his 
 usurpation respected." — 
 
 I could have killed old Votefilch for the com- 
 placent crush of the hand, enforcing these effu- 
 sions of his gratitude ! — 
 
 There was a dreadful struggle in my feelings. 
 Had I been left to myself, had there been no one 
 but Cis Danby and the victorious gladiator under 
 the roof of St. Stephen's, I verily believe I should 
 have thrown myself on his neck, as Benjamin 
 on that of Joseph, and claimed fraternal fellow- 
 ship with his nobleness. But amid the vulgar 
 crowd surrounding us, this demonstration might 
 not be ! The warmth of others chilled me. The 
 exaggerated enthusiasm chaunting forth the praises
 
 CECIL. 215 
 
 of Danby, only that its own voice might be audi- 
 ble, reduced mine to silence. My heart was as 
 hard as Pharaoh's by the time I reached the pave- 
 ment of Palace Yard ! — 
 
 To escape the conflicting batteries of St. James's 
 Street, I made straight for Buckingham Gate ; 
 though with no intention, on this occasion, of 
 surprising Colonel Morley knocking at the bower- 
 chamber-door of his lady fair. I was on foot. 
 It was a fine June afternoon. The shade and 
 verdure of the Park ought to have refreshed me. 
 But, by Heavens ! through all the stillness of the 
 Birdcage Walk, where scarce a gnat or a nursery- 
 maid was stirring, I seemed to hear over again, 
 like the roar of the ocean in a dream, the tu- 
 multuous plaudits of the House ! I was brother- 
 ridden. The soul of Cain was within me ; or 
 rather, the soul of that Cain of civilization, the 
 terrible Franz von Moor. 
 
 The first thing that roused me from my medi- 
 tations, was a cheerly voice that saluted me as 
 I was approaching TattersalFs ; round whose
 
 216 CECIL. 
 
 gates a detacliment of tilburies, stanhopes, and 
 led-horses were clustered. 
 
 "Anything my way, Mr. Danby, sir?" in- 
 quired Fetlock, touching his hat, and joining me 
 on my way towards Hyde Park Corner. *' As 
 pretty a little bit of blood in my stable, just now. 
 Mister Danby, sir, as you 'd wish to see ! — Let 
 you have it a bargain, as the season ""s getting on : 
 — carry a lady, like an arm-chair, sir ! — The very 
 thing for a gemman as knows what he 's about, 
 Mister Danby, sir ; and 't would give me pleasure 
 now, (if 'twas only for knowing what pride her 
 la^ship. Lady Ormington, would take to see you 
 so prettily mounted,) to let you have the mare on 
 terms as might be agreeable. — A young gemman, 
 like you, Mr. Danby, sir, which leads the fashion 
 among the tip-tops — '^ 
 
 " Good morning. Fetlock ! " — said I, seizing 
 the opportunity of having reached the crossing by 
 St. George''s Hospital, to send him to Coventry 
 or to Pimlico, while I proceeded into Hyde 
 Park : for I could not stand being flattered by a
 
 CECIL. 217 
 
 horse-dealer at such a moment. It was like Cor- 
 reggio, sinking broken-hearted under the load of 
 copper-coin, — the ignominious guerdon of his 
 abilities. 
 
 On reaching home, I found Lady Ormington 
 so desperately "nervous,"' (Ang. out of humour,) 
 that I concluded she had already heard of this 
 new triumph of her first-born. I was mistaken. 
 She knew nothing about the matter, and cut me 
 short at mere mention of the House of Com- 
 mons. 
 
 "You know I don't care a pin for politics !" 
 said she. " Why plague me about such nonsense ? 
 particularly when you see me so nervous ! Just 
 conceive your aunt Agatha taking it into her 
 head that she is well enough to come to town ! " 
 
 " You know I don't care a pin for my aunt 
 Agatha. Why plague me about such non- 
 sense ?" — retorted her graceless son : " but why, 
 pray, may she not come to town when she likes ?" 
 
 " The season is more than half over. What 
 can be the use of dragging Julia all the way up 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 CECIL. 
 
 from Devonshire, now that the birth-day is 
 past? — I am convinced they only do it to tor- 
 ment me ! " — 
 
 " It is a long journey for so small a purpose, 
 —considering how easily your ladyship is tor- 
 mented," said I, gravely. " I cannot, however, 
 see why they should remain at Sidmouth during 
 the dog-days. The summer has now set in se- 
 verer than usual ; and I understood it was only 
 during the winter months, Baillie ordered the 
 old lady to a milder climate." 
 
 "It is no question of the barometer ! " cried 
 Lady Ormington. "I see through it all ! — It 
 is Julia's doing ! — It is all this stupid speech of 
 Danby's!" 
 
 " You are in the minority in calling it stupid, 
 my dear mother," cried I ; " and I have the 
 pleasure of informing you, that half an hour 
 hence, the newsmen''s horns will render it im- 
 possible for you to remain ignorant that you are 
 again a grandmother ! " 
 
 " Grandmother 9" — reiterated Lady Orming-
 
 CECIL. 219 
 
 ton, aghast, — the last person in the world to enter 
 into a joke. 
 
 " Grandmother to a chef-d'oeuvre engendered 
 by John's flirtations with the tuneful Nine," 
 said I, laughing. 
 
 " Speaking again so soon ? — What nonsense ! 
 I have often heard poor Sir Lionel say, there 
 was nothing the House detested so much as a 
 callow member, chirruping before it knew how to 
 tune up its pipes. I am sure the reason these 
 people have come up to town so unexpectedly, is 
 to enjoy his triumph ! As to Julia, from the 
 hour she was born, she has thought of nobody but 
 her elder brother." 
 
 " Because nobody else seems to have been at 
 the trouble of thinking of her /" 
 
 " Lord Ormington wanted to have them all 
 here to dinner to-day. But I told him plainly, I 
 was a great deal too nervous for a family party. 
 Besides, I have promised to be with the Duchess 
 early. She has ^ to go to the ball at Carl- 
 ton House, after her loo." 
 
 L 2
 
 220 CECIL. 
 
 ''Got to go !" — Lady Ormington's syntax was 
 scarcely so refined as that of her son''s. 
 
 " But why not take Julia with you to-night ?" 
 said I, with the amiable intention of provoking 
 her. 
 
 " Are you quite out of your mind, Cis ?" cried 
 she, rising from the sofa, and placing Bibiche 
 carefully in her basket. " Lord Ormington and 
 his sisters would just as soon let Julia set foot in 
 a pest-house, as go to the Duchess of Monymusk's 
 loo-party. I do not interfere with the scruples 
 of their decorumships those two old maids. 
 As they have been kind enough, (in consideration 
 of my wretched state of health,) to undertake the 
 task of introducing Miss Danby into the world, 
 it would ill become me (would it, my pretty 
 Bibiche ?) to counteract their system of edu- - 
 cation. By the way, Cis, remember that Lord 
 Ormington will take it amiss if you do not call 
 on these people to-morrow ! ''"' — 
 
 I looked vaguely acquiescent. But I had 
 cares, at that moment, far more critical than
 
 CECIL. 221 
 
 maiden aunts or a red-haired sister. I was about 
 to make my debut at Carlton House ! Thanks 
 to personal influence, (certainly not that of 
 Lord Ormington, who had no more interest 
 in the beau monde than I with the bench of 
 bishops,) I had received an invitation from the 
 Prince ; and, till the startling event of my 
 brother's succes, experienced inexpressible de- 
 light at a circumstance which I knew would be 
 wormwood to Jack Harris and Lady Harriet''s 
 roue colonel. 
 
 Oh ! inimitable Mrs. Davenport ! — Mrs. Da- 
 venport, whom Charles Lamb defined as " Gar- 
 rick in petticoats," — Mrs. Davenport, with whom 
 expired the ripe familiarity of that empress of 
 romantic gossips, Juliet''s nurse, — Mrs. Daven- 
 port, who, in the prime of thy mellow yeaJrs, 
 wert then playing to perfection the part in- 
 vented by Morton for thy transcendant merits ; 
 how often has thy exclamation of " what will 
 Mrs. Grundy say?'"* since recurred to my con- 
 science, in the course of my profitless career !
 
 222 CECIL. 
 
 For those few simple words contain the germ of 
 a thousand catastrophes, — the heart of a thousand 
 mysteries, — the secret of a thousand downfals ! 
 The ruin of ahnost every imprudent family 
 may be traced to the influence of a Mrs. Grun- 
 dy ! The presumption of forward boys, the rash- 
 ness of public men, the speculations of private, 
 are caused, nine times in ten, by the ambition 
 of eclipsing some intimate friend or intimate 
 foe, the Mrs. Grundy of our several des- 
 tinies ! — 
 
 Apart, however, from the desire of astonish- 
 ing my rivals in love and coxcombry, I was 
 overjoyed at the prospect of entering that re- 
 nowned circle, — the school of my art, — the 
 cradle of infant dandyism,-— the incipient Order 
 that was to supersede the bucks, ruffians, and 
 bang-up gentlemen of the road, so long in pos- 
 session of the pave. 
 
 " Away with such triflers! " cries the sage, fling- 
 ing aside our pages into the depths of his gloomy 
 library, as if the grubbers among the dry bones
 
 CECIL. 223 
 
 of history did more to expedite the progress of 
 the times, than those fluttering butterflies who 
 oppose, at least, no dead weight to the general 
 impetus. The truth is that, like a straw thrown 
 up to determine the course of the wind, the 
 triflers of any epoch are an invaluable evidence 
 of the bent of the public mind. Thei/ are always 
 floating on the surface, — always ostensible! — 
 Thei/ are a mark for general observation. States- 
 men and beaux are the only really public men. 
 Posterity will see, in Brummel and Castlereagh, 
 the leading characters of the Regency, — of 
 the gilded, not the golden age ! 
 
 The creation of Dandyism — (pshaw not, ye 
 critics ! nor exclaim " hold, enough ' " — for the 
 thing is obsolete, " et il iiy a rien de nouveau 
 que ce qui est oublie !'''') ; the creation, I say of 
 Dandyism aiforded the first indication to the 
 public, that, in spite of Stultz and Truefitt, the 
 portraits of Sir Thomas and the certificates of Sir 
 Henry, — the Prince was growing old ! — Had we 
 written the word then, it must have been thus,
 
 224f CECIL. 
 
 , or, at worst, o — d ; for no one presumed 
 
 to approacli more definitely that fatal hint. If, 
 when Louis the Fourteenth attained his seventieth 
 year, his courtiers defined soixante et dix ans 
 as rdge de tout le monde, no one at Carlton 
 House now presumed to be less than five-and- 
 forty. 
 
 Nature, however, was no courtier. Nature 
 began to hint that liqueurs were a less safe 
 beverage than sherry, — that jollity was a plebeian 
 effervescence, — wit a more princely thing than 
 humour, — superciliousness than noise. — And, 
 lo ! dandyism " rose like an exhalation," — stole 
 in on tiptoe ; — ^and the vulgar began to record the 
 prowesses of George Brummell, as they now 
 enlarge upon the feats of Mehemet Ali. 
 
 It is all stupid and silly enough in the re- 
 trospection ; and Brummell is, at present, only 
 known to history as an adventurer who, having 
 given the law to princes, eventually received it 
 from a Juge de paix, and died a lunatic in a 
 public hospital ; just as, fifteen years ago, Na-
 
 CECIL. 225 
 
 poleon was an adventurer who, having given the 
 law to emperors, eventually received it from Sir 
 Hudson Lowe, and died of the worries at St. 
 Helena ! 
 
 But the re-action has commenced. Napoleon 
 is beginning to receive ample justice at the 
 hands of a new generation ; and our grand- 
 nephews will behold in George Brummell a great 
 reformer, — a man who dared to be cleanly in the 
 dirtiest of times, — a man who compelled gentle- 
 men to quit the coach-box and assume a place 
 in their own carriage, — a man who induced 
 the ingenuous youth of Britain to prove their 
 valour otherwise than by threshing superan- 
 nuated watchmen, — a man, in short, who will 
 survive for posterity as Charlemagne of the great 
 empire of Clubs. 
 
 It would never surprise me to find the ashes 
 of the great ex-dandy fetched home from Caen, 
 as those of Napoleon have been from St. He- 
 lena, to be interred at the foot of the Duke of 
 York's column ; on the identical spot where he 
 
 l5
 
 226 CECIL. 
 
 initiated the Prince into the mysteries of Roman 
 punch ; the Sully of that modern Henri whose 
 good-nature probably wished that all his subjects 
 might have "■ un turbot au pot.'''' No doubt that, 
 like the great man of antiquity, George Brummell 
 often threatened his ungrateful country that it 
 " should not even possess his bones !" But 
 flesh and blood are more susceptible in their 
 generation, than the disembodied and enlightened 
 ghost. 
 
 So Seneca — " Corruptibile corpus aggravat 
 animam ; et deprimit terrena inhabitatio sensum 
 multa cogitantem ! " 
 
 I digress, that is to say, I do not digress, 
 but I grow garrulous ; and nobody, now-a-days, 
 is allowed to be garrulous in print, save " The 
 Doctor," and the Poor Law Commissioners. If 
 Rabelais had written with the fear of the 
 weekly and monthly reviews before his eyes, 
 he would have grown as stiff and concise as a 
 drill sergeant. 
 
 One word more, however, about the Brummell
 
 CECIL. ^27 
 
 school ! If effeminate, conceited, frivolous, in 
 their pursuit of pleasure, they pursued it, at 
 least, with less peril to his Majesty's lieges than 
 the rufflers of more recent times. Melton, which 
 owed its origin to their sportmanship, still attests 
 that they were good riders and good fellows, 
 though they smashed neither turnpike-gates nor 
 policemen. They drank their claret, without 
 forcing buckets of gin down the throats of the 
 swell-mob ; and like certain insect tribes which 
 prey upon each other, their victims were sought 
 and found in their own order of society. It 
 is not always that the scum floating on the sur- 
 face of every great capital, is of so innoxious a 
 nature. Theirs was the foam of champagne, 
 not the frothing of coculus indicus. 
 
 So much in honour of the circle into which 
 I was that night inducted at Carlton House ! 
 I conclude I passed muster respectably in the 
 throng ; for, after a whisper with which his Royal 
 Highness accompanied his cordial reception of my 
 mother, I saw Lady Ormington's eye assume
 
 228 CECIL. 
 
 the self-same supernatural brightness that had 
 emanated from her lord's, on the day of Danby's 
 debut in public life. 
 
 I flatter myself my tie was irreproachable ! 
 It is not every man who can wear a white waist- 
 coat and cravat, without looking either as in- 
 sipid as a boiled chicken, or as dingy as a 
 Spanish olive. But for those qualified by 
 nature by clear complexions and well planted 
 whiskers to surmount the difficulty, nothing 
 like it to mark the inborn distinction between 
 a gentleman and a butler ! — The steward's 
 room, and the Lord High Steward's room, 
 were just then assimilated in the fashion of 
 their garments. Tights and Tituses were the 
 order of the day ; and the costume which the pre- 
 sent reign has restored to the English court, 
 was the distinctive mark of a fine gentleman in 
 the eyes of the finest gentleman in Europe. 
 It brings tears into my eyes to reflect how that 
 last remnant of the Chesterfield school has since 
 been vilified. And why ? — because, of the mingled
 
 CECIL. 229 
 
 mud and spangles composing the ground-work 
 of a court, the succeeding generation preferred 
 the mud. 
 
 Carlton House (at the period of which I 
 treat) had not yet put on its judge's condemning 
 cap. It was the Carlton House of the Prince, 
 not of the Regent ; — it was the Carlton House 
 of the Whigs, not of the Tories ; — the bi- 
 vouac of the Opposition, not the tabernacle of 
 Church and State. — To me, there was nothing 
 very striking in its aspect ; for the same tastes, 
 the same degenerate passion for trinketry and 
 Lilliputian virttl, encumbered its consoles with 
 china and its chimney-pieces with fanciful 
 pendules, that rendered my mother's drawing- 
 room a Daedalian mystery. Elegance, however, 
 was there, though overgauded with superficial 
 refinements. Even gold may be degraded by 
 over-gilding, or attenuated to too fine a thread. 
 
 At my age, it was impossible not to be excited 
 by the spectacle of a fete so brilliant in its ar- 
 rangement, so remarkable for the beauty of its
 
 230 CECIL. 
 
 female guests ; and gay music and glaring illu- 
 mination produced the usual exhilarating sensa- 
 tions, when the coup d'oeil burst upon my 
 view. 
 
 But such is the ordering of every human 
 destiny, th^t, after the Egyptian custom, the 
 death's head, the refrigerating memento mori, 
 was not wanting at the banquet. Everybody 
 was talking of my brother ! — A new speaker of 
 importance is more estimated by the adverse 
 party than by his own. The Whigs were anxiously 
 exclaiming, " Who is this young Danby ? — whose 
 son, — whose scholar ? Eton or Harrow ? — Ox- 
 ford or Cambridge ? — Did he distinguish himself 
 at the University ? — What private tutor ? — 
 What honours ? _ What Club ?— " 
 
 Nay, when some dowager or damsel, smitten 
 with the whiteness of my linen or blackness of 
 my curls, was at the trouble of inquiring the 
 name of the tall young man leaning against 
 the door, I had the torture of hearing it an- 
 swered, — "Don't you know? — A younger bro-
 
 CECIL. 231 
 
 ther of the Danby by whom all the world is en- 
 grossed !" — 
 
 Ye gods ! — to be accepted in society as sup- 
 plementary to John Danby ; — -faire la queue de la 
 comete to my squinting elder brother ! — I was 
 on the verge of learning to despise conven- 
 tional distinctions. The noble nature of Emily 
 had so far regenerated my own, that the True, — 
 the Real, — was acquiring some value in my eyes. 
 But now, all was over with my dawning virtues. 
 The moment I found my position subordinate, 
 came the ambition of rising. It was indispens- 
 able to my happiness not to be pointed out, much 
 longer, as the brother of the Honourable Member 
 for Rigmarole. 
 
 But how to distinguish myself, — how ? — The 
 first of gladiators cannot conquer without a figbt ; 
 and where, alas ! was I to find an arena ? — Nei- 
 ther Bacon nor Milton, Burleigh nor Boling- 
 broke, could have made themselves remarkable 
 by "a livery more guarded than their fellows" 
 as clerks in the Foreign Office. Nay, as men of
 
 232 CECIL. 
 
 genius, they had been less serviceable in active 
 life than such men as Hanmer and Snatch, — as 
 was exemplified by Walpole, when he pointed 
 out that a blunt paper-knife was a better instru- 
 ment to divide the pages of a book, than a 
 sharper blade. In my official capacity, therefore, 
 my prospects of distinction were as remote as if 
 lying on the Oriental side of the Red Sea. 
 
 Even as regarded the Lists of fashion, a Jack 
 Harris might distinguish himself, because, to 
 a low-born man^ notoriety is fame. Whereas, 
 for one of my position to make himself remarked 
 by dress or equipage, were defamatory as the 
 branding iron ! — The highest distinction for a 
 nobleman's younger son in such a clique as that 
 at Carlton House, is to become altogether undis- 
 tinguishable. — Woeful annihilation ! — a drop in 
 the ocean ! — a grain of sand in the wilderness ! — 
 
 A sudden thought relieved my depressed spi- 
 rits. What if I were to marry Lady Harriet 
 Vandeleur, set the Thames on fire by our select 
 dinners, and, like a hand at commerce, win the
 
 CECIL. 2SS 
 
 game by my skill at discarding ? — A Cecil and 
 Lady Harriet Danby unanimous in their views 
 and projects, able to command the best so- 
 ciety, might per force of tact become fugle- 
 men of the brigade of fashion. Eight thousand 
 a year, though nothing in the hands of a gambler 
 like Morley, less than nothing in those of a 
 Squeamy, or a Sir Moulton Drewe, would be- 
 come Pactolus, when flowing through the ferti- 
 lizing regions of a brain like mine. 
 
 " After all," I reasoned within myself, on 
 my return from the gorgeous fete^ which had. 
 proved such a scene of humiliation, — " after all, 
 but for that expedition to Southampton Build- 
 ings, I should have remained seriously attached 
 to the piquant little personage, whom Emily has 
 taught me to regard as a doll. It would be a 
 very small sacrifice on my part to become her 
 husband. The dozen years difference of age 
 between us, must be estimated at six hundred 
 a year each, and the jointure makes all equal. 
 In affording me the means of shining in the
 
 2S4f CECIL. 
 
 beau monde, she commands my gratitude, and 
 will, eventually, win my affection. Decidedly, 
 I must set about recommending myself to the 
 little widow, — a new Jason, devoted to the con- 
 quest of a second golden fleece." 
 
 Next night, came the Opera. I had already 
 determined to drop my visits to Emily ; though 
 not so suddenly as to cause an alarming vacuum 
 in her existence. I would wean her, poor girl, 
 from my society. My visit to the box should 
 be a short one. On many accounts, indeed, 
 this was desirable ; for the d'Acunhas were be- 
 ginning to understand just so much English as 
 rendered them confounded bores. They would 
 be asking questions and misconceiving the an- 
 swers ; then further inquiries, with new misap- 
 prehensions. 
 
 From Emily, however, I had nothing to fear 
 in the way of questioning. She was- happy 
 enough to have me with her, without indulging 
 in frivolous curiosity ; nay, she had no curio- 
 sity. With her I was secure from the vulgar
 
 CECIL. 2S5 
 
 gossip that beset me in company with Lady 
 Harriet ; tittle-tattle about births and mar- 
 riages, promotions and preferments. So far from 
 knowing who and who were together, Emily 
 Barnet knew not even who was whom. Had 
 she been my wife, this would have been a de- 
 fect ; in a friend, a charming, intelligent, conver- 
 sational friend, it was little short of a virtue. 
 Her mind was thoroughly unsophisticated. She 
 never read a newspaper, — never heard a scandal. — 
 " I was at a magnificent ball last night, at 
 Carlton House," said I, by way of reply to 
 Emily's remarks on my air of languor. 
 
 "What is Carlton House, — a theatre?" — 
 inquired she, with a naivete that must have 
 passed for assumed with any one to whom the 
 peculiarities of her situation were unknown. 
 
 " No, — the residence of the heir apparent, — 
 the Prince of Wales." 
 
 " The Prince of Wales ? — I have heard Mr. 
 Hanmer speak of him as a paragon ! " said she. 
 '' He is young and handsome, is he not ? " —
 
 2S6 CECIL. 
 
 " On the contrary, a fat middle-aged man, 
 with a remarkably wiggy wig," replied I, laughing 
 at her gravity. 
 
 " Quelle desillusion /'* — cried Emily. " But 
 how came you to stay so late at the ball of this 
 fat middle-aged prince ? " — 
 
 " Because the ball, at least, was young and 
 slim, — a charming fete ! "" cried I, with affected 
 enthusiasm. A heavy sigh must have escaped 
 poor Emily ; for d'Acunha immediately turned 
 his sallow saturnine visage round upon us, as if 
 to examine what was going on. 
 
 One of the most bewitching charms of Emily 
 Barnet, consisted in a throat long and slender as 
 that of Anna Boleyn, which imparted a peculiar 
 grace to her slightest movements. It was impos- 
 sible to see her under greater disadvantage than 
 I did ; — always in the same place, — always in the 
 same dress, — always in the same attitude ; — no 
 scope for the display of elegance of manners, or 
 accomplishments of mind.
 
 CECIL. 237 
 
 Yet strange to tell, there was something in all 
 this that seemed to enhance the charm of our 
 intercourse. That dull silent box, with its so- 
 lemn atmosphere of reserve, — the mourning 
 habits of its inmates, — the peculiarities of their 
 looks and language, — imparted an almost mo- 
 nastic gravity to the spot, contrasted with the 
 brilliancy of my usual haunts, and the garru- 
 lousness of my ordinary companions. I felt as 
 if under the influence of a spell from the mo- 
 ment I crossed the threshold. It was like step- 
 ping into some picture by Velasquez. It was 
 like creeping into the heart of some old Spanish 
 romance. 
 
 But I was going to remark that I had noticed 
 in Emily, among the few expressive gestures 
 compatible with her invariable position, a pecu- 
 liar mode of turning away her head, on pretence 
 of looking towards the stage, between the wall 
 and the intervening figure of Madame d'Acunha, 
 whenever the discrepancy of our situations in life
 
 23S CECIL. 
 
 became demonstrated by some incidental topic. 
 There was a deprecation, — a tacit confession, — in 
 her desire to avoid my scrutiny at such moments, 
 which, even had not the movement itself been 
 exquisitely graceful, would have" touched my 
 feelings. Never did she seem so lovely in my 
 eyes as then — with nothing of her features 
 visible but the fine oval of her soft cheek and 
 dimpled chin, — fair as monumental alabaster, 
 — and rendered still fairer by the contrast of the 
 glossy curls hanging loosely from her temples. 
 In that attitude does she recur oftenest to my 
 memory. I seem to see her still, — averting 
 her moistened eyes, and by slow degrees re- 
 turning to her usual position ; the long up- 
 turned eyelashes first becoming visible, — then, the 
 arched lips, — the finely chiselled nose, — all that 
 pure and noble physiognomy. — Poor, — poor 
 Emily ! — 
 
 She detested England, — how should she do 
 otherwise ? — and all her pleasurable anticipations
 
 CECIL. 239 
 
 regarded her return to Portugal. Her lamenta- 
 tions incessantly recalled, like Mignon's song, 
 
 Das Land wo die citronen bliihn ! 
 
 Her visions weie of silvery fountains and azure 
 skies ; of evergreen shrubberies and craggy moun- 
 tains ; of music and song, not as pleasing ima- 
 gery^ or mere accessories, but essentially in- 
 terwoven with the business of life. So strong 
 is the influence of early associations ! — 
 
 " She cannot have formed projects in which 
 we are mutually interested," said I to myself, 
 in an apologetic tone, as I slowly descended into 
 the nether world from d'Acunha's box on the 
 night in question. " She cannot suppose, poor 
 girl, that there is anything in common between 
 the son of an English peer and the daughter of 
 a Lisbon merchant, — between a Downing-street 
 diplomat, and the ward of a snuffy old solicitor 
 in Southampton Buildings ! She cannot imagine 
 when raving about the groves and skies of
 
 240 CECIL. 
 
 Cintra, that I am ever likely to wander by her 
 side among its froggy tanks and twisted-stemmed 
 pomegranate trees! — Emily must be aware that I 
 lounge away a pleasant hour with her, glad to 
 refresh my eyes with her bright intelligent coun- 
 tenance, and as little serious in my attentions as 
 she in her encouragement. She likes me, be- 
 cause I am a little younger and more amusing 
 than old Hanmer or old d'Acunha ; but would 
 infinitely prefer some young Oporto winegrower 
 of her own condition of life, to a mere idler about 
 town like Cecil Danby." — 
 
 I said this to myself, dear readers, (ambitious 
 plural !) with, of course, a secret conviction that 
 Emily would be proud and happy to perform 
 a pilgrimage barefoot to the shrine of Saint 
 James of Compostella, for my sake. But it was 
 as well to keep up the farce with myself of de- 
 serting her with the most honourable intentions. 
 After having pressed her hand every time I 
 placed her in her hackney-coach, and brought her 
 a sprig of some favourite flower every time we
 
 CECIL. 241 
 
 met, I made up my mind to back out of the 
 business with a ceremonious decorum worthy the 
 king's champion at a coronation banquet ! 
 
 I had quitted the box the moment I saw old 
 D''Acunha wipe his opera-glass, preparatory to 
 placing it in its morocco case ; which was al- 
 ways the signal for their preparing to quit the 
 house. Heretofore, I had seized that moment to 
 nail myself to my chair; the happiness of my 
 evening consisting in my transit from the clouds 
 to the earth below, with Emily leaning on my 
 arm ; her fragrant hair occasionally wafted across 
 my cheek by the night air of the passages, — her 
 breath almost mingling with my own. 
 
 But with my present views, it was high time 
 this should have an end. So I walked quietly 
 out of the box, as if intending to return ; and in- 
 stead of returning, went straight down to Lady 
 Harriet, and, (thanks to the ample themes sup- 
 plied by the fete of the preceding night,) found 
 occasion to be extraordinarily amusing. 
 
 A mere woman of the world must be very 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 24^2 CECIL. 
 
 generous indeed, who does not allow herself to be 
 diverted at the expense of her friends ; who, she 
 is well aware, would feel little scruple at return- 
 ing the compliment. The Marchioness of Deve- 
 reux, wearied by her ball, was not at the Opera. 
 Nothing easier, therefore, than to describe to 
 Lady Harriet the strip of plush on which her 
 fair friend had mounted her diamond bandeau 
 the preceding night, like the new order of a new 
 Countess of Salisbury, 
 
 A peal of laughter from her ladyship and Lord 
 Squeamy, who sat gibbering in the corner of 
 the box, rewarded my sally. I next attacked 
 the Duchess of Moneymusk, who, I declared, 
 had wanted only a philabeg at the Princess ball, 
 to look the image of a Highland recruiting ser- 
 geant. Again, Lady Harriet's laughter exploded : 
 but I noticed that certain persons or personages 
 who had been chattering away in the next box, 
 became suddenly silent, and had little doubt that 
 her grace and her grace's Scotch bonnet were 
 seated there in judgment upon my perfidy !
 
 CECIL. 243 
 
 As it was my cue to take out Lady Harriet, 
 and make an exhibition of our intimacy in the 
 crush-room, I remained till the end of the ballet. 
 The people of the adjoining box were just be- 
 fore us in the lobby, — quizzes, decided quizzes ! 
 — an old woman, escorted by an ungainly look- 
 ing chap with his hat on, and a simple-looking 
 country miss. I was struck, however, even in 
 the midst of my whispers to Lady Harriet, by 
 the singularly melodious voice of the girl. She 
 possessed exactly the same varied and refined in- 
 tonation which had imparted double eloquence to 
 the speech of the Honourable Member for Rig- 
 marole ! And no wonder ; — for, on her turning 
 round, evidently shocked by one of Lady Har- 
 riet's explosive laughs, exclamations were ex- 
 changed between us of " Cecil !" — " Julia!*" — 
 and I found that I had been following in the 
 wake of my maiden sister and maiden aunt ! 
 
 " I hope you received my card ? — I did myself 
 the honour of calling yesterday. — By the way, I 
 had no card, and simply left my name," said 
 
 m2
 
 S44 CECIL. 
 
 I, addressing Miss Danby, sen. But with 
 a sort of negative grunt, plainly implying she 
 did not believe a word I was saying, the dear 
 soul and her Bayard in the brown beaver-hat, 
 passed on. 
 
 Julia, however, lingered a little behind, in 
 conversation with Lady Harriet, whom she had 
 known as a child, in Hanover Square ; and I was 
 startled by the singular sweetness of her coun- 
 tenance. It was a face such as Raphael or Titian 
 would have delighted to paint ; the earnest ex- 
 pression of the eye and angelic character of the 
 mouth, being exactly such as the old artists used 
 to lend to the celestial beings, whose hair bor- 
 dered on auburn as the natural accompaniment 
 of a transparent complexion. 
 
 More wonders ! — The frightful sister was 
 grown a beauty, just as the stupid brother had 
 progressed into a genius ! — The cockade was de- 
 cidedly eclipsed. — What was I, after all.^ — A 
 mere B. A. of the art of dandyism, — a clerk in 
 a public office, — and desperately in love with a
 
 CECIL. 245 
 
 young lady of problematical extraction, domiciled 
 in the vicinity of Bloomsbury Square ! — 
 
 The hare and the tortoise over again, — always 
 the hare and the tortoise ! — However, the race 
 was not yet won. I might still successfully atone 
 for the rash levity of genius. —
 
 246 CECIL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Si melius quid habes, accerse ; vel imperium fer. 
 
 Horace. 
 
 Quelque mechant qu'on soit, on ne reussit guere a faire 
 le mal avec plaisir. Si ce n'est le remords, c'est la honte 
 qui paralyse souvent les ressources de la perversity ! 
 
 George Sand. 
 
 I WONDER why people are so fond of calling 
 Youth " ingenuous ? — " No greater mistake ! — 
 Youth has not courage to tell the truth, even 
 to itself As I said before, it is only after thirty 
 that men presume to have a will or a way of 
 their own. 
 
 Youth is an imitative animal ; — Youth is a 
 monkey ! — The world is in conspiracy against it. 
 The beasts of prey have the best of it. The
 
 CECIL. 247 
 
 monkey is condemned to a chain and a bag of 
 nuts. Were the marmozet to wax grave, we 
 should cry, " Stupid little beast, look at its airs 
 of gravity ! Give it a poke with your stick, and 
 make it climb." — The poor monkey is accord- 
 ingly forced to be frisky, whether it will or no. 
 — It dares not be natural : it dares not trust to 
 its instincts. — No ! — youth has very little title 
 to be called ingenuous. — 
 
 But Youth has another and still bitterer 
 enemy than its masters, — itself ! Of all the 
 mockeries it has to dread, those most fatal in 
 the creation of mistrust are its own. The gene- 
 rous glow, the fervid impulse, are, in truth, 
 vouchsafed by nature. But the curious in ca- 
 suistry are requested to decide whether, of the 
 spirits of good and evil assigned to each of us 
 as our companions through life, the good have 
 not the ascendancy over our material, and the 
 evil over our moral nature ! — The flush of joy, 
 the thrill of horror, so instinctive in our early 
 years, at the relation of wicked or virtuous ac-
 
 248 CECIL. 
 
 tions, — the gushing tears, or uncontrollable 
 smiles, evincing our sympathies of affection, are 
 far more independent of our will than we care 
 to own ; — whereas, most of our evil deeds are 
 the result of deliberation. But, hold ! we are 
 on the brink of the bottomless pit of meta- 
 physics; and there are coxcombs enough en- 
 listed in that transcendental department of the 
 fudgerations of literature, without mustering 
 among their number the Honourable Cecil Dan- 
 by. My Pegasus is entered for higher stakes. 
 
 I only mean to say, — for the longest preamble 
 must arrive at the fact at last, — that though I 
 suspected myself of being desperately in love 
 with Emily Barnet, I deceived myself and the 
 truth was not in me, whenever I tried to bring 
 myself to confession. 
 
 At my shaving-glass, (tonsorial operations be- 
 ing peculiarly favourable to reflection, nay, I am 
 not sure that beards were not assigned by Pro- 
 vidence to secure to every man five minutes' un- 
 interrupted communing with himself in the course
 
 CECIL. 249 
 
 of the day) — at my shaving-glass, I often in- 
 terrogated my feelings ; and whenever, by a 
 rising blush or gentle sigh, they suggested that 
 Emily had claims on my affections, I pished and 
 pshawed them into a more reasonable frame, as 
 though I ■ were old Munden enacting a peevish 
 guardian in a Spanish comedy. 
 
 I said to myself, " Emily is a handsome girl 
 enough," (my conscience whispering all the time 
 that she was an angel!) "but every girl who 
 smiles upon one, at my age, appears a divinity." 
 I said to myself, " It is true that, niched into 
 that wretched opera-box, Emily''s manners appear 
 tolerable," (my conscience whispering all the 
 time that they would have done honour to a 
 court !) " but, launched in good society, her 
 deportment would probably be as awkward and 
 unmeaning as that of other misses." I said 
 to myself, " Certainly, her mind appears culti- 
 vated. She has read a parcel of foreign books, 
 that I know nothing about," (my conscience 
 whispering all the time, that the originality of 
 
 M 5
 
 250 CECIL. 
 
 her ideas was only exceeded by the depth of her 
 acquirements !) " but it would be a bore to pro- 
 duce in good company a wife who seems to have 
 been educated for a governess." 
 
 But this was not all. Bitter as were these 
 treasons against Emily, I poured into the porches 
 of my own ears a still more leprous distilment 
 affecting the gifted being I was intent upon 
 depreciating ! 
 
 " After all," said Cecil Danby to me, (flou- 
 rishing one of Packwood's razors gracefully in 
 his hand, — and he deserved to cut his throat for 
 his pains, — ) " after all, who will guarantee me 
 that this girl is not an adventuress ? — How do 
 I know that the whole affair has not been a 
 trap to ensnare me ? — What assures me that old 
 Hanmer, warned of my coming, did not station 
 his pretty ward (perhaps some illegitimate off- 
 spring of the prim old solicitor !) in his drawing- 
 room, as a torch to singe the wings of the fa- 
 shionable butterfly ? — Lord Ormington^s younger 
 son may be a bad match for one of the daughters
 
 CECIL. 251 
 
 of the Ducliess of Monymusk, or even for Lady 
 Harriet Vandeleur ; but I flatter myself that, 
 with my person and prospects, I am a catch for 
 a Miss Emily Barnet. As if those mum-chance, 
 olive-faced d*'Acunhas would have allowed me 
 to sit there by her side, looking unutterable 
 things and saying unlookable things, without 
 apprizing her guardian ! — If they did not^ they 
 are unconscientious, disreputable people ; ad- 
 venturers, also. — I am, however, the last man 
 to be made a dupe of; and now that I have 
 begun to espy the plot, will be cautious of 
 throwing myself in the way of tetnptation." 
 
 Such was the " ingenuousness" of my "youth:" 
 and I will answer for it that few of those who 
 " explore Cam's smooth margin," or the banks 
 of the Cherwell or Isis, after being flogged 
 through Eton, Harrow, Westminster, or Win- 
 chester, — Horace, Homer, and the Greek Tes- 
 tament, — are worth a maravedi more than myself 
 in point of singleness of mind. 
 
 Cecil Danby kept his word with me like a
 
 CECIL. 
 
 gentleman, on the present occasion. Next Opera 
 night, not a sign of him in the d'Acunhas' 
 box ! — I even eschewed the pit, lest the old 
 Guimaraen plumb should adhere to me, and 
 invite me to accompany me up stairs. This 
 manoeuvre had the effect of bringing Emily, dur- 
 ing the ballet, to the front of the box, where 
 she had never made her appearance since the first 
 disastrous night of our meeting. I could plainly 
 see her eyes wandering over the pit in search of 
 me. Nay, as if I were not sufficiently distin- 
 guished from the mass to be perceptible to 
 the naked eye, she had even recourse to old 
 d'Acunha's glasses, which. Heaven knows, I had 
 never seen her use before ! — 
 
 All this was in my favour. — For I was of 
 course installed " close at the ear of Eve," — 
 close beside Lady Harriet Vandeleur ; — and my 
 cause with her was not injured by the attention 
 universally excited by Emily''s beauty. People 
 raved about her ; — for she was both a beauty and 
 a mystery. Had one of the Duchess of Mony-
 
 CECIL. 253 
 
 musk"'s daughters been thrice as handsome, the 
 world would have said less about her ; as a pla- 
 net, whose rising and setting might be computed, 
 whose aphelion and perihelion were matters for 
 the almanack. 
 
 But Emily was a brilliant meteor, known 
 only by its radiance. All the world — that 
 is, all the fashionable world, — knew her by the 
 name of '' Cis Danby's girl." I was the only 
 man admitted into her box ; the only person ever 
 seen to address her ; and a vague report was 
 prevalent (spread, doubtless, by the vulgar horde 
 who had dodged us home in the hackney-coach,) 
 that she lived in an obscure street in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Bloomsbury Square. Was it mi/ 
 fault that the world should form indiscreet sur- 
 mises from such grounds ? — 
 
 The consequence was, that no one presumed 
 to name her disrespectfully before me, any more 
 than they would have done my sister. Though 
 canvassed far and near as the handsomest crea- 
 ture in town, before me she was never men-
 
 254 CECIL. 
 
 tioned. While talking that night to Lady Har^ 
 riet, I saw her ladyship'^s eyes frequently directed 
 towards the altitude where Emily's graceful head 
 detached itself from the red curtain of her box, 
 as by a halo. I could see that she was proud 
 to have me with her, — proud to render me 
 faithless to so lovely a creature ; — no, not proud ! 
 pride is a loftier feeling — she was vain ; — vain 
 that the battalion of fops surveying her box 
 from the pit, should whisper to each other, 
 '' Aha ! — Cis has changed hands to-night ! — 
 Cis has forsworn the company of the gods ! — Cis 
 has come down to the things of this world." — 
 
 Cis had forsworn the company of the Gods ; 
 but if Jove in his amorous de-deification dis- 
 guised himself as a swan, the modern thunderer 
 was proving himself a goose. 
 
 " I am quite anxious about Lady Orming- 
 ton ! — ^"^ observed Lady Harriet, suddenly ad- 
 dressing me, when she saw that my eyes were 
 following the direction of her own. " She is 
 growing ill and nervous again. I tried to get
 
 CECIL. 255 
 
 t. 
 
 her to the Opera to-night ; but she would not 
 hear of it. I have not seen her so poorly these 
 two years." 
 
 I hazarded certain filial allusions to the heat 
 of the weather : not, however, because blind 
 to the fact that Lady Ormington's illness was 
 pre-ordained so long as Julia remained in town. 
 
 " I wanted her to go with me to our water- 
 party on Monday,'' added Lady Harriet coolly. 
 
 " To a water-party ? — '' said I, satisfied that 
 this was only a lure thrown out to make me 
 petition for an invitation, and choosing to be 
 cruel. " You might as well propose such a 
 recreation to a Frenchwoman, the most hydro- 
 phobic of God's creatures ; or to Lot's wife, after 
 her transformation." 
 
 " You are extremely witty to-night ! " re- 
 torted Lady Harriet, drily — very drily. — 
 
 " My mother is one of the many English 
 women who so band-box away their days as 
 to lose, like Baron Trenck, or Latude, or any 
 other state-prisoner, all capacity for air and exer-
 
 256 CECIL. 
 
 cise. In her youth, things so pretty were never 
 made to stand ! " I continued,— forgetting that 
 the page of the register recording my mother's 
 baptism, might almost include that of Lady 
 Harriet. 
 
 " There will be no walking, and very little 
 standing in our expedition," she replied. " How- 
 ever, perhaps she was right to declare off, for 
 your brother and sister are of the party." 
 
 " Lady Ormington must feel proud of the 
 miracles wrought by her son's success ! " said 
 I, bitterly. " Danby's parliamentary triumphs 
 seem able, like faith, to remove mountains : for 
 I remember once your telling me you had given 
 up an engagement in Hanover Square, on finding 
 he was to dine at home, — ^having no courage to 
 confront a squinting man ! " 
 
 " Mr. Danby has proved that he is worth 
 listening to ; and where that is the case, looks 
 go for nothing. I then thought he was to make 
 his way with us, like yourself, by superficial 
 accomplishments. But who cares for the figure-
 
 CECIL. 257 
 
 head of a ship which, charged with a precious 
 freight, is cutting its way bravely through the 
 waters ? " — 
 
 " If we had but Gurney here to take you 
 down! — " cried I, with the most supercilious 
 impertinence. " Do you know, dearest Lady 
 Harriet, you would make a dangerous rival for 
 Hafiz, or Rosa Matilda of the Morning Post ! — ''"' 
 
 " While Cecil Danby is to be rivalled only 
 by the ineffable Cecil Danby ! " — said she, 
 with perfect coolness ; " Crispin, rival de lui- 
 meme /" 
 
 I was cruelly nettled : not by her sayings, 
 but by her doings. What in the world had 
 induced her to form this offensive and defensive 
 alliance with my brother ? — Could John — fright- 
 ful John, — be superseding Colonel Morley, ab- 
 sent without leave ? — Her invitation to Julia was 
 a natural consequence ; for it was well known 
 in the Ormington clique, that Danby was no- 
 where so vulnerable as through his affection for 
 his sister ; that those twain were as one flesh.
 
 258 CECIL. 
 
 But why desire to conquer him ? His prospects 
 were too good to admit of his marrying for 
 money ; and in the way of mere flirtation, what 
 woman ever threw away her smiles upon a cub, 
 because he had made a tolerable speech or two 
 in the House ? — Yet now I recollect — but, 
 no ! — there is no call upon me to reveal those 
 secrets of my times, in which I did not exercise 
 a personal influence. — 
 
 What right had I, meanwhile, to resent being 
 excluded from Lady Harriet's water-party, when 
 from her last al fresco entertainment I had been 
 self-banished ? I saw clearly that she had not 
 forgotten Richmond, because / was beginning 
 to forget Southampton Buildings; but chose 
 that I should crawl my way, with other creep- 
 ing things, into her ark. Her ladyship was 
 egregiously mistaken. 
 
 "It is a pity you do not persuade Lord 
 Ormington to join your party ! — " said L " It 
 would then include, to the last fraction, the most 
 high and puissant house of Danby."
 
 CECIL. 259 
 
 "Not exactly to the last^''' — observed her 
 ladyship, evidently preparing me a coup de 
 patte. 
 
 " And what particle, pray, would be want- 
 ing?"- 
 
 " The greatest, in his own estimation, " she 
 replied, bitterly. But I managed to look so 
 hopelessly puzzled, that she was compelled ex- 
 plicitly to add, — " yourself I " 
 
 " / am a mere nonentity ! — " cried I, laugh- 
 ing, as if relieved from my perplexity. " Be- 
 sides, all the world has heard of our Green- 
 wich dinner on Monday, which is to include all 
 the birds of the heir (apparent) and all the 
 fishes of the Thames!— " . 
 
 Lady Harriet saw that her coup had missed 
 fire. As she did not frequent the clique of 
 Carlton House, she concluded that some party 
 was in petto of which she knew nothing ; and 
 was piqued like a pouting child, who discovers 
 that there is a doll in the world larger than its 
 own.
 
 260 CECIL. 
 
 " We dine at Colonel Morley's villa, at Ful- 
 ham,"" said she. " I own I have not courage 
 for the compound of villanous smells, punch, 
 tobacco and small beer, which infect one after 
 a dinner at the Ship." 
 
 '' The Ship P — " said I, opening my inno- 
 cent eyes with wonder. 
 
 " Did you not say you were going to dine 
 at the Ship ? "— 
 
 *' I mentioned Greenwich. Your ladyship, 
 I perceive, centralizes that nautical town into a 
 fashionable tavern, just as people consider the 
 Pavilion, Brighton, — and Paris, France! If 
 the tribe of Danby collected round you at 
 Fulham on Monday, are charitable enough to 
 send us their good wishes floating with the re- 
 turn of the tide, I trust they will find me less 
 publicly installed." 
 
 " I am aware that you are fond of secluded 
 retreats ! — " observed Lady Harriet, piquee au 
 vif, and raising her opera-glass towards the 
 d'Acunhas' box.
 
 CECIL. 261 
 
 But I would not be brow-beaten. If once a 
 keeper allows himself to be glared down by 
 the animal he is bent upon taming, there is 
 an end of him. 
 
 " Admit, ** cried I, gently caressing my 
 curls, " that there is some pleasure in straying 
 from the beaten track, — the vulgar, dusty, turn- 
 pike-road of fashionable life, — to luxuriate among 
 " hedge-row elms and hillocks green,**' — youth, 
 beauty, innocence and delight ! — One is apt to 
 grow Paradisaical at the rural season ; when the 
 worn-out things of this world seem fit only for the 
 curiosity shop. Buds and blossoms, hay-making 
 and love-making, go charmingly together, with 
 the thermometer at 78, and the reason at zero." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," — replied Lady 
 Harriet, too much a woman of the world to 
 be thrown off her guard, even by this coarse 
 attack, " when the haymakers are genuine 
 Philly Nettletops, and the love newly mown 
 like the grass. But the hergeres galantes of 
 Boucher, with their powdered wigs and hoops
 
 2G2 CECIL. 
 
 of pea-green taffeta, or worse still, the glazed 
 calico shepherds and shepherdesses of a London 
 ballet, are to me as tawdry as all other counter- 
 feits. By the way, can you tell me the name 
 of the illustrious unknown yonder, who seems 
 to be watching us with so much interest ? " — 
 
 I did not expect that Lady Harriet would 
 come so decidedly to the point. 
 
 " That beautiful creature in mourning ? — ^ 
 said 1, with quickened respiration. " A Portu- 
 guese I fancy. The gentleman at least, is a 
 certain Don Vicente d'Acunha. — Perhaps you 
 are acquainted with him ? — It is amazing the 
 number of refugees from Spain and Portugal, 
 now in London. The other night at Carlton 
 House, we had the Duchess d'Hijar, the finest 
 figure in Europe." 
 
 "• And has the Duchess also taken up her 
 abode on the fifth tier at the Opera, and the 
 neighbourhood of Bloomsbury Square ? " — de- 
 manded Lady Harriet, losing all self-command. 
 
 " You had better inquire of Danby, at your
 
 CECIL. 2(^2 
 
 water party!" cried I, scarcely able to control 
 my irritation ; " who is more intimate than 
 myself in the house where I had first the 
 honour of meeting the beautiful girl who ap- 
 pears to have so powerfully excited your lady- 
 ship's interest. — Drewe, my dear fellow I — why 
 have you never sent the recipe you promised 
 me, for cleaning meerschaums ? — Though I sen- 
 tenced my boy to a week's apprenticeship in the 
 barracks of the German Legion, Hudson assures 
 me the fellow has no more idea of handling a 
 pipe, than I of hingeing a Laurencekirk ! " 
 
 As I had anticipated, Sir Moulton Drewe, 
 who had never heard a word of the recipe, and 
 did not even smoke, was so voluble in giving 
 and requiring explanations, that Emily was safe ! 
 Before he had half recovered his astonishment, 
 I was in the centre of the pit, squabbling with 
 one of the Stanhopes about the comparative 
 merits of Vestris and Deshayes. 
 
 I begin to think there is a destiny in the 
 said Opera, (King's Theatre — Queen's Theatre,
 
 26^ CECIL. 
 
 — what is it, just now ? — ) for embroiling the 
 affairs of bankers, managers, and lovers ! — One 
 of the cleverest fellows connected with its harass- 
 ing concerns, has often protested to me that the 
 London public would never enjoy a good and 
 sufficient opera, till the present crazy barrack was 
 burnt to the ground ; and I am of his opinion. 
 Fire is a universal purification. Perhaps, by the 
 time the new houses of Parliament have risen, 
 like blanched sea-kail from their cinders, the 
 Fire-King of whom James and Horace Smith 
 made themselves the laureats, may take to his 
 embraces the great bam in the Haymarket, which, 
 on the night in question, I devoted to him and 
 all other Infernal Gods ! — 
 
 Yet, after all, there is something sacred and 
 classical in the old den ! — The Opera House is 
 pretty nearly the only place of public amusement 
 of the Princess time, left standing. Carlton 
 House, Buckingham House, Ranelagh, Lords, 
 Commons, Whitfield's Chapel, Vauxhall, Fo- 
 zard's Riding School, the Argyll Rooms, and the
 
 CECIL. 265 
 
 King's Mews, — all evaporated, — all flown off 
 in fumo ! This is the age of demolition, — the 
 era of rubbish. The very nature of London 
 buildings interdicts even a pretension to the ve- 
 nerable. The moss of antiquity imparts no dig- 
 nity to brick and mortar. *' Nothing more de- 
 plorable than the decay of a plaster wall V says 
 a clever French writer. '' Like a gauze dress, it 
 is a thing not intended for durability, which, 
 when it lasts, becomes a badge of shabbiness 
 and disgrace." * 
 
 At all events, when the edifice which has 
 drained the resources of bankers, taxed the wisdom 
 of lord chancellors, and enriched the Gazette with 
 nearly as many respectable names as the battle 
 of Waterloo, shall down with its dust, like the 
 wretched capitalists whom it has involved in 
 ruin, may some appropriate historian arise to im- 
 mortalize its archives ! When those charming 
 boxes shall have ceased to exist, whose six-feet- 
 square are enjoyed for sixty evenings of the year, 
 at the cost of very little more than the salary of 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 CECIL. 
 
 an Irish Bishop ; when those stalls shall be 
 broken up, which, like that of Caligula's horse, 
 are plated with gold, — may some Antoine Ha- 
 milton or Callot of the twentieth century, dip his 
 light pen in aqua-fortis, to depict the lights and 
 shadows of a spot consecrated by such holy me- 
 mories of beauty and genius, — art ai^d nature ; — 
 human nature, of course, — the only nature worth 
 writing of. Newgate and the Tower have been 
 recently dug up and unrolled, like mummies, for 
 the contemplation of the curious in villany. Be- 
 tween ourselves and Mr. Ainsworth, there is good 
 ground still to be broken at the Opera ! — 
 
 There was a time, — ere poets, like the gods of 
 poetry, had departed, — when the Pastoral had 
 still its votaries, and kings wandered amid happy 
 valleys and wedded with shepherdesses. The 
 world knows better now-a-days. The Pastoral 
 has no longer a devotee, save in one of Haydn's 
 symphonies ; and kings abide in castles on the 
 Thames, or palaces on the Seine, guarded by 
 a legion of honour and legion of cooks, — chefs
 
 CECIL. 267 
 
 d'escadrons and chefs de cuisine; — the only 
 shepherdesses in whom they now take delight, 
 being of biscuit or Dresden china, standing prim 
 and crisp upon their chimney-pieces. 
 
 Now the amiable weakness of modern times 
 that approaches nearest to the hallucinations un- 
 der whose influence *' King Cophetua lov'd the 
 beggar-maid,'"* is the passion of a lord for an 
 opera- dancer I An opera-dancer is the Perdita 
 of the nineteenth century, and the Crockfordites 
 are her Florizels. Some denizen of St. James"'s 
 Street even proposed to extend the constitution 
 of the country into King, Lords, Commons, and 
 Opera, — and why not ? — 
 
 I am not certain whether the choregraphic art 
 be not the nearest approach to a universal lan- 
 guage, — that desideratum of sages and centuries ! 
 — How else can we account for the mightiness of 
 renown which hath bruited the name of Taglioni 
 from Indus to the Pole, enabling her to subdue 
 the Imperial or Hyrcanian bear of St. Peters- 
 burg, and flourish in the court- circular of the 
 
 n2
 
 268 CECIL. 
 
 Celestial Empire ? — What statesman, what phi- 
 losopher, what elder among the conscript fathers 
 of art, science, or jurisprudence, hath attained an 
 European, American, Asiatic, and African re- 
 putation, like Fanny Elssler? — Which would 
 England, which would Europe, most deplore, — 
 the final exit of the Lord Chancellor or of Ce- 
 rito ? — By Terpsichore and all her caperings ! 
 the ceremony approaching nearest the apotheosis 
 of the ancients, is the crowning of a popular 
 opera-dancer ! — 
 
 Vainly do envious or jealous detractors at- 
 tempt to throw a slur upon these sham divinities, 
 as les monstres les plus charmants que Von 
 puisse imaginer, or, as somebody called them, 
 " angels lined with devil." — Their nature must 
 be hyper- diabolical indeed, to circumvent fasci- 
 nations, powerful as if one of Titian's Venuses 
 were animated by a Promethean spark, — endowed 
 with the creative genius of Shakspeare, — the fan- 
 tasticality of Goethe, — the piquancy of Voltaire, 
 — the grace of Boucher, — the mignardise of
 
 CECIL. 269 
 
 Mignard, — and the irresistibility of , con- 
 found me if I gratify her vanity by putting the 
 name in print ! — 
 
 To me, I confess, the old Opera House con- 
 stitutes a species of Elysian fields, where I 
 behold flit by me shadows of the great depart- 
 ed ! Often am I tempted to exclaim from my 
 secluded stall, 
 
 Visions of glory ! spare ray aching sight ! — 
 
 Mara, Banti, Grassini, Catalani, Pasta, Son- 
 tag, Malibran, Grisi, — Mozart, Rossini, Cima- 
 rosa, Paesiello, Bellini, Meyerbeer, Donizetti, 
 — the very names have music in them ! — Were 
 the old theatre demolished, the stones would 
 sing of their whereabout, — like the granite statue 
 of Memnon, emitting harmonious anthems. 
 
 The stage too, — the stage over whose boards 
 have bounded the fantastic toes of Angiolini, 
 Hillisberg, Melanie, Noblet, Mercandotti, Fanny 
 Bias, Pauline Leroux, Didelot, Deshayes, Ronzi 
 Vestris, Heberle, Brugnoli, Taglioni, Duverney, 
 Elssler, Cerito, — binds us in boards for ever
 
 270 CECIL. 
 
 more. The mast of the Victory has been carved 
 into snuff-boxes, — the Red Barn, in which Maria 
 Martin was murdered, cut up into tooth-picks ! 
 What might not be expected, as a speculation, 
 from the conversion of the boards of the Queen's 
 Theatre into articles of domestic furniture ? — 
 
 Oh ! Henry S ! quaintest and kind- 
 liest of mankind ! — survivor of that cordial race, 
 in whom good-breeding never refrigerated the 
 warmer impulses of the soul, — when this work 
 of destruction shall be accomplished, to thee 
 be dedicated the prompter''s box, sad relique 
 of departed years ; — and in place of monumental 
 inscription, the feudal legend of the Thane of 
 Fife, — " ViRTUTE ET Opera !" — 
 
 I know not how I find courage for plea- 
 santries upon the subject, — unless as More and 
 Anne Boleyn jested upon the scaffold. For 
 of all the adventures of my youth, that which 
 commenced on the stair-case of the old Opera 
 House, has left the most indelible impressions 
 on my mind. The evil issue thereof had its
 
 CECIL. 211 
 
 origin in the indiscretion of speech wrung from 
 me, on the night in question, by the taun tings 
 of Lady Harriet Vandeleur ! — 
 
 The following day I was to dine with Lord 
 Votefilch, who had a villa on the Thames to 
 refresh himself one day in the week by contact 
 with the mud of nature, after immersion the 
 remaining six amid its clay. It was an ex- 
 official dinner, or I should not have been in- 
 vited. Lord Votefilch the minister, lived in 
 St. James's Square, and gave dinners on Satur- 
 days ; Lord Votefilch the man, at Putney, and 
 gave dinners on Sundays. I had rather have be- 
 longed to the Saturday pow wow ; for Votefilch 
 the minister, was a great man in the political 
 circle ; whereas Votefilch the man, was a mere 
 mediocrity g,mong the Watierians and their kind. 
 
 Besides, (as Chippenham and I agreed when 
 he invited us in an unceremonious way at the 
 office,) it is adding insult to injury for a chef 
 to invite his youngsters to a family dinner, 
 which he knows they dare not refuse. I wonder
 
 212 CECIL. 
 
 he did not beg us to bring our fishing-rods, 
 like other clerks out for a holiday ! Even then, 
 we could not have allowed ourselves to feel 
 affronted. 
 
 To dine at Putney at half past six, then 
 the general hour, necessitated a toilet at five ; 
 and I consequently looked in for a moment, 
 en passant, to Lady Ormington's drawing-room, 
 at an hour at which I was little in the habit 
 of testifying my filial respect. My mother 
 used to receive tribes of visitors on a Sunday. 
 Fine ladies often do, as the consequence of 
 their retreat from the mobs let loose upon the 
 earth on that day of general debondagement. 
 Kensington Gardens was, if I recollect, just then 
 the resort in fashion. Kensington Gardens, (a 
 spot which oppresses my spirits as if the atmo- 
 sphere confined within its masses of trees and 
 brick walls, were mephitic as the jungles of 
 Sierra Leone,) has always undergone fierce alter- 
 nations of popular favour and scorn. It is sure 
 to be either so much in fashion and so crowded,
 
 CECIL. 273 
 
 that every blade of grass is worn from its sooty 
 turf ; or so deserted, that the palace looks 
 ashamed to be standing there by itself, faisant 
 pied de grue, like a pelican in the wilderness. 
 At the period I write of, Bow Street runners 
 used to be stationed at the gate, to prevent his 
 Majesty's lieges from being mummied in their 
 attempt to pass the wicket. — No! that was 
 the preceding year ! — At present there was no- 
 body in Kensington Gardens but the gate- 
 keepers in their suits of green and yellow me- 
 lancholy, — green coats and jaundice. — It was 
 to the ring that the idlers devoted their gravel- 
 grinding. 
 
 Lady Ormington and Co. consequently re- 
 mained in their several habitations, sealed up 
 like patent medicines. 
 
 I had forgotten however that, in her dread 
 of family dinners, it was her ladyship's cue to 
 be nervous ; and that she was consequently 
 " not at home ;**' and it startled me when, on 
 entering her china warehouse, instead of the 
 
 n5
 
 274 CECIL. 
 
 murmur of voices usual at that hour under its 
 fresco ceilings of blue sky, (a hateful fashion 
 of that day, conveying the bitterest irony upon 
 the dingy heavens without,) I heard nothing but 
 the peevish voice of Lady Ormington talking 
 to herself or Bibiche, — in notes that might have 
 been mistaken for those of a sick parrot, quarrel- 
 ling with itself over an almond. 
 
 Poor Bibiche ! — I should have been sorry for 
 the little beast, had not the adage of " tel maitre 
 tel chien,'''' been strictly exemplified in her case. 
 A legitimate descendant of the original Dash 
 staring its unmeaning eyes out in Cosway'^s por- 
 trait of the Right Honourable Lady Orming- 
 ton, Bibiche was whimsical, fretful, and un- 
 attached. I was never sorry when my mother 
 worried the dog ; for the dog had an immunity 
 for worrying all my mother's fellow-creatures. 
 
 On the present occasion, however, it was not 
 the spaniel to whom her ladyship was mur- 
 muring her woes. "* It was an animal of more
 
 CECIL. 275 
 
 consequence. It was tlie lieir of the noble House 
 of Danby. 
 
 Saul among the prophets ! — What on earth 
 could the rising young man be about in the sanc- 
 tuary of Bibiche and her lady ? — I should as soon 
 have expected to find old Droneby himself in- 
 augurated among the bonzes and mandarins at 
 Carlton House ! 
 
 Lady Ormington was evidently agitated. Her 
 face, when flurried, had a peculiarly ridiculous ap- 
 pearance, like the marble basin of a flower-garden, 
 when ruffled by a stormy wind, — which I take to 
 be the wire- wove edition of a puddle in a storm. 
 
 The Hon. Member for Rigmarole, who was 
 standing up before the fireless fire-place, as 
 Englishmen are apt to do, (as one sees a sen- 
 tinel still on guard over poor dismantled Kew 
 Palace,) looked as cool as if he had been iced. 
 A lucky presentiment forewarned me not to nod 
 to him, as usual ; for a moment afterwards, I was 
 honoured by him with a Grandisonian bow, — one
 
 276 CECIL. 
 
 of those bows for which one hears the foot slide 
 formally on the carpet ! — The honourable mem- 
 ber saluted me as he would have done old Vote- 
 filch ; and the salutation which, addressed to th« 
 minister, had denoted humility, when addressed 
 to the clerk of the F. 0. was, of course, an im- 
 pertinent signal of superiority. 
 
 The colour rose to my cheek. — Not the flush 
 of anger. No! — ^I was positively overawed by 
 the sang-froid of the Hon. John Alexander 
 Danby ! Before I recovered my parts of speech, 
 he had left the room ! — 
 
 "A pretty business you have made of it!'' 
 whimpered my mother, as soon as he was out of 
 hearing. 
 
 " Business ? — / guilty of business ?" — cried 
 I, trying to recover my usual flippancy ; " and 
 on the Sabbath ?— Fie !"— 
 
 " Don't be absurd, Cis. I am quite nervous 
 enough, without your silly jokes. I tell you, 
 you have irretrievably oflfended your brother ! " 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it. I was afraid he was
 
 CECIL. S77 
 
 only slightly affronted, which would have given 
 me the very unnecessary trouble of trying to 
 bring him into better humour. — The word, 
 irretrievable, decides it. — I love an extreme 
 case." — 
 
 " Pray don't talk such nonsense ! — If you 
 knew how completely you depend upon Lord 
 Ormington and Danby, you would not indulge in 
 these boyish caprices. I tell you once for all, 
 Cis, (and you well know that my word may be 
 depended upon, in what concerns your interests,) 
 your only chance of a settlement in life is by 
 conciliating the good-will of your brother ! — '' 
 
 '' A settlement, my dear mother ? — The very 
 word is as hard of digestion as an unripe pine ! 
 A settlement ? — Just what Stultz had the au- 
 dacity to mention to me yesterday ! — A settle- 
 ment ? — Why, if I were on the verge of com-* 
 mitting matrimony — ''' 
 
 " For oTzce be serious! — " cried Lady Orm- 
 ington, angrily. " Your position is a most pi-e- 
 carious one I — Take warning ! — Take heed ! — If
 
 278 CECIL. 
 
 Danhy were to make representations to your 
 father of the injury he has sustained at your 
 hands — '** 
 
 " Why what, in Heaven"'s name, have I done 
 to him ? — I cheered his speech till it cost me my 
 month's allowance at Gunter's for Florence-drops, 
 to cure my hoarseness ! — I may have said, per- 
 haps, that he dressed like a gentleman from the 
 Inns of Court, — and so he does. — Nay, if 
 Herries, or any other of my brother clerks, were 
 to requir^e a bow from me in Pall Mall, buried 
 to the ears in such a coat as Danby's — '' 
 
 " Cecil !*" interrupted Lady Ormington, with 
 more energy than I had ever seen her exhibit. 
 " Had your brother addressed to his father, in- 
 stead of myself, his grievances against you — '' 
 
 " He has been complaining, then ? — "" cried 
 I. " The pretty boy has been here, with his 
 finger in his eye, declaring that unless I beg 
 his pardon for having torn his kite — "''' 
 
 " Do not FORCE me to bring you to reason !''* 
 cried my mother, with so sudden an assumption
 
 CECIL. 279 
 
 of authority, tliat I sat down quietly in a chair, 
 prepared to listen patiently to her expostula- 
 tions. *' With all your pretensions to good man- 
 ners and good sense, Danby has shown, on this 
 occasion, far more than yourself. He came here 
 simply to appeal to me, as your best friend, — 
 as your only friend, — to engage you to observe 
 towards him the same forbearance and reserve 
 he maintains towards you. It is his wish, — his 
 engagement, indeed, with me, — that you shall 
 meet in public as friends ; and mainta'n towards 
 each other, in private, the mutual deference of 
 elder and younger brothers." 
 
 '' And pray, in what point of this extraordi- 
 nary compact have I failed ? " — cried I, a sudden 
 and terrible light breaking in upon me, — a light 
 which I own I wanted courage to humiliate her 
 and myself, by bringing to distinct admission. 
 
 " You have injured his reputation, — you have 
 wounded his feelings ! " — persisted my mother. 
 " Do you suppose that everybody is as indifferent 
 to good repute as yourself? — Do you imagine
 
 280 CECIL. 
 
 that because t/our heart is unsusceptible of attach- 
 ment — " 
 
 " Come, come, mother ! — If you are going to 
 set up John Danby in the pattern young man 
 line, I must really beg you to let me off!" 
 cried I ; " I dine at Putney — ""* 
 
 " With Lord Votefilch ? — How unfortunate ! 
 • — You will meet your brother ! "" — 
 
 " Unfortunate, indeed ! — I have a great 
 mind to break my leg, and send an excuse. 
 Meanwhile," said I, "try to make me under- 
 stand, in as few words as possible, where I in- 
 jured tlie poor fellow''s reputation, and how I 
 have wounded his feelings ? — " 
 
 " By representing him, last night, in Lady 
 Harriet Vandeleur's box at the Opera, as sharing 
 your dissipations. You accused him of being 
 engaged, as well as yourself, in some disgraceful 
 liaison ! " — 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense ! — I merely silenced 
 Lady Harriet's inquiries concerning a young lady, 
 (unknown, I admit, in the fashionable world, but
 
 CECIL. ^81 
 
 of the highest respectability,) by informing her 
 that Dan by was as well able as myself to satisfy 
 her curiosity — " 
 
 " Which you know very well that he was 
 not!—'' 
 
 " He might have been, — since she is the ward 
 of old Hanmer of Southampton Buildings, with 
 whom my brother keeps up quite as much inter- 
 course as I do." 
 
 "Old Hanmer's ward ? — This completely 
 alters the state of the case ! " — cried Lady Orm- 
 ington. " Why she passes in the world for 
 being — " 
 
 " No matter ! — The world is an ass ! — The 
 world believes anything that anybody in the 
 world chooses to assert, — yet the world never 
 utters a word of truth ! — And so, after all, 
 Danby feels irreparably injured by being accused 
 of an acquaintance with a charming girl, of good 
 family, of — '^ 
 
 " You are aware, Cis, of Lady Harriet's style 
 of repeating things ! Between jest and earn-
 
 282 CECIL. 
 
 est, she attacked your brother about 'it in the 
 crush-room, with Lady Susan Theydon on his 
 arm, to whom, you are aware, he is paying at- 
 tention." 
 
 " Danbj/ ? — to Lady Susan Theydon ? — 
 the coxcomb ! — one of the prettiest girls in 
 town ! ''— 
 
 " You will probably find her Lady Susan 
 Danby before the season is over ; that is, if he 
 manages to get over, with her mother, who is the 
 most particular woman alive, the unfavourable 
 impression made by Lady Harriet's allusions." 
 
 " I am damned sony the thing has happened !*' 
 — cried I, in all sincerity ; " for I can understand 
 that, under such circumstances, he may have felt 
 vexed by what was on my part a mere etourderie. 
 But why couldn't John Danby come straight up 
 to me, like a man, and ask for an explanation, 
 without all these petticoat negotiations ?'' — 
 
 " Because he is under a promise to me never 
 to enter into disputes with you of any kind ! " 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders.
 
 CECIL. 283 
 
 *' Between my father who negotiates with me 
 through his lawyers, and my brother who treats 
 with me through your ladyship, I am beginning 
 to fancy myself a prince in disguise ! " — said I. 
 
 " Rather, a beggar in expectancy ! " — faltered 
 Lady Ormington. " But not a word more, Cecil ! 
 I have said enough to induce you, if you have a 
 grain of good feeling in your composition, to 
 make the necessary reparations to your brother ! " 
 
 I was about to utter a bitter rejoinder ; when 
 the butler hastily announced that Lord Chippen- 
 ham, who was to drive me down to Putney, was 
 waiting at the door. 
 
 Merciful powers ! — A toilet of five minutes at 
 Midsummer ! — What had society done to me 
 that I should insult its understanding by appear- 
 ing before it under circumstances so disadvanta- 
 geous ? — I dared not reflect upon the interpreta- 
 tion his Majesty's ministers might give to my 
 dishevelled locks ! — I thought of Copenhagen, 
 — of the gallant Nelson, — of the incautious 
 wafer, and trembled ! —
 
 ^84 CECIL. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The proprietors are bitten by the rage of what they fancy 
 to be improvement, and are levelling ground, smoothing 
 banks, and building rockwork, with pagodas and Chinese 
 railing. The laburnums, willows, and flowering slirubs are 
 beginning to be tortured into what the gardener calls gen- 
 teel shapes. Even the course of the river has been 
 thwarted, and part of its waters diverted into a broad ditch 
 to form an island, — flat, swampy, and dotted over with 
 exotic shrubs. Beckford. 
 
 " On y trouve bons compagnons, chere transcendante, 
 vins tres vieux, femmes tres jeunes, des bougies a faire 
 palir le soleif, tons les Clemens avec lesquels se fabrique. 
 ordinairement la joie humaine." 
 
 England is thought to excel in villas. A 
 villa is an architectural fantasia, wherein e very- 
 individual is allowed to display his taste or 
 want of taste ; and the Dublin cit, according- 
 ly, places his portico on the second floor, over
 
 CECIL. 285 
 
 the verandah: the Parisian badaud ornaments 
 the sphinxes over his gates with coquettish 
 straw hats, tied knowingly under the chin ; and 
 in Holland, rows of tin aloes in stone vases 
 are ranged along the wall. But in the envi- 
 rons of London, ye gods I in the environs of 
 London, from Brentford to Stratford le Bow, 
 from Paddington to Putney, what vagaries in 
 brick and mortar, — what barbarisms in Portland 
 stone ! — 
 
 In all directions, for ten miles round the 
 capital, — villas — villas — villas ! A villa is one 
 of the first Indications of prosperity on the 
 part of a professional man. Thriving mer- 
 chants — popular actors — popular dentists — 
 popular lawyers — popular all sorts of things, 
 are sure to have their Tusculum, their r2is in 
 urbe, their Eden, their ""appiness 'ouse I — A 
 villa is the agrement of a laborious life, the 
 restoration of an unwholesome one ; and the 
 days of many a cabinet minister have been 
 lengthened in the land by the hel respiro of
 
 286 CECIL. 
 
 his Gloucester Lodge or Footscray, his Ealing 
 or Hayes. 
 
 But, above all, a villa is an essentially aris- 
 tocratic appurtenance. Lords and ladies can- 
 not dispense with a green and sunny nook, 
 in which to go and hide their heads, when 
 they are glad or sorry, in the sweets of a 
 honey-moon, or the sours of widowerhood. 
 
 Among these, there are doubtless a few 
 such as 
 
 Youthful poets fancy, when they love. 
 
 There is Chiswick, matchless Chiswick ! — There 
 is Strawberry Hill, somewhat the worse for 
 wear, but classic ground, every inch of it ; — 
 Gunnersbury, where the flowers and fruit are 
 formed, like those of Aladdin's magic garden, 
 of rubies and emeralds; — Sion, Wimbledon, 
 Roehampton, Mount Felix, Ken Wood, Os- 
 terley ; where conclude, if once I venture to 
 begin, the enumeration of our suburban resi- 
 dences of high degree ? —
 
 CECIL. 287 
 
 In point of truth, the excellence we claim 
 for the villas of London resides less in their 
 elevation, than in the intensity of verdure 
 engendered by our ever- weeping climate. Their 
 real attraction consists in the soft, green turf, 
 overshaded here and there by a clump of beeches, 
 a shapely tulip-tree or drooping cedar ; skirted 
 at intervals by parterres of geraniums, or creep- 
 ers trained in fanciful devices, throwing them- 
 selves like fountains of blossoms into the 
 air ; — while clumps of the choicer shrubs, all- 
 spice trees, magnolias, or the gum-cistus, ex- 
 hale their musky perfumes, like Moorish slaves 
 flinging their censers of incense to and fro. 
 (If that is not a bran-new simile, O Public ! 
 I am pretty particularly mistaken !) 
 
 I speak all this feelingly, for one of the 
 favourite subjects of my mother''s grumbleations 
 was the want of a villa. Ormington Hall was 
 in Lancashire, a two days\ nay, for a nervous 
 lad)^, a three days'* journey from town. What 
 was to become of her at Easter and Whit-
 
 288 CECIL, 
 
 suntide ? — What was she to do, during family 
 mournings or other plaintive exigencies ? — Her 
 sole resource was Brighton, — everybody's re- 
 source, from the Prince to the haberdasher. 
 It was enough to put her out of conceit with 
 being out of spirits, to have to exhibit her 
 black crape or blue devils on the Steyne ! 
 
 There was a time when I used to agree with 
 Lady Ormington. It seemed a deuced hard 
 thing to have no intermediary spot, betwixt the 
 Hall and Hanover Square ; some genteel pur- 
 gatory, between paradise and its antipodes. 
 Every now and then, in the cowslip season, 
 her ladyship used to be taken rural, and " babble 
 of green fields." She would sigh over the ad- 
 vertisements of the auctioneers, grandiloquizing 
 the glories of Richmond Hill or the beauties 
 of Shenley, till "the greenth and gloomth" of 
 Horace Walpole were outdone. I really 
 thought Lord Ormington would have to end 
 with bartering his borough for the rangership 
 of the parks; or one of his Yorkshire woods
 
 CECIL. 289 
 
 for a gove of Canada poplars in the purlieus 
 of Primrose Hill. 
 
 But now that my official helotism was be- 
 ginning to familiarize me with the ministerial 
 snuggeries ranged along the river from Vaux- 
 hall Bridge to that of Richmond, in white and 
 sparkling rows, like the mineral teeth of De- 
 sirabode, I was beginning to thank his obduracy. 
 How be-frogged I used to feel, after one of 
 those dinners of Votefilch's ! — Nothing but 
 Undine could have swum it ! — I am convinced 
 that will-o'-the-wisps must have danced often- 
 times, after night-fall, over his lordship's lawn ; 
 while his ponds and tanks bore forcible resem- 
 blance to tureens of green-pea soup or basins of 
 turtle. I could have fancied I felt fins expand- 
 ing, after a day in his charming fen. 
 
 The drawing-room windows commanded a 
 view of an osier-bed on the opposite bank ; 
 not rising out of the water, however, — for that 
 might have impaired a Canaletti-like charm, or 
 entitled one to dream of "Sabrina fair," uplift- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 CECIL. 
 
 ing her "pearly arms" from the "pure translu- 
 cent wave ;" but between the pewter-tinted 
 Thames, and the dingy sallows, there stagnated 
 even at high tide a strip of alluvial soil, barely 
 concealed by patches of coarse rushes, while, at 
 low tide, were perceptible some twenty yards of 
 that filthiest deposit of the cloacae of London 
 and its suburbs, called Thames mud ; com- 
 pelling one, at times, to hold one"'s nose, and in- 
 clining one, at others, to close one''s eyes. 
 
 On one side of Maybush Lodge there was a 
 great soap manufactory, which indicted itself 
 as a nuisance once a quarter, in order to be be- 
 forehand with its neighbours and pocket the in- 
 former's fine ; while, on the other, reeked a 
 brewery ! — A distant view of a patent oil-mill 
 completed the charm. 
 
 But then the river ! 
 
 " The exulting and abounding river!'" — the 
 charming, bright, cool, refreshing river ; — the 
 river, so propitious to the natatorial essays of 
 the preparatory schools in the neighbourhood.
 
 CECIL. 291 
 
 no less than to the termination of the woes 
 of certain deluded sempstresses, induced to 
 listen to the Tempter in the Eden of Cum- 
 berland Tea-gardens and other rustic resorts in 
 the parishes of Chelsea and Milbank ; — the ri- 
 ver of coal-barges and lighters, funny-clubs and 
 wherries ; where, three times a week or so, one 
 has the satisfaction of beholding the victims of 
 much punch dashed against the piers of the 
 bridges, and dived for by the jolly young water- 
 men, as though they were the pearls of Ormus 
 or the wreck of the Royal George ; — while 
 catches and glees, oaths and imprecations, 
 shrieks and groans, " oars and sculls," consti- 
 tute the intermingling music of its waters ! — 
 Oh! happy river! 
 
 River, that rollest by the ancient walls 
 Where dwells the lady of my love ; 
 
 river, whose flounders, like Mithridates, fatten 
 on poisons ; whose white-bait delight in gas, 
 and whose eels luxuriate in pyroligneous acid : 
 
 o 2
 
 292 CECIL. 
 
 — sooner locate beside the foetid banks of a 
 Batavian canal, sooner become a toll-keeper of 
 Lethe's wharf, than breathe my summer breath 
 within scent of thine unsavoury odours, within 
 reach of thy pandemoniacal sounds ! — 
 
 Lord Votefilch's villa was one of the best of 
 those compact white dwelling-houses, " seated," 
 as George Robins calls it, " on a verdant lawn," 
 like a solitary billiard-ball lying on its green 
 table. The house was commodious within; 
 without, of Doric architecture. Nothing fan- 
 ciful about it, nothing rustic : but it was as 
 damp as a catacomb, unless during the dog- 
 days, when its frontage lay exposed to a glar- 
 ing south-western sun. 
 
 Maybush Lodge was the growth of royal 
 favouritism. It had been created in George 
 the Second^s time by the old Duke of New- 
 castle ; and during the long reign of his royal 
 grandson had as regularly alternated with the 
 Whigs and Tories, as if a part of the adminis- 
 tration. What tales could its wainscots have
 
 CECIL. 293 
 
 unfolded, if wainscots were included in the cate- 
 gory of wooden orators! — What conspiracies 
 (against the country) had been hatched in its 
 premier-coop ! — What . wars and rumours of 
 wars had gone forth from its portals ! — How 
 often had France been sent to the devil under 
 its coved ceilings; how often the balance of 
 power weighed in its scales, and found wanting. 
 Poor Maybush Lodge ! — green eyrie, to which 
 the crook-beaked birds of prey retreated to feed 
 their young ones with young ones torn from 
 the nests of other birds, — what heaps of whiten- 
 ed bones my mind's eye seemed to descry 
 around the retreat of the plunderers ! — 
 
 To do mine host justice, no one could more 
 gallantly lay aside the cares of state, or hang 
 up more resolutely in his hall the toga of public 
 life. There was a Lady Votefilch ; — a woman 
 of a certain age and uncertain temper, whose 
 former beauty one took for granted, though 
 little trace of it remained, as the only means 
 of accounting for the infatuation which had
 
 294 CECIL. 
 
 rendered so shrewd a man the proprietor of 
 such a nonentity. There was a niece, too, 
 either of hers or his, who resided with them, — 
 a certain Lady Theresa, — the idol of my col- 
 leagues in DowTiing Street. It was a matter 
 of special duty among such of them as were 
 admitted to share the venison and household 
 leisure of their chef^ to fall in love with Lady 
 Theresa. 
 
 I scarcely know why. She was not old, — 
 not ugly, — not disagreeable; — negative quali- 
 ties at best ; but it was like finding a flower in 
 the wilderness, to discover anything approach- 
 ing to young, pretty, or agreeable among 
 those bald heads and sunken faces. The first 
 time I saw her sitting there among them, mute 
 and undemonstrative, I wondered what the 
 deuce Chippenham, Herries, and the rest of 
 them had found in her, to turn their heads. 
 But after a dinner or two at Maybush Lodge, 
 I began to examine her more curiously, — to 
 experience an interest in her merits, — to watch
 
 CECIL. ^5 
 
 her inexpressive blue eyes with the hope of 
 detecting some talent, sentiment, or emotion. 
 She was the only very human thing present. 
 A bird which alights upon the mast during a 
 sea voyage is an object of intense interest to 
 the mariner, however dingy its plumage or poor 
 its note. 
 
 To make the agreeable to Lady Votefilch and 
 her niece, at the Sunday dinners, was part of 
 the week's duty. The major part of the task 
 was easy enough. Lady V. was a vain foolish' 
 woman, not too fastidious in the quality of 
 adulation. To compliment her on her beauty, 
 had been scandal in disguise ; but she was con- 
 tent to accept the far more easily levied tribute 
 of compliments upon her toilet. She cared for 
 nothing but dress. A reigning divinity of Fa- 
 shion, she was also one of its votaries ; dressed 
 not so much in the fashion of the day, as a ^ 
 mode de demain. While the Right Hon. Sec. 
 was inventing political combinations and specu- 
 lating upon European alliances, she was cabal-
 
 296 CECIL. 
 
 ling with Madame Le Brun, the Talleyrand of 
 modern modistes, concerning revolutions in caps, 
 and conspiracies against turbans that be. 
 
 To such a woman, Cecil the son of Lady Orm- 
 ington — the Lady Ormington — could not but 
 be an object of interest ; and when she found 
 I had tact enough to refrain from dedicating 
 my sighs with the general monsoon of the 
 Foreign Office to Lady Theresa, she concluded 
 that I recognized my insufficiencies as a younger 
 son, and begged Lord Votefilch to honour my 
 forbearance by a general invitation. He knew 
 better, — for he really wished to see me fami- 
 liarly at his table ; and consequently restricted 
 his civility to giving me a formal invitation 
 more frequently than to the rest of his quill 
 machinery. 
 
 Chippenham and I arrived late. When we 
 made our appearance, dinner had been announ- 
 ced, and people were pairing slowly off with 
 much form and ceremony, to traverse in couples 
 twelve yards of Brussels carpeting, over which
 
 CECIL. 297 
 
 they would have stepped singly without form 
 or embarrassment. Old Votefilch was con- 
 ducting a fine-looking woman, known to me 
 by name and history ; then came her lady- 
 ship, escorted by a stupid-looking man, who I 
 saw must be somebody, or he would not 
 have presumed to look so stupid; and lastly 
 came Lady Theresa, arm-in-arm with the lion 
 of the hour, — with Danby ! — It was Chip- 
 penham's privilege and place ; but my dilatori-, 
 ness had deprived him of his honours ; and we 
 were compelled to scuffle in with Herries and 
 two great unknowns, to promiscuous places at 
 table. 
 
 Though far from in my best of humours, 
 I was soon interested in the conversation, 
 which, at such tables, flows as naturally as if 
 helped round with the soup. The two non- 
 descripts were ofiicial men of first-rate abilities, 
 on their preferment ; the glassy-eyed individual 
 supporting Lady Votefilch, was Lord Falkirk, 
 a man who affected dulness as Pope Sixtus
 
 298 CECIL. 
 
 caducity, in order to influence, unsuspected, 
 the Conclave or Privy Council ; and the tall 
 handsome woman in white satin, was one of 
 those showy intrigantes, those prima don- 
 nas of society, who, whatever minister shall 
 reign, are always to be found in musk-scent- 
 ed note-paper correspondence with Downing 
 Street. 
 
 It was none of these, however, who imparted 
 the colloquial charm to that chatty little party. 
 It was the man who seemed determined to 
 extinguish me by his superiority, in private 
 as in public life. As the trunk of the elephant 
 is constituted to pick up a straw after crushing 
 the body of a man, Danby seemed bent on 
 proving to his humiliated younger brother, that 
 his small-talk was as great as his speaking 
 was effective. He could drive a tandem as 
 readily as the car of Jaggernaut. To do him 
 justice, I never met a more agreeable man. 
 There was something fascinating beyond de- 
 scription in the melodious refinement of his
 
 CECIL. 299 
 
 enunciation. His tone was easy, — ^his language 
 fluent, — and he was as good a listener as ready 
 in reply, — prompt in argument, modest in 
 pursuing an advantage. Budge and Fudge, 
 the official aspirants, were evidently vexed to 
 find themselves thrown into the shade by so 
 young a man. But they were soon reconciled. 
 There is no disgrace in being Eclipsed by Ju- 
 piter. 
 
 Next to the chattiness of my brother, the 
 thing that struck me most, was the influence 
 of time and place upon my collaborators, Chip- 
 penham and Herries. Herries was, by birth 
 and education, official. He was the Asmodeus 
 of an ink-bottle. His cradle had been a des- 
 patch box, — his swaddling-clothes were sheets 
 of government foolscap. At the desk, he was 
 great, for the atmosphere of Downing Street 
 was as natal air to him ; and like Antaeus, on 
 touching treasury-ground he became invinci- 
 ble. I had always stood in awe of Herries' 
 superior abilities, when I saw him issue from
 
 300 CECIL. 
 
 the Blue Chamber, with confidential documents 
 in his hand, such as were entrusted by Lord 
 Votefilch to no sub. but himself. 
 
 But at Maybush Lodge, his distinctions va- 
 nished. At Maybush Lodge, the peacock be- 
 came a dingy jay again. I suppose it was be- 
 cause he did not feel himself at ease ; but he 
 was tongue-tied. He joined in the conversa- 
 tion only to become an obstruction. A fas- 
 tidious choice of expressions embarrassed his 
 diction. He became heavy and verbose from 
 trying to talk too well ; missed the point of 
 every story he attempted to relate ; and filled 
 up the pauses of his conversation with an un- 
 meaning laugh. 
 
 Chippenham, on the contrary, who was any- 
 thing but a genius, and who at the ofiice passed 
 for a ninny, became talkative and agreeable 
 among people of his caste. The subjects dis- 
 cussed were familiar to him. His pockets 
 were full of the small change current in such 
 society. He had twice as much to say as
 
 CECIL. 301 
 
 Halbert Hemes ; or rather, with half as 
 much to say, quadrupled it by his easy 
 unaffected mode of expression. I perceived 
 that with him Danby was quite ready to talk 
 and listen ; whereas, when poor Herries ad- 
 dressed him, he fixed his eyes vacantly on 
 the stammering man, who seemed baffled by 
 the redundancy of his ideas or the insuffi- 
 ciency of his elocution. I was amused, — per* 
 haps a little gratified. In the office, Herrie^ 
 had the best of it. Whenever Chippenham, 
 or I, or Percy, or De Flsle, stood convicted 
 of the blunders inevitable to even the cleverest 
 of novices, he used to over-crow us without 
 ceremony. I was not sorry to see him si- 
 lenced by my brother. 
 
 At that period, the Whigs and Tories of 
 public life, whether dictating in the House 
 " avec ce calme sans entrailles qiCon appelle 
 la dignite parlementaire,'''' or disputing after 
 dinner with the drouthiness of men whose real 
 business in Hfe is that of convertino- full de-
 
 302 CECIL. 
 
 canters into empty ones, were now properly 
 divided into a party maintaining that one Eng- 
 lishman could lick four Frenchmen, or that 
 England " hangs Banagher, which bates the 
 world ;" — and a party beholding in Napoleon 
 a man in authorized command of the powers of 
 darkness, — Demogorgon, minus his hoofs. The 
 after-dinner politics of London consisted of "Are 
 we to annihilate the French, or are the French 
 to annihilate us F" — It is rather late in the his- 
 tory of the world to assign such overweening 
 majesty to the edge of the sword. It was one 
 of the evidences of the brutalizing power of 
 war, that, from long contemplation of perpetual 
 and bloody conflict, we were retrograding to 
 the insensibilities of the dark ages. The law 
 of the stronger was becoming our Alpha and 
 Omega. 
 
 Precisely on this point, was the superiority 
 of Danby's mind apparent. His ideas were 
 not exclusively extracted from the returns of 
 the War Office, or the statistics of Extraordi-
 
 CECIL. 
 
 nary Gazettes. Danby marched with the times, 
 or, rather, marched with the pioneers who clear 
 the way for the progress of the times. It 
 was upon the force of pubhc opinion and 
 the strength of popular feeling throughout Eu- 
 rope, that he grounded his calculations. His 
 judgment was not moulded by the dictation 
 of peremptory articles in Quarterly Reviews. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe one. His stu- 
 dies at Ormington Hall were not comprised, 
 as I had chosen to imagine, within limit of 
 the Aldine authorities. Herodotus and Thucy- 
 dides were but the plinth of the column of 
 his universal knowledge. The modern, living, 
 breathing, circulating literature of Europe, the 
 pulses and arteries of the contemporaneous body 
 of mankind, constituted the pillar's strength. 
 
 French, German, Italian, nay, even the Scla- 
 vonic languages, were familiar to him ; and, 
 liberally supplied with the best publications 
 of the day, he possessed a key to the gates 
 of that mighty continent, from which, as by
 
 304 CECIL. 
 
 a miracle, we were so long shut out. In the 
 progress of public enlightenment, he traced the 
 progress of public events. It was from the 
 excitement of Germany, the indignation of Rus- 
 sia, the resentments of Holland, that he drew 
 his horoscope of France, and foretold the down- 
 fal of a triton of the minnows, a Gulliver 
 among the Lilliputians, a Csesar among the 
 principicules of Germany, whom the liberals 
 of France detested as un grand homme avorti 
 en empereur, — a conqueror whose foot was not 
 only upon the neck of humbled nations but 
 upon that of public opinion, — the executioner 
 of the Due d'Enghien and of the liberty of the 
 press; — a man whose greatness was composed 
 of the wrecks of a great revolution, as the early 
 temples of Italy were framed of shattered frag- 
 ments of the noble architecture of former ages. 
 
 Newsvenders' horns were not his only organs 
 of information. Wellington might be a great 
 general, but Danby humbly opined that a still 
 more powerful instrument was the combination
 
 CECIL. 305 
 
 of the many, against the tyranny of the one ; 
 — a balance of power, having France and its 
 cannon in one scale, and Europe, with the 
 consciousness of right, in the other. He fore- 
 saw clearly, and announced moderately, that 
 the days of the empire were numbered. 
 
 Nothing more enrages a knot of middle-aged 
 official men, who have been buffeting all their 
 lives with the waves, till familiar with the 
 strength of unseen currents and the peril of 
 sunken rocks, (the practical difficulties of pub- 
 lic life,) than to find a young fellow, of ne- 
 cessity a mere theorist, pretend to see further 
 through the mists of politics than themselves. 
 It is useless to insinuate that, while engaged 
 in the difficult operation of keeping their heads 
 above water, he may have been stationed in 
 the lighthouse, beholding, 
 
 as from a tower, the end of all ; — 
 
 a warden, anxiously watching the operations 
 of contending parties.
 
 306 CECIL. 
 
 To the arguments modestly put forth by 
 the young Member for Rigmarole, accordingly, 
 Budge and Fudge replied by interchanging 
 glances of contempt. They knew nothing, not 
 they, of the power and views of Russia. They 
 cared nothing about Berlin. Germany was, to 
 them^ a country where a deluded population 
 applauded Schiller's Robbers, or whimpered 
 over the Sorrows of Werther. They quoted 
 Pitt and Fox, Windham and Percival ; they 
 talked about invariable principles and the wis- 
 dom of our ancestors ; but they wanted to 
 hear nothing about the Continent. The quar- 
 rel lay in a nutshell ; the question was com- 
 prised in the Peninsula. It was there the ori- 
 flamme was displayed ; it was there that the 
 cabinet was writing its leading articles in cha- 
 racters of blood. 
 
 But for old Votefilch, Danby would have 
 been talked down ; but the Right Hon. Secre- 
 tary understood the art of extracting informa- 
 tion, even under the semblance of disparage-
 
 CECIL. 307 
 
 ment ; and took care that the young talker, 
 who talked not for victory but out of the 
 abundance of his heart, should have " ample 
 space and verge enough^' for the manifestations 
 of his knowledge. 
 
 I saw Lady Votefilch shrug her shoulders 
 in despair. She had hoped better things of 
 an elder brother of mine, (for herself,) and 
 better things of an elder son of Lord Orming- 
 ton (for Lady Theresa). Even I, as regarded my 
 own feehngs, should have been better pleased to 
 find him less earnestly occupied with la chose 
 publique at that moment. I had made up my 
 mind to a frank explanation with him. My heart 
 was more open towards John than it had 
 been since our days of nankin frocks; and I 
 trusted to see him more reserved in my pre- 
 sence. I had even hoped to find him angry; 
 for it is a work of labour and sorrow to stir 
 up the cold embers of indifference. 
 
 Most young people fall into the blunder of 
 attributing to all other human natures the
 
 308 CECIL. 
 
 strength or weakness of their own ; or. as my 
 friend Fetlock expressed it, " they buy and 
 sell by their own bushel." I, for instance, 
 chose to judge of Danby by myself — my Self, 
 like most other young men, warm-hearted and 
 generous while glorying in the affectation of 
 superciliousness and folly. But there are spirits 
 both brighter and blacker than this sweeping 
 denomination ; and Danby was of the minority. 
 I shall not explain whether of the elect vir- 
 tuous, or elect vicious ; but he was better or 
 worse than the common herd. When, taking 
 him apart after dinner, I entered M^armly into 
 my self-exculpation, instead of expanding into 
 the generous warmth I anticipated, admitting 
 himself to have been overhasty, and, like the 
 hero of a German comedy, throwing himself 
 into my arms and swearing eternal friendship, 
 he listened calmly, — ^judged dispassionately, — 
 advised me to be more prudent in the selec- 
 tion of my confidants, — and turned on his 
 heel!
 
 CECIL. 309 
 
 I was furious ! — I had accosted him, charged 
 to the muzzle with magnanimity, — my cox- 
 combry laid aside, — my envyings and jealousies 
 subdued, — my fraternal sympathies on the qui 
 Vive. — His coolness chilled me to the heart's 
 core ! — I had only despised the ugly John of 
 former days — I hated the Honourable Member 
 for Rigmarole, at whose bidding the stormy de- 
 baters were still. 
 
 Biting my lip till the blood started, I lounged 
 across the drawing-room, and affected as much* 
 empressement with that classical antique Lady 
 Votefilch as the tall beauty, Mrs. Wrottesley, 
 was bestowing upon the Foreign affairs ; and, on 
 sufficiently recovering my composure to glance 
 round the room, saw that Lord Falkirk was 
 talking apart with my brother; while Budge, 
 Fudge, and Halbert Herries stood pretending 
 to converse together, with their ears pricked 
 up to catch a word here and there of the con- 
 versation. Even Chippenham, though smiled 
 upon by the gentle Lady Theresa, was evi-
 
 310 CECIL. 
 
 dently wanting to get away, and hear what 
 Danby was saying. His influence had fixed its 
 teeth upon them all. The power of the strong 
 mind was manifest. Danby had snatched the 
 tiara from their hands, and crowned himself a 
 potentate. 
 
 We had scarcely even noted the transcend- 
 ent excellence of a dinner from the casseroles 
 of La Fenouille, the Francatelle of his day. 
 We had not so much as even found fault with 
 (the common criterion of approval) the finest 
 claret then extant in port-bibbing England. 
 We did not perceive that the lawns of May- 
 bush were steeped in delicious moonlight, or 
 that the fragrance of a thousand flower-beds 
 was stealing in through the open windows. 
 For through dinner, dessert, coffee, a master- 
 spell had been upon oilr minds ; and Lady 
 Theresa and Mrs. Wrottesley smiled as vainly 
 as the moon was shining. 
 
 There was but one way of breaking the charm, 
 — Lady Votefilch asked for " a little music."
 
 CECIL. 311 
 
 Forth came the harp ! — Up started Chippenham, 
 who sang charmmgly in every style. Not a more 
 efficient method of delivering society from the 
 ascendency of a superior man, than to call for 
 that general extinguisher of light — " a little 
 music !" 
 
 The only bad result to myself was, that 
 Chippenham, to whom on our return to town 
 I was inclined to enlarge upon the bore of the 
 whole thing, as the only stupid dinner ever 
 heard of at Maybush Lodge, was of course 
 so pleased at having heard himself sing, that 
 he had forgotten having heard my brother hold 
 forth. I could have killed him for the good 
 faith with which he declared that he had been 
 spending a very pleasant evening. 
 
 He put the finishing stroke to my ill-humour 
 as we passed Hyde-Park Corner, (where a 
 huge turnpike used in those days bid every 
 man stand and deliver, ere he set foot in 
 London,) by inquiring whether he should meet 
 me at dinner, at Morley's, the following day.
 
 312 CECIL. 
 
 " Not asked ? — how came that about ?" — 
 Is there a greater impertinence than to in- 
 quire the motive of one's being omitted from 
 some agreeable party ? — 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 *• LONDON ; 
 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUN0I9-URBANA