A new character appears, but not a very amiable one; but I attach
myself to him, as drowning men catch at straws.
I took my leave, more composed in mind, and the next day I went down to
Lady de Clare's. I was kindly received, more than kindly, I was
affectionately and parentally received by the mother, and by Cecilia as
a dear brother; but they perceived my melancholy, and when they had
upbraided me for my long neglect, they inquired the cause. As I had
already made Lady de Clare acquainted with my previous history, I had
no secrets; in fact, it was a consolation to confide my griefs to them.
Lord Windermear was too much above me--Mr Masterton was too
matter-of-fact--Timothy was too inferior--and they were all men; but the
kind soothing of a woman was peculiarly grateful, and after a sojourn of
three days, I took my leave, with my mind much less depressed than when
I arrived.
On my return, I called upon Mr Masterton, who stated to me that Lord
Windermear was anxious to serve me, and that he would exert his interest
in any way which might be most congenial to my feelings; that he would
procure me a commission in the army, or a writership to India; or, if I
preferred it, I might study the law under the auspices of Mr Masterton.
If none of these propositions suited me, I might state what would be
preferred, and that, as far as his interest and pecuniary assistance
could avail, I might depend upon it. "So now, Japhet, you may go home
and reflect seriously upon these offers; and when you have made up your
mind what course you will steer, you have only to let me know."
I returned my thanks to Mr Masterton, and begged that he would convey my
grateful acknowledgments to his lordship. As I walked home, I met a
Captain Atkinson, a man of very doubtful character, whom, by the advice
of Carbonnell, I had always kept at a distance. He had lost a large
fortune by gambling, and having been pigeoned, had, as is usual, ended
by becoming a _rook_. He was a fashionable, well-looking man, of good
family, suffered in society, for he had found out that it was necessary
to hold his position by main force. He was a noted duellist, had killed
his three or four men, and a cut direct from any person was, with him,
sufficient grounds for sending a friend. Everybody was civil to him,
because no one wished to quarrel with him.
"My dear Mr Newland," said he, offering his hand, "I am delighted to
see you; I have heard at the clubs of your misfortune, and there were
some free remarks made by some. I have great pleasure in saying that I
put an immediate stop to them, by telling them that, if they were
repeated in my presence, I should consider it as a personal quarrel."
Three months before, had I met Captain Atkinson, I should have returned
his bow with studied politeness, and have left him; but how changed were
my feelings! I took his hand, and shook it warmly.
"My dear sir," replied I, "I am very much obliged for your kind and
considerate conduct; there are more who are inclined to calumniate than
to defend."
"And always will be in this world, Mr Newland; but I have a fellow
feeling. I recollect how I was received and flattered when I was
introduced as a young man of fortune, and how I was deserted and
neglected when I was cleaned out. I know now _why_ they are so civil
to me, and I value their civility at just as much as it is worth. Will
you accept my arm:--I am going your way"
I could not refuse; but I coloured when I took it, for I felt that I
was not adding to my reputation by being seen in his company; and still
I felt, that although not adding to my reputation, I was less likely to
receive insult, and that the same cause which induced them to be civil
to him, would perhaps operate when they found me allied with him. "Be
it so," thought I, "I will, if possible, _extort_ politeness."
We were strolling down Bond Street, when we met a young man, well known
in the fashionable circles, who had dropped my acquaintance, after
having been formerly most pressing to obtain it. Atkinson faced him.
"Good morning, Mr Oxberry."
"Good morning, Captain Atkinson," replied Mr Oxberry.
"I thought you knew my friend Mr Newland?" observed Atkinson, rather
fiercely.
"Oh! really--I quite--I beg pardon. Good morning, Mr Newland; you have
been long absent. I did not see you at Lady Maelstrom's last night."
"No," replied I, carelessly, "nor will you ever. When you next see her
ladyship, ask her, with my compliments, whether she has had another
fainting fit."
"I shall certainly have great pleasure in carrying your message, Mr
Newland--good morning."
"That fool," observed Atkinson, "will now run all over town, and you will
see the consequence."
We met one or two others, and to them Atkinson put the same question, "I
thought you knew my friend Mr Newland?" At last, just as we arrived at
my own house in St James's Street, who should we meet but Harcourt.
Harcourt immediately perceived me, and bowed low as he passed on, so
that his bow would have served for both; but Atkinson stopped. "I must
beg your pardon, Harcourt, for detaining you a moment, but what are the
odds upon the Vestris colt for the Derby?"
"Upon my word, Captain Atkinson, I was told, but I have forgotten."
"Your memory appears bad, for you have also forgotten your old friend,
Mr Newland."
"I beg your pardon, Mr Newland."
"There is no occasion to beg my pardon, Mr Harcourt," interrupted I;
"for I tell you plainly, that I despise you too much to ever wish to be
acquainted with you. You will oblige me, sir, by never presuming to touch
your hat, or otherwise notice me."
Harcourt coloured, and started back. "Such language, Mr Newland--"
"Is what you deserve; ask your own conscience. Leave us, sir;" and I
walked on with Captain Atkinson.
"You have done well, Newland," observed Atkinson; "he cannot submit to
that language, for he knows that I have heard it. A meeting you will of
course have no objection to. It will be of immense advantage to you."
"None whatever," replied I; "for if there is any one man who deserves to
be punished for his conduct towards me, it is Harcourt. Will you come up,
Captain Atkinson; and, if not better engaged, take a quiet dinner and a
bottle of wine with me?"
Our conversation during dinner was desultory, but after the first bottle,
Atkinson became communicative, and his history not only made me feel
better inclined towards him, but afforded me another instance, as well
as Carbonnell's, how often it is that those who would have done well,
are first plundered, and then driven to desperation by the heartlessness
of the world. The cases, however, had this difference, that Carbonnell
had always contrived to keep his reputation above water, while that of
Atkinson was gone, and never to be re-established. We had just finished
our wine when a note was brought from Harcourt, informing me that he
should send a friend the next morning for an explanation of my conduct.
I handed it over to Atkinson. "My dear sir, I am at your service,"
replied he, "without you have anybody among your acquaintances whom
you may prefer."
"Thank you," replied I, "Captain Atkinson; it cannot be in better hands."
"That is settled, then; and now where shall we go?"
"Wherever you please."
"Then I shall try if I can win a little money to-night; if you come you
need not play--you can look on. It will serve to divert your thoughts,
at all events."
I felt so anxious to avoid reflection, that I immediately accepted his
offer, and, in a few minutes, we were in the well-lighted room, and in
front of the _rouge et noir_ table, covered with gold and bank notes.
Atkinson did not commence his play immediately, but pricked the chances
on a card as they ran. After half an hour he laid down his stakes, and
was fortunate. I could no longer withstand the temptation, and I backed
him; in less than an hour we both had won considerably.
"That is enough," said he to me, sweeping up his money; "we must not try
the slippery dame too long."
I followed his example, and shortly afterwards we quitted the house. "I
will walk home with you, Newland; never, if you can help it, especially
if you have been a winner, leave a gaming house alone."
Going home, I asked Atkinson if he would come up; he did so, and then we
examined our winnings. "I know mine," replied he, "within twenty pounds,
for I always leave off at a certain point. I have three hundred pounds,
and something more."
He had won three hundred and twenty-five pounds. I had won ninety pounds.
As we sat over a glass of brandy and water, I inquired whether he was
always fortunate. "No, of course I am not," replied Atkinson; "but on
the whole, in the course of the year I am a winner of sufficient to
support myself."
"Is there any rule by which people are guided who play? I observed many
of those who were seated, pricking the chances with great care, and then
staking their money at intervals."
"_Rouge et noir_ I believe to be the fairest of all games," replied
Atkinson; "but where there is a per centage invariably in favour of the
bank, although one may win and another lose, still the profits must be
in favour of the bank. If a man were to play all the year round, he would
lose the national debt in the end. As for martingales, and all those
calculations, which you observed them so busy with, they are all useless.
I have tried everything, and there is only one chance of success, but
then you must not be a gambler?"
"Not a gambler?"
"No; you must not be carried away by the excitement of the game, or you
will infallibly lose. You must have a strength of mind which few have, or
you will be soon cleaned out."
"But you say that you win on the whole; have you no rule to guide you?"
"Yes, I have; strange as the chances are, I have been so accustomed to
them, that I generally put down my stake right; when I am once in a run
of luck, I have a method of my own, but what it is I cannot tell; only
this I know, that if I depart from it, I always lose my money. But that
is what you may call good luck, or what you please--it is not a rule."
"Where, then, are your rules?"
"Simply these two. The first it is not difficult to adhere to: I make a
rule never to lose but a certain sum if I am unlucky when I
commence--say twenty stakes, whatever may be the amount of the stake
that you play. This rule is easily adhered to, by not taking more money
with you; and I am not one of those to whom the croupier or porters will
lend money. The second rule is the most difficult, and decides whether
you are a gambler or not. I make a rule always to leave off when I have
won a certain sum--or even before, if the chances of my game fluctuate.
There is the difficulty; it appears very foolish not to follow up luck,
but the fact is, fortune is so capricious, that if you trust her more
than an hour, she will desert you. This is my mode of play, and with me
it answers; but it does not follow that it would answer with another.
But it is very late, or rather, very early--I wish you a good-night."