"OF THE NICEST HONOUR"
Last of all came the prince of this company, whom I now know was the
arch villain, Lord Fylingdale himself.
We were prepared for his arrival by a letter from Sam Semple. He wrote
to the doctor informing him that my lord was about to undertake his
journey to Lynn, that he hoped to complete it in three days, and that
he would probably arrive on such a day. He further stated that the
best rooms at the Crown Inn were to be engaged, and that he, himself,
namely, Sam, would accompany his lordship in the capacity of private
secretary and, as he put it, confidential companion. To write such a
letter to the doctor was to proclaim it as from the house-top. In
fact, the good doctor made haste to read it aloud in the pump room and
to communicate the news to the mayor and aldermen.
Sir Harry, being asked if he knew his lordship, shook his head. "We of
the gay world," he said, speaking as a young man, "do not commonly
include Lord Fylingdale among the beaux and bucks. There is in him a
certain haughtiness which forbids the familiarities common among
ourselves."
"Is he, then, a saint?"
"Why, sir, I know nothing about saints. There are none, I believe,
among my friends. I have, however, seen Lord Fylingdale on the
race-course at Newmarket, and I have seen him at the tables when the
game of hazard was played. And I have never yet seen saint or angel at
either place."
"Then how is Lord Fylingdale distinguished?"
"Partly by his rank, but that is not everything. Partly by his wealth,
but that is not everything. Partly by his superiority, which is
undoubted. For he has none of the foibles of other men; if he sits
down to a bottle he does not call for t'other; if he plays cards he
wins or he loses with equal composure, caring little which it may turn
out; his name has never been mentioned with that of any woman. Yet the
world is eager after scandal, and would rejoice to whisper something
concerning him."
"He will condescend to despise us, then," said the vicar of St.
Margaret's, "seeing that our world is wholly addicted to sport, and
takes fortune with heat and passion."
"Not so, reverend sir. He will, perhaps, attend our entertainments,
but his mind is set above such vanities. As for me, sir, I own that I
live for them. But my Lord Fylingdale lives for other things."
"He is ambitious, perhaps. Has he thoughts of place and of the
ministry?"
Sir Harry took snuff. "Pardon me, sir. The world talks. I love the
world, but I do not always talk with the world. It may be that there
are reasons of state which bring him to this neighbourhood. I say
nothing." But he pointed over his shoulder and nodded his head with
meaning.
It will be remembered that Houghton, the seat of Sir Robert Walpole,
then the minister all powerful, is but a few miles from Lynn. The
crowd heard and whispered, and the rumour ran that under pretence of
seeking health, Lord Fylingdale was coming to Lynn in order ... here
the voice dropped, and the rest fell into the nearest ear.
The Rev. Mr. Purdon was more eloquent. "What?" he cried, "Lord
Fylingdale coming here? Lord Fylingdale? Why, what can his lordship
want at Lynn?"
"We have heard that he is sent here to drink the waters."
Mr. Purdon shook his head wisely. "It may be. I do not say that....
There is perhaps gout in the family.... But with a personage--a
personage, I say, there are many reasons which prompt to action.
However----"
"Pray, sir, if you know him, inform us further as to his lordship."
"Madam, I was his tutor. I accompanied him on the grand tour. I
therefore knew him intimately when he was a young man of eighteen. I
have been privileged with his condescension since that time. He is at
once a scholar, a critic, and a connoisseur; he hath a pretty taste in
verse and can discourse of medals and of cameos. He is also a man of
fashion who can adorn an assembly just as he adorns, when it pleases
him, the House of Lords. Yet not a fribble like certain persons"--he
looked at Sir Harry--"nor a beau, nor a profligate Mohock. Pride he
has, I allow. What do you expect of a man with such birth and such
ancestry? His pride becomes him. Lesser men can be familiar. He is
said to be cold towards the fair sex--I can contradict that calumny.
Not coldness but fastidiousness is his fault. 'My Lord,' I have said
to him often, 'to expect the genius of Sappho, the beauty of Helen,
and the charms of Cleopatra, is to ask too much. Not once in an age is
such a woman created. Be content, therefore,' I ventured to add.
'Genius will smile upon you; loveliness will languish for you; dignity
will willingly humble herself at your feet.' But I have spoken in
vain. He is fastidious. Ladies, if I were young; if I were a noble
lord; if I were rich; it is to Norfolk, believe me, that I should fly,
contented with the conquests awaiting me here. This is truly a land of
freedom where to be in chains and slavery is the happy lot."
This was the kind of talk with which we were prepared to await the
coming of this paladin.
He arrived. Late in the day about seven o'clock, there came into the
town, side by side, his lordship's running footmen. They were known by
the white holland waistcoat and drawers belonging to their calling,
the white thread stockings, white caps, and blue satin fringed with
velvet. In their hands they carried a porter's staff tipped with a
silver ball, in which I suppose was carried a lemon. The rogues
trotted in, without haste, for the roads were bad behind them, and
placed themselves at the door of the Crown Inn, one on each side. The
landlord stood in the open door, his wife behind him; and speedily
half the town gathered together to witness the arrival of the great
man.
His carriage came lumbering heavily along the narrow streets. Within,
beside his lordship, sat, as grand as you please, our poet Sam Semple.
It was admirable to remark the air with which he sprang out of the
carriage, offered his arm for the descent of his patron, followed him
into the inn, demanded the best rooms, ordered a noble supper, and
looked about him with the manner of a stranger and a gentleman, as if
the host of the "Crown" had never boxed his ears for an idle
good-for-nothing who could not even make out a bill aright. The bells
were set ringing for Lord Fylingdale as they had been for the Lady
Anastasia; in the morning the horns saluted the illustrious visitor;
and about eleven o'clock, when his lordship was dressed, the mayor and
aldermen, preceded by the bearer of the mace and accompanied by the
clergy of the town and the doctor, offered a visit of welcome and
congratulation.
They retired overwhelmed by the condescension of their guests. "One
does not expect," said the doctor, "the gracious sweetness of a lady;
but we received every possible mark of politeness and of
consideration. As for the mayor, his lordship treated him as if he
were the lord mayor of London itself. And for my own part, when I
remained on the departure of the rest, I can only say that I was
overwhelmed with the confidence bestowed upon me. There has been talk
in this pump room," he looked around him, "of other reasons--reasons
of state--and of pretended sickness. The company may take it from
me--from ME, I say--that whatever may be the reasons of state, it is
not for us to offer any opinion as to those reasons, the symptoms
which have been imparted to me in confidence are such that a visit to
the spa is imperative; and treatment, with drinking of the waters, is
absolutely necessary."
"This Lord Fylingdale, Jack," said Captain Crowle, who was one of the
deputation, "is a mighty fine gentleman, well favoured and well
mannered. I have not yet learned more about him. They say at the pump
room many things. He received us with condescension and was good
enough to promise attendance at our assembly, though, he said, these
occasions do not afford him so much pleasure as other pursuits. 'Tis a
fine thing, Jack, to be a nobleman and to have so much dignity; since
I have spoken with the Lady Anastasia I find myself trying to look
condescending. But the quarter-deck is one place and the House of
Lords is another. The captain of a ship, Jack, if he were affable,
would very quickly get knocked o' the head by his crew."
Meantime Sam Semple showed good sense in going round to visit his old
friends. Among others he called upon Captain Crowle, to whom he
behaved, with singular discernment, in such a way as would please the
old man. For on board ship we like a cheerful sailor, one who takes
punishment without snivelling, and bears no malice thereafter. A ship
is like a boys' school, where a flogging wipes out the offence, and
master and boy become good friends after it, whatever the heinousness
of the crime.
"Sir," said Sam, standing before the captain, modestly, "you will
understand, first of all, that I am reminded, in coming here, of the
last time that I saw you."
"Ay, my lad, I have not forgotten." The captain did not rise from his
armchair, nor did he offer Sam his hand. He waited to learn in what
spirit the young man approached him.
"Believe me, sir," said Sam, "I am not unmindful of a certain lesson,
rough perhaps, but deserved. The presumption of youth, ignorance of
the world, ignorance of the prize to which I aspired, may be my
excuse--if any were needed. I was then both young and ignorant." It
must be admitted that Sam possessed the gift of words. "Indeed, I was
too young to understand the humble nature of my origin and my
position, and too ignorant to understand my own presumption.
Therefore, sir, before I say anything more, I beg your forgiveness.
That presumption, sir, can never, I assure you, be repeated. I know,
at least, my own place, and the distance between a certain young lady
and myself."
"Why, my lad," said the captain, "since you talk in that modest way, I
bear no malice--none. Wherefore, here is my hand in token of
forgiveness. And so, on that head we will speak no more."
He extended his hand, which Sam took, still in humble attitude.
"I am deeply grateful, captain," he said. "You will, perhaps, before
long find out how grateful I can be." Time, in fact, did show the
depth of his gratitude. "Well, sir, I am now in high favour with my
Lord Fylingdale, on whom you waited this morning."
"I hope his favour will end in a snug place, Sam. Forget not the main
point. Well, your patron is a goodly and a proper man to look at. Sit
down, Sam. Take a glass of home brewed--you must want it after the ale
of London, which is, so far as I remember, but poor stuff. Well, now,
about your noble lord. He is a married man, I suppose?"
"Unfortunately, no. He is difficult to please."
"Ah! and, I suppose, like most young noblemen, something of a
profligate--eh, Sam? Or a gambler, likely! one who has ruined many
innocents. Eh?" The captain looked mighty cunning.
"Sir, sir!" Sam spread out his hands in expostulation. "You distress
me. Lord Fylingdale a profligate? Lord Fylingdale a gambler? Lord
Fylingdale a libertine? Sir!--Captain Crowle!" He spoke very
earnestly; the tears came into his eyes; he laid his hand upon the
captain's knee. "Sir, I assure you, he is, on the contrary, the best
of men. There is no more virtuous nobleman in the country. My tongue
is tied as his lordship's secretary, else would I tell of good deeds.
Truly, his right hand knoweth not what his left hand doeth. My lord is
all goodness."
"Ay, ay? This is good hearing indeed."
"Lord Fylingdale a gambler? Why he may take part at a table; but a
gambler? No man is less a gambler. What doth it matter to him if he
wins or loses a little? He neither desires to win, nor does he fear to
lose. You will, I dare say, see him in the card room, just to
encourage the spirit of the company."
"A very noble gentleman, indeed." The captain drank a glass of his
home brewed, "a very noble gentleman truly. Go on, Samuel."
"Also, he is one who, captain, if there is one thing in the world that
my patron abhors, it is the man who ruins innocency and leaves his
victim to starve. No, sir; his lordship is a man of the nicest honour
and the highest principle."
"He has a secretary who is grateful, at least," observed the captain.
"His sword is ever ready to defend the helpless and to uphold the
virtuous. Would to heaven there were more like the right honourable
the Earl of Fylingdale!"
"Look ye, Master Sam," said the captain. "Your good opinion of your
patron does you credit. I honour you for your generous words. I have
never so far, and I am now past seventy, encountered any man who was
either saint or angel, but in every man have I always found some flaw,
whether of temper or of conduct. So that I do not pretend to believe
all that you make out."
Sam Semple sighed and rose. "I ask not for your entire belief, sir. It
will be sufficient if you learn, as I have learned, the great worth of
this exalted and incomparable nobleman. As for flaws, we are all
human; but I know of none. So I take my leave. I venture to hope, sir,
that your good lady and your lovely ward--I use the word with due
respect--are in good health."
So he departed, leaving the captain thoughtful.
And now they were all among us, the vile crew brought together for our
undoing by this lord so noble and so exalted. And we were already
entangled in a whole mesh of lies and conspiracies, the result of
which you have now to learn.