I have a very vivid recollection of George Talbot, a brother of the
late Earl of Shrewsbury, and who was a fashionable man about town, of
whom there are many anecdotes in circulation. The only one that took
my fancy was related to me in Paris, where he was as usual in the midst
of the gayest of the gay, recklessly spending his money, and oftentimes
resorting for resources to the gambling-table, where at last he was
thoroughly pigeoned.
Talbot had tried in vain all the usual means of recruiting his empty
purse. Being a Roman Catholic, like most of the members of one of the
oldest families in Great Britain, he was a regular attendant upon the
ceremonies of his Church, and acquainted with all the clergy in Paris;
so he took the resolution of going to his confessor, unburdening his
conscience, and at the same time seeking counsel from the holy father,
as to the best way of raising the wind. After entering minutely into
his condition, and asking the priest how he could find funds to pay his
debts and take him home, the confessor seemed touched by his tale of
woe, and after much apparent consideration recommended him to trust in
Providence. Talbot seemed struck with such sensible advice, and
promised to call again in a few days. This second visit was made in
due course; he again mourned over his condition, and requested the
priest's advice and assistance. His story was listened to as before,
with much commiseration, but he was again recommended to trust in
Providence. Talbot came away quite crest-fallen, and evidently with
little hope of any immediate relief. After the lapse of a few days,
however, he appeared again before his confessor, apparently much
elated, and invited the worthy abbe to dine with him at the Rocher du
Cancale. This invitation was gladly accepted, the holy father not
doubting but that he should have all the delicacies in the land, to
which, in common with the rest of the clergy, he had no objection; nor
was he disappointed. The dinner was recherche; the best the
establishment could furnish was placed before them, and most heartily
and lovingly did the worthy abbe devote himself to what was offered.
At the end of the repast the carte a payer was duly furnished; but what
was the astonishment of the reverend guest when Talbot declared that
his purse was completely au sec, and that it had been a long time
empty; but that upon this occasion, as upon all others, he trusted, as
the abbe had advised him, in Providence. The Abbe Pecheron, recovering
from his surprise, and being of a kind and generous disposition,
laughed heartily at Talbot's impudence, and feeling that he had
deserved this rebuke pulled out his purse, paid for the dinner, and did
what he should have done at first--wrote to the members of Talbot's
family, and obtained for him such assistance as enabled him to quit
Paris and return home, where he afterwards led a more sober life.