The next day, the one fixed on by Colonel Berkeley for our trip to
Richmond, Sophia and the Colonel called for me at twelve o'clock,
accompanied by that young savage, Augustus Berkeley, who appeared to be
perfectly well-behaved in the presence of his brother, quite mild and
humbled.
Sophia said it was a charming day.
"The atmosphere," I observed, "is heavy, I think, and unhealthy."
"Oh, quite shocking," Sophia immediately replied, "I am absolutely ill
with it already."
We drove down to Richmond as fast as four high bred horses could
carry us, and Colonel Berkeley, having ordered a dinner as much too
ostentatiously extravagant as Deerhurst's rural fête had been too
scanty, proposed our rowing down the river for half an hour, while it
was getting ready.
Augustus, at the word of command, took off his coat and waistcoat and
began rowing, while Berkeley was all attention to us.
"How delicious this is," said the Colonel.
"I never saw anything so beautiful," echoed Sophia.
I remarked that I was a little giddy.
"So am I," said Sophia, "very giddy indeed."
In less than an hour, I mentioned that the air of the river had given me
an appetite, and Sophia, of course, had never been so hungry in all her
life!
Colonel Berkeley on landing astonished the two boatmen by throwing them
a five-pound note! The innkeeper entertained us in his best and most
magnificent style. We conversed a great deal, for Colonel Berkeley can
talk, which is not always the case nor considered at all a necessary
accomplishment in gentlemen of the present day. There are in fact
various kinds of gentlemen. A man is a gentleman, according to Berkeley
Craven's definition of the word, who has no visible means of gaining
his livelihood; others have called Lord Deerhurst and Lord Barrymore
and Lord Stair gentlemen, because they are Lords; and the system at
White's Club, the members of which are all choice gentlemen of course,
is and ever has been never to blackball any man who ties a good knot in
his handkerchief, keeps his hands out of his breeches-pockets, and says
nothing. For my part, I confess I like a man who can talk and contribute
to the amusement of whatever society he may be placed in; and that
is the reason I am always glad to find myself in the company of Lord
Hertford, notwithstanding he is so often blackballed at White's.
Colonel Berkeley and I conversed on many subjects; but there was one
which was a favourite with us both--plays. Berkeley was mad for acting
Shakespeare's plays, I for reading them. We were both lost in wonder
as to how the poet, or any one man breathing, could have acquired
such a perfect knowledge of human nature, in every class of society,
in every gradation from kings downwards. I however pointed out one
exception, remarking that I did not conceive, from the little I had
seen or heard of Jews, that Shylock was at all a natural character or
accurately drawn. "I never in my life," I continued, "remember having
heard of a Jew being hanged for murder! The Mosaic laws are less pure
than ours; but they are more strictly followed. The most malicious Jew
dares not shed blood, his strong fear of God prevents it; and that
fear is religion. In short, such, I have heard, is the superstitious
fear a Jew entertains of shedding blood, that even if he had made his
mind up to take the life of a Christian, it would yet be accomplished
without a drop of blood being spilt. I cannot with my very confined
knowledge of these things venture to say that Jews have not been
occasionally executed for murder; but I can almost venture to assert
that blood-shedding is far from the characteristic vice of a Jew; and
therefore is Shylock unnaturally drawn."
"Recollect," returned Colonel Berkeley, "that Shylock is a Venetian Jew."
I went on--"And shall we attribute to these poor wanderers the peculiar
crimes of every nation which may happen to give them birth, adding these
to all the characteristic vices of their tribe? If the mere climate made
a Venetian of Shylock, why does Shakespeare point at him as an usurer?
If climate and example have no effect to make the Hebrew waver in his
faith, is it charitable to suppose them more potent in tending to deaden
the fear and horror of bloodshed in the mind of a poor Jew?"
"Bravo!" said Colonel Berkeley, "very ingeniously argued. There's a
cunning Israelite at the bottom of all this, who has won your heart."
Sophia, for once in her life, ventured to be of a different opinion from
her company, remarking that she was sure her sister Harriette could
not love any of those nasty men, with long dirty beards and dirty old
clothes on their backs.
"I thank heaven," said I, "that I love no man; Jew, Christian, or Turk."
"Why defend those nasty fellows then?" asked Augustus.
"Did you ever know any good of one of them?" said the colonel.
"A Jew, named Town," answered I, "a painter, who keeps a shop in
Bond-street, went down to Newcastle about five years ago, to sketch
views in that country. One morning he observed a lad driving his cattle
along a field whose countenance particularly struck him. His was a true
Roman head. The boy was about twelve years of age. The Jew called to him
and asked him if he would stand still while he took his picture. The
youth consented with good-nature; but, after having stood stock still
for a quarter of an hour, he declared that he could not bear it any
longer. Mr. Town asked him many questions, and, being much surprised
with the boy's sensible replies, inquired if he would like to go up to
London with him. The lad hesitated.
"'You will not trust yourself with me then?' said the Jew. 'I would go
anywhere with you, sir; but my poor father and mother are so old.' The
Jew requested to be made known to them, and was conducted to a wretched
hovel where the ancient pair resided. They immediately consented to
place their child under the Jew-protector, and the next morning the
Israelite and his young protégé were on their road to London. On
their arrival the Jew clothed the boy handsomely and instructed him
in the first rudiments of his art. Before the child had received a
dozen lessons, Mr. Town foretold that he would excel as a painter:
he therefore bound him apprentice for seven years to himself, and
stipulated to allow him ten shillings a week pocket-money for the first
two years, and then to go on doubling that sum every second year to the
end of his apprenticeship. The progress the youth made astonished the
Jew. The child excelled most particularly in landscape-painting. Bred
in the country, he had attentively observed the effect of lightning
on trees and cattle. His gratitude to his kind benefactor knew no
bounds, and his industry was indefatigable. Mr. Town, fearing lest from
inexperience the poor lad might be led astray or fall into bad company,
instead of sending him to school engaged masters in the house, to
instruct him in reading and writing. His progress in these was almost
equal to that he had made in drawing. He became the delight and comfort
of Mr. Town's aged father, on whom he was never tired of attending, he
would read to him for hours together, and be grateful for the task.
"One day the Jew sent his protégé into the country to take a sketch of
some willow trees, and was surprised to see him return in tears. 'What
is the matter my poor fellow?' said the Jew. 'That brook, near which I
have been sitting to sketch these trees, sir, reminded me so much of
one near my poor mother's hut,' answered the lad. 'You shall go down to
Newcastle, and pay a visit to your parents', said the benevolent Jew,
'and it shall not cost you one shilling, so prepare yourself to depart
by the coach next week.' The boy shed tears of gratitude.
"On the day previous to his departure for Newcastle, he said he wished
to ask a favour of his kind master's only sister; but feared it might
be deemed impertinent. Being encouraged to proceed--'Why, sir,' said
the lad, 'your great goodness has left me nothing to desire since the
first instant I entered your house; therefore, out of the allowance
of pocket-money you have made me I have saved up eleven pounds, which
I hope your sister will condescend to lay out for me in blankets and
various other articles of comfort, which I am desirous of carrying down
to my poor old parents.' The Jew gladly promised to prevail on his
sister to do whatever he wished, and moreover assured the affectionate
lad that he should be allowed to make a yearly visit to his parents as
long as they lived, and always at his expense. 'Tell your parents that,
though a Jew myself, I have not presumed to interfere with your former
mode of worship; but, on the contrary, have made you regularly attend
the service of the Church of England, ever since you left them.'"
Sophia was very much pleased with the story of the Newcastle
shepherd-boy, and declared that she would go and see him.
Augustus thought he would play Romeo delightfully; but the colonel said
the part of Douglas would suit him best.
I, by this time, conceived I had talked quite enough for one evening. I
therefore endeavoured with all my might to call Sophia out, and draw her
into some kind of conversation.
Berkeley was beginning to think himself trifled with, and, being
naturally a little abrupt in such cases, he told her flatly that if she
meant to refuse him after all, she ought not to have admitted him so
often.
Sophia continued to hint, with proper delicacy and due modest blushes,
that her living with him or not must depend on what his intentions were:
in other words, she gently intimated that as yet she was ignorant what
settlement he meant to make on her. The gay handsome Colonel Berkeley's
vanity being now so deeply wounded, he in his sudden rage entirely lost
sight of what was due to the soft sex, at least to that part of it which
had been so hard upon him.
"Do you fancy me then so humble and so void of taste as to buy with
my money the reluctant embraces of any woman breathing? Do you
think I cannot find friends who have proved their affection by the
sacrifices they have made for me, that I should give my money to buy
the cold-blooded being who calculates at fifteen years of age what the
prostitution of her person ought to sell for?"
Sophia was frightened and shed tears.
"Colonel Berkeley," said I, "we are your visitors and wish to retire
immediately from such unmanly insult as you have offered to us. Will you
procure us some safe conveyance? No matter what."
Colonel Berkeley immediately begged pardon with much apparent humility,
saying, "I am a passionate, ill-tempered, spoiled fellow, and must
throw myself on your charity; or if you prefer it my carriage is at the
service of you both, and neither I nor my brother shall intrude without
your permission."
I shook hands with him, as did Sophia, and little more was said. We
all returned home together, but in silence, and Colonel Berkeley never
afterwards sought Sophia's society.
The next day I had the satisfaction of driving down to Leytonstone with
my young torment of a nephew, and I left him under the protection of
his schoolmaster, Mr. Codroie.
"Ah! ah!" said the Frenchman, "here is de boy of my school again."
I assured George in his presence that if I heard any complaints, or
if he was turned out of his school, I would use my interest to get
him immediately sent to sea: but promised to give him every possible
encouragement if I received a good account of him.
I got home by about five o'clock, and found Fred Lamb in my little
library looking over my books. I felt annoyed by this intrusion; but
Frederick appeared to take so strong an interest in all I had been
reading and doing since we last met, that my heart failed me, after I
tried to quarrel with him.
"I never saw a girl, except yourself," said Frederick, "possessing
unbounded liberty from the age of fourteen, without a single friend or
anything better to guide her than her own romantic imagination, who yet
contrives to grow wiser every year, to reflect, to read, and to improve
her mind, in the midst of such flattery as you are surrounded by."
Fred Lamb did actually say all this: but I do not tell my reader that I
was vain enough to believe above half of it; for, though I had bought my
books to be ready, in case a fit of reading should happen to come over
me, yet I must confess that, hitherto, I have not had a call, as Lord
Headfort said.
"Apropos to what?"
"I'll tell you----
"At Brighton, I used to make a general postman of the good Marquis
of Headfort, who had long been our family's friend, equally at hand
to congratulate us on our marriages, our birth-days, or our expected
deaths. 'Send all your letters to me at Brighton, under cover to
Headfort,' I used to say to everybody who could not frank, or were
so cut off from the blessings of this life, as not to have a member
belonging to them. Headfort, having a packet of letters to bring up
to me every morning from the Pavilion to Prospect-house, which was
the dignified appellation my landlord bestowed on my humble cottage
at Brighton, I requested he would rap twice only; according to the
etiquette observed by other postmen.
"'How much?' one day asked my stupid new servant, for which I discharged
her on the spot, for how could one live with an animal so little alive
to the sublime and beautiful, as to have mistaken the Marquis of
Headfort, wrapped up in an old great coat on a rainy day, for a common
general postman! I was really very much shocked indeed.
"'Come upstairs, my dear Marquis,' said I, 'and see me discharge this
fool directly.'
"Take off your great coat.
"'Ah! _vous voila_, Marquis, _de haut en bas. Dites, donc, mon cher, en
parlant du bas_, who do you make love to now? for it cannot be supposed
a gay deceiver like yourself can be satisfied with old Mrs. Massey all
your life, although that crim. con. affair of yours did cost you so much
money.'
"'Oh, my dear child,' answered poor Headfort, 'it is more than ten years
since Mrs. Massey has cut me dead, as her lover.'
"'Why?' I asked.
"'Don't you know, my dear, that she has turned methodist, and thinks it
wicked.'
"'But then,' said I, 'it is still lucky for you, that her conscience
permits her to make use of your house, purse, equipage and private
boxes!'
"'Yes,' said Headfort, 'she still does me that honour; for which I pay
very dear, particularly on a Sunday, when she reads me _Letters from the
Dead to the Living_, till I am almost tempted to wish her own signature
at the bottom of them.'
"'With whom pray do you console yourself?'
"'I have not had a call, my dear, for the last five years!'
"'It will come on you when you shall be born again, by the assistance of
Mrs. Massey's prayers,' I remarked."
I am, however, wandering from my subject.
No matter, it was a very bad one!
It was Fred Lamb who dined with me, read to me, talked of love to me,
and looked all passion, just like the satyr of my vision.
'What vision, pray?' the reader asks; that is to say if ever I should
be honoured with a reader, which is not at all certain. I am ready
prepared and armed for abuse of every sort and kind: but not to be read!
No matter! If this happens, it will be entirely Stockdale's fault, for
not enlivening the work with pretty pictures as I have suggested to him,
and certainly cannot, by the most remote possibility, be owing to any
demerit of mine!
Above all, I wanted Wellington to be exhibited, dripping with wet,
standing opposite my street-door at midnight, bawling up to Argyle,
who should be representing my old Abigail, from my bed-room window.
Good gracious! I quite forgot to tell this adventure! How could I be so
ridiculous and negligent? Never mind, you shall have it now--But there
is poor Fred Lamb waiting all this time, in my select library! I can't
help it--There's no getting on with Fred Lamb. I never could use him to
any purpose in all my life; and yet there's matter enough in him too!
What matters that? Let it stand over, or let it pass. Fred Lamb can read
Zimmerman, which he will find among my books. It will teach him to love
solitude and to profit by it, while my readers amuse themselves with the
interesting adventure which happened on the very night of Wellington's
arrival from Spain, and which I beg a thousand pardons for not having
made them acquainted with in due order and proper time.
"Good news! Glorious news! Who calls?" said Master Puff, the
newsman.--Not that anybody called the least in the world; but Wellington
was really said to have won a mighty battle and was hourly expected.
Cannons were fired and much tallow consumed in illumination. His Grace
of Argyle came to me earlier than usual on that memorable evening; but,
being unwell and love-sick, he found me in my bed-chamber.
"_Quelle bizarre idée vous passe par la tête?_" said I. "Surely you
have forgotten the amiable duchess, his bride, and all the fatigue
His Grace encountered, enough to damp the ardour of any mighty hero
or plenipotentiary, for one evening at any rate; therefore, trust me,
Wellington will not disturb us to-night."
At this very moment a thundering rap at the door was heard.
"_Vive l'amour! Vive la guerre_," said Argyle--"_Le voila!_" And hastily
throwing my dressing-gown over his shoulders, and putting on one of my
old night-caps, haying previously desired "the most particlerst man
as is" not to let anybody in, hastily put his head out of my bedroom
window, which was on the second floor, and soon recognised the noble
chieftain, Wellington! Endeavouring to imitate the voice of an old
duenna, Argyle begged to know who was at the door.
"Come down I say," roared this modern Blue Beard, "and don't keep me
here in the rain, you old blockhead."
"Sir," answered Argyle, in a shrill voice, "you must please to call your
name, or I don't dare to come down, robberies are so frequent in London
just at this season, and all the sojers, you see, coming home from
Spain, that it's quite alarming to poor lone women."
Wellington took off his hat, and held up towards the lamp a visage,
which late fatigue and present vexation had rendered no bad
representation of that of the knight of the woeful figure. While the
rain was trickling down his nose, his voice, trembling with rage and
impatience, cried out, "You old idiot, do you know me now?"
"Lord, sir," answered Argyle, anxious to prolong this ridiculous scene,
"I can't give no guess; and do you know sir, the thieves have stolen a
new water-butt out of our airy, not a week since, and my missis is more
timbersome than ever!"
"The devil!" vociferated Wellington, who could endure no more, and,
muttering bitter imprecations between his closed teeth against all
the duennas and old women that had ever existed, returned home to his
neglected wife and family duties.
That's all!
But I am digressing from Fred Lamb! What is to be done? unless he turn
freemason, and tie me to his apron-strings! I wish I had let him alone
instead of handing him into my library; he is quite a weight on my mind!
Perhaps the reader will allow me to cut the subject where it stands? But
I should like to tell them about _The Cock_ at Sutton, too.
Of course, you all know _The Cock_ at Sutton? or, lest any lady or
gentleman should be so deficient in tact, so behindhand in topographical
knowledge, so unacquainted with public characters, suppose I just
mention that the celebrated athletic Jackson, the gentleman bruiser and
prize-fighter, once shouldered and insinuated himself into the good
graces of the fair widow who kept _The Cock_ at Sutton, which afterwards
became his for several years by right of marriage and rights of a
landlord; hence its celebrity.
However, the story I have to relate, has nothing to do with Jackson,
else I could about it straight: but there is a fatality attending on
Fred Lamb, and, though I am bored to death with him, I don't like to
miss telling you the story of _The Cock_ at Sutton! and so--here goes,
to use mad Dr. Robertson's elegant expression.
I could only get Fred Lamb out of my library, by promising him that we
certainly should meet once more, if only to sign and seal my forgiveness
of his former violence.
"Well then," said Frederick at last, "I shall come up from Brocket Hall
the day after to-morrow, and I will call on you on my way to town, and,
if you do not desire and wish to see me, order your servant not to let
me in; for I should be very sorry of forcing your inclinations a second
time."
The next day, being of course deeply affected with Fred Lamb's absence,
I went to call on Julia, _pour me distraire._
"But where is your story of _The Cock_ at Sutton?" the reader inquires.
I am coming to that by-and-by.
Julia's spirits appeared much improved since my last visit to her. "I
see very well by your altered look," said I, "that Sir H. Mildmay has
been paying you a visit."
"True," answered Julia with a deep sigh, which almost resembled a groan;
"but I see very plainly that he is tired of me."
"My poor forlorn woman," I replied, "for God's sake, recollect you
are a mother! Whoever forgets that is less than human. Think of your
poor, dear, beautiful children. It is wrong perhaps to intrigue under
any circumstances, yet somebody who was wise, or who passed for wise,
has said that there are exceptions to every rule. Mr. Napier is rich
and free. I think that it depends on you to provide for your children.
Consider, my dear Julia," I continued, taking her hand; and I saw a tear
glisten in her eye.
"When do you expect Mr. Napier?" I asked.
"The long-backed odious creature will call here to-morrow," answered
Julia.
"I wish something else could be done," said I hastily, sympathising in
her disgust. "Shall I write to your uncle, Lord Carysfort?"
"Do not mention that unfeeling wretch!" exclaimed Julia. "A legacy
has been left me, which I cannot help thinking has been unfairly
appropriated."
"Have you applied to his lordship on that subject?" I inquired.
"I have written to him twice," answered Julia, "and my second letter
was answered by his lordship in these words, 'The person from whom you
expected a legacy showed a becoming horror and disgust at your vile
profligate conduct by withdrawing your name from his will.'"
"Rely on it," said I, "that honourable uncle of yours has taken due care
of your property. But what can be expected from one thus destitute of
every manly feeling of compassion towards a poor, fallen, defenceless
relative!"
Julia absolutely sobbed aloud. I never saw her thus affected; for she
was not given to the melting mood. To change the conversation, I asked
her what had become of another noble relative.
"He has paid nearly a thousand pounds for me, and declares he can do no
more," replied Julia.
"No matter," said I, "Napier is your man."
"But Napier's vanity makes me sick," retorted Julia impatiently. "The
possession of my person would not satisfy him. He wants me to declare
and prove that I love him; and the thing is physically impossible."
I thought of Fred Lamb and was silent.
"What has become of Amy and Argyle?" I asked, after a pause.
"Amy," said Julia, "is very proud of Argyle and also of her pregnancy,
and lives in hopes that her unborn babe by the Scottish laws may yet be
Duke of Argyle."
"She has bespoken a boy then?"
"Of that too she lives in hopes," repeated Julia.
"And the Duke," inquired I, with something like a sickness of the heart,
"is he as tender and as loving as ever?"
"I have heard nothing to the contrary," answered Julia.
I was not jealous, but disgusted. I had always wished to love my sisters
dearly. It was very hard on me that they would not let me!
"If," said Julia, "I were to consent to Napier's wishes, and he did not
provide for my children, I should go into the Serpentine River the very
next instant."
"Here is a fuss about trifles," said I. "Why cannot we take these things
as the Frenchwomen do? _Ça lui fait tant de plaisir! pendant que ça me
coûte si peu!_ That is the way they argue, and very philosophically
too. Your sin has been bringing all these children into the world; and
now, _coûte qu'il coûte_, you must provide for them, to the extent of
your power." I concluded here my very moral advice, and took my leave,
promising to join her in our Opera-box on the morrow evening.
The next morning Mildmay called on me. He reproached me with having
deceived and made a fool of him; but all he could say or do could not
effect any change of my sentiments in his favour.
He had also professed to love Julia once, and how had he requited her?
"Heaven defend me from the like humiliation," thought I, "which I should
richly deserve, were I to encourage this cold-hearted, profligate,
beautiful Sir Henry."
As soon as I contrived to get rid of him and had dined, I went to join
Julia at the Opera House. The first man who came into my box was Fred
Lamb; he appeared delighted to see me.
"When did you come to town?" I asked.
"This morning," Fred answered, "and I called on you; but you were either
out or denied to me."
"I passed the morning in my little library," answered I.
"You have made me very wretched," whispered Fred Lamb, pressing my hand
with much passionate agitation. He looked remarkably well.
"Indeed, Fred," said I, "I did not mean it."
"Remember your promise then," added Fred Lamb, "and do pray, dearest
Harry, tell me, when you will throw away two whole days on me in the
country."
"What shall we do there?"
"Get married," interposed Julia.
"Married!" exclaimed Fred Lamb. "From my heart and soul, I shall pity
the man who ever hopes to attach you, Harriette, to himself. You have
the knack of torturing those who love you, beyond the possibility of
endurance! Why not have told me at once that you did not mean to receive
me?"
"I meant well," answered I, sighing; for it never gave me any pleasure
to be loved by those whose love I could not return.
"Had you been my wife, by heavens, I should have murdered you long ago,"
said Fred Lamb, half seriously.
"Why, yes," I replied, "I think, as yet, you had better not venture on
me; but really, Fred, on the day I turn fifty I propose being steady,
and then, perhaps----"
"No," said Fred Lamb, "not a bit of it. You would only then, as now,
be one day grateful for attentions and the next confess that you were
sorry, advise one not to fret for a woman of fifty; but declare you had
changed your mind."
"If this is really my character, and you imagine I should act thus for
ever towards every man, how can you be so very weak as to like me?"
Lord Molyneux came into my box at this instant. I always made it a point
to make violent love to Lord Molyneux, for the same reason that I used
to say soft things to Luttrell: because they neither of them professed
the least love to me.
"I wish all the young men would dress as you do," said I to his
lordship. "That dear, little, gentleman-like bow, on the little, _vielle
cour_, three-cornered hat! How quiet and interesting compared to the
vile, gold-laced, dragoon-looking flat thing Lord Uxbridge carries under
his arm!"
"What you say is most highly flattering," said Lord Molyneux, with
good-natured composure.
"And then, white silk stockings always win my heart, no matter who wears
them. In short, your lordship is better dressed, and better adapted
altogether to set off a woman's opera-box than Brummell, Lord Jersey,
or any man I know; and, if I could only have ensured to myself the
honour of a visit from you every night, I should not have put myself to
the expense of ten pounds for these new red curtains."
Lord Molyneux said that he was sure I ought to give him credit for the
gentleness of his disposition and the unheard-of patience with which
he stood there to be quizzed and laughed at; and yet, added Molyneux,
"Though this is invariably what happens to me, your box altogether has
attractions one cannot resist."
"All nonsense," said I. "I am no longer to be put off in this manner, I,
who am stark staring mad for you!"
"I am off," said Fred Lamb.
Julia, who greatly admired him, as well as the character I had given her
of him, entreated him to remain.
"You have not settled your rural excursion with Harriette yet," Julia
told him.
"Oh, true! where is it to be?" I was obliged to ask; because Fred looked
in such a passion with me.
"Would you like Richmond?" Fred inquired.
"Oh, no!" I answered. "Sophia and I dined there a short time ago,
and--variety, you know, my dear Fred Lamb, is everything, even at fifty
years of age!"
"Go to _The Cock_ at Sutton," said Berkely Craven, who had joined us.
"It is a delightful, pretty, rural place for a man to read rhymes, and
be romantic in; just fit for you, Fred."
"Are you ever taken with either a fit of reading, or a fit of romance,
Berkely?"
"Ask my young nephew here, who can tell you how I used to sit, and sigh,
and drink brandy and water with Mrs. Patten after the play," answered
Berkely.
"So much for your romance!" said I.
"And, as to reading," continued Berkely, "I will be bound to say, that,
among men who have received no regular education, not one has read more
plays and farces than I have; and I always read the newspaper from
beginning to end, except the debates."
The Duc de Berri next came in; and we all stood up till he was seated,
as bound by etiquette; and then followed my young, new acquaintance, the
Duke of Leinster, who stood up by himself, like a noun substantive, for
want of a chair.
Now the said Duke of Leinster being a very stingy, stupid blockhead,
whom nobody knows, I will describe him. His person was pretty good;
strait, stout, and middle-sized, with a good, fair, Irish allowance
of leg. It was a good leg, however, _mais en gros_; and I never saw
anything more decided in the shape of curls than those which adorned and
distinguished Leinster's crop from all such heads of hair as are in the
habit of resisting the curling tongs, when they do not happen to be red
hot: _c'était, enfin, une belle tête._
I do not see how a man could be well handsomer, without a mind. His
Grace was at that time in the constant habit of assenting to whatever
anybody said, good or bad. He was all smiles and sweet good-humour. He
would, in fact, have made an excellent husband for Sophia; yet, strange
to say, he felt not the slightest inclination towards her; but Leinster
is not the first fool I have met with who required wit and talent in a
mistress.
"How did your Grace's party on the river go off this morning?" I asked.
"Oh, it was charming," answered the duke; with more of the brogue than
was necessary, for a lad who had been bred at Eton. "But, upon my
honour," added Leinster, "the English are too stiff and abominable, for
just as I had stripped and began to row they hallooed out, 'Wait for
His Grace! where's His Grace? where's the Duke of Leinster?'"--as if
His Grace, who happens to be a mere wild Irish boy of nineteen, was not
allowed to amuse himself in the same way that other lads do. "I question
if they did not expect to see me in a bag-wig," added Leinster.
Lord Molyneux waited to catch my eye and kiss his hand as he made his
exit.
"You are driving away the _vielle cour_ by expressing those vulgar
ideas."
"I cannot help it," replied Leinster. "God Almighty has not cut me out
for a fine gentleman."
"One word," said Fred Lamb, "and I am off, to make room for better men."
"I really will," I interrupted him in a whisper, not knowing how else
to get rid of him, "I really will drive down to _The Cock_ at Sutton
to-morrow morning at about twelve, and inquire for you."
Fred Lamb's eyes brightened. "Swear it upon your honour and soul," said
he, seizing my hand.
"I do swear," I rejoined.
He pressed his lips on the hand he held, in fervent gratitude, as he
took his leave.
"I knew I should find my noble cousin the big duke here," said the young
handsome Harry De Roos, peeping his Narcissus-like head into my box.
"Come in, you pretty Harry," said I.
"Oh! I am very melancholy," observed De Roos, blushing, as he took his
seat.
"Upon my honour," said Leinster, "Henry is fretting for nothing at all.
Wait now, while I tell you all about it."
"Indeed, and we are waiting," I answered.
"Why," Leinster went on, "his mother, my Lady De Roos, is going to send
him down to a private tutor to-morrow, and I have frightened him with my
description of the Smiths, that's all."
"Who are the Smiths?" I asked.
"Mr. Smith is the name of the big duke's tutor, whom he has just left,"
answered De Roos, "after enduring such wretchedness, for more than two
years, as would have about finished me, I am sure."
"Nothing at all like wretchedness, upon my honour," retorted Leinster.
"It is all Harry's spoiled way."
"Tell us, you big duke, how you used to pass your valuable time at this
said bugbear of a tutor, Mr. Smith's," said I.
"Listen while I tell you then," replied Leinster. "Myself and two other
lads were under his care. We rose at six and cleaned our own boots and
shoes."
De Roos looked on his peculiarly delicate white hand and fingers and
sighed heavily.
"And then," proceeded Leinster, "we took our breakfast, which consisted
of thick slices of bread with a little salt butter. After that we had
three large books placed before us, in which we were desired to read for
five hours, taking down notes of whatever struck us most forcibly. At
dinner, which consisted one day of a roast joint, the next of the same,
hashed; the third, ditto, minced; our society was enlivened by the three
Miss Smiths!"
"What sort of animals were they?" inquired Julia, laughing.
"The eldest, Miss Jemima, wore a sort of a false rump, sticking out so,"
and Leinster put himself into a most ludicrous attitude.
To my question, whether she was pretty, he answered, that her face was a
little too much like a dead horse for a perfect beauty.
"Gorgons, all three of them, and the youngest turned of thirty," said De
Roos, with a heavy groan.
"But then," interrupted Julia, "Mr. De Roos is not going to live with
Mr. Smith."
"True," continued De Roos, "and, surely, there cannot be another such a
vile place in the world take it all together, cleaning boots, and the
Miss Smiths, and all?"
"No," I answered, "you must hope the best, and recollect that merely
being minus the Miss Smiths is something."
"Thank God, I have done with private tutors!" said Leinster.
"How do you like Oxford?" asked Julia.
"Delighted with it," replied the Duke. "Apropos of Christ Church. Do
you know that Brummell is cut amongst us, and who do you think sets the
fashions there now?"
"Yourself, perhaps?"
"No, nothing is asked, but whether Harriette Wilson approves of this
or that? Harriette likes white waistcoats--Harriette commends silk
stockings, &c. I asked my friend, the young Marquis of Worcester, why he
did not curl his straight locks. 'Harriette considers straight hair most
gentleman-like.'
"On my asking him if he knew Harriette, the marquis owned that he had
never seen her, adding, 'I ran up three times to the Opera, on purpose;
but she did not make her appearance. Will you present me to her? I shall
be much indebted to you.'
"'Not I, indeed, upon my honour,' was my answer, and I am the only young
man at Oxford acquainted with you."
Young Lambton, the little curly-headed Opposition man, second son of
Lady Ann Wyndham, now interrupted us. The Duc de Berri, who had been all
attention to Julia, arose to depart, and we all stood up to bow him out,
with the selfsame ceremony with which we bowed him in. As to Berkely
Craven he had found his way out unobserved by us long before.
Lambton had been, for the last three weeks, trying to muster courage
to express his passion, and Leinster, observing his anxiety to say
soft things in my ear, took his hat to depart, first declaring that he
should hold himself in readiness in the round room to see me safe to my
carriage. Harry De Roos, as he followed his cousin, begged us to pity
him, and convey his tender regards to Sophia.
Next came Napier, who, with his usual ill-breeding, began to whisper in
Julia's ear. However, I would have put up with more than that to have
been of use to her.
Lord Kinnaird paid me a sort of flying visit; but, seeing Napier so
deeply engaged on one side and Lambton so tender on the other, he had
the impudence to whisper in my ear, "_Mademoiselle Harriette, il ne faut
pas le corrompre_," and then left us.
His lordship was overheard by Lambton, who began to fidget about and
redden, and appear very uneasy.
"What is the matter, Mr. Lambton?" asked Julia.
"I am not much of a Frenchman," muttered Lambton; "but I perfectly
understood what Lord Kinnaird said, and I think it was extremely
impertinent."
Lambton's particular friend, the Honourable Thomas Dundas, now joined
us. I immediately related this mighty affair to him.
Lambton declared that, whatever his appearance might be, he had no idea
of being treated like a child by any man, seeing that he was of age.
"Yes," interrupted I, "of age to be wiser than to take offence where,
very evidently, no offence was meant. Lord Kinnaird only knows you by
sight."
"The less reason for his taking such a liberty," answered the little
man, with much impatient dignity.
While Dundas was endeavouring to calm his irritated friend, the curtain
dropped, and the Duke of Leinster hurried upstairs to be in time to
conduct me into the round room. Dundas and Lambton followed us, the
latter still grumbling and very sulky.
Lord Kinnaird passed us again, and nodded good-naturedly as he
chaperoned some ladies to their carriage. Lambton spoke loudly at
him as he passed, saying he did not consider himself a subject for
ridicule, or in danger of being corrupted, or young enough to endure the
accusation.
Lord Kinnaird heard nothing as applied to himself, never having dreamed
of such a thing as insulting or picking a quarrel with young Lambton.
This both I and Mr. Dundas took pains to impress on his mind; but the
peevish, fretful creature refused to hear reason.
Again his lordship passed us, and again Lambton growled at him, with his
eyes fixed on his own well-blacked shoes.
It was now my turn to lose my patience.
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "is this what you Opposition gentlemen call
spirit, growling at a man between your teeth for an imagined insult?
Why growl or be sulky if nobody has offered you any insult? And if they
have, why do you not address them with firm, manly civility, to request
an explanation or apology?"
Having thus brought my little spitfire gentleman to a point, he soon
contrived to pocket his supposed wrongs, since challenging had been
hinted at by me as his alternative, and went home without touching on
the subject to Lord Kinnaird.
I do not exactly know what these young Lambtons are good for except
sulkiness. I remember hearing the officers of the old 10th Dragoons, to
which regiment the eldest Lambton had formerly belonged, declare that he
had contrived so to prejudice the whole regiment against him, that there
was no rest for himself or his brother officers till he left it. I do
not mean absolutely to assert by this that there really is no good about
either of the Lambtons, being in the first place an incompetent judge of
their merits, from having only a slight acquaintance with the youngest,
and, in the second, it being my intention to draw my characters with
truth and nature, I should be very sorry to caricature them. I will tell
you why--but this is a secret,--I do not like them well enough to tell
you a single untruth, to their prejudice, and thereby to shake your
faith in such facts as else would tell against them. In common justice
to my own heart I must add that I yet like even my enemies, and those
who have used me worst, too well to desire that you should believe them
worse than they really are.