Sir Jasper Carew Part 57

I gradually came to know all the celebrities of the town, and be myself known by them. How like a dream does it seem to me, as I think over those days! When Alderman Whitbread would give me a shilling, and Wilkes borrow a crown of me; when Colonel O'Kelly would pay me with a wink, and Sir Philip Francis with a curse; when Baron Geramb, frizzed, moustached, and decorated, lounged lazily along on the arm of Admiral Payne, followed by a gorgeously-equipped cha.s.seur,--a rare sight in those days! Nor is it altogether an old man's prejudice makes me think that the leaders of fashion in those times had more unmistakably the signs of being Grand Seigneurs than the men of our own day.

I have said that the tide of fortune had turned with me, and to an extent scarcely credible. Many days saw my gains above a guinea; once or twice they more than doubled that amount. I have frequently read in newspapers announcements of the fortunes acc.u.mulated by men in the very humblest stations,--statements which, with less experience than my own, I might have hesitated to believe; but now I know them to be credible. I know, too, that many of the donors who contemptuously threw their penny as they pa.s.sed were far poorer than the recipient of their bounty.

If time did not reconcile me to my lot, yet a certain hardihood to brave destiny in any shape fortified me. I reasoned repeatedly with myself on this wise: Fate can scarcely have anything lower in store for me; from this there can be no descent in fortune. If, then, I can here maintain within me the feelings which moved me in happier days, and live unchanged in the midst of what might have been degradation, there is yet a hope that I may emerge to hold a worthy station among my fellow-men.

I will not affirm that this feeling was not heightened by an almost resentful sense of the world's treatment of me,--a feeling which, combat how I would, hourly gained more and more possession of me. To struggle against this growing misanthropy, I formed the resolve that I would devote all my earnings of each Sunday to charity. It was but too easy, in my walk of life, for me to know objects of want and suffering. The little close in which I lived--near Seven Dials--was filled with such; and amongst them I now dispensed the seventh of my gains,--in reality far more, since Sunday almost equalled two entire days in profit. Thus did I vacillate betwixt good and evil influences,--now yielding, now resisting,--but always gaining some little advantage over selfishness and narrow-mindedness, by the training of that best of teachers,--adversity. How my trials might have ended, had the course of my life gone on uninterruptedly, I cannot even guess. Whether the bad might have gained the ascendant, or the good triumphed, I know not. An incident, too slight to advert to, save in its influence upon my fate, suddenly gave another direction to my destiny; and though, as I have said, in itself a mere trifle, yet for its singularity, as well as in its consequences, requires a mention, and shall have--albeit a short one--a chapter of its own.

The incident I am about to relate has not--at least so far as I know--ever been made public. Up to three years ago I could have called a witness to its truth; but I am now the only survivor of those who once could have corroborated my tale. Still, I am not without hope that there are some living who, having heard the circ.u.mstances before, will generously exonerate me from any imputation of being the inventor.

This preface may excite in my reader the false expectation of something deeply interesting; and I at once and most explicitly own that I have none such in store for him. It is, I repeat for the third time, an incident only curious from those engaged in it, and only claiming a mention in such a history as mine.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX. A STRANGE INCIDENT TO BE A TRUE ONE

It was on one of the coldest of a cold December days, when a dry north wind, with a blackish sky, portended the approach of a heavy snow-storm, that I was standing at my usual post, with little to occupy me, for the weather for some time previous had been dry and frosty. Habit, and the security that none could recognize me, had at length inured me to my condition; and I was beginning to feel the same indifference about my station that I felt as to my future.

Pride may, in reality, have had much to say to this, for I was proud to think that of the thousands who flowed past me each day I could claim equality with a large share, and perhaps more than equality with many.

This pride, too, was somehow fostered by a sense of hope which I could have scarcely credited; for there constantly occurred to me the thought that one day or other I should be able to say: "Yes, my Lord Duke, I have known you these twenty years. I remember having swept the crossing for you in the autumn after the Peace. Ay, ay, Right Honorable Sir, I owe you my grat.i.tude, if only for this that you never pa.s.sed me without saying, 'Good day, Jack!'"

Was it not strange, too, how fondly I clung to, what importance I attached to, these little pa.s.sing recognitions; they seemed to me the last remaining ties that bound me to my fellow-men, and that to deny them to me was to declare me an outcast forever. To this hour I feel my thankfulness to those who thus acknowledged me; nor can I even yet conquer an unforgiving memory of some chance, mayhap unintentional, rudeness which, as it were, seemed to stamp my degradation more deeply upon me. Stranger still that I must own how my political bias was decided by these accidental causes; for while the great Tory leaders rarely or never noticed me, the Whigs--a younger and more joyous section in those times--always flung me a pa.s.sing word, and would even occasionally condescend to listen to my repartee.

I must guard myself from giving way to the memories which are already crowding fast about me. Names, and characters, and events rise up before my mind in myriads, and it is with difficulty I can refrain from embarking on that flood of the past which now sweeps along through my brain. The great, the high-born, the beautiful, the gifted, all dust and ashes now!--they who once filled the whole page of each day's history utterly ignored and forgotten! It is scarcely more than fifty years ago; and yet of all the eloquence that shook the "House," of all the fascinations that stirred the hearts of princes, of the high ambitions that made men demiG.o.ds in their time, how much have reached us? Nothing, or less than nothing. A jest or a witticism that must be read with a commentary, or told with an explanation,--the repartee that set the table in a roar, now heard with a cold, half-contemptuous astonishment, or a vacant inquiry "if such were really the wits of those times."

Amongst those with whose appearance I had become familiar were three young men of very fashionable exterior, who always were seen together.

They displayed, by the dress of blue coat and buff waistcoat, the distinctive colors of the Whigs; but their b.u.t.tons more emphatically declared their party in the letters P. F., by which the friends of the Prince then loved to designate themselves. The "Bucks" of that age had one enormous advantage over the Dandies of ours,--they had no imitators.

They stood alone and unapproachable in all the glories of tight leathers and low top-boots. No spurious copies of them got currency; and the man of fashion was unmistakable amongst a thousand. The three of whom I have made mention were good specimens of that school, which dated its birth from the early years of the Prince, and by their habits and tone imparted a distinctive character to the party. They dressed well, they looked well, they comported themselves as though life went ever pleasantly with them; and in their joyous air and easy bearing one might read the traits of a set well adapted to be the friends and companions of a young prince, himself pa.s.sionately devoted to pleasure, and reckless in regard to its price.

I am now speaking of long ago, and have no hesitation in giving the real names of those to whom I allude. One was a captain in the navy, called Payne; the second was a young colonel in the foot-guards, Conway; and the third was an Irishman named O'Kelly, whom they called the Count or the Chevalier, about town, from what cause or with what pretension I never ascertained.

Even in my own narrow sphere of observation it was clear to me that this last exercised a great influence over his companions. The tone of his voice, his air, his every gesture, bespoke a certain degree of dictation, to which the others seemed to lend a willing obedience.

It was just that amount of superiority which a greater buoyancy of character confers,--a higher grade of vitality some would call it,--but which never fails through life to make itself felt and acknowledged.

The three kept a bachelor house at Kensington, whose fame ran a close rivalry with that of the more celebrated Carlton House. O'Kelly lived below, Conway occupied the drawing-room story, and Payne the third floor; and with one or other of these all the great characters of the Opposition were constant guests. Here, amidst brilliant sallies of wit and loud bursts of laughter, the tactics of party were planned and conned over. While songs went round and toasts were cheered, the subtle schemes of politics were discussed and determined on; and many a sudden diversion of debate that seemed the accident of the moment took its origin in some suggestion that arose in these wild orgies. The Prince himself was a frequent guest, since the character of these meetings allowed of many persons being admitted to his society whose birth and position might not have warranted their being received at his own table; and here also were many presented to him whose station could not have claimed a more formal introduction.

It was rumored that these same meetings were wild and desperate orgies, in which every outrage on morality was practised, and that the spirit of libertinism raged without control or hindrance. I have not of myself any means of judging how far this statement might be correct, but I rather incline to believe it one of those calumnies which are so constantly levelled at any society which a.s.sumes to itself exclusiveness and secrecy. They who were admitted there a.s.suredly were not given to divulge what they saw, and this very reserve must have provoked its interpretation.

A truce to these speculations; and now back to my story. I was standing listlessly on the edge of the flag-way, while a long funeral procession was pa.s.sing. The dreary day and drearier object seemed to harmonize well together. The wheels of the mourning-coaches grated sorrowfully on the half-frozen ground, and the leaden canopy of sky appeared a suitable covering to the melancholy picture. My thoughts were of the very saddest, when suddenly a merry burst of laughing voices broke in upon my ear; and without turning my head, I recognized the three young men of whom I have just spoken, as standing close behind me.

Some jocular allusion to the slow march of the procession had set them a-laughing; and O'Kelly said,--

"Talk as men will about the ills of life, see how tardily they move out of it."

"That comes of not knowing the road before them," cried Payne.

"Egad! they might remember, though, that it is a well-worn highway by this time," chimed in Conway; "and now that poor d.i.c.k has gone it, who's to fill his place?"

"No very hard matter," said O'Kelly. "Take every tenth fellow you 'll meet from this to Temple Bar, and you 'll have about the same kind of intelligence Harvey had. You gave him credit for knowing everything, whereas his real quality was knowing everybody."

"For that matter, so does Jack here," cried Conway.

"And capital company he'd be, too, I've no doubt," added Payne.

A moment of whispering conversation ensued, and O'Kelly said, half aloud,--

"I 'll lay five hundred on it!"

"By Jove! I 'll have no hand in it," said Conway.

"Nor I neither," chimed in Payne.

"Courageous allies both," said O'Kelly, laughing. "Happily I need not such aid,--I 'll do it myself. I only ask you not to betray me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 460]

Without heeding the protestations they both poured forth, O'Kelly stepped forward and whispered in my ear,--

"Will you dine with me to-morrow, Jack?"

I stared at him in silent astonishment, and he went on:

"I have a wager on it; and if I win, you shall have five guineas for your share; and, to show you my confidence of success, I pay beforehand."

He opened his purse as he spoke; but I stopped him suddenly with,--

"No need of that, sir; I accept your invitation. The honor alone is enough for me."

"But you must have a coat, Jack, and ruffles, man."

"I 'll not disgrace you, sir,--at least, so far as appearance goes,"

said I.

He stared at me for a second or two, and then said,--

"By Jove! I was certain of it. Well, seven o'clock is the hour.

Kensington,--every one knows the Bird Cage."

I touched my cap and bowed. He gravely returned my salute, and walked on between his friends, whose loud laughter continued to ring out for a long way down the street.

My first impressions were, I own, the reverse of agreeable, and I felt heart-sick with shame for having accepted the invitation. The very burst of laughter told me in what point of view they regarded the whole incident. I was, doubtless, to be the ign.o.ble instrument of some practical joke. At first I tortured my ingenuity to think how I could revenge myself for the indignity; but I suddenly remembered that I had made myself a willing party to the scheme, whatever it might be. I had agreed to avail myself of the invitation, and should, therefore, accept its consequences.

With what hara.s.sing doubts did I rack my suffering brain! At one time, frenzied with the idea of an insult pa.s.sed upon my wretchedness and poverty; at another, casuistically arguing myself into the belief that, whatever the offence to others, to me there could be none intended.

But why revive the memory of a conflict which impressed me with all the ignominy of my station, and made me feel myself, as it were, selected for an affront that could not with impunity have been practised towards another?

I decided not to go, and then just as firmly determined I would present myself. My last resolve was to keep my promise, to attend the dinner-party; to accept, as it were in the fullest sense, the equality tendered to me; and, if I could detect the smallest insult, or even a liberty taken with me, to claim my right to resent it, by virtue of the act which admitted me to their society, and made me for the time then-companion. I am not quite sure that such conduct was very justifiable. I half suspect that the easier and the better course would have been to avoid a situation in which there was nothing to be antic.i.p.ated but annoyance or difficulty.

My mind once made up, I hastened to prepare for the event, by immediately ordering a handsome dress-suit. Carefully avoiding what might be deemed the impertinence of a.s.suming the colors of party, I selected a claret-colored coat, with steel b.u.t.tons; a richly-embroidered waistcoat; and for my cravat one of French cambric, with a deep fall of Mechlin lace. If I mention matters so trivial, it is because at the time to which I refer, the modes of dress were made not only to represent the sections of politics, but to distinguish between those who adhered to an antiquated school of breeding and manners, and those who now avowed themselves the disciples of a new teaching. I wished, if possible, to avoid either extreme, and a.s.sumed the colors and the style usually worn by foreigners in English society. Like them, too, I wore a sword and buckles; for the latter I went to the extravagance of paying two guineas for the mere hire.

If you have ever felt in life, good reader, what it was to have awaited in anxious expectancy for the day of some great examination whose issue was to have given the tone to all your future destiny, you may form some notion of the state of mental excitement in which I pa.s.sed the ensuing twenty-four hours. It was to no purpose that I said to myself all that my reason could suggest or my ingenuity fancy; a certain instinct, stronger than reason, more convincing than ingenuity, told me that this was about to be an eventful moment of' my life.