Paul Clifford — Complete
excellent creed. It adapts itself to every possible change, to every
conceivable variety of circumstance. It is the only politics for us who
are the aristocrats of that free body who rebel against tyrannical laws;
for, hang it, I am none of your democrats. Let there be dungeons and
turnkeys for the low rascals who whip clothes from the hedge where
they hang to dry, or steal down an area in quest of a silver spoon;
but houses of correction are not made for men who have received an
enlightened education,--who abhor your petty thefts as much as a justice
of peace. can do,--who ought never to be termed dishonest in their
dealings, but, if they are found out, 'unlucky in their speculations'!
A pretty thing, indeed, that there should be distinctions of rank among
other members of the community, and none among us! Where's your boasted
British Constitution, I should like to know, where are your privileges
of aristocracy, if I, who am a gentleman born, know Latin, and have
lived in the best society, should be thrust into this abominable place
with a dirty fellow who was born in a cellar, and could never earn more
at a time than would purchase a sausage? No, no! none of your levelling
principles for me! I am liberal, Paul, and love liberty; but, thank
Heaven, I despise your democracies!”
Thus, half in earnest, half veiling a natural turn to sarcasm, would
this moderate Whig run on for the hour together during those long
nights, commencing at half-past four, in which he and Paul bore each
other company.
One evening, when Tomlinson was so bitterly disposed to be prolix that
Paul felt himself somewhat wearied by his eloquence, our hero, desirous
of a change in the conversation, reminded Augustus of his promise to
communicate his history; and the philosophical Whig, nothing loath to
speak of himself, cleared his throat, and began.
“Never mind who was my father, nor what was my native place! My first
ancestor was Tommy Linn (his heir became Tom Linn's son),--you have
heard the ballad made in his praise,
“'Tommy Linn is a Scotchman born,
His head is bald and his beard is shorn;
He had a cap made of a hare skin,
An elder man is Tommy Limn!'
“There was a sort of prophecy respecting my ancestor's descendants
darkly insinuated in the concluding stanza of this ballad:--
“'Tommy Linn, and his wife, and his wife's mother,
They all fell into the fire together;
They that lay undermost got a hot skin,--
“We are not enough!” said Tommy Linn.'”
“You see the prophecy: it is applicable both to gentlemen rogues and
to moderate Whigs; for both are undermost in the world, and both are
perpetually bawling out, 'We are not enough!'
“I shall begin my own history by saying, I went to a North Country
school, where I was noted for my aptness in learning; and my skill at
'prisoner's base,'--upon my word I purposed no pun! I was intended for
the Church. Wishing, betimes, to instruct myself in its ceremonies, I
persuaded my schoolmaster's maidservant to assist me towards promoting
a christening. My father did not like this premature love for the
sacred rites. He took me home; and wishing to give my clerical ardour a
different turn, prepared me for writing sermons by reading me a dozen a
day. I grew tired of this, strange as it may seem to you. 'Father,'
said I, one morning, 'it is no use talking; I will not go into the
Church,--that's positive. Give me your blessing and a hundred pounds,
and I'll go up to London and get a living instead of a curacy.' My
father stormed; but I got the better at last. I talked of becoming a
private tutor; swore I had heard nothing was so easy,--the only things
wanted were pupils; and the only way to get them was to go to London
and let my learning be known. My poor father,--well, he's gone, and I am
glad of it now!” The speaker's voice faltered. “I got the better, I say,
and I came to town, where I had a relation a bookseller. Through his
interest, I wrote a book of Travels in Ethiopia for an earl's son, who
wanted to become a lion; and a Treatise on the Greek Particle, dedicated
to the prime minister, for a dean, who wanted to become a bishop,--Greek
being, next to interest, the best road to the mitre. These two
achievements were liberally paid; so I took a lodging in a first floor,
and resolved to make a bold stroke for a wife. What do you think I
did?--nay, never guess; it would be hopeless. First, I went to the best
tailor, and had my clothes sewn on my back; secondly, I got the peerage
and its genealogies by heart; thirdly, I marched one night, with the
coolest deliberation possible, into the house of a duchess, who was
giving an immense rout! The newspapers had inspired me with this idea. I
had read of the vast crowds which a lady 'at home' sought to win to her
house. I had read of staircases impassable, and ladies carried out in
a fit; and common-sense told me how impossible it was that the fair
receiver should be acquainted with the legality of every importation. I
therefore resolved to try my chance, and--entered the body of Augustus
Tomlinson, as a piece of stolen goods. Faith! the first night I was
shy,--I stuck to the staircase, and ogled an old maid of quality, whom
I had heard announced as Lady Margaret Sinclair. Doubtless she had never
been ogled before; and she was evidently enraptured with my glances. The
next night I read of a ball at the Countess of -------'s. My heart beat
as if I were going to be whipped; but I plucked up courage, and repaired
to her ladyship's. There I again beheld the divine Lady Margaret; and
observing that she turned yellow, by way of a blush, when she saw me, I
profited by the port I had drunk as an encouragement to my entree, and
lounging up in the most modish way possible, I reminded her ladyship of
an introduction with which I said I had once been honoured at the Duke
of Dashwell's, and requested her hand for the next cotillion. Oh, Paul,
fancy my triumph! The old damsel said, with a sigh, she remembered me
very well, ha, ha, ha!--and I carried her off to the cotillion like
another Theseus bearing away a second Ariadne. Not to be prolix on
this part of my life, I went night after night to balls and routs, for
admission to which half the fine gentlemen in London would have given
their ears. And I improved my time so well with Lady Margaret, who was
her own mistress and had L5,000,--a devilish bad portion for some, but
not to be laughed at by me,--that I began to think when the happy day
should be fixed. Meanwhile, as Lady Margaret introduced me to some
of her friends, and my lodgings were in a good situation, I had been
honoured with some real invitations. The only two questions I ever
was asked were (carelessly), 'Was I the only son?' and on my veritable
answer 'Yes!' 'What' (this was more warmly put),--'what was my county?'
Luckily my county was a wide one,--Yorkshire; and any of its inhabitants
whom the fair interrogators might have questioned about me could only
have answered, I was not in their part of it.
“Well, Paul, I grew so bold by success that the devil one day put it
into my head to go to a great dinner-party at the Duke of Dashwell's. I
went, dined,--nothing happened; I came away, and the next morning I read
in the papers,--
“'Mysterious affair--person lately going about--first houses--most
fashionable parties--nobody knows--Duke of Dashwell's yesterday. Duke
not like to make disturbance--as royalty present.”
“The journal dropped from my hands. At that moment the girl of the house
gave me a note from Lady Margaret,--alluded to the paragraph; wondered
who was 'The Stranger;' hoped to see me that night at Lord A-----'s,
to whose party I said I had been asked; speak then more fully on those
matters I had touched on!--in short, dear Paul, a tender epistle! All
great men are fatalists,--I am one now; fate made me a madman. In the
very face of this ominous paragraph I mustered up courage, and went that
night to Lord A-----'s. The fact is, my affairs were in confusion,--I
was greatly in debt. I knew it was necessary to finish my conquest over
Lady Margaret as soon as possible; and Lord A-----'s seemed the best
place for the purpose. Nay, I thought delay so dangerous, after the
cursed paragraph, that a day might unmask me, and it would be better
therefore not to lose an hour in finishing the play of 'The Stranger'
with the farce of 'The Honey Moon.' Behold me then at Lord A-----'s,
leading off Lady Margaret to the dance. Behold me whispering the
sweetest of things in her ear. Imagine her approving my suit, and gently
chiding me for talking of Gretna Green. Conceive all this, my dear
fellow, and just at the height of my triumph, dilate the eyes of your
imagination, and behold the stately form of Lord A-----, my noble
host, marching up to me, while a voice that, though low and quiet as an
evening breeze, made my heart sink into my shoes, said, 'I believe, sir,
you have received no invitation from Lady A-----?'
“Not a word could I utter, Paul,--not a word. Had it been the highroad
instead of a ballroom, I could have talked loudly enough; but I was
under a spell. 'Ehem!' I faltered at last,--'e-h-e-m! Some mis-take,
I--I--' There I stopped.
“'Sir,' said the earl, regarding me with a grave sternness, 'you had
better withdraw.'
“'Bless me! what's all this?' cried Lady Margaret, dropping my palsied
arm, and gazing on me as if she expected me to talk like a hero.
“'Oh,' said I, 'eh-e-m, eh-e-m,--I will exp--lain to-morrow,--ehem,
e-h-e-m.' I made to the door; all the eyes in the room seemed turned
into burning-glasses, and blistered the very skin on my face. I heard
a gentle shriek, as I left the apartment,--Lady Margaret fainting,
I suppose! There ended my courtship and my adventures in 'the best
society.'
“I felt melancholy at the ill-success of my scheme. You must allow it
was a magnificent project. What moral courage! I admire myself when I
think of it. Without an introduction, without knowing a soul, to become,
all by my own resolution, free of the finest houses in London, dancing
with earls' daughters, and all but carrying off an earl's daughter
myself as my wife. If I had, the friends must have done something
for me; and Lady Margaret Tomlinson might perhaps have introduced the
youthful genius of her Augustus to parliament or the ministry. Oh, what
a fall was there! Yet, faith, ha, ha, ha! I could not help laughing,
despite of my chagrin, when I remembered that for three months I had
imposed on these 'delicate exclusives,' and been literally invited by
many of them, who would not have asked the younger sons of their own
cousins, merely because I lived in a good street, avowed myself an only
child, and talked of my property in Yorkshire! Ha, ha! how bitter the
mercenary dupes must have felt when the discovery was made! What a pill
for the good matrons who had coupled my image with that of some
filial Mary or Jane,--ha, ha, ha! The triumph was almost worth the
mortification. However, as I said before, I fell melancholy on it,
especially as my duns became menacing. So I went to consult with my
cousin the bookseller. He recommended me to compose for the journals,
and obtained me an offer. I went to work very patiently for a short
time, and contracted some agreeable friendships with gentlemen whom I
met at an ordinary in St. James's. Still, my duns, though I paid them by
driblets, were the plague of my life. I confessed as much to one of
my new friends. 'Come to Bath with me,' quoth he, 'for a week, and you
shall return as rich as a Jew.' I accepted the offer, and went to Bath
in my friend's chariot. He took the name of Lord Dunshunner, an Irish
peer who had never been out of Tipperary, and was not therefore likely