The Spendthrift: a tale ... With illustrations by Hablot K. Browne

Front matter

AUTHOR'S COPYRIGHT KDITION. sixpence;. THE SPENDTHRIFT i n i tit — in™— TT W. HARRISON AINSWORTH LIFE, FORTUNE, & HAPPINESS. " Bine out false pride in place and Wood, The civic slander and the spite j Ring in the love of troth and right, Ei ng in the common love of good. ** Bir.g out old shapes of fonl disease, King out the narrowing lust of gold. Ring out the thousand wars of old, Bingin the thousand years of peace." buiML TMPORTANT TO ALL.— As a natural ■*• product of nature, use EHO'S "FEUIT SAIT." Ton cannot overstate ita great value in keeping the BIiOOD PUEE. 'Without snch a simple precaution the JEOPABDY of life is immensely increased. Asa means of keeping the system clear, and thus taking away the groundwork ox Malarious Diseases, and all Liver Complaints, or as a Health-giving, Befreshing, Cooling, and Invigorating Beverage, or as a Gentle Laxative and Tonic in the vas ions forms of Indigestion.

From the Bev. J. W. NEIL, Holy Trinity Cfcnreh, North Shields. " November 1, 1373. "Deab Sie,— As an illustration of the beneficial effects oi your ' FEUIT SALT,' 1 can have no hesita. tion in giving you the particulars of the case of one of my friends. His whole life was clouded by the want of vigorous health, a.u3 to such an extent did tie s'ng gish action of the livex and its concomitant l*ihous Headache affect him, that he was obliged to live upon only a few articles of diet, and to he most sparing in their osp. This uncomfortable and involuntary asceti cism, whilst it probably allevia-.ed his sufferings, did nothing in effecting a cure, although persevered in for some twenty-five years; and also, to my knowledge, consulting very eminent members of the faculty, fre. cuentlv even going to town for that purpose.

By the use of 'your simple ' FEUIT SALT," however, he no* enjoys the vigorous health he so long coveted, he has never had a neadache or constipation since he com. liCTSTl U»U O. vr r. - — HMnoed to use it, about six months ago, and oan partake of his food in such a bearty manner as to afford, as you may imagine, great satisfaction to himself and friends. There are others known to me to whom your remedy has been so beneficial in various Wads of complaints, that. I think you may vary well extend. Its uss, both for your own interest and vn ixmo pufcH». I nnd myself that it ma kss a veiy retreEWngand exhilarating drink. — I remain, dear sir, yours faiths ally ,. J# "' JN*'1*U "To J. C. Eso, Esq." -EUROPE, ASIA, AFRICA, AMERICA, AUSTRALIA .--IMPORTANT J« TO a" TP AVELLEBSL-'" l^Tsend me hali-a-dosen bottles oi IENO-B 'FEUIT SALT.' I have teltd INO'9 * FRUIT SALT ' i» America, India, Egypt, and on tfceContinent for almost ever" complaint, lew included, with the most sattefactonr results. \^r«*^.™%S2Z£j$ *?„£ travellers} intact, I am never without it.-Yo»s faithfully, AN ANGLO-INDIAN OiiltlAJ., Jims •ethisre." •• I used my ' FEUIT SALT • fesely in my test severe atta :x of fever, and I bars every reason to say ft saved my life.

Chapter I. Ward And Guardian

Heir to twenty thousand a year at twenty one. This was the case with Gage de Monthermer. An enviable fellow. Let us see how he came by his fine property. the second year of their union. She left him an only son, Gage — named after his mother — upon whom the whole of War wick's affections were fixed. As may be anticipated, the child was too much indulged by his doting father, who gratified his every whim, and allowed him to do just as he pleased. Yet in spite of such injudicious treatment, Gage was not utterly spoiled. His chief faults were indolence and prone ness to self-indulgence. As a boy, he was free from vice, and had a generous disposi tion, and a frank, unsuspicious nature. When he grew up, his features developed a striking resemblance to those of his beautiful mother, and this circumstance endeared him yet more strongly to his father.

At eighteen, Gage was sent to college, and he had been at Oxford little more than a year when he sustained the heaviest affliction that could have befallen him in the death of his father, who broke his neck while hunting. Warwick de Monthermer — Gage's sire — had a fine old family mansion in Suffolk — Monthermer Castle — noted for its beautiful situation, and the picturesque ruins in the immediate vicinity; a large park, well stocked with deer, and boasting some of the most magnificent timber in England — ■ oaks, coeval with the Druids, towering elms, and wide-spreading beeches ; a gallery of choice pictures, including portraits of his onceennobled race, the first of whom, Radulphus de Monthermer, married Joane Plantagenet, daughter of King Edward I., and the last (the last of these haughty barons, we mean) lost his head and his honours in 147 1 ; a house in perfect repair; fertile lands ; farms well tenanted and well cultivated ; property well managed ; cellars well stocked with wine ; a famous pack of hounds; a numerous stud of horses : everything, in short, that a country gentleman could desire.

This sad event occurred in 1728. During his minority, the care of Gage and of his large estates devolved upon Mr. Felix Fairlie, who had been appointed his guardian by his father's will. Of this person, it will now be necessary to give some account. Long and honourably (as it was supposed) had Mr. Fairlie filled the post of steward to Warwick de Monthermer. His birth was obscure enough, but what of that, if the man himself were respectable, and had sufficient ability to push himself forward in the world ! The son of an old servant at the Castle, brought up by the family, and early displaying great quickness of parts, great method, and great aptitude Warwick de Monthermer lived altogether at Monthermer Castle, where he exercised unbounded hospitality. The house was always full of company. He was fond of hunting, shooting, fishing, and all manly sports ; and equally fond of good cheer, so that the robust exercises he constantly indulged in were indispensably necessary to the preservation of his health.

Warwick was a widower of long standing. Wedded to the Hon. Henrietta Gage, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Lord Hen grave, he had the misfortune to lose her in one undertook the ungracious task, and things were allowed to pursue their course. On the next term after his father's decease, Gage returned to Oxford. Heretofore he had not read very hard, but he now left off reading altogether. With a certainty of twenty thousand a year, any great devotion to scholastic labour or mental discipline could scarcely be expected of him. He had plenty of idle, extravagant acquaintances, and he soon acquired a taste for their habits. Such a well-plumed pigeon was sure to be plucked by all the kites and rooks of the University. Mr. Fairlie occasionally remonstrated with him for his heedlessness and extravagance — but so very gently and' cautiously as to give no offence — and then he always honoured his ward's drafts upon him ; earnestly caution ing him against borrowing money from any one but himself, and taking every means to prevent him from doing so.

The worthy man had no other object except a wish to keep the thoughtless young scapegrace out of bad hands. for business, Felix Fairlie had mounted step by step, till he attained the chief place in his master's establishment. "Master," indeed, Warwick could scarcely be termed. For some time before his death, the squire had begun to treat Mr. Fairlie as an equal and a friend, consulting him upon all occasions, and entrusting him with the entire management of his affairs. Having the most perfect reliance upon Fairlie's integrity and good judgment, he confided his property to him while he lived, and in contemplation of his demise, constituted him his sole executor, and committed his beloved son to his charge. How Mr. Fairlie fulfilled his trusts will be seen by and by. A most respectable-looking man was Mr. Fairlie ; very smooth-spoken, bland and courteous in manner.

Even those who differed with him in opinion acknowledged his excessive complaisance. From his gentlemanlike exterior, his politeness, and perfect good breeding, it was difficult to conceive he could ever have filled a menial capacity ; yet such, as we have shown, had been the case. When his patron died, Mr. Fairlie was between fifty and sixty. Tall and thin, with an aquiline nose, and dark eyes, overshadowed by jetty brows, he had a very handsome and imposing exterior. In attire he was unostentatious, but scrupu lously neat ; always wearing clothes of a sober hue, and a plain peruke. In estimating the character of this highly respectable man, it is but fair to state, that the favourable opinion entertained of him by his patron was not altogether shared in by that patron's friends ; some of whom fancied they perceived defects in him, which Monthermer failed to discover.

They did not think him so perfectly trustworthy as he was deemed by the squire, and felt sure Mr. Fairlie was feathering his own nest at his employer's expense. Two or three of the more courageous among them resolved to open Monthermer's eyes to his danger ; but before this could be done, the worthy gentleman's eyes were closed for At length, Gage's proceedings occasioned so much scandal, that the heads of houses would no longer tolerate his riotous conduct, and with two others — Nat Mist and Jack Brassey — he was expelled from the Univer sity. This gave him little concern, as he had never intended to graduate. But his guardian was much distressed by the occurrence — or affected to be so — and represented to him how much concern his indiscretions would have given his excellent father, if he had been alive.

Some feelings of compunction were aroused in Gages breast by these remarks, but his remorse was of short duration ; and Mr. Fairlie had no intention of alienating the affections of his ward by overseverity. On the contrary, he desired to have him constantly near him — as the best means, he asserted, of keeping him out of harm's way. The poor young gentleman was so easily led into mischief. Mr. Fairlie, however, had another motive besides the one he assigned for desiring to keep his ward constantly near him. Like his late patron, the somewhile steward was a widower — and like him he had an only child — a daughter, whom he would have gladly seen Lady of Monthermer. There was thus much in favour of Mr. Fairlie's scheme ; in that his daughter Clare, who, at the time of Gage's removal from the University, was just eighteen, was a remarkably beautiful girl — tall, dark-haired, dark eyed, exquisitely proportioned, graceful, ever.

Mr. Fairlie's position was then perfectly secure. For two years he would be un controlled master of the Monthermer estates ; while the early destinies of the young heir were wholly in his hands. Nothing therefore was left the friends but to fold their arms and look on. As much attached to his guardian as his father had been, Gage had equal confidence in him. Impossible to shake it. But no gentle. Candour sat upon her open countenance, and truth looked out from the depths of her tender black eyes. Fashioned of finer clay than her father, she had none of the flaws to be met with in his coarser composition. She had been very carefully brought up by an excellent and exemplary mother, whose death was a loss, in every way, to Fairlie. Clare, therefore, might well be an object of attraction to Gage, and if the young man should become sufficiently enamoured to choose her as his bride, her father had no doubt she would be found fully equal to the elevated position.

And therein he was right. But if Mr. Fairlie expected any co-opera tion in his scheme from his daughter, he was greatly in error. Clare had no idea whatever of ensnaring the young man, and the accounts she had heard of his proceedings at Oxford had strongly prejudiced her against him. She therefore shunned him as much as possible ; but in spite of all her eftbrts to avoid a meeting, they were frequently brought together. As young Monthermer's guardian, Mr. Fairlie had now his own set of apartments at the Castle, and, indeed, was more completely master ot the house than the young gentle man himself. Most of tbe old servants had been discharged, and only such were retained as suited the new ruler of the establishment. Clare, of course, was looked upon in the light of a mistress by all the household ; and, indeed, by her father's express injunctions she superintended everything.

Necessarily, then, she musf often be brought into contact with the young lord of the mansion. But though urged to do so by her father, she resolutely refused to preside at Monthermer's table, or even to appear at all when he had company. Things turned out just as the steward had foreseen. It was impossible that a youth so inflammable as Gage could daily behold a charming girl like Clare and not fall in love with her. His marked atten tions to her soon left no doubt as to the s'.ate of his feelings. Her father was secretly delighted ; but he judged it most priulent not to interfere. He did not believe Clare could be indifferent to the handsome youth, yet the coldness of her manner towards him looked like it. As Gage became more ardent, she grew more reserved, until at length she declined altogether to meet him.

The young man was too much in love to be offended, but lie sought an explanation of her father, who professed to be taken by surprise by the communication made to him, good naturedly chided his ward, but at length undertook to confer with his daughter on the subject. He did confer with her ; and on finding she. was determined to reject Gage, provided he offered her his hand, he poured forth a torrent of reproaches and invectives against her. But upbraidings and menaces were of no avail. All Clare could be brought to consent to was to grant a final interview to Gage on the morrow. The interview took place. Gage offered her his hand. In declining it, she said she was fully sensible of the honour intended her, and grateful for it ; she frankly owned she was not indifferent to Mr. Monthermer ; but the disparity between them was such as to render a union impossible.

Neither was he of an age to know who would make him a suitable partner for life. On his knees, with protestations and tears, Gage combated these arguments as well as he could, and strove to move her. In vain. At last, by way of putting an end to a scene which, in spite of her firmness, greatly agitated and distressed her, Clare said : " A year hence you will be twenty one, and will then have a right to act as you please. At that time, if you have not changed your mind, and think fit to address me, I may, perhaps, listen to your suit. I do not absolutely promise this — but it may be so. Meantime, we must not meet again — and if I might give you a counsel it would be to forget me." It is useless to detail what passed between Mr. Fairlie and his daughter, when he learnt her decision from her own lips.

It will be easily imagined how he stormed. But all to no purpose. Clare was not to be moved either by entreaties or rage. Gage did not remain much longer at Monthermer Castle. He went abroad for a year; made the grand tour; launched into all the dissipations of the gayest cities in Europe ; got fleeced by many a foreign sharper ; tried to forget Clare (as she had recommended him to do, though not in a way she would have approved), by wor shipping many a dark-eyed Italian beauty, and many a lively dame of France ; scattered money about, wherever he went, with reck less profusion — for he had an unlimited supply from Fairlie — and returned to England, as he conceived, a finished gentle man — or as some censorious folk declared, a finished fop and rake — to take possession of his ancestral house and his broad domains on his twenty-first birthday.

"How so?" Fairlie demanded fiercely; but receiving no answer, he added, " If you have any regard for this young man you will marry him. It is the only chance of saving him. Recollect what I tell you." And he left her. Great rejoicings had taken place at Mon thermer Castle when the young lord came of age, and the tenantry hailed his return with delight, hoping he would remain among them. Mr. Fairlie had already become obnoxious from his exactions, and the loss of good Squire Warwick was universally deplored. The young squire they hoped would rectify all abuses ; reduce their rents, which had been suddenly raised ; and restore the good old times. They were quite sure Squire Gage must be too like his worthy father, who would listen to any man, and help him if he deserved it, to turn a deaf ear to their just complaints.

But they found it difficult — indeed, im possible, to obtain a hearing from Gage. Mr. Fairlie took care that those who would not hold their tongues shouldneverapproach him. Gage hated business of all kinds, and could scarcely be got to look at an account. It bored him dreadfully, and he could not endure to be bored. Fully aware of his carelessness, Mr. Fairlie did not fail to profit by it. Placing piles of bills, documents, and vouchers before the young squire, he opened ponderous green-backed account-books with large brass clasps for his inspection — quite certain he would examine none of them. And so it happened. Gage just glanced at the bills, and tossed them aside, closing the big green-backed books with a shudder. Absence and pleasurable distraction had not obliterated Clare's image from the young man's breast.

He had written to her several times, and though she returned no answer to his missives, their receipt was duly acknowledged by Mr. Fairlie, who said more than he had any warrant to do for his daughter, and took good care not to extinguish her lover's hopes. Gage's sur prise and disappointment may therefore be imagined when his offers were a second time rejected, and more peremptorily than on the first occasion, for no further time of probation was allowed him. He was of age, and could judge for himself. Clare's reasons for her decision were these. In addition to disparity of position, their characters were wholly unsuitable. She could not be happy with a man addicted merely to pursuits of pleasure. After a brief time he was sure to neglect her, and such treatment would break her heart. On these accounts, she must adhere to her original resolution.

She could not cease to love him, but she would never marry him : in fact, she would never marry at all. Again Gage knelt, entreated, protested. She — and she alone, had been the cause of his wildness and folly. He had striven to forget her, but had failed. He now deplored his reckless conduct, and severely blamed himself. But he would reform — he wished to reform — he intended to reform. A wife would entirely change his character — would make another man of him. Clare should see how steady he would become. He was tired of town life, and would reside altogether at Monthermer Castle. She might shake her head, but it was quite true. It was nonsense to recommend some one else to him. No other woman but she should be his bride Would she drive him to desperation by persisting in a refusal ? Refuse him, however, Clare did ; gently, kindly, but firmly.

If Gage was irritated and keenly wounded in his self-love by Clare's decision, her father was mortified and hurt in a much greater degree. To the last he had indulged the hope that all would come right. His daughter's unqualified rejection of Gage came like a clap of thunder upon him — and for a while took away his power of utterance. When he recovered his speech, he poured the vials of his wrath upon her head. She did not seem frightened, and when he had done, merely observed : " Were no other reasons wanting, father, you your self would be an insuperable obstacle to the match." His guardianship having expired, Mr. Fairlie offered to resign the managerial post he had hitherto filled to whomsoever the young gentleman might appoint. As he expected, he was urgently solicited to retain the office — and he reluctantly con sented.

Next came a point the consideration of which could no longer be postponed— namely, the adjustment of accounts between guardian and ward. Theformer,it appeared, had advanced to the latter, during the two years of his minority, no less a sum than fifty-two thousand pounds ; thus leaving Gage only a beggarly eight thousand for the first year of his coming into possession. Mr. Fairlie showed the astounded young man how extensively he had been pigeoned at college, what sums he had squandered at Paris upon Mademoiselle Colombe Mirepoix of the Grand Opera — how he had been plundered at the gaming-tables of the Palais Royal — how egregiously he had been duped at Naples by Signora Fulgioso, an adventuress whom he had taken for a duchess — how lavishly he had satisfied the demands of Senora Catalina Hermoso, prima ballerina at Seville — how he had been fleeced by Count Schaffiroff,lieutenant colonel of the Semenovvsky Guards at St. Petersburg — how he had paid the debts, twice over, of the charming Baroness Von Frolichlieben at Vienna — and how, in short, in one way or other, he had contrived to get through upwards of fifty thousand pounds.

Aghast at this recapitulation of his extravagance, Gage vowed he was not aware he had spent half so much, and endeavoured to hide his confusion by feign ing to examine the accounts which Mr. Fairlie again pressed upon him. But he was soon tired of the task, and hastily signed a document, which was neither more nor less than his crafty guardian's full and complete release and discharge, by way of getting rid of a disagreeable matter. hailed their appearance with unfeigned delight. All six were choice spirits — at least, Gage thought them so — various shades and grades of the fop, the rake, and the gambler. One he had met abroad — another in town — while the rest were old college chums, two of whom had partici pated in his pastimes at the University, and shared his disgrace. With two exceptions, they were all very young men ; indeed, the oldest of them was not more than thirty-five, and in right of his seniority, this person shall be first described.

How stars of the first brilliancy in the fashionable hemisphere pale, and are for ever extinguished ! From 1720 to — 30, who did not know Beau Freke ? Who knew him ten years later ? Who recollects him now ? Renowned for his daring gal lantry — his success at play — his address at arms — (he had fought four duels, and each time killed his adversary) — his magnificent exterior, and his consummate taste in dress, Beau Freke was an arbiter in all matters of elegance and fashion. He was fond of taking young men in hand, and launching them into the world — though they generally paid rather dearly for their tuition — and with this view he had attached himself to Monthermer. Gage looked upon him as a model, worthy of imitation ; and hoped some day to be like him. In point of rank, the most important of the visitors was Lord Melton, a young nobleman who was a good deal upon the turf ; who consorted chiefly with blacklegs and jockeys, and looked like a blackleg and a jockey himself, betted heavily, and ran horses at Newmarket, Doncaster, York, Lincoln, and every other race-course in England.

Next in consequence to the sporting lord, but incomparably his superior in manner and personal appearance, was Sir Randal de Meschines, the representative of a very ancient Cheshire family — a young man, reputed to be very rich, and known to be very profligate. Sir Randal had been one of Beau Freke's pupils, and did full credit to his instructor. Nat Mist and Jack Brassey were only varieties of the same genus. As we have mentioned, they had been expelled from Oxford at the same time as Gage. The last on the list, and noticeable in some respects from the others, was Brice Bunbury. An odd fellow was Brice, and very popular with a certain set of men about town. He was much patronized by Beau Frekl, who found him very useful, " So I have only a paltry eight thousand for the present year, eh, Fairlie ?

" he remarked. " How the deuce am I to live upon it, eh ? " " Oh, you can have any money you please, of course, sir," the other replied ; " but you'll excuse me for saying that eight thousand pounds ought to go a long way — a very long way." "It won't go a long way with me, Fairlie, I can tell you. I'll begin to economize next year," Gage rejoined, walking away. " Next year," the steward muttered, looking after him with a meaning smile. " He economize — very likely."

Chapter II. Visitors To The Castle

— A GAME AT GLEEK. While Gage was yet smarting from his wound, half a dozen visitors arrived at the Castle ; and as they were precisely the kind of persons calculated to cheer him, he country gentlemen— who had stayed on after the great rejoicings, to which half the county had been invited, so that the place was pretty full; and a large party was assembled daily in the servants'-hall, at which Messrs. Tibbits and Trickett cut a conspicuous figure, and discoursed of town life and town pleasures, Vauxhall, Rane lagh, and Marylebone Gardens, masquerades, routs, and ridottos, to the delight and bewilderment of the cook and the upper housemaids, who longed to participate in such amusements. To be sure, they had heard something of the kind from Mr. Bellairs, young master's valet, but never such piquant details as were now given, which made them blush and giggle at the same time ; and then Mr. Bellairs was too consequential, and kept himself too much to himself ; and they couldn't very well understand the foreign lingo of Monsieur Silvain Chassemouche, the French valet, whom young master had picked up in Paris — a smart gentleman enough, with a powdered peruke, and a prodigiously long plaited queue, reaching down to the middle of his back, but not much accustomed to English ways.

Mr. Pudsey, the butler, was mightily pleased with the new comers, and invited them to spend the evening with him in his room, where they sat down, five of 'em, including Bellairsand Chassemouche, to a few bottles of old Squire Warwick's best burgundy, pronounced exquisite by Silvain. After that, the table was cleared for a game at piquet, from which Mr. Trickett, as usual, came off a winner. At social and friendly meetings like these, their masters' characters were freely dis cussed, and Mr. Bellairs did not hesitate to give his opinion that the young squire would run through his property pretty quickly — an opinion which was backed by Pudsey and Chassemouche, the latter of whom said that the young gentleman had been joliment tourbe at Paris, and was sure to be diable ment trompe a Londres.

Mr. Tibbits and Mr. Trickett both entirely concurred in this view of the case, and affirmed that their masters were not the men to let such an easy dupe slip through their fingers. " Brice Bunbury has his eye upon him, I can see," Mr. Trickett added. and employed him upon some secret ser vices not particularly creditable to Brice's notions of propriety and morality. But Brice was not strict. Strange how he got on. He had nothing — that was notorious. Yet he dressed well, dined well, lodged well — but always at other people's expense. Sometimes one person paid for him, some times another. Always borrowing a trifle, he never repaid the loan. On the other hand, it must be admitted that Brice Bun bury was worth a whole host of ordinary led captains and parasites. He was very droll and diverting, picked up all sorts of information about pretty actresses and pretty women generally, and could convey a message or a billet-doux, if required, with unequalled dexterity or effrontery.

Brice had already dipped a little into Gage's purse ; and he was so delighted with the accommodating disposition of the young man, that he resolved to devote himself exclusively to him ; that is, so long as the young man's purse should be well supplied, and continue accessible. Mr. Fairlie was perfectly aware of the character of the visitors, and if his scheme had been successful, and his daughter had been engaged to young Monthermer, he would h ve done his best to prevent them from entering the house. As it was, he was not displeased to make the acquaint ance of persons whom he felt sure would be useful to him in his ulterior designs. Beau Freke and Sir Randal came together in the travelling carriage of the latter, and Brice Bunbury was accommodated with a seat in the rear of the conveyance, which he was compelled to share with Mr. Tibbits and Mr. Trickett, the two fine gentlemen's very fine gentlemen.