The Works of Lady Blessington

Chapter I

to you," replied Arlington. " I waste my money and time; yon, your time and health; which then is the more unwise? I live in lhe world and am of it; you pass through it, as on a forced march — your person in it, but your thoughts engaged in some Utopian speculation for bettering mankind; while the specimen of that genus, which ought, ac-cording to worldly wisdom, the most lo interest nnd occupy you — namely, yourself, is left to chance, the very worst guardian a man can choose for his per sonal comfort." In acquiring a knowledge of the world, we are too apt to lose a knowledge of self — Few, if any, ever perfectly understood both. " You are late this morning, my dear Desbrow," said Lord Arlington, as he entered the dressing-room of his friend, who had not yet exchanged his robe de chambre for his morning toilette. — " How jaded you look; but no wonder, for I dare be sworn you have passed the night in the House of Commons."

" You are correct in your surmise," replied Mr. Desbrow. " I did not get away until six o'clock this morning, and had the mortification to find myself voting in a most discouraging minority, and to have lost sleep, breath, and time for no purpose." " You do not include the worst part of the penalty," said Lord Arlington; "the inhaling of the pestiferous air of the most impure atmosphere in London, the effects of which are even now visible in your languid visage — chacun k son gout. 1 left Crockford's exactly al the same hour that you left St. Stephen's, having paired off with Welsford, and sought my pillow with the comfortable reflection of being a winner of three thousand pounds, which dame Fortune most opportunely sent me, when 1 was meditating the last resource of the destitute — a penitential letter to my father, or an application to a friend.

For the Jews begin to look grave at my pro posals — ungrateful rascals as they are — after my voting for their emancipation. Hang the dogs, I wish they would eman cipate us." " Will you never grow wise, Arlington?" asked his friend. " It is true," said Desbrow; " I think, perhaps, less of self, lhan do the general ity of men. But, I claim little merit for this self-abnegation; as, with my views, enjoyment of life must spring from a con sciousness of duties discharged, or at least, attempted to be discharged; and if personal gratification is alone to be made the guide of our actions, I fear few would attend to duties, as many, if not all of them are performed with some personal sacrifice." " You will end by becoming a saint, my dear Desbrow," said Arlington; " but saint or sinner, I shall always love you, though for my soul, 1 can't tell why, as no two creatures are more unlike than we are.

I wish I could get you to come to Crock ford's of a night, and become one of us choice spirits." "And I," returned Desbrow, "wish I could get you to wait for divisions at the House, and go to Brooks's oftener than to White's; in short, to become one of us, I won't say choice spirits, but plodding spirits, who think more of country, than of self." •' When you show me the good that results from your exertions," said Arlington, " I may be inclined to listen to your coun sel; but, until then, I shall continue to "Just the question I was about to put Vol. 1.—2 amuse myself through the journey of life, while you add to its tediousnessby examining every obstruction in your path, for the sake, forsooth, of rendering it more easy to future generations. Now I, like the quaint reasoner, who preferred the pre sent to the future, am inclined to ask what has posterity done for us] and the answer being ' Nothing,' I am disposed to treat it with equal disregard.

Spare me, dear Desbrow, the lecture that your grave looks and ominous shake of the head indicate. I must be off, as I have ten thousand places to go to, and ten thousand things to do; so adieu — au revoir — we shall meet at the House, for I must show myself there, and look out for a pair, as I dine with Elles mere at eight, and would not miss being there for all the questions that have been, or will be discussed this session." she is favorable; and if ht> loses, which, by some unaccountable (as he calls it) fatality, occurs much more frequently, he equally continues to gamble, because he has lost too much to leave off without try ing to recover some part, and so plays until fortune and honor have left him for ever." " By Jove, you have read me a rare lec ture," said Arlington; " if C rocky heard it, he would think himself half ruined."

" Let us be serious for this once," said Desbrow. " If you have debts, I can lend you sufficient to pay them; but promise me to play no more; do this, dear Arlington, as a proof of friendship." "Well, well," said Arlington, "I will compromise with you, by giving my word of honor not to play for a year; will that content you?" " I am satisfied," said Desbrow, shaking him by the hand; " and now recollect that I am your banker for the payment of all debts, and do not again mortify your father by letting him know that his last year's liberality has not redeemed or reclaimed you." " You are a strange fellow, Desbrow," said Arlington, musingly. "Here you are ready to lend me thousands, with but a remote prospect of payment; and yet it was only yesterday that you denied your self the two hunters that tempted you at Anderson's. I have still sufficient grace to appreciate this self-denial, though, alas! not to practise it; but among the set I live with, it would be set down as a certain proof of your total want of nous — a want they can as rarely pardon as understand."

"And yet, Arlington, those are the people with whom you live. How can you associate, day after day, with such persons? Can you consider those as friends, who could only be useful as con federates. " One word before you go," said Des brow; " pray let me implore you to abandon play." " What! was there ever such a Goth as to make such a request, the morning after I have won three thousand?" " Better to make it after you have won, than after you have lost," said Desbrow. " Remember, my dear Arlington, we are old friends: if you find. yourself under any pecuniary embarrassments in which I can be of use, command me — readily, cheerfully will I assist you; but I should be wanting in friendship, were I not to im press on your mind, that play will ren der the aid of friends useless, by draw ing present distress and future ruin on you, if you continue to indulge in it.

The pecuniary losses, which must ever be the certain result of play, great as are the embarrassments they lead to, are the least of the evils it entails. Gaming creates a moral torpedo, which palsies every noble and generous feeling in the heart of him who yields to it, rendering him reckless of his own future happiness, and cal lous with regard to thatof those who depend on him for theirs. He who wins or loses thousands, becomes careless of hundreds; because he believes with the credulity that ever appertains to the votaries of fortune, that she changes her smiles too frequently not to visit him occasionally. The more he loses, the more he calculates on a re action that will repay him his losses; and his expenses are incurred with a reference to his possible gains, but never to his possible losses; hence, heavy debts are added to the list of his troubles.

If he wins, he continues to play, because it would be folly to abandon fortune when " Why no," replied Arlington, " I am not sufficiently stupid to consider them as friends, according to the real acceptation of the word. I call my associates at Crock ford's'les amis de hasard.' 1 anticipate all you would say, Desbrow, and feel its justice. 1 know the worthlessness of my companions; and if I am indulgent to their heartlessness and gross selfishness, it is because I am conscious of my own sins, in at least that point. I sometimes think I am formed for better things, mais que voulez vous? 1 have fallen into a certain routine, from which I have not mental courage enough to disentangle myself; and I vent my contempt of my own weakness, in satirical observations, on those who have lured me into it.

Now you, dear Des brow — forgive my candor — might have saved me, had you been less Quixotic, less abstract in your theories; but the gulf between mere common-place sen sualists, living only for themselves, and you, who live only for others, appeared too wide to be spanned by any arch that I could ever imagine; and so, I have re mained on the terra firma of positive clay, while you have soared into purer regions. Apathy is my bane; and is one of the worst moral diseases, because it incapa citates us from combatting the encroachments of vice, or of opening our souls to the approaches of virtue." " Feeling this, my dear Arlington, can you still submit to abandon yourself to the vortex of dissipation and folly, in which you have been wasting all the best facul ties of your mind?" " Why, I have somewhere read," said the insouciant Arlington, "that they who have not been scathed by vice, know not how to appreciate virtue, which, like health and wealth, are never fully valued — until — lost.

Now, I have bought my experience; and no one values goodness more than 1 do, though few practise it less." ference of the worm, who leaves some high born lord or lady, to banquet on some ignoble peasant." " Spare me such hideous pictures," said Arlington; "really, Desbrow, you are too bad; but to reply to you in your own style, if we are condemned to mingle our fine porcelain with the vile pottery of vulgar earth in the grave, it is no reason that we should mix it while we have the power of selection. But you have entrapped me into a discussion on the future, when I have a thousand rare projects for the pre sent. I cannot give up the dinner at Elles mere House. Lady VValmer is to be there, and I would not miss meeting her for — no — not even for your best commendations, my dear Desbrow, though I do value them. —So adieu."

" Stay one moment," said Desbrow, lay ing his hand on the arm of his friend. " I have known you to be imprudent, unthink ing — a gamester; but I helieved not that you could harbor, and utiblushingly avow, an attachment to a married woman, and that woman the wife of one friend, and the sister of another. This is dreadful." " I am notaware," said Arlington, coldly, " that I have avowed an attachment: but if I did, I see nothing so very dreadful, as you are pleased to call it, in the affair. Lady Walmer is certainly the wife and sister of two men who are my friends; how the deuce else, should I have gained ad mittance, on such a familiar footing, in the house; and consequently, how should I have had opportunities of knowing and liking her, or of making her like me. Peo ple are blamed for betrayals of friendship in such cases; but I say that it is the friend ship that betrays, by giving the opportuni ties for such betrayals."

"This is mere sophistry, Arlington, and unworthy of you," said Desbrow. " I cannot, will not, allow myself to think that you are capable of the conduct I rep rehend. No, unthinking as you are, you have too good a heart to wish to destroy the happiness of a family who have treated. you with confidence and friendship." An observer might have noticed the heightened color and embarrassed air of Arlington, as his friend, in the warmth of his feelings, shook him cordially by the hand, repeating again lhat he disbelieved him capable of such selfishness and decep tion. " A truce to raillery, I beg," said Des brow; let me entreat you to gratify me by consenting to give up your dinner at Elles niere house to-day. 1 know there will be a division." "Yes," said Arlington, "and we, as usual, shall find ourselves in an inglorious minority with the fag end of the Liberals.

Faugh! it makes me sick, to see our names mingled with those of men who owe their seats to reform, and whose presence offers the strongest argument against a measure that has opened Parliament to such ignorant pretenders." " Ah! there is the old leaven of aristocratic prejudices peeping forth," said Des brow; " you glory in the opinions which influence your votes, but are ashamed of the company in which the votes are given. It reminds me of an Irish lady, who turned protestant because there are no pews in the Catholic churches, and that all ranks are mingled together, without respect to per sons. How, with such feeling, shall you aristocrats support the notion of the equality of the grave, the unceremonious con tact of vulgar clay, and the impartial precan sti!l boast, which proves that noblemen and gentlemen may be considered synony mous terms.

He had horses on the turf, because he thought it incumbent on per sons of his station and fortune, to encou rage the breed of horses; but he was never seen to come in contact with blacklegs cr jockeys; he lost regularly at every New market meeting, to the surprise of no one but himself, as he continued to pursue the same unsophisticated system in betting, that he had been initiated into forty years before, and consoled himself for his losses, by seeing only the most distinguished names in his betling-book. Arlington once ventured to insinuate to him, that his repeated defeats on the turf were to be at tributed to his disdaining to practise the stratagems, or to take advantage of the in formation to be acquired from certain per sons, whose extraordinary sagacity in such matters no one questioned, and of-which few failed to avail themselves when op portunity offered; nay, he hinted that many of the noble names who figured on the creditor side of his father's book, were more than suspeetrd of a prescience with regard to winning horses, that mere experience could not furnish; but the air of of fended dignity, with which the venerable nobleman repelled the suspicion, so degra ding to "his order," precluded his recurring to it, except at the risk of offending him, which Arlington was by no means willing to do, as he was much attached to his father.

His associates at the clubs failed not to animadvert on the patriarchal simplicity, as they termed it, of Lord Heatherfield; or to take advantage of it, by backing horses against the favorite horse, which his lordship — an admirable judge of horseflesh — thought certain of winning. Many were the pleasantries passed at the hazard table at Crockford's, on the facility of securing hundreds by betting against him; nay, some went so far as to advise Arlington to keep the money in the family, by offering his father the lorn* odds against all his favorites: but ihe gravity with which the counsel was received, prevented its being renewed; as, however he might regret the large and repeated losses of Lord Heatherfield, he was little disposed to permit any jukes at his parent's expense — at least in his presence.

Chapter II

, 4 We are often ashamed of our friends, when it is they who have cause to be ashamed of us." Lord Arlington was right when he observed that no two persons could be more unlike than he and his friend, yet a very sincere friendship subsisted between them; a friendship that might have given Des brow as much power as he had inclination, to draw Arlington away from the futile so ciety and pursuits which were enfeebling his mental powers, and hardening his heart, but that, unfortunately, the former's uncompromising severity of morals was accompanied by a devotion to liberalism in politics, that often led him into posi tions which exposed him to the ridicule of his opponents. The " world's dread laugh,*' which had, on more than one occasion, followed a speech of his, uniting the elevated moral code of a Plato, with the enthusiasm and fire of aMirabeau, had alarmed the more worldly mind of Arling ton, who shrank back affrighted from the influence that Desbro-v had hitherto exercised over his opinions, and the sarcastic mockery with which he had heard his name assailed at the clubs, though it failed to lessen his friendship, had the effect of decreasing his respect for Desbrow, until, by degrees, he had grown to think him a mere visionary, more likely to injure than advance any cause he espoused, and whose counsel it would be weakness to follow.

Lord Arlington was the only son of the Marquis of Heatherfield, a nobleman of the old school, as remarkable for high principles, as for high breeding, and as strictly honorable in practice as in theory. He was not like too many of our modern men of high station, who would resent the slightest imputation on their honor, yet commit actions which proved, that while they worshipped the shadow, ihey were careless of the substance. Courage with him was something more than an impulse dependingonmere physical force, or adopt ed with reference to conventional opinions. He had not the courage, so common in our days, of tergiversation in his politics; he had not one opinion when his party was in, and another when out of office, on the plea of expediency; he could not sell a friend or foe, an unsound horse, or give an insincere opinion; he could not overreach a simpleton, or compete with a rogue; in short, he was an old-fashioned gentleman, as gentlemen ought ever to be, and one of the admirable specimens that England Though young in years, Arlington was old in experience; he had not passed five seasons in the artificial atmosphere of London, without having experienced its chilling influence on the affections, and its petrifying power on the opinions which threatened to become fixed in the cold ri gidity of unbending selfishness; yet, there were moments when the natural warmth and goodness of his nature, triumphed over his acquired egotism, and left him open to better feelings.

In such moments, he turned from the venal herd with wliich he associated, to that honorable and high minded father, or to his generous and sin gle hearted, though eccentric friend, Des brow, and sought in their society a relief from the apathetic torpor that was growing on him. But exploded maxims and Quix otic sentiments from the one, and exag gerated opinions and Utopian systems of impracticable perfectibility from the other, discouraged his advances, and he fell again into the gay but heartless circle, where an epigram, a sarcasm, or a bon mot, launched with unerring aim against all that is most respectable, never failed to turn the laugh against it, and to win for the authors that applause which silences dissenters and gains partisans. Worldly wisdom was considered the science most necessary to be acquired in Arlington's set; but their definition of the term was so widely apart from the general acceptation of it in other circles, that an adept in the science at Crockford's, would be considered as little short of a madman, among the wise men of the east — of Tem ple Bar.

For the rich, to stake thousands on the chance of winning, and the poor, to Tisk as much on a similar hazard, but with the advantage of being unable to pay, is a common every night occurrence in the gilded saloons of St. James's Street; but to know how to calculate the odds, when to back a cast, in or out, requires that peculiar worldly wisdom, which can only be gained by a frequent attendance at a place that may not be named to " ears polite," and whence, contrary to the old received opinion, the presence of its nightly visi tors, at all the places of fashionable resort, proves that there is a redemption. Arlington had, like all his associates, won some hundreds, and lost some thou sands; still he believed himself not only a lucky but a scientific player. Whether he was the last, we will not stop to in quire, but that, on the whole, he might be considered the former, we are ready to ad mit; as he had, for five seasons, persevered in putting his luck to the proof, and was not yet ruined; having only exhausted one year's income, and anticipated another, independent of some thousands paid for him by his liberal father.

Arlington's days passed in a round of vapid amusement, that filled up his time, but failed to afford him any rational enjoy ment; a latent feeling frequently reminded him that he was formed tor better things, and there were moments when he turned away disgusted, if not sated, from the routine of empty pleasures, into whose vortex he had plunged; but habit, that giant who enslaves even more than did the fabled giants of old, still held him in its chains: and though he had learnt by ex perience that pleasure is not happiness, he continued to act as if he knew not the distinction, mentally promising himself, that some day or other (that indefinite epoch, referred to by all who meditate amendment) he would shake off the inglo rious thraldom of fashion, and live a different life. Desbrow was of a different character from Arlington, and his pursuits rendered the difference still more apparent.

Left an orphan at an early age, and heir to a very large fortune, he had been sent to a preparatory school when only six years old, and there the first impression of friendship was stamped on his ductile heart by Arlington, a lively affectionate boy of his own age, who returned it with all the warmth of childhood. From this private school they were sent, nearly at the same age, to Eton, where the friendship, commenced in infancy, " grew with their growth, and strengthened with their strength." But even at this early period, each had discovered that his friend was not exactly like himself, and the discovery often gave pain. Desbrow was never so happy as when, during the play hours, he devoured, rather than read, some abridged history or romance; and his chest would expand, his cheeks glow, and his eyes flash, as some trait of heroic courage, or noble self-devotion, was brought before him on the page.

He would peruse it aloud, and with enthusiasm turn to grasp the hand of Arlington, and claim his sym pathy; but Arlington's approbation was so cold and measured, in comparison with his feelings, that Desbrow, disconcerted and chilled, could not, at such moments, but grieve that his friend felt not as he did. Arlington, on his side, thought that the time allotted for recreation might be much better employed than in reading; yet, he often remained with Desbrow, be cause he enjoyed not play without him, though his thoughts all the time were in the play-ground. Notwithstanding that the abstraction of 2* Desbrow produced some wonder and occasional sneers from his juvenile companions, his abilities, generosity, and high courage had won their esteem. Amongst them he was a sort of privileged person, whose eccentricities, if they repelled familiarity, precluded not respect; but Arlington was the most popular boy at Eton, and used his popularity, as it is but too generally used, as a means of at taining his own object, which was simply amusement; Desbrow being the only per son who resisted his daily devised plans of pleasure, though the only person whose companionship in them, he condescended to solicit. he had ceased to reflect on its original cause.

With a strong bias to Tory politics, he became a violent Liberal, for the sole purpose, as he declared, of assisting to humble the proud aristocrats; and sup ported many a measure in direct violation of his judgment, to further this desired end. How many of the most intemperate politicians, of all parties, have been led by equally futile causes, originating in selfish disappointments or personal piques? How many pseudo patriots has the refusal of a minister made? and how many ultra Tories have sprung into life from similar reasons? Mr. Beaumont had talked to Desbrow of the pride, heartlessness, and selfishness of the aristocracy, as if such defects were peculiar to that class, and not appertaining to the whole mass of mankind; and the ductile mind of his ward had received the impression, ere reason or experience had enabled him to refute the injurious fallacy.

Thus, he learned to look with suspicion on those with whom his station of life had cast him, and was ready to advocate any measure that tended to elevate the classes which he was led to consider their opponents. At Cambridge the exclusiveness of a few of the scions of nobility, still far ther increased Desbrow's preconceived dislike to them; and fixed in him prejudices that, if not impossible to be eradi cated, were at least difficult to be con quered. The dissimilarity of their tastes and pursuits chilled not the attachment that united them. Desbrow had often extri cated his friend from pecuniary embarrassments, brought on by extravagance, though his allowance was considerably less than lhat of Arlington: and, at such moments, the latter felt that to the self denial of Desbrow he owed his escape from the mortifying necessity of appealing to a father, whose liberality ought to have prevented his son from being driven to such expedients.

Prudent resolutions al ways followed such reflections, but they faded away before the first temptation that assailed them: and the youths left Eton for Cambridge nearly at the same time, with no feeling in common save that of friendship. Desbrow's guardian, Mr. Beaumont, a near relative, of large fortune and misanthropic habits, was the most unfit person to whom he could be confided. His vaca tions were spent with him; and the baleful influence his dogmatical theories acquired over the mind of his ward, was evident when he returned from his visits, by an increased seclusion, and a more un bending adherence to his own opinions. Mr. Beaumont, in his youth, had been jilted by a young lady, to whom he was passionately attached, and of whose affec tion he thought himself secure. Of a naturally morose turn of mind, this disap pointment soured his nature, and he visited on the whole sex, nay, on all the world, the dislike that the inconstancy of the lady, had engendered towards his species.

To the aristocracy he indulged a hatred that he missed no opportunity of betraying. This feeling had its source in the circumstances, that she who had de ceived, and the rival who had supplanted him, both belonged to that class; and this hatred influenced his conduct, long after

Chapter III

44 Dans un salon, l'enthousiasme est de mau vais gout, il fait dissonance avec le ton frnidenient poli qui est d'etiquette, comme des gants glao.s; a la tribune national, I'eloquence est une conversation, les m.ins dans les poches; et si Mirabeau ressucit^y apparaissait avec les foudres de sa voix, et les passions fougueuses de sa dial^ctique, les centres lui riraientau nez, et le president le rapellerait a 1'ordre." A visit made at Heathfield Castle, and an intimacy formed with its noble owner, did more towards correcting the false im pressions of Desbrow, than all the inter course he had yet had with the aristocracy. The genuine nobleness, candor, and dig nified simplicity of Lord Heatherfield, soon made themselves felt, and were as soon appreciated by Desbrow; who quickly learned to respect even the prejudices of the venerable nobleman, intermingled as they were with so many virtues and esti mable qualities.

Lord Heatherfield, on his side, formed a high estimation of his son's friend; in truth, notwithstanding the difference of their political opinions, as well as ages, the characters of the two ap proximated much more closely lhan did that of either with Arlington's; for there was a certain degree of enthusiasm in both, which found a chord that vibrated in the heart of the other. blameable prejudices, while unjustly de crying Lord Heatherfield. " You will end," would the old man say to his ward, " by being — I won't say ele vated, but degraded, to the peerage, which will be the price paid for the relinquish ment of your independence of opinion. I see it all: that old courtier and his unprin cipled son have made an apostate of you." "Pardon me, my dear Mr. Beaumont," would Desbrow reply, " but you quite mis take the character of the Marquis of Hea therfield and that of his son."

If Desbrow learned to think better of the aristocracy, from his intimacy with one of the most excellent of its members, Lord Heatherfield was taught to judge more leniently the classes who had found so warm and high-minded a defender in Des brow. The prejudices of both yielded to thesalutary effects produced by witnessing the admirable qualities of each other, and having arrived at esteem, they soon began to respect their hitherto severely-judged opponents — the first and great step towards that most desirable stage in the march of intellect — conciliation. How many kind hearts and congenial natures are kept apart by political prejudices; hearts and natures, that, if known to each other, might have broken down the hitherto impregnable for tresses and ramparts of prejudice that di vided them.