Horace Grantham; or the Neglected Son

Front matter

HORACE GRANTHAM; OE, THE NEGLECTED SON. BY CHARLES HORROCKS, ESQ. LATE CAPTAIN H.M. 15TH REGIMENT. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: WILLIAM SHOBERL, PUBLISHER, 20, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET . 1852. London: Myers & Co., Printers, 22, Taviitockstreet, Covent Garden. DEDICATION. Madam, Having received the gracious permission to dedicate the following pages to your Imperial Highness, it behoves me to avail myself, with the most profound respect, of this opportunity, to offer my most grateful thanks, not only for the honour thus conferred upon me, but also for the uniform kindness, the considerate and condescend ing solicitude, Avith which myself, and other members of my family, have been treated by your Imperial Highness for many years. The happiest periods of my life have been spent at Weimar, which place, indeed, cannot be men tioned, or thought of, without an involuntary reference to your Imperial Highness's long resi dence there ; beloA'cd and respected by your subjects, as well as by those, who, strangers like myself, have ample cause to testify their humble acknoAvledgments of the gracious reception they have invariably met Avith at your Coiirt.

VI DEDICATION. All however are not equally fortunate. Many who read this Dedication will heartily respond to my sentiments, but to me is reserved the privilege of expressing them ; and the hope of this it was, which prompted my desire to dedicate the first effort of my pen to your Imperial Highness, as a humble tribute, both of my respect and gratitude. Connected as I am Avith Weimar, by a tie which never can be broken, your Imperial Highness's condescension to me on this occasion affords me thc greatest satisfaction, as it adds another fink to the chain, which so effectually binds my sympathies to the place. With a most earnest Avish for your Imperial Highness's welfare and happiness, I haAre the honour to subscribe myself, Madam, Your Imperial Highness's Devoted serA'ant, CHARLES HORROCKS. (Late Capt. H. M. 15th Regt.) To Her Imperial Highness, Marie Pavlovna, Grand Duchess of Saxe, and Russia. Weimar, December, 1851.

Preface

Impressed, as I have long deeply been, with the conviction, that not only the follies, dissipation and recklessness, but also the vices which characterize the Youth of the present day, are mainly brought about by the bad example, the total Avant of feeling, or fashionable indifference of their Parents, I have endeavoured, in the following pages, to trace the all but fatal effects of such con duct, on a young man of a sensitive and honourable nature, Avho, pining for sympathy and understood by none, most fortunately for himself, at the very moment Avhen, like many others, his Destiny for Good or Evil, Virtue or Vice, Avas to be decided for ever, meets with one, who sees and understands, Avho stretches forth his hand and saves ! There are exceptions to every rule; con sequently, it is scarcely necessary for me to remark, that, no doubt, there are cases of natural or unnatural depravity, where all Affection is throAvn away, all Precept,

PREFACE.

. nay, all Example, is entirely lost. Yet I firmly believe such to be " few and far between;" that a close observer of hu man nature, of social life, one who would fain analyze the mysterious and accursed, yet often plausible system, of which Society is composed, must be impressed Avith the conviction, that, as "Ye cannot Avorship God and Mammon," neither can ye expect the affection, though for a certain period ye can enforce the obedience, of Children, who have been neglected for Self, who have been set aside on frivolous ex cuses, and left to battle with the World, uncared for and alone. As a pleasing contrast to this melancholy picture, I have derived great delight in portraying the characters that compose Mr. Cecil's family, where Virtue, and con sequently Happiness — let Philosophers rea son as they will — go hand in hand, where selfishness, worldliness, and pride, are made subservient to natural affection, duty and benevolence.

C. H. ERRATA. Vol. I. Page 4, line 11, dele " morning." „ 25, „ 2, for " mechanic " read " mechanician." „ 25, „ 1 1, for "dreadful dreary " read" miserable. „ 72, „ 18, dele " was." ,. 84, „ 13, dele" having." ,, 113, ,, 15, for " limited" read " varied." „ 133, „ 5, after " has " insert " ever." „ 136, ,, 8, for " affliction " read " annoyance" „ 139, „ 5, for " it is, I admit, as in " read " I blush. „ 143, „ 9, before " I was " insert " yet."

Chapter I

" Horace, Avhat did I say to you the other day about your grandfather ? " These words were addressed by a hand some, fashionable-looking man of about fifty years of age, who had j ust entered the break fast-room of a newly furnished recherche mansion at the west-end of London, to his only son, who, Avith his back to the fire, was evidently meditating an attack upon a de licious ham on the well-stocked sideboard. VOL. I. B However, the ominous, half pleased, half anxious tone of voice in which his father spoke, changed the current of the young man's thoughts quickly, for he turned and, looking him directly in the face, replied, " I do not recollect, sir; hasany thing happened ?" "Yes, indeed," said Mr. Grantham " some thing has happened, but what did I say? Horace, what did I say?" " Why sir," said Horace, " as I conclude from your mentioning my grandfather, you now allude to him, I recollect your remarking that you were sure he could not live long, though in perfect health.

I sincerely hope that no mishap has befallen the old gentleman." " Horace," replied his father, Avho could not (man of the world as he was, in the strictest sense of the Avord) conceal his satisfaction, even on so solemn an occasion, " I said the old man could not have long to live, and I kneAV it — here is the letter — your grandfather is dead — apoplexy. I am cer tain you are now a far richer man than myself, and I Avish you joy ! You must be off to Scotland by to-night's train to attend the funeral. I shall be most anxious to hear from you." The intelligence thus suddenly communi cated to Horace Grantham was totally un expected by him, and was of startling import — both father and son had reason to believe that Horace would succeed to the reputed enormous wealth of his grandfather, Mr. Macgregor, now no more.

To the worldly father (who cared no more for Horace than for his groom, or less) the prospect of his now splendid position, greatly increased his son's value in his estimation. As to Horace, the news Avas so unexpected that he could scarcely understand it. At this moment, a richly-dressed, fashionable, but by no means elegant looking female, entered the room. She seemed about thirty years of age, and was rather comely in appearance. An eternal smile lit up her features, and, to judge by her toute ensemble, one would have said — " that b woman never knew misfortune," and it will not be her fault if she ever does. She was accompanied by a terrier of the pure Scotch breed, who seemed quite as jolly as herself. Indeed, this entree was all that the butler seemed waiting for — as in this Avell-regu lated establishment all moved like clock- Avork.

That domestic followed with break fast ; the lady made her morning salutation to the two gentlemen, her husband and step son, and all three sat down to the morning repast. The conversation, which had been thus interrupted, was now resumed. ''Have you any letters Mr. Grantham, this morning?" said the lady, Avith the tone of a person, who, thinking it necessary to say something, does so, but evidently with no interest as to the reply. " I have," replied ber husband, who, though a man of the most violent temper, was, this morning, highly pleased — firstly, Avith his own ingenuity in having foretold Mr. Macgregor's demise ; and, secondly, at the prospect of his having his son now en tirely off his hands — " Just guess, Mrs. Grantham." " Guess," replied his Avife, laughing, " I never could guess anything — Horace, your father is in one of his tanta lizing humours — what news is this?"

Oh! that word " news," how dear it is to all, but particularly so to the idle, the frivolous, and the little minded; of which class the jolly lady of thirty was a fair specimen — news, of hoAV many descriptions, of Avhat various sorts, with Avhat different feelings do differ ent people expect and look for news ! What is " great neAvs " to some, is none to others ; small talk to some, is great talk to others ; and, if Ave look closely, Ave shall find that both " news and talk " have their relative value, according to the people Avho receive the one, and make use of the other. " Oh, Adelaide," said Horace, who smiled at his step-mother, we suppose because he could not resist her really pleasant-looking face, " has not my father told you that I am now no longer the ' poor ex-Captain,' the roan of ways and means?

The metamor phosis is supposed to be as complete as any in the Arabian Nights. I see you are all anxiety. My father tells me that Mr. Mac gregor is dead — poor old gentleman, he Avas kind to me when I was a boy — but every body is kind to boys." Horace here stopped abruptly, for he felt he had spoken inadvertently a "jarring Avord." He saAv his father frown, and he knew the cause. Does the reader know? If not, let us explain: — Mr. Grantham had never been kind to his boy, fine, and noble a boy as he had been. Both father and son knew this — the latter eelt it. The former could not feel, therefore, any allusion to feeling annoyed him, which is always the case with such people. " Yes," resumed Horace, after a pause, " I suppose, Adelaide, I shall now have no difficulty in getting to Almack's, or the Duke's, or the Honourables of all grades.

I suppose £5,000 a year will be enough for me, or will it be £10,000?" " My dear Horace," said his step-mother, now fairly roused from her trance, " I de clare I am quite happy — hoAV very unex pected ! It is the most fortunate thing I ever heard of." Let not our readers suppose that the lady meant anything unfeeling by this speech. In fact, she intended to show her good feeling — and, as far as it went, it was good feeling to Horace, whom she liked, because he was a more suitable and agreeable com panion to her than her husband, who was twenty-two years older than herself, and seldom agreeable to any one. "Mrs. Grantham," said her husband, Avho was noAV deep in the " Times," and seemed to have lost all interest in his son, if indeed he ever had any — " I wish you Avould not talk so loud, I dare say Horace and myself can manage everything without your advice or interference."

" Indeed," said the smiling lady, Avho never alloAved Mr. Grantham to put her out in the least, " you seem not to be much pleased at Horace's good fortune." She then laughed heartily, which made things look blacker still. Horace now, as indeed he was often called upon to do, interposed ; asked his father's advice as to his journey, &c, and it was finally agreed that he should proceed to Scotland by the mail train that night. He accordingly Avent out immediately to make his arrangements, leaving his father and his young wife, for such she was to him, to the full enjoyment of themselves and their luxurious mansion.

Chapter II

Descriptions, explanations, &c. of the dramatis personœ are " stale, flat, and un profitable," but necessary to the author and the reader, which is of more importance. Mr. and Mrs. Grantham, Avhom we intro duced in the last chapter, had been married about three years — he, at the sober age of forty-eight, having deemed it prudent again to enter the connubial state — his first wife, a Miss MacGregor, having been dead twenty five years. Mr. Grantham's career had been somewhat singular. Left an orphan at fif teen years of age, he had succeeded at b eighteen, according to his father's will, to an immense fortune, obtained solely by manufactures. His guardians were ignorant people, who attended far more to his gratification than his education ; and at nineteen, he absolutely, and not unnaturally, fell in love with the beautiful Miss MacGregor, the daughter of a rich gentleman in business at Glasgow.

Such a match seemed most de sirable to all parties — the guardians were consulted together, and gave their ready consent. Miss MacGregor loved with ardour, and the happy pair were united at happy nineteen, just as if they had done with the Avorld at that giddy age, though in reality neither of them had either tasted its sweets, or experienced the disappointments which a better knowledge of it is sure to give. How this marriage Avould have turned out let philosophers judge ; Ave cannot say, for it was of short duration. Poor Mrs. Gran tham died of a consumption two years after their marriage, at their castle in Inverness shire, leaving one son — Horace Grantham — to the tender mercies of a father of twenty one years of age, without education, know ledge, friends, or experience ; in fact, Avith out anything except " money," which, of course, he considered the " one thing needful."

Mr. Grantham, therefore, removed to Lon don, and commenced the life of a gay, though not dissipated, young man; he travelled, hun ted, shot, and devoted all his talents, which Avere not great, to pushing himself, the son of a manufacturer, into good society. This task was difficult, and Mr. Grantham had, as might have been expected, to experience all those slights and mortifications which people in similar circumstances are sure to meet with. He partially succeeded: his money helped him much ; alas ! it will do it ! His youth and good looks also did some thing. At last, his dinners became known as recherche, his hunters as the best going, and his castle in Scotland as the most agreeable resort possible in August. There was some talk of a previous marriage, and a son somewhere. Also in Scot land at the old castle, people often inquired Avho was the original of the lovely female portrait in white satin, in the dining-room.

All this was past. Nothing remained but the lovely boy, Horace, who settled first at one boarding-school and then at another, at last found his way to Eton, with out in his whole life having even heard a kind expression from a relation, or received a paternal kiss, or word of advice in sea son. Let people think as they may, let them wonder as they will, — so it was. Mr. Gran tham thought — though for the sake of humanity, we trust our readers do not — that he was " doing his duty " by sending his son to the fashionable schools, and occa sionally driving down, first to Blackheath and then to Eton, to see him. Home, that Avord so sacred, so dear to most boys, Horace Grantham never knew. In the holidays, he was put off on some old aunts who lived in London, and doated on him — but were not the sort of people either to improve him, or to satisfy his father, who always called them " the old women," and never visited them except Avhen Horace was there.

Thus left to himself — the boy greAV apace, a child alone. Mr. Grantham assisted by his newly-acquired friends, had managed to get rid of a great part of his once ample fortune. He therefore summoned his only son one day into his presence, and coolly informed him, that, instead of his being independent as he had once hoped to make him, his own fortune was seriously dimi nished, and it would be necessary for Horace to select a profession without delay. The young man chose the army, and, having obtained a commission in a crack regiment, he spent three years in Canada His father alloAved him two hundred a year, and his grandfather, Mr. Macgregor — who Avas supposed to be enormously rich — paid his debts — though to no great amount, several times. Mr. Macgregor had no other relation alive but his grandson, and although since his daughter's death, Mr. Grantham had quarrelled vrith the old gentleman, and not even visited him, Horace had often passed his holidays there, and was on very good, though not on affectionate, terms with his grandfather.

He was considered his undoubted heir, and although of late years there had been rumours of " speculations failing," " bad debts," &c, still the business went on, and, let the worst come to the worst, Horace was supposed to be certain to succeed to many thousands ; under these circumstances, neither his father nor grandfather objected to his leaving the army, simply because, as he himself expressed it, he was tired of it. The fact was, that Horace, owing to his im perfect education, and the way in Avhich he had been brought up, though possessed of first-rate talents, a kind heart, and acute feelings, Avas not " at home" with himself or the world. He was restless and unhappy, tired of the monotony of military duty, though a gay enough companion at a jovial mess. He felt himself not suited to the life he led.

He pined for he kneAV not what, and fished for constant change of scene. What he really Avanted, poor fellow, were friendship, sympathy, affection, the honourable and con fident intercourse with high minds, which many sigh for, and never obtain. Thus unstrung, he returned home, sold his com mission, and arrived just in time to witness his father's second marriage to the fair lady of thirty already introduced. This lady, the complete antipodes of Mr. Grantham's former Avife, suited him infinitely better. Their pursuits Avere the same ; all of this world — money, dress, society, were the gods they worshipped. They differed only in theirtempers, Mr. Grantham's not being improved by his latterly having to retrench considerably, keeping only five hunters instead of ten, and also to sell the estates and castle in Scotland, which were not entailed— losing thirty thousand pounds by the transaction.

Still, the ready money he must have. Horace, he warned most paternally never to hope for a farthing from him while he lived, and as Mr. Grantham was only fifty-two, and had never had a day's illness in his life, Avhile Horace was twenty-four, and not of a very strong constitution, it seemed not improbable that he would outlive his son. Still, Horace's expectations from his grand father were quite sufficient to put aside any alarm as to his ultimate pecuniary position. He therefore left the army, and spent two years in London and the country, where and how he could, not often at home, if home such could be called, where his father treated him as a common acquaintance, and his step mother, though civil enough, had not the least degree of affection for him.

Chapter III

Horace had only visited his grandfather once since his return from Canada, on which occasion the old gentleman, who was a very eccentric character, had alluded in very harsh, though just, terms to the neglect with which the elder Mr. Grantham had thought fit to treat him for the last twenty five years. In fact, he seemed to detest his former son-in-law quite as much as Mr. Grantham did him. What a position for a child, and then for a young man, was that of Horace ! The only idea of the ties and duties of relationship he had ever imbibed were formed necessarily from the conduct of his OAvn relatives, and it seemed that they all vied with each other in hatred and contempt of all natural affec tion and responsibility. When in Scotland, he had to listen to the old Mr. Macgregor's very coarse abuse of his father, whose con duct he felt he could not defend.

When at home, one of Mr. Grantham's favourite topics was turning the " old Scot," as he termed his father-in-law, into ridicule. Our young friend had been meditating a visit to his grandfather the very day before the letter arrived announcing his death; and, though his feelings on the occasion were not of a very painful nature, they led him for the first time to reflect on the uncer tainty of life and its possessions. Horace Avas as yet but young, being only twenty four : and, as it is certain that few men have thought deeply before that age, it is equally true that it does not folloAv because they have not, that they will not, or that the seemingly careless young fellow of twentyfour may not eventually prove a philosopher and a great man. We, however, claim nothing of the sort as yet for our hero, whose fife had been to him a sort of dream, which he could neither ex plain nor understand.

Being naturally of a rather reserved temperament, he had never sought society when with his regiment, and his father had not brought him at all forward in that in which he mixed for many reasons, but chiefly because it hurt his personal vanity, which was not slight, to have a son of Horace's age about with him, as it must have necessarily let his friends into the secret of his OAvn. It is, no doubt, in very bad taste to be personal, but let us say a few Avords in re gard to Horace, Avhile he is fast asleep in the mail train for Glasgow, as previously arranged, since he is to be our companion for many a journey yet — " Robust, but not herculean to the sight, No giant frame sets forth his common height. actively made and well proportioned, his features, and the shape of his head, bore that unmistakeable stamp of penetration, and latent thought, Avhich characterize genius; Avhile the soft expression of his eyes and well-formed mouth, denoted that the evil passions were not predominant in him, and that he Avas capable, nay formed by Nature, for the enjoyments of love and friendship.

All these had been denied him; whatever qualities he possessed, for good or evil, were shut up within himself. He had erred, indeed, as most young men do, but his character had never in any way been de veloped, nor could his most intimate friend have guessed in what respect he chiefly excelled, or in what direction his tastes or thoughts travelled. As to his knowledge of himself, it was, one can easily imagine, very limited, for as yet no occasion had necessitated much reflection, and his life had been peculiarly unsettled, to any attempts of such a nature. Although his education had been most imperfect, and his youth frittered aAvay in that almost useless and unmeaning acquisition of Latin and Greek, which some Englishmen glory in, fortunately for him, he had an innate love of knowledge and reading, a re tentive memory, and great poAvers of obser vation.

These had already been developed to good effect, as no man of his age could be more agreeable in society, or display a more gen eral knoAvledge of things, and of the events of the day. He also had that rare quality which is denied to many men of far greater ability and genius, and which renders all their learning of little or no avail, namely, " a facility of expression, a happy method of imparting what he did know in agreeable language, and in conversation one could discern at a glance that he possessed both a quick perception, and was not likely to mistake the meaning of the person who addressed him." His complexion was clear, though dark ; his hair was black and curl}7, and he had no Avhiskers to adorn his decidedly handsome and intelligent face. He dressed like a well-bred Englishman, and his whole air and manner were those of the patrician, yet modest withal, and ele gant without the slightest approach to ef feminacy.

Chapter IV

Mr. Macgregor, Horace's grandfather, Avho had just paid the debt of nature, had lived for many years quite alone at a country seat about nine miles from Glasgow. Although, when at home, entirely secluded from society, apparently by his OAvn choice, the old gentleman had been always seen once or twice a week in the busy haunts of men; on the Exchange, or driving from one musty counting-house to another, Avith that thoughtful or anxious look which the pursuit of wealth stamps on the coun tenance; he was pointed at as the rich merchant — considered the fortunate pos sessor of thousands. Such was the fact; yet a more unhappy being, or a man more at variance with his species, never lived. His talents had been great, and his fortune entirely acquired by his OAvn exertions in business. But, as is often the case, when amassed, it yielded no happiness, and he looked back on a life of toil and anxiety Avith disgust and vexation.

His domestic life had been unfortunate, and his old age solitary and chill. But habits of many years' formation could not be got rid of; and, although he nominally had retired from business, and left the con cern to the management of his partner, Mr. Foster, who had been admitted about five years previously to a share, he was thus often seen lingering in his old haunts, superintending from custom those affairs which, in reality, he now cared nothing for. His sudden death created a great stir on Change, and the Glasgow Herald devoted an entire column to a biography of their great townsman. What was said, was true enough. He had been a chymist, a mecha nic, and a member of the Royal Society in London, and consequently a learned man. All read the article, shook their heads, went to dinner, and it is a question whether the great man ever crossed the thoughts of these illustrious people again.

Horace was so little knoAvn in Scotland that many considered the old gentleman had died without an heir; those who were aware of his existence, thought it a pity so much money should go out of " business," and wondered what sort of a young man Horace was. Two people only were filled with anxiety for Horace's expected ap pearance, which had been duly notified to them. These Avere Mr. Foster and his son, a young man of about twenty years of age, who acted as principal clerk to his father in the counting house. Mr. Foster, or rather Foster, for he had been in reality a plain working man, who, by determined energy of purpose, and years of toil had vol. i. si risen to his present position, was now the sole surviving, indeed the only, partner of the firm, and had attained by degrees the station he now occupied quietly, yet surely.

For thirty-five or forty years never had this enterprising genius missed a day from his occupation on the tall dark stool in the murky deptns of Mr. Macgregor's office. Toil, unremitting toil, had been his por tion, but he had his reward — he was now rich. He lived in the suburbs with his wife and son. He kept a carriage, had men servants, and silver plate, and one would have thought all this was enough, but some persons are never satisfied in the pursuit of Avealth. He still toiled on. At the age of sixty his heavy form, and sharp and cun ning-looking features might be seen daily as he drove a sorry-looking horse and gig into the narrow lane, in which the office was situated. There Avas something so for bidding in his aspect that no child could look on him. He held no intercourse Avith men, save on business, then he was intelligent — nay, pleasant — for a moment; but the sunbeam quickly vanished, and the dis trustful leer — the incredulous smile, again possessed his salloAv countenance.

He Avas sometimes accompanied by his seiwant, but oftener by his son, James, Avho, although his father had endeavoured to make him follow in his steps, and look to money, goM, bills, and business, as the only things Avorthy of notice in life, had occa sioned that worthy much disappointment by his devoted adherence to billiards, whisky, and all the low amusements so readily met Avith in the gay toAArn of Glasgow. He was also — in his own ideas, at least — a lady's man, although so dreadfully vulgar, and brutally ill-mannered, that his success and operations were naturally confined to only a certain set. Still the elder Foster had insisted on his son's employing himself, and he was chief clerk in consequence, though OAving to his dissipated habits, and irregular attendance, heAvould not have long remained c2 in the situation had any one but his father reigned supreme.

Old Foster had latterly acquired complete influence over Mr. Macgregor, who for years had looked upon him as the mainspring of the firm. His confidence was not misplaced ; for Foster, in order to succeed himself, was obliged to do all in his power to contribute to the success of the senior partner. For many years the house had, in conse quence, been the most flourishing in Glas gow, and no one would have imagined, Avhen Mr. Macgregor feted two or three mercantile friends at his country-house, among whom was his partner, that that in dividual detested the man whom he smiled fawningly on, and looked forward anxiously to his death, as the only remaining bar to his supreme power. Yes! this wretched person, Avho oAved every penny he had, his position and success in life, originally to Mr. Macgregor's kindness, Avho had picked him out of the streets, had him educated, and placed him in his office, now meditated on his death Avith deligfit, and cursed the te dious years which elapsed before he could seize the promised spoil.