Pelham — Complete
Page 61
CHAPTER LXI.
Hinc Canibus blandis rabies venit--Virgil Georgics.
I should have mentioned, that the day after I sent Glanville Tyrrell'scommunication, I received a short and hurried note from the former,saying, that he had left London in pursuit of Tyrrell, and that he wouldnot rest till he had brought him to account. In the hurry of the publicevents in which I had been of late so actively engaged, my mind had nothad leisure to dwell much upon Glanville; but when I was alone in mycarriage, that singular being, and the mystery which attended him,forced themselves upon my reflection, in spite of all the importance ofmy mission.
I was leaning back in my carriage, at (I think) Ware, while they werechanging horses, when a voice, strongly associated with my meditations,struck upon my ear. I looked out, and saw Thornton standing in the yard,attired with all his original smartness of boot and breeches: he wasemployed in smoking a cigar, sipping brandy and water, and exercisinghis conversational talents in a mixture of slang and jokeyism,addressed to two or three men of his own rank of life, and seemingly hiscompanions. His brisk eye soon discovered me, and he swaggered to thecarriage door with that ineffable assurance of manner which was sopeculiarly his own.
"Ah, ah, Mr. Pelham," said he, "going to Newmarket, I suppose? boundthere myself--like to be found among my betters. Ha, ha--excuse a pun:what odds on the favourite? What! you won't bet, Mr. Pelham? close andsly at present; well, the silent sow sups up all the broth--eh!--"
"I'm not going to Newmarket," I replied: "I never attend races."
"Indeed!" answered Thornton. "Well, if I was as rich as you, I wouldsoon make or spend a fortune on the course. Seen Sir John Tyrrell? No!He is to be there. Nothing can cure him of gambling--what's bred inthe bone, Good day, Mr. Pelham--won't keep you any longer--sharp showercoming on. 'The devil will soon be basting his wife with a leg ofmutton,' as the proverb says--au plaisir, Mr. Pelham."
And at these words my post-boy started, and released me from my betenoire. I spare my reader an account of my miscellaneous reflections onThornton, Dawton, Vincent, politics, Glanville, and Ellen, and will landhim, without further delay, at Chester Park.
I was ushered through a large oak hall of the reign of James the First,into a room strongly resembling the principal apartment of a club; twoor three round tables were covered with newspapers, journals, racingcalendars, An enormous fire-place was crowded with men of all ages, Ihad almost said, of all ranks; but, however various they might appearin their mien and attire, they were wholly of the patrician order. Onething, however, in this room, belied its similitude to the apartment ofa club, viz., a number of dogs, that lay in scattered groups upon thefloor. Before the windows were several horses, in body-cloths, ledor rode to exercise upon a plain in the park, levelled as smooth as abowling-green at Putney; and stationed at an oriel window, in earnestattention to the scene without, were two men; the tallest of these wasLord Chester. There was a stiffness and inelegance in his address whichprepossessed me strongly against him. "Les manieres que l'on negligecomme de petites choses, sont souvent ce qui fait que les hommesdecident de vous en bien ou en mal."
[The manners which one neglects as trifles, are often precisely that bywhich men decide on you favourably or the reverse.]
I had long since, when I was at the University, been introduced toLord Chester; but I had quite forgotten his person, and he the verycircumstance. I said, in a low tone, that I was the bearer of a letterof some importance from our mutual friend, Lord Dawton, and that Ishould request the honour of a private interview at Lord Chester's firstconvenience.
His lordship bowed, with an odd mixture of the civility of a jockeyand the hauteur of a head groom of the stud, and led the way to a smallapartment, which I afterwards discovered he called his own. (I nevercould make out, by the way, why, in England, the very worst room in thehouse is always appropriated to the master of it, and dignified by theappellation of "the gentleman's own.") I gave the Newmarket grandee theletter intended for him, and quietly seating myself, awaited the result.
He read it through slowly and silently, and then taking out a hugepocket-book, full of racing bets, horses' ages, jockey opinions,and such like memoranda, he placed it with much solemnity among thisdignified company, and then said, with a cold, but would-be courteousair, "My friend, Lord Dawton, says you are entirely in his confidenceMr. Pelham. I hope you will honour me with your company at Chester Parkfor two or three days, during which time I shall have leisure to replyto Lord Dawton's letter. Will you take some refreshment?"
I answered the first sentence in the affirmative, and the latter in thenegative; and Lord Chester thinking it perfectly unnecessary to troublehimself with any further questions or remarks, which the whole jockeyclub might not hear, took me back into the room we had quitted, and leftme to find, or make whatever acquaintance I could. Pampered and spoiledas I was in the most difficult circles of London, I was beyond measureindignant at the cavalier demeanour of this rustic Thane, whom Iconsidered a being as immeasurably beneath me in every thing else, as hereally was in antiquity of birth, and, I venture to hope, in cultivationof intellect. I looked round the room, and did not recognize a being ofmy acquaintance: I seemed literally thrown into a new world: the verylanguage in which the conversation was held, sounded strange to my ear.I had always transgressed my general rule of knowing all men in allgrades, in the single respect of sporting characters: they were aspecies of bipeds, that I would never recognize as belonging to thehuman race. Alas! I now found the bitter effects of not following myusual maxims. It is a dangerous thing to encourage too great a disdainof one's inferiors: pride must have a fall.
After I had been a whole quarter of an hour in this strange place,my better genius came to my aid. Since I found no society among thetwo-legged brutes, I turned to the quadrupeds. At one corner of the roomlay a black terrier of the true English breed; at another was a short,sturdy, wirey one, of the Scotch. I soon formed a friendship with eachof these canine Pelei, (little bodies with great souls), and then bydegrees alluring them from their retreat to the centre of the room,I fairly endeavoured to set them by the ears. Thanks to the nationalantipathy, I succeeded to my heart's content. The contest soon arousedthe other individuals of the genus--up they started from their repose,like Roderic Dhu's merry men, and incontinently flocked to the scene ofbattle.
"To it," said I; and I took one by the leg and another by thethroat, and dashing them against each other, turned all their peevishirascibility at the affront into mutual aggression. In a very fewmoments, the whole room was a scene of uproarious confusion; the beastsyelled, and bit, and struggled with the most delectable ferocity. Toadd to the effect, the various owners of the dogs crowded round--someto stimulate, others to appease the fury of the combatants. As for me, Iflung myself into an arm chair, and gave way to an excess of merriment,which only enraged the spectators more: many were the glances of anger,many the murmurs of reproach directed against me. Lord Chester himselfeyed me with an air of astonished indignation, that redoubled myhilarity: at length, the conflict was assuaged--by dint of blows, andkicks, and remonstrances from their dignified proprietors, the dogsslowly withdrew, one with the loss of half an ear, another with ashoulder put out, a third with a mouth increased by one-half of itsnatural dimensions.
In short, every one engaged in the conflict bore some token of itsseverity. I did not wait for the thunder-storm I foresaw: I rose witha nonchalant yaw n of ennui--marched out of the apartment, called aservant--demanded my own room--repaired to it, and immersed the internalfaculties of my head in Mignet's History of the Revolution, while Bedosbusied himself in its outward embellishment.