Twilight had given place to night some hours, and it was high noonin those quarters of the town in which "the world" condescended todwell--the world being then, as now, of very limited dimensions andeasily lodged--when Mr Chester reclined upon a sofa in hisdressing-room in the Temple, entertaining himself with a book.
He was dressing, as it seemed, by easy stages, and having performedhalf the journey was taking a long rest. Completely attired as tohis legs and feet in the trimmest fashion of the day, he had yetthe remainder of his toilet to perform. The coat was stretched,like a refined scarecrow, on its separate horse; the waistcoat wasdisplayed to the best advantage; the various ornamental articles ofdress were severally set out in most alluring order; and yet he laydangling his legs between the sofa and the ground, as intent uponhis book as if there were nothing but bed before him.
"Upon my honour," he said, at length raising his eyes to theceiling with the air of a man who was reflecting seriously on whathe had read; "upon my honour, the most masterly composition, themost delicate thoughts, the finest code of morality, and the mostgentlemanly sentiments in the universe! Ah Ned, Ned, if you wouldbut form your mind by such precepts, we should have but one commonfeeling on every subject that could possibly arise between us!"
This apostrophe was addressed, like the rest of his remarks, toempty air: for Edward was not present, and the father was quitealone.
"My Lord Chesterfield," he said, pressing his hand tenderly uponthe book as he laid it down, "if I could but have profited by yourgenius soon enough to have formed my son on the model you have leftto all wise fathers, both he and I would have been rich men.
Shakespeare was undoubtedly very fine in his way; Milton good,though prosy; Lord Bacon deep, and decidedly knowing; but thewriter who should be his country"s pride, is my Lord Chesterfield."
He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in requisition.
"I thought I was tolerably accomplished as a man of the world," hecontinued, "I flattered myself that I was pretty well versed in allthose little arts and graces which distinguish men of the worldfrom boors and peasants, and separate their character from thoseintensely vulgar sentiments which are called the nationalcharacter. Apart from any natural prepossession in my own favour,I believed I was. Still, in every page of this enlightened writer,I find some captivating hypocrisy which has never occurred to mebefore, or some superlative piece of selfishness to which I wasutterly a stranger. I should quite blush for myself before thisstupendous creature, if remembering his precepts, one might blushat anything. An amazing man! a nobleman indeed! any King or Queenmay make a Lord, but only the Devil himself--and the Graces--canmake a Chesterfield."
Men who are thoroughly false and hollow, seldom try to hide thosevices from themselves; and yet in the very act of avowing them,they lay claim to the virtues they feign most to despise. "For,"
say they, "this is honesty, this is truth. All mankind are likeus, but they have not the candour to avow it." The more theyaffect to deny the existence of any sincerity in the world, themore they would be thought to possess it in its boldest shape; andthis is an unconscious compliment to Truth on the part of thesephilosophers, which will turn the laugh against them to the Day ofJudgment.
Mr Chester, having extolled his favourite author, as above recited,took up the book again in the excess of his admiration and wascomposing himself for a further perusal of its sublime morality,when he was disturbed by a noise at the outer door; occasioned asit seemed by the endeavours of his servant to obstruct the entranceof some unwelcome visitor.
"A late hour for an importunate creditor," he said, raising hiseyebrows with as indolent an expression of wonder as if the noisewere in the street, and one with which he had not the smallestpossible concern. "Much after their accustomed time. The usualpretence I suppose. No doubt a heavy payment to make up tomorrow.
Poor fellow, he loses time, and time is money as the good proverbsays--I never found it out though. Well. What now? You know I amnot at home."
"A man, sir," replied the servant, who was to the full as cool andnegligent in his way as his master, "has brought home the ridingwhip you lost the other day. I told him you were out, but he saidhe was to wait while I brought it in, and wouldn"t go till I did."
"He was quite right," returned his master, "and you"re a blockhead,possessing no judgment or discretion whatever. Tell him to comein, and see that he rubs his shoes for exactly five minutes first."
The man laid the whip on a chair, and withdrew. The master, whohad only heard his foot upon the ground and had not taken thetrouble to turn round and look at him, shut his book, and pursuedthe train of ideas his entrance had disturbed.
"If time were money," he said, handling his snuff-box, "I wouldcompound with my creditors, and give them--let me see--how much aday? There"s my nap after dinner--an hour--they"re extremelywelcome to that, and to make the most of it. In the morning,between my breakfast and the paper, I could spare them anotherhour; in the evening before dinner say another. Three hours a day.
They might pay themselves in calls, with interest, in twelvemonths. I think I shall propose it to them. Ah, my centaur, areyou there?"
"Here I am," replied Hugh, striding in, followed by a dog, as roughand sullen as himself; "and trouble enough I"ve had to get here.
What do you ask me to come for, and keep me out when I DO come?"
"My good fellow," returned the other, raising his head a littlefrom the cushion and carelessly surveying him from top to toe, "Iam delighted to see you, and to have, in your being here, the verybest proof that you are not kept out. How are you?"
"I"m well enough," said Hugh impatiently.
"You look a perfect marvel of health. Sit down."
"I"d rather stand," said Hugh.
"Please yourself my good fellow," returned Mr Chester rising,slowly pulling off the loose robe he wore, and sitting down beforethe dressing-glass. "Please yourself by all means."