The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 193: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE. interrupted Fitzgerald; “for he would be unfit for the world, defenceless against its snares and ills. Ne, mn whers all have talons and beaks, rely upon it, it is necessary to have talons and beaks too. I have been the victim of a system of education. My grand- father’s desire was to, see me learned; to cram me with the knowledge of my fellow-creatares — not | their virtues, but their weaknesses; to study man- kind, that I might wield their destinies; in short, to make a statesman of me. For this end ail indulgence was invariably refused me—every thing calculated to excite my ambition placed before me; and when he ee my a at his unnatural discipline had destroyed he gaye up his scheme as Utopian and Pintened to the speaker with deep interest, but was silent; not so Digby, who thought, and perhaps truly, that he had obtained at last the key to his companion’s character. “Tell me,” he demanded, “have all his lessons failed? Does no throbbing of ambition disturb the dream of your existence?” The peculiar tone in which the last words were conyeyed annoyed Fitzgerald, who inwardly cen- sured the unguarded frankness which had led him to such a confession; but he was too much master of himself to suffer either regret or confusion to be visible. . “ Why,” he replied, with a smile, whose placid ex- pression might have disarmed suspicion’s self, ‘if power fell in my way I would not kick it out of the path; but till it does, my ambition will neither spoil my digestion nor give me the spleen. I am neither insensible to honourable advancement, nor so mad as dishonourably to pursue it. The wild dreams of my instructor have left little impression on my mind beyond the consciousness of their ab- any you do remember them,” said Digby ; ; for the conversation had made a powerful impression upon him; it having been one of his favourite theories that character is formed by education, and by education alone, and that early impressions, whether for good or evil, shaded the path of life. His speculations were, however, cut short by the approach of a Mr. Howard, who advanced evidently with the intention of addressing them. A thousand pardons, Digby, but I can’t allow you | to pass. May I request an infroduction to your friend?” ° It was given, and the gentlemen bowed Sianihiives into an tance, “T regret, Mr. Fitzgerald, that my first interview should place me, perchance, in an unfavourable light with you, for I am the bearer of a message from my friend Lord Moreton. I accepted the unpleasant offer » in the hope of being able to arrange matters amicably - between you.” “The direction of the affair is in my hands,” said Pitt. “I represent Mr. Fitzgerald; what are your commands ?” The hostile message of the morning was repeated. “ Certainly?’ said Pitt, “my friend can have no ebjection to meet his lordship, now that he has selected a inan of honour as his second. What are the pro- arrangements ?” “Pistols, of course,” was the reply. It was finally agreed that the parties should apply for leave of absence, and meet in London the second day of the ensuing week—an arrangement necessary — LD tt ete gn — | Shut him up in a monastery, I should hope,’’ 187 to avoid expulsion, the penalty awarded by the uni- versity for duelling within the precincts. “Come,” said Pitt, “no time must be lost in seeing the vice. Digby, you had better wait at my rooms. Fitzgerald and you must dine with me to-day. Should we go three together, the old boy might suspect some- thing.” The dignitary was fortunately mn college. The son of the prime minister had no difficulty of access. The friends found him reproving a poor devil of a sizar summoned before him for absenting himself without leave, and for which he was threatening him with expulsion, but the arrival of visitors caused kim to be dismissed with a hasty reprimand. The introduction of Fitzgerald was graciously re- ceived, and the health of the minister most punctili- ously inquired after. “ With the cares of a kingdom,” observed the vice, “heaven knows he must have enough to think about. I assure you that even my office, though light in com- parison, is any thing but a sinecure; I am nearly fagged to death. You saw that sizar whom I dis- missed, perhaps too leniently—three days absent from college without leave—indeed, leave refused—a sick mother, or some such excuse. I would have expelled ‘him, but as the tale was not altogether a falsehood I have only suspended his scholarship.” Fitzgerald felt fidgetty during this harangue, con- vinced that there was but little chance of the per: mission being granted ; but he little knew the influence of his companion, How great the difference between the application of the son of the prime minister for leave for a few days’ pleasure, and that of a poor sizar to visit a sick mother! “ Speaking of leave,” said Pitt, coolly, “I have to request permission for myself and friend for a week; 1 have to meet my father in town, and hate travelling alone.” “ Certainly,” said the doctor, with a smile; “ when do you return?” “Thursday or Saturday.” They had scarcely walked a dozen yards from the master’s lodge when they encountered Moreton and Howard. The parties saluted each other stiffly. ‘‘On the same errand,” whispered Fitzgerald. “‘ Doubtless,” replied his companion; “the vice is too politic to offend a peer; added to which, Moreton is not the fellow to heed a prohibition. Is it not a bore,” he continued, “to be subject to the pompous civilities of such crouching sycophants; to be treated little better than children by men whom, in our Te~ flective moments, we despise ?” The three friends were scarcely seated at dinner in Pitt’s room, when Lord Linton presented himself, much to their annoyance, for the fellow was as prosy as he was selfish and sarcastic. “ Weel!” he exclaimed, “but ye managed it cle- verly! The vice has given permission for a week’s absence. Only see what it is to be the son of a | minister! He nearly rusticated a poor devil of a sizar who went to see his sick mother. Poor people have no right to be sick. The vice is a cunning chield,” continued his lordship, shaking his thick skull, and chuckling with delight. “ Really, Lord Linton,” said Pitt, “you have the jest to yourself. Pray let us share it, if it be worth the having.” “ Worth the having!” iterated the Scot. “May the deil fly away with me if its non——” “Most devoutly I wish he would,” cried Digby, “unless you condescend to be intelligible,” S5(GO Sen COLT CIOO im