This eBook was produced by Dagny,
and David Widger,
BOOK V.
PARODY.
My hero, turned author, lies mute in this section,
You may pass by the place if you're bored by reflection:
But if honest enough to be fond of the Muse,
Stay, and read where you're able, and sleep where you choose.
THEOC. /Epig. in Hippon/.
CHAPTER I.
"My genius spreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring.
* * * * *
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of human kind pass by,
Intent on high designs."-GOLDSMITH.
I HAVE no respect for the Englishman who re-enters London after longresidence abroad without a pulse that beats quick and a heart thatheaves high. The public buildings are few, and, for the most part,mean; the monuments of antiquity not comparable to those which thepettiest town in Italy can boast of; the palaces are sad rubbish; thehouses of our peers and princes are shabby and shapeless heaps of brick.But what of all this? the spirit of London is in her thoroughfares—herpopulation! What wealth—what cleanliness—what order—what animation!How majestic, and yet how vivid, is the life that runs through hermyriad veins! How, as the lamps blaze upon you at night, and streetafter street glides by your wheels, each so regular in its symmetry, soequal in its civilization—how all speak of the CITY OF FREEMEN.
Yes, Maltravers felt his heart swell within him as the post-horseswhirled on his dingy carriage—over Westminster Bridge—alongWhitehall—through Regent Street—towards one of the quiet andprivate-house-like hotels that are scattered round the neighbourhood ofGrosvenor Square.
Ernest's arrival had been expected. He had written from Paris toCleveland to announce it; and Cleveland had, in reply, informed him thathe had engaged apartments for him at Mivart's. The smiling waitersushered him into a spacious and well-aired room—the armchair wasalready wheeled by the fire—a score or so of letters strewed the table,together with two of the evening papers. And how eloquently of busyEngland do those evening papers speak! A stranger might have felt thathe wanted no friend to welcome him—the whole room smiled on him awelcome.
Maltravers ordered his dinner and opened his letters: they were of noimportance; one from his steward, one from his banker, another about thecounty races, a fourth from a man he had never heard of, requesting thevote and powerful interest of Mr. Maltravers for the county of B———,should the rumour of a dissolution be verified; the unknown candidatereferred Mr. Maltravers to his "well-known public character." Fromthese epistles Ernest turned impatiently, and perceived a littlethree-cornered note which had hitherto escaped his attention. It wasfrom Cleveland, intimating that he was in town; that his health stillprecluded his going out, but that he trusted to see his dear Ernest assoon as he arrived.
Maltravers was delighted at the prospect of passing his evening soagreeably; he soon despatched his dinner and his newspapers, and walkedin the brilliant lamplight of a clear frosty evening of early Decemberin London, to his friend's house in Curzon Street: a small house,bachelor-like and unpretending; for Cleveland spent his moderate thougheasy fortune almost entirely at his country villa. The familiar face ofthe old valet greeted Ernest at the door, and he only paused to hearthat his guardian was nearly recovered to his usual healt