I leave this place to-morrow morning in company with
a friend of the name of Bowles: no relation to
the reverend gentleman of that name who held the doctrine
that a poet should bore us to death with fiddle-faddle
minutia of natural objects in preference to that study
of the insignificant creature Man, in his relations
to his species, to which Mr. Pope limited the range
of his inferior muse; and who, practising as he preached,
wrote some very nice verses, to which the Lake school
and its successors are largely indebted. My Mr.
Bowles has exercised his faculty upon Man, and has
a powerful inborn gift in that line which only requires
cultivation to render him a match for any one.
His more masculine nature is at present much obscured
by that passing cloud which, in conventional language,
is called “a hopeless attachment.”
But I trust, in the course of our excursion, which
is to be taken on foot, that this vapour may consolidate
by motion, as some old-fashioned astronomers held
that the nebula does consolidate into a matter-of-fact
world. Is it Rochefoucauld who says that a man
is never more likely to form a hopeful attachment for
one than when his heart is softened by a hopeless
attachment to another? May it be long, my dear
father, before you condole with me on the first or
congratulate me on the second.
Your affectionate son,
KENELM.
Direct to me at Mr. Travers’s. Kindest
love to my mother.
The answer to this letter is here subjoined as the
most convenient place for its insertion, though of
course it was not received till some days after the
date of my next chapter.
SIR PETER CHILLINGLY, BART., TO KENELM CHILLINGLY, ESQ.
MY DEAR Boy,—With this I despatch the portmanteau
you require to the address that you give. I remember
well Leopold Travers when he was in the Guards,—a
very handsome and a very wild young fellow. But
he had much more sense than people gave him credit
for, and frequented intellectual society; at least
I met him very often at my friend Campion’s,
whose house was then the favourite rendezvous of distinguished
persons. He had very winning manners, and one
could not help taking an interest in him. I was
very glad when I heard he had married and reformed.
Here I beg to observe that a man who contracts a taste
for low company may indeed often marry, but he seldom
reforms when he does so. And, on the whole, I
should be much pleased to hear that the experience
which has cost you forty-five pounds had convinced
you that you might be better employed than earning
two, or even six shillings as a day-labourer.
I have not given your love to your mother, as you
requested. In fact, you have placed me in a very
false position towards that other author of your eccentric
being. I could only guard you from the inquisition
of the police and the notoriety of descriptive hand-bills
by allowing my lady to suppose that you had gone abroad
with the Duke of Clairville and his family. It
is easy to tell a fib, but it is very difficult to
untell it. However, as soon as you have made up
your mind to resume your normal position among ladies
and gentlemen, I should be greatly obliged if you
would apprise me. I don’t wish to keep
a fib on my conscience a day longer than may be necessary
to prevent the necessity of telling another.
Copyrights
Kenelm Chillingly — Complete from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.