their opinion that, but for his recklessness and his money, there was nothing more remarkable in Carew than in other spendthrifts; but this idea was never mooted within twenty miles of Crompton.  The real truth is, that the time was unsuitable to the display of the Squire’s particular traits.  He would have been an eminent personage had he been a Norman, and lived in the reign of King John.  Even now, if he could have removed his establishment to Poland, and assumed the character of a Russian proprietor, he would doubtless have been a great prince.  There was a savage magnificence about him, and also certain degrading traits, which suggested the Hetman Platoff.  Unfortunately, he was a Squire in the Midlands.  The contrast, however, of his splendid vagaries with the quiet time and industrious locality in which he lived, while it diminished his influence, did, on the other hand, no doubt enhance his reputation.  He was looked upon (as Waterford and Mytton used to be) as a lusus naturae, an eccentric, an altogether exceptional personage, to whom license was permitted; and the charitable divided the human race, for his sake, into Men, Women, and Carew.

The same philosophic few, however, who denied him talent, averred that he was half mad; and indeed Fortune had so lavishly showered her favors on him from his birth, that it might well be that they had turned his head.  His father had died while Carew was but an infant, so that the surplus income from his vast estates had accumulated to an enormous sum when he attained his majority.  In the mean time, his doting mother had supplied him with funds out of all proportion to his tender years.  At ten years old, he had a pack of harriers of his own, and hunted the county regularly twice a week.  At the public school, where he was with difficulty persuaded to remain for a short period, he had an allowance the amount of which would have sufficed for the needs of a professional man with a wife and family, and yet it is recorded of him that he had the audacity—­“the boy is father to the man,” and it was “so like Carew,” they said—­to complain to his guardian, a great lawyer, that his means were insufficient.  He also demanded a lump sum down, on the ground that (being at the ripe age of fourteen) he contemplated marriage.  The reply of the legal dignitary is preserved, as well as the young gentleman’s application:  “If you can’t live upon your allowance, you may starve, Sir; and if you marry, you shall not have your allowance.”

You had only—­having authority to do so—­to advise Carew, and he was positively certain to go counter to your opinion; and did you attempt to oppose him in any purpose, you would infallibly insure its accomplishment.  He did not marry at fourteen, indeed, but he did so clandestinely in less than three years afterward, and had issue; but at the age of five-and-thirty, when our stage opens, he had neither wife nor child, but lived as a bachelor at Crompton, which was sometimes called “the open house,”