t in putting down one of his carriages and
keeping three horses instead of six--fail to draw the sympathising tear.
Indeed, to a poor man this pretence of suffering on the part of the rich
is perhaps even more offensive than their boasts of their prosperity.
On the other hand, when the rich become really poor their case is hard
indeed; though, strange to say, we hear little of it. It is like
drowning; there is a feeble cry, a little ineffectual assistance from
the bystanders, and then they go under. It is not a question of pinch
with _them_; they have fallen into the gaping mouth of ruin, and it has
devoured them. If we ever see them again, it is in the second generation
as waiters (upon Providence), or governesses, and we say, 'Why, dear me,
that was Bullion's son (or daughter), wasn't it?' using the past tense,
as if they were dead. 'I remember him when he lived in Eaton Square.'
This class of cases rarely comes under the head of 'genteel poverty.'
They were at the top, and hey presto! by some malignant stroke of fate
they are at the bottom; and there they stick.
I don't believe in bachelors ever experiencing the pinch of poverty; I
have heard them complaining of it at the club, while ordering Medina
oysters instead of Natives, but, after all, what does it signify even if
they were reduced to cockles? They have no appearances to keep up, and
if they cannot earn enough to support themselves they must be poor
creatures indeed.
It is the large families of moderate income, who are delicate, and have
delicate tastes, that feel the twinge: and especially the poor girls. I
remember a man, with little care for his personal appearance, of small
means but with a very rich sense of humour, describing to me his
experiences when staying at a certain ducal house in the country, where
his feelings must have been very similar to those of Christopher Sly. In
particular he drew a charming picture of the magnificent attendant who
in the morning _would_ put out his clothes for him, which had not been
made by Mr. Poole, nor very recently by anybody. The contempt which he
well understood his Grace's gentleman must have felt for him afforded
him genuine enjoyment. But with young ladies, in a similar position,
matters are very different; they have rarely a sense of humour, and
certainly none strong enough to counteract the force of a personal
humiliation. I have known some very charming ones, compelled to dress on
a very small allowance
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