art of undergraduates, and, having at the
same time a retentive memory and considerable quickness, he was able to
assume an attitude of omniscience which was as impressive as it was
irritating. I have never heard him confess that he had not read a book.
Often, when I tried to catch him, he confounded me by quoting the
identical words of a passage in some work which I could have sworn he had
never set eyes on. I daresay it was due only to some juggling, like the
conjuror's sleight of hand that apparently lets you choose a card, but in
fact forces one on you; and he brought the conversation round cleverly to
a point when it was obvious I should mention a definite book. He talked
very well, with an entertaining flow of rather pompous language which
made the amusing things he said particularly funny. His passion for
euphuism contrasted strikingly with the simple speech of those with whom
he consorted. It certainly added authority to what he said. He was proud
of his family and never hesitated to tell the curious of his
distinguished descent. Unless he has much altered, you will already have
heard of his relationship with various noble houses. He is, in fact,
nearly connected with persons of importance, and his ancestry is no less
distinguished than he asserts. His father is dead, and he owns a place in
Staffordshire which is almost historic. I have seen photographs of it,
and it is certainly very fine. His forebears have been noted in the
history of England since the days of the courtier who accompanied Anne of
Denmark to Scotland, and, if he is proud of his stock, it is not without
cause. So he passed his time at Oxford, cordially disliked, at the same
time respected and mistrusted; he had the reputation of a liar and a
rogue, but it could not be denied that he had considerable influence over
others. He amused, angered, irritated, and interested everyone with whom
he came in contact. There was always something mysterious about him, and
he loved to wrap himself in a romantic impenetrability. Though he knew so
many people, no one knew him, and to the end he remained a stranger in
our midst. A legend grew up around him, which he fostered sedulously, and
it was reported that he had secret vices which could only be whispered
with bated breath. He was said to intoxicate himself with Oriental drugs,
and to haunt the vilest opium-dens in the East of London. He kept the
greatest surprise for the last, since, though he was never seen t