once from all the
whirlwind excitement of great events, and seek, in the humblest and
least obtrusive position, an occupation and an enjoyment. But I doubt
very much if your ex-man of fashion, your _ci-devant_ winner of the
Derby--the adored of Almack's--the _enfant cheri_ of Crockford's and the
Clarendon, whose equipage was a model, whose plate was perfection, for
whom life seemed too short for all the fascinations wealth spread around
him, and each day brought the one embarrassment how to enjoy enough.
I repeat it, I doubt much if he, when the hour of his abdication
arrives--and that it will arrive sooner or later not even himself
entertains a doubt--when Holditch protests, and Bevan proceeds; when
steeds are sold at Tattersall's, and pictures at Christie's; when the
hounds pass over to the next new victim, and the favourite for the St.
Leger, backed with mighty odds, is now entered under another name; when
in lieu of the bright eyes and honied words that make life a fairy tale,
his genii are black-whiskered bailiffs and auctioneers' appraisers--if
he, when the tide of fortune sets in so strong against him, can not only
sustain himself for a while against it, and when too powerful at
last, can lie upon the current and float as gaily down, as ever he
did joyously, up, the stream--then, say I, all your ancient and modern
instances are far below him: all your warriors and statesmen are
but poor pretenders compared to him, they have retired like rich
shopkeepers, to live on the interest of their fortune, which is fame;
while he, deprived of all the accessories which gave him rank, place,
and power, must seek within his own resources for all the future springs
of his pleasure, and be satisfied to stand spectator of the game, where
he was once the principal player. A most admirable specimen of this
philosophy was presented by our new passenger, who, as he
lounged against the binnacle, and took a deliberate survey of
his fellow-travellers, seemed the very ideal of unbroken ease and
undisturbed enjoyment: he knew he was ruined; he knew he had neither
house in town, or country; neither a steed, nor a yacht, nor a preserve;
he was fully aware, that Storr and Mortimer, who would have given him a
mountain of silver but yesterday, would not trust him with a mustard-pot
today; that even the "legs" would laugh at him if he offered the odds
on the Derby; and yet if you were bound on oath to select the happiest
fellow on board, by the