A Rogues Life | Page 5

been a poor g entleman.
Driving about from place to place, living jovially at inns, seeing fresh
faces constantly, and getting money by all this enjoyment, instead of
spending it--what a life for me, if I had been the son of a haberdasher
and the grandson of a groom's widow!
While my father was uncertain what to do with me, a new profession
was suggested by a friend, which I shall repent not having been allowed
to adopt, to the last day of my life. This friend was an eccentric old
gentleman of large property, much respected in our family. One day,
my father, in my presence, asked his advice about the best manner of
starting me in life, with due credit to my connections and sufficient
advantage to myself.
"Listen to my experience," said our eccentric friend, "and, if you are a

wise man, you will make up your mind as soon as you have heard me. I
have three sons. I brought my eldest son up to the Church; he is said to
be getting on admirably, and he costs me three hundred a year. I
brought my second son up to the Bar; he is said to be getting on
admirably, and he costs me four hundred a year. I brought my third son
up to Quadrilles--he has married an heiress, and he costs me nothing."
Ah, me! if that worthy sage's advice had only been followed--if I had
been brought up to Quadrilles!--if I had only been cast loose on the
ballrooms of London, to qualify under Hymen, for a golden degree! Oh!
you young ladies with money, I was five feet ten in my stockings; I was
great at small-talk and dancing; I had glossy whiskers, curling locks,
and a rich voice! Ye girls with golden guineas, ye nymphs with crisp
bank-notes, mourn over the husband you have lost among you--over
the Rogue who has broken the laws which, as the partner of a landed or
fund-holding woman, he might have helped to make on the benches of
the British Parliament! Oh! ye hearths and homes sung about in so
many songs--written about in so many books--shouted about in so
many speeches, with accompaniment of so much loud cheering: what a
settler on the hearth-rug; what a possessor of property; what a
bringer-up of a family, was snatched away from you, when the son of
Dr. Softly was lost to the profession of Quadrilles!
It ended in my resigning myself to the misfortune of being a doctor.
If I was a very good boy and took pains, and carefully mixed in the best
society, I might hope in the course of years to succeed to my father's
brougham, fashionably-situated house, and clumsy and expensive
footman. There was a prospect for a lad of spirit, with the blood of the
early Malkinshaws (who were Rogues of great capacity and distinction
in the feudal times) coursing adventurous through every vein! I look
back on my career, and when I remember the patience with which I
accepted a medical destiny, I appear to myself in the light of a hero.
Nay, I even went beyond the passive virtue of accepting my destiny--I
actually studied, I made the acquaintance of the skeleton, I was on
friendly terms with the muscular system, and the mysteries of
Physiology dropped in on me in the kindest manner whenever they had

an evening to spare.
Even this was not the worst of it. I disliked the abstruse studies of my
new profession; but I absolutely hated the diurnal slavery of qualifying
myself, in a social point of view, for future success in it. My fond
medical parent insisted on introducing me to his whole connection. I
went round visiting in the neat brougham--with a stethoscope and
medical review in the front-pocket, with Doctor Softly by my side,
keeping his face well in view at the window--to canvass for patients, in
the character of my father's hopeful successor. Never have I been so ill
at ease in prison, as I was in that carriage. I have felt more at home in
the dock (such is the natural depravity and perversity of my disposition)
than ever I felt in the drawing-rooms of my father's distinguished
patrons and respectable friends. Nor did my miseries end with the
morning calls. I was commanded to attend all dinner-parties, and to
make myself agreeable at all balls. The dinners were the worst trial.
Sometimes, indeed, we contrived to get ourselves asked to the houses
of high and mighty entertainers, where we ate the finest French dishes
and drank the oldest vintages, and fortified ourselves sensibly and
snugly in that way against the frigidity of the company. Of these
repasts I have no hard words to say; it is of the dinners