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Updated: June 14, 2025
Though my father had two to one against him, they could not stand such a deuce of a weapon. And after tats and pishes innumerable from Mr. Trevanion, and sundry bland grimaces from Sir Sedley Beaudesert, they fairly gave in, though they would not own they were beaten. "Enough," said the member, "I see that you don't comprehend me; I must continue to move by my own impulse."
"What nonsense are you talking! Question! question!" cried Mr. Trevanion. "Nonsense!" exclaimed my father, opening his eyes: "I am giving you the advice of Lord Bacon. You want conviction: conviction comes from passion; passion from the spirits; spirits from a saffron bag. You, Beaudesert, on the other hand, want to keep youth. He keeps youth longest, who lives longest.
Yes, that story increased my admiration for Lord Castleton; it showed me with what forethought and earnest sense of responsibility he had undertaken the charge of a life, the guidance of a character yet undeveloped; it lastingly acquitted him of the levity that had been attributed to Sedley Beaudesert.
"Lady N and I were boy and girl together; we correspond; she has written to me suggesting that Ah! I see, an indiscreet woman. Hum! this comes of lady correspondents!" Lord Castleton had recourse to the Beaudesert mixture; and then, as if eager to change the subject, began his own explanation.
If you had but seen him at S House, the night before he took leave of the island, and his comical grimace when Castleton offered him a pinch of the Beaudesert mixture! No; the fact is that Castleton made it the object of his existence, the masterpiece of his art, to secure to himself a happy home and the entire possession of his wife's heart.
"You have said quite enough to convince me that you ought not to belong to a party, but not enough to convince me why you should not be happy," said my father. "Do you remember," said Sir Sedley Beaudesert, "an anecdote of the first Duke of Portland? He had a gallery in the great stable of his villa in Holland, where a concert was given once a week, to cheer and amuse his horses!
Indeed, the change was so great that I exclaimed dubiously, "Is that Sir Sedley Beaudesert?" The footman looked at me, and touching his hat, said, with a condescending smile, "Yes, sir, now the Marquis of Castleton."
Again, as an amateur of art and a respectful servant of every muse, all whom the public had failed to patronize, painter, actor, poet, musician, turned, like dying sunflowers to the sun, towards the pitying smile of Sir Sedley Beaudesert.
This, he tells us, was "the haunt of his youthful steps;" and here he met with Somerville, the poet of the Chase, to whom both the subject and the title of his poem might have been suggested by that extensive common, known by the name of Cannock Chase, on the border of which Beaudesert is situated.
The blow fell rather upon me than my father, and my young shoulders bore it without much wincing. This settled to our universal satisfaction, I went to pay my farewell visit to Sir Sedley Beaudesert. He had made much of me during my stay in London.
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