given effect or action in a person's life, and have been for my own
part many a time quite misled in my own case, fancying some grand, some
magnanimous, some virtuous reason, for an act of which I was proud, when, lo,
some pert little satirical monitor springs up inwardly, upsetting the fond
humbug which I was cherishing - the peacock's tail wherein my absurd vanity had
clad itself - and says, »Away with this boasting! I am the cause of your virtue,
my lad. You are pleased that yesterday at dinner you refrained from the dry
champagne: my name is Worldly Prudence, not Self-denial, and I caused you to
refrain. You are pleased because you gave a guinea to Diddler: I am Laziness,
not Generosity, which inspired you. You hug yourself because you resisted other
temptation? Coward! it was because you dared not run the risk of the wrong! Out
with your peacock's plumage! walk off in the feathers which Nature gave you, and
thank Heaven they are not altogether black.« In a word, Aunt Honeyman was a kind
soul, and such was the splendour of Clive's father, of his gifts, his
generosity, his military services, and Companionship of the Bath, that the lad
did really appear a young duke to her. And Mrs. Newcome was not unkind; and if
Clive had been really a young duke, I am sure he would have had the best bedroom
at Marble Head, and not one of the far-off little rooms in the boys' wing; I am
sure he would have had jellies and Charlottes Russes, instead of mere broth,
chicken, and batter pudding as fell to his lot; and when he was gone (in the
carriage, mind you, not in the gig driven by a groom), I am sure Mrs. Newcome
would have written a letter that night to Her Grace the Duchess Dowager, his
mamma, full of praise of the dear child, his graciousness, his beauty, and his
wit, and declaring that she must love him henceforth and for ever after as a son
of her own. You toss down the page with scorn, and say, »It is not true. Human
nature is not so bad as this cynic would have it to be. You would make no
difference between the rich and the poor.« Be it so. You would not. But own that
your next-door neighbour would. Nor is this, dear madam, addressed to you; no,
no, we are not