Thirdly, a good skip invariably obtains credit for his master at “Foles's” chop-house; while, in his own proper capacity, he would not get trust for a cheese-paring.
Fourthly, a skip is supposed to be born a valet, as some are born poets,—to have an instinctive aptitude for all the details of things he has never seen or heard of before; so that when he applies Warren's patent to French leather boots, polishes silver with a Bath brick, blows the fire with a quarto, and cuts candles with a razor, he finds it passing strange that he should be “had up” for punishment. To be fat without food, to be warm without fire, to be wakeful without sleep, to be clad without clothes, to be known as a vagabond, and to pass current for unblemished honesty, to be praised as a liar, and then thrashed for lying,—is too much to expect at fifteen years of age.
Lastly, as to Betty's I had no regrets. The occupation of horse-boy, like the profession of physic, has no “avenir.” The utmost the most aspiring can promise to himself is to hold more horses than his neighbors, as the Doctor's success is to order more “senna.” There is nothing beyond these; no higher path opens to him who feels the necessity for an “upward course.” It is a ladder with but one round to it! No, no; I was right to “sell out” there.
My steeplechase might have led to something,—that is, I might have become a jockey; but then, again, one's light weight, like a “contralto” voice, is sure to vanish after a year or two; and then, from the heyday of popularity, you sink down into a bad groom or a fourth-rate tenor, just as if, after reaching a silk gown at the bar, a man had to begin life again as crier in the Exchequer! Besides, in all these various walks I should have had the worst of all “trammels,” a patron. Now, if any resolve had thoroughly fixed itself in my mind, it was this: never to have a patron, never to be bound to any man who, because he had once set you on your legs, should regulate the pace you were to walk through a long life. To do this, one should be born without a particle of manhood's spirit,—absolutely without volition; otherwise you go through life a living lie, talking sentiments that are not yours, and wearing a livery in your heart as well as on your back!
Why do we hear such tirades about the ingratitude of men, who, being once assisted by others,—their inferiors in everything save gold,—soar above the low routine of toadyism, and rise into personal independence? Let us remember that the contract was never a fair one, and that a whole life's degradation is a heavy sum to pay for a dinner with his Grace, or a cup of tea with her Highness. “My Lord,” I am aware, thinks differently; and it is one of the very pleasant delusions of his high station to fancy that little folk are dependent upon him,—what consequence they obtain among their fellows by his recognition in public, or by his most careless nod in the street. But “my Lord” does not know that this is a paper currency that represents no capital, that it is not convertible at will, and is never a legal tender; and consequently, as a requital for actual bona fide services, is about as honest a payment as a flash note.
It was no breach of my principle that I accepted Sir Dudley's offer. Our acquaintance began by my rendering him a service; and I was as free to leave him that hour, and, I own, as ready to do so, if occasion permitted, as he could be to get rid of me; and it was not long before the occasion presented itself for exercising these views.
As I lay thus, ruminating on my past fortunes, Halkett descended the steerage-ladder, followed by Felborg, the Dane; and, approaching my hammock, held a light to my face for a few seconds. “Still asleep?” said Halkett. “Poor boy! he has never awoke since I dressed his wound this morning. I 'm sure it's better; so let us leave him so.”
“Ay, ay,” said the Dane, “let him sleep; bad tidings come soon enough, without one's being awoke to hear them. But do you think he 'll do it?” added he, with lower and more anxious tone.
“He has said so; and I never knew him fail in his promise when it was a cruel one.”
“Have you no influence over him, Halkett? Could you not speak for the boy?”