“You might imagine that men who enjoyed such a privilege would have been guardedly careful against abusing it; you might fancy that even worldly motives might have rendered them cautious about imperilling the princely favor! Not so; they would seem to have lost every consciousness of propriety in the intoxication of this same flattery; and they actually dared to take a liberty with this Prince which had been more than hazardous if ventured upon with a gentleman of private station.
“The story goes that, offended by his Royal Highness having pronounced marked eulogium on the manners and breeding of an individual who was not of their set either in politics or society, one of the party—I am not disposed to give his name, if it can be avoided—dared to make a wager that he would take a fellow off the streets, give him ruffles and a dress-coat, and pass him off on the Prince as one of the most accomplished and well-bred men in Europe.
“Gentlemen, you may fancy that in this anecdote which I have taken the liberty to relate to you, I am endeavoring to compete with the very marvellous histories which my learned brother on the opposite side addressed to your notice. I beg most distinctly to disclaim all such rivalry. My story has none of those stirring incidents with which his abounded. The characters and the scene are all of home growth. It has neither remoteness in point of time, nor distance in country, to lend it attraction. It has, however, one merit which my learned friend might reasonably envy, and this is, that it is true. Yes, gentlemen, every particular I have stated is a fact. I will prove it by a witness whose evidence will be beyond gainsay. The wager was accepted, and for a considerable sum too, and a dinnerparty arranged as the occasion by which to test it. The secrecy which I wish to observe as to the actors in this most unpardonable piece of levity will prevent my mentioning the names of those most deeply implicated. One who does not stand in this unenviable category is now in court, and I will call him before you.”
Colonel Whyte Morris was now called to appear, and, after a brief delay, a tall, soldier-like, and handsome man, somewhat advanced in life, ascended the witness-table. I had no recollection of ever having seen him before; but it is needless to say with what anxiety I followed every word he uttered.
The ordinary preliminaries over, he was asked if he remembered a certain dinner-party, of which he was a guest, on a certain day in the autumn of the year.
He remembered it perfectly, and recounted that it was not easily to be forgotten, since it took place to decide a very extraordinary wager, the circumstances of which he briefly related.
“Gentleman Jack was the individual selected by a friend of mine,” said he, “and who should succeed in winning his Royal Highnesses good opinion, so as to obtain a flattering estimate of his manners and good-breeding. To what precise extent the praise was to go was not specified. There was nothing beyond a gentleman-like understanding that if Jack passed muster as a man of fashion and ton, his backer was to have won; if, on the contrary, the Prince should detect any anomalies in his breeding, so as to throw suspicion upon his real rank, then the wager was lost.
“I was present,” said the Colonel, “when the ceremony of presenting him to the Prince took place; I did not know the man myself, nor had I the slightest suspicion of any trick being practised. I had recently returned from foreign service, and was almost a stranger to all the company. Standing close beside Colonel O'Kelly, however, I overheard what passed, and as the words were really very remarkable, under the circumstances, I have not forgotten them.” Being asked to relate the incident, he went on:
“There was a doubt in what manner—I mean rather by what name—the stranger should be presented to his Royal Highness: some suggesting one name,—others, a different one; and O'Kelly grew impatient, almost angry, at the delay, and said, 'D——n it all him something: what shall it be, Sheridan?' 'The King of the Beggars, say I,' cried Sheridan, and in a voice, as I thought, to be easily heard all around. 'Who was he?' asked O'Kelly. 'Bamfield Moore Carew,' answered the other. 'So be it, then,' said O'Kelly. 'Your Royal Highness will permit me to present a very distinguished friend of mine, recently arrived in England, and who, like every true Englishman, feels that his first homage is due to the Prince who rules in all our hearts.'—'Your friend's name?'—'Carew, your Royal Highness; but being a wanderer and a vagabond, he has gone by half-a-dozen names.' The Prince laughed, and turned to hear the remainder of a story that some one at his side was relating. Meanwhile the stranger had gone through his introduction, and as Mr. Carew was in succession presented to the other members of the company—”
“Was he never addressed by any other designation, Colonel?” asked the lawyer.