“Before I commenced a part which was to continue through life, I considered deeply on the humours of the spectators. I saw that the character of the English was servile to rank, and yielding to pretension--they admire you for your acquaintance, and cringe to you for your conceit. The first thing, therefore, was to know great people--the second to controul them. I dressed well, and had good horses--that was sufficient to make me sought by the young of my own sex. I talked scandal, and was never abashed--that was more than enough to make me recherche among the matrons of the other. It is single men, and married women, to whom are given the St. Peter’s keys of Society. I was soon admitted into its heaven--I was more--I was one of its saints. I became imitated as well as initiated. I was the rage--the lion. Why?--was I better--was I richer--was I handsomer--was I cleverer, than my kind? No, no;--(and here Russelton ground his teeth with a strong and wrathful expression of scorn);--and had I been all--had I been a very concentration and monopoly of all human perfections, they would not have valued me at half the price they did set on me. It was--I will tell you the simple secret, Mr. Pelham--it was because I trampled on them, that, like crushed herbs, they sent up a grateful incense in return. “Oh! it was balm to my bitter and loathing temper, to see those who would have spurned me from them, if they dared, writhe beneath my lash, as I withheld or inflicted it at will. I was the magician who held the great spirits that longed to tear me to pieces, by one simple spell which a superior hardihood had won me--and, by Heaven, I did not spare to exert it.