"Well, Mr Simple, I dressed myself very carefully, put on my chains and
rings, and a little perfume on my handkerchief, and accompanied the
aide-de-camp to the governor's, where I was asked after my mother, Lady
---, and my uncle, my guardian, and a hundred other questions. At first
I was much confused, which was attributed to bashfulness; and so it was,
but not of the right sort. But before the day was over, I had been so
accustomed to be called `my lord,' and to my situation, that I was quite
at my ease, and began to watch the motions and behaviour of the company,
that I might regulate my comportment by that of good society. I
remained at Gibraltar for a fortnight, and then was offered a passage in
a transport ordered to Portsmouth. Being on officer, of course it was
free to a certain extent. On my passage to England, I again made up my
mind that I would put off my dress and title as soon as I could escape
from observation; but I was prevented as before. The port-admiral sent
off to request the pleasure of my company to dinner. I dared not
refuse; and there I was, my lord as before, courted and feasted by
everybody. My bill at the hotel was very extravagant, and more than I
could pay: but the master said it was not of the least consequence: that
of course his lordship had not provided himself with cash, just coming
from foreign parts, and offered to supply me with money if I required
it. This, I will say, I was honest enough to refuse. I left my cards,
PPC, as they do, Mr Simple, in all well regulated society, and set off
in the mail for London, where I fully resolved to drop my title, and to
proceed to Scotland to his lordship's mother, with the mournful
intelligence of his death--for you see, Mr Simple, no one knew that his
lordship was dead. When I arrived in London (I still wore my
midshipman's uniform), I went to an hotel recommended to me, as I
afterwards found out, the most fashionable in town, my title still
following me. I now determined to put off my uniform and dress in plain
clothes--my farce was over. I went to bed that night, and the next
morning made my appearance in a suit of mufti, making inquiry of the
waiter which was the best conveyance to Scotland.
"`Post chay and four, my lord. At what time shall I order it?'
"`Oh,' replied I, `I am not sure that I shall go to-morrow.'
"Just at this moment in came the master of the hotel, with the _Morning
Post_ in his hand, making me a low bow, and pointing to the insertion of
my arrival at his hotel among the fashionables. This annoyed me; and
now that I found how difficult it was to get rid of my title, I became
particularly anxious to be William Chucks, as before. Before twelve
o'clock, three or four gentlemen were ushered into my sitting-room, who
observing my arrival in that damn'd _Morning Post_, came to pay their
respects; and before the day was over, I was invited and re-invited by a
dozen people.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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