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Such was Lord Camelford's night illuminated, Camelford's windows rework; and although he so often spent mained dark as pitch. those quiet hours in administering This kind of thing was at that time black eyes to many, this eccentric crea- always bitterly resented by a London ture in the daytime was often to be mob. The canaille collected, and by found engaged in relieving the neces- way of preliminary saluted his winsities of many. He was, as before dows with a shower of stones. Irrimentioned, a curious mixture of vices tated by this treatment, the pugnacious and virtues, of studiousness and reck- peer sallied out, carrying a formidable lessness. We read in the columns of bludgeon, and single-handed laid about the Gentleman's Magazine that Lord him right and left. But the mob Camelford was not only iuclined to the bad cudgels too, and proceeded to show more enlightened pursuits of literature, his lordship that they also knew how but his chemical researches were to use those weapons.

They belaworthy of the highest praise. Some-bored him thoroughly, and in the end times he exhibits traces of a tender knocked him down and proceeded to heart and of being singularly benevo- roll him in the gutter. But the next lent and forgiving; at other times he night his windows were as dark as is unreasonably vindictive and barbar- ever, though he had taken the precau ous. It was hard to predict what he tion to fill the house with a party of would do or say on any given occasion, armed sailors, and it seemed likely that but the chances were it would be some- the festivities attending the welcome thing with a strong flavor, good or peace would be the cause of yet more bad.

bloodshed. Fortunately the mob were Such a character in fiction would be in a good temper, or content with havpronounced incredible ; yet such char- ing thrashed him once ; at any rate, he acters are not entirely unknown even was left this time to mourn, or rather in Biblical history. There was nothing curse, alone the national weakness in which delighted bim more than to coming to terms with “ Bony." stand out in direct contrast to the gen- The fact that he always showed an eral public and find himself in a minor- uncommon affection for his sister's two ity of one. In the House of Lords no children proves that his character was doubt he would have been often able not destitute of amiable qualities. For to gratify this whim ; but, like certain the gratification and amusement of noblemen of our own day, he had the these boys, he gave them a couple of good taste not to take his place as ponies, and it was one of his favorite an “hereditary legislator ; indeed recreations to take them out riding. throughout his short career he rather On these little expeditions if he pershunned the “ society of his peers," ceived any laborers at work, he used to preferring instead the ignobile vulgus of stop and engage them in conversation, the London streets.

and always made it his business to find In 1801, when all London was lit up out their circumstances, difficulties, in celebration of the return of peace, and little family secrets. Never on no persuasions would induce him to these occasions did distress plead in allow lights to be placed in the win- vain, and he seldom parted from those dows of his apartments, which were whom he considered deserving objects over a grocer's shop in Bond Street, of his bounty, without leaving behind though he had previously wished to go some substantial mark of his favor. It to Paris to end the war with a single was also his custom in order to test the blow. In vain did the grocer and his disposition of his so-called friends, to wife protest ; in vain did his friends occasionally represent himself as being try their persuasion ; he continued in- greatly in want of money, and to reexorable, and throughout the evening quest the loan of one or two thousand remained firm to his silly and wayward pounds. Some of those to whom be resolve. So, though all London was applied gave him the required sum,

which he generally returned in the represented to the touchy nobleman course of a few days with a note of that a certain Mr. Best had said someexplanation.

His name was a terror to fops, for though Camelford House at the top of Park Lane was nominally his town residence, he lived chiefly in his bachelor quarters, or at clubs, and coffeehouses, where he would often go shabbily dressed to read the paper.

thing to his prejudice to this woman. The inflammable nobleman immediately took fire, so that happening to meet this Mr. Best on the 6th of March at the Prince of Wales coffee-house, Lord Camelford went up to him and said loud enough to be heard by all present: "I find, sir, that you have spoken of me in the most unwarrantable terms." Mr. Best quietly replied, "that he was quite ignorant of any

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After making use of such epithets as these, there was according to the code of honor of those days- but one course open to Mr. Best. A meeting was proposed for the following morning, and each of the parties having appointed his second, it was left to them to arrange the time and place, which was accordingly fixed to take place at seven o'clock in a meadow behind Holland House.

One day it chanced that a dashing beau full of airs and graces came into the same box in a coffee-house in Conduit Street, which Camelford was fond thing to deserve such a charge; of frequenting, and threw himself into Camelford replied that he knew otherthe opposite seat, at the same time call-wise, and called him "a scoundrel, a ing out in a most consequential tone, liar, and a ruffian.” "Waiter, bring a pint of Madeira, and a couple of wax candles." Meanwhile, he drew Lord Camelford's candle towards himself, and began to read. The former glared at the intruder, but said nothing. In the course of a few minutes the buck's candles and wine were brought and set out in the next box into which he presently lounged. Then Camelford, mimicking his tone called out: "Waitaa, bring me a pair of snuffaas." These being brought his lordship walked round with them to the other box, snuffed out both candles and leisurely returned to his seat. "Waitaa, waitaa, waitaa," roared the indignant beau boiling and blustering with rage, "who is this fellow that dares thus to insult a gentleman ? who is he? who is he?" "Lord Camelford, sir! 99 said the received was unfounded, and that as waiter.

"Lord Camelford ! " returned the former in horror-stricken accents. "Lord Camelford! What have I to pay?" And he immediately laid down his score, and stole away, leaving his Madeira untasted.

At length Lord Camelford's irritable disposition, which had already involved him in endless quarrels and disputes, paved the way to the tragic ending of a life which was such a strange compound of good and bad.

It would appear that for some time he had been épris of a certain lady of the name of Simmons. One day early in 1804, some officious retailer of gossip

Meantime every means was used to prevent the necessity of a duel, and it certainly seems to have been entirely Lord Camelford's fault that the affair was allowed to be proceeded with. In the course of the evening, Mr. Best, although he had been so grossly insulted, sent to his lordship the strongest assurance that the information he

Lord Camelford had acted under a false impression he would be quite satisfied if his lordship would withdraw the strong epithets which he had used. But Lord Camelford was too proud to accept this kindly and sensible offer.

Meanwhile the proprietors of the coffee-house and some mutual friends among the bystanders lodged an information at Marlborough Street, but though the magistrates were thus early let into the secret, it appears that according to the usual dilatoriness with regard to such matters (as in the case of the celebrated duel between Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton, nearly a century before that) no steps

were taken to prevent the encounter until too late.

Not until nearly two o'clock in the morning did any of the Marlborough Street emissaries reach Lord Camelford's door, by which time the bird had flown. For his lordship, who had gained no little experience in matters of honor, had taken good care to "efface" himself from his Bond Street lodging, and slept the night instead at a tavern in Oxford Street.

Unable to come to terms the two principals mounted their horses and rode along the Uxbridge Road, past the wall which then bounded Kensington Gardens and so came to the Horse and Groom, a little beyond Notting Hill turnpike-gate. At the Horse and Groom they dismount, cross the road, and proceed at a rapid pace along the path towards the fields at the back of Holland House. It was now about eight o'clock, and the sun had just He employed the quiet hours of this risen upon a wild March morning, the his last night upon earth in making seconds measured the ground and his will, bequeathing his estates to his placed their men at a distance of thirty sister, Lady Grenville. In this he in- paces. One or two of Lord Holland's serted a clause which proves him to outdoor servants were up and about have done at least one just and noble the grounds, but while they stood and act, for in it he wholly acquits his an- stared, the signal was given and Lord tagonist of blame by a positive state- Camelford fired first and missed. A ment that he was the aggressor in quarter of a minute more, Best hesievery sense. "Should I therefore lose tated, and some think he even now my life in a contest of my own seeking, asked his adversary to retract, but the I most solemnly forbid my friends or signal was repeated, and he fired, relations from instituting any vexatious whereupon Lord Camelford was seen proceeding against my antagonist; " to fall at full length to the ground. and he further adds that if, "notwith-But he was not dead yet, though he standing the above declaration, the would never stand again, and oh! laws of the land be put in force against irony of ironies, he declared that he him, I desire that this part of my will" was satisfied." may be made known to the king."

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it was not your fault."

They all ran to pick him up, and he Early the following morning Mr. gave his hand to his antagonist, saying, Best called at the coffee-house in Ox-" Best, I am a dead man, and though ford Street, where he made a last effort you have killed me I fully forgive you; to prevail upon his lordship to retract the expressions he had used. "Camelford," said he, we have been friends, and I know the generosity of your nature. Upon my honor you have been imposed upon by Mrs. Simmons. Do not insist on using expressions which in the end may cause the death of either you or me."

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To this Lord Camelford replied with some emotion, Best, this is child's play; the thing must go on." Yet in his own heart he acquitted Mr. Best, for he acknowledged in confidence to his second that he was in the wrong. The reason of all this obstinacy probably lay in the fact that Best had the credit of being a fatal shot, and Camelford fancied his reputation might suffer if he made a concession, however slight, to such a person.

The report of firearms had alarmed several other persons, so that Best was obliged to seek safety in flight. One of the gardeners was sent for a surgeon, and a sedan chair was soon procured, in which Lord Camelford was carried off to Little Holland House, where he was attended by two surgeons, an express being sent off to his brother-in-law, Lord Grenville, and to his cousin the Rev. Mr. Cockburn. He was put to bed and his clothes cut off him, but from the first the surgeons gave no hope, for the bullet was buried in the body and could not be extracted, and the lower limbs were paralyzed by its action.

He lingered in great agony for three whole days, when mortification set in and put an end to his sufferings. Thus

To his cousin, Mr. Cockburn, who remained with him until he expired, he is said to have spoken with deep contrition of his past life, and in the moments of his greatest pain cried out that he sincerely hoped the agonies he then endured might expiate the sins he had committed.

died Thomas Pitt Lord Camelford at | punishment; but in whose cases apthe early age of twenty-nine, in the peared circumstances of alleviation. prime and full vigor of manhood, by a He was passionately fond of science, death entirely due to his own wilful and though his mind, while a young obstinacy and foolish pride. seaman, had been little cultivated, yet in his later years he had acquired a prodigious fund of information, upon almost every subject connected with literature. In early life he had gloried much in puzzling the chaplains of the ships in which he had served, and to enable him to gain such triumphs, he had read all the sceptical books he could procure, and thus his mind became involuntarily tainted with infidelity. But as his judgment grew more matured, he discovered of himself the fallacy of his reasonings, and the folly of living an irreligious life.

"I wish," says Mr. Cockburn, "with all my soul, that the unthinking votaries of dissipation and infidelity could have been present at the death-bed of this poor man, could have heard his expressions of contrition and of reliance on the mercy of his Creator; could have heard his dying exhortation to one of his intimate friends, to live in future a life of peace and virtue. I think it would have made an impression on their minds, as it did on mine, not easily to be effaced."

On the day after his death, an inquest was held upon his body, when, strange as it may sound to those who have read this brief history, twelve wise and enlightened inhabitants of the rural village of Kensington, for such it was when George III. was king, unanimously returned a verdict of Wilful murder," against some person or persons unknown.

to bow to the rules and requirements of the service. From a child he would not obey or be amenable to reason; he delighted to set all authority at defiance; at school it was the same, afterwards in the navy; and he was true to his character to the very last. The day before his death he wrote or rather dictated a codicil to his will. In it he requests his relations not to wear mourning for him, and then gives particular instructions as to the disposal of his remains after death.

He was a man, says Cockburn, whose real character was but little known to the world; his imperfections and his follies were often brought before the It is evident from all I have said, public, but the counterbalancing vir- that Lord Camelford had in him the tues he manifested were but little elements of a good naval officer; but heard of. Though violent to those he was proud, and obstinate beyond whom he imagined to have wronged measure, and never could be brought him, yet to his acquaintances he was mild, affable, and courteous; a stern adversary, but the kindest and most generous of friends. That warmth of disposition, which prompted him so unhappily to great improprieties, prompted him also to the most lively efforts of active benevolence. From the many prisons in the metropolis, from the various receptacles of human misery, he received numberless petitions; and no petition ever came in vain. He was often the dupe of the designing and crafty supplicant, but he was more often the reliever of real sorrow, and the soother of unmerited woe. Constantly would he make use of that influence which rank and fortune gave him with the government to interfere on behalf of those malefactors whose crimes had subject

hem to

In this remarkable document he prefaced his wish by the statement that while other persons desired to be buried in their native land however great the distance might be, he on the contrary wished to be interred in a distant land. "I wish my body," ays he, "to be removed as soon as

may be convenient, to a country far | scription:

The Right Hon. Lord

distant, to a spot not near the haunts Camelford, died 10th March, 1804, aged of men, but where the surrounding 29 years." His body still lies where it scenery may smile upon my remains. " was first temporarily interred, for the He then went into details. This place war lasted a long while, and at its close was by the lake of St. Pierre, in the Lord Camelford's remains were forgotcanton of Berne, in Switzerland, and ten, and there seems never to have the exact spot was marked by three been any further attempt to carry out trees. He desired that the centre tree the testamentary wishes of the deceased might be taken up, and his body placed peer. Many persons have actually in the cavity, and that no monument or been shown by former vergers of St. stone might mark the place. He then Anne's what purported to be the coffin gave a reason for this selection: "At containing all that remained of Lord the foot of this tree I formerly passed Camelford, probably fish-basket and many hours in solitude contemplating all, but of late years the vaults under the mutability of human affairs;" and as a compensation, he left the proprietors of the spot described, 1,000l. That at eleven years of age he or any other boy should have meditated under trees upon the "mutability of human affairs," is nonsense. He was meditating upon that subject as he lay a-dying, and it was then that he remembered the green meadows, the blue lake, and the peaceful hours in the place where he had spent his innocent childhood, when he little dreamed that he should kill poor Peterson by a pistol-shot, and be killed by a pistol himself in retribution.

the church have been filled with sawdust. There he most probably will remain until the "last trumpet shall sound" buried in sawdust, alongside the coffin of that other eccentric individual, the adventurer, Theodore, king of Corsica. At any rate, there seems little chance that he will ever rest in the romantic spot he fancied, and paid for.

His fine property of Boconnoc Park, Cornwall, he bequeathed to his sister Anne, Lady Grenville, who was his sole executrix. He also left considerable sums to be devoted to charitable purposes. Lady Grenville outlived her brother sixty years, dying in full possession of her faculties, at the age of ninety in the year 1863.

From The Revue des Revues. MENTAL WORK.

But in this matter of the disposal of his remains he was not destined to have his own way. The body was removed the day after his death from Kensington to Camelford House, and thence on the 17th March it was taken and placed within the vaults of St. Anne's, Soho, beside the coffin which held the remains of Theodore, king of WHEN I say that a man has a horror Corsica, pending its removal to Switz- of work, I mean the work of original erland; for preparations had actually production of ideas and not that of been made to carry out Lord Camel- exercise, by means of which the menford's wishes. He was embalmed and tal organs are kept in a state of health. his remains packed up for transporta- For instance, that which is commonly tion in an enormously long fish-basket called the imaginative faculty, taken in in place of a shell. But at the last its restricted sense, is only the faculty moment, when all was ready, war of associating a great many mental was again proclaimed and the body images together, in order to realize was unable to be transported. It was numerous and varied combinations of thereupon placed temporarily in a mag- these, which, in certain cases, produce nificent coffin ornamented with a pro- great psychic pleasure. Take a volume fusion of silver clasps and covered with of poems, written by some fanciful rose-colored velvet and surmounted by poet, as Shelley or Baudelaire; these a coronet, and with the following in-verses excite in us images and their

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