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 inclined to the had 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 benevolent and forgiving; at other times he is unreasonably vindictive and barbarous. It was hard to predict what he would do or say on any given occasion, but the chances were it would be something with a strong flavor, good or bad.

Such a character in fiction would be pronounced incredible; yet such characters are not entirely unknown even in Biblical history. There was nothing which delighted him more than to stand out in direct contrast to the general public and find himself in a minority of one. In the House of Lords no doubt he would have been often able to gratify this whim; but, like certain noblemen of our own day, he had the good taste not to take his place as an "hereditary legislator; indeed throughout his short career he rather shunned the "society of his peers," preferring instead the ignobile vulgus of the London streets.

In 1801, when all London was lit up in celebration of the return of peace, no persuasions would induce him to allow lights to be placed in the windows of his apartments, which were over a grocer's shop in Bond Street, though he had previously wished to go to Paris to end the war with a single blow. In vain did the grocer and his wife protest; in vain did his friends try their persuasion; he continued inexorable, and throughout the evening remained firm to his silly and wayward resolve. So, though all London was

roll him in the gutter. But the next night his windows were as dark as ever, though he had taken the precau tion to fill the house with a party of armed sailors, and it seemed likely that the festivities attending the welcome peace would be the cause of yet more bloodshed. Fortunately the mob were in a good temper, or content with having thrashed him once; at any rate, he was left this time to mourn, or rather curse, alone the national weakness in coming to terms with "Bony."

The fact that he always showed an uncommon affection for his sister's two children proves that his character was not destitute of amiable qualities. For the gratification and amusement of these boys, he gave them a couple of ponies, and it was one of his favorite recreations to take them out riding. On these little expeditions if he perceived any laborers at work, he used to stop and engage them in conversation, and always made it his business to find out their circumstances, difficulties, and little family secrets. Never on these occasions did distress plead in vain, and he seldom parted from those whom he considered deserving objects of his bounty, without leaving behind some substantial mark of his favor. It was also his custom in order to test the disposition of his so-called friends, to occasionally represent himself as being greatly in want of money, and to request the loan of one or two thousand pounds. Some of those to whom he 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.

thing to his prejudice to this woman. His name was a terror to fops, for The inflammable nobleman immedithough Camelford House at the top of ately took fire, so that happening to Park Lane was nominally his town meet this Mr. Best on the 6th of March residence, he lived chiefly in his bache- at the Prince of Wales coffee-house, lor quarters, or at clubs, and coffee- Lord Camelford went up to him and houses, where he would often go said loud enough to be heard by all shabbily dressed to read the paper. present: "I find, sir, that you have One day it chanced that a dashing spoken of me in the most unwarrantbeau full of airs and graces came into able terms." Mr. Best quietly replied, the same box in a coffee-house in Con-"that he was quite ignorant of anyduit 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.” แ "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!" 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

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.

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.'

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 it was not your fault." the expressions he had used. ford," 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."

"Camel- The report of firearms had alarmed

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.

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; On the day after his death, an incould have heard his dying exhortation quest was held upon his body, when, to one of his intimate friends, to live in strange as it may sound to those who future a life of peace and virtue. I have read this brief history, twelve think it would have made an impres-wise and enlightened inhabitants of the sion on their minds, as it did on mine, rural village of Kensington, for such it not easily to be effaced." 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 subjected them 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," says 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 the church have been filled with sawas a compensation, he left the propri- dust. There he most probably will etors of the spot described, 1,000l. remain until the "last trumpet shall That at eleven years of age he or any sound" buried in sawdust, alongside other boy should have meditated under the coffin of that other eccentric inditrees upon the "mutability of human | vidual, the adventurer, Theodore, king affairs," is nonsense. He was medi- of Corsica. At any rate, there seems tating upon that subject as he lay little chance that he will ever rest in a-dying, and it was then that he re- the romantic spot he fancied, and paid membered 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.

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 Corsica, pending its removal to Switzerland; for preparations had actually been made to carry out Lord Camelford's wishes. He was embalmed and his remains packed up for transportation in an enormously long fish-basket in place of a shell. But at the last 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

WHEN I say that a man has a horror of work, I mean the work of original production of ideas and not that of exercise, by means of which the mental organs are kept in a state of health. For instance, that which is commonly called the imaginative faculty, taken in its restricted sense, is only the faculty