The Bedford-Row Conspiracy | Page 5

for
Oldborough, so Lucy's uncle was its Ministerial representative.
This gentleman, the brother of the deceased Captain Gorgon, lived at
the paternal mansion of Gorgon Castle, and rejoiced in the name and
title of Sir George Grimsby Gorgon.
He, too, like his younger brother, had married a lady beneath his own
rank in life; having espoused the daughter and heiress of Mr. Hicks, the
great brewer at Oldborough, who held numerous mortgages on the
Gorgon property, all of which he yielded up, together with his daughter
Juliana, to the care of the baronet.
What Lady Gorgon was in character, this history will show. In person,
if she may be compared to any vulgar animal, one of her father's heavy,
healthy, broad-flanked, Roman-nosed white dray-horses might, to the
poetic mind, appear to resemble her. At twenty she was a splendid
creature, and though not at her full growth, yet remarkable for strength
and sinew; at forty-five she was as fine a woman as any in His
Majesty's dominions. Five feet seven in height, thirteen stone, her own
teeth and hair, she looked as if she were the mother of a regiment of
Grenadier Guards. She had three daughters of her own size, and at
length, ten years after the birth of the last of the young ladies, a
son--one son--George Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, the godson
of a royal duke, whose steady officer in waiting Sir George had been
for many years.
It is needless to say, after entering so largely into a description of Lady

Gorgon, that her husband was a little shrivelled wizen-faced creature,
eight inches shorter than her Ladyship. This is the way of the world, as
every single reader of this book must have remarked; for frolic love
delights to join giants and pigmies of different sexes in the bonds of
matrimony. When you saw her Ladyship in flame-coloured satin and
gorgeous toque and feathers, entering the drawing-room, as footmen
along the stairs shouted melodiously, "Sir George and Lady Gorgon,"
you beheld in her company a small withered old gentleman, with
powder and large royal household buttons, who tripped at her elbow as
a little weak-legged colt does at the side of a stout mare.
The little General had been present at about a hundred and twenty
pitched battles on Hounslow Heath and Wormwood Scrubs, but had
never drawn his sword against an enemy. As might be expected,
therefore, his talk and tenue were outrageously military. He had the
whole Army List by heart--that is, as far as the field-officers: all below
them he scorned. A bugle at Gorgon Castle always sounded at breakfast,
and dinner: a gun announced sunset. He clung to his pigtail for many
years after the army had forsaken that ornament, and could never be
brought to think much of the Peninsular men for giving it up. When he
spoke of the Duke, he used to call him "MY LORD WELLINGTON--I
RECOLLECT HIM AS CAPTAIN WELLESLEY." He swore fearfully
in conversation, was most regular at church, and regularly read to his
family and domestics the morning and evening prayer; he bullied his
daughters, seemed to bully his wife, who led him whither she chose;
gave grand entertainments, and never asked a friend by chance; had
splendid liveries, and starved his people; and was as dull, stingy,
pompous, insolent, cringing, ill-tempered a little creature as ever was
known.
With such qualities you may fancy that he was generally admired in
society and by his country. So he was: and I never knew a man so
endowed whose way through life was not safe--who had fewer pangs of
conscience--more positive enjoyments--more respect shown to
him--more favours granted to him, than such a one as my friend the
General.

Her Ladyship was just suited to him, and they did in reality admire
each other hugely. Previously to her marriage with the baronet, many
love-passages had passed between her and William Pitt Scully, Esquire,
the attorney; and there was especially one story, a propos of certain
syllabubs and Sally-Lunn cakes, which seemed to show that matters
had gone very far. Be this as it may, no sooner did the General (Major
Gorgon he was then) cast an eye on her, than Scully's five years' fabric
of love was instantly dashed to the ground. She cut him pitilessly, cut
Sally Scully, his sister, her dearest friend and confidante, and bestowed
her big person upon the little aide-de-camp at the end of a fortnight's
wooing. In the course of time their mutual fathers died; the Gorgon
estates were unencumbered: patron of both the seats in the borough of
Oldborough, and occupant of one, Sir George Grimsby Gorgon,
Baronet, was a personage of no small importance.
He was, it scarcely need to be said, a Tory; and this was the reason why