Chapter 1

At the Chancellor's House.

COUNSELLOR FLEFFEL, LEWIS BROOK, at Breakfast.

Enter a Servant.

Counsellor (to the Servant).

Take away. But, no--let it stand; my father may chuse some: is he returned?

_Servant._ I'll enquire, Sir. [Exit Servant.

_Counsellor_ [rising and viewing himself]. We've made a long breakfast.

_Lewis._ But _you_ have eaten nothing.

_Counsellor._ Why, my dear friend, I'm quite uneasy about my growing so fat.

_Lewis_ [ironically]. Oh, certainly; All the affecting graces of a pining love-sick swain will be destroyed: you'll lose all your credit with the ladies.--Apropos of ladies, how do you stand with Miss Drave?

_Counsellor._ Ill enough. Your worthy guardian and the whole family are so intolerably stiff.

_Lewis._ Don't say I told you; but you certainly are the happy man.

_Counsellor._ I?--No indeed; it is rather you.

_Lewis._ You have nothing to fear from me. You know my passion for your sister. But for that grave, melancholy gentleman, my dear brother, I'd have you beware of him.

_Counsellor_ [laughs] Excellent! As if such a sour misanthrope could please any one, particularly a young girl.

_Lewis._ Tastes are different; and besides, my serious guardian is his friend.

_Counsellor._ So much the worse for _you_.

_Lewis._ No matter.

_Counsellor._ How! Believe me, this excellent brother of yours is continually defaming you.

_Lewis._ I know it very well.

_Counsellor._ And he is now striving----

_Lewis._ I know what you would say; to enforce the clause of my father's will.

_Counsellor._ Tell me, how is this clause worded?

_Lewis._ If one of his sons should turn out a prodigal, the other is declared his tutor.

_Counsellor._ It is a shocking clause.

_Lewis._ It is indeed. Yet, should they attempt it--by heavens!--But to the purpose--your father is still willing to give me your sister?

_Counsellor._ Certainly.

_Lewis._ But take care then I have some of the ready with her.

_Counsellor._ Oh, you may depend upon that.

_Lewis._ Not any of your father's own; only my share of the fortune of old Crack-brains.

_Counsellor._ Old Crack-brains! What do you mean?

_Lewis._ As if you did not know! Why my old uncle, to whom you have prescribed a little wholesome confinement, by way of cure for his pretended madness.

_Counsellor._ Oh! that old man! So, so.

_Lewis._ Exactly. You always seem wonderfully at a loss when that point is touch'd.

_Counsellor._ But--I was going to observe--yes--it might be done, had he not escaped--but now it is uncertain whether he is alive, or what is become of him.

_Lewis._ I say he is dead.

_Counsellor._ But we have not heard.

_Lewis._ He shall be dead.

_Counsellor._ But----

_Lewis._ Why a live man is as easily declared to be dead, as a man in his senses to be mad; and if he should make his appearance, you can secure him again.

_Counsellor._ No! who would do that?

_Lewis._ Zounds! what a tender conscience! If my uncle could be declared mad, by your good-nature, that you might shew your Christian charity, in managing his estate, I am sure your noble heart would have no scruple to advance a part of the inheritance to the lawful heir.

_Counsellor._ My dear friend, your expressions are so harsh--so----

_Lewis._ His madness was not so very clear. The old fellow was reasonable enough at times.

_Counsellor._ Quite out of his senses, I assure you: mad as a March hare.

_Lewis_ I don't know how--but indeed, I sometimes pity him.

_Counsellor._ It was the will of God.

_Lewis._ Oh, I have nothing to do with that: 'tis a subject too deep for me. But beware of my brother: he suspects foul play, and has spies drawn up every where.

Enter CHANCELLOR FLEFFEL.

_Counsellor._ Good morning, dear father.

_Lewis_ [bowing]. My Lord!

_Chancellor._ Good morning, my son,--your most obedient, Sir.

_Lewis._ Engaged so early?

_Chancellor._ Can I avoid it, my dear Sir?

_Lewis._ The State is much indebted to you.

_Chancellor._ Yet my zeal is frequently overlooked--no attention paid. [To his son] No news, Samuel?

_Counsellor._ No, father.

_Chancellor._ I feel quite tired.

_Counsellor._ You have had no breakfast.

_Chancellor._ No; and the cold marble floor of the Palace has quite chilled me. What have you here? [Seats himself at the breakfast table.] Our most excellent Prince has been heaping new favours upon me. You have heard, no doubt, [to Lewis] of the bustle there has been. An underclerk of the Treasury, a man of no extraction, accused me of a fraud, in executing the late regulations for the distribution of corn to the poor.

_Lewis._ So I have been informed--and what is our Prince's pleasure?

_Chancellor._ As the man could bring no evidence whatever, his Serene Highness, for the reparation of my honour, has been graciously pleased to punish him.

_Lewis._ And in what manner?

_Chancellor._ The warrant was signed yesterday, [drinks]--To be cashiered and banished.

_Lewis._ He is pretty well rewarded.

_Chancellor._ I have supplicated, my dear Sir, for a mitigation of the sentence--but in vain----Samuel, cut me a wing of that fowl----I have sent another letter, on your account, to Mr. Drave.

_Lewis._ Too kind, my Lord.

_Chancellor._ I long to see his answer. To my last he sent an absolute refusal.

_Lewis._ Is it possible? Can he dare?

_Chancellor_ [rising]. He has not gathered roses by it, my dear Sir--No, no, [laughs] L.4000, which I had in his hands, I withdrew instantly.--Your good father was wrong to put such promising sons under this man's guardianship.

_Lewis._ I agree with you; but some of his best friends advised him.

_Chancellor_ [taking snuff]. Has Drave ever given any account of his guardianship?

_Lewis._ Not yet.

_Chancellor._ Note that, Samuel. He _shall_ give it--I have hinted it in Court already--You must not lose your fortune, my dear Sir.

_Lewis._ I do not think there is any danger.

_Chancellor._ Well, but have you drawn up a statement of your property, as you promised?

_Lewis_ [gives him a paper]. Here it is.

_Chancellor_ [looking over it]. So, so; a very good fortune! [muttering] L.10,000 in the hands of Rose--Which Rose is that?

_Lewis._ John Frederick.

_Chancellor._ Samuel, give me the red ink.--[Writes.] So, so--L.10,000, at John Frederick Rose's.

_Lewis._ May I ask why that name strikes you so much?

_Chancellor._ For important reasons.

_Lewis._ You think----

_Chancellor._ That your property is not in the best hands, my dear Sir. Rose is rather in a ticklish situation just now.

_Lewis._ I may lose it then!

_Chancellor._ Not you exactly, but your worthy tutor might suffer. [Looks at the back of the paper.] Aye, aye; many drawbacks too--you are not the best manager, my good friend.

_Lewis._ I know it, my Lord.

_Chancellor._ Overcharged besides by your honest guardian now and then. I am a plain, sincere man. Speak freely--the valuable furniture--the plate--is there any regular inventory?

_Lewis._ No, my Lord. It was in the will.

_Chancellor._ You must apply to the Court then.

_Lewis._ Yes--But--

_Chancellor._ Only for form sake--you just sign a little paper--a mere form, I assure you. You are too good-natured--give so easily away--must not be.--Come, we will go to my room, and examine your affairs more closely. [Exeunt.