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158 THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP
young gentlemen. You ain't a tradesman, sir, else I'm mistaken
in the family, which I thought the Ringwoods one of the best in
England, and the Firmins a good one likewise." Mr. Ridley loved
the sound of his own voice. At the festive meetings of the club,
seldom a night passed in which he did not compliment his brother
Byngs and air his own oratory. Under this reproof Phil blushed,
and hung his conscious head with shame. " Mr. Ridley," says he,
" you shall find I won't come where I am not welcome ; and if I
come to annoy you at the 'Admiral Byng,' may I be taken out
on the quarter-deck and shot." On which Mr. Ridley pronounced
Philip to be a " most sing'lar, astrornary, and ascentric young man.
A good heart, sir. Most generous to relieve distress. Fine talent,
sir ; but I fear—I fear they won't come to much good, Mr. Gann—
saving your presence, Mrs. Brandon, m'm, which, of course, you
always stand up for him."
When Philip Firmin had had his pipe and his talk with the
Little Sister in her parlour, he would ascend and smoke his second,
third, tenth pipe in J. J. Ridley's studio. He would pass hours
before J. J.'s easel, pouring out talk about politics, about religion,
about poetry, about women, about the dreadful slavishness and
meanness of the world ; unwearied in talk and idleness, as placid
J. J. was in listening and labour. The painter had been too busy
in life over his easel to read many books. His ignorance of literature
smote him with a frequent shame. He admired book-writers, and
young men of the university who quoted their Greek and their
Horace glibly. He listened with deference to their talk on such
matters ; no doubt got good hints from some of them ; was always
secretly pained and surprised when the university gentlemen were
beaten in argument, or loud and coarse in conversation, as sometimes
they would be. "J. J. is a very clever fellow of course," Mr.
Jarman would say of him, " and the luckiest man in Europe. He
loves painting, and he is at work all day. He loves toadying fine
people, and he goes to a tea-party every night." You all knew
Jarman of Charlotte Street, the miniature-painter 1 He was one of
the kings of the " Haunt." His tongue spared no one. He envied
all success, and the sight of prosperity made him furious ; but to the
unsuccessful he was kind ; to the poor eager with help and prodigal
of compassion ; and that old talk about nature's noblemen and the
glory of labour was very fiercely and eloquently waged by him.
His friends admired him : he was the soul of independence, and
thought most men sneaks who wore clean linen and frequented
gentlemen's society : but it must be owned his landlords had a bad
opinion of him, and I have heard of one or two of his pecuniary
transactions which certainly were not to Mr. Jarman's credit.