Rigby had been for some time in an ailing condition previous to his demise, and you may be sure that the circumstance of his failing health had not been passed over by the gentry of the county, who were staunch Government men for the most part, and hated my Lord Tiptoff’s principles as dangerous and ruinous, ’We have been looking out for a man to fight against him,’ said the squires to me; ’we can only match Tiptoff out of Hackton Castle.  You, Mr. Lyndon, are our man, and at the next county election we will swear to bring you in.’

I hated the Tiptoffs so, that I would have fought them at any election.  They not only would not visit at Hackton, but declined to receive those who visited us; they kept the women of the county from receiving my wife:  they invented half the wild stories of my profligacy and extravagance with which the neighbourhood was entertained; they said I had frightened my wife into marriage, and that she was a lost woman; they hinted that Bullingdon’s life was not secure under my roof, that his treatment was odious, and that I wanted to put him out of the way to make place for Bryan my son.  I could scarce have a friend to Hackton, but they counted the bottles drunk at my table.  They ferreted out my dealings with my lawyers and agents.  If a creditor was unpaid, every item of his bill was known at Tiptoff Hall; if I looked at a farmer’s daughter, it was said I had ruined her.  My faults are many, I confess, and as a domestic character, I can’t boast of any particular regularity or temper; but Lady Lyndon and I did not quarrel more than fashionable people do, and, at first, we always used to make it up pretty well.  I am a man full of errors, certainly, but not the devil that these odious backbiters at Tiptoff represented me to be.  For the first three years I never struck my wife but when I was in liquor.  When I flung the carving-knife at Bullingdon I was drunk, as everybody present can testify; but as for having any systematic scheme against the poor lad, I can declare solemnly that, beyond merely hating him (and one’s inclinations are not in one’s power), I am guilty of no evil towards him.

I had sufficient motives, then, for enmity against the Tiptoffs, and am not a man to let a feeling of that kind lie inactive.  Though a Whig, or, perhaps, because a Whig, the Marquess was one of the haughtiest men breathing, and treated commoners as his idol the great Earl used to treat them—­after he came to a coronet himself—­ as so many low vassals, who might be proud to lick his shoe-buckle.  When the Tippleton mayor and corporation waited upon him, he received them covered, never offered Mr. Mayor a chair, but retired when the refreshments were brought, or had them served to the worshipful aldermen in the steward’s room.  These honest Britons never rebelled against such treatment, until instructed to do so by my patriotism.  No, the dogs liked to be bullied; and, in the course of a long experience, I have met with but very few Englishmen who are not of their way of thinking.