man who is dependent on others for that support of moral
life--self-respect."

Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way, and
felt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and envies
should die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and his
career. So far as his own health was concerned, the experiment had
answered. No mere drudgery of business--late hours and dull
speeches--can produce the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts of
the soul to mount into the higher air of severe thought or intense
imagination. Those faculties which had been overstrained now lay
fallow--and the frame rapidly regained its tone. Of private comfort and
inspiration Ernest knew but little. He gradually grew estranged from
his old friend Ferrers, as their habits became opposed. Cleveland lived
more and more in the country, and was too well satisfied with his
quondam pupil's course of life and progressive reputation to trouble him
with exhortation or advice. Cesarini had grown a literary lion, whose
genius was vehemently lauded by all the reviews--on the same principle
as that which induces us to praise foreign singers or dead men;--we must
praise something, and we don't like to praise those who jostle
ourselves. Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited--swore
that England was the only country for true merit; and no longer
concealed his jealous anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers.
Ernest saw him squandering away his substance, and prostituting his
talents to drawing-room trifles, with a compassionate sigh. He sought
to warn him, but Cesarini listened to him with such impatience that he
resigned the office of monitor. He wrote to De Montaigne, who succeeded
no better. Cesarini was bent on playing his own game. And to one game,
without a metaphor, he had at last come. His craving for excitement
vented itself at Hazard, and his remaining guineas melted daily away.