The Adventures of Hugh Trevor Part 17

CHAPTER XII

_The killing of the goose with the golden eggs_

The next morning my first business was with the bishop, and I took good care to be punctual. I knew not very well why, but the ardour of my expectations was in some sort abated. The preaching my sermon clandestinely, the niece, and the young clergymen that made their fortune by matrimony, were none of them in unison with the open and just dealing which was requisite to my success. The forebodings at which people have so often marvelled are, when they happen, nothing more than perceptions of incongruity, that disturb the mind. Of this kind of disturbing I was conscious.

I repaired however to my post, and was ushered up to the prelate. He began with telling me what an orthodox divine the dean was, who dined with us the day before; and how sure he was of rising in the church. I could make no answer. Rise in the church he probably would; for facts are facts; and I had sufficient proof before me.

My ready compliance with the first act of deceit, that he had required from me, had not given him reason to suspect he should find me more scrupulous than many others, whom he had made subservient to his purposes. What measure had he for my conscience, but the standard that regulated his own? The caution therefore that he practised with me was only that which the routine of cunning had made habitual. Introductory topics were soon discarded: he began to talk of his niece, and again asked if I did not think her an agreeable handsome young lady? Of her person and manners I had no unfavourable opinion, and replied in the affirmative. 'I a.s.sure you, Mr. Trevor,' said he, 'she thinks very well of you!'--'Nay, my lord, she has seen me but once.'--'Oh, no matter for that. Who knows but you may come to be better acquainted?

especially if something that I have to say to you be taken _right_.

You are a likely young man, Mr. Trevor; and may be a promising young man. I don't know: that is as things shall happen, and according as you shall understand things, and be prudent.'

This was a vile preface: it contained more forebodings. But I was so eager for an explanation that I had scarcely time for augury. He continued--

'You have been to Oxford, Mr. Trevor, and you have studied. I was at Oxford, and I studied, and read Greek, and the fathers, and the schoolmen, and other matters: but all that there won't do alone, Mr.

Trevor. A young man must be prudent. I was prudent, or I should never have been this day what I am now sitting here, nor what it may happen I may be. But all that is as things shall happen to come to pa.s.s. We have all of us a right to look forward; and so I would have you look forward, Mr. Trevor. That is the only prudent way.'

More and more impatient, I answered his lords.h.i.+p, I would be as prudent as I could; and again requested he would explain himself.

'Why yes, Mr. Trevor; that is what I mean. You are a young man. I don't know you, but you come recommended to me, by my very learned friends. You have not the cares of the church to trouble you, and so you fill up your idle time with writing.'--'My lord!'--'Nay, Mr.

Trevor, you write very prettily. I could write too, but I have not time. I never had time. I had aways a deal of business on my hands: persons of distinction to visit, when I was young, and to take care not to disoblige. That is a main point of prudence, Mr. Trevor; never disoblige your superiors. But I dare say you have more sense: and so, if that be the case, why you will make friends, as I did. I will be one of them; and I will recommend you, Mr. Trevor, and introduce you, and every thing may be to the satisfaction of all parties.'--

'Well, but how, my lord?'

'Why you have written a defence of the articles: now do you wish to make a friend?'--'I wish for the friends.h.i.+p of all good men, my lord.'--'That is right! To be sure! And you can keep a secret?'--'I have proved that I can, my lord.'--'Why that is right! And perhaps you would be glad to see your defence in print?'--'I should, my lord.'--'Why that is right! And, if it would serve a friend to put another name to the work--?'--'My lord!' 'Nay, if you have any objection, I shall say no more!' 'I do not comprehend your lords.h.i.+p?'--'A work, Mr. Trevor, would not sell the worse, or be less read, or less famous, for having a dignified name in the t.i.tle-page.'--'Your lords.h.i.+p's, for example?'--'Nay, I did not say that! But, if you are a prudent young man, and should have no objection?'--'I find I am not the man your lords.h.i.+p has supposed!--'Nay!'--'I will be no partic.i.p.ator in falsehood, private or public!'--'Falsehood, Sir! What interpretation are you putting upon my words? I thought you had been a prudent young man, Mr. Trevor! I was willing to have been your friend! But I have done!'--'My lord, I must be free enough to declare, I neither understand the friends.h.i.+p nor the morality of the proposition.'--'Sir! morality! Is that language, Sir?

Morality! I am sorry I have been deceived!'--'I have been equally so, my lord, and am equally sorry! I wish your lords.h.i.+p a good morning.'

Away I came, and in my vexation totally forgot to redemand my ma.n.u.script. I recollected it however while within sight of the door, and turned back. I knocked, asked for his lords.h.i.+p, and was told he was not at home! This profligate impudence exceeded belief, and my choler became ungovernable. 'His lords.h.i.+p,' exclaimed I to the footman, 'is a disgrace to the bench on which he sits!' The footman thrust the door in my face, and epithets then burst from me, that were a disgrace to myself.

I hurried homeward, determined to give vent to my feelings in a letter, and half determined that it should be publicly addressed to the rank hypocrite, signed by my own name. My angry imagination teemed forth the biting taunts that should sting him to madness, and the broad shame with which he was to be overwhelmed. Active memory retraced each circ.u.mstance, that could blacken the object of my present contempt and abhorrence; and every trait increased the bitterness of my gall, and made my boiling blood more hot. Was this a pastor of the church? a follower of Christ? a Christian bishop? The question astonished and exasperated me almost to frenzy.

In this temper I arrived in Bruton-street, where another very unexpected scene awaited me. The earl I was told, had inquired for me, and desired to see me the moment I should be at home. The message, by turning my thoughts into a new channel, gave relief to the impetuous tide of pa.s.sion. The gloomy scene instantly brightened into prospects the most cheering and opposite. It was good to have two strings to the bow, especially as this second was of so firm and inflexible a texture.

All my favourable forebodings were confirmed, when, on entering, I observed the smiles that played on his lords.h.i.+p's countenance! He was in a most pleasant humour. 'I hinted to you, Mr. Trevor,' said he, 'that I should probably have something agreeable soon to communicate!'

His words gave certainly to expectation! They uttered volumes of rapture in a breath! The fresh laurels of politics sprouted forth with tenfold vigour, and the withered fig-tree of theology was totally forgotten!

'There is likely to be a change in affairs then, my lord?' said I, smiling in rapturous sympathy as I spoke--'There is.'--'Mr. ***

has been with your lords.h.i.+p several times, I think?'--'Yes, yes; I am courted by all parties, at present'--'Indeed, my lord! Then Themistocles has become formidable?'--'Yes, yes! I have made them feel me!'--'I am glad that I have been instrumental.'--'Certainly, Mr. Trevor; certainly. An architect cannot build palaces with his own hands. But we will not talk of that: we must complete the work we have begun'--'And publish our fourth letter?'--'By no means, Mr.

Trevor! that would ruin all!' For a moment I was speechless! At last I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed--'My lord!'--'Things at present wear a very different face!

we must now write on the other side. You seem surprised?' Well might he say so! I was thunderstruck! 'But I will tell you a secret. The minister and I are friends! I send four members into the house; and if government had not expended five times the sum that it cost me, to carry their elections, I should have sent three more. I have attacked the minister in the house by my votes; I have attacked him in the papers by my writings: so, finding I wielded my two edged sword with such resolution and activity, he has thought proper to beat a parley.

He acknowledges that the fifty thousand pounds the election contest cost me were expended in support of our excellent const.i.tution, and that I ought to be rewarded for my patriotism. His offers are liberal, and peace is concluded. We must now vere about, and this was the business for which I wanted you. A good casuist you know, Mr. Trevor, can defend both sides of a question; and I have no doubt but that you will appear with as much brilliancy, as a panegyrist, as you have done, as a satirist.'

How long I remained in that state of painful stupefaction into which I had been thrown, at the very commencement of this harangue, is more than I can say: but, as soon as I could recover some little presence of mind, I replied--'You, my lord, no doubt have your own reasons; which, to you, are a justification of your own conduct. For my part, when I wrote against the minister, it was not against the man. A desire to abash vice, advance the virtuous, and promote the good of mankind, were my motives!'--'Mr. Trevor, I find you are a young man: you do not know the world'--The scene with the bishop was acting over again, and I felt myself bursting once more with indignation. With ineffable contempt in every feature of my face, I answered--'If a knowledge of the world consists in servility, selfishness, and the practice of deceit, I hope I never shall know it.'--'You strangely forget yourself, Mr. Trevor!'--'I am not of that opinion, my lord. I rather think, it was the man who could suppose me capable of holding the pen of prost.i.tution that strangely forgot himself!'

His lords.h.i.+p hemmed, rang his bell, hummed a tune, and wished me a good morning; and I rushed out of his apartment and hurried up to my own, where I found myself suddenly released from all my labours, and at full leisure to ruminate on all the theological and political honours that were to fall so immediately and profusely upon me.

And here it is worthy of remark that I did not accuse myself; for I did not recollect that I had been in the least guilty. Yet when the earl had asked me to write letters, that were to be supposed by the public the production of his own pen, I had then no qualms of conscience; and when the bishop invited me to favour falsehood, by attributing my best written sermon to him, I concurred in the request with no less facility. When deceit was not to favour but to counteract my plans, its odious immorality then rushed upon me. Men are so much in a hurry, to obtain the end, that they frequently forget to scrutinize the means. As for my own part, far from supposing that I had been a partic.i.p.ator in guilt, I felt a consciousness of having acted with self-denying and heroic virtue. This was my only armour, against the severe pangs with which I was so unexpectedly a.s.saulted.

CHAPTER XIII

_Gloomy meditations, or pills for the pa.s.sions: More of Enoch's morality: Turl improves, yet is still unaccountable and almost profane: Consecrated things: Themistocles and vengeance: A love scene: More marriage plots: And a tragi-comic denouement: The fate of Themistocles: The ma.n.u.script in danger_

I shut the door upon myself, as it were to conceal my disgrace, and for a considerable time traversed the room in an agony of contending pa.s.sions. Rage, amazement, contempt of myself, abhorrence of my insidious patrons, and a thirst of vengeance devoured me. At length I was seized with a bitter sense of disappointment, and a fit of deep despondency. My calculations had been so indubitable, my progress so astonis.h.i.+ng, and my future elevation in prospect so immeasurable, that to see myself thus puffed down, as it were, from the very pinnacle not of hope but of certainty, was more than my philosophy had yet learned to support with any shew of equanimity. I sunk on my chair, where I sat motionless, in silence, gloom, and painful meditation; groaning in spirit, as tormenting fancy conjured up the dazzling scenes, with which she had lately been so actively familiar.

I was roused from my trance at last by the recollection that I was in the house of the earl, and starting up, as if to spurn contamination from me, I hurried out, to ease my heart by relating the whole story in Suffolk street, and to procure myself an apartment.

Enoch, Mamma, and Miss were all at home. I had pre-informed the family of my engagement to dine with the bishop, and they began a full chorus of interrogatories. 'Who did I meet?' said Mamma. 'What did I think of the niece?' asked Miss. 'What did his lords.h.i.+p say?' inquired the holy man.

I stopped their inquisitive clamours by answering, my eyes darting rage, 'His lords.h.i.+p said enough to prove himself a scoundrel!' 'Heaven defend me!' exclaimed Enoch. 'Why, Mr. Trevor! are you in your senses?'--'A pitiful scoundrel! A pandar! A glutton! A lascivious hypocrite! With less honesty than a highwayman, for he would not only rob but publicly array himself in the pillage, nay and impudently pretend to do the person whom he plundered a favour!'

Enoch stood petrified. He could not have thought that frenzy itself would have dared to utter language so opprobrious against a bishop.

It was treason against the cloth! The church tottered at the sounds!

But the fury I felt held him in awe--'Lords!' continued I. 'Heaven preserve me from the society of a lord! I have done with them all.

I am come out to seek an apartment. Kingdoms should not tempt me to remain another hour under the roof of a lord!'

If the eyes of Enoch could have stretched themselves wider, they would. The females requested me to explain myself. 'A pandar?' said Mamma. 'Ay,' added Miss; 'what did that mean, Mr. Trevor?'

The question sobered me a little: I recollected my friend the usher, and the honour of Miss Wilmot, and evaded an answer. It was repeated again with greater solicitation: scandal stood with open mouth, waiting for a fresh supply. I answered that for many reasons, and especially for a dear friend's sake, I should be silent on that head.

'A dear friend's sake?' exclaimed the suspicious matron. 'Who can that be? Who but Mr. Ellis? Why Mr. ----!'

I interrupted her in a positive tone, not without a mixture of anger, a.s.suring her it was not Mr. Ellis; and then repeated that I was come in search of a lodging.

At that moment the bishop's servant knocked at the door; I saw him through the window; and a note was received by the foot-boy and brought to Enoch. The instant he had read the contents, he hurried away; telling me that an unexpected affair, which must not be neglected, called him out immediately.

Young as I was, unhackneyed in the ways of men, having so lately left the society of ignorant and inconsistent youth, till that hour I had imagined, though I discovered no qualities in Enoch that greatly endeared him to me, that he was sincerely my friend. His duplicity on this occasion was in my opinion a heinous crime, and I rushed out of the house, with a determination never again to enter the doors.

I precipitately walked through several streets, without asking myself where I was going. At last I happened to think of Turl, and at that moment he appeared to be the man on earth I would soonest meet. I hastened to his lodgings, found him at home, labouring as before, and, instead of feeling the same emotions of contempt for his employment, I was struck with the calm satisfaction visible in his countenance, and envied him.

I remembered his words: 'He worked to gain a living, by administering as little as he could to the false wants and vices of men; and at the same time to pursue a plan, on which he was intent'--A plan of importance no doubt; perhaps of public utility.

It was sometime before I could relate my errand. I hesitated, and struggled, and stammered, but at last said--'Mr. Turl, I yesterday thought myself surrounded by friends: I now come to you; and should you refuse to hear me, I have not a friend in the world to whom I can relate the injustice that has been done me.'---Pray speak, Mr. Trevor.

If I can do you any service, I most sincerely a.s.sure you it will add more to my own happiness, than you will easily imagine.'

These words, though few, were uttered with an uncommon glow of benevolence. My heart was full, my pa.s.sions, like the arrow in the bent bow, were with force restrained, and I s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand and pressed it with great fervour. 'May you never want a friend, Mr.

Turl,' said I; 'and may you never find a false one! Your opinions differ from mine, but I see and feel you are a man of virtue.'

I paused a moment, and continued. 'That you are a man of principle is fortunate, because, in what I have to relate, the name and character of a lady is concerned: the sister of a man whom, a very few years since, I loved and revered.'--'You may state the facts without mentioning her name.'--'I have no doubt of your honour.'--'I have no curiosity, and it will be the safest and wisest way.'

I then gave him a succinct history of the whole transactions, between me, Enoch, the bishop and the earl; for I was almost as angry with the first as with the other two. He heard me to the end, and asked such questions for elucidation as he thought necessary.