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The Adventures of Hugh Trevor

T >> Thomas Holcroft >> The Adventures of Hugh Trevor




I then bade the lady and his lordship good night, and returned to
Bruton-street, with my brain swimming with cogitations concerning
bishops, nieces, deans, articles, sound divines, the church, the sons
of the church, sensuality, obscenity, and innumerable associating
but discordant ideas, that bred a strange confusion and darkness of
intellect.




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 assure 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 pass. 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 lordship, 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 friendship 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
lordship?'--'A work, Mr. Trevor, would not sell the worse, or be
less read, or less famous, for having a dignified name in the
title-page.'--'Your lordship'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 lordship has
supposed!--'Nay!'--'I will be no participator 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 friendship 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 lordship a good morning.'

Away I came, and in my vexation totally forgot to redemand my
manuscript. I recollected it however while within sight of the door,
and turned back. I knocked, asked for his lordship, and was told
he was not at home! This profligate impudence exceeded belief, and
my choler became ungovernable. 'His lordship,' 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 circumstance, 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 passion. 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 lordship'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 lordship 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
ejaculated--'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 constitution, 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 prostitution that strangely forgot himself!'

His lordship 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 participator 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 assaulted.




CHAPTER XIII


_Gloomy meditations, or pills for the passions: 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 manuscript 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
passions. 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
astonishing, 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 lordship say?' inquired the holy
man.

I stopped their inquisitive clamours by answering, my eyes darting
rage, 'His lordship 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,
assuring 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 assure 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 passions, like the arrow in the
bent bow, were with force restrained, and I snatched 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.

He then said--'Mr. Trevor, you are already acquainted with the
plainness, and what you perhaps have thought the bluntness, of my
character. I have but one rule: I speak all that I think worthy of
being spoken, and if I offend it is never from intention. What you
have related of these lordly men does not in the least astonish me.
Their vices are as odious as you have described them. Your great
mistake is in supposing yourself blameless. You have chiefly erred in
entertaining too high an opinion of your own powers, and in cherishing
something like a selfish blindness to the principles of the persons,
with whom you have been concerned. Your indiscriminate approbation
of all you wrote raised your expectations to extravagance. Your
inordinate appetite for applause made you varnish over the picture
which the earl gave you of himself; though it must otherwise have
been revolting to a virtuous mind: and your expectation of preferment
so entirely lulled your moral feelings to sleep, that you could be a
spectator of the picture you have drawn of the bishop, the day you
dined with him, yet go the next morning to accept, if not to solicit,
his patronage. You have committed other mistakes, which I think it
best at present to leave unnoticed. In the remarks I have made, I have
had no intention to give pain, but to awaken virtue. At present you
are angry: and why?'

'Why!' exclaimed I, with mingled astonishment and indignation. 'A
peer of the realm to be thus profligate in principle, and not excite
my anger!'--'What is a peer of the realm, but a man educated in
vice, nurtured in prejudice from his earliest childhood, and daily
breathing the same infectious air he first respired! A being to be
pitied!'--'Despised!'--'I was but three days in this earl's house. The
false colouring given me by his agent first induced me to enter it;
but I was soon undeceived.'--

'Well but, a churchman! A divine! A bishop! A man consecrated to one
of the highest of earthly dignities!' 'Consecrated? There are many
solemn but pernicious pantomimes acted in this world!'--'Suffer me to
say, Mr. Turl, that to speak irreverently of consecrated things does
not become a man of your understanding.' 'I can make no answer to
such an accusation, Mr. Trevor, except that I must speak and think as
that understanding directs me. Enlighten it and I will speak better.
But what is it in a bishop that is consecrated? Is it his body, or
his mind? What can be understood by his body? Is it the whole mass?
Imagine its contents! Holy? "An ounce of civet, good apothecary!" That
mass itself is daily changing: is the new body, which the indulgence
of gluttonous sensuality supplies, as holy as the old? If it be his
mind that is consecrated, what is mind, but a succession of thoughts?
By what magic are future thoughts consecrated? Has a bishop no unholy
thoughts? Can pride, lust, avarice, and ambition, can all the sins of
the decalogue be consecrated? Are some thoughts consecrated and some
not? By whom or how is the selection made? What strange farrago of
impossibilities have these holy dealers in occult divinity jumbled
together? Can the God of reason be the God of lies?'

There was so much unanswerable truth in these arguments, that I
listened in speechless amazement. At last I replied, 'I am almost
afraid to hear you, Mr. Turl.'--'Yes; it is cowardice that keeps
mankind fettered in ignorance.'--'Well but, this bishop? Does he not
live in a state of concubinage?'--'The scene of sensuality that you
have painted makes the affirmative probable.'--'And my defence of the
articles? I will publish it immediately; with a preface stating the
whole transaction.'--'You will be to blame.'--'Why so?'--You may be
better employed.'--'What! than in exposing vice?'--'The employment is
petty; and what is worse, it is inefficient. The frequent consequence
of attacking the errors of individuals is the increase of those
errors. Such attacks are apt to deprave both the assailant and the
assailed. They begin in anger, continue in falsehood, and end in fury.
They harden vice, wound virtue, and poison genius. I repeat, you may
be better employed, Mr. Trevor.'--'And is your rule absolute?'--'The
exceptions are certainly few. Exhibit pictures of general vice, and
the vicious will find themselves there; or, if they will not, their
friends will.'--'This Enoch, too!--'Is I believe a mean and selfish
character; though I by no means think the action at which you have
taken offence is the strongest proof of his duplicity. To decide
justly, we must hear both parties. He saw your passions inflamed. It
was probable you would have opposed his going to the bishop; though,
if he in any manner interfered, to go was an act of duty.'

The reasonings of Turl in part allayed the fever of my mind, but by no
means persuaded me to desist from the design of inflicting exemplary
disgrace on the earl and the prelate.

Though a stern opposer of many of my principles, his manners were
attentive, winning, and friendly. Being better acquainted with the
town than I was, he undertook to procure me a neat and cheap apartment
in his own neighbourhood, and in half an hour succeeded.

To this my effects were immediately removed. I was even too angry
to comply with the forms of good breeding so far as to leave my
compliments for the earl: I departed without ceremony, and retired to
my chamber to contemplate my change of situation.

After mature consideration, the plan on which I determined was,
immediately to publish the fourth letter of Themistocles, already
written; to continue to write under the same signature; and in
the continuation to expose the political profligacy of the earl.
Themistocles was accordingly sent that very day.

I next intended accurately to revise my defence of the articles,
as soon as I should recover the copy from the bishop; to turn the
conversation with Turl occasionally on that subject, that I might
refute his objections; and then to publish the work. For ordination I
would apply elsewhere, being determined never to suffer pollution by
the unholy touch of that prelate.

The next morning, my passions being calmed by sleep and I having
reflected on what Turl had said, a sense of justice told me that
I ought to visit Enoch at least once more; in which decision my
curiosity concurred. I went, and found him at home, but dressing.

The mother and daughter were at the same employment: but Miss,
imagining it was my knock, sent her attendant to inquire, and
immediately huddled on her bed-gown and mob-cap to come down to me.
Her tongue was eager to do its office.

'Lord! Mr. Trevor! We have had such doings! Papa and mamma and I have
been at it almost ever since! But don't you fear: I am your true
friend, and I have made mamma your friend, and she insists upon it
that papa shall be your friend too; and so he is forced to comply:
though the bishop had convinced him that you are a very imprudent
young gentleman; and my papa will have it you don't understand common
sense; and that you have ruined yourself, though you had the finest
opportunity on earth; and that you will ruin every body that takes
your part! You can't think how surprised and how angry he is, that you
should oppose your will to an earl, and a bishop, and lose the means
of making your fortune, and perhaps of making your friends' fortunes
too: for there it is that the shoe pinches; because I understand the
bishop is very kind to papa at present; and, if he should take your
part, papa says he will never see him again. But mamma and I argued,
what of that? Would the bishop give papa a good living, said mamma?
And what if he would, says I? Shall we give up those that we love best
in the world, because it is the will and pleasure of a bishop! No,
indeed! I don't know that bishops are better than other people, for
my part; and perhaps not so good as those that are to be given up. So
mamma told me to be silent; but she took my part, and I took yours,
and I assure you, for all what they both said, I did not spare the
bishop! So my papa fell into a passion, and pretended that I was too
forward; and I assure you he accused me of having my likings. I don't
know whether he did not make me blush! But I answered for all that,
and said well, and if I have, who can help having their likings? I
have heard you and my mamma say often enough that you both had had
your likings; and that you did not like one another; and that that was
the reason that you quarrel like cat and dog; and so if people will
be happy they must marry according to their likings. So said my mamma
well but, Eliza, have you any reason to think that Mr. Trevor has any
notions of marriage? So I boldly answered yes, I had; for you know,
Mr. Trevor, what passed between us at the play-house, and the kind
squeeze of the hand you gave me at parting with me: and so why should
I be afraid to speak, and tell the truth? And so mamma says it shall
all be cleared up!'

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