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The Adventures of Hugh Trevor

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




I was careful not to forget honest Clarke; nor was the kind-hearted
Mary neglected. The good carpenter had sent for his wife and family up
to town; and Mary was happy in the friendly attentions of Miss Wilmot,
and in the orderly conduct and quick improvement of her son.

One of my pleasures, and duties as I conceived it to be, was to
introduce Turl and Wilmot to such of my higher order of acquaintance
as might afford both parties gratification. There is much frivolity
among people of rank and fashion: but there is likewise some enquiry
and sound understanding; and, where these qualities exist in any
eminent degree, the friends I have named could not but be welcome.

It is the interest of men of all orders to converse with each other,
to listen to their mutual pretensions with patience, to be slow to
condemn, and to be liberal in the construction of what they at first
suppose to be dangerous novelty.

Turl was peculiarly fitted to promote these principles: and Wilmot, in
addition to the charms of an imagination finely stored, was possessed,
as the reader may remember, of musical talents; and those of no
inferior order. Days and weeks passed not unpleasantly away: for hope
and Olivia were ever present to my imagination, and of the ills which
fortune had in reserve I was little aware.

While business and pleasure thus appeared to promote each other, it
came to my knowledge that an advertisement had appeared in the papers:
stating that, if Hugh Trevor, the grandson of the reverend **** rector
of ***, were alive, by application at a place there named, he might
hear of something very much to his advantage.

I cannot enumerate the conjectures that this intelligence immediately
excited; for they were endless. I searched the papers, found the
advertisement, and hastened to the place to which it directed me.

The information I there received was not precisely what my elevated
hopes had taught me to expect: but it was of considerable moment. I
learned that my grandfather's executor, Mr. Thornby, was dead; that
his nephew, Wakefield, had taken possession of the property he had
left; but that he had done this illegally: for the person who caused
the advertisement to be put into the paper was an attorney, who had
drawn and witnessed the will of Thornby, which will was in my favour;
and which moreover stated that the property bequeathed to me was mine
in right of a will of my grandfather's; which will Thornby had till
that time kept concealed. Whether the testament he had produced,
immediately after the death of the rector, were one that Thornby had
forged, or one that my grandfather had actually made but had ordered
his executor to destroy, did not at present appear. The account I
gave of it in a preceding volume, and of the manner in which it was
procured, was the substance of what I learned from the conversation of
my mother and Thornby at the time.

A death-bed compunction had wrested from the deceased an avowal of his
guilt; and the facts were explicitly stated, in the preamble of his
will, in order to prevent the contest which he foresaw might probably
take place, between me and his nephew. He seemed to have been
painfully anxious to do justice at last; and save his soul, when he
found it must take flight.

The business was urgent; and, if I meant to profit by that which was
legally mine, it was necessary, as I was advised, immediately to go
down and examine into all the circumstances on the spot.

I was the more surprised at what I had heard because it was but very
lately that I had sent a remittance to my mother; which she had
acknowledged, and which must have been received after her husband had
taken possession of his uncle's effects. But, when I recollected
the character that had been given me of Wakefield, as far as the
transaction related to him, my surprise was of short duration.

With respect to my mother, I heard with no small degree of
astonishment that she had been applied to, in order to discover where
I might be found; and that she had returned evasive answers: which as
it was supposed had been dictated by her husband; under whose control,
partly from fear and partly from an old woman's doating, she was
completely held.

To say that I grieved at such weakness, in one whom I had so earnestly
desired to love and honor with more than filial affection, would be
superfluous: but my surprise would have instantly ceased, had I known
who this Wakefield was; with whom my mother had to contend.

Reproach from me however, in word or look, had I been so inclined, she
was destined never to receive. The career of pain and pleasure with
her was nearly over. On the same day that I made the enquiries I have
been repeating, a letter arrived; written not by her, but at her
request; which informed me that, if I meant to see her alive, I must
use all possible speed: for that she had been suddenly seized with
dangerous and intolerable pains; which according to the description
given in the letter, were such as I found from enquiry belong to the
iliac passion; and that she was then lying at the last extremity.

Two such imperious mandates, requiring my presence in my native
county, were not to be disobeyed; and I departed with the utmost
diligence. At the last stage, after a journey of unremitted
expedition, I ordered the chaise to drive to the house of the late
Thornby; where on enquiry I was informed that my mother lay.

I found her in a truly pitiable condition. Quicksilver had been
administered, but in vain; and she was so thoroughly exhausted
that the sight of me produced but very little emotion. Her medical
attendant pronounced she could not survive four-and-twenty hours; and
advised that, if there were any business to be settled between us, it
should be proceeded upon immediately.

Had this advice been given to persons of certain habits, assuredly,
it would not have been neglected; and, perhaps it ought not to have
been by me: but, whether I was right or wrong, I could not endure
to perplex and disturb the mind of a mother in her last agonies.
The consequence was, she expired without hearing a word from me,
concerning her husband, Thornby, or the property to which I was heir;
and without making any mention whatever herself of the disposal of
this property. I was indeed ignorant of what degree of information she
could afford me. Her conduct had been so weak that to remind her of
it, at such a moment, would, as I supposed, have been to inflict a
severe degree of torment.

This, as the reader will learn in time, was not the only shaft by
which my tranquillity was to be assaulted. My mother though she was,
there was yet another death infinitely more heart-rending hanging over
my head. The recollection is anguish that cannot end! Cannot did I
say? Absurd mortal. Live for the living; and grieve not for the dead:
unless grief could bid them rise from their graves.

I must proceed; and not suffer my feelings thus to anticipate my tale.

Knowing that Wakefield was no other than Belmont, the reader will
not be surprised that he should think proper to elude, under these
circumstances, the discovery which a meeting must have produced. My
mother, actuated by a conviction that death was inevitable, had sent
for me without his privity: so that I afterward learned he was in the
house, when I drove up to the door: and, seeing me put my head out of
the chaise, immediately made his escape through the garden.

A man less fertile in expedients would have found it difficult to
forge a plausible pretext, to evade being present and meeting me at
the funeral: but he, by pursuing what wore the face of being, and what
I believe actually was, very rational conduct, dexterously shunned the
rencontre. The following letter, which he wrote to me, will explain by
what means.

'Sir,

'Persons of understanding have discovered that the obsequies of the
dead may be performed with all due decorum, and the pain, as well
as the very frequent hypocrisy, of a funeral procession, which is
attended by friends and relations, avoided. They therefore with great
good sense hire people to mourn; or send their empty carriages,
with the blinds up: which perhaps is quite as wise, and no doubt as
agreeable to the dead.

'He that would not render the duties of humanity, while they can
succour those that are afflicted, may justly be called brutal; but,
those duties being paid, what remains is more properly the business
of carpenters, grave-diggers, and undertakers, than of men whose
happiness is disturbed by useless but gloomy associations; and who may
find better employment for their time.

'I, for example, have business, at present, that calls me another way.
I therefore request you will give such orders, concerning the funeral,
as you shall think proper: and, as I have no doubt you will agree with
me that decency, and not unnecessary pomp, which cannot honor the
dead, and does but satirise the living, will be most creditable to
Mrs. Wakefield's memory, the expence, as it ought, will be defrayed by
me.

I am, sir,

Your very obedient humble servant,

F. WAKEFIELD.'

Had such a letter been written by a man who had pretended fondness
for his wife, it might perhaps have been construed unfeeling: if not
insulting to her memory. But, as the case was notoriously the reverse,
the honest contempt of all affectation, which it displayed, I could
not but consider as an unexpected trait in the character of such a man
as I supposed Wakefield to be.

There is a strange propensity in the imagination to make up ideal
beings; and annex them to names that, when mentioned, have been
usually followed with certain degrees of praise, or blame. These
fanciful portraits are generally in the extreme: they are all virtue,
or all vice: all perfection, or all deformity: though it is well known
that no such unmixed mortals exist.

My mind having acquired the habit rather to doubt than to conclude
that every thing which is customary must be right, funeral follies
had not escaped my censure: but the thing which excited my surprise
was that a man like Wakefield, who I concluded must have thought very
little indeed, since he both thought and acted on other occasions so
differently from me, should in any instance reason like myself; and
some few others, whom I most admired.

Convinced however as I was that he now reasoned rightly, I wanted in
this case the courage to act after his example. It would be a scandal
to the country for a son, pretending to filial duty, to be absent from
his mother's funeral. The reader will doubtless remember that town and
country are two exceedingly distinct regions.




CHAPTER XI


_More alarming intelligence: An honest youth, with a printer's notions
concerning secrecy: The weak parts of law form the strongest shield
for villany: A journey back to town: Enoch Ellis and Glibly again
appear on the scene of action: A few of the artifices of a man of
uncommon cunning delineated: A momentary glance at a mountain of
political rubbish: By artful deductions, a man may be made to say any
thing that an orator pleases_


This scandal I was, notwithstanding my discretion, destined to afford.
In addition to the arguments of Wakefield, accident supplied a motive
too powerful to be resisted.

I have mentioned my intention to suppress the pamphlet which I had
written, in the fever of my resentment, against the Earl, the
Bishop, and their associates. The edition which had been printed for
publishing had lain in the printer's warehouse, till the time that I
had determined against its appearance.

The child of the fancy is often as dear to us as any of our children
whatever; and I was unwilling that this offspring of mine should
perish, beyond all power of revival. I therefore had the edition
removed to my lodgings, and stowed in a garret.

A copy however had been purloined; and probably before the removal.
This copy came into the possession of an unprincipled bookseller; who,
regardless of every consideration except profit, and perceiving it to
be written with vehemence on a subject which never fails to attract
the attention of the public, namely personal defamation, had once more
committed it to the press.

As it happened, it was sent to be reprinted by the person with whom
the son of Mary was bound apprentice; and the whole was worked off
except the title-page, which fell into the hands of the youth.

Desirous of shewing kindness to Mary, it may well be supposed I had
not overlooked her son. His mother had taught him to consider me as
the saviour of both their lives; and as such he held me in great
veneration. These favourable feelings were increased by the praise I
bestowed on him, for his good conduct; and the encouragement I gave
him to persevere.

Richard, for that was his name, suspected it could be no intention of
mine to publish the pamphlet: because he had been employed to stow it
in the garret: and, as he was an intelligent lad, and acquainted with
the tricks of the publisher for whom he knew his master was at work,
he hastened in great alarm to communicate his fears; first to his
mother, and then by her advice to Miss Wilmot.

The latter immediately informed her brother. He saw the danger, wrote
to me to return without delay, doubting whether even I should have the
power to prevent the publication, and proceeded himself immediately to
the printer to warn him of the nature of the transaction.

The man was no sooner informed of Mr. Wilmot's business than he
became violently enraged with his apprentice, Richard; accused him
of betraying his master's interest, and the secrets of the
printing-house, which ought to be held sacred, and affirmed that he
had endangered the loss of his business.

Richard was present, was aware of the charge which would be brought
against him, and was prepared to endure it with considerable firmness:
though he had been taught to believe that such complaints were founded
in justice.

Wilmot could obtain no unequivocal answer from the master: either
that he would or would not proceed. He consequently supposed the
affirmative was the most probable; and therefore, that he might
neglect nothing in an affair which he considered as so serious, he
hastened from the printer to the publisher.

Here, in addition to the rage of what he likewise called having been
betrayed, he met with open defiance, vulgar insolence, and vociferous
assertions, from this worthy bookseller, that the laws of his country
would be his shield.

The fellow had been frequently concerned in such rascalities, and knew
his ground. He was one of the sagacious persons who had found a cover
for them. Where law pretends to regulate and define every right, the
wrong which it cannot reach it protects.

This is a branch of knowledge on which a vast body of men in
the kingdom, and especially in the metropolis, depend for their
subsistence.

And a very tempting trade it is: for our streets, our public places,
and our courts of justice, as well as other courts, swarm with its
followers; at which places they appear in as high a style of fashion,
that is of effrontery, as even the fools by whom they are aped, or the
lawyers and statesmen themselves by whom they are defended. This I
own is a bold assertion; and is perhaps a hyperbole! Yes, yes: it is
comparing mole hills to mountains. But let it pass.

Wilmot, in his letter to me, did not confine himself to a bare recital
of facts. Fearful lest they should escape my recollection, he urged
those strong arguments which were best calculated to shew, not only
what my enemies might allege, but what just men might impute to me,
should this intemperate pamphlet appear: which, in addition to its
original mistakes, would attack the character of the Bishop, a man
whose office, in the eye of the world, implied every virtue. And
how immoderately would its intemperance and imputed malignity be
exaggerated, should it appear precisely at the moment when I knew
disease had deprived him of his faculties! had rendered him unable to
defend himself, and to produce facts which I might have concealed; or
give another face to truth, which I might have discoloured!

These arguments alarmed me in a very painful degree. I was averse to
quit the place before my mother was interred: especially as my reasons
for such an abrupt departure could not be made public: but I was still
more averse to an action which, in appearance, would involve me in
such a cowardly species of infamy.

Accordingly, I made the best arrangements in my power: leaving orders
that the funeral should be conducted with every decency; and, after a
very short conversation with the attorney, who had witnessed the will
of Thornby and given me the information I have already mentioned, I
travelled back to London with no less speed than I had hurried into
the country.

I arrived in town on Thursday night; and the pamphlet was advertised
for publication on the following Monday. The advertisement, being
purposely written to excite curiosity, repeated the subject of the
pamphlet: which asserted my claims to the letters of Themistocles,
and to the defence of the thirty-nine articles; the acrimony of which
charge was increased by a personal attack on the Earl of Idford, the
Bishop, and their associates.

When I came to my lodgings, I found two notes: one from a person
stiling himself a gentleman employed by the Earl; and another from
Mr. Ellis, on the part of the Bishop: each requesting an interview.
Answers not having been returned, these agents had come themselves;
and, being informed that I was in the country, but was expected
in town before the end of the week, they left a pressing message;
desiring an answer the moment of my arrival.

Eager as I was to ward off the danger that threatened me, I considered
the application that was made, especially on the part of the Earl,
as fortunate. I understood that the only means of suppressing the
pamphlet would be by an injunction from the Lord Chancellor; and this
I imagined the influence of the Earl might essentially promote: for
which reason I immediately wrote, in reply to these agents, and
appointed an interview early the next morning.

The place of meeting was a private room in a coffee-house; and, though
my eagerness in the business brought me there a few minutes before the
time named, Ellis and his coadjutor had arrived before me. They acted
in concert, and had met to compare notes.

I found the purveyor of pews and paradise still the same: always
inclined to make himself agreeable.

The other agent was seated in a dark corner of the room, with his back
to the light, so that I did not recognise him as I entered. How much
was I surprised when, as he turned to the window, I discovered him
to be the loquacious Mr. Glibly; the man whose principles were so
accommodating, whose tongue was glossy, but whose praise was much more
sickening and dangerous than his satire.

The civilities that were poured upon me, by these well-paired
gentlemen, were overwhelming. It was like taking leave of a Frenchman,
under the ancient _régime_: there was no niche or chink for me to
throw in a word; so copious was the volubility of Glibly, and so eager
was the zeal of Ellis.

From the picture I before gave of the first, the reader will have
perceived that he was a man of considerable intellect: though not of
sufficient to make him honest. His usual mode, in conversation, was to
render the person to whom he addressed himself ridiculous by excessive
praise; and to mingle up sarcasm and panegyric in such a manner as to
produce confusion in the mind of the object of it, who never knew when
to be angry or when to be pleased, and laughter in every body else.

At first the most witty and acute would find amusement in his florid
irony: but they could not but soon be wearied, by its methodical and
undeviating mechanism; which denoted great barrenness of invention.

In the present instance, he had a case that required management: a
patron to oblige, and an opponent to circumvent. He had therefore
the art to assume a tone as much divested of sneering as habit would
permit; and began by insinuations that were too flattering to fail
of their effect, yet not quite gross enough to offend. My person, my
appearance, my parliamentary prospects, my understanding, my friends
and connections, all passed in review: while his praise was carefully
tempered; and as I imagined very passably appropriate.

Hence, it certainly promoted the end for which it was given: it opened
my heart, and prepared me for that generous effusion which rather
inclines to criminate itself than to insist on every trifle that may
be urged in its favour.

Apt however as he was at detecting vanity in others, he was as open
to it himself, I might almost say, as any man on earth. He began with
a profession of his friendship for the Earl of Idford: in which he
assumed the tone of having conferred a favour on that noble lord; and
I will not deny that he was right. All his acquaintance were friends;
and perhaps he had the longest list of any man in London: for the
effrontery of his familiar claims upon every man he met, from whom he
had any thing to hope or fear, was so extraordinary as to render an
escape from him impossible. He had parroted the phraseology of the
_haut ton_, and its arrogant apathy, till the manner was so habitual
to him that he was unconscious of his own impudence.

Thus, in conversing on this occasion of the Earl who had deputed him,
the only appellation he had for his patron was Idford. 'I told Idford
what I thought on the subject. For I always speak the truth, and never
deceive people: unless it be to give them pleasure; and then you know
they are the more obliged to me. Glibly, said Idford to me, I know
you will act in this business without partiality. For I must do him
justice, Trevor, and assure you that Idford is a good fellow. I do
not pretend that he is not sensible of the privileges which rank and
fashion give him. He is vain, thinks himself a great orator, a fine
writer, a wise senator, and all that. I grant it. How should it be
otherwise? It is very natural. He would have been a devilish sensible
fellow, if he had not been a lord. But that is not to be helped. You
and I, in his place, should think and act the same. We should be as
much deceived, as silly, and as ridiculous. It is all right. Things
must be so. But Idford is a very good fellow. He is, upon my honor.'

The surgeon that has a difficult case will not only make preparations
and adjustments before he begins to probe, lacerate, or cauterize, but
will sometimes administer an opiate; to stupefy that sensibility which
he apprehends is too keen. Glibly pursued much the same method; and,
having exhausted nearly all his art, till he found he had produced
as great a propensity to compliance and conciliation as he could
reasonably hope, he proceeded to the business in question.

'You no doubt guess, my dear Trevor, why my friend Ellis here and I
desired to meet you?'

'I do.'

'To say the truth, knowing as I do the soundness of your
understanding, the quickness of your conception, and the consequences
that must follow, which, acute as you are, you could not but foresee,
I was amazed when I read your advertisement!'

'It is prodigiously surprising, indeed!' added Ellis: eager at every
opportunity to throw in such touches as he thought would give effect
to the colouring of his friend, and leader.

'Why,' said I, 'do you call it my advertisement?'

'I mean of a pamphlet which it seems has been written by you.'

'But is going to be published without my consent.'

'Are you serious?' said Glibly: staring!

'It is not my custom to deceive people, Mr. Glibly; _not even to give
them pleasure_.'

'I am prodigious glad of that!' exclaimed the holy Enoch. Prodigious
glad, indeed!'

'But you have owned it was written by you?' continued Glibly.

'I know no good that can result from disowning the truth; and
especially in the present instance.'

'My dear fellow, truth is a very pretty thing on some occasions: but
to be continually telling truth, as you call it, oh Lord! oh Lord! we
should set the whole world to cutting of throats!'

'To be sure we should!' cried Ellis. 'To be sure we should! That is my
morality exactly.'

'Men are men, my dear fellow. A lord is a lord: a bishop is a bishop.
Each in his station. Things could not go on if we did not make
allowances. To tell truth would be to overturn all order.'

'I am willing to make allowances: for all men are liable to be
mistaken.'

'I approve that sentiment very much, Mr. Trevor,' interrupted Enoch.
'It is prodigious fine. It is my own. All men are liable to be
mistaken. I have said it a thousand times. It is prodigious fine!'

'But I cannot conceive,' added I, 'that to overturn systems which are
founded in vice and folly would be to overturn all order. You may
call systematic selfishness, systematic hypocrisy, and systematic
oppression order: but I assert they are disorder.'

'My dear fellow, nothing is so easy as to assert. But we will leave
this to another time. I dare say that in the main there is no great
difference between us. You wish for all the good things you can get;
and so do I. One of us may take a more round about way to obtain them
than the other: but we both intend to travel to the same goal. I own,
when I heard of your _brouillerie_ with my friend Idford, I thought
you had missed the road. But I find you have more wit than I supposed:
you are now guided by another finger-post. Perhaps it might have been
as well not to have changed. The treasury bench is a strong hold, and
never was so well fortified. It is become impregnable. It includes
the whole power of England, Scotland, and Ireland; both the Indies;
countless islands, and boundless continents: with all the grand
out-works of lords, spiritual and temporal; governors; generals;
admirals; custos rotulorum, and magistracy; bodies corporate, and
chartered companies; excise, and taxation; board and bankruptcy
commissioners; contractors; agents; jobbers; money-lenders, and spies;
with all the gradations of these and many more distinct classes:
understrappers innumerable; an endless swarm; a monstrous mass. Can
it be conjured away by angry breath? No, no. It is no house of cards:
for an individual to attempt to puff it down would be ridiculous
insanity.'

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