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The Adventures of Hugh Trevor

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




Such is the uncertain fate of man, in this state of ignorance. To such
sudden accidents of sickness and death are the good and the bad, the
foolish and the wise, continually subject; and such at present is the
frail tenure of life that the man in whose hall we feasted on Monday,
or the blooming beauty with whom we sung and danced, ere the week
passes away, are descended to the grave.

What tribute can friendship or affection pay, to the memory of a
man like this? There is only one that is worthy of his virtues; and
that is to record them: that, he being gone, his example may inspire
the benevolence he practised; and teach others to communicate the
blessings he conferred.

Oh that I had the power to pourtray those virtues in all their lustre!
Ages unborn would then rejoice, that such a man had lived; and feel
the benefits he would have bestowed. But it is a task that cannot be
accomplished in a few pages. His life was a vast volume of the best of
actions, which originated in the best of principles. Peace, love, and
reverence, be with his memory.

For my own part, if, in addition to that uncommon public worth which
he possessed, and that noble scale of morality by which he regulated
his life, the personal kindness which he heaped on me be remembered, I
must have less of affection than savage brutality, did no portion of
his spirit inspire me while I speak of these events.

Nor did his friendship end while understanding had the least remaining
power. His last act of benevolence was a strenuous but incoherent
effort to prevent the mischief which, disturbed as his functions were,
he still had recollection enough to apprehend would fall on me.

The reader is informed of the mortgage I gave Mr. Evelyn, when I
received not merely a qualification but the possession of an estate;
and I imagine he will not think I was too scrupulously careful, to
guard and prove the honesty of my intentions, when I further tell him
that, for the sums of money which Mr. Evelyn advanced, I insisted on
giving my promissory notes for repayment. I was pertinacious, and
would accept such favours on no other terms.

This mortgage and these notes were lying in the possession of Mr.
Evelyn, at the time of his death. He had apprehended no danger, till
the fever and the delirium seized him: at the beginning of which he
called his servant, Matthew (I tell the story as the poor fellow told
it to me), and, giving him a key, bade him go down to his bureau, and
search among his papers for a parchment and some notes, that were tied
together with red tape.

Having uttered this, he began to talk in a wild and wandering manner;
of fetters, and prisons; and asked Matthew if he knew why such
places were built? 'So make haste, Matthew,' said he, 'and burn the
parchment, and burn the notes, and burn the bureau. After which, you
know, all will be safe, Matthew; and they can never harm Mr. Trevor.
You love Mr. Trevor, Matthew: do not you?'

His recollection then seemed to return; and he asked, 'Of what have I
been talking? Go, Matthew; seek the parchment and the notes: tied with
red tape. Observe: there is no other parchment tied with red tape.
Bring them to me directly.'

Matthew had taken the key; but just as he was going the Doctor, who
had been sent for, arrived.

Matthew went, however, as he was directed; and, applying the key to
the lock, found it was a wrong one.

The Doctor, alarmed for the state in which he saw Mr. Evelyn,
immediately wrote a prescription, and rang for the servant to run and
have it prepared at the shop of the next apothecary. Matthew answered
the bell; and Mr. Evelyn seeing him eagerly demanded--'Where is the
parchment? Have you brought me the parchment? Why do not you bring me
the parchment?' 'For,' said Matthew, 'I held out the key; and he saw I
had nothing else in my hands.'

The Doctor asked Matthew what parchment his master wanted? And Matthew
replied, he could not tell: except that his master said it was in the
bureau, and tied with red tape. 'Why do not you bring it?' said Mr.
Evelyn. Then turning to the Doctor, added--'It is a bundle of misery;
and you know, sir, we ought to drive all misery from the face of the
earth. I cannot tell how it came in my possession. Why do you not go
and bring it me, Matthew? And pray, sir, do you see it destroyed.
Promise me that; I beg you will! Because Mr. Trevor is in the country.
I am afraid elections are but bad things. What, sir, is your opinion?
For I think I shall die; and he will then have no friend on earth to
secure him the poll.'

'Seeing my poor master was so disturbed in his mind,' said Matthew,
'the doctor _bid_ me run as fast as I could for the stuff he had
ordered: which I did. But I was obliged to wait till it was made
up; and when I _come_ back my poor dear master was more distracting
light-headed than ever. But still he kept raving about the parchment;
and his cousin, Sir Barnard; and you, Mr. Trevor: all which the Doctor
said we must not heed, because he did not know what he said. Though,
for all that, I could not but mightily fear there was something hung
heavy on his mind: for, as long as ever he could be heard to speak,
he kept calling every now and then for the parchment. And after that,
when he lay heaving for breath and rattling in the throat and nobody
could tell a word that he said, he kept moving his lips just in the
same manner as when he could make himself heard. I do believe he was
calling for it almost as the breath left his body. And I cannot but
say that I wish I had found it, and brought it to him; for the ease
and quiet of his soul.'




CHAPTER XII


_Doubts concerning the justice of wills and testaments: The provident
care of the Baronet: A demonstration of his ardent love for his
country: Hector loses his election: My determination to accept the
Chitern Hundreds_


When a man discovers that the pathos of his story, and the virtues
which he has in contemplation, are entirely beyond the power of
language, what method can he take but that of leaving off abruptly:
that he may suffer the imagination to perform an office to which any
other effort is inadequate? As Mr. Evelyn lived so he died. To prevent
evil and to do unbounded good was his ruling passion. It never left
him, till life departed.

It is a phenomenon which has frequently been remarked that, in a state
of delirium, the mind has its luminous moments: during which it seems
to have a more clear and comprehensive view of consequences than in
its more sober periods of health. The evil that excited so strong and
painful an alarm in the mind of my dying friend was no idle dream. The
Baronet was his heir at law. Mr. Evelyn had made no will: for not only
was his death premature but, knowing the mischiefs that have arisen
from disputes concerning testamentary bequests, he strongly doubted of
the morality of making any. It was never his intention to hoard; and,
hoping or I might rather say expecting to have a clear prospect of
the approach of death, his plan was to distribute all the personal
property in his possession before he died, in the manner that he
should suppose would be most useful.

However, whether it were a just sense of rectitude or an improper
pride of heart, I own that I felt pleased, as far as myself was
concerned, that the intentions of Mr. Evelyn, when he called for the
parchment, were not executed. I did not indeed foresee all that was to
happen: but I felt an abhorrence of being liable to be suspected of I
know not what imputed arts, or crimes; by the aid of which malice or
selfishness might assert I had come into the possession of so large a
part of Mr. Evelyn's property.

Not that, if the deeds and notes had been destroyed, I should have
thought it just to have retained the estate that I held. But my virtue
was not fated to be put to this trial. When I met Sir Barnard at the
Cocoa tree, he not only knew of the decease of Mr. Evelyn but had
ordered seals to be placed on all the locks; under which it was
imagined that papers or effects might be secured. Having heard the
story of Matthew, I could have no doubt but that the mortgage deeds,
and the notes for sums received, would now fall into the Baronet's
power.

It is true I might, if I pleased, bid him defiance. No: I ought not
to have said, if I pleased; but, if I could condescend to acknowledge
myself a scoundrel. He had made me his own member, and had himself
impowered me to avoid the punishment which is assigned by law to
unfortunate debtors: for, under this best of governments, such as a
representative of the people was now my privilege. This immaculate
constitution, to which all the homage that man can pay is insufficient
worship, vaunted as it is and revered by all parties, or all parties
are broad day liars, for all and each strive to be most loud and
extravagant in praise of it, this constitution in its very essence
decrees that things which are vile and unjust, in one man, are right
and lawful, in another.

Well then: by the aid of this constitution, which I too must praise if
I would escape whipping, I might seat myself as Sir Barnard's member,
and aid to countenance and make laws, to which I and the other wise
law-makers my coadjutors should not be subject. I might, however
offensive the term may be to certain delicate ears, I might become a
privileged swindler; and rob every man who should do me the injustice
to think me honest.

It cannot be supposed that so dear a lover and so ardent an admirer of
the constitution, as Sir Barnard was, should once suspect that I would
not benefit myself by all its blessings: that is, that I would not
cheat him to the very best of my ability. This supposition had induced
him, during our conversation at the Cocoa tree, to struggle with and
keep down those indignant risings with which, notwithstanding the
modulated tone of his voice, I could see he was more than half
choaked.

After what I had heard and situated as I was at present, I had very
little doubt either of the purity of his patriotism or the manner in
which it would affect me. Still however I had some. There might be a
change in his politics; but it might neither be of the nature nor of
the extent that I feared.

But these doubts did not distress me long. They were entirely removed,
by that most authentic source of intelligence the Gazette; in which,
about a fortnight after the death of Mr. Evelyn, I read the following
unequivocal proof of the Baronet's inordinate love of his country.

'The King has been pleased to grant the dignity of a Baron of the
kingdom of Great Britain to Sir Barnard Bray, Baronet; by the name
stile and title of Baron Bray, of Bray hall in the county of Somerset;
and to the heirs male of his body, lawfully begotten.'

I was now no longer at a loss for the reason of the Baronet's late
sudden departure, and the desertion of his political friends at the
election. What are friends? What are elections? What is our country,
compared to the smiles of a prime minister; and the titles he can
bestow? Nothing now was wanting to the honor of the house of Bray! It
might in time I own pant after a Dukedom; and a Duke of Bray might as
justly be stiled princely and most puissant as many another Duke. But
at present it was full with satisfaction.

This court document, brief though it was, spoke volumes. It was a
flash of lightning, that gave me a distinct view of the black and
dreadful abyss that was immediately before me; and into which I
foresaw I must be plunged.

On the same day, I read that the Idford candidate had been returned
for the county of ****; and that consequently Hector had lost his
election.

This was not all. Heated by the illiberal practices which always
attend such contentions, knowing the bribery that he had used himself,
and convinced that he could prove the same corrupt means to have been
resorted to by his opponent, he was not satisfied with the devastation
he had already committed upon his fortune; but was determined to
demand a _scrutiny_: and if he should be foiled in that effort, he was
resolved to try the merits of the election before a committee of the
house of commons. Such was the report that was immediately propagated;
and which was afterward verified by facts.

With respect to myself, convinced as I was of its danger, I had made
my choice. My fixed purpose was to vacate my seat in parliament. It
might perhaps be questioned, since the pretended voters had in reality
no voice, and their imaginary representative was no more than a person
nominated by the new Lord Bray, whether I ought to resign an office
which, as I supposed, I should fill for the good of mankind; and
give place to some person who, obedient to his leader, would do the
reverse?

But one act of baseness cannot authorize another. To bear about me a
sense of self-degradation, a certainty that I was sheltering myself
from the power of my late patron by a privilege which I considered as
highly vicious, a subterfuge such as every man who deserves the name
ought to despise and spurn at, this was insufferable. I had lost
much: for I had lost hopes that had been extravagant and unbounded in
promise: but I had not lost a conscious rectitude of heart, without
which existence was not to be endured.




CHAPTER XIII


_The comedy of Wilmot successful: The wounded stranger seen at a
distance: Oratory abandoned with regret: The dangers that attend being
honest: A new invitation from Hector: A journey deferred by an arrest,
and another accidental sight of the stranger_


It is happy for man that there is scarcely any state of suffering,
whether of mind or body, in which pain is unremitting; and wholly
unmixed with pleasure. If he be unhappy himself, it will be strange
should there be no one more fortunate for whom he has an affection:
no friend that is more prosperous, and in whose prosperity he takes
delight.

The season of the year had arrived when the comedy of Wilmot had been
put into rehearsal, and was to be performed. It was a trying occasion;
and those who knew him loved him too well to be absent; though the few
intimate friends who had read the piece had no doubt of its success.
The partial failure of his tragedy had produced no jealousy of
rivalship: though, as its merits had been publicly acknowledged, it
had incurred no disgrace. In private life, he was beloved; and, as a
public man, his merits had not yet created him enemies. He has since,
indeed, in that respect, not been so fortunate. But he has never
thought it just to complain: being convinced that mistake, though it
should be rectified, should not be resented.

The evening of representation arrived, the house was crowded, the
company brilliant, and the plaudits with which the author was honoured
established his reputation, and confirmed the judgment of his friends.

During the performance, I sat in the boxes; and, among the spectators
in the pit, I discovered a man whose hair was white, whose locks were
venerable, and who I was well convinced was the stranger whom I had
found wounded at the entrance of Barnes common. I was in a side-box,
and he was near the opposite pit door; so that the distance made it
rather doubtful: yet the more I looked the more I was convinced it was
the same person. The comedy was nearly ended when I first saw him; and
I determined, as soon as I had heard the epilogue, to go and satisfy
myself how far my persuasion was true.

I went round to the door; but the pit was so crowded that it was with
difficulty I could make my way to the seat. When I was there my labour
was lost: I could not find him; and, enquiring for him by description
of the persons near where he sat, they told me that such a gentleman
had been there; but that he complained of the heat, and had left the
house immediately after the curtain dropped.

This incident gave me considerable chagrin. However, as his person
was very remarkable, and being persuaded he was actually the wounded
stranger, I conceived hopes that I should again meet him; in some
place where the danger of losing sight of him would not be so great.

There being no expectation of his return, I went in search of my
friends: in company with whom, rejoicing in the success of Wilmot and
glorying in the acquisition of poetry and the stage, I wholly forgot
myself and my own affairs, and spent one more very delightful evening.

These affairs however were not long to be forgotten. The returns of
the elections throughout Great Britain had all been made, and the new
parliament summoned to assemble. It was with infinite and deep regret
that I found myself excluded by my own sense of rectitude. I would
willingly have taken my seat, had it been only for one night: for I
was eagerly desirous of an opportunity to deliver my thoughts, and
urge some of those useful truths which may be uttered with more safety
there than in less privileged places.

But I was too well acquainted with the customs and forms of the
house to hope that this opportunity could now be found. I had no
parliamentary friends; no supporters; and there was not the least
probability that a youth so wholly unknown _should catch the speaker's
eye_, whose notice so many were ready to solicit.

These things having been duly weighed, I had already applied for the
chiltern hundreds and my seat was declared vacated: to the great joy
of Lord Bray; and his now bosom friend, the Earl of Idford. This joy
was the greater because it was an event of which they had not the
least expectation. The due forms of law had been observed, the seals
had been removed from the locks of my late inestimable friend, his
cousin the new peer was in possession of the mortgage and the notes
for money received, and he had no conception of any motives that could
induce me to an act which must leave me entirely at his mercy.

It cannot however be supposed, as I have already said, that I had any
intention to retain the estate; which I had received from Mr. Evelyn
as a qualification, and a support. It was now the property of Lord
Bray; and obligation to him was a thing that would not admit of a
question. I did not therefore wait for any notice from his lordship,
or his attorney, but desired Mr. Hilary to inform him that I was ready
at any time to give up the deeds, and receive back the mortgage.

This would have been a trifle. It was not a sacrifice; but a riddance:
by which, could it have ended here, I should have regained something
of that elasticity of heart which independence only can feel. Here,
however, it could not end. I was obliged to instruct Mr. Hilary to add
that I was willing to give my own personal security, by bond or in any
manner my creditor should please, for money received and interest due:
but to acknowledge that I had no immediate means of payment. In other
words, that my person was entirely at the disposal of himself and the
law. I might have reminded him that more than half of my debt was
incurred by _genteel presents_ to his craving electors; and that he
had informed me that it was a necessary expence: but to this I could
not condescend.

The little business which, during his life, Mr. Evelyn had in law
Mr. Hilary had always transacted. He had a sincere regard for me,
and a reverence for the memory of his late kinsman; whose earnest
recommendation of me he did not forget. Being well acquainted with the
character of Lord Bray, he foresaw and warned me of my danger. While
a baronet, to behold himself a peer had been his lordship's darling
passion: but that was now gratified; and, as he was proud, he was
likewise revengeful. In this case, however, to warn was useless. I had
no alternative, except by means that were dishonorable.

Nor was the resentment of Lord Bray single, or so much to be
apprehended as that of the Earl, with whom he had entered into strict
alliance. My behaviour to Lord Idford had uniformly been what he
deemed so very insolent that his antipathy may be said to have taken
birth at my first act of disobedience: my refusal to dine at the
second table. Since then, as he conceived, it had been progressive in
aggravation. My scorn of his selfish politics, my attempt to continue
the Letters of Themistocles, and write him who was the supposed author
of them into disgrace, the pamphlet of which I was the author, the
activity with which I had canvassed in favour of Mowbray, and to sum
up all my daring to rival him with the woman on whom he would have
conferred his person, his dignity, and his other great qualities, were
all of them injuries that rankled at his heart. When these things are
remembered, few will feel surprised that the Earl should indulge a
passion which is in itself so active: or that he should induce Lord
Bray to pursue that kind of conduct to which he was already so much
disposed.

The danger however must be faced; and Mr. Hilary wrote, as my
attorney, to state the circumstances above recited. A week elapsed
before he received an answer: but at the end of that time his
lordship's attorney replied, that personal security for so large a sum
could not be accepted: my bond would be no better than the notes I had
given: and that I was required immediately to pay what was due, to the
estate and heirs of the late Mr. Evelyn.

The spirit in which this note was written proved the temper of my
creditor; and an incident soon occurred by which his propensity to
persecute was called into action. The scrutiny which Hector had
demanded was over, and decided against him: but, understanding that
there was an absolute breach between me and Lord Bray, Mowbray was
convinced that he had accused me falsely. As he was almost certain
that he could prove bribery and corruption to have been practised by
his opponent, he persisted in determining to bring it before the house
of commons. This business kept him still in the country, where he and
his partisans were busily collecting information.

He had experienced my utility in the course of the election, he wished
to enjoy the same advantage at present, and he and his committee
likewise discovered that my evidence was essentially necessary. He
therefore wrote me an apology, spoke in the handsomest terms he could
recollect of the services I had done him, requested me to come down
once more to aid him in his present attempt, and stated the points
on which my future testimony would be useful. He further informed me
that a gentleman of the law, whom he named, was to set off the morning
after I should receive the letter, at ten o'clock, and come post; and
that he should be much obliged to me if I would take a seat in the
same chaise.

The letter was read in the committee room, as a matter of business;
and in this committee room Lord Idford had a secret agent, from whom
he gained intelligence of all their proceedings that deserved notice.

Desirous as I was of obliging the brother of Olivia, I made no
hesitation to comply. The evening before I was to go down into
*****, I went to Mr. Hilary; to acquaint him with the place of my
destination, and the manner in which he might direct to me, if any
thing new should occur. The agents of Lord Bray, or to speak more
truly of the Earl, had been exceedingly industrious; and a writ was
already procured. It was intended to take me as I stepped into the
chaise, or that evening if possible, and accordingly the door where
I lived was watched, and I was seen to come out. My usual pace was
brisk, but I happened now to be in haste; and, as they told me
themselves, the setters lost sight of me for some time, were afterward
cautious of coming up to me in any public street where a rescue was
probable, and followed me till I came almost to the door of Mr.
Hilary.

Here there was a carriage standing; and, to my great surprise and joy,
I saw Mr. Hilary with a light, conducting out the very person whom I
had some time before discovered in the pit, and whom I now knew to be
the wounded stranger.

I hesitated whether I ought to spring forward, and intrude my
enquiries immediately upon him, or make them of Mr. Hilary, with whom
it appeared he was acquainted; and, at this instant, the bailiff and
his two men came up with me, and told me I was their prisoner.

While I stood astonished at this sudden and at that precise time
unexpected event, the carriage with the stranger in it drove away; and
Mr. Hilary shut the door without seeing me.

There is a sense of indignity and disgrace in being arrested, at which
all those who have not been frequently subjected to it revolt. I was
wholly ignorant of the manners of the people who had laid their hands
upon me. I had heard of giving bail: but I had likewise heard that it
was a thing of danger, to which men were generally averse; and I had
a bitter repugnance to ask any thing which I thought it was likely
should be refused. Neither had I any probable person to ask: for my
little law reading had taught me that the sureties of a debtor must be
house-keepers.

Unwilling therefore to trouble Mr. Hilary, and finding myself without
resource, I desired the bailiff to take me wherever he pleased, or
wherever the law directed. 'I suppose, Sir, you do not mean we should
take you to jail?' said the bailiff.

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