The Adventures of Hugh Trevor Part 39

Mr. Evelyn, anxious not to wound me where I was most vulnerable, began by soothing my ruling pa.s.sion; and then proceeded to detail the physical chances of a ruined const.i.tution, of death, and of failure; and afterward to represent, with una.s.suming but with stedfast energy, the moral turpitude first of subjecting myself to the physical evils he had recited, and next of hiring myself to enmity against nations I had never known, and of becoming the a.s.sa.s.sin of people whom I had never seen, and who had not had any possible opportunity of doing me an injury, or even of giving me an offence.

The objections I started, partly to defend the opinions I had begun with, and partly because I felt myself loth to relinquish a plan by which my imagination had been flattered, soon became very feeble: but the interesting nature of the subject prolonged the discussion till it was nearly dinner time.

In the course of this enquiry, Mr. Evelyn delineated the contemptible yet ridiculous arts which are employed to entrap men into the military service; pourtrayed the inevitable depravity of their morals, and gave a history of the feelings worthy of fiends which are engendered, while they are trained to fix their bayonets, load their pieces, level them, discharge them at men they had never seen before, strike off the heads of these strangers with furious dexterity, stab the ground in full gallop on which they are supposed to have fallen and to lie helpless, and commit habitual and innumerable murders in imagination, that they may be hardened for actual slaughter.

He afterward gave an enlightened and animated sketch of the abject condition of those who command these men, of the total resignation which each makes of his understanding to that of the next in rank above him, and of the arrogant, the ignorant, the turbulent, the dangerous and the slavish spirit which this begets. He finished the picture with a recapitulation of the innumerable and horrid miseries which everlastingly mark the progress of war; which he painted with such force and truth that I recoiled from the contemplation of it with abhorrence.

My feelings had been so agitated by this discourse that my imagination was thoroughly rouzed. My former ideas, concerning the enormous vices of war, had not only been revived but increased; and, though I began with debating the question, I soon ceased to oppose: so that my thoughts were rather busied in filling up the picture, and collecting all its horrors, than in apologizing for or denying their existence.

This was the temper of mind in which Mr. Evelyn, attending to his own concerns, left me for a short time; and my heart was so agonized by the recollection that this was a system to which men were still devoted, and of which they were still in the headlong and hot pursuit, that I then immediately, and perhaps with less effort than I ever made on a similar occasion, produced the following poem:

THE HERO

All hail to the hero whom victory leads, Triumphant, from fields of renown!

From kingdoms left barren! from plains drench'd in blood!

And the sacking of many a fair town!

His gore-dripping sword shall hang high in the hall; Revered for the havoc it spread!

For the deaths it has dealt! for the terrors it struck!

And the torrents of blood it has shed!

His banners in haughty procession shall ride, On Jehovah's proud altars unfurl'd!

While anthems and priests waft to heaven his praise, For the slaughter and wreck of a world!

Though widows and orphans together shall crowd, To gaze as at heaven's dread rod, And mutter their curses, and mingle their tears, Invoking the vengeance of G.o.d:

Though, while bloated Revelry roars at his board, Where surfeiting hecatombs fume, Desolation and Famine shall howl, and old Earth Her skeleton hordes shall intomb:

All ghastly and mangled, from fields where they fell, With horrible groanings and cries, What though, when he slumbers, the dead from their graves In dread visitation shall rise:

Yet he among heroes exalted shall sit; And slaves to his splendor shall bend; And senates shall echo his virtues; and kings Shall own him their saviour, and friend!

Then hail to the hero whom victory leads, Triumphant, from fields of renown!

From kingdoms left barren! from plains drench'd in blood!

And the sacking of many a fair town!

I was too full of my subject, and poet like too much delighted with the verses I had so suddenly produced, not to shew them immediately to Mr. Evelyn.

He seemed to do them even more than justice: he read them again and again, and each time with a feeling now of compa.s.sion, now of amazement, and now of horror, that shewed how strongly the picture had seized upon his soul. The a.s.sociations of misery which his imagination added were so forcible that tears repeatedly rolled down his cheeks.

To this more soothing trains of thought succeeded. The pain of the past and the present was alleviated by a prospect of futurity. Our minds rose to a state of mutual rapture, excited by a foresight that the time was at length come in which men were awakening to a comprehensive view of their own mad and destructive systems; that their vices began to be on the decline and no longer to be mistaken for the most splendid virtues, as they had formerly been; and that truth was breaking forth upon the world with most animating force and vigour.

There have been few moments of my life in which I have experienced intellectual enjoyment with a pleasure so exquisite. Clarke himself, unused as his thoughts had been to explore the future and wrest happiness to themselves by antic.i.p.ation, partook of our emotions; and seemed in a state similar to those religious converts who imagine they feel that a new light is broke in upon them. It was a happy afternoon!

It was a type of those which shall hereafter be the subst.i.tutes of the wretched resources of drinking, obscene conversation, and games of chance, to which men have had recourse that they might rouze their minds: being rather willing to suffer the extremes of misery than that dullness, and inanity, which they find still more insupportable.

This incident united me and Mr. Evelyn more intimately, and powerfully, than all that had pa.s.sed. The warmth with which he spoke, of the benefits that society must receive from talents like mine, dilated my heart. Every man is better acquainted with his own powers and virtues than any other can possibly be; and, when they are discovered, acknowledged, and applauded, instead of being denied or overlooked as is more generally the case, the pleasure he receives is as great as it is unusual.

Our conversation after dinner reverted to the plans I was to pursue.

The law necessarily came under consideration; and Mr. Evelyn, not having considered the subject under the same points of view as Turl had done, was strongly in favour of that profession. He foresaw in me a future Judge, whose integrity should benefit and whose wisdom should enlighten mankind. He conceived there could be no function more honourable, more sacred, or more beneficial. An upright judge, with his own pa.s.sions and prejudices subdued, attentive to the principles of justice by which alone the happiness of the world can be promoted, and by the rect.i.tude of his decisions affording precedent and example to future generations, he considered as a character that must command the reverence and love of the human race.

My imagination while he spoke was not idle. I helped to fill up the picture. It placed me on the judgment seat. It gave me the penetration of Solomon, the benevolence of Zaleucus, and the legislative soul of Alfred. As usual, it overstepped the probable with wonderful ease and celerity. Not only the objections of Turl disappeared, but the jargon of the law, its voluminous lumber with which I had been disgusted when reading the civilians at college, and all my other doubts and disgusts, vanished.

Our inquiries accordingly ended with a determination that I should continue my journey to town, should keep my terms at the Temple, and should place myself, as is customary, under one of the most eminent barristers.

This necessarily brought me to consider the expence; and the moment that subject recurred I felt all the pain which could not but a.s.sault a mind like mine. I had nurtured, not only the haughtiness of independance, but the supposition that, in my own extraordinary powers and gifts, I possessed innumerable resources; and, at moments, had encouraged those many extravagant flights with which the reader is already well acquainted.

However, after all that had pa.s.sed, and for the reasons that had been sufficiently urged, I found it necessary to submit: though by the concession my soul seemed to be subdued, and its faculties to be shrunk and half withered. It was an oppressive sensation that could not be shaken off, yet that must be endured. Such at least was my present conclusion.

In the course of the evening, Mr. Evelyn at my request stated his reasons for pursuing his own course of studies; and instanced a variety of facts which convinced me of the benefits to be derived from the science of surgery, of the rash conclusions to which modern theorists and enquirers have been led, and of the necessity there is that some pract.i.tioner, equally well informed with themselves but aware of the evil of false deductions, should demonstrate the mischief of hasty a.s.sertion, and that things which are only conjectural ought not to be given as indubitable.

Of this nature he considered their hypotheses relating to the brain, the nervous system, the lymphatic fluid, and other subjects; concerning which many curious but hitherto equivocal facts have been the discovery of modern research.

Mr. Evelyn not only read all the best authors, but went to London, every winter, and a.s.siduously maintained an intercourse with the most able men, attended their lectures, was present at their operations, and fully informed himself of their differences both in opinion and practice.

But his frame was delicate, a too long abode in London always occasioned pulmonary symptoms, and experience taught him that his native air was more healthful and animating than any other. The difficulties attending his studies were greatly increased by his residence in the country; but they were surmounted by his precaution, and by the general favour which his benevolence secured to him among the neighbouring people. Though there were not wanting some who considered him as a very strange, if not a dangerous and a wicked, man.

It is curious yet an astonishing and an afflicting speculation that men should be most p.r.o.ne to suspect, and hate, those who are most unwearied in endeavouring to remove their evils. That a surgeon must be acquainted with the direction, site, and properties, of the muscles, arteries, ligaments, nerves, and other parts, before he can cut the living body with the least possible injury, and that this knowledge can only be acquired by experience, is a very plain proposition. It is equally self-evident that a dead body is no longer subject to pain; and that it certainly cannot be more disgraced by the knife of a surgeon than by the gnawing of worms. When will men shake off their infantine terrors, and their idiot-like prepossessions?

CHAPTER X

_The departure: e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns: Present pleasures and future hopes: A strange dialogue in the dark; and a generous and beautiful defender_

The pleasure I this day received in the company of Mr. Evelyn was uncommon, the friendship with which he had inspired me was pure, and the respect that my heart paid to his virtues was profound. But eagerness of pursuit was my characteristic. My plan being formed, every moment of delay would have been torment; and he, entering into all my thoughts and sympathising with all my wishes, prompted me to follow my bent. It was therefore agreed that I and my companion should depart by one of the coaches which would pa.s.s an inn at some distance in the morning. A messenger was accordingly dispatched to take places in the first vacant coach, arrangements for money-matters were made with every possible delicacy by my friend, the night pa.s.sed away, day returned, and we departed.

I will leave the reader to image to himself the crowding sensations that pressed upon my heart on this occasion, the tumult of thought which incidents so sudden and unexpected produced, and the feelings which mutually pa.s.sed between me and my n.o.ble benefactor. I shall live, said I, to acknowledge this in my old age. I shall have a story to tell, a man to describe, and a friend to revere, that will astonish and render common hearers incredulous. But this was the language of my heart: not of my tongue. That was dumb. A pressure of the hand, with eyes averted, was all the utterance I had.

A child and its mother were the only pa.s.sengers beside ourselves. The coach, which was to be in London at ten that night, rolled along, they were asleep, I was silent, and poor Clarke was full of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

'If there be a good man on G.o.d's earth, that gentleman is one! He will find his road to heaven safe enough! He will be among the sheep, and sit on the right hand of G.o.d! I hope I shall be in his company! Though that can't be. I am unworthy. I may think myself happy to sit far enough lower down. Not that I can say; for I find the best people have the least pride. Perhaps as it is in earth so it may be in heaven.

G.o.d send us all safe there together! For my part, I think that within these few weeks I am a different kind of a creature. But what can a poor carpenter do? He must not speak to gentlefolk, unless in the way of his work: so he can have no sociability, but with his poor neighbours. And though some of them to be sure be as good-meaning people as any on earth, they are no better learned than himself: so they can teach him nothing. But I have happened on good luck, so I have no right to complain. And I am very sure, in my own mind, that there is good luck in store for us all: for providence else would not have brought us and guided us where it did, by such marvellous means; so that, while we thought we were breaking our necks and falling into the hands of murderers, and being frightened out of our senses by the most shocking sights I must say that ever were seen, we were all the while going straight on as fast as we could to good fortune! So that it is true enough that man is blind, but that G.o.d can see.'

What pleasure does the mind of man take in solving all its difficulties! How impatient is it that any thing should remain unexplained; and how ready to elevate its own ignorance into mystery and miracle!

To have remained longer silent, while the honest heart of my companion was thus overflowing with kindness, would have been no proof of the same excellent and winning quality in myself. I encouraged his hopes, in which I was very ready to partic.i.p.ate. My own pleasing dreams revived in full force; and I presently ranged my cloud-constructed castles, which I built, pulled down and rebuilt with admirable facilty, and lorded it over my airy domains at will. 'Tis a folly to rail at these domains: for there are no earthly abodes that are half so captivating.

Nothing worth mentioning happened on the road till we came to the last stage but one, where we changed horses; at which time it was quite dark. Our female companion and her child had been set down at Hungerford; and two new pa.s.sengers, both ladies, as soon as the horses were put to, were shewn to the carriage.

They had a footman, who mounted the box; and we soon learned from their discourse that they had been waiting for the nephew of the elder lady, who was to have taken them in his phaeton, but that they had been disappointed. They had been on a visit, and had been brought to Salt-hill in a gentleman's carriage; which they had sent back. While the coach had stopped, I had fallen into a doze; but awoke when it began to move again, and when I heard the voices of females conversing.

The old lady spoke most, and complained of the rudeness of her nephew in subjecting them to the inconvenience of a stage-coach, or of waiting they knew not how long till post-horses should come in, which as they were informed would be tired and unfit for more work: it happening that there was a great run at that time on the Bath road.

The reader will presently understand that they were people of real fashion; and the eldest lady spoke of persons and things which denoted that high life was familiar to her. This gave Clarke a new opportunity of wondering how he, a poor carpenter, came into such company: which he directly expressed to me, with the simplicity and undisguise that are common to such characters.

The old lady, who had before signified her chagrin at the expedient to which her nephew had reduced her, did not find her pride soothed when she learned that she was in company with carpenters: for it soon appeared that she considered me and my companion as familiar acquaintances of the same rank.

Her young friend was likewise led into this error; and, when the former began to express her disgust too freely to accord with the feelings of the latter, she interrupted her with saying '_Ayez la bonte, madame, de parler Francois_? 'Be kind enough, madam, to speak French.'