“Prove that to know is to attend,And that we ever keep in sightWhat reason tells us once is right.”Wilkie.
“Prove that to know is to attend,And that we ever keep in sightWhat reason tells us once is right.”Wilkie.
“Prove that to know is to attend,
And that we ever keep in sight
What reason tells us once is right.”
Wilkie.
Great was the astonishment of the Earl of Trimmerstone at receiving the following letter from Horatio Markham:
“My lord,“In looking over the will of your lordship’s late lamented relative, I am greatly concerned to find an error which seriously affects myself.Not to keep you in suspense, I have to inform your lordship that the legacy which devolves to me as residuary-legatee is far beyond the intention or apprehension of the devisor. It is very clear, that from neglecting to investigate his affairs, the late Mr. Martindale was by no means aware of the extent of his property. The legacies, therefore, devised to your lordship and others related to the deceased, are much less than otherwise they would have been. I know for a certainty that the will was formed on a misapprehension. The appearance of my name at all was by me unsought and unexpected, and for many reasons undesirable. Had the late Mr. Martindale bequeathed to me a small complimentary legacy, I should have accepted it, unhesitatingly, as a memento of his kind friendship. Had a definite, though unreasonably large legacy been devised to me, I might perhaps have hesitated and refused to accept it. But now I find that nearly one-half of the large property possessed by the late Mr. Martindale is bequeathed to me by an error; and therefore I must positively, though respectfully,decline accepting more than the devisor apprehended he had bequeathed to me.“I have written on the same subject, and to the same purpose, to Signora Rivolta; and I wait to know hers and your lordship’s will and pleasure concerning the matter in question.“I have the honor to be, &c.”
“My lord,
“In looking over the will of your lordship’s late lamented relative, I am greatly concerned to find an error which seriously affects myself.Not to keep you in suspense, I have to inform your lordship that the legacy which devolves to me as residuary-legatee is far beyond the intention or apprehension of the devisor. It is very clear, that from neglecting to investigate his affairs, the late Mr. Martindale was by no means aware of the extent of his property. The legacies, therefore, devised to your lordship and others related to the deceased, are much less than otherwise they would have been. I know for a certainty that the will was formed on a misapprehension. The appearance of my name at all was by me unsought and unexpected, and for many reasons undesirable. Had the late Mr. Martindale bequeathed to me a small complimentary legacy, I should have accepted it, unhesitatingly, as a memento of his kind friendship. Had a definite, though unreasonably large legacy been devised to me, I might perhaps have hesitated and refused to accept it. But now I find that nearly one-half of the large property possessed by the late Mr. Martindale is bequeathed to me by an error; and therefore I must positively, though respectfully,decline accepting more than the devisor apprehended he had bequeathed to me.
“I have written on the same subject, and to the same purpose, to Signora Rivolta; and I wait to know hers and your lordship’s will and pleasure concerning the matter in question.
“I have the honor to be, &c.”
When the above letter arrived at Trimmerstone, his lordship was busily engaged in inspecting the progress of the operatives at the old hall.
Part of the building had been promptly made fit for his lordship’s residence; and as his establishment was now very small, he was not reluctant to use the contracted residence assigned to him. We have already intimated that the Earl of Trimmerstone was depressed in spirits: it is indeed very natural that he should be. The life which he had led, the companions with whom he had associated, the disappointments which he had experienced, his foolish marriage, the disgraceful conduct of his silly countess, the taunts and reproaches of hisopulent relative, the weariness and disgust that he felt in having nothing to do, and the annoyance of an empty title, which merely mocked him with the epithet of Right Honorable, all these things combined to render him almost disgusted with, and weary of life.
In this humor he went to Trimmerstone, and took up his abode at the miserable old hall. The gloom of the building was quite in unison with the feelings of his mind, and he very contentedly set himself down to lament over the vanity of life, and to make amends for his past transgressions by growling right surlily at the sins of others. His solitude was soon invaded by a visit from the rector of Trimmerstone, who was rather fanatical in his theology, and finical in attire and address. Neither of these qualities were, in the first instance, agreeable to his lordship; but the Rev. Marmaduke Sprout had the capacity for flattery in a very high degree. He could presently render himself agreeable to any person of exalted rank by his very courteous and conciliating demeanour; and he possessed a peculiar softness and gentlenessof manner, with which indeed the Earl of Trimmerstone would, in his past days of cock-fighting, horse-racing, and boxing, have been thoroughly disgusted. But his lordship was quite an altered man. He did not exactly know what was the matter with himself, till Mr. Sprout introduced to his fretful and fidgetty lordship the subject of fanaticism. That became an excellent antistagnator, and set all his fancies and vagaries at work in quite an opposite direction to that which they had hitherto taken. Formerly, the lowest pursuits under the name of sport or fancy had been agreeable to his lordship; and every species of religious sentiment he had regarded with the profoundest contempt and the most unmingled abhorrence. But now he was sick, and weary of all these things; and because one extreme was purely offensive and wearisome, he took it for granted that the opposite must be truly delightful and highly consistent, and so under the tuition of Mr. Sprout, he changed and reversed all his habits, good, bad, and indifferent. From staking thousands at a horse-race, he turned up his eyes at the grievous abominationof half-crown whist; and, indeed, had he been disposed to card-playing, he could not have indulged himself at Trimmerstone, for Mr. Sprout had banished almost all card-playing from the place, so that there was not a pack of cards in the parish, except two or three mutilated well-thumbed packs of quadrille-cards, which were still used by a knot of antiquated spinsters worthy of the good old days of Sacheverel and High Church. Quadrille-cards will not do for whist, for all the eights, nines and tens are thrown out. Formerly, Lord Trimmerstone used to be proud of giving some of his acquaintance a sumptuous dinner; but now he had changed all that, and he only kept one female cook, who could just manage to make a comfortable and snug little dish or two for his lordship’s own self, occasionally assisted by the Rev. Mr. Sprout. Formerly, his lordship had been disposed to be lively, and oftentimes facetious; but now he was prodigiously grave, and almost sulky. Formerly, his lordship never went to church; now he went twice every Sunday, and said Amen as loud as the clerk, and with much more solemnity, for theclerk did not turn up his eyes for fear of losing the place. Formerly, his lordship had been very candid; now he had become exceedingly censorious, and he seemed to measure his religion by the severity with which he reproved transgressors. His lordship several times attempted to make all the inhabitants of Trimmerstone go to church twice every Sunday, except his own cook. But in this his lordship could not succeed, and indeed it was well for him that he could not; for if he had, the church would have been so crowded that he could not have enjoyed a great, large, lined, stuffed, padded, carpeted pew for himself.
Though Lord Trimmerstone was a zealous convert to Mr. Sprout’s theory of the national religion, yet that theory was not quite obvious and distinct to his lordship’s apprehension; and often did he blunder in the enunciation of his theory, and awkwardly did he sometimes express himself when he thought he was contending for the truth: for he has been known to rebuke the unepiscopal worshippers in barns and outhouses for holding the pestilential doctrines ofelection and predestination. This was pardonable in a young beginner; but Mr. Sprout set him right, and showed that the doctrines of predestination and election had been sometimes erroneously apprehended to mean predestination and election, whereas the proper view of the subject was that they meant election and predestination.
That part of fanaticism which consists in gloominess and moroseness, his lordship could manage to admiration; for he was thoroughly disgusted with every thing and every body. We cannot resist the inclination to observe in this part of our narrative, how very just and appropriate a punishment is fanaticism for gross immorality. When the mind has spurned the meeker and gentler bonds of religious principle and conscientious thought, it is rightly punished by the withering rigors of fanaticism, and the gloomy terrors of superstition. Under these influences was now lying the Earl of Trimmerstone. And he was engaged in conversation with the Rev. Marmaduke Sprout, when there was deliveredinto his lordship’s hands the above-mentioned letter of Horatio Markham.
His lordship made the apology usual on such occasions, and forthwith opened and read Markham’s letter. As soon as the reading was finished, his lordship said, “This is very honorable conduct in Mr. Markham.”
Then handing the letter to Mr. Sprout, he said, “Read this letter, sir, and let me have your advice, how I ought to act under present circumstances.”
The reverend gentleman took the letter bowing, and perused it with great attention, and returned to his lordship with another bow, and a smile of satisfaction at being let into a great man’s confidence; and said,
“Really, my lord, I hardly know how to advise. Cases do sometimes occur in which there is a great deal of difficulty, and this appears to me to be one of them.”
By this speech, though delivered with the solemnity of an oracle, very little information was communicated to his lordship. When peopleask for advice, they should, in order to save their friends a great deal of trouble, state explicitly what sort of advice they wish to have. It is for want of this honesty and explicitness that so much good advice is continually thrown away.
His lordship was now fairly puzzled and perplexed. It was necessary to send some answer to the communication of Markham; and his lordship had discernment enough to perceive that this gentleman was truly a scrupulous and conscientious man. The present transaction proved that fact abundantly. For nine hundred and ninety-nine persons out of a thousand would, without much if any hesitation, have accepted the legacy in question. That feeling in Markham, to which some persons might be inclined to give the name of moral prudery, prevented him from availing himself of a decided error; and on the other hand, his dislike of ostentatious magnanimity and heroics placed him in an unpleasant situation in making an offer of surrendering the legacy.
Notwithstanding the various lectures and the great and clear information which Mr. Sprout had communicated to Lord Trimmerstone, concerning those views of religion most suitable to fanaticism, his lordship was but imperfectly initiated: therefore, when he had read Markham’s letter, and handed it over to Mr. Sprout for his perusal also, his lordship could not help observing,
“This is really very meritorious conduct in Mr. Markham, there is not one man in a thousand who would have acted thus under these circumstances.”
To this Mr. Sprout very seriously and solemnly replied, “Your lordship will excuse me, but I must observe that there is nothing meritorious in human actions.”
“Mr. Sprout,” said his lordship, “I will not contend with you for a word; but you must grant, that notwithstanding the supreme importance of faith, which I am quite ready to allow, there is a great difference in human actions, and that some conduct is better than other. Thereare multitudes who have not faith who frequently perform virtuous actions, and live according to the principles of morality.”
The clergyman shook his head, and said, “Mere heathen morality.”
“And that,” replied Lord Trimmerstone, “is better than no morality at all.”
It could not be entertaining to our readers to pursue the long and elaborate arguments by which the rector of Trimmerstone attempted to prove that virtue was of no value but of great importance. We therefore proceed with our narrative.
When the discussion was concluded, and his lordship was abundantly convinced that he knew nothing about the matter, he directed his thoughts to the subject of Markham’s letter: and as the divine had given all the advice upon the business which he was able to give, he took his leave; and the Earl of Trimmerstone remained alone to consult with his own thoughts.
All that his lordship could think was, that this conduct of Markham was very handsome.But that was not enough. It would not be a very satisfactory answer to Markham should his lordship say merely that such conduct was very handsome. After much deliberation, his lordship came to the conclusion, that it would be best to have an interview with Markham on the subject, and to make inquiry into all the particulars, resolving to compel the barrister to the acceptance of as much as he could force upon him.
With this view his lordship sent to Markham an immediate acknowledgment of the receipt of his communication, proposing at the same time a meeting with him for the purpose of entering into the particulars of the affair; for Markham’s letter had not sufficiently to his lordship’s apprehension explained the cause and nature of the error in the will.
Markham’s letter to Signora Rivolta received also an immediate answer, and that answer was decisive. The lady, after complimenting the barrister for his very honorable conduct, said, that it was quite out of the question that she or her family could have, according to the laws of England, any claim whatever on any part of the property,save that which was literally and expressly bequeathed to them; and that if any remained unappropriated or unclaimed, the only person who had aught to do with it must of course be the heir-at-law.
Thus it seemed that the business was brought into a small compass, resting only between Markham and Lord Trimmerstone. And though his lordship’s moral susceptibility might not have been quite so acute and delicate as Markham’s, yet when such an appeal as this was made to his feelings, he could not but entertain some thoughts of disinterestedness: for the disinterestedness of the residuary-legatee was so powerful, as to excite in his lordship’s mind a degree of sympathy and a corresponding feeling.
“He could not do it handsomer than thus.”Shirley.
“He could not do it handsomer than thus.”Shirley.
“He could not do it handsomer than thus.”
Shirley.
An arrangement was made that Lord Trimmerstone should meet the residuary-legatee at Brigland, at the house and in the presence of Mr. Denver, whose testimony on the subject was of so much consequence in settling the point in question. For on the face of the matter, Markham was clearly and unequivocally entitled to the residue of the late Mr. Martindale’s property, after payment of the variouslegacies named in the will; but from what the devisor just before his decease had said to Mr. Denver, it appeared that he was not conscious that the bequest appropriated to Markham was any thing near so valuable as by the acknowledgment of Mr. Price it turned out to be.
The perplexity occasioned by wills is not often of such a nature as that now recorded. It is indeed refreshing to the moral eye to contemplate such an instance of sound and healthy moral feeling. Markham was not so inexperienced as to be ignorant of the value of money, or so romantic and visionary as to despise opulence; but had sense enough to know, and had been observant enough to see, that money does not command every thing, and that it may be purchased at too high a price.
When Markham had received Lord Trimmerstone’s note, he immediately called on Mr. Denver to inform him of the intention of the meeting, and to request that he would have the goodness to let his lordship know precisely, or as distinctly as he could recollect, all that Mr. Martindale had said to him concerning his motivein altering the will. The clergyman expressed much astonishment at this proposed meeting, and said,
“What! does my Lord Trimmerstone intend to dispute the will? I am very positive that it is really and truly the actual will of the late Mr. Martindale; and I can very distinctly recollect all that the old gentlemen said.”
“No, Mr. Denver,” replied Markham, “his lordship has not expressed any such intention; but there appears to have been some misapprehension in the mind of our late friend as to the actual amount of his property, and what we wish to ascertain from you is, whether Mr. Martindale in bequeathing twenty thousand pounds to Mr. Price, did not imagine that he was giving him more than would have come to him as a residuary-legatee.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Denver, “that was what Mr. Martindale said in my hearing. He also said, that another reason for altering his will was that he might put your name into it; and I am very glad to hear that your legacy is so much more than you expected. I have heardthat Mr. Price feels himself very much disappointed.”
With a slight frown and a look of thoughtfulness, Markham replied, “I am not so well pleased as you may imagine with the unexpected greatness of this legacy, it puts me into a very awkward position. I can by no means think of taking more than Mr. Martindale intended to give me, and it is very unpleasant to appear in the light of conferring an obligation on Lord Trimmerstone.”
Mr. Denver expanded his countenance into a broad look of astonishment, and said, “Bless me, Mr. Markham, why how very scrupulous you are! I cannot see how any body can blame you for taking the legacy. It was not your doing that Mr. Martindale was ignorant of the full value of his property. Though between ourselves, and I hope you will not let it go any farther, I dare say that Mr. Price used no little pains to keep Mr. Martindale in the dark with a view of coming into a handsome fortune as residuary-legatee.”
“And would you have me, Mr. Denver, to take an advantage of another’s wrong?”
“I cannot see,” replied the clergyman, “why you should not: you are not injuring any one. Lord Trimmerstone has quite as much as he expected, and I dare say that he will not desire to deprive you of any part of what falls to your lot.”
Not even the authority of the divine could convince Markham that he should be acting rightly in availing himself of the bequest to its full extent; and there was also in his mind another objection—he was ambitious, as we have before observed, of high reputation; and it would have interfered greatly with his comfort and happiness, had he thought that any persons who at all knew him, had the slightest suspicion that there was any thing in his character that savored of meanness or littleness; nor would he have been pleased to have owed his good fortune merely to accident. These feelings may be fastidious, but they have their use; and though they may not exist very widely, or influence the mindsof many individuals, yet they have a power in society, and are useful in keeping up the standard of morals and integrity. If it were not for an occasional example of individuals rising above the ordinary level, the influence of the multitude beneath it would gradually but surely sink the standard, and lead to serious deterioration.
According to appointment, Lord Trimmerstone, a few days after, came to Brigland, for the purpose of discussing with Markham the perplexities of the will. The meeting took place at the house and in the presence of Mr. Denver. When his lordship entered the room he held out his hand with great cordiality to Markham, and did not at all seem to feel his dignity abated by familiarity of address to one of whose understanding and moral worth he had the very highest opinion. So much good had fanaticism done to his lordship, as to render him less haughty in his outward demeanour, and to prompt to at least the semblance of courtesy.
“Mr. Markham,” said the Earl, “I havereceived a letter from you which has very much surprised me. Do I understand it aright?”
“The letter, my lord, which I sent to you, was simply to inform you that on looking into the affairs of your lordship’s late relative, Mr. John Martindale, I find, to my great astonishment, that his property far exceeds what by his will seemed his own apprehension of the extent of it; and therefore that the legacy which devolves to me as residuary-legatee, is much greater than the devisor apprehended or designed. Under these circumstances, therefore, I wrote to your lordship, as one of the nearest relatives of the deceased, to know what might be your will as to the disposal of the property.”
His lordship smiled and said, “My will, Mr. Markham, is, that you should take possession of whatever my cousin has bequeathed to you. For if your legacy had turned out to be less than you expected, I dare say that you would not have applied to me to increase it; and now that it happens to be more, why should I consent to diminish it?”
“Had it been a little more or a little less, my lord, it would have been superfluous to take notice of it; but when I know that it was Mr. Martindale’s intention to leave me only ten or fifteen thousand pounds, I cannot with any propriety avail myself of an absolute error which puts me in possession of a very large fortune. By this error, I am placed in a very unpleasant situation.”
“But how are you sure, Mr. Markham, that this is an error? I see pretty well how the case stands. You have not sent for Mr. Price to meet us on this occasion: you had compassion on his feelings. I have long suspected that this man has not been acting quite honestly towards my late relative. I know that he expected to be residuary-legatee; and he has concealed, or at least endeavoured to conceal, from Mr. Martindale the real extent of his property: but you must have known that my cousin was a shrewd observant man; and is it not possible that having detected the trickery of this confidential gentleman, he may have resolved thus to disappoint him?”
“I can hardly admit that, my lord,” replied Markham; “for Mr. Denver has told me that when this last will was made, Mr. Martindale expressed himself desirous of leaving to Mr. Price something more than would devolve to him as residuary-legatee; and I can hardly suppose that Mr. Martindale would have left him any thing at all had he detected him in such a transaction. I thank you, my lord, for the construction which you are liberally disposed to put on the will; but I cannot indeed, and I will not avail myself of what I consider as an absolute error.”
Lord Trimmerstone listened seriously, looked thoughtfully, and at last, after a considerable pause, said, “Well, Mr. Markham, if it must be so it must; but I sincerely tell you, I am sorry that you are so scrupulous. You really put me into an unpleasant situation; for if it be not honorable for you to accept the property, I cannot think that I should be acting honorably in availing myself of your generosity.”
“My lord,” continued Markham, “you must not call it generosity. I am acting upon whatI conceive to be a principle of simple justice. I might of course take advantage lawfully of the error; but law and justice so far differ, inasmuch as justice must depend upon circumstances; and the letter of a written law cannot change according to varying events and unforeseen accidents.”
This was all very true and very proper. Lord Trimmerstone could not but admire and commend Markham’s spirit. On the other hand, Markham was astonished at the apparent change in Lord Trimmerstone’s manners, which were not as they had been, those of a proud and vulgar man of high rank, but civil, gentle, and courteous. The fanatic principle had really done his lordship some good. Nothing short of that could have checked him in his gambling course, or brought him from the society of his reckless and heedless companions. It is true that there was not a very complete, nor, in all respects, an entirely advantageous change in his manners. He had become somewhat morose and cynical; and from being delighted with excesses, he had become snarlingly disgustedat temperate pleasures; and he looked with a kind of moral contempt upon those characters which had stood, in a moral point of view, much higher than his own. But at all events, to get rid of ruinous and profligate habits is desirable, and worth some sacrifices.
The interview between Markham and the Earl of Trimmerstone terminated in the conclusion, that the former should take as his legacy a sum equal to that which was devised to Mr. Price; and that the Earl of Trimmerstone should appropriate, according to his own will and pleasure as heir-at-law, that part of the property which Markham contended had not been, morally speaking, devised to any one.
It is not designed that our readers should imagine that the Earl of Trimmerstone readily and easily consented to the above-named arrangements; but it is thought unnecessary to narrate at greater length the dialogue which took place between the parties on the subject. Every well-constituted and healthy mind will naturally and easily suppose what arguments Markham used, and by what objections theywere met on the part of his lordship; and those who cannot imagine what was said would not understand, enjoy, or believe it, were it written out for them fully and literally.
Markham triumphed, or gained his point by virtue of possessing the strongest and best exercised mind of the two; but it was not without great reluctance that Lord Trimmerstone consented to regard that large residue of his late relative’s property as being undisposed of by the will: for his lordship had never been a mean or selfish man in the days of his profligacy and libertinism; and now that he had altogether changed his manner of life, and had seriously and soberly set about a reformation of his manners, and was amply supplied by his late relative’s bequest with all the means which he could desire, he really did feel anxious to perform an act of generosity, and would willingly, for the sake of the reputation of the action, have surrendered the property in question to Markham, even had there been any doubt as to the legal accuracy of the bequest.
It was therefore a matter of concern to himthat he had not been able to prevail on the barrister to take quietly the bequest which was his by law. The feeling of generosity was also strongly excited in his mind by means of sympathy with Markham. There was something so accurately and purely honorable in Markham’s conduct on this occasion, that the force of it was irresistible; and a much less liberal mind than that of Lord Trimmerstone could not deliberately, coolly, and selfishly, have taken advantage of it. Nor was it till Markham had represented how much his mind was oppressed by the reflections which he anticipated would be cast on him by the world, that Lord Trimmerstone would consent to have any thing whatever to do with it. When, however, Markham made his lordship understand that the favor was conferred by him who received, and not by him who surrendered the doubtful bequest, then did he accept the disposal of the property in question.
“Had many a man such fortune as I,In what a heaven would they think themselves.”Tailor.
“Had many a man such fortune as I,In what a heaven would they think themselves.”Tailor.
“Had many a man such fortune as I,
In what a heaven would they think themselves.”
Tailor.
It now became necessary for Markham to return to London; but he forgot not, in his way thither, to pay his dutiful respects to his parents. It is true that he had been placed in a very unpleasant situation, by the unexpectedly large bequest of the late Mr. Martindale; so that, however pleased he might be with an opportunity afforded him of being serviceableto his father, there was an alloy in that pleasure by means of the error in the will, or rather the misapprehension of the devisor. So mingled is the complexion of life’s events, that our brightest days are not cloudless, and our darkest nights are not without some glimmering of a friendly star; and surely we may be content to have our joys a little abated, when by the same token we may anticipate that our sorrows will be somewhat alleviated.
After the interview which Markham had had with the Earl of Trimmerstone he felt his mind lightened of burden, and his spirits were greatly revived. And, considering that he wore the habiliments of sorrow, he carried on his countenance the aspect and look of much cheerfulness and composure of mind: for he was happy in the consciousness of having done that which he knew and felt to be right.
For Markham’s sake and our own we must be allowed a short digression on the subject of bright faces and black suits. It is a piece of arrant foolery, and detestably silly cant, to make a sneering prating about the mannerin which people bear or feel the loss of their friends or relatives. Sorrow is not to be measured by everlasting length of face: any one may assume dull, cold, melancholy looks, and heave sighs with every passing minute; but they who most regret the departed have oftentimes brighter and gayer looks than those who think they ought to be sorry, but feel that they are not. Markham regretted the loss of a good friend, of a cheerful companion, of a kind patron, and good adviser; but Markham had reason, good reason, to be pleased and satisfied with himself, that he had got rid of what might be a reproach, and that he possessed the means of saving his venerated and respected parents from the calamity of an old age of poverty and privation.
He spent a very short time with his father and mother, and then hastened to town to give immediate attention to his professional duties, and to his business as executor.
The intelligence of what was called his good fortune reached town long before him. Many and ridiculous were the rumors concerningthe immense property which had devolved to him. So outrageous and unfounded were the tales told of his wealth, that had he been disposed to say it, he might have persuaded not a few that his riches were equal to or beyond the largest known property in the kingdom. At his chambers he found a myriad of cards. The little card-racks which Miss Henderson had painted for him were choked even to suffocation. Cards were on his chimney-piece, and cards were lying on his table. There also appeared a goodly host of prospectuses and syllabuses and proposals; and specimens and schemes; and catalogues and first numbers of new periodicals, and shop-bills, and addresses to the public, and cases of distress; and plans of estates, and notices of sale, and recommendatory letters and applications for places; and letters from coachmen, footmen, butlers, stable-boys, postilions, cooks, housemaids, housekeepers, kitchen-maids, valets, and a multitude of others too numerous to mention. There was a whole week’s work before him to read them all.
At sight of all this he sighed, stared, shaked his head and smiled; and he thought to himself, that it was a very good thing that he was not prime minister, for then he should be pestered with myriads more applications, and with matters not so easy to be disposed of.
His card-rack was a complete memorandum-book, for there he read the names of every individual whom he had ever seen or spoken to, and besides them a great many more. What could be more natural than for Mr. Jackson to say to Dr. Smith, “I am going to call on Markham?” And what could be more natural than for Dr. Smith to say, “I will go with you, and you may introduce me?” So then Markham’s friend, Jackson, leaves his card, and Jackson’s friend, Dr. Smith, leaves his card too.
Markham had never been of a covetous disposition; but now he felt most especially and peculiarly delighted, that there was no foundation for the intemperate and extravagant reports concerning his immense wealth.
A paradoxical friend of ours, who makes it arule to believe every thing that all the world disbelieves, and to disbelieve all that the rest of the world believes, has started an ingenious theory concerning the “fortunate youth,” who made such a noise some years ago. It is our friend’s theory, that the story of his immense wealth was perfectly true, but that he found so much trouble in the disposal of it, and was annoyed by and threatened with such a host of applications, dependents, and acquaintances, that to get rid of all trouble he destroyed all the documents of his wealth, and sunk back for the sake of ease and quiet into his original insignificance and obscurity.
There is some plausibility in this theory; and it must be acknowledged that such was Markham’s state of mind at those symptoms of botheration which he saw in his chambers, in his card-racks, and on his table, that it would not have been much to be wondered at, if, on the supposition that his wealth was really so great as it was reported to be, he had adopted the same plan to get rid of his annoyances.
Knowing, however, that so great a weight ofresponsibility did not rest upon him, he perused and glanced over these solicitations of attention with a much more calm and composed mind. Very few of them appeared to him deserving of notice; and as far as concerned the callers, whose cards adorned his racks, there were not above five per cent that needed any return. With respect to some of them he thought, rather humorously indeed, that it might be advisable to send them back to their owners accompanied with an affidavit sworn before the Lord Mayor, that Horatio Markham’s legacy did not exceed twenty thousand pounds.
There was one place, however, where he resolved to pay his immediate respects, and for which no hint of card-leaving was necessary. This call was of course on the daughter of the late Mr. Martindale. Under present circumstances, such call was absolutely necessary; it was also to himself highly and truly agreeable. He had not forgotten, nor could he well forget Clara Rivolta. He was quite uncertain what place he now held in her esteem; he knew not what might be the effect of attempting to renewthe acquaintance; and Markham was quite as delicate and fastidious in affairs of the heart as in affairs of the purse. He recollected also the stern-looking Father Martini, and he thought of the force of bigotry and fanaticism, and of the power which superstition has over many minds otherwise intelligent, rational, and amiable. There was in his mind also the thought that so far as pecuniary matters were concerned, there was not now that objection which formerly there had been; and he thought also that Dr. Crack had taken Miss Henderson away from amongst the obstacles, and that Mr. Tippetson had very effectually disposed of himself: there remained therefore but one impediment, but that one might be insuperable.
Markham found the mother and daughter together as usual. But notwithstanding his previous determination to observe as accurately and attentively as possible the looks and manners of Clara and her mother, so as to draw some decisive inferences from them, he found himself too deeply interested and too much agitated to make any thing like a satisfactory observation. Theseladies had of course heard something of the rumors which were so loudly and widely circulated respecting Markham’s good fortune; but they were not by any means aware of the extent of Mr. Martindale’s property; he might for aught they knew have left behind him fifty times the amount attributed to him. They would not, however, and could not believe the dirty insinuations that Markham had endeavoured, and but too successfully, to induce the old gentleman to bequeath to him an unreasonable and enormous share of his wealth.
Signora Rivolta knew, or fancied she knew, Markham’s character too well to imagine it possible that he should have been guilty of any thing like meanness. In the language also of the letter which he had written to her on examining into the affairs of the deceased, there was obviously a strong and clear feeling of sincerity. The daughter of the late Mr. Martindale therefore received the executor and residuary-legatee with great cordiality, and the manners of confidence and friendship.
Markham was so far in self-possession as tosee that he was not a totally unwelcome visitor. This discovery gave him some little confidence; but it was possible, and he thought of that possibility, that all suspicion of his designs towards Clara had vanished from the mind of Signora Rivolta. He began to speak about the departed, to state the nature of the property which he had left behind him. Signora Rivolta listened, more as a matter of duty than of interest or curiosity. Markham explained that some months must elapse before the property could be appropriated according to the will of the testator.
“Mr. Markham,” said the mother of Clara, “I am perfectly well satisfied that the business is placed in very proper hands, and I thank you for the trouble which you are taking. I hope, too, that my Lord Trimmerstone has not suffered you to give way to that romantic generosity which you spoke of in your letter to me.”
“Excuse me, madam,” replied Markham, “I do not consider that there was any thing romantic or even generous in the surrender to which you refer. I am desirous of preserving on my mind the recollection of my late worthy friend;and I could not dwell with satisfaction on this recollection, if I were sensible of having taken an advantage of an error to withhold from his family what of right belongs to them.”
“Such feelings are an honor to you, sir; but I cannot think that the Earl of Trimmerstone will take advantage of your scrupulous feelings. I know very little of his lordship, but I do not think him capable of such a want of generosity.”
“The Earl of Trimmerstone,” replied Markham, “is by no means deficient in generosity; that was never his character. But I am happy to say that I have been able to convince and persuade his lordship of the propriety of his taking upon himself the disposal of that property, which I consider, and which every honest man would consider, as unappropriated by its late possessor.”
The daughter of the late John Martindale was not slow in apprehending the feeling of Horatio Markham; and it was pleasant to Clara to hear such conversation between the barrister and her mother.
This conversation was presently interrupted by the entrance of that frightful-looking priest, whose inquisitor-like visage had so horrified Markham a short time before. The young man would have retired, but Signora Rivolta desired him to stay, and forthwith she introduced him by name to the dreaded priest. And when Father Martini spoke to the barrister, there was in his voice something not altogether unpleasant. There was solemnity and formality, but there was also kindness and even persuasiveness; and as Markham entered more particularly into conversation with him, there were in his sentiments and expressions strong manifestations of liberal feelings and comprehensive views. Now as Markham knew that Father Martini was zealous for the faith and discipline of his own church, he also supposed that he must be grossly ignorant and illiberal. Markham’s reasoning run thus: Father Martini professes a religion which is absurd and irrational; therefore Father Martini must be an absurd and irrational man: Father Martini professes a religion which assumes to be theonly way of salvation; Father Martini, therefore, must suppose that all the rest of the world must be lost, and therefore he must be exceedingly illiberal. Older men than Markham, and men of greater pretence than he, have used the same leaky logic, without perhaps acknowledging it to themselves. Not frequently is it forgotten that nine times out of ten a man’s character has more influence on his religion than his religion has on his character; as a man’s shoe more frequently takes the shape of his foot, than his foot takes the shape of his shoe. But discussions of this nature are for shoemakers and theologians. So we proceed with our narrative.
Markham became rather pleased with the aged priest, and was also pleased with himself for his own liberality. The priest also was pleased with Markham, and thought him a very promising subject for conversion, on account of the great candour with which he spoke of the Catholic church, and the temperate manner in which he discussed divers points on which, in their interview, they happened to touch. Thelogic of the priest was not indeed much better than the logic of Markham; for candour towards an opponent is not always a symptom of conversion to the said opponent’s creed or theory. There needs, in order to conversion, a strong principle of partisanship. This our young friend possessed not. Nevertheless, the two happened to be well pleased with each other; and there is some good, some religion even, in brotherly love. There is not a great superabundance of that article in the world; whenever therefore it does appear, it should be greeted well.
Markham, after a long conversation with Father Martini, retired. When he was gone, the priest observed to Signora Rivolta that he could not think that so ingenuous a young man could be a very obstinate heretic; but that, in all probability, if some few of his prejudices could be removed, he might be induced, as being a man of good sense, to embrace the Catholic faith. Precisely the same opinion did Markham entertain concerning Father Martini. It was a great pity, the barrister thought, thata man of such liberal feelings, enlightened views, and benevolent disposition, should have been brought up in a faith so contradictory to common sense, and so revolting to the understanding, and all the best feelings of the mind. Both were thus happy in their own thoughts, and pleased with their own theories.
Clara Rivolta now listened with unusual interest and earnestness to the conversation which passed between her mother and Father Martini; and every moment was she in expectation, in trembling expectation, of hearing something said concerning the arrangement recommended, in order to keep herself in the steady profession of the Catholic faith. But the conversation took a more secular turn, and mention was made of the will of the late Mr. Martindale.
Signora Rivolta was a little surprised at the very particular and earnest manner in which Father Martini inquired concerning the will and its particulars.
“You should have inquired, father,” said she, “when the gentleman who has just left uswas present. He is one of the executors, and is in possession of all the several specifications and items of the will.”
“And who,” said the priest, “is inheritor of the greater part of the property?”
“That,” replied the lady, “is doubtful. From the little that I can recollect of the will, I believe it was Mr. Martindale’s design to give the greater part of his property to the Earl of Trimmerstone; but, in consequence of some error or misapprehension as to the extent and value of the property, I understand that a very large proportion, perhaps nearly half, devolves to Mr. Markham as residuary-legatee.”
“And was he related to Mr. Martindale?”
“No, father,” replied Signora Rivolta; “but an accidental acquaintance led Mr. Martindale to think very highly of this gentleman’s moral and intellectual qualities; and observing his disinterestedness and good feeling in various instances, it was the intention of my late father to leave him a legacy; and the young gentleman has shown a proper, and perhaps an almost refined and fastidious feeling on the subject.”
Hereupon Signora Rivolta went on to state the particulars, of which the reader is already in possession. Father Martini on this looked thoughtful; and several times he was about to speak, but he checked himself, and at last he abruptly said, “Of what does the property consist?”
“That I cannot tell you,” said the daughter of the late John Martindale; “but Mr. Markham will be here again to-morrow, and you may learn from him all that you wish to know on the subject.”