My dereliction of intellect fortunately was but of short duration: overpowered and exhausted, I at length sunk to sleep, my head leaning on the bed and I kneeling by its side. How long I remained thus I cannot tell, but I awoke in a shivering fit from a dream of terror, and found myself in the dark. I hastily undressed myself, got into bed, and shrunk beneath the bed clothes, as if escaping from Satan, whom imagination once more placed at my elbow, in forms inexpressibly horrid.

The visions of the night had left too deep an impression not to be in part revived in the morning. Thoughts however that had lately escaped me were now called to recollection. I remembered having once believed that G.o.d was the G.o.d of mercy; that for him to delight in the torture of lost souls was impossible; and that I had even doubted of the eternity of future torments. To this relief a more effectual one was added: Olivia could not be forgotten, and my thoughts, by being continually attracted and fixed on her, were relieved from despair, which might otherwise have been fatal.

A week pa.s.sed away in such kind of convulsive meditations, my attachment to methodism daily declining, and at last changing into something like aversion and horror. At the end of this period, I was sent for in the morning by the president. The incident was alarming!

I had broken no college rules, neglected no prayers, nor been guilty of any indecorum. I foreboded that he had heard of my methodistical excursion. The conjecture was true: he told me it was too publicly known to be pa.s.sed over in silence; that the character of the university had greatly suffered by this kind of heresy; that the vice chancellor, proctors, and heads of houses had been consulted, and that the gentlest punishment they could inflict was rustication for two terms. It would have been much more severe, he said, but for the respect he bore to the memory of my grandfather; who had been a doctor of the university, a worthy pillar of the church, and his good friend.

Though I suspected my opinions, I was not so entirely convinced as openly to renounce them, and I remained silent when he required me to recant. But I requested him to tell me how the event had become public? Not a gownsman was present, except Hector Mowbray; and surely he was above the character of an informer? Especially, thought I, in this instance! The president however was silent; I was suffered to suppose what I pleased, and I left him with the sentence of rustication confirmed, and my long expected academical honours deferred. The only favour granted me was that the punishment should not be made public.

CHAPTER XVII

_Disappointment: More marriage accidents: Preparations for a journey_

The delay of two terms was by no means pleasing to me. I had nearly waited the stipulated time, had read _wall lectures_, and had _done juraments_, and _generals_. Aristotle had been laid upon my head, and I had been created a _Soph_. In fine, I had complied with all the forms of the university; forms which once perhaps might have had a meaning, but which are now offensively absurd. I expected the next term to have obtained the degree of bachelor of arts, after which it was my intention to have gone to London, there to have been ordained, and to have sought a flock wanting a pastor, on whom the stores of my theology and the powers of my elocution might have been well bestowed.

Traversed in this design, I determined to repair to the great city immediately, and return to keep my terms at Oxford when the period of rustication should have elapsed. But I had been obliged to furnish myself with books and music, and had found the hundred pounds a year allowed me scarcely sufficient; and, beside the charges of travelling and removal, I was informed that London was an expensive place. It was therefore necessary I should write to the country, for a supply.

The correspondence with my mother, though not pursued with all the zeal in which it was begun, had been occasionally continued. At first her letters abounded with eulogiums on her husband, but the subject afterward began to cool with her, and she had lately forborne even to mention his name. In answer to the letters which I wrote, to inform her and lawyer Thornby of my plan and to request a supply, a part of the truth appeared. Her husband was a young man, who, coming sooner into the possession of money than of good sense, had squandered as much of it as he could wrest from his uncle, the lawyer, who affirmed the whole or nearly the whole was wasted; and, when he could obtain no more, had left her to depend on Thornby's bounty and had gone to London.

These disagreeable circ.u.mstances were in part communicated by my mother and in part by Thornby, who had written to tell me that, if a small advance were made, it must be deducted from the thousand pounds, bequeathed as before mentioned. To this I willingly agreed, and, giving him all the legal security he required, I received fifty pounds; after which I made the necessary preparations for my intended journey, and obtained letters of recommendation to a clergyman in London, and to the Bishop of--to whom, when I should have taken my bachelor's degree, I meant to apply for deacon's orders.

END OF VOLUME I

VOLUME II

CHAPTER I

_Retrospect and character: Afore taste of futurity: Entrance to London, or where does it begin? All alive: A civil gentleman: Curiosity cooled_

The period was now approaching in which I must fix on a profession for life. My choice, as I imagined, was made. There was no place so worthy of or so fit for the display of great talents as the pulpit. This opinion I supposed to be too well founded for any possible arguments to overturn, or even shake. I had heard much of theology from the rector, but more at Oxford. To promote this branch of knowledge the university was first established, and by it is still maintained; consequently it is there the chief object of pursuit, and topic of discourse. My hour of doubt was not yet arrived, and of the absolute pre-eminence of the clerical office I was a bold and resolute a.s.serter.

Nor had my ambition been wholly bounded by the desire of fame: I was in expectation of my full share of those advantages which the world thinks more substantial; though this was but a subordinate consideration. Under all points of view, my constant source of hope was in the energy of my own mind. Among the numerous examples which I had seen, of men who had gained preferment, many by the sole influence of personal interest, and many more by the industry of intriguing vice, there were some who had attained that end by the exertion of extraordinary talents and virtue. It is true they were but few, very few; yet on them my attention had been constantly fixed. Them I was determined to emulate, exert the same powers, rise by the same means, and enjoy the same privileges. Every example of successful genius delighted, animated me, and fired my glowing imagination. The histories of great men even when persecuted and distressed, a Galileo, a Dryden, or an Otway, did but excite my admiration and my envy. Let me but equal them and I could willingly live with them in poverty and imprisonment, or die with them of misery, malady, and famine.

These were no transient feelings, but the daily emanations of desire.

From my infancy, the lessons and incidents of my life had rendered me aspiring; and, however steep and rugged the rock might be described on which the temple of fame stood, I was determined to ascend and enter.

I was possessed of that hilarity which, when not regulated by a strong desire to obtain some particular purpose, shews itself in a thousand extravagant forms, and is then called animal spirits; but, when thus turned to the attainment of one great end, a.s.sumes the more worthy appellation of activity of mind.

It must be acknowledged I was but little aware how much I had to learn, and unlearn, or of the opposition I should meet from my own prejudices, as well as from those of the world. But dangers never imagined are never feared, and my leading characteristic was the most sanguine hope. Were all the dangers of life to present themselves to the imagination in a body, drawn up in battle array, the prospect would indeed be dreadful; but coming individually they are less formidable, and successively as they occur are conquered. Foreboded, their aspect is terrific; but seen in retrospect, they frequently excite present satisfaction and future fort.i.tude: and this is the way in which they have most frequently been seen by me.

Nor had my time been wholly consumed in gathering the sweets of literature. I had long been exercising myself in writing, improving my style, arranging my thoughts, and enabling myself to communicate the knowledge I might ama.s.s. Of sermons I had written some dozens; and the most arduous of the efforts of poetry had been attempted by me; from the elegy to the epic poem, each had suffered my attacks. And, though I myself was not so well satisfied with my performances as to complete these daring labours, yet, I had so far familiarised myself to a selection of words, and phrases, as to be able to compose with much more facility than is usual at such an age.

Possessed, as I was well persuaded, of no common portion of merit, it was a cheering thought that I was now going to bring it immediately to market; at least into view. London I understood to be the great emporium, where talents if exhibited would soon find their true value, and were in no danger of being long overlooked. To London, which was constantly pouring its novelties, its discoveries, and its effusions of genius over the kingdom, I was going.

I did not, as at Oxford, expect to find its inhabitants all saints.

No: I had heard much of their vices. The subtle and ingenious arts, by which they trick and prey upon each other, had been pictured to me as highly dangerous; and of these arts, self confident as I was, I stood in some awe. But fore warned, said I, fore armed: and that I was not easily to be circ.u.mvented was still a part of my creed.

Such were my qualities, character and expectations, when I entered the carriage that conveyed me toward the great city. It was early in the month of February, the days were short, and evening came on as we reached Hounslow. Brentford I imagined to be London, and was disappointed to find myself again driven out of town. The lighted lamps and respectable buildings of Turnham Green made me conclude that to be the place, or at least the beginning, which Hammersmith did but confirm; and my surprise, at once more finding myself in a n.o.ble road, still lighted with lamps and with only here and there a house, was increased.

At Kensington to me London actually began, and I thought myself hurried nearly through it when the coach stopped at the Gloucester Coffee-house, in Piccadilly. I had already for miles been driven through streets, over stones, and never out of sight of houses, and was astonished to be told that I was now only as it were at the entrance of London.

The quant.i.ty of carriages we had pa.s.sed, the incessant clattering of hoofs and rolling of wheels over the pavement, the general buzz around me, the hurry and animation of the people, and the universal illumination of streets, houses, and shops, excited ideas which were new, unexpected, and almost confounding! Imagination conjured up a ma.s.s that was all magnificence! The world till now had to me been sleeping; here only men were alive! At Oxford indeed, owing to circ.u.mstances, I had felt some similar emotions. But that was a transient scene that quickly declined into stillness and calm: here I was told it was everlastingly the same! The mind delighted to revel in this abundance: it seemed an infinitude, where satiety, its most fatal and hated enemy, could never come.

I had questions innumerable to ask, and made fifty attempts to get intelligence from the waiters, but in vain; they were too busy to attend to me, and treated my interrogatories with impertinent neglect.

However, I was overflowing; talk I must, and I attacked various persons, that were coming and going in the coffee-room. Still I could get only short answers, and I wanted volumes.

Thus disappointed, I went and stood at the door, that I might divine as much as I could for myself: for though it was night, in London there is scarcely such a thing as darkness. While I was standing here, a gentleman of a more complaisant temper came up and fell into conversation with me, answered my inquiries, and informed me the king's palace was at no great distance. The king's palace was indeed a tempting object, and he good-naturedly offered to walk and shew it me.

This very obliging proposal I readily accepted, and away we went.

As we were going down St. James's-street, as I imagine, the thought occurred 'If this gentleman now should be a sharper? He behaves with great civility; it is very improbable; but who knows? Let him! There is no trick he is master of shall prevail on me to part with the little money I have in my pocket: of that I am determined.'

Scarcely had the idea pa.s.sed through my mind, before two men ran with such violence against me that they threw me flat on the pavement, and hurt me considerably. My companion and another immediately came to help me up; and the moment I was on my legs my friend and guide requested me to stay there half a minute; he would see that the watch should soon secure the rascals; and off he ran, full speed. The other kind gentleman followed his example.

All this happened in an instant; and, while I was standing in a kind of amazement, a pa.s.senger, who had seen the transaction at a distance, came up and asked me--'Are you much bruised, Sir?'--'Not very much.'--'Have you lost nothing?'--'Lost? [The question alarmed me] No: I believe not!'--'Search your pockets.'

Going to do as I was desired and putting my hands down, I found my breeches pockets were both turned inside out, and emptied of their contents. I stood speechless and motionless, while I was informed that it was a common-place trick for gangs of pickpockets to throw unwary pa.s.sengers down with violence, pretend to pity and give them aid, pick their pockets while helping them up, and then decamp with all possible expedition. But said I, with great simplicity, to my informer, 'Will not the gentleman come back?'--'What! The man who ran off?'--'Yes.'--'Back! No, no: you will never see his face more, I promise you, Sir; unless you will take the trouble to visit Newgate, or attend the Old Bailey.'

There was no remedy! I stared for a moment, looked foolish, and returned toward the coffee-house; having taken care to mark the way I went. On repeating this story afterward, I learned further that to watch at inns and places where strangers arrive, and to play such tricks as may best succeed with them, is a very frequent practice with sharpers and pickpockets. My only consolation was the sum was small; for I had been cautioned not to travel with much money about me, lest we should meet robbers on the road; and the advice happened to be serviceable. That I had not my watch in my pocket was another lucky circ.u.mstance, or it would have disappeared. The fear of highwaymen had induced me to pack it up in my trunk. As for my handkerchief, it was gone, in the company of my purse.

CHAPTER II

_A journey in town: Good breeding and morality: A new order of priests: A clerical character, or the art of pleasing: Episcopal influence: More gazing: A strange adventure, and the first sight of a play_

As soon as I had breakfasted in the morning, my first care was to change my dress, powder my hair, put my watch in my pocket, inquire my way, and deliver my letters of recommendation. I thought it most prudent to apply first to the clergyman, and take his advice concerning the best manner of appearing before a bishop.

My letters, for I had two, were addressed to the reverend Enoch Ellis, Suffolk-Street, Middles.e.x Hospital. Which way I went I cannot now tell, but I had so many sights to see, shops to examine, and curiosities to admire, that, by the help of wandering perhaps a mile or much more out of my road, I was at least two hours before I came to my journey's end.

I knocked at the door, and was told by the servant that his master was not at home; but was asked if I had any message? I replied I had letters, which I wished to deliver into his own hand. The reverend Enoch, who as it appeared was listening through an aperture left purposely at the parlour door, put his head out, like a turtle from his sh.e.l.l, and desired the servant to shew the gentleman in; he would be with him in a moment. This was another phenomenon in morals! A clergyman suffer, nay encourage, or, as it must be, command, his servant to tell a lie? It was inconceivable! I knew nothing of fashionable manners, and that being denied to people whom you do not wish to see, instead of being thought insolent or false, was the general practice of the well bred. At that time I understood no single point of good breeding: I had it all to learn! But indeed, so dull am I on such topics, that, to this hour, how it can be a clergyman's or any honest man's duty or interest to teach servants to lie is to me incomprehensible. The difficulty, as I have found it, is to teach both them and all cla.s.ses of people to tell the truth. What the morality of the practice is cannot be a serious question.

Before I proceed with that part of my story in which the reverend Enoch Ellis takes a share, it is necessary to remark that there has sprung up in modern times a clerical order of men, very distinct in manners and character from the subservient curate, or the lordly parish priest. Houses in London have lately been built much faster than churches. Yet, though the zeal of these times does not equal that of ancient days, when our cities were divided into numerous small parishes, when religion was the universal trade of mankind, and when the temples of superst.i.tion reared their proud heads in every alley, still men who know how to turn the penny have found it advantageous, even in these days of infidelity, to build here and there a chapel, and to let each of these chapels out to the best clerical bidder; who in his turn uses all his influence to allure the neighbourhood to hire, in retail, those bits and parcels, called pews, that, for the gratification of pride, are measured off within the consecrated walls which he has hired wholesale. In these undertakings, if the preacher cannot make himself popular, it is at least his interest to make himself pleasing.

Of one of these chapels Enoch Ellis was the farmer general; and this necessary endeavour to please had produced in him a remarkable contrast of character. He was a little man, with thin legs and thighs and a pot belly, but precisely upright: an archbishop could not carry himself more erect: his chest projecting; his neck stiff; his head thrown back; his eyes of the ferret kind, red, tender and much uncovered by the eyelid; his nose flat on the bridge, and at the end of the colour and form of a small round gingerbread nut, but with little nostril; his lips thin; his teeth half black half yellow; his ears large; his beard and whiskers sandy; his hair dark, but kept in buckle, and powdered as white as a miller's hat; his complexion sallow, and his countenance and general aspect jaundiced and mean.