here is an impenetrable shield!" added he, wrapping round him a thick printed copy of an act of parliament. "Come, Vivian, you must come along with us to the house,

'And, mix'd with men, a man you must appear.'"

Vivian felt much ashamed of having been detected in writing a sonnet, especially as it afforded Wharton such a fine subject for raillery.

He accompanied the party to the House of Commons, where Wharton made a brilliant speech. It gained universal applause. Vivian sympathized in the general enthusiasm of admiration for Wharton's talents, accepted an invitation to sup with him, and was charmed by his convivial powers.

From this day, he grew every hour more intimate with Wharton.

"I can enjoy," thought Vivian, "the pleasure of his society without being influenced by his libertine example."

Lady Mary Vivian saw the rise and progress of this intimacy, and was not insensible to its danger; yet she was gratified by seeing her son distinguished by a man of Wharton's political consequence; and she satisfied her conscience by saying, "He will bring my son forward in public life; and, as to the rest, Charles has too good principles ever to follow his example in private life."

Wharton had too much address to alarm Vivian's moral prejudices on a first acquaintance. He contented himself with ridiculing only the exaggeration of any of the virtues, still affecting to believe in virtue, and to love it, wherever it could be found genuine. By the success of his first petty attacks, he learned the power that ridicule had over our hero's mind; and he did not fail to make use of it continually. After having, as he perceived, succeeded in making Vivian ashamed of his sonnet to Selina, and of appearing as a romantic lover, he doubted not but in time he should make _true_ love itself ridiculous; and Wharton thought it was now the moment to hazard another stroke, and to commence his attack against friendship.

"Vivian, my good fellow! why do you let yourself be ruled by that modern stoic in the form of Lord Lidhurst's tutor? I never saw any of these cold moralists who were real, warm-hearted, good friends. I have a notion I see more of Russell's play in the house where he has got than he thinks I do; and I can form a shrewd guess why he was so zealous in warning you of the report about Lady Sarah Lidhurst--he had his own snug reasons for wanting you away--Oh, trust me for scenting out self-interest, through all the doublings and windings of your cunning moralist!"

Reddening with indignation at this attack upon his friend, Vivian warmly replied, that Mr. Wharton ought to restrain his wit where the feelings of friendship and the character of a man of honour were concerned; that he did not, in the least, comprehend his insinuations with regard to Russell; but that, for his own part, he had such firm reliance upon his friend's attachment and integrity, that he was at any time ready to pledge his own honour for Russell's, and to answer for it with his life.

"Spare your heroics, my dear Vivian!" cried Wharton, laughing; "for we are not in the days of Pylades and Orestes;--yet, upon my soul, instead of being as angry with you as you are with me, at this instant I like you a thousand times the better for your enthusiastic credulity. For my part, I have, ever since I lived in the world and put away childish things, regretted that charming instinct of credulity, which experience so fatally counteracts. I envy you, my dear boy!--as to the rest, you know Russell's merits better than I do: I'll take him henceforward upon trust from you."

"Thus Wharton, finding that he was upon dangerous ground, made a timely retreat: the playful manner and open countenance with which he now spoke, and the quick transition that he made to other subjects of conversation, prevented Vivian from suspecting that any settled design had been formed to detach him from Russell. From this time forward, Wharton forbore raillery on love and friendship; and, far from seeming desirous of interfering in Vivian's private concerns, appeared quite absorbed in politics. Avowing, as he did, that he was guided solely by his interest in public life, he laughed at Vivian for professing more generous principles.

"I know," cried Wharton, "how to make use of a fine word, and to round a fine sentence, as well as the best of you; but what a simpleton he must be who is cheated by his own sophistry!--An artist, an enthusiastic artist, who is generally half a madman, might fall in love with a statue of his own making; but you never heard of a coiner, did you, who was cheated by his own bad shilling? Patriotism and loyalty are counterfeit coin; I can't be taken in by them at my time of day."

Vivian could not forbear to smile at the drollery and wit with which this profligate defended his want of integrity; yet he sometimes seriously and warmly a.s.serted his own principles. Upon these occasions, Wharton either overpowered him by a fine flow of words, or else listened with the most flattering air of admiration, and silenced him by compliments to his eloquence. Vivian thought that he was quite secure of his own firmness; but the contagion of bad example sometimes affects the mind imperceptibly; as certain noxious atmospheres steal upon the senses, and excite the most agreeable sensations, while they secretly destroy the principles of health and life. A day was fixed when a question of importance was to come on in the House of Commons. Wharton was extremely anxious to have Vivian's vote. Vivian, according to the parliamentary phrase, _had not made up his mind_ on the subject. A heap of pamphlets on the question lay uncut upon his table. Every morning he resolved to read them, that he might form his judgment, and vote according to his unbia.s.sed opinion; but every morning he was interrupted by some of the fashionable idlers whom his facility of temper had indulged in the habit of haunting him daily. "Oh, Vivian! we are going to such and such a place, and you _must_ come with us!" was a mode of persuasion which he could not resist.

"If I don't do as they do," thought he, "I shall be quite unfashionable.

Russell may say what he pleases, but it is necessary to yield to one's companions in trifles.

'Whoever would be pleased and please, Must do what others do with ease.'"

This couplet, which had been repeated to him by Wharton, recurred to him continually; and thus Wharton, by slight means, in which he seemed to have no interest or design, prepared Vivian for his purposes, by working gradually on the easiness of his disposition. He always argued, that it could not possibly signify what he did with an hour or two of his day, till at last Vivian found that he had no hours of his own, that his whole time was at the disposal of others; and now that he really wanted leisure to consider an important question,--when his credit, as a member of the senate, and as a man just entering political life, depended on this decision,--he literally could not command time to read over the necessary doc.u.ments. So the appointed day arrived before Vivian's opinion was formed; and, from mere want of time to decide for himself, he voted as Wharton desired. Another and another political question came on; the same causes operated, and the same consequences ensued. Wharton managed with great address, so as to prevent him from feeling that he gave up his freewill. Before Vivian was aware of it, whilst he thought that he was perfectly independent of all parties, public opinion had enrolled him amongst Wharton's partisans. Of this Russell was the first to give him warning. Russell heard of it amongst the political leaders who met at Lord Glis...o...b..ry's dinners; and, knowing the danger there is of a young man's _committing_ himself on certain points, he, with the eagerness of a true friend, wrote immediately to put Vivian upon his guard:--

"My Dear Vivian,

"I am just going into the country with Lord Lidhurst, and perhaps may not return for some time. I cannot leave you without putting you on your guard, once more, against Mr. Wharton. I understand that you are thought to be one of his party, and that he countenances the report. Take care that you are not bound hand and foot, before you know where you are.

"Your sincere friend,

"H. Russell."

With the natural frankness of his disposition, Vivian immediately spoke to Wharton upon the subject.

"What! people say that you are one of my party, do they?" said Wharton: "I never heard this before, but I am heartily glad to hear it. You are in for it now, Vivian: you are one of us; and with us you must stand or fall."

"Excuse me there!" cried Vivian; "I am not of any party; and am determined to keep myself independent."

"Do you remember the honest Quaker's answer to the man of no party?"

said Wharton.

"No."

"I think it was about the year '40, when party disputes about Whig and Tory ran high--but no matter what year, it will do for any time. A gentleman of undeviating integrity, an independent man, just such a man as Mr. Vivian, offered himself candidate for a town in the east, west, north, or south of England--no matter where, it will do for any place; and the first person whose vote he solicited was a Quaker, who asked him whether he was a Whig or Tory?--'Neither. I am an independent, moderate man; and when the members of administration are right, I will vote with them--when wrong, against them.' 'And be these really thy principles?'

quoth the Quaker; 'then a vote of mine thou shalt never have. Thou seest my door, it leadeth into the street; the right hand side of which is for the Tory, the left for the Whigs; and for a cold-blooded moderate man, like thee, there is the kennel, and into it thou wilt be jostled, for thou beest not _decided_ enough for any other situation.'"

"But why should the moderate man be condemned to the kennel?" said Vivian. "Was there no middle to your Quaker's road? A stout man cannot be EASILY jostled into the kennel."

"Pshaw! pshaw!" said Wharton: "jesting out of the question, a man is nothing in public life, or worse than nothing, a _trimmer_, unless HE JOINS a party, and unless he abides by it, too."

"As long as the party is in the right, I presume, you mean," said Vivian.

"Right or wrong'" cried Wharton, "a man must abide by his party. No power, and no popularity, trust me, without it!--Better stride on the greasy heads of the mob than be trampled under their dirtier feet. An armed neutrality may be a good thing, but an unarmed neutrality is fit only for fools. Besides, in Russell's grand style, I can bring down the ancients upon you, and tell you that when the commonwealth is in danger he cannot be a good man who sides with neither party."

"If it be so necessary to join a party, and if, after once joining it, I must abide by it, right or wrong, for life," said Vivian, "it behoves me to consider well, before I commit myself; and, before I go into the ranks, I must see good reason to confide, not only in the abilities, but in the integrity and public virtue of my leader."

"Public virtue! sounds fresh from college," said Wharton; "I would as soon, and sooner, hear a schoolboy read his theme as hear a man begin to prose about public virtue--especially a member of parliament. Keep that phrase, my dear Vivian, till some of the treasury bench come to court you; then look superb, like a French tragic actor, swelling out your chest, and throwing the head over the left shoulder--thus--exclaim, 'Public virtue forbid!'--practise! practise!--for if you do it well, it may be worth a loud huzza to you yet; or better still, a snug place or pension. But stay till you're asked--stay till you're asked--that's the etiquette; never till then let me hear public virtue come out of your lips, else you'll raise suspicion of your virtue, and lower your price.

What would you think of a pretty actress who began to talk to you of her reputation before you put it in any danger? Oh, Vivian! my honest fellow! unless you would make me think you no better than thousands that have gone before you, never let me hear from your lips again, till the _proper_ time, the hypocritical state phrase--public virtue."

"I had always, till now, understood that it was possible to be a patriot without being a hypocrite," replied Vivian; "I always understood that Mr. Wharton was a patriot."

"A very fair sarcasm on me," said Wharton, laughing. "But you know, I'm a sad dog; never set myself up for a pattern man.--Come! let's home to dinner, and a truce with politics and morality. I find, Vivian, you're a st.u.r.dy fellow, and must have your own way; no bending, no leading you, I see. Well! it is a good thing to have so much strength of mind: I envy you."

It must be recorded to the credit of our hero, that in defiance of Wharton's raillery, he talked, and--oh! still more wonderful!--thought of public virtue, during nearly half of his first session in parliament.

But, alas! whilst his political principles thus withstood the force of ridicule, temptation soon presented itself to Vivian in a new shape, and in a form so seducing, as to draw his attention totally away from politics, and to put his private, if not his public, honour, in the most imminent peril.

CHAPTER IV.

One morning, as Vivian was walking with Mr. Wharton up Bond-street, they were met by a party of fashionable loungers, one of whom asked whether Mrs. Wharton was not come to town yet.

"Mrs. Wharton!" said Vivian, with an air of surprise.

"Yes, she came to town this morning," said Wharton, carelessly; then laughing, as he turned to look at Vivian, "Vivian, my good fellow! what smites you with such surprise? Did not you know I was married?"

"I suppose I must have heard it; but I really forgot it," said Vivian.

"There you had the advantage of me," said Wharton, still laughing. "But if you never heard of Mrs. Wharton before, keep your own secret; for I can tell you she would never forgive you, though I might. Put a good face on the matter, at any rate; and swear you've heard so much of her, that you were dying to see her. Some of these gentlemen, who have nothing else to do, will introduce you whenever you please."

"And cannot I," said Vivian, "have the honour of your introduction?"

"Mine! the worst you could possibly have. The honour, as you are pleased to call it, would be no favour, I a.s.sure you. The honour!--honour of a husband's introduction! What a novice you are, or would make me believe you to be! But, seriously, I am engaged to-day at Glis...o...b..ry's: so, good morning to you."

Accustomed to hear Wharton talk in the freest manner of women and marriage in general, and scarcely having heard him mention his own wife, Vivian had, as he said, absolutely forgotten that Wharton was a married man. When he was introduced to Mrs. Wharton, he was still more surprised at her husband's indifference; for he beheld a lady in all the radiance of beauty, and all the elegance of fashion: he was so much dazzled by her charms, that he had not immediately power or inclination to examine what her understanding or disposition might be; and he could only repeat to himself, "How is it possible that Wharton can be indifferent to such a beautiful creature!"

Incapable of feeling any of what he, called the romance of love, the pa.s.sion, of course, had always been with Mr. Wharton of a very transient nature. Tired of his wife's person, he showed his indifference without scruple or ceremony. Notorious and glorying in his gallantries, he was often heard to declare, that no price was too high to be paid for beauty, except a man's liberty; but that was a sacrifice which he would never make to any woman, especially to a wife. Marriage vows and custom-house oaths he cla.s.sed in the same order of technical forms,--nowise binding on the conscience of any but fools and dupes.

Whilst the husband went on in this manner, the wife satisfied herself by indulgence in her strongest pa.s.sions--the pa.s.sion for dress and public admiration. Childishly eager to set the fashion in trifles, she spent unconscionable sums on her pretty person; and devoted all her days, or rather all her nights, to public amus.e.m.e.nts. So insatiable and restless is the pa.s.sion for admiration, that she was never happy for half an hour together, at any place of public amus.e.m.e.nt, unless she fixed the gaze of numbers. The first winter after her marriage she enjoyed the prerogatives of a fashionable beauty; but the reign of fashion is more transient even than the bloom of beauty. Mrs. Wharton's beauty soon grew familiar, and faded in the public eye; some newer face was this season the mode. Mrs. Wharton appeared twice at the opera in the most elegant and becoming dresses; but no one followed her lead. Mortified and utterly dejected, she felt, with the keenest anguish, the first symptoms of the decline of public admiration. It was just at this period, when she was miserably in want of the consolations of flattery, that Vivian's acquaintance with her commenced. Gratified by the sort of delighted surprise which she saw in his countenance the first moment he beheld her, seeing that he was an agreeable man, and knowing that he was a man of fortune and family, she took pains to please him by all the common arts of coquetry. But his vanity was proof against these: the weakness of the lady's understanding and the frivolity of her character were, for some weeks, sufficient antidotes against all the power of her personal charms; so much so, that at this period he often compared, or rather contrasted, Mrs. Wharton and Selina, and blessed his happy fate.

He wrote to his friend Russell soon after he was introduced to this celebrated beauty, and drew a strong and just parallel between the characters of these two ladies: he concluded with saying, "Notwithstanding your well-founded dread of the volatility of my character, you will not, I hope, my dear Russell, do me the injustice to apprehend that I am in any danger from the charms of Mrs. Wharton."