Delphi Complete Works of William Godwin 1st ed. (2022), page 205
part #1 of Delphi Classics Series
For the young man himself, it was impossible for any one to be more free from the spirit of a sycophant, or less disposed to be a hunter after ample legacies and a rich inheritance. It has already been seen, and will be seen still more hereafter, that he was careless to an extraordinary degree about the advantages of wealth, and had devoted himself, heart and soul, to the love of independence. But his nature was penetrated with the tenderest sensibilities. He could not resist the old man’s demonstrations of fervent attachment; he felt that he owed to his love, though not to his rent-roll, every deference it was in his power to express. He ruminated with compassion upon his patron’s hard situation; his children, genuine adherents to the religion of their parent, had grown up ‘like olive plants about his table’; and now he had no one to console himself with in their room, but a kinsman six times removed, and over whose spiritual estate he wept daily as a heretic. Clifford was however slow to change, and meditated the act with frequent hesitations; but the consideration of the old man’s peace at last decided him. The priest, who resided as chaplain in the family, was a person of great integrity and simplicity of character. He was deeply read in the controversies between the two churches; and what with the superiority of his knowledge of the subject, the strength of his reasonings, the goodness of his heart, and the pure Christianity of his temper, Clifford found himself powerfully beset. All these at least served for no contemptible allies, in the recommendation of that conduct to which his affectionate nature so strongly prompted him.
CHAPTER IV
I HAD CONTINUED only a few months in my Derbyshire retreat, when Holloway and Mallison once more made their appearance. This time it did not seem as if their visit was principally intended to me; they were rather guests to my landlord, the farmer. Holloway paid his respects to me, enquired whether every thing went on well, or was there any thing I wished should be otherwise; but seemed anxious to make his visits short and unobtrusive. At another time Mallison came in, and, after salutations given and received, informed me that he was going to ride over next morning to the nearest market-town, and asked whether there was any commission he could execute for me. This went on for days. I thought it strange; but I felt a repugnance to enquiring into the matter. After all, I was not the master of the house, but merely the tenant of a certain part of it; and I had no right to call the farmer to account, as to what visitors he chose to receive at his own board. Still I should have been glad, that his guests, if guests he had, should rather have been persons that were entire strangers to me.
After some time I perceived further operations. Various articles of furniture were brought in, in carts, and in waggons. Carpenters and other workmen arrived; and it was plain that some alteration was in hand as to the appropriation of certain parts of the building. One room I could perceive was in the act of being fitted up in the manner of an attorney’s office, with desks and shelves, and compartments for the reception of deeds and leases and other documents of legal importance. Still I looked on, undecided in mind, sometimes full of indignation that such measures should be pursued without the smallest intimation or deference towards me, and sometimes, heart-sick as I was of the fooleries and fopperies of the world, disdaining to consider what such reptiles and worthless animals might think proper to imagine or to act. The drama advanced, and the denouement at length became plain: the farmer and his family, who were the mere creatures of Holloway, finally disappeared; and my guardian, and his retinue, whether of a domestic sort, or appertaining to his craft, were established in their room. The procedure all together, reminded me of the irregular way in which this same person had obtruded himself as an inmate of my uncle’s residence in Dorsetshire; and I could not help applying to him the denomination which I have seen somewhere appropriated to a distinguished theological mummer, of ‘the most impudent man living’. I however felt deeply convinced in my heart, that I was not yet such a one as my unfortunate uncle, and that this blushless mountebank should never make a property of me.
Every thing being completed to his mind, Holloway now waited upon me in person to give me an explanation of the whole. He said, that he perceived I had no turn for the drudgery of business, and he had therefore been casting about in his thoughts, how he could most effectually free me from the intrusion I abhorred. His obligations to my late worthy uncle were of so unspeakable magnitude, that he should feel no sacrifice too much, to advantage his successor. He had therefore determined to give up his professional connections in Dorsetshire, valuable as they were, that the industry of himself and his nephew might be wholly devoted to my accommodation. At the distance at which we were otherwise placed, applications of a disagreeable nature might be obtruded upon me, which it would now be in his power to intercept; and I might stand in need of consultations, for which it would be in many ways inconvenient to me to wait the return of the courier. With any other person, he should doubtless have felt it his duty to submit his project for approbation previously to its being carried into execution, and to have governed himself by the decision of his principal; but he saw plainly the propensity of my mind, and he had thought it became him to conform to it. I was melancholy; and he hoped by substituting himself, who was wholly devoted to my service, and his nephew, my old school-fellow, for my neighbours and inmates, instead of the farmer and his men, to benefit me that way. I did not love business; I did not love to be called on to form a resolution: and he had accommodated himself to both these peculiarities, by doing in this instance what my interests manifestly required, without giving me the trouble to be consulted in the matter.
This harangue, notwithstanding all I had previously observed, took me so much by surprise, that I did not choose to commit myself, by instantly giving the answer which arose to my lips. The very idea of so intimate an alliance with persons so little agreeable to my disposition, was hateful to my soul. I had resolved to cut myself off from every thing that wore the human form. It was sufficient, in conformity with that resolution, that I suffered the attendance of the servants of my landlord, the farmer. I was not exactly prepared for the condition of a hermit, living on roots, and passing my days in one uninterrupted train of contemplation; and therefore some service from other men was necessary to me. The situation in which I was placed on my arrival in Derbyshire, was such as my wishes pointed out to me. I might use the persons that approached me, as mere machines. I neither knew, nor desired to know, any thing about their history, their occupations, or their feelings. They were to me like a dumb waiter, or the instrument constructed by the smith, and by courtesy called a ‘footman’: they did what I required, and I was no further concerned with them. But with my guardian, and my ancient school-fellow, I could not feel thus at my ease. I might resolve to treat them with superciliousness and disdain, and to take no notice of them as they passed: but they stood in such relations to me, that it would be difficult to maintain this form of behaviour, without feeling a sort of contention within, no less hostile to my peace than the utmost degree of familiarity would have proved.
Though I returned therefore no answer to Holloway, when he announced to me the plot he had formed, I was not the less seriously bent upon defeating its execution. I could never consent, I thought, that this presumptuous pettifogger of the law should hold me in his shackles. Was it to be endured, that he and his kinsman should intrude upon me whenever they pleased, that they should watch every thing I did, and be acquainted with all my motions? I might as well be a prisoner at once. My condition would differ from that of a captive in nothing but the name. The poorest peasant is in a certain degree at liberty to choose his own domicile, and to have no other person dwelling under the same roof with him, except such as he had previously contemplated and subscribed to: and should I allow myself to be placed in a situation more servile than that of a peasant? My whole soul rose against the thought. Nor did the insolent manner in which Holloway’s purpose had been effected, by any means tend to make it more palatable to me. I saw therefore in its genuine light the character of the solicitor, and the nets with which he was preparing to entangle me.
In the mean time I did not immediately perceive how I was to free myself from my perplexity. If my guardian had proceeded in a manner less audacious, and had signified to me his project before it was carried into execution, I should undoubtedly have declared myself against it in a manner the most strenuous and inflexible. But every thing was finished, before an obvious opportunity to do so was thrown into my hands. The farmer and his family were gone, and the newly arrived were already installed in their appointments. I could not expel Holloway; I could only withdraw myself. To do that in the most becoming way, it seemed necessary, that I should begin with providing my own future habitation. Affronted, as I conceived myself to be, by the extraordinary behaviour of my guardian, I could not quite reconcile it to my ideas of propriety, in this manner to throw down the gauntlet, while I continued to reside, and did not know how long I should find it necessary to reside, in the same house.
My mind was full of perplexity and tumult. I shut myself up, more than I had ever yet been accustomed to. When my occasions or my inclination prompted me to go out of my apartment, I asked myself, ‘Now, the moment I open the door, shall I not meet these scoundrels?’ My first impulse was to watch, or to enquire, that I might avoid the encounter. But my second thought was, to disdain such subjugation and slavery. I sallied forth, desperate and contemptuous. Often I saw nothing of them: when I did, for the most part I scowled, and turned away in silence. On their side, they well knew the cue it became them to follow. They did not obtrude themselves. In the generality of instances they adopted the behaviour my carriage seemed to prescribe.
What is there so offensive, to which habit has not the power to reconcile us? I knew not how to proceed in the migration I contemplated. I was young and inexperienced. Should I take my horse, and riding about among the neighbouring villages, endeavour in the first place to ascertain by ocular survey, what situation I could discover that would be most agreeable to my inclinations? I did so. I never went out, without being attended by a servant on horseback. I entered once or twice into conversation with the servant, the consideration in my own mind being, ‘Where shall I now fix my abode?’ and endeavoured to elicit such hints from his exacter knowledge of the vicinity, as should direct me in my choice. Still my purpose was, to take Holloway by surprise, even as he had surprised me, and that he should know nothing of my plan of removal, till every thing that related to it was fully arranged. With this view it was necessary, that I should lead my servant to speak up on topics connected with my secret mind, without allowing him to penetrate into its workings. I used the same policy with certain persons, who were engaged in plans for the alteration and improvement of my estate. Alas, how vain and fruitless were my precautions! The profound sagacity of Holloway enabled him to read my most covered thoughts; and, while I, with the gravity of a privy counsellor, set myself to elude his observation, he was considering and settling in his mind, how the whole might best be caused to terminate in the manner he wished.
I returned from my excursions, perplexed and undecided. When I alighted from my ride, it was contrived by this master-craftsman, that nothing should occur to exasperate my uneasiness. His plan was, that, without seeming to be in the slightest degree conscious of my dissatisfaction, his nephew and he should exert themselves to the utmost of their power, to soothe my humour, and reconcile me to the change that had been effected.
The character of Mallison had by this time become entirely the reverse of what it had appeared when he was a schoolboy. At school he seemed to have no pleasure so great as that of giving pain to another; and there was a disinterestedness in his malice, that was truly exemplary. He tormented his fellows from the express relish he felt in the faculty of tormenting; and the writhings and anguish they betrayed under his knife, were the sole harvest he sought. With admirable coolness and presence of mind he engaged in his favourite sport; and the transports it internally afforded him, never ruffled one feature of his face, or imparted the slightest vestige of impetuosity or emotion to one articulation of his voice. I have called it sport, nor can there be a more appropriate term. He had all the keenness of a sportsman, joined with all the composure and sang froid of the most consummate general in the heat of an engagement. In the pursuit of his game he lost sight of all incidental considerations. He spared neither friend nor foe. To vary the metaphor, he thought not at all of warding his own person from danger, so he might make one successful home-thrust at his adversary.
Since the time that I had lost sight of him, he had fallen under the tuition of the accomplished Holloway; and Holloway was a preceptor of quite another order than Dr Pottinger, the head-master of Winchester College, in modelling the character of an ingenuous youth. He opened upon the apprehensions of his nephew a system of morals, quite different from any he had had a previous conception of. Holloway was a sort of amateur, and assimilated every thing to the laws of natural history. He taught Mallison, that the world of mankind was made up of two distinct species of beings, which he denominated, by one extensive classification, ‘wise men and fools’, and that between these two there was a natural war, the one being destined to become a prey to the other. A wise man, according to Holloway’s definition, was one, who kept a steady eye to his own interests, was fruitful of expedients to promote them, and restrained by no weak scruples in their employment. The wisdom of all other sets of men he regarded as folly; the vaunting pretensions of science and philosophy, in comparison with this, were the drivellings of an idiot.
‘The whole world,’ he said, ‘the civilised world, was a scene of warfare under the mask of civility. Every man grasped for himself what he could, and every man oppressed his neighbour. The rich man oppressed the poor; and that was his supreme delight. Such a man came into the world with a token of good fortune on his forehead; and he was a lord over his fellows, merely because chance so decreed it. For the rest of mankind, who were born to nothing, they must kick, and scramble, and snatch the good things of the world as they could, or be content to pine for ever in degradation and misery. Honesty was a starving quality, set up by powerful villainy for its own ease and safety. It was in reality an imaginary existence, like truth, much talked of, never to be found. The rich man made no scruple to consume upon his unnatural appetites, what, diffused, would produce health and comfort to hundreds; and the laws, which were framed by the rich exclusively for the protection of their monopoly, bore them out in this. But the injustice was much more glaring and beyond controversy, than that of the man, who took by force the property of another on the highway, and gallantly ventured his neck for the supply of his wants.
‘But our lot is “fallen to us in pleasant places, and verily we have a goodly heritage”. It is no longer necessary for him who wishes to possess himself of the good things of this world, to the disposal of which he is not born, to sally forth with guns, and swords, and the various instruments of offence. There is one little instrument with which he opens the purse of his neighbour with much less risk of miscarriage, than with staves, and cutlasses, and bludgeons, – a smile. This is the engine, by means of which the smooth shopkeeper behind his counter, contrives to enrich himself at the expence of his customers. Flattery is the art, that makes him who is accomplished in it, the master of the masters of the earth. Tickle the palm of the rich man, and the gold falls from his gripe, and is all your own. And of all professions and callings on the face of the globe, the lawyer is most advantageously disposed, to enable him to sweep the wealth of the world into his coffers. But for this purpose he must be master of his passions, and perfect in the art of self-control. Nothing must irritate him; nothing must divert his eye from the object of his pursuit; nothing must turn him aside from the steadiness of his aim. Go on coolly and resolutely, in the path that I have trod before you; regard mankind as your implements merely; you will say, they have a soul and sense; but have no consideration for that, except so far as by those feelings they may be made the more subservient to your purpose. This is the true philosophy, never to be turned aside by any meaner suggestion from the great end you have in view. What the ancients styled philosophy was a mere name, pursued for ostentation and vain-glorious purposes only; but the principle I recommend, has for its destination and its haven, not a phantom, but a substantial reality.’
Never was a pupil that did more honour to his preceptor than Mallison. He drank in these lessons of sublunary wisdom, as the young poet has been feigned to quaff the Heliconian streams; and his very soul was refreshed. In fact, his methods of action according to this creed, were the same as those with which nature had instinctively inspired him; his end only was changed. As a schoolboy, he had always been dispassionate and collected, watching where to plunge the murderous knife with most desperate effect, and exploring the nerve where torture might be most powerfully awakened. His hint was now, to cringe, to fawn, and to flatter; but with the same impassive observation of the effects he produced, and the same supernatural deadness of emotion to the interests and the happiness of those respecting whom his projects were conversant.
CHAPTER V
THINGS WERE NEARLY in this situation, when an incident occurred that marvellously helped forward the project of my guardian and his kinsman. I have sufficiently painted the disturbed and unhinged condition of my mind. To the man who has a spring of uneasiness in his own bosom, external sources of emotion are often peculiarly grateful. Yet the difficulty is to find those, that a mind diseased can bear. I could not go into the world; I could not bear the intercourse of my species. I could not endure to seek the abodes of distress: for, in doing so, I should be annoyed with the observation of others; and I should have to encounter that, which, perhaps of all things in the world, in my frame of thinking I most irresistibly shrank from, the thanks and the praise of those who witnessed my action. The emotion I required, was that which should demand no effort on my part, and which no annoying spectator should stand by and observe. One species was brought to my thoughts by accident, which had all these qualities; and I immediately seized on it with eagerness.
