thought
an uncle and guardian who has led a sober, industrious and Christian
life and finds himself obliged to look upon the tares of folly in his
own close kin. Though I noted he blamed London in part, and its
temptations. I recall he spoke particularly against the licence of
the theatres and coffee-houses, and would have had them all closed
down.
Q. He spake of himself?
A. That he was a London merchant. I presumed of some
wealth, since he adverted in passing to one of his ships. And at
another time to a friend, alderman of the City.
Q. But named neither?
A. Not that I recall.
Q. Did he declare himself likewise City alderman?
A. No, sir.
Q. Now did you not find it strange, Mr Beckford, that
this London merchant - I know them well, sir, they are a close breed
- should tell you of delicate family business, upon so short an
acquaintance?
A. He ventured no detail, sir. I took it as a
compliment to my cloth. That he owed me as a gentleman some small
explanation of their presence here.
Q. But he was gentleman by wealth rather than
breeding?
A. Exactly so, sir. My own impression. A worthy man,
but not of true refinement. He asked me of my cure here, which was
civil. But when, by way of modestly alluding to my sense that my
merits are somewhat wasted in this place, I ventured an apt line or
two of the poet Ovid, I think he was taken somewhat at a loss.
Q. He knew more of counting-houses than of classical
tongues?
A. I deemed it so.
Q. But what think you now, Mr Beckford? You know
search was lately made for this lady his sister, and none found?
A. I do, and am entirely at a loss. Why a man of such
seeming substance and honesty should go to such prevaricating lengths
to mislead me - suffice it to say I have thought much on it. His real
purpose was evidently not one that could be told strangers. I fear
me, because it was evil.
Q. Others here marked that on occasion it was the
feigned repentant nephew who gave instructions and took precedence,
while the uncle stood by. What say you to that?
A. I have heard it since, sir. And I must tell you
that when I first watched them from my window as they came to this
inn, and speculated as to their business here, I confess but idly,
yet be that as it may - I did not then suppose them by their manner
uncle and nephew.
Q. But what?
A. I could not say, sir. I put no clear name to it. I
thought rather a young gentleman and an older one of your own
honourable profession, it may be on some affair of legal aspect.
Perhaps a tutor. I truly could not say, save that the conjecture of a
blood relationship did not enter my mind. I fancy I was somewhat
surprised to learn it when I waited upon them.
Q. What manner of speaking had Mr Brown?
A. A grave, plain manner, without flowers or figures.
Well enough.
Q. You had no suspicion that something illicit or
unseemly was afoot?
A. I confess not, sir. I took him at his word. The
circumstances were not such as to provoke my incredulity. The case is
common enough.
Q. Spake you both, in this conversation, more of his
affairs or of your own?
A. Your question is well asked, sir. I have thought
on that, also. I believe he may have led me to speak more of myself
than either my natural inclination wished or strict politeness;
allows.
Q. If I may put it thus bluntly, you were somewhat
his gull it this?
A. He would know of my hopes and disappointments,
then of the state of religion in this godless place. I have the
misfortune to be a youngest son, Mr Ayscough. We are afflicted with
schism here, to a most wicked degree, and it is much on m) mind. I
confess that if invited by a sympathetic listener, I dc not stint the
expression of my loyal abhorrences. I fear it was so that evening.
Q. He sympathized with your views - would hear more
of them?
A. He did, sir, and even did me the honour of wishing
there were more who held them as strongly. And regretted he could not
stay to hear a sermon I was to preach that coming Sunday, in which I
do myself the
an uncle and guardian who has led a sober, industrious and Christian
life and finds himself obliged to look upon the tares of folly in his
own close kin. Though I noted he blamed London in part, and its
temptations. I recall he spoke particularly against the licence of
the theatres and coffee-houses, and would have had them all closed
down.
Q. He spake of himself?
A. That he was a London merchant. I presumed of some
wealth, since he adverted in passing to one of his ships. And at
another time to a friend, alderman of the City.
Q. But named neither?
A. Not that I recall.
Q. Did he declare himself likewise City alderman?
A. No, sir.
Q. Now did you not find it strange, Mr Beckford, that
this London merchant - I know them well, sir, they are a close breed
- should tell you of delicate family business, upon so short an
acquaintance?
A. He ventured no detail, sir. I took it as a
compliment to my cloth. That he owed me as a gentleman some small
explanation of their presence here.
Q. But he was gentleman by wealth rather than
breeding?
A. Exactly so, sir. My own impression. A worthy man,
but not of true refinement. He asked me of my cure here, which was
civil. But when, by way of modestly alluding to my sense that my
merits are somewhat wasted in this place, I ventured an apt line or
two of the poet Ovid, I think he was taken somewhat at a loss.
Q. He knew more of counting-houses than of classical
tongues?
A. I deemed it so.
Q. But what think you now, Mr Beckford? You know
search was lately made for this lady his sister, and none found?
A. I do, and am entirely at a loss. Why a man of such
seeming substance and honesty should go to such prevaricating lengths
to mislead me - suffice it to say I have thought much on it. His real
purpose was evidently not one that could be told strangers. I fear
me, because it was evil.
Q. Others here marked that on occasion it was the
feigned repentant nephew who gave instructions and took precedence,
while the uncle stood by. What say you to that?
A. I have heard it since, sir. And I must tell you
that when I first watched them from my window as they came to this
inn, and speculated as to their business here, I confess but idly,
yet be that as it may - I did not then suppose them by their manner
uncle and nephew.
Q. But what?
A. I could not say, sir. I put no clear name to it. I
thought rather a young gentleman and an older one of your own
honourable profession, it may be on some affair of legal aspect.
Perhaps a tutor. I truly could not say, save that the conjecture of a
blood relationship did not enter my mind. I fancy I was somewhat
surprised to learn it when I waited upon them.
Q. What manner of speaking had Mr Brown?
A. A grave, plain manner, without flowers or figures.
Well enough.
Q. You had no suspicion that something illicit or
unseemly was afoot?
A. I confess not, sir. I took him at his word. The
circumstances were not such as to provoke my incredulity. The case is
common enough.
Q. Spake you both, in this conversation, more of his
affairs or of your own?
A. Your question is well asked, sir. I have thought
on that, also. I believe he may have led me to speak more of myself
than either my natural inclination wished or strict politeness;
allows.
Q. If I may put it thus bluntly, you were somewhat
his gull it this?
A. He would know of my hopes and disappointments,
then of the state of religion in this godless place. I have the
misfortune to be a youngest son, Mr Ayscough. We are afflicted with
schism here, to a most wicked degree, and it is much on m) mind. I
confess that if invited by a sympathetic listener, I dc not stint the
expression of my loyal abhorrences. I fear it was so that evening.
Q. He sympathized with your views - would hear more
of them?
A. He did, sir, and even did me the honour of wishing
there were more who held them as strongly. And regretted he could not
stay to hear a sermon I was to preach that coming Sunday, in which I
do myself the
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