“The modesty of the Prince,” he thought, “concealed the fact that nearly all the reforms which he detailed, were suggested by himself. Oh! what would I give to be enabled to raise myself to eminence in the world! Twenty years of my life?—Ah! yes—willingly—willingly would I yield up a quarter of my probable existence to gain a name, honoured and renowned as that of the Prince of Montoni! And is not rank within my grasp? Can I not in a moment—by the waving of my hand, as it were—place upon my brow the coronet of a Viscount? May I not yet stand before the world as the heir-apparent to the Earldom of Ellingham? Yes;—and if once I find my way into the supreme legislative assembly, shall I not be enabled to advocate the cause of the People, and obtain a glorious renown? It were trifling with my own interests—it were wronging myself, to abstain from asserting my just rights! If my father choose to remain a simple commoner and allow his younger brother to wear the honours and hold the estates of a proud Earldom, am I to be bound by his will? No—no: and my father acts not a parent’s part towards me in thus keeping me in obscurity. ’Tis clear that my sire’s early life renders him desirous to shun all circumstances that may attract attention towards him: ’tis clear—my God! how dreadful to think of!—’tis clear, I say, that he feels the impropriety of a highwayman laying claim to a lordly title! Oh! the sins of the father are indeed visited on the child in my case! But I am innocent: my life has been spotless and pure—my character is untarnished. Wherefore should I suffer for my parent’s crimes? It is unjust—most unjust; and even filial duty, in its best and holiest sense, cannot compel me to renounce the distinctions to which by birth I am the heir! No—no: a young man of my ambition—my talents—my feelings—my burning hopes, must not immolate himself for the sake of a father who acts unjustly towards him. For how stands the case between us? The question is whether a parent should make any and every sacrifice for his child; or whether the child must make all possible sacrifices for his father. In asserting his rights, claiming his title, and thereby enabling me to assume my own, he doubtless would have to make a sacrifice: he must declare who he is—my God!—the Resuscitated Highwayman! But, on the other hand, in consenting to keep his secret, do I not wilfully blind myself to my own interests—wantonly thrust aside those opportunities of gaining distinction and acquiring renown which are within my reach—crush with suicidal hand the glorious aspirations which I have formed—and purposely trample on all the hopes that are developing themselves before me?”
Charles Hatfield rose—paced the room in an agitated manner—then, reseating himself, again plunged into his ominous reflections.
“I have read that those who yield to the influence of false sentimentalism, never rise in the world. He who would attain to the pinnacle of eminence, must harden his heart,—even as did Napoleon, when he put away from him that charming Josephine who loved him with such pure and fervid devotion. Yes—family, kith, and kindred must be sacrificed—all sacrificed—by him who follows the dictates of his ambition. And yet—and yet, did not Richard Markham rise by his virtues, as much as by his talents and heroism, to that eminence which enabled him to take his place amongst the mightiest Princes of Europe? Oh! but he had opportunities which may never occur again—he is the one in the thousand whom Fortune takes by the hand. If I remain obscure—unknown—plain Mr. Charles Hatfield—I am but an unit amidst the millions which, constitute the mass called the People. But if I suddenly stand forth as a Viscount, and the heir of a wealthy Earldom, shall I not at once be placed in a position to carve out a career for myself? Oh! how glorious—how thrilling would it be, to have the power of saying to my Perdita, ‘Beautiful angel! I am not the obscure young man I appear to be: in me behold Viscount Marston, the heir to the Earldom of Ellingham!’ Ah! Perdita, then would you feel honoured in my love—and I should not be compelled to evince my gratitude to thee for loving me! Charming, adorable Perdita—thine image is coupled with the bright dream of ambition that now animates me;—for when I shall have distinguished myself in the Senate, how delicious will it be to see thee welcome with pride and admiration my return to thine arms,—to behold thy fine eyes fixed upon me, eloquently proclaiming how proud thou art to own the love of a man who is filling the world with his fame! Yes—I must assert my rights:—but how? Oh! I will confide all to Perdita—and she possesses a mind so strong and an intellect so powerful, that she will assist me with her counsel in this difficulty. And it will be so sweet to receive advice from her lips—so delightful to mark the interest which she will take in my affairs!”
Again he rose from his seat: for a sudden thought had struck him—accompanied by a severe pang,—a pang that went through his heart like a barbed arrow.
“My mother!—my poor mother!” he murmured to himself: “Oh! what a blow will it be to her if I compel my father—compel her husband—to assert his claims to the Earldom of Ellingham! And yet—was I not for years neglected by her?—did she care for me—did she even have me to dwell with her during my infancy? No—no: I was abandoned to the woman Watts;—and had I become a thief in the streets—a prowling, houseless vagabond—my mother would have been to blame!”
Thus was it that this young man, having imbibed from Perdita the art and facility of sophistical reasoning,—thus was it that he crushed all the naturally generous feelings of his soul, and struggled desperately to subdue the promptings of his really good disposition.
Love and ambition produced these baneful effects!
But his love,—was it a pure and honest love inspired by a virtuous being?—or was it a frenzy engendered and sustained by a depraved and designing woman endowed with the most glorious beauty?
And his ambition,—was it that fine spirit of emulation which warms the generous heart, and prompts the enlightened mind to seek distinction for the sake of being enabled, by means of influence and high position, to benefit the human race?—or was it a selfish craving after rank and power, in order to enjoy the sweets of applause, become the object of servile flattery, and obtain the honour ever shown in this country to sounding titles and a proud aristocracy?
The reader can answer these questions for himself.