Iain Pears - An Instance of the Fingerpost

Thomas did not see the matter in such a way, of course. In his opinion, the health of the land depended on his gaining eighty pounds a year and the state of marital bliss this would bring in its train. He could not see the danger he posed, and the more it seemed his ambition would be denied him, the more it fed his antagonism for Dr. Grove, subtly metamorphosing it from disagreement to dislike and, ultimately, to a burning and violent hatred.

“It is the college,” he said. “And in particular the warden. They are so cautious; so determined not to give offense or attract the least degree of criticism from anyone that they are prepared to subsume the interests of the parish and install a man such as Grove.”

“Are you sure of this?” I asked. “Has the warden actually said so to you?”

“He does not need to,” Thomas said in disgust. “Indeed, he is too crafty a man ever to say anything directly at all.”

“Perhaps the matter is beyond his control,” I suggested. “The living is not in the warden’s gift.”

“His influence will be decisive. Lord Maynard has asked the college’s opinion before he bestows the parish on someone, and that opinion will be communicated through the warden,” Thomas said. “Lord Maynard is coming to the college soon and we must all dine together, then the senior Fellows will give their verdict. Jack,” he said desperately, “I do not know what to do. I have no other possible patron. I am not like Grove who could count on the favor of many a great family, if he would but ask.”

“Now, now,” I said cheerfully, although I was becoming irritated with him for his selfishness. “It is not as bad as that. You are still a Fellow of this college, and a man of learning and probity must always find a place for himself in the world. You must cultivate the mighty with the same enthusiasm that you apply to your studies, for the one is useless without the other. You know as well as I that association with those who can advance you is the sole means that men of worth have of gaining a place in the world. And you, if I may say so, have too much neglected this world in favor of the other.”

I meant no criticism, although perhaps it was there. Certainly Thomas bridled at my words, so delicate was his spirit and so tender to just reproach.

“Are you saying it is my own fault that I am to be defrauded in this manner? It is my responsibility that my warden advances another at my expense?”

“No,” I replied. “Not at all. Though more elegance of address might have persuaded more fellows to support your cause. What I am saying is that you have made no effort whatever to cultivate others. You must frequently hear of those with livings in their gift. Have you written to them? Taken up opportunities to give their sons tuition when they come to this town? Have you published any of your sermons and offered the dedication of them to any men of influence? Have you made the gifts and performed the attentions that create an obligation? No. You have not. In your pride you have studied and thought that enough.”

“It should be. I should not have to bow and scrape. I am a minister of the Lord, not a courtier.”

“And that is your arrogance and conceit. Why should you be so different from everyone else? Do you think your qualities so great, your virtue so large, and your learning so extensive that you can scorn to beg like ordinary men? And if your purity and loftiness do not come from unreasoning pride, be assured that that is how they must appear to others.”

It was a harsh reply, but it was necessary and, if I was aware of injuring him, I did it with the best of intentions. Thomas was a good man but not a worldly one, and therefore quite unsuited for the Church of England. I do not say this in jest; for the church is the best reflection of God’s intentions on earth, and it was He who ordered man according to His will. Thomas was obliged to apply to others for support, as those beneath him must apply to him in turn. How else can any civil society continue to work, without a constant flow of gratuity from one to the other, high to low? Did he think that the mighty would apply for the honor of giving him patronage? His refusal not only indicated his lack of humility; it was, at bottom, Godless.

Perhaps I was in error in saying what I did; certainly I was wrong to continue to drive the point home, for I am sure that it helped Thomas on to the catastrophe which played such a part in Mr. Cola’s narrative. But it is often the way with conversation, that people, having caused a hurt, try to reassure themselves by making it worse.

“Thomas,’’ I said kindly, because I thought that the sooner he was aware of the truth the better, “Grove is older than you and has a superior claim. The thirteen men who run this college have known him for years, while you are a relative newcomer. He has taken care to be pleasant to Lord May-nard, while you have not. And he has offered the college a proportion of the living, which you cannot do. I wish it were otherwise, but you must face the fact—you will not get this place as long as Grove is alive and wants it for himself.”

Had I known the outcome, of course I would not have spoken, but his mildness of manner was such that I never for a moment considered that the realization might drive him into such evil action. Moreover, had I remained in close association with him, I do not believe Dr. Grove would have died.

It is known that a resentment unexpressed grows in the soul; I certainly had experienced such a malady myself. With my counsel and restraint, Thomas’s breast would not have filled with so immoderate a hatred that he took the steps he did. Or at least, I might have discerned his mind and stopped him. But I was in prison at the time, and could do nothing to stay his hand.

I see that I have scarcely mentioned Dr. Wallis since I recounted my visit to his house in Merton Street, and I must do so briefly now to indicate the man’s bad faith. For according to Morland he had known at least something about the plot against my father, and therefore he had lied outright to me on the subject. He asked me to find him documents in my father’s possession, when he had all he needed already in his desk. I determined to confront him with this duplicity, and so wrote him a polite letter, presenting my compliments and enquiring delicately for an interview. I received a dismissive reply. So, a few days later, I decided to pay him a visit.

He was, at that stage, lodged in New College, for building works had encumbered his house and his own college had no accommodation which would match his rank. His wife had been dispatched to London, to which city Wallis intended to fly as soon as the end of term permitted. I noted with some amusement that he was now a close neighbor of Dr. Grove, as I could not imagine two gentlemen less likely to be on civil terms.

Wallis was in an ill humor, as he was a man who clearly did not relish any form of inconvenience. Being turfed out of his own lodging, virtually deprived of his servants and forced into unwanted society through having to eat in college when he could not prevail on the kitchen to send his meals up had no good effect on his mood. This I could see the moment I entered the door, and I was accordingly prepared to be maltreated at his hands. He was brutally unkind, offensive and threatening by turns, so much so that I regretted approaching him in the first place.

In brief, he upbraided me for writing to him and told me I had no claim on him at all. That he had undertaken reluctantly to oblige if I would provide him with the necessary materials, but resented mightily being harried in such a way.

“I have already told you I have nothing,” I said. “Whatever my father may have had was lost. It seems, in fact, that you possess more papers than I do, as I am told that you deciphered the documents which incriminated my father.”