CHAPTER XXXVII.

In my conference with the bashaw I may seem to have secured more than

one point of material importance; yet it was difficult for any man to

be in a state less consolatory or more full of danger and menace, than

I was at this moment. By my vigilance and the power which thus I had

acquired, I prevented indeed the inhabitants from wantonly destroying

the means of their own subsistence; but, the more I was their

benefactor, the more I appeared to become odious to their thoughts.

My negotiation with the bashaw, whatever other benefit might accrue

from it, did not tend to increase the resources of the country; I was

obliged to witness many scenes of wretchedness. He that would assist

mankind in their adversity, must harden his heart to be the spectator

of the distress that he can, and that he cannot, relieve. But whatever

I beheld of this sort, the majority of the bystanders obstinately

persisted to ascribe to my deliberate malignity. The military aid I

found myself necessitated to introduce by no means tended to disarm

the prejudices of my clients. In one or two instances, but no more,

slight tumults arose, and a few of the rioters fell a prey to their own

wickedness and folly. These misfortunes were cast as reproach upon me;

and I was pursued with clamours and curses. I found it requisite to

obtain a guard for my person. I was abhorred by those for whom all my

vigilance was exerted, and insulted by the mouths that I supplied with

the necessaries of existence.

Nor was this my only source of alarm and uneasiness in my present

situation. I was by no means a dupe to the ostentatious civility of

the bashaw. I perfectly understood his insinuation when he invited

the frequent repetition of my visits. I knew that, however dearly I

purchased his friendship and patronage, I should still have to purchase

them again and again. His extortions upon me admitted of no limits,

except from his own modesty, or the estimate he might form of my

invisible resources. Bribery itself afforded me no complete security;

and, now that I had become an object of curiosity and remark, he had

sufficiently shown me I was at the mercy of his caprice, or that of his

master, for my liberty, and even for my life.

Yet, could I have resolved to quit Hungary, and seek the protection

of some more regular government, what benefit should I derive from a

removal? Mystery was the great and unconquerable bane of my situation,

and from the poisonous influence of mystery, the most regular system of

government was not competent to protect me. It would be idle to imagine

that, in any country on earth, a stranger would be permitted to launch

into such expenses as those in which I was engaged, without becoming an

object of suspicion, and being made liable to continual interruption

in his measures. Yet, unless allowed to use the resources I possessed,

of what advantage was it to be the depository of wealth without a

bound? Was it to be wished for a man under my circumstances, to have a

family, or to be without a family? When I had one, I found the legacy

of the stranger robbing me of every comfort of that sort, with the most

calamitous aggravations. When I was stripped of wife and children,

though no man could prize those benefits more dearly than I prized

them, I took to myself the consolation, that at least now I should

risk no one’s happiness but my own; and that, for a person exercising

my endowments, it was perhaps requisite to be free from every shackle

and incumbrance. I found however the topic from which I had consoled

myself, in reality the source of a new misfortune. I had the wealth of

a nobleman; but I was deprived of his adventitious attributes. I had

no illustrious ancestry to boast; I had neither lineage nor parent;

I had neither wife nor children, in whom mutually to reflect and see

reflected the elevatedness and generosity of my station. I had not even

the ordinary advantage, which is within the reach of almost every man,

of connections and acquaintance, friends handed down to me as a branch

of my patrimonial inheritance, friends whose value experience enabled

me to ascertain, and friends with whom long habits of familiarity had

given birth to reciprocal endearment. The bashaw had imputed to me the

design of forming a party. Alas! these, which are the great materials

for cementing party attachments, were totally denied me. I had no bonds

of alliance but those which money afforded, the coarsest, the meanest,

the least flattering, and the most brittle of those ligatures, that

afford the semblance of uniting man with man.

St. Leon: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century · 第 37 / 47 章