A Political Romance
TextTrim concluded his pathetick Remonstrance with saying, "He hoped his Reverence's Heart would not suffer him to requite so many faithful Services by so unkind a Return:—That if it was so, as he was the first, so he hoped he should be the last, Example of a Man of his Condition so treated."—This Plan of Trim's Defence, which Trim had put himself upon,—could admit of no other Reply but a general Smile.
Upon the whole, let me inform you, That all that could be said, pro and con, on both Sides, being fairly heard, it was plain, That Trim, in every Part of this Affair, had behaved very ill;—and one Thing, which was never expected to be known of him, happening in the Course of this Debate to come out against him; namely, That he had gone and told the Parson, before he had ever set Foot in his Parish, That John his Parish- Clerk,—his Church-Wardens, and some of the Heads of the Parish, were a Parcel of Scoundrels.—Upon the Upshot, Trim was kick'd out of Doors; and told, at his Peril, never to come there again.
At first Trim huff'd and bounced most terribly;—swore he would get a Warrant;—then nothing would serve him but he would call a Bye-Law, and tell the whole Parish how the Parson had misused him;—but cooling of that, as fearing the Parson might possibly bind him over to his good Behaviour, and, for aught he knew, might send him to the House of Correction,—he let the Parson alone; and, to revenge himself, falls foul upon his Clerk, who had no more to do in the Quarrel than you or I;—rips up the Promise of the old-cast-Pair-of-black-Plush-Breeches, and raises an Uproar in the Town about it, notwithstanding it had slept ten Years.—But all this, you must know, is look'd upon in no other Light, but as an artful Stroke of Generalship in Trim, to raise a Dust, and cover himself under the disgraceful Chastisement he has undergone.
If your Curiosity is not yet satisfied,—I will now proceed to relate the Battle of the Breeches, in the same exact Manner I have done that of the Watch-Coat.
Be it known then, that, about ten Years ago, when John was appointed Parish-Clerk of this Church, this said Master Trim took no small Pains to get into John's good Graces in order, as it afterwards appeared, to coax a Promise out of him of a Pair of Breeches, which John had then by him, of black Plush, not much the worse for wearing;—Trim only begging for God's Sake to have them bestowed upon him when John should think fit to cast them.
Trim was one of those kind of Men who loved a Bit of Finery in his Heart, and would rather have a tatter'd Rag of a Better Body's, than the best plain whole Thing his Wife could spin him.
John, who was naturally unsuspicious, made no more Difficulty of promising the Breeches, than the Parson had done in promising the Great Coat; and, indeed, with something less Reserve,—because the Breeches were John's own, and he could give them, without Wrong, to whom he thought fit.
It happened, I was going to say unluckily, but, I should rather say, most luckily, for Trim, for he was the only Gainer by it;—that a Quarrel, about some six or eight Weeks after this, broke out between the late Parson of the Parish and John the Clerk. Somebody (and it was thought to be Nobody but Trim) had put it into the Parson's Head, "That John's Desk in the Church was, at the least, four Inches higher than it should be:—That the Thing gave Offence, and was indecorous, inasmuch as it approach'd too near upon a Level with the Parson's Desk itself." This Hardship the Parson complained of loudly,—and told John one Day after Prayers, "He could bear it no longer:—And would have it alter'd and brought down as it should be." John made no other Reply, but, "That the Desk was not of his raising:—That 'twas not one Hair Breadth higher than he found it;—and that as he found it, so would he leave it:—In short, he would neither make an Encroachment, nor would he suffer one."
The late Parson might have his Virtues, but the leading Part of his Character was not Humility; so that John's Stiffness in this Point was not likely to reconcile Matters.—This was Trim's Harvest.
After a friendly Hint to John to stand his Ground,—away hies Trim to make his Market at the Vicarage: What pass'd there, I will not say, intending not to be uncharitable; so shall content myself with only guessing at it, from the sudden Change that appeared in Trim's Dress for the better;—for he had left his old ragged Coat, Hat and Wig, in the Stable, and was come forth strutting across the Church-yard, y'clad in a good creditable cast Coat, large Hat and Wig, which the Parson had just given him.—Ho! Ho! Hollo! John! cries Trim, in an insolent Bravo, as loud as ever he could bawl—See here, my Lad! how fine I am.—The more Shame for you, answered John, seriously.—Do you think, Trim, says he, such Finery, gain'd by such Services, becomes you, or can wear well?– Fye upon it, Trim;—I could not have expected this from you, considering what Friendship you pretended, and how kind I have ever been to you:– How many Shillings and Sixpences I have generously lent you in your Distresses?—Nay, it was but t'other Day that I promised you these black Plush Breeches I have on.—Rot your Breeches, quoth Trim; for Trim's Brain was half turn'd with his new Finery:—Rot your Breeches, says he, —I would not take them up, were they laid at my Door;—give 'em, and be d–d to you, to whom you like; I would have you to know I can have a better Pair at the Parson's any Day in the Week:—John told him plainly, as his Word had once pass'd him, he had a Spirit above taking Advantage of his Insolence, in giving them away to another:—But, to tell him his Mind freely, he thought he had got so many Favours of that Kind, and was so likely to get many more for the same Services, of the Parson, that he had better give up the Breeches, with good Nature, to some one who would be more thankful for them.
Here John mentioned Mark Slender, (who, it seems, the Day before, had ask'd John for 'em) not knowing they were under Promise to Trim.—"Come, Trim, says he, let poor Mark have 'em,—You know he has not a Pair to his. A–: Besides, you see he is just of my Size, and they will fit him to a T; whereas, if I give 'em to you,—look ye, they are not worth much; and, besides, you could not get your Backside into them, if you had them, without tearing them all to Pieces."
Every Tittle of this was most undoubtedly true; for Trim, you must know, by foul Feeding, and playing the good Fellow at the Parson's, was grown somewhat gross about the lower Parts, if not higher: So that, as all John said upon the Occasion was fact, Trim, with much ado, and after a hundred Hum's and Hah's, at last, out of mere Compassion to Mark, signs, seals, and delivers up all Right, Interest, and Pretentions whatsoever, in and to the said breeches; thereby binding his Heirs, Executors, Administrators, and Assignes, never more to call the said Claim in Question.
All this Renunciation was set forth in an ample Manner, to be in pure Pity to Mark's Nakedness;—but the Secret was, Trim had an Eye to, and firmly expected in his own Mind, the great Green Pulpit-Cloth and old Velvet Cushion, which were that very Year to be taken down;—which, by the Bye, could he have wheedled John a second Time out of 'em, as he hoped, he had made up the Loss of his Breeches Seven-fold.
Now, you must know, this Pulpit-Cloth and Cushion were not in John's Gift, but in the Church-Wardens, &c.—However, as I said above, that John was a leading Man in the Parish, Trim knew he could help him to them if he would:—But John had got a Surfeit of him;—so, when the Pulpit-Cloth, &c. were taken down, they were immediately given (John having a great Say in it) to William Doe, who understood very well what Use to make of them.
As for the old Breeches, poor Mark Slender lived to wear them but a short Time, and they got into the Possession of Lorry Slim, an unlucky Wight, by whom they are still worn;—in Truth, as you will guess, they are very thin by this Time:—But Lorry has a light Heart; and what recommends them to him, is this, that, as, thin as they are, he knows that Trim, let him say what he will to the contrary, still envies the Possessor of them,—and, with all his Pride, would be very glad to wear them after him.
Upon this Footing have these Affairs slept quietly for near ten Years,– and would have slept for ever, but for the unlucky Kicking-Bout; which, as I said, has ripp'd this Squabble up afresh: So that it was no longer ago than last Week, that Trim met and insulted John in the public Town- Way, before a hundred People;—tax'd him with the Promise of the old- cast-Pair-of-black-Breeches, notwithstanding Trim's solemn Renunciation; twitted him with the Pulpit-Cloth and Velvet Cushion,—as good as told him, he was ignorant of the common Duties of his Clerkship; adding, very insolently, That he knew not so much as to give out a common Psalm in Tune.—
John contented himself with giving a plain Answer to every Article that Trim had laid to his Charge, and appealed to his Neighbours who remembered the whole Affair;—and as he knew there was never any Thing to be got in wrestling with a Chimney-Sweeper,—he was going to take Leave of Trim for ever.—But, hold,—the Mob by this Time had got round them, and their High Mightinesses insisted upon having Trim tried upon the Spot.—Trim was accordingly tried; and, after a full Hearing, was convicted a second Time, and handled more roughly by one or more of them, than even at the Parson's.
Trim, says one, are you not ashamed of yourself, to make all this Rout and Disturbance in the Town, and set Neighbours together by the Ears, about an old-worn-out-Pair-of-cast-Breeches, not worth Half a Crown?—Is there a cast-Coat, or a Place in the whole Town, that will bring you in a Shilling, but what you have snapp'd up, like a greedy Hound as you are?
In the first Place, are you not Sexton and Dog-Whipper, worth Three Pounds a Year?—Then you begg'd the Church-Wardens to let your Wife have the Washing and Darning of the Surplice and Church-Linen, which brings you in Thirteen Shillings and Four Pence.—Then you have Six Shillings and Eight Pence for oiling and winding up the Clock, both paid you at Easter.—The Pinder's Place, which is worth Forty Shillings a Year,—you have got that too.—You are the Bailiff, which the late Parson got you, which brings you in Forty Shillings more.—Besides all this, you have Six Pounds a Year, paid you Quarterly for being Mole-Catcher to the Parish.—Aye, says the luckless Wight above-mentioned, (who was standing close to him with his Plush Breeches on) "You are not only Mole-Catcher, Trim, but you catch STRAY CONIES too in the Dark; and you pretend a Licence for it, which, I trove, will be look'd into at the next Quarter Sessions." I maintain it, I have a Licence, says Trim, blushing as red as Scarlet:—I have a Licence,—and as I farm a Warren in the next Parish, I will catch Conies every Hour of the Night.—You catch Conies! cries a toothless old Woman, who was just passing by.—