Ten Thousand a-Year Volume Ii Part 17

There is, indeed, nothing like throwing a man of the description we are considering, upon his own resources, and compelling him to exertion.

Listen, ye languid and often gifted victims of indolence and _ennui_, to the n.o.ble language of one blessed with as great powers as perhaps were ever vouchsafed to man--Edmund Barke!

"DIFFICULTY is a severe instructor, set over us by the Supreme ordinance of a parental guardian and legislator, who knows us better than we know ourselves, as He loves us better, too. _Pater ipse colendi, haud facilem esse viam voluit._ He that wrestles with us, strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill; our antagonist is our helper. This amicable contest with difficulty, obliges us to an intimate acquaintance with our object, and compels us to consider it in all its relations; it will not suffer us to be superficial."

The man, moreover, whose disposition is one of sterling excellence, despite the few foibles which it may have contracted in comparative solitude and inactivity, when he is compelled to mix indiscriminately with the great family of man, oh, how patient and tolerant becomes he of the weakness and errors of others, when thus constantly reminded of, and made to feel his own! Oh, how pitiful! how very pitiful is he!--How his heart yearns and overflows with love, and mercy, and charity towards his species, _individually_--whose eye looks oft on their grievous privations, their often incurable distress and misery!--and who in the spirit of a heavenly philanthropy penetrates even to those deserted quarters--

"Where hopeless anguish pours her moan, And lonely want retires to die!"

It may be that some of the preceding observations are applicable to many individuals of the purest and most amiable characters, and powerful and cultivated intellects, in the higher cla.s.ses of society, whose affluence exempts them from the necessity of actively intermingling with the concerns of life, and feeling the consciousness of individual responsibility,--of having a personal necessity for anxious care and exertion. They are a.s.sured that a position of real precariousness and danger, is that which is requisite for developing the energies of a man of high moral and intellectual character; as it will expose to destruction one of a contrary description.

I have endeavored, in previous portions of this history, to delineate faithfully the character of Mr. Aubrey--one (how idle and childish would have been the attempt!) by no means _perfect_, yet with very high qualities. He was a man of n.o.ble simplicity of character, generous, confiding, sincere, affectionate: possessing a profound sense of religion, _really influencing his conduct in life;_ an intellect of a superior order, of a practical turn, of a masculine strength--as had been evidenced by his successful academical career, his thorough mastery of some of the most important and difficult branches of human knowledge, and by his apt.i.tude for public business. He was at the same time possessed of a sensibility that was certainly excessive. He had a morbid tendency to pensiveness, if not melancholy, which, with a feeble _physical_ const.i.tution, was partly derived from his mother, and partly accounted for by the species of life which he had led. From his early youth he had been addicted to close and severe study, which had given permanence and strength to his naturally contemplative turn. He had not, moreover, with too many possessed of his means and station, entered, just at the dawn and bloom of manhood, upon that course of dissipation which is a sure and speedy means of destroying "the freshness of thought and of feeling," which "never again can be theirs," and inducing a _lowered tone_ of feeling, and a callousness which some seem to consider necessary to enable them to pa.s.s through life easily and agreeably. He, on the contrary, had stepped out of the gloom and solitude of the cloister into the pure and peaceful region of domestic life, with all its hallowed and unutterable tendernesses, where the affections grew luxuriantly; in the constant society of such women as his mother, his sister, his wife, and latterly his lovely children. Then he was possessed, all this while, of a fine fortune--one which placed him far beyond the necessity for anxiety or exertion. With such tastes as these, such a temperament as his, and leading such a life as his, is it surprising that the tone of his feelings should have become somewhat relaxed? The three or four years which he had spent in Parliament, when he plunged into its fierce and absorbing excitement with characteristic ardor and determination, though calculated to sharpen the faculties, and draw forth the resources of his intellect, subjected him to those alternations of elevation and depression, those extremes of action and reaction, which were not calculated to _correct_ his morbid tendencies.

Therefore came there up to him a messenger from Heaven, with trouble and affliction in his countenance, telling him to descend from the happy solitude of his high mountain, into the dismal hubbub and conflict in the plain beneath. He came down with humility and awe, and with reverent resignation; and was--instantly surrounded!--

A weak man would have been confused and stunned, and so sunk helpless into the leaden arms of despair. But it was not so with Aubrey. There was that dormant energy within, which, when appealed to, quickly shook off the weakness contracted by inaction, and told him to _be up and doing_; and that, not with the fitfulness of mere impulse, but the constant strength of a well regulated mind, conscious of its critical position; and also of a calm inflexible determination to vanquish difficulty, and if possible escape the imminent danger, however long and doubtful might prove the conflict. Above all, he was consoled and blessed by the conviction, that nothing could befall him that was not the ordination of Providence,

----"supremely wise, Alike in what it gives and what denies;"

that His was the ordering of the sunshine and the gloom, the tempest and the calm of life. This was to Aubrey--this is--as the humble writer of these pages (who has had in his time his measure of anxiety and affliction) has in his soul a profound and intimate persuasion and conviction of--the only source of real fort.i.tude and resignation, amid the perplexities, and afflictions, and dangers of life. Depend upon it, that a secret and scarce acknowledged disbelief, or at least doubt and distrust of the very existence of G.o.d, and of His government of the world--HIS REAL PRESENCE AND INTERFERENCE with the men and the things of the world--lies at the bottom of almost all impatience and despair under adverse circ.u.mstances. How can he be impatient, or despairing, who believes not only the existence of G.o.d, and His moral government of the world, but that He has mercifully vouchsafed to reveal and declare expressly that the infliction of suffering and sorrow is directly from Himself, and designed solely for the advantage of His creatures? _If ye endure chastening, G.o.d dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? We have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live? For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. Now, no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which_ _are exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees._ While thus benignantly teacheth the voice of G.o.d, thought Aubrey, shall I rather incline mine ear to the blighting whisper of the Evil One--_a liar, and the father of a lie_, who would fain that I should become _a fool, saying within my heart there is no G.o.d_--or, if I cannot but believe that there is one, provoking me to _charge Him foolishly, to curse Him and die_? Not so, however, had Aubrey read the Scriptures--not so had he learned the Christian religion.

The last time that we caught a glimpse of the ruined family, they had arrived nearly at the end of their long and melancholy journey from Yatton to the metropolis. When before had such been the character of their journey to town? Had they not ever looked forward with pleasure towards the brilliant gayeties of the season; their re-entrance into an extensive and splendid circle of friends--and he into the delightful excitement of political life--the opening of the parliamentary campaign?

Alas, how changed now all this! how gloomy and threatening the aspect of the metropolis, whose dusky outskirts they were entering! With what feelings of oppression--of vague indefinite apprehension--did they now approach it: their spirits heavy, their hearts bleeding with their recent severance from Yatton! _Now_, distress, desertion, dismay, seemed a.s.sociated with the formidable name of "London." They had now no place of their own awaiting, thoroughly prepared for them, their welcome arrival--but must drive to some quiet and inexpensive family hotel for temporary shelter. As their eyes caught familiar point after point in their route through the suburbs--now pa.s.sed at a moderate pace, with a modest pair of horses; formerly dashed past by them in their carriage and four--there were very few words spoken by those within the carriage.

Both the children were fast asleep. Poor Kate, as they entered Piccadilly, burst into tears: her pent-up feelings, suddenly gave way, and she cried heartily; Mrs. Aubrey also weeping. Mr. Aubrey was calm, but evidently oppressed with profound anxiety. Still he affectionately grasped their hands, and, in something which was designed for a cheerful tone and manner, besought them to restrain their feelings, and thank Heaven that so far they had got on safely.

"I shall be better presently, Charles," said Miss Aubrey, pa.s.sionately, burying her face in her handkerchief, "but I feel quite _afraid_ of London!"

Over the pavement they rattled, meeting carriages rolling in all directions--for it was about the dinner-hour, and in the height of the season; and it was the casual but vivid evidence thus afforded of their desolate position, this sudden glimpse of old familiar scenes, which had momentarily overcome the fort.i.tude of Miss Aubrey. They drove to a quiet family hotel in a retired street running parallel with Piccadilly; they were all wearied, both in mind and body, and after a very slight repast, and much anxious and desponding conversation, they bade each other affectionate adieus, and retired to rest. They rose in the morning refreshed with repose, and in a much more tranquil mood of mind than could have been expected.

"Now we enter," said Aubrey, with a cheerful smile, "upon the real business of life; so we must discard sentiment--we must not think of the past, but the future."

At their request, they, shortly after breakfast, accompanied him to the house agent who had been commissioned by Mr. Runnington to look out two or three residences from which, on their arrival in town, they might easily select that deemed most suitable for their purposes. One was particularly recommended to them; and after due inquiry, within three days after their arrival in town, they engaged it. 'Twas a small, but convenient, airy, and comfortable house, within five minutes' walk of Hyde Park, and situated in Vivian Street--a recently completed one--and as quiet and retired as they could have wished. The rent, too, was moderate--fifty pounds a-year. Though none of the houses in the street were large, they were all strictly private residences, and had an air of thorough respectability. Mr. Aubrey's house had but one window to the dining-room, and two to the drawing-room. The pa.s.sage and staircase were sufficiently commodious, as were the chief apartments. At the back of the house was a small garden, about twenty yards in length, and about ten yards in width, with several lilacs, laburnums, and shrubs; and a considerable portion of the wall was covered with ivy. Was not this a delightful place for the children to play about in? The back parlor, a somewhat small one certainly, looked into this garden, and was at once appropriated to be a library for Mr. Aubrey. Within a week's time, all their luggage, furniture, &c., had arrived in town from Yatton; and they had quite sufficient to furnish their little residence out of the wreck of the equipments of the old Hall--adapted as it was, under the tasteful superintendence of Mrs. and Miss Aubrey, with equal regard to elegance, simplicity, and economy. How busy were they all for a fortnight! Many and many an irrepressible sigh, and rebellious tear, would the sight of these old familiar objects, in their new situation, occasion them! Some half dozen family pictures hung upon the wall. Over the mantel-piece was suspended a piece of beautiful embroidery--by poor old Mrs. Aubrey, many years before--of the arms of the family. In the dining-room was the old high-backed chair in which she had sat for twenty years and more. In the drawing-room was Miss Aubrey's favorite ebony inlaid cabinet, and Mrs.

Aubrey's piano; and, in short, everywhere might be seen the delicate traces of dear, dear, graceful, and elegant _woman_--touching nothing that she adorns not! What with the silk curtains, and a carpet of simple but tasteful pattern, and the various articles of furniture and ornament, all possessing a kind of _old family air_--all from Yatton, I declare there was a sort of richness about the general aspect of the drawing-room; and when Mrs. Aubrey and Kate came to fetch Mr. Aubrey out of his little library to witness the completion of their labors, he gazed round him for a while, looked at each object, and then at the two dear fond beings standing beside him, awaiting his opinion with womanly eagerness; but he could not express his feelings. He kissed each of them very tenderly and in silence, and then they were a little overcome. His library, also, though _very_ small, was as snug and comfortable as a bookworm could have desired. All the sides were covered with books, and in the middle were the library-table and armchair which he had used in Grosvenor Street, and which were, it must be owned, on too large a scale for the little room to which they had been removed.

That this oppressed family were not incessantly and very painfully reminded of the contrast afforded by their present to their former circ.u.mstances, I do not pretend to a.s.sert; but it very, very seldom formed a topic of _conversation_ between any of them. When, however, the little bustle and occupation of arranging their house was over, and Mrs.

Aubrey and Kate were left a good deal to themselves--Mr. Aubrey being either absent from home, or in his library, engaged in matters of the last importance to them all--then they would talk together with increasing eagerness and excitement about past times, and their recent troubles and bereavements; not displaying then--sweet souls!--_quite_ that degree of resignation and fort.i.tude which they strove to exhibit in the presence of Mr. Aubrey.

"Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon."

They pa.s.sed a good deal of their time in-doors in needlework, _practical_ family needlework, an art in which they were not particularly accomplished, but which they quickly acquired from a seamstress whom they kept engaged constantly in the house for several weeks. Then sometimes they would sit down to the piano; at other times they would read--on all occasions, however, frequently falling into conversation on the all-engrossing topic of their expulsion from Yatton.

Now and then, they could scarcely refrain from a melancholy smile, when they remarked upon their shrunken personal importance. "Really, Agnes,"

said one day Miss Aubrey, "I feel just as one can fancy a few poor newly shorn sheep must feel! So light and cold! So much _less_ than they were half an hour before! Surely they must hardly know what to make of themselves!"

"Then, I suppose, mamma," said Charles, who was sitting on a stool beside them--making believe to write on a small slate--"I am a _little_ sheep?" They both looked at the child with silent tenderness, and presently thought of Him who "_tempers the wind_ to the shorn lamb."

Their proximity to the parks was delightful, and many a pleasant hour did they pa.s.s there with the children; and then returning home, would occupy themselves with writing letters--and long ones they usually were--to early and loved friends, especially to Dr. Tatham, with whom Miss Aubrey kept up a constant correspondence. I ought to have mentioned before, that Mr. Aubrey, in bringing his favorite valet up to town with him, had no other design than, with that kind thoughtfulness for which he was remarkable, to have an opportunity of securing for him a good situation; and that he succeeded in doing, after about a fortnight's interval; but the poor fellow was quite confounded when he first heard that he was to quit the service of Mr. Aubrey, and, almost falling on his knees, begged to be permitted to continue and receive no wages, and he should be a happy man. Mr. Aubrey was, however, firm; and on parting with him, which he did with no little emotion, put two guineas into his hand as a present, and wished him health and happiness. The poor fellow's deep distress at parting with the family sensibly affected them all, and reminded them vividly of one of the latest and bitterest scenes at Yatton. On his departure, their little establishment consisted but of three female servants, a cook, a housemaid, and a nursery-maid. It took them some little time to familiarize themselves with the attendance of a female servant at dinner! That was one little matter--and another was Charles' now and then complaining of being tired, and inquiring why his mamma did not drive in the carriage as she used to do, and how he should like to go with her!--which brought home to them, in a lively manner, their altered circ.u.mstances--their fallen fortunes. Many, many were the anxious calculations they made together, of the probable amount of their annual expenditure--which at length, inexperienced as they were, they fixed at from 300 to 400, including everything; his wife and sister eagerly a.s.suring Mr. Aubrey, and persuading each other, that as for clothes--_their_ wardrobe would, with care, last them for three or four years to come--so that _that_ was an item which might be almost altogether excluded from the account; except by the way, the children--yes, _they_ should be always well-dressed; that all agreed upon. Then there was their education--oh, Kate would see to _that_!

Could they, in this manner, with rigid and persevering economy, hold on their way for a year or two? was a question they often asked one another, with beating hearts. If they could, then, they said, they should be happy; for they had _health_--they had peace of mind; their consciences were not oppressed by a sense of misconduct--and they were able to put their trust in Providence.

Mr. Aubrey resolved to live in strict privacy; and they consequently communicated their residence to but one or two of their numerous friends, and to them only in confidence. To have acted otherwise, would have seriously interfered with the arrangements which, long ago contemplated, he had now fixed upon. It would have been perpetually calling their attention to the contrast between former days and scenes, and the present; opening their wounds afresh; and moreover, subjecting them to kind and generous importunities and offers, which, however delicate, would have been exquisitely painful and trying to an honorable pride. But it is time that I should proceed to give a more particular account of the position, the personal feelings, and the purposes and prospects of Mr. Aubrey.

From the moment when he received the first intimation of the desperate a.s.sault about to be made upon his fortunes, he felt a conviction--whether arising from weakness, or superst.i.tion, or any other cause it concerns me not here to say--that the issue would be a disastrous one for him; and, the first alarm and confusion over, he addressed himself with serious calmness, with deep anxiety, to the determination of his future course of life. A man of his refined taste and feeling would inevitably appreciate exquisitely--with, indeed, a most agonizing intensity--the loss of all those superior enjoyments--the deliciae of life--to which he had been from his birth accustomed. _Semper enim delicate ac molliter vixit._ I speak not here of the mere exterior "appliances and means" of wealth and station, but of the fastidious and sensitive condition of _feeling_ and temper, which such a state of things is calculated to engender in a person of his description. He could part with the one; but how could he divest himself of the other?

Even had he been alone in the world, and not surrounded with objects of the tenderest regard, whose safety or ruin was involved in his own, one of the results of his opponent's success--namely, his claim to the mesne profits--was calculated to fetter all his movements, to hang like a millstone round his neck; and that effect, indeed, it had. Still he played the man--resolved to act promptly, and with the best consideration he could give to his critical position. He had not yet reached the prime of life; had a fair share of health; had been blessed with the inestimable advantages of a thorough--a first-rate education--and, above all, had followed out his early advantages by laborious and systematic study. He had not only made accurate, extensive, and valuable acquisitions of knowledge, but learned how to use them--to turn them to practical account. What would, he thought, have become of him, had he--or those before him--neglected his education? Then he had acquired a considerable familiarity with business habits, in the House of Commons; and had friends and connections who might be of essential service to him, if he could but first succeed in acquiring such a position as would enable him to avail himself of their good offices. Surely all _these_ were cheering considerations! Had he not even advantages superior to those possessed by many in entering upon some one of the scenes of honorable struggles for a livelihood, and even for distinction? He surveyed all the professions with much deliberation.

The army and navy were of course out of the question. There was the _Church:_ but no--his soul recoiled from the degradation and guilt of entering that holy calling from mercenary motives, merely as a means of acquiring a livelihood; and he would rather have perished, than prefer the prayer uttered by the doomed descendants of one whose lamentable case is left on record--who _came and_ _crouched for a piece of silver, and a morsel of bread, saying, Put me, I pray thee, into one of the priest's offices, that I may eat a piece of bread._[15] A personage of very high distinction in the Church--of eminent piety and learning--who was aware of the misfortunes of Aubrey, and well acquainted with his pure and exemplary character--his learning and acquirements--his fitness for the ministerial office--wrote to him, offering him every facility for taking orders, and a.s.suring him that he need not wait long before he should be placed in a situation of public usefulness. Though he a.s.sured Mr. Aubrey that he believed himself consulting the best interests, both of Mr. Aubrey and of the Church--the scruples of Mr. Aubrey were not to be overcome; and he wrote to the kind and venerable prelate, a letter declining his offers, and a.s.signing reasons which filled him with profound respect for Mr. Aubrey. Then literature, for which--for real substantial literature--he possessed superior qualifications, was proverbially precarious. As for _teaching_--he felt quite unfit for it; he had not the least inclination for it; 'twas a cheerless scene of exertion; in which, as it were, he felt his energies _perishing in the using_. The BAR was the profession to which his tastes and inclinations, and, he hoped, his qualifications, pointed him. One of the first things he did, on reaching London, was to apply for information to one consummately qualified to guide him in the matter. He wrote to the Attorney-General, soliciting an interview at his chambers upon the subject of entering the profession; and received an immediate answer, appointing ten o'clock on Sat.u.r.day, on which day the Attorney-General expected to be partially free from public engagements. Precisely at that hour, Mr. Aubrey entered the chambers of that distinguished person, whose arrival he had antic.i.p.ated. Poor Aubrey felt a little nervous and depressed as the fussy clerk showed him into the room--_as he fancied_, and only fancied--with an air of patronizing civility, as if aware of his diminished personal consequence. He stood for a minute or two very close to Mr. Aubrey, with a sort of confidence in his manner as he rubbed his hands, and glibly observed on the innumerable engagements of the Attorney-General, which slightly--_very slightly_--displeased Mr.

Aubrey, suggesting the idea of undue familiarity. He answered the voluble clerk therefore courteously, but with an evident disinclination to prolong the conversation, and was quickly left alone. Poor Aubrey's pride had taken the alarm. Was it possible that the man had been presuming to give him a hint not to occupy much of the Attorney-General's time? Was it even possible that it had been done in consequence of an intimation from the Attorney-General himself? Oh, no--his own good sense came presently to his a.s.sistance, and banished so absurd a notion. There were three tables in the room, and each was laden with briefs, some of them of prodigious bulk. Seven or eight very recent ones were placed on the table opposite to which his vacant chair was standing; the very sight of all this oppressed Aubrey: how could one man's head manage so much? He was ruminating on such matters--and especially upon the powerful, versatile, and practised intellect which was requisite successfully to cope with such perpetually acc.u.mulating difficulties, independently of the hara.s.sing responsibilities and occupations of political office, when the Attorney-General entered. He was a tall and handsome man, about forty-five, with an extremely graceful and gentlemanlike carriage. There was a slight dash of negligence in it; while his manner was fraught with cheerful composure.

He looked quite a man of the world; you would have thought that he could have nothing to do but lounge at his club; ride round the Park; saunter into the House of Lords for an hour or two; and then surrender himself to the pleasures of society. There was not a trace of anxiety or exhaustion about him; yet had he been engaged during the whole of the preceding day conducting a very great political cause, (one of high treason,) not having concluded his reply till nine o'clock at night!

There was a playful smile about his mouth; his ample forehead seemed unfurrowed by a wrinkle; and his bright penetrating hazel eyes seemed never the worse for wear with all the tens of thousands of brief sheets on which they had travelled for the last twenty years.

"Ha--Aubrey--I'm a few minutes behind time, I'm afraid!--How are you?"

said he, with a cheerful air, grasping his saddened visitor very cordially by the hand.

"Good-morning, Mr. Attorney--_c.u.m tot sustineas, et tanta negotia solus_"--commenced poor Aubrey, pointing to the piles of briefs.

"Pho, my dear Aubrey; nonsense! _They've_ enough of my time, surely, without grudging me half an hour's conversation with a friend--ah, ha!"

They were both quickly seated--and within a minute or two's time the Attorney-General--_more suo_--had _got to business_--the business of the visit. Aubrey perceived the rapidity of the movement; but nothing could be _kinder_ than the manner of his companion, however distinct and decisive his intimation that time was very precious. He approved entirely of Mr. Aubrey's coming to the bar, and strongly recommended him not to lose one day in entering upon the serious practical study of it; informing him that, as an university man, within three years' time he would be eligible to be called to the bar. "I'll call you myself, Aubrey, if you will allow me," said he; but before that period had arrived, he had taken his seat upon the Woolsack, as Lord High Chancellor of England!

"Undoubtedly," said he, among other things, when pressed by Aubrey about the difficulties to be encountered in adopting the legal profession--"the acquisition of the _technical_ knowledge will be for some little time rather troublesome; but a twelvemonth's steady study by a man who is in earnest, and accustomed to real _work_, will make a vast inroad on it. Everything you master, you see, helps to master so much more. Three years' serious application to the law, by a man like you, my dear Aubrey, will place you far a-head of the mob of men at the bar.

Besides, 'tis not the study but the _practice_ of the law that teaches law most effectually.... Always have an eye to _principle_, referring _everything_ to it. Resolve thoroughly to understand the smallest details; and it will be a wonderful a.s.sistance in fixing them for practical use in your mind, to learn as much as you can, of the _reasons_ and _policy_ in which they originated. You'll find Reeves'

History of the English Law of infinite service to you; I should study it in the evenings; 'tis full of interest and value in every point of view.

I read every word of it, very carefully, soon after I left college; and, by the way, I'll tell you another book, by which I did the same--the State Trials: ay, you could hardly believe me, if I were to tell you how much I have read of them--speeches, examinations, cross-examination of witnesses, reply, and summing up. That's where I first learned how to examine and cross-examine a witness! Consider, the counsel employed were, you know, generally first-rate men, and exerted themselves, on such occasions, to the utmost, and the records of their procedure show you the best possible style of doing business. And there you also learn a great deal of _const.i.tutional_ law.... You ask me how I get through so much? To be sure, one _has_ enough to do, and I'm afraid I neglect a good deal; but the great secret is--_attention_, and to _one thing_ at a time. The sun's rays scattered are comparatively powerless; condense them, they are irresistible:--but all this you know, Aubrey, as well as, or better than I do.... Certainly, law is difficult; but its difficulty is often greatly overrated, especially by imperfectly educated, and ill-disciplined, _quick_, _sharp_ men. _You_ will find it a very different matter. What is wanted is a clear head; a good memory; strong common sense; fixity of purpose; an apt.i.tude for a.n.a.lysis and arrangement: before these combined, the difficulties of law fly like the morning mist before the sun.--_Tact_ with the court, and a jury, is acquired by practice, to a considerable extent, in the absence even of natural endowments. And as for _you_, Aubrey--upon my honor, I've often listened with great satisfaction to you in the House; few ever made clearer statements of facts, or reasoned more closely and cogently than you did; with practice, you would have become--and you soon will become--a formidable debater. In your new profession you will find _facts_ become quite different things from what they have ever hitherto appeared; flexible, elastic, accommodating--you may do anything with them--twist, and turn, and combine; ha! ha! Aubrey!" [Here the Attorney-General laughed in the plenitude of his own conscious power.]

"In a word, Aubrey, if you _determine_ to get on at the bar, you _will_: and if you can but get a bit of a _start_ at the beginning; now, for instance, there's Runningtons' house--one of the very first in London--why if _they_ would push you--your fortune's made. But you must make up your mind to wait a little: you can't get into a great business by a hop, step, and a jump, believe me. Certainly _I_ have no cause to be dissatisfied; I've done pretty well; but I can tell you that eight years pa.s.sed over me before I earned enough a-year to pay my laundress!

With me, accident supplied the place of _connection_: but only suppose how I must have worked in the mean time to be able to do business when it came to me! I know it's said that I was always an idle man; but people were a good deal mistaken about that matter, I can promise them!

What _idiots_, indeed, to suppose such a thing! Why, my very first start lifted me into a business of a thousand a-year; and, in the name of common sense, how could I have got through it, if I hadn't worked beforehand? Bah!--Now, if Runningtons'--one of the first firms in the profession--will stand by you, I'll guarantee your making 300 your first year! and if they _won't_, why, don't despair, you'll have to wait a little longer; but it will come at last, depend on it, if you continue on the look-out! Besides, you can help _me_ a little bit, eh? It will be a sort of introduction, you know; but we've time enough to see about that.--I recommend you to get at once into the chambers of some hard-working man, with a good deal of general business, particularly Pleading--let me see"--Here the Attorney-General paused, and stroked his chin for a moment or two in a musing manner, "Ah, yes, there's WEASEL, the very man for your purpose. He's a good pleader, and a neat draftsman; gets through his work very _cleanly_--ah! Weasel's a clear-headed painstaking little fellow--all for law; and he's got a good deal of it. He's not a very polished person, Weasel, ha! ha! but he's an honorable, right-minded man--shall I introduce you? Well, by-and-by, I'll walk over with you.--As to books? oh! why--I suppose you've looked into Blackstone? He's a fine fellow, Blackstone, and deserves all that has been said in his praise. Many think that he's only to be glanced at, at the beginning of their studies; never believe it! He's good to the end of the chapter! I've a profound respect for Blackstone; it's the only book I've read four or five times through--ay, from cover to cover; he makes law lovely! Stick to Blackstone by all means! Reeves--oh! I mentioned _him_, you know. Then I should go, I think, to c.o.ke on Littleton; but we shall have several opportunities of talking over _these_ matters. I really believe, Aubrey, that you are doing a very wise thing in coming to the bar. If you've health, and the average opportunities, (though I think you will have _more_,) I'll undertake to say that in a few years' time you will realize an income--which _may_ be a great one--but which (whatever it may be) you'll _earn_, as you did not the one you've lost; and you'll enjoy it, my dear Aubrey, ten thousand times more! All that I can do for you, I will--command me! By the way," he added, a.s.suming a somewhat anxious expression of countenance and a manner very different from that free, buoyant, off-hand one in which, for the last twenty minutes, he had been speaking, (Aubrey feeling all the while the easy commanding power and simplicity of the resplendent intellect with which he was communing,) "I'm almost afraid to ask; but how do you come on, about the----Mesne Profits?"

"I have heard nothing whatever about them, as yet," replied Aubrey, sighing; his face suddenly overshadowed with gloom. A moment's pause ensued; which was interrupted by the Attorney-General saying in a very earnest and feeling manner, "I hope to Heaven you'll be able to get some favorable arrangement made! You've not seen anything of Mr. t.i.tmouse's attorneys, I suppose?"

"Oh, no!" replied Aubrey, sighing, "nor heard anything from them!"

"_I've_ had very little to do with them; Quirk, Gammon, and Snap--these are the people, eh?" Mr. Aubrey nodded. "Quirk is a stubborn wooden-headed fellow--an old hedgehog! Egad! that man's compounded more felonies, the old scamp, than any man in England! I should like to have him in the witness-box for a couple of hours, or so! I think I'd tickle him a little," said the Attorney-General, with a bitter smile. "They say he's a confidential adviser to a sort of Thieves' a.s.sociation! But there's Gammon: I've had several things to do with _him_. He is a superior man, that Gammon, a very superior man. A keen dog! I recollect him being princ.i.p.al witness in a cause when I was for the plaintiff; and he completely baffled Subtle--ah, ha, how well I recollect it!--Subtle lost his temper at last, because he couldn't make Gammon lose _his_! Ah, how cleverly the fellow twisted and turned with Subtle for nearly an hour! ah, ha--Subtle looked so chagrined!--Have you seen Mr. Gammon?"

"No, I've had no occasion."

"He has a pleasing, gentlemanlike appearance; rather a striking face.

_He's_ the man you'll have to deal with in any negotiations on the subject I named. You must mind what you're about with him. You mustn't think me intrusive, Aubrey; but, have they sent in their bill yet?"

Mr. Aubrey involuntarily shuddered, as he answered in the negative.

"I'd give a trifle to know how the plague such people ever came to be concerned in such a case. 'Tis quite out of their way--which is in the criminal line of business!--They'll make their client pay for it through the nose, I warrant him:--By the way, what an inconceivably ridiculous little a.s.s that t.i.tmouse is--I saw him in court at York. If he'd only go on the stage, and act _naturally_, he'd make his fortune as a fool!"--Mr. Aubrey faintly smiled at this sally; but the topics which the Attorney-General had just before touched upon, had not a little oppressed his spirits.

"As this is comparatively an idle day with me," said the Attorney-General, "and I've got ten minutes more at your service--suppose I go with you at once--nothing like the present moment--to Mr. Weasel's?"

"I am greatly obliged to you," replied Aubrey--and both rose to go. "Say I shall be back in a few minutes," said the Attorney-General, in answer to his clerk, who reminded him as he pa.s.sed, that Mr.

Sergeant Squelch and Mr. Putty would be there in a moment or two's time. As they crossed the court--"How do you do, Mr. Putty?" said the Attorney-General, with lofty civility, to a grinning little confident personage who met him, exclaiming with flippant familiarity, "How do you do, Mr. Attorney?--Coming to your chambers--you don't forget?--Consultation--eh?"

"I perfectly recollect it, Mr. Putty, I shall return presently. Perhaps, if convenient, you will have the goodness to wait for a few minutes"--replied the Attorney-General, somewhat stiffly, and pa.s.sed on, arm-in-arm with Mr. Aubrey.

"Now, that forward little imp's name, Aubrey, is Putty," whispered the Attorney-General. "He was a glazier by trade; but just as he finished his apprenticeship, an uncle left him a few hundred pounds, with which--would you believe it?--nothing would suit him but decking himself in a wig and gown, and coming to the bar--ah, ha!--The fellow's creeping, however, into a little business, positively! They say he has a cousin who is one of the officers to the sheriff of Middles.e.x, and puts a good many little things in his way! He's my junior in an action of libel against a newspaper, for charging his father-in-law--a baker who supplies some workhouse with bread--with making it of only one-third flour, one-third rye, and the remainder _saw-dust_--ah, ha, ha!--I dared hardly look at the judges while I moved the Rule for a New Trial, for fear of laughing! This is the case in which we're going to have the consultation he spoke of--but here's Mr. Weasel's." They mounted a narrow, dingy-looking, well-worn staircase--and on the first floor, beheld "MR. WEASEL" painted over the door. On the Attorney-General's knocking, as soon as his clear silvery voice was heard asking for Mr.

Weasel, and his dignified figure had been recognized by the clerk, who had one pen in his mouth, and another behind his ear--that humble functionary suddenly bent himself almost double three or four times; and with fl.u.s.tered obsequiousness a.s.sured the great man that Mr. Weasel was quite at liberty. The next moment the Attorney-General and Mr. Aubrey were introduced into Mr. Weasel's room--a small dusky apartment wretchedly furnished, the walls being lined with book-shelves, well filled--and the table at which he was writing, and a chair on each side of him, strewed with draft paper, which he was covering at a prodigious rate. He was, in fact, drawing a "Declaration" in an action for a _Breach of promise of Marriage_, (taking a hasty pinch of fiery Welsh snuff every three minutes;) and his task seemed to be rendered very difficult, by the strange conduct of the defendant--surely the most fickle of mankind--who, with an extraordinary inconsistency, not knowing his own mind for a day together, had promised to marry Miss M'Squint, the heart-broken plaintiff, _firstly_, within a reasonable time; _secondly_, on a given day; _thirdly_, on the defendant's return from the Continent; _fourthly_, on the death of his father, (both of which events were averred to have taken place;) _fifthly_, when the defendant should have cut his wise teeth, (which it was averred he had;) and lastly, on "_being requested_" by the lady--which it was averred she had done, and in the most precise and positive manner, that she had been _ready and willing, and then_ [what will the ladies say?] "_tendered and offered herself to marry the said defendant_," who had then wholly neglected and refused to do any such thing. One notable peculiarity of the case was, that all these promises had been made, and all these events appeared to have come to pa.s.s in one particular place--and that rather an odd one, viz. in "_the parish of Saint Mary Le Bow, in the ward of Cheap, in the city of London_."[16] If you had been better acquainted with Mr. Weasel's a.s.sociations and mode of doing business, you would have discovered that, in _his_ imagination, almost all the occurrences of life took place at this same spot! But to return--thus was that astute little pleader engaged when they entered. He was a bachelor, upwards of forty; was of spare make, of low stature, had a thin, sharp, sallow face, and short stiff black hair; there was an appearance about the eyes as if they were half-blinded with being incessantly directed to white paper; he had a furrowed forehead, a small pursed-up mouth--one hardly knew why, but really there was something about his look that instantly suggested to you the image of the creature whose name he bore. He was a ravenous lawyer, darting at the point and pith of every case he was concerned in, and sticking to it--just as would his bloodthirsty namesake at the neck of a rabbit. In _law_ he lived, moved, and had his being. In his dreams he was everlastingly spinning out pleadings which he never could understand, and hunting for cases which he could not discover. In the daytime, however, he was more successful. In fact, everything he saw, heard, or read of--wherever he was, whatever he was doing, suggested to him questions of law, that might arise out of it. At his sister's wedding (whither he had not gone without reluctance) he got into a wrangle with the bridegroom, on a question started by himself, (Weasel,) whether an _infant_ was liable for goods supplied to his wife, before marriage. At his grandmother's funeral he got into an intricate discussion with a puzzled proctor about _bona notabilia_, with reference to a pair of horn spectacles, which the venerable deceased had left behind her in Scotland, and a poodle in the Isle of Man; and at church, the reading of the parable of the _Unjust Steward_, set his devout, ingenious, and fertile mind at work for the remainder of the service, as to the modes of stating the case, now-a-days, against the offender, and whether it would be more advisable to proceed civilly or criminally; and if the former, at law or in equity. He was a hard-headed man; very clear and acute, and accurate in his legal knowledge; every other sort he despised, if, indeed, he had more than the faintest notion, from hearsay, of its existence. He was a Cambridge man; and there had read nothing but mathematics, in which he had made a decent figure. As soon as he had taken his degree, he migrated to the Temple, where he had ever since continued engaged in the study, and then the successful practice, of the law, as a special pleader under the bar. He had a very large business, which he got through ably and rapidly. He scarcely ever went into society; early want of opportunity for doing so, had at length abated his desire for it--to say nothing of his want of _time_. When, as was seldom the case, he ventured out for a walk, he went, muttering to himself, at a postman's pace, to get the greatest quant.i.ty of exercise in the smallest s.p.a.ce of time. He was not a bad-tempered man, but, from the absorbing and hara.s.sing nature of his employments, he had become nervous, fidgety, and irritable. His tone of voice was feeble, his utterance hesitating, his manner hurried. What a laughable contrast between him and his visitor!

The Attorney-General coming to Mr. Weasel's chambers, suggested the idea of a magnificent mastiff suddenly poking his head into the little kennel of a querulous pug-dog; and I suppose Mr. Aubrey might be likened to a greyhound accompanying the aforesaid mastiff! On seeing his visitors, Mr. Weasel instantly got up with a blush of surprise, and a little hurry and embarra.s.sment of manner. His clerk put out a couple of chairs, and down they sat. The Attorney-General came to the point in about half a minute, and the matter was very quickly settled; it being arranged that within a day or two's time, as soon as the forms necessary for admitting Mr. Aubrey to an Inn of Court should have been completed, he should commence his attendance at Mr. Weasel's, from ten o'clock till five daily.

"It's a comical-looking little animal, isn't it?" quoth the Attorney-General, with a laugh, as soon as they had got out of hearing.