My heart positively warms to you as I write. At this precise moment I
can think of a hundred different things that I ought to be doing. For
instance, I have not written to TOM, who is in the wilds of Canada,
for months. His last letter ended with a pathetic appeal for an
answer.
"Never mind, old chap," he said, "about not having any news. Little
details that you may think too insignificant to relate are bound to
interest me in this deserted spot. I am sure you occasionally meet I
some of our friends of the old days. Tell them I often think of them
and all the fun we used to have together. It all seems like a dream to
me now. Let me know what any of them are doing. I heard six months ago
from a fellow who was touring out here that JACK BUMPUS was married.
If it is really our old JACK, congratulate him, and give him my love.
I don't know his present address. But, whatever you do, write. A
letter from you is like water in the desert."
[Illustration]
When I read that letter I became full of the noblest resolutions. Not
another day should pass, I vowed, before I answered it. So I prepared
a great many sheets of thin note-paper, carefully selected a clean nib
and sat down at my writing-table to begin. As I did so my eyes fell
upon _Martin Chuzzlewit_, which was lying within easy reach. The book
seemed positively to command me to read it for the tenth time. I took
it up, and in another moment _Mrs. Gamp_ had taken possession of
me. My writing-chair was uncomfortable. I transferred myself into an
arm-chair. Is it necessary to add that I did not write to TOM? His
letter is getting frayed and soiled from being constantly in my
pocket. Day after day it accompanies me on my daily round, unanswered
and seemingly unanswerable. For I feel it to be a duty to write, and
my mind abhors a duty. The letter weighs upon my conscience like lead.
A few strokes of the pen would remove the burden, but I simply cannot
screw myself up to the task. That is one of the things I ought to do.
Again, ought I not to call on the WHITTLESEAS? Mr. and Mrs. WHITTLESEA
have simply overflowed with kindness towards me. I never enjoyed
anything more than the week I spent at their house in Kent a short
time ago. They are now in town, and, what is more, they know that I am
in town too. Of course I ought to call. It's my plain duty, and that
is, as far as I can tell, the only reason which absolutely prevents
me from calling upon that hospitable family. Why need I go through
the long list of my pressing duties? I ought to write my article on
"Modern Theosophy: A Psychological Parallel," for the next number of
_The Brain_. I ought to visit my dentist; I ought to have my hair
cut. But I shall do none of these things. On the other hand, it is
absolutely unnecessary that I should write to you. No evil would
befall me if I waited another year, or even omitted altogether to
write to you. And that is the precise reason why I am now addressing
you. As a matter of fact, I like you. As I have already said, the
performance of strict duties is irksome to me. It is you, my dear
LAZINESS, who forbid me to perform them, and thus save me from many an
uncongenial task. That is why I like you.
And, after all, the common abuse of you is absurd. I have heard grave
and industrious persons declare emphatically that any one who allows
himself to fall under your sway debars himself utterly from every
chance of success. Fiddlesticks! I snap my fingers at such folly.
What do these gentlemen say to the case of FIGTREE, the great Q.C.?
Everybody knows that FIGTREE is, without exception, the most indolent
man in the world. Let any doubter walk down Middle Temple Lane and
ask the first young barrister he meets what he thinks of FIGTREE. I
am ready to wager my annual income that the reply will be, "What, Old
FIGTREE! Why, he's the laziest man at the Bar. I thought everybody
knew that." I may be told, of course, that FIGTREE appears in all the
big cases--that his management of them is extraordinarily successful;
that the Judges defer to him; that his speech in the Camberwell
poisoning case lasted a day and a half, and is acknowledged to be a
masterpiece of forensic eloquence, fit to rank with the best efforts
of ERSKINE; that his fees always exceed ten thousand pounds a year and
that his book on _Fines and Recoveries_ is a monument of industry. All
this I shall hear from some member of the outside public, who does not
know his FIGTREE. But the fact remains. FIGTREE is the most indolent
being alive. I doubt if he can be induced to read a brief before he
goes into Court. Many are the tales told by those who have been his
juniors of the marvellous skill and address with which FIGTREE has
time after time extricated himself from awkward situations into which
he had been led by his ignorance of the details of the case in which
he happened to be engaged. In the sensational libel case of _Bagwell_
v. _Muter_, FIGTREE, as you must remember, appeared for the defendant.
When the plaintiff's Junior Counsel had opened the pleadings, FIGTREE
actually got up, and, had not his own Junior pulled him down, he would
then and there have opened the case for the plaintiff. Yet FIGTREE's
cross-examination of that same plaintiff, travelling as it did over
a long period of time, and dealing with a most complicated story, in
which dates were of the first importance, is still cited by those who
heard it as the most remarkable display of its kind which the English
Courts have afforded for years past. Whether the unfortunate BAGWELL,
whom it showed conclusively to be a swindler and an impostor, has an
equal admiration for it, I know not, nor is he, I fancy, likely to
tell us, even when he returns from the prison which is now the scene
of his labours. How FIGTREE, who at the outset did not even know on
which side he appeared, managed in the time at his command to master
this intricate case, must ever remain a mystery. HARRY ADDLESTONE,
his Junior, is accustomed to talk darkly of a marvellous chronological
analysis of the case which he had prepared for his leader, and
evidently wishes me to believe that he, rather than FIGTREE, is to be
credited with the success achieved. But the Solicitors have not yet
withdrawn their confidence from FIGTREE to transfer it to ADDLESTONE.
Here, then, is an instance of a perfectly indolent man rising higher
and higher every year on the ladder of professional advancement. I
can only attribute it, my dear LAZINESS, to your beneficent influence,
which preserves the great barrister from the weary labours to which
his rivals daily submit. They say of him that he knows nothing of
law. If I grant that, it merely proves that a knowledge of law is not
required for success in the profession of the law. The deduction is
dangerous, but obvious, and I recommend it warmly to all who are about
to be called to the Bar.
I don't think I have anything more to say to you to-day; indeed, I
know that you would be the last to desire that the writing of this
letter should he in any way irksome to me. Besides, it is five o'clock
P.M. My arm-chair invites me. I feel tired, and, that being so, I
am convinced it would he an act of pedantic folly to deny myself the
sweet refreshment of half-an-hour's sleep. Farewell, kindly one. I
shall always rejoice to honour you, and celebrate your praise.
Yours, with all goodwill, DIOGENES ROBINSON.
P.S.--I reopen this letter to say that I have just read in an evening
paper a terrible account of the total destruction by a tornado of
the town in Canada which was poor TOM's place of exile. "The loss
of life," it is added, "has been great, and several Englishmen are
amongst the victims." No names are given. Good gracious! If TOM has
indeed perished, how am I ever to forgive myself for neglecting him?
What must he have thought of me? I curse myself in vain for my--bah!
What is the use of telling you this? The same paper informs me, in the
elegant language appropriate to these occasions, that "Mr. FIGTREE,
Q.C., has been offered, and has accepted, the vacant Lord-Justiceship
of Appeal."
* * * * *
AN OPPORTUNITY.--A Lyme Regis Correspondent sends us the following
advertisement, found, he says, in the _Bridport News_; we omit dates
and names:--
---- will SELL by AUCTION, Three Fine DAIRY COWS to calve
_respectfully_ in Dec., April, and May next. An excellent
double-feeding chaff-cutter, &c.
A respectful cow will no doubt fulfil her engagements honorably. "A
double-feeding chaff-cutter" ought to be an acquisition to a fast set
on a coach at the Derby, though of course his "double-feeding" powers
would have to be amply provided for at luncheon time.
* * * * *
"The nearest thing to 'setting the Thames on fire,'" said a quiet
traveller by the Underground, "is the announcement which you will now
see at the St. James's Park Station:--'A LIGHT HERE FOR NIAGARA.'"
"Why," exclaimed an irate passenger to the timid suggestion of
the above, "of course it doesn't mean _that_." Then he added,
contemptuously, "Get out!" Which he did.
* * * * *
[Illustration: RUSTICUS EXPECTANS. (NEW POLITICAL VERSION OF AN OLD
FABLE.)]
* * * * *