I hate law details as cordially as my readers can, and therefore I
shall content myself with stating that Mr Pike's management, at the
end, not of three days, but of two weeks, was so admirable that Uncle
Jack was drawn out of prison, and my father extracted from all his
liabilities, by a sum two-thirds less than was first startlingly
submitted to our indignant horror--and that, too, in a manner that
would have satisfied the conscience of the most punctilious formalist,
whose contribution to the national fund, for an omitted payment to the
Income Tax. the Chancellor of the Exchequer ever had the honour to
acknowledge. Still the sum was very large in proportion to my poor
father's income; and what with Jack's debts, the claims of the
Anti-Publisher Society's printer--including the very expensive plates
that had been so lavishly bespoken, and in great part completed, for
the _History of Human Error_--and, above all, the liabilities incurred
on _The Capitalist_; what with the _plant_, as Mr Peck technically
phrased a great upas-tree of a total, branching out into types, cases,
printing-presses, engines, &c., all now to be resold at a third of
their value; what with advertisements and bills, that had covered all
the dead walls by which rubbish might be shot, throughout the three
kingdoms; what with the dues of reporters, and salaries of writers,
who had been engaged for a year at least to _The Capitalist_, and
whose claims survived the wretch they had killed and buried; what, in
short, with all that the combined ingenuity of Uncle Jack and printer
Peck could supply for the utter ruin of the Caxton family--even after
all deductions, curtailments, and after all that one could extract in
the way of just contribution from the least unsubstantial of those
shadows called the shareholders--my father's fortune was reduced to
little more than £8000, which being placed at mortgage, at 4 per cent,
yielded just £372, 10s. a-year--enough for my father to live upon, but
not enough to afford also his son Pisistratus the advantages of
education at Trinity College, Cambridge. The blow fell rather upon me
than my father, and my young shoulders bore it without much wincing.
This settled, to our universal satisfaction, I went to pay my farewell
visit to Sir Sedley Beaudesert. He had made much of me, during my stay
in London. I had breakfasted and dined with him pretty often; I had
presented Squills to him, who no sooner set eyes upon that splendid
conformation, than he described his character with the nicest accuracy
as the necessary consequence of such a development for the rosy
pleasures of life, and whose philosophy delighted and consoled Sir
Sedley. We had never once retouched on the subject of Fanny's
marriage, and both of us tacitly avoided even mentioning the
Trevanions. But in this last visit, though he maintained the same
reserve as to Fanny, he referred without scruple to her father.
"Well, my young Athenian," said he, after congratulating me on the
result of the negotiations, and endeavouring again in vain to bear at
least some share in my father's losses--"well, I see I cannot press
this farther; but at least I _can_ press on you any little interest I
may have, in obtaining some appointment for yourself in one of the
public offices. Trevanion could of course be more useful, but I can
understand that he is not the kind of man you would like to apply to."
"Shall I own to you, my dear Sir Sedley, that I have no taste for
official employment? I am too fond of my liberty. Since I have been at
my uncle's old tower, I account for half my character by the
Borderer's blood that is in me. I doubt if I am meant for the life of
cities, and I have odd floating notions in my head, that will serve to
amuse me when I get home, and may settle into schemes. And now, to
change the subject, may I ask what kind of person has succeeded me as
Mr Trevanion's secretary?"
"Why, he has got a broad-shouldered, stooping fellow, in spectacles
and cotton stockings, who has written upon 'Rent,' I believe--an
imaginative treatise in his case, I fear, poor man, for rent is a
thing he could never have received, and not often been trusted to pay.
However, he is one of your political economists, and wants Trevanion
to sell his pictures, as 'unproductive capital.' Less mild than Pope's
Narcissa, 'to make a wash,' he would certainly 'stew a child.' Besides
this official secretary, Trevanion trusts, however, a good deal to a
clever, good-looking young gentleman, who is a great favourite with
him."
"What is his name?"
"His name?--oh, Gower--a natural son, I believe, of one of the Gower
family."
Here two of Sir Sedley's fellow fine gentlemen lounged in, and my
visit ended.