“Oh, how I long to be employed!”--Every Man in his Humour.
Clarence was sitting the next morning over the very unsatisfactory
breakfast which tea made out of broomsticks, and cream out of chalk
(adulteration thrived even in 17--) afforded, when the waiter threw open
the door and announced Mr. Brown.
“Just in time, sir, you perceive,” said Mr. Brown; “I am punctuality
itself: exactly a quarter of a minute to ten. I have brought you the
pots of French mustard, and I have some very valuable articles which you
must want, besides.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Linden, not well knowing what to say; and Mr.
Brown, untying a silk handkerchief, produced three shirts, two pots
of pomatum, a tobacco canister with a German pipe, four pair of silk
stockings, two gold seals, three rings, and a stuffed parrot!
“Beautiful articles these, sir,” said Mr. Brown, with a snuffle “of
inward sweetness long drawn out,” and expressive of great admiration of
his offered treasures; “beautiful articles, sir, ar’n’t they?”
“Very, the parrot in particular,” said Clarence.
“Yes, sir,” returned Mr. Brown, “the parrot is indeed quite a jewel; it
belonged to the late Lady Waddilove; I offer it to you with considerable
regret, for--”
“Oh!” interrupted Clarence, “pray do not rob yourself of such a jewel;
it really is of no use to me.”
“I know that, sir,--I know that,” replied Mr. Brown; “but it will be of
use to your friends; it will be inestimable to any old aunt, sir, any
maiden lady living at Hackney, any curious elderly gentleman fond of a
knack-knack. I knew you would know some one to send it to as a present,
even though you should not want it yourself.”
“Bless me!” thought Linden, “was there ever such generosity? Not content
with providing for my wants, he extends his liberality even to any
possible relations I may possess!”
Mr. Brown now re-tied “the beautiful articles” in his handkerchief.
“Shall I leave them, sir?” said he.
“Why, really,” said Clarence, “I thought yesterday that you were in
jest; but you must be aware that I cannot accept presents from any
gentleman so much,--so much a stranger to me as you are.”
“No, sir, I am aware of that,” replied Mr. Brown; “and in order to
remove the unpleasantness of such a feeling, sir, on your part,--merely
in order to do that, I assure you with no other view, sir, in the
world,--I have just noted down the articles on this piece of paper; but
as you will perceive, at a price so low as still to make them actually
presents in everything but the name. Oh, sir, I perfectly understand
your delicacy, and would not for the world violate it.”
So saying, Mr. Brown put a paper into Linden’s hands, the substance
of which a very little more experience of the world would have enabled
Clarence to foresee; it ran thus:--
CLARENCE LINDEN, ESQ., DR.
TO Mr. MORRIS BROWN.
l. s. d.
To Six Pots of French Mustard......... 1 4 0
To Three Superfine Holland Shirts, with Cambric Bosoms,
Complete................ 4 1 0
To Two Pots of Superior French Pomatum...... 0 10 0
To a Tobacco Canister of enamelled Tin, with a finely
Executed Head of the Pretender; slight flaw in the same. 0 12 6
To a German Pipe, second hand, as good as new, belonging
to the late Lady Waddilove.......... 1 18 0
To Four Pair of Black Silk Hose, ditto, belonging to her
Ladyship’s Husband............. 2 8 0
To Two Superfine Embossed Gold Watch Seals, with a
Classical Motto and Device to each, namely, Mouse Trap,
and “Prenez Garde,” to one, and “Who the devil can this
be from?” [One would not have thought these ingenious
devices had been of so ancient a date as the year 17--.]
to the other............... 1 1 0
To a remarkably fine Antique Ring, having the head of a
Monkey................. 0 16 6
A ditto, with blue stones........... 0 12 6
A ditto, with green ditto........... 0 12 6
A Stuffed Green Parrot, a remarkable favourite of the late
Lady W................. 2 2 0
--------
Sum Total............... 15 18 0
Deduction for Ready Money.......... 0 13 6
--------
15 4 6
Mr. Brown’s Profits for Brokerage........ 1 10 0
--------
Sum Total............... 16 14 6
Received of Clarence Linden, Esq., this day of 17--.
It would have been no unamusing study to watch the expression of
Clarence’s face as it lengthened over each article until he had reached
the final conclusion. He then carefully folded up the paper, restored it
to Mr. Brown, with a low bow, and said, “Excuse me, sir, I will not take
advantage of your generosity; keep your parrot and other treasures for
some more worthy person. I cannot accept of what you are pleased to term
your very valuable presents!”
“Oh, very well, very well,” said Mr. Brown, pocketing the paper, and
seeming perfectly unconcerned at the termination of his proposals;
“perhaps I can serve you in some other way?”
“In none, I thank you,” replied Linden.
“Just consider, sir!--you will want lodgings; I can find them for you
cheaper than you can yourself; or perhaps you would prefer going into a
nice, quiet, genteel family where you can have both board and lodging,
and be treated in every way as the pet child of the master?”
A thought crossed Linden’s mind. He was going to stay in town some time;
he was ignorant of its ways; he had neither friends nor relations, at
least none whom he could visit and consult; moreover, hotels, he
knew, were expensive; lodgings, though cheaper, might, if tolerably
comfortable, greatly exceed the sum prudence would allow him to expend
would not this plan proposed by Mr. Brown, of going into a “nice quiet
genteel family,” he the most advisable one he could adopt? The generous
benefactor of the late and ever-to-be-remembered Lady Waddilove
perceived his advantage, and making the most of Clarence’s hesitation,
continued,--
“I know of a charming little abode, sir, situated in the suburbs
of London, quite rus in urbe, as the scholars say; you can have a
delightful little back parlour, looking out upon the garden, and all to
yourself, I dare say.”
“And pray, Mr. Brown,” interrupted Linden, “what price do you think
would be demanded for such enviable accommodation? If you offer me them
as ‘a present,’ I shall have nothing to say to them.”
“Oh, sir,” answered Mr. Brown, “the price will be a trifle,--a mere
trifle; but I will inquire, and let you know the exact sum in the course
of the day: all they want is a respectable gentlemanlike lodger; and I
am sure so near a relation of Mrs. Minden will upon my recommendation
be received with avidity. Then you won’t have any of these valuable
articles, sir? You’ll repent it, sir; take my word for it--hem!
“Since,” replied Clarence, dryly, “your word appears of so much more
value than your articles, pardon me, if I prefer taking the former
instead of the latter.”
Mr. Brown forced a smile,--“Well, sir, very well, very well indeed. You
will not go out before two o’clock? and at that time I shall call upon
you respecting the commission you have favoured me with.”
“I will await you,” said Clarence; and he bowed Mr. Brown out of the
room.
“Now, really,” said Linden to himself, as he paced the narrow limits of
his apartment, “I do not see what better plan I can pursue; but let me
well consider what is my ultimate object. A high step in the world’s
ladder! how is this to be obtained? First, by the regular method
of professions; but what profession should I adopt? The Church is
incompatible with my object, the army and navy with my means. Next come
the irregular methods of adventure and enterprise, such as marriage with
a fortune,”--here he paused and looked at the glass,--“the speculation
of a political pamphlet, or an ode to the minister; attendance on some
dying miser of my own name, without a relation in the world; or, in
short, any other mode of making money that may decently offer itself.
Now, situated as I am, without a friend in this great city, I might as
well purchase my experience at as cheap a rate and in as brief a time
as possible, nor do I see any plan of doing so more promising than that
proposed by Mr. Brown.”
These and such like reflections, joined to the inspiriting pages of the
“Newgate Calendar” and “The Covent Garden Magazine,” two works which
Clarence dragged from their concealment under a black tea-tray, afforded
him ample occupation till the hour of two, punctual to which time Mr.
Morris Brown returned.
“Well, sir,” said Clarence, “what is your report?”
The friend of the late Lady W. wiped his brow and gave three long sighs
before he replied: “A long walk, sir--a very long walk I have had; but I
have succeeded. No thanks, sir,--no thanks,--the lady, a most charming,
delightful, amiable woman, will receive you with pleasure; you will have
the use of a back parlour (as I said) all the morning, and a beautiful
little bedroom entirely to yourself; think of that, sir. You will
have an egg for breakfast, and you will dine with the family at three
o’clock: quite fashionable hours you see, sir.”
“And the terms?” said Linden, impatiently.
“Why, sir,” replied Mr. Brown, “the lady was too genteel to talk to
me about them; you had better walk with me to her house and see if you
cannot yourself agree with her.”
“I will,” said Clarence. “Will you wait here till I have dressed?”
Mr. Brown bowed his assent.
“I might as well,” thought Clarence, as he ascended to his bedroom,
“inquire into the character of this gentleman to whose good offices I
am so rashly intrusting myself.” He rang his bell; the chambermaid
appeared, and was dismissed for the waiter. The character was soon
asked, and soon given. For our reader’s sake we will somewhat enlarge
upon it.
Mr. Morris Brown originally came into the world with the simple
appellation of Moses, a name which his father--honest man--had, as
the Minories can still testify, honourably borne before him. Scarcely,
however, had the little Moses attained the age of five, when his father,
for causes best known to himself, became a Christian. Somehow or other
there is a most potent connection between the purse and the conscience,
and accordingly the blessings of Heaven descended in golden showers upon
the proselyte. “I shall die worth a plum,” said Moses the elder (who had
taken unto himself the Christian cognomen of Brown); “I shall die worth
a plum,” repeated he, as he went one fine morning to speculate at the
Exchange. A change of news, sharp and unexpected as a change of wind,
lowered the stocks and blighted the plum. Mr. Brown was in the “Gazette”
that week, and his wife in weeds for him the next. He left behind him,
besides the said wife, several debts and his son Moses. Beggared by the
former, our widow took a small shop in Wardour Street to support
the latter. Patient, but enterprising--cautious of risking pounds,
indefatigable in raising pence--the little Moses inherited the
propensities of his Hebrew ancestors; and though not so capable as
his immediate progenitor of making a fortune, he was at least far less
likely to lose one. In spite, however, of all the industry both of
mother and son, the gains of the shop were but scanty; to increase
them capital was required, and all Mr. Moses Brown’s capital lay in his
brain. “It is a bad foundation,” said the mother, with a sigh. “Not at
all!” said the son, and leaving the shop, he turned broker. Now a broker
is a man who makes an income out of other people’s funds,--a gleaner of
stray extravagances; and by doing the public the honour of living upon
them may fairly be termed a little sort of state minister in his way.
What with haunting sales, hawking china, selling the curiosities of one
old lady and purchasing the same for another, Mr. Brown managed to enjoy
a very comfortable existence. Great pains and small gains will at last
invert their antithesis, and make little trouble and great profit; so
that by the time Mr. Brown had attained his fortieth year, the petty
shop had become a large warehouse; and, if the worthy Moses, now
christianized into Morris, was not so sanguine as his father in the
gathering of plums, he had been at least as fortunate in the collecting
of windfalls. To say truth, the abigail of the defunct Lady Waddilove
had been no unprofitable helpmate to our broker. As ingenious as
benevolent, she was the owner of certain rooms of great resort in the
neighbourhood of St. James’s,--rooms where caps and appointments were
made better than anywhere else, and where credit was given and character
lost upon terms equally advantageous to the accommodating Mrs. Brown.
Meanwhile her husband, continuing through liking what he had begun
through necessity, slackened not his industry in augmenting his fortune;
on the contrary, small profits were but a keener incentive to large
ones,--as the glutton only sharpened by luncheon his appetite for
dinner. Still was Mr. Brown the very Alcibiades of brokers, the
universal genius, suiting every man to his humour. Business of whatever
description, from the purchase of a borough to that of a brooch, was
alike the object of Mr. Brown’s most zealous pursuit: taverns, where
country cousins put up; rustic habitations, where ancient maidens
resided; auction or barter; city or hamlet,--all were the same to that
enterprising spirit, which made out of every acquaintance--a commission!
Sagacious and acute, Mr. Brown perceived the value of eccentricity in
covering design, and found by experience that whatever can be laughed at
as odd will be gravely considered as harmless. Several of the broker’s
peculiarities were, therefore, more artificial than natural; and
many were the sly bargains which he smuggled into effect under the
comfortable cloak of singularity. No wonder, then, that the crafty
Morris grew gradually in repute as a person of infinite utility and
excellent qualifications; or that the penetrating friends of his
deceased sire bowed to the thriving itinerant, with a respect which they
denied to many in loftier professions and more general esteem.