HOW TO HELP ONE'S SELF.
Where then did they live, and how--that noble and calumniated couple?
They had done no wrong, nor even, as it seems to us, the semblance of
wrong, unless it be by having acquiesced in the foolishness of secresy,
and thus aided the contrivance of false witness; for aught else, their
only social error had been lack of business caution among business men.
Feeling generously themselves, they gave others credit for the like good
feeling; acting upon honourable impulse, they believed that other men
would act so too. Heart was the hindrance in their way;--too much
sensitiveness towards all about them; too swift a surrender of the
judgment to the affections: too imprudent a reliance upon other men of
the world; though, when they trusted to a father's love, and a brother's
honesty, prudence herself might have almost been dispensed with.
Machinations of the wicked and the shrewd hemmed them in to their
un-doing: and really, they, children more or less of affluent homes,
born and bred in plenty, who had moved all their lives long in circles
of comparative wealth and wastefulness, now seemed likely to come to the
galling want of necessary sustenance. Was it not to teach them deeper
feeling for the poor, if ever God again should give them riches? Was it
not, by poverty, to try those hearts which had passed so blamelessly
through all the ordeals and temptations of wealth, in order that they
worthily might wear the double crown given only to such as remain
unhardened by prosperity, unembittered by adversity? Was it not to
discipline our warm Maria's love, and to chasten her Henry's very
gentlemanly pride into the due Christian proportions--self-respect with
self-humiliation? Was it not, chiefest and best, to school their hearts
for heaven, and, by feeding them on miseries and wrongs a little while,
to fix their affections on things above rather than on things of this
world? Yes: Providence has many ends in view, and they all tend
consistently to one great focus--the ultimate advantage of the good by
means of the confusion of the wicked.
Meanwhile came trouble on apace. Henry Clements justly felt aggrieved,
insulted; and the sentiment of pride, improper only from excess,
determined him to make no more advances: all that man could do, that
is, which a gentleman ought to do, he had done; but letters and visits
proved equally unavailing. He had come to the resolution that he would
make no more efforts himself, nor scarcely let Maria make any. As for
her, poor soul! she was now in grievous tribulation, with sad,
sufficient reason for it too; seeing that, in addition to her father's
anger, still protracted--in addition to that vile forgery imputed to her
craft, and whereof she had been made the guilty victim--in addition to
their own soon pressing money-wants, and that heartless fraud of John's
against her husband's little all (though she counted of it only as a
luckless speculation)--she had just become acquainted, through the
public prints, of her dear good mother's death, even before she had
heard of any illness. What bitter pangs were there for her, poor child!
That she should have lost that mother just then, without forgiveness,
without blessing--whilst all was unexplained, and their whole conduct of
affections without guile, wore the hideous mask of base, undutiful
contrivance! Cheer up, Maria; cheer up! only in this bad world can
innocence be sullied with a doubt: cheer up! the spirit of that mother
whom you loved on earth knows it well already; learned it while yet she
was leaving the body of her death: cheer up! she is still near you
both--dear children of affliction and affection! and God has
commissioned her for good to be your ministering angel.
With reference to means of living, they appeared limited at once to a
little ready money, and a few personal chattels and trinkets; without so
much as one pound of capital to back the young house-keepers, or a
shilling's-worth of interest or dividend or earnings coming in for
weekly bills. Clements had been utterly confounded in all his economical
arrangements by that sudden bitter breach of trust; and, albeit (as we
have hinted), his aim in marriage was not money; still, without much of
worldly calculation, he might prudently have looked for some provision
on Maria's part at least equal to his own: in fact, the fond young
couple had reasonably set their hearts upon that golden mean--four
hundred a-year to begin with. Now, however, by two fell swoops--brother
John's dishonesty and Sir Thomas's resolve of disinheritance--all this
rational and moderate expectation had been dashed to atoms; and the
cottage of contented competence appeared but as a castle in the
clouds--a mere airy matter of undiluted moonshine. Thus, when that
happiest of honeymoons had dwindled down the hundred-pound bank-note
(shrewd John's well-expended bait) to the fractional part of a ten, and
our newly-married pair came to put together their united resources,
wherewithal to travel through the world, they could muster but very
little:--considering, too, the future, and the promise of an early
increase to provide for, forty-seven pounds was not quite a fortune; and
a few articles of jewellery did not much increase it.
We need not imagine that Henry calmly acquiesced without a struggle in
the roguish fraud which had impoverished him; but, notwithstanding all
his best endeavours, he found, to his dismay, that the case was
irremediable: the transfer-books, indeed, were evidence; and equity
would give credit for the trust: but that the "Independent bank" had
failed was a simple fact; and so long as John stood ready to swear he
had invested in it, there was an end to the business. Be sure, shrewd
Jack was not likely to leave any thing dubious or unsatisfactory in the
affair. Austral papers were easily got at now, cheap as whitey-brown;
and for any help the law could give him, poor Henry Clements might as
well engage the wind-raising services of a Lapland witch.
He must put his shoulder to the wheel without delay; manifestly, his
profession of the law, however unlucrative till now, must be the mighty
lever that should raise him quickly to the summit of opulence and fame:
and he vigorously set to work, as the briefless are forced to do,
inditing a new law-book, which should lift him high in honour with those
magnates on the bench; being, as he was, a court-counsel, not a chamber
one, an eloquent pleader too (if the world would only give him a
hearing), he unluckily took for his thesis the questionable '_Doctrine
of Defence_;' combating magnanimously on the loftiest moral grounds all
manner of received opinions, time-honoured fictions, legitimated
quibbles, and other things which (as he was pleased to put it) "render
the majesty of the law ridiculous to the ears of common sense, and
iniquitous in the sight of Christian judgment." Rash youth! forensic
Quixote! better had you plodded on, without this extra industry and
skill, in the hopeless idleness and solitude of your Temple
garret--better had you burnt your wig and gown outright, with all the
airy briefs to come that fluttered round them, than have owned yourself
the author of that heretical piece of moral mawkishness--'_The Doctrine
of Defence_, by Henry Clements.'
He had with difficulty found a publisher--a chilling incident enough in
itself, considering an author's feelings for his book-child; and when
found, the scarcely satisfactory arrangement was insisted on, of mutual
participation in profit and loss: in other parlance, the bookseller
pocketing the first, and the author unpocketing the second. Thus it came
to pass, that after three months' toil and enormous collation of
cases--after extravagant indulgence of the most ardent hopes--glory,
good, and gold, consequent instantaneously on this happy
publication--after reasonably expecting that judges would quote it in
their ermine, and sergeants consult it in their silk--that London would
be startled by the event from the humdrum of its ordinary routine--and
the wondering world applaud the name of Henry Clements--O,
heart-sickening reality! what was the result of his exertions?
"So, that puppy Clements has taken upon himself to put us all to school
about whom we may defend, and how, I see---- Hang the fellow's
impudence!" grunted a fat Old Bailey counsel to his peers, well aware
that the luckless author sat nervously within ear-shot.
"I know whose junior that modest swain shall never be;" simpered
Sergeant Tiffin.
"The fellow's done for himself," was the simultaneous verdict of a
well-wigged band of brothers. And what else they might have added in
their charity poor Clements never knew, for he crept away to his garret,
stricken with disappointment. There he must encounter other trials of
the heart: two or three reviews and newspapers lay upon his table, just
sent in by the bookseller, as per order; for they contained, in
spirit-stirring print, notices of '_Clements on Defence_.' Unluckily for
his present peace of mind, poor fellow, the periodicals in question were
none of the humaner sort; no kindly encouraging '_Literary Register_,'
no soft-spoken '_Courtier_,' no patient '_Investigator_,' no
generously-indulgent '_Critical Gazette_:' these more amiable journals
would be slower in the field--some six weeks hence, perhaps, creeping on
with philanthropic sloth: but fiercer prints, which dart hebdomadal
wrath at every trembling seeker of their parsimonious praise, had whipt
up their malice to deliver the first swift blow against our hapless
neophyte in print. Thus, when, with nervous preboding, Henry took up the
'_Watchman_,' in eager hope for favour to his poor dear book, he turned
quite sick at heart to find the lying verdict run as follows, though the
small type in which it spake was a comfort too:
"A careless compilation of insignificant cases, clumsily thrown
together, and calculated to set its author high indeed upon the rolls of
fame; proving to the world that a Mr. Henry Clements can reason very
feebly; that his premises are habitually false; and that presumptuous
preaching is the natural accompaniment of extreme ignorance."
By all that worries man, but this was too bad: "careless?"--every word
had been a care to him: "clumsy?"--in composition it was Addison's own
self: "feeble?"--if he was good for any thing, he was good for logic:
"false?"--not one premise but stood on adamant, not one conclusion but
it was fixed as fate: "presumptuous?"--it was bold and masculine,
certainly, but humble too; here and there almost deferential:
"ignorant?"--ye powers that live in looks, testify by thousands how
Clements had been studying!--And yet this most lying sentence, a
congeries or sorites of untruths, hastily penned by some dyspeptic
scribe, who perhaps had barely dipped into the book, was at the moment
circulating in every library of the kingdom, proclaiming our poor
barrister a fool!
O, thou watchful scribe, forbear! for it is cowardly--they cannot smite
again: forbear! for it is cruel--the hearts of wife and mother and lover
ache upon your idle words: forbear! it is unreasonable--for often-times
a word would prove that Rhadamanthus' self is wrong: forbear, calumnious
scribe! and heed the harms you do, when you rob some poor struggler of
his character for sense, and make the bread of the hungry to fail.
'_The Corinthian_,' another snarling watch-dog in the courts of the
temple of Fame, followed instinctively the same injurious wake: it was a
leisurely sarcastic anatomization, quite enough to blight any young
candidate's prospects, supposing that mankind respected such a verdict;
if not to make him cut his throat, granting that the victim should be
sensitive as Keats. The generous review in question may be judged of by
its first line and last sentence; as Hercules from his advancing foot,
or Cuvier's Megatherium from the relics of its great toe. Thus it
commenced:
"When a disappointed man, intolerant of fortune," &c., &c., and it wound
up many stinging observations with this grateful climax following:
"We trust we have now said enough to prove that if a man will be
bold enough to 'depreciate censure,'--will attack what he is
pleased to consider abuses, however countenanced by high
authority--and will obtrude his literary eloquence into our solemn
courts of law, he deserves--what does he not deserve?--to be
addressed henceforth by a name suggestive at once of ignorance,
presumption, and conceit, as Mr. Henry Clements."
Now, will it be believed that a trivial error of the press mainly
conduced to occasion this hostility? Our poor author had been weak
enough to "deprecate censure" in his penny-wise humility, and the
printer had negatived his meaning as above: "_hinc illæ lachrymæ_." Oh,
but how the ragged tooth of calumny gnawed his very heart!
'_The Legal Recorder_' was another of those early unfavourables; being
as a matter of course adverse too, and not very disinterestedly either:
for it played the exalted part of pet puffer to a rival publisher, who
wanted no other reason for condemning this book of Mr. Clements than
that it came from the legal officina of an opponent in his trade. There
was another paper or two, but Clements felt so utterly disheartened that
he did not dare to look at them. I wish he had; they would have
comforted him, pouring balm upon his wounded pride by their kind and
cordial praises: but ill-luck ruled the hour, so he burnt them
forthwith, and lost much literary comforting.
To sauce up all this pleasantry with a smack of concreted pleasure
itself, the last and only remaining document upon the table was a civil
note from Mr. Wormwood, publisher and bookseller, enclosing the
following items with his compliments:
To 500 copies '_Doctrine of Defence_,' £124 3
To advertising ditto, 25 0
To 10 per cent. on sales, &c.
Supplied to author, 12 copies, &c.
Given to periodicals for review, 15 copies, &c.
Against all which was the solitary offset of "three copies sold;"
leaving as our Henry's _share_ of now certain loss a matter of eighty
pounds: which, between ourselves, was only a very little more than the
whole cost of that untoward publication. Mr. Wormwood hoped to hear from
Mr. Clements at his earliest convenience, as a certain sum was to be
made up on a certain day, and the book-trade never had been at a lower
ebb, and prompt payment would be esteemed a great accommodation,
and--all that stereotyped sort of thing.
Poor Clements--reviled author, ruined lawyer, almost reckless
wight--here was an extinguisher indeed to the morning's brilliant hopes!
What an overwhelming debt to that ill-used couple in their altered
circumstances! How entirely by his own strong effort had he swamped his
legal expectations! Just as a man who cannot swim splashes himself into
certain suffocation; whereas, if he would but lie quite still, he was
certain to have floated on as safe as cork.
Well: to cut a long story short, our unlucky author found that he must
pay, and pay forthwith, or incur a lawyer's bill for his debt to Mr.
Wormwood: so he gave up his Temple garret, sold his books, nicknacks,
and superfluous habiliments, added to the proceeds their forty pounds of
capital, and a neck-chain of Maria's; and, at tremendous sacrifices,
found himself once more out of danger, because out of debt. But it was a
bad prospect truly for the future--ay, and for the present too; a few
pounds left would soon be gone--and then dear Maria's confinement was
approaching, and a hundred wants and needs, little and great:
accordingly, they made all haste to get rid of their suburban dwelling
in the City Road, collected their few valuables remaining, and retreated
with all economical speed to a humble lodging in a cheap back street at
Islington.
That little parlor was a palace of love: in the midst of her deep
sorrow, sweet Maria never failed of her amiable charities--nay, she was
even cheerful, hopeful--happy, and rendering happy: a thousand times a
day had Henry cause to bless his "wedded angel." And, showing his love
by more than words, he resolutely set about another literary enterprise,
anonymous this time for very fear's sake; but Providence saw fit to
bless his efforts with success. He wrote a tragedy, a clever and a good
one too; though '_The Watchman_' did sneer about "modern Shakspeares,"
and '_The Corinthian_,' pouncing on some trifling fault, pounded it with
would-be giant force: nevertheless, for it was a famous English theme,
he luckily got them to accept it at the Haymarket, and '_Boadicea_' drew
full houses; so the author had his due ninth night, and pocketed,
instead of fame (for he grimly kept his secret) enough to enable him to
print his tragedy for private satisfaction; and that piece of vanity
accomplished, he still found himself seven pounds before-hand with the
world.