THE TOMBS LAWYER.
As reptiles haunt a prison wall,
And search its broken cliffs for food;
Some human beings cringe and crawl
For daily bread where sorrows brood.
Mrs. Gray found more difficulty in performing her benevolent intentions
with regard to the Warrens, than she had ever before encountered.
Ignorant as a child of all legal proceedings, she found no aid either in
the old prisoner, his wife, or his grandchild, who were more uninformed
and far less hopeful than herself. Her brother Jacob, on whom she had
depended for aid and counsel, much to her surprise, not only refused to
take any responsibility in her kind efforts, but looked coldly upon the
whole affair.
It was not in Jacob Strong's nature to shrink from a kind action; for
his rude exterior covered a heart true and warm as ever beat. But the
part he had already taken in those events that led to William
Leicester's death; the almost insane fear that haunted his mistress,
lest the murderer should escape punishment; the taunts that had wrung
his strong heart to the core, but which she had so ruthlessly heaped
upon him--all these things conspired in rendering him more than
indifferent to the fate of a man whom he had never seen, and whom he
wished to find guilty. He received his good sister's entreaties for
counsel, therefore, with reproof, and a stern admonition not to meddle
with affairs beyond her knowledge.
Thus thrown upon her own resources, the good woman, by no means daunted,
resolved to conduct the affair after her own fashion. Robert, it is
true, had volunteered to aid her, and had already applied to an eminent
lawyer to conduct old Mr. Warren's defence; but the retainer demanded,
and the large sum of money expected, when laid before the good huckster
woman, quite horrified her. The amount seemed enormous to one who had
gathered up a fortune in pennies and shillings. She had heard of the
extortions of legal gentlemen, of their rapacity and heartlessness, and
resolved to convince them that one woman, at least, had her wisdom teeth
in excellent condition.
So Mrs. Gray quietly refused all aid from Robert, and went into the
legal market as she would have boarded a North River craft laden with
poultry and vegetables. Many a grave lawyer did she astonish by her
shrewd efforts to strike a bargain for the amount of eloquence necessary
to save her old friend. Again and again did her double chin quiver with
indignation at the hard-heartedness and rapacity of the profession.
Thus time wore on; the day of trial approached, and, with all her good
intentions, Mrs. Gray had only done a great deal of talking, which by no
means promised to regenerate the legal profession, and the prisoner was
still without better counsel than herself.
One day the good huckster woman was passing down the steps of the City
Prison--for she invariably accompanied Mrs. Warren to her husband's cell
every morning, though it interfered greatly with her harvest hour in the
market--she was slowly descending the prison steps, as I have said, when
a man whom she had passed, leaning heavily against one of the pillars in
the vestibule, followed and addressed her.
On hearing her name pronounced, Mrs. Gray turned and encountered a man,
perhaps thirty-five or forty years of age, with handsome but unhealthy
features, and eyes black and keen, that seemed capable of reading your
soul at a glance, but too weary with study or dissipation for the
effort.
"I beg your pardon," said the stranger, lifting his hat with a degree of
graceful deference that quite charmed the old lady. "I believe you are
Mrs. Gray, the benevolent friend of that poor man lodged up yonder on a
charge of murder. My young man informed me that a lady--it must have
been you, none other could have so beautifully answered the
description--had called at my office in search of counsel. I regretted
so much not being in. This is a peculiar case, madam, one that enlists
all the sympathies. You look surprised. I know that feeling is not usual
in our profession, but there are hearts, madam--hearts so tender
originally, that they resist the hard grindstone of the law. It is this
that has kept me poor, when my brother lawyers are all growing rich
around me."
"Sir," answered Mrs. Gray--her face all in a glow of delight--reaching
forth her plump hand, with which she shook that of her new acquaintance,
which certainly trembled in her grasp, but from other causes than the
sympathy for which she gave him credit, "Sir, I am happy to see
you--very happy to find one lawyer that has a heart. I don't remember
calling at your office without finding you in, though I certainly have
found a good many other lawyers out."
Here the blessed old lady gave a mellow chuckle over what she considered
a marvellous play upon words, which was echoed by the lawyer, who held
one hand to his side, as if absolutely compelled thus to restrain the
mirth excited by her facetiousness.
"And now, my dear lady, let us to business. The most exquisite wit, you
know must give place to the calls of humanity. My young man informed me
of your noble intentions with regard to this unhappy prisoner. That out
of your wealth so honorably won, you were determined to wrest justice
from the law. I am here with my legal armor on, ready to aid in the good
cause. If I were rich now--if I had not exhausted my life in attempting
to aid humanity, nothing would give me so much pleasure as to go
hand-in-hand with you to his rescue, without money and without price; as
it is, my dear madam--as it is, 'the laborer is worthy of his hire.'"
This quotation quite won the already vacillating heart of poor Mrs.
Gray. She shook the lawyer's thin hand again, with increased cordiality,
and answered--
"True enough--true enough, my dear sir. I declare it is refreshing to
hear Bible words in the mouth of a lawyer. It's what I didn't expect."
"Ah, madam," cried the lawyer, drawing a white handkerchief from a side
pocket, and returning it as if he had determined to suppress his
emotions at any cost--"ah, madam, do not apply a general rule too
closely. Our profession is bad enough, I do not defend it. What man with
a conscience void of offence, could make the attempt? But there exist
exceptions--honorable exceptions. Permit me to hope that your clear mind
can distinguish between the sharper and the man who sacrifices the
world's goods for conscience's sake. Believe me, dear lady, there are
such things as honest lawyers, as pious men in the profession."
"Well, I must say the idea never struck me before," answered Mrs. Gray,
with honest simplicity.
"Permit me to hope, that from this hour you will no longer doubt it,"
answered the lawyer, gently passing one hand over the place which
anatomists allot to the human heart. "And now, madam, suppose we walk to
my office and settle the preliminaries of our engagement. A cool head
and warm heart, that is what you want; fortunately such things may be
found. Pray allow me to help you; the steps are a little damp, accidents
frequently happen up this avenue; my office is close at hand; many a
poor unfortunate has learned to bless the way there--take my arm!"
Mrs. Gray hesitated; a blush swept over her comely cheek at the thought
of walking arm-in-arm with so perfect a gentleman, and that in the open
streets of New York. It was a thing she had not dreamed of since the
death of poor Mr. Gray. But there was a leaven of feminine vanity still
left in the good woman's nature. The shrewd swindler, who stood there so
gracefully presenting his arm, had not altogether miscalculated the
effect of his flattery, and he clenched it adroitly, with this act of
personal attention.
Mrs. Gray hesitated, blushed, drew on her glove a little tighter, and
then placed her substantial arm through the comparatively fragile limb
of the lawyer, softly, as if she quite appreciated the danger of bearing
him down with her weight. Thus the blessed old woman was borne along,
sweeping half the pavement with her massive person, and crowding the
poor lawyer unconsciously out to the curb-stone every other minute.
He, exemplary man, bore it all with gentle complacency, cautioned her
against every little impediment that came in her way, and consoled
himself for the somewhat remarkable figure he made in the eyes of the
police-officers that haunt that neighborhood, by a significant twirl of
his disengaged hand in the direction of his own face, and a quick
drooping of the left eyelid, by which they all understood that the Tombs
lawyer had brought down his game handsomely that morning.
Mrs. Gray was certainly somewhat disappointed in the style of the
lawyer's office into which she was ushered with so much ceremony. A
rusty old leathern chair; a table with the green baize half worn off,
with a bundle or two of dusty papers upon it; a standish full of dry
ink, and a steel pen rusted down to the nib, all veiled thickly with
dust, did not entirely meet her ideas of the prosperous business she had
anticipated. The lawyer saw this, and hastened to sweep away all
unfavorable impressions from her mind.
"This is my work-shop, you see, madam, the tread-mill in which I grind
out my humble bread and my blessed charities--no foppery, no carpets,
nothing but the barest necessaries of the profession. I leave
easy-chairs, &c., for those who have the conscience to wring them from
needy clients. You comprehend, dear lady. Oh! it is pleasant to feel
that now and then in this cold world, a good life meets with
appreciation. John, bring me another chair?"
"My young man," whom the lawyer had mentioned so ostentatiously, came
forward in the shape of a lank Irish lad, taller than his master by
three inches, which might be accurately measured by the space visible
between the knee of his nether garments and the top of his gaiter boots.
The closet door, from which he issued, revealed a lurking encampment of
dusty bottles, a broken washstand, and two enormous demijohns, the
wickerwork suspiciously moist, and with a stopper of blue glass chained
to the neck.
The lawyer made a quiet motion with his hand, which sent the Irish boy
in haste to close the door. Then taking the unstable chair which the lad
had disinterred from the closet, he sat down cautiously, as a cat steals
to the lap of her mistress, whose temper is somewhat doubtful, and
glided into the business on hand. The Irish boy stood meekly by,
profiting by the scene with a knowing look, which deepened into a grin
of delight as he saw Mrs. Gray draw forth her pocket-book, and place
bank-notes of considerable amount into the lawyer's hand. When the good
woman had thus deposited half the sum which the lawyer assured her would
save old Mr. Warren's life, she arose with a sigh of profound
satisfaction, shook out her voluminous skirts, and left the office,
fully satisfied with the whole transaction.
The lawyer and "his man" followed her to the door. When she disappeared
down the street, the lawyer turned briskly, and in the joy of his heart
seized the Irish boy by the collar that had lately graced his own neck,
and gave him a vigorous shake.
"What are you grinning at, you dog? How dare you laugh at my clients?
There now, get along; take that and fill both the demijohns; buy a clean
pack of cards, and a new supply of everything. Do you hear?"
The Irish boy shook himself back into his coat, and seizing the money,
plunged into the street, resolved not to return a shilling of change
without first securing the month's wages, for which his master was, as
usual, in arrears.
The lawyer threw himself into the leathern chair which Mrs. Gray had
just left, stretched forth his limbs, half closed his eyes, and rubbing
his palms softly together, sat thus full ten minutes caressing himself,
and chuckling over the morning's business.