When things in this world reach their lowest ebb, it is generally
understood or expected that the tide will turn, somehow, and rise. Not
unfrequently the understanding and the expectation are disappointed.
Still, there are sufficiently numerous instances of the fulfilment of
both, to warrant the hope which is usually entertained by men and women
whose tide has reached its lowest.
Mr Hazlit was naturally of a sanguine temperament. He entertained, we
had almost said, majestic views on many points. Esteeming himself "a
beggar" on three hundred a year--the remains of the wreck of his vast
fortune--he resolved to commence business again. Being a man of strict
probity and punctuality in all business matters, and being much
respected and sympathised with by his numerous business friends, he
experienced little difficulty in doing so. Success attended his
efforts; the tide began to rise.
Seated in a miniature parlour, before a snug fire, in his cottage by the
sea, with one of the prettiest girls in all England by his side,
knitting him a pair of inimitable socks, the "beggar" opened his mouth
slowly and spake.
"Aileen," said he, "I've been a fool!"
Had Mr Hazlit said so to some of his cynical male friends they might
have tacitly admitted the fact, and softened the admission with a smile.
As it was, his auditor replied:--
"No, papa, you have _not_."
"Yes, my love, I have. But I do not intend to prove the point or
dispute it. There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the
ebb, leads on to fortune."
Aileen suspended her knitting and looked at her sire with some surprise,
for, being a very matter-of-fact unpoetical man, this misquotation
almost alarmed her.
"`Taken at the _flood_,' is it not, papa?"
"It may be so in Shakespeare's experience. _I_ say the ebb. When first
I was reduced to beggary--"
"You never were _that_, papa. We have never yet had to beg."
"Of course, of course," said Mr Hazlit, with a motion of his hand to
forbid further interruption. "When I say `beggary,' you know what I
mean. I certainly do _not_ mean that I carry a wallet and a staff, and
wear ragged garments, and knock at backdoors. Well, when I was reduced
to beggary, I had reached the lowest ebb. At that time I was led--mark
me, I was led--to `take the tide.' I took it, and have been rising with
the flood to fortune ever since. And yet, strange to say, though I am
now rich in a way I never before dreamed of, I have still an insane
thirst for earthly gold. What was the passage, dear, that you quoted to
me as being your text for the day?"
"`Owe no man anything,'" replied Aileen.
"Yes, it is curious. I have never mentioned the subject to you, my
child, but some months ago--when, as I have said, the tide was very
low--I was led to consider that passage, and under the influence of it I
went to my creditors and delivered up to them your box of jewels. You
are aware, no doubt, that having passed through the insolvency court,
and given up all that I possessed, I became legally free. This box was
recovered from the deep, and restored to me after my effects had been
given up to my creditors, so that I might have retained it. But I felt
that this would have been unjust. I respect the law which, after a man
has given up all he possesses, sets him free to begin life again with
some degree of hope, but I cannot avoid coming to the conclusion that
moral duties cannot be abrogated by human laws. I take advantage of the
law to prevent inhuman creditors from grinding me to death, but I refuse
to take advantage of the law so as to escape from the clear duty that I
ought to pay these creditors--gradually and according to my ability--to
the uttermost farthing. Having been led to act on this opinion, I gave
up the box of jewels. To my surprise, my creditors refused to take
them. They returned them to me as a gift. I accepted the gift as a
trust. On the proceeds, as you see, we manage to live comfortably, and
I am now conducting a fairly successful business in the old line--on a
small scale."
Mr Hazlit smiled sadly as he uttered the last words.
"And the debts, papa, which you told me once were so heavy, do you mean
to pay them all?" asked Aileen, anxiously.
"I do," replied her father, earnestly; "by slow degrees it may be, but
to the last farthing if I live. I shall try to owe no man anything."
A glad smile lit up Aileen's face as she was on the point of throwing
her arms round her father's neck, when the door opened, and a small
domestic--their only one besides the cook--put a letter into the hands
of her young mistress.
Aileen's countenance assumed a troubled look a she handed it to her
father.
"It is for you, papa."
Mr Hazlit's visage also assumed an expression of anxiety as he opened
and read the letter. It ran thus:--
"Deer Sur,--i thinks it unkomon 'ard that a man shood 'ave is beed
sold under im wen anuther man oas im munny, speshally wen is wifes
ill--praps a-dyin--the Law has washt yoo sur, but it do seam 'ard on
me, if yoo cood spair ony a pownd or two id taik it kind.--Yoors to
komand, John Timms."
"This is very much to the point," said Mr Hazlit, with a faint smile,
handing the letter to Aileen. "It is, as you see, from our old
green-grocer, who must indeed be in great trouble when he, who used to
be so particularly civil, could write in that strain to me. Now,
Aileen, I want your opinion on a certain point. In consequence of your
economical ways, my love, I find myself in a position to give fifty
pounds this half-year towards the liquidation of my debts."
The merchant paused, smiled, and absolutely looked a little confused.
The idea of commencing to liquidate many thousands of pounds by means of
fifty was so inexpressibly ridiculous, that he half expected to hear his
own respectful child laugh at him. But Aileen did not laugh. With her
large earnest eyes she looked at him, and the unuttered language of her
pursed, grave, little mouth was "Well, go on."
"The liquidation of my debts," repeated Mr Hazlit, firmly. "The sum is
indeed a small one--a paltry one--compared with the amount of these
debts, but the passage which we have been considering appears to me to
leave no option, save to begin at once, even on the smallest possible
scale. Now, my love, duty requires that I should at once begin to
liquidate. Observe, the law of the land requires nothing. It has set
me free, but the law of God requires that I should pay, at once, as I am
able. Conscience echoes the law, and says, `pay.' What, therefore, am
I to do?"
Mr Hazlit propounded this question with such an abrupt gaze as well as
tone of interrogation, that the little pursed mouth relaxed into a
little smile as it said, "I suppose you must divide the sum
proportionally among your creditors, or something of that sort."
"Just so," said Mr Hazlit, nodding approval. "Now," he continued, with
much gravity, "if I were to make the necessary calculation--which, I may
remark, would be a question in proportion running into what I may be
allowed to style infinitesimal fractions--I would probably find out that
the proportion payable to one would be a shilling, to another half a
sovereign, to another a pound or so, while to many would accrue so small
a fraction of a farthing that no suitable coin of this realm could be
found wherewith to pay it. If I were to go with, say two shillings, and
offer them to my good friend Granby as part payment of my debt to him,
the probability is that he would laugh in my face and invite me to
dinner in order that we might celebrate the event over a bottle of very
old port. Don't you think so?"
Aileen laughed, and said that she did think so.
"Well, then," continued her father, "what, in these circumstances, says
common sense?"
Aileen's mouth became grave again, and her eyes very earnest as she said
quickly--
"Pay off the green-grocer!"
Mr Hazlit nodded approval. "You are right. Mr Timms' account amounts
to twenty pounds. To offer twenty pounds to Mr Granby--to whom I owe
some eight thousand, more or less--would be a poor practical joke. To
give it to Mr Timms will evidently be the saving of his business at a
time when it appears to have reached a crisis. Put on your bonnet and
shawl, dear, and we will go about this matter without delay."
Aileen was one of those girls who possessed the rare and delectable
capacity to "throw on" her bonnet and shawl. One glance in the mirror
sufficed to convince her that these articles, although thrown on, had
fallen into their appropriate places neatly. It could scarcely have
been otherwise. Her bonnet and shawl took kindly to her, like all other
things in nature--animate and otherwise. She reappeared before her
sedate father had quite finished drawing on his gloves.
Mr John Timms dwelt in a back lane which wriggled out of a back street
as if it were anxious to find something still further back into which to
back itself. He had been in better circumstances and in a better part
of the town when Mr Hazlit had employed him. At the time of the rich
merchant's failure, the house of Timms had been in a shaky condition.
That failure was the removal of its last prop; it fell, and Timms
retired, as we have seen, into the commercial background. Here,
however, he did not find relief. Being a trustful man he was cheated
until he became untrustful. His wife became ill owing to bad air and
low diet. His six children became unavoidably neglected and riotous,
and his business, started on the wreck of the old one, again came to the
brink of failure. It was in these circumstances that he sat down, under
the impulse of a fit of desperation, and penned the celebrated letter to
his old customer.
When Mr Hazlit and his daughter had, with great difficulty, discovered
Mr Timms' residence and approached the door, they were checked on the
threshold by the sound of men apparently in a state of violent
altercation within.
"Git out wid ye, an' look sharp, you spalpeen," cried one of the voices.
"Oh, pray don't--don't fight!" cried a weak female voice.
"No, I won't git out till I'm paid, or carry your bed away with me,"
cried a man's voice, fiercely.
"You won't, eh! Arrah then--hup!"
The last sound, which is not describable, was immediately followed by
the sudden appearance of a man, who flew down the passage as if from a
projectile, and went headlong into the kennel. He was followed closely
by Rooney Machowl, who dealt the man as he rose a sounding slap on the
right cheek, which would certainly have tumbled him over again had it
not been followed by an equally sounding slap on the left cheek, which
"brought him up all standing."
Catching sight at that moment of Mr Hazlit and Aileen, Rooney stopped
short and stood confused.
"Murder!" shrieked the injured man.
"Hooray! Here's a lark!" screamed a small street-boy.
"Go it! Plice! A skrimmage!" yelled another street-boy in an ecstasy
of delight, which immediately drew to the spot the nucleus of a crowd.
Mr Hazlit was a man of promptitude. He was also a large man, as we
have elsewhere said, and by no means devoid of courage. Dropping his
daughter's arm he suddenly seized the ill-used and noisy man by the
neck, and thrust him almost as violently back into the green-grocer's
house as Rooney had kicked him out of it. He then said, "Go in," to the
amazed Rooney, and dragging his no less astonished child in along with
him, shut and locked the door.
"Now," said Mr Hazlit, sitting down on a broken chair in a very shabby
little room, and wiping his heated brow, "what is the meaning of all
this, Mr Timms?"
"Well, sir," answered Timms, with a deprecatory air, "I'm sorry, sir, it
should 'ave 'appened just w'en you was a-goin' to favour me with the
unexpected honour of a wisit; but the truth is, sir, I couldn't 'elp it.
This 'ere sc--man is my landlord, sir, an' 'e _wouldn't_ wait another
day for 'is rent, sir, though I told 'im he was pretty sure o' 'avin it
in a week or so, w'en I 'ad time to c'lect my outstandin' little
bills--"
"More nor that, sur," burst in the impatient and indignant Rooney, "he
would 'ave gone into that there room, sur,--if I may miscall a dark
closet by that name--an' 'ave pulled the bed out from under Mrs Timms,
who's a-dyin', sur, if I 'adn't chanced to come in, sur, an' kick the
spalpeen into the street, as you see'd."
"For w'ich you'll smart yet," growled the landlord, who stood in a
dishevelled heap like a bad boy in a corner.
"How much rent does he owe you?" asked Mr Hazlit of the landlord.
"That's no business o' yours," replied the man, sulkily.
"If I were to offer to pay it, perhaps you'd allow that it _was_ my
business."
"So I will _w'en_ you offers."
"Well, then, I offer now," said Mr Hazlit, taking out his purse, and
pouring a little stream of sovereigns into his hand. "Have you the
receipt made out?"
The landlord made no reply, but, with a look of wonder at his
interrogator, drew a small piece of dirty paper from his pocket and held
it out. Mr Hazlit examined it carefully from beginning to end.
"Is this right, Mr Timms?" he asked.
The green-grocer examined the paper, and said it was--that five pounds
was the exact amount.
"You can put the receipt in your pocket," said Mr Hazlit, turning round
and counting out five sovereigns on the table, which he pushed towards
the landlord. "Now, take yourself off, as quietly as you can, else I'll
have you taken up and tried for entering a man's premises forcibly, and
endeavouring to obtain money by intimidation. Go!"
This was a bold stroke on the part of the merchant, whose legal
knowledge was not extensive, but it succeeded. The landlord pocketed
the money and moved towards the door. Rooney Machowl followed him.
"Rooney!" said Mr Hazlit, calling him back.
"Mayn't I show him out, sur?" said Rooney, earnestly.
"By no means."
"Ah, sur, mayn't I give him a farewell kick?"
"Certainly not."
Mr Hazlit then expressed a desire to see Mrs Timms, and the
green-grocer, thanking the merchant fervently for his timely aid,
lighted a candle and led the way into the dark closet.
Poor Mrs Timms, a delicate-looking woman, not yet forty, who had
evidently been pretty once, lay on a miserable bed, apparently at the
point of death.
Aileen glided quickly to the bed, sat down on it, and took the woman's
hand, while she bent over her and whispered:--
"Don't be distressed. The rent is paid. He will disturb you no more.
You shall be quiet now, and I will come to see you sometimes, if you'll
let me."
The woman gazed at the girl with surprise, then, as she felt the gentle
warm pressure of her hand a sudden rush of faith seemed to fill her
soul. She drew Aileen towards her, and looked earnestly into her face.
"Come here, Timms," said Mr Hazlit, abruptly, as he turned round and
walked out of the closet, "I want to speak to you. I am no doctor, but
depend upon it your wife will _not_ die. There is a very small
building--quite a hut I may say--near my house--ahem! Near my cottage
close to the sea, which is at present to let. I advise you strongly to
take that hut and start a green-grocery there. I'm not aware that there
is one in the immediate neighbourhood, and there are many respectable
families about whose custom you might doubtless count on; at all events,
you would be sure of ours to begin with. The sea-air would do your wife
a world of good, and the sea-beach would be an agreeable and extensive
playground for your children."
The green-grocer stood almost aghast! The energy with which Mr Hazlit
poured out his words, and, as it seemed to Timms, the free and easy
magnificence of his ideas were overpowering.
"W'y, sir, I ain't got no money to do sitch a thing with," he said at
last, with a broad grin.
"Yes, you have," said Mr Hazlit, again pulling out his purse and
emptying its golden contents on the table in a little heap, from which
he counted fifteen sovereigns. "My debt to you amounts, I believe, to
twenty pounds; five I have just paid to your landlord, here is the
balance. You needn't mind a receipt. Send me the discharged account at
your leisure, and think over what I have suggested. Aileen, my dear, we
will go now."
Aileen said good-night at once to the sick woman and followed her father
as he went out, repeating--"Good-evening, Timms, think over my
suggestion."
They walked slowly home without speaking. Soon they reached the cottage
by the sea. As they stood under the trellis-work porch the merchant
turned round and gazed at the sun, which was just dipping into the
horizon, flooding sea and sky with golden glory.
"Aileen," he said in a low voice, "I have commenced life at last--life
in earnest. I was a poor fool once. Through grace I am a rich man
now."