It is the long vacation in the regions of Chancery Lane. The goodships Law and Equity, those teak-built, copper-bottomed, iron-fastened, brazen-faced, and not by any means fast-sailing clippersare laid up in ordinary. The Flying Dutchman, with a crew ofghostly clients imploring all whom they may encounter to perusetheir papers, has drifted, for the time being, heaven knows where.
The courts are all shut up; the public offices lie in a hot sleep.
Westminster Hall itself is a shady solitude where nightingalesmight sing, and a tenderer class of suitors than is usually foundthere, walk.
The Temple, Chancery Lane, Serjeants' Inn, and Lincoln's Inn evenunto the Fields are like tidal harbours at low water, wherestranded proceedings, offices at anchor, idle clerks lounging onlop-sided stools that will not recover their perpendicular untilthe current of Term sets in, lie high and dry upon the ooze of thelong vacation. Outer doors of chambers are shut up by the score,messages and parcels are to be left at the Porter's Lodge by thebushel. A crop of grass would grow in the chinks of the stonepavement outside Lincoln's Inn Hall, but that the ticket-porters,who have nothing to do beyond sitting in the shade there, withtheir white aprons over their heads to keep the flies off, grub itup and eat it thoughtfully.
There is only one judge in town. Even he only comes twice a weekto sit in chambers. If the country folks of those assize towns onhis circuit could see him now! No full-bottomed wig, no redpetticoats, no fur, no javelin-men, no white wands. Merely aclose-shaved gentleman in white trousers and a white hat, with sea-bronze on the judicial countenance, and a strip of bark peeled bythe solar rays from the judicial nose, who calls in at the shell-fish shop as he comes along and drinks iced ginger-beer!
The bar of England is scattered over the face of the earth. HowEngland can get on through four long summer months without its bar--which is its acknowledged refuge in adversity and its onlylegitimate triumph in prosperity--is beside the question; assuredlythat shield and buckler of Britannia are not in present wear. Thelearned gentleman who is always so tremendously indignant at theunprecedented outrage committed on the feelings of his client bythe opposite party that he never seems likely to recover it isdoing infinitely better than might be expected in Switzerland. Thelearned gentleman who does the withering business and who blightsall opponents with his gloomy sarcasm is as merry as a grig at aFrench watering-place. The learned gentleman who weeps by the pinton the smallest provocation has not shed a tear these six weeks.
The very learned gentleman who has cooled the natural heat of hisgingery complexion in pools and fountains of law until he hasbecome great in knotty arguments for term-time, when he poses thedrowsy bench with legal "chaff," inexplicable to the uninitiatedand to most of the initiated too, is roaming, with a characteristicdelight in aridity and dust, about Constantinople. Other dispersedfragments of the same great palladium are to be found on the canalsof Venice, at the second cataract of the Nile, in the baths ofGermany, and sprinkled on the sea-sand all over the English coast.
Scarcely one is to be encountered in the deserted region ofChancery Lane. If such a lonely member of the bar do flit acrossthe waste and come upon a prowling suitor who is unable to leaveoff haunting the scenes of his anxiety, they frighten one anotherand retreat into opposite shades.
It is the hottest long vacation known for many years. All theyoung clerks are madly in love, and according to their variousdegrees, pine for bliss with the beloved object, at Margate,Ramsgate, or Gravesend. All the middle-aged clerks think theirfamilies too large. All the unowned dogs who stray into the Innsof Court and pant about staircases and other dry places seekingwater give short howls of aggravation. All the blind men's dogs inthe streets draw their masters against pumps or trip them overbuckets. A shop with a sun-blind, and a watered pavement, and abowl of gold and silver fish in the window, is a sanctuary. TempleBar gets so hot that it is, to the adjacent Strand and FleetStreet, what a heater is in an urn, and keeps them simmering allnight.
There are offices about the Inns of Court in which a man might becool, if any coolness were worth purchasing at such a price indullness; but the little thoroughfares immediately outside thoseretirements seem to blaze. In Mr. Krook's court, it is so hot thatthe people turn their houses inside out and sit in chairs upon thepavement--Mr. Krook included, who there pursues his studies, withhis cat (who never is too hot) by his side. The Sol's Arms hasdiscontinued the Harmonic Meetings for the season, and LittleSwills is engaged at the Pastoral Gardens down the river, where hecomes out in quite an innocent manner and sings comic ditties of ajuvenile complexion calculated (as the bill says) not to wound thefeelings of the most fastidious mind.
Over all the legal neighbourhood there hangs, like some great veilof rust or gigantic cobweb, the idleness and pensiveness of thelong vacation. Mr. Snagsby, law-stationer of Cook's Court,Cursitor Street, is sensible of the influence not only in his mindas a sympathetic and contemplative man, but also in his business asa law-stationer aforesaid. He has more leisure for musing inStaple Inn and in the Rolls Yard during the long vacation than atother seasons, and he says to the two 'prentices, what a thing itis in such hot weather to think that you live in an island with thesea a-rolling and a-bowling right round you.
Guster is busy in the little drawing-room on this present afternoonin the long vacation, when Mr. and Mrs. Snagsby have it incontemplation to receive company. The expected guests are ratherselect than numerous, being Mr. and Mrs. Chadband and no more.
From Mr. Chadband's being much given to describe himself, bothverbally and in writing, as a vessel, he is occasionally mistakenby strangers for a gentleman connected with navigation, but he is,as he expresses it, "in the ministry." Mr. Chadband is attached tono particular denomination and is considered by his persecutors tohave nothing so very remarkable to say on the greatest of subjectsas to render his volunteering, on his own account, at all incumbenton his conscience; but he has his followers, and Mrs. Snagsby is ofthe number. Mrs. Snagsby has but recently taken a passage upwardby the vessel, Chadband; and her attention was attracted to thatBark A 1 when she was something flushed by the hot weather.
"My little woman," says Mr. Snagsby to the sparrows in Staple Inn,"likes to have her religion rather sharp, you see!"So Guster, much impressed by regarding herself for the time as thehandmaid of Chadband, whom she knows to be endowed with the gift ofholding forth for four hours at a stretch, prepares the littledrawing-room for tea. All the furniture is shaken and dusted, theportraits of Mr. and Mrs. Snagsby are touched up with a wet cloth,the best tea-service is set forth, and there is excellent provisionmade of dainty new bread, crusty twists, cool fresh butter, thinslices of ham, tongue, and German sausage, and delicate little rowsof anchovies nestling in parsley, not to mention new-laid eggs, tobe brought up warm in a napkin, and hot buttered toast. ForChadband is rather a consuming vessel--the persecutors say agorging vessel--and can wield such weapons of the flesh as a knifeand fork remarkably well.
Mr. Snagsby in his best coat, looking at all the preparations whenthey are completed and coughing his cough of deference behind hishand, says to Mrs. Snagsby, "At what time did you expect Mr. andMrs. Chadband, my love?""At six," says Mrs. Snagsby.
Mr. Snagsby observes in a mild and casual way that "it's gonethat.""Perhaps you'd like to begin without them," is Mrs. Snagsby'sreproachful remark.
Mr. Snagsby does look as if he would like it very much, but hesays, with his cough of mildness, "No, my dear, no. I merely namedthe time.""What's time," says Mrs. Snagsby, "to eternity?""Very true, my dear," says Mr. Snagsby. "Only when a person laysin victuals for tea, a person does it with a view--perhaps--more totime. And when a time is named for having tea, it's better to comeup to it.""To come up to it!" Mrs. Snagsby repeats with severity. "Up to it!
As if Mr. Chadband was a fighter!""Not at all, my dear," says Mr. Snagsby.
Here, Guster, who had been looking out of the bedroom window, comesrustling and scratching down the little staircase like a popularghost, and falling flushed into the drawing-room, announces thatMr. and Mrs. Chadband have appeared in the court. The bell at theinner door in the passage immediately thereafter tinkling, she isadmonished by Mrs. Snagsby, on pain of instant reconsignment to herpatron saint, not to omit the ceremony of announcement. Muchdiscomposed in her nerves (which were previously in the best order)by this threat, she so fearfully mutilates that point of state asto announce "Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseming, least which, Imeantersay,whatsername!" and retires conscience-stricken from the presence.
Mr. Chadband is a large yellow man with a fat smile and a generalappearance of having a good deal of train oil in his system. Mrs.
Chadband is a stern, severe-looking, silent woman. Mr. Chadbandmoves softly and cumbrously, not unlike a bear who has been taughtto walk upright. He is very much embarrassed about the arms, as ifthey were inconvenient to him and he wanted to grovel, is very muchin a perspiration about the head, and never speaks without firstputting up his great hand, as delivering a token to his hearersthat he is going to edify them.
"My friends," says Mr. Chadband, "peace be on this house! On themaster thereof, on the mistress thereof, on the young maidens, andon the young men! My friends, why do I wish for peace? What ispeace? Is it war? No. Is it strife? No. Is it lovely, andgentle, and beautiful, and pleasant, and serene, and joyful? Oh,yes! Therefore, my friends, I wish for peace, upon you and uponyours."In consequence of Mrs. Snagsby looking deeply edified, Mr. Snagsbythinks it expedient on the whole to say amen, which is wellreceived.
"Now, my friends," proceeds Mr. Chadband, "since I am upon thistheme--"Guster presents herself. Mrs. Snagsby, in a spectral bass voiceand without removing her eyes from Chadband, says with dreadfuldistinctness, "Go away!""Now, my friends," says Chadband, "since I am upon this theme, andin my lowly path improving it--"Guster is heard unaccountably to murmur "one thousing seven hundredand eighty-two." The spectral voice repeats more solemnly, "Goaway!""Now, my friends," says Mr. Chadband, "we will inquire in a spiritof love--"Still Guster reiterates "one thousing seven hundred and eighty-two."Mr. Chadband, pausing with the resignation of a man accustomed tobe persecuted and languidly folding up his chin into his fat smile,says, "Let us hear the maiden! Speak, maiden!""One thousing seven hundred and eighty-two, if you please, sir.
Which he wish to know what the shilling ware for," says Guster,breathless.
"For?" returns Mrs. Chadband. "For his fare!"Guster replied that "he insistes on one and eightpence or onsummonsizzing the party." Mrs. Snagsby and Mrs. Chadband areproceeding to grow shrill in indignation when Mr. Chadband quietsthe tumult by lifting up his hand.
"My friends," says he, "I remember a duty unfulfilled yesterday.
It is right that I should be chastened in some penalty. I oughtnot to murmur. Rachael, pay the eightpence!"While Mrs. Snagsby, drawing her breath, looks hard at Mr. Snagsby,as who should say, "You hear this apostle!" and while Mr. Chadbandglows with humility and train oil, Mrs. Chadband pays the money.
It is Mr. Chadband's habit--it is the head and front of hispretensions indeed--to keep this sort of debtor and creditoraccount in the smallest items and to post it publicly on the mosttrivial occasions.
"My friends," says Chadband, "eightpence is not much; it mightjustly have been one and fourpence; it might justly have been halfa crown. O let us be joyful, joyful! O let us be joyful!"With which remark, which appears from its sound to be an extract inverse, Mr. Chadband stalks to the table, and before taking a chair,lifts up his admonitory hand.
"My friends," says he, "what is this which we now behold as beingspread before us? Refreshment. Do we need refreshment then, myfriends? We do. And why do we need refreshment, my friends?
Because we are but mortal, because we are but sinful, because weare but of the earth, because we are not of the air. Can we fly,my friends? We cannot. Why can we not fly, my friends?"Mr. Snagsby, presuming on the success of his last point, venturesto observe in a cheerful and rather knowing tone, "No wings." Butis immediately frowned down by Mrs. Snagsby.
"I say, my friends," pursues Mr. Chadband, utterly rejecting andobliterating Mr. Snagsby's suggestion, "why can we not fly? Is itbecause we are calculated to walk? It is. Could we walk, myfriends, without strength? We could not. What should we dowithout strength, my friends? Our legs would refuse to bear us,our knees would double up, our ankles would turn over, and weshould come to the ground. Then from whence, my friends, in ahuman point of view, do we derive the strength that is necessary toour limbs? Is it," says Chadband, glancing over the table, "frombread in various forms, from butter which is churned from the milkwhich is yielded unto us by the cow, from the eggs which are laidby the fowl, from ham, from tongue, from sausage, and from suchlike? It is. Then let us partake of the good things which are setbefore us!"The persecutors denied that there was any particular gift in Mr.
Chadband's piling verbose flights of stairs, one upon another,after this fashion. But this can only be received as a proof oftheir determination to persecute, since it must be withineverybody's experience that the Chadband style of oratory is widelyreceived and much admired.
Mr. Chadband, however, having concluded for the present, sits downat Mr. Snagsby's table and lays about him prodigiously. Theconversion of nutriment of any sort into oil of the quality alreadymentioned appears to be a process so inseparable from theconstitution of this exemplary vessel that in beginning to eat anddrink, he may be described as always becoming a kind ofconsiderable oil mills or other large factory for the production ofthat article on a wholesale scale. On the present evening of thelong vacation, in Cook's Court, Cursitor Street, he does such apowerful stroke of business that the warehouse appears to be quitefull when the works cease.
At this period of the entertainment, Guster, who has neverrecovered her first failure, but has neglected no possible orimpossible means of bringing the establishment and herself intocontempt--among which may be briefly enumerated her unexpectedlyperforming clashing military music on Mr. Chadband's head withplates, and afterwards crowning that gentleman with muffins--atwhich period of the entertainment, Guster whispers Mr. Snagsby thathe is wanted.
"And being wanted in the--not to put too fine a point upon it--inthe shop,"............