SHOWING HOW Mr. SAMUEL WELLER GOTINTO DIFFICULTIESn a lofty room, ill-lighted and worse ventilated, situated inPortugal Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, there sit nearly thewhole year round, one, two, three, or four gentlemen in wigs,as the case may be, with little writing-desks before them,constructed after the fashion of those used by the judges of theland, barring the French polish. There is a box of barristers ontheir right hand; there is an enclosure of insolvent debtors on theirleft; and there is an inclined plane of most especially dirty faces intheir front. These gentlemen are the Commissioners of theInsolvent Court, and the place in which they sit, is the InsolventCourt itself.

　　It is, and has been, time out of mind, the remarkable fate of thiscourt to be, somehow or other, held and understood, by thegeneral consent of all the destitute shabby-genteel people inLondon, as their common resort, and place of daily refuge. It isalways full. The steams of beer and spirits perpetually ascend tothe ceiling, and, being condensed by the heat, roll down the wallslike rain; there are more old suits of clothes in it at one time, thanwill be offered for sale in all Houndsditch in a twelvemonth; moreunwashed skins and grizzly beards than all the pumps andshaving-shops between Tyburn and Whitechapel could renderdecent, between sunrise and sunset.

　　It must not be supposed that any of these people have the leastshadow of business in, or the remotest connection with, the placethey so indefatigably attend. If they had, it would be no matter ofsurprise, and the singularity of the thing would cease. Some ofthem sleep during the greater part of the sitting; others carrysmall portable dinners wrapped in pocket-handkerchiefs orsticking out of their worn-out pockets, and munch and listen withequal relish; but no one among them was ever known to have theslightest personal interest in any case that was ever broughtforward. Whatever they do, there they sit from the first moment tothe last. When it is heavy, rainy weather, they all come in, wetthrough; and at such times the vapours of the court are like thoseof a fungus-pit.

　　A casual visitor might suppose this place to be a templededicated to the Genius of Seediness. There is not a messenger orprocess-server attached to it, who wears a coat that was made forhim; not a tolerably fresh, or wholesome-looking man in the wholeestablishment, except a little white-headed apple-faced tipstaff,and even he, like an ill-conditioned cherry preserved in brandy,seems to have artificially dried and withered up into a state ofpreservation to which he can lay no natural claim. The verybarristers’ wigs are ill-powdered, and their curls lack crispness.

　　But the attorneys, who sit at a large bare table below thecommissioners, are, after all, the greatest curiosities. Theprofessional establishment of the more opulent of thesegentlemen, consists of a blue bag and a boy; generally a youth ofthe Jewish persuasion. They have no fixed offices, their legalbusiness being transacted in the parlours of public-houses, or theyards of prisons, whither they repair in crowds, and canvass forcustomers after the manner of omnibus cads. They are of a greasyand mildewed appearance; and if they can be said to have anyvices at all, perhaps drinking and cheating are the mostconspicuous among them. Their residences are usually on theoutskirts of ‘the Rules,’ chiefly lying within a circle of one milefrom the obelisk in St. George’s Fields. Their looks are notprepossessing, and their manners are peculiar.

　　Mr. Solomon Pell, one of this learned body, was a fat, flabby,pale man, in a surtout which looked green one minute, and brownthe next, with a velvet collar of the same chameleon tints. Hisforehead was narrow, his face wide, his head large, and his noseall on one side, as if Nature, indignant with the propensities sheobserved in him in his birth, had given it an angry tweak which ithad never recovered. Being short-necked and asthmatic, however,he respired principally through this feature; so, perhaps, what itwanted in ornament, it made up in usefulness.

　　‘I’m sure to bring him through it,’ said Mr. Pell.

　　‘Are you, though?’ replied the person to whom the assurancewas pledged.

　　‘Certain sure,’ replied Pell; ‘but if he’d gone to any irregularpractitioner, mind you, I wouldn’t have answered for theconsequences.’

　　‘Ah!’ said the other, with open mouth.

　　‘No, that I wouldn’t,’ said Mr. Pell; and he pursed up his lips,frowned, and shook his head mysteriously.

　　Now, the place where this discourse occurred was the public-house just opposite to the Insolvent Court; and the person withwhom it was held was no other than the elder Mr. Weller, who hadcome there, to comfort and console a friend, whose petition to bedischarged under the act, was to be that day heard, and whoseattorney he was at that moment consulting.

　　‘And vere is George?’ inquired the old gentleman.

　　Mr. Pell jerked his head in the direction of a back parlour,whither Mr. Weller at once repairing, was immediately greeted inthe warmest and most flattering manner by some half-dozen of hisprofessional brethren, in token of their gratification at his arrival.

　　The insolvent gentleman, who had contracted a speculative butimprudent passion for horsing long stages, which had led to hispresent embarrassments, looked extremely well, and was soothingthe excitement of his feelings with shrimps and porter.

　　The salutation between Mr. Weller and his friends was strictlyconfined to the freemasonry of the craft; consisting of a jerkinground of the right wrist, and a tossing of the little finger into theair at the same time. We once knew two famous coachmen (theyare dead now, poor fellows) who were twins, and between whoman unaffected and devoted attachment existed. They passed eachother on the Dover road, every day, for twenty-four years, neverexchanging any other greeting than this; and yet, when one died,the other pined away, and soon afterwards followed him!

　　‘Vell, George,’ said Mr. Weller senior, taking off his upper coat,and seating himself with his accustomed gravity. ‘How is it? Allright behind, and full inside?’

　　‘All right, old feller,’ replied the embarrassed gentleman.

　　‘Is the grey mare made over to anybody?’ inquired Mr. Welleranxiously. George nodded in the affirmative.

　　‘Vell, that’s all right,’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Coach taken care on,also?’

　　‘Con-signed in a safe quarter,’ replied George, wringing theheads off half a dozen shrimps, and swallowing them without anymore ado.

　　‘Wery good, wery good,’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Alvays see to the dragven you go downhill. Is the vay-bill all clear and straight for’erd?’

　　‘The schedule, sir,’ said Pell, guessing at Mr. Weller’s meaning,‘the schedule is as plain and satisfactory as pen and ink can makeit.’

　　Mr. Weller nodded in a manner which bespoke his inwardapproval of these arrangements; and then, turning to Mr. Pell,said, pointing to his friend George―‘Ven do you take his cloths off?’

　　‘Why,’ replied Mr. Pell, ‘he stands third on the opposed list, andI should think it would be his turn in about half an hour. I told myclerk to come over and tell us when there was a chance.’

　　Mr. Weller surveyed the attorney from head to foot with greatadmiration, and said emphatically―‘And what’ll you take, sir?’

　　‘Why, really,’ replied Mr. Pell, ‘you’re very―Upon my word andhonour, I’m not in the habit of―It’s so very early in the morning,that, actually, I am almost―Well, you may bring methreepenn’orth of rum, my dear.’

　　The officiating damsel, who had anticipated the order before itwas given, set the glass of spirits before Pell, and retired.

　　‘Gentlemen,’ said Mr. Pell, looking round upon the company,‘success to your friend! I don’t like to boast, gentlemen; it’s not myway; but I can’t help saying, that, if your friend hadn’t beenfortunate enough to fall into hands that―But I won’t say what Iwas going to say. Gentlemen, my service to you.’ Having emptiedthe glass in a twinkling, Mr. Pell smacked his lips, and lookedcomplacently round on the assembled coachmen, who evidentlyregarded him as a species of divinity.

　　‘Let me see,’ said the legal authority. ‘What was I a-saying,gentlemen?’

　　‘I think you was remarkin as you wouldn’t have no objection toanother o’ the same, sir,’ said Mr. Weller, with grave facetiousness.

　　‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Mr. Pell. ‘Not bad, not bad. A professionalman, too! At this time of the morning, it would be rather too gooda―Well, I don’t know, my dear―you may do that again, if youplease. Hem!’

　　This last sound was a solemn and dignified cough, in which Mr.

　　Pell, observing an indecent tendency to mirth in some of hisauditors, considered it due to himself to indulge.

　　‘The late Lord Chancellor, gentlemen, was very fond of me,’

　　said Mr. Pell.

　　‘And wery creditable in him, too,’ interposed Mr. Weller.

　　‘Hear, hear,’ assented Mr. Pell’s client. ‘Why shouldn’t he be?

　　‘Ah! Why, indeed!’ said a very red-faced man, who had saidnothing yet, and who looked extremely unlikely to say anythingmore. ‘Why shouldn’t he?’

　　A murmur of assent ran through the company.

　　‘I remember, gentlemen,’ said Mr. Pell, ‘dining with him on oneoccasion; there was only us two, but everything as splendid as iftwenty people had been expected―the great seal on a dumb-waiter at his right hand, and a man in a bag-wig and suit ofarmour guarding the mace with a drawn sword and silkstockings―which is perpetually done, gentlemen, night and day;when he said, “Pell,” he said, “no false delicacy, Pell. You’re a manof talent; you can get anybody through the Insolvent Court, Pell;and your country should be proud of you.” Those were his verywords. “My Lord,” I said, “you flatter me.”―“Pell,” he said, “if Ido, I’m damned.”’

　　‘Did he say that?’ inquired Mr. Weller.

　　‘He did,’ replied Pell.

　　‘Vell, then,’ said Mr. Weller, ‘I say Parliament ought to ha’ tookit up; and if he’d been a poor man, they would ha’ done it.’

　　‘But, my dear friend,’ argued Mr. Pell, ‘it was in confidence.’

　　‘In what?’ said Mr. Weller.

　　‘In confidence.’

　　‘Oh! wery good,’ replied Mr. Weller, after a little reflection. ‘Ifhe damned hisself in confidence, o’ course that was another thing.’

　　‘Of course it was,’ said Mr. Pell. ‘The distinction’s obvious, youwill perceive.’

　　‘Alters the case entirely,’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Go on, sir.’

　　‘No, I will not go on, sir,’ said Mr. Pell, in a low and serious tone.

　　‘You have reminded me, sir, that this conversation was private―private and confidential, gentlemen. Gentlemen, I am aprofessional man. It may be that I am a good deal looked up to, inmy profession―it may be that I am not. Most people know. I saynothing. Observations have already been made, in this room,injurious to the reputation of my noble friend. You will excuse me,gentlemen; I was imprudent. I feel that I have no right to mentionthis matter without his concurrence. Thank you, sir; thank you.’

　　Thus delivering himself, Mr. Pell thrust his hands into his pockets,and, frowning grimly around, rattled three halfpence with terribledetermination.

　　This virtuous resolution had scarcely been formed, when theboy and the blue bag, who were inseparable companions, rushedviolently into the room, and said (at least the boy did, for the bluebag took no part in the announcement) that the case was comingon directly. The intelligence was no sooner received than thewhole party hurried across the street, and began to fight their wayinto court―a preparatory ceremony, which has been calculated tooccupy, in ordinary cases, from twenty-five minutes to thirty.

　　Mr. Weller, being stout, cast himself at once into the crowd,with the desperate hope of ultimately turning up in some placewhich would suit him. His success was not quite equal to hisexpectations; for having neglected to take his hat off, it wasknocked over his eyes by some unseen person, upon whose toes hehad alighted with considerable force. Apparently this individualregretted his impetuosity immediately afterwards, for, mutteringan indistinct exclamation of surprise, he dragged the old man outinto the hall, and, after a violent struggle, released his head andface.

　　‘Samivel!’ exclaimed Mr. Weller, when he was thus enabled tobehold his rescuer.

　　Sam nodded.

　　‘You’re a dutiful and affectionate little boy, you are, ain’t you,’

　　said Mr. Weller, ‘to come a-bonnetin’ your father in his old age?’

　　‘How should I know who you wos?’ responded the son. ‘Do yous’pose I wos to tell you by the weight o’ your foot?’

　　‘Vell, that’s wery true, Sammy,’ replied Mr. Weller, mollified atonce; ‘but wot are you a-doin’ on here? Your gov’nor can’t do nogood here, Sammy. They won’t pass that werdick, they won’t passit, Sammy.’ And Mr. Weller shook his head with legal solemnity.

　　‘Wot a perwerse old file it is!’ exclaimed Sam. ‘always a-goin’ onabout werdicks and alleybis and that. Who said anything about thewerdick?’

　　Mr. Weller made no reply, but once more shook his head mostlearnedly.

　　‘Leave off rattlin’ that ’ere nob o’ yourn, if you don’t want it tocome off the springs altogether,’ said Sam impatiently, ‘andbehave reasonable. I vent all the vay down to the Markis o’

　　Granby, arter you, last night.’

　　‘Did you see the Marchioness o’ Granby, Sammy?’ inquired Mr.

　　Weller, with a sigh.

　　‘Yes, I did,’ replied Sam.

　　‘How wos the dear creetur a-lookin’?’

　　‘Wery queer,’ said Sam. ‘I think she’s a-injurin’ herselfgradivally vith too much o’ that ’ere pine-apple rum, and otherstrong medicines of the same natur.’

　　‘You don’t mean that, Sammy?’ said the senior earnestly.

　　‘I do, indeed,’ replied the junior. Mr. Weller seized his son’shand, clasped it, and let it fall. There was an expression on hiscountenance in doing so―not of dismay or apprehension, butpartaking more of the sweet and gentle character of hope. A gleamof resignation, and even of cheerfulness, passed over his face too,as he slowly said, ‘I ain’t quite certain, Sammy; I wouldn’t like tosay I wos altogether positive, in case of any subsekentdisappointment, but I rayther think, my boy, I rayther think, thatthe shepherd’s got the liver complaint!’

　　‘Does he look bad?’ inquired Sam.

　　‘He’s uncommon pale,’ replied his father, ‘‘cept about the nose,which is redder than ever. His appetite is wery so-so, but heimbibes wonderful.’

　　Some thoughts of the rum appeared to obtrude themselves onMr. Weller’s mind, as he said this; for he looked gloomy andthoughtful; but he very shortly recovered, as was testified by aperfect alphabet of winks, in which he was only wont to indulgewhen particularly pleased.

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