and harty thanks to Almighty God for our late deliverance from a fearfulle death. Alsoe, at fathers desire, we made up to ye poor people on our premises theire various losses, which he bade us doe, even if it left him without soe much as a spoon.
But then came an equallie unlookt for, and more appalling event: ye fall of my Lord Cardinall, whereby my father was shortlie raised to ye highest pinnacle of professional greatnesse, being made Lord Chancellor, to ye content, in some sort, of Wolsey himself, who sayd he was ye onlie man fit to be his successor.
The unheard-of splendour of his installation dazzled the vulgar; while the wisdom that marked ye admirable discharge of his daylie duties, won ye respect of alle thinking men, but surprized none who alreadie knew father. On ye day succeeding his being sworn in, Patteson marched hither and thither bearing a huge placard, inscribed, "Partnership Dissolved;" and apparelled himself in an old suit, on which he had bestowed a coating of black paint, with weepers of white paper; assigning for't that "his brother was dead." "For now," quoth he, "that they've made him Lord Chancellor, we shall ne'er see Sir Thomas more."
Now, although ye poor Cardinal was commonlie helde to shew much judgment in his decisions, owing to ye naturall soundness of his understanding, yet, being noe lawyer, abuses had multiplied during his chancellorship, more especiallie in ye way of enormous fees and gratuities. Father, not content with shunning base lucre in his proper person, will not let anie one under him, to his knowledge, touch a bribe; whereat Dancey, after his funny fashion, complains, saying:
"The fingers of my Lord Cardinall's veriest door-keepers were tipt with gold, but I, since I married your daughter, have got noe pickings; which in your case may be commendable, but in mine is nothing profitable." Father, laughing, makes answer:
"Your case is hard, son Dancey, but I can onlie say for your comfort, that, soe far as honesty and justice are concerned, if mine owne father, whom I reverence dearly, stoode before me on ye one hand, and the devil, whom I hate extremely, on ye other, yet, the cause of ye latter being just, I shoulde give the devil his due."
Giles Heron hath found this to his cost. Presuming on his near connexion with my father, he refused an equitable accommodation of a suit, which, thereon, coming into court, father's decision was given flat against him.
His decision against mother was equallie impartiall, and had something comique in it. Thus it befelle. A beggar-woman's little dog, which had beene stolen from her, was offered my mother for sale, and she bought it for a jewel of no greate value. After a week or soe, the owner finds where her dog is, and cometh to make complaynt of ye theft to father, then sitting in his hall. Sayth father, "Let's have a faire hearing in open court; thou, mistress, stand there where you be, to have impartiall justice; and thou, Dame Alice, come up hither, because thou art of ye higher degree. Now, then, call each of you the puppy, and see which he will follow." Soe Sweetheart, in spite of mother, springs off to ye old beggar-woman, who, unable to keep from laughing, and yet moved at mother's losse, sayth:
"Tell'ee what, mistress … thee shalt have 'un for a groat."
"Nay," saith mother, "I won't mind giving thee a piece of gold;" soe the bargain was satisfactorily concluded.
Father's despatch of business is such, that, one morning before the end of term, he was tolde there was no other cause nor petition to be sett before him; the which, being a case unparallelled, he desired mighte be formally recorded.
He ne'er commences businesse in his owne court without first stepping into ye court of King's Bench, and there kneeling down to receive my grandfather's blessing. Will sayth 'tis worth a world to see ye unction with which the deare old man bestows it on him.
In Rogation-week, following the Rood as usuall, round ye parish, Heron counselled him to go a horseback for ye greater seemlinesse, but he made answer that 'twoulde be unseemlie indeede for ye servant to ride after his master going a-foot.
His grace of Norfolk, coming yesterday to dine with him, finds him in the church-choir, singing, with a surplice on.
"What!" cries ye Duke, as they walk home together, "my Lord Chancellor playing the parish clerk? Sure, you dishonor the King and his office."
"Nay," says father, smiling, "your grace must not deem that the King, your master and mine, will be offended at my honoring his Master."
Sure, 'tis pleasant to heare father taking ye upper hand of these great folks: and to have 'em coming and going, and waiting his pleasure, because he is ye man whom ye King delighteth to honor.
True, indeede, with Wolsey 'twas once ye same; but father neede not feare ye same ruin; because he hath Him for his friend, whom Wolsey said woulde not have forsaken him had he served Him as he served his earthly master. 'Twas a misproud priest; and there's the truth on't. And father is not misproud; and I don't believe we are; though proud of him we cannot fail to be.
And I know not why we may not be pleased with prosperitie, as well as patient under adversitie; as long as we say, "Thou, Lord, hast made our hill soe strong." 'Tis more difficult to bear with comelinesse, doubtlesse; and envious folks there will be; and we know alle things have an end, and everie sweet hath its sour, and everie fountain its fall; but … 'tis very pleasant for all that.
REMINISCENCES OF AN ATTORNEY
I am about to relate a rather curious piece of domestic history, some of the incidents of which, revealed at the time of their occurrence in contemporary law reports, may be in the remembrance of many readers. It took place in one of the midland counties, and at a place which I shall call Watley; the names of the chief actors who figured in it must also, to spare their modesty or their blushes, as the case may be, be changed; and should one of those persons, spite of these precautions, apprehend unpleasant recognition, he will be able to console himself with the reflection, that all I state beyond that which may be gathered from the records of the law courts will be generally ascribed to the fancy or invention of the writer. And it is as well, perhaps, that it should be so.
Caleb Jennings, a shoemender, cobbler, snob – using the last word in its genuine classical sense, and by no means according to the modern interpretation by which it is held to signify a genteel sneak or pretender – he was any thing but that – occupied, some twelve or thirteen years ago, a stall at Watley, which, according to the traditions of the place, had been hereditary in his family for several generations. He may also be said to have flourished there, after the manner of cobblers; for this, it must be remembered, was in the good old times, before the gutta-percha revolution had carried ruin and dismay into the stalls – those of cobblers – which in considerable numbers existed throughout the kingdom. Like all his fraternity whom I have ever fallen in with or heard of, Caleb was a sturdy Radical of the Major Cartwright and Henry Hunt school; and being withal industrious, tolerably skillful, not inordinately prone to the observance of Saint Mondays, possessed, moreover, of a neatly-furnished sleeping and eating apartment in the house of which the projecting first floor, supported on stone pillars, overshadowed his humble workplace, he vaunted himself to be as really rich as an estated squire, and far more independent.
There was some truth in this boast, as the case which procured us the honor of Mr. Jennings's acquaintance sufficiently proved. We were employed to bring an action against a wealthy gentleman of the vicinity of Watley for a brutal and unprovoked assault he had committed, when in a state of partial inebriety, upon a respectable London tradesman who had visited the place on business. On the day of trial our witnesses appeared to have become suddenly afflicted with an almost total loss of memory; and we were only saved from
