University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

The morning after the events narrated in the last chapter, our hero received
a summons, by one of his younger brothers, to wait upon his father in his
study.

`Good morning, my son,' said the Rev. St. John Blackford, as our hero entered.
`Your praise is in every body's month for your noble conduct yesterday.
Here is a note for you from Colonel Hare which his servant just left for you.—
Yesterday was a fortunate day for you. The acquaintance, under the circumstances,
formed with this gentleman may be of service to you. He is rich.—
Open it and read what he says.'

Charles took the note, and hesitated an instant before breaking the seal—for
his pride gave the alarm lest it should contain some proposition, the acceptance
of which would involve the sacrifice of his independence. It read as follows:—

`This is what I looked to, Charles, said the Rev. Mr. Blackford, rising up
from his chair, and crossing over and shaking his son by the hand; `did I not
say yesterday was a fortunate day for you! But, what! How is this? You do
not seem to appear so pleased as I should expect to see you under such good
fortune. What is the matter?'

`I feel grateful to Colonel Hare for his kind suggestions in my behalf, sir;
but, but—'

`But what?'

`I can never receive pecuniary compensation for saving the life of any person,
sir.'

`He does not offer pecuniary compensation.'

`He proposes to serve me! How else does he mean, or can I understand him,
sir. His proposition will be to lend me money, or pay my expenses till I get
through with my law studies. No, sir! I owe already money to a friend who
generously extricated me from my difficulties in college, and I cannot repay
him. I cannot incur any further obligations of like nature.'

`But Colonel Hare will never expect you to repay him anything he might advance
you.'

`I have fortunately too much pride and manly independence in my character
to accept of a gratuity from a gentleman, a stranger to me, because I have, under
Providence, been instrumental in snatching one of his household from a
watery grave. No, sir, I feel that in accepting his offered services, I should
be sacrificing all the best attributes of my nature, my pride of character and independence.'

`You are foolish, Charles, and throw away the blessings Providence has
placed in your grasp,' answered his father with displeasure. `You know that
I am poor, and with difficulty can support your brothers and sisters, and that
your presence at my board for three years to come will be heavy upon me, and
that you have nothing yourself—not even a dollar or means of earning one.'

`And whose fault is this, sir?' demanded the young man, sternly; but instantly
checking himself, he added, `forgive me, sir! I feel your position and my
own. I have surveyed it on all sides. I know what privation is before me
till my profession is gained. I have not willingly made up my mind to be dependent
on you, and a drone at your board, till it was completed; and I shall
not be, father, after the expression of your feelings just now made. I will pursue
my profession independent, not only of Colonel Hare, but of yourself. I
can keep school—I can live economically—I can lodge upon a settee in the office
where I study, and so struggle through!'

`Excuse my hasty words, Charles,' said his father, with emotion. `I did not
mean to reproach you with your indifference, which I begin to feel you may reflect
upon me for—for if I had given you a trade, as your Uncle David wished
me to do, five years ago, you might have been now, at your age, in a situation,
not only to support yourself, but to marry. But we must make the best of the
fruit of my foolish pride, Charles, to make you a professional man. Brother
David, who is now an alderman in Boston, has convinced me a man can be respected
and honored, even if he is a mechanic.'

`And most heartily do I wish at this moment I had been one,' said Charles.

`You cannot alter what has past, my son, and must now do as well as you
can. I spoke to you, as I did just now, not because I didn't want you to stay
at home till you got through your studies, but because I was so anxious for you
to take up with the excellent offer of Colonel Hare. He will do something
handsome for you.'

`I am resolved not to be paid for my services of yesterday, sir,' said Charles,
firmly; `and I conceive that Colonel Hare has shown a want of delicacy, in so
soon, and in such a way, signifying his desire to lessen his sense of obligation.

With all due respect and gratitude to Colonel Hare, I must say that he is clearly
actuated, less by motives of indebtedness to me, than from a desire to pay a
debt to his own conscience, which he confesses will be uneasy until the obligation
is in part removed from his side.'

`This is idle, Charles. He is actuated only by a desire to serve you He is
a proud and aristocratic man, and I am only surprised that he should have gone
so far as he has done, in not letting his sense of the favor, rest with his call
upon you yesterday. I advise you to accept the invitation to dine, and as he
will probably then make known his intentions in your behalf; suspend your
decision till then, and be guided by the circumstances of the moment. Be assured,
Charles, there will be less sacrifice of pride in accepting his offer, than
in submitting, as you must do, in the course of your law studies, to the straits
of poor pockets.'

`No, sir. I can never yield my independence to the patronage of a proud
man like Colonel Hare, patronage extended in payment for the lives of two
members of his family, No, sir, let him labor under the weight of his obligation,
and I under the still heavier pressure of the poverty which is my lot.'

The feelings of Charles Blackford were natural enough to a high minded
young man; but it is to be believed that his resolution not to be indebted to
Colonel Hare for assistance, was in some slight degree influenced by a sensitive
remembrance of the contemptuous look of surprise with which Mary Hare
had witnessed the pressure of the hand of Miss Gordon, and by a fond and devout
recollection of that sweet girl herself, in whose eyes he felt he should be
despised for accepting, in any way, recompense for saving her life. However
unwise, in a worldly sense, his determination not to be a beneficiary of Colonel
Hare's, might seem, it was in a spirited young man who had not brought his
poverty upon himself by any act of his own, a noble and justifiable one; and
we are glad to record his manly decisions, though we may have to record many
sufferings in consequence of it. When a young man once voluntarily sacrifices
his self-dependence, from that moment, the noblest attributes of his nature,—
pride of character, (which involves that open and frank address so engaging in
youth) is lost!

`Far better,' thought Charles Blackford as he ceased speaking to his father,
and awaited his reply; “far better to struggle in poverty and be free, than be
the creature of another man's will, under the watchful supervision of his compulsive
daily charity, and subject to his reproof, perhaps his dislike, and certainly
his contempt. No, Colonel Hare now respects me, and he should always
do so. Mary Hare may treat me haughtily as a poor dependent, but she shall
never despise me! Grace Gordon—but I dare not think of her!'

`I am sorry, my son,' answered his father, after musing awhile within himself;
`I am sorry you have come to such a decision, and are willing to throw
away the patronage of such a man as Colonel Hare. Still I respect your motives,
and do honor to your feelings of independence. I now regret that I
should have been so foolish as to have educated you to poverty and placed you
in circumstances where patronage has had to be offered you. I advise you to
go to the dinner out of respect to Colonel Hare.”

`I think I will go, sir,' said Charles, who at first resolved to send an excuse,
but on reflection decided on going, that he might have an opportunity of apologizing
to Miss Gordon, and doing away the unfavorable impression he thpught
he had made upon the mind of Miss Hare; for he felt deeply mortified that the
one should think him imprudent and presuming, and the other harbor for an instant
the idea that he wished to take advantage of her frankness to abuse it.

`That is wise, son,' said the rector with a look of gratification, foreseeing, in
this compliance with the invitation the certain acceptance on the part of Charles
of any proposition that his wealthy host might make to him. `Now we will
talk of the law. I have seen Judge Orne, and he says he will take you and
would like to have you come to-morrow, as he is going on the Circuit and you
can keep his office in his absence.'

`That is, he wants an office boy, and finds me very convenient,' said Charles
coloring.

`You are too proud, my son.'

`Well, sir, I feel it But I was brought up and educated with the notions of
a gentleman—with a prejudice against labor and all pursuits that are called
manual. But perhaps an office boy is the first stage towards gentility.'

`You are severe! There is drudgery in every profession. In ancient times
candidates for knighood had to do the duty of esquires, serve knights and
buckle on their spurs and wait upon them like a hired servitor!'

`And so I am to clean Judge Orne's boots and hold his bridle when he
mounts to ride an animal. Well, sir I am content, though I must confess it
will be very odd to be a guest of `the rich Colonel Hare, one day, and Judge
Orne's office boy the next.'

`You will displease me, Charles.

`Pardon me, sir; but I could not help reflecting that the path to `respectability,'
though it may terminate in the palace of Gentility at last, runs a long way
through the land of humility and degradation ere it reach it. But I am silent,
sir.'

`You are disrespectful, sir. You think you justly blame me that you are
twenty-two years of age and have yet no means of livelihood. I may have been
in error in educating you to a profession, when I was so poor; but blame not
me, Charles, but rather the system of false respectability which prevails in the
length and breadth of the land, and of which you are the victim. I but followed
the custom and prejudices of the times. I begin to see my error. You are
as well aware as I am of the prejudices against trades. Would Col Hare have
invited you to his table had you been a mechanic? Had you been even a mechanic's
son? It was from my desire to see you respected and take your place
among those who lead society, that led me to send you to college and expose
you to the mortification of being offered, as you have this morning been, patronage.
I shall bring up your brothers and sisters differently. The boys shall
have trades, and the girls shall at least pass a few months with a mantua-maker
or milliner till they can learn to be independent should reverses happen to them.
I will no more aim at educating children without means to do it, and keep
them till they can enter upon a profession. Your own painful position, my son,
as well as your frequent forcible conversations with me upon the subject, have
fully convinced me of the profound error into which I have fallen.'

`I am indeed most happy, dear father, to and you have come to this wise and
christian way of thinking.'

It is this false pride which is the cause of so much misery and vice among
young men who are the victims of it. No error can be so great as for parents
to let their sons grow up without trades and send them to college or put them
in stores to make them `respectable.' It is from such young men that the fashonable
gamblers that fill the cities of the south-west are composed. Business
fails with them; they have no trades to resort to, and `to beg they are ashamed.'
They become, as their easiest alternative, gamblers! I recently saw an extract
from a New Orleans paper, stating that a Dry Goods merchant advertising for
a clerk had before noon the next day one hundred and sixteen applicants for the
vacancy, all of them young men from New England, of genteel appearance,
and all without means to live from day to day; sons of fathers, who, to bring
them up to `respectability,' sent them, ignorant of any trade, from the paternal
roof, armed only with a yardstick and scissors to seek this phantom `respectability,'
which too late they find haunts empty pockets, delights in a scanty
wardrobe, and is peculiarly happy in avoiding bailiffs.

`You are severe, Charles. But let us speak no more of what cannot be remedied.
You will go this dinner. In the mean while I would recommend you
to call on Judge Orne at his office.'

`I will do so at once, sir;' answered the young man, rising and quitting the
study.

`There goes a foolish, high spirited boy,' said the clergyman to himself as
Charles closed the door. `He is both right and wrong. I hope Colonel Hare
will propose something that he will think it best to consent to. The boy justly
reproves me. I see I should have taken brother David's advice, and he would

then have been happier than he now is, and already useful in society. His cousin
James, I see by the newspaper, has opened a furniture-warehouse in Docksquare,
and advertises for two apprentices. My son Robert, now sixteen, shall
go with him, I am resolved. I will write to brother David this very day about
it. Pride and poverty I have found to my own cost, have always gone, and always
will go together. I will at least, bring up my other children without
meriting their reproach. I, a grey-haired man, and a minister of the gospel,
have this hour sat in silence and condemned, while my own son was reproving
me. Yet I justly merited it. I wish that other parents could see the folly of
their prejudices against trades as I now see mine; how much misery and guilt
it would spare the coming generation. I will from this time be an advocate
for the industrial pursuits. I will bring the subject into the pulpit. It is a theme
that calls loudly for the denunciations of public eloquence. Paul's second epsitle
to the Thessalonians, the third chapter, will furnish me with a text. Yes,
I will try and atone for the error of Charles' education, by openly taking side
against that false and mischievous system of respectability, of which I have
made him the innocent victim.

Thus reasoned the Rev. Mr. St. John Blackford, on seeing the fruits of trying
to do for his son without money and means, which can only be done with
money. Let it be understood here that we do not combat collegiate education,
but what we do combat is, that false pride which makes poor men try to give
their sons collegiate educations, without being able to carry them through it,
and so leaving them to struggle on to a profession through penury and want;
harrassed by debt, threatened with disgrace, and oftentimes shipwrecked by
despair. We wish every youth in the land could be blessed with the privileges
of a collegiate course of study. But it grieves us to see young men, thrust upon
it without means, to struggle and suffer as Charles Blackford has done.

On quitting his father's presence, Charles took his hat from the hall table,
and went out to make his call on his future preceptor in law. He took his way
slowly along the green lane that conducted from the parsonage to the main
street of the village, his thoughts changing from subject to subject, as he thought
of Hare Hall, Judge Orne's office, Grace Gordon, and the coming dinner. At
this last thought, his glance fell upon his somewhat worn black coat, and he
blushed to think that perhaps he was too ill-dressed to make his appearance
there. It is true, our hero's wardrobe, as may be learned from his economy in
College, was not any of the best; but since his return, he had enlarged it by
an old coat and vest of his father's which had been turned by Miss Eunice
Thurston, the village tailoress, who worked about from house to house, and by
her skill and industry had been made to fit his shape and appear, as his good
mother said, `good as new, and shining as bright as when the parson first put it
on slick from the shop.' This coat had not been much improved by the water
the day before, but still did very well for a young man `in the country.' Charles
had some pride of appearance, and the idea of meeting young ladies, made
him, as it does all young men, more sensitive as to the niceness of his personal
appearance. He finally consoled himself with the thought that they had seen
him once, and dress only improves on first interviews. No woman looks to see
how a man is dressed the second time she sees him.

`If I feel so annoyed now, how often shall I feel so before I get through my
studies,' said he, to himself. `I could wish I were fellow-workman with yonder
journeyman house painter, who comes contentedly along with his pots and
brushes, and spotted apron. He earns money and can make a good appearance.
He is independent. He certainly is the more respectable.'

While he was thus reflecting, the young painter came up and joined him.

`Good morning, Mr. Blackford, I hope you took no cold yesterday, getting
those young boarding-school girls out of the river. It was a tight chance
for them.'

`Yes,' replied our hero coldly, slightly drawing up with a touch of the pride
of superior condition which had been instilled into him from his youth up.

`You had quite a struggle for it,' continued the young journeyman, without
seeming to notice his manner, joining him and walking into the village by his

side; `I was painting the belfry of the school house when I saw it, and thought
at one time you'd both go down together. You are a good swimmer.'

`Yes, I have learned to swim,' said Charles, with additional reserve, feeling
a reluctance he could not overcome to be seen entering the village street walking
with a mechanic, and endeavoring, by slackening his pace, to let him pass
on; quite forgetting all his late resolutions and his hardly uttered wish that he
were in his place. Poor Charles Blackford! how little did he know his own
heart' how little was he aware of the depth in it of that false pride which he
had so lately condemned in his father. All at once he began to view his conduct
in its true light, and struck with his inconsistency, he smiled and resolved
to conquer a prejudice which had taken such deep root in his heart, and which
had been so lately the theme of his severe invectives. He, therefore, turned
politely towards the young man, who was moving on at a faster pace, as if desirous
of leaving one who seemed above speaking or walking beside him, he
addressed him in a kind, frank way, upon something connected with his trade,
and so walked by his side conversing with him till he reached Judge Orne's office,
when he very civilly bade him good morning, leaving upon the mind of the
other, instead of feelings of dislike, sentiments of respect and friendly feeling,
which would ever be ready to be exercised in his behalf. Charles had found
him intelligent and plainly pleased at the cordial change in his manner.

`There is my first victory,' he said, as he came to the door of the office; `I
have succeeded in conquering a prejudice, and in subduing pride. I have increased
my self-respect and gamed a friend, whom, by my haughtiness, I like
to have made an enemy. I found my doctrine is very good in theory, but it requires
some philosophy to put it into practice. What had this journeyman's
apron, paint pots and brushes, to do with the man? What has the lawyer's pen,
the physician's lancet, the merchant's ledger, to do with the man? Henceforth
I will learn to look only at that respectability which is based on virtue and usefulness;
and no longer set up a scale, graduated by occupation, by which to fix
the merit (that is gentility) of individuals.'

The office of Judge Orne was in a neat one-story building, built on the principal
village street, in one corner of the spacious front yard of his own residence.
This latter edifice was the finest house in the village, being a large square structure,
two stories in height, with a doric portico and a ballustrade upon the edge
of the roof. It was thrown at noon into dignified shade by four gigantic elms
and sycamores that grew in front between it and the street. It was painted
white, but its hue was grave and time worn, and with its deep green front yard,
and tall pine trees, and handsome white latticed fence, with an arch over the
front gate, it had an imposing, respectable, judge-like look, and plainly told any
stranger who passed by, that some person of importance resided there. At one
corner of this yard, about a hundred feet obliquely from the house, was, as we
have said, the Judge's office, with a door on the street, and a private door on
the side by which his Honor passed out, and by a narrow, well-trodden path,
reached his domicil. On the opposite corner, vis-a-vis with the office, was another
building, containing like it one square room, and in external appearance
its counterpart, showing that the Judge had an eye for symmery. This opposite
flank to his front yard was let as a millinery establishment, and its front
door and windows were garnished with sundry gay colored articles of Millinery,
by way of sign, although `Miss Deborah Chickering, Milliner and Fancy
Dress Maker' was painted conspicuously in yellow letters on a small black signboard
hanging from an iron rod over the window. It had once hung at the corner
near the yard, but Mrs. Orne had caused the Judge to have it removed, lest
people might think they kept the Millinery up at the Mansion-house; and the
Judge very judiciously thinking with his wife that it would be very disgraceful
if they were supposed to be guilty of pursuing any useful occupation, forth with
ordered Miss Chickering to have her sign removed from the corner by the yard,
to the front of her shop. There was no side door letting into the front yard in
this building as in the other, Miss Chickering having no business at the house,
and the Judge no business at the Milliner's.

The door of the lawyer's office was wide open and the window raised, for it

was a warm morning, and the sun was shining brightly in upon the well worn
dust colored-floor, strewed with law books, papers, toru letters, feathered heads
of quills, &c. The office consisted of one room, occupying the whole building.
On two sides of it were bird's eye maple cases, filled with law books in every
attitude, and the tops piled with files of newspapers, old maps, and heaps of
briefs laid away—sad memorials of the past. On one side of the room was an
old fashioned writing table, with a broad leaf, covered with green baize, well
inked, and above it innumerable pigeon holes, labelled with letters of the Alphabet,
some empty, others crammed with papers. Near the middle of the
room stood a large square two leafed table, heaped up with books of law, open
and half-open, and shut, some back down, others face down, some with papers
stuck between the leaves, others with penknives and sand-boxes to mark places
to be referred to, and the whole in a scene of confusion such as is only to be
found in a full-practising country lawver's office. This table was drawn up
near the yard door which was open, and through which our hero had caught a
glimpse of the verdant lawn, the old Mansion in the back ground, and Mrs.
Orne, a prim, stately person, setting at the parlor window in her cap and spectacles
reading.

In a large leather bottomed arm-chair drawn near the door where he could
command a view of his house, and the Milliner's window across the yard, sat his
honor the judge, in the act of examining a deed. Charles nad seen him before,
but now paused to survey the appearance of one who was to initiate him into
the mysteries of the law. He was a goodly sized gentleman, inclined to port-liness,
about fifty-two or thereabouts, hale and hearty, and with the looks of a
bon vivant. His hair was gray, slightly powdered, brushed back from his forehead
and temples, and worn in a queu. He was dressed in a broad skirted
black coat, the collar well besprinkled with powder, a white Valencia vest, of
respectable depth, a plaited ruffle to his shirt, and black small clothes, with
knee buckles. His forehead was high but wrinkled upwards like a man who
thought with perplexity, instead of with that steady concentration of the mind
which furrows the brow over the eyes and the nose in the region of individuality.
His brows were thick, and long, and grey, and projected over a pair of
quick, shrewd hazle eyes. His complexion was florid and rather higher and
richer than the blood that temperance tints with, and his nose being a tint or
two deeper crimson, the inference was, what the whole village had long since
known, that his Honor loved his glass of brandy and water. But, then, in those
days it was thought no discredit for gentlemen to drink freely. Those were
the days when men were in blindfold ignorance of the sin of intemperance;
when side-boards provided in every mansion; when his worship, the minister,
was asked to take his glass before he was invited to a seat at the fire; when
the decanter was the symbol of hospitality, and a glass drank between two gentlemen,
the seal of friendship. We must, therefore, look upon his Honor's rubieund
nose with allowance, and not condemn him, for how shall a man be condemned
before that law of condemnation—temperance—came in to condemn
him?

The Judge had one leg resting over the other, and with a pen in his hand,
was perusing the document he held, without his spectacles, which were laid
across his knee. Charles having at length brought his mind to meet the embarrassment
of the interview, entered the office with a step that arrested his attention.
He looked up and inspected his visitor with a keen scrutiny, and
then resumed without a word, his examination of the deed. After waiting full
five minutes our hero managed to throw over a chair, which again drew his
attention, and fixing his glance full upon him he said,

`Well, sir.'

`My name is Charles Blackford, sir, and I—'

`Oh, yes, very well. I know all about it! Your father was here! Just arrange
the books in the case till I have time to attend to you.' And thus speaking,
his Honor resumed his deed, while our hero vexed and mortified at his reception,
obeyed, though half inclined to quit his office for ever. But prudence

forbade, and he recollected that he had a great deal of pride which it became
him to subdue.

Charles was gratified at this pleasant issue of his interview which had promised
to be so disagreeable, and after passing an hour looking over law-books, he
took his leave, and hastened to the parsonage, to prepare for his dinner, at the
Hare Hall.