Paul Clifford — Complete
noble science of Scaliger and MacGrawler. Doubtless you are reconciled
to the task I have allotted you; and while I tickle the Romance, you
will slash the Inquiry and plaster the Epic!”
“I will do my best, sir!” said Paul, with that modest yet noble
simplicity which becomes the virtuously ambitious; and MacGrawler
forthwith gave him pen and paper, and set him down to his undertaking.
He had the good fortune to please MacGrawler, who, after having made a
few corrections in style, declared he evinced a peculiar genius in that
branch of composition. And then it was that Paul, made conceited by
praise, said, looking contemptuously in the face of his preceptor, and
swinging his legs to and fro,--
“And what, sir, shall I receive for the plastered Epic and the slashed
Inquiry?”
As the face of the school-boy who, when guessing, as he thinks rightly,
at the meaning of some mysterious word in Cornelius Nepos, receiveth
not the sugared epithet of praise, but a sudden stroke across the
os humerosve [Face or shoulders] even so, blank, puzzled, and
thunder-stricken, waxed the face of Mr. MacGrawler at the abrupt and
astounding audacity of Paul.
“Receive!” he repeated,--“receive! Why, you impudent, ungrateful puppy,
would you steal the bread from your old master? If I can obtain for
your crude articles an admission into the illustrious pages of 'The
Asinaeum,' will you not be sufficiently paid, sir, by the honour? Answer
me that. Another man, young gentleman, would have charged you a premium
for his instructions; and here have I, in one lesson, imparted to you
all the mysteries of the science, and for nothing! And you talk to me of
'receive!--receive!' Young gentleman, in the words of the immortal bard,
'I would as lief you had talked to me of ratsbane!'”
“In fine, then, Mr. MacGrawler, I shall get nothing for my trouble?”
said Paul.
“To be sure not, sir; the very best writer in 'The Asinaeum' only gets
three shillings an article!” Almost more than he deserves, the critic
might have added; for he who writes for nobody should receive nothing!
“Then, sir,” quoth the mercenary Paul, profanely, and rising, he kicked
with one kick the cat, the Epic, and the Inquiry to the other end of the
room,--“then, sir, you may all go to the devil!”
We do not, O gentle reader! seek to excuse this hasty anathema. The
habits of childhood will sometimes break forth despite of the after
blessings of education; and we set not up Paul for thine imitation as
that model of virtue and of wisdom which we design thee to discover in
MacGrawler.
When that great critic perceived Paul had risen and was retreating in
high dudgeon towards the door, he rose also, and repeating Paul's last
words, said,--
“'Go to the devil!' Not so quick, young gentleman,--festinca lente,--all
in good time. What though I did, astonished at your premature request,
say that you should receive nothing; yet my great love for you may
induce me to bestir myself on your behalf. The 'Asinaeum,' it is true,
only gives three shillings an article in general; but I am its editor,
and will intercede with the proprietors on your behalf. Yes, yes; I will
see what is to be done. Stop a bit, my boy.”
Paul, though very irascible, was easily pacified; he reseated himself,
and taking MacGrawler's hand, said,--
“Forgive me for my petulance, my dear sir; but, to tell you the honest
truth, I am very low in the world just at present, and must get money in
some way or another,--in short, I must either pick pockets or write (not
gratuitously) for 'The Asinaeum. '”
And without further preliminary Paul related his present circumstances
to the critic, declared his determination not to return to the Mug,
and requested, at least, from the friendship of his old preceptor the
accommodation of shelter for that night.
MacGrawler was exceedingly disconcerted at hearing so bad an account of
his pupil's finances as well as prospects, for he had secretly intended
to regale himself that evening with a bowl of punch, for which he
purposed that Paul should pay; but as he knew the quickness of
parts possessed by the young gentleman, as also the great affection
entertained for him by Mrs. Lobkins, who in all probability would
solicit his return the next day, he thought it not unlikely that Paul
would enjoy the same good fortune as that presiding over his feline
companion, which, though it had just been kicked to the other end of the
apartment, was now resuming its former occupation, unhurt, and no less
merrily than before. He therefore thought it would be imprudent
to discard his quondam pupil, despite of his present poverty; and,
moreover, although the first happy project of pocketing all the profits
derivable from Paul's industry was now abandoned, he still perceived
great facility in pocketing a part of the same receipts. He therefore
answered Paul very warmly, that he fully sympathized with him in his
present melancholy situation; that, so far as he was concerned, he would
share his last shilling with his beloved pupil, but that he regretted
at that moment he had only eleven-pence halfpenny in his pocket; that he
would, however, exert himself to the utmost in procuring an opening for
Paul's literary genius; and that, if Paul liked to take the slashing and
plastering part of the business on himself, he would willingly surrender
it to him, and give him all the profits whatever they might be. En
attendant, he regretted that a violent rheumatism prevented his giving
up his own bed to his pupil, but that he might, with all the pleasure
imaginable, sleep upon the rug before the fire. Paul was so affected by
this kindness in the worthy man, that, though not much addicted to the
melting mood, he shed tears of gratitude. He insisted, however, on not
receiving the whole reward of his labours; and at length it was settled,
though with a noble reluctance on the part of MacGrawler, that it should
be equally shared between the critic and the critic's protege,--the half
profits being reasonably awarded to MacGrawler for his instructions and
his recommendation.
CHAPTER VI.
Bad events peep out o' the tail of good purposes.--Bartholomew Fair.
IT was not long before there was a visible improvement in the pages
of “The Asinaeum.” The slashing part of that incomparable journal
was suddenly conceived and carried on with a vigour and spirit which
astonished the hallowed few who contributed to its circulation. It
was not difficult to see that a new soldier had been enlisted in the
service; there was something so fresh and hearty about the abuse that it
could never have proceeded from the worn-out acerbity of an old slasher.
To be sure, a little ignorance of ordinary facts, and an innovating
method of applying words to meanings which they never were meant to
denote, were now and then distinguishable in the criticisms of the new
Achilles; nevertheless, it was easy to attribute these peculiarities
to an original turn of thinking; and the rise of the paper on the
appearance of a series of articles upon contemporary authors, written
by this “eminent hand,” was so remarkable that fifty copies--a number
perfectly unprecedented in the annals of “The Asinaeum”--were absolutely
sold in one week; indeed, remembering the principle on which it was
founded, one sturdy old writer declared that the journal would soon do
for itself and become popular. There was a remarkable peculiarity about
the literary debutant who signed himself “Nobilitas:” he not only put
old words to a new sense, but he used words which had never, among the
general run of writers, been used before. This was especially remarkable
in the application of hard names to authors. Once, in censuring a
popular writer for pleasing the public and thereby growing rich, the
“eminent hand” ended with “He who surreptitiously accumulates bustle
[money] is, in fact, nothing better than a buzz gloak!” [Pickpocket].
These enigmatical words and recondite phrases imparted a great air of
learning to the style of the new critic; and from the unintelligible
sublimity of his diction, it seemed doubtful whether he was a poet from
Highgate or a philosopher from Konigsberg. At all events, the reviewer
preserved his incognito, and while his praises were rung at no less
than three tea-tables, even glory appeared to him less delicious than
disguise.
In this incognito, reader, thou hast already discovered Paul; and now
we have to delight thee with a piece of unexampled morality in the
excellent MacGrawler. That worthy Mentor, perceiving that there was an
inherent turn for dissipation and extravagance in our hero, resolved
magnanimously rather to bring upon himself the sins of treachery and
malappropriation than suffer his friend and former pupil to incur those
of wastefulness and profusion. Contrary therefore to the agreement
made with Paul, instead of giving that youth the half of those profits
consequent on his brilliant lucubrations, he imparted to him only one
fourth, and, with the utmost tenderness for Paul's salvation, applied
the other three portions of the same to his own necessities. The best
actions are, alas! often misconstrued in this world; and we are now
about to record a remarkable instance of that melancholy truth.
One evening MacGrawler, having “moistened his virtue” in the same manner
that the great Cato is said to have done, in the confusion which such a
process sometimes occasions in the best regulated heads, gave Paul what
appeared to him the outline of a certain article which he wished to be
slashingly filled up, but what in reality was the following note from
the editor of a monthly periodical:--
SIR,--Understanding that my friend, Mr.---, proprietor of “The
Asinaeum,” allows the very distinguished writer whom you have introduced
to the literary world, and who signs himself “Nobilitas,” only five
shillings an article, I beg, through you, to tender him double that sum.
The article required will be of an ordinary length.
I am, sir, etc.,
Now, that very morning, MacGrawler had informed Paul of this offer,
altering only, from the amiable motives we have already explained, the
sum of ten shillings to that of four; and no sooner did Paul read
the communication we have placed before the reader than, instead
of gratitude to MacGrawler for his consideration of Paul's moral
infirmities, he conceived against that gentleman the most bitter
resentment. He did not, however, vent his feelings at once upon the
Scotsman,--indeed, at that moment, as the sage was in a deep sleep
under the table, it would have been to no purpose had he unbridled his
indignation,--but he resolved without loss of time to quit the abode of
the critic. “And, indeed,” said he, soliloquizing, “I am heartily tired
of this life, and shall be very glad to seek some other employment.
Fortunately, I have hoarded up five guineas and four shillings; and with
that independence in my possession, since I have forsworn gambling, I
cannot easily starve.”
To this soliloquy succeeded a misanthropical revery upon the
faithlessness of friends; and the meditation ended in Paul's making up a
little bundle of such clothes, etc., as Dummie had succeeded in removing
from the Mug, and which Paul had taken from the rag-merchant's abode one
morning when Dummie was abroad.
When this easy task was concluded, Paul wrote a short and upbraiding
note to his illustrious preceptor, and left it unsealed on the table.
He then, upsetting the ink-bottle on MacGrawler's sleeping countenance,
departed from the house, and strolled away he cared not whither.
The evening was gradually closing as Paul, chewing the cud of his bitter
fancies, found himself on London Bridge. He paused there, and leaning
over the bridge, gazed wistfully on the gloomy waters that rolled