Augustus Staveley was the only son of the judge who on that day was to defend the laws of England from such attacks as might be made on them by a very fat advocate from Florence. Of Judge Staveley himself much need not be said now, except that he lived at Noningsby near Alston, distant from The Cleeve about nine miles, and that at his house Sophia Furnival had been invited to pass the coming Christmas. His son was a handsome clever fellow, who had nearly succeeded in getting the Newdegate, and was now a member of the Middle Temple. He was destined2 to follow the steps of his father, and become a light at the Common Law bar; but hitherto he had not made much essential progress. The world had been too pleasant to him to allow of his giving many of his hours to work. His father was one of the best men in the world, revered3 on the bench, and loved by all men; but he had not sufficient parental4 sternness to admit of his driving his son well into harness. He himself had begun the world with little or nothing, and had therefore succeeded; but his son was already possessed5 of almost everything that he could want, and therefore his success seemed doubtful. His chambers6 were luxuriously7 furnished, he had his horse in Piccadilly, his father's house at Noningsby was always open to him, and the society of London spread out for him all its allurements8. Under such circumstances how could it be expected that he should work? Nevertheless he did talk of working, and had some idea in his head of the manner in which he would do so. To a certain extent he had worked, and he could talk fluently of the little that he knew. The idea of a far niente life would have been intolerable to him; but there were many among his friends who began to think that such a life would nevertheless be his ultimate destiny. Nor did it much matter, they said, for the judge was known to have made money.
But his friend Felix Graham was rowing in a very different boat; and of him also many prophesied9 that he would hardly be able to push his craft up against the strength of the stream. Not that he was an idle man, but that he would not work at his oars10 in the only approved method of making progress for his boat. He also had been at Oxford11; but he had done little there except talk at a debating society, and make himself notorious by certain ideas on religious subjects which were not popular at the University. He had left without taking a degree, in consequence, as it was believed, of some such notions, and had now been called to the bar with a fixed12 resolve to open the oyster13 with such weapons, offensive and defensive14, as nature had given to him. But here, as at Oxford, he would not labour on the same terms with other men, or make himself subject to the same conventional rules; and therefore it seemed only too probable that he might win no prize. He had ideas of his own that men should pursue their labours without special conventional regulations, but should be guided in their work by the general great rules of the world,—such for instance as those given in the commandments:—Thou shalt not bear false witness; Thou shalt not steal; and others. His notions no doubt were great, and perhaps were good; but hitherto they had not led him to much pecuniary15 success in his profession. A sort of a name he had obtained, but it was not a name sweet in the ears of practising attorneys.
And yet it behoved Felix Graham to make money, for none was coming to him ready made from any father. Father or mother he had none, nor uncles and aunts likely to be of service to him. He had begun the world with some small sum, which had grown smaller and smaller, till now there was left to him hardly enough to create an infinitesimal dividend16. But he was not a man to become downhearted on that account. A living of some kind he could pick up, and did now procure17 for himself, from the press of the day. He wrote poetry for the periodicals, and politics for the penny papers with considerable success and sufficient pecuniary results. He would sooner do this, he often boasted, than abandon his great ideas or descend18 into the arena19 with other weapons than those which he regarded as fitting for an honest man's hand.
Augustus Staveley, who could be very prudent20 for his friend, declared that marriage would set him right. If Felix would marry he would quietly slip his neck into the collar and work along with the team, as useful a horse as ever was put at the wheel of a coach. But Felix did not seem inclined to marry. He had notions about that also, and was believed by one or two who knew him intimately to cherish an insane affection for some unknown damsel, whose parentage, education, and future were not likely to assist his views in the outer world. Some said that he was educating this damsel for his wife,—moulding her, so that she might be made fit to suit his taste; but Augustus, though he knew the secret of all this, was of opinion that it would come right at last. "He'll meet some girl in the world with a hatful of money, a pretty face, and a sharp tongue; then he'll bestow21 his moulded bride on a neighbouring baker22 with two hundred pounds for her fortune;—and everybody will be happy."
Felix Graham was by no means a handsome man. He was tall and thin, and his face had been slightly marked with the small-pox. He stooped in his gait as he walked, and was often awkward with his hands and legs. But he was full of enthusiasm, indomitable, as far as pluck would make him so, in contests of all kinds, and when he talked on subjects which were near his heart there was a radiance about him which certainly might win the love of the pretty girl with the sharp tongue and the hatful of money. Staveley, who really loved him, had already selected the prize, and she was no other than our friend, Sophia Furnival. The sharp tongue and the pretty face and the hatful of money would all be there; but then Sophia Furnival was a girl who might perhaps expect in return for these things more than an ugly face which could occasionally become radiant with enthusiasm.
The two men had got away from the thickness of the Birmingham smoke, and were seated on the top rung of a gate leading into a stubble field. So far they had gone with mutual23 consent, but further than this Staveley refused to go. He was seated with a cigar in his mouth. Graham also was smoking, but he was accommodated with a short pipe.
The English Von Bauhr and his pupil.
The English Von Bauhr and his pupil.
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"A walk before breakfast is all very well," said Staveley, "but I am not going on a pilgrimage. We are four miles from the inn this minute."
"And for your energies that is a good deal. Only think that you should have been doing anything for two hours before you begin to feed."
"I wonder why matutinal labour should always be considered as so meritorious24. Merely, I take it, because it is disagreeable."
"It proves that the man can make an effort."
"Every prig who wishes to have it believed that he does more than his neighbours either burns the midnight lamp or gets up at four in the morning. Good wholesome25 work between breakfast and dinner never seems to count for anything."
"Have you ever tried?"
"Yes; I am trying now, here at Birmingham."
"Not you."
"That's so like you, Graham. You don't believe that anybody is attending to what is going on except yourself. I mean to-day to take in the whole theory of Italian jurisprudence."
"I have no doubt that you may do so with advantage. I do not suppose that it is very good, but it must at any rate be better than our own. Come, let us go back to the town; my pipe is finished."
"Fill another, there's a good fellow. I can't afford to throw away my cigar, and I hate walking and smoking. You mean to assert that our whole system is bad, and rotten, and unjust?"
"I mean to say that I think so."
"And yet we consider ourselves the greatest people in the world,—or at any rate the honestest."
"I think we are; but laws and their management have nothing to do with making people honest. Good laws won't make people honest, nor bad laws dishonest."
"But a people who are dishonest in one trade will probably be dishonest in others. Now, you go so far as to say that all English lawyers are rogues26."
"I have never said so. I believe your father to be as honest a man as ever breathed."
"Thank you, sir," and Staveley lifted his hat.
"And I would fain hope that I am an honest man myself."
"Ah, but you don't make money by it."
"What I do mean is this, that from our love of precedent27 and ceremony and old usages, we have retained a system which contains many of the barbarities of the feudal28 times, and also many of its lies. We try our culprit as we did in the old days of the ordeal29. If luck will carry him through the hot ploughshares, we let him escape though we know him to be guilty. We give him the advantage of every technicality, and teach him to lie in his own defence, if nature has not sufficiently31 so taught him already."
"You mean as to his plea of not guilty."
"No, I don't; that is little or nothing. We ask him whether or no he confesses his guilt30 in a foolish way, tending to induce him to deny it; but that is not much. Guilt seldom will confess as long as a chance remains32. But we teach him to lie, or rather we lie for him during the whole ceremony of his trial. We think it merciful to give him chances of escape, and hunt him as we do a fox, in obedience33 to certain laws framed for his protection."
"And should he have no protection?"
"None certainly, as a guilty man; none which may tend towards the concealing34 of his guilt. Till that be ascertained35, proclaimed, and made apparent, every man's hand should be against him."
"But if he is innocent?"
"Therefore let him be tried with every possible care. I know you understand what I mean, though you look as though you did not. For the protection of his innocence36 let astute37 and good men work their best, but for the concealing of his guilt let no astute or good man work at all."
"And you would leave the poor victim in the dock without defence?"
"By no means. Let the poor victim, as you call him,—who in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred is a rat who has been preying38 in our granaries,—let him, I say, have his defender39,—the defender of his possible innocence, not the protector of his probable guilt. It, all resolves itself into this. Let every lawyer go into court with a mind resolved to make conspicuous40 to the light of day that which seems to him to be the truth. A lawyer who does not do that—who does the reverse of that, has in my mind undertaken work which is unfit for a gentleman and impossible for an honest man."
"What a pity it is that you should not have an opportunity of rivalling Von Bauhr at the congress!"
"I have no doubt that Von Bauhr said a great deal of the same nature; and what Von Bauhr said will not wholly be wasted, though it may not yet have reached our sublime41 understandings."
"It would be useless at present, seeing that we cannot bring ourselves to believe it possible that a foreigner should in any respect be wiser than ourselves. If any such point out to us our follies43, we at once claim those follies as the special evidences of our wisdom. We are so self-satisfied with our own customs, that we hold up our hands with surprise at the fatuity44 of men who presume to point out to us their defects. Those practices in which we most widely depart from the broad and recognised morality of all civilised ages and countries are to us the Palladiums of our jurisprudence. Modes of proceeding45 which, if now first proposed to us, would be thought to come direct from the devil, have been made so sacred by time that they have lost all the horror of their falseness in the holiness of their age. We cannot understand that other nations look upon such doings as we regard the human sacrifices of the Brahmins; but the fact is that we drive a Juggernaut's car through every assize town in the country, three times a year, and allow it to be dragged ruthlessly through the streets of the metropolis46 at all times and seasons. Now come back to breakfast, for I won't wait here any longer." Seeing that these were the ideas of Felix Graham, it is hardly a matter of wonder that such men as Mr. Furnival and Mr. Round should have regarded his success at the bar as doubtful.
"Uncommon47 bad mutton chops these are," said Staveley, as they sat at their meal in the coffee-room of the Imperial Hotel.
"Are they?" said Graham. "They seem to me much the same as other mutton chops."
"They are uneatable. And look at this for coffee! Waiter, take this away, and have some made fresh."
"Yes, sir," said the waiter, striving to escape without further comment.
"And waiter—"
"Yes, sir;" and the poor overdriven functionary48 returned.
"Ask them from me whether they know how to make coffee. It does not consist of an unlimited49 supply of lukewarm water poured over an infinitesimal proportion of chicory. That process, time-honoured in the hotel line, will not produce the beverage50 called coffee. Will you have the goodness to explain that in the bar as coming from me?"
"Yes, sir," said the waiter; and then he was allowed to disappear.
"How can you give yourself so much trouble with no possible hope of an advantageous51 result?" said Felix Graham.
"That's what you weak men always say. Perseverance in such a course will produce results. It is because we put up with bad things that hotel-keepers continue to give them to us. Three or four Frenchmen were dining with my father yesterday at the King's Head, and I had to sit at the bottom of the table. I declare to you that I literally52 blushed for my country; I did indeed. It was useless to say anything then, but it was quite clear that there was nothing that one of them could eat. At any hotel in France you'll get a good dinner; but we're so proud that we are ashamed to take lessons." And thus Augustus Staveley was quite as loud against his own country, and as laudatory53 with regard to others, as Felix Graham had been before breakfast.
And so the congress went on at Birmingham. The fat Italian from Tuscany read his paper; but as he, though judge in his own country and reformer here in England, was somewhat given to comedy, this morning was not so dull as that which had been devoted54 to Von Bauhr. After him Judge Staveley made a very elegant, and some said, a very eloquent55 speech; and so that day was done. Many other days also wore themselves away in this process; numerous addresses were read, and answers made to them, and the newspapers for the time were full of law. The defence of our own system, which was supposed to be the most remarkable56 for its pertinacity57, if not for its justice, came from Mr. Furnival, who roused himself to a divine wrath58 for the occasion. And then the famous congress at Birmingham was brought to a close, and all the foreigners returned to their own countries.
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收听单词发音
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1
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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dividend
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| n.红利，股息；回报，效益 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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26
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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41
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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42
vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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43
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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47
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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48
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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49
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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50
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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51
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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52
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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53
laudatory
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| adj.赞扬的 | |
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54
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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55
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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56
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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