The Last Chronicle of Barset [162]
I consented to accept relief in money which had previously been often offered. And I must acknowledge, Mr Toogood, while saying this, that I have known--have known with heartfelt agony--that at former times my wife has taken that from my friend Mr Arabin, with hand half-hidden from me, which I have refused. Whether it be better to eat--the bread of charity --or not to eat bread at all, I, for myself, have no doubt,' he said; 'but when the want strikes one's wife and children, and the charity strikes only oneself, then there is a doubt.' When he spoke thus, Mr Toogood got up, and thrusting his hands in his waistcoat pockets walked about the room, exclaiming, 'By George, by George, by George!' But he still let the man go on with his story, and heard him out at last to the end.
'And they committed you for trial at the next Barchester assizes?' said the lawyer.
'They did.'
'And you employed no lawyer before the magistrates?'
'None;--I refused to employ anyone.'
'You were wrong there, Mr Crawley. I must be allowed to say that you were wrong there.'
'I may possibly have been so from your point of view, Mr Toogood; but permit me to explain. I--'
'It's no good explaining now. Of course you must employ a lawyer for your defence--an attorney who will put the case into the hands of counsel.'
'But that I cannot do, Mr Toogood.'
'You must do it. If you don't do it, your friends should do it for you. If you don't do it, everybody will say you're mad. There isn't a single solicitor you could find within a half a mile of you at this moment who wouldn't give you the same advice --not a single man, either, who had got a head on his shoulders worth a trump.'
When Mr Crawley was told that madness would be laid at his charge if he did not do as he was bid, his face became very black, and assumed something of that look of determined obstinacy which it had worn when he was standing in the presence of the bishop and Mrs Proudie. 'It may be so,' he said. 'It may be as you say, Mr Toogood. But these neighbours of yours, as to whose collected wisdom you speak with so much certainty, would hardly recommend me to indulge in a luxury for which I have no means of paying.'
'Who thinks about paying under such circumstances as these?'
'I do, Mr Toogood.'
'The wretched costermonger that comes to grief has a barrister in a wig and gown to give him his chance of escape.'
'But I am not a costermonger, Mr Toogood--though more wretched perhaps than any costermonger now in existence. It is my lot to have to endure the sufferings of poverty, and at the same time not be exempt from those feelings of honour to which poverty is seldom subject. I cannot afford to call in legal assistance for which I cannot pay--and I will not do it.'
'I'll carry the case through for you. It certainly is not just my line of business--but I'll see it carried through for you.'
'Out of your own pocket?'
'Never mind; when I say I'll do a thing, I'll do it.'
'No, Mr Toogood; this thing you can not do. But do not suppose I am the less grateful.'
'What is it that I can do then? Why do you come to me if you won't take my advice?'
After this the conversation went on for a considerable time without touching on any point which need be brought palpably before the reader's eye. The attorney continued to beg the clergyman to have his case managed in the usual way, and went so far as to tell him that he would be ill-treating his wife and family if he continued to be obstinate. But the clergyman was not shaken from his resolve, and was at last able to ask Mr Toogood what he had better do--how he had better attempt to defend himself--on the understanding that no legal aid was to be employed. When this question was at last asked in such a way as to demand an answer, Mr Toogood sat for a moment or two in silence. He felt that an answer was not only demanded, but almost enforced; and yet there might be much difficulty in giving it.
'Mr Toogood,' said Mr Crawley, seeing the attorney's hesitation, 'I declare to you before God, that my only
'And they committed you for trial at the next Barchester assizes?' said the lawyer.
'They did.'
'And you employed no lawyer before the magistrates?'
'None;--I refused to employ anyone.'
'You were wrong there, Mr Crawley. I must be allowed to say that you were wrong there.'
'I may possibly have been so from your point of view, Mr Toogood; but permit me to explain. I--'
'It's no good explaining now. Of course you must employ a lawyer for your defence--an attorney who will put the case into the hands of counsel.'
'But that I cannot do, Mr Toogood.'
'You must do it. If you don't do it, your friends should do it for you. If you don't do it, everybody will say you're mad. There isn't a single solicitor you could find within a half a mile of you at this moment who wouldn't give you the same advice --not a single man, either, who had got a head on his shoulders worth a trump.'
When Mr Crawley was told that madness would be laid at his charge if he did not do as he was bid, his face became very black, and assumed something of that look of determined obstinacy which it had worn when he was standing in the presence of the bishop and Mrs Proudie. 'It may be so,' he said. 'It may be as you say, Mr Toogood. But these neighbours of yours, as to whose collected wisdom you speak with so much certainty, would hardly recommend me to indulge in a luxury for which I have no means of paying.'
'Who thinks about paying under such circumstances as these?'
'I do, Mr Toogood.'
'The wretched costermonger that comes to grief has a barrister in a wig and gown to give him his chance of escape.'
'But I am not a costermonger, Mr Toogood--though more wretched perhaps than any costermonger now in existence. It is my lot to have to endure the sufferings of poverty, and at the same time not be exempt from those feelings of honour to which poverty is seldom subject. I cannot afford to call in legal assistance for which I cannot pay--and I will not do it.'
'I'll carry the case through for you. It certainly is not just my line of business--but I'll see it carried through for you.'
'Out of your own pocket?'
'Never mind; when I say I'll do a thing, I'll do it.'
'No, Mr Toogood; this thing you can not do. But do not suppose I am the less grateful.'
'What is it that I can do then? Why do you come to me if you won't take my advice?'
After this the conversation went on for a considerable time without touching on any point which need be brought palpably before the reader's eye. The attorney continued to beg the clergyman to have his case managed in the usual way, and went so far as to tell him that he would be ill-treating his wife and family if he continued to be obstinate. But the clergyman was not shaken from his resolve, and was at last able to ask Mr Toogood what he had better do--how he had better attempt to defend himself--on the understanding that no legal aid was to be employed. When this question was at last asked in such a way as to demand an answer, Mr Toogood sat for a moment or two in silence. He felt that an answer was not only demanded, but almost enforced; and yet there might be much difficulty in giving it.
'Mr Toogood,' said Mr Crawley, seeing the attorney's hesitation, 'I declare to you before God, that my only