The Last Penny and Other Stories

"Indeed, I have not," was the reply. "And I never felt so much at a loss how to make a decision in my life."

"Well, I should think that you might decide very readily. I found no difficulty."

"Then you have settled that matter?"

"Oh, certainly; the law is to be my sphere of action—or rather, my stepping-stone to a higher place."

"I cannot so easily decide the matter!"

"Why not? If you study law, you will rise, inevitably. And in this profession, there is a much broader field of action for a man of talent, than there is in any other profession."

"Perhaps you are right. But the difficult question with me is—'Can I be as useful in it?'"

"Nonsense, Harvey! Do put away these foolish notions. If you don't, they will be the ruin of you."

"I hope not. But if they do, I shall be ruined in a good cause."

"I am really afraid, Harvey," Abercrombie said in a serious tone, "that you affect these ultra sentiments, or are self-deceived. It is my opinion that no man can act from such motives as you declare to be yours."

"I did not know that I had declared myself governed by such motives. To say that, I know, would be saying too much, for I am painfully conscious of the existence and activity of motives very opposite. But what I mean to say is, that I am so clearly convinced that the motives of which I speak are the true ones, that I will not permit myself to come wholly under the influence of such as are opposite. And that is why I find a difficulty in choosing a profession. If I would permit myself to think only of rising in the world, for the sake of the world's estimation, I should not hesitate long. But I am afraid of confirming what I feel to be evil. And therefore it is that I am resolved to compel myself to choose from purer ends."

"Then you are no longer a free agent."

"Why not?"

"Because, in that kind of compulsion, you cease to act from freedom."

"Is it right, James, for us to compel ourselves to do right when we are inclined to do wrong? Certainly there is more freedom in being able to resist evil, than in being bound by it hand and foot, so as to be its passive slave."

"You are a strange reasoner, Harvey."

"If my conclusions are not rational, controvert them."

"And have to talk for ever?"

"No doubt you would, James, to drive me from positions that are to me as true as that the sun shines in heaven."

"Exactly; and therefore it is useless to argue with you. But, to drop that point of the subject, to what profession do you most incline?"

"To law."

"Then why not choose it?"

"Perhaps I shall. But I wish first to define with myself my own position. I must understand truly upon what ground I stand, or I will not move forward one inch."

"Well, you must define your own position for yourself, for I don't see that I can help you much." And there the subject was dropped.

It was some time before the debate in Harvey's mind was decided. His predilections were all in favour of the law—but in thinking of it, ambition and purely selfish views would arise in his mind, and cause him to hesitate, for he did not wish to act from them. At last he decided to become a law student, with the acknowledgment to himself that he had low and selfish motives in his mind, but with the determination to oppose them and put them away whenever they should arise into activity. Under this settled principle of action, he entered upon the study of the profession he had chosen.

Thus, with two opposite leading motives did the young men commence life. Let us see the result of these motives upon their characters and success after the lapse of ten years. Let us see which is farthest on the road to true greatness. Both, in an ardent and untiring devotion to the duties of their profession, had already risen to a degree of eminence, as lawyers, rarely attained under double the number of years of patient toil. But there was a difference in the estimation in which both were held by those who could discriminate. And this was apparent in the character of the cases referred to them. A doubtful case, involving serious considerations, was almost certain to be placed in the hands of Abercrombie, for his acuteness and tact, and determination to succeed at all hazards, if possible, made him a very desirable advocate under these circumstances. Indeed, he often said that he would rather have a bad cause to plead than a good one, for there was some "honour" in success where every thing was against the case. On the contrary, in the community where Harvey had settled, but few thought of submitting to him a case that had not equity upon its side; and in such a case, he was never known to fail. He did not seek to bewilder the minds of a jury or of the court by sophistry, or to confuse a witness by paltry tricks; but his course was straightforward and manly, evolving the truth at every step with a clearness that made it apparent to all.

"It's all your fault," said an unsuccessful client to him one day in an angry tone.

"No, sir, it was the fault of your cause. It was a bad one."

"But I should have gained it, if you had mystified that stupid witness, as you could easily enough have done."

"Perhaps I might; but I did not choose to do that."

"It was your duty, sir, as an advocate, to use every possible means to gain the cause of your client."

"Not dishonest means, remember. Bring me a good cause, and I will do you justice. But when you place me in a position where success can only be had in the violation of another's rights, I will always regard justice first. Right and honour have the first claims upon me—my client the next."

"It's the last cause you will ever have of mine, then," replied the angry client.

"And most certainly the last I want, if you have no higher claims than those you presented in the present instance."

About the same time that this incident occurred, an individual, indicted for a large robbery, sent for Lawyer Abercrombie. That individual came to the prisoner's cell, and held a preliminary interview with him.

"And the first thing to be done, if I take charge of your case," said the lawyer, "is for you to make a clean confession to me of every thing. You know that the law protects you in this. It is necessary that I may know exactly the ground upon which we stand, that I may keep the prosecution at fault."

The prisoner, in answer to this, made promptly a full confession of his guilt, and stated where a large portion of the property he had taken was concealed.

"And now," said he, after his confession, "do you think that you can clear me?"

"Oh yes, easily enough, if I have sufficient inducement to devote myself to the case."

"Will five thousand dollars secure your best efforts?"

"Yes."

"Very well. The day after I am cleared, I will place that sum in your hands."

"You shall be cleared," was the positive answer. And he was cleared. Justice was subverted—property to a large value lost—and an accomplished villain turned loose upon the community, by the venal tact and eloquence of a skilful lawyer.

In these two instances we have an exhibition of the characters of the two individuals, ripening for maturity. Both possessing fine talents, both were eminent, both successful,—but the one was a curse, and the other a blessing to society. And all this, because their ends of life were different.

Time passed on, and Abercrombie, as the mere tool of a political party, elected by trick and management, under circumstances humiliating to a man of feeling and principle, became a representative in the State legislature. But he was a representative, and this soothing opiate to his ambition quieted every unpleasant emotion. Conscious, in the state of political feeling, that there was little or no possible chance of maintaining even his present elevation, much less of rising higher, unless he became pliant in the hands of those who had elected him, he suffered all ideas of the general good to recede from his mind, and gave himself up wholly to furthering the schemes and interested views of his own party. By this means, he was enabled to maintain his position. But what a sacrifice for an honourable, high-minded man! A few years in the State legislature, where he was an active member, prepared him for going up higher. He was, accordingly, nominated for Congress, and elected, but by the same means that had accomplished all of his previous elections. And he went there under the mistaken idea that he was becoming a great man, when it was not with any particular reference to his fitness for becoming a representative of one section of the country for the good of the whole that he was sent there, but as a fit tool for the performance of selfish party ends. Thus he became the exponent in Congress of the same principles that he had laid down for his own government, viz. such as were thoroughly selfish and interested.

In the course of time, it so happened that, as eminent lawyers, the two individuals we have introduced were again thrown together as inhabitants of the same city, and became practitioners at the same bar. At first, Abercrombie did not fear Harvey; but he soon learned that, as an opponent, not even he could gain over him, unless his cause were just. For some years Abercrombie went regularly to Congress, usually elected over the opposing candidate by a large majority—for his party far outnumbered the other. At length the time seemed to have arrived for him to take another step. The senatorial term for the district in which he lived was about to expire, and there was to be an election for a United States senator. For this vacancy he was nominated as a candidate by his party, and as that was the strongest party, he looked confidently for an election. The opposing interest cast about them for some time, and at last fixed upon Harvey, who, after mature deliberation, accepted the nomination.

It is needless here to recapitulate the principles which governed these two individuals; they have already been fully stated. At the time that they became rivals for a high station, each had confirmed in himself the views of life expressed many years before, and was acting them out fully. One was thoroughly selfish—the other strove to regard, in all that he did, the good of others.

A few months before the day of election, a woman dressed in deep mourning came into the office of Mr. Harvey. She stated that she was a widow with a large family—that her husband had been dead about a year, and that the executor of her husband's estate, formerly his partner in business, was about to deprive her of all the property that had been left to her for the maintenance of her family and the education of her children, under the plea that there were, in reality, no assets, after the settlement of the estate.

"Well, madam, what do you wish done?" asked Mr. Harvey, a good deal interested in the woman's case.

"I want justice, sir, and no more. If there are really no assets, then I want nothing. But if there is, as I am confident that there must be a handsome property really due me, then I wish my rights maintained. Will you undertake my case?"