precise sum is half-a-crown. They must have been men of special faculties, and it is probable that the stern preliminary apprenticeship, when they were bound to sweep out the shop, carry parcels, and sleep on the counter, or under it, may have been necessary, in order to harden them for the coming strife. It may be requisite to spend certain years in the Desert before you are fit to carry on the battle amongst the vines and fig-trees of the Promised Land. Our romance-writers have indulged us largely with pictures of the struggles amongst the Professional Classes. I should like to see a few good sketches of the Romance of London Trade. The amount of acuteness, and industry, and energy—(all charlatanism apart)—brought to bear upon the concerns of any great London tradesman’s establishment—be he publisher, wine-merchant, brewer, bill-discounter, dealer in marqueterie and curiosities, or what you will—would be very surprising to those whose attention has not been drawn to the subject in a particular way. Men don’t get on in trade in London, so as to attain a high place amongst their thousand rivals, without the possession of some qualities and faculties which would be worthy of one’s notice and consideration. I am bound to add, that I have been told by a friend, who himself occupies a very distinguished position in the City of London, and who has had abundant opportunities of knowing the story of the origin and progress of the great City Houses, that to many of them their prosperity came by mere chance; in other cases it was thrust upon them against their will. They happened, for example, to have become involved in certain agencies which they would have gladly disavowed, and which they endeavoured to repudiate by all means at their disposal, but they were held nolentes volentes to their bargain, and to the acquisition of unbounded wealth. In other cases, the possession of securities, of which they would gladly have washed their hands, has forced their operations into particular channels—and through these channels, in the long run, they have threaded their way into full Pactolus against their own will, despite of their own most strenuous efforts to turn back.
I know it is usual for men of letters in sketches of this kind to call particular attention to the struggles of their own class. But the literary class is but a small class after all, and even if we throw in the artists and musicians, the total number will be comparatively inconsiderable by the side of those who earn their living by buying and selling, and by commerce in its general branches. After all, I do not see why the struggles of gentlemen who write indifferent books and paint indifferent pictures should be more interesting than the efforts of persons who sell indifferent butter, or milk which has been largely drawn from the cow with the iron tail. I leave, of course, out of the question the few men of real genius and originality of conception whom any country contains at any given time—they will surely make their own way through all difficulties, and require but little help or sympathy. In Art or Literature it is a dreadful thing to be a Frog, and to undertake the Bull’s business. Any young man who comes to London with reasonable capacity for literary work, and who is not so silly as to fancy himself a man of genius when he is not one, will, without much difficulty, find the means of earning a respectable living, so he be industrious and punctual to his engagements. Neither the London publishers nor the London public are in a conspiracy to put down literary talent, or even literary energy. The sooner, however, young neophytes of this class leave off writing monodies on Chatterton, and recognise the great fact that unless they can take place amongst the All England Eleven, a literary life is a life of hard labour reasonably well rewarded, the sooner they will be likely to “get on” in London.
I spoke just now of getting on by “coups” and divided this class of success mainly into two heads—speculations in the marriage market or the money market. I have hitherto only been considering the case of men; but when we come to this division of the subject we are approaching more sacred ground—how do young ladies get on in London? Unfortunately, marriage is almost a woman’s only chance in life. The alternative is—what? A very few may support themselves by literary labour, and if you want to see specimens of ladies who have devoted themselves to that species of industry, they are to be seen in that wonderful new reading-room of the Museum. I would not for any consideration say one word which should suggest ridicule on such a point. God speed them, say I, and that the more that I have known instances amongst them where the proceeds of their honourable toil have been ungrudgingly bestowed upon procuring comforts and medical aid for a sick parent, husband, or child. How industriously they sit all through the long summer days at their work, with just an occasional pause, as though the picture of the little lodging in which the one for whose sake this toil had been undertaken had flashed across their minds. But it won’t do—time is too precious to be wasted even on the luxury of home thoughts. Till the hour of closing comes the pen must be busy with the note-book. I wonder what manner of work will be ultimately forthcoming from those piles of huge ponderous volumes by which they are surrounded. It used to be a very hard time of it for these poor ladies in the old reading-room of the Museum where there was that dreadful odour which might be warranted to produce headache in persons of the soundest constitution within two hours. But now the Museum ladies have a magnificent Pantheon sort of place in which they may prosecute their labours quite in a regal way—as undisturbed and as free from all chances of intrusion as though they were in their own drawing-rooms. Let us hope they may “get on.”
Another alternative, which occasionally turns out well enough, but in the majority of instances must be painful in the extreme, is that of the governess’s life. Those who draw fortunate numbers in this lottery may glide on quietly enough from youth to womanhood, from womanhood to old age, and be ultimately provided for by their former pupils; but I should fear there must be many internal struggles and heart-burnings even under the most favourable circumstances which