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Chapter 67。 The Close Of Esther’s Narrative。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。1202
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Chapter 1
In Chancery
ondon。 Michaelmas Term lately over； and the Lord
LChancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall。 Implacable
November weather。 As much mud in the streets； as if the
waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth； and it
would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus； forty feet long or
so； waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill。 Smoke
lowering down from chimney…pots； making a soft black drizzle；
with flakes of soot in it as big as full…grown snowflakes—gone into
mourning； one might imagine； for the death of the sun。 Dogs；
indistinguishable in mire。 Horses； scarcely better； splashed to
their very blinkers。 Foot…passengers； jostling one another’s
umbrellas； in a general infection of ill…temper； and losing their
foothold at street…corners； where tens of thousands of other foot…
passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke （if
this day ever broke）； adding new deposits to the crust upon crust
of mud； sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement； and
accumulating at compound interest。
Fog everywhere。 Fog up the river； where it flows among green
aits and meadows； fog down the river； where it rolls defiled among
the tiers of shipping； and the waterside pollutions of a great （and
dirty） city。 Fog on the Essex marshes； fog on the Kentish heights。
Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier…brigs； fog lying out on the
yards； and hovering in the rigging of great ships； fog drooping on
the gunwales of barges and small boats。 Fog in the eyes and
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Bleak House 9
throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners； wheezing by the
firesides of their wards； fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon
pipe of the wrathful skipper； down in his close cabin； fog cruelly
pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ’prentice boy on
deck。 Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into
a nether sky of fog； with fog all round them； as if they were up in a
balloon； and hanging in the misty clouds。
Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets；
much as the sun may； from the spongy fields； be seen to loom by
husbandman and ploughboy。 Most of the shops lighted two hours
before their time—as the gas seems to know； for it has a haggard
and unwilling look。
The raw afternoon is rawest； and the dense fog is densest； and
the muddy streets are muddiest； near that leaden…headed old
obstruction； appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden…
headed old corporation： Temple Bar。 And hard by Temple Bar； in
Lincoln’s Inn Hall； at the very heart of the fog； sits the Lord High
Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery。
Never can there come fog too thick； never can there come mud
and mire too deep； to assort with the groping and floundering
condition which this High Court of Chancery； most pestilent of
hoary sinners； holds； this day； in the sight of heaven and earth。
On such an afternoon； if ever； the Lord High Chancellor ought
to be sitting here—as here he is—with a foggy glory round his
head； softly fenced in with crimson cloth and curtains； addressed
by a large advocate with great whiskers； a little voice； and an
interminable brief； and outwardly directing his contemplation to
the lantern in the roof； where he can see nothing but fog。 On such
an afternoon； some score of members of the High Court of
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Chancery Bar ought to be—as here they are—mistily engaged in
one of the ten thousand stages of an endless cause； tripping one
another up on slippery precedents； groping knee…deep in
technicalities； running their goat…hair and horse…hair warded
heads against walls of words； and making a pretence of equity
with serious faces； as players might。 On such an afternoon； the
various solicitors in the cause； some two or three of whom have
inherited it from their fathers who made a fortune by it； ought to
be—as are they not？—ranged in a line； in a long matted well （but
you might look in vain for Truth at the bottom of it）； between the
registrar’s red table and the silk gowns； with bills； cross…bills；
answers； rejoinders； injunctions； affidavits； issues； references to
masters； masters’ reports； mountains of costly nonsense； piled
before them。 Well may the court be dim； with wasting candles here
and there； well may the fog hang heavy in it； as if it would never
get out； well may the stained glass windows lose their colour； and
admit no light of day into the place； well may the uninitiated from
the streets； who peep in through the glass panes in the door； be
deterred from entrance by its owlish aspect； and by the drawl
languidly echoing to the roof from the padded dais where the Lord
High Chancellor looks into the lantern that has no light in it； and
where the attendant wigs are all stuck in a fog…bank！ This is the
Court of Chancery； which has its decaying houses and its blighted
lands in every shire； which has its worn…out lunatic in every
madhouse； and its dead in every churchyard； which has its ruined
suitor； with his slipshod heels and threadbare dress； borrowing
and begging through the round of every man’s acquaintance；
which gives to monied might； the means abundantly of wearying
out the right； which so exhausts finances； patience； courage； hope；
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so overthrows the brain and breaks the heart； that there is not an
honourable man among its practitioners who would not give—who
does not often give—the warning； “Suffer any wrong that can be
done you； rather than come here！”
Who happen to be in the Lord Chancellor’s court this murky
afternoon besides the Lord Chancellor； the counsel in the cause；
two or three counsel who are never in any cause； and the well of
solicitors before mentioned？ There is the registrar below the
Judge； in wig and gown； and there are two or three maces； or
petty…bags； or privy purses； or whatever they may be； in legal court
suits。 These are all yawning； for no crumb of amusement ever falls
from JARNDYCE AND JARNDYCE （the cause in hand） which
was squeezed dry years upon years ago。 The short…hand writers；
the