English fiction -- 19th century; Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, 1819-1901 -- Fiction
Through summer months the Morgans had suffered sufficiently from
the defects of their house; with the coming on of winter, they found
themselves exposed to miseries barely endurable. At the first slight
frost, cistern and water-pipes went to ruin; already so damp that
unlovely vegetation had cropped up on cellar walls, the edifice was now
drenched with torrents of water. Plaster fell from the ceilings; paper
peeled away down the staircase; stuccoed portions of the front began to
crack and moulder. Not a door that would close as a door should; not a
window that would open in the way expected of it; not a fireplace but
discharged its smoke into the room, rather than by the approved
channel. Everywhere piercing draughts, which often entered by orifices
unexplained and unexplainable. From cellar floor to chimney-pot, no
square inch of honest or trustworthy workmanship. So thin were the
parti-walls that conversation not only might, but must, be distinctly
heard from room to room, and from house to house; the Morgans learnt to
subdue their voices, lest all they said should become common property of
the neighbourhood. For the privilege of occupying such a residence, ‘the
interior,’ said advertisement, ‘handsomely decorated,’ they were racked
with an expenditure which, away in the sweet-scented country, would have
housed them amid garden graces and orchard fruitfulness.
At this time, Mr. Morgan had joined an acquaintance in the establishment
of a debt-collecting agency; his partner provided the modest capital
needful for such an enterprise, and upon himself fell the disagreeable
work. A man of mild temper and humane instincts, he spent his day in
hunting people who would not or could not pay the money they owed,
straining his wits to circumvent the fraudulent, and swooping
relentlessly upon the victims of misfortune. The occupation revolted
him, but at present he saw no other way of supporting the genteel
appearances which--he knew not why--were indispensable to his life. He
subsisted like a bird of prey; he was ever on the look out for carrion
which the law permitted him to seize. From the point of view forced upon
him, society became a mere system of legalised rapine. ‘You are in debt;
behold the bond. Behold, too, my authority for squeezing out of you the
uttermost farthing. You must beg or starve? I deplore it, but I, for my
part, have a genteel family to maintain on what I rend from your grip.’
He set his forehead against shame; he stooped to the basest chicanery;
he exposed himself to insult, to curses, to threats of violence.
Sometimes a whole day of inconceivably sordid toil resulted in the
pouching of a few pence; sometimes his reward was a substantial sum. He
knew himself despised by many of the creditors who employed him. ‘Bad
debts? For how much will you sell them to me?’ And as often as not he
took away with his bargain a glance which was equivalent to a kick.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account