Mortomley's Estate: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)Riddell, J. H., Mrs.
General
Mortomley's Estate: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)
Riddell, J. H., Mrs.
Bankruptcy -- Fiction; England -- Fiction
The way in which these things are managed might puzzle even a man
experienced in City ways to explain, since each company has its own
modes of cooking its accounts and hoodwinking the public. But these
things are done,--they were yesterday, they have been to-day, they will
be to-morrow; and if you live so long, my dear reader, you will hear
more about yesterday's doings, and to-day's, and to-morrow's when, a few
years hence, you peruse the case of Blank _v._ Blank, or Blank _v._ the
Blank Company Limited, or any other improving record of the same sort.
The worst of the whole matter is that our clever financiers always keep
a little in advance of the law, as our clever thieves always keep a
little in advance of our safemakers. The gentlemen of a hundred schemes
complacently fleece their victims, and Parliament--wise after--says in
solemn convocation that the British sheep shall never be shorn in such
and such a way again with impunity.
Nevertheless, though not in the same way, the sheep is shorn daily, and
the shearer escapes scot-free with the wool. Always lagging behind the
wit of the culprit comes the wit of the law. It is only the poor
wretches who have no brains to enable them to take a higher flight than
picking pockets that really suffer.
"You are a hardened ruffian," says the judge, looking through his
spectacles at the pickpocket who has been convicted about a dozen times
previously, "and I mean to send you for five years where you can pick no
more pockets," which indeed the hardened ruffian--stripping off all the
false clothing philanthropists love to deck him with--deserves most
thoroughly. But, then, what about the hardened ruffians who are never
convicted, who float their bubble companies and rob the widow and the
orphan as coolly as Bill Sykes, only with smiling faces and well-clothed
persons?
It is unfair, no doubt, these should escape as they do scot-free, and
yet I must confess time has destroyed much of my sympathy with the widow
and the orphan who entrust their substance to strangers and believe in
the possible solvency--for such as them--of twenty per cent. One is
growing particularly tired of that countryman, so familiar to Londoners,
who loses his money because two total strangers ask if he has faith
enough to trust one or the other with a ten-pound-note, and it is
difficult to help feeling that a sound flogging judiciously administered
to one of these yokels who take up so much of a magistrate's time, would
impress the rural mind throughout England much more effectually than any
number of remarks from his Worship or leaders in the daily papers.
As one grows older, one's intolerance towards dupes is only equalled by
one's intolerance towards bores. A man begins by pitying a dupe and ends
by hating him; and the reason is that a dupe has so enormous a capacity
for giving trouble and so great a propensity for getting into it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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