THE SECOND EXAMINATION.--COUNT ALTERONI.
Forty-two days after the appearance of Mr. Tomlinson's name in the
_Gazette_, among the category of Bankrupts, the second examination of
this gentleman took place at the Bankruptcy Court in Basinghall Street.
In an arm-chair, behind a desk raised upon a species of dais, sate the
commissioner, embellished with a wig and gown. Close under the desk was
placed the registrar, also with wig and gown; and two or three
barristers, who were retained in the case, were similarly adorned. In a
sort of pew on the right of the commissioner sate the official assignee,
with a pile of books and papers before him. About two hundred persons
thronged the room--most of whom, by their sullen and sinister looks,
might be easily recognised as the creditors of the bankrupt. At a
distance from the box in which witnesses were placed during examination,
stood Count Alteroni, with folded arms and severe countenance.
A few moments before eleven o'clock a bustle was heard near the door;
and a whisper of "Here's the trade assignee," ran through the crowd.
Mr. Greenwood entered the court with a patronising smile upon his
countenance, and an easy kind of gait, as if he were by no means
dissatisfied with himself. He was dressed in the most elegant manner;
and his left hand played negligently, as usual, with the costly gold
chain that festooned over his waistcoat.
As he passed through the crowd of his friend's creditors, many of whom
were known to him, he addressed a few words in an off-hand and
patronising manner to those whom he recognised at the moment.
"Fine day, Mr. Styles. How are Mrs. Styles and those dear children?"
(Mr. Styles was an old batchelor.)--"Ah! Mr. Milksop, how are you? quite
delighted to see you! Why, upon my word, you are getting quite stout."
(Poor Mr. Milksop was as thin as a lath.) "But every thing prospers
with you, I suppose!--Well, Mr. Chivers, how do _you_ do? Any thing new
on the Stock-Exchange? I believe you don't suffer much by this business
of Tomlinson's, do you?"
"Only three thousand--that's all!" returned Mr. Chivers, with a smile
which would have turned new milk sour.
"Oh! a mere song!" exclaimed Greenwood, tossing up his head. "Well,
Vokes, are you here? you don't mean to say that you're wasting your time
in this manner, eh?--Ah! Tullett, my good friend--delighted to see you.
Why, how well you do look, to be sure!" (Mr. Tullett was in a rapid
decline; and he "grinned horribly a ghastly smile" at this salutation.)
In this manner did Mr. Greenwood work his way through the crowd, until
he reached the desk of the official assignee, by the side of whom he
took a seat.
"Where's the bankrupt?" exclaimed the clerk of the court in a loud and
imperious tone of voice, while Mr. Greenwood bestowed one of his
patronising smiles upon the Commissioner.
"Here," replied Tomlinson; and he stood forward close by the
witness-box.
He was pale and altered; and the marks of care and anxiety were visible
upon his countenance. The glance he cast around him, as he took his
stand in the presence of the Commissioner, was hurried and fearful:--he
almost dreaded that the face of Michael Martin would meet his eyes as he
thus hastily scanned the crowd by whom he was surrounded. But his alarm
was without foundation: the old cashier was not there.
The examination of the bankrupt then commenced.
In answer to the questions put to him, he stated that had he delivered
in to the assignees as full and complete a statement of his affairs as
the loss of his books (which had been abstracted by the cashier at the
time of the robbery) would permit.
Mr. Greenwood observed that the accounts were highly satisfactory, and
would doubtless please every creditor present. It was, however,
unfortunate that the estate would not pay a single farthing in the
pound.
"Very unfortunate indeed," growled a creditor.
"I would much rather have heard that there was a dividend, than that the
accounts are so very satisfactory," murmured another.
"Mr. Tomlinson's creditors cannot complain of him, your Honour," said
Mr. Greenwood to the Commissioner: "on the contrary, they have every
reason to be perfectly satisfied with him. He has given up every
thing--"
"Why, there was nothing left to give up!" ejaculated Mr. Vokes.
"Nothing left to give up!" cried Mr. Greenwood, casting a stern glance
upon the unfortunate creditor; "permit me, sir, as the trade-assignee
duly chosen at the last meeting--permit me, sir, to inform you that
there were the desks, counters, stools, and various fixtures of the
bank--all of which Mr. Tomlinson surrendered in the most honourable and
straightforward manner, and which have realized a hundred and eighty-one
pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence, for the benefit of the
estate."
"Well--and what has become of that sum?" demanded Mr. Vokes.
"Consumed by the expenses of the _fiat_," answered Mr. Greenwood coolly.
"But, as I was observing, your Honour, when I was interrupted--interrupted
in a most indecent manner--the position of Mr. Tomlinson is a most
honourable one--"
"Perhaps it is even enviable," said the consumptive creditor, drily.
"And I for one," added Mr. Greenwood, "shall certainly sign his
certificate."
"Have no tidings been heard of the cashier who absconded?" inquired the
Commissioner.
"None, sir," answered the official assignee and Mr. Greenwood
simultaneously.
"What has become of the bankrupt's furniture at his private residence?"
demanded a creditor.
"His landlord issued a distress for a year's rent the moment the bank
stopped," answered Greenwood. "The amount due to this most hard-hearted
and unfeeling landlord is a hundred and twenty pounds, and the furniture
would not fetch more at an auction. I therefore, with the full
concurrence of the official assignee, allowed that very harsh man to
keep the goods."
A barrister, who had been retained for one of the creditors, then
proceeded to examine Mr. Tomlinson.
"You allege that about ninety-four thousand pounds were abstracted from
the bank by the fugitive cashier?"
"I do--or as nearly as I can guess."
"And yet, by this balance-sheet, I perceive that your liabilities are
two hundred thousand pounds. Were you not insolvent when the robbery was
perpetrated?"
"It would appear so, certainly."
"Then how do you account for that immense deficiency?"
"I can account for it in no other manner than by presuming that my
cashier had carried on a systematic mode of plunder for some years past;
but as I placed implicit reliance on him, I was never led to an
investigation of my actual position."
"Do you mean to say that your cashier embezzled many thousand pounds
every year?"
"I am afraid that such was the fact."
The barrister asked no farther questions.
Another opposing counsel interrogated the bankrupt relative to his
affairs; but Tomlinson's replies were given in a manner which afforded
no scope for suspicion.
Ah! none divined how much it cost that unhappy man thus to heap shame
and infamy upon the head of a faithful old clerk, who had never wronged
him of a shilling!
The case terminated by the declaration of the commissioner that the
bankrupt had passed his second examination.
Tomlinson was glad to escape from the frightful ordeal to which his
feelings had been subjected for two mortal hours; and, while he hurried
home to conceal his emotions from every eye, and meditate upon his
condition in private, Mr. Greenwood busied himself in obtaining
signatures for his certificate. This was an easy matter to a man of the
financier's powers of persuasion; and that very afternoon the names of
four-fifths of the bankrupt's creditors were attached to the parchment
which was to relieve him of all past embarrassments.
When Greenwood took the certificate to Tomlinson in the evening, he
said, "My dear fellow, you will soon be a new man. In one-and-twenty
days this document will have passed the Lord Chancellor and the Court of
Review, and be duly registered in Basinghall Street. I will then lend
you a thousand pounds, _at only twenty per cent._, to start you as a
stock-broker. You see how well I have managed your business. You have
passed through the Court--and you have kept your furniture."
"Which I would have given up to my creditors, had you permitted me,"
said Tomlinson sorrowfully.
"Nonsense, my dear fellow! Never give away what you can keep by a little
manoeuvring. Your landlord can now withdraw his friendly seizure, and
all will be well."
"Nothing will render me happy until I find out that poor old man who has
so nobly, so generously sacrificed himself for me," observed Tomlinson
in a tone of deep dejection. "What can have become of him?"
"Oh! do not bother yourself about him," cried Greenwood impatiently. "He
will turn up one of these days; and then you can remunerate him
handsomely."
"Ah! that would indeed be a moment of supreme happiness for me!"
ejaculated Tomlinson.
"Yes," continued Greenwood, musing: "a five-pound note will recompense
the old fellow well for his conduct."
"A five-pound note!" repeated Tomlinson. "Can you be in earnest,
Greenwood?"
"Well, if you think it is too much, give him a couple of sovereigns,"
said Greenwood, coolly. "But I must take leave of you now: I am
compelled to devote a couple of hours this evening to the interests of
that free and enlightened body whom I have the honour to represent in
parliament. So, adieu, Tomlinson; and when your certificate is
registered, come to me."
Mr. Greenwood then took his departure from the bankrupt's abode.
"The heartless villain!" cried Tomlinson, when the door had closed
behind the financier; then, after a long pause, he added, "and yet his
ingenuity has saved me from eternal degradation and shame!"
In the mean time Count Alteroni returned to his dwelling at Richmond. He
reached home at about five o'clock in the evening, and found his wife
and daughter anxiously awaiting his arrival. The moment he entered the
drawing-room, the ladies cast a timid and yet inquiring glance towards
him; and their hearts sank within them when their eyes caught sight of
his severe and sombre expression of countenance.
"My dear wife--my beloved daughter," he said, advancing towards them,
and taking the hand of each in his own, "my worst fears are confirmed.
The bank will not pay one sixpence of dividend: Greenwood has contrived
to get his fellow-conspirator clear of the tribunal; and the creditors
have not a hope left. It was with the greatest difficulty that I could
so far master my feelings as to avoid an interference in those most
iniquitous proceedings. But my position--my rank forbade me from
attempting aught to expose those villains. And now, my dear wife--now,
my charming Isabella--prepare yourselves to hear the worst. We are
ruined!"
"Ruined!" exclaimed both the countess and her daughter at the same
moment.
"Oh! no," added Isabella: "we have many friends, my dear father."
"To whom I will not apply," said the count, proudly. "No--we must
wrestle with our evil fortunes, and trust to the advent of better times.
At present every thing seems to conspire to crush us; and should that
contemplated marriage take place in Castelcicala----"
"My dearest husband," interrupted the countess, "do not aggravate
present griefs by the apprehension of that which as yet only menace us.
It is scarcely possible that the Grand Duke will perpetrate such a
folly."
"And that title of Marchioness of Ziani--and that pension,--do they not
speak volumes?" cried the count bitterly. "Oh! there are moments when I
feel inclined to listen to the representations of those faithful friends
in my own country with whom I correspond, and who are ever counselling
me to----"
"Ah! my dearest father," exclaimed Isabella, bursting into tears; "would
you endanger that life which is so precious to my mother and myself?
would you plunge your native land in the horrors of a civil war? Oh! let
us dare all our present ills with firmness and resolution; and if there
be a guardian Providence--as I devoutly believe--he will not allow us to
be persecuted for ever!"
"Noble girl!" cried the count; "you teach me my duty;"--and he embraced
his lovely daughter with the utmost warmth and tenderness.
"Yes," said the countess, fondly pressing her husband's hand, "we are
crushed only for a time. Our course is now clear:--we must give up our
present establishment; and--as we have, thank God! no debts----"
"Ah! it is that which cuts me to the very soul!" interrupted the count.
"You are not yet acquainted with the extent of our misfortunes. A brave
fellow countryman of mine, who supported me in all the plans which I
endeavoured to carry out for the welfare of the Castelcicalans, and who
was driven into exile on my account, was imprisoned in London a few
months ago for a considerable sum of money. I could not leave him to
perish in a gaol. I became answerable for him--and the creditor is now
pressing me for the payment of the debt."
"And what is the amount of this liability?" inquired the countess,
hastily.
"Eighteen hundred pounds," was the reply.
"Do not suffer that to annoy you, my dearest father," exclaimed
Isabella. "My jewellery and superfluous wardrobe will produce----"
"Alas! my dearest child," interrupted the count, "all that we possess
would not realize any thing like that sum. But, happen what will, our
first step must be to give up this furnished mansion, and retire to a
more humble dwelling. That will not cost us many pangs. We shall still
be together; and our love for each other constitutes our greatest
happiness."
"Yes, my dearest husband," said the countess; "even a prison should not
separate us."
"Where my beloved father is--where my parents are--there am I happy,"
murmured Isabella, the pearly tears trickling down her cheeks.
Oh! in that hour of his sorrow, how sweet--how sweet upon the ears of
that noble Italian sounded the words, "husband" and "father," which,
coupled with tender syllables of consolation, came from the lips of the
two affectionate beings who clung to him so fondly. The lovely
countenance of his daughter--so beautiful, that it seemed rather to
belong to the ethereal inhabitants of heaven than to a mortal denizen of
earth--was upturned to him; and her large black eyes, shining through
her tears, beamed with an ineffable expression of tenderness and filial
love.
Charming, charming Isabella--how ravishing, how enchanting wast thou at
that moment when thou didst offer sweet consolation to thy father! The
roses dyed thy cheeks beneath the delicate tinge of transparent bistre
which proclaimed thee a daughter of the sunny south;--thy moist red lips
apart, disclosed thy teeth white as the orient pearl;--thy young bosom
heaved beneath the gauze which veiled it;--purity sat upon thy lofty
brow, like a diadem which innocence confers upon its elect! Very
beautiful wast thou, Isabella--charming exotic flower from the sweet
Italian clime!
"Yes, my beloved wife--my darling daughter," said the count; "we are
ruined by my mad confidence in that villain Greenwood. You know that
there is one means by which I could obtain wealth and release us from
this cruel embarrassment. But never would either of you wish to see me
sell my claims and resign my patriotism for gold! No--dearest partakers
of my sad destinies, that may not be! I shall ever reject the offers of
my persecutors with scorn; and until fortune may choose to smile upon
us, we must learn to support her frowns with resignation."
"That same Almighty power which afflicts and chastises, can also restore
gladness, and multiply blessings," said Isabella, solemnly.
A servant now entered the room to announce that dinner was served in
another apartment.
Assuming a cheerful air, the count led his wife and daughter to the
dining-room, and partook of the repast with a forced appetite, in order
to avoid giving pain to those who watched all his movements and hung
upon all his words with such tender solicitude.
After dinner, the count, still pondering upon the scene in which a
tender wife and affectionate daughter had administered to him such sweet
consolation, and experiencing a delicious balm in the domestic felicity
which he enjoyed, said to Isabella, "Read me from your _Album_, my dear
girl, those lines which a poet is supposed to address to his wife, and
which always possess new charms for me."
Isabella hastened to obey her father's wishes, and read, in a soft and
silver tone, the following stanzas:--
THE POET TO HIS WIFE.
When far away, my memory keeps in view,
Unweariedly, the image of my wife;
This tribute of my gratitude is due
To her who seems the angel of my life--
The guiding star that leads me safely through
The eddies of this world's unceasing strife;--
Hope's beacon, cheering ever from afar,
How beautiful art thou, my guiding star!
Our children have thy countenance, that beams
With love for him who tells thy virtues now;--
Their eyes have caught the heavenly ray which gleams
From thine athwart the clouds that shade my brow,
Like sunshine on a night of hideous dreams!--
The first to wean me from despair art thou;
For all th' endearing sentiments of life
Are summed up in the words _Children_ and _Wife_.
The mind, when in a desert state, renews
Its strength, if by Hope's purest manna fed;
As drooping flowers revive beneath the dews
Which April mornings bountifully shed.
Mohammed taught (let none the faith abuse)
That echoes were the voices of the dead
Repeating, in a far-off realm of bliss,
The words of those they loved and left in this.
My well-beloved, should'st thou pass hence away,
Into another and a happier sphere,
Ere death has also closed my little day,
And morn may wake no more on my career,
"I love thee," are the words that I shall say
From hour to hour, during my sojourn here.
That thou in other realms may'st still be found
Prepared to echo back the welcome sound.
Scarcely had Isabella finished these lines, when a servant entered the
room, and announced a Mr. Johnson, "who had some pressing business to
communicate, and who was very sure that he shouldn't be considered an
intruder."
Mr. Johnson--a queer-looking, shabby-genteel, off-hand kind of a
man--made his appearance close behind the servant, over whose shoulder
he leered ominously.
"I b'lieve you're Count Alteroni, air you?" was Mr. Johnson's first
question.
"I am. What is your business with me?"
"I'm come from Rolfe, the attorney, in Clements' Inn," was the reply:
"he--"
"Oh! I suppose he has sent you to say that he will accord me the delay I
require?" interrupted the count.
"Not quite that there neither," said the man; then, sinking his voice to
a mysterious whisper, and glancing towards the ladies with an air of
embarrassment, he added, "The fact is, I've got a execution agin your
person--a _ca-sa_, you know, for eighteen hundred and costs."
"A writ--a warrant!" ejaculated the count aloud. "You do not mean to say
that you are come to take me to prison?"
"Not exactly that either," replied Mr. Johnson. "You needn't go to quod,
you know. You can come to our lock-up in the New-Cut, Lambeth, where
you'll be as snug as if you was in your own house, barring liberty."
"I understand you," said the count; then, turning to his wife and
daughter, he added, "My dears, the evil moment is arrived. This person
is a bailiff come to arrest me; and I must go with him. I implore you
not to take this misfortune to heart:--it was sure to happen; and it
might just as well occur to-day as a week or a month hence."
"And whither will they take you?" asked the countess, bursting into
tears. "Cannot we be allowed to accompany you?"
"You can come, ma'am, and see his lordship to-morrow," said the bailiff;
"and you can stay with him from ten in the morning till nine in the
evening--or may-be till half-arter ten as a wery partick'lar
faviour--for which you'll on'y have to pay half a sufferin extray. But
there's my man."
A sneaking kind of knock--something more than a single one, not so much
as a double one, and by no means as bold as a postman's--had been heard
the moment before the bailiff uttered these last words; and while he
went in person to inform his acolyte that the caption was made, and that
he might wait in the hall, the count endeavoured to soothe and console
the two afflicted ladies who now clung to him in the most impassioned
and distracted manner.
"To-morrow, my dear father--to-morrow, the moment the clock strikes ten,
we will be with you," said Isabella. "Oh! how miserably will pass the
hours until that period!"
"Will you not _now_ permit me, my dearest husband, to see the Envoy of
Castelcicala, and--"
"No," answered the count firmly. "Did we not agree ere now to support
with resignation all that fortune might have in store for us?"
"Ah! pardon me--I forgot," said the countess. "I am overwhelmed with
grief. Oh! what a blow--and for _you_!"
"Show yourselves worthy of your high rank and proud name," cried the
nobleman; "and all will yet be well."
At this moment the bailiff returned to the room.
"I am now ready to accompany you," said the count.
"So much the better," cried Mr. Johnson. "Me and my man Tim Bunkins come
down in a omnibus; I don't know which vay you'd like to go, but I've
heerd say you keeps a wery tidy cabrioily."
"It would be a monstrous mockery for any one to proceed to a prison in
his own luxurious vehicle," said the count sternly. "As you came, so may
you return. I will accompany you in an omnibus."
The count embraced his wife and daughter tenderly, and with much
difficulty tore himself away, in order to leave a comfortable home for a
miserable sponging-house.