And now we have come down to the memorable summer and fall of 1857. No
gathering clouds, no far-distant, low-voiced thunder gave warning of an
approaching storm. The sky was clear, and the sun of prosperity moving
onward in his strength, when, suddenly, from the West came a quick flash
and an ominous roll of thunder. Men paused, looked at each other, and
asked what it meant. Here and there a note of warning was sounded; but,
if heeded by any, it came too late. There followed a brief pause, in
which people held their breaths. Then came another flash, and another
rattling peal. Heavy clouds began to roll up from the horizon; and soon
the whole sky was dark. Pale face looked into pale face, and tremulous
voices asked as to what was coming. Fear and consternation were in
all hearts. It was too late for any to seek refuge or shelter. Ere the
startled multitudes had stirred from their first surprised position,
the tempest came down in its fury, sweeping, tornado-like, from West to
East, and then into one grand gyration circling the whole horizon. Men
lost courage, confidence, and hope. They stood still while the storm
beat down, and the fearful work of destruction went on.
No commercial disaster like this had ever before visited our country.
Houses that stood unmoved through many fierce convulsions went down
like brittle reeds, and old Corporations which were thought to be as
immovable as the hills tottered and fell, crushing hundreds amid their
gigantic ruins.
Among the first to yield was the greatly extended house of Floyd,
Lawson, Lee, & Co. The news came up on the wires to S----, with orders
to stop the mills and discharge all hands. This was the bursting of the
tempest on our town. Mr. Dewey had gone to New York on the first sign of
approaching trouble, and his return was looked for anxiously by all with
whom he was deeply interested in business. But many days passed and none
saw him, or heard from him. Failing to receive any communication, Squire
Floyd, who had everything involved, went down to New York. I saw him on
the morning of his return. He looked ten years older.
It was soon whispered about that the failure of Floyd, Lawson, Lee, &
Co. was a bad one. Then came intimations that Mr. Dewey was not in
New York, and that his partners, when questioned about him, gave very
unsatisfactory replies.
“Have you any notes of the Clinton Bank, Doctor?” said a friend whom I
met in the street. “Because, if you have, take my advice and get rid of
them as quickly as possible. A run has commenced, and it's my opinion
that the institution will not stand for forty-eight hours.”
It stood just forty-eight hours from the date of this prophecy, and then
closed its doors, leaving our neighborhood poorer by the disaster over
two hundred thousand dollars. There was scarcely a struggle in dying,
for the institution had suffered such an exhausting depletion that when
its extremity came it passed from existence without a throe. A Receiver
was immediately appointed, and the assets examined. These consisted,
mainly, of bills receivable under discount, not probably worth now ten
cents on the dollar. Three-fourths of this paper was drawn or endorsed
by New York firms or individuals, most of whom had already failed. The
personal account of Ralph Dewey showed him to be a debtor to the Bank
in the sum of nearly a hundred thousand dollars. The President, Joshua
Kling, had not been seen since the evening of the day on which the doors
of the Clinton Bank were shut, never to be opened for business again.
His accounts were all in confusion. The Cashier, who had succeeded
him on his elevation to the Presidency of the institution; was a mere
creature in his hands; and from his revelations it was plain that
robbery had been progressing for some time on a grand scale.
As soon as these disastrous facts became known to the heaviest sufferers
in S----, the proper affidavits were made out, and requisitions obtained
for both Dewey and Kling, as defaulters and fugitives from justice.
The Sheriff of our county, charged with the duty of arrest, proceeded
forthwith to New York, and, engaging the services of detectives there,
began the search for Dewey, who, it was believed, had not left that
city. He was discovered, in a week, after having dexterously eluded
pursuit, on the eve of departure for England, disguised, and under an
assumed name. His next appearance in S----was as a prisoner in the hands
of our Sheriff, who lodged him in jail. Very heavy bonds being required
for his appearance at court, there was not found among us any one
willing to take the risk, who was qualified to become his surety. And so
the wretched man was compelled to lie in prison until the day of trial.
Immediately on his incarceration, he sent for Mr. Wallingford, who
visited him without delay. He found him a shrinking, cowed, and
frightened culprit; not a man, conscious of rectitude, and therefore
firm in bearing, though in a false and dangerous position.
“This is a bad business, Mr. Wallingford,” he said, on meeting the
lawyer--“a very bad business; and I have sent for you as a professional
gentleman of standing and ability, in order to have a consultation in
regard to my position--in fact, to place myself wholly in your hands. I
must have the best counsel, and therefore take the earliest opportunity
to secure your valuable services. Will you undertake my case?”
“That will depend, Mr. Dewey,” was answered, “entirely upon how it
stands. If you are falsely accused, and can demonstrate to me your
innocence, I will defend you to the utmost of my ability, battling your
accusers to the last. But if, on the contrary, you cannot show clean
hands, I am not the one to undertake your case.”
Dewey looked at Mr. Wallingford strangely. He scarcely comprehended him.
“I may have committed mistakes; all men are liable to error,” he
replied.
“Mistake is one thing, Mr. Dewey, and may be explained; fraud is another
thing, and cannot be explained to mean any thing else. What I want you
to understand, distinctly, is this: If your connection with the Clinton
Bank has been, from the beginning, just and honorable, however much it
may now seem to be otherwise, I will undertake your case, and conduct
it, I care not through how great difficulties, to a favorable issue. But
if it has not been--and you know how it stands--do not commit your fate
to me, for I will abandon you the moment I discover that you have been
guilty of deliberate wrong to others.”
The countenance of Mr. Dewey fell, and he seemed to shudder back into
himself. For some time he was silent.
“If there is a foregone conclusion in your mind, that settles the
matter,” he said, at length, in a disappointed tone.
“All I ask is clear evidence, Mr. Dewey. Foregone conclusions have
nothing to do with the matter,” replied Mr. Wallingford, “If you know
yourself to be innocent, you may trust yourself in my hands; if not, I
counsel you to look beyond me to some other man.”
“All men are liable to do wrong, Mr. Wallingford; and religion teaches
that the door of repentance is open to every one.”
“True, but the just punishment of wrong is always needed for a salutary
repentance. The contrition that springs from fear of consequences,
is not genuine repentance. If you have done wrong, you must take the
penalty in some shape, and I am not the man knowingly to stay the just
progression of either moral or civil law.”
“Will you accept a retaining fee, even if not active in my case?” asked
Mr. Dewey.
“No,” was the emphatic answer.
A dark, despairing shadow fell over the miserable man's face, and he
turned himself away from the only being towards whom he had looked with
any hope in this great extremity of his life.
Mr. Wallingford retired with pity in his heart. The spectacle was one of
the most painful he had ever witnessed. How was the mighty fallen!--the
proud brought low! As he walked from the prison, the Psalmist's striking
words passed through his mind--“I have seen the wicked in great power,
and spreading himself like a green bay tree; yet he passed away, and lo,
he was not.”
When the day of trial came, Mr. Wallingford appeared as counsel for the
creditors of the Clinton Bank, on the side of the prosecution. He did
not show any eagerness to gain his case against the prisoner; but the
facts were so strong, and all the links in the chain of evidence so
clear, that conviction was inevitable. A series of frauds and robberies
was exposed, that filled the community with surprise and indignation;
and when the jury, after a brief consultation, brought in a verdict of
guilty, the expression of delight was general. Detestation of the man's
crimes took away all pity from the common sentiment in regard to him. A
sentence of five years' expiation in the State prison closed the career
of Ralph Dewey in S-----, and all men said: “The retribution is just.”
Squire Floyd lost everything, and narrowly escaped the charge of
complicity with Dewey. Nothing but the fact of their known antagonism
for some two or three years, turned the public mind in his favor, and
enabled him to show that what appeared collusion, was only, so far as he
was concerned, fair business operations. With the wreck of his fortune
he came very near making also a wreck of his good name. Even as it was,
there were some in S----who thought the Squire had, in some things, gone
far beyond the rule of strict integrity.
Judge Bigelow, thanks to the timely and resolute intervention of Mr.
Wallingford, stood far away from the crashing wrecks, when the storm
swept down in fearful devastation. It raged around, but did not touch
him; for he was safely sheltered, and beyond its reach.