CHAPTER XLIII.
MR. CROSBIE GOES INTO THE CITY.
"I've known the City now for more than ten years, Mr. Crosbie, andI never knew money to be so tight as it is at this moment. The bestcommercial bills going can't be done under nine, and any otherkind of paper can't so much as get itself looked at." Thus spokeMr. Musselboro. He was seated in Dobbs Broughton's arm-chair inDobbs Broughton's room in Hook Court, on the hind legs of which hewas balancing himself comfortably; and he was communicating hisexperience in City matters to our old friend, Adolphus Crosbie,--ofwhom we may surmise that he would not have been there, at thatmoment, in Hook Court, if things had been going well with him. It wasnow past eleven o'clock, and he should have been at his office atthe West End. His position in his office was no doubt high enoughto place him beyond the reach of any special inquiry as to suchabsences; but it is generally felt that when the Crosbies of the WestEnd have calls into the City about noon, things in the world are notgoing well with them. The man who goes into the City to look formoney is generally one who does not know where to get money when hewants it. Mr. Musselboro on this occasion kept his hat on his head,and there was something in the way in which he balanced his chairwhich was in itself an offence to Mr. Crosbie's personal dignity. Itwas hardly as yet two months since Mr. Dobbs Broughton had assuredhim in that very room that there need not be the slightest anxietyabout his bill. Of course it could be renewed,--the commission beingduly paid. As Mr. Dobbs Broughton explained on that occasion, thatwas his business. There was nothing he liked so much as renewingbills for such customers as Mr. Crosbie; and he was very candid atthat meeting, explaining how he did this branch of his business,raising money on his own credit at four or five per cent., andlending it on his own judgment at eight or nine. Mr. Crosbie did notfeel himself then called upon to exclaim that what he was called uponto pay was about twelve, perfectly understanding the comfort andgrace of euphony; but he had turned it over in his mind, consideringwhether twelve per cent. was not more than he ought to be mulctedfor the accommodation he wanted. Now, at the moment, he would havebeen glad to get it from Mr. Musselboro, without further words, fortwenty.
Things had much changed with Adolphus Crosbie when he was driven tomake morning visits to such a one as Mr. Musselboro with the view ofhaving a bill renewed for two hundred and fifty pounds. In his earlylife he had always had the merit of being a careful man as to money.In some other respects he had gone astray very foolishly,--as hasbeen partly explained in our earlier chapters; but up to the dateof his marriage with Lady Alexandrina De Courcy he had never haddealings in Hook Court or in any such locality. Money troubleshad then come upon him. Lady Alexandrina, being the daughter of acountess, had high ideas; and when, very shortly after his marriage,he had submitted to a separation from his noble wife, he had foundhimself and his income to be tied up inextricably in the hands ofone Mr. Mortimer Gazebee, a lawyer who had married one of his wife'ssisters. It was not that Mr. Gazebee was dishonest; nor did Crosbiesuspect him of dishonesty; but the lawyer was so wedded to theinterest of the noble family with which he was connected, that heworked for them all as an inferior spider might be supposed towork, which, from the infirmity of its nature, was compelled byits instincts to be catching flies always for superior spiders. Mr.Mortimer Gazebee had in this way entangled Mr. Crosbie in his web onbehalf of those noble spiders, the De Courcys, and our poor friend,in his endeavour to fight his way through the web, had fallen intothe hands of the Hook Court firm of Mrs. Van Siever, Dobbs Broughton,and Musselboro.
"Mr. Broughton told me when I was last here," said Crosbie, "thatthere would be no difficulty about it."
"And it was renewed then; wasn't it?"
"Of course it was,--for two months. But he was speaking of acontinuation of renewal."
"I'm afraid we can't do it, Mr. Crosbie. I'm afraid we can't, indeed.Money is so awful tight."
"Of course I must pay what you choose to charge me."
"It isn't that, Mr. Crosbie. The bill is out for collection, and mustbe collected. In times like these we must draw ourselves in a little,you know. Two hundred and fifty pounds isn't a great deal of money,you will say; but every little helps, you know; and, besides, ofcourse we go upon a system. Business is business, and must not bemade pleasure of. I should have had a great deal of pleasure in doingthis for you, but it can't be done in the way of business."
"When will Broughton be here?"
"He may be in at any time;--I can't say when. I suppose he's down atthe court now."
"What court?"
"Capel Court."
"I suppose I can see him there?" said Crosbie.
"If you catch him you can see him, of course. But what good willthat do you, Mr. Crosbie? I tell you that we can't do it for you.If Broughton was here this moment it couldn't make the slightestdifference."
Now Mr. Crosbie had an idea that Mr. Musselboro, though he sat inDobbs Broughton's seat and kept on his hat, and balanced his chair ontwo legs, was in truth nothing more than a clerk. He did not quiteunderstand the manner in which the affairs of the establishment wereworked, though he had been informed that Mrs. Van Siever was one ofthe partners. That Dobbs Broughton was the managing man, who reallydid the business, he was convinced; and he did not therefore like tobe answered peremptorily by such a one as Musselboro. "I should wishto see Mr. Broughton," he said.
"You can call again,--or you can go down to the court if you likeit. But you may take this as an answer from me that the bill can'tbe renewed by us." At this moment the door of the room was opened,and Dobbs Broughton himself came into it. His face was not at allpleasant, and any one might have seen with half an eye that themoney-market was a great deal tighter than he liked it to be. "Hereis Mr. Crosbie here,--about that bill," said Musselboro.
"Mr. Crosbie must take up his bill; that's all," said DobbsBroughton.
"But it doesn't suit me to take it up," said Crosbie.
"Then you must take it up without suiting you," said Dobbs Broughton.
It might have been seen, I said, with half an eye, that Mr. Broughtondid not like the state of the money-market; and it might also beseen with the other half that he had been endeavouring to mitigatethe bitterness of his dislike by alcoholic aid. Musselboro at onceperceived that his patron and partner was half drunk, and Crosbiewas aware that he had been drinking. But, nevertheless, it wasnecessary that something more should be said. The bill would be dueto-morrow,--was payable at Crosbie's bankers; and, as Mr. Crosbie toowell knew, there were no funds there for the purpose. And there wereother purposes, very needful, for which Mr. Crosbie's funds were atthe present moment unfortunately by no means sufficient. He stoodfor a few moments thinking what he would do;--whether he would leavethe drunken man and his office and let the bill take its chance, orwhether he would make one more effort for an arrangement. He didnot for a moment believe that Broughton himself was subject to anypecuniary difficulty. Broughton lived in a big house, as rich menlive, and had a name for commercial success. It never occurred toCrosbie that it was a matter of great moment to Dobbs Broughtonhimself that the bill should be taken up. Crosbie still thought thatMusselboro was his special enemy, and that Broughton had joinedMusselboro in his hostility simply because he was too drunk to knowbetter. "You might, at any rate, answer me civilly, Mr. Broughton,"he said.
"I know nothing about civility with things as they are at present,"said Broughton. "Civil by ----! There's nothing so civil as payingmoney when you owe it. Musselboro, reach me down the decanter andsome glasses. Perhaps Mr. Crosbie will wet his whistle."
"He don't want any wine,--nor you either," said Musselboro.
"What's up now?" said Broughton, staggering across the room towardsa cupboard, in which it was his custom to keep a provision of thatcomfort which he needed at the present moment. "I suppose I may standa glass of wine to a fellow in my own room, if I like it."
"I will take no wine, thank you," said Crosbie.
"Then you can do the other thing. When I ask a gentleman to take ag
lass of wine, there is no compulsion. But about the bill there iscompulsion. Do you understand that? You may drink, or let it alone;but pay you must. Why, Mussy, what d'ye think?--there's Carter,Ricketts and Carter;--I'm blessed if Carter just now didn't beg fortwo months, as though two months would be all the world to him, andthat for a trumpery five hundred pounds. I never saw money like itis now; never." To this appeal, Musselboro made no reply, not caring,perhaps, at the present moment to sustain his partner. He stillbalanced himself in his chair, and still kept his hat on his head.Even Mr. Crosbie began to perceive that Mr. Musselboro's genius wasin the ascendant in Hook Court.
"I can hardly believe," said Crosbie, "that things can be so bad thatI cannot have a bill for two hundred and fifty pounds renewed when Iam willing to pay for the accommodation. I have not done much in theway of bills, but I never had one dishonoured yet."
"Don't let this be the first," said Dobbs Broughton.
"Not if I can prevent it," said Crosbie. "But, to tell you thetruth, Mr. Broughton, my bill will be dishonoured unless I can haveit renewed. If it does not suit you to do it, I suppose you canrecommend me to some one who can make it convenient."
"Why don't you go to your bankers?" said Musselboro.
"I never did ask my bankers for anything of the kind."
"Then you should try what your credit with them is worth," saidBroughton. "It isn't worth much here, as you can perceive. Ha, ha,ha!"
Crosbie, when he heard this, became very angry; and Musselboro,perceiving this, got out of his chair, so that he might be inreadiness to prevent any violence, if violence were attempted."It really is no good your staying here," he said. "You see thatBroughton has been drinking. There's no knowing what he may say ordo."
"You be blowed," said Broughton, who had taken the arm-chair as soonas Musselboro had left it.
"But you may believe me in the way of business," continuedMusselboro, "when I tell you that it really does not suit us to renewthe bill. We're pressed ourselves, and we must press others."
"And who will do it for me?" said Crosbie, almost in despair.
"There are Burton and Bangles there, the wine-merchants down in theyard; perhaps they may accommodate you. It's all in their line; butI'm told they charge uncommon dear."
"I don't know Messrs. Burton and Bangles," said Crosbie.
"That needn't stand in your way. You tell them where you come from,and they'll make inquiry. If they think it's about right, they'llgive you the money; and if they don't, they won't."
Mr. Crosbie then left the office without exchanging another word withDobbs Broughton, and went down into Hook Court. As he descended thestairs he turned over in his mind the propriety of going to Messrs.Burton and Bangles with the view of relieving himself from hispresent difficulty. He knew that it was ruinous. Dealings even withsuch men as Dobbs Broughton and Musselboro, whom he presumed to bemilder in their greed than Burton and Bangles, were, all of them,steps on the road to ruin. But what was he to do? If his bill weredishonoured, the fact would certainly become known at his office, andhe might even ultimately be arrested. In the doorway at the bottomof the stairs he stood for some moments, looking over at Burton andBangles', and he did not at all like the aspect of the establishment.Inside the office he could see a man standing with a cigar in hismouth, very resplendent with a new hat,--with a hat remarkablefor the bold upward curve of its rim, and this man was copiouslydecorated with a chain and seals hanging about widely over hiswaistcoat. He was leaning with his back against the counter, and wastalking to some one on the other side of it. There was something inthe man's look and manner that was utterly repulsive to Crosbie. Hewas more vulgar to the eye even than Musselboro, and his voice, whichCrosbie could hear as he stood in the other doorway, was almost asdetestable as that of Dobbs Broughton in his drunkenness. Crosbiedid not doubt that this was either Burton or Bangles, and that theman standing inside was either Bangles or Burton. He could notbring himself to accost these men and tell them of his necessities,and propose to them that they should relieve him. In spite of whatMusselboro had just said to him, he could not believe it possiblethat he should succeed, were he to do so without some introduction.So he left Hook Court and went out into the lane, hearing as he wentthe loud voice of the man with the turned-up hat and the chain.
But what was he to do? At the outset of his pecuniary troubles, whenhe first found it necessary to litigate some question with the DeCourcy people, and withstand the web which Mortimer Gazebee wove soassiduously, his own attorney had introduced him to Dobbs Broughton,and the assistance which he had needed had come to him, at any rate,without trouble. He did not especially like Mr. Broughton and whenMr. Broughton first invited him to come and eat a little bit ofdinner, he had told himself with painful remorse that in his earlydays he had been accustomed to eat his little bits of dinner withpeople of a different kind. But there had been nothing really painfulin this. Since his marriage with a daughter of the De Courcys,--bywhich marriage he had intended to climb to the highest pinnacle ofsocial eating and drinking,--he had gradually found himself to befalling in the scale of such matters, and could bring himself todine with a Dobbs Broughton without any violent pain. But now he hadfallen so low that Dobbs Broughton had insulted him, and he was insuch distress that he did not know where to turn for ten pounds. Mr.Gazebee had beaten him at litigation, and his own lawyer had advisedhim that it would be foolish to try the matter further. In hismarriage with the noble daughter of the De Courcys he had allowed theframers of the De Courcy settlement to tie him up in such a way thatnow, even when chance had done so much for him in freeing him fromhis wife, he was still bound to the De Courcy faction. Money had beenpaid away,--on his behalf, as alleged by Mr. Gazebee,--like runningwater; money for furniture, money for the lease of a house, moneywhen he had been separated from his wife, money while she was livingabroad. It had seemed to him that he had been made to pay for theentire support of the female moiety of the De Courcy family which hadsettled itself at Baden-Baden, from the day, and in some respectsfrom before the day, on which his wife had joined that moiety. Hehad done all in his power to struggle against these payments, butevery such struggle had only cost him more money. Mr. Gazebee hadwritten to him the civilest notes; but every note seemed to cost himmoney,--every word of each note seemed to find its way into somebill. His wife had died and her body had been brought back, with allthe pomp befitting the body of an earl's daughter, that it might belaid with the old De Courcy dust,--at his expense. The embalming ofher dear remains had cost a wondrous sum, and was a terrible blowupon him. All these items were showered upon him by Mr. Gazebeewith the most courteously worded demands for settlement as soon asconvenient. And then, when he applied that Lady Alexandrina's smallfortune should be made over to him,--according to a certain agreementunder which he had made over all his possessions to his wife, shouldshe have survived him,--Mr. Gazebee expressed a mild opinion that hewas wrong in his law, and blandly recommended an amicable lawsuit.The amicable lawsuit was carried on. His own lawyer seemed tothrow him over. Mr. Gazebee was successful in everything. No moneycame to him. Money was demanded from him on old scores and on newscores,--and all that he received to console him for what he had lostwas a mourning ring with his wife's hair,--for which, with sundryother mourning rings, he had to pay,--and an introduction to Mr.Dobbs Broughton. To Mr. Dobbs Broughton he owed five hundred pounds;and as regarded a bill for the one-half of that sum which was dueto-morrow, Mr. Dobbs Broughton had refused to grant him renewal for asingle month!
I know no more uncomfortable walking than that which falls to the lotof men who go into the City to look for money, and who find none. Ofall the lost steps trodden by men, surely the steps lost after thatfashion are the most melancholy. It is not only that they are sovain, but that they are accompanied by so killing a sense of shame!To wait about in dingy rooms, which look on to bare walls, and areapproached through some Hook Court; or to keep appointments at a lowcoffee-house, to which trystings the money-lender will not troublehimself to come
unless it pleases him; to be civil, almost suppliant,to a cunning knave whom the borrower loathes; to be refused thrice,and then cheated with his eyes open on the fourth attempt; to submithimself to vulgarity of the foulest kind, and to have to seem to likeit; to be badgered, reviled, and at last accused of want of honestyby the most fraudulent of mankind; and at the same time to be clearlyconscious of the ruin that is coming,--this is the fate of him whogoes into the City to find money, not knowing where it is to befound!
Crosbie went along the lane into Lombard Street, and then he stoodstill for a moment to think. Though he knew a good deal of affairs ingeneral, he did not quite know what would happen to him if his billshould be dishonoured. That somebody would bring it to him noted,and require him instantly to put his hand into his pocket and bringout the amount of the bill, plus the amount of certain expenses, hethought that he did know. And he knew that were he in trade he wouldbecome a bankrupt; and he was well aware that such an occurrencewould prove him to be insolvent. But he did not know what hiscreditors would immediately have the power of doing. That the fact ofthe bill having been dishonoured would reach the Board under whichhe served,--and, therefore, also the fact that he had had recourseto such bill transactions,--this alone was enough to fill him withdismay. In early life he had carried his head so high, he had been somuch more than a mere Government clerk, that the idea of the comingdisgrace almost killed him. Would it not be well that he should putan end to himself, and thus escape? What was there in the world nowfor which it was worth his while to live? Lily, whom he had oncegained, and by that gain had placed himself high in all hopes ofhappiness and riches,--whom he had then thrown away from him, and whohad again seemed to be almost within his reach,--Lily had so refusedhim that he knew not how to approach her with a further prayer. And,had she not refused him, how could he have told her of his load ofdebt? As he stood at the corner where the lane runs into LombardStreet, he came for a while to think almost more of Lily than of hisrejected bill. Then, as he thought of both his misfortunes together,he asked himself whether a pistol would not conveniently put an endto them together.
At that moment a loud, harsh voice greeted his ear. "Hallo, Crosbie,what brings you so far east? One does not often see you in the City."It was the voice of Sir Raffle Buffle, which in former days had beenvery odious to Crosbie's ears;--for Sir Raffle Buffle had once beenthe presiding genius of the office to which Crosbie still belonged.
"No, indeed, not very often," said Crosbie, smiling. Who can tell,who has not felt it, the pain that goes to the forcing of suchsmiles? But Sir Raffle was not an acutely observant person, and didnot see that anything was wrong.
"I suppose you're doing a little business?" said Sir Raffle. "If aman has kept a trifle of money by him, this certainly is the time forturning it. You have always been wide awake about such things."
"No, indeed," said Crosbie. If he could only make up his mind that hewould shoot himself, would it not be a pleasant thing to inflict somecondign punishment on this odious man before he left the world? ButCrosbie knew that he was not going to shoot himself, and he knew alsothat he had no power of inflicting condign punishment on Sir RaffleBuffle. He could only hate the man, and curse him inwardly.
"Ah, ha!" said Sir Raffle. "You wouldn't be here unless you knewwhere a good thing is to be picked up. But I must be off. I'm on theRocky Mountain Canal Company Directory. I'm not above taking my twoguineas a day. Good-by, my boy. Remember me to old Optimist." And soSir Raffle passed on, leaving Crosbie still standing at the corner ofthe lane.
What was he to do? This interruption had at least seemed to driveLily from his mind, and to send his ideas back to the considerationof his pecuniary difficulties. He thought of his own bank, a West-Endestablishment at which he was personally known to many of the clerks,and where he had been heretofore treated with great consideration.But of late his balances had been very low, and more than once he hadbeen reminded that he had overdrawn his account. He knew well thatthe distinguished firm of Bounce, Bounce, and Bounce would not cash abill for him or lend him money without security. He did not even dareto ask them to do so.
On a sudden he jumped into a cab, and was driven back to his office.A thought had come upon him. He would throw himself upon the kindnessof a friend there. Hitherto he had contrived to hold his head so highabove the clerks below him, so high before the Commissioners who wereabove him, that none there suspected him to be a man in difficulty.It not seldom happens that a man's character stands too high for hisinterest,--so high that it cannot be maintained, and so high that anyfall will be dangerous. And so it was with Crosbie and his characterat the General Committee Office. The man to whom he was now thinkingof applying as his friend, was a certain Mr. Butterwell, who had beenhis predecessor in the secretary's chair, and who now filled the lessonerous but more dignified position of a Commissioner. Mr. Crosbiehad somewhat despised Mr. Butterwell, and had of late years not beenaverse to showing that he did so. He had snubbed Mr. Butterwell, andMr. Butterwell, driven to his wits' ends, had tried a fall or twowith him. In all these struggles Crosbie had had the best of it,and Butterwell had gone to the wall. Nevertheless, for the sake ofofficial decency, and from certain wise remembrances of the sourcesof official comfort and official discomfort, Mr. Butterwell hadalways maintained a show of outward friendship with the secretary.They smiled and were gracious, called each other Butterwelland Crosbie, and abstained from all cat-and-dog absurdities.Nevertheless, it was the frequently expressed opinion of every clerkin the office that Mr. Butterwell hated Mr. Crosbie like poison. Thiswas the man to whom Crosbie suddenly made up his mind that he wouldhave recourse.
As he was driven back to his office he resolved that he would make aplunge at once at the difficulty. He knew that Butterwell was fairlyrich, and he knew also that he was good-natured,--with that sort ofsleepy good-nature which is not active for philanthropic purposes,but which dislikes to incur the pain of refusing. And then Mr.Butterwell was nervous, and if the thing was managed well, he mightbe cheated out of an assent, before time had been given him in whichto pluck up courage for refusing. But Crosbie doubted his own couragealso,--fearing that if he gave himself time for hesitation he wouldhesitate, and that, hesitating, he would feel the terrible disgraceof the thing and not do it. So, without going to his own desk, orridding himself of his hat, he went at once to Butterwell's room.When he opened the door, he found Mr. Butterwell alone, reading TheTimes. "Butterwell," said he, beginning to speak before he had evenclosed the door, "I have come to you in great distress. I wonderwhether you can help me; I want you to lend me five hundred pounds?It must be for not less than three months."
Mr. Butterwell dropped the paper from his hands, and stared at thesecretary over his spectacles.