CHAPTER CXVIII.

THE INSOLVENT DEBTORS’ COURT.

Passing through Portugal Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, you may perceive

a low, dingy-looking building, protected by a row of tall iron

railings, and with steps leading to the front entrance. This structure

is of so dubious an aspect that it places the stranger in a profound

state of uncertainty as to whether it be the lobby of a criminal prison

or a Methodist chapel; and the supposed stranger is not a little

surprised when he learns, on inquiry, that this architectural mystery

is neither more nor less than the Court for the Relief of Insolvent

Debtors.

At about nine o’clock in the morning the immediate vicinity of the

Court begins to wear a very business-like appearance: that is to say,

both sides of the street are thronged with the most curious specimens

of human nature which it is possible to encounter outside of Newgate

or of the Bench. The wonder is whence such a host of ill-looking

fellows can have sprung, or whither they can be going, unless it is to

either of the two places just named. Then comes the natural question,

“But who are they?” The answer is at hand: some are the turnkeys of

the County Prisons and the tipstaves of the Bench, having in their

charge prisoners about to be heard at the Court,--others are the usual

hangers-on and errand-seekers who are always to be found lurking about

such places,--while a third set are the friends or else the opposing

creditors of the Insolvents. The public-house opposite the Court, and

the one at the side are also filled with persons of those descriptions;

and before ten o’clock in the morning many pots of porter are disposed

of--many quarterns of gin dispensed in two or three “outs”--and many

screws of tobacco puffed off in smoke.

Inside the Court, business commences in somewhat a more serious manner.

Four or five barristers take their places in a large box divided into

two compartments like pews in a church: a couple of Commissioners seat

themselves on a bench made in very humble imitation indeed of those in

the Courts at Westminster;--a single reporter lounges into the snug

crib so kindly allotted to the representatives of the press;--several

attorneys and attorneys’ clerks gather round the table between the

counsel’s seats and the bench:--the Insolvents are penned up altogether

in a sort of human fold on the right as you go into the tribunal;--and

at the back a crowd of unwashed faces rise amphitheatrically in the

compartment appropriated to the audience. The Commissioners endeavour

to look as much like the Judges of the Land as possible;--the

barristers affect all the consequence and airs of Serjeants-at-Law or

King’s Counsel;--the Insolvents try to seem as happy as if they had

nothing awkward in their schedules to account for;--and the spectators

raise heaven and earth to appear respectable: but each and all of

these attempts are the most decided failures which it is possible

to conceive. A general air of seediness pervades the place: the

professional wigs are dirty and out of curl, and the forensic gowns

thread-bare;--and the disagreeable impression thus created on the mind

of the visitor, is enhanced to no trifling degree by a sickly smell of

perspiration combined with the stale odour of tobacco smoke retained in

the garments of the audience.

Amongst the Insolvents were two individuals whose appearance formed a

most striking contrast. These were Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks and Mr. Frank

Curtis.

The former was dressed in deep black, with a white neck-cloth, and

black cotton gloves a great deal too large for his hands: he had also

put black crape round his hat, in the hope of creating the sympathy

of the Commissioners by producing the impression of having sustained

some serious and recent family loss. His sallow face was elongated with

the awful sanctimoniousness which characterised it: his black hair was

combed sleekly down over his forehead;--and he sate bolt upright on the

hard bench, every now and then raising his eyes to heaven--or rather to

the lanthorn on the roof of the Court--as if in silent prayer.

Mr. Frank Curtis was attired in his habitually flash manner; and as

he lolled back in his seat, he now and then bestowed a significant

wink upon his attorney at the table, or exchanged a few familiar

observations with the tipstaff, whom he had treated to egg-hot at the

public-house opposite before they entered the Court.

But where was Captain O’Blunderbuss? Had he deserted his friend on this

trying occasion? Gentle reader, do not suppose for an instant that

the gallant officer was capable of what he himself would describe to

be the “most bastely maneness”--so long as Frank had a shilling left

in his pocket, or the ability to raise one! The captain, then, _was_

there--and in the vicinity of Mr. Curtis; for the terrible Irishman had

posted himself as near as possible to the box in which the Insolvents

stand to be examined--in the first place, that when Frank should mount

to that “bad eminence,” he might be close by to encourage him with

his looks; and, in the second place, he had taken that particular

stand as the one whence he could best dart ferocious glances at the

Commissioners, in case these functionaries should take it into their

heads to deal harshly with his friend.

And now the business of that day’s proceeding, commenced; and the Clerk

of the Court bawled out in a loud tone--“Joshua Sheepshanks!”

“Here, my Christian friend!” groaned the religious gentleman, drawing

himself slowly up to his full, thin, lanky height, and beginning to

move slowly and solemnly towards the box above-mentioned.

“Now, then--Joshua Sheepshanks!” cried the clerk, in a sharp tone.

“Come--Joshua Sheepshanks--look alive!” grumbled the official who

administers the oaths to the Insolvents.

“Cut along, old fellow,” whispered Frank Curtis, giving the

sanctimonious dissenter a hearty pinch on the leg as he passed by.

Mr. Sheepshanks uttered a low moan--cast up his eyes towards the

lanthorn--muttered something about his having “fallen amongst the

ungodly”--and ended by hoisting himself into the box with some degree

of alacrity, his slow movements having rendered the Court impatient.

“Does any counsel appear for you, Joshua Sheepshanks?” demanded the

clerk.

“None--unless it be the Lord’s will that I should be supported by

divine grace,” answered the dissenting minister, in so doleful a tone

and with such a solemn shaking of the head that the whole Court was

alarmed lest he was about to go off in a fit.

“I appear to oppose on behalf of several creditors,” said Mr.

Bulliwell, one of the leading barristers practising in that Court.

“Oh! the persevering bitterness of those rancorous men!” exclaimed Mr.

Sheepshanks, clasping his hands together, and turning up the whites of

his eyes in an appalling fashion.

“Silence, Insolvent!” cried the clerk, in a sharp tone.

Meantime, the Commissioners had both been taking a long and

simultaneous stare at the religious gentleman; and though one was

purblind and the other in his dotage, they nevertheless seemed to

arrive in the long run at pretty well the same conclusion--which

was, that Mr. Sheepshanks was a dreadful humbug. The glances they

interchanged through their spectacles expressed to each other this

conviction; and the sharper of the two, who rejoiced in the name of

Sneesby, forthwith proceeded to examine the schedule.

“I see that you were once a missionary in the _South-Sea Islands Bible

Circulating Society_, Insolvent?” said this learned functionary.

“Under the divine favour, I was such a vessel in the good cause,”

answered Mr. Sheepshanks, with the invariable nasal twang of hypocrisy.

“A what?” demanded Mr. Commissioner Sneesby, in an impatient tone.

“He says he was a _vessel_, sir,” observed Mr. Bulliwell, the

barrister. “It is a word much in vogue amongst the religious world.”

“Oh! the Insolvent calls himself a vessel--does he?” exclaimed the

Commissioner. “Well--he has come to a pretty anchorage at last.”

“And yet, sir, I can assure you he is no anchorite,” said Mr. Bulliwell.

These were jokes on the part of the Commissioner and the counsel; and

therefore the attorneys, the clerks, and the audience tittered, as in

duty bound when the wig forgot its wisdom and indulged in wit; and the

Insolvents all laughed too--but for another reason. In fact, Mr. Frank

Curtis had applied his right hand to his nose, and extended it in a

fan-like form--or, in other words, he “took a sight” at the learned

Commissioner, and worked an imaginary coffee-mill at the same time with

his left hand.

Order being restored, the business proceeded.

“And, having been a missionary, I observe by your schedule, that

you turned a Dissenting Minister, Insolvent?” said Mr. Commissioner

Sneesby, interrogatively.

“I was a brand snatched from the burning, sir,” replied Mr.

Sheepshanks; “and, having sorely wrestled with Satan----”

“Give me a direct answer, man!” cried the Commissioner, sharply. “Did

you leave an institution connected with the Established Church and

become a dissenter?”

“Heaven so willed it,” responded the sanctimonious insolvent, in a

droning voice: “I had a call--and I obeyed it.”

“Who opposes this man?” enquired the Commissioner.

“Jeremiah Chubbley!” vociferated the Clerk of the Court.

“Here!” growled a man dressed as a bricklayer.

“Now, then, Jeremiah Chubbley--stand up in the witness-box,” continued

the clerk.

“Come, Mr. Chubbley--make haste,” said Mr. Bulliwell, the barrister,

speaking more civilly and using the honorary prefix of _Mister_,

because he had been retained by the individual to whom he applied it.

Mr. Chubbley mounted the witness-box; and while the oath was being

administered to him, both the Commissioners inflicted a long stare

on his countenance just to satisfy themselves by this physiognomical

scrutiny whether he were a trust-worthy person or not;--for

Commissioners in the Insolvents’ Court are great physiognomists--very

great physiognomists indeed.

“Your name is Jeremiah Chubbley?” said Mr. Bulliwell, rising in a

stately manner, and darting a ferocious glance towards Mr. Sheepshanks,

as much as to say--“Now, my man, I am going to elicit things against

you that will prove you to be the greatest rogue in existence.”

“Yes--my name be Chubbley, sir,” answered the opposing creditor. “But I

paid you to tackle that there sneaking-looking chap over there, and not

to ke-vestion me.”

“My dear sir,” said Mr. Bulliwell, blandly, “this is the way of

conducting an opposition where counsel is employed. Your name is

Jeremiah Chubbley; and you are a master-bricklayer, I believe?”

“I told ’ee so a veek ago,” replied the opposing creditor, savagely.

“Yes--yes: but you must tell the learned Commissioners all over again

what you told me,” gently remonstrated Mr. Bulliwell. “I believe you

are the proprietor of a chapel in the Tottenham Court Road?”

“Yes--I be, sir,” responded Mr. Chubbley. “I built she--and a stronger,

better, or more comfortabler place of washup you wouldn’t find in all

London--least ways, barrin’ St. Paul’s.”

“Well--and this chapel was to let some three or four months ago, I

believe?” continued Mr. Bulliwell.

“Yes--it were, sir: and I had blackguards up at the grocer’s round the

corner----”

“Had what, man?” demanded the Commissioners simultaneously, and as it

were in the same breath.

“He means that he put placards up at a neighbouring grocer’s, sir,”

mildly explained Mr. Bulliwell, then, turning again to the opposing

creditor, the learned counsel said, “And I believe that the Insolvent

was attracted by the placards, and applied to you in consequence?”

“He come round to my house, sir, jest as me and my missus was a sitting

down to dinner,” answered Mr. Chubbley. “It was biled pork and greens

we had, I remember; cos says I to my missus, says I----”

“Well--well, Mr. Chubbley,” interrupted the counsel: “we will proceed,

if you please. The Insolvent came round to you, and enquired about the

chapel that was to let?”

“Yes--he did: and he axed a many ke-vestions about the orgin and the

pulpit, and the westry--and so on.”

“And, being satisfied with your replies, he agreed to take the chapel?”

“Yes--and to pay a ke-varter in adwance, which was eleven pound ten,”

answered Mr. Chubbley.

“Well--what took place next?” inquired one of the Commissioners,

growing impatient, while his brother-judge took a nap.

“Please, my lud, he sits down and pitches into the biled pork and

greens,” responded the opposing creditor.

There was a laugh amongst the audience; but as the joke did not arise

from either the bench or the bar, the ushers bawled out “Silence!” as

loudly as they could.

“The Insolvent, I believe, not only omitted to pay the quarter in

advance,” said Mr. Bulliwell, “but succeeded in obtaining from you the

loan of forty pounds?”

“In hard cash--and that’s what aggerewates me and my missus so agin

him,” replied the opposing creditor.

“But in what manner did he obtain those forty pounds?” asked Mr.

Bulliwell. “Tell the learned Commissioners----”

“Vy--one on ’em’s asleep--and so it’s no use a-speaking to he!”

exclaimed Mr. Chubbley.

There was another laugh, which the clerks and ushers immediately

suppressed; and Captain O’Blunderbuss ran a narrow risk of being

ignominiously bundled out of the Court for observing in a tone

somewhat above a whisper, “Be Jasus! and that’s as thrue as that every

rale Irishman loves potheen!” But the best of the business was that

the somnolent Commissioner woke up; and catching the fag end of a

laugh accompanied by the loud cries of “Silence!” on the part of the

officials of the Court, he immediately fancied that some person had

perpetrated a great breach of decorum, and exclaimed in a severe tone,

“Whoever is the cause of disturbance must be turned out.” Hereupon

there was another laugh; and even Mr. Bulliwell himself was compelled

to stoop down and pretend to examine his brief in order to conceal the

mobility of his risible muscles.

“Come, come--let the business proceed,” said Commissioner Sneesby,

anxious to relieve his brother-functionary from any farther

embarrassment; for the latter learned gentleman was quite bewildered by

the renewed hilarity which his words had provoked.

“Tell the bench how the Insolvent obtained from you the forty pounds,

Mr. Chubbley,” exclaimed Mr. Bulliwell.

“Please, sir--my missus has on’y got von eye----”

“Well--and what has that to do with it?” demanded Mr. Commissioner

Sneesby.

“Jest this, my lud--that that ’ere sneaking feller got on the blind

side of she, and began a pitching into she all kind of gammon,--calling

his-self a chosen wessel, and telling her how she would be sartain

sure of going to heaven if we on’y let him have the funds to set up

in business as a preacher. He swore that all the airistocracy was

a-dying to hear him in the pulpit: and so he persuades my missus to be

pew-opener; and he gammons me to call myself a Helder----”

“A what?” exclaimed Commissioner Sneesby.

“An Elder, sir,” observed Mr. Bulliwell: for it is to be remarked that

when Judges at Westminster or Commissioners in Portugal Street cannot

understand any thing--or affect not to do so--the counsel are always

prepared to give them an explanation;--yet when these counsel become

Judges or Commissioners in their turn, they grow just as opaque of

intellect and as slow of comprehension as those whom they were once

accustomed to enlighten.

“Well--go on, man,” said Commissioner Sneesby, addressing himself to

the opposing creditor.

“Well, my lud,” proceeded Mr. Chubbley, “that there sniggering feller

come over us all in sich a vay vith his blessed insinivations, that

we all thought him a perfect saint; and we was glad to vipe off the

dust of sich a man’s shoes, as the sayin’ is. So I goes to my friend

Cheesewright, the grocer, and I says, says I, ‘Cheesey, my boy, you

must be a Helder, too.’ So Cheesewright axes what a Helder is; and when

I tells him that it’s to purside over a chapel in which a reglar saint

holds forth, and that all Helders is booked for the right place in

t’other world, he says, says he, ‘Chubbley, my boy, tip us your fist;

and I’m your man for a Helder too.’”

“And now tell the learned Commissioners what this business has to do

with your opposition to the Insolvent’s discharge,” said Mr. Bulliwell,

seeing that the bench was growing impatient.

“Vy, my luds,” continued Chubbley, scratching his head, “that there

insinivating chap gets Cheesey to lend him his acceptance for thirty

pounds, and he comes to me and gets me to write my name along the back

on it--and so he gets it discounted, and leaves us to pay it.”

Here Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks held up his hands and groaned aloud--as if

in horrified dismay at the construction put upon his conduct.

“Silence, Insolvent!” exclaimed the usher, ferociously.

“And now, Mr. Chubbley,” resumed Mr. Bulliwell, “what answer did you

obtain from the Insolvent when you stated to him that you had heard

certain reports which made you anxious to receive security for the rent

of the chapel, the forty pounds, and the amount of the bill for which

you were liable?”

“He said as how that the chapel hadn’t succeeded as he thought it would

have done--that he’d been disappinted--and that me and Cheesewright

must have patience.”

“And when you told him that you and Mr. Cheesewright would not wait any

longer--what did he say?”

“He said we was a generation of wipers.”

“And when you put him into prison?”

“He sent for me, and said I mustn’t hope to be paid in this world; but

as I’d laid up for myself a treasure in heaven, he expected me to let

him out of quod for nothink.”

There was a general titter in which bench and bar joined; and the only

demure countenances present were those of the creditor who was done,

and Mr. Sheepshanks who had done him. In fact this pious gentleman was

so overcome by the unpleasantness of his position, that he compared

himself, in the religious anguish of his spirit, to the man who went

down to Jericho and fell amongst thieves.

Silence being again restored, two other opposing creditors were

examined in their turn; and their evidence went to prove that Mr.

Joshua Sheepshanks had obtained from them a quantity of goods under

such very questionable pretences, that he might think himself

exceedingly fortunate in having been sent to the King’s Bench instead

of to Newgate.

The opposition having arrived at this stage, Mr. Bulliwell proceeded to

address the Court in a long and furious speech based upon the testimony

that had been given against the Insolvent. The agreeable appellations

of “sanctimonious hypocrite,” “double-faced ranter,” “unprincipled

trader in pious duplicities,” and such like terms, were freely applied

to Mr. Joshua Sheepshanks in the course of this oration. The learned

gentleman dwelt bitterly--but not one atom more severely than the

subject deserved--upon the rascally scoundrelism which is practised

by those persons who are denominated “saints;” and he concluded a

rather eloquent speech by praying the Court to express its sense of the

Insolvent’s criminality by remanding him for as long a period as the

Act of Parliament would allow.

When called upon for any thing he might have to say in his defence,

Mr. Sheepshanks applied a white handkerchief to his eyes; and, after

shaking his head solemnly for several moments, he revealed his

lugubrious countenance once more--purposely elongating it until he

fancied he had tortured himself into as impressive a pitch of misery

as one could wish to behold. He then began a tedious and doleful

dissertation upon the “vanity of earthly things”--marvelled that his

opposing creditors should “prefer the filthy lucre to the welfare of

their immortal souls”--declared that when he first went amongst them he

found them “lamentably benighted,” but that he had “at one time brought

them to a state of grace”--complained that they had treated him as if

he had been “a vessel of wrath,” whereas he flattered himself that he

was in “a most savoury state of godliness”--hinted rather significantly

that he looked upon his present predicament as a “glorious martyrdom

in the good cause”--and wound up with an earnest prayer to the

Commissioners that they would not be “moved by the men of Belial

against him,” but that even as “heaven tempered the wind to the shorn

lamb,” they would modify their judgment according to his lamentable

condition.

To this speech, delivered in the most approved nasal twang of

the dissenting pulpit, and with many doleful moans and frightful

contortions, Commissioner Sneesby listened with exemplary patience:

so, indeed, did his learned brother-judge--but in this latter case it

was with the eyes shut. The moment, however, the harangue was brought

to an end, the eyes alluded to opened slowly and gazed rather vacantly

around: but with judicial keenness, they speedily comprehended the

exact stage of the proceedings; and the possessor of the sleepy optics

forthwith began to consult with his coadjutor in solemn whispers. Their

conversation ran somewhat in the ensuing manner:--

“It is getting on for one o’clock, and I begin to feel quite faint,”

said the somniferous Commissioner.

“A chop and a glass of sherry will do us each good,” observed Mr.

Sneesby.

“Bulliwell does make such long-winded speeches!”

“Well--so he does: but I always pretend to listen to them--and thus he

enjoys the reputation of having _the ear of the Court_.”

“I am going to dine with Serjeant Splutterby this evening--and so I

shall leave at about four o’clock.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Commissioner Sneesby. “I shall sit till six. But

what are we to do with this canting hypocrite of an Insolvent?”

“Six months, I suppose: he is a dreadful villain.”

“Yes--and while you were asleep he made a frightful long speech----”

“Oh! in that case, then, let us give him a twelvemonth--and then for

the chops and the sherry.”

“Good: a twelvemonth--and then the chops and the sherry.”

Mr. Commissioner Sneesby, having thus assented to the suggestions of

his sleepy coadjutor, turned in a solemn manner towards Mr. Joshua

Sheepshanks and addressed that miserable-looking creature in the

following terms:--

“Insolvent, the Court has maturely deliberated upon your case. We

have listened with deep attention to the evidence of the opposing

creditors and the address of the learned counsel on their behalf. We

have likewise followed you with equal care throughout your defence; and

we feel ourselves bound to pronounce an adverse judgment. Your conduct

has been most reprehensible--aggravated, too, by the fact that your

offences have been committed under the cloak of religion. My learned

brother agrees with me in the opinion that your proceedings have been

most fraudulent. We might even use harsher terms; but we will forbear.

The judgment of the Court is that you, Joshua Sheepshanks, be remanded

at the suit of your three opposing creditors for the period of twelve

calendar months from the date of your vesting order.”

“Stand down, Insolvent!” cried the clerk.

The discomfitted Mr. Sheepshanks raised his eyes and hands upwards,

and gave vent to a hollow groan, which made the audience think for a

moment that it was a ghost from the tomb who was passing through the

Insolvents’ Court.

“Silence, Insolvent!” vociferated an official, making much more noise

to enforce his command than the pious gentleman did in provoking the

injunction.

“You must swear to your schedule,” said the usher, as Mr. Sheepshanks

was descending from the box.

“Damn the schedule!” muttered the reverend Insolvent, in a savage

whisper.

“What do you say?” demanded the usher.

“I pray to heaven to have mercy upon my relentless persecutors, even as

I forgive them!” answered Mr. Sheepshanks, with a solemn shake of the

head.

He then quitted the box, and forthwith accompanied the tipstaff who had

charge of him to the public-house opposite, where he drowned his cares

in such a quantity of hot brandy-and-water, that the tipstaff aforesaid

was compelled to put him into a cab and convey him back to the King’s

Bench in a desperate state of intoxication.

In the meantime the two Commissioners retired to partake of their chops

and sherry: the learned counsel likewise withdrew to _their_ private

room, where _they_ also refreshed themselves;--the attorneys stole

away for a quarter of an hour:--and the audience took little portable

dinners of saveloys and biscuits from their pocket-handkerchiefs, so

that the compartment of the Court allotted to spectators suddenly

appeared to have been transformed into a slap-bang shop on an inferior

scale.

The fifteen minutes’ grace having expired, Commissioners, counsel, and

lawyers returned to their places--the audience wiped their mouths--and

the Clerk of the Court called forth the name of “FRANCIS CURTIS!”