The Monikins. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
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most lucrative situation.
“Have you any reason to suppose, Sir Joseph Job, that my late father has selected you to fulfil this trust?”
“That will be better known in the end, young gentleman. Your late father is known to have died rich, very rich—not that he has left as much by half a million as vulgar report will have it—but what I should term comfortably off; and it is unreasonable to suppose that a man of his great caution and prudence should suffer his money to go to the heir-at-law, that heir being a youth only in his twenty-third year, ignorant of business, not over-gifted with experience, and having the propensities of all his years in this ill-behaving and extravagant age, without certain trusts and provisions which will leave his hard earnings for some time to come under the care of men who like himself know the full value of money.”
“No, never!—'tis quite impossible—'tis more than impossible!” exclaimed the bystanders, all shaking their heads.
“And the late Mr. Goldencalf, too, intimate with most of the substantial names on 'Change, and particularly with Sir Joseph Job!” added another.
Sir Joseph Job nodded his head, smiled, stroked his chin, and stood waiting for my reply.
“Property is in danger, Sir Joseph,” I said, ironically; “but it matters not. If there is a will, it is as much my interest to know it as it can possibly be yours; and I am quite willing that a search be made on the spot.”
Sir Joseph looked daggers at me; but being a man of business he took me at my word, and, receiving the keys I offered, a proper person was immediately set to work to open the drawers. The search was continued for four hours without success. Every private drawer was rummaged, every paper opened, and many a curious glance was cast at the contents of the latter, in order to get some clew to the probable amount of the assets of the deceased. Consternation and uneasiness very evidently increased among most of the spectators as the fruitless examination proceeded; and when the notary ended, declaring that no will was to be found, nor any evidence of credits, every eye was fastened on me as if I were suspected of stealing that which in the order of nature was likely to be my own without the necessity of crime.
“There must be a secret repository of papers somewhere,” said Sir Joseph Job, as if he suspected more than he wished just then to express; “Mr. Goldencalf is largely a creditor on the public books, and yet here is not so much as a scrip for a pound!”
I left the room and soon returned, bringing with me the bundle that had been committed to me by my father.
“Here, gentlemen,” I said, “is a large packet of papers that were given to me by the deceased on his death-bed with his own hands. It is, as you see, sealed with his seal and especially addressed to me in his own handwriting, and it is not violent to suppose that the contents concern me only. Still, as you take so great an interest in the affairs of the deceased, it shall now be opened, and those contents, so far as you can have any right to know them, shall not be hid from you.”
I thought Sir Joseph looked grave when he saw the packet and had examined the handwriting of the envelope. All, however, expressed their satisfaction that the search was now most probably ended. I broke the seals and exposed the contents of the envelope. Within it there were several smaller packets, each sealed with the seal of the deceased, and each addressed to me in his own handwriting like the external covering. Each of these smaller packets, too, had a separate indorsement of its contents. Taking them as they lay, I read aloud the nature of each before I proceeded to the next. They were also numbered.
“No. 1,” I commenced. “Certificates of public stock held by Tho. Goldencalf, June 12th, 1815.” We were now at June 29th of the same year. As I laid aside this packet I observed that the sum indorsed on its back greatly exceeded a million. “No. 2. Certificates of Bank of England stock.” This sum was several hundred thousands of pounds. “No. 3. South Sea Annuities.” Nearly three hundred thousand pounds. “No. 4. Bonds and mortgages.” Four hundred and thirty thousand pounds. “No. 5. The bond of Sir Joseph Job for sixty-three thousand pounds.”
I laid down the paper and involuntarily exclaimed, “Property is in danger!” Sir Joseph turned pale, but he beckoned to me to proceed, saying, “We shall soon come to the will, sir.”
“No. 6.—” I hesitated; for it was an assignment to myself, which from its very nature I perceived was an abortive attempt to escape the payment of the legacy duty.
“Well, sir, No. 6?” inquired Sir Joseph, with tremulous exultation.
“Is an instrument affecting myself, and with which you have no concern, sir.”
“We shall see, sir, we shall see, sir—if you refuse to exhibit the paper there are laws to compel you.”
“To do what, Sir Joseph Job? To exhibit to my father's debtors' papers that are exclusively addressed to me and which can affect me only? But here is the paper, gentlemen, that you so much desire to see. 'No. 7. The last will and testament of Tho. Goldencalf, dated June 17th, 1816.'” (He died June the 24th of the same year.)
“Ah! the precious instrument!” exclaimed Sir Joseph Job, eagerly extending his hand as if expecting to receive the will.
“This paper, as you perceive, gentlemen,” I said, holding it up in a manner that all present might see it, “is especially addressed to myself, and it shall not quit my hands until I learn that some other has a better right to it.”
I confess my heart failed me as I broke the seals, for I had seen but little of my father and I knew that he had been a man of very peculiar opinions as well as habits. The will was all in his own handwriting, and it was very short. Summoning courage I read it aloud in the following words:
“In the name of God—Amen: I, Tho. Goldencalf, of the parish of Bow, in the city of London, do publish and declare this instrument to be my last will and testament:
“That is to say; I bequeath to my only child and much-beloved son, John Goldencalf, all my real estate in the parish of Bow and city of London, aforesaid, to be held in free-simple by him, his heirs, and assigns, forever.
“I bequeath to my said only child and much-beloved son, John Goldencalf, all my personal property of every sort and description whatever of which I may die possessed, including bonds and mortgages, public debt, bank stock, notes of hand, goods and chattels, and all others of my effects, to him, his heirs, or assigns.
“I nominate and appoint my said much-beloved son, John Goldencalf, to be the sole executor of this my last will and testament, counselling him not to confide in any of those who may profess to have been my friends; and particularly to turn a deaf ear to all the pretensions and solicitations of Sir Joseph Job, Knight. In witness whereof,” etc., etc.
This will was duly executed, and it was witnessed by the nurse, his confidential clerk, and the housemaid.
“Property is in danger, Sir Joseph!” I dryly remarked, as I gathered together the papers in order to secure them.
“This will may be set aside, gentlemen!” cried the knight in a fury. “It contains a libel!”
“And for whose benefit, Sir Joseph?” I quietly inquired. “With or without the will my title to my father's assets would seem to be equally valid.”
This was so evidently true that the more prudent retired in silence; and even Sir Joseph after a short delay, during which he appeared to be strangely agitated, withdrew. The next week his failure was announced, in consequence of some extravagant risks on 'Change, and eventually I received but three shillings and fourpence in the pound for my bond of sixty-three thousand.
When the money was paid I could not help exclaiming mentally, “Property is in danger!”
The following morning Sir Joseph Job balanced his account with the world by cutting his throat.
CHAPTER V. ABOUT THE SOCIAL-STAKE SYSTEM, THE DANGERS OF CONCENTRATION, AND OTHER MORAL