Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
obligations he had heaped upon himself, either through the extravagant
vagaries of his imperious mistress, or by his own rashness in trying his
luck among a lot of titled sharpers. He had among his clients one fast,
even madly extravagant youth, heir of an historic name and of a lordly
estate. To supply his extravagance "my lord" had applied to the money
lenders--those sharks that in London, as elsewhere, fatten on such game.
These gentry were eager to lend the young blood money upon what are
known in English law as post-obits, which loans in this particular case
carried the trifling interest of about 100 per cent. per annum. James
was cognizant of his friend's excursions among the money lenders, and no
doubt he thought the young spendthrift, when he came into his fortune,
would never know within a good many thousands how much he had borrowed,
nor even the number of post-obits he had given.
I will just explain that a post-obit is a form of note or due bill given
by the heir of an estate (usually of an entailed estate), which matures
the moment the drawer of the document enters into that estate. That is
to say, the tender-hearted son discounts his father's death to provide
fuel to feed his flame. So Edwin James, driven to his own destruction,
stooped from his imperial position into what one might call ankle-depth
of crime.
How little he dreamed there was a beyond--a huge, seething sea of crime;
an ocean whose billows are of ink, and which would soon sweep him from
his high place into the black waters, there to be buffeted until, honor
and hope all gone, he would, throwing his hands to heaven, with one
despairing cry, sink into its inky depths, adding one more ruined life
to the millions already engulfed. In that long, sad catalogue of the
dead there is probably not one, who, when taking the first step into
crime, ever thought a second would follow the first.
But to come back to our gilded sir. He made out two post-obits for
L5,000, wrote his client's name at the bottom of each, gave them to the
money lenders, who, never doubting that the prodigal son had signed and
given them to his counsel, made no question, but gave James the money
for them at once. But James had reckoned without his host, for this
nineteenth century prodigal was made of keener metal than he of the
first. Strange to say, and utterly unexpected as it was to all who knew
him and had looked upon his riotous living, he kept his books straight,
and knew to a single guinea how much and to whom he was owing.
His discovery of the forgery was accelerated by the sudden and most
unexpected death of his father, his return home and stepping into his
estate.
The various post-obits were presented and placed before him. He
instantly pronounced the two for five thousand pounds each to be
forgeries, and the crime was easily laid at the door of the Queen's
Counsel. The heir indignantly refused to condone the offense, and,
revealing the fatal secret to a few, within a month it was known in
every clubroom in London. From there it got into the newspapers, and
they, under a thinly disguised alias of a "distinguished member of the
Bar," gave more or less accurate details of the damning truth. His
former client eventually said he would not prosecute the forgery if the
criminal left England; if not, he would immediately go before the Grand
Jury, procure an indictment, and have this man, who had moved a prince
among men, arraigned in the dock at the Old Bailey, there to plead and
stand trial like any common criminal.
And he fled. Of course, like all fugitives from justice throughout the
Old World, he looked to America for a city of refuge, and here he came.
Not to keep my readers too long from the main narrative, it will suffice
to say that soon after his arrival he applied for admission to the Bar
of New York, but first he won to his cause the high-souled Richard
O'Gorman, then a leader of his profession.
It was for Edwin James a lucky stroke, for at this time O'Gorman was in
full possession of his magnificent powers. Few could resist his magic.
His great heart was stirred, and he took up the cause of his friend as
if he had been his brother. The English lawyer's reputation was known to
every member of the Bar of New York, and there had been and still was a
bitter opposition to his admission; but when it became known that their
eloquent leader was his champion, many began to feel that after all "the
poor fellow ought to be given another chance," and when at the next
meeting of the Bar Association O'Gorman in a set oration brought all his
splendid eloquence into play the cause was won.
Great-hearted O'Gorman had helped this lame dog over the stile, but the
dog's heart was not in the right place, and, as my reader will see in
the sequel, he soon went lame again. * * *
* * * * *
In the rear room of a somewhat luxurious range of offices in a building
on Broadway, facing the City Hall, four men were engaged in discussing
what was evidently an exciting topic. The door of the main office bore
the sign "Edwin James, Counselor-at-Law and Register in Bankruptcy." He
was one of the four. He had failed lamentably in his efforts to secure a
practice. The effects of O'Gorman's eloquence had in the gray light of
commonplace day faded away, the more so when the ideal his magic had
created in the minds of men was in hourly contrast with the man himself
and his history. His professional brethren looked upon him with
suspicion, and there was a general impression abroad that his escapades
were not over yet.
He had launched out in his office and home somewhat extravagantly, and
now, once again pressed by clamorous creditors, he had once more drifted
upon the borderlands of crime, and was here with his companions planning
a criminal transaction in order to pay his more pressing debts.
One of these four was Brea, who, with a keen eye to business, had
married the discarded daughter of a wealthy but not over-respectable New
York family, and he had, unsuspected, pulled the wires so that James had
been employed as the family lawyer, and in that capacity had drawn the
will of the mother. She was an imperious, hot-tempered body, one who,
when aroused, was accustomed to use language more vigorous than polite,
and who not infrequently went to fisticuffs with her daughters. The
husband and father, the creator of the fortune, was dead and the vast
family property, in securities, stocks and lands, was vested absolutely
in the mother. In the old lady's will Brea's wife, the second daughter
of the house (there were no sons), was down in the very first paragraph
for the magnificent sum of "one dollar lawful currency," and her name
nowhere else appeared in the lengthy document. The old lady was such a
termagant and so implacable in her hatreds that it was a moral certainty
she would never relent and change her purpose toward her daughter. But
James had also drawn up a second will of his own and Brea's
concoction, and a precious piece of villainy it was, in which the wife
was down for legacies amounting; to $750,000. The genuine will James
kept in his own possession, ready to destroy the very moment word came
that the old lady was an immortal, while the spurious will was kept in
the vaults of the Safety Deposit Company, there to remain until the
death of the testatrix, when, of course, it would in due time be
produced.
Brea had been introduced to the other three men, and cultivated their
acquaintance in the belief that they would some day be useful to him. He
had a few days before introduced them to James. As a matter of
precaution he had concealed from them all knowledge of the will. At the
same time he gave them a hint that there was something in the wind, but
that some way must be found to secure at once a few thousands, enough
for a year or two, until the good time came when fortune was to lavish
her favors on them all with a liberal hand. But money must be had at
once, for Brea and James were in sore straits, particularly James, who
had been threatened with arrest, and was so far involved that he always
entered and left his house at night in order to escape importunate
creditors. This was James' second interview with the men, and the first
time he had been alone with them. He saw at once that he had to do with
able, clear-headed men, took them into his confidence, and, in order to
excite their hopes and to bind them to him as well, he confided to them
the plot of the forged will, producing the genuine for their inspection.
He assured them that it was a sure and speedy fortune, as the lady was
old and frail in health, and he also promised they should share between
them $100,000, provided they would stand by to give a hand in the
somewhat improbable event of the other heirs disputing the will, but
above all, if they would devise some means to furnish him at once
$10,000, or at least $5,000. Money he must have, and he could no longer
do without it.
The result of our conference in James' office was that the very next day
an office downtown was engaged under a fictitious name, and a simple,
unsuspicious fellow hired as porter and messenger. After some little
negotiation, we obtained particulars of parties banking with the then
great firm of Jay Cooke & Company, corner of Wall and Nassau streets.
Briefly told, the result was that four days later a messenger walked
into their banking house with a check for $20,000, purporting to be
signed by another firm, who banked with them. Along with the check went
a letter bearing a signature well known to the cashier, asking him to
pay the check to bearer. The result of all being that five minutes
thereafter we were walking unconcernedly up Broadway, and sending a
message to James to meet us at Delmonico's, corner of Broadway and
Chambers street, we sat down awaiting his arrival. He had anxiously been
looking for news, and almost before we had seated ourselves he entered,
eager and anxious-looking; but, when he glanced at our faces, a happy
expression came over his own, and without a word he put out his hand.
After a warm greeting, I produced the roll, and, to his delight, I
handed over to James ten five hundreds. On the morrow I went to the
office, and, paying my messenger a week's wages, besides making a small
gift, told him he need not come any more.
With this twenty thousand coup we fondly thought all our troubles and
all our unlawful acts were ended. We now had a few thousands, sufficient
to last until the $5,000 we had invested in the will case should bring
in a dividend that would mean a fortune for us all. So we took things
easy about town, and altogether thought ourselves pretty good fellows,
and this world a very good sort of place to be in.
Thus the Winter passed by and the Summer was at hand. Our thousands of
the year before had dwindled to hundreds, and the old lady whose heirs
we had constituted ourselves seemed to have renewed her youth, and
threatened to outlive us all.
Besides this there had grown up a repugnance in our minds to the
business, and when one day my friend Mac remarked it was a scoundrelly
business to rob the heirs of an estate, and they women, George and I
heartily acquiesced; and we vowed we would take no part in the matter,
and then and there resolved we would throw both James and Brea over, but
first to use Brea and James for our own purposes. Once more we found
ourselves planning a coup in Wall street. Talking the matter over, we
three soon had a plan, and, being dowered with intense energy, it
promised a successful termination. Audaciously enough we determined the
lightning should strike once more in the same place--that is, to make
Jay Cooke & Company again the victims. Irving and his honest fellows