As all operations undertaken by an insolvent within ten days before his failure can be impeached, prudent men are careful to enter upon certain affairs with a certain number of creditors whose interest, like that of the bankrupt, is to arrive at the concordat as fast as possible.  Skilful creditors will approach dull creditors or very busy ones, give an ugly look into the failure, and buy up their claims at half what they are worth at the liquidation; in this way they get back their money partly by the dividend on their own claims, partly from the half, or third, or fourth, gained on these purchased claims.

A failure is the closer, more or less hermetically tight, of a house where pillage has left a few remaining bags of silver.  Lucky the man who can get in at a window, slide down a chimney, creep in through a cellar or through a hole, and seize a bag to swell his share!  In the general rout, the sauve qui peut of Beresina is passed from mouth to mouth; all is legal and illegal, false and true, honest and dishonest.  A man is admired if he “covers” himself.  To “cover” himself means that he seizes securities to the detriment of the other creditors.  France has lately rung with the discussion of an immense failure that took place in a town where one of the upper courts holds its sittings, and where the judges, having current accounts with the bankrupts, wore such heavy india-rubber mantles that the mantle of justice was rubbed into holes.  It was absolutely necessary, in order to avert legitimate suspicion, to send the case for judgment in another court.  There was neither judge nor agent nor supreme court in the region where the failure took place that could be trusted.

This alarming commercial tangle is so well understood in Paris, that unless a merchant is involved to a large amount he accepts a failure as total shipwreck without insurance, passes it to his profit-and-loss account, and does not commit the folly of wasting time upon it; he contents himself with brewing his own malt.  As to the petty trader, worried about his monthly payments, busied in pushing the chariot of his little fortunes, a long and costly legal process terrifies him.  He gives up trying to see his way, imitates the substantial merchant, bows his head, and accepts his loss.

The wholesale merchants seldom fail, nowadays; they make friendly liquidations; the creditors take what is given to them, and hand in their receipts.  In this way many things are avoided,—­dishonor, judicial delays, fees to lawyers, and the depreciation of merchandise.  All parties think that bankruptcy will give less in the end than liquidation.  There are now more liquidations than bankruptcies in Paris.

The assignee’s act in the drama is intended to prove that every assignee is incorruptible, and that no collusion has ever existed between any of them and the bankrupt.  The pit—­which has all, more or less, been assignee in its day—­knows very well that every assignee is a “covered” merchant.  It listens, and believes as it likes.  After three months employed in auditing the debtor and creditor accounts, the time comes for the concordat.  The provisional assignees make a little report at the meeting, of which the following is the usual formula:—­