Part 5

Darkly, but to more effect, the same rumors were renewed before long. The duke of Berry died at the age of twenty-seven, on the 4th of May, 1714, of a disease which presented the same features as the scarlet fever (_rougeole pourpréc_), to which his brother and sister-in-law had succumbed. The king was old and sad; the state of his kingdom preyed upon his mind; he was surrounded by influences hostile to his nephew, whom he himself called “a vaunter of crimes.” A child who was not five years old remained sole heir to the throne. Madame de Maintenon, as sad as the king, “naturally mistrustful, addicted to jealousies, susceptibilities, suspicions, aversions, spites, and woman’s wiles” [_Lettres de Fénelon au duc de Chevreuse_], being, moreover, sincerely attached to the king’s natural children, was constantly active on their behalf. On the 19th of July, 1714, the king announced to the premier president and the attorney-general of the parliament of Paris that it was his pleasure to grant to the duke of Maine and to the count of Toulouse, for themselves and their descendants, the rank of princes of the blood, in its full extent, and that he desired that the deed should be enregistered in the parliament. Soon after, still under the same influence, he made a will which was kept a profound secret, and which he sent to be deposited in the strong-room (_greffe_) of the parliament, committing the guardianship of the future king to the duke of Maine, and placing him, as well as his brother, on the council of regency, with close restrictions as to the duke of Orleans, who would be naturally called to the government of the kingdom during the minority. The will was darkly talked about; the effect of the elevation of bastards to the rank of princes of the blood had been terrible. “There was no longer any son of France; the Spanish branch had renounced; the duke of Orleans had been carefully placed in such a position as not to dare say a word or show the least dissatisfaction; his only son was a child; neither the duke (of Berry), his brothers, nor the prince of Conti, were of an age, or of standing, in the king’s eyes, to make the least trouble in the world about it. The bombshell dropped all at once when nobody could have expected it, and everybody fell on his stomach, as is done when a shell drops; everybody was gloomy and almost wild; the king himself appeared as if exhausted by so great an effort of will and power.” He had only just signed his will, when he met, at Madame de Maintenon’s, the ex-queen of England. “I have made my will, Madame,” said he; “I have purchased repose; I know the impotence and uselessness of it; we can do all we please as long as we are here; after we are gone, we can do less than private persons; we have only to look at what became of my father’s, and immediately after his death too, and of those of so many other kings. I am quite aware of that; but, in spite of all that it was desired; and so, Madame, you see it has been done; come of it what may, at any rate I shall not be worried about it any more.” It was the old man yielding to the entreaties and intrigues of the domestic circle; the judgment of the king remained steady and true, without illusions and without prejudices.

Death was coming, however, after a reign which had been so long, and had occupied so much room in the world, that it caused mistakes as to the very age of the king. He was seventy-seven, he continued to work with his ministers; the order so long and so firmly established was not disturbed by illness any more than it had been by the reverses and sorrows of late. He said to Madame de Maintenon once, “What consoles me for leaving you, is that it will not be long before we meet again.” She made no reply. “What will become of you?” he added: “you have nothing.” “Do not think of me,” said she: “I am nobody; think only of God.” He said farewell to her; she still remained a little while in his room, and went out when he was no longer conscious. She had given away here and there the few movables that belonged to her, and now took the road to St. Cyr. On the steps she met Marshal Villeroy: “Good bye, marshal,” she said curtly and covered up her face in her coifs. He it was who sent her news of the king to the last moment. The duke of Orleans, on becoming regent, went to see her and took her the patent (_brevet_) for a pension of sixty thousand livres, “which her disinterestedness had made necessary for her,” said the preamble. It was paid her up to the last day of her life. History makes no further mention of her name; she never left St. Cyr. Thither the czar Peter the Great, when he visited Paris and France, went to see her; she was confined to her bed; he sat a little while beside her. “What is your malady?” he asked her through his interpreter. “A great age,” answered Madame de Maintenon, smiling. He looked at her a moment in silence; then, closing the curtains, he went out abruptly. The memory he would have called up had vanished. The woman on whom the great king had, for thirty years, heaped confidence and affection was old, forgotten, dying; she expired at St. Cyr on the 15th of April, 1719, at the age of eighty-three.

She had left the king to die alone. He was in the agonies; the prayers in extremity were being repeated around him; the ceremonial recalled him to consciousness. He joined his voice with the voices of those present, repeating the prayers with them. Already the court was hurrying to the duke of Orleans; some of the more confident had repaired to the duke of Maine’s; the king’s servants were left almost alone around his bed; the tones of the dying man were distinctly heard above the great number of priests. He several times repeated: “_Nunc et in hora mortis_.” Then he said quite loud: “O my God, come thou to help me, haste thee to succor me.” Those were his last words. He expired on Sunday, the 1st of September, 1715, at eight a. m. Next day he would have been seventy-seven years of age, and he had reigned seventy-two of them.

In spite of his faults and his numerous and culpable errors, Louis XIV. had lived and died like a king. The slow and grievous agony of olden France was about to begin.

VIII.—FRENCH LITERATURE.

For volume and merit taken together the product of these eight centuries of literature excels that of any European nation, though for individual works of the supremest excellence, they may perhaps be asked in vain. No French writer is lifted by the suffrages of other nations—the only criterion when sufficient time has elapsed—to the level of Homer, of Shakspere, or of Dante, who reign alone. Of those of the authors of France who are indeed of the thirty, but attain not to the first three, Rabelais and Molière alone unite the general suffrage, and this fact roughly but surely points to the real excellence of the literature which these men are chosen to represent. It is great in all ways, but it is greatest on the lighter side. The house of mirth is more suited to it than the house of mourning. To the latter, indeed, the language of the unknown marvel who told Roland’s death, of him who gave utterance to Camilla’s wrath and despair, and of the living poet who sings how the mountain wind makes mad the lover who can not forget, has amply made good its title of entrance. But for one Frenchman who can write admirably in this strain, there are a hundred who can tell the most admirable story, formulate the most pregnant reflection, point the acutest jest. There is thus no really great epic in French, few great tragedies, and those imperfect and in a faulty kind, little prose like Milton’s, or like Jeremy Taylor’s, little verse (though more than is generally thought) like Shelley’s, or like Spenser’s. But there are the most delightful short tales, both in prose and in verse, that the world has ever seen, the most polished jewelry of reflection that has ever been wrought, songs of incomparable grace, comedies that must make men laugh as long as they are laughing animals, and above all, such a body of narrative fiction, old and new, prose and verse, as no other nation can show for art and for originality, for grace of workmanship in him who fashions, and for certainty of delight to him who reads.—_Encyclopædia Britannica._

[To be continued.]

[A] The words in ~this type~ call attention to “~Readings~” to follow.

COMMERCIAL LAW.

By EDWARD C. REYNOLDS, ESQ.

II.—NOTES AND BILLS.

Although unpleasant papers to have outstanding with one’s name attached to them, at all events when that indicates, by its position, personal liability, yet a knowledge of their leading characteristics is so convenient in a time of a necessity which forces us, or some with whom we may have mercantile engagements, to have recourse to them, that we think best to insert proper forms here.

Note.

$200. PORTLAND, ME., October 1, 1883.

Thirty days after date I promise to pay to John Ray (“or order” or “or bearer”) two hundred dollars.

Value received. JOHN J. ROE.

Draft, or Bill of Exchange.

$200. PORTLAND, ME., October 1, 1883.

At thirty days’ sight (or thirty days after date), pay to the order of John Ray two hundred dollars—value received—and charge same to account of

To JOHN ROE, Boston, Mass. RICHARD ROE.

If John Roe accepts of the conditions of the bill he will write his name across its face together with the date on which it is done, prefixing same with the word “accepted.”

In the outline analysis given below our readers will readily discover all the essential elements of a contract, which is of course the foundation principle of commercial paper.

ANALYSIS.

PLACE—Portland, Maine. DATE—October 1, 1883. TIME—Thirty days.

SUBJECT MATTER: {Note—Promise to pay,} $200. {Bill—Order to pay, }

CONSIDERATION—“Value received.”

{ {John Roe, maker. {NOTE. {John Ray, payee. PARTIES: { { {Drawer, Richard Roe. {BILL. {Drawee, John Roe. {Payee, John Ray.

After acceptance of the bill by John Roe, the drawee, he is placed in the same position, as regards it, that John J. Roe is in, as regards the note, that is, each becomes primarily liable for its payment.

Now, in actual business, notes and bills similar to those here given become important factors as a medium of exchange, being recognized as such by virtue of their negotiability, and proving acceptable as such when the parties thereto are of unquestioned financial ability.

What is the ear-mark of negotiability?

A note or bill payable to John Ray, “simply this and nothing more,” is not negotiable, but payable to a certain person, with no power to transfer the same, at least not to make it negotiable. To make it a negotiable instrument we should place after John Ray’s name the words (as found included in parenthesis in forms given), either “or bearer” or “or order.” This done, the note or bill would be of transferable quality, or negotiable, that is, would be payable to John Ray, or to him who should by chance gain its possession, if the words used be “or bearer:” if “or order” then payable to John Ray or to any holder, providing John Ray had so ordered it paid, by indorsement. Thus it is clearly evident that these evidences of debt, which is really the significance of commercial paper, answer the requirements, in a restricted sense, of money, and serve as the consideration for settlement in a great many of the transactions involving sale and exchange, incident to business enterprises. We must utter here a word of caution in regard to receiving negotiable paper; which is, not to accept of it after maturity, since notes and bills are presumably paid at the time when they become due, and one taking them after that time, must remember he takes them subject to this possibility, or possible existing equities between or among the original parties.

Negotiability, the outgrowth of indorsement, makes it necessary to give some explanation regarding the character of an indorser, or what his position and liabilities are.

An indorser is one who writes his name on the back of a note or bill, either for the purpose of transfer, or of assuming liability thereon, and frequently for both.

We shall mention three kinds of indorsement. Special indorsement, indorsement in blank, and, as applicable to both, indorsement without assuming liability, or without recourse. And first, if John Ray, payee named in bill or note, delivers possession of the same to John Smith, at the same time writing on the back of it, “Pay to John Smith or order, John Ray,” he thereby transfers by special indorsement. After transfer made in this manner, John Smith, or any one to whom he may give the power by indorsement, may collect of the original promisor, _i. e._, the maker of note or acceptor of bill, the amount due by clear evidence of the paper itself. Not only does this indorsement secure transfer of ownership, but also creates liability, for John Ray by it, without the addition of a restricting or denying clause (which we shall refer to later), agrees to personally attend to the payment, if the parties primarily liable fail to do so.

Again, an indorsement in blank is the simple writing of the name, in this instance, John Ray’s, by him of course, on the back of the note or bill, which, there being deducible from such indorsement no special directions, would make it payable to any one into whose possession it might come. Either of these indorsements accomplishes a transfer, and at the same time attaches to John Ray the liability of an indorser. Now, if John Ray sought to avoid such liability, he would write over his signature, “Without recourse to me.” This would secure transfer simply. An indorsement made by one not mentioned in the note or bill would be for additional security of payee, and would generally be in blank, placing the indorser in same responsibilities as assumed by John Ray in the two instances above mentioned and grouped. So much for the parties, which we now leave to consider briefly the time element, which is the hope of the payee, the specter, ever the cause of unpleasant forebodings to the promisor.

In computing time it should be remembered that the words of the note or bill are to be strictly followed; as, when it reads a certain number of months, then the time is to be computed in months; for example, omitting days of grace, a note bearing date July 1st, on two months’ time, will be due September 1st. To say that two months are equivalent to sixty days, and then add sixty days to July 1st, we shall have our note due August 30th, which would be erroneous. The same would be true of the reverse of the proposition stated; that is, if time be stated days, it would as certainly lead to error, to compute by months.

When does the time commence to run? If a note, from its date; if a bill, from its date, if it read payable a certain length of time “from date;” but if it reads, as for instance, “at thirty days’ sight,” then it commences on the date of its acceptance by the drawee.

Days of grace, the use of which has sprung from custom into full fledged law in the course of time, must not be forgotten.

Notes and bills, unless in the body thereof it is expressly stated to the contrary, have, added to the time for which they are written, three days, known as days of grace; so that a note given for one month, and dated July 1st, would not fall due August 1st, but August 4th.

Originally these days were intended to inure to the benefit of the maker of the note, but such is not the practice or law now; and that period of three days constitutes a part of the time for which all interests and discounts are computed, the same as the time expressly mentioned. This is one of the characteristics of bills and notes, which commercial students and business apprentices are more apt to carelessly forget than any other in the category.

We have thus far omitted mention of bank checks, a very important business medium. The element of time thrown aside, and the most that we have said regarding notes and bills, may be applied to checks, which in reality are bills or drafts payable at sight without grace.

In case of non-acceptance of a bill when presented, or non-payment of the same, or of note, when due, that the drawer in the first instance and indorsers, if any, in the latter may be holden to its payment, resort is ordinarily had to “protest,” which signifies that acceptance or payment having been legally demanded of parties primarily liable, and refused, notice is given the other parties to the paper, of such refusal, by a notary public, who attaches a certificate to the bill or note, stating fact of such demand and refusal.

This may be avoided in the case of indorsers by their “waiving demand and notice” at the time of indorsement.

In writing commercial paper remember:

That the three days of grace allowed are not included in the time written;

That, unless otherwise specified, tender of payment must be made at payee’s place of business;

That interest is not collectible, unless specified, until after maturity;

That the amount written and in figures should be the same;

That commercial paper without a date falls due never.

Interest.

A common and very acceptable definition of interest is, “a compensation paid for the use of money.” Like other transactions this may be subject to contract agreement, to an extent however, varying in the different states. In most of the states the ability of parties to contract in the matter of interest rates, has been placed under some restraint; that is, most of the states have adopted a “legal rate,” declaring thereby what amount of money shall be paid for the use of money. The reason why the states have assumed to dictate to parties the conditions of their interest contracts is to relieve the borrowers of the hardship of excessive rates, which, sometimes by reason of pecuniary embarrassments they would be, and are, notwithstanding inhibitions on statute books, forced to pay; and further to have a recognized standard rate for contracts where there is no agreement, which last is a very salutary provision.

Upon what is interest payable? It is payable on loans, secured or unsecured, as per individual contracts, secured as loans on mortgage security; unsecured, represented partly by notes. Again, running accounts between merchants are adjusted on the basis of an interest account, he paying interest against whom the balance is found; simple indebtedness, past due, creates a legitimate interest claim; sales of merchandise, from time of sale, if no credits are given, if there are credits then from time of their expiration; also debts on which court judgment has been secured.

Time notes, as has been already observed, do not begin to draw interest until maturity, unless it be especially mentioned; demand notes not until after demand.

Interest when exacted in excess of legal rates becomes usury, which, as already hinted, is, in the states generally, a statutory offence.

We indicate here some of the statute provisions in relation to this matter, viz: “Permissible by agreement subjects the lender to a penalty of from three to six times the amount of usury taken; subject simply to have excess recovered; to lose the whole interest; an avoidance of whole contract; forfeiture of the whole debt,” etc.

These provisions are of little avail really, for they are continually in conflict with the law of supply and demand; and the ingenuity of man settles this conflict in individual cases by cunningly conceived and evasive conditions.

Where partial payments have been made, interest may be computed in the following manner, which has received the sanction of recognized authority: “Compute interest due on principal sum to the time when a payment, either alone or in conjunction with preceding payments, with interest cast on them, shall equal or exceed interest due on the principal. Deduct this sum, and upon the balance cast interest as before, until a payment or payments equal the interest due; then deduct again, and so on.”

SUNDAY READINGS.

SELECTED BY THE REV. J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

FROM GOULBURN’S “THOUGHTS ON PERSONAL RELIGION.”

[_March 2._]

There is no interruption in the world, however futile and apparently perverse, which we may not address ourselves to meet _with a spirit of patience and condescension borrowed from our Master_; and to have made a step in advance in conforming to the mind of Christ will be quite as great a gain (probably a far greater) than if we had been engaged in our pursuit. For, after all, we may be _too_ intent upon our business, or rather intent in a wrong way. The radical fault of our nature, be it remembered, is self-will; and we little suspect how largely self-will and self-pleasing may be at the bottom of plans and pursuits, which still have God’s glory and the furtherance of his service for their professed end.

Reader, the path which we have indicated is the path not of sanctity only, but of peace also. We shall never serve God with a quiet mind, unless we more or less tread in this path. It is a miserable thing to be the sport and prey of interruptions; it wastes the energies of the human spirit, and excites fretfulness, and so leads us into temptation, as it is written, “Fret not thyself, else thou shalt be moved to do evil.” But suppose the mind to be well grounded in the truth that God’s foresight and fore-arrangement embrace all which seems to us an interruption—that in this interruption lies awaiting us a good work in which it is part of his eternal counsel that we should walk, or a good frame of mind which he wishes us to cultivate; then we are forearmed against surprises and contradictions; we have formed an alchemy which converts each unforeseen and untoward occurrence into gold; and the balm of peace distills upon our heart, even though we be disappointed of the end which we had proposed to ourselves. For which is better, safer, sweeter—to walk in the works which God hath before ordained, or to walk in the way of our own hearts and in the sight of our eyes?