CHAPTER IV.
After having tided over my difficulties, which had been brought about partly by the ill-feeling and envy of the Land Bank, and partly by another matter to be explained later, I went on successfully in my old home, gradually increasing my powers and responsibilities, and, if I may be allowed to add, daily growing more attractive.
Everybody courted my smiles, and were wretched if they failed to find favour. Among those who paid me attention were members of the royal family, bishops, clergy, ministers of state, merchants, and philosophers; and, strange to say, I was as great a favourite with the women as with the men, and I think I influenced their lives not a little, for if a girl were known to be on my visiting list, even though she were very plain, she found no difficulty in marrying well. Did a mother hold in her arms her first-born, she was more restful and content concerning its future if it had an opportunity of being placed in my good books; and, certainly if a person died who had during his life stood well with me, he was buried with more pomp and ceremony for the fact.
It seems wonderful, does it not, that I should have kept my head amid so much flattery and attention, and I very much doubt if I should have done so but for the healthy tone of my home and the constant care of my people.
Every now and then I got a fright, which prevented my becoming frivolous, and which, but for my good constitution, would have gone far to shake the life out of me. One I remember well.
It occurred in 1707, when I was but thirteen years old. It came in the form of a “run,” and certainly, but for timely help, I should have been torn to pieces.
The word run may be suggestive to you merely of a race between me and another bank; but in bank language it has a most terrifying and disagreeable meaning.
It is a sudden demand from everybody to whom you owe money to pay up on the spot, and without hesitation.
Your office is filled and refilled with people angrily and defiantly demanding their money. Such was the case with me, and in my one room in the Grocers’ Hall, at the date I mentioned.
I tried to console myself with the thought that if the people would but give me time I would pay everyone to the full, but, alas! I was old enough to know that this was not sufficient—my existence depended upon the whole world believing me to be safe and worthy of confidence, and their test of my trustworthiness was that I should pay everyone in full at a moment’s notice.
I was nearly wild, and, for the moment, utterly powerless. To me confidence was money, and by money I lived and breathed.
It was no use disguising the fact—I had not sufficient in my chests to pay the reckless demands.
Not that I had misused the money entrusted to me, but that I had lent it out again, that it might work and earn for me the means to pay interest to the depositors and afford me something for my trouble; all this was quite honourable and above board, and yet how frightened I was! Had I wished it I could not have run away, for you know I had but one room, without private doors and staircases; I was, therefore, compelled to stand and face the excited and unreasonable crowd.
In the case of a run, it is absolutely necessary to find the money somewhere, in order to meet the demand made by the public; for if once payment is suspended credit is gone, career blasted, and business at an end.
When a person asks me in confidence my definition of a run, I always answer, “A reckless, senseless attack on a bank—one in which self-interest is so overpowering as utterly to cover and blot out reason for the time being.”
Of course the news spread like wildfire that I was surrounded by a clamorous people whom more than likely I should not be able to satisfy, and who, in that case, would not hesitate to take my life.
This roused my friends, who without loss of time came to my assistance with the only commodity that could save me.
Godolphin (the Lord Treasurer in the reign of Queen Anne) declared that the credit of the country was bound up together with mine, and that help must be at once offered, for which phrase, when I had time to think of it, I was thankful; but, better than words, my friends, the Dukes of Marlborough and Newcastle, and others of the nobility, at once came to my rescue with large sums of money, and gentlemen of all ranks came with their offering of such cash as they had in hand.
One incident deeply touched me. A poor man, hearing of my trouble, came to me with £500 which he had saved, and placed them absolutely at my disposal. On my mentioning this to the Queen when next I saw her, she was so pleased that she sent him a present of £100 and an order on the Treasury to pay at once the £500 which had been lent to me. You may be very sure that I did not forget such a friend.
You see, therefore, how the ill effects of the run were averted by the kindness of private and powerful friends.
The next fright I had was of another character, and occurred on the 28th of February, 1709, just two years after the run.
You who have studied the history of this country know that in the reign of Queen Anne a certain Dr. Sacheverell caused a great deal of trouble to those in authority, and roused the people to acts of riot and rebellion.
On this particular day the people were mad with triumph. They had set fire to chapels and meeting-houses; they had made bonfires of Bibles and other books and materials in Lincoln’s Inn Fields without let or hindrance, and while these were blazing the mob, which had been joined by persons of the very lowest class, began to entertain the thought of attacking me in Grocers’ Hall and relieving me of my wealth.
So on they came, as you know mobs will when they think themselves masters, and there stood I and my whole household, determined to guard our home and its treasures with our lives.
Thanks to the Earl of Sunderland, who rushed into the Queen’s presence with an account of the mob’s proceedings, help was sent before harm could reach us. The Queen, on hearing of the danger which threatened me, turned pale from fear, but quickly regaining her courage, bade her secretary “send her foot and horse guards forthwith and disperse the rioters.” Thus peril was once again warded off from me and my home.
I know that you will think I had enough to do without dabbling in politics, but in all your criticisms of me and my doings you must take into consideration my education, my position, and my responsibilities. Of course, I had daily dealings with every class of politicians, and became acquainted with every shade of politics.
There is no knowing on which side I should have ranged myself—whether among the Whigs or among the Tories—had I been allowed a choice; but circumstances decided for me, and made me, and kept me for several generations, a determined Whig.
My friend Joseph Addison[1] fully realised my position, and in a pretty allegory set forth the calamity which would fall upon me should I by chance favour the Tories.
It is very elegantly written, and, as it is not long, I will relate it to you.
You will see that he speaks of me as a queen—by name “Public Credit.”
“I saw Public Credit on her throne in Grocers’ Hall, the Great Charter overhead, the Act of Settlement full in her view. Her touch turned everything to gold.
“Behind her seat bags filled with coin were piled up to the ceiling. On her right and on her left the floor was hidden by pyramids of guineas.
“On a sudden the door flies open, the Pretender rushes in, a sponge in one hand, in the other a sword, which he shakes at the Act of Settlement.
“The beautiful queen sinks down fainting; the spell by which she has turned all things around her into treasure is broken; the money-bags shrink like pricked bladders; the piles of gold pieces are turned into bundles of rags, or faggots of wooden tallies.”[2]
The truth which this picture was meant to convey was never absent from my mind or from my governors’.
We were perfectly aware of how very closely our interest was bound up with that of the Government, and the greater the public danger the more ready were we—that is, I and my people—to go to their rescue.
I mentioned in an earlier portion of my story that I gained part of my income by discounting bills of exchange.
It has been suggested to me that I should make clear to you the meaning of bills of exchange, their origin and purpose, and how I could have gained money by my dealings with them. I will do so as well as I can, and in as few words as possible.
Originally, a bill of exchange was nothing more than a letter from a person in one country to his debtor in another, begging him to pay the debt to the person who would deliver the letter to him.
This way of proceeding was a saving of trouble to everybody. To the creditor certainly; to the debtor, who could pay the money owing without the danger and expense of sending it abroad; and to the third person, or bearer of the letter, who, travelling in a foreign land, found himself in funds of the country without the great inconvenience of carrying much money from home.
For example, Madame Rotina, dwelling in Constantinople, has sent goods to Mrs. James, of Cheapside, London, to the amount of £300, to be paid on a certain date some twelve months hence. Well, a friend of Madame Rotina’s intends spending a few weeks in London, and asks if she can do anything for her friend while there. “Oh, yes,” says madame; “I shall be glad if you will take a letter to Mrs. James, who owes me money, and receive it for me.”
It might so happen that the friend would wish to leave London before the time has arrived for Mrs. James to pay. She would, therefore, take the letter, which would be open, to a fourth person—to me, perhaps—and say, “This bill is not due for a month. The debtor is reliable. Will you be good enough to discount it for me?” Under the circumstances, this is what I should do: take the bill for £300, and give the bearer £298 19s. 6d. Four per cent. interest for one month would be £1, which would be mine for the trouble and risk of discounting, as well as payment for the loss of my money for that time. The odd sixpence would be for the stamp. At the end of the month I should get the full £300. Now do you see how I increased my income by discounting bills of exchange, especially if some hundreds passed through my hands in one day?
These letters or bills, which were representatives of debts, became by degrees articles of traffic. They were simple instruments, transferring value from place to place, at home or abroad, and by their means accounts were balanced without the transmission of money. At this present time the net produce of stamps alone in Great Britain is enormous.
I hope I have made it clear to you; because I want you to become thoroughly acquainted with all my daily work.
And now to proceed with my story.
There is no knowing how long I should have gone on content in my one room at the Grocers’ Hall, had not some unpleasantness occurred about the renewal of the lease.
My governors and directors met me in council on the 20th of January, 1732, and we decided that, if we could find a suitable site, we would build a house of our own.
We were fortunate enough to find a house and garden for sale, the property of a former director of mine, Sir John Houblon. It was situate in Threadneedle-street, in the parish of St. Christopher-le-Stocks.
We employed a first-rate firm of builders, Dunn and Townshend, very well known at that time, and the first stone of the Bank of England was laid on August 3rd, 1732.
It was a great day for me and a very imposing ceremony, in which my governors and directors took a prominent part. I gave away twenty guineas to be distributed among the workmen, that they too might have cause for rejoicing on such a memorable day.
In less than two years the building was complete, and on June 5th, 1734, I took up my abode there, and have lived in Threadneedle-street from that day to this; so that I am, of course, the oldest inhabitant. One after another I have seen my neighbours pass away, and their houses pulled down to make room for other and more stately buildings. The friends of my youth, too, are all gone, and there remain none who can sympathise with me in my high position, because there are none old enough to remember my early struggles, which led up to it.
A very lonely old woman I feel sometimes when I have leisure to sit in my grand but comfortless parlour and think, with only the shadows of past friends for companions.
There is no one with whom I care to speak of them; for, alas! the present generation remember only their faults, and none of their greatness.
It was but the other day, when some one was abusing one of my former governors, Thomas Guy,[3] I reminded him that my friend had built and endowed Guy’s Hospital at a cost of £18,793 for the first, and £219,499 for the last, and that he should be spoken of with respect and gratitude. “Oh, yes, I know,” was the careless answer, “Charity covereth a multitude of sins.”
I think this is the first time I have been able personally to express my feelings about people and things in my life, and for the opportunity I am indebted to you, the girls of the world, who have expressed the desire to make my acquaintance.
The house in Threadneedle-street, into which I moved all my effects, and in which I took up my abode in 1734, was small and insignificant compared with its present size and appearance. It consisted only of the present centre, courtyard, hall, and bullion-court, and was scarcely visible to passers-by.
It was almost enclosed by the Church of St. Christopher-le-Stocks, three taverns, and about twenty houses.
This house was at first sufficiently large for me to carry on my business comfortably; but as the work became more complicated we found it necessary to add to it, and in 1770 built the eastern wing. Thirty years later the western wing, together with the Lothbury front, was built. From time to time there have been additions and alterations, which account for the variety in the style of architecture.
I ought to have mentioned that part of my residence stands on marshy soil, in the course of the ancient stream of Walbrook, and, that I might suffer no ill effect from this, the foundation was strengthened by means of piles and counter-arches. And here, being settled in my new home, I will pause to put all things in order before going on with my story.
(To be continued.)
THE OLD BANK.