Annals, Anecdotes and Legends: A Chronicle of Life Assurance

by of the Bank of England John Francis

CHAP. IX.

GAMBLING IN ASSURANCES ON WALPOLE—GEORGE II.—THE JACOBITE PRISONERS—THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS—ADMIRAL BYNG—JOHN WILKES—YOUNG MR. PIGOT AND OLD MR. PIGOT—LAPLAND LADIES AND LAPLAND REIN-DEER.—INSURANCE ON CITIES.—GAMBLING ON THE SEX OF D’EON—PUBLIC MEETING—DISAPPOINTMENT OF THE CITIZENS.—TRIAL CONCERNING D’EON—LORD MANSFIELD’S DECISION.

For many years prior to 1774, a spirit of gambling which took the form of assurance was prevalent in the City, and so serious did it become that the legislature were compelled to notice it. This mode of speculation is one of the strangest by-ways in the annals of insurance. From 1720 much of the legitimate business had been usurped by it, policies being opened on the lives of public men, with a recklessness at once disgraceful and injurious to the morals of the country. That of Sir Robert Walpole was assured for many thousands; and at particular portions of his career, when his person seemed endangered by popular tumults, as at the Excise Bill; or by party hate, as at the time of his threatened impeachment; the premium was proportionately enlarged. When George II. fought at Dettingen, 25 per cent. was paid against his return. The rebellion of 1745, as soon as the terror which it excited had passed away, was productive of an infamous amount of business. The members of Garraway’s, the assurers at Lloyd’s, and the merchants of the Royal Exchange, being unable to raise or lower the price of stocks any more by reports of the Pretender’s movements, made sporting assurances on his adventures, and opened policies on his life. Sometimes the news arrived that he was taken prisoner, and the underwriters waxed grave. Sometimes it was rumoured he had escaped, and they grew gay again. Thousands were ventured on his whereabouts, and tens of thousands on his head.

The rebel lords who were captured in that disastrous expedition, were another source of profit to the speculators. The gray hairs of old Lord Lovat did not prevent them from gambling on his life. The gallantry of Balmerino and the devotion of Lady Nithsdale, raised no soft scruples in the minds of the brokers; and when the husband of the latter escaped from the Tower, the agitation of those who had perilled their money on his life, and to whom his violent death would have been a profit, is described as noisy and excessive. But no sooner was it known that he had escaped, than fresh policies were opened on his recapture, and great must have been the indignation of his high-minded wife when she afterwards heard this trait of City character. Devotional as is the mind of the great metropolis in the presence of mammon, there were perhaps no blacker instances of that foul spirit which sought to make money from the sufferings of gallant though mistaken gentlemen.

The advent of the German emigrants was another opportunity. In 1765, upwards of 800 men, women, and children, lay in Goodman’s Fields in the open air, without food. They had been brought by a speculator from the Palatinate, Franconia, and Suabia, and then deserted by him. In a strange land, without friends, exposed by night and by day to the influences of the atmosphere, death was the necessary result. On the third day, when several expired from hunger or exposure, the assurance speculators were ready, and wagers were made as to the number who would die in the week. In the western part of the metropolis considerable feeling was exhibited for these unhappy creatures; in the country a charitable fervour was excited in their behalf; but indubitably the greatest interest was felt by those operators in the Alley and underwriters of Lloyd’s Coffee-house, who had made contracts on their distresses, and speculated on their deaths. The benevolent spirit of England, however, soon put this speculation to an end, by providing the unfortunate Germans with food, shelter, and the means of emigration.

The trial and execution of Byng were productive of a similar mania. At each change in his prospects, slight as his chances ever were, the underwriters raised or lowered their premiums, the assurers were elevated or depressed. This victim of the most dastardly ministry that ever misgoverned England, had but little sympathy from the speculators on his life; and it is difficult to say whether their power, importance, and position,—for jobbers and underwriters then were merchants and men of family,—did not in some degree inflame the feeling for blood which had seized the people. It is certain it did not mitigate it. When Wilkes was committed to the Tower, policies were granted at 10 per cent. if he remained there a specified time. King George, when he was ill, and Lord North, when he was unpopular, were both scheduled in the brokers’ books as good subjects. When Minorca was lost, and the premier Duke of Newcastle “began to tremble for his place, and for the only thing which was dearer to him than his place, his neck,” there were plenty to open policies on his life, and plenty to avail themselves of the chances which threatened him. As soon as he resigned his premiership, assurances were entered into on the continuance of the new Pitt ministry in power; and when the duke reassumed office, fresh engagements were opened on the chance of his remaining in place. Successes or disasters were all the same to the assurers; the seals of a prime minister, or the life of a highwayman, answered equally the purpose of the policy mongers; and India or Minorca, Warren Hastings or Admiral Byng, were alike to them if they could put money into their purses. They made wager policies on the lives of the high-minded Jacobite, and they did the same on every batch of felons left for execution. Assurances were entered into on the life of the Regent Orleans of France; and when he was succeeded by Louis Quinze, they insured, not the lives indeed, but the continuance of his mistresses in the favour of the monarch. Day by day during the trial of the Duchess of Kingston for bigamy, there were frequent expresses from West to East with information of the proceedings, which, according to its chances, varied the premiums and excited the cupidity of the assurers. There was absolutely nothing on which a policy could be opened, but what was employed as a mode of gambling. Scarcely a nobleman of note went to his long account, without an assurance being opened during his illness, by those who had no interest in his life. These policies, especially those on political offenders whose existence trembled in the balance, were most mischievous. A pecuniary interest in the death of any one is fearful odds against benevolent feeling; and it was hardly to be expected that men should throw what influence they possessed into the scale of mercy. The power of opening merely speculative policies on private persons was also demoralising, and perhaps dangerous to life itself. It was not possible—it was not in human nature—to have money depending on the existence of the inmate of your home without watching him with feelings which the good man would tremble to analyse, and even the bad man would fear to avow. People then opened policies on the lives of all in whom they were socially interested; and under the plea of provision, acquired an interest in their relatives which was almost fearful and sometimes fatal, from its intensity. There is no doubt that the system was false and hollow. The son then insured the life of his father; the father opened policies on the life of his son: and when thousands or perhaps tens of thousands of pounds were dependent on it, who shall tell the feelings of the son, or dare to judge the sensations of the father, if sickness or disease opened a golden prospect? The mind shrinks from the horror of the idea, and recoils indignantly at the thought that such sacred relations of life should be thus sordidly regarded. But the argument might be carried further; for to many a dark mystery might a clue be given, in the remembrance that a pecuniary interest might have existed between the murdered and the murderer!

Nor was this all. One life was commonly pitted against another. Thus, Lord March, afterwards notorious as the Duke of Queensberry, laid a wager with “young Mr. Pigot,” that Sir William Codrington would die before old Mr. Pigot. As the latter, however, happened to be dead when the wager was laid, young Mr. Pigot refused to pay; so Lord March went to law, and compelled him to do so. Another adventure excited still more the cupidity of underwriters and assurers, and produced larger and more varied policies than any, except on the sex of D’Eon, whose career is sketched at the end of this chapter. It was spread in the papers that a country baronet had laid a heavy wager that he would go to Lapland, and in a given time, bring home two females of the country and two rein-deer. This, which was originally only a bet between a couple of foolish young men, created a mania at Lloyd’s: policies were first opened that the baronet would not return within the time; then, that he would not return at all; then, that he would die before he reached Lapland. The next movement was to speculate on his returning with the women; and this increased the premiums enormously, immense sums being risked on the childish enterprise. Merchants and men of rank joined in the assurances; and when the adventurer came back with his Lapland deer and Lapland ladies, large sums were paid by those underwriters who had speculated on his failure.

The “London Chronicle” remarks, in 1768, “The introduction and amazing progress of illicit gaming at Lloyd’s Coffee-house is, among others, a powerful and very melancholy proof of the degeneracy of the time. Though gaming in any degree is perverting the original and useful design of that coffee-house, it may in some measure be excusable to speculate on the following subjects:—

“Mr. Wilkes being elected Member for London; which was done from 5 to 50 guineas per cent.