Chronicles and characters of the stock exchange

by of the Bank of England John Francis

“Such gentry,” said one, “coin disaster to sink the funds without cause. If gospels mended mankind, there should have been a new sermon preached on the mount, since ’Change Alley was built, and money-changers were driven out of the temple all over Europe.” “Ten thousand lies are propagated every week, not only by both sides, but by stock-jobbers. Those grave folks, moneyed citizens, contribute exceedingly to embroil and confound history, which was not very authentic before they were spawned.”

Lord Chatham was not backward in expressing an opinion of those whom he designated “the cannibals of ’Change Alley.” “To me, my Lords,” he once said, “whether they be miserable jobbers of ’Change Alley, or the lofty Asiatic plunderers of Leadenhall Street, they are equally detestable.” The same strong feeling animated him when he was told that one of his measures had caused a decline in the stocks. “When the funds are falling, we may be sure the credit of the country is rising.”

A finer spirit—and that spirit is the principle which has pervaded the whole public transactions of England—was evinced when the same nobleman was advised to retaliate on the Dutch merchants,—who had committed several outrageous frauds on the English,—by seizing their immense property in our funds. “If the Devil himself had money there,” he replied, “it must rest secure.” To his Lordship, and to the political assertion he made, that “not a gun should be fired in Europe without England knowing why,” it was of the utmost importance that the integrity of the nation should be maintained.

During the American war, many of those in arms had property in the funds; and the provinces, as bodies corporate, had money in the same securities. It is to the credit of the revolutionists, that, though they fully expected this property would be confiscated, they persisted in their course; and it is equally to the credit of England, that their capital was as secure, and their interest as regularly paid, as if they were not in open rebellion.

Not only in loans were the people wronged and robbed,—the word is harsh, but expressive,—the contracts for the public service exhibited also the most gross and glaring favoritism. From time to time the evil was exposed; Parliament grew violent, and the public waxed wroth. Every quarter of a century, an inquiry was instituted, and the whole ended partly in some influential person being disgraced, and partly in an expression, that “the said frauds and abuses were one great occasion of the heavy debt that lies upon the nation.” A few specimens may serve to indicate the wrongs which, from time to time, have aggrandized an unpopular government, have swollen the pockets of the few, and increased the wants of the many.

The borough-monger, who for years had been in possession of a pocket borough, found his property disturbed, and his constituents tampered with, by the contractor, who, as a candidate for the honor of the forum, was marked by vice, extravagance, and folly. As a member of the senate, he assumed the purity of the patriot, complained of the absence of economy, and declared how much cheaper the public business might be accomplished. He teased the minister; he perplexed the Parliament; he puzzled the government; until, by giving him a job, the patriot was turned into a contractor, and from that hour he marked the public money as his own. If the First Lord of the Treasury were indolent, the contractor availed himself of his sloth; if ignorant, he taught him, and made the country pay for the lesson.

The very name of a contractor was odious, and their luxuries were bitter in the eyes of the people. Their abodes were like those of princes; their daughters wedded with nobles; the follies of their sons were the talk of the town; they died possessed of fortunes which kings might envy; and, as nearly all were members of Parliament, attention became pointed at men whose mansions and whose manors, bought with public money, challenged public notice.

“The minister,” remarked Mr. Fox, “said to him, ‘I will give you a contract, if you will give me a vote.’ The contractor replies, ‘Now I have given you a vote, give me a contract. I voted that we had forty-two ships when we had but six, and that the French fleet did not consist of thirty-two ships. You must not, therefore, quarrel for twopence a gallon on rum, or a farthing on a loaf of bread.’”

Lord George Gordon, shortly before his extraordinary conduct in 1780, said,—“This dunghill of contracts has given an ill air to our whole proceedings. It has got abroad, and proves very offensive to the public nostrils. Our constituents begin to smell a rat. They nose us in the lobby, and call us tailors and shoemakers, cobblers and cabbage-salters, potato forestallers, sour-krout makers, and swine contractors. The dignity, reputation, and fair fame of the Commoners is smothered and sinking in porter and salted cabbage, shoes, sour-krout, and potatoes.” Lords of trade ordered pewter inkstands by the hundred, sold them, and purchased silver ones with the money they produced; or ordered green velvet bags for official papers, and employed the velvet of which they were composed to make court dresses.

Under the Pelham administration, members received regular stipends in bank-notes, from £500 to £800 yearly, varying according to the influence or ability of the senator. “This largess I distributed,” added the person who took charge of the delicate department,—and the particulars are worth enumerating,—“in the court of requests on the day of the prorogation of Parliament. I took my stand there; and as the gentlemen passed me, in going to or returning from the House, I conveyed the money in a squeeze of the hand. Whatever person received the ministerial bounty, I entered his name in a book which was preserved in the deepest secrecy, it being never inspected by any one but the king and Mr. Pelham.” This book was afterwards demanded of Mr. Roberts, the almoner, but he resolutely refused to yield it except by the king’s express command, or to his Majesty in person. In consequence of his refusal, the king sent for him to St. James’s, where he was introduced into the closet. He was then ordered to return the book in question, with which injunction Mr. Roberts immediately complied. At the same time, taking the poker in his hand, his Majesty put it into the fire, made it red hot, and, while the ministers and Mr. Roberts stood round him, he thrust the book into the flames, where it was immediately reduced to ashes.