And so you want me to tell you the story of my life! Telling tales is not quite in my line, but I will do the best I can; and should I become garrulous and tedious, as old ladies are wont sometimes to be, you must recall me by a gentle reminder that you live in the present century, whose characteristics are short, decisive, and by all means amusing.
My career has been a strange and eventful one, as you yourselves will see if I can interest you sufficiently to listen to the end.
Of course, I was not always known as the Old Lady of Threadneedle-street; indeed, I can well remember the feeling of annoyance with which I saw Mr. Punch's illustration of me in 1847, as a fat old woman without a trace of beauty, except in my garments, which were made of bank notes. I have kept a copy of it, and will just pencil you the outline.
The annoyance was intensified when I found myself handed down to posterity by him as the Old Lady of Threadneedle-street. He could have no authority for this picture, seeing that, like the Delphian mystery of old, I am invisible, and deliver my oracles through my directors.
You are girls, and will quite understand the distress of being thrust suddenly into old age. Up to 1847 I was young, good-looking, and attractive, and to be bereft of my youth and romance at one blow; to know that from henceforth all would be prosaic and business-like, that I should never again have lovers seeking my favour, was a condition of extreme pain. I had always prided myself on my figure, but even this Mr. Punch did not leave me, but told the world that it was due to tight-lacing. It was very cruel, and I have sometimes thought it was envy of my position; but let that go. I took counsel with myself, and determined to face the future with the resolve to be the very nicest old lady in the world, and to make myself so useful to my fellow-creatures that they should love me and stand by me even though my first youth had passed. And I am sure you will agree with me in thinking that I have accomplished this, and that not only have I kept clear of weakness and decrepitude, but have achieved for myself a reputation and position second to no lady in the land.
It has been necessary for me to make this little explanation, otherwise you might have thought I had never been young. And now to proceed.
It was in the reign of William and Mary that I first saw the light, being born in Mercers' Hall on the 27th of July, 1694.
From this place, after a few months, I was removed to Grocers' Hall, Poultry; not the stately structure with which you are acquainted, but one much more simple, which was razed to make room for the present building.
I may say, without vanity, that my birth created a sensation throughout the length and breadth of the land.
The House of Commons even was not exempt from this excitement, but set aside its serious work to discuss whether or not I should be strangled and put out of the way, or nurtured into strength by its support and countenance.