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._)
[Illustration: THE OLD BANK.]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Joseph Addison, an elegant writer and a Secretary of State in Queen
Anne’s reign. He was born in Wiltshire, 1672, and died in 1719 at the
age of forty-seven.
[2] Try and keep the meaning of tallies in your mind.
[3] Thomas Guy was the son of a lighterman in Horselydown, Southwark.
He was born in 1643, and died in 1724. He was apprenticed to a
bookseller, and afterwards began the world with £200, which, by good
business habits and extreme parsimony, became an immense fortune.
GIRLS’ FRIENDSHIPS.
By the Author of “Flowering Thorns.”