In Stockholm on an average of 6 years 1 in 19 died.
London ” ” 1 in 20-3/4 ”
Rome ” ” 1 in 21-1/2 ”
Northampton ” ” 1 in 26-1/2 ”
Madeira ” ” 1 in 50 ”
Liverpool ” ” 1 in 27 ”
Berlin ” ” 1 in 26-1/2 ”
Sweden (Stockholm excepted) ” 1 in 35 ”
Vaud, Switzerland ” ” 1 in 45 ”
Ackworth, Yorkshire ” 1 in 47 ”
The varied and valuable information of Dr. Price was of great use in
stimulating the minds of those having authority, an improved register
of mortality being established at Chester in 1772, and at Warrington in
1773.
The earliest endeavour to encourage a spirit of saving among the poor
was made in 1773, a bill being introduced into the House of Commons,
the leading provision of which was that every parish where there were
four or more officers might grant life annuities, payable quarterly, to
those who were willing to purchase them, according to a table annexed.
The bill was supported both by the social and political economists of
the House, who had met at Sir George Savile’s, in Leicester Square, for
this purpose. It had been contrived with much kindness, and framed with
considerable ingenuity. It passed the Lower House by a majority of two
to one; but in the Upper House was lost. The importance of measures of
this character cannot now be doubted. All that tends to produce habits
of thrift among our poor is exceedingly desirable. It is from them we
must always hope for a large portion of our taxes, and to give them an
interest in order, to place them in a fair social position, to engender
habits of self-respect and independence, are considerations of vital
importance; and it is, therefore, to be regretted that, at this early
period of our manufacturing career, some such impulse was not given to
the industrious working-man.
In 1777, several of the brokers and underwriters of the City were
mulcted of their iniquitous profits. During the minority of Sir
John St. Aubyn, and at the early age of seventeen, this gentleman
found himself, like many more, in want of money. The scriveners of
the City were ready, the extravagances of the youth supplied, an
unlimited amount of cash was placed in his possession, and in return
he granted to the underwriters annuities guaranteed on the estates
to which he would succeed at twenty-one, assuring his life with them
in the mean time to guard against contingencies. Not content with
this, the underwriters made him procure the additional guarantee of
a schoolfellow, for which the young scapegrace pledged his honour to
his friend. When he came of age, he fortunately arrived also at years
of discretion, and instituted a suit in Chancery for the destruction
of the bonds which he had granted. Great was the wrath of the
money-changers; but their anger was vain, and they were obliged to
content themselves with the righteous decision, that on repayment of
the principal, with 4 per cent. interest, the annuity bonds should be
given up.
Nor was this a solitary instance in which the assurance- and
annuity-mongers were overreached. The following will be found both
painful and impressive as a warning.--
Residing in one of the wildest districts of Yorkshire, was one of those
country squires of whom we read in the pages of our elder novelists.
He could write sufficiently to sign his name; he could ride so as
always to be in at the death; he could eat, when his day’s amusement
was over, sufficient to startle a modern epicure; and drink enough
to send himself to bed tipsy as regularly as the night came. He was
young, having come to his estate early, through the death of a father
who had broken his neck when his morning draught had been too much
for his seat, and he seemed at first exceedingly likely to follow his
father’s footsteps. In due time, however, being compelled to visit
London on some business, he found that there were other pleasures than
those of hunting foxes, drinking claret, following the hounds, and
swearing at the grooms; and that although on his own estate, and in
the neighbourhood of his own hall, he might be a great person, all
his greatness vanished in the metropolis. With the avidity of a young
man entirely uncurbed, enjoying also huge animal powers, he rushed
into the dissipation of London, where, as he possessed a considerable
portion of mental capacity, he contrived to polish his behaviour and to
appear in the character of a buck about town, with some success. His
estate and means soon became familiar to those who had none of their
own; and as he was free enough in spending his money, and was not very
particular in his company, he was quickly surrounded by all the younger
sons, roysterers, and men who lived by their wits, of the circle in
which he visited. With such as these his career was rapidly determined.
The gaming of the period was carried to such an extent that it might
truly be termed a national sin, and into this terrible vice he threw
himself with a recklessness which almost savoured of insanity. Mortgage
after mortgage was given on his estate; but as this was entailed, it
was necessary that he should also assure his life, which was done at
Lloyd’s, on the Royal Exchange, and with those usurers who added it to
their other branches of business.
In the midst of his career there seemed a chance for his escape. It
may be supposed that many intriguing women fixed their eyes on so
desirable a match, and that many young ladies were willing to share the
fortunes, for better or for worse, of the possessor of a fine estate.
At last the hour and the woman came, and the Yorkshire squire fell
in love with a young lady of singular beauty, half friend and half
companion to a faded demirep of fashion, who, aiming at the gentleman
herself, had committed the incredible folly of placing her friend’s
charms in comparison with her own. To fall in love was to propose, to
propose was in this case to be accepted, and the marriage took place.
Immediately afterwards they left the metropolis--the squire’s income
being much reduced by his liabilities--for his Yorkshire home, dreaming
probably sweet dreams of the future, and building castles in the air,
of which moderation and amendment were the foundation. For a period he
kept them. A son, heir to the entail, was born to him, and soon after
this he again made his way to London, for some reason which does not
appear. Once more within this vortex of pleasure, his good resolutions
failed him, and he was led to the same pursuits, the same pleasures,
and the same vices. He forgot his wife in the charms of new beauties,
he forgot his child, he forgot his home. He gambled, he betted, he
hazarded his all, until one fine morning, after a deep debauch with
some of his companions, where dice and cards with closed doors marked
its character, he arose a ruined man. He had lost more than his whole
life would redeem, the only security of the winners being his annuity
bonds on the estate, and his various life assurances should he die. At
the same time, he was aroused to a sense of the wrongs he had suffered;
he saw that he had been the dupe of gentlemen sufficiently practised in
the art of play to be called sharpers, and saw also, what was doubtless
the fact, that he had been cheated to their hearts’ content. Almost
mad, burning with consuming fire, he determined to be revenged. Another
night he was resolved to try his luck, and by playing more desperately
than ever, win back, if possible, the money he had lost, and then
forswear the dangerous vice. With a desperate resolve to outwit them,
in life or in death, he met the gamesters. He had hitherto arranged
all the losses he had sustained, and his opponents were prepared to
humour him. The doors were once more closed, the shutters were down to
exclude light, refreshments were placed in an ante-chamber, and for
thirty-six hours the last game was played. The result may be guessed.
The squire had no chance with the men banded against him, and high as
his stakes were, and wildly as he played, they fooled him to the top of
his bent. Exhausted nature completed the scene, and the loser retired
to his hotel. He was ruined, wretched, and reckless. He knew that if
he lived it would be a miserable existence for himself and his wife,
and he knew also that if he died by his own hand, not only would his
family be placed in a better position than if he lived, but that the
men who had wronged him would be outwitted, as the policies on his life
would be forfeited, and his bonds become waste paper. His mind soon
became resolved. He evinced to the people of the hotel no symptoms of
derangement; but saying he should visit the theatre that night, and go
to bed early, as he had been rather dissipated lately, he paid the bill
he had incurred, giving at the same time gratuities to the waiters. He
then wrote a letter to one of the persons with whom his life had been
assured, stating, that as existence was now of no value to him, he
meant to destroy himself; that he was perfectly calm and sane; that he
did it for the express purpose of punishing the men who had contrived
to ruin him; and, as the policy would be void by this act, he charged
him to let his suicide be known to all with whom his life had been
assured. In the evening he walked to the Thames, where he took a wherry
with a waterman to row him, and when they were in the middle of the
current, plunged suddenly into the stream, to rise no more.
The underwriter who had received the letter, communicated it to the
other insurers; and when a claim was made by the gamblers, they saw
that they had been duped by the Yorkshire squire, although at the
fearful price of self-murder.