MARKET-DAY.
The Cavendishes were not long at leisure to wonder at the Berkeleys. It
would have been wiser to prepare to imitate them. But Mr. Cavendish, who
had no hope of long maintaining an apparent superiority over them,
determined not to sink so quietly and simply as they had done, but to
cause a sensation before his catastrophe, as well as by means of it, and
thus to finish with a kind of _éclat_.
The introduction of foreign corn on the conclusion of the war had been
for some little time hastening his ruin; and, knowing that it must be
accomplished by the shock given to commercial credit, through the
stoppage of the D—— bank, he thought he would forestall the conclusion,
and, by attributing his failure to an accident, keep as much as he could
of his little remaining credit.
Wednesday being the market-day, no time was to be lost. On Tuesday,
therefore, (a clerk having been opportunely got rid of,) all Haleham was
thrown into consternation by the news of an embezzlement to an
unheard-of extent, which had been perpetrated by the departed clerk.
Bills were presently in every window, and on all the walls. Mrs.
Cavendish was understood to be in hysterics, Mr. Longe gone in pursuit
of the knave, the children running wild, while the governess was telling
the story to everybody; and Mr. Cavendish talking about justice, and
hanging the fellow; and everything but the facts of the case;—for he
could not be brought to give any such information respecting the nature
of the embezzled property, as could enable the magistrates to help him
to recover it. Mr. Berkeley and Horace, hearing the news on their return
to Haleham on the Tuesday night, pronounced it too coarse a device,—one
which would deceive nobody; and prophesied that not only would the bank
be shut as soon as the market opened in the morning, but that nothing
whatever would remain to pay any creditor.
It seemed as if Enoch Pye was, for once, as shrewd as many a fonder
lover of lucre; or perhaps it was the union of Mrs. Parndon’s worldly
wisdom with his own which caused him to be on the alert this Wednesday
morning. Before the bank opened he was lingering about the street, and
was the first to enter the doors to present a check for thirteen pounds,
which he desired to have in gold, troubling himself to assign various
reasons for coming so early, and wishing for gold. Almost before the
clerk had told over the sum on the counter, a voice which Enoch did not
find it convenient to hear, shouted from behind him, “Stop, there, stop!
Make no payments. The bank has stopped. Make no payments, I say!”
The clerk snatched at the gold, but Enoch was too expert for him. He had
crossed his arms over the money at the first alarm, and now swept it
into his hat, which he held between his knees, looking all the time in
the clerk’s face, with,
“Eh? What? What does he say? I won’t detain you any longer. Good day,
sir.”
“I’ll detain you, though,” muttered the clerk, swinging himself over the
counter, and making for the door. Enoch brushed out of it, however,
turning his wig half round by the way. Cavendish, coming up, caught at
the skirt of his coat, but Enoch could now spare a hand to twitch it
away. He ran on, (the school-boys whom he met supposing him suddenly
gone mad, to be hugging his hat while his wig covered only half his
head,) and never stopped till he stood panting in Mrs. Parndon’s
presence. The only thought he had had time for all the way was, that the
widow would, he really believed, marry him within the hour for such a
feat as this, if he had but the license ready, and could summon courage
to ask her. Enoch was far too modest to perceive what everybody else
saw, that the widow was quite ready to have him at any hour. He was much
gratified at present by her soothing cares. She set his wig straight,
examined the flap which had been in danger, to see if it had lost a
button or wanted a stitch; shook and turned out the lining of his hat,
lest a stray coin should be hidden, and setting her hot muffin and a
fresh cup of tea before him, tried to tempt him to a second breakfast.
It was not to be expected, however, that he could stay while such news
was abroad: he had come, partly by instinct, and partly to be praised
for his feat; and now he must go and bear his share of the excitements
of the day. The widow persuaded him to wait two minutes, while she
swallowed her cup of tea and threw on her shawl, leaving the muffin,—not
as a treat to her cat or her little maid,—but to be set by and warmed up
again for her tea, as she found time to direct before she took Mr. Pye’s
arm, and hastened with him down the street as fast as his ill-recovered
breath would allow.
The excitement was indeed dreadful. If an earthquake had opened a chasm
in the centre of the town, the consternation of the people could
scarcely have been greater. It was folly to talk of holding a market,
for not one buyer in twenty had any money but Cavendish’s notes; and
unless that one happened to have coin, he could achieve no purchase. The
indignant people spurned bank-paper of every kind, even Bank of England
notes. They trampled it under foot; they spat upon it; and some were
foolish enough to tear it in pieces; thus destroying their only chance
of recovering any of their property. Mr. Pye, and a few other respected
townsmen, went among them, explaining that it would be wise at least to
take care of the “promise to pay,” whether that promise should be
ultimately fulfilled or not; and that it would be fulfilled by the Bank
of England and many other banks, he had not the smallest doubt,
miserably as the Haleham bank had failed in its engagements.
The depth of woe which was involved in this last truth could not be
conceived but by those who witnessed the outward signs of it. The bitter
weeping of the country women, who prepared to go home penniless to tell
their husbands that the savings of years were swept away; the sullen
gloom of the shop-keepers, leaning with folded arms against their
door-posts, and only too sure of having no customers for some time to
come: the wrath of farmer Martin, who was pushing his way to take his
daughter Rhoda from out of the house of the swindler who had plundered
her of her legacy and her wages in return for her faithful service; and
the mute despair of Rhoda’s lover, all of whose bright hopes were
blasted in an hour;—his place gone, his earnings lost, and his mistress
and himself both impoverished on the eve of their marriage: the
desperation of the honest labourers of the neighbourhood on finding that
the rent they had prepared, and the little provision for the purchase of
winter food and clothing, had all vanished as in a clap of thunder: the
merriment of the parish paupers at being out of the scrape, and for the
time better off than better men;—all these things were dreadful to hear
and see. Even Mrs. Parndon’s curiosity could not keep her long abroad in
the presence of such misery. She went home, heartsick, to wonder and
weep; while she told the sad tale to her daughter in a letter of twice
the usual length. Enoch Pye retired behind his counter, and actually
forgot to examine his stock of bank notes till he had paid his tribute
of sorrow to the troubles of those who were less able than himself to
bear pecuniary losses. Henry Craig was found wherever he was most
wanted. He had little to give but advice and sympathy; but he had reason
to hope that he did some good in calming the people’s minds, and in
showing them how they might accommodate and help one another. Under his
encouragement, a limited traffic went on in the way of barter, which
relieved a few of the most pressing wants of those who had entered the
market as purchasers. The butcher and gardener did get rid of some of
their perishable stock by such an exchange of commodities as enabled the
parents of large families to carry home meat and potatoes for their
children’s dinners. Seldom has traffic been conducted so languidly or so
pettishly; and seldom have trifling bargains been concluded amidst so
many tears.
Cavendish found the affair even worse than he had anticipated. The
confusion within doors actually terrified him when he took refuge there
from the tumult without. His wife’s hysterics were as vigorous as ever.
Miss Egg had packed up her things and departed by the early coach, in
high dudgeon with her dear friends for owing her a year’s salary, and
having, as she began to suspect, flattered her of late with false hopes
of her winning Mr. Longe, in order to protract their debt to her, and
furnish their children with a governess on cheap terms. Farmer Martin
had carried off Rhoda, allowing her no further option than to take with
her the poor little baby, whom there was no one else to take care of.
The other servants had immediately departed, helping themselves pretty
freely with whatever they hoped would not be missed, telling themselves
and one another that these were the only particles of things in the
shape of wages that they should ever see. Finding his house in this
forlorn and deserted state, with no better garrison than a screaming
wife and frightened children, while he was in full expectation of a
siege by an enraged mob, the hero of this varied scene took the gallant
resolution of making his escape while he could do it quietly. He looked
out an old black hat, and left his white one behind him; buttoned up
some real money which he found in his wife’s desk; threw on a cloak
which concealed his tight ancles, and sneaked on board one of his own
lighters, bribing the only man who was left on the premises to tow him
down the river for a few miles, and tell nobody in what direction he was
gone.
Among the many hundreds whom he left behind to curse his name and his
transactions, there were some who also cursed the system under which he
had been able to perpetrate such extensive mischief. Some reprobated the
entire invention of a paper currency; in which reprobation they were
not, nor ever will be, joined by any who perceive with what economy,
ease, and dispatch the commercial transactions of a country may be
carried on by such a medium of exchange. Neither would any degree of
reprobation avail to banish such a currency while convenience
perpetually prompts to its adoption. Others ascribed the whole disaster
to the use of small notes, urging that, prior to 1797, while no notes of
a lower denomination than 5_l._ were issued, a run on a bank was a thing
almost unheard of. Others, who esteemed small notes a convenience not to
be dispensed with, complained of the example of inconvertibility set by
the Bank of England; and insisted that methods of ensuring
convertibility must exist, and would be all-sufficient for the security
of property. Some objected to this, that mere convertibility was not
enough without limitation; because though convertibility ensures the
ultimate balance of the currency,—provides that it shall right itself
from time to time,—it does not prevent the intermediate fluctuations
which arise from the public not being immediately aware of the
occasional abundance or dearth of money in the market. Notes usually
circulate long before the holders wish for the gold they represent; so
that fraudulent or careless issuers of convertible paper may have
greatly exceeded safety in their issues before the public has warning to
make its demand for gold; and thus the security of convertibility may be
rendered merely nominal, unless accompanied by limitation. Others had a
theory, that runs on banks were themselves the evil, and not merely the
indications of evil; that all would be right if these could be obviated;
and that they might be obviated in the provinces by the country bankers
making their notes payable in London only. These reasoners did not
perceive how much the value of notes, as money, would be depreciated by
their being made payable at various and inconvenient distances; so that
there would soon be as many different values in notes of the same
denomination as there are different distances between the principal
country towns and London. All agreed that there must be something
essentially wrong in the then present system, under which a great number
of towns and villages were suffering as severely as Haleham.
The tidings of distress which every day brought were indeed terrific.
The number of banks which failed went on increasing, apparently in
proportion to the lessening number of those which remained, till every
one began to ask where the mischief would stop, and whether any currency
would be left in the country. Before the commercial tumult of that awful
time ceased, ninety-two country banks became bankrupt, and a much
greater number stopped payment for a longer or shorter period.
In proportion to the advantage to the moral and worldly condition of the
working classes of having a secure place of deposit where their savings
might gather interest, was the injury then resulting from the
disappointment of their confidence. Savings-banks now exist to obviate
all excuse for improvidence on the plea of the difficulty of finding a
secure method of investment, or place of deposit: but at the period when
this crash took place, savings-banks were not established; and then was
the time for the idle and wasteful to mock at the provident for having
bestowed his labour and care in vain, and for too many of the latter
class to give up as hopeless the attempt to improve their condition,
since they found that their confidence had been abused, and their
interests betrayed. There were not so great a number of working-people
who suffered by the forfeiture of their deposits as by holding the notes
of the unsound banks, because few banks received very small deposits;
but such as there were belonged to the meritorious class who had been
cheated in Haleham by Cavendish. They were the Chapmans, the Rhodas,—the
industrious and thrifty, who ought to have been the most scrupulously
dealt with, but whose little store was the very means of exposing them
to the rapacity of sharpers, and of needy traders in capital whose
credit was tottering.
After the pause which one day succeeded the relation of some melancholy
news brought by Mr. Craig to the Berkeleys, Melea wondered whether other
countries ever suffered from the state of their currency as England was
now suffering, or whether foreign governments had long ago learned
wisdom from our mistakes.
Her father replied by telling her that the Bank of Copenhagen had been
privileged, before the middle of the last century, to issue
inconvertible paper money; that the king, wishing to monopolize the
advantage of making money so easily, had some years afterwards taken the
concern into his own hands; and that, at the present moment, his people
were wishing him joy of his undertaking, a dollar in silver being worth
just sixteen dollars in paper.
“How very strange it seems,” observed Melea, “that none of these
governments appear to see that the value of all money depends on its
proportion to commodities; and the value of gold and paper money on
their proportion to each other.”
“Catherine of Russia seems to have had some idea of it,” observed Mr.
Berkeley, “for she was very moderate in her paper issues for some time
after she gave her subjects that kind of currency: but at this time, the
same denomination of money is worth four times as much in metals as in
paper. Maria Theresa went wrong from the first. Presently after she
introduced paper money into Austria, a silver florin was worth thirteen
florins in paper. All the subsequent attempts of that government to mend
the matter have failed. It has called in the old paper, and put out
fresh; yet the proportionate value of the two kinds of currency is now
eight to one. But the most incredible thing is that any government
should institute a representative currency which, in fact, represents
nothing.”
“Represents nothing! How is that possible?”
“Ask your mother to tell you the history of the Assignâts. I know it is
painful to her to recur to that terrible time; but she will think, as I
do, that you ought to be aware what were the consequences of the most
extraordinary currency the world ever saw.”
Mr. Craig could now account for Mrs. Berkeley’s gravity whenever the
subject of a vicious currency was touched upon in the remotest manner.
He supposed she had suffered from family misfortunes at the time when
all France was plunged into poverty by the explosion of the assignât
system.
“How could a representative currency actually represent nothing?”
inquired Melea again.
“The assignâts were declared legal money,” replied Mrs. Berkeley, “but
there was nothing specified which they could represent. Their form was
notes bearing the inscription ‘National Property Assignât of 100
francs.’ The question was first, what was meant by national property;
and next, what determined the value of 100 francs.”
“And what was this national property?”
“In this case, it meant the confiscated estates which had fallen into
the hands of the government, and were sold by auction: and the reason
why this new kind of money was issued was because the revolutionary
government, however rich in confiscated estates, was much in want of
money, and thought this might be a good way of converting the one into
the other. You see, however, that whether these slips of paper would
bear the value of 100 francs, depended on the proportion of the
assignâts to the purchasable property, and of both to the existing
currency, and to the quantity of other commodities.”
“And, probably, the government, like many other governments, altered
this proportion continually by new issues of paper money, while there
was no corresponding increase of the property it represented?”
“Just so. More estates were confiscated, but the assignâts multiplied at
a tenfold rate; driving better money out of the market, but still
super-abounding. Prices rose enormously; and in proportion as they rose,
people grew extravagant.”
“That seems an odd consequence of high prices.”
“If prices had been high from a scarcity of commodities, people would
have grown economical; but the rise of price was in this case only a
symptom of the depreciation of money. Every one, being afraid that it
would fall still lower, was anxious to spend it while it remained worth
anything. I well remember my poor father coming in and telling us that
he had purchased a chateau in the provinces with its furniture.
‘Purchased a chateau!’ cried my mother. ‘When you have no fortune to
leave to your children, what madness to purchase an estate in the
provinces!’ ‘It would be greater madness,’ my father replied, ‘to keep
my money till that which now purchases an estate will scarcely buy a
joint of meat. If I could lay by my money, I would: as I cannot, I must
take the first investment that offers.’ And he proved to be right; for
the deplorable poverty we soon suffered was yet a less evil than the
punishment which my father could scarcely have escaped if he had kept
his assignâts.”
“Do you mean legal punishment?”
“Yes. The government issued orders that its own most sapient plan should
not fail. There was to be no difference between metal money and
assignâts, under pain of six years’ imprisonment in irons for every
bargain in which the one should be taken at a greater or less value than
the other.”
“How stupid! How barbarous!” exclaimed everybody. “Almost the entire
population must have been imprisoned in irons, if the law had been
executed: for they had little money but assignâts, and no power on earth
could make paper promises valuable by calling them so.”
“Yet, when the law was found inefficient, the punishment was increased.
Instead of six years, the offenders were now to be imprisoned twenty. As
this expedient failed, more and more violent ones were resorted to, till
the oppression became intolerable. All concealment of stock, every
attempt to avoid bringing the necessaries of life to market, to be sold
at the prices fixed by the government, every evasion of an offered
purchase, however disadvantageous, was now made punishable by death.”
“Why then did not everybody refuse to buy, rather than expose sellers to
such fearful danger?”
“There was soon no occasion for such an agreement. The shops were for
the most part closed; and those which were not, displayed only the worst
goods, while the better kinds still passed from hand to hand by means of
secret bargains.”
“But what was done about the sale of bread and meat, and other articles
of daily use?”
“The baker’s shop opposite our windows had a rope fastened from the
counter to a pole in the street: and customers took their place in the
line it formed, according to the order of their coming. Each customer
presented a certificate, obtained from the commissioners appointed to
regulate all purchases and sales; which certificate attested the
political principles of the bearer——”
“What! could not he buy a loaf of bread without declaring his political
principles?”
“No; nor without a specification of the quantity he wished to purchase.”
“What a length of time it must have taken to supply a shop full of
customers!”
“I have often seen hungry wretches arrive at dusk, and found them still
waiting when I looked out in the morning. Our rest was frequently
disturbed by tumults, in which the more exhausted of the strugglers were
beaten down, and trampled to death. The bakers would fain have closed
their shops; but every one who did so, after keeping shop a year, was
declared a suspected person; and suspected persons had at that time no
better prospect than the guillotine.”
“This system could not, of course, last long. How did it come to an
end?”
“The government called in the assignâts when they had sunk to three
hundred times less than their nominal value. But this was not till more
murders had been committed by the paper money than by their guillotine.”
“You mean by distress,—by starvation.”
“And by the suicides occasioned by distress. My poor father was found in
the Seine, one morning, after having been absent from home for two days,
endeavouring in vain to make the necessary purchases of food for his
family.”
Mr. B. added, that people flocked down to the river side every morning,
to see the bodies of suicides fished up, and to look along the shore for
some relative or acquaintance who was missing. As Melea had observed,
this could not go on long; but the consequences were felt to this day,
and would be for many a day to come. Every shock to commercial credit
was a national misfortune which it required long years of stability to
repair.
This was the point to which Mr. Berkeley’s conversation now invariably
came round; and none of his family could carry him over it. Silence
always ensued on the mention of commercial credit. It was indeed a sore
subject in every house in Haleham.