Cant see that, answered the alderman. In my opinion the country is going to rack and ruin. What are we to do without gold? Then we are to have more loans. We have already lent Prussia, Sardinia, and the Emperor of Austria some seven or eight millions, and are now going to make a further loan to Portugal, and for all I know to the contrary we shall soon be subsidising all the rest of Europe.
If this war with France is to continue, I, for my part, shall be glad if we have so many friends on our side, observed Mr Coppinger, whose great object at the moment was to tranquillise the minds of his City friends. We are not likely to pay money away without getting something for it.
Not so sure of that, replied the alderman; John Bull is apt to throw his cash away with his eyes shut, and that is what we have been doing for some time past. Had Lord Malmesbury been successful in his negotiation for peace, things might have been different, but what can be worse with consols down to fifty-seven, a fearful run on the Bank of England, and now a suspension of payment in specie altogether, with this dangerous mutiny of the fleet as a climax! Then look at Ireland half the country in a state of rebellion; the people shrieking out for the assistance of the French, and cutting each others throats in the meantime. Then these Jacobin clubs in London and throughout all our large towns, doing their utmost to bring about a republic in England. If they could imitate the French and cut off our kings head, they would do it. And as to the army, I am not certain that we can put confidence in it. Ah! my dear sir, the sun of Englands glory has set; that is my opinion. I may be wrong I hope so but that is my opinion.
You take too gloomy a view of the state of affairs, alderman, said Mr Coppinger. Things are very bad, Ill own, but they may improve. Lord Duncans late victory should give us confidence. The fate of the French who landed in Pembrokeshire the other day, shows that even though our enemies may set foot on our shores, they may not gain much by their impudence. No fear about our army, that is staunch, and the navy will soon return to its duty, and then Old England will be well able to hold her own against all her enemies.
Stephen Coppinger was anxious to get rid of the alderman without rudeness, and that worthy finding he could not frighten his friend, soon bustled off to communicate his alarm to some more excitable listener.
The merchant, however, was very far from feeling the tranquillity he exhibited. He well knew the desperate state of affairs, but at the same time it was important that the public mind should be tranquillised. He had also several bills to negotiate and other business to transact, which required his own mind to be peculiarly calm and collected. Many other persons addressed him, most of them as agitated as Alderman Bycroft. He had to get rid of them one after
the other, and having despatched his own business, maintaining his usual composed manner, he quitted the Exchange.
He proceeded along Cornhill to the narrow passage which led into Change Alley, and with deliberate steps entered Jonathans. Every room in that once celebrated coffee-house was full. Some persons were transacting private business in the smaller rooms, while in the larger, stood eager groups of brokers and dealers, with their books in their hands, noting the various transactions in which they were engaged.
The news flying about had caused the funds to fall yet lower than on the previous day, and brokers were hurrying to and fro, receiving orders from their various constituents, some to buy, others to sell forthwith. Stephen Coppinger gave certain directions to his broker in a subdued tone. It was even with greater difficulty than in the morning that he could command his voice, then bowing to his acquaintance as he passed, he took his way back to Idol Lane.
He preserved his calm and dignified air, during his walk to his counting-house. Passing through the public office to his private room, he closed the door, and throwing himself back into his arm-chair, pressed his hands on his brow for some minutes, lost in thought. At length turning round towards his large black writing-table, and referring to some letters and other papers, he seized a pen which he mechanically mended, almost in so doing cutting through his thumb nail, and made some rapid calculations. They were not apparently satisfactory. He rang sharply a hand-bell by his side. Scarcely had the silvery sounds died away when the heavy door of the oak-panelled room slowly opened, and a clerk, with a ponderous volume under his arm, entered. He was dressed as became the managing clerk of a large establishment, with great neatness and precision, his hair being carefully powdered, though his side curls were somewhat smaller than those of his employer. His complexion was clear, with a good colour on his cheeks, which betokened sound health, while his countenance wore a peculiarly calm expression, calculated to gain the confidence of those with whom he had dealings. Roger Kyffin was highly esteemed by his principal as well as by all his subordinates. His word was, in truth, as good as Stephen Coppingers bond. What Roger Kyffin said Stephen Coppinger would do, was done. On the day and hour Roger Kyffin promised that cash should be paid, it was paid without fail. Stephen Coppinger had no partner. He scorned to throw responsibility on an unknown company, while, with only one exception, to no other breast than his own would he confide the secrets of his transactions. That exception was the breast of Roger Kyffin. Roger Kyffin placed the open folio before his principal, and produced a paper with the remarks he had made respecting certain entries.