Part of my income was derived from interest on money lent to a cousin.
Without any warning I had a letter to say that he was bankrupt, and that
his estate would probably not pay eighteenpence in the pound. It was
quite clear that I must economise, and what to do and whither to go was
an insoluble problem to me. By chance I met an old City acquaintance who
told me of a ‘good thing’ in Spanish bonds which, when information was
disclosed which he possessed, were certain to rise twenty per cent. If
what he said was true—and I had no reason to doubt him—I could easily get
back without much risk about two-thirds of the money I had lost. Had I
been in full work, I do not believe I should have wasted a shilling on
the speculation, but the excitement attracted me, and I ventured a
considerable sum. In about a fortnight there was a sudden jump of two
per cent. in my securities, and I was so much elated that I determined to
go farther. I doubled my stake; in three weeks another rise was
announced; I again increased the investment, and now I watched the market
with feverish eagerness. One day I was downstairs a quarter of an hour
earlier than usual waiting for the boy who brought the paper.
I tore it open and to my horror saw that there was a panic on the Stock
Exchange; my bonds were worthless, and I was ruined.
I had always secretly feared that this would happen, and that I should be
so distracted as to lose my reason. To my surprise, I was never more
self-possessed, and I was not so miserable as might have been expected.
I at once gave notice of discharge to my servants, sold nearly all my
furniture and let my house. I was offered help, but declined it. I
moved into a little villa in one of the new roads then being made at
Brixton, and found that I possessed a capital which, placed in
Consols—for I would not trust anything but the public funds—brought me
one hundred and twenty-five pounds a year. This was not enough for my
niece, myself and a maid, and I was forced to consider whether I could
not obtain some employment. To return to Eastcheap was clearly out of
the question, but there was a possibility, although I was fifty-six, that
my experience might make me useful elsewhere. I therefore called on
Jackman and Larkins at twelve o’clock, the hour at which I knew there was
a chance of finding them able to see me. During my prosperity I always
walked straight into their room marked ‘private,’ but now I went into the
clerks’ office, took off my hat and modestly inquired if either Mr.
Jackman or Mr. Larkins could spare me a minute. I was not asked to sit
down—I, to whom these very clerks a little over a twelvemonth ago would
have risen when I entered; but my message was taken, and I was told in
reply that both Mr. Jackman and Mr. Larkins were engaged. I was bold
enough to send in another message and was informed I might call in two
hours’ time. I went out, crossed London Bridge, and seeing the doors of
St.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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