The apogee of the Company had been reached: from this time its downfall was rapid. The Stock fell, and fell. The aid of the Bank of England was invoked, but it came too late; goldsmiths and brokers began to abscond. On December 12, the House of Commons ordered that the Directors of the South Sea Company should, forthwith, lay before the House an account of all their proceedings; and, on Jan. 4, 1721, a Secret Committee of the House was ordered to report upon the Company. Then Knight, the cashier of the Company, absconded; and a reward of £2000 was offered for his apprehension. On Feb. 15, the Parliamentary Committee made their first report—and a pretty one it was—bribery all over the place, and especially among the members of the Government. The bubble was pricked and thousands were ruined. Certainly, the fortunes of those directors, who had any, were seized for the benefit of the swindled, and only a small percentage of their wealth was allowed them for their subsistence. Finally, it was settled that the £7,000,000 which the Company stood pledged to pay over to the Government, should be remitted, and every Shareholder should receive £33, 6s. 8d. on £100 Stock: all else being irretrievably lost. Over the misery entailed on the avaricious public who were gulled, it is best to draw a veil, and use the episode as a warning. Swift wrote a poem 60 verses long, on _The South Sea Project_, 1721, from which I extract the following: “There is a gulf, where thousands fell, Here all the bold adventurers came, A narrow sound, though deep as Hell,— _’Change Alley_ is the dreadful name. Nine times a day it ebbs and flows, Yet he that on the surface lies, Without a pilot, seldom knows The time it falls, or when ‘twill rise. Subscribers, here, by thousands float, And jostle one another down; Each paddling in his leaky boat, And here they fish for gold, and drown. * * * * * Meantime, secure on Garraway cliffs, A savage race, by shipwrecks fed, Lie waiting for the foundered skiffs, And strip the bodies of the dead.” There were street ballads, of course, such as _The Hubble Bubbles_, A Ballad, by Mr D’Urfey, and one which I give _in extenso_. A _South-Sea_ Ballad: or, Merry Remarks upon _Exchange Alley_ Bubbles. To a new tune, call’d _The Grand Elixir_: or _The Philosopher’s Stone discovered_: In _London_ stands a famous Pile, And near that Pile, an Alley, Where Merry Crowds for Riches toil, And Wisdom stoops to Folly: Here, Sad and Joyful, High and Low, Court Fortune for her Graces, And, as she Smiles, or Frowns, they show Their Gestures and Grimaces. Here Stars and Garters do appear, Among our Lords, the Rabble, To buy and sell, to see and hear, The _Jews_ and _Gentiles_ squabble. Here crafty Courtiers are too wise For those who trust to Fortune, They see the Cheat with clearer Eyes, Who peep behind the Curtain.