CHAPTER VII
THE BANK OF ENGLAND
The Lord Justices who formed the Council of Regency were, with theexception of my Lord of Canterbury, waiting, on this momentous 15th ofAugust, in the long gallery leading out of the Council Chamber inWhitehall.
Several other great men were there also; Sunderland, Romney, Wharton,the Duke of Leeds--still, by the King's clemency, nominally LordPresident, though he had, since his disgrace over the East Indiascandal, none of the honours or powers of that position, and was indeedno more than a cipher where he had once beenall-powerful--Marlborough--who, since the Queen's death, vigorouslysupported Government, while he waited with serene patience for the deathof William and the accession of the Princess his mistress--AdmiralRussell, and Portland, all filled by that anxiety that so nearly touchedevery one of them--would the Bank of England raise the money to carry onthe government until Parliament met on the King's return?
There were two women present--Lady Sunderland, who was talking to LordRomney, and Elizabeth Villiers, now Lady Orkney, conversing with muchanimation with Lord Sunderland. Portland observed her with very strongdislike. Though she was his first wife's sister he had never been inthe least intimate with her; he could not forgive her the influence shehad gained and exerted over William, who had taken her advice andconsulted her opinion often enough when she had first come with Mary toThe Hague. The usual tale-bearing, back-biting, mischief-making, andscandal had stopped this friendship, but not before her wit andintelligence had proved of great service to the Stadtholder, who, asPortland knew, had continued to employ her in delicate negotiations,even after he became King; and though she and William had scarcely seeneach other for many years, Portland believed that she still used anoblique influence through Sunderland, with whom she had formed a closefriendship, which Portland considered very typical of ElizabethVilliers.
He suspected her of being in some deep intrigue to supplant him by Joostvan Keppel, towards whom his feelings were now near hatred. He knewthat she had never liked him, and she was quite well aware that he hadagain and again told the King it was undignified to employ a woman inhis affairs, and had even opposed the title and estates given to herhusband on her marriage. Portland heard the tales this gave rise to ifthe King did not; Portland was vexed by the revival of old scandals ifLady Villiers was not; he loathed the woman and resented her presencehere to-day.
As he continued to stare at her across the splendid gallery, shesuddenly looked round at him, gave Sunderland a quick sentence, and toPortland's equal surprise and vexation crossed over to him.
"It is a long time since we have met," she said, and gave one of herstraight smiles.
She was dressed in violet and silver, and wore a great Indian scarfabout her shoulders as if it were cold, instead of August.
"I have been too employed to wait on your ladyship," answered Portland.
She took no notice of that, but said abruptly--
"How did you leave the King?"
"As much at ease as a man in his position could be," said the Earlgrimly.
Lady Orkney did not look at Portland, but rather absently down the room.
"He must be fairly weary of it all," she replied. "Do you think," sheadded rather sharply, "he hath recovered from the death of the Queen?"
"No, madam, nor will he ever," said my lord sternly.
"How you dislike me!" cried Lady Orkney softly. "And I would have beena good friend to you if you would have let me--believe me"--she lookedat him full now--"I would never do an ill turn to one of the King'sfriends."
"What is this, madam?" he asked haughtily.
"Oh, you understand," she answered. "You know that M. van Keppel is afriend of mine, and you have tried to do him ill offices--I tell youthat you have no cause--Joost van Keppel will harm nobody. Let him be."
Portland was silent in sheer disdain. Elizabeth Villiers fixed him withher queer eyes; her pronounced cast was very noticeable.
"You should not dislike me," she said, "because I sometimes help theKing--Joost van Keppel will help him too, even in such follies ascourtesy and an obliging temper--a sweet reverence might mean much to abroken man--consider that, my lord."
He answered brusquely.
"I consider that Joost van Keppel is a worthless young rake-hell, andthat those who push him into His Majesty's favour can have only meanmotives."
"You certainly do not understand," she said quietly.
A sudden thought flashed to Portland.
"Was it you, my lady," he asked, "who put Sunderland to bring van Keppelforward with his tale of Namur when the King was sick?"
"Have you only just guessed it?" she answered.
"I might have known it was a woman's trick," he said bitterly. "Whatmade you think of such a device?"
She smiled and made no answer.
"And why did you employ M. van Keppel?" added Portland.
"Because," said Lady Orkney, "he was of the age the King's son mighthave been."
Portland stared.
"A woman's trick, you see." She smiled. "Women think of thesethings--do not consider me as a vulgar intriguer, even if you cannotunderstand, and let M. van Keppel be--I think he will console the King alittle."
"I, at least, am above your devices and those of my Lord Sunderland," heanswered roughly.
Lady Orkney replied, still smiling, but with infinite sadness--
"Could you see into my heart you would know that I am not so happy butthat you might spare me."
She gave a little courtsey and left him. He watched her return to thewindow and look out at the alleys and parterres of the privy garden.
He had been a little confused, but in no way appeased by herconversation. She had confessed that she and Sunderland were behind vanKeppel, towards whom his thoughts turned with added dislike; then hetried to banish consideration of all three of them, and to fix his mindon the money he must obtain for the King.
Devonshire (the Lord Steward), Pembroke (Keeper of the Privy Seal), andDorset (the Lord Chamberlain), were talking apart, and Portland joinedthem.
Pembroke informed him that Montague had gone down to the General Meetingof the Bank of England and had promised to return immediately with thenews of the result of the Directors' proposition to the Company.
"If these hopes vanish," said Devonshire gloomily, "what are we to turnto next?"
"A Parliament and taxes," answered Dorset concisely.
"Oh, my lord," cried Pembroke, "Mr. Locke will tell you that is badfinance."
"Mr. Locke is a philosopher," remarked Dorset good-humouredly.
"Good God, we get choked with 'em," remarked the magnificent Devonshire."Now Montague hath brought Mr. Newton into the Mint and Somers is alwaysdeep with Mr. Locke----"
"And my Lord Portland," cried Dorset, with the irrepressible levity ofhis class and nation, "deep with a poet for his secretary."
"As for that same poet," said Portland gravely, "I tell you, my lord,that he now goeth to Church, and will not write profane verses on aSabbath."
"A triumph indeed for the godliness of your lordship," said Devonshiredemurely.
"Is this poor Matt Prior?" asked Dorset. "His verses on the taking ofNamur were very neat."
"I did not read them," answered Portland dryly. "I never could endurepoetry or play-acting--the King is plagued with enough to paper London."
"I remember in The Hague," smiled Devonshire, "when His Majesty wasexpecting a promise of money from Amsterdam by every post, and I took ina letter which I thought was it--but which proved to be a copy of verseson his safe crossing from England, with a fresh heathen god in everyline--His Majesty's curses were powerful for a Christian Prince--and hedeclared it had given him a distaste for the very sight of poetry."
Dorset laughed; he remembered the occasion also as the only one on whichhe had heard violent language from the austere King. Portland wasdisgusted that they could amuse themselves with these recollectionsd
uring such anxious moments; it was only another proof, he thought, ofthe shallowness of the English politicians. And even these anecdotesturned on the King's lack of money; it must be six years sinceDevonshire was at The Hague, and William was still in the same straits.Portland wondered if the time would ever come when he would be free ofthese burdens, and doubted it.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer entered the gallery, and instantlyeverybody formed a little group about him, including the two ladies, towhom he gave a flourishing and gallant greeting.
"I must tell you," he said, in a voice and with a manner that strove tobe indifferent, yet with a face flushed with pride, "that the money hathbeen subscribed to His Majesty."
Portland drew a great breath of relief.
"Promised," continued Montague, "in gold and silver, which will be readyto be packed up and taken to Flanders to-morrow."
"How was this accomplished?" asked Devonshire. "I hardly thought, thiscruel year, they could do it."
"Thank God they have," murmured Shrewsbury; "for if this had failed Iknow not what we should have done."
"Your Grace," answered Mr. Montague, "when I lent my support to thisBank I did not think it was likely to be a failure. Yet I must confessthat I had some misgivings to-day when I entered the GeneralCourt--there was my Lord Mayor in the chair, looking as gloomy as needbe, and six hundred or more of the company, all thrifty merchants. SirJohn got up and read the speech composed by the Directors and sat downagain in none too easy a frame of mind, it seemed, and a great hum wentup from the subscribers, and you might see them turning to each otherand whispering, but making no kind of public response; then up sprangSir John again, and implored them stand by the King--at which one roseand said, 'We desire nothing more than to oblige His Majesty, but it isa hard thing to ask for gold these times, and our notes of hand shouldbe good enough.' 'Nothing but gold is any use to His Majesty inFlanders,' declared Sir John. 'I am asking you for this sacrifice fornothing less than the preservation of the kingdoms, otherwise I couldnot in conscience do it.' At last, after some murmuring, it was put tothe vote, and all held up their hands for sending the money, and SirJohn came to me all in a tremble, and hoped I would remember that theBank had saved the Government--he said it had been as anxious an hour ashe was ever like to have in his life. At hearing the resolution of theBank, several gentlemen, who had been waiting without, came in to buyshares, and several thousand pounds' worth were subscribed before Ileft."
At the conclusion of this speech Mr. Montague looked round his companywith an air of conscious satisfaction. Portland had gone to write thisnews off to the King, caring indeed for nothing but the sheer fact thathe could return to Attere immediately with the money, but the others,including even the feeble, disgraced Leeds, had listened with eagerinterest.
"Well done," cried Lady Orkney. "Mr. Montague, you are a miracle ofwit--and I am going to follow the example of these same gentlemen andpurchase stock in this Bank of yours."
"So am I," declared Devonshire. "I will send my agent down thereto-night, sir, the service it hath done cannot be overestimated."
In a breath every Minister in the room had promised to show the sameinstance of attachment to the institution that had saved the Government,and when the energetic young Chancellor left Whitehall thecongratulations of the whole Council of Regency were ringing in hisears.
He entered his smart coach and drove straight to the Mint, where menwere working day and night at the milled money which he and his friendMr. Newton were turning out at the rate of a hundred and twenty thousanda week. Fifteen thousand was the highest amount the former master ofthe Mint had declared it was possible to produce in that time, but Mr.Newton had done the incredible in reforming the Mint. It was to hisapartments Charles Montague went now, twirling his cane and flutteringhis laces.
The Warden of His Majesty's Mint and Exchanges and Professor ofMathematics at Cambridge was a gentleman a little past middle life, of avery refined aristocratic appearance, with an air of extraordinary calmand stillness.
He wore a murrey-coloured coat, a small grey peruke, and a little broochof rubies in a plain lace cravat. When Mr. Montague entered he wasseated at a table covered with a multitude of papers. He looked upinstantly; his delicate features expressed a very winning composeddignity.
"I wished to speak to you about the new Mint at Chester, Mr. Newton,"said the Chancellor; his manner was totally different from that he hadused to the Ministers at Whitehall.
"Another Mint, yes, Mr. Montague," answered the Warden, in the samegrave tone. "Those at York and Norwich have been very popular, but Ifear we have not enough trained men to spare yet--though I am havingthem taught as fast as may be."
"I want more than will suffice for Chester," said the Chancellorbriskly. "I thought of York and Exeter as likely stations."
He seated himself by the window and looked out on the pleasant prospectof the sunny river and glistening roofs.
"The people take it very well," he added. "One could not have hoped topass through the crisis better; there is a good temper and a good senseshown very gratifying."
"Why, yes," said Mr. Newton; "but one may always look for both from theEnglish."
A servant entered with a letter, which he glanced at and laid down witha gentle little sound of displeasure.
"What is that?" asked Mr. Montague.
"Oh, 'tis from Flamsteed; he is ever dunning me to go see hisobservatory at Greenwich--he cannot believe that there is anything inthe world more important than stars, nor that I do not love to be teasedwith mathematical things when I am about the King's business."
Mr. Montague glanced at the astronomer's sealed letter.
"Speaking of the King's business," he remarked, "the Bank of Englandhath promised to advance the two hundred thousand for the troops inFlanders."
Mr. Newton looked up quickly.
"Why, I am glad of that. Sir, this is a great thing--it will greatlyraise the credit of the Bank."
"I think," replied the young Chancellor, "without vanity, that the Bankof England is an institution that will live."
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