London was in commotion. On a certain afternoon in the early part of the year 1797, vast numbers of persons of all ranks of society, wealthy merchants, sober shopkeepers, eager barristers, country squires, men of pleasure, dandies, and beaus, and many others of even more doubtful position, might have been seen hurrying up through lanes and alleys towards the chief centre of British commerce—the Bank of England, that mighty heart, in and out of which the golden stream flows to and fro along its numberless arteries. Numerous carriages, also, some with coronets on their panels, and powdered footmen behind, rolled up from Cheapside. Among their occupants were ministers of state, foreign ambassadors, earls and barons of the realm, members of parliament, wealthy country gentlemen, and other persons of distinction. While in not a few were widows and spinster ladies, dowager duchesses and maids of honour, and other dames with money in the funds. On the countenances of the larger portion of the moving throng might be traced a word of uncomfortable import—“Panic.”
It was an eventful period. Seldom during that or the present century have English patriots had greater cause for anxiety. Never, certainly, from the day of the explosion of the South Sea Bubble up to that period, had the mercantile atmosphere been more agitated. The larger portion of the motley crowd turned on one side to the Bank of England, where the ladies, descending from their carriages, pressed eagerly forward amidst the people on foot, one behind the other, to reach the counters. Another portion entered the Royal Exchange, while a considerable number of the carriages proceeded along Cornhill.
The appearance of the surrounding edifices was, however, different from that of the present day. The old Mansion House was there, and the new Bank of England had been erected, but all else has been altered. The then existing Royal Exchange was greatly inferior to the fine structure at present to be seen between the Mansion House and the Bank. It stood in a confined space, surrounded by tall blocks of buildings, dark and dingy, though not altogether unpicturesque. Whatever were its defects, it served its purpose, and would have been serving it still, probably, had it not been burnt down.
Numerous excited groups of men now filled the greater part of the interior area; some were bending eagerly forward, either more forcibly to express an opinion, or to hear what was said by the speaker on the opposite side of the circle. Others were whispering into their neighbours’ ears, with hands lifted up, listening attentively to the remarks bestowed upon them, while others were hurrying to and fro gathering the opinion of their acquaintances, and then quickly again putting it forth as their own, or hastening away to act on the information they had received.
“Terrible news! The country will be ruined to a certainty! The French will be here within a week! Fearful disaster! The fleet has mutinied! The army will follow their example! Ireland is in open rebellion! The bank is drained of specie! Failures in every direction! The funds at fifty-seven!”
Such were some of the remarks flying about, and which formed the subject matter of the addresses delivered by the various speakers. Many persons then collected were sober-minded citizens, merchants of good repute, trading with the West Indian Sugar Islands, Africa, the Colonies of North America, or the Baltic, East India directors, or others, whose transactions compelled them to assemble, for the negotiation of their