Part 3 (2/2)

In August, 1856, the Act which did so much good expired. Parliament refused to continue it on the express promise of parties connected with the coal trade, that a model office should be created, which should be conducted in such a manner that the publicans should not be able to renew the hideous evil of the old system. THIS CONTRACT WITH PARLIAMENT HAS BEEN BROKEN, and at this moment the coal-whippers are suffering from a return to the fearful slavery and tyranny of old times. Already one-third of the trade is again in the hands of the publicans. The first thing the model office did was immediately to throw 252 coal-whippers out of employment. Of course these men were necessitated to go to the publicans. Another complaint against the model office is, that in two cases the men were paid 2d. a ton, and in another case 3d. a ton, less than the price paid to the office. Another grievance is, instead of the persons connected with the coal trade going to the model office, the _bona fide_ offices created by the Act, and by means of which it was abused, still exist, and we were informed one of the largest merchants has still his office with a gang of eighty-one men. Of course the publicans are delighted. They have the whole trade in their own hands again; but this must not be. The righteous feeling of the country must be interposed between the publican and his victims-a body of hard-working men are not to be forced into drunkenness and poverty and crime merely that a few publicans may increase their ill-gotten gains. Reason, morality, religion, all protest against such a d.a.m.nable doctrine. Almost immediately after the Act had ceased, the Rev. Mr. Sangar, the rector of Shadwell, presided over a meeting of coal-whippers ”because the coal-whipped office was established in his parish, and because the Coal-whippers' Act had put down drunkenness, prevented the exactions of middlemen, induced morality, and benefited a large number of industrious men.” Meetings for a similar purpose are held almost every month. On similar grounds we have taken up the case of the coal-whippers-and for the same reasons we ask the aid of the charitable, and religious, and humane. Especially do we ask the temperance societies of the metropolis to interfere in this matter. Many of the coal-whippers are total abstainers. Now that Mr. Gladstone's Act is obsolete, they have some of them been forced back into the public-house. We must save them ere they be lost for ever. The coal-whippers are in earnest in this matter. They want very little. Simply a renewal of Mr. Gladstone's Act, with the proviso that there shall be only one office. It was the absence of that proviso that enabled interested parties to evade the provisions of the Act to a certain extent. Surely this is no great boon for Parliament to grant.

THE STOCK EXCHANGE.

This country, said the late Mr. Rothschild, is, in general, the bank of the whole world. That distinguished capitalist never said a truer thing.

If Russia wants a railway, or Turkey an army, if Ohio would borrow cash, or Timbuctoo build a railway, they all come to London. The English stockholder is the richest and softest animal under the sun-as repudiated foreign stocks and exploded joint-stock projects at home have too frequently ill.u.s.trated. When the unfortunate stockholder has in this way invested his all, the result is at times very painful. The cause of this is not always to be traced to ”greenness,” but to the desire to derive large dividends or interest, without due regard to the security of the investment. Not even is the _bona fide_ investor always safe. He is the goose that lays the golden egg. In one respect this weakness is somewhat tragic. For instance, to give an extreme case:-Suppose A. B., twelve years back, had, as the result of a life of industry, saved 5,000, and invested it in the London and North Western Railway, when that famous stock was in demand, and quoted as high as 250, what must be the unhappy condition of that too-confiding A. B., supposing he has not already died of a broken heart, when he finds London and North Western stock quoted, as at this present time, under 100? Again, supposing C. D. had died, leaving his disconsolate widow and twelve children, innocent but helpless, a nice little property consisting of shares in the Western Bank of Scotland. What must be the state of that disconsolate widow and those twelve children, innocent but helpless, upon finding that not only have all the original shares completely vanished into ducks and drakes, but that upon each share a responsibility of somewhere about one hundred and fifty pounds has been incurred besides? Can we calculate the sum total of bitter misery thus created and scattered far and wide? As well might we attempt to realise the dark and dismal regions of the d.a.m.ned. The caution cannot be too often repeated, to avoid investments which entail unknown liabilities, or which are subject to great fluctuations of price or the amount of dividend. Abundant opportunity for safe investment is offered in the Debentures, Preference and Guaranteed Stocks of British Railways, which pay from 4 to 5 per cent. per annum. The aggregate value of the stocks and shares which are dealt in on the London Stock Exchange is somewhat bewildering in its enormous amount. First and foremost are the several stocks const.i.tuting the National Debt of Great Britain, which may be taken at between eight and nine hundred millions. The capitals of the various British railways amount to upwards of three hundred millions.

The capitals of the Bank of England and of sundry joint-stock banks amount to more than thirty millions. Then there is a large amount invested in ca.n.a.ls, gas and water, steam, telegraph, and dock companies.

The total amount of American railways is about one hundred and sixty-eight millions sterling; European railways, two hundred millions; and those of India and our colonies, fifty millions. Moreover, there is a vast aggregate amount of foreign stocks and loans, which our readers will not care that we particularise.

The grand mart for the traffic in such things is a large building situate in Capel-court, just opposite the Bank of England. It has three other entrances-one in Shorter's-court, Throgmorton-street, one in New-court, ditto, and one in Hercules-pa.s.sage, Broad-street. You cannot get in, for a porter guards each door, and if you elude him you are easily detected by the _habitues_, and obliged to beat a precipitate retreat. But from the entrance in Hercules-pa.s.sage, by peeping through the gla.s.s folding doors, you may manage to get an imperfect view of the interior. You will see that in the middle of the day there are a great number of well-dressed, sharp-looking gentlemen talking very energetically, and apparently doing a great deal of business. As they pa.s.s in and out you hear them discourse as familiarly of thousands as

”Maids of fourteen do of puppy dogs.”

Let me add that there are a variety of distinct markets-the English for stocks and exchequer bills, the foreign for stocks, and the railway and mining, and miscellaneous share department. I may also add that a news-room is attached, where the daily papers, especially the city articles, are very eagerly perused. I am told that the _Daily News_ is the favourite, and that the demand for that paper is very great. The Stock Exchange does not recognise in its dealings any other parties than its own members. Every bargain, therefore, whether for account of the member effecting it, or for account of a princ.i.p.al, must be fulfilled according to the regulations and usages of the house. Its affairs are conducted by a committee of thirty, annually elected. ”Every member of the Stock Exchange and every clerk to a member shall attend the committee for general purposes when required, and shall give the committee such information as may be in his possession relative to any matter then under investigation.” The committee have the right to expel any member guilty of dishonourable or disgraceful conduct, or who may violate any of the regulations, or fail to comply with any of the committee's decisions.

As regards small people outside like ourselves, the functions of the Stock Exchange are soon fulfilled. I have worked hard-I have saved a few hundreds-I want to invest them-I call upon a stock-broker-they are (I mean nothing offensive by the comparison) as thick as thieves in this neighbourhood. I commission him to buy me a certain number of shares in such and such a company. My broker rushes into the Exchange, goes to the particular spot where the dealer in such shares is to be met with, and buys them for me, to be delivered on such a day. I pay him a commission for brokerage, and my business is done. Suppose I want to buy government stock. What is stock? says one, unhappily, in consequence of his own laziness and ill-luck, or of the laziness and ill-luck of his fathers before him, not a holder of such. Stock, O benighted individual, is a term applied to the various funds which const.i.tute the National Debt, the interest on which is paid half-yearly. Few persons buy or sell stock except through a broker, and this is the original business of the stockbroker, and it was for this the Stock Exchange was erected in 1803.

It is only since the peace that the present immense traffic has sprung up in miscellaneous and railway shares. Let me suppose I have a thousand pounds to invest in the Three per Cents., which are now quoted at about 96. I wait on a stockbroker; he goes over to the Exchange and purchases them for me, and then sees to their transfer in the Bank of England, receiving as his commission one eighth per cent., or 2s. 6d. in the 100 upon the amount of stock transferred. But I am of a speculative turn, and wish to make a fortune rapidly by means of the Stock Exchange. I again have recourse to a broker. As I a.s.sume that I am a mere gambler-a man of straw-I stand to lose or gain a large sum of money on a certain contingency. I draw a blank, and leave my broker in the lurch, who has to settle his accounts as best he can. If he cannot pay by half-past two on the day of settlement, which in shares is once a fortnight, and in consols monthly, he despatches a short communication to the committee of the Stock Exchange; an official then suddenly gives three loud knocks with a mallet, and announces the unpleasant fact that my broker is unable to meet his engagements. He is termed a lame duck, and cannot again figure on the Exchange till he pays a composition of 6s. 8d. in the pound. The readmission of defaulters is in three cla.s.ses. The first cla.s.s to be for cases of failure arising from the defection of princ.i.p.als, or from other unfortunate vicissitudes, where no bad faith or breach of the regulations of the house has been practised; where the operations have been in reasonable proportion to the defaulter's means or resources; and where his general character has been irreproachable. The second cla.s.s, for cases marked by indiscretion, and by the absence of reasonable caution only, or by conduct reprehensible in other respects.

The third cla.s.s for cases where the defaulter is ineligible under either of the former cla.s.ses, but whom, nevertheless, the committee may not feel warranted in excluding from the Stock Exchange. The final decision of the committee on each defaulter's application will be notified to the members in the usual way, and remain posted in the Stock Exchange for forty days. Stockbrokers rarely go into the Bankruptcy Court, as the house appoints a.s.signees, and settles the affair in a much easier way.

Lame ducks are not always ruined in purse. I knew one who waddled off the Stock Exchange, he having been a speculator on his own account, and thus evaded the payment of rather a heavy sum. I met him at Brighton this summer, living in one of the best houses in Kemp-town.

Stock-brokers are very facetious fellows, and amuse their leisure hours in many ways, such as tossing for halfcrowns in a hat, and practical jokes; occasionally a good deal of small wit pa.s.ses current. I have heard of an almanac, circulated in MS., in which the various peculiarities of individual members of the Exchange were very cleverly hit off. A late Exchange wit has given birth to the following _jeu d'esprit_, which has attained a wide-spread popularity in the City:-

”When the market takes a rise, Then the public comes and buys; But when they want to realise, Oh! it's 'Oop de doodum doo!'”

When the government broker appears to operate on behalf of the Commissioners, for the Reduction of the National Debt he mounts into a ”box,” and is surrounded by a clamorous host, all eager to buy or sell.

The present number of members of the Stock Exchange approaches nearly 800, each paying a subscription of 10 per annum, besides finding securities for between 800 and 900 for three years. Our stockbroker generally spends his money freely. If he is a married man he has a nice villa at Norwood or Clapham, and affects a stylish appearance. Then there are the ”jobbers,” who remain inside the stock market, waiting for the broker, and who are prepared, immediately he appears, to make a price at which they are either buyers or sellers-the jobber calculating upon making it right with the broker, who has undertaken an operation the reverse of his own. Occasionally the jobber runs considerable risk, since, after concluding a bargain, and while endeavouring to obtain a profit on it, the market may turn. Still he is a useful middle-man, and saves the broker a world of trouble.

But there is much business transacted which is less legitimate, and is known as time bargains, which are bargains to deliver stock on certain days at a certain price, the seller, of course, hoping that the price will fall, and the buyer, that it will rise when the period for completing the bargain has arrived. The speculative settlement is effected without making full payment for stock; the losing party simply pays the difference. One who speculates for a rise is a Bull (it is said the great Rothschild made a vast deal of money in this way), the speculator for a fall is a Bear. Continuation is the interest on money lent on the security of stock. A great deal of business is done in this way. A merchant, or a railway company, or a bank, have large sums of money to dispose of. Instead of locking it up they employ a broker, who lends it on certain securities, for a few days or a few weeks.

Operations on the Stock Exchange answer in this way, but the small tradesman, or clerk, or professional man who ventures within the charmed circle of Capel-court for the purpose of speculation, generally learns bitterly to rue the day.

THE LONDON HOSPITAL.

I am walking along the streets, and in doing so pa.s.s a scaffolding where some new buildings are being erected. Suddenly I hear a shriek, and see a small crowd collected. A beery Milesian, ascending a ladder with a hod of mortar, slips and falls on the pavement below. He is a stranger in London, has no friends, no money, scarcely any acquaintance. ”What's his name?” we ask. ”He ain't got no name,” says one of his mates; ”we calls him Carroty Bill.” What's to be done? Why, take him to the hospital.

The police fetch a stretcher. ”Carroty Bill” is raised on it, and a small procession is formed. It swells as it goes along. The idle street population joins. We form one. A medical student is in the rear; he meets a chum, and exclaims exultingly, ”They are taking him to our hospital.” The chum turns back, and the door is reached; admittance is easy. Happily, the place is not a Government establishment, and patients are received whilst there is hope. Poor ”Carroty Bill,” bruised and bleeding, yet stupid with drink, is examined carefully by the attendant surgeons. It is of no use asking him what's the matter; his expressions, never very direct or refined, are now very muddy, and not a little coa.r.s.e. A careful diagnosis reveals the extent of the injuries received.

All that science can do for him is done. If he is taken as an inmate he will have as good nursing and food, and as skilful care and as unremitting attention, as if he were a prince of royal blood. Wonderful places are these hospitals. If Sawney, subject to an unpleasant sensation on the epidermis, blesses the memory of the good duke who erected on his broad domain convenient posts, let us bless a thousandfold the memory of Rahere, who obtained from Henry I. a piece of waste ground, upon which he built a hospital (now known as St. Bartholomew's) for a master, brethren, and sisters, sick persons, and pregnant women; or of Thomas Guy, son of a lighterman in Horsleydown; but himself a bookseller in Lombard-street after the Great Fire; or of the nameless Prior of Bermondsey, who founded, adjoining the wall of his monastery, a house of alms, now known as St. Thomas's Hospital. Likewise let us thankfully record the gifts of the rich, of whose liberality such hospitals as those of King's, and University, and Westminster, and the London, and St.

George's, are the magnificent results.

Now let us return to our friend Carroty Bill. As we have intimated, he is in the ward appropriated to such cases. One of the professors is now going his round, accompanied by his students. Let us go in. The first thing that strikes us is the size, and cleanliness, and convenience of the wards; how comfortable they are, how light, how cheerful, how lofty, and well ventilated! Each patient is stretched on a clean bed, and at the top are pinned the particulars of his case, and on a chair by his side are the few little necessaries he requires. The practised physician soon detects the disease and the remedies. His pupils are examined; the patient forms the subject of a hasty lecture. One is asked what he would do, another what disease such and such a symptom denotes; a word is whispered to the nurse; the sick man, whose wistful eye hangs on every movement, is bid to keep up his spirits, and he feels all the more confident and the better fitted to struggle back to health for the few short words of the professor, to whom rich men pay enormous fees, and whose fame perhaps extends over the habitable globe. And so we pa.s.s on from bed to bed. Occasionally the professor extracts a moral. This man is dying of gin. ”How much did you take a day?”-”Only a quartern.”-”And for how many years?”-”Seven.” The professor shakes his head-the students know that the man is past cure, that death is only a question of time. A similar process is gone through on the women's ride, and anxiously do sad eyes follow the little group as the professor and students pa.s.s on, in their best way mitigating human agony, and bidding the downcast hope.

What tales might be told! Here lies down the prodigal to die; here the village maid hides her shame beneath the dark wings of death. Under these hospital walls-reared and maintained by Christian charity, what men once proud, and rich, and great-what women once tenderly nursed and slavishly obeyed-what beauties once fondly caressed, old, withered, wan, without money and without friends, alone in the bleak, bitter world-linger and pa.s.s away for ever.

Let us go down stairs, along that long pa.s.sage through which eager students are hurrying. The door opens, and we find ourselves in a theatre, as full as it can possibly be of the future surgeons of England, now very rough and noisy. At the bottom, far beneath us, is a small s.p.a.ce with a long narrow table, covered with oilskin; behind the table is a door. That door opens, and one or two of the _elite_ of the students known as dressers enter. A matronly female, dressed in the hospital garb, follows; some stout porters bring in a poor creature gently, and place him on the table, and a few professors and professional a.s.sistants fill up the group; the noisy students are still and eager. The professor advances to the table, in a few words explains the nature of the malady, and the patient, more dead than alive, endeavours to nerve himself for his impending fate. It is our old friend; his leg is smashed and requires amputation. An a.s.sistant administers chloroform, while the operator looks on, watch in hand. In a few seconds it is clear the patient is insensible, and the knife is handed to the operator, who, with his arm bare, and his sleeves tucked up, commences his painful task. Up squirts the red blood, and many a pale face and averted eye around testify how painful the exhibition is to those who are not accustomed to it. Happily, the medical men near have the calm composure and readiness of resource true science suggests. The first incision made, and the skin peeled around, an a.s.sistant hands a saw, and in the twinkling of an eye the limb is severed, and the stump, bleeding and smoking, is being sewn up by skilful hands almost before the poor fellow wakes up, wearied and exhausted by loss of blood, from what must have been to him, if we may judge by his moans and exclamations, a terrible dream. As soon as possible he is borne away, the blood is sponged up, the table wiped down; and another patient, it may be a pale-faced girl or a little boy suffering from some fatal malformation, succeeds. All that humanity can suggest is resorted to. Here science loses her stern aspects, and beats with a woman's tenderness and love; and not in vain, for from that table rise, who otherwise would have painfully perished, many to bless their families, it may be the world. But all is over, and we follow the crowd out, avoiding that other pa.s.sage leading to the dissecting-room, where on many a table lie the mangled forms of what were once men and women, in all stages of dissection and decay, with students hard at work on them, painfully gathering or seeking to gather a clue to the mystery of mysteries we call life. Possibly by the fire-place some half-dozen young fellows will be smoking and drinking beer. But why note the contrast?

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