Millionaire - Janet Gleeson [4]
2
GILDED YOUTH
In an island near the Orcades a child was born, whose father was Aeolus god of the winds, and whose mother was a Caledonian nymph. He is said to have learned all by himself to count on his fingers, and, at four years of age, to have been able to distinguish between the different metals so exactly that when his mother tried to give him a ring made of brass, instead of gold, he realized that it was a trick and threw the ring on the ground.
As soon as he was fully grown his father taught him the secret of catching the wind in balloons, which he then sold to travelers. However, since his wares were not greatly appreciated in his own country, he left, and began to lead a wandering life in the company of the blind god of chance.
Montesquieu,
Persian Letters (1721)
THERE IS LITTLE IN JOHN LAW’ S BACKGROUND TO SUGGEST the professional gambler, seducer, murderer, adventurer, or international celebrity he would one day become. His family originally came from Lithrie in Fifeshire, Scotland, and for generations had followed careers as men of the Church. John Law’s great-grandfather, Andrew, and his grandfather, John Law of Waterfut, after whom he was named, were both ministers of Neilston, a small, unremarkable village in Renfrewshire.
Long-standing clerical family tradition was not, however, inviolate. During the Civil War and Commonwealth, Presbyterian extremism was ruthlessly enforced in the Scottish Church. John Law of Waterfut was too tolerant to fit in with the prevailing mood and in 1649 was ousted from his post “for inefficiency.” Bereft of home and income, and with no profession to pass on to his two young sons, he was left with little alternative but to seek employment in Edinburgh.
Writing of the city, which he visited toward the end of the century, the English chaplain Thomas Morer observed that it was “very steepy and troublesome, and withall so nasty (for want of bog houses which they very rarely have) that Edinburgh is by some likened to an ivory comb, whose teeth on both sides are very foul.” Daniel Defoe described it as a place of “infinite disadvantages,” that “lies under such scandalous inconveniences as are, by its enemies, made a subject of scorn and reproach; as if the people were not as willing to live sweet and clean as other nations, but delighted in stench and nastiness.” In other words, it was like most other large cities of the time: a foul, stinking metropolis—stark contrast to the uncontaminated though bleak country ministry of Neilston.
The transition to such an environment was for Minister Law and his family painful and distressing. The city was recovering from the ravages of the worst plague in its history that had left it “never in a more miserable and melancholy situation than at present.” Pestilence, coupled with draconian Commonwealth rule, had depleted the population, provoking mounting poverty and dwindling trade. For the next decade the family lived a hand-to-mouth existence while their father tried to secure a pension from the Church and find a suitable occupation for his two young sons, John and William. There was an obvious solution to the second dilemma: members of the Law family not involved in the Church had been goldsmiths since the early sixteenth century, and with the help of family contacts, soon after their arrival in Edinburgh, the two young Laws were apprenticed to prominent goldsmiths. In the late seventeenth century the profession enjoyed an elevated status that set goldsmiths apart from most other craftsmen. As well as fashioning jewels, trophies, and household valuables, many had developed an even more valuable and influential sideline business as money dealers.
Money, perhaps more than any other human artifact, has a multiplicity of meanings. To a modern layman’s eye it might signify security, power, luxury, freedom, temptation.