p. 86 | The Gold Fever

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 7, 1865

The Gold Fever.

THE covetous strife for riches in these last days is truly alarming in its moral bearing. It seems as though people were almost crazy after the shining dust. It eclipses everything else; hence all means are employed to obtain the filthy lucre, the love of which is the root of all evil. By reading the following, one may get a faint idea of the passion men have for gold in these last moments of time. It is from the New York Independent, of Jan. 5th, 1865.—Crisis.

"One Monday we sat by the window of a building which commands a view of the room where the speculators in gold have operated as extensively of late.

The place was packed from desk to door, and from floor to ceiling, with brokers, merchants, manufacturers, speculators, agents, clerks, and messengers. There were present old men, young men, fast men, fat men, lean men, short men, tall men, rich men, poor men, and men of every class, color, and creed. They stood on the floor, on the counter, on the desks, on the chairs, on the window-sills, and hour after hour they continued to buy and sell gold. Their flushed faces and flashing eyes told plainly the state of their minds. Fortunes were made and lost in a minute. Sellers were more numerous than buyers, and they resorted to their usual tricks to stimulate purchasers. When a telegraphic message favorable to our arms was read, the Union men gave three cheers, but they sounded feebly. It was like the music of a lute lost amid the roaring of bulls and growling of bears. Men who are polite in their drawing-rooms, cordial in their greetings, and quiet in their offices; men who sit demurely in church, and who dare not open their lips to speak in a Christian assembly, or at a public meeting, throw off all restraint in the presence of the golden image which they have set up, and shout frantically. A stranger unacquainted with the language, and unused to such scenes, would be impressed with the idea that Bedlam had broken loose. They cried out at the top of their voices, and with great rapidity of utterance, gesticulating violently the price they would take for the shining dust. A score or more of them would speak at the same time, each endeavoring to cut-shoot his neighbor. Almost every man had a book in his hand, in which, with convulsive fingers, notes were written. He who had plenty of brass as well as gold, and could make more noise than others, commanded the most attention and seemed to do the most business.

At about half-past three the gong sounded for the open Board to commence operations in the street—directly in front of the Gold Room. For several minutes there was a contest between the gong-beater and gold-bidders. Their time was up, but they continued their cries regardless of the rules. The more noise the gong made, the louder they shouted. The former was in danger of being battered to pieces—the latter ran the risk of bursting their lungs. Finally, brass or copper got the better of gold, and there was a general rush toward the street. Out they came like bees swarming, some red and some pale with excitement. Not a few of them resorted to the stimulus of tobacco—lighting their cigars or crowding the quid into their mouths, and rolling it as a sweet morsel under their tongues. Some hastened to the nearest restaurants, where they sought to keep their spirits up by pouring spirits down. In the meantime, the bidding commenced. Sellers were plentiful, but purchasers were scarce. A tall man wearing a white hat exhibited a telegraphic dispatch, and the news created considerable excitement, giving a momentary vigor to the market. An energetic man, with a round head, surmounting broad shoulders, offered to sell one hundred thousand dollars for a certain price on the dollar, but he could not inspire an acceptable bid. Several men wearing a Jewish cast of countenance, offered sums varying from five thousand to fifty thousand dollars, but the buyers were shy and wished to wait until the morning. Although they did but little business, they made a great deal of noise, and the news-boys in the vicinity endeavored to sell their paper to men who dealt chiefly in specie, by screaming out the nature of the news they had for sale. There was also a peddler on the corner, who offered a wagon load of sour oranges to the men whose teeth had been set on edge by their misadventures in the money market. The only quiet creature there, was the peddler's horse. The poor beast had lost one of its ears, and fortunately the deaf side of his head was turned toward the mob of speculators. Unlike the animal mentioned in the fable of Midas, the other ear did not turn into gold. In the boisterous gathering were many substantial men, representing almost every phase of business. There were also rebel agents from the Southern States—refugees who came here by the way of Canada, without the protection of our flag; graduates of Lafayette, red-mouthed Copperheads, who would like to see the head of Jeff. Davis stamped on every American coin; Englishmen, Canadians, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Italians, and others. Here and there might be seen millionaires. A young man, who seven weeks ago, commenced speculation with a margin of only $200, and who made $70,000 in that time has lost every cent of it, and now wears a troubled face, indicative of the wretched state of his mind.

This is the place toward which vast multitudes of men and women in all parts of our broad land turn their faces with anxious interest. It is classic as any battle-ground. The fall in gold is only second in importance to the triumph of our arms in the field. This is the thermometer by which we judge of our success. The lower the fall of gold, the higher the rise of patriotic hope. These are the men, with few exceptions, who have impaired the value of our currency; who have caused to a great extent the high prices of the necessaries of life; who have sought to bring discredit on us abroad; who have shot down our heroes with their bullets of silver and gold. If it is God's will, let them finally die. "Peace be to their ashes," shall be their epitaph.