When the skies darken, the glow of gold is always welcome

‘When markets are unsteady and investors are nervous, you can’t beat gold.’ That was my grandfather’s saying, common enough, I daresay, in late Victorian Manchester. Jimmy Goldsmith was another believer. ‘You know what the Aztecs called it,’ he would say with relish, ‘they had a special word for it — the excrement of the gods.’ Jimmy was a great buyer of gold, especially towards the end of his life. He bought bullion — gold bars — and would inspect them in the bank vault where they were kept. ‘Like visiting Fort Knox,’ he’d say. He also bought shares in gold mines, the simplest way to invest in gold. But he liked gold coins too, such as the famous American ‘Two-headed Eagle’, worth ten dollars when first minted. Or the Maria Theresa thaler, still circulating as currency in East Africa when I first went there in the 1950s. Above all he liked the Krugerrand, a splendid coin worth £100 in those days. He liked to have a few about him to rattle in his pocket, which reminded me of Tennyson’s lines from ‘Locksley Hall’:

But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels, …

It is a well-attested fact that really rich men, for no sound economic reason other than intuition or gut instinct, like to keep a stock of gold coins. I hear that these come-lately Russian billionaires are particularly fond of them, especially the 100-kopek gold coins minted by the last tsars. I daresay Warren Buffet has his little stock of gold coins, and even Bill Gates too. A typical case was the so-called Bad Earl of Lonsdale, head of the powerful Lowther family who dominated Lake District politics at the end of the 18th century. Although an immensely rich borough-monger, who controlled up to a dozen seats in the House of Commons, he was also mean and dishonest.