Chapter 19 #2
After taking a moment to choose his pen, Saugus dipped it in the inkwell and set to work.
Wrexford was used to watching Charlotte letter in the captions for her drawings, but the elegance and precision of the fellow’s handwriting was extraordinary.
Both he and the others formed a semicircle around the desk and leaned in closer as Saugus changed pens several times before sitting back and signaling that he was done by pushing his spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose.
“As you can see, the decorative flourishes and the variation of thick and thin in the strokes our calligraphers achieve make it hard for a forger to create an exact copy,” explained Ainsley.
“Our expert engravers”—he gestured at the next table—“then copy the original onto a copper plate, which is used to print the actual banknotes that the public will use.”
He moved to the next table. “But I shall let Mr. Hase, our chief cashier, explain more about that.”
Hase, a distinguished-looking gentleman with curling brown hair and a prominent hooked nose, cleared his throat and asked his companion to lay out printed examples from each of the three boxes.
“As you gentlemen know, our battle to stay one step ahead of counterfeiters is a never-ending challenge, and here are some examples to show you what I mean.”
He tapped his finger to the pair of banknotes closest to him.
“At the end of the past century, a skilled forger could easily copy our designs, along with a credible imitation of the handwritten signature and countersignature that each banknote has. The result was that the amount of counterfeit money in circulation was … highly embarrassing.”
Sheffield leaned down to examine them. “They look identical.”
“Alas, yes,” admitted Hase.
“Our country’s problem with counterfeiting wasn’t nearly as disastrous as the financial troubles faced by France,” interjected Ainsley. “To finance their foreign wars—mostly against us— they nationalized church lands and in 1789 issued a type of interest-bearing bond called an assignat.”
A subtle look of satisfaction crept to Ainsley’s face.
“Working with the émigré leader, the Comte d’Artois, our government helped organize skilled engravers to copy the assignat design, and Sir Brook Watson, a director of the Bank of England, arranged with the noted papermaker William Smith of the Haughton Castle Mill to supply the special paper needed for printing.
Our government flooded France with counterfeit assignats.
Within five years, the French economy was in near collapse and the assignat was taken out of circulation. ”
A cough. “However, that bit of information is not to be repeated outside this room.”
Wrexford darted a look at Sheffield. Several months ago, they had helped foil a French attempt to crash the London Stock Exchange. In retrospect, perhaps revenge had been part of the impetus.
“But I have digressed,” added Ainsley quickly. “Mr. Hase, please continue your explanation of our continuing efforts to protect our banknotes from counterfeiters.”
“By the time I was appointed as head cashier in 1807, the bank had made some improvements to the design of our banknotes.” Hase indicated the next pair of examples, a set of ￡5 notes.
“As you see, we added more complicated images—for example, creating lettering with a thick black outline, so that the interior of the letter is the color of the paper.”
Wrexford subjected them to a quick scrutiny and then looked up. “The one on the left has a slightly different curl to the large letter F of the word Five.”
“Well spotted, milord. The technique is harder for a forger to copy and print with precision,” replied Hase. “However, not many people notice a slight difference.”
“I didn’t,” confessed Sheffield.
“Yes, and therein lies the heart of the damnable problem we face,” said Hase. “The forgers don’t have to be perfect—they simply need to be good enough to fool most of the people most of the time.”
“And I would imagine that the public is not as discerning as one would hope,” observed the earl.
“That is an understatement.” Hase punctuated the statement with a sardonic huff.
“We’ve tried a number of other measures suggested by our country’s scientific community, but none of them helped.
” He let out a sigh. “With the government’s approval, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir William Congreve—he of the Congreve rocket fame—has formed his own private enterprise, in addition to his official duties as comptroller of the Royal Laboratory, which as you all know, is an integral part of the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich, to work on the problem.
He has invented a printing process for making multicolored banknotes, but we’ve not yet assessed its capabilities.
His submission will, of course, be part of the competition, as will the multicolored printing technology developed by Augustus Applegath and Edward Cowper.
As for the other ideas, let us just say that our search for the Inimitable Banknote will explore all options. ”
The head cashier moved to a new table. “That is not to say we aren’t making small but important developments in our current methods.” He gave a fond pat to a compact machine with a set of numbered dials that rotated around a horizontal metal rod.
“The late Joseph Bramah, one of the best precision toolmakers in Britain at the time, designed this ingenious device in 1806, which allows us to print, rather than pen by hand, the serial number of each banknote. It not only saves time but also adds another layer of security to our paper money.”
“How so?” asked Sheffield, before Wrexford could voice the same question.
“The banknote is printed by two different methods— intaglio printing and relief printing. And while that might sound like an arcane detail, it’s something the public can learn to recognize.”
Hase picked up one of the banknotes. “The banknote itself is printed from an engraved copper plate. It’s what we call the intaglio process, which involves rolling ink over the plate, then wiping the surface clean, so that ink remains only in the grooves cut by the engraver.
When the plate is then run through a press, at great pressure, it forces the paper to pick up the ink.
” He ran a thumb over the printed image of the banknote.
“One can feel the slight raised texture of the ink—”
“Assuming one has the soft-as-silk hands of an aristocrat,” murmured the earl. “The working class doesn’t have the luxury of unroughened fingers.”
“Granted,” interjected Ainsley. “But it’s Hase’s explanation of the second variable that makes the difference.”
“Indeed, sir. It’s something most everyone can feel,” agreed Hase.
“You see, Lord Wrexford, Bramah’s machine works on the opposite principle of intaglio printing.
We call it letterpress printing, which is a type of relief printing.
The numbers on the spinning dial are the raised area, while the cutaway parts of the metal do not print.
The ink is only rolled onto the areas that print, and the pressure of the type creates a slight indent in the paper, which can be felt on the back of the banknote. ”
Wrexford accepted the offer of both a real banknote and a counterfeit one, and after running his fingertips over each one, he had to admit that he could immediately tell the difference.
“That’s not to say that some counterfeiters can’t still create a reasonable facsimile, but they have to be very sophisticated and well funded to obtain a machine similar to ours.”
“Every single criminal we can eliminate is progress in our war against fraud,” intoned Hase.
“The fact that the government has made counterfeiting a hanging offense is also a deterrent,” added Ainsley.
“Both Congreve and the partnership of Applegath and Cowper are experimenting with yet another element to add to the design of a banknote. They are using rose engines, which are specialized versions of a geometric lathe, for creating very intricate patterns and guilloches,” continued Hase.
“If you would like to see examples of what they can produce, I have had several machines set up at the far end of the room.”
“Ibbetson gave a demonstration of his geometric lathe at the Society for Mechanical Progress,” said Wrexford.
“He did,” answered Ainsley. “However, in Mr. Manchester’s professional opinion, it is less sophisticated than the innovations by the other inventors that Mr. Hase just mentioned.”
“It’s a moot point,” interjected Manchester. “I just heard that Ibbetson has agreed to join Congreve’s group of engineers and inventors.” A sniff. “Not that he brings much creativity or innovative thinking, but he’s a decent craftsman.”
The others began to move off with Ainsley and Hase, but Wrexford stayed behind to make a closer inspection of Bramah’s numbering machine so that he might describe it to Peregrine when he returned home.
“I didn’t know that you were interested in mechanical engineering.” Stoneham had stayed behind as well and joined the earl in inspecting the levers and gears.
“I’m interested in any new ideas that encourage us to innovate,” he replied. “And one of my wards is quite talented in making mechanical devices, so I would like to be able to describe it to him accurately.”
“You take your guardianship seriously.” Stoneham sounded surprised.
“I do,” answered the earl. “Nothing is more important to me than my family.”
“Your sentiments do you credit, sir.”
The earl realized that he knew nothing about his scientific colleague’s personal life. “Are you married?”
“Alas, my wife passed away some years ago. The physicians were puzzled, as she simply started to fade away.” Stoneham bowed his head, hiding his eyes. “It was deemed to be a wasting disease for which there was no cure.”
The earl tactfully looked away, giving the fellow a moment to compose his emotions.