The cover image was created by the transcriber from a scan of the original book cover and is placed in the public domain.

M. Morelli.

CHARLES I (1600–1649)

From the painting by van Dyck in the National Gallery, London.

LONDON
IN THE TIME OF THE STUARTS

BY
SIR WALTER BESANT

LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1903

PREFACE

Abundant as is the mass of material for the study of history and manners in the sixteenth century,[1] there is even a greater abundance for the history, political and social, of the century of the Stuarts. There are, however, two difficulties to be faced in such an inquiry. The first is that the history of London is far more closely connected with the history of the nation during the seventeenth than during the sixteenth century. It may, indeed, be advanced that at no time, not even when London deposed Richard II. and set up Henry IV., was the City so closely involved in all the events of the time as in the seventeenth century. The City at that time reached the highest point of its political importance, an importance which vanished in the century that followed.

Therefore the historian of London has before him the broad fact that for sixty years, viz. from the accession of Charles I. to the expulsion of James II., he should be pursuing the history of the country. In this place, however, there is not space for such a history; it has already been well told by many historians; and I have neither the time nor the competence to write the history of this most eventful period. I have therefore found it necessary to assume a certain knowledge of events and to speak of their sequence with reference especially to the attitude of the City; the forces which acted on the people; their ideas; their resolution and tenacity under Charles I.; their servility and obedience under Charles II.; and their final rejection of the doctrines of passive resistance, Divine right, and obedience which made the departure of James possible, and opened the door for constitutional government and the liberties of the people.

The second difficulty is, that while the century contains an immense mass of material in the shape of plays, poems, fiction, pamphlets, sermons, travels, sketches, biographies, trials, reports, proclamations, ordinances, speeches, and every other conceivable document for the restoration of the century, the period was sharply divided into two by the Civil Wars and the Protectorate, the latter being at best a stop-gap, while events were following each other and the mind of the nation was developing. It was, in fact, a revolutionary change which took place. The change was deepened by the Great Fire of 1666, after which a new London arose, not so picturesque, perhaps, as the former London, but reflecting the ideas of the time in its churches, which, from Mass houses became preaching rooms; and in its houses, which offered substantial comfort, more light, loftier rooms, standing in wider and better ordered streets, agreeing with the increase of wealth and the improvement in the general conditions of life. The first half of the century is, in fact, a continuation of the Elizabethan period with decay in literature and development in religion; the second half belongs to the eighteenth century, where we find a development of the last forty years of the seventeenth.

I have endeavoured to meet this difficulty by making such a selection from the things belonging to the daily life as have not been dwelt upon in the study of the sixteenth century with those points which, while they were developed or dropped in the eighteenth, have not been in that volume considered at length.

The events of the greatest importance to the City, apart from those which belong to the whole nation, were the repeated visitations of Plague, and the Great Fire. The former came and went; it destroyed the people, chiefly the common people, by thousands; its immediate effect was a dearth of craftsmen and servants, a rise in wages, and an improvement in the standard of life in the lower levels. The lessons which it taught and continually enforced were learned most imperfectly. They were simple—the admission into the courts and lanes of the crowded City of light and air; the invention of some system of sanitation which would replace the old cesspool and the public latrine; and the introduction of a plentiful supply of water for the washing of the people, as well as for their drink and for the flooding of the streets. Somewhere or other—it must be between Dowgate and Mincing Lane—there is still existing under ground the great Roman Cloaca; it is an additional proof of the desertion and desolation of the City after the Romans went away that the Cloaca was forgotten, choked up, and its mouth covered over; the creation of the foreshore covered it up. Had it been found, say, in the thirteenth or fourteenth century, the whole modern sanitary system might have been invented and developed by its means, and so the Plague would have been stayed. I have attempted to present an adequate account of the Plague from contemporary evidence. As regards the Fire I have essayed a restoration of the City before and after that event.

Turning to events political, I have already stated the difficulties which confront the historian of London in this century. The reader will not look here for a detailed history of the Civil War or the Protectorate. I hope, however, that he will find some indication of the way in which the people of London regarded the events which were working out their redemption for them, in ways which were unexpected, by trials which were hard to bear, and after a time when all seemed lost.

Considering London alone, the Restoration seems to me to have been a natural, a wholesome, and a most fortunate reaction against the successive rule of Presbyterian, Independent, and Captain or Colonel. It must have become quite clear even to men like Milton, who was one of the last to lift his voice against the return of a king, that a Commonwealth was too far in advance of the people, and that a military despotism was intolerable.

In the same way the Revolution was a swing back of the pendulum; it was quite as natural and as salutary as the rebellion against Charles and the Restoration of his son. I read this lesson clearly in the history of London, and I assume it for the history of the country.

Meantime let it be remembered that the seventeenth century secured the country for two hundred years, i.e. to the present day at least, and, so far as can be prophesied, for an indefinite period yet to come, from the personal interference of the sovereign. That is an enormous gain to the country. We are no longer called upon to discuss the Prerogative. The attempted encroachments of George III. appear as mere trifles compared with the monstrous claims of Charles the First and the almost incredible acts of tyranny recorded of his son and successor. And in the achievement of this great result London in the seventeenth century played a noble part and earned the deepest gratitude of all those who came, or shall come, after.

WALTER BESANT.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

SOVEREIGNS

CHAPTER I
JAMES I

James found the City, after a hundred years of Tudor rule, reduced to an admirable condition of submission and loyalty. He was proclaimed in the City and by the City, the citizens of London claiming once more a voice in electing an accessor to the crown. The King returned thanks to the Mayor and Aldermen in a letter which lacks, one perceives at once, the royal style of Elizabeth.

JAMES I. (1566–1625)

After the portrait by Paul von Somer.

Trustie and Wel-beloved, wee greet you hartily well: being informed of your great forwardnesse in that just and honourable action of proclaiming us your sovereigne Lord and King, immediately after the decease of our late dearest Sister, the Queen; wherein you have given a singular good proofe of your ancient fidelitie (a reputation hereditary to that our Citie of London), being the chamber of our imperial crowne, and ever free from all shadowes of tumultes, and unlawful courses; we could not omit, with all the speed possible we might, to give you hereby a taste of our thankful Mind for the same: and with all assurance, that you cannot crave anything of us fit for the Maintenance of you all in general, and every one of you in particular, but it shall be most willingly performed by us, whose speciall care shall ever be to provide for the continuance and increase of your present happines, desiring you in the mean time to go constantly forward in all doing, in and whatsoever things you shall find necessary and expedient for the good Government of our sayde city, in execution of justice, as you have been used to doe in our sayde deceased Sister’s tyme, till our pleasure be known to you in the contrary. Thus not doubting but you will doe, as you may be fully assured of our gratious favours towards you, in the first degree, we bid you hartily farewell. Haly Roodhouse, the 28th of March, 1603.

TRIUMPHAL ARCH ERECTED AT THE TIME OF THE CORONATION OF JAMES I.

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s collection.

James left Edinburgh on the 5th of April, arriving at Theobalds, where he rested for four days, on May the 7th; it had taken more than a month to ride from Edinburgh, i.e. he had ridden about twelve miles a day. At Waltham he was met by one of the sheriffs with sixty servants; at Stamford Hill by the Mayor and Aldermen in velvet and gold chains and 500 citizens richly apparelled. At that moment the Plague broke out; the Coronation was shorn of its splendour; the pageants and shows were laid aside; only the Mayor, Aldermen, and twelve citizens were present in Westminster Abbey; and James had to postpone his public entry into the City for a twelvemonth.

With the accession of James revived the hopes of the Catholics; they built upon the inexperience and the ignorance of the King; perhaps upon his fears; they magnified their own strength and numbers; and they quite misunderstood the feeling of the country, which grew more and more in distrust and hatred of the Catholics. They began, moreover, just as they had done in the reign of Elizabeth, by plots and conspiracies. The first of these plots was that called the “Main,” in which Raleigh, unfortunately for himself and his own reputation, was concerned. With him was Lord Cobham. As to Raleigh’s guilt, this is not the place to inquire. As is well known, after twelve years he was suffered to come out of the Tower, and was allowed to command a fleet bound for the coast of South America in quest of gold-mines. The story of his voyage, of his ill success, of his son’s death, of his return, of his arrest, may be read in the history of England. But the tragedy of October 29, 1618, when at eight o’clock in the morning Sir Walter Raleigh was led out to die, moved to the depths every English heart, and should not be passed over in any history of London. It was remembered by all that he was the lifelong enemy of Spain, nor could the attacking of a friendly power in time of peace appear as any other than a laudable act to the English mind. That the traitor who arrested and betrayed him, his kinsman who became a paid spy, who also took money from the very man he was watching, that this man, Sir Lewis Stukeley, afterwards fell into misery and madness appeared to everybody an open and visible punishment inflicted by God Himself.

Let us consider the meaning of the fines which play so large a part in the history of these times. If a man is a Roman Catholic he is on no account allowed to attend a church or assembly where any kind of service other than the Catholic is performed. That rule is never, I believe, relaxed under any circumstances. It is a rule, therefore, which can be easily used for the discovery of Catholics. Thus (23 Elizabeth) it was enacted that every person over sixteen years of age who should refrain from attending at church, chapel, or some usual place of common prayer, against the tenor of a certain statute of the first year of her Majesty’s reign, for uniformity of common prayer, and should be lawfully convicted thereof, should forfeit, for each month in which he or she should so refrain, the sum of twenty pounds of lawful money. The convictions under this statute illustrate to some extent the proportion of Roman Catholics to Protestants then existing in the country. Thus in the Middlesex Session Rolls (Middlesex County Record Society) may be found a long list of persons brought before the Middlesex magistrates charged with this offence. During the last twenty-four years of Queen Elizabeth’s reign there were 408 convictions of this offence in Middlesex alone. They were gentlemen and gentlewomen, clerks, yeomen, tradesmen, wives, widows, and spinsters. They came from many parts of Middlesex, but especially from Westminster, Clerkenwell, Tottenham, Stepney, and Holborn. A fine of twenty pounds a month—about £100 of our money—would be far beyond the means of most of the persons convicted. For instance, on one page of the Rolls there are the names of twenty-six persons all convicted of not going to church for two or three months. Of these, twelve are gentlemen, three are wives of gentlemen, five are yeomen, one is a spinster, four are clerks, and one is a cook. What happened when the fine could not be paid? The number of convictions proves, first, that there were some, but not, in proportion to the whole, many Roman Catholics left in London and the parts around; next, that they were easily detected by their absence from church; thirdly, that there was a hot search after them; and fourthly, that though we find, here and there, a person following a trade or a craft, the Catholics were for the most part gentlefolk.

The secret professors of the ancient faith knew of places where a priest was concealed, and where Mass was sung or whispered with closed doors. There were five or six of these priests tried and condemned before the Middlesex magistrates. Thus John Welden in March 1587, William Hartley in 1588, Robert Walkinson in 1598 were tried and found guilty simply for being priests, i.e. because, “being subjects of the Queen, they were ordained by authority derived from the See of Rome, in contempt of the Crown and Dignity of the said Queen.” They were executed as traitors with the cruelties of detail which we know. Other persons were charged with receiving, comforting, and maintaining priests. Thus George Glover and Mary Baylie his wife maintained and comforted Thomas Tycheburne, clerk and priest, and they received the pardon of the Queen; Catharine Bellamy, wife of Richard Bellamy, gentleman, moved and seduced by instigation of the devil, received and entertained Robert Southwell—it does not appear whether she was punished for the offence; and Dorothea White, either sister or wife of Humphrey White of Westminster, gentleman, thus received and entertained William Tedder, priest. Dorothea was hanged—one supposes—because she did not make submission.

If we inquire into the comparative importance of the recusants, it seems that it must have been too small to constitute a real danger. The number, 408, convicted in a quarter of a century over the whole of Middlesex—London not included—that is, no more than an average of sixteen in a year, at a time when the search after them was keen and untiring—hardly warrants the fears which were entertained by the Queen’s Council as to the power and numbers of the secret Catholics, or the hopes of support from the south which were entertained during the rising of the north; or the expectations at Rome and at the Court of Spain of a widespread insurrection all over England and a return to the ancient faith. At the same time it is reasonable to believe that there were many thousands who, while they adhered outwardly, went to church and heard the sermon, would have welcomed the return of the Mass and the Romish form.

THE GUNPOWDER CONSPIRATORS

From title-page of Warhafftige Beschreibung der Verrätherei, etc. (De Bry), Frankfurt, 1606.

Action in the case of the recusants was followed by the famous Gunpowder Plot. There can be no doubt that the Catholics were maddened by disappointment, by persecution, by the failure to obtain toleration, and by the fines to which they were subjected. The conspirators proposed, as is well known, to blow up the King, the Lords, and the Commons when the Parliament should assemble. This plot, like that of Raleigh, belongs to the history of the country.

Gunpowder Treason.

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s collection.

When the Common Council established a Court of Conscience in the City, it was with the design of saving poor debtors from the costs of being sued in the superior courts. But this Court was confined to debtors who were Citizens and Freemen of London and the Liberties. Some persons, intending to subvert the good and charitable intent of the Court, took hold of certain ambiguous words and endeavoured by means of these to render the intentions of the Court useless. A new and amending Act was passed which cleared up these difficulties and put the Court of Conscience on a sounder footing. The Act was well meant, but for more than two hundred years after it the miserable annals of the Debtors’ Prisons are filled with stories of the exorbitant and extortionate costs charged by attornies, and with the sufferings of the debtors in consequence.

The honour in which the City was held was illustrated when the King joined the Clothworkers’ Company, and when the Merchant Taylors, in jealousy, showed him their roll of members containing seven kings, one queen, seventeen princes and dukes, two duchesses, one archbishop, thirty earls, five countesses, one viscount, fourteen bishops, sixty-six barons, two ladies, seven abbots, seven priors, and an immense number of knights and esquires. The King gave them his son Henry as a member.

The New River was completed after eight years of work. The length of the canal was 60 miles; it was crossed by 800 bridges, and five years were spent in the construction; the people were slow in taking their water from the new supply, probably because they detested changing their ways. The City was at first supplied with water from the Walbrook and the Fleet; there were also wells and springs on the rising ground of the Strand; in Moorfields, at Shoreditch, and elsewhere there were wells sunk within the City walls; and there were “bosses” or taps of fresh water brought in from Tyburn. All this, however, was not enough; the principal sources of supply, the Fleet and Walbrook, had long since ceased to be of any use. Powers therefore were sought to bring more water into the City, and were granted to bring water from Hampstead and from the river Lea; these powers were not, however, used. Improved works were set up at Tyburn; water mills were placed in the Thames, by which water was forced up and conveyed as far as Leadenhall. Finally, after a great deal of hesitation the City made use of these powers to construct a canal from springs at Chadwell and Amwell in Herts, and accepted the office of Hugh Middleton, a goldsmith, to execute the work. Middleton would have failed, however, but for the help of James, who agreed to pay half the cost of the work if Middleton gave him half the property. This was done in an assignment of thirty-six “King’s shares.” Charles parted with them for an annuity of £500. A few years ago an undivided share sold for £94,900. Yet Middleton died in reduced circumstances, unable to pay a loan which the City had advanced him on the progress of his work.

The flight of the Earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnel in 1607 left without an owner a large tract of land in the north of Ireland which was confiscated to the Crown. It was proposed to colonise the district, and a scheme was drawn up for the “Plantation of Ulster.” The King proposed that the City should take part in this work; the citizens were assured that their own City was dangerously overcrowded with workmen and traders of all kinds, that the plantation would be an outlet much wanted, that the country was well watered and fertile, good for breeding cattle, well stocked with game and with fisheries; they were even told to consider how great a work had been done by the people of Bristol in settling Dublin. A fuller account of the Irish Estates will be found later on (p. 206).

The conduct of a State Banquet at the Court of King James is minutely related in the following account of the Banquet presented to the Spanish Ambassador by the King.

KING JAMES I. ENTERTAINING THE SPANISH AMBASSADOR AT WHITEHALL, 1623

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

“The Audience Chamber was elegantly furnished, having a buffet of several stages, filled with various pieces of ancient and modern gilt plate of exquisite workmanship. A railing was placed on each side the room in order to prevent the crowd from approaching too near the table. At the right hand upon entering was another buffet, containing rich vessels of gold, agate, and other precious stones. The table might be about five yards in length, and more than one yard broad. The dishes were brought in by gentlemen and servants of the King, who were accompanied by the Lord Chamberlain, and before placing them on the table they made four or five obeisances. The Earls of Pembroke and Southampton officiated as gentlemen-ushers. Their Majesties, with the Prince Henry, entered after the Constable and the others, and placed themselves at their throne, and all stood in a line to hear the grace said; the Constable being at the King’s side, and the Count de Villamediana on the Queen’s. Their Majesties washed their hands in the same basin, the Lord Treasurer handing the towel to the King, and the High Admiral to the Queen. The Prince washed in another basin, in which water was also taken to the Constable, who was waited upon by the same gentlemen. They took their seats in the following manner: their Majesties sat at the head of the table, at a distance from each other, under the canopy of state, the Queen being on the right hand, on chairs of brocade with cushions; and at her side, a little apart, sat the Constable, on a tabouret of brocade with a high cushion of the same, and on the side of the King the Prince was seated in like manner. On the opposite side of the table and on the right sat Count Villamediana, and next to him the Senator Rovida opposite the Constable; and on the same side with the senator, nearly fronting the Prince, were seated the President Richardot and the Audiencier, a space in front being left vacant owing to the absence of the Count d’Arembergue, who was prevented by the gout from attending. The principal noblemen of the kingdom were likewise at the table, in particular the Duke of Lennox; the Earl of Arundel; the Earl of Suffolke, Lord Chamberlain; the Earl of Dorset, Lord Treasurer; the Earl of Nottingham, High Admiral; the Earls of Devonshire, of Southampton, and of Pembroke; the Earl of Northumberland; the Earl of Worcester, Master of the Horse; the Earls of Shrewsbury, of Sussex, of Derby, and of Essex, and the Lord Chancellor—all being Knights of the Garter; also Barons Cecil and Wotton and the Lord Kinross, a privy councillor; Sir Thomas Erskine, Captain of the Guard; Sir John Ramsay and James Lindsay, Scotchmen; and other barons and gentlemen of quality. There was plenty of instrumental music and the banquet was sumptuous and profuse. The first thing the King did was to send the Constable a melon and half-a-dozen oranges on a very green branch, telling him that they were the fruit of Spain transplanted into England; to which the latter, kissing his hand, replied that he valued the gift more as coming from his Majesty than as being the fruit of his own country; he then divided the melon with their Majesties, and Don Blasco de Aragon handed the plate to the Queen, who politely and graciously acknowledged the attention. Soon afterwards the King stood up, and with his head uncovered drank to the Constable the health of their Spanish Majesties, and may the peace be happy and perpetual. The Constable pledged him in like manner, and replied that he entertained the same hope and that from the peace the greatest advantages might result to both crowns and to Christendom. The toast was then drunk by the Count Villamediana and the others present, to the delight and applause of their Majesties. Immediately afterwards, the Constable, seeing that another opportunity might not be afforded him, rose and drank to the King the health of the Queen from the lid of a cup of agate of extraordinary beauty and richness, set with diamonds and rubies, praying his Majesty would condescend to drink the toast from the cup, which he did accordingly, and ordered it to be passed round to the Prince and the others; and the Constable directed that the cup should remain in his Majesty’s buffet. At this period the people shouted out, ‘Peace, peace, peace! God save the King! God save the King! God save the King!’ and a king at arms presented himself before the table, and after the drums, trumpets, and other instruments had sounded, with a loud voice said in English: ‘That the kingdom returned many thanks to his Majesty for having concluded with the King of Spain so advantageous a peace, and he prayed to God that it might endure for many ages, and his subjects hoped that his Majesty would endeavour with all his might to maintain it so that they might enjoy from it tranquillity and repose, and that security and advantage might result to all his people; and therefore they prayed him to allow the same to be published in the kingdoms and dominions of his Majesty.’ At length, after other healths and messages from the King and Queen, it was brought to a conclusion, having lasted about three hours. The cloth having been removed, every one immediately rose up; the table was placed upon the ground, and their Majesties standing upon it, proceeded to wash their hands, which is stated to be an ancient ceremony. The Constable invited Count Villamediana to wash in his basin, and the other Commissioners washed in others. Their Majesties then withdrew to their apartment, and the Constable and Count were conducted to a handsome gallery, adorned with various paintings, where they remained more than an hour. In the meantime dancing had begun in the said Audience Chamber, and the Constable and Count were informed in the name of their Majesties that they were then waiting for them to go and see it.

Walker & Cockerell.

HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES (1594–1612)

From the painting by Paul von Somer.

After a little while the Prince Henry was commanded by his parents to dance a galliard, and they pointed out to him the lady who was to be his partner; and this he did with much sprightliness and modesty, cutting several capers in the course of the dance.... The ball ended, and then all took their places at the windows of the room, which looked out upon a square where a platform was raised, and a vast crowd had assembled to see the King’s bears fight with greyhounds. This afforded great amusement. Presently a bull, tied to the end of a rope, was fiercely baited by dogs. After this certain tumblers came, who danced upon a rope and performed curious feats of agility and skill on horseback. With this ended the entertainment and the day, and their Majesties now retired, being accompanied by the Constable and the other noblemen to their apartment, before entering which, many compliments passed on both sides, and their Majesties and the Prince shook hands with the Constable and the Count; and the other Spanish cavaliers kissed hands and took their departure. The Constable and the others, upon quitting the ball-room, were accompanied by the Lord Chamberlain to the farthest room, and by the Earl of Devonshire and other gentlemen to their coaches, more than fifty halberdiers lighting them with torches until they reached home, where as many others were waiting their arrival. Being fatigued, the Constable and the Count supped that night in private, and the others at the ordinary table.”

The mind of the City in 1607 was greatly exercised with a question of precedence. The question, which was submitted to the King, and by him submitted to the Court Marshal, was as follows:—

“Whether a Commoner dignified with knighthood, without any other advantage of honour by employment or otherwise, and using trade and keeping shop in the City, should take place of an Alderman Knight within the same City, contrary to this beautified order, of ancient time settled and confirmed, with such charters and grants from his Majesty; or whether any other Bachelor Knight shall take place of any Alderman within this City?”

The question was decided in favour of the precedency of the Aldermen.

In the year 1606 one is surprised to find an order for the cleansing of the town ditch—the last of such orders. In 1598 Stow wrote that it was stopped up and choked:—

“Now of late neglected and forced either to a very narrow, and the same a filthy channel, or altogether stopped up for gardens planted, and houses built thereon; even to the very wall, and in many places upon both ditch and wall houses to be built; to what danger of the City, I leave to wiser consideration, and can but wish that reformation might be had.”

It had been cleansed in 1519, 1540, 1569, and 1595, but apparently only in part. Thus in 1519 between Aldgate and the Tower postern, the same part in 1540, the same part again in 1569, and the part between Bishopsgate and the postern of Moorgate in 1595. I do not understand the reason of these repeated cleansings of parts.

In 1614 Smithfield, which had now become the cattle-market of the City, and was therefore a place of very great resort, continued to be without pavement of any kind, so that during or after rainy weather it was absolutely impassable for mud and mire. King James called the attention of the Mayor to this scandal, and ordered that the place should be paved. This was done. The paving was the old-fashioned cobble; it took six months to lay down, and cost £1600.

At the same time the laying down of broad freestones instead of the old cobbles was commenced. Those of the inhabitants who chose laid down the stones before their own doors. We must understand, therefore, that all the important streets at this time were paved with cobbles; that in a few of the principal thoroughfares there was a pavement of flat stones, but not uniform; and that there were many courts and alleys where there was no kind of pavement at all. We may further understand that this was the London of Hogarth as well as of James I.

On July 8, 1614, the Lord Mayor sent a communication to the Lord Chamberlain detailing the steps he had taken in reforming disorderly practices (Remembrancia, p. 358):—

Firstly.—He had freed the streets of a swarm of loose and idle vagrants, providing for the relief of such as were not able to get their living, and keeping them at work in Bridewell, not punishing any for begging, but setting them on work, which was worse than death to them.

Secondly.—He had informed himself, by means of spies, of many lewd houses, and had gone himself disguised to divers of them, and finding these nurseries of villany, had punished them according to their deserts, some by carting and whipping, and many by banishment.

Thirdly.—Finding the gaol pestered with prisoners, and their bane to take root and beginning at ale-houses, and much mischief to be there plotted, with great waste of corn in brewing heady strong beer, many consuming all their time and sucking that sweet poison, he had taken an exact survey of all victualling-houses and ale-houses, which were above a thousand, and above 300 barrels of strong beer in some houses, the whole quantity of beer in victualling-houses amounting to above 40,000 barrels; he had thought it high time to abridge their number and limit them by bonds as to the quantity of beer they should use, and as to what orders they should observe, whereby the price of corn and malt had greatly fallen.

Fourthly.—The Bakers and Brewers had been drawn within bounds, so that, if the course continued, men might have what they paid for, viz. weight and measure.

He had also endeavoured to keep the Sabbath day holy, for which he had been much maligned.

Fifthly.—If what he had done were well taken, he would proceed further, viz. to deal with thieving brokers or broggers, who were the receivers of all stolen goods.

And lastly, the inmates of infected houses would require before summer to be discharged of all superfluities for avoiding infection, etc.

A FACSIMILE OF THE ORDER FOR THE BURNING OF THE BOOK OF SPORTS

E. Gardner’s Collection.

[Go to transcription of text]

Returning from Scotland in 1618 James observed that certain persons of Lancashire, whom he called Puritans, and precise people, had interfered by prohibiting such “lawful recreations and honest exercises upon Sundays and other holidays after the afternoon sermon or service” as the peasantry had been accustomed to indulge in; he therefore issued a declaration setting forth that this prohibition “barreth the common and meaner sort of people from using such exercises as may make their bodies more able for war, when we or our successors shall have occasion to use them; and in place thereof sets up filthy tiplings and drunkenness, and breeds a number of idle and discontented speeches in their ale-houses: for when shall the common people have leave to exercise, if not upon the Sundays and holidays, seeing they must apply their labour, and win their living, in all working days?”

The King therefore commanded that no recreations should be denied to his subjects which did not militate against the laws and the canons of the Church. “And as for our good people’s lawful recreation, our pleasure likewise is that after the end of divine services our good people may not be disturbed, letted, or discouraged from any lawful recreation, such as dancing, either men or women, archery for men, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreation: nor from having of May games, Whitsun ales, and Morris dances, and the setting up of May-poles, and other sports therewith used, as the same be had in due and convenient time without impediment or neglect of divine service; and that women shall have leave to carry rushes to the church for the decorating of it, according to their old custom. But withall, we do here account still as prohibited all unlawful games to be used upon Sunday only, as bear and bull-baiting, interludes, and, at all times in the meaner sort of people by law prohibited, bowling.”

The famous Book of Sports, which laid down rules as to games and sports lawful to be played on the Sunday, was ordered to be read in every parish church throughout the country. The reception of the proclamation, especially in the City, seems to have surprised the King’s advisers. Neither James nor his son could ever understand the extent or the depth of the new ideas in religion. Sunday, in the eyes of most people who thought about religion at all—that is, in the eyes of all responsible persons in London, which was a hot-bed of religious controversy—had become the Jewish Sabbath. Most of the City clergy refused absolutely to read the Book of Sports in their churches, choosing to be fined or suspended and imprisoned rather than obey. These punishments they endured. But the feeling in the City ran very high, insomuch that the Lord Mayor refused permission for the King’s carriages to be drawn through the City on Sunday during Divine Service. There was, naturally, great indignation at Court. The King made the customary observation about two Kings in the country. However, he sent his carriages back with a warrant to let them pass. This the Mayor obeyed, saying that he had done his duty, but that what one in higher authority commanded, he must obey. So no more was said, and the City, in the matter of the Book of Sports, had peace.

The story of the settlement of Virginia is a pleasing episode of this reign. It shows the City at its best, wise, patriotic, generous, and far-seeing. Taking this history with that of the plantation of Ulster, we have a proof that the City was at this time overcrowded and congested. When the latter scheme was first set afoot the citizens were reminded that the City was so crowded that one tradesman was hardly able to live by another, and when the Virginian colony was mooted it was proposed to relieve the streets by sending out all the idle children.

THE DESTRUCTION OF CHEAPSIDE CROSS AND THE BURNING OF THE BOOK OF SPORTS, MAY 1643

[Go to transcription of text]

The Company for colonising Virginia was founded in 1609. The promoters assured the Mayor, then Sir Humphry Wild, that if the surplus population of London could be transferred to Virginia there would be far less danger of pestilence and famine. By way of attracting people willing to emigrate, meat, drink, and clothing, with a house, orchard, and garden, and an allotment of land, were offered. Any alderman subscribing £50 would be reckoned an original member of the Council. “Bills of Association” were given to all who subscribed, entitling them to a pro rata share in the profits. Fifty-six of the Companies agreed to take ventures in the plantations. On May 23, 1609, the Company received a second charter, and in the same month the first fleet of seven ships was dispatched. The ships took three months to get across; yellow fever broke out among their crews and passengers, the number of whom were sadly reduced when they landed.

In two years’ time the Company had got through all their money, though they had raised £18,000 since their first fleet went out. They obtained, however, a third charter, with the addition of the Bermudas, and they held a public lottery. It is remarkable to find the City Companies and the City churches, or vestries, taking shares in this lottery.

Two years later a second lottery was set on foot. In 1618 it was decided to take up vagrant boys and girls in the streets and to transport them to Virginia. This was done. A beginning was made with 100, who were shipped across so successfully that the Corporation sent over another hundred. The children cost £5 each, including their voyage and their clothing. The Common Council paid for both shiploads by a rate levied on the City.

Next, the King complained that whole companies of lazy rogues and masterless men followed the Court. The Virginia Company laid hands on all, put them into Bridewell, and as soon as possible packed them off for the Plantation. But the infant colony suffered in 1622 from a treacherous attack made upon the people by the Indians, in which 350 of the settlers perished. The Court of Common Council voted another £500 for another shipload of boys and girls. The question of beggars, vagrants, and disorderly persons was constantly before the authorities. The difficulty has always been the same. If they are suppressed one day, they gather again the next.

In the year 1614 the City began a very mean and unworthy practice; that, namely, of electing to the office of Sheriff those who would rather pay the fine than serve. In this year nearly a dozen were elected, all of whom declined to serve.

In the same year the Mayor and Corporation received a reminder that the City was expected to keep a force of militia always equipped and drilled. They therefore resolved on raising a force of 6000 men; the Aldermen were provided with precepts stating the number of men wanted from each ward, with the kind of arms and armour which they were to bring with them. A list of prices at which the arms could be procured was appended to the precept:—

“Jerome Heydon, described as ‘iremonger at the lower end of Cheapeside,’ was ready to sell corslets, comprising ‘brest, backe, gorgett, taces and headpiece,’ at 15s.; pikes with steel heads at 2s. 6d.; swords, being Turkey blades, at 7s.; ‘bastard’ muskets at 14s.; great muskets with rests, at 16s.; a headpiece, lined and stringed, at 2s. 6d., and a bandaleer for 1s. 6d. Henry White and Don Sany Southwell were prepared to do corslets 6d. cheaper, and the same with swords, but their swords are described as only ‘Irish hilts and belts to them.’ Their bastard muskets, ‘with mouldes,’ could be had for 13s., or 1s. cheaper than those of Jerome Heydon. The Armourers’ Company were ready to supply corslets at 15s., but for the same ‘with pouldrons’ they asked 4s. more. The Cutlers’ Company would furnish ‘a very good turky blade and good open hilts’ for 6s., thus underselling the private firms.”

The interference of James with the Merchant Adventurers in 1615 is difficult to understand. He suppressed the Company, withdrew all licences for the exportation of undyed and undressed cloth, and formed a new company. The Dutch threatened to set up looms for themselves and to destroy the English trade in cloth, but the new company proved a failure, and the old company was restored.

The charter granted by James in the sixth year of his reign confirmed all the ancient rights, liberties, and immunities of the citizens, and added to the bounds of the City and its jurisdiction, the precincts of Duke’s Place, St. Bartholomew’s the Great and Less, Black and White Friars, and Cold Harbour.

Yet the same anxiety which possessed the Government in the reign of Elizabeth as to the increase of London was shown by that of James in his very first year, when he issued a proclamation putting a stop to the building of new houses in the suburbs. It was ordered that no one should build on new foundations, and that all houses so built should be pulled down. The frequency of these proclamations shows that the Government was in earnest on the subject. No doubt the ordinance was evaded because the suburbs were actually increasing, and that rapidly, but a great many persons would be deterred by fear of breaking the law, and would either remain in the City, which was greatly overcrowded, or go across the river and occupy Southwark, which began to fill up fast, along the causeway and embankment, and to grow also by putting out new streets on either side of the former and along the road to Bermondsey. The year after a third proclamation was issued to the same effect; no one was to build on new foundations within two miles of the City. The people paid no attention to this proclamation, and building went on without molestation for some years, when the builders were called upon either to buy their own houses at an extravagant price or to pull them down. This mode of enforcing the law would not be approved at the present day; in 1617 it put money into James’s pocket.

Six years later another proclamation was published to the same effect, acknowledging the futility of the former law.

On a certain Sunday afternoon, the 26th of October 1623, occurred a disaster, called the Fatal Vespers, which was long remembered as a signal proof of Heaven’s wrath against those who followed Popish worship. The French Ambassador at that time had a house in Blackfriars, adjoining which there was a large upper chamber, sometimes used as the Ambassador’s chapel, about 60 feet long and 20 feet broad. Roman Catholics in London frequented the chapels at the various embassies. But this was not the French Ambassador’s chapel, which was within his house. Perhaps the occasion demanded a larger room.

On this afternoon about 300 persons were assembled to celebrate evensong and to hear a sermon from a Jesuit named Father Drury, a person held in great repute for his learning, his blameless life, and laudable conversation. The congregation consisted of English, Scotch, Irish, and Welsh. The sermon began between three and four in the afternoon. The text was the parable of the king and the servant whom he forgave.

In the midst of the sermon the beams and side timbers of the floor suddenly gave way and fell with all the people upon the floor of the room below. This in its turn being broken through, all fell upon the lowest floor, where they lay piled together with the beams and broken planks. The only persons who did not fall were some thirty sitting or standing in a corner where the beams held fast. These people with their knives cut a hole in the wall, and so got safely into the Ambassador’s house.

Meanwhile people came running with spades and pickaxes to extricate the sufferers from the ruins.

It took the whole of that day and night to bring out all the people. Out of the 300 who were assembled in the evening some thirty we have said did not fall with the rest. Ninety-five were found to be dead, including the preacher, Father Drury, and a great many were maimed and bruised.

The story of a tumult by the City ’prentices suggests the fourteenth century. It began with one of them crying out when Gondomar, the Spanish Ambassador, was being carried down Fleet Street in his chair, “There goes the devil in a dung-cart.” Upon which one of the suite retorted sharply. Then the apprentice knocked down the Spaniard. For this offence he with his companions was ordered to be whipped through the City. Thereupon the apprentices rose, 300 strong, and released their companions. However, it could not be endured that an Ambassador should be insulted, and the sentence was carried out. One of the apprentices died, presumably from the severity of his punishment; the others were released, and when it was known, later on, that the Spanish match had fallen through, the Londoners expressed the liveliest joy, bonfires were lit, bells rung, tables were spread in the streets, casks were broached, and all because the Prince was coming home—without the Infanta.

All that precedes concerning the reign of James I. touches the surface of things. These events might have been observed by any casual by-stander, and understood by him as possessing no significance as to the mind of the people and the City.

We have now to consider the influence of James, not on the country at large, where opinion was slow in coming to a head, so much as in the City, where, with 100,000 gathered closely together, and that within hearing of Whitehall, suspicion and jealousy, once awakened, became rapidly opinion, and opinion became conviction, and the settled conviction of the City, once known and formulated, proved the most important weapon of all those forged by the pedantry and obstinacy of James, and the equal obstinacy and wrongheadedness of Charles. In other words, it is necessary in this place to show, if possible, that in a closer sense than is usual the years 1603–1625 were a preparation for the appeal to arms, by which the liberties of the country were secured. I prepare, therefore, to pass in very brief review some of the leading political events of the time, in order to show how the City was affected by them.

To begin with, the City was fiercely Protestant. The Catholic reaction, which had stayed the spread of Continental Protestantism, only made England more doggedly Protestant. That a new life had been imparted to the Catholic Church by the Jesuits and the new orders made the Englishman only the more hostile to a church which threatened his nationality, his liberties, everything that he held most sacred. Again, to the Protestant spirit belonged the right of free thought and free doctrine as against authority. Scholars and divines were satisfied with the purely personal relations between God and man, which they had substituted for the priest and the sacerdotal authority. What the Protestant clergy wanted, what they asked of James in the Millenary Petition was a reform in the ecclesiastical courts, the removal of certain superstitious usages from the Prayer Book, the more rigorous observance of Sunday, and the training of preachers. “Why,” asked Bacon—he might have asked the same question to-day—“should the civil state be purged and restored by good and wholesome laws made every three years in Parliament assembled, devising remedies as fast as time breedeth mischief, and contrariwise the ecclesiastical state still continue upon the dregs of time, and receive no alteration these forty-five years and more?”

However, James had not the least intention of making any change in the ecclesiastical courts.

Moreover, he had already declared his views as to the rights of the sovereign. “A king, he said, is not bound to frame his actions according to law, but of his own free will, and for giving an example to his people.” Convocation was quick to adopt this view and to denounce as a fatal error the doctrine that all power is derived from the people. Later on, the University of Oxford proclaimed the doctrine of passive resistance. It is difficult to speak with moderation of these two opinions, or to estimate how far they are responsible for the bloodshed of the Civil War.

How James carried on his government for seven years without a Parliament belongs to national history. We may, however, picture the wrath and exasperation of the City at the encroachments of the spiritual courts, the subserviency of the lawyers and judges, the extortions, the sale of peerages, and the dismissal of the Chief Justice. We can also imagine the whispers that went round concerning the Court, its extravagance, the shameless promotion of favourites, the scandals, the attempt to form a Spanish alliance.

We may sum up this ignoble reign, so far as concerns London, by saying that the attitude of the City during the whole of it was one of observation and endurance. We have seen something of what was observed. There were, however, other things of which the City took silent note. To begin with, James, while he proclaimed the Royal prerogative, threw away the Royal dignity. He was extravagant and in foolish ways; he loved favourites and they were unworthy; his son was the idol of the people, but James affected no grief for him, nay, it was even whispered that the young Prince was poisoned, and with the guilty knowledge of his father; he hated Puritans and persecuted Catholics; he spent most of his time in hunting; it was commonly reported that he drank heavily; his servants were left without their wages; his purveyors refused supplies until they were paid; he was always preaching the Royal prerogative; he was anxious to enter upon a marriage with Spain, the arch-enemy of the Protestant religion; he tried to bully the House of Commons, but got nothing from them; he granted monopolies, a thing abhorrent to the commercial mind. All these things London observed and marked, and they bore their fruit in the reign of James’s son, and those of his two grandsons. But as yet resistance—armed resistance—was not even thought of. Plots and conspiracies there were, but of small account. Of armed resistance on behalf of the liberties of the country as yet there was no idea.

CHAPTER II
CHARLES I

The history of Charles shows, if we consider nothing more than his dealings with the City of London, a wrongheadedness which is most amazing. It is true that two at least of the Tudor sovereigns had ruled the City with a strong hand, but they knew how to make themselves loved as well as feared, and they knew, further, how timely concessions in small things may overcome resistance in great things. Moreover, we have seen how James had endeavoured to make himself an absolute monarch, and the results which followed. As the event proved, the side taken by London in this reign was once more the winning side; as it was with Richard the Second and Henry the Sixth, so it was with Charles the First.

CHARLES I. (1600–1649)

From the replica of the portrait by Van Dyck painted by Sir Peter Lely.

CHEAPSIDE—QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA’S ENTRY INTO LONDON

From a contemporary print.

I have attempted to indicate something of the effect produced upon the City by the reign of James I. I have now to show the fruits of that reign, followed by another even more obstinately arbitrary; even blinder to the threatening wave that was rising and swelling before the King’s feet, so that it was impossible, one would have thought, not to see it and to understand it. The unbroken contumacy of the House of Commons, whenever it had a chance of speaking, was not that a sign which might have been read by the King and his Ministers? The sullen attitude of the City—was not that a sign? Charles, however, saw nothing, or, if he saw, then he thought the opposition feeble compared with the forces at his own disposal. Nothing, however, seems to have been further from his thoughts than armed resistance. Let us remember, however, that at the outset Charles had to face an angry and discontented City; angry on account of the ecclesiastical courts and the impossibility of redress; discontented on account of the late King’s deliberate trampling upon all its liberties.

On the 28th of April, Charles was proclaimed King at Ludgate Hill, himself being present. On the 1st of May he was married by proxy in Paris to Henrietta Maria. The new Queen came over at once, and received a kindly welcome from the citizens. The public entry, which was arranged for June 18, was postponed on account of another outbreak of plague. The number of deaths from this visitation is returned at 35,417, about one-third of the whole population. As in 1603, and later on in 1665, the richer sort hurried out of the town on the first outbreak, leaving behind them the population which cannot leave the place of work, namely, the apprentices, craftsmen, servants, and porters. The rich carried away what they could, but they were refused entrance into the villages, even the barns being closed to them. Many of them died on the highway, their pockets stuffed with money.

In the midst of this terrible time Charles called upon the City to raise and equip 1000 men for the new expedition. This was done, and the men were raised somehow, and marched down to Plymouth, where they awaited the arrival of the Fleet with no pay and no provisions. Finally the Fleet arrived, and they went on board, bound for Cadiz, there to experience failure.

The Parliament of 1626 refused to grant supplies until grievances had been considered. Charles therefore dissolved it. This was like his father. He would get on without the Parliament. He began by calling upon the City to lend him £100,000. The City refused, they had no money, they were just recovering from the Plague; they lent, however, £20,000 on good security. Next came a demand for 4000 men and 20 ships, the first for the defence of Sheppey, and the second in order to carry the war into the enemy’s country. To the first the City replied that the order came from some of the lords and not from the King, and that by charter their soldiers were for the defence of the City and must not go farther than the Mayor himself may go. As we have seen in the past, this right was always put forward when the City did not want to obey the King, and always neglected when the City was willing that its troops should go anywhere, as, for instance, in the deposition of Richard the Second, in the siege of Winchester under Stephen, and in the defence of the country against the Spanish Armada.

As for the ships, the Mayor was instructed to reply that the City was in a most impoverished condition, that they could not get the ships ready in the time, and that the merchants would far rather have letters of mark and go out privateering. However, the City gave way. It is an indication of the poverty of the City at this time that the small sum of £18,000 wanted for fitting out the ships could not be raised. Many of the people steadfastly refused to pay their rate; the constables refused to distrain; the people helped one another when the constables tried to do their duty. Meantime the streets of the City were thronged with sailors clamouring for their pay; they mobbed the Duke of Buckingham, who put them off with promises. Charles had no money to give them. He endeavoured to get supplies by the “Forced Loan” of 1626. The City was left for a time, but when in 1627 war broke out between France and England it became necessary to press for the loan. Some persons refused to give any money and were committed to prison; the judges declared the loan illegal. The City, however, after long discussions, resolved on lending the King another sum of £120,000, provided it was amply secured.

The following is part of the assessment, showing the demands divided among the leading companies:—

The masters and wardens of the plumbers, saddlers, founders, joiners, and glaziers were sent to prison for neglecting to collect the company’s quota.

The unpopularity of Buckingham, upon whom was laid the odium of failure, is shown in the very strange story of the murder of Dr. Lambe. Lambe was an astrologer and a creature of Buckingham’s. The account of his death is told in three ways. First, that of Dr. Reginald Sharpe (London and the Kingdom, ii. p. 105). He says that Lambe was set upon by some of the people in the City on his way home after supper, that they did him nearly to death, and that no one would receive the wounded man, who was taken to the compter, and died the next day. The other accounts are more elaborate and more unreal. They are as follows:—

1. He was insulted by a few boys, who were joined by the rabble, so that he took refuge in a tavern in the Old Jewry. The vintner, for his own safety, turned him out, whereupon the mob beat him to death before the Mayor’s guard could reach the spot.

HENRIETTA MARIA (1609–1669)

From an engraving by Voerts, after Van Dyck.

2. He was in Cheapside, where he was insulted by the boys, who were joined by the mob; he ran into a house of Wood Street, where the people broke all the windows. He was forced to leave his refuge, and was then seized by the mob, who dragged him along, striking and kicking him. The account goes on to say that the news of the tumult reaching the King, he rode, accompanied by a small guard, into the City, and found in St. Paul’s Churchyard the mob, still beating and kicking the man; that he addressed the mob and bade them desist; that they replied that they had already judged him; and in fact they had so dislocated his limbs that he was dead. Charles, having so small a guard, was obliged to retire.

The second of these two accounts is clearly false, because Wood Street is only a few minutes’ walk from St. Paul’s Churchyard; the noise of a City disturbance would not reach Whitehall; when the news of it did reach Whitehall, the thing must have been over, unless the kicking and striking lasted for an hour; it would take quite an hour for the riot to be reported to the King, and for him to get ready his escort and to ride to St. Paul’s.

In any case there is no doubt that the man Lambe was murdered by the London mob; also that the King was greatly incensed at the matter, for he wrote an angry letter to the Mayor calling for the punishment of the murderers. The Mayor replied that he could not find any; the City was therefore fined £6000, which, on their arresting a few men, was reduced to 1500 marks or £1000. It has been suggested that the money was all that Charles wanted. If so, why did he reduce the fine? It is much more probable that he was personally concerned at the murder.

There are many indications that the people were getting beyond the control of the Mayor and Aldermen. The murder of Lambe was only one of the many riotous affairs which occurred during this reign. In 1630 the Sheriff’s officers having arrested a man in Fleet Street, the populace rose and attempted a rescue. The Sheriff’s officers were supported by watchmen, constables, and some of the citizens who joined them; a fight ensued, in which many were killed and wounded. The Mayor, with a company of the trained bands, arrived upon the scene and stopped the battle. Several ringleaders were arrested, and one, Henry Stamford by name, was executed.

Again, in 1640, the City being greatly enraged against the Archbishop of Canterbury, a body of five hundred ’prentices gathered together by night and ran to Lambeth, intending to sack and destroy the Palace; the Archbishop, however, had got wind of their design, and was strong enough to beat them off. The ’prentices also broke up the sittings of the High Commissioner of St. Paul’s.

Another pestilence visited the City in 1629, remaining till 1631. It was followed, as usual, by distress and scarcity of provisions. Doggerel rhymes (Sharpe, ii. 109) appeared showing the temper of the people:—

“The corne is so dear,

I doubt many will starve this year;

If you see not to this

Some of you will speed amiss.

Our souls they are dear,

For our bodies have some care.

Before we arise

Less will suffice.”

One of the advantages of keeping all the shops of one trade in the same quarter is illustrated by the story of the Queen’s loss by robbery. It was in the year 1631 that a part of her plate and jewels was stolen. The purchasers of the stolen property must have been the goldsmiths, and unless the stolen plate had been sent abroad, it might be recovered by finding to what goldsmith it had been offered on purchase. Until the beginning of the seventeenth century all the goldsmiths lived together in Cheapside. As early as 1623 it was observed that many of them were leaving their old quarters and setting up shops elsewhere. They were ordered to go back to their old quarters, but, as generally happened with such orders, there were no means of enforcing them, and the goldsmiths continued to scatter themselves about the town. Then came the Queen’s loss, and it was found that the order had been entirely neglected. The Lords in Council, therefore, renewed the order on the ground that by leaving Cheapside and setting up their shops in other places, they offered facilities for “passing away of stolen plate.” This order of Council was issued in 1635. As very little attention was paid to the order, which was certainly vexatious, it was renewed on May 24, 1637, and was followed by an order of the Court of Star Chamber that if any other tradesmen besides goldsmiths should keep shop in Cheapside or Lombard Street, the Alderman should be imprisoned for permitting it. As little attention was paid to this order, a fourth, to the same effect, was issued in January 1638. In the last the names of some offenders were given; there were two stationers, a milliner, a bandseller, a drugster, a cook, and a girdler. This interference with the conduct of trade was part of a general and systematic attempt to make the King master in everything. He could not possibly have made a greater mistake than to interfere with the trading interests or to meddle with the way in which a money-making community conducted its affairs. The goldsmiths who had left Cheapside had done so in their own interests; by scattering, each shop formed its own circle; to give up that circle would be to give up the shopkeeper’s livelihood; they had found out by this time that in a great city of 150,000 people, trade is more successful when the shops of the same kind are scattered. Imagine the wrath of Cheapside at the present day if all the shops except those of one trade were ordered to depart!

The business of the ship money is by some historians considered the greatest of all the King’s mistakes; but that of the Cheapside tradesmen touched a lower level, and therefore a wider area. To bleed the rich merchants was one thing, to deprive an honest tradesman of his shop was more serious, because of tradesmen there were more than of merchants. A charter confirming the City liberties produced no change in the King’s policy. It was signed while the disputes concerning ship money, Irish Estates, and interference with trade were at their height, and it cost the City £12,000.

When we read of ships being fitted out by London, of the fleet equipped by Sir John Philpott, of the solid support given to the fleet which engaged the Spanish Armada, and of other occasions, it is difficult to understand the objections of London to raise the ship money, save on the supposition that they now perceived that the King meant to go as far as he could in the way of despotic power, and that it behoved them to make a stand and to fight every inch of ground. This they prepared to do. First they set their law officers to hunt up charters and Acts of Parliament. The case complete, they presented a petition to the King, stating that by certain Acts recited the City was exempt from such obligations. However, the City got nothing by its petition except a peremptory order to raise the £30,000 wanted, and to raise it at once. The City gave way and proceeded to obey and to fit out seven ships.

The impost of ship money, which ultimately caused Charles I. so much trouble, was suggested to him in 1631 by Sir William Noye, Attorney-General, who had found among the records in the Tower, not only writs compelling the ports on certain occasions to provide ships for the use of the King, but others obliging their neighbours of the maritime counties to contribute to the expense. Writs were issued to London and the different ports, October 20, 1634, ordering them to supply a certain number of ships of a specified tonnage, sufficiently armed and manned, to rendezvous at Portsmouth on the 1st of March 1635. The writ is set out in Howell’s State Trials, vol. iii. pp. 830–832, and also the proceedings of the Common Council, and their petition to the King against it. By this contrivance the King obtained a supply of £218,500, which he devoted to providing a fleet. Twelve of the judges decided that the King had the right to make the levy. In the speech of Lord Keeper Coventry to the judges assembled in the Star Chamber on the 14th of February 1636 he stated that, “In the first year, when the writs were directed to the ports and the maritime places, they received little or no opposition; but in the second year, when they went generally throughout the kingdom, although by some well obeyed, have been refused by some, not only in some inland counties, but in some of the maritime places.”

Charles then called upon the whole nation to provide ship money. London was ordered to equip two more ships of 800 tons apiece. One, Robert Chambers by name, brought the question of the King’s right into the Court of the King’s Bench. Mr. Justice Berkeley, with amazing servility, refused to allow the case to be argued, because, he said, “there is a rule of law, and another of government,” thus actually separating the law and government. It was by this time fully evident that the King and Council were resolved upon the humbling of the City. If there was any doubt left in men’s minds, that doubt was surely dispelled by the action of the Star Chamber concerning the Irish Estates. The Star Chamber, after hearing a suit against the City charging them with mal-administration of their Irish property, condemned the City to forfeiture of all their lands in Ireland—lands which, as we have seen, the City had been forced to take up by James the First, and on which they had spent very large sums of money. In addition to losing their estates the citizens were fined £70,000. As for the fine, it was easier to inflict it than to levy it. The City let the Irish Estates go for the present, and paid the sum of £12,000 in full discharge of the fine. But the thing remained in their minds, and one of the first acts of Parliament, when it was called, was to reconsider the whole question (see [p. 209]).

Walker & Cockerell.

GEORGE VILLIERS, FIRST DUKE (SECOND CREATION) OF BUCKINGHAM (1592–1628)

From the portrait by Gerard Honthorst.

I purpose in this place to interrupt the direct course of events in order to show, by reference to certain political events of the time, the mind of London.

In 1626 occurred the famous impeachment of the Duke of Buckingham by Sir John Eliot, when the Commons pronounced their first refusal to grant subsidies till grievances had been redressed. Eliot was arrested and confined to the Tower; after ten days he was released, but the Parliament was dissolved. The King appealed to the country to grant as a free gift what the Commons had refused.

The answer to this appeal should have left no doubt in the minds of the King’s friends that the words of Sir John Eliot stated the mind of the whole country. As regards London and Westminster they replied to those who would collect the subsidy with cries of “A Parliament! A Parliament!”

Charles then tried the expedient of a forced loan with equal want of success. It was found impossible to collect it.

In 1628 a new Parliament was called. In this House the Petition of Right was drawn up, in which, among other things, it was claimed that no man should be compelled to pay any kind of tax without the consent of Parliament.

Charles gave way, secretly, after his manner, reserving certain rights of his own, as that of imprisonment without appeal. The City knew nothing of this duplicity; bells were rung; bonfires lighted; it was assumed that the King had honestly given way, and the House granted a subsidy. Then came the news of Buckingham’s murder.

There were two of Charles’s friends, and only two, for whom the City afterwards entertained a hatred equal to that they felt for Buckingham. But at that moment there was no one whose death was so ardently desired. When the news was brought to London, grave citizens drank the health of Felton. When the murderer was brought to London, the crowd followed praying that the Lord would comfort him. Such was the mind of the City towards the man whom Eliot had impeached; they received the news of his murder with savage exultation. Then Charles made Laud Bishop of London—the third of the three men whose death a few years later the City welcomed with shouts of joy. It was not enough to trample on the liberties of the people, he must now proceed to deprive them of their religion. The memorable sitting in the House when the Speaker was held in his chair while the Commons passed resolution after resolution against innovations in religion and the illegal levy of taxes, belongs to national history. It was with passionate excitement, hardly restrained from tumult, that the news of this sitting and these resolutions was received in the City. There were as yet no newspapers to furnish day by day a report of the proceedings in the House, but the tidings of each protest of the Commons and each arbitrary measure of the King flew through the streets of the City as quickly as if by means of the daily paper, so that every house was filled with the angry murmurs of the citizens, and men in the streets and on ’Change looked at each other and asked what would happen next.

Yet no word of armed resistance. The old time when one King could be put down and another set up in his place was forgotten. Rebellion was not yet even thought of. The Parliament was dissolved.

Laud, free to do what he pleased, proceeded whither his pleasure led him. What he did is national history. The people of London, of whom nine-tenths were Puritans (see [p. 137]), or, at least, strong Protestants, saw with rage the severance of the ties connecting the Church of England with the foreign Protestant churches; they saw the forcible introduction of rites and ceremonies offensive to Puritan feeling; the expulsion of Puritan clergy; the suppression of Puritan lectures; the prohibition of the Geneva Bible, loved by all the people; the desecration, as they thought, of their so-called Sabbath; the restoration of ritualism; the return, as they believed, to Rome.

There seemed no hope of redress. The High Church party were in power; the return to Rome seemed certain.

It was at this time (1629–1640) that the first great emigration to America took place. It was an emigration of men and women of every station and every trade; there were men of family and property among them; there were also husbandmen and humble craftsmen; 1700 emigrants went out in one year, 1630; in eleven years (1629–1640) 20,000 went away. It seems as if the magnitude of the emigration should have caused uneasiness, but probably the exodus of 2000 people a year, many of whom went abroad to better themselves without regard to religion, was considered to be useful to the plantations, and, so far as they departed for the sake of religion, in no way prejudicial to the State.

The lists published in The Original Emigrants to America show that from the Port of London—the only port we need mention here—in the year 1635 there were embarked and were transported—not in a criminal sense—no fewer than 4890 emigrants, a fourth part of the whole number mentioned above. There must have been some special reason for the departure of so many in one year. We may find it, perhaps, in the tyrannical and oppressive proceedings of Laud. He had deprived the French and Flemish refugees of their right to worship after their own manner, and thousands emigrated in consequence; he had assumed a censorship of the Press which forbade such books as Foxe’s Book of Martyrs; he restored the “wakes” or dedication feasts, the church ales, the Sunday sports, the surplice, kneeling at the Communion; he insisted on uniformity of worship; these are sufficient causes for the great emigration of 1635. The book in which I find the names of the emigrants gives them in separate lists according to the ships in which they sailed; in most cases it gives their ages, in a few cases their occupation and station—unfortunately in very few cases. Again, in some cases the list gives the name of the parish where the statutory declaration was made, viz. the oaths of allegiance, that of conformity to the Church of England, and the assurance that the emigrant was not a “subsidy man”—that is to say, a person owing money to the State on account of subsidy due. One need not attach much importance to this declaration, as yet no one had begun to dispute the duty of allegiance; the Church of England included the Puritans, and as regards the subsidy, those who were of humble rank owed nothing; those of the better sort may very well have protested that they owed nothing—as by a strictly legal view they did not.

It is a great pity that the names of the places from which the emigrants came are not always indicated. We cannot, for instance, learn how far this movement affected London. Certain City parishes are given in which the emigrants made the statutory declaration, but in the majority of cases the parishes are not indicated. I have compiled a table, manifestly very incomplete, of those parishes which are mentioned. It is quite evident that many of the lists belong to London, though the fact is not stated. Thus there seems no reason why St. Katherine’s—is it St. Katherine Cree or St. Katherine Coleman, or St. Katherine’s by the Tower?—should have sent out 157 emigrants; St. Mildred’s, Bread Street, 27; and other London parishes two or three only.

• St. Andrew, 1
• St. Alphege, 4
• All Hallows, Staining, 6
• St. Botolph, Billingsgate, 1
• St. Mildred, Bread Street, 27
• St. Katherine’s, 157
• St. Giles, Cripplegate, 6
• Minories, 4
• Stepney, 33
• Tower Precinct, 2
• St. Saviour, Southwark, 3
• St. Olave, Southwark, 5
• “Westminster,” 3
• “Wapping,” 6
• “Lombard Street,” 8
• “Cheapside,” 3
• “Fenchurch,” 1

The greatest contributor, however, to the 5000 was Gravesend, from which place 1875 persons took the oaths and were sent on to the Port of London to be shipped.

The sight of these crowds flocking to the Port of London to embark on the ships bound for America; the provisioning of the ships for the voyage; the talk about the places whither these persons were to be carried; the reasons why they went; the escape for some from the Laudian persecution; the hope, for others, of a new country where the divine right of Kings would not be a subject of discussion; the grave and serious divines who went on board these ships; the gentlemen who joined them; the humble craftsmen who went with them, the Geneva Bible in hand; can we doubt that these sights sank deep into the hearts of the people? Can we doubt that the example, the prayers, the touching farewells of these emigrants were sowing seeds which should produce fruit eventful and terrible? “Our hearts,” said Winthrop, “shall be fountains of tears for your everlasting welfare when we shall be in our poor cottages in the wilderness.”

Doubt not that the people of London knew very well what a wilderness this New England was; how hard and barren was its coast; how cruel was its winter; how deadly and implacable were the Indians; they had heard of seasons when the shell-fish of the sea-shore were the food of the emigrants, when in the evening they knew not where they would find their food in the morning, and when they assembled to worship under escort and with armed sentinels.

We must not be led away to believe that after the first rush, when divines, scholars, country gentlemen, and lawyers joined the list of emigrants, the same class was continued. The lists before us point rather in the other direction, as if in 1635, five years after the first movement began, by far the larger number were craftsmen and rustics. The age of the emigrants points to this conclusion. I have taken a few consecutive pages at random. I find that out of 409 names there were 106 under twenty; of these many were children and boys, but the majority were eighteen and nineteen years old; 259 were men and women—the men far outnumbering the women—in the full vigour of early manhood, namely, over twenty and under thirty. There were only thirty-four over forty and under fifty, and ten only of fifty and upwards. In other words, I conclude from these lists that while religion may have had a good deal to do with the emigration of this year, a very large part of the attraction was the thought of adventure, change, and better meat, which has always made the Englishman restless and enterprising.

Where did the emigrants go? There were six places open to the emigrant of the seventeenth century. And he went to them in the following proportion during the year 1635:—

Let us return to the constitutional part of the history.

Charles called no Parliament for eleven years. During that time, as he could get no subsidies, he was compelled to practise every kind of extortion; he enforced the old obligation to take the honour of knighthood; he imposed fines for encroachments, for defective title deeds, for recusancy.

Where he touched the City was, first, in reviving the old laws against building in the suburbs, and in fining those living in houses built twenty years before in assurance that the law was a dead letter; next, in the levy of illegal and extortionate customs duties, which were resisted by the City merchants, but at their peril. One of them said that it was better to be a merchant in Turkey than in London; for this he was sent to the Tower and fined £2000: thirdly, by the system of monopolies, against which the City had protested under Elizabeth. Everything became the subject of a monopoly. As was said afterwards in the Long Parliament, “They sup in our cup; they dip in our dish; they sit by our fire; we find them in the dye-fat, the wash bowls, and the powdering tub. They have marked and sealed us from head to foot.”

All these grievances continued to roll up like a snowball, as silently and as rapidly; yet it was an invisible snowball. Outwardly the King and his friends were deceived by the general tranquillity; there was offered very little resistance; there were manifested few open signs of discontent; a general prosperity prevailed; trade was better than it had been for many years; the English flag was flying over new seas and in ports hitherto unknown; agriculture was advancing; the country gentry were growing more easy in their means; every one seemed quiet. In fact it was felt by the better class that there was no hurry. Sooner or later there must be a Parliament; sooner or later the makeshifts of the King would come to an end; there was no hurry. And the bill kept rolling up. But the King, and Laud, and the Court party were deceived. They mistook the quiet of the people, and especially of the City, for submission and subjection; they thought that the spirit of resistance was quelled.

Perhaps enough has been said to show the temper of the City. One or two notes more.

We find a London clergyman calling on all Christians to “resist the Bishops as robbers of souls, limbs of the Beast, and fathers of Antichrist.” One pays very little heed to ecclesiastical censure, which is generally cursing, at any time, but the vehemence of this language seems worthy of remark.

When Prynne was carried from Palace Yard after the sentence which deprived him of his ears, he was escorted by a hundred thousand Londoners with prayers and cries of encouragement and of comfort.

In 1638 Hampden’s judges laid down the principle that “no statute prohibiting arbitrary taxation could be pleaded against the King’s will.” To this monstrous doctrine the City said nothing, the people said nothing; they waited; sooner or later there must be a Parliament.

Next year began the Scotch troubles, the beginning of the end for Charles.

In 1640 the King found himself compelled to call a Parliament; he must have money.

This was the Short Parliament. I am quite sure that the news of the summons was received on ’Change and wherever the merchants and citizens of London met together with the quiet laughter of those who saw that the day of redemption was drawing nigh. At last after eleven years the Parliament was called together. Would the members prove staunch? No fear of that. The City knew—no other institution or place knew so well—the feeling of the country. The City always knew the feeling of the country; there were a thousand correspondents between the City and the country; the merchants had no doubt that the country was sound. Laud’s clergy marked the change in the defiant air of the City, in the exulting looks of the people; there were changes close at hand.

The House did prove staunch. Once more the Commons refused a subsidy till grievances were redressed, and until security was obtained for religion, for property, and for the liberties of the country. The House was dissolved. Then the City laughed again and its people rubbed their hands. For the King must have money, and without a Parliament he could not get money. The Scotch business went on, and the snowball of discontent and of grievances was now visible even to Charles the Blind.

Then began an interesting and an exciting time. The King tried to persuade the City to lend him £100,000. The City steadfastly refused. The Mayor and Aldermen were summoned to Whitehall; the King addressed them; they were ordered to make out lists of the wealthier citizens; they were dismissed, but were summoned again, and told that if they did not pay £100,000 they would have to pay £200,000; and that if they still refused that they would have to pay £300,000. They were again dismissed, and told to prepare the list of rich citizens by the following Sunday.

KING CHARLES I. THROWN OVERBOARD

From a satirical print in the British Museum.

By this time the temper of London was roused. The Mayor and Aldermen came on the following Sunday, but without that list. Instead they brought a petition asking for redress. Some of them refused absolutely to make out such a list, and were committed to prison, viz. Sir Nicholas Rainton to the Marshalsea, Alderman Somers to the Fleet, Alderman Atkins to the King’s Bench, and Alderman Gayre to the Gatehouse. It was on Sunday, the 10th of May, that the Aldermen went to prison. The reply of the City was a tumult, in which the Archbishop’s Palace at Lambeth was attacked and the Archbishop’s life was threatened. A royal warrant was issued commanding the Lord Mayor to raise as many men as might be needed for the suppression of riots. At the same time it was thought best to let the Aldermen go.

In June the Mayor was again summoned to show cause why the ship money was not collected. He replied, plainly, that no one would pay it. Here we see the secret of the City’s strength; the people only had to sit down; they could not be forced to pay, either by the King, who had no force at his disposal, or by the Aldermen, who had no police. The people sat down and refused to pay. There were threats of debasing the coinage unless the City yielded; the answer was that the Common Council had no power to dispose of the citizens’ money. Charles then endeavoured to raise £120,000 from the livery companies; they replied—it was impossible to let go so fine an opportunity—that their “stocks” had all been consumed in the Irish Estates—confiscated by the King.

On the 3rd of November 1640 Charles, evidently suffering under great depression of spirits, opened the Long Parliament.

Between the dissolution of the Short Parliament and the assembling of the Long the City petitioned the King to call a Parliament for the redress of grievances. Laud and the Privy Council tried to frighten the City against signing it, but in vain. It was signed by 10,000 citizens. Maitland gives it in full:—

“Most Gracious Sovereign—

Being moved with the Duty and Obedience, which by the Laws your Petitioners owe unto your sacred Majesty, they humbly present unto your princely and pious Wisdom the several pressing Grievances following, viz.—

1. The pressing and unusual Impositions upon Merchandize, importing and exporting, and the urging and levying of Ship-Money, notwithstanding both which, Merchants’ Ships and Goods have been taken and destroyed both by Turkish and other Pirates.

2. The Multitude of Monopolies, Patents, and Warrants, whereby Trade in the City, and other Parts of the Kingdom is much decayed.

3. The sundry Innovations in Matters of Religion.

4. The Oath and Canons lately enjoined by the late Convocation, whereby your Petitioners are in Danger to be deprived of their Ministers.

5. The Great Concourse of Papists, and their Inhabitations in London, and the Suburbs, whereby they have more Means and Opportunity of plotting and executing their designs against the Religion established.

6. The seldom Calling, and sudden Dissolutions of Parliaments, without the redress of your Subjects’ Grievances.

7. The Imprisonment of divers Citizens for Non-payment of Ship-Money, and Impositions; and the prosecution of many others in the Star-Chamber, for not conforming themselves to Committees in Patents of Monopolies, whereby Trade is restrained.

8. The great Danger your sacred Person is exposed unto in the present War, and the various fears that seized upon your Petitioners and their Families by reason thereof; which Grievances and Fears have occasioned so great a stop and distraction in Trade, that your Petitioners can neither buy, sell, receive, or pay as formerly, and tends to the utter Ruin of the Inhabitants of this City, the Decay of Navigation, and Clothing, and the Manufactures of this Kingdom.

From a contemporary print in the British Museum.

[Go to transcription of text]

Your humble Petitioners conceiving that the said Grievances are contrary to the Laws of this Kingdom, and finding by Experience that they are not redressed by the ordinary Course of Justice, do therefore most humbly beseech your most sacred Majesty to cause a Parliament to be summoned with all convenient Speed, whereby they may be relieved in the Premises.

And your Petitioners and loyal Subjects shall ever pray, etc.”

The fanatical temper of the people as regards the Catholics was shown in their attack upon the Spanish Ambassador’s house in Bishopsgate Street:—

“Upon the twenty-ninth of April the first tumultuous disorder (of these Times) happened in London, when a great number of Apprentices and others beset the Spanish Ambassador’s house in Bishopsgate Street, threatening to pull it down, and to kill the Ambassador, for permitting English papists to frequent his Chapel. For the appeasing of this Commotion, the Lord-Mayor immediately repaired to the Ambassador’s, where with much difficulty he prevailed upon the Populace to disperse and return home. His Lordship had no sooner allayed the fury of the Multitude, than he entered the Ambassador’s House, and, being met by that Minister, was desired to drop the point of the City Sword that was carried before him, acquainting him, That he was then in a Place where the King of Spain, his Master, had Jurisdiction; which the Mayor complying with, the Ambassador told him that he had never seen so barbarous an attempt; and desired to know whether this could justly be called a civilized Nation, where the Laws of Nations and Hospitality were so horribly violated? The Mayor replied, That the Rioters were the very Refuse of the People, therefore entreated his Excellency not to impute the Sedition to the City: to which the Ambassador smartly answered, That he hardly knew how to call that a City, or even a Society of Rational Creatures, which was seemingly divested both of Humanity and Government.

The true maner of the execution of thomas earle of strafford. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. upon Towerhill, the 12^th of May, 1641.

From a contemporary Dutch print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

Walker & Cockerell.

THOMAS WENTWORTH, FIRST EARL OF STRAFFORD (1593–1641)

From the portrait by Sir Anthony Van Dyck.

The Mayor, to extenuate the Crime as much as possible, told the Ambassador, That the People were enraged because Mass was publicly said in his Chapel. To which he replied, That the English Minister at Madrid enjoyed the free Exercise of his Religion without the least Disturbance; and that he would rather choose to lose his Life than the Privileges due to him by Contract and the Law of Nations: the Mayor returned, That the People were the more incensed against him because the Citizens of the Popish Communion were permitted to frequent his House at Mass, contrary to Law: The Ambassador answered, That if the Mayor would prevent their coming, he would not fend for them; but, if they came, he could neither in Conscience to his Religion, nor his Master’s Honour, deny them Access to their Devotions, or Protection to their Persons, while they were with him. Wherefore a Guard was placed at his House, which not only protected him from further Insults, but likewise the Popish Citizens from frequenting Mass.

A Plan of London and Westminster
Shewing the Forts erected by Order of the Parliament in 1643 & the Desolation by the Fire in 1666

From a contemporary print.

This Storm was no sooner over than another far more impetuous began; for a Discovery being made of some desperate Designs both at home and abroad, of bringing up the Army to London to surprise the Tower, and favour the Earl of Strafford’s escape, divers Ministers from their Pulpits, on the Sunday following, shewed to their several Auditories the Necessity of having Justice speedily executed upon some great Delinquents; which so greatly irritated and inflamed the Citizens, that the Day after they, to the Number of Six Thousand, armed with Swords, Staves, and Cudgels, ran to Westminster; and posting themselves in the Avenues leading to the House of Lords, stopped all Coaches, and incessantly cried out for Justice against Strafford.”

We now come to events which belong to the national history. We may therefore pass them over except where they specially touch upon London.

The discovery of the “Army Plot” made Strafford’s fate certain, and his death was the cause of savage exultation in the City; a countless multitude assembled to see him die; the people ran and rode from the scene waving their hats and crying “His head is off.”

The Grand Remonstrance laid before the House called forth the opposition of a small Royalist party, which only strengthened the cause. London was zealous for the cause; associations were formed in every county. I pass over the events which followed.

Civil War began in July 1642. Marston Moor in 1644 and Naseby in 1645 practically finished it.

The importance of the City in making the war possible can hardly be overestimated. They began with a force of 8000 trained bands, well drilled and well handled. When the breach between King and Commons could no longer be averted, the City raised £100,000 with alacrity at the request of the latter. An immense quantity of plate was brought in, and a levy of £50,000 was laid upon all strangers and aliens residing in the City. That was in June 1642. When in the autumn it was reported that Prince Rupert was marching on London, the City became a huge camp; nothing went on but arming, training, practising, marching. The whole City was Roundhead; those few who remained loyal—the “malignants”—were arrested and clapped into prison as soon as they could be caught. This unanimity did not continue. The Royalists presently plucked up heart and, appearing with their badges, found out how strong they were. A reaction set in when it was discovered that the war would not be finished in a single campaign and that it entailed heavy sacrifices, including the shutting of shops and the temporary ruin of trade. A stormy gathering was held in the Guildhall, at which there were loud cries for peace. The Common Council therefore drew up two petitions, one for the King and one for the Parliament, advocating peace, or at least a truce for deliberation.

They even sent a deputation to the King, who received the members graciously and promised a reply, which quickly followed. It is a very long document, in which the King pointed out the wickedness of fighting against him; and he ordered his loyal subjects to begin the cause of peace by arresting the Mayor.

On the 21st of November 1642, about a month after the battle of Edgehill, a suspicious-looking boat was discovered by the pinnace guarding the Thames for the City and Parliament. She was a Gravesend boat and should have put in at Billingsgate. Instead of this, the tide being favourable, she continued her course and shot the bridge. The pinnace gave chase, and presently caught up with her and seized her. The only passenger on board was a gentleman, who was carrying from Colonel Goring a letter—it is not stated to whom—containing lists of the supplies of men expected by the King from Holland and Denmark. Nothing could have been more opportune than such a capture; the City was still lukewarm in the cause; to afford them clear proof that the King intended to fight them with Danes and Dutchmen would fire their blood as nothing else would do, not even defeat and disaster. Pennington, who was Mayor and a Parliamentarian heart and soul, joyfully received the letter, ordered copies to be made and to be read in every church on Sunday, the very next day, and a subscription to be opened at once for carrying on the war. In the church of St. Bartholomew by the Exchange, twenty-seven persons subscribed various sums, amounting in all to £290. In St. Margaret’s, Lothbury, about £350 were subscribed. Mr. Edwin Freshfield, who relates this story (Archæologia, xlv.), is of opinion that the whole business was invented by the Mayor. He wanted money, he wanted to rouse the citizens, he wanted them to be committed openly. In this he succeeded perfectly; he raised £30,000, he fired their passions, he made them commit themselves in writing. From this moment there was no looking back for the City of London.

In February 1643, as the attack upon London by the Royalist army seemed threatening, the Common Council passed an Act for the defence of the City by a line of redoubts and fortifications, which were taken in hand and executed without delay. It has been assumed that this work consisted of a wall with redoubts and bastions at intervals. A plan of the wall shows an enormous work, eleven miles long, running all round London. This view has been adopted by later writers. No one seems to have remarked on the impossibility of so colossal a fortification being constructed in the brief space of three or four weeks even if the whole population worked day and night; and no one seems to have discovered that it was absurd to construct such a wall where the enemy could not possibly attack it, or that it should have been thought desirable to construct a wall which it would have required at least 200,000 men to defend. The historian also might have thought it still more remarkable that such enormous earth-works, with stone bastions, entailing such enormous labour, should have been undertaken with so much zeal and unanimity; and, finally, he might have asked himself how it came to pass that not a vestige of the work should have remained, even though the greater part of the ground covered was free from buildings down to the beginning of this century.

Sharpe, however (London and the Kingdom, iii. 431), gives the actual “Resolution of the Common Council for putting the City and Suburbs into a posture of defence, 23rd February 1643:”—

“Journal 40, fo. 52.

That a small fort conteyning one bulwark and halfe and a battery in the reare of the flanck be made at Gravell lane end. A horne worke with two flanckers be placed at Whitechapell windmills. One redoubt with two flanckers betwixt Whitechapel Church and Shoreditch. Two redoubts with flanckers neere Shoreditch church with a battery. At the windmill in Islington way, a battery and brestwork round about. A small redoubt neere Islington pound. A battery and brestwork on the hill neere Clarkenwell towards Hampstead way. Two batteries and a brestworke at Southampton House. One redoubt with two flanckers by St. Giles in the Fields, another small worke neere the turning. A quadrant forte with fower halfe bulwarks crosse Tyborne highway at the second turning that goeth towards Westminster. At Hide parke corner a large forte with flanckers on all sides. At the corner of the lord Gorings brick wall next the fields a redoubt and a battery where the Court of Guard now is at the lower end of the lord Gorings wall, the brestwork to be made forwarder. In Tuttle fields a battery brestworke, and the ditches to be scowred. That at the end of every street which is left open to enter into the suburbs of this citty, defenceable brestworks be made or there already erected, repayred with turnepikes muskett proof, and that all the passages into the suburbs on the north side the river except five, viz.: the way from St. James towards Charing Crosse, the upper end of Saint Giles in Holborne, the further end of St. John Street towards Islington, Shoreditch church, and Whitechapell be stopped up. That the courtes of guard and the rayles or barrs at the utmost partes of the freedome be made defensible, and turnpikes placed there in lieu of the chaynes all muskett proof. And that all the shedds and buildings that joyne to the outside of the wall be taken downe. And that all the bulwarkes be fitted at the gates and walls soe that the flanckes of the wall and streets before the gates may be cleared and that the gates and bulwarkes be furnished with ordnance.”

It will be seen that there is not one word about a new wall round London. The so-called fortifications were simply small redoubts and bastions at certain fixed points.

How the London trained bands went out to fight, how well they stood their ground, in what actions they took their part, will be found in the many histories of that war which still claims its fierce adherents and still awakens the passions of a partisan, whoever relates it. The constancy of the City was rewarded by the stoppage of trade and the ruin of many merchants, while the soldiers in the trained bands were shopkeepers and skilled craftsmen, to whom long continuance in the field was ruin. In 1644 the disaffection of the men amounted almost to mutiny.

On the temper and discipline of the City trained bands Sharpe thus speaks:—

“That the city trained bands had done good service in their day no one will deny, but the time was fast approaching when it would be necessary to raise an army of men willing to devote themselves to the military life as a profession. For permanent service in the field the London trained bands were not to be relied on. ‘In these two days’ march,’ wrote Waller (2 July) to the Committee of Both Kingdoms, ‘I was extremely plagued with the mutinies of the City Brigade, who are grown to that height of disorder that I have no hope to retain them, being come to their old song of “Home! Home!”’ There was, he said, only one remedy for this, and that was a standing army, however small:—‘My lords, I write these particulars to let you know that an army compounded of these men will never go through with your service, and till you have an army merely your own, that you may command, it is in a manner impossible to do anything of importance.’ The junction of his forces with those under Browne, who had been despatched (23 June) to protect the country between London and the royalist army, served only to increase the general discontent. ‘My London regiments,’ he wrote (8 July), ‘immediately looked on his [i.e. Browne’s] forces as sent to relieve them, and without expectation of further orders, are most of them gone away; yesterday no less than 400 out of one regiment quitted their colours. On the other side, Major-General Browne’s men, being most of them trained band men of Essex and Hertfordshire, are so mutinous and uncommandable that there is no hope of their stay. They are likewise upon their march home again. Yesterday they were like to have killed their Major-General, and they have hurt him in the face.... I am confident that above 2000 Londoners ran away from their colours.’ The same spirit of insubordination manifested itself again when Waller threw himself (20 July) into Abingdon. Most of his troops were only too anxious to leave him, whilst the Londoners especially refused to stir ‘one foot further, except it be home.’”

A SOLDIER OF THE TIME OF KING JAMES THE FIRST ARMED WITH A CALIVER

From a contemporary print.

The City, however, despite these rules, remained staunch to the Parliamentary cause; in spite of hard times, London raised the money to carry on the war; and, as in former cases, the winning side proved to be that which London had espoused.

Early in 1645 the army was remodelled on a more permanent footing, in which the men were to receive regular pay and the officers to be appointed for efficiency alone. Parliament resolved on borrowing £80,000 of the City; the Committee of Militia raised a sufficient number of men to guard the new redoubts and forts, and the City regiments were brought up to their full strength.

In June 1645 the Common Council presented a petition to Parliament calling attention to what they considered the causes of their ill success, and asking, among other things, that Fairfax might have a free hand and not be hampered by orders from Westminster. This view was favourably received. Fairfax chose his own tactics; he marched in pursuit of the Royal army, which he met—and fought—at Naseby on June 14.

After Naseby the City entertained both Houses of Parliament with a Thanksgiving sermon in Christ Church, Newgate. This was the old Grey Friars Church, a splendid building then still standing, though its monuments and fine carved work were gone. After the sermon there was a banquet in Grocers’ Hall; the Hall was not large enough for everybody, therefore the Common Council dined at another Company’s hall. The day after the dinner the Council had to consider what was to be done with the 3000 Royalist prisoners. They confined them in the south cloister and the Convocation House of St. Paul’s. How long they were kept there; how they were fed; what became of them ultimately, one knows not. Perhaps they were treated as Cromwell afterwards treated the Scotch prisoners taken at Worcester (see [p. 68]).

The City also raised £31,000 for the pay of the Scots who were marching south. In July of the same year they raised 1000 light horse and 500 dragoons, and in September 500 light horse and the same number of dragoons.

The events which followed Naseby until the trial and execution of the King would not concern us but for the part played by the City. They constitute a chapter in which the completion of the Civil War is mixed up with the dissension of the Presbyterians and the Independents, two sects equally intolerant and equally determined to obtain the supremacy. I have abridged the business so far as the City is concerned in the paragraph which follows. The whole story, when one reads it in detail, makes one almost inclined to condone the crimes of the King against the civil liberties of the people, since his enemies were themselves so determined against their religious liberties.

The Parliament desired to force a Presbyterian form of worship on the City, and to lay down laws for the election of elders. This was not at all the view of the City, which desired freedom from Parliamentary control in matters of religion. The ministers of the City parish churches drew up their own list of reforms; the citizens themselves sent a petition to Parliament giving their views. The House of Commons returned an answer of an ungracious character. They knew their own duties and would carry them through.

TRIAL OF KING CHARLES I., JANUARY 1648

From an engraving of the painting by William Fisk.

The City at the same time came to a quarrel with Parliament on the governing of the militia raised within the weekly bills of mortality. Parliament was ready to allow them the command over the militia within the Liberties, but the City wished to include within the area of command all the parishes and parts covered by the weekly bills of mortality.

The three years preceding the execution of Charles were a troubled and an uneasy time for the City.

On September the 7th, 1646, the City was asked by Parliament to consider ways and means for raising £200,000, being half of the sum claimed by the Scots for their expenses. On the 9th they reported a scheme for raising money by the excise and by the sale of the Bishop’s lands.

On December 19th the City sent a petition to Parliament for the redress of grievances. They demanded the disbandment of the army, the suppression of heresy, the union of the two kingdoms, the free election of members of Parliament, and the command of their own militia. The “disbandment of the army” is a point that must be especially noted because it marks the growing terror of the army.

It was necessary, before the army could be disbanded, to settle the arrears of pay. The men were invited to volunteer for service in Ireland. They asked for their pay. Parliament proposed to raise £200,000, not for the arrears, but for service in England and Ireland.

At the same time application was made to the City for ways and means to raise this large sum. And the City was put into good temper by an ordinance for a new Militia Committee.

But the disbanded army had to look on while they themselves could get no pay, and the City militia received their pay regularly. Riots took place; companies of the disbanded besieged the House of Commons demanding their arrears. These riots took place early in June 1647.

On the 11th of June the City was informed that Fairfax, with the army, was on his way to London. The Mayor replied that they had no quarrel with the army; that they had themselves presented a humble address to Parliament in favour of the just demands of the army; and that if Fairfax would kindly keep at a distance of thirty miles, the City would be much obliged.

Fairfax declared that the last demand was impossible so long as enlistments were continued in the trained bands and auxiliaries, and that the movements of the army depended very much on the reception that might be given to certain papers just laid before the House of Lords. The “papers,” in fact, asserted the right of the army to speak in the name of the people, and demanded the expulsion from the House of eleven members who had misrepresented the army and raised forces for a new war. Among them was Glyn, the City Recorder.

The Mayor, Sir John Gayre, on finding that the army was really marching south, called out the newly-enlisted trained bands. It appeared that they only existed on paper; in many companies not ten men appeared; in many others none but officers. It became evident that a different tone must be adopted. Fairfax was assured that the new enlistments had been stopped. Even then that general was not satisfied. He now said that he could not stop his army until the Parliament had returned a satisfactory answer to the “papers” already mentioned. The sending of these letters backwards and forwards produced little effect for a time—except tumults of apprentices and disturbances by reformadoes, or disbanded soldiers.

SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX (1612–1671) AND HIS WIFE

From the painting by William Dobson in the National Portrait Gallery, London.

On July 9th the Parliament agreed to the demands of Fairfax, and ordered all disbanded soldiers to quit the City. On July 11th the Army Council recommended the Parliament to take into their own hands again the command of the City militia. This was done, but the City had their say in the matter. Petitions to the House were drawn up; they were carried to Westminster by the sheriffs and members of the Common Council, followed by an enormous crowd of angry and excited apprentices and citizens. There was a long debate; the Commons refused to give way; the crowd grew more threatening; at last, at eight o’clock in the evening, the Commons yielded.

It was now time for the City to consider measures of defence. The trained bands were sent to man the works, and all the citizens who could carry arms were ordered to attend at a general muster. It became obvious, however, that armed resistance to the army was out of the question, and the City made haste to submit and to hope for favourable terms. The City forts were surrendered. Fairfax entered the lines of fortification and marched upon Westminster. On the following day the army marched through the City doing no kind of harm to any one. Fairfax and his officers were invited to a grand banquet at Grocers’ Hall, and so the business ended amicably, as it seemed.

TRIAL OF KING CHARLES I. JANUARY 20–27, 1648
“It was remarkt y^t the Gold Head dropt of y^e King’s Cane y^t day w^thout any visible cause.”

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

The banquet did not interfere, however, with the projects of Fairfax and the army. The City was called upon for £50,000 towards the arrears of pay; the Lord Mayor, Sir John Gayre, Thomas Cullons, one of the Sheriffs, and three Aldermen were impeached for threatening the Commons and for inciting to fresh war. They were all sent to the Tower. When they were brought for trial before the Lords, they refused to kneel, took exception to the jurisdiction of the Houses, and were all fined and committed again to the Tower, where they lay for two months more, when they were liberated.

In 1648 the City carried one point and gained the command of their own militia. A deputation of Lords and Commons attended the Court of Common Council, and assured them that not only did they cheerfully commit to them the command of the militia, but that they had resolved on making no change in the constitution of the country with King, Lords, and Commons. The City at this juncture resolved to stand by the Parliament; they asked for the return of the Recorder, the Aldermen, and the other citizens who were imprisoned in the Tower.

The miserable condition of trade naturally brought about discontent, which turned to disaffection. The Royalist party made an excuse of a rising in Kent to petition the Parliament for a personal treaty with the King; the same people also called upon the Court of Common Council to summon a Common Hall—that is, a meeting of the whole body of freemen. The Court took time to consider the matter: in other words, to see their way to refusing it, which they did at last, on the ground of the distraction of the times. The longing for peace was shown by petition after petition from the City, all in the same strain, that the King should be approached personally; the City offered to assure his safety if he were placed in their hands.

In addition to the other troubles, the mob was now growing more Royalist. They insulted the Speaker; they rescued war prisoners; they secretly enlisted and sent out horses for the Royalist enemy. The Council asked the House that a death penalty should be inflicted on any person who caused a tumult or riot, and that no man who had ever fought against the Parliament should be allowed to reside within thirty miles of London. These two requests reveal a time of great uneasiness and general suspicion.

The end of this state of things was now rapidly approaching. The Parliament sent fifteen commissioners to open the Treaty of Newport in September. At the end of November the army declared that the Parliament must be dissolved. Fairfax marched into London (November 30, 1648) and demanded a sum of £40,000 to be paid the next day. The Council sent him £10,000 and promised the rest; Fairfax took up his quarters at Whitehall, and sent into the City for 3800 beds. A week later, neither money nor beds having been provided, Fairfax arrested Major-General Browne, one of the sheriffs, with certain others, on a charge of having joined in calling upon the Scots to invade England. He also seized on the sum of £27,000 lying in Goldsmiths’ and Weavers’ Halls. This money, he told the City, he intended to keep until they sent him the £40,000. He refused meantime to withdraw his troops who were quartered on the City. The money was found. In the municipal elections the new Mayor, Abraham Reynardson, was a Royalist, and well known to be such. It was feared by the Commons, now the Rump, that the elections of December to the Common Council would also be Royalist. Accordingly the House passed an ordinance excluding “malignants.” In this way no citizen was admitted who had subscribed to any petition for a personal treaty with the King. When the new Council assembled, the Mayor ordered them to take the oath of allegiance, which had not yet been abolished. This they refused. The Commons ordered the Mayor to suspend the oath altogether. Under these conditions the Council met, and although the Mayor refused to acknowledge their authority, they proceeded to consider a petition asking the House “to execute justice impartially and vigorously ‘upon all the grand and capital authors, contrivers of and actors in the late wars against Parliament and kingdom, from the highest to the lowest,’ and to take steps, as the supreme power of the nation, for the preservation of peace and the recovery of trade and credit.”

ENGLANDS ROYAL PATTERN or the Execution of KING CHARLES y^e 1^st Jan^y 30.

EXECUTION OF CHARLES I., JANUARY 30, 1648

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

The Royalist Lord Mayor with his Aldermen—only two being present—rose and left the Court rather than sanction such a petition by their presence. It must be remembered that the date of this meeting was the 18th of January 1648, and that the Court for the trial of Charles had been already determined. When the Mayor and Aldermen had left there was no Court. But those present proceeded with their petition. Among the judges of King Charles were nominated five Aldermen, viz. Isaac Pennington, Thomas Andrews, Thomas Atkins, Rowland Wilson, and John Fowke. Only the two first took part in the trial, and Wilson refused to serve. Bradshaw, the President, had been judge of the Sheriffs’ Court in the Wood Street Compter. Two citizens, Tichborne and Row, were on the Commission. The trial of Charles—the most momentous in its consequences of any event since the Conquest or the granting of the Great Charter—belongs to the national history. It began on the 20th of January; it concluded on the 27th; and on the 30th the King was beheaded.

CHAPTER III
THE CITY AND THE CIVIL WAR

The City entered upon a war which was to linger on for eight years, in the firm conviction that it would be finished in a few months. The men who went out to fight expected to be back again in their shops and their workrooms before long. This belief, while it stimulated the enlistment of fighting men and forbade the contemplation of distress and bankruptcy in case the war should continue, caused very grave discontent when it became evident that a long struggle was before the country.

I propose in this chapter to illustrate the condition of the City during this period from contemporary authorities not, I hope, already too well known.

As is natural at such a time, the City was full of dangers on account of suspicion. The experiences of James Howell when he was arrested as a spy show how perilous it was to go abroad in the streets:—

“I was lately come to London upon some occasions of mine own, and I had been divers times in Westminster Hall, where I conversed with many Parliament-men of my Acquaintance, but one morning betimes there rushed into my Chamber five armed Men with Swords, Pistols, and Bills, and told me they had a warrant from the Parliament for me; I desired to see their Warrant, they denied it; I desired to see the date of it, they denied it; I desired to see my Name in the Warrant, they denied all. At last one of them pulled a greasy Paper out of his pocket, and shewed me only three or four names subscribed, and no more; so they rushed presently into my Closet, and seized on all my Papers and Letters, and anything that was Manuscript; and many printed Books they took also, and hurl’d all into a great hair Trunk which they carried away with them. I had taken a little Physic that morning, and with very much ado they suffered me to stay in my Chamber with two Guards upon me, till the evening; at which time they brought me before the Committee for examination, where I confess I found good respect; and being brought up to the Close Committee for examination, I was ordered to be forthcoming, till some papers of mine were perused, and Mr. Corbet was appointed to do it. Some days after, I came to Mr. Corbet, and he told me he had perused them, and could find nothing that might give offence. Hereupon I desired him to make a report to the House, according to which (as I was told) he did very fairly; yet such was my hard Hap, that I was committed to the Fleet, where I am now under close restraint; and, as far as I see, I must lie at dead Anchor in this Fleet, a long time, unless some gentle Gale blow thence to make me launch out.”

How the war affected quiet and peaceful citizens may be gathered from two cases, instanced by Dugdale:—

“The miseries and calamities which of late have happened in this confused place of England are so many that they furnish the discourse both of this and of other nations, who, notwithstanding, are not able to express them all. I shall now relate you only two, befalling within these few days, and to this end, that, by the true report of these (which, by men of sundry passions, may be prevented), others of the like nature, if it please God, may be prevented. Of the one, I have certaine information; of the other, I myselfe was an eye-witness. The first happened, at Acton, some six miles distant from London, where lived a gentleman, reported and believed to be different in religion (as too many nowadays are, which we know to be the cause of all our evils) from the Church of England; but in the voice of most of his neighbours, a sober, moderate, and charitable-minded man. This gentleman, having in his house no more but one ancient gentlewoman, his kinswoman, whom he intrusted as his housekeeper, with one serving man and maide, had his house besett with divers companies of soldiers, who had listed themselves for the service of the King and Parliament, and were in pay and command under officers; where, after they had forced him to open the gates by threatning words, they entered the house, and so strangely despoiled him that they left him not a bed, bedstead, table, doore, or glasse window, chest, trunk, or the smallest utensil, but sold all for very small prices before his servants’ faces, some of them having forced him before on foote to London; and for his bills, bonds, letters, and other writings the most part they tore in pieces, and strewed them about the house; others some they sent up to London. He hath, with much industry and long time, rarely furnished a plot of ground with the choicest flowers and outlandish trees which he could procure, which they plucked up by the roots, as many as they could, and the rest left so desolate that, whereas it was thought the finest and most curious garden in all those parts, there is now left nothing but the ruines of Art and Nature.

The other outrage, which with griefe I saw, was committed in Radcliffe Highway, Tuesday last, being the 23 of this instant August, where lived an ancient gentleman in good fashion, love and credit amongst his neighbours for many years space. I was informed, and might likewise guesse by his aspect, that he was above fourscore, and his wife not much distant from his time. This poor man was, like manner, assaulted by another company of souldiers, who are billeted thereabouts until the drum commands them to do service, where, having approached his doore, they drew out a paper, which they read,—whether a pretense of authority or what else I cannot easily conjecture. And thereupon they rushed into the house, rifled him of all that was in the house, breaking and battering many of the goods, and, having brought them out, sold them to such persons as would buy them at any rates, and this at noone day, and in the sight of one thousand people: one feather-bed I saw sold for four shillings, and one flock-bed for one shilling; and many other things at I know not what prises, leaving him nothing but naked walls and one stoole, which the old man sate upon, he being lame and decrepit with old age. The head-borough of the place endeavoured to rescue some of the goods, which were afterwards violently taken againe out of his house. After the riot was thus ended, they marched away with a drum; and then I made bold to goe into this distressed man’s house, where I found him sitting upon his only stoole, and with the teares falling downe his hoary beard, from whence, having administered the best comfort that I could, I departed.”

Before long it became manifest that the war was pressing very severely upon the City. The complaints of all classes were deep and loud; there arose the inevitable reaction. It seemed at one time as if history was about to repeat itself and that the desertion of London by the Britons in the fifth century, owing to the stoppage of supplies, was about to be repeated in the seventeenth. There was no foreign trade; the Royalist ships commanded the German Ocean; the west of England sent up no wool; the east sent up no provisions; the north sent up no coal; there was no money; the shops stood open, but the master was away with the trained bands; the craftsman’s children wanted bread, but the breadwinner was away with Fairfax. The industries ceased, for the markets were closed; after every battle, soldiers, either disbanded or deserters, swarmed into London as a place of refuge; the Royalist minority was a constant source of danger; there were religious differences innumerable, each as intolerant as the Church of Rome; the citizens were, for the most part, Presbyterian; but they desired not to have a national, but a free, Church; they wanted the Church to be governed by herself, and not by Parliament; they petitioned Parliament in this sense; they also petitioned the House for intolerance pure and simple; they would have no freedom of thought, or speech, or doctrine in religion.

To take instances of hardship. In 1642 the people in the Strand, who chiefly lived by letting lodgings, were in despair, having to pawn their furniture in order to pay the rent, their lodgings being all empty. The lawyers at the Guildhall were busy, but it was over the affairs of an incredible number of bankrupts; at the Royal Exchange there was no business transacted, nor any discourse all day long except about the news of the day. In the shops the keepers had nothing to do but to visit and to condole with each other. London, as it always had been, was a receiving house and a distributing house for the whole country, and in this time of civil war there was nothing to distribute and nothing to receive. As a finishing stroke, it is added that the ladies who formed the greater part of the population of Covent Garden, Drury Lane, and Long Acre were reduced to a condition which is described in a tract of the time as a “lump of amazement.” For this quarter and these ladies existed not by the citizens, though the morals of the City were by no means without reproach, but by the visitors who in quiet times flocked to London.

Amid a confused babble of petitions and letters, and imprisonments and fines, one episode stands out clear and strong. It is the petition of the women, calling themselves “many civilly disposed women,” to the Parliament, praying for a peace. The petition was cleverly drawn up—one suspects a masculine hand:—

“That your Petitioners (tho’ of the weaker Sex) do too sensibly perceive the ensuing Desolation of this Kingdom, unless by some timely Means your Honours provide for the Speedy Recovery thereof. Your Honours are the Physicians that can, by God’s special and miraculous Blessing (which we humbly implore), restore this languishing Nation, and our bleeding Sister the kingdom of Ireland, which hath now almost breathed her last Gasp.

We need not dictate to your Eagle-eyed Judgements the Way; Our only Desire is, that God’s Glory, in the true Reformed Protestant Religion, may be preserved, the just Prerogatives and Privileges of King and Parliament maintained, the true Liberties and Properties of the Subject, according to the known Laws of the Land, restored, and all honourable Ways and Means for a speedy Peace endeavoured.

May it therefore please your Honours, that some speedy Course may be taken for the Settlement of the true Reformed Protestant Religion, for the Glory of God, and the Renovation of Trade, for the Benefit of the Subject, they being the Soul and Body of the Kingdom.

And your Petitioners, with many Millions of afflicted Souls, groaning under the Burden of these Times of Distress, shall (as bound) pray, etc.”

It was taken to Westminster by two or three thousand women with white ribbons in their hats. The Commons received and heard the petition; they even gave them an answer. They had no doubt of speedily arriving at a peace; meantime the petitioners were enjoined to return to their own homes. By this time their numbers were swollen to five thousand and more, among them being men dressed as women. They flocked round the door of the House of Commons, crying “Peace! Peace!” and presently, “Give us those Traitors that are against Peace, that we may tear them to pieces! Give us that dog Pym!” The trained bands were sent for, but were received by these Amazons with brick-bats, whereupon the soldiers fired upon the women, killed some, and dispersed the rest.

The violence and insolence of the mob during this unhappy time shows the want of executive strength in the City. Measures are passed; no one heeds them; a riot is suppressed and it breaks out again; disbanded soldiers swarm in the streets and rob and plunder as they please. We have seen how the mob murdered Dr. Lamb. On another occasion the mob had forced its way into the Court of High Commission. They had assembled at Westminster, crying “No Bishops!” They had been driven down King Street by officers with drawn swords. After the war broke out the mob was divided between the two factions, each having its own badge. When the war brought the usual troubles, with want of money and of trade, both sides joined and riotously clamoured for peace. As early as 1643, with six years of war before it, the mob besieged the House of Commons, clamouring for peace. The most remarkable effort of the mob was that of the “Solemn Engagement” in 1647 related by Sharpe:—

“A week later (21 July) a mob of apprentices, reformadoes, watermen and other disaffected persons met at Skinner’s Hall, and one and all signed a solemn Engagement pledging themselves to maintain the Covenant and to procure the king’s restoration to power on the terms offered by him on the 12th May last, viz. the abandonment of the episcopacy for three years and the militia for ten. An endeavour was made to enlist the support of the municipal authorities to this engagement, but a letter from Fairfax (23 July) soon gave them to understand that the army looked on the matter as one ‘set on foot by the malice of some desperate-minded men, this being their last engine for the putting all into confusion when they could not accomplish their wicked ends by other means.’ On the 24th both Houses joined in denouncing the Solemn Engagement of the City, their declaration against it being ordered to be published by beat of drum and sound of trumpet through London and Westminster, and within the lines of communication. Any one found subscribing his name to the engagement after such publication would be adjudged guilty of high treason.”

Another serious outbreak took place later, on Sunday, April 10, 1648. A multitude was assembled in Moorfields to drink and play. A company of trained bands endeavoured to suppress the profanation of the day, and were themselves set upon and dispersed. The mob, gathering greater strength, went off to Whitehall, where they were driven back by the troops. Returning to the City, they broke open houses and magazines, seized the gates and chains, attacked the Lord Mayor’s house, and called upon everybody to join them for God and King Charles. General Fairfax let them alone one night, and in the morning sent out troops, and after some resistance dispersed them.

Every success or partial success made the Royalist party in the City more fearless and undisguised; sometimes they mounted cockades; sometimes they burned bonfires; sometimes they openly cried for the King; the ’prentices, who had been so ready to petition against the Bishops, turned round. Though the actual weight of numbers and of opinions was in favour of the Parliament, there was a very strong party who were always looking for an opportunity to demonstrate, if not to rise, for the King. One has only to consult the pages of Evelyn in order to understand the strength of the Royalist party even in times of the deepest adversity.

I have already quoted from Howell. Let him speak again concerning the condition of the City at this time:—

“Touching the condition of Things here, you shall understand that our Miseries lengthen with our Days; for tho’ the Sun and the Spring advance nearer us, yet our Times are not grown a whit the more comfortable. I am afraid this City has fooled herself into a Slavery; the Army, tho’ forbidden to come within ten Miles of her by order of Parliament, quarters now in the Bowels of her; they threaten to break her Percullies, Posts, and Chains, to make her previous upon all occasions; they have secured also the Tower, with Addition of Strength for themselves; besides a famine doth insensibly creep upon us, and the Mint is starved for want of Bullion; Trade, which was ever the Sinew of this Island, doth visibly decay, and the insurance of ships is risen from two to ten in the hundred; our Gold is engrossed in private hands, or gone beyond Sea to travel without License; and much I believe of it is returned to the Earth (whence it first came) to be buried where our descendants may chance to find it a thousand years hence, if the world lasts so long; so that the exchanging of white earth into red (I mean Silver into Gold) is now above six in the hundred; and all these, with many more, are the dismal effects and concomitants of a Civil War. ’Tis true, we have had many such black days in England in former Ages; but those paralleled to the present are as a Shadow of a Mountain compared to the Eclipse of the Moon.”

The weaker side always takes refuge in epigrams. I have before me a little book called Two Centuries of Paul’s Churchyard, which contains (1) a list of imaginary books, (2) questions for tender consciences. The following extracts will show the temper of the Royalists in London during the Civil War:—

“Σϵληναρχία. A discourse proving the World in the Moon is not governed by States because her Monthly Contributions do still decrease as much as increase, but Ours increase and never decrease.”

“Ecclesiasticus. A plain demonstration that Col. Pride (alias Bride) was Founder of St. Bride’s Church, and not found in the Porch, because the Porch was built before the Church, that is, not behind it.”

“Severall Readings on the Statute of Magna Charta by John Lylburn; with a Treatise of the best way of boiling Soap.”

“Domesday Book. A clear manifesto that more Roundheads go to heaven than Cavaliers, because Roundheads on their death-beds do repent of their former cause and opinions, but not Cavaliers.”

“An Act for expunging the word King, and inserting the word —— in all text of Scripture, beginning at Isa. xxx. 33. ‘Tophet is prepared for the ——’”

“An Act concerning the Thames, that whereas at Westminster it ebbs six hours and flows but four, it shall henceforth ebb four hours and flow six.”

“An Act for Canonizing those for Saints that die in the State’s service; who, since there are but two Worlds, ought at least to be honoured in one.”

“An Act commanding all malignants to use onely their surnames, their proper Names (with all other properties) being forfeit to the State.”

“That the Army ought to march but two abreast, since all creatures at Noah’s Ark went by Couples.”

“A Vindication of the Citizens of London, that as yet they want nothing but wit and honesty.”

“Whether that Text (they are all become abominable; there is none that doeth good, no not one) doth concern Committee men?”

“Whether we (as well as Seneca) may call a common woman Respublica?”

“Whether now more bodies and souls are saved when every man doth either practise Physick or preach.”

“Whether the Parliament had not cause to forbid Christmas when they found their printed Acts under so many Christmas Pies?”

“An Act for admitting Jews into England, with a short proviso for banishing the Cavaliers.”

“An Act of oblivion for malignants to forget that ever they had estates.”

“The humble petition of the City of London that those Citizens who can raise no Horse may raise a troop of Oxen.”

“Sepelire Mortuos. A List of those Scots who, dying in prison, were denied Christian Burial and (left in the Fields) were eaten by Hogs, which now makes Pork so cheap in London.”

“Whether it is not a horrible imprecation against the state to wish that every man might have his due.”

“Whether there now live more men or women in the Inns of Court?”

“Whether it is not clearly proved that there are Witches, since England hath been bewitched eleven years together?”

“Why Lucian makes Hell governed by a Committee?”

“Whether Major-General Harrison be bound to give no quarter because his Father is a Butcher?”

“Vox Populi, or the joynt opinion of the whole kingdom of England, That the Parliament is hell, because the torments of it are like to everlasting.”

“An Act for reforming divers texts of Scripture, as being of dangerous consequence and contrary to the very being of this present State, beginning at Rom. xiii., where it is said, ‘Let every soul be subject to the higher Power,’ which words are thus to be reformed, ‘Let every soul be subject to the Lower House.’”

“Whether when Colonel Pride goes to quarter with old Nick, the Proverb will not be verified, ‘Pride feels no cold’?”

Although the Royalists ventured to proclaim their opinions, though they openly wore ribbons or badges in their hats, they were not so strong as the Parliamentary party; they had to take their part in the fortification of the avenues and approaches to London, and they had to pay their share in the weekly tax of £10,000 imposed upon the City.

In “A True Relation of two Merchants of London who were taken prisoners by the Cavaliers and of the Misery they and the other Puritans endured”—a pamphlet of 1642—I think we have one of those documents, of which Napoleon so well understood the use, which were meant to stimulate enmity and provoke wrath. It is an interesting paper, but one remarks that the only cruelty endured by the two merchants was due to a smoky chimney; that they report various hangings, but they were not themselves hanged; and various slashings of ears, but they brought their own away with them; and, as is common in such documents, they report the evil case of the enemy and their resolution to destroy the City of London when they get in.

I take an extract from it as follows:—

“Warre hath seemed alwayes sweet to those who have been unexperienced with it, who, blinded with its flourish and its glory, observe not the tragicall events that doe attend it. Of all war the civill is most grievous, where all the obligations of friendship and nature lye cancelled in one another’s blood, and violated by their hands who should bee most carefull to preserve them. In civill warres there hath been no greater stickler than religion, whose innocent and sacred garment hath been too often traduced to palliate all dissolute and bloody acts, and (as if heaven suffered flatterers as well as Princes) religion and loyalty have been induced to beleeve they are protected most by those men who most dangerously and most closely doe oppose them, and who, while both are trampled on them by them, doe still cry out, For God and the King.

Every day brings in many sad demonstrations concerning this subject; the burning of houses, the pillaging of goods, the violating of all lawes, both divine and humane, have been arguments written in blood by too many swords. What I shall now relate concerning the sufferings of these two Gentlemen, who were taken by the Cavaliers, and what outrages they have performed in the time of their durance, will bee a compendious mixture of all distresses in one story, wherein I shall bee carefull to satisfie the reader with the manner of it, as myselfe with the truth, not doubting but it will find as much beliefe in the reader as it hath done compassion in the writer.

Two Citizens of London, Gentlemen of good repute and quality (who will be ready upon their oaths to give an attestation of what is here reported), travelling not many days towards Hartly Row, concerning some private occasions of their owne, were taken in their way at Hounsloe, at the sign of the Katharine Wheele, by a party of some fifty Cavaliers, who had then been forraging up and downe the County of Middlesex, to see what good booty and pillage they could bring.

PRINCE RUPERT (1619–1682)

These Gentlemen no sooner alighted, with an intent for an houre or two to refresh themselves, and bait their horses, but the Cavaliers had notice of it, who rudely and violently did breake into the Chamber wherein they were, and tooke them prisoners. From their Chambers they made haste downe into the Stable, and seized upon their horses, and inforced these captive Gentlemen to ride behinde two of them unto Eggham, to be examined there by Prince Robert. They found their journey, though short, extreamly troublesome, beeing never used to ride before without a saddle; and having such desperate companions on either Saddle before them to conduct them. Comming to Eggham they found Prince Robert in bed, his clothes being on; for he had made a vow that he would never undresse nor shifte himselfe till he had resetted King Charles in White Hall. In the examination it was laid to the charrge of one of these Gentlemen, that his wife was a Roundhead, and if they had her there present, they did sweare they would hang her. It was alledged against the other Gentleman, that hee was a Preacher in a Tub, which, being with much scornfull sport and vehemency prosecuted, at length they espied (having seldome seen in a preacher) a great branch of Ribbands in his hat; the Prince took the paines to look them over himselfe, and turned and tossed them up and downe, and not finding what he searched for, he swore there was none of the King’s favours there. The Gentleman replying that they were his Mistress’s, Prince Robert smiling, without giving any word at all, returned him his favours and his hat againe.

From thence they were committed to the Court of guard, and a Captain had a charge over them, who was a Frenchman; he placed them both together by the fireside, where the winde did drive all the smoke into their eyes. Though they were almost blinded and choaked with the smoake, which still in waving tumults did issue from the Chimney upon them, they durst not stirre, though to discharge the most earnest Offices of Nature, but had a guard set over them, who threatened and swore, God darne them, they would pistoll them.

That night Prince Robert was to march from Hounsloe, and either wanting guides in earnest, or their cruelty making mirth with these honest Gentlemen, they made their conducts, and following them with their pistols, they did sweare, that if they led them but a yard out of the way they immediately would shoot them.

It was a lamentable condition that these two Gentlemen were in; they were not well acquainted with the way, the smoke had almost blinded their eyes, the night was as darke as cold, which were both then in extreames, they saw their lives at the mercy of these mercilesse men; and to make their condition yet worse, there did arise a thick and sudden mist, which tooke from them the little knowledge of the way they had before; they were not suffered to eate or drinke one drop, though they offered to pay freely for it, and were ready to starve for cold and hunger, but were still pursued with reproachfull and contumelious words, as, Lead on, lead on, you Parliament dogges; if you lead us but one yard out of the way, we will hang you, wee will pistoll you both. The Army being come to the Rendezvous, they were driven before it with many other prisoners, being coupled in cords two by two.

That day the Army being to march towards London, with a resolution to take the Citie, they were left in bonds at the Rendezvous.

The King and Prince were then on Hounsloe Heath, and were marching towards Brainford;[2] they made full account (whatsoever is suggested to the contrary) to have surprized the Citie of London. Prince Robert put off his scarlet coat, which was very riche, and gave it to his man, and buckled on his armour, and put a gray coat over it, that he might not bee discovered; he talked long with the King, and often in his communication with his Majesty he scratched his head, and tore his haire, as if hee had been in some great discontent.

There was that day apprehended a Gentleman cloathed in Scarlet, and hanged in a with upon a tree, as it is conceived for speaking in honour of the Parliament, and no man suffered to cut him downe or cover his face, untill he had been made a publicke spectacle to the whole Army which was then marching by. This was done in the way betwixt Eggham and Staines.

Dr. Soame, vicar of Staines, having four or five daughters, in great jollity did ride up and downe the Army, and was very familiar with the Commanders, and it was thought some of those Commanders were as familiar with his daughters; for they did ride behinde some Captaines, who took them up on horsebacke, and being more mindfull of them than of their souldiers, shewed them the whole Army, as they marched by.

The Army being prevented, and their hopes frustrated for the surprizing of the Citie of London, they were driven back to their Rendezvous, where these two honest Gentlemen, after many solicitations for their release, procured at length some men to passe their words for their ransome; and after eight dayes imprisonment, finding a convenient opportunity for their escape, they stole away to Brainford, making so much haste, that when they came thither they had not one dry threed about them. The misery these two Gentlemen indured hath beene almost inexpressible; they were cudgelled by the Cavaliers, and drove with the other prisoners, like beasts before the Army; their eyes were tormented to see the slaughter and execution of their friends, their eares furred to heare the blasphemies of their enemies, their bellies were pinched with hunger, their whole bodies with cold, their understandings with the apprehension of some infamous death; for not an houre hardly passed away, wherein they were not threatened to be hanged. Whatsoever calamity the insolency of men could inflict, they indured, and doe believe the bondage under the Turk to be humanity and mercy compared to their slavery, who being now in the armes of safety, have drawne my sad pen from the relation of their sorrowes to touch a little on the tyranny of the Cavaliers, and on the extremities of those men who were fellow captives with them.

The poore people that were not able to pay ransomes, they did put into a pond stark naked, up to the knees in durt, in a cold night, and drove them the next morning before the Camp, the basest of the Army inveighing against them with most opprobrious language, calling them Round-headed Citizens, Parliament Rogues, and Parliament Dogges.

They took one in Thistleworth, an honest and religious man, who, because he said he was for the King and Parliament, they most inhumanely did cut off his eares and gave him besides 30 wounds in his body, and not content with this butchery, they threw him afterwards on the Dunghill with this most unchristian scoffe, ‘Let the dogs lick him.’

They took another in the same towne, who, flying from their fury, got into a house, and, having barred fast the gate, not long after he was inforced to open it to let in his wife, when the Cavaliers came violently rushing in after her, and, fastning a cord unto his feet, they dragged him about the streets; and weary of their cruelty, they said, ‘Why do we trouble ourselves any longer with this Dogge,’ and so discharging their pistols on him, they discharged him of his torments, and his life together.

They are very poore in cloathes, especially the foot, but are very full of money; wheresoever they come, they pay for nothing, yet make pillage of whatsoever they come at; and what they get in one towne at very easie rates, they doe sell in another, and doe inforce the inhabitants to buy their commodities and stolne goods of them, whether they will or no. There was a Captaine who offered to lend three hundred pound to any man upon good security, and that being lent forth, hee made no question, he said, but in a few days to be able to lend as much more.

The Cavaliers and all are driven unto such necessity, as they are constrained sometimes either to fast or to feed on carrion; they have killed Ewes great with lambe, and one Ewe that was great with two lambes. Whatsoever they cannot eat at any time, bee their diet never so good, they throw away; and whatsoever is left of their hay and provender (their horses many times feeding on good wheat, which they take from the owner), they fling away at their departure, alledging they will leave nothing behind them for the Parliament Roundheads.

They drinke and sweare extreamly, and although they lately were prevented in their designe upon the Citie of London, wherein they verily expected a great and strong party to assist them, they say, that ere it be long, they will returne to it againe, and are so confident either by stratagem or by strength to win it, that when anything comes crosse them, they will say, ‘No matter, ere it be long, London shall make amends for all.’”

CHAPTER IV
THE COMMONWEALTH

After the execution of the King, the Commons, by an Act, abolished Monarchy and erected a Commonwealth in its place. Orders were sent to the Mayor and Sheriffs requiring them to make proclamation accordingly. The Mayor, however, Reynardson, who had always shown Royalist leanings, refused to obey on the ground that he had already, in entering upon the various offices which he had held, taken so many oaths of loyalty that he could not, in conscience, obey. He was therefore committed to the Tower for two months, deprived of his Mayoralty, and fined £2000 for contempt. And the City was ordered to elect a new Mayor with all convenient speed.

The City obeyed; Alderman Atkins was chosen Mayor, and on the 30th of May the proclamation was duly made, but not without hooting and groaning from the crowd. Two Aldermen, Soames and Chambers, were not present. On being questioned at the Bar of the House, Soames said boldly that the proclamation was against his judgment and conscience; Chambers that his heart was not in the business. They were therefore degraded from their position and declared incapable of filling any City office for the future.

A day of public thanksgiving was then appointed, when the City invited the House of Commons to hear a sermon at Christ Church, Newgate, and afterwards to a noble entertainment at the Grocers’ Hall. The day after, the City presented Fairfax with a basin and ewer of gold, and Cromwell with a hundred pounds’ worth of plate and a purse of £200 in gold.

The exchange of presents and courtesies ended, for the time, with the presentation to the City, by the House of Commons, of Richmond Park.

On the 19th of September 1650 another day of thanksgiving was held for the victory of Dunbar, and another after the victory of Worcester.

Cromwell was received on his return to London by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs, who invited him to a Banquet.

CROMWELL DISSOLVING PARLIAMENT

From a Dutch satirical print in the British Museum.

On the forcible dissolution of the old Parliament, petitions were presented to Cromwell by the City for and against the reinstatement of the Parliament. Cromwell met them both by constituting a certain number of persons the “Supreme Authority.” The City, recognising this body, presented a petition in which they prayed:—

“1. That the precious Truths of the Gospel may be preserved in Purity; and the Dispensers thereof, being approved to be learned, godly, and void of Offence, may be sent forth to preach the Gospel. 2. That their settled Maintenance by Law might be confirmed, and their just Properties preserved. 3. That the Universities may be zealously countenanced and encouraged.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 421.)

HACKNEY COACHMAN

From a contemporary print published by John Overton.

The “Supreme Authority” surrendering its power, Cromwell was made Protector, a step which the City hastened to recognise by inviting him to dine at the Guildhall, and receiving him with all the honours of a sovereign.

On the discovery of a conspiracy against his person, Cromwell sent for the Mayor and Aldermen, and, after acquainting them with the nature of the plot, recommended to them the safety and peace of the City, giving them at the same time, in order to strengthen their hands, the entire control of the City Militia. He also sanctioned the revival of the Honourable Artillery Company.

As regards affairs municipal, Cromwell limited the number of hackney coachmen to two hundred, under the license of the Mayor and Corporation; and for the sake of the poor he allowed the entrance into the port, free of duty, of 4000 chaldrons of coals every year.

Cromwell also renewed the attempts of Elizabeth, James, and Charles to stop the erection of new buildings; all those persons who had built houses—except on four acres of ground—since 1620 were fined one year’s rent, and all those who should build after 1656 were to be fined £100. These successive Acts caused great vexation at the time, but as they were never enforced save at irregular intervals, the chief effect was to drive across the river into the Borough those of the craftsmen for whom there was no room in the City.

The Common Council proceeded to consider the allowances for the expenses of the Mayor and the Sheriffs; these were now fixed at £208:6s. a month for the former, and £150 a month for each of the latter.

A Committee was appointed “to manage and to let to farm a number of offices, including those of garbling, package, and scavage, metage of grain, coal, salt and fruit, as well as all fines, issues, amerciaments and estreated recognizances under the greenwax.”

The condition of the poor was taken in hand at this time very seriously. A project was started to raise money by establishing a post in Scotland and other parts of the country; but the House of Commons resolved that the office of postmaster in every part of the country is in the power and the disposal of the Parliament; the project, therefore, fell through; meantime the poor remained. It was decided to raise £4600 in order to find work for them; a storehouse was set apart for them in the Minories and the King’s Wardrobe, part of the Palace so-called, one court of which remained until recently—to be used as a workroom.

Walker & Cockerell.

OLIVER CROMWELL (1599–1658)

From a painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.

The weariness of civil war felt by the Londoners was further displayed in the autumn of 1650 when a contingent of recruits was marched from London to the North to join the army in Scotland. Half of them deserted by the way. In the following year the City remonstrated on the heavy taxation from which they suffered, stating that the City was assessed at a fifteenth part of the whole kingdom; that the foreign trade had suffered grievously from Prince Rupert’s piracies; that the wealthier citizens were withdrawing from London to the suburbs, and so evading taxation. The last clause is remarkable. The time had not yet come when the wealthier merchants desired to leave the City and to live outside; the practice shows simply that in this way they avoided taxation.

The battle of Worcester, September 3, 1651, put an end to the Civil War. A few days later the unhappy Scottish prisoners were marched through the City, ragged, barefoot, bareheaded, starving—a terrible spectacle. Meal was collected for them from house to house; they were taken to Tothill Fields in Westminster, where they lay in the open under rain and suffering from the cold winds of autumn. Twelve hundred of them died. The rest were sent away to the Gold Coast, whence none ever came back.

War with Holland broke out in 1652 and a subscription of £1071:9:5 for the wounded sailors and soldiers was raised in the City.

On December 16, 1653, the Lord Mayor carried the City Sword at the installation of Cromwell as Lord Protector. Two months later he dined with the Mayor and Corporation at Grocers’ Hall. This interchange of courtesies continued during the rest of Cromwell’s rule.

The connection of the City with the Protector offers very little of importance. When the proclamation was made, six weeks after the execution of the King, abolishing monarchy, the City made no protest either by its Common Council or by any popular movement. When a Commonwealth was proclaimed in May there were many refusals among the clergy and others to promise fidelity to the new order, but no remonstrance came from the City. When Cromwell dissolved the Rump “not a dog barked” either in the City or outside.

The Fifth Monarchy men, a small minority, gave some trouble in the City. They were fanatics of the deepest dye. They would have no King but Jesus Christ, and no Parliament but a Sanhedrin of Saints—meaning themselves.

Among all the sects which drove men mad perhaps the most mischievous was that of the “Fifth Monarchy” men. It was a sect whose adherents were principally found in London. At one time they were numerous enough to be important. They supported Cromwell’s Government at first in the faith that it would become the “Fifth Monarchy,” in succession, that is, to the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman. During the Fifth Monarchy, they thought, Christ would reign, with the saints, for a thousand years. Their leader was one Venner, a wine cooper, but among them were certain officers, as Major-General Harrison, Colonel Rich, and others. When the proposal that Cromwell should assume the title of King was first brought forward, the Fifth Monarchy men, being disappointed in their hopes and acknowledging no King but Christ, prepared for a rising; they were to meet at Mile End Green, where they expected to be joined by thousands from the country as well as from the City. They were arrested with arms in their hands and sent to the Tower, but none were executed. The man Venner gave more trouble afterwards. There were, however, signs of Royalist disaffection, rumours of proposed risings and the suppression of actual risings, both before and after Cromwell’s death, in which the apprentices of London were more or less implicated.

What followed Cromwell’s death belongs to the general history of the country. Lambert treated the Parliament with the greatest insolence and arrogance. Monk marched south, pretending to vindicate the rights of Parliament; the apprentices rose and rushed about the streets clamouring for a free Parliament; Colonel Heron with a company of soldiers fired upon them. The Aldermen exchanged explanations on the subject with the Committee of Safety. The Common Council petitioned Fleetwood for a Parliament as in 1642; the petition was returned. The City Remembrancer was sent to expostulate with Fleetwood, who finally promised a free Parliament. It is difficult to understand what else he could do; there was no second Cromwell; the City called out six regiments of its own militia, commanded by its officers nominated by the Common Council.

GENERAL MONK, FIRST DUKE OF ALBEMARLE (1608–1670)

After an engraving by David Loggan, 1661

If we inquire why a city which before the death of the King seemed Republican and Presbyterian through and through, should in ten years become in the same thorough manner Royalist and Episcopal; or, to put it more exactly, why the Republican majority became so unmistakably a Royalist majority, we shall find that many forces were at work in this direction.

First of all, though the governing body was both Republican and Presbyterian, there were numbers of citizens who had preserved their loyalty to the Crown, and many more who, for divers reasons, hated the Puritan rule. We have seen the petition of the women and that of the apprentices; we have seen the rioting and discontent at the prohibition of the old sports and the closing of the play-houses. There were also other causes; the Londoners were ready to go forth and fight a battle, but not to carry on a long war; further, they distrusted the standing army which had taken the place of the trained bands. Again, trade was depressed; many ships were taken by Prince Rupert off the Nore and in the narrow seas, and the whole City was kept in perpetual controversies and quarrels over points of doctrine. With a decaying trade, a city divided against itself, religious quarrels without religious peace, the young folk longing for the restoration of the old sports, every tavern full of discontented men, every church a brawling place, what wonder if, after ten years and more, the City suddenly turned round and cried for the King and the Church to come back again.

View of Gen^l Monks House in Grub Street.

Yet the events which followed Cromwell’s death and preceded the Restoration were very closely connected with the City of London. The domination of the City by the army deeply moved the people. The clamour for a Parliament prevailed; on the 29th of December 1659 the old Rump was recalled. It was not a full and a free Parliament. But such as it was, the House viewed with jealousy the repair of the City gates and the restoration of the chains, with the calling out of the City militia. The City, however, which had but one representative in the House, refused absolutely to pay or to levy any tax until there was full representation. Meantime Monk was advancing from the north. He entered London on the 3rd of February 1660, and was quartered at Whitehall. For the moment he either dissembled his real intentions or he was simply waiting.

A REDUCED FACSIMILE OF THE ORIGINAL BROADSIDE

[Go to transcription of text]

The Rump hastened its own fall. In consequence of the attitude of the Common Council it declared that body dissolved; it also ordered the gates and chains of the City to be removed, and troops to be quartered there in order to reduce the City to obedience.

Monk, in order to carry out these instructions, removed into the City, where he conferred with the Aldermen. They would do nothing; the Common Council being dissolved, there was no body which had the power of speaking for the City.

Monk met them again on the following day. He read them a letter which he had sent to the House. He demanded that writs for every seat should be ready for issue within a week.

Great was the joy of the City; bonfires were lighted; bells were set ringing, and the soldiers were feasted by the people.

The next day, being Sunday, Monk attended service at St. Paul’s.

On the 13th, Monday, he conferred with the Mayor and Aldermen in Drapers’ Hall.

On the 15th he informed the Mayor that he was about to return to Whitehall, but that he should take care of the safety of the City. However, he did not go back; he remained in the City.

Meantime his order about the writs had been obeyed; many of the old members were taking their places, including those ejected for various reasons. The order dissolving the Common Council was rescinded and the gates were allowed to be repaired. It does not appear that much damage had been done to them. The House also allowed the City to place its militia in the hands of Commissioners of its own choice. On March 16 the Parliament—the old Long Parliament which had done so much, suffered so much, and gone through so many vicissitudes—dissolved. Writs were issued for a new Parliament to meet on April 25. Meantime the Government was in the hands of the Council of State.

And now people began to talk openly and freely of the Restoration. One man boldly set a ladder against the wall of the Royal Exchange and brushed out the inscription, “Exit Tyrannus Regum Ultimus,” which had been set up in August 1650. The Skinners’ Company set up the Royal Arms once more in their Hall. The Common Council issued a Declaration in which they set forth their disavowal of many acts committed by themselves during the last twenty years on the ground that they were the work of “men of loose and dangerous” principles who had got into the Council “in the general deluge of disorder introduced into these kingdoms.” They also expressed satisfaction at the thought of an end having been put to the destructions of the country and of a return to the old order of King, Lords, and Commons.

This Declaration was scarcely issued before a letter came from Charles II. conveying his assurance that he had no thoughts of revenge, and promising the City the confirmation of its Charters. He also pledged himself to grant liberty of conscience in religion, to leave questions of title to land to Parliament, and he promised the soldiers their arrears of pay.

The new Parliament met on the 25th of April. Charles’s Declaration reached the House on the 1st of May. Parliament instantly sent to the City to borrow £100,000, which was cheerfully advanced, and half of it was at once sent over to the King. On the same day the City companies raised the sum of £10,000 for Charles, and £2000 to be divided between the Dukes of York and Gloucester. Sixteen commissioners were appointed to wait on Charles at the Hague in order to take over this Royal gift.

Charles was proclaimed on May the 18th.

CHAPTER V
THE RESTORATION

The welcome with which Charles was received amounted to frenzy. Bonfires were made all over the City; up went the maypoles again; the church bells rang; the mob paraded rumps of beef, which they afterwards roasted and devoured; they made everybody drink the health of the King upon their knees; they broke the windows of leading Puritans; they made Monk’s soldiers drunk. It was not only the King who had come to his own again; it was the return of merriment, feasting, dancing, singing, mumming, sports, music, laughing, the pride of the eye, the delight of the ear, the joy of the world, the careless, reckless, headlong happiness of youth in the things that belong to youth. The kingdom of God upon the earth had been attempted. Perhaps the Puritans mistook the nature of that kingdom; perhaps they were only wrong in believing that the time was ripe for the advent of that kingdom.

MOB AT TEMPLE BAR

From the Crace Collection in British Museum

But let us begin this reign with the words of those who looked on at the Restoration:—

“Mem. that Threadneedle Street was all day long and late at night crammed with multitudes crying out, ‘A free Parliament!—A free Parliament!’ that the air rang again with their noise. One day, he, coming out on horseback, they were so violent that he was almost afraid of himself, and so, to satisfy them (as they used to do to importunate children), said, ‘Pray be quiet, ye shall have a Free Parliament!’ This was about seven, or rather eight, as I remember, at night; immediately a loud halloa and shout was given, all the bells in the city ringing; and the whole city looked as if it had been in a flame by the bonfires, which were prodigiously great and frequent, and ran like a train over the city; and I saw some balconies that began to be kindled. They made little gibbets, and roasted rumps of mutton; nay, I saw some very good rumps of beef. Health to K. Charles II. was drunk in the streets, by the bonfires, even on their knees.”

And Pepys writes:—

“In Cheapside there were a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the churches as we went home, were ringing.” [Hence he went homeward, it being about ten at night.] “But the common joy that was everywhere to be seen; the number of bonfires!—there being fourteen between St. Dunstan’s and Temple Bar; and at Strand Bridge I could at one time tell thirty-one fires; in King Street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking for rumps; there being rumps tied upon sticks, and carried up and down. The butchers at the May-Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives, when they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill there was one turning the spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another basting of it. Indeed, it was past imagination both the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end of the street you would think there was a whole lane of fire and smoke, so hot that we were fain to keep on the other side.... Everybody now drinks the King’s health without any fear, whereas before it was very private that a man dare do it. Monk this day is feasted at Mercers’ Hall, and is invited, one after another, to all the twelve Halls in London. Many think that he is honest yet, and some or more think him to be a fool that would raise himself by endeavouring it.... This morning comes Mr. Edward Pickering; he tells me that the King will come in, but that Monk did resolve to have the doing of it himself or else to hinder it.”

When Parliament met all the members must have understood what was going to happen. On the 3rd of May, Sir John Greville presented to the House a letter from Charles. It was resolved that his promises were satisfactory and that the Government should be once more by King, Lords, and Commons. Six Commissioners representing the House of Lords, twelve for the House of Commons, and twenty for the City of London, were appointed; they were instructed to take over £50,000 for the King, £10,000 for the Duke of York, and £5000 for the Duke of Gloucester; the City Commissioners added a gift of £10,000 for the King.

“There was great joy in London,” Pepys states, “and at night more bonfires than ever, and ringing of bells, and drinking of the King’s health upon their knees in the streets, which methinks is a little too much.”

On the 26th of May 1660 the King landed at Dover; on the 29th he entered London. The cavalcade which did honour to the occasion was worthy of a mediæval riding.

“First marched a gallant troop of gentlemen in Cloth of Silver, brandishing their Swords, and led by Major-General Brown; then followed another troop of two hundred in velvet coats with footmen and liveries attending them in purple; then another troop, led by Alderman Robinson, in buff coats, with cloth of silver sleeves, and very rich green scarves; and after these a troop of about two hundred, with blue liveries laid with silver, with six trumpeters, and several footmen, in sea-green and silver; then a troop of two hundred and twenty, with thirty footmen in grey and silver liveries and four trumpeters richly habited. Then another troop of an hundred and five, with grey liveries and six trumpets; and another of seventy, with five trumpets. And then three troops more, two of three hundred, and one of one hundred, all gloriously habited and gallantly mounted. After these came two trumpets with his Majesty’s arms; the Sheriffs’ men in red cloaks, richly laced with silver to the number of fourscore, with half-pikes in their hands; then followed six hundred of the several companies of London on horseback, in black velvet coats with gold chains, each company having footmen in different liveries, with streamers, etc. After these came kettle-drums, and trumpets, with streamers, and after them twelve Ministers at the head of His Majesty’s Life Guards of Horse, commanded by the Lord Gerrard; next the City Marshall, with eight footmen in divers colours; with the City Waits and Officers in order; then the two Sheriffs, and all the Aldermen of London in their scarlet coats and rich trappings, with footmen in liveries, red coats laid with silver and cloth of gold; the Heralds and Maces in rich coats; then the Lord Mayor carrying the Sword, bare, with his Excellency (the General) and the Duke of Buckingham, bare also; and then, as the last to all this splendid triumph, rode the King himself between his royal brothers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester; then followed a troop of Horse with white colours; and after them the General’s Life-Guard led by Sir Philip Howard, and another Troop of Gentry; and last of all five regiments of the Army Horse, with Back, Breast, and Head-Pieces, which diversified the Shew with delight and terror.”

At the Coronation in April of the following year, the City, still in a fever of loyalty, raised four triumphal arches, and organised a procession as magnificent as that of the entry. After the Coronation was the Banquet, at which Pepys was so fortunate as to be a spectator:—

“A little while before the King had done all his ceremonies (in the Abbey) I went round to Westminster Hall all the way within rayles, with the ground covered with blue cloth, and scaffolds all the way. Into the Hall I got, where it was very fine with hangings and scaffolds one upon another, full of brave ladies. The King came in with his crowne on and his sceptre in his hand, under a canopy borne up by six silver staves carried by barons of the Cinque Ports, and little bells at every end. And after a long time he got to the farther end, and all set themselves down at their several tables.... I went from table to table to see the bishops and all others at their dinner. And at the lords’ table I met with William Howe, and he spoke to my lord for me, and he did give him four rabbits and a pullet, and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Minshell to give us some bread, and so we at a stall eat it as every one else did what they could get. I took a great deal of pleasure to go up and down and look upon the ladies, and to hear the musique of all sorts; but, above all, the twenty-four violins. About six at night they had dined. And strange it is to think that these two days have held up fair till now, that all is done, and the King gone out of the Hall, and then it fell a-raining and thundering and lightning as I have not seen it do for some years, which people did take great notice of. I observed little disorder, only the King’s footmen had got hold of the canopy and would keep it from the barons of the Cinque Ports, which they endeavoured to force from them again, but could not do it till my lord Duke of Albemarle caused it to be put into Sir R. Pye’s hand, till to-morrow, to be decided.”

The Fifth Monarchy men who have already been mentioned as rising against Cromwell were, on the reappearance of Charles, mad enough, or fanatical enough, to attempt a second rising, the history of which is curiously picturesque, and shows also the strange religious distractions of the time.

THE CORONATION OF CHARLES II. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, APRIL 23, 1661

From a contemporary print.

Between the King’s accession in May and the end of the year these fanatics seem to have done nothing. Many of their leaders, including Colonel Overton, Major Wild, Cornet Day, and others, were arrested on suspicion of dangerous symptoms. The Fifth Monarchy people had a meeting-house in Swan Alley, Coleman Street. Here on the sixth day of January 1661, the Sunday after the arrest of their leaders, they assembled in a state of mind approaching frenzy. What followed was madness pure and simple. Their preacher, Thomas Venner, the wine cooper, had acquired a competent fortune by his trade. He was believed to be a man of sense until his understanding was confused with enthusiasm. He, in common with his sect, looked on Charles as a usurper upon Christ’s dominion. On this particular Sunday his madness and the madness of his followers broke out. He assured them that the time of the Fifth Monarchy had arrived; that those who believed in it and expected it should be protected by Divine interference so that no weapon should hurt them, and not a hair should be touched among them all; but one should chase a thousand and that two should put ten thousand to flight; that the Reign of Jesus was beginning that day upon the earth. Filled with enthusiasm the people drew up a declaration called “A door of Hope opened,” in which they affirmed they would never sheath the sword till Babylon (meaning the Monarchy) became a hissing and a curse; till there would be left neither remnant, son, nor nephew; that when they had led captivity captive in England, they would go forth into France, Spain, and Germany; that they would rather die than take the oaths of supremacy and allegiance; that they would make no league with monarchists, but would rise up against the carnal, to possess the gate of the world; to bind their kings in chains and their nobles in fetters of iron.

CHARLES II. (1630–1685)

From an engraving by P. Vanderbanc.

When they had adopted this promising declaration they marched out in a body of sixty only, but well armed, down Cheapside to St. Paul’s Churchyard, shouting as they went for “King Jesus.” In St. Paul’s Churchyard they were accosted by a man who cried out for King Charles. Him they slew immediately. By this time the Mayor, Sir Richard Brown, heard of the tumult, and sent a company of the trained bands to suppress it. The number of the company thus sent out is not known, but they were not strong enough. Instead of suppressing the fanatics they were themselves totally routed and put to flight. The Fifth Monarchy men then marched through the City without opposition; they passed out at Bishopsgate; then, evidently not knowing what to do next, they crossed Moorfields, marched along Chiswell Street, and, turning south again, re-entered the City at Cripplegate. It would have been better for them had they dispersed and gone home for the night, satisfied with their triumph and now convinced of their invulnerability. Unfortunately they heard of a troop of horse waiting for them somewhere, and so retreated, killing a headborough on the way, to Beech Lane. Here they encountered some opposition which caused them to march north as far as the heights of Hampstead. They found shelter, such as it was, for the night in Ken Woods, which are still left exactly as they were then. In the morning—they must have been wretched after a winter night in the open and with no food—they were attacked by more troops and dispersed, some of them being taken prisoners and committed to the Gatehouse, Westminster.

Next day they rallied again and returned to London. This was the last day of the Rising. It was a day of sturdy and obstinate fighting. I do not know any other example where such a handful of men held out so long against such odds. Nor can one understand where the men got their ammunition. They fought on Sunday evening, Monday and Tuesday; they are described as firing in good order; where, then, did they procure their ammunition?

When they arrived once more in London they divided into two small parties; one of them marched towards Leadenhall, where they were followed by the trained bands which dispersed them. The other party, under Venner, marched on Haberdashers’ Hall in Maiden Lane, hoping to catch the Mayor. But he evaded them. They then repaired to Wood Street, presumably intending to go out again by Cripplegate; the Horse Guards now came upon the scene, and a fierce fight ensued, in which Venner was dangerously wounded and two of their preachers killed. They then retreated in good order; outside the gate they stationed ten men in an alehouse with instructions to hold it; seven of the ten were killed, a large number of the trained bands, and twenty of the rebels. Fourteen were taken; eleven were executed with the customary formalities; and here they made an end; probably no further search was attempted after the rest of the rioters. It was wiser not to ascertain how many of these fanatics there were and who they were. We hear, however, very little more of the Fifth Monarchy men. As for the poor fanatics, they affirmed to the last that if they had been deceived, the Lord Himself was their deceiver.

INCIDENTS IN THE REBELLION OF THE FIFTH MONARCHY MEN UNDER THOMAS VENNER, AND THE EXECUTION OF THEIR LEADERS

E. Gardner’s Collection.

On the 30th day of January 1661, the anniversary of King Charles’s execution, in the year following the Restoration, a remarkable procession took place through the streets of London to Tyburn. Horsemen led the way and brought up the rear; there were trumpets and drums; guards marched on either side; in the middle, one behind the other, on their sledges, sat Lord Munson, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Robert Wallop with ropes about their necks. The Act of Indemnity had spared their lives, but it had not spared them other penalties, and they went through the form of being drawn to execution. Arrived at Tyburn they were taken off the sledges and carried back to the Tower, there to pass the remainder of their days.

Three more of the regicides, Okey, Corbet, and Berkstead, who had escaped to Hanau in Germany, were decoyed by Sir George Downey, the King’s resident at the Hague. He treacherously assured Okey that he had no directions to look for him; whereupon all three left Hanau and repaired to Delft, where they were arrested and sent home for trial. They were of course convicted and executed. No more honourable and conscientious man than Corbet ever existed. The death of these three was followed by that of Sir Harry Vane. Neither Vane nor Lambert was among the judges of the King. The House of Lords wished, however, to exclude both from the Act of Indemnity; the House of Commons desired to include them. The Chancellor assuring them that their lives were safe, both Houses agreed in a petition to the King:—

“Your Majesty having declared your gracious pleasure to proceed only against the murderers of your royal Father, we, your Majesty’s most humble subjects, the Lords and Commons assembled, not finding Sir Henry Vane or Colonel Lambert to be of the number, are humble suitors to your Majesty that, if they shall be attainted, execution of their lives may be remitted.”

Charles broke his word and Vane was executed, showing to the last the firmness and courage which only a good conscience could give, this belongs to national history. He suffered on Tower Hill. His friends urged him after his sentence to make submission to the King. He replied:—

“If his Majesty does not think himself more concerned for his honour and word than I am for my life, I am very willing he should take it; and I declare that I value my life less in a good cause than the King does his promise.” (Clayton, ii. p. 164.)

Sir Harry Vane was a scholar of Oxford; he had travelled in France and stayed awhile in Geneva, where he had adopted the religious principles which ruled him through life. So much was he considered when quite young that the King entreated Laud to bring him to a more orthodox way of thinking. To avoid Laud’s frequent reproofs Vane went to America, where, at the age of four-and-twenty, he became Governor of Massachusetts Bay.

The Act of Indemnity excluded the late King’s judges and certain persons who had been active in procuring the King’s execution. The trials of the State prisoners under the exceptions of this Act took place at the Old Bailey. On October 11 they were all sentenced to death as traitors, with the customary barbarities. Major-General Harrison, the Rev. Hugh Peters, Mr. Thomas Scot, Mr. Gregory Clement, and Colonels Scroop (or Scrope), John Jones, Francis Hacker, and Daniel Axtell were sentenced. Most of them were executed at Charing Cross.

The case of Harrison was the most important. There is no doubt that he took an active part in bringing Charles to the block; yet he subsequently refused to assist Cromwell in his ambitions; he was imprisoned by Cromwell and deprived of his commission; on his release he retired to a private life, and refused to fly when the King returned. Brought before the Court, he made no attempt to deny the fact; on the contrary he gloried in it:—

“The act of which I stand accused was not a deed performed in a corner; the sound of it has gone forth to most nations; and, in the singular and marvellous conduct of it, has chiefly appeared the sovereign power of Heaven.... I have often, agitated by doubts, offered my addresses, with passionate tears, to the Divine Majesty, and earnestly sought for light and conviction. I still received assurances of a heavenly sanction, and returned from such devout supplications with tranquillity and satisfaction. These frequent illapses of the Divine Spirit I could not suspect to be interested illusions: since I was conscious that for no temporal advantage would I have offered injury to the poorest individual. All the allurements of ambition, all the terrors of imprisonment have not been able, during the usurpation of Cromwell, to shake my steady resolution or bend me to a compliance with that deceitful tyrant: and, when invited by him to sit on the right hand of the throne—when offered riches, splendour, and dominion, I have disdainfully rejected all temptations, and, neglecting the tears of my friends and family, have still, through every danger, held fast my principles and my integrity.”

He then refused to say more and submitted to the sentence of the Court. The scene of the execution was Charing Cross; the day, October the 14th, 1661. Evelyn met the carts carrying away the mangled quarters. “Oh!” he cried, “the miraculous providence of God!”

CHAPTER VI
THE REIGN

There is, perhaps, no time in the history of Great Britain of deeper interest and importance than that which witnessed the restoration and, later, the final expulsion of the Stuarts. We find the City at the outset weary of its Commonwealth, and longing for that security and order which are the best recommendations of a settled succession. And then the old business begins again. It seems as if the history of the last twenty years had been in vain, that the struggles and the victories had been forgotten.

I have here to recount only the part played by London between the years 1660 and 1688. Not, that is, the part played in London, otherwise we should have to consider nearly all the important events of the reign, which was passed almost entirely at Whitehall. In many cases it is difficult to decide between what belongs to London alone and what belongs to London and the country.

The execution of Venner and his men did not clear the City of dangerous elements. The Fifth Monarchy people and the Presbyterians exhorted each other to withstand the introduction of the Book of Common Prayer and the idolatry of the Court. Some of them refused to obey the law unless the spirit ordered them. The City was full of disbanded officers and men who were ready and anxious to take up arms again. The King complained that the night watch was unable to cope with these turbulent people, and ordered that only able men should be appointed, and that their watch should continue all night.

The Act of Uniformity of 1662 ordered every minister, if he would continue in his benefice, to assent to everything contained in the Book of Common Prayer. On Sunday, August 17, all the Presbyterians took leave of their congregations amid their tears and lamentations. Then persecution set in. It must be confessed that the language and action of some of the Nonconformists seemed to justify, in a certain measure, the rigours of the Government. For instance, the Baptists are said to have spoken openly of the King as the “Beast”; it was reported that Presbyterians and Baptists together were preparing to resist by force of arms; it must be remembered that these people represented the Roundheads of twenty years before. The Act of Uniformity, rigorously enforced, filled the prisons, made the Church of England hateful to the people, and drove hundreds away to America and to Holland.

In the same year an Act was passed for raising money for the paving of the streets of London by making every hackney coach—of which there were then four hundred—pay a tax of five pounds a year; every load of hay, sixpence; every load of straw, twopence. The Act provided especially for the paving of Hedge Lane (Whitcomb Street), from Petty France to St. James’s Palace, St. James’s Street, and Pall Mall. The paving was the old-fashioned round cobbles; before they were laid down the road was simply a trodden way, in the summer throwing up clouds of dust, in the winter knee-deep in mud. The Act further provided for the widening of certain ways and passages in the City. It is idle to ask if they were widened, because the Fire came a few years later and swept all away.

The King in the same year formally restored to the City their Irish estates, which the Parliament had long before restored.

On June 24, 1663, Charles granted the Inspeximus Charter.

Accounts of the Plague of 1665 and the Fire of 1666 will be found in other places (pp. 215, 240).

As soon as things were more settled after the Great Fire, the Corporation considered how best to avoid the recurrence of such a calamity. They divided the City into four divisions, each to be supplied with 800 buckets, 50 ladders, from 12 to 42 feet in length, 2 brazen hand-squirts to each parish, 24 pickaxe sledges, and 40 “shod” shovels. Each of the twelve great companies was to be provided with an engine, 30 buckets, 3 ladders, 6 pickaxe sledges, and 2 hand-squirts. The inferior companies were to have such a number of engines, etc., as should be fixed by the Court of Aldermen. The Aldermen who had passed the Shrievalty were to keep 24 buckets and 1 hand-squirt each in his house. Those who had not yet passed the Shrievalty, half that number of buckets. Fire-plugs were to be placed in the main water-pipes. The companies of carpenters, bricklayers, plasterers, painters, masons, smiths, plumbers, and paviours were to appoint for each company 2 master workmen, 4 journeymen, 8 apprentices, and 16 labourers, to be ready on an alarm to turn out. And lastly, all the workmen belonging to the several water-works, the sea coal meters, Blackwall Hall, Leadenhall, ticket, package, and other porters, were to attend the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs in such services. In other words, a fire brigade was established of several hundreds, with means of putting out fires amounting to about 1500 buckets and 300 hand-squirts. The weak point in this machinery was the difficulty of getting at the men when they were wanted, and the feeble nature of the hand-squirt.

The Fire produced confusion in ecclesiastical property, for the tithes which had been levied from house to house could no longer be collected owing to the changes of site, the substitution of a small house for a great house, or vice versâ. It was therefore resolved that each parish should be assessed at so much per annum in lieu of tithe, and that each house should be assessed at its share of this amount. Trouble afterwards arose in the working of this Act in consequence of houses standing empty.

The rebuilding of London was a great time for the passing of ordinances and regulations for the better preservation of order and cleanliness in the City. Thus the foot-passage, or way along the streets, was at this time ordered to be of flat or broad stone. The Fellowship of Carmen was ordered to send round carts for the collection of all waste stuff, which was to be conveyed to the nearest laystall.

The traffic in the streets was regulated. Carts had to stand along, not across, the street; brewers and others were not to use more than one horse, nothing was to be thrown into the streets, every householder had to keep his own part of the street clean, and things offensive were not to be carried about the streets before eleven o’clock at night.

The heavy losses caused first by the Plague, which stopped trade of all kinds and destroyed many thousands of craftsmen and servants, and next by the Fire, had reduced the City to a very low condition. No one will ever be able to estimate the losses of or consider the number of respectable families reduced to poverty, and plunged down into the lowest depths. A Committee, appointed by the Common Council to investigate the financial position of the City, had to recommend the abolition of certain offices and resolute retrenchment in many departments. Among other measures of economy the Committee recommended the abolition of their chronologer (see [p. 178]).

On June 10, 1667, the City, which was as yet only half-built, presented a most melancholy appearance. It had been devastated by plague, its people lay by thousands in the burial-grounds, it had been destroyed by fire, and now it seemed as if the last and crowning misery was to be inflicted upon it. Men’s hearts sank within them. They asked if their afflictions were laid upon them for their persecution of the Quakers and the Baptists, for their imprisonment of the saints, for the idolatries of the Court, and the corruption of the times. For it was known on that day that the Dutch had sailed up the Medway and burned the English men-of-war which were lying there, either without a crew or with half their company discharged. For defence—an ignoble defence—ships were sunk in the bed of the Thames at Barking, Woolwich, and Blackwall. Every able-bodied man in the City was called out. Had the Dutch continued, they must have been able to take the City. Luckily they did not continue, and the Treaty of Breda put an end to hostilities.

The City at this time returned to the mediæval use of passing long and intricate regulations for the better management of the markets. The most noteworthy provisions were two: that the Market Bell should ring at six every morning, at which the market was to open for housekeepers only and such as bought for their own use; at ten the bell was to ring again, at which time retailers and those who bought to sell again should be allowed to enter.

Was the Temple within the City and its Liberties or not? The question was answered in a practical manner by the Lord Mayor in March 1669, when, with the Aldermen, he went to dine with the Reader of the Inner Temple. He claimed that it was within his jurisdiction, and ordered his sword-bearer to precede him carrying the sword up. The students, as sticklers for the honour of the Temple, came out and ordered him to lower the sword; they tried to snatch the sword away; they hustled the marshal’s men and compelled the Mayor and Aldermen to take refuge in the chambers of the Auditor Phillips while the Recorder and Sheriffs hastened to Whitehall in order to lay the matter before the King. It is not stated what message was sent by the King, but when the Sheriffs came back and the Mayor attempted to get away there was another fight, and the Aldermen were treated with the greatest disrespect. They again retreated to the Chambers and again sent to the King. When the Sheriffs returned, however, the students had gone to dinner and the unfortunate civic procession was enabled to get out in an extremely undignified manner.

In 1670 an Act of Parliament was passed suppressing conventicles. The Act was carried out with great rigour; but the meeting-houses were handed over to the Church of England to be used as churches until the parish churches themselves should be rebuilt.

The attempted robbery of the Tower by Blood in 1671 may be mentioned on account of the extraordinary interest excited everywhere by the audacity of the crime. Otherwise it belongs to the history of the country rather than to that of the City. There was whispering on Change, murmurs and rumblings of discontent when it became known that the man had not only received the King’s pardon, but also the King’s favour and a grant of land. But, in fact, during the whole of this reign, in which the King was encroaching as much as he dared, having learned nothing from his father’s fate, and the City was defending her liberties now feebly, now strongly, the air was filled with murmurs of discontent and with whispers of approaching rebellion. It was as if an impending earthquake announced its coming by subterranean rumblings. How much the King heard and understood, how far he was prepared, if necessary, for a new appeal to the sword, it is for the historian of the country to investigate.

As a means of compensating those loyal and necessitous officers who had suffered for their adherence to the Royalist cause, Charles granted them one or more plate lotteries. Thus he presented the officers with certain plate as a gift from the Crown; they were authorised to put it up in lottery by tickets which were sold for the purpose. Thus, if the plate was worth, say £1000, tickets to the value of £3000 were issued, ensuring a large profit to the proprietor if all the tickets were sold.

We have now to consider the treatment of London by the King during the latter part of his reign. One may ask with amazement how the City, which had deposed Richard the Second for acts not nearly so arbitrary as those of Charles the Second, which had driven Charles the First from the throne for attempts far less despotic, could sit down in submission, nay, almost without a protest, under tyrannies and encroachments which indicated the determination to recognise neither liberty nor privilege.

The bankers of the Middle Ages were the great merchants, the merchant adventurers. Whittington held money for the landowners, advanced money on the security of land, and in nearly all respects carried on the business of a private bank. The merchant adventurers, who were mostly mercers, were succeeded by the goldsmiths, who were private bankers, kept the money of their customers—“running cash”—gave them cheques under the name of “goldsmiths’ notes,” received money on deposit account and gave interest for it; they made their own profits by lending it out at higher interest. The customers were allowed 6 per cent at twenty days’ sale and 3-1/2 per cent for money on demand. The bankers took assignments of the public revenue for payment of principal and interest as it came in.

Of these bankers the most important was Edward Blackwell. He was the King’s intermediary in many important transactions. The pay of the troops in Dunkirk passed through his hands; he went to France on business for the King; he advanced money to the King, who owed him in 1672 more than a quarter of a million. There were nearly forty goldsmiths and bankers in Lombard Street. The money these bankers had lent to the Exchequer on security of the public revenue amounted to £1,300,000. In the year 1671 Charles wanted money. He was about to enter upon the war with Holland. Parliament was prorogued; he would always get money, if he could, without going to the House for it. In this case he listened to the advice of Clifford and took a step, the nature of which, one would hope, he did not comprehend. He resolved upon closing the Exchequer. The meaning of this step is perhaps not at once intelligible. It means that the repayments due to those who had lent money to the Exchequer were withheld, and it means that the interest due on these loans was refused payment. Imagine, if you can, the consternation and the despair which would be spread around if the interest on Bank of England Stock, or the London County Council Debt, or any other large security were to be suddenly stopped at the present day! Charles laid his hands on the whole amount. He took it. He promised to resume payment within a year, with interest. He took this money. And yet the City did not rise! Blackwell, with all the goldsmiths in Lombard Street, was ruined. Those rich bankers who had placed all their money in the King’s hands were utterly ruined; so were the lesser folk, the hundreds of people who had entrusted their money to the bankers of Lombard Street.

Not even Henry the Third, not even Richard the Second, ever inflicted such a blow as this upon the City. In money of our day, and considering the poverty of the City, it represents at least £6,000,000—nay, more, because the interest was then more than double that of the present day, say £8,000,000. Imagine the rage and consternation were such a blow to be delivered at the Bank of England! Imagine the consternation if there were to be no interest on a great part of the National Debt for a whole year! Nay, the blow was far greater, because London two hundred years ago was far, far less wealthy than at present, not only actually, but in proportion to its population. Looking on London only as a trading community it is quite certain that such a blow could never be forgiven. When the opportunity should arise it would be remembered. It was not his religion only that drove James from Whitehall, it was the memory of this act of confiscation and the other acts of oppression which followed.

The absence of resistance is at first sight most remarkable. I can only account for this fact on the theory that the poverty of the City and its weakness were much greater than is generally supposed. The Plague, which swept away many thousands of bread-winners, left behind it many thousands of penniless orphans. The Fire, which spared the lives of the people, destroyed all they owned in the world: house, furniture, stock in trade, tools, everything. The long civil wars had helped to impoverish the City; the Dutch War was calamitous; in other words, the City for many years had been living on its capital, and now this was coming to an end. Again, the religious dissensions of the City contributed to its weakness. It was the influence of the Church of England which brought back the King; it was therefore with an ill grace that they complained of the Royal exactions. The Church of England had joined in persecuting the Nonconformists just as, in the fifties, the Independents and the Presbyterians had joined in persecuting the Anglicans. Moreover, from many a pulpit in the City, day after day, the doctrine—the monstrous suicidal doctrine—of passive obedience was preached. The “Judgment and Decree” of Oxford, issued a few years later, was already on the lips of the High Church preachers. It declared to be “false, seditious, and impious, even heretical and blasphemous,” to hold that “authority is derived from the people; that if lawful governors become tyrants, they forfeit their right of governing; that the King hath but a co-ordinate right with the other two estates, the Lords and the Commons, etc.,” and that passive obedience is “the badge and character of the Church of England.”

The secret of the submission of the City under so many blows was therefore (1) its poverty, (2) its internal dissensions, (3) the doctrine of passive obedience inculcated by so many of the clergy. Perhaps there was still some memory among middle-aged men of the sour austerities enforced during the Commonwealth.

Many of the natural leaders of the City, those of the merchants who were still in good circumstances, had withdrawn from the scene of certain strife and possible disaster; they had taken houses in the suburbs, especially those on the north and the east of the town. One result was that their houses stood unoccupied. At this time we begin to find the suburbs becoming the place of residence for City merchants; at first the favourite quarters were in and about Stepney. Many substantial houses were built in the midst of large gardens at Mile End, Hoxton, Hackney, Ratcliffe, and Norton Folgate.

In February 1674 the general complaints about trade were so loud that an attempt was made to seek redress from the Parliament. A petition, setting forth the miserable condition of the City, was drawn up and presented on February 23. Nothing was done, however, and on the 24th the House was prorogued.

In the year 1675 compliments and presents passed between the King and the City, noticeable only as showing the apparently unabated loyalty of the City, and in 1677 the City offered a magnificent entertainment to the King and Queen, the Duke of York, the Princesses Mary and Anne, and the Prince of Orange, to celebrate the betrothal of the Princess Mary.

After the regulation of the Provision Markets the Common Council turned their attention to the Cloth Market and produced a set of regulations which, one may confidently assume, could never have been mastered by the honest vendors of cloth. They may be found set forth at length in Maitland’s History.

Then followed one of those dreary disputes which can hardly be read with patience. It was the old question whether the Court of Aldermen had the power to veto the decisions and orders of the Common Council. How was it ended? I quote the words of Sharpe (London and the Kingdom, ii. p. 454):—

“One result of the contretemps which had occurred in the Court of Common Council of the 12th March was that the Court of Aldermen resolved to retain certain counsel to advise them as occasion should arise on the question of their rights and privileges, and to create a fund by subscription among themselves to meet the necessary expenses.

In April the Town Clerk and the Four Clerks of the outer court (i.e. mayor’s court) were instructed to search the books and records of the city on the question whether or not it was the province of the lord mayor (1) to direct and put the question in the Common Council, (2) to name committees, and (3) to nominate persons to be put in election to any office. This last point especially affected the right claimed by the Mayor to nominate (if not to elect) one of the sheriffs by virtue of his prerogative—a claim which had already been more than once canvassed, and which was destined shortly to bring the City and the Crown into violent opposition.

On the 7th September 1675 the Court of Aldermen directed that the opinion of counsel should be taken on the power of the mayor and aldermen to put their veto on matters passed by the Common Council. After the lapse of fifteen months the opinions of Sir William Jones, the attorney-general, Sir Francis Winnington, solicitor-general, Sir John Maynard and Sir Francis Pemberton, sergeants-at-law, and of ‘Mr. William Steele’ (not a former Recorder of that name as some have supposed) were presented to the court (5th Dec. 1676); and with the exception of the last mentioned, all the lawyers declared in favour of the mayor and aldermen. There the matter was allowed to rest for a year or more until in February 1678 the opinions of Sir William Dolben, not long since appointed the city’s Recorder, and of Jeffreys, the Common Sergeant, who was destined in a few months to succeed Dolben on the latter’s promotion to the bench, were taken and found to coincide with the opinions already delivered with the exception of that of William Steele.”

Hungerford Market, near York Buildings, Strand.
Built by Sir Edward Hungerford, created Knight of the Bath at the Coronation of King Charles the Second

From a contemporary print.

On the termination of the French war, Charles asked the City to lend him another £200,000. The City consented amid gloomy forebodings. What did the King want with the money? What was he going to do with it? Would he introduce foreign troops and so destroy the liberties of the people? It is a singular illustration of the affection which the City is said to have always entertained for Charles that these things should have been whispered about. It was not affection, it was fear. This Prince, whom we suppose to have been always under the influence of women, always wallowing in pleasure, had proved himself a strong man and a crafty man; he showed when he seized that money, not only his own strength, but also the weakness of the City. He did what he pleased with them, and he continued to do what he pleased with them as long as he lived. In one point, however, Charles was powerless; he could not abolish the national hatred and suspicion of the Catholics. The Popish Plot, invented by Titus Oates, drove the City into a state of panic meaningless and causeless. Sir Edmondbury Godfrey was found dead on Primrose Hill the day after he had received the deposition of Titus Oates. Murdered by the Papists of course! Why, then, did they not murder Titus Oates himself? No one felt safe. The City gates were closed, the streets were protected by post and chains, the City was in a state of siege, with no enemy in sight or existence.

In the year 1679 the King was attacked by fever, and for some time was believed to be in danger. The City realised, then, at least, that his successor was a Catholic. Therefore when Charles recovered, the joybells and the bonfires represented much more than a common and perfunctory rejoicing. The King recovered, and made haste to show the true nature of his sentiments towards the City. He was very much annoyed by the presentation of a number of petitions from all parts of the country, including London, in favour of calling a Parliament. He went so far as to prohibit (December 1672) “tumultuous petitions,” the adjective meaning petitions such as might lead to civil war. Notwithstanding this prohibition the City of London dared to present another petition urging his Majesty “for the preservation of his royal person and government, and the Protestant religion, he would graciously please to order that parliament, his Great Council, might assemble and sit to take measures against the machinations of Rome.”

When, in November 1680, the House did meet, the City sent up another petition. They urged the King to lend an ear to the advice tendered by the House for his own safety and the preservation of the Protestant religion; “they promised to be ready at all times to promote his Majesty’s ease and prosperity, and to stand by him against all dangers and hazards whatsoever.”

The deputation which presented the petition were bluntly told to go home and mind their own business.

Six months later the City presented another petition expressing surprise at the prorogation of the House, “whereby the prosecution of the public justice of the kingdom has received an interruption,” and prayed that the House might resume its sessions on the day to which it had been prorogued as being “the only means to quiet the minds and extinguish the fears of your Protestant subjects.” The King’s answer was the dissolution of Parliament, and the announcement that he would call another for March 1 to sit at Oxford.

The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinalls, Jesuits, Fryers, etc: through y^e City of London, November y^e 17^th 1679

From the Crace Collection, British Museum.

All this anxiety meant that the Duke of York was not to succeed if he could be kept out. And Charles, for his part, was not going to take any steps to prevent the succession of his brother.

There were, however, other instruments at work to keep up the anti-Papal feeling. Chief among these was the King’s Head Club. The King’s Head Tavern stood over against the Inner Temple. The members of the Club were at first Lord Shaftesbury’s friends, but others, especially young men of good family, were admitted. In order to be known by each other they wore a green ribbon in their hats. Their principal discourse turned upon the perils of Popery. The true purpose of the founders was to foster the anti-Catholic spirit, and to keep it alive and strong enough to prevent the succession of James. Among other things, for instance, they got up processions, in which the Pope was carried in effigy with two or three devils to decorate his chair. In the end Pope, devils, and all were tumbled into the bonfire.

The Oxford House of Commons lasted a week only. The City presented another address of remonstrance. For a second time they were told to mind their own business.

When a really clever thing is done in the name of the King he always gets the credit of the cleverness. The reduction of the City into a collection of men and women without rights, liberties, or government, other than what the King might grant and allow, was a piece of work which reflects the highest credit on whoever devised it, designed it, or carried it out.

The last years of Charles’s reign were occupied in a determined and a successful effort to reduce the Corporation to submission and to make it, so to speak, a pocket borough. In these efforts he completely succeeded. Where the first Charles had failed, the second Charles succeeded.

The petitions of the Corporation were counterbalanced by others from the Borough of Southwark, from the Lieutenancy of London, and from 20,000 ’prentices to the opposite effect.

The last of these petitions gave the greatest pleasure to the Court. The loyal ’prentices were rewarded with a splendid banquet given to them in the Merchant Taylors’ Hall. The Duke of Grafton, the Earl of Mulgrave, Lord Hyde, and Sir Joseph Williamson acted as stewards, and 1500 tickets were given away among those who had signed the petition. The tickets contained the following invitation: “You are invited, and desired, by the Right Honourable and others of the stewards, elected at a meeting of the loyal young men and addressers, July 28, 1682, to take a dinner (together with other loyal young freemen and apprentices of the City of London) at Merchant Taylors’ Hall, on Wednesday the 9th of this instant August, at 12 o’clock.” The King himself, to grace the board, sent a brace of “very good bucks.” They were carried into the City upright in a cart, stuck with boughs. Three thousand sat down to this entertainment.

Charles, in fact, discovered with joy that there were two parties in the City, and that the loyal party was apparently of strength nearly equal to the “country” party He resolved, therefore, so to manage the conduct of the City as to bring the election of all the officers into the hands of the Royalists—that is to say, into his own hands. The contest began with the election of the Sheriffs.

There had been many attempts made from the commencement of the fourteenth century to take away the election of the Sheriffs from the Commonalty. But in 1347 the Mayor obtained the right, or took the right, of nominating and electing one of the Sheriffs, while the Commonalty elected the other. For 300 years this right was exercised, either without opposition or with faint grumblings.

The Lord Mayor continued to exercise this right for 300 years. In the year 1641, when everything began to be questioned, the Commonalty protested against this custom. The question was referred by the King to the House of Lords, who refused to settle it, ordering that for that year the Mayor’s nominee should be chosen by the Commonalty, without prejudice to the Mayor’s right in the matter.

Here, then, was established a very pretty ground of quarrel. For the next nine years the Mayor continued to nominate and the Commonalty continued to protest. Then for the following nine years the Mayor abandoned his privilege. But it still remained open for him to claim it and to exercise it. In fact, in 1662 he did both. The Commonalty protested but elected his man. For seven years after this the Mayor continued to exercise his right. In 1674, however, the Common Council appointed a Committee to investigate the case. The Mayor drank, as usual, to the man whom he chose. The Committee recommended an Act of Common Council to settle the question. No such Act was passed.

In 1680 the question proceeded to the acute stage. It was just before the discovery by Charles of the strong Court party in the City.

The Mayor nominated one Hockenhall, who refused to serve, and paid his fine. The Commons therefore elected Slingsby Bethel and Henry Cornish, both men of the Puritan party, and the former a strong republican and an enemy to everything that looked like feasting and joy. The nominees of the Court party who suffered defeat were Box and Nicholson. Cornish refused, for instance, to give the customary dinner to the Aldermen. He was regarded with great aversion by the Court party for his republican tendencies.

In the following year the two Sheriffs, Pilkington and Shute, were of the same party and were elected against the same Court nominees as in the previous year. The King, when the Recorder and the two Sheriffs waited upon him, expressed in the presence of the latter the fact that they were personally unwelcome to him.

One would think that the Common Council had had enough rebuffs over their petitions. But they drew up another, which they presented to the King, with the same result as before.

In September 1681 the Court party got a Mayor of their own, one Sir John Moore. It was their first success. The King expressed his satisfaction at the election of so loyal and worthy a magistrate. And, in order to mark his sense of the late elections of Sheriffs, he issued, in January 1682, a writ calling upon the citizens to show by what warrant they claimed their liberties and franchises:—

“These were (1) the right to be of themselves a body corporate and politic, by the name of mayor, commonalty and citizens of the city of London, (2) the right to have sheriffs of the city and county of London and county of Middlesex, and to name, elect, make and constitute them, and (3) the right of the mayor and aldermen of the city to be justices of the peace and hold Sessions of the Peace” (Sharpe, ii. 477).

The City received the writ much as their ancestors had received notice of an Iter. It was troublesome, but it was lawyers’ work. They were not afraid of having exercised any usurpation of rights; let the lawyers deal with it. The lawyers, therefore, took it in hand for a time, and while they prepared the case, matters rested.

LORD MAYOR AND ALDERMEN

From Pennant’s London, in British Museum.

Meantime the people of the City were ranged definitely into two factions; on the one side were those who stood for rights and liberties; for toleration of religion—it was notorious that they would have no toleration while they were in power—and for Parliamentary government. This party contained the better class of citizens, the merchants, the responsible citizens, and the whole of the Nonconformists. The other party, which remembered the severe times when the theatres were closed and dancing and singing were criminal offences, contained the most of the clergy of the Church of England, all the Catholics, all those who were connected with the old Royalist families, and that powerful body, the ’prentices of London.

The former party was under the leadership of Pilkington; the latter under that of the Lord Mayor.

The shrievalty of Pilkington was terminated in an extremely disagreeable manner by the Duke of York bringing an action against him for libel. The Sheriff was accused of saying that the Duke had burned down the City and was going to cut the throats of the citizens. The Duke had little cause to be friendly with the City, where his portrait had been cut and hacked, and where such things were openly said about him. At the same time it was a vindictive action, and one which he did not dare to have tried in a City court. He removed it, one knows not by what authority, to the county of Hertford, where it was heard by a packed jury. It is quite uncertain whether Pilkington uttered the words attributed to him. Alderman Sir Henry Tulse and Sir William Hooker swore that he did say these words. Sir Patience Ward swore that if the words were said, it was before Pilkington’s arrival on the scene. However, there was no hesitation on the part of the jury. They found for the plaintiff with £100,000 damages.

The name of Pilkington belongs to two or three Protestant champions of a somewhat earlier time. Thomas Pilkington, born about 1620, the son of a country gentleman of good family, like so many London citizens, was probably related to, or descended from, James Pilkington, Bishop of Durham, Leonard Pilkington, Master of St. John’s, Cambridge, and Richard Pilkington, Archdeacon of Leicester; all these were controversialists in their generation. Thomas Pilkington, therefore, had Protestantism in his blood. He was Master of the Skinners’ Company, one of the City members, Alderman of Farringdon Without, and, as we have seen, Sheriff in 1681.

He was a marked man at Court; not only did he never disguise his principles, but entertained at his house Shaftesbury, Essex, and other leaders of the Whig party.

On hearing the result of the libel case he made no effort to escape but quietly surrendered to the bail, was committed to prison, and resigned his aldermanry, to which Sheriff North succeeded. He remained in prison four years, when the King released him. Sir Patience Ward, for giving evidence in his favour, was proceeded against for perjury and found guilty. Like Lord Shaftesbury he took refuge in Holland.

To complete the history of Pilkington. When the opportunity arrived he did his best to send James on his travels and to welcome William; he was reinstated in his office of Alderman; he was three times Lord Mayor, and at his first installation banquet he entertained the King and Queen.

Before the trial which condemned him, Pilkington had to take his part in the election of the new Sheriffs, June 24, 1682.

It was not to be thought that the Lord Mayor would neglect his opportunity of securing one of the Sheriffs for his own side. He therefore drank to one Dudley North, and issued a precept to the companies to meet for the purpose of informing his nominee and electing another Sheriff. The following is his letter (Maitland, i. p. 474):—

“By the Mayor.

“These are to require you, That on Midsummer-Day next, being the Day appointed as well for Confirmation of the Person WHO HATH BEEN BY ME CHOSEN, according to the ancient Custom and Constitution of this City, to be one of the Sheriffs of this City and County of Middlesex for the Year ensuing, as for the Election of the other of the said Sheriffs, and other officers, you cause the Livery of your Company to meet together at your common Hall early in the Morning, and from thence to come together decently and orderly in their Gowns to Guildhall, there to make the said Confirmation and Election. Given the Nineteenth of June, 1682.

John Moor.”

On Midsummer Day, we read, the Liverymen assembled in the Guildhall in great numbers. When the Mayor and Aldermen were arrived upon the Hustings, the Common Crier made proclamation: “You Gentlemen of the Livery of London, attend your Confirmation;” upon which there arose a tumult of voices crying, “No Confirmation! No Confirmation!” and so continued for half an hour. The Recorder at last procured silence and made a speech upon their privileges. The Lord Mayor and Aldermen then withdrew, and the Common Serjeant offered to speak amid cries of “Election! Election! To the Day’s Work!”

The question of confirmation was shelved, and there were put in nomination for Sheriffs, Dudley North and Ralph Box, of the Court side, and Thomas Papillon and John Dubois, of the other side.

On a show of hands the two latter had an enormous majority. But a poll was demanded. It was noticed that a great many persons were present who had no right of entry, not being citizens; they carried swords and insulted the Liverymen and endeavoured to make a disturbance. In this they were unsuccessful. About seven in the evening the Lord Mayor came to the Hall and ordered all to depart till three days later. But the Sheriffs took no notice of this order and continued the Poll, hoping to finish that day. At nine o’clock, there being three or four thousand people in the Guildhall, the Sheriff closed for the day, and adjourned the Poll till the Tuesday following (it was then Saturday).

So the Sheriffs went home, followed by crowds crying out “God bless the Protestant Sheriffs! God bless Papillon and Dubois!” This was construed into a riot, for which the Sheriffs Pilkington and Shute were committed to the Tower, but immediately afterwards admitted to bail. On the 1st of July they met at Common Hall, and refusing to obey the order of the Lord Mayor to adjourn the meeting, declared Papillon and Dubois duly elected Sheriffs.

Had the Sheriffs the right to ignore the Mayor’s orders? That remained to be proved. Meantime on the 7th the Mayor repaired to the Guildhall to carry on the Poll, taking no notice of the Sheriffs’ proceedings. There was a dispute, naturally, and the Mayor adjourned the Hall until the 11th.

The matter was laid before the King, who decided that a new election should take place. Sharpe gives two versions of what took place at this new election.

According to the official account, Dudley North was duly confirmed and gave his consent to take office. On taking votes for the other three, Papillon had 60 voices, Dubois 60, and Box 1244. Therefore Box was elected.

According to a tract of the time, a separate poll was opened on the same day by the Sheriffs; all four candidates were submitted to the Hall. Only 107 voted for the confirmation of North, and 2414 against it. After the declaration of this result the Mayor caused the reading of the other, which caused so great an uproar that the Mayor and Aldermen left the Hall, and the Sheriffs declared Papillon and Dubois duly elected.

Then petitions were drawn up, praying that as Papillon and Dubois had been duly elected, the Court would call them; also that a caveat should be entered against North and Box being admitted. The Mayor returned an evasive answer. The huge majority in favour of Box at the Mayor’s poll is explained by a remark of Maitland, that nobody voted for Papillon and Dubois because they had already carried them at the Sheriffs’ poll.

Box at this point retired, paying the fine. The Mayor therefore ordered another Common Hall for the election of his successor, and put forward one Peter Rich. There was a great tumult in the Hall. The people shouted for their own men, Papillon and Dubois; the Mayor, going through the ceremony in dumb show, declared Rich duly elected. He then dissolved the Common Hall and went home. Then the Sheriffs proceeded to open the Poll, and found 2082 votes in favour of their former choice, and only 35 for Rich.

The Sheriffs—who were still Pilkington and Shute—proclaimed the result of the Poll, and the election of Papillon and Dubois.

Then the Mayor and some of the Aldermen went to Whitehall and informed the King what had happened. The Sheriffs were summoned before the Council. They were ordered to enter in their own recognizances for £1000.

Two days afterwards Rich and North were sworn in as Sheriffs, the Guildhall being guarded by the trained bands. It was ominous of the feeling in the City that the Mercers’ Company, to which North belonged, refused to pay him the common compliment of going with him to the Guildhall on entering upon office.

So far the Court had won. They now had the Lord Mayor and the Sheriffs; the next thing was to secure the successor to the Mayoralty.

This was done, apparently, by making a false return of the votes. Four Aldermen were put up. The Poll placed first and second on the list Gold and Cornish, both belonging to the popular side. A scrutiny was made by the Court of Aldermen (October 24) that maintained this result, but the Mayor, on the 25th, brought in a result which put Pritchard, a man of the Court party, at the head of the list. It is true that the first difference between Gold and Pritchard was only 56, so that a very little manipulation was required.

In order to obtain a Royalist Common Council, Charles ordered that none should be elected who had not conformed to the Corporation Act.

In February 1683 the hearing of the Quo Warranto case came on. The points at issue have already been detailed. The pleadings in the case may be found in Maitland.

The following judgment was pronounced by Mr. Justice Jones on June 12:—

“That a city might forfeit its Charter; that the Malversations of the Common Council were the Acts of the whole City; and that the two Points set forth in the Pleadings were just grounds for the forfeiting of a Charter. Upon which Premises the proper Conclusion seemed to be, That therefore the City of London had forfeited their Charter.”

The Attorney-General moved that the judgment might not be recorded. After this judgment the City was greatly astonished and perplexed. The popular party wanted to enter the judgment and to leave the King to do what he pleased. The Court party were for absolute surrender of their liberties and submission to the King. Maitland gives in full a paper which was circulated at that time, showing what would be lost if the City surrendered its Charter:—

“There being so great a Murmur, and so much discourse, that the Charter of this City of London is to be made forfeit, or else surrendered by a Common Council, ’tis fit for every member of this City to understand, that the Meaning or Intent of such a Forfeiture or Surrender, is to dissolve the Body Corporate or Politic of the City, to spoil it irrecoverably of all its antient Government, Laws, Customs and Rights, which have been its glory throughout Europe near two thousand Years, to bring it into the same State with the Country Villages, only capable to be created a new Body politick by the Grace and Favour of his Majesty, and to obtain such Privileges as the Crown can grant, which are infinitely inferior to the Customs, Franchises, Rights and Government it now holds by the Laws and Statutes of the Kingdom.

If then there be any Danger either of a Forfeiture or Surrender of this City’s Charter, every Member of it is concerned, not only in Interest, but in Duty, to contribute what Assistance he can to perserve and secure it.

For that Purpose every Citizen upon taking his Freedom is sworn to maintain the Franchise and customs of the City, and to keep the City harmless, to his Power; and whatsoever Citizen shall openly attempt, or privately contrive, the Destruction of the Corporation, its Customs, or Franchises, betrays the Community, and violates his said oath, from which no Power on Earth can absolve.”

The writer then enumerates all the rights, privileges, and possessions which the City would lose, never to regain them again, and concludes:—

“The death of a Corporation reduceth it to nothing; and ’twill then be, as if it had never been, in respect of Debts or Credits; there can be no Successor, Heir, or Executor to demand or answer for the Body that was.

Therefore all the Goods and Chatels of the City must fall to the King, to be given and disposed of, as he pleaseth.

And all its Lands and real Estate in the Exchange, Guildhall, etc., must of right revert unto the Heirs of the Donors, if there be any, or escheat to the Crown, for want of such Heirs.

But the Face of Confusion is so full of Horror, that will appear after the Dissolution of this mighty Body by Forfeiture or Surrender of its Charter, that I tremble to look upon it afar off.

The Lord Cook says, It would require a Volume of itself to treat of the great and notable Franchises, Liberties and Customs of this City. And no less a Volume would be necessary to describe the Disorders, Losses, Distractions, Mischiefs and Confusions that must attend the Destruction and the Death of so great a Body Politick.

And the City of London by this Means, which is now one of the antientest Cities in the whole World, will at the time of such Surrender be the youngest City and Corporation in England” (Maitland, i. pp. 481, 482).

However, the City submitted.

They were informed by the Lord Keeper that the King accepted their submission in consideration of the many loyal citizens in London, but with conditions, which were as follows:—

“1. That no Lord Mayor, Sheriff, Recorder, Common-Serjeant, Town-Clerk, or Coroner of the City of London, or Steward of the Borough of Southwark, shall be capable of, or admitted to, the Exercise of their respective Offices, before his Majesty shall have approved them under his Sign Manual.

2. That, if his Majesty shall disapprove the Choice of any Person to be Lord Mayor, and signify the same under his Sign-Manual to the Lord Mayor, or, in default of a Lord Mayor, to the Recorder, or senior Alderman, the Citizens shall within one Week proceed to a new Choice. And, if his Majesty shall in like Manner disapprove the second Choice, his Majesty may, if he please, nominate a Person to be Lord Mayor for the ensuing Year.

3. If his Majesty shall, in like Manner, disapprove the Persons chosen to be Sheriffs, or either of them, his Majesty may appoint Persons to be Sheriffs for the ensuing Year by his Commission, if so he please.

4. That the Lord Mayor, and Court of Aldermen may also, with the Leave of his Majesty, displace any Alderman, Recorder, etc., ut supra.

5. Upon the Election of an Alderman, if the Court of Aldermen shall judge and declare the Person presented to be unfit, the Ward shall chuse again; and, upon a Disapproval of a second Choice, the Court may appoint another in his Room.

6. The Justices of the Peace are to be by the King’s Commission; and the settling of these matters to be left to his Majesty’s Attorney and Solicitor-General, and Council learned in Law.”

The City were also informed that if they accepted these conditions all would be well with them. If, on the other hand, they refused, the Attorney-General would enter upon judgment on the following Saturday.

The Court of Common Council was called to consider the propositions. Some of them declared that rather than accept such slavish conditions they would sacrifice everything. But, by a majority of eighteen, the conditions were accepted.

While these things were going on Papillon obtained a writ of Latitat on an action upon this case against the Mayor, Dudley North, and some of the Aldermen. They were all served with this writ by one Brown, an attorney, and a clerk to the Skinners’ Company. He not only served them with the writ, but he arrested them all and carried them off to Skinners’ Hall, where he kept them as prisoners till one o’clock in the morning. He was then, however, himself arrested for debt and carried off to the Compter, so that the prisoners were able to walk home.

This story to my mind, untrained in legal subtleties, is mysterious. By whose authority could the chief magistrate of the City be arrested within his own jurisdiction? And why did the Lord Mayor, the Sheriff, and the Aldermen go meekly in the custody of an attorney-clerk to a City company?

The conclusion of the story, however, is an action brought by Pritchard when his time of office was expired. It was heard before Judge Jeffreys, and resulted in damages against Papillon of £10,000. He therefore made haste to put the sea between himself and prison.

Then came the question whether the City should voluntarily surrender their liberties. The Recorder was strongly against this step; if they freely surrendered their liberties there would be no redress open to them; if they did not and judgment was entered, they could take proceedings by writ of error. Finally, by 103 to 85 it was resolved not to surrender.

Judgment was therefore entered against the City. The King was now therefore absolutely master of the City. He allowed Pritchard to continue as Mayor and the two Sheriffs to remain; eight Aldermen were dismissed; sixteen were made Justices of the Peace; the Recorder was dismissed and another appointed, and Sir Henry Tulse was nominated Mayor to succeed Pritchard.

Now had Charles the First been clever enough at the outset to secure and use for his own interest the Court party in the City, all his troubles might have been avoided. On the other hand, had Charles the Second begun his reign instead of ending it with the enslaving of the City, he might have died the same death as his father, with the certainty that there would have been none to lament him. The City was not yet, however, made safe; there remained the companies. These also, being served with a Quo Warranto, had to surrender their charters and receive new ones with certain trifling conditions.

I have said nothing of the national aspect of this struggle. Let us remind ourselves that the conquest of London was only part of the conquest of the kingdom; that the triumph of despotism in London was accompanied by the triumph of despotism in the country. The country party was broken up. Shaftesbury had fled; with him many of the London merchants; Essex had committed suicide; Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney had been executed; Monmouth had fled. The towns attacked, like London, with Quo Warranto, surrendered their charters and received them back, with conditions. Oxford had declared for passive obedience. All but the most thorough loyalists were excluded from the franchise; Charles had the representation of every borough in his own hands. More than this, he had an army of 10,000 men.

The wonderful ability with which this Revolution was effected may be credited to Charles’s ministers; one seems, however, to perceive the King’s brain devising and the King’s hand executing the whole. And the master-stroke of all was that by which he acquired the whole power; he violated no law and executed no overt acts of tyranny. He was using the forms and institutions of liberty for the purpose of crushing liberty. He did not even restore old abuses; the Star Chamber and the Court of High Commission did not reappear. Freedom of the press was granted. The Habeas Corpus Act was passed. And the City of London, stripped of all real power, retained the form of it, and on the strength of the form seemed to preserve the old loyalty and the old personal affection for the King who had taken away its powers and its privileges. And this was even a more wonderful achievement for Charles than his triumph. Yet the loyalty and the affection were but forms and shadows like the ghostly form of its liberties left to the City.

What the King would have done with his absolute authority one knows not, because in the very hour of his success he was stricken down by death. I have refrained from speaking much of Charles’s Court, because by this time the Court and the City were entirely separate, and were drifting apart more and more. Yet one cannot avoid asking what the better class of people, what the baser sort, knew of the Court and the life led by King Charles and his courtiers. Something of the King’s mistresses they knew; witness the well-known story of Nell Gwynne and the mob; witness also that other story of the riot in 1668 when the ’prentices pulled down and wrecked certain disorderly houses in Moorfields, saying that they did “ill in contenting themselves with pulling down the little brothels and did not go to pull down the big one at Whitehall.” Eight of the rioters were hanged for this offence, which did not stop the appearance of the Remonstrance pretending to be a petition from the women whose houses had been destroyed to the King’s mistresses at Whitehall. But they could not have known the corruption, the venality, and the profligacy of Whitehall; that could only be learned by the habitués; there were no papers to spread the infamy abroad; there was no fierce light of journalism thrown upon the King’s private life.

The general belief concerning the Court of Charles II. is that it presented to the world nothing but a long-continued pageant of profligacy, extravagance, luxury, waste, and open contempt of morals. We remember Evelyn’s often-quoted account of the last Sunday evening before the fatal seizure; Pepys tell us what he saw and heard; De Grammont’s book is well known to all; the name and the fame and the shame of the King’s mistresses are notorious; the men seem devoid of honour, and the women match the men. It appears, to one who would restore the palace in the days of the Merry Monarch, that all day long the courts of Whitehall echo with the tinkling guitar; at every window is a light o’ love; below one of these the King converses gaily and carelessly; we hear the laughter, loud and coarse, of the titled harlots; with painted faces and languishing eyes they roll by in their coaches; the singing boys practise the latest part song by Tom D’Urfey; the courtiers are loud with ribald jest. I suppose that these things cannot be denied. It is, however, a great mistake to suppose that there was no serious side to the Court. In the first place, it is impossible to conduct the business of the kingdom without an immense amount of ceremony and state. Charles was not an Edward the Second; there is nothing to show that he did not do what was expected of a king with as much dignity as his father, even though he did not take himself so seriously. There were grave and weighty troubles and difficulties in his reign; domestic troubles such as the Fire of London; foreign troubles such as the war with the Dutch; the King’s counsellors were for the most part grave and serious men. Add to this that every officer in the numerous household and following of the King desired and expected his rank and dignity to be respected.

NELL GWYNNE (1650–1687)

From the painting by Sir Peter Lely in the National Portrait Gallery, London.

There were daily duties to be performed. The King held a levée every morning; he went in state to prayers; he received his ministers and sat at the Council; he dined in public; the Court was open to any one who might venture to claim the rank and consideration of a gentleman; the King was accessible to all. The quiet, dull Court of the Georges was a new thing altogether in the land. Charles kept open house, like the kings of France. He walked fearlessly and almost unattended in the Park and in his gardens; one cannot, I repeat, deny the gambling, singing, and love-making which the King permitted and encouraged; but I plead for Charles that amount of serious attention to his state and dignity of his position, no small amount, which was necessary for the mere maintenance of kingship. In other things the laxness of his morals did not prevent the assertion of his prerogative, especially in his dealings with the City of London. No king before him, for instance, had dared to inflict upon the City so enormous a fine as that when Charles shut up the Exchequer and robbed the merchants of a million and a half of money. This one action, so bold, so calculated both as to the occasion and the probable impotence of the City to resist it, ought to be alone sufficient to set aside completely the old theory of the jaded voluptuary. It was not, again, the jaded voluptuary who plotted, planned, and carried out the destruction of the City liberties; it was a Stuart, with all the cleverness of his race, with all the tenacity of his father and his brother, and with all the inability to discern the forces that were arrayed against him and to comprehend the certainty of their success. He died in the moment of his success, leaving to his brother the fruits of his despotic measures in ruin and deposition (see [Appendix I].).

A Perspective of Westminster-Abby from the High-Altar to the West end. Shewing the manner of His Majesties’s Crowning.

THE CORONATION OF JAMES II. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

CHAPTER VII
JAMES II

The short reign of James afforded to the City a time of continual surprises and ceaseless anxiety, with the corresponding emotions of joy, sorrow, disappointment, and despair.

The reign began with an assurance that the established government, that of Church and State, would be respected and maintained. The King, however, showed what he understood by the proclamation when he continued to receive the customs which had been settled on Charles for life, and which could not be exacted by his successor without the assent of Parliament. James announced his intention of speedily calling a Parliament at the same time as he proclaimed his continuance of taking the customs. In the same illegal way he took over the excise duties.

TITUS OATES FLOGGED AT THE CART TAIL

Meantime the Mayor and Aldermen, in accordance with the successful craft of Charles, were mostly nominees of the King; they were instructed to admit to the liveries of the City Companies none but persons of “unquestionable loyalty”; so that, as Charles had provided, the whole of the governing bodies in the City were mere creatures of the Court.

One can hardly be surprised at the arrest and punishment of Titus Oates when James succeeded. At the same time to flog a man all the way from Aldgate to Newgate, and two days afterwards from Newgate to Tyburn, seems, short of the tortures of a Damiens,[3] the most horrible barbarity ever inflicted on a criminal since the time when a Roman could flog a slave to death. The first day’s march at the cart tail was a mile and a quarter in length; the next was over two miles and a half. Titus was flogged the whole way, with an interval of two days. If the cart was driven slowly, as was always the case, say at the rate of three miles an hour, and if the whip descended fifteen times a minute, the wretched man would receive 375 lashes on the first day, and two days after he would receive 750 lashes. Perhaps the executioner was less rapid in his movements; perhaps the cart moved more quickly. Perhaps the executioner was one of the many who still believed in the perjured wretch and sympathised with him. Yet even the closest friend would have to make a show of laying it on with a will. The man survived, showing how much agony a man may suffer before it kills him.

TITUS OATES IN THE PILLORY

Short as was the reign of James, it provided for the Londoners many other scenes and dramatic situations.

On July 15 the populace gathered together in immense crowds to witness the execution of the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth. They brought him out of the Tower surrounded by a strong guard, while commanding officers had orders to shoot the prisoner should any attempt be made at a rescue. This was more than probable, seeing that in the vast concourse of people who were collected on Tower Hill, nine out of ten wished in their hearts that the Protestant champion had won the day at Sedgemoor, while some of them had even been with him on that fatal night, though they were by no means anxious that their friends should know the fact. The prisoner, still young, still the loveliest man to look upon in the three kingdoms, mounted the scaffold; he showed a firm countenance at the end. Did any of the spectators ask each other whether this handsome face had in it the slightest sign of kinship with the black and dour face of Charles? He knelt down; the headsman, trembling, delivered three strokes, then threw down the axe and swore he would not go on; but, taking up the axe again, in two more strokes severed the head from the body. Then the people, sick and sorry, returned to their homes.

The fall of Monmouth offered an opening, which James was not likely to forego, for the enjoyment of private revenge, and for giving a lesson to zealous Protestants. Henry Cornish, late Sheriff, had shown activity against Catholics on the occasion of the Rye House Plot. Let him, therefore, be legally murdered.

Henry Cornish was by trade a “factor”; was Alderman of the Ward of Bassishaw, and a resident in Cateaton Street. As we have seen, he was made Sheriff in 1680 with Slingsby Bethel. The events connected with his election were not calculated to make him a persona grata with the Court. He was not only a Whig but a Presbyterian. He was one of the five Aldermen chosen for the defence of the civic liberties against the Quo Warranto. In February 1683 Cornish, with Pilkington, Shute, Bethel, Sir Thomas Player, the City Chamberlain, and Lord Grey of Wark, were brought to trial for the disturbances in June of the preceding year. They were all found guilty and all were fined; Cornish, for his part, had to pay a fine of 1000 marks. He had already been tricked out of his election to the office of Mayor by wholesale tampering with the votes. At the time of the Rye House Conspiracy, one John Rumsay, arrested on suspicion, offered to give evidence implicating Cornish. At the time his offer was not accepted.

DUKE OF MONMOUTH (1649–1685)

From an engraving after Sir Peter Lely.

Then James succeeded. Evidently he regarded Cornish as one of his most dangerous enemies. He waited until the Monmouth rebellion gave him an excuse. There had been an actual rebellion; if it could be proved that Cornish had any hand in it, there would be a way of getting rid of him.

Monmouth was executed on July 15. Three months passed, during which nothing was done to Cornish. This interval was employed, it is now certain, in getting up a case against him; we cannot suppose that James was ignorant of this plot—it was nothing less—to take the life of the sturdy Whig. The man Rumsey found another man, a private enemy to Cornish, named Goodenough, to join him in bearing witness which should implicate Cornish in the Rye House Plot and show him to be a friend of Monmouth. On Tuesday, the 13th of October, Cornish was arrested and taken to Newgate. On the Saturday he learned for the first time that he was in prison on a charge of high treason, and that he would be tried on the Monday. The trial took place accordingly. It was marked by the customary brow-beating and bullying. The man must have known that he was doomed; the fact that two days only were allowed him to prepare his case and bring forward his witnesses might have warned him what to expect.

Prospect des Thur-hils zu London worauf der Herzog von Monmouth den 25/15 Iuly 1685 enthaubt worden.

THE EXECUTION OF MONMOUTH, JULY 15, 1685

From a contemporary Dutch print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

[4]“His attitude before the judges was calm and dignified. Before pleading not guilty to the charge of having consented to aid and abet the late Duke of Monmouth and others in their attempt on the life of the late King (the Rye House Plot), he entered a protest against the indecent haste with which he had been called upon to plead, and the short time allowed him to prepare his case. He asked for further time, but this the judges refused.

One of the chief witnesses for the Crown was Goodenough, who had a personal spite against Cornish for his having objected to him (Goodenough) serving as under-sheriff in 1680–81, the year when Bethel and Cornish were sheriffs. Goodenough had risked his neck in Monmouth’s late rebellion, but he had succeeded in obtaining a pardon by promises of valuable information against others. With the King’s pardon in his pocket he unblushingly declared before the judges that he, as well as Cornish and some others, had determined upon a general rising in the city at the time of the Rye House Plot. ‘We designed,’ said he, ‘to divide it (i.e. the city) into twenty parts, and out of each part to raise five hundred men, if it might be done, to make an insurrection.’ The Tower was to be seized and the guard expelled.

Cornish had been afforded no opportunity for instructing counsel in his defence. He was therefore obliged to act as his own counsel, with the result usual in such cases. He rested his main defence upon the improbability of his having acted as the prosecution endeavoured to make out. This he so persistently urged that the judges lost patience. Improbability was not enough, they declared; let him call his witnesses. When, however, Cornish desired an adjournment, in order that he might bring a witness up from Lancashire, his request was refused. His chief witness he omitted to call until after the Lord Chief Justice had summed up. This man was a vintner of the city, named Shephard, at whose house Cornish was charged with having met and held consultation with Monmouth and the rest of the conspirators. The Bench after some demur assented to the prisoner’s earnest prayer that Shephard’s evidence might be taken. He showed that he had been in the habit of having commercial transactions with Cornish and was at that moment in his debt; that on the occasion in question Cornish had come to his house, but whether he came to speak with the Duke of Monmouth or not the witness could not say for certain; that he only remained a few minutes, and that no paper or declaration (on which so much stress had been laid) in connection with the conspiracy was read in Cornish’s presence; that in fact Cornish was not considered at the time as being in the plot. Such evidence, if not conclusive, ought to have gone far towards obtaining a verdict of acquittal for the prisoner. This was not the case, however. The jury, after a brief consultation, brought in a verdict of guilty, and Cornish had to submit to the indignity of being tied—like a dangerous criminal—whilst sentence of death was passed upon him and three others who had been tried at the same time.

The prisoner was allowed but three clear days before he was hanged at the corner of King Street and Cheapside, within sight of the Guildhall, which he had so often frequented as an Alderman of the City, and on which his head was afterwards placed. He met his end with courage and with many pious expressions, but to the last maintained his innocence with such vehemence that his enemies gave out that he had died in a fit of fury.”

It is pleasing to add that four years later an Act of Parliament was passed reversing the attainder of Cornish. It is also pleasing to think that the blood of this innocent man, like the blood of the martyrs, was remembered by his fellow-citizens, that it strengthened the side of freedom and accelerated the fall of James.

On the same day the people of London had a choice between two spectacles: that of Henry Cornish’s hanging, which was calculated to make every citizen thoughtful; or that of the burning of Elizabeth Gaunt at Tyburn—an act of brutal wickedness which ought to have made every citizen mad with indignation. Elizabeth Gaunt was a woman of great piety and charity; she visited the prisoners in the gaols; she relieved the sick; she fed the poor; she helped all who were afflicted, or in want, or in danger. Among others she helped a man named Burton, who was an outlaw, to escape. For this she was actually burned alive! The wretched man, Burton, turned King’s evidence and informed against his benefactress. One feels that it would be a moral lesson if we could ascertain the after-lives of Messrs. Rumsey, Goodenough, and Burton. The unfortunate gentlewoman behaved with fortitude, arranging with her own hands the straw around her so that she might the more quickly die. To us it seems incredible that judges should pass such sentences or should have such cases as those of Henry Cornish and Elizabeth Gaunt brought before them. As for the effect produced by these executions, they might, and no doubt did, terrify for a short time, but it was a terror which led to exasperation.

We must remember that the temper of the City during the whole of the seventeenth century was profoundly hostile to the Catholics. The Gunpowder Plot; the Romish leanings of Laud; the Fire of London; the so-called Romanist plots; the Protestant literature of the period; the terrible stories of the Spanish Inquisition; everything conspired to keep alive the hatred and suspicion of the Catholic Church. And an event which happened in October 1685 taught the people, who were ripe for such a lesson, what was to be expected of a Roman Catholic Government.

From time to time London has been enriched by the arrival of foreigners—Danes, Normans, Flemings, Italians, Palatines—who have brought with them new industries, and have settled down among the people, becoming English in the next generation. The most important of these immigrations was that of 1685, which came over here from France in consequence of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, under which the Protestants of France had enjoyed the freedom of worshipping according to their own religion. A great many of them—probably about 60,000—came to this country, bringing with them what money they had, amounting, as was estimated, to £3,000,000. Among them were artificers of various kinds, especially silk-weavers, gold and silversmiths, watchmakers and carvers.

These refugees came over just before the death of Charles the Second; they were received with warm welcome; collections were made for them. There can be no doubt that the presence of these victims to Catholic bigotry largely stimulated the feeling against Catholicism which two or three years later ended in the expulsion of James. They were always in evidence. “See,” they said, “we are Protestants like yourselves; we have been driven from our own country for no other crime but our religion. What will happen to you when your King has had his own way and turned this country again to the Roman Catholic faith?” This was a question which was asked by everybody, and answered by every man and woman, however mean and illiterate, by one word.

JAMES II. (1633–1701)

With all these facts before him, in the face of feeling so strong that it seems impossible that he could fail to understand it, James persisted in his purpose. Perhaps he relied on assurances of support from the Catholic gentry; perhaps he thought of using Irish troops; perhaps he even looked forward to assistance from Louis; perhaps he counted on Roman Catholic officers carrying with them the army. However this may be, James resolved that there should be no mistake about his intentions. The laws against the Catholics were disregarded. Roman Catholic chapels were openly built and the Romish services were openly performed in them; there were tumults in the City; the mob would have no wooden gods and tore down the crucifix; they put up a cross and mocked it; they set upon the priests and ill-treated them; they would not believe that the Mayor really wished them to disperse. The trained bands actually refused to disperse the crowd while they were engaged on such pious work. Then James took a step which at first sight appears clever; it was really most unwise. He issued the famous Declaration of Indulgence which suspended all laws against Catholics and Dissenters alike. The Church of England, as he was going to find, was stronger than Roman Catholics and Dissenters put together. Indeed, many of the Dissenters very clearly understood that the Declaration was simply a measure of relief for the Catholics.

James next took up his late brother’s plan, which was to gain over the Corporations in the country; six Commissioners were sent round to turn out all those persons who were in favour of the Test Act and the penal laws. The companies of London were treated in this way, with the result that some 900 persons were turned out of the Courts of Assistants. As for the City itself, which, it must be understood, was still deprived of its charter, Jeffreys was instructed to inform the Aldermen that in future their Court should recommend to the Crown persons fit to be Aldermen. Many of the Aldermen resigned rather than vote an address to the King for this liberty, which was in reality another link in the chain which kept the City in servitude. Recommending to the King is not exactly the same thing as free election. However, they did recommend and nominate persons to serve, but it was found extremely difficult to get any one to accept office. No less than £8500 were paid in fines by those who refused.

In a very short time the City offices were nearly all held by Dissenters. A Dissenter was Lord Mayor, one Sir John Shorter, said to be an Anabaptist. The installation of Sir John was accompanied by a great dinner, to which every Alderman contributed £50; the King was present, with the Queen and the Papal Nuncio. The City Companies had turned out most of their Church of England members, and the Lord Mayor, Sir John Shorter, “a very odd, ignorant person, a mechanic, I think, and an Anabaptist” (Evelyn), openly attended a conventicle every Sunday.

Among those who accepted office was William Kiffin. He was a leading Nonconformist in the City. Two of his grandsons, Benjamin and William Hewling, had been executed by Jeffreys for their share in the Monmouth rebellion. He was just seventy years of age, and had retired from active business when the King sent for him and made him accept office by telling him that if he refused he might be fined £20,000 or £30,000, or anything that the judges pleased. So the old man accepted. His account of the work entrusted to the Court of Aldermen is amazing. The King used to send them lists of liverymen who were to be turned out of their companies, with other lists of those to be put in. There were seven hundred so discharged without any charge or accusation, and all Protestants of the Church of England.

The winter of 1687–88 passed quietly; but there were messengers secretly passing between London and Holland and the end was rapidly approaching. The King received addresses from all quarters thanking him for his Declaration of Indulgence; not only from Nonconformists about the country, but from the newly reformed City Companies, of whom, however, not all were found to join in the cry of gratitude. It would seem, however, as if the absence of any rebellion, coupled with the fact of their dutiful addresses, made James believe that he had a clear majority in support of his Declaration of Indulgence. He seems never to have understood the strength and the magnitude of the Established Church, just as he certainly never understood the strength and the extent of the popular hatred of his own Church. To the latter form of ignorance we may ascribe James’s acts and their consequences. He could not understand how the Catholic Church could be so deeply hated. Himself the son of a Catholic; his second wife a Catholic; his brother’s wife a Catholic; surrounded by Catholics in his own house, he was in no way able to comprehend why the country hated and feared his religion. In the same way the mediæval Jew could not understand that he was loathed and hated. Why should he be? He was a man, like the Christian, of similar body parts, and passions. He could never understand it. Now that loathing has become a thing of the past, he cannot yet understand it. So with James; he could not understand it.

THE SEVEN BISHOPS ON THE WAY TO THE TOWER

From a contemporary print. E. Gardner’s Collection.

In the spring, therefore, of 1688 James, still unable to understand, issued a Second Declaration of Indulgence. Another interesting and dramatic spectacle was, in consequence of this mistake, provided by James for his loving subjects of London. This was the carriage of the Seven Bishops by water to the Tower. Their arrest was the King’s reply to their petition praying that the clergy might not be compelled to read the Second Declaration of Indulgence from the pulpit in the midst of public service. Only a few of the London clergy obeyed the order; one of them told the people that though he was ordered to read it, they were not ordered to hear it, and so waited till the Church was empty before he read it. In some churches the congregation, with one accord, rose and left the church as soon as the clergyman began to read the Declaration.

1. 1. The King.
2. 2. The Prince of Denmark.
3. 3, 4. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York.
4. 5. The Speaker.
5. 6. The Chancellor with the Great Seal.
6. 7. The Bishops, twenty-five in number.
7. 8. The Dukes and Peers.
8. 9. The Members sitting on Woolsacks.
9. 10. The Barons and Lords of the Kingdom.
10. 11, 12. The Lawyers.
11. 13. The Herald.
12. 14. The Spectators.

E. Gardner’s Collection.

The objections of the Bishops are stated by Evelyn:—

“Not that they were averse to the publishing of it for want of due tendernesse towards Dissenters, in relation to whom they should be willing to come to such a temper as should be thought fit, when that matter might be consider’d and settl’d in Parliament and Convocation; but that, the Declaration being founded on such a dispensing power as might at pleasure set aside all Laws Ecclesiastical and Civil, it appear’d to them illegal, as it had done to the Parliament in 1661 and 1672, and that it was a point of such consequence that they could not so far make themselves parties to it, as the reading of it in Church in time of divine service amounted to.”

The Bishops were sent to the Tower for refusing to give bail, “as it would have prejudiced their Peerage. The concern of the people,” says Evelyn, “was wonderful, infinite crowds on their knees begging their blessing and praying for them as they passed out of the barge along the Tower wharf.”

That was on the 8th of June. On the 13th Evelyn visited four of the Bishops in the Tower. On the 15th they were brought to Westminster, where their indictment was read and they were called in to plead. They were called upon to give bail, but they refused; in the end they were dismissed on their own recognizances to appear that day fortnight.

JUDGE JEFFREYS (1648–1689)

From a print in the British Museum.

On the 29th they appeared and the trial took place. It lasted from nine in the morning until six in the evening. At that hour the jury, who had been drawn from Middlesex, not from London, retired to consider their verdict. They could not at first agree, and were locked up all night. All were for acquittal except one. At last he, too, agreed with the others.

“When this was heard,” says Evelyn, “there was great rejoicing: and there was a lane of people from the King’s Bench to the waterside on their knees, as the Bishops passed and repassed, to beg their blessing. Bonfires were made that night and bells rung, which was taken very ill at Court.”

It is pleasing to note that the Bishops not only refused to give bail, but refused to pay any fees to the Lieutenant of the Tower.

It was during their short imprisonment that the Prince of Wales, the Elder Pretender, was born, “which will cause disputes,” says Evelyn.

Well assured of the spirit in which he would be received, the Prince of Orange made haste to prepare for his descent on England. In September the news came that a fleet of sixty sail was in readiness. Then James began to make concessions. The City should have its charter returned. This was done. But the City was no more inclined to Catholicism than before.

The rest we know; William landed on the 5th of November.

James sent for the Mayor and Aldermen, entrusted the care of the City to them, and instructed them, should he fall in battle, to proclaim the infant Prince of Wales successor to the Crown. He then set out for the west, to meet the invader. His army deserted him, and he returned to London, where there had been some riots and plundering of Roman Catholic chapels. A fortnight later, the Queen and her child having been got safely out of the country, James himself attempted to escape. As soon as this fact was known, many of the Lords, spiritual and temporal, met at the Guildhall and there drew up a declaration that they would stand by the Prince of Orange in maintaining the religion, the rights, and the liberties of the country. The declaration was communicated to the Court of Aldermen, who called a Court of Common Council, at which another address to the same effect was drawn up. James, as we know, failed in his first attempt to escape, being stopped by certain fisher folk at Feversham. Lord Winchilsea, for whom he sent, persuaded him to return to London. He was received, we are told, with the liveliest indications of joy, as if he had been the best Prince in the world. Perhaps the historian mistook rejoicings over the capture of a prisoner for those over the return of a well-beloved sovereign. A London mob may be fickle, but there was absolutely no reason for such a change of front as would justify a demonstration of joy. Rather must we believe that every shout which went up meant that the King was in the hands of his faithful subjects, and that the faithful subjects would be able to give him the same trial, with the same termination of it, which they gave to his father.

Another of those dramatic scenes which enlivened the City during this reign was provided by the flight and capture of Judge Jeffreys.

The Judge, who had presided over the butcheries in the west of England, who became the willing creature and tool of James in every illegal act, was regarded all over the country with a hatred exceeding that which any Englishman has achieved for a thousand years and more. No one knew this better than himself. When, therefore, the power of his master crumbled away he sought safety in flight.

Why he did not escape to France; whether his nerve failed him; whether there was no time; whether there was no one he could trust, one knows not. It is, however, certain that he was suffering from a cruel disease, which caused him the greatest agonies and was partly the cause of that roaring voice, those bullying tones, which made him the terror of the Court and aggravated the agonies of punishment. I think it not impossible that a severe attack of this disease prevented him from moving till it was too late; he then assumed the disguise of a sailor and took refuge in a humble tavern at Wapping. Here, however, he was recognised as he looked out of a window, and was dragged out and committed to prison, having been so roughly handled by the mob that he died of the injuries he received. According to another account, however, he drank to excess, and so killed himself. As for the King, he was permitted to escape, the Prince of Orange doubtless feeling that though he did not hesitate about taking his father-in-law’s place, he did not desire his head.

The Lord Chancellor taken disguised in Wapping
— Engraved for the Devils Broker —

THE ARREST OF JEFFREYS

From a satirical print in the British Museum.

And so James vanished from the scene and a new king reigned. But neither in the reign of William nor in that of any following sovereign were there so many splendid sights and anxious moments as in that of the unfortunate king whom we have learned to despise more profoundly than any other sovereign who ever sat upon the sacred Coronation chair.

The events connecting London with the reign of James II. belong for the most part to the history of the country. I have not thought it necessary, therefore, to dwell at length upon them.

The following, on the condition of London after the abdication, is an extract from the English Courant and London Mercury. It is quoted by Malcolm (Manners and Customs, 1811):—

“No sooner was the King’s withdrawing known, but the mobile consulted to wreak their vengeance on papists and popery: and last night began with pulling down and burning the new-built Mass-house near the arch, in Lincolns Inn Fields: thence they went to Wild-house, the residence of the Spanish Ambassador, where they ransackt, destroy’d and burnt all the ornamental and inside part of the chappel, some cartloads of choice books, manuscript, etc. And not content here, some villanous thieves and common rogues, no doubt, that took this opportunity to mix with the youth, and they plunder’d the Ambassador’s house of plate, jewels, mony, rich goods, etc.: and also many other who had sent in there for shelter their money, plate, etc.: among which, one gentlewoman lost a trunk, in which was £800 in mony, and a great quantity of plate. Thence they went to the Mass-house, at St. James’s, near Smithfield, demolisht it quite; from thence to Blackfryers near the Ditchside, where they destroy’d Mr. Henry Hill’s printing-house, spoil’d his forms, letters, etc., and burnt 2 or 300 reams of paper, printed and unprinted: thence to the Mass-house in Bucklersbury and Lime-street, and there demolisht and burnt as before: and this night they went to the Nuncio’s, and other places at that end of the town; but finding the birds flown, and the bills on the door, they drew off: thence they went into the City, threatening to pull down all papists’ houses, particularly one in Ivy Lane, and the market house upon Newgate Market, for no other reason but that one Burdet, a papist, was one of the farmers of the market; but by the prudence of the citizens and some of their trained bands, they were got off without mischief doing anywhere.

Tuesday night last, and all Wednesday, the apprentices were busy in pulling down the chappels, and spoiling the houses of papists: they crying out the fire should not go out till the Prince of Orange came to town. There were thousands of them on Wednesday at the Spanish Ambassador’s, they not leaving any wainscot withinside the house or chappel, taking away great quantities of plate, with much money, household goods and writings, verifying the old proverb ‘All fish that came to the net.’ The spoil of the house was very great, divers papists having sent their goods in thither, as judging that the securest place.

Then they went to the Lord Powis’s great house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, wherein was a guard, and a bill upon the door, ‘This house is appointed for the Lord Delameer’s quarters:’ and some of the company crying, ‘Let it alone, the Lord Powis was against the Bishops going to the Tower,’ they offered no violence to it.

Afterwards they marched down the Strand with oranges upon their sticks, crying for the Prince of Orange, and went to the Pope’s Nuncio’s, but finding a bill upon the door, ‘This house is to be let,’ they desisted. Lastly, they did some damage to the house of the resident of the Duke of Tuscany, in the Haymarket, carrying away some of his goods, when one Captain Douglas, coming thither with a company of trained bands to suppress them, a soldier, unadvisedly firing at the boys with ball, shot the Captain through the back, of which he lyes languishing. They also went to the houses of the French and other Ambassadors, but finding them deserted and the landlords giving them money, they marched off.

On Thursday, an order of the Lords coming forth, warning all persons to desist from pulling down any house, especially those of the Ambassadors, upon penalty of the utmost severity of the law to be inflicted on them: since which they have been very quiet.”

ENTRY OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE INTO LONDON

E. Gardner’s Collection.

CHAPTER VIII
WILLIAM THE THIRD

At the Coronation Banquet the Lord Mayor, the Aldermen, and the members of the twelve principal companies attended as butler and assistants. The City plate was also lent for the occasion. This was on the 11th of April 1689. Since the Prince of Orange had entered London on December 18, 1688, when James fled, the country had been left without King or Government. The “Convocation,” as it was called, met on January 22. On the 28th the Commons declared the throne to be vacant, and on the 6th of February the House of Lords passed a similar resolution. A Declaration of Rights was next drawn up condemning the unconstitutional acts of James and offering the throne to William and Mary. After their proclamation their Majesties made haste to convert the Convocation into Parliament.

The reign of William presents few surprises or dramatic scenes so far as the City of London is concerned. On the other hand, there was a great deal done towards the strengthening and definition of the City rights and liberties. The Stuart kings, who could learn nothing and forget nothing, were gone, never to return; in future it would be quite as impossible for the sovereign to rob London of her liberties as to reign without a Parliament. Out of the arbitrary acts of the two Charleses, the elder and the younger, out of the civil wars, out of the expulsion of James, came to London the secure possession, henceforth unquestioned, of her charters, just as to the three kingdoms came constitutional government and a sovereign bound by the will of the people. These were great gains; one who could realise the state of the country even under the well-beloved despot Elizabeth, and compare it with its condition under the Georges, might well acknowledge that the gain was worth all the fighting and struggle, all the trials and executions which had to be endured in achieving it.

Of the loyalty of the City throughout this reign there can be no question. The address drawn up by the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs soon after it began on the occasion of a discovery of a plot against the King strikes a note which was maintained throughout:—

“And we most humbly beg leave to assure your Majesty that we will, as far as our Power extends, oppose ourselves to, and suppress all designs of that Nature; and will search after, disarm, seize, secure, and bring to Justice all Persons concerned therein, or contributing thereto: And we are unanimously, firmly, and unalterably resolved and determined to stand by, defend, and maintain your Majesty, and your Government, with the uttermost Hazard and Expence of our Lives and Estates, against all Persons whatsoever, that shall conspire or attempt any Thing against the same” (Maitland, i. p. 491).

The pageant on Lord Mayor’s Day was attended by the King and Queen, who sat in the usual place reserved for them in Cheapside—the balcony of St. Mary le Bow. After the pageant they dined with the Lord Mayor at Guildhall. The pageant itself may be found briefly described in Fairholt’s Book of Pageants. It will be seen by those who look up the passage that we are indeed far from the pageants of Edward the Third or Henry the Fifth.

It was natural that the first desire of the City should be to obtain an Act of Parliament declaring the forfeiture of their charter to be illegal. On March 8, 1689, the Grand Committee of Grievances reported that the rights of the City of London in the election of Sheriffs were invaded in the year 1682, and that the judgment given upon the Quo Warranto was illegal. The Act of Parliament by which the charters of the City were formally declared is a lengthy document of very great importance. An abridgment of this Act follows:—

“Whereas a Judgment was given in the Court of King’s-Bench, in or about Trinity-Term, in the thirty-fifth Year of the Reign of the late King Charles the Second, upon an Information, in the Nature of a Quo Warranto, exhibited in the said Court against the Mayor and Commonalty and Citizens of the City of London, That the liberty, Privilege, and Franchise of the said Mayor, and Commonalty, and Citizens, being a Body Politick and Corporate, should be seized into the King’s hands as forfeited; And forasmuch as the said Judgment, and the proceedings thereupon, is and were illegal and arbitrary; and for that the restoring of the said Mayor and Commonalty and Citizens to their antient Liberties, of which they had been deprived, tends very much to the Peace and good Settlement of this Kingdom.

2. Be it declared and enacted, ... That the said Judgment given in the said Court of King’s Bench in the said Trinity Term, in the thirty-fifth year of the reign of the said King Charles the Second, or in any other Term; and all or every other Judgment for the seizing into the late King’s Hands the Liberty, Privilege, or Franchise of the Mayor, and Commonalty, and Citizens of the City of London, is, shall be, and are hereby reversed, annulled, and made void, to all Intents and Purposes whatsoever; and that Vacates be entered upon the Rolls of the said Judgment, for the Vacating and Reversal of the same accordingly.

3. And be it further declared and enacted, by the Authority aforesaid, That the Mayor and Commonalty, and Citizens of the City of London, shall and may for ever hereafter remain, continue, and be, and prescribe to be a Body Corporate and Politick, in re, facto and nomine, by the Name of Mayor and Commonalty, and Citizens of the City of London, and by that Name, and all and every other Name and Names of Incorporation, by which they at any Time before the said Judgment were incorporated, to sue, plead, and be impleaded, and to answer and be answered, etc.”

At the same time the City proceeded to lay down and define the rights of the inhabitants in voting for Aldermen and Common Council men. The following is the Act of Common Council:—

“It is hereby declared, That it is, and antiently hath been the Right and Privilege of the Freemen of the said City only, being Householders, paying Scot and bearing Lot, and of none other whatsoever, in their several and respective Wards, from Time to Time, as often as there was or should be occasion, to nominate Aldermen, and elect Common Council men for the same respective Wards. That all and every the Beadle and Beadles of the respective Wards shall do, prepare, return, and deliver to the Aldermen at their several and respective Courts of Wardmote, or to their Deputies authorized to hold the same, one List of all and every the Freeman Householders aforesaid, dwelling and residing within the respective Wards, to which they are Beadles, and of no others, apart and by themselves: And also one list of all and every other Householders within the said respective Wards only, apart and by themselves: To the intent that such Freemen Householders, may nominate Aldermen, and elect their Common Councilmen: And they, together with the other Householders, may chuse their Constables, Scavengers, Inquest and Beadles.”

WILLIAM III. (1650–1702)

After an engraving of the painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller.

So that those who were not Freemen of the City had no right to vote at all. This limitation of the vote was confirmed in 1711, 1712, in 1714, and by an Act of Parliament of 11 George I.

There were scares in the City, first after the defeat of the Dutch fleet on June 30, 1691, by the French, when the latter were expected to attempt a landing up the Thames; and next when a report was raised that King James was at the head of a powerful French army. On both occasions the City put on a bold front, called out and equipped 10,000 men, and invited the Queen to appoint officers. It will be remembered that on the scare of the Spanish Armada, doubts were cast on the efficiency of the London contingent because the men would only obey their own officers, who were notoriously incompetent. Here we see a change. The City now recognises the fact that an officer cannot be made out of a merchant in a single day.

MARY II. (1662–1694)

After an engraving of the painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller.

The City next had to go before Parliament in the humiliating position of a trustee who has lost trust money. The case was this. It had long been the custom of the City to take care of orphans, being children of Freemen, their fortunes or portions being received by the Chamber and administered for them. The Mayor now declared that this money had so grievously diminished that they simply could not pay the orphans on coming of age their own estates. Several reasons were alleged for this loss: the stoppage of the Exchequer, Charles’s act of robbery; a large part of the fund had been lent to the Exchequer; other sums had been lost in various ways, and the City now found itself in debt to orphans for £500,000, and £247,500 in other ways, the whole being far more than it could pay. A committee was appointed to investigate the case, and on their report an Act was passed, of which the following are the heads:—

“That towards settling a perpetual Fund for paying the yearly Interest of four Pounds, for every hundred Pound due by the City to their Creditors, all the Manors, Messuages, Lands, Markets, Fairs, and other Hereditaments, Revenues and Income whatsoever, belonging to the Mayor, Commonalty, and Citizens, in Possession or Reversion, and all Improvements that shall be made thereof (excepting the Estates and Possessions belonging to Christ’s, St. Bartholomew’s, St. Thomas’s, Bridewell, Bethlehem, or any other of the City Hospitals, and the Estates appropriated for the repair of London Bridge), are for ever charged, from the twenty-fourth of June in the present Year, for raising annually the sum of eight thousand Pounds, clear of all Deductions.

2. That all the Profits arising from the several Aqueducts belonging to the City be applied towards the Payment of the said Interest.

3. Towards the Support of the said Fund, the Lord Mayor and Common Council are impowered annually to raise the Sum of two Thousand Pounds, by an equal Assessment upon the personal Estates of the Citizens.

4. Towards the Support of the said Fund, be paid the annual Sum of six hundred Pounds, being the Fine or Rent paid by certain Persons for the Privilege of illuminating the Streets of the City with Convex Lamps. This tended very much to the Dishonour of the City, to make a pecuniary advantage of a publick Benefit; but the same being removed, to the no small honour of the Gentlemen in the present Direction of the City Affairs, I shall say no more on that Head.

5. That every Apprentice, at the Time of his being bound, shall pay towards the said Fund two shillings and six Pence.

6. That every Person, upon his being admitted a Freeman of the City, shall pay towards the Support of the said Fund five Shillings.

7. That every Ton of Wine imported into the Port of London, shall pay towards the support of the said Fund five Shillings.

8. That, towards the increase of the said Fund, all Coals imported into the Port of London shall pay four Pence the Chaldron Metage above what was formerly paid.

9. And, as a further Increase to the said Fund, all Coals imported into the Port of London after the twenty-ninth of September, Anno 1770, the Measurable to pay six Pence the Chaldron, and the Weighable six Pence the Ton, for the term of Fifty Years. And to the Intent that the said Fund may be perpetual, it is enacted, That, after the Expiration of the said Term of fifty Years, when the said six Pence per Cauldron and Ton upon Coals shall cease, then all the Manors, Messuages, Lands, Tenements, Markets, Fairs, and the Duties thereof, and other Hereditaments, Revenues and Income whatsoever, belonging to the City either in Possession or Reversion, shall stand charged with the yearly Sum of six thousand Pounds, over and above the already named Sum of eight Thousand Pounds per Ann.”

Dissensions over elections and the mode of elections, scares about plots and the rumours of plots, rejoicings over victory, make up the history of London during the next few years. The losses of the Turkey merchants when, for want of a sufficient convoy, their ships were taken or burned by the French, were a national disaster. The merchant fleet was valued at many millions; the convoy forwarded the merchantmen safely as far as the Land’s End, when it left them to a smaller convoy of seventeen ships under Rooke. They found their way barred by the French fleet; in the fight that followed some of the merchantmen escaped, but the greater number were lost. “Never within the memory of man,” Macaulay says, “had there been in the City a day of more gloom and agitation than that on which the news of the encounter arrived. Money-lenders, an eye-witness said, went away from the Exchange as pale as if they had received sentence of death.” The Queen expressed her sorrow and sympathy and promised an inquiry. The probable cause of the desertion of the merchantmen by the main convoy was that it was not safe to leave the Channel unguarded so long.

Everybody who studies London possesses among his collection pictures of the street cries. These drawings generally belong to the later years of the eighteenth century or the beginning of the nineteenth. They establish the fact that the streets were filled with a never-ending procession of men and women with baskets, carts, wheel-barrows, trays, boxes, all bawling their wares at the top of the voice. You may look into the shop now called an “Oilman’s”; nearly all the things he sells were formerly vended in the street. The conversion of the wheel-barrow and the tray into the shop would prove a chapter in the history of London trade.

It is therefore interesting to learn that these hawkers and pedlars had already, at the end of the seventeenth century, increased so greatly as to become a nuisance to the Citizens. The Common Council proceeded against them with an Act providing that

“No Person should presume to sell any Goods, or Merchandize, in any Street, Lane, Passage, Tavern, Inn, Ale-house, or other Publick Place within the City or Liberties thereof, other than in open Markets and Fairs, upon the Penalty of forty Shillings for every such Offence. And, for the more effectual Preventing such Practices, all Citizens buying Goods of such Persons to forfeit the like Sum of forty Shillings for every such Offence. And, as farther Discouragement to all Hawkers and Pedlars, every Citizen that should permit or suffer such Persons to expose to Sale any Goods or Merchandize in his, her, or their Houses, should for every such Offence likewise forfeit the Sum of forty Shillings” (Maitland, i. p. 479).

At the same time an Act of Parliament imposed a tax upon them. The hawker or pedlar played an important part in the country life from an early period. He it was who circulated among the villages, and from farm to farm, the things for which in the country there existed no shops. Autolycus belongs to all ages, and in all ages he is a jovial, sharp, ready-witted rascal who will pass off his damaged goods for new, will buy cheap and sell dear. The hawkers escaped legislation in mediæval England, and are first noticed in a statute of Edward VI., in which “they are treated in a very contemptuous manner, being described as more ‘hurtful than necessary to the commonwealth.’ But the case of pedlars was not seriously taken in hand before the reign of William III., who put a tax upon them and, ominously enough, bound them to certify commissioners for transportation how they travelled and traded.”

We have seen how the Franciscans became pedlars,

“Thai dele with purses, pynnes and knyves,

With girdles, gloves for wenches, and wyves.”

The hawker of London was not exactly the same as the hawker of the country. In the first place, it is evident that the City disliked his setting up a stall outside the markets or the streets where special things were sold; the companies still exercised the power of regulating trade; there was still the old jealousy which would not allow one trader to sell things belonging to another company. But the object of hawkers was to sell everything wanted for the daily life; like the Franciscan, he would not only sell mercery but also cutlery. This kind of hawker was effectually banished from the City, even though shopkeepers had now begun to mix up various companies and crafts in the same counter. The London hawker was reduced to selling one thing, and one thing only. In all the pictures of the street cries we find the hawker engaged in crying one thing for sale; he offered to catch rats, or sold sand, small coal, boot laces, door-mats, baskets, sausages, and so on, whatever was wanted for everyday use and could not be found in the shops.

“Rats or Mice to kill”

“Sausages”

LONDON STREET CRIES

From contemporary prints in British Museum.

The hawkers of 1695, since they could not set up stalls or sell in the streets, tried to force an entrance into the markets. Upon which the Council laid down the law that the markets were not to be used as a place of sale for goods sold in the shops or warehouses of Freemen of the City. This important Act, which continued in force until the nineteenth century, should be quoted:—

“Whereas by the Laws, Customs, and antient Usages of the City of London, confirmed by Parliament, every shop and warehouse within the said City, and Liberties of the same, having open shew into any Streets and Lanes thereof, have, Time-out-of-Mind, been known and accustomed to be, and in very deed is an open and Publick Market Place for Persons free of the said City, for every Day of the Week, except Sundays, for Shew and Sale of Wares and Merchandizes, within the said City and Liberties thereof:

And whereas all other publick Markets within this City, and the Liberties of the same, that is to say, Leadenhall-Market, the Green-Yard or Herb-Market, Stocks-Market, Honey-Lane-Market, Newgate-Market, and all other such like Markets, were and are appointed and ordained, by the Laws and Constitutions of this City, to be held and used upon particular and certain Days only in the Week, and on certain Hours of such Days, as open Markets for all Foreigners and Freemen and Women to use and resort unto for Sale of Flesh, Fish, Butter, Cheese, Eggs, Fruit, Herbs, Roots, and such like Victuals and Food, for the Support and Sustenance of the Citizens and other Inhabitants of the said City and Liberties of the same; and were not appointed for any other Use or Purpose whatsoever, save for the Sale of Raw Hides, Tanned Leather, Tallow and Wool, as appears by the Laws and Orders of the Court of Aldermen and Common Council, for regulating the same:

But nevertheless, for Want of due Encouragement, in the Execution thereof, several Hawkers, Pedlars, and Petty Chapmen and others, contrary to the said Constitution and proper Use and Intention of the said Markets, do now come to the said Markets, and there sell and expose to Sale Mercery Wares, Lace, Linen, Grocery Wares, Confectionery Wares, Drapery Wares, Millinery Wares, Glass and Earthen Wares, Ironmongers’ Wares, Braziers’ Wares, Turners’ Wares, Hosiers’ Wares, Cutlers’ Wares, Tin Wares, Toys, and other Wares and Merchandizes, and such like Commodities, which, by the Usage and Customs of this City ought only to be sold in the Shops and Warehouses of the Freemen of this City, and Liberties of the same; by Reason whereof the publick Markets and Market-places appointed only for the sale of Victuals, Food, Herbs, Roots, Raw Hides, Tanned Leather, Tallow and Wool, as before-mentioned, are become incumbered and made inconvenient for the exposing the same to sale, and the Prices of Victuals much enhanced thereby, and the Trades used to be exercised in the Shops and Warehouses in the said City and Liberties thereof are much hindered and decayed, to the great Prejudice and Damage of the Citizens of the City:

Now, for the effectual preventing and suppressing the said Mischiefs for the Time to come, be it enacted and ordained, by the Right Honourable the Lord-Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council assembled, and it is hereby enacted by the said Court, and by the Authority of the same, That from and after the twenty-fifth Day of December, now next ensuing, no Person or Persons whatsoever, whether free or not free of this City, shall sell or expose to Sale in the said publick Markets called Leadenhall-Market, the Green-Yard or Herb-Market, Stocks-Market, Honey-Lane-Market, Newgate-Market, or in any other such like Market or Market-Grounds thereunto belonging, within this City and Liberties of the same, any Mercery Wares, Lace and Linen, Grocery or Confectionery Wares, Ironmongers’ Wares, Braziers’ Wares, Hosiers’ Wares, Cutlers’ Wares, Tin Wares, Drapery Wares, Millinery Wares, Glass or Earthen Wares, Toys, or any such like Commodities or Merchandizes, which are sold in the open Shops or Warehouses of the Freemen of this City, and Liberties thereof, upon Pain to forfeit and pay for every such Offence (by him, her, or them committed or done to the contrary), the Sum of three Pounds of lawful Money of England, to be sued for and recovered, with reasonable Costs of Suit, by Action or Actions of Debt, to be brought and prosecuted within fourteen Days after such Offence or Offences shall be committed, in the name of the Chamberlain of this City for the Time being, in the open Court holden before the Lord-Mayor and Aldermen of the said City.

Which said Sum or Sums of Money, so forfeited and recovered from Time to Time (the necessary Charges for the Recovery thereof being first deducted), shall be to the Uses, and disposed of as followeth: That is to say, one Moiety thereof to be paid and delivered to the Treasurer of St. Thomas’s Hospital, to be employed towards the Relief of the Poor, Sick and Maimed, provided for and maintained in the said Hospital: And the other Moiety to him or them that shall and doth prosecute and sue for the same (in Manner as aforesaid) from Time to Time: Any Law, Custom or Usage contrary thereof notwithstanding.”

In 1695 we hear of the first indications that the Jacobite party was still strong in the City as elsewhere. It was on the 10th of June, the birthday of the Prince of Wales, that a number of Jacobites assembled in a tavern of Drury Lane, where they proceeded to drink the health of the Prince. Thence they went out into the streets with drums and flags and insisted upon everybody’s drinking the same toast. It was a time when the people could not wait for the interference of the police, because there were none; they were obliged to act for themselves, and often acted in a more efficient manner than any police. On this occasion they poured out into the streets, armed, and with one consent set upon the Jacobites, put them to flight, took one prisoner, and sacked the tavern. In the same year we read of another Jacobite ebullition when, the King being abroad carrying on the war with France, a man rode through the streets crying aloud that King William was dead: an adventure which might have done great mischief. The King, who was not dead after all, returned in October. Then occurred the assassination plot. He was to be murdered after hunting in Richmond Park. Fortunately the plot was discovered and the ringleaders arrested. The trained bands were called out and an address of loyalty was drawn up by the Corporation.

In 1697 the King returned to London on the Treaty of Ryswick. He consented to make a public entry. It was made the occasion of a procession of great magnificence, though falling very far short of the old pageants.

The following notes from the letters of Richard Lapthorme to Richard Coffin cover the greater part of King William’s reign:—

1688.

Sir C. Pym, dining at a tavern in Old Fish Street, quarrelled with a stranger—went out into the street, drew—Sir C. died.

1688.

July 21st. Fireworks on Thames cost £20,000. Present 100,000 people.

„

Judge Rotherham, Oxford Circuit, took with him Burgess N. Comminuta; asked him to pass a short tract for instructions and admonitions of criminals condemned.

„

Captain tossed the Mayor of Scarboro’ in blanket. Came up to complain to King.

„

Nov. Two rich aldermen died, one Alderman Jefferys, Tobacconist, £300,000, no children. Alderman Lacy very rich, 1 daughter.

„

11 Dec. “Mobile” pulling down mass-houses.

1688.

29th Dec. Lord Jefferies confined in chamber of one Bulle, a warder. Pen, ink, and paper. Town church very full in hopes of seeing him. Did not come.

1689.

20th Dec. Anniversary of King’s arrival in London. Representation in effigies. Procession 1000 torches to Temple Bar. All King James’s ministers: all hung on gallows—bonfire—gallows fall in with pillory. Whipping posts and everything.

1690.

20th Sep. People shut shops for monthly fast, but clergy will not open church.... preached everywhere.

1690.

22nd Nov. Two ladies of fortune abducted.

„

18th Dec. 22 condemned to be hanged, including the Golden Farmer, a highwayman, and Sir John Jepson for abducting Mrs. Coherton.

„

28th Feb. In Duke Street, Covent Garden, a gentlewoman bewitched. A voice speaks within her blasphemously—tho’ lips and teeth are shut; sometimes she is visibly lifted up, chair and all, no one touching the chair.

1691.

11th Apr. Fire at Whitehall.

„

31st May. New Diving bell.

„

4th July. Fray between Alsateans and gentlemen of the Temple. A fight; one of the sheriff’s posse killed; several wounded. 70 Alsateans sent to the various prisons.

„

25th July. Murder by one Bird.

„

15th Aug. „ „ a young gentleman.

„

22nd „ 2 grenadiers shot in Hyde Park for mutiny. Murders nearly every day.
Dr. Clench sent for to a patient—strangled in coach.

1692.

18th Aug. Packet from Holland blew up—60 perished. 40 picked up.

The Lord of Banbury fought with his brother-in-law, Capt. Laurie, and killed him. Young, clerk, fought Graham, clerk, and killed him. Lord Mohun killed Montfort the player. Reprieves used to be sent after the prisoners on their way to Tyburn. They were brought back on Sheriff’s horse, yet after all executed.

Miracle of the lame F. Girl.

A long succession of cold and rainy seasons caused many bad harvests, in so much that for some years there was a great dearth of corn, wheat being sold at as high as three pounds eight shillings a quarter. Considering the value of money then—it was almost twice as much as at present—we may understand the cost of wheat bread. But the working classes did never eat wheat bread except as a luxury. They lived on oaten bread.

In the year 1699 occurred another scare about the wicked Papists. The Mayor and Aldermen were summoned before the Privy Council, when the King informed them that he had heard of a great increase of Papists in the City; that they openly attended Mass-houses in spite of the law; that he had commanded all Jesuits and Popish priests to leave the country; that he had recalled all those English students who were educated abroad, and that he looked to the Lord Mayor for vigilance in searching out Papists, especially those who had arms concealed, destroying Papistical books, shutting up Mass-houses and Catholic schools, and administering the oaths to suspected Papists.

Almost the last act of the City of London in this reign was to send a loyal address to the King when James the Second died and Louis XIV. acknowledged as his successor the young Prince of Wales.

On the 8th of March 1702 William III. died.

CHAPTER IX
QUEEN ANNE

There is nothing picturesque and very little that is important in the history of London during the reign of Queen Anne. An address to the new Queen, a public reception of Her Majesty by the City, several days of Thanksgiving for successes over the enemy, quarrels about elections, High Church riots, mainly exhaust the annals of this reign.

ANNE (1665–1714)

After the portrait by J. Closterman.

On Friday, November 26, 1703, the greatest hurricane of wind and rain ever known in this country “o’er pale Britannia passed.” This really belongs chronologically to the eighteenth century, and has been described in that volume, but some reference to it here is also necessary. It began about seven o’clock in the evening, and raged all night long. It overturned houses, uprooted trees, blew down stacks of chimneys, rolled up the lead on the roofs of churches, overthrew walls, and tore off tiles, which it blew about like snowflakes. The streets were covered with brickbats, broken signs, tiles, bulks, and pent-houses; the houses in the City at daybreak looked like skeletons, being stripped of their roofs, with their windows blown in or out; the people destroyed were said, and believed, to number thousands; all business was suspended while the houses were made once more weather-proof; the price of tiles rose from a guinea to six pounds a thousand; at sea twelve men-of-war were destroyed with 1800 men on board, and the whole of the shipping in the Pool except four vessels were driven from their moorings to beat against each other and to founder off Limehouse.

The Common Council in 1704 considered the condition of the night watch. They ordered that 583 men, strong and able-bodied, should watch all night, divided among the respective wards. When we read that for the small precinct of Blackfriars alone six men were ordered to patrol the streets all night, that for Monkwell Street alone two men were to walk up and down all night, one wonders at the stories of midnight violence, burglary, and robbery belonging to the eighteenth century. What were those able-bodied men doing? It is another illustration of the difference between a strong law and a strong executive.

The Union of England and Scotland being at last happily accomplished, the Queen was carried to St. Paul’s in a solemn procession for a Thanksgiving service.

In 1709 arrived in London a body of helpless and destitute people from the Palatinate, which had been devastated by the French; there were nearly 12,000 of them. At first they were maintained by charity, over £22,000 being subscribed for their immediate necessities. They were then settled in various places; about 3000 were sent to Ireland, to each of the provinces of North and South Carolina about 600, and to the Province of New York about 3500. This settlement was made by a Committee appointed by the Queen. It consisted of the Great Officers of State, many of the nobility, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City and other persons of distinction, in number 121. These Trustees, as they were called, met every afternoon in the week at four o’clock, either at Whitehall or at the Guildhall Council Chamber. There were not wanting malcontents who thought that the country had paupers enough of its own without importing others. The example of the Huguenots, whose reception in this country brought new industries and increased wealth, might have taught a lesson, but it did not. Perhaps the double example of the welcome given to the Huguenots first and the Palatinates next may serve for another lesson at the present moment when the immigration of Polish and Russian Jews by the thousand terrifies some of us.

THANKSGIVING SERVICE IN ST. PAUL’S

From Pennant’s London, in the British Museum.

During the whole of this reign, and in that of its successor, party feeling ran high with High Churchmen and Moderates, including Dissenters.

In the autumn of the year 1709 two sermons were preached, by one Henry Sacheverell, D.D., which produced consequences not often due to the pulpit. The preacher himself has been represented by those of the opposite side as an obscure divine, of bad moral character, of no learning, of no eloquence, and of boundless impudence. This description of the famous Doctor must be taken with a very large deduction for the personal equation. Henry Sacheverell was the son of a clergyman, Rector of Marlborough, Wilts, and the grandson of a strong Presbyterian. He was entered at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he had Addison for his fellow-student and his friend. Certain Latin verses of his are inserted in the Musæ Anglicanæ, and certain English verses of his may be found in Nichol’s Collection. He was born in 1672, was Master of Arts in 1696, and Doctor of Divinity in 1708. He lectured or took pupils at Oxford for a few years, and then became successively vicar of a country parish and Chaplain of St. Saviour’s, Southwark. In August 1709 he delivered a sermon at the Derby Assizes, in which he maintained the doctrine, which many Oxford men then held, of passive obedience. To us the doctrine appears too ridiculous to need refutation; to the Tories and High Churchmen of that time it was a very serious position indeed, and one which was maintained by the support of Scripture. On November the 5th of the same year he was invited to preach before the Mayor and Corporation at St. Paul’s Cathedral. His sermon on this day was to the same effect. He took for his text the words “Perils from false brethren.” He asserted in the strongest terms the doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance; he spoke of the Revolution as a crime never to be forgiven, and he called the Bishops perfidious prelates and false sons of the Church because they approved of toleration. It was customary for the Mayor to command the printing of any sermon preached before the Corporation. But in this case the Mayor did not make the usual order, the reason being that many of the Aldermen and Common Council were alarmed at the extreme views advanced.

Let us understand that if this man had been the impudent, arrogant, self-seeking quack which some histories represent him, it is quite unlikely that the Mayor would have invited him to preach. Vain, carried away by his sudden popularity, he may have been, but he was eloquent, he was scholarly, and he undoubtedly possessed the power of moving his audience. Other divines on the High Church side had raged against the Revolution but to no purpose; there is talk of a certain Higgins who is said to have made loud outcries against the condition of the Church and the general wickedness. Yet no one heeded Higgins. But Sacheverell they did heed.

His sermons, both that of Derby and that of St. Paul’s, were published. The Tories ran after them eagerly, cried them up, ordered everybody to buy them, with the result that 40,000 copies were sold throughout the kingdom. The number, to us who are accustomed to see popular papers sold by millions, does not seem large, but think what it really meant at that time; it meant about two copies for every parish in the kingdom. In the town parishes the pamphlet was handed about from one to the other. Forty thousand copies of a sermon represent ten times that number of readers; it means the whole nation moved and agitated. All who could read did read these sermons; all who could not listened to the discussions on them.

They were considered by the Council. All were of the opinion that the preacher ought to be prosecuted; there were differences as to the method and as to the court by which he should be tried. It was finally resolved that he should be impeached before the two Houses of Parliament.

There were delays before the impeachment could be carried out. Meantime the High Church party and the clergy in general were actively engaged in proclaiming that the Church was in danger, and in inflaming the minds of the people against the Dissenters. And then occurred one of those strange tumults in which the lowest classes in London have risen up, from time to time, in favour of religion and morality, as if they understood in the least what these words mean. The ’prentices waging war against disorderly houses, the craftsmen destroying the Savoy in defence of their Bishop, the mob tearing down Mass-houses, the mob throwing up their hats for Sacheverell, the mob following Lord George Gordon—all these are risings of the same kind. Other reasons are assigned in each case; the one and only reason, apart from the general love of a fight, which lies always in the heart of the Londoner, was a blind desire for truth and justice. Who were the Dissenters? They were Puritans; they were the people, who, when they had the power, forbade the old sports, and persecuted those who would still play them; they were the masters who commanded the way of their people in matters of religion as in matters of politics; they had turned merry London into morose London. It is generally believed that the common people did not go to church, and therefore had no love for the church. This is most untrue. The City was still full of the craftsmen; all those who lived in the City went to church. How many of those who lived outside the walls, what proportion of those who were settled beyond the walls, went to church one has no means of ascertaining. But within the walls all the people went to church. So that when we hear that ’prentices, butchers, chimney-sweepers, scavengers, fellowship porters, and the like made up the mob which bawled in the streets the cry of “The Church in danger,” we need only remark that respectable people never join a mob and never bawl in the streets for any cause whatsoever. In a word, there is every reason to believe the mob to have been filled with an honest conviction that this cause was that of religion, pure and undefiled.

On the 27th day of February, Dr. Sacheverell was brought to the bar before the Lords and Commons in Westminster Hall. Immense importance was attached to the case; the Queen was present, but privately. Seats were arranged for the Commons and for the noble ladies who were here in crowds; galleries were set up at the end of the hall for the people, and a raised platform for the managers of the impeachment and for the defendant. We need not follow the course of the trial. On the 23rd day of March, more than three weeks after it began, the case ended. The Doctor was ordered to abstain from preaching for three years. Meantime the mob had been showing the sincerity of its conviction not only by cheering the defendant every day as he went to the Hall or returned, but by wrecking the Dissenting chapels. They broke into the Gate Street Chapel, took out everything—pulpit, pews, Bibles, cushions, sconces—and carried the whole into Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where they made a bonfire of the things, shouting “High Church and Sacheverell!” In Blackfriars, Clerkenwell, Long Acre, Shoe Lane, and Leather Lane they also wrecked the chapels. The rioters were dispersed by a detachment of Guards without any bloodshed.

HENRY SACHEVERELL, D.D. (1674?–1724)

The sentence passed upon the Doctor was considered as an acquittal. Bonfires illuminated the City in the evening; drink flowed; every one was made to drink the health of the Doctor. The subsequent career of Sacheverell was tame. He made a kind of triumphal progress through the country, though some of the towns refused to admit him. Oxford received him as if he was a martyr, or a confessor at least. Finally, he settled down at St. Andrew’s, Holborn, where he died at the age of fifty. Such a man must needs make many enemies. Among them was the Duchess of Marlborough. She calls him “a lewd, drunken, pampered man,” and says that “he had not learning enough to speak or write true English, but a heap of bombast, ill-connected words at command.” He had a “haughty and insolent air” which helped him with the public. She acknowledges, however, that he had “a good assurance, clean gloves, white handkerchief, well managed, with other suitable accomplishments, which moved the hearts of many at his appearance.” She says that his speech in defence was written for him; that many of the “weaker” ladies were more like mad or bewitched than like persons in their senses. It might seem to us, who live so very far from passive obedience and non-resistance, as if the occasion were enormously exaggerated. That, however, was certainly not the case. The clergy were only too ready, one and all, to join in the prosecution of the Nonconformists, in the suppression of free thought, and in the corresponding doctrines of non-resistance. It was most certainly desirable, above all things, if the Protestant succession were to be secured, that these doctrines should be placed before the people in their true light; whatever the mob might bawl, whatever ecclesiastics might preach, the men of sense and understanding must not only go on their way, but must show the world the reason of their action. By the impeachment of a greatly overrated preacher before both Houses of Parliament the Government committed both Houses to the maintenance of religious toleration, to the Protestant succession, and to the liberties of the country. Considered from that point of view the case of this person must be regarded as the most important State trial. The Doctor is reproached with having his head turned by the honours bestowed upon him. We may forgive him. Who would not have his head turned, first, by the enormous success of a sermon; next, by being thought worthy of a State trial in Westminster Hall; lastly, by receiving every evidence of popular approval that a shouting, bawling mob can give, to say nothing of the gifts, the letters, the assurances of great ladies and noble lords? Of course his head was turned.

When the Sacheverell tumults were finished and over, the Lord Mayor issued an order for the suppression of such assemblies of rude and disorderly persons by the constables. We have already noted the appearance of these documents and proclamations and their futile character, because without sufficient force of police in reserve such general orders are powerless.

The Statute for the erection of fifty new churches in the suburbs of London indicates the growth of the City outside the walls. Fifty churches would provide accommodation for fifty thousand people; or, allowing for the infants, the aged, the infirm, and those who attended service only once a day, probably a hundred thousand. At the present day the parishes of Greater London frequently include eight thousand to twenty thousand souls.

The last years of Queen Anne were distracted, as readers of history know, by secret conferences, correspondence, and conspiracies to secure the succession of the elder Pretender, James Francis. The reports and whispers of these things kept London in a state of continual alarm and ferment; rumours were constantly spreading around; it was said that a large number of disaffected persons calling themselves Mohocks and Hawkabites came out at night and scoured the streets, assaulting and wounding harmless persons; it was also said that they flattened the noses of those they seized, or slit them; that they cut off their ears; that they stretched their mouths or gagged them; that they cruelly pricked and stabbed them; that they set women on their heads, with other terrible things. The citizens were afraid to go into the streets at night for fear of being “mohocked.” A proclamation was issued offering a reward of one hundred pounds for the conviction of every such offender. But no one was apprehended, nor could any one be found who had suffered from the cruelties of the so-called Mohocks and Hawkabites. In fact it was a scare, baseless except for the occasional acts of violence which took place in the streets. Another scare was started about the same time. It was bruited abroad that the suburbs and fields around London were haunted by a wretch called Whipping Tom, whose practice it was to seize on all the women he met with and flog them. No one asked how this could be done if the woman resisted or ran away, because one would want both hands for the purpose, and the fields—meaning Moor Fields—and suburbs were not so lonely that a woman’s cries could not be heard. However, the women of London were put into a state of great terror in consequence of this report, and for a long time none would venture abroad without an escort.

At this time there were complaints that many shopkeepers employed assistants who were not Freemen of the City. The Mayor and Common Council passed a strict order that this practice was to cease, and that the persons employed in the City in any capacity should be Freemen of the City.

Queen Anne died on August 1, 1714.

RELIGION, GOVERNMENT, AND TRADE

CHAPTER I
RELIGION

Let us consider the religious side of London in the first half of the seventeenth century. It was not so much the abolition of the Mass and all that went with it, not so much the Smithfield fires and all that they meant, that changed the mind of London, but the acquisition of the Bible and the continual delight which the people found in reading it, in hearing it read, in hearing it expounded, and in making out for themselves the meaning of passages and the foundations of doctrine. The Bible gave them histories more entrancing than any that had ever been presented to them. They read of Abraham and of Jacob, of Joshua, of the Strong Man, of the rash King’s vow, of Saul and David, of Hezekiah, of Elijah and the prophets of Baal. They read the words of the Prophets and applied them to the events and the kings and statesmen of their own time; if they longed to praise their God, the Psalms of David gave them words; if they were sad they found consolation in those poems; for the conduct of life there was the Book of Proverbs; for example, under every possible circumstance was a gallery of portraits, the like of which could nowhere else be found. In the Gospel they read of a Christ whose image rose always higher than they could reach; and in the Epistles they gathered materials for the doctrines of a hundred sects. With this book in their hands, containing history, poetry, morals, example, admonition, the way of eternal life and, scattered about, the materials for the Creed or Articles of Faith, without which it seemed impossible to live, the old authority was gone, never to return so long as that book remained in the hands and sank into the minds of the people.

For forty years and more before the Stuarts came, the book had been read and read again and again by every one; children had read it at school; they had been catechised in it; they had been taught that it contained in itself the whole of religion, so that what had been added since was superfluous or superstitious.

The attitude of the people towards Catholicism at the beginning of the seventeenth century was that of hatred far beyond the hatred of fifty years before, because it was intensified by the terror of the Papacy, which seemed recovering its old ground and quickly seizing on one country after another. It seemed to those that could look beyond the sea that in a short time there would be another, and a far more dangerous attempt than that of the Spanish Armada, upon the religion and the liberties of the country. The horrors of Catholic victory were impressed upon them by the spectacle of the Huguenot fugitives and the unfortunate Palatines, by stories of the Spanish Inquisition and its ruthless tortures. The preachers—those “lecturers”—who were added to the parish churches, fed this feeling of hatred and of terror. What, then, was the indignation, what was the dismay, when the citizens of London found the ecclesiastical authorities separating themselves more and more from the reformed churches of Germany and Switzerland, and, as they thought, advancing with no uncertain steps towards a reconciliation with Rome!

ST. PAUL’S CROSS

“An accurate delineation, the only Correct Vestige that remains of this Ancient and Curious Object, as it appeared on Sunday the 26th of March 1620; at which time, it was visited by King James the I., His Queen, and Charles, Prince of Wales; attended by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Bishops, Officers of State, Nobility, Ladies, etc. etc.; Who were received with great magnificence by Sir William Cockaine, Lord Mayor of London; assisted by the Court of Aldermen, Recorder, etc.; When a most excellent Sermon was preach’d from a text purposely selected by his Majesty (Psalm cii. Verses 13, 14), by Dr. John King, Bishop of London; recommending the speedy reparation of the Venerable Cathedral of St. Paul; which, with its unsteepled Tower, and incumberances of Houses, etc. appear on the back and side grounds.”

From a print engraved from an original picture in the possession of the Society of Antiquaries, and published by Richard Wilkinson, London, 4th June 1811.

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The early years of the seventeenth century saw the Puritan at his best. That he should prefer and hold a narrow creed was inevitable; there was no creed or sect possible which was not narrow. In this respect the Puritan was in no way below the Catholic, the Episcopalian, the Presbyterian, or the Brownist, or the Fifth Monarchy man, or any other sectarian. He was not, however, necessarily a gloomy and austere person. He might be a man of many accomplishments; Colonel Hutchinson fenced, danced, and played the viol. But the Puritan was, above all, conscious of his own individual responsibility. Between himself and his God he wanted no priest; he would not acknowledge that there was for any man the need of a priest, or for any priest the possession of supernatural power; he wanted no ceremonies; he remembered that symbolism, as all history proclaims aloud, leads infallibly to the worship of the symbol. He would not allow so simple a thing as the sign of the cross in baptism or the ring in marriage. The key-note of Puritanism, the thing which made it strong and glorified it in the persons of the best and noblest spirits, as Milton and Hutchinson, was that the man was master of himself. Consider, therefore, the wrath and the dismay when such a man saw himself, or thought himself deprived of his liberty of thought, compelled to conformity with what he held to be superstitions, dragged unwillingly and in chains along the road to Rome.

Among the lower ranks, the shopkeepers and the craftsmen of London, the same spirit prevailed; but it led to extravagances. The Bible was kept open on every counter; men discussed texts in every tavern; the barbers quoted Paul while they shaved their customers. A certain description of a citizen’s wife suggests the thought and discourse of a London household of this time. “She was very loving and obedient to her parents, kind to her husband, tender-hearted to her children, loving all who were godly, much misliking the wicked and profane; ... very ripe and perfect in all stories of the Bible; likewise in all stories of Martyrs.” The martyrs were the Marian martyrs; this good woman knew them all; there would be more martyrs, she knew full well, if the Catholics came back. And she knew, and delighted in, all the stories of the Bible; she was ripe in them and perfect in them. If the Catholics came back, her Bible would be taken from her. Consider the dismay of this poor woman when she was told that Laud was doing all he could to bring them back!

Green points out, very forcibly and truly, how the claims of despotic authority, of crown and church, jarred with all that was noblest in the temper of the time. “These were everywhere reaching forward to the conception of law. Bacon sought the law in material nature; Hooper asserted the rule of law over the spiritual world. The temper of the Puritan was eminently a temper of law. The diligence with which he searched the Scriptures sprang from his earnestness to discover a Divine Will, which, in all things, great or small, he might implicitly obey. But this implicit obedience was reserved for the Divine Will alone: for human ordinances derived their strength only from their correspondence with the revealed law by God.” Against such a temper, with such a stubborn people, fully persuaded that their eternal welfare depended upon their adherence to their own convictions, Charles and Laud were bound to fail.

WILLIAM LAUD (1573–1645)
Archbishop of Canterbury.

It must be admitted that the better type of Puritan was apt to degenerate and to give way to a narrower and a stricter school. There appeared the Puritan who pulled down and cut in pieces the Maypoles—those of St. Andrew Undershaft, and of Basing Lane, for example. Also there appeared the Puritan who put down games and sports:—

“I’ve heard our fine refined clergy teach,

Of the commandments, that it is a breach

To play at any game for gain or coin;

’Tis theft, they say—men’s goods you do purloin;

For beasts or birds in combat for to fight,

Oh, ’tis not lawful, but a cruel sight.

One silly beast another to pursue

’Gainst nature is, and fearful to the view;

And man with man their activeness to try

Forbidden is—much harm doth come thereby;

Had we their faith to credit what they say

We must believe all sports are ta’en away;

Whereby, I see, instead of active things,

What harm the same unto our nation brings;

The pipe and pot are made the only prize

Which all our spriteful youth do exercise.’”

There appeared also the Puritan who objected to the study of Latin and Greek as encouraging idolatry and pagan superstition. And the Puritan who would have no Christmas festivities, who put down the custom of plum porridge, and changed the name of Christmas pie to mince-pie, which it is still called. The gloomy face of the Puritan belongs to later developments, as do the texts worn on the sleeve, the lank hair, and the hat without a band.

With such a temper in the people, against such leaders, Charles and Laud began their campaign for the overthrow of civil and religious liberty. It is easy to exclaim against a short-sighted policy, and against the blindness of those who could not observe the signs of the times. In the absence of newspapers and public meetings, how was a statesman to understand the signs of the times? The King, like his father, had not been brought up in the knowledge of English liberties and their history. To this ignorance a great deal of the blundering, both of James and of Charles, may be attributed. Laud, for his part, was an ecclesiastic through and through. It was not for him to seek out the opinions of the unlearned or of the dissentient. It was his business to enforce the ecclesiastical law as he found it, and as he designed to make it.

The number of London clergy afterwards ejected sufficiently proves the support which he obtained from that class. It is, indeed, always safe to expect support from the clergy whenever steps are taken to magnify the ecclesiastical office or to advance the sacerdotal pretensions. As it is in our time, so it was in the days of Laud.

The Archbishop ordered conformity with the ceremonies of the Prayer Book. The surplice was enforced; the sign of the Cross in Baptism was continued; the ring in marriage remained in use; kneeling, and not sitting, at the administration of the Holy Communion became obligatory. The Geneva Bible, the old favourite of the people, with its short and pithy notes, was prohibited; those ministers who refused to conform were ejected; the lectures, which in London had been mostly on the Puritan side, were suppressed.

It became evident fifteen years later that the intolerance of Laud was not so much a subject of complaint as the enforcement of ritual and teaching abhorrent to the mind of Puritan, Presbyterian, and Independent. In 1644 it was proved that intolerance belonged equally to all sects. The possibility of allowing people differing in creeds to live in peace was not as yet admitted; nor would it be admitted until all alike, Anglican, Presbyterian, Independent, Quaker, Anabaptist, Socinian, Roman Catholic, had each and all in turn felt and realised that religion would mean continuous persecution, ejection, rebellion, and suffering, unless a modus vivendi were arrived at.

A TRIMMER

From a contemporary print in the British Museum.

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Meantime those who would be intolerant in their turn, but as yet could not, found the situation gloomy. They looked across the Atlantic and began to emigrate by thousands; not, as is too often asserted, to find across the ocean that freedom which they could not find here, but to find the power of living under the creed that they accepted, and of imposing it upon all who would live among them.

“The Land,” says Clarendon, “was full of pride and mutiny.” It seemed, at one time, as if the best blood of the country was going across the ocean. Hundreds of the clergy gave up their houses and went into poverty because they would not turn a table into an altar, and because they refused to take the least step which pointed in the direction of Rome.

And persecution and public punishment of men like Leighton and Prynne only had the effect of bringing the discontent of the people to the point of exasperation.

EXECUTION OF WILLIAM LAUD, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY (1645)

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In the year 1633 appeared Prynne’s Histrio Mastix, a violent attack on play-acting, dancing, and masques. In all these things the Queen took great delight. Therefore the work was supposed to be directed against her. A brutal sentence was inflicted upon Prynne, and was duly carried out, and after pillory, branding on the forehead, having his nose slit and his ears cut off, the wretched man was condemned to be disbarred, to be deprived of his University degree, and to be imprisoned for life.

The freedom of the press was of course attacked. Laud assumed a censorship over all new books and over the sale or circulation of old books. Among other books prohibited were Foxe’s Book of Martyrs and Bishop Jewel’s Works. Prynne, and with him Dr. Bastwick, a physician, and Henry Burton, a divine, all three being prisoners in the Tower, were prosecuted in the Star Chamber for writing libellous and schismatical books. They were sentenced to pay £5000 each; to stand in pillory; to lose their ears, or, in Prynne’s case, to lose what was left of his ears; to be branded and to be imprisoned in Launceston, Lancaster, and Carnarvon. An immense multitude gathered to see the sentence carried out; they “cried and howled terribly”; they followed the prisoners with shouts of good wishes and groans for their persecutors; they threw money into the coach in which Burton’s wife was sitting. Laud complained afterwards that the prisoners were suffered to speak to the people, and that notes were taken of their speeches and circulated in the City. At Chester, on his way to Carnarvon, Prynne was entertained by the Sheriff and a number of gentlemen, who refreshed him with a good dinner, and gave him tapestry and carpets for his cell.

Let us turn to the other side of religious opinion. If the Bible, and especially the Old Testament, furnished the popular side with arguments in support of every doctrine they professed, the same authority was called in for the maintenance and defence of the High Church and Loyalist party. Laud and his friends were by no means without Scriptural defence. For instance, the most rigid rule of conduct advanced by the divines of Charles the Second’s reign was that of passive obedience, together with the corollary that resistance to the King’s authority was a mortal sin. This doctrine seems to us absurd, we who inherit the training of two hundred years in the belief that all power is conferred by the people and may be withdrawn by the people. But, in fact, the doctrine was perfectly logical if one admitted that the English monarchy was an Oriental despotism such as that of Solomon or any other Eastern king. I have before me a sermon preached on February 6, 1668, in Ripon Cathedral, by the Dean, in which the doctrine is boldly advanced and upheld. The text is from 1 Kings viii. 66, and relates how, after the great and solemn function of the dedication with the blood of 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep—surely there is here a superfluity of ciphers—and after a great feast, the people went away blessing the King. One would think this a weak text for the support of such a doctrine, but the learned Dean bolsters it up with an abundance of instances and texts. Thus “St. Paul says that Kings are, not by God’s sufferance but by his ordinance, and therefore, even supposing them never so bad, they are not to be resisted. You may take up the Buckles of Patience; but you must not take up Arms against them; for Rebellion is such rank Poison to the Soul, that the least Scruple of it is Damnable, the very intention of it in the Heart is Mortal.”

In our passive obedience we may, if times are bad, console ourselves with the imitation of “Jeremiah in Prison; Daniel in the Lion’s Den; Amos struck through the Temples; Zachariah murdered between the Porch and the Altar; our Blessed Saviour living under Herod and Tiberius and crucified under Pontius Pilate; His Disciples under Caligula, Claudius, Nero, and Domitian; Christian Bishops, under Heathen Persecutors; none of whom ever reviled their Princes or resisted them.” One might object that in these cases resistance would have been useless. But he goes on, “Who questioned Saul for slaying the Priests and revolting to Idolatry? Who questioned Joram a Parricide and murderer of his nobles? Or Joash for his Idolatry and slaying the High Priest? Did the Sanhedrim do it? Who questioned Theodosius for murdering six Thousand innocent Persons? Who questioned Constance, or Valeros, or Julian the Apostate?” Again, one objects the people had not the power to question. Again, “Mephibosheth said of David, ‘My Lord the King is an Angel of God. Do therefore what is good in thine eyes.’”

“Did not God ordain Adam to rule over his wife without giving her or her children any commission to limit his power? What was given to him in his Person was also given to his Posterity; and the Paternal Government continued Monarchical from him to the Flood, and after that to the Confusion of Babel when Kingdoms were first erected and planted over the face of the Earth? And so what right or Title, the People can have ... to restrain the supremacy which was as untouched in Adam as any act of his will (it being due to the Supreme Fatherhood) or from what time it commenced, the Scripture nowhere tells us. Where is the People’s charter extant in Nature or in Scripture, for invading the Rights of the Crown? Or what authority can they have from either to introduce their Devices of presiding over him whom God and Nature hath set over them?”

This was the kind of preaching which was heard from a hundred pulpits in the City of London as well as in country churches and cathedrals during the whole reign of Charles II. and the beginning of his successor’s short period of power. There can be no doubt that it persuaded many, that the preachers themselves were in earnest, and that there were few indeed among the congregation who were able to point to the weakness of a doctrine which rested on an absurdity so great as the parallel between the King of a free people whose liberties had slowly developed from prehistoric customs and an Oriental despotism.

Let us note one or two points of custom and popular belief and practice which should be taken into account when we consider the religious spirit of the time.

Fasting, for instance, was still practised and enjoined by the Church, as it is to this day. The Puritans, while they rebelled against the observance of days, maintained the duty of occasional fast days. The High Church party insisted vehemently on the duty of fasting, and the Restoration brought back the usage of fasting as part of the Church discipline. By this time, however, the poorer classes had lost the habit of eating fish only on Fridays and in Lent, and it was impossible to enforce the practice.

Other customs and beliefs, survivals of the old faith, remained. Sanctuary, for example, although the ancient privileges had been abolished, although a criminal could no longer take refuge in a church, still continued under another form (see [p. 170]). That is to say, certain places remained where Sheriffs’ officers could not venture, where a writ could not be served, and where a rogue could not be arrested. Among these places were the streets on the site of Whitefriars: Ram Alley, Salisbury Court, Mitre Court, the Precinct of the Savoy, Fulwood’s Rents in Holborn, and on the other side of the river, Deadman’s Place, the Mint, and Montagu Close. These pretended privileges were not abolished by law until the year 1697. Some of the places, in spite of this abolition, preserved their immunity for a time by the terror of their lawlessness and violence. The “humours” of Alsatia have been immortalised by Scott, but it must be remembered that there were many other places besides Whitefriars at that time equally entitled to the privileges of sanctuary.

The abolition of Episcopacy was followed by a persecution of those of the clergy who were known to sympathise with the Anglican forms. They were accused of immorality or malignancy; they were haled before the House, which deprived them of their livings and gave them to persons of better principles. Of the sufferings of the London clergy, Walker’s well-known work gives a full account. He sums up as follows:—

“Thus were about One Hundred and Ten of the London Clergy turned out of their Livings (nor do I know whether the List be yet compleat), above Forty of which were Doctors of Divinity, and most of them Plunder’d of their Goods, and their Wives and Children turned out of Doors. About twenty were imprisoned in London, and in the Ships, and in the several Jayls and Castles in the Country; upward of that Number fled to prevent the like Imprisonment. About Twenty Two died soon after in remote Parts, in Prisons, and with Grief; and about Forty Churches lay void, having no constant Minister in them.

They were most, if not all, of them turned out in the Years 1642 and 1643. Some few more immediately by the House of Commons; but most of them by the Committee of Religion, and that of Plunder’d Ministers, and chiefly, as I conceive, by the latter: The Resolutions of which Committee were in the beginning, if I mistake not, mostly reported to the House: But when that Godly Work increas’d upon their hands, a Power was lodg’d in the Committee, as I take it, which made their Resolutions Final. I must here add that a Learned and Eminent Person who liv’d through, and suffer’d under those Times, gives this Character of the then London Clergy in general: ‘That for a more Pious, Learn’d, and Laborious Ministry, no People ever Enjoy’d it, even their enemies themselves being Judges’” (John Walker, Account of the Sufferings of the Clergy, 1714, p. 180).

For a list of the London clergy ejected see [Appendix II].

In June 1643 a council or company of one hundred and twenty divines, called “Pious, godly, and judicious,” was summoned to meet at Westminster to consider the new form of national church. With them were joined thirty laymen, namely, ten Lords and twenty Commoners. The Houses laid down rules for the form of the meetings and the subject of the debates. Among the hundred and twenty was a certain proportion of Episcopalians, who, however, refused to attend; the majority were Presbyterians, anxious to establish the discipline and doctrine of the foreign reformed churches; but there was also among them a small body of Independents. The difference between the two parties was very important. The former desired a church resembling that of the old Established Church in a gradation of spiritual authorities in presbyteries, classes, synods, and assemblies, giving to these bodies the power of censure, punishment, deprivation, and excommunication. The latter held that every congregation stood by itself, that there should be no central authority, and that churches should be left free to differ in doctrine.

The Council were unanimous in minor points; they removed organs; they prohibited the surplice and the cope; they destroyed monuments of idolatry, but they could not agree as to church government. Finally, they agreed in the production of a Directory of public worship, which introduced order into the service and regulated the administration of the sacraments, the ceremony of marriage, the visitation of the sick, and the burial of the dead.

On Friday, January 3, 1645, the Ordinance for the abolition of the Book of Common Prayer, and for the establishment in its place of a new Directory for the public worship of God, was passed:—

“In the Preamble it is set forth that the ‘Lords and Commons assembled in Parliament, taking into serious consideration the manifold inconveniences that have arisen by the Book of Common-Prayer in this Kingdome, and resolving according to their Covenant to reforme Religion according to the Word of God and the example of the best Reformed Churches, have consulted with the Reverend, Pious and Learned Divines, called together to that purpose; And doe Judge it necessary that the said Book of Common-Prayer be abolished, and the Directory for the Publike Worship of God herein after mentioned, bee established and observed in all the Churches within this Kingdome.”

“And that the Directory for publike Worship herein set forth shall bee henceforth used, perused, and observed according to the true intent and meaning of this Ordinance, in all Exercises of the Publike Worship of God, in every Congregation, Church, Chappell, and place of Publike Worship within this Kingdome of England, and Dominion of Wales; Which Directory for the Publike Worship of God, with the Preface thereof followeth” (The Directory, p. 4).

The same preamble ordered that in every church there should be kept a register for the names of all who were baptized, married, or buried in the churchyard.

The Directory may be condensed as follows:—

1. Orderly behaviour in Church without salutations, greetings, or whispering.

2. Commencement with Prayer.

“In all reverence and Humility acknowledging the incomprehensible Greatnesse and Majesty of the Lord (in whose presence they doe then in a speciall manner appeare) and their owne vilenesse to approach so neare him; with their utter inability of themselves, to so great a work: And humbly beseeching him for pardon, Assistance, and Acceptance in the whole service then to be performed; and for a Blessing on that particular portion of his Word then to be read: and all, in the Name and Mediation of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

3. After prayer reading of the scriptures; the length and the portion chosen to be left to the Minister, with a recommendation to read one chapter of the Old and one of the New at every meeting.

4. Expounding of the Scripture read to be performed after the reading.

5. After the Reading, Public Prayer, the general heads of which are set forth at length.

6. The Sermon.

Here follow instructions for the preacher.

7. After the sermon, another prayer.

8. The Prayer ended, let a Psalm be sung, if with conveniency it may be done.

The rite of baptism is ordered; one notes that the sign of the Cross is omitted.

The celebration of the Lord’s Supper is to take place after the sermon and psalm. The communicants are to sit round a table covered with a white cloth. Prayer is to be offered, in which it is to be specially noted that the bread and wine remain bread and wine, but that by faith the body and blood of Christ are taken by the communicant.

The “Sanctification of the Lord’s Day” assumes that it is the Sabbath, and orders that no unnecessary work be carried on, and that the same not spent in church is to be devoted to reading, meditation, and catechising.

The marriage service is very short. There is to be a prayer with a declaration of Scripture on the subject, after which the man and the woman are to take hands and take each other for wife and husband:—

“Concerning the Burial of the Dead,” the Directory says, “and because the customes of kneeling down, and praying by, or towards the dead Corps, and other such usages, in the place where it lies, before it be carried to Buriall, are Superstitious: and for that, praying, reading, and singing both in going to, and at the Grave, have been grosly abused, are no way beneficiall to the dead, and have proved many ways hurtfull to the living; therefore let all such things be laid aside.”

On days of fasting there is to be total abstinence from all kinds of food and from all kinds of work.

As for singing of Psalms:—

“The voice is to be tunably and gravely ordered: but the chief care must be, to sing with understanding, and with Grace in the heart, making melody unto the Lord.”

“That the whole Congregation may joyne herein, every one that can read is to have a Psalme book, and all others not disabled by age, or otherwise, are to be exhorted to learn to read. But for the present, where many in the Congregation cannot read, it is convenient that the Minister, or some other fit person appointed by him and the other Ruling Officers, doe read the Psalme, line by line, before the singing thereof” (Directory, p. 43).

On the 23rd of August following, another ordinance was passed for the taking away of the Book of Common Prayer from all churches and chapels in the kingdom. It was also ordered that the knights and burgesses of the counties should send copies of the Directory, bound in leather, to the constables and other officers of every parish in the kingdom, and that within one week after receiving the books, the constables should hand the books to the minister of the parish.

Pains and penalties for disobedience to these orders conclude the Ordinance.

There are abundant materials for showing the violence of the passions excited in London by the religious controversy of the time. We see the soldiers on guard at Lambeth breaking into the church in time of service, tearing the Prayer Book to pieces, stripping the clergyman of his surplice, and desecrating the altar, until the Thames watermen come to the assistance of the people and there is a fight in the body of the church. We see a party of horse riding through the streets, four of them attired in surplices, tearing the Book of Common Prayer in pieces, leaf by leaf, with gestures unseemly. We find the clergy accused of the most infamous crimes—“common drunkenness, looseness of life, adultery,” and worse. We find some of the people in church sitting with their hats on, and some with their hats off, and riots in consequence. We hear of fanatics preaching the wildest doctrines and forming the most wonderful sects. There is neither tolerance, nor charity, nor patience. There is no authority; there is no respect for learning; every one, in every station, interprets Scripture in blind confidence that he is fully equal to the task of framing a bran-new constitution for a bran-new sect. And with it all, a power almost pathetic, of sitting out the longest sermons. On one occasion two ministers, one after the other, engaged the attention of the House of Commons for seven long hours. The people presently grew weary of the incessant wranglings over doctrine; sane persons began to understand that the task of making ignorant men and women agree in matters of creed was hopeless; it became understood that divergence of opinion would be no more tolerated by Independents than it was by Presbyterians; at this point of weariness it was extremely fortunate for the country that the reaction restored them to the Church of England instead of the Church of Rome. It was wonderful how the great mass of the people sank back contentedly into their old form of faith, relieved to find at last that they might leave the dogmas of religion to divines and scholars and be free themselves to illustrate in their private lives the virtues of religion by the exercise of faith, hope, and charity, which, for twenty years and more, seemed to have deserted the City of London.

A single example of the religious dissensions of the time will doubtless stand for many more. I have before me a pamphlet written by the Rev. J. Dodd, which originally appeared in the English Historical Review (Spottiswoode, 1895), on the troubles of St. Botolph, Aldgate, during this period. To quote Mr. Dodd’s own words, “it is a fairly complete picture of the state of discord, and probably had many a parallel throughout England.”

In 1642 the then Vicar, a follower of Laud, one Thomas Swadlin, was deprived of his living and sent to Newgate. After his departure the living was held by a succession of obscure preachers, probably of Puritanic views, till 1654, when Laurence Wise, the last of them, either died or resigned. In August of that year, by popular election, one John Mackarness, a clergyman in Anglican orders, was appointed. Cromwell, however, intervened, and a Presbyterian, Zachary Crofton, was appointed in his place. Crofton was an Irishman who had been in arms against the King; he was then pastor, first of Newcastle-under-Lyne, next of Winbury, in Cheshire. He refused to take the oath to the Government of 1649 “without King or House of Lords,” and lost his living. In London he obtained the church of St. James’s, Garlickhithe. Here he made himself known as a hot-headed controversialist, and by no means a friend of Cromwell, who, however, nominated him to St. Botolph’s.

Crofton went, therefore, to St. Botolph’s, and found a congenial field for a fighting man. He was himself a Presbyterian; the afternoon lecturer was one John Simpson, who had also, like Crofton, been in the Army, and was now an Independent and an Anabaptist. Crofton alienated some of the former sect by attempting to revive “disception” in his church—that is to say, he forbade unworthy persons from approaching the Lord’s Table. He enraged the Anabaptists by the importance which he attached to the baptism of infants. He also desired to catechise the children, and printed a short catechism for them. Simpson held that you might as well buy rattles or hobby horses for children as catechisms. Crofton began by refusing to recognise Simpson as afternoon lecturer; the parishioners petitioned Cromwell to allow him one lecture in the church on the Lord’s Day and one in the week. This was granted, and Crofton had to give way.

Then occurred a charge which Crofton always denied, but which was brought up against him continually. A certain maid-servant accused him of chastising her with a rod in an improper manner. Afterwards she swore that she had been bribed to bring the accusation.

In 1657 Crofton sent a letter to John Simpson; he was going to take possession of his own pulpit, and Simpson might commence an action as soon as he pleased. Simpson, however, complained to the Council of State, and an order was granted him to preach in the afternoon. Accordingly on Sunday, Crofton being in the pulpit and surrounded by his friends, John Simpson and his party entered the church and presented the order. It was addressed to Grafton, not Crofton. “This order is not for me,” said the Vicar; whereupon the Simpson party retired, beaten for once. The Council of State again interfered and Crofton had to submit. He took revenge by charging Simpson’s three principal friends with brawling in church. They were acquitted; he made a public protest in the church. John Simpson then began to preach against infant baptism; Crofton charged him with heresy and demanded of him a defence of his position. Simpson preserved silence. But he took other steps. He charged Crofton with being a declared enemy to the Government and with preaching sedition and insurrection. Crofton refused to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the Court. He published a pamphlet, however, in which he defended himself and told a pretty story of parish dissensions and persecutions. After this came the whirlwind. Cromwell died. Crofton went into the country just before the Cheshire rising, and was charged with preaching to the rebels; from this he cleared himself. He then threw himself into the politics of the time, strongly advocating a free Parliament; he preached at St. Peter’s, Cornhill, for the restoration of Charles the Second; meantime John Simpson had vanished and the magnanimous Crofton preached a sermon on peace. He lost his church at the Restoration; he was consigned to the Tower for a twelvemonth; he went down into Cheshire and turned cheese-factor; he was again arrested for sowing sedition; he went back to London and started a grocer’s shop; under the pressure of the Five Mile Act he left London and took a farm at Little Barford in Bedfordshire; after the Plague he returned to London and set up a school in Aldgate; it was here that he preached a course of sermons in St. James’s, Duke’s Place, which he afterwards published under the title of “The Saints’ Care for Church Communion.” He died just before Christmas 1672, and his body lies buried in the churchyard of his old parish.

This story illustrates the feverish unrest of the time: the parish divided into furious parties; one clergyman preaching infant baptism; the other preaching that it was as idle to give the child a catechism as a rattle; calumniations and recriminations of the vilest kind; the Restoration; ejections; an attempt to earn a living by making cheese, by farming, by keeping a shop, by keeping a school. A strange story of a strange time!

As a part of the religious aspect of the City one must not omit the desecration of St. Paul’s, which, during the twenty years 1640–1660, was carried out in a manner so resolute and thorough as to show the deliberate intention of giving the citizens, who still gloried in their venerable Cathedral, a lesson in the revolution of religious thought.

The Cathedral, as Dean Milman says, was, under the Puritans, a vast useless pile, the lair of old superstition and idolatry. It would have been pulled down but for the trouble and the expense. The Parliament, however, did what they could to procure its destruction; there was a sum of £17,000 lying in the chambers of the City which remained out of the subscriptions for repairing the church. This was seized. There had also been erected round the tower a scaffolding of wood which was taken down and sold for £174, the whole being given to Colonel Jefferson’s regiment for arrears of pay. When the scaffolding was taken away, part of the roof of the south transept fell in. Whereupon the Mayor and Aldermen represented the necessity of getting more water into the City, and begged the lead that covered the roof towards the pipes for carrying the water.

In 1642 the removal of crucifixes and other superstitious objects was ordered. In the same year all the copes belonging to the Cathedral were burned. In 1645 the silver plate of St. Paul’s was sold, and the money spent in providing artillery.

The Cathedral, according to the story, was offered by Cromwell to the Jews, who refused to buy it. The east end was walled off for the congregation of the lecturer, Cornelius Burgess. Inigo’s portico was let out in small shops to sempstresses and hucksters, with chambers above and stairs leading to them. The body of the church became a cavalry barrack and stable. Paul’s Cross was pulled down.

The intolerance of the time may be illustrated by a hundred stories. Take, for instance, the punishment of the unfortunate James Naylor.

On the 18th day of December 1656 a man stood in pillory for two hours at the Old Palace Yard, Westminster. The case attracted some attention because the man was a crack-brained enthusiast, originally in the Society of Friends, who had been parading on horseback accompanied by three women and one or two men singing, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of Hosts.” These people also called him the Everlasting Son of Righteousness, the Prince of Peace, the Fairest of Ten Thousand. The whole company were arrested and sent to London, where Parliament considered the case of the man, whose name was James Naylor.

In accordance with their sentence, he was first placed in pillory at Westminster for two hours; he was then taken down, tied to the cart’s tail, and whipped by the hangman all the way to the Old Exchange in the City. He received three hundred and ten strokes, and should have received one more, “there being three hundred and eleven kennels”—I know not what this means. By this time he was in a most pitiful condition, as may be imagined. According to the sentence, he should have stood in pillory for two hours more, and then have had his tongue bored with a red-hot iron, but he could no longer stand. Therefore he was respited for a week. At the end of that time, although many people petitioned for his pardon, the other part of the sentence was most cruelly inflicted. This was not all. As soon as he recovered he was sent on to Bristol, where he was flogged through the town and laid in prison.

The case of James Naylor happened in the Commonwealth. But religious toleration was no more understood under a King than under a Protector. The sufferings of the Quakers in the reign of Charles the Second prove this fact. In 1662 there were 4200 of this Society imprisoned in various parts of England either for frequenting meetings or refusing to take oaths or for keeping away from Church. Some of them were crowded into prisons so close that there was not room for all to sit down at once; they were tradesmen, shopkeepers, and husbandmen; their property was confiscated; they were refused straw to lie upon; they were often denied food. Here is an extract from Sewel:—

“At London, and in the suburbs, where about this time no less than five hundred of those called Quakers, imprisoned, and some in such narrow holes, that every person scarcely had convenience to lie down; and the felons were suffered to rob them of their clothes and money. Many that were not imprisoned, nevertheless suffered hardships in their religious meetings, especially that in London, known by the name of Bull and Mouth. Here the trained bands came frequently, armed generally with muskets, pikes, and halbards, and conducted by a military officer, by order of the city magistracy; and rushing in, in a very furious manner, fell to beating them, whereby many were grievously wounded, some fell down in a swoon, and some were beaten so violently, that they lived not long after it. Among these was one John Trowel, who was so bruised and crushed, that a few days after he died. His friends therefore thought it expedient to carry the corpse into the aforesaid meeting place, that it might lie there exposed for some hours, to be seen of every one. This being done, raised commiseration and pity among many of the inhabitants; for the corpse, beaten like a jelly, looked black, and was swoln in a direful manner. This gave occasion to send for the coroner, and he being come, empannelled a jury of the neighbours, and gave them in charge according to his office, to make true enquiry upon their oaths, and to present what they found to be the cause of his death. They, viewing the corpse, had a surgeon or two with them, to know their judgment concerning it; and then going together in private, at length they withdrew without giving in their verdict, only desiring the friends to bury the corpse, which was done accordingly that evening. And though the coroner and jury met divers times together upon that occasion, and had many consultations, yet they never would give in a verdict; but it appeared sufficiently, that the man was killed by violent beating. The reasons some gave for the suspense of a verdict were, that though it was testified that the same person, now dead, was seen beaten, and knocked down; yet it being done in such a confused crowd, no particular man could be fixed upon, so that any could say, that man did the deed. And if a verdict was given that the deceased person was killed, and yet no particular person charged with it, then the City was liable to a great fine, at the pleasure of the king, for conniving at such a murder in the city in the day-time, not committed in a corner, but in a publick place, and not apprehending the murderer, but suffering him to escape. In the meanwhile the friends of the deceased were not wanting to give public notice of the fact, and sent also a letter to the lord mayor, which afterwards they gave out in print, together with a relation of this bloody business. In this letter it was said, ‘It may be supposed thou hast heard of this thing, for it was done not in the night, but at the mid-time of the day; not suddenly, at unawares, or by mishap, but intendedly, and a long space of time a doing; and not in a corner, but in the streets of the city of London; all which circumstances do highly aggravate this murder, to the very shame and infamy of this famous city and its government’” (William Sewel, History of the Quakers, 1722, p. 346).

CHAPTER II
THE CHURCH AND DISSENT

After the Restoration the religious condition of the City was greatly modified. First the Church of England was enormously stronger than it had been in any part of Charles the First’s reign. Then the persecution of Roman Catholics and Nonconformists affected London more than the country, first because many of the former had taken refuge in London, and next because the City contained thousands of the latter, some of whom obstinately refused any show of conformity. In 1666 the King banished all Roman Catholic priests; in the following year he forbade his subjects to hear Mass at the Queen’s or any Ambassador’s chapel. At the same time he called upon the civil officers to enforce the statutes provided. In 1671, when as yet few City churches were rebuilt, he ordered that certain places hitherto used as conventicles should be used as churches, served by orthodox ministers appointed by the Bishop of London:—

“In Fisher’s-folly, in Bishopsgate Street—a convenient place, with two galleries, pews, and seats.

John Bunyan’s Meeting-house, Loar-street, Gravel-lane, Southwark.

In Hand-alley, in Bishopsgate Street—a large room, purposely built for a meeting-house, with three galleries, thirty large pews, and many benches and forms, known by the name of Vincent’s congregation.

In St. Michael’s Lane—a large room, with two galleries and thirty-nine forms.

In Mugwell Street—Mr. Doolittle’s meeting-house, built of brick, with three galleries, full of large pews; and thirty-eight large pews below, with locks and keys to them, besides benches and forms.

The Cockpit in Jewin Street—a meeting-house of one Grimes, many pews, forms, and benches.

In Blackfriars—Mr. Wood’s meeting-house; four rooms, opening into one another, with lattice partitions, each room conveniently fitted with benches and forms.

In Salisbury Court—four rooms, opening into one another, in the possession of John Foule, a schoolmaster.

In New Street, within Shoe Lane—four rooms, opening into one another, with seventeen pews, and divers benches, in the possession of Mrs. Turner.”

During the Commonwealth we find certain games forbidden, as the “Whimsey Board,” which used to be played in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Persons guilty of playing the virginals in taverns were punished for “living loosely.” Search was continually made for Catholics. There were dissensions in certain City churches about altar rails and other things. The word saint was omitted. Weddings were celebrated by the Alderman of the ward, and banns were published in Leadenhall Market. The hospitals, with revenues greatly diminished, were used for the wounded soldiers. In the same year it was thought necessary to repeat the order for the banishment of priests, and in 1673 Catholic recusants were forbidden to enter the Palace or Park of St. James’s or the precincts of Whitehall. The Catholics, however, continued to flock to the Ambassadors’ chapels. It was therefore ordered that messengers of the Chamber or other officers should be stationed at the approaches to these chapels in order to arrest those proposing to attend service there.

In 1679 all Roman Catholics in London were ordered to leave the City and to withdraw at least ten miles from it.

The constant repetition of these ordinances proves that they were never enforced save by occasional fits of zeal; the Catholics went away; a week later they returned; no doubt the officers were bribed to shut their eyes. Yet the system was most exasperating; for a Catholic to be compelled to attend a Protestant service was almost as bad as for a Mohammedan to be compelled to eat pig; the Catholic rule about attending heretical services is never relaxed; while a zealous churchwarden, armed with blank warrants, which he could fill up as he pleased in order to arrest and to fine, might make life intolerable. A good many young Catholics went abroad for education, and presently found it expedient to stay there. The Nonconformists, for their part, had no intention of submitting meekly. There were riots and tumults in the City. In 1681 the Middlesex magistrates endeavoured to put in execution the Act of Charles II.:—

“Which enacts, that all those who preached in conventicles or meetings, contrary to the statutes of the realm, shall not come within five miles of a corporation; that no person shall teach in any school under the penalty of £40, unless he attend the established church. And that of the 20th year of the same reign, which ordains, that if any person above sixteen years of age attended a religious assembly in a house where more than five others, exclusive of the household, were present, except the rites were according to the established church, any person preaching there should forfeit a certain sum.”

It was presently reported, to the blind terror and indignation of the zealous, that in certain houses lately erected Catholics had opened schools, and had attracted many pupils and numbers of people, their parents and relations. It was therefore enacted that those persons who, having licences for keeping houses of entertainment, did not attend church and, instead, attended any kind of conventicle, should lose their licence, and—a very serious blow against Catholics and Nonconformists—money should not be given to the poor unless they attended church. The Privy Council, having a list of Catholic tradesmen in St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, St. Giles’s, and St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, set an example to the City by ordering the Justices of the Peace to proceed against them according to law.

The history of Nonconformity in London has been treated in the book of the Eighteenth Century. The following, however, is a list of conventicles and preachers in the year 1680:—

“Holborn, Short’s Gardens, Case, Presbyterian Minister.

Chequer Yard, Dowgate Hill, Watson, Presbyterian, 300.

Cutler’s Hall, Cole, Presbyterian, 400.

Hand Alley, Bishopsgate Street, Vincent the Elder, 800.

Glovers’ Hall, Beech Lane, Cripplegate, Fifth Monarchy Meeting.

Devonshire House, Bishopsgate, Harcostell, Anabaptist.

New Street, Fetter Lane, Cross.

Gracechurch Street, Gibson.

Devonshire House, Haward, drysalter.

Barking, Benj. Antrobus.

The Golden Harrow, Bishopsgate Without, linen-draper.

Plaistow, Clement Plumstead, ironmonger.

Three Cranes, Thames Street, R. Haward, coal merchant.

Barking, T. Bagley, Lothbury, clockmaker.

Little Eastcheap, R. Whitepace, butcher.

Cornhill, W. Mead, draper.

Leadenhall Street, S. Loveday, Anabaptist.

Star Alley, East Smithfield, Isaac Lamb, shoemaker.”

The example of religious discussion and the examination of doctrine penetrated, as has been set forth, to the lower classes. A case in point is that of Oliver Cromwell’s porter. This man, whose Christian name was Daniel, learned in Cromwell’s service much of the cant that prevailed at that time. He was a great plodder in books of divinity, especially in those of the mystical kind, which are supposed to have turned his brain. He was many years in Bedlam, where his library was, after some time, allowed him, as there was not the least probability of his cure. The most conspicuous of his books was a large Bible given him by Nell Gwynne. He frequently preached and sometimes prophesied, and was said to have foretold several remarkable events, particularly the Fire of London. One would think that Butler had this frantic enthusiast in view when he says:—

“Had lights where better eyes were blind,

As pigs are said to see the wind;

Fill’d Bedlam with predestination.”

(Hudibras).

Mr. Charles Leslie, who has placed him in the same class with Fox and Muggleton, tells us that people often went to hear him preach, and “would sit many hours under his window with great signs of devotion.” That gentleman had the curiosity to ask a grave matron who was among his auditors, “What she could profit by hearing that madman?” She, with a composed countenance, as pitying his ignorance, replied, that “Festus thought Paul was mad.”

In the year 1692 one Robert Midgley was moved to speak out on behalf of the churches and their services. His pamphlet is useful in showing the conduct of the religious services in the City of London at that time. He imitated the methods of the theatres in issuing a printed paper of services and hours. I omit a portion of his preamble:—

“And now considering the ways and methods which Satan and his Emissaries have taken to fill his Chirches, the Theatres, with Votaries, have been (not by Bells, which make a great noise near hand and are not heard afar off, but) by silently dispersing their Bills, and setting them up at the corners of the streets, whereby they do draw People from all Parts to their contagious Assemblies, I was easily convinced of the Success of the like Undertaking for the Service of Almighty God, and therefore could no longer excuse myself for the Omission thereof. These are, therefore, Dearly beloved in Christ Jesus, to acquaint you where ye may daily, with the congregations of the Faithful, assemble together at the House of Prayer; where you may, in Imitation of the Apostles of our Lord, every Lord’s Day partake of the blessed Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper; and lastly, where there are any extraordinary regular Lectures to be heard; in all which, for your good, I have spared no pains for the certainty of my own information nor Charges in the Dispersing hereof for yours. And now know that the wilful Neglect of these means will one day have a sad after-reckoning, and that this Paper will then rise up in judgment against you.

If this Paper[5] have its desired effect, I trust Almighty God will open the hearts of his faithful Labourers, to set up Daily Prayer and weekly Communion in many of their own churches, where at present it is not.

For the sake of such as, during the whole time this is dispersing, may happen, either by sickness, Absence, or otherwise, not to come in the way of it, there shall be of them to be bought, Price one Halfpenny, which is also Corban, and therefore put into the hands but of one person to sell; whoever else, therefore, does sell them, does also Print them, and consequently does not only rob this Bookseller of his Copy (which cost the Author so much labour to form) but all the Poor also of their just due herein, which it is hoped every Christian Buyer will remember and consider.

Rob. Midgley.”

From his list it appears that there were four daily services in one church, three in seven churches, two in forty-one, and one in thirty-six. That the Holy Communion was administered every Sunday in eight churches, three times a month in two, twice at two churches, viz. the chapels of Gray’s Inn and Lincoln’s Inn, and on the first Sunday of the month at all the other churches. As regards the hour, at two churches there were two celebrations at 7 A.M. and noon, in two at 6 A.M., in one at 8 A.M.; in all the rest at noon.

There were lectures in three churches at 6 A.M. every Sunday, in one church at 7 A.M., in one at 10 A.M., in two at 4 P.M., in ten at 5 P.M., and in one at 6 P.M. On week days there were four churches where a lecture was given once a week at 6 A.M., one at 9 A.M., twelve at 10 A.M., one at 11 A.M., one at 2 P.M., three at 3 P.M., four at 4 P.M., one at 5 P.M., and one at 6 P.M. Of evening service, as we understand it, there was none. It is, however, without doubt that all the churches were open practically every day for service, and that all the week round a pious person might hear a sermon in the morning and another in the evening; or he might run round from church to church and hear sermons all day long.

Charity has always been closely coupled with church-going in theory at least. In [Appendix III]. will be found a list of the almshouses of London of this period.

This list, containing forty-one almshouses in which hospitals are not included and seventeen schools, appears to speak well for the charity, well directed and deliberate, of the seventeenth century. Out of the whole number of almshouses in existence in the year 1756, when this list was compiled, the seventeenth century founded nearly the half, and of the whole number of endowed schools existing in 1753, the seventeenth century contributed exactly one half.

Of the greatest of all the “almshouses” founded in the Stuart period, viz. Chelsea Hospital, I do not speak in this place, as a full account of it is given elsewhere in the Survey.[6]

CHAPTER III
SUPERSTITIONS

Foremost among the superstitious beliefs of the century was that of witchcraft. It became, indeed, more actively mischievous and more real in the minds of the people on account of the universal habit, considered as a Christian duty, of referring everything to the Bible, as much to the Old as to the New Testament. Theologians of all sects believed in witchcraft and in the active interference of the Devil. Erasmus and Luther, for instance, were believers in witchcraft, while King James wrote on witches. The persecution of miserable old women, accused of being witches because they were old and poor, was carried on throughout the seventeenth century; it is a frightful record of cruelty and superstition, especially in the eastern counties, which were mainly Puritan, and therefore even more inclined than the rest of England to accept the literal application of the Old Testament to their own time. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” said the Book of Exodus. “There shall not be found among you,” said the Book of Deuteronomy, “one that useth divinations, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.” Could anything be plainer? Again, “Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wizards to be defiled with them. I am the Lord your God.”

The belief in witchcraft was universal, but the persecution was not; in London, though there is no reason to doubt the belief, there are few cases on record of the actual persecution of witches. One case is that of Sarah Mordyke, who was apprehended at Paul’s Wharf, charged with bewitching one Richard Hetheway, near the Falcon Stairs in Southwark. She was taken before certain learned Justices in Bow Lane. The victim swore that he had lost his appetite, voided pins, etc., but recovered when he had scratched and brought blood from Sarah Mordyke, the witch.

Another case is that of Sarah Griffith. She lived in Rosemary Lane. She had long been considered a bad woman, but nothing could be proved against her, though it was suspicious that her neighbours’ children were affected with strange distempers, and were affrighted with apparitions of cats. One day, however, she was buying soap in a shop when the apprentice laughed at the scales not being right, and said they must be bewitched. Whereupon the old woman thought he was laughing at her and vowed vengeance. Sure enough, in the night everything in the shop was turned topsy-turvy.

Two or three days after, the apprentice, with two or three friends, was walking towards New River Head when they met Sarah Griffith. It was a favourable opportunity to try her, so they tossed her into the canal. Instead of drowning she swam like a cork—a sure sign of her guilt. When they let her come out she smote the young man on the arm, making a mark as black as a coal, and told him he should pay dear for what he had done. So he went home in a great fright and died. After this his master took a constable and brought her before the Justices, charging her with compassing the death of his apprentice by witchcraft. She was accordingly committed to the Clerkenwell Bridewell, and I know not what became of her afterwards.

I have before me a short pamphlet on the tragic history of a young gentleman of Stepney who sold himself to the Devil.

When one remembers Defoe’s mystification about Mrs. Veal one suspects that this story is also an invention, devised for the purpose of inspiring godly fear, and based upon popular superstition rather than a narrative put together on hearsay, exaggerated as it passed from lip to lip. The story is quite in Defoe’s circumstantial manner. A young gentleman named Watts, son of Mr. William Watts of Stepney and of Anne, daughter of Squire Wilson of Brentwood, was the only survivor of four children. He was therefore treated with the greatest indulgence and tenderness. After five years at St. John’s College, Oxford, he returned home and began to keep evil company, being already ripe in wickedness. His parents remonstrated with him, but in vain. Finally, his father refused to give him any more money for the support of his extravagances. The son, in a great rage, swore that he would be revenged upon his parents even to the hazard of his soul. He took a lodging at some distance from his father’s house, and fell to devising how he might get the estate into his own hands.

Now, as he was thus meditating, Satan himself came into the room and asked the reason of his sadness. After a little conversation the young man consented to sign away his soul with his own blood in return for as much money as he could spend in twelve years.

When the time approached he went home, struck with terror and remorse, and confessed to his father all that he had done.

His father sent for certain divines who are duly mentioned, viz. Dr. Russel of Wapping, Dr. Sannods, Dr. Smithies, and Dr. Paul. These clergymen gathered round the poor wretch, now weeping and wringing his hands, and entreated him to pray; but he could not, so they prayed for him, but in vain; for in the middle of the night there arose a dreadful storm of thunder, lightning, rain, and hail, and in the midst of the storm the Devil came into the room “in dreadful shapes,” snatched the young man from their midst, dashed out his brains against the wall, tore him limb from limb, and scattered the fragments on the dunghill behind the house.

The pamphlet concludes with a sermon preached upon this doleful occasion. The story is, as I said before, either an exaggerated account of some local rumour, or it is a deliberate invention, which is, of course, the more probable. In either case it proves the continued existence of the old traditions about selling one’s self to the Devil, of which we find abundant examples among the mediæval chronicles. The superstition must be added to those already recorded of the seventeenth century.

It is needless to add that the bagful of superstitions was swallowed whole by people of every rank and class. In the Spectator we read how the girls vied with each other in telling ghost stories. They watched for omens, and made themselves miserable when these were unlucky; they remembered their dreams carefully and consulted the Dictionary of Dreams or the nearest wise woman; they learned what was coming by the tingling of the ears, irritation of the nose, specks on the nails, and other signs; the meeting of birds and creatures filled them with terror; they read warnings in the candle and in the fire; the dogs howled in sign of approaching death. Most of these superstitions are still with us, more or less. It must, however, be observed that London, with its crowded, busy, active life, was far less troubled with superstitions than the country; people had no time to worry over signs and omens in the midst of their full and busy lives.

Lucky and unlucky days played a very important part in the conduct of life. Cromwell’s lucky day was the 3rd of September. Thursday was an unlucky day for Henry VIII. and his children. Every change of moon brought an unlucky day; there were also certain unlucky days in every month. Lord Burghley, who despised these observances as a rule, kept three days in the year as especially unlucky. The reasons why he considered them unlucky mark a great gulf between his time and ours. The first Monday in April was one, because on that day Cain was born and Abel was killed. The second Monday in August was another, because then Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed. The remaining day was the last Monday in December, because at that time Judas Iscariot was born. How these days were discovered, and why they should be unlucky for all time to follow, are questions which it is impossible to answer.

Almanacks containing lists of lucky and unlucky days were in great request, and continued until quite recently. They were consulted by everybody before entering upon any kind of work.

The autobiography of William Lilly is valuable for its unconscious exposure of fraud, impudence, credulity, and superstition. He lived throughout the greater part of the seventeenth century. It was an age in which the so-called science of astrology flourished exceedingly. The astrologer not only cast nativities and foretold in general terms the future of a man, but also condescended to answer questions concerning doubtful points, as in matters of love; found lucky days for the commencement of any business or enterprise; discovered thefts and thieves; practised physic without preliminary training, and compelled, by means of the crystal ball or some other magic, spirits and angels to perform their bidding. In all these pretensions and powers Lilly firmly believed; yet he was unable to prove them by making the spirits, his servants, obey him in great things—such as the rescue of King Charles and the triumph of his cause. Moreover, in his simple chat about his brethren of the fraternity he is quite unable to see how he gives away the whole of his own pretensions by exposing their weakness and their failures. Thus one of them “sets a figure” about himself. He learns from this figure that he is to be a Lord or great man within two years. Alas! in two years he was in Newgate Prison. Another time he set his figure, and learned that he was to be a great man within a year. But in that year he advanced not one whit. And being consulted by a friend about to undertake a voyage, he learned by astrology that it would be a fortunate adventure. Unhappily it proved the reverse, for the adventurer was taken prisoner by pirates and lost his all. He set down four or five other judgments, in every one of which he was wrong. Lilly, however, sees in these failures no reflection on the “science” at all. Another of them, Evans, a clergyman who had to give up his benefice on account of some scandal, lived by giving judgment on things lost; he was “much addicted to debauchery,” very abusive and quarrelsome; he made and sold antimonial cups, and he was in correspondence with an angel named Salmon, whom he ordered to fetch and carry for him. His portrait, if it is genuine, represents a face like a dog’s—the most ill-favoured, ill-conditioned, repulsive face imaginable. Another, Alexander Hart, used his wonderful powers for finding lucky days for young gentlemen about to gamble. Lilly does not seem to have grasped the elementary fact that any one actually possessing magical powers would certainly use them for his own enrichment. And there was Captain Bubb, who “resolved horary questions astrologically.” He, however, was found out and put into pillory. There was one Jeffrey Neve, who brought Lilly two hundred “verified questions,” desiring him to correct them for publication, but of the first forty, thirty were untrue. There was Dr. Ardee, who declared that an angel had offered him a lease of life for one thousand years; yet the poor man died at fourscore.

The crystal ball was not an astrological instrument, but many of the astrologers practised by means of it. This instrument of pretence and imposture has been revived in our own times. The ball was held in the hand by those who had “the sight.” Then things and persons were seen. Thus there was one Sarah Skelhorn who had a perfect “sight.” She could see in the ball what any persons were doing at any time or in any place, but seems to have used this remarkable gift for objects quite paltry, as when she observed her mother, who was many miles away, taking a red waistcoat out of a trunk—a really terrible waste of good power. How useful would Sarah be in time of war in order to tell exactly where the enemy was and what the enemy was doing! She was also familiar with angels, who were so fond of her that they followed her about until she was really tired of them.

There was Ellen Evans, daughter of the scandalous défroqué above mentioned. She could call up the Queen of the Pigmies whenever she pleased merely by saying, “O Micol! O tu Micol, Regina Pygmeorum, veni!” There was also Sir Robert Holborn, Knight, who “formerly had sight and conference with Uriel and Raphael, but lost them both by carelessness.” And so on. The volume is redeemed from intolerable silliness by the firm belief of the author in the science. It shows, however, that the whole of the country was filled with credulity and childish superstition.

The following lines are the commencement of a Latin epitaph composed for Lilly by one George Smalridge, student of Christ Church, Oxford:—

“Occidit, atque suis annalibus addidit atram

Astrologus, qua non tristior ulla, diem.

Pone triumphales, lugubris Luna, quadrigas;

Sol, maestum picea nube reconde caput.

Illum, qui Phoebi scripsit, Phoebesque labores,

Eclipsen docuit Stella maligna pati.

Invidia Astrorum cecidit, qui sidera rexit;

Tanta erat in notas scandere cura domos

Quod vidit, risum cupiit, potiturque, cupito

Coelo, et sidereo fulget in orbe decus.”

Two official superstitions must be recorded, if only because they were practised and no doubt fully believed in London. They were touching for the King’s Evil and the blessing of the Cramp Ring. The ceremonies for both these observances are here described.

First, the touching for the King’s Evil—

“The King, kneeling, shall say,

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

And so soon as He hath said that, He shall say,

Give the blessing.

The Chaplain, kneeling before the King, and having a Stole about his Neck, shall answer and say,

The Lord be in your heart and in your lips, to confess all your sins. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Or else he shall say,

Christ hear us. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Then by and by the King shall say,

I confess to God, to the blessed Virgin Mary, to all Saints, and to you, that I have sinned in thought, word, and deed through my fault; I pray Holy Mary, and all the saints of God and you, to pray for me.

The Chaplain shall answer and say,

Almighty God have mercy upon you, and pardon you all your sins, deliver you from all evil, and confirm you in good, and bring you to everlasting life. Amen.

The Almighty and Merciful Lord grant you absolution and remission of all your sins, time for true repentance and amendment of life, with the grace and comfort of his Holy Spirit. Amen.

This done the Chaplain shall say,

The Lord be with you.

The King shall answer,

And with thy spirit.

The Chaplain,

Part of the Gospel according to St. Mark.

The King shall answer,

Glory to thee, O Lord.

The Chaplain reads the Gospel:

Last he appeared to those Eleven as they sat at the Table: and he exprobated their Incredulity and hardness of Heart, because they did not believe them that had seen him risen again. And he said to them: Going into the whole World, Preach the Gospel to all Creatures. He that believeth and is Baptised, shall be saved: But he that believeth not, shall be condemned. And them that believe, these Signs shall follow: In my name shall they cast out Devils, they shall speak with new tongues. Serpents shall they take up, and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them; they shall impose hands upon the sick, and they shall be whole.

Which last clause (They shall impose, etc.) the Chaplain repeats as long as the King is handling the sick person. And in the time of repeating the aforesaid words (They shall impose, etc.) the Clerk of the Closet shall Kneel before the King, having the sick person upon the right hand; and the sick person shall likewise kneel before the King: and then the King shall lay his hand upon the sore of the sick Person. This done, the Chaplain shall make an end of the Gospel:

And so our Lord Jesus after he spake unto them was assumpted into Heaven, and sate on the right hand of God. But they going forth preached everywhere; our Lord working withal, and confirming the Word with signs which followed.

Whilst this is reading, the Chirurgion shall lead away the sick person from the King. And after the Gospel the Chaplain shall say,

The Lord be with you.

The King shall answer,

And with thy spirit.

The Chaplain,

The beginning of the Gospel according to St. John.

The King,

Glory to thee, O Lord.

The Chaplain then shall say this Gospel following:

In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and God was the word. This was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him, and without him was made nothing that which was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for testimony: to give testimony of the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but to give testimony of the light. It was the true light which lightneth every man that cometh into this world.

Which last Clause (It was the true light, etc.) shall still be repeated so long as the King shall be crossing the sore of the sick Person, with an Angel of Gold Noble, and the sick Person to have the same Angel hang’d about his neck, and to wear it until he be full whole. This done, the Chirurgion shall lead away the sick Person as he did before; and then the Chaplain shall make an end of the Gospel:

He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came into his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, he gave them power to be made the Sons of God, to those that believe in his name. Who not of blood, nor of will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God are born. And the word was made flesh and dwelt in us, and we saw the glory of him, glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and verity.

London Printet for Dorman Newman at the kings Armes in the Poultry &c: F. H. van Houe Sculp:
TOUCHING FOR KING’S EVIL

Then the Chaplain shall say,

The Lord’s name be praised.

The King shall answer,

Now and for ever.

Then shall the Chaplain say this Collect following, praying for the Sick Person or Persons,

O Lord, hear my prayer.

The King shall answer,

And let my cry come unto thee.

The Chaplain,

Let us pray:

Almighty and everlasting God, the eternal health of them that believe; graciously hear us for thy servants for whom we implore the aid of thy mercy, that their health being restored to them, they may give thee thanks in thy church, thro’ Christ our Lord. Amen.

This Prayer following is to be said secretly, after the Sick Persons be departed from the King, at his Pleasure:

Almighty God, Ruler and Lord, by whose goodness the blind see, the deaf hear, the dumb speak, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and all sick persons are healed of their infirmities: By whom also alone the gift of healing is given to mankind, and so great a grace, thro’ thine unspeakable goodness toward this Realm, is granted unto the Kings thereof, that by the sole imposition of their hands a most grievous and filthy disease should be cured: Mercifully grant that we may give thee thanks therefore, and for this thy singular benefit conferr’d on us, not to ourselves, but to thy name let us daily give glory; and let us always so exercise ourselves in piety, that we may labour not only diligently to conserve, but every day more and more to encrease thy grace bestowed upon us: And grant that on whose bodies soever we have imposed hands in thy name, thro’ this thy Vertue working in them, and thro’ our Ministry, may be restored to their former health, and being confirmed therein, may perpetually with us give thanks unto thee, the Chief Physician and Healer of all diseases; and that henceforwards they may so lead their lives, as not their bodies only from sickness, but their souls also from sin may be perfectly purged and cured: Thro’ our Lord Jesus Christ thy Son, who liveth and reigneth with thee in the Unity of the Holy Ghost, God World without end. Amen.”

Next, the blessing of the Cramp Ring by the King on Good Friday according to the form prescribed. It was as follows:—

“First, the singing of the Psalm Deus Misereatur Noster.

Then the King reades this prayer:

Almighty eternal God, who by the most copious gifts of thy grace, flowing from the unexhausted fountain of thy bounty, hast been graciously pleased for the comfort of mankind, continually to grant us many and various meanes to relieve us in our miseries; and art willing to make those the instruments and channels of thy gifts, and to grace those persons with more excellent favours, whom thou hast raised to the Royal dignity; to the end that as by Thee they reign and govern others: so by Thee they may prove beneficial to them; and bestow thy favours on the people: graciously heare our prayers, and favourably receive those vows we powre forth with humility, that Thou mayst grant to us, who beg with the same confidence the favour, which our Ancestours by their hopes in thy mercy have obtained: through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Rings lying in one bason or more, this prayer is to be said over them:

O God, the maker of heavenly and earthly creatures, and the most gracious restorer of mankind, the dispenser of spiritual grace, and the origin of all blessings; send downe from heaven thy holy Spirit the Comforter upon these Rings, artificially fram’d by the workman, and by thy greate power purify them so, that all the malice of the fowle and venomous Serpent be driven out; and so the metal, which by Thee was created, may remaine pure, and free from all dregs of the enemy. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Blessing of the Rings:

O God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, heare mercifully our prayers. Spare those who feare thee. Be propitious to thy suppliants, and graciously be pleased to send downe from Heaven thy holy Angel: that he may sanctify ✠ and blesse ✠ these Rings: to the end they may prove a healthy remedy to such as implore thy name with humility, and accuse themselves of the sins, which ly upon their conscience: who deplore their crimes in the sight of thy divine clemency, and beseech with earnestness and humility thy most serene piety. May they in fine by the invocation of thy holy name become profitable to all such as weare them, for the health of their soule and body, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

A Blessing.

O God, who has manifested the greatest wonders of thy power by the cure of diseases, and who were pleased that Rings should be a pledge of fidelity in the patriark Judah, a priestly ornament in Aaron, the mark of a faithful guardian in Darius, and in this Kingdom a remedy for divers diseases: graciously be pleased to blesse and sanctify these rings, to the end that all such who weare them may be free from all snares of the Devil, may be defended by the power of celestial armour; and that no contraction of the nerves, or any danger of the falling sickness may infest them, but that in all sort of diseases by thy help they may find relief. In the name of the Father, ✠ and of the Son, ✠ and of the Holy Ghost. ✠ Amen.”

After another psalm the following prayer was read:—

“Wee humbly implore, O merciful God, thy infinit clemency; that as we come to thee with a confident soule, and sincere faith, and a pious assurance of mind: with the like devotion thy beleevers may follow on these tokens of thy grace. May all superstition be banished hence, far be all suspicion of any diabolical fraud, and to the glory of thy name let all things succeede: to the end thy beleevers may understand thee to be the dispenser of all good; and may be sensible and publish, that whatsoever is profitable to soule or body is derived from thee: through Christ our Lord. Amen.

These prayers being said, the Kings highnes rubbeth the Rings between his hands, saying:

Sanctify, O Lord, these Rings, and graciously bedew them with the dew of thy benediction, and consecrate them by the rubbing of our hands, which thou hast been pleased according to our ministry to sanctify by an external effusion of holy oyle upon them: to the end, that what the nature of the mettal is not able to performe, may be wrought by the greatnes of thy grace: through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Then with another prayer holy water was thrown on the rings and the ceremony was complete.

CHAPTER IV
SANCTUARY

There is a somewhat dreary allegory of a voyage called “The Floating Island, or a New Discovery relating the Strange Adventure on a late Voyage from Lambethana to Villa Franca, alias Ramallia, to the eastward of Terra del Templo.”

It was published in the year 1673, and it contains an account of certain parts of London which give it some interest. The humour of the piece is that places described are mentioned as new discoveries lying at the distance of many days’ voyage from one to the other. Thus, to take a single example, the following is the description of the Savoy. The sanctuary of this quarter is, of course, Alsatia:—

“The Palace is a very stately Fabrick, and hath been formerly employed for charitable uses, and still serves as an excellent Refuge and Sanctuary for such who are either forced by banishment, or voluntary Exile, to desert their native or long lov’d habitations, where they may live obscurely, and yet take their pleasure abroad in the Countries round about, by the means of those several convenient Avenues belonging thereunto, viz. for sporting on a brave River, the Stairs; for the Land, the Great Gate butting Norwards and separated but by a very small channel from Excestria. To the eastward there is an outlet which leadeth two ways, the one on the left into the Dutchy, the other turning a little on the right, into Somersetania; by the first you have a conveyance into the Country called Maypolia, and so have the whole Country before you to make choice of; by the last a safe passage by water, or a conduct short and commodious through the Provinces of White-Hart into Hortensia (vulgarly called Covent Garden), from whence you may travail through the whole kingdom.

The Slavonian women supplied us with Fish and fruits of all sort, which they bring down in abundance from the Upland Countries; insomuch that we could not fear want of Provision so long as we had Money; nor question our security, whilst we did put ourselves under the Protection of this place or of the Dutchy Liberty.”

The sanctuary was for debtors, but not for felons or traitors, and bailiffs occasionally effected an entrance by pretending to have a warrant for the arrest of the latter. But on the cry of “Arrest, Arrest,” the whole of the residents flew to arms and drove out the offenders, perhaps with the loss of their ears. There were punishments inflicted on those who invaded the rights of sanctuary.

Not far from the Savoy the adventurous voyagers discover a floating island, called the Summer Island, or Scoti Moria, viz. “There were two Ports or landing Places, one guarded by ‘Knights of the Blue Aprons,’” i.e. waiters, who wore aprons of that colour; and the other by a woman with a white apron. They landed; they found, to leave the allegory, a company assembled playing skittles on the deck and down below drinking bad wine in worse company. The whole of the vessel was filled with bottles; and for commodities for sale or exchange there were none except “what were wrapped in silken Petticoats, and like a Pig in a Poke you must buy, or not at all.” There was also a billiard table on the ship, and tobacco was their only “breath and breathing while.” The next land they touch is the Island of Ursina, or the Bearbaiting, on which it appears that the charge of five shillings covered a ticket for drink as well as entrance. The description of the sport, which follows, affords nothing new. Sailing from Ursina, they arrive at the Ne plus ultra, where they are deafened by the “great fall and hideous noise of the waters”—in other words, at London Bridge. Not far from this place they discovered mermaids, both male and female; but the latter only swam at night, being shy. I do not understand this allusion.

The author is pleased to represent Terra del Templo, or the Temple, as a place occupied chiefly by a people constantly engaged in defending themselves against an enemy.

“In the Description of this Ramallia, I must look into Terra del Templo, but shall not pry into its Court, nor any of the standing houses, the Housekeeper’s lodging, nor into the menial precincts of the Inns of Court, farther, than they stand for Refuge and Relief of the neighbouring Privileges about them. And indeed (since the general purgation by fire) the first, and chiefest of all, which for advantage of ground, for fortifications, for Water Works, Posterns, Passages, Supplies, and provisions by land, or otherwise, is that so far famed and so fitly named Ramallia; in it are several Garrisons of old Soldiers, every one of the which is able to lead a whole Army of Younger Debtors.

They call their Muster rôle in the Round Church, which might more properly be called their Corps du Guard; then they draw them out into the Cloysters, and either exercise them there, or in the Garden, which is an excellent Military Spot for that purpose; but under the Blowers in the Rum Stampers (called the King’s Bench walk) they pitch their set Battles, where every evening that ground (which was lifted in and level’d for their use) is fil’d with men of desperate and undaunted resolution.

The first work in Ramallia is rais’d and contrived in the form of a Ram; there is no other reason I can render for it, but that Rams were of great use in the Jewish Discipline, for Batteries, as you may read in Josephus his History more at large. This work is of reasonable strength; in former times it had a watch Tower in the similitude of a Coblers shop adjoyning, from whence all the forces about are called together, upon the least approach of the Enemy. There is another, called the Maidenhead, and is impregnable, where the Enemy dares not come within shot, and in the nearest to the confines of Terra del Templo. There are other pretty contrived Platforms, as Teste Royal, the Falcon, Mitre, etc., and these in the fashion and form of Cookshops; where if a Setter or Spy chance to peep in at them (though very dark) they will make him pay for the roast before he depart. To this Ramallia, or Ramykins, belongs a very great Fleet, consisting of many Sail, well man’d, and are a great preservation to the Ramykins.

This place, according to the late Geographical Map, as well as the report of ancient Writers, cannot possibly be so besieged but that they within may go in and out at their pleasure, without impeachment; for at the Middle Temple Gate they issue in spight of the Devil; at the Inner Temple Gate they fear no colours in the Rainbow; and at the Postern of the Ramykins, in case they cannot make over to Fetter Lane, but discover Ambuscado’s, they need only draw their bodies within guard of Pike, turn faces about, and retreat through the Mitre.

Now admit they stand for Rio del Plata (commonly called Fleet Street) and be so intercepted that they cannot recover the Ramykins, all that is required in that case is but to mend their March; fall downwards, as if they gave way, suddenly discharge their right-hand file, and fall easily into Sergeants Inn; where by ancient Treaty had between this famous place and Terra del Templo, it was agreed that the parties in such distress might (paying a small Fee) have convoy and conveyance without the re-hazzard of any of their persons.

If at any time they had a mind to Forrage, they are no sooner out of the Middle Temple Gate, but there is a threefold way to defend them; the Bell Inn, the Bar Gate, and Shire Lane. The passage under the Blowers is a most excellent safe way for close contriving and retriving; neither is the Gardners Wharfage (as the Tide may serve) anyways inconsiderable. To speak the truth, the nature of Ramallia is much alter’d in few years, neither is the place so much frequented as formerly by Forreigners in Refuge, the inhabitants slighting or being careless in the preservation of their ancient privileges.”

THE WEST PROSPECT OF THE CHURCH OF S^T. BARTHOLOMEW THE GREAT.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S

From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.

The author tells us, further, that there were formerly many other places which were considered sanctuaries for debtors, i.e. places where writs could not be served. These were (1) Milford Lane, at first occupied and defended by indigent officers, who held it, so to speak, by the sword:—

“And notwithstanding their title hath been much disputed heretofore, yet they have now commuted the matter, prov’d Plantation, and have withal reduced it to a most absolute Hance and free Town of itself, without dependency.”

(2) Fulwoods Rents in Holborn, a place which remained to this century of bad reputation, though it contained several good houses.[7]

(3) Baldwin’s Gardens was another sanctuary:—

“The Back-gate into Graies-Inn Lane, with the benefit of Bauldwins Gardens, is of excellent use; but the passiges through certain Inns on the Field-side are not attempted without hazard, by reason of the straggling Troops of the Enemy, who lie Purdue in every ale-house thereabouts. The safest way of Sally is that through the Walks, from whence the Red Lyon in Graies-Inn Lane receives them with good quartering, and passes them through the back way into the Main Land.”

(4) Another was Great St. Bartholomew’s:—

“Upon whose platform a whole Army of Borrowers and Book-men might have been mustred and drawn out in length, or into what form or figure it had pleased them to cast themselves. What works, yea what variety of Art and Workmanship was within it; What an excellent half-Moon was there cast up without it, for defence to the Eastward; What excellent Sconces, in the fashion of Tobacco-shops and Ale houses in all parts of it.

But alas these are demolisht, for the most part, the old Soldiers discharg’d, and all delivered up into the hand of the Enemy upon composition.”

The precinct of St. John of Jerusalem was also formerly held as a sanctuary, but had lost its privileges. In the precinct of Blackfriars privileges were granted to some of the oldest trades, those, probably, which were carried on in the few houses belonging to the Friars. These were feathermakers, Scotch tailors, and French shoemakers. Another is Montagu Close, on the west side of St. Mary Overies, the sanctuary of the Borough. In later years it was removed further south to the place called the Mint.

On the north side of Blackfriars is the place which the residents of all these sanctuaries are continually trying to escape. The author calls it a very strong and formidable citadel belonging to the enemy. This is Ludgate Prison.

“It is much like the apples of Sodom, better for fight without than in. Its whole prospect from within are iron grates, where, through every Transom, the forlorn Captives may take a view of the Iron Age; there is one single entrance, which, like Hell’s Gate, lets many in, but few out, turn once the Ward—Et vestigia nulla retrorsum. The Cimmerians in their dwellings resemble these in their lodgings, only their lights are different; those receive some scattered beamings by their Mountain Crannies; these by their disconsolate loopholes.

Yet from above, the Inhabitants may take a view of all those places which club’d to their restrain; and be reminded of the loss of time which brought them thither. The Governour hereof is careless whence they come, but infinitely cautious how they go away; and if they go away without his favour, they are in great danger to break their necks for their labour.”

The rest of the little book is made up of a Rabelaisian description of the people in sanctuary—the Ram Alley folk, with certain “special cases.”

“In case of Linnen, it hath been adjudged, that if three good fellows and constant Companions have but one shirt between them, and that these three (seeing none of their other shifts will do them any good) jointly consent this shirt shall be sold, it shall be lawful for them to expose it to sale, vended and condemned for the common good of three, and that forthwith the money be spent in the cherishing that blood that retired from the extream parts, being chil’d with the fright of parting with so dear and near a friend.”

CHAPTER V
CITY GOVERNMENT AND USAGES

In this chapter I have collected certain notes which may illustrate such points in City government as differentiate the seventeenth century from that which preceded and that which followed it. For instance, the times were troubled; a man might, by bending before the successive storms, win his way through in safety; but an honest man with principles, courage, and convictions might expect fine and imprisonment if he accepted office, and might think himself lucky if he carried his ears out of office, or if he were not fined to the full extent of his worldly fortune, or if he had not to fly across the seas to Holland. In Remembrancia, therefore, we are not surprised to find many letters from merchants praying to be excused from office.

Among the less dangerous duties of the Mayor was the reception of the foreign Ambassadors.

On the arrival of Ambassadors the Lords of the Council sent a letter to the Lord Mayor commanding him to find a suitable residence and a proper reception. In 1580 the Spanish Ambassador was allotted a house in Fenchurch Street which he did not like, so he asked instead for Arundel House. In 1583 the Swedish Ambassador arrived; he was to have three several lodgings, with stabling for twenty horses. In 1613 the “Emperor of Muscovy” sent an Ambassador; in 1611 one came from the Duke of Savoy; in 1616 an Ambassador-Extraordinary arrived from the King of France; in 1626 two from the State of Venice; in 1628 another Spanish Ambassador; in the same year a Russian Ambassador; in 1637 an Ambassador from the “King of Morocco.” All these Ambassadors were lodged and entertained in the City after a formal reception and procession through the streets to their lodging.

Mediæval London was a city of palaces and of nobles’ palaces. Under the Tudors there were still some of these town houses left. Toward the end of the seventeenth century there were very few, only one or two.

A long list of noblemen and gentlemen living around London in the year 1673 may be found in the London and Middlesex Note-book. When one examines this list a little closely, it is remarked that the residences of far the greater number of those on the list are at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, at Westminster, in St. James’s Fields, in Leicester Fields, at Hackney, and that, though some actually belong to the outskirts of the City, none are living within the walls of the City itself except the City knights and merchants.

WARWICK HOUSE, CLOTH FAIR

The houses still occupied by nobility, taking them from Ogilby’s Map (see [Map]) were: Thanet House in Aldersgate Street, the town house of the Earl of Thanet; the Earl of Bridgwater’s house in the Barbican; Warwick House; Brook House and Ely House, in Holborn; Lord Berkeley’s house in St. John Street; the Marquis of Dorchester’s, Lord Grey’s, and the Earl of Ailesbury’s in Charter-house Lane; in the Strand, Somerset House, belonging to, or occupied by successively, Queen Anne of Denmark, Queen Henrietta Maria, Queen Catherine of Braganza; Arundel House, then the residence of the Duke of Norfolk, who was a great collector of statues and inscriptions; Essex House, where Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, the parliamentary general, was born. All these three were in the Strand. Outside Ogilby’s Map, but still in the outskirts of the City, were Lord Craven’s and Lord Clare’s houses, in and near Drury Lane.

If we take one parish for an example—say that of St. Benet’s, Thames Street—we find that the son of the Earl of Carnarvon was christened in that church on November 26, 1633, that four children of the Earl of Pembroke were born in this parish and christened in this church, viz. Susanna, christened May 7, 1650; Mary, December 12, 1651; Philip, January 5, 1652; and Rebecca, July 18, 1655.

Before the Fire these noblemen had town houses in the parish—Lord Pembroke had Baynard’s Castle; their chaplains died in those town houses and lie buried in the church. Derby House, now the College of Heralds, was also in this parish, as was also Huntingdon House, the residence of Lord Hastings.

The departure of the nobility from their City houses was perhaps one cause of the cessation of the old connection of the country gentry with the City. This departure also contributed to a very important social change, viz. the fact that for a long time, now more than two centuries, the Mayor, the Aldermen, the City officers, and the City merchants have been socially and politically entirely out of touch with the nobility. In the next century some of the effects of this separation were greatly to be lamented. The seventeenth century, however, furnishes one very remarkable illustration of the connection between the City and the country gentry. It is also an illustration of the way in which middle-class families went up and down. Early in the seventeenth century, one Pepys, a country gentleman of no great standing, married a girl of his own class whose sister married into the Montagu family. One of his sons, a younger son, was sent to London and entered into trade, but without conspicuous success. He became a tailor, and he was of course first cousin to Sir Edward Montagu, his mother’s nephew. One of his sons succeeded him in the business, the other became Secretary of the Admiralty, and afterwards President of the Royal Society; he is also the writer of the finest diary ever committed to paper. Sir Edward Montagu became Lord Sandwich. In his family there were therefore, all closely connected, Lord Sandwich, the Chief Justice of Ireland, a Doctor of Divinity, a Member of Parliament, the Secretary of the Admiralty, a serjeant-at-law, a hosteller, a publican, a tobacconist, a butcher, a tailor, a weaver, a goldsmith, and a turner. As yet, however, the rest of the Note-book before us shows a great number of persons in the City who had the right to call themselves “Gentlemen” at a time when the title could not be assumed by any who chose, and was not conferred lightly or at haphazard. Social distinctions were much more strongly marked then than now. Although the City contained no noble lords, it had Baronets, Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen. The Esquires were gentlemen of good estate, dignified councillors at law, physicians, and holders of the King’s Commission, holders of offices of importance. The eldest son of a Knight was an Esquire by right; the eldest son of a Sheriff was also entitled to this distinction. Pepys, when he received the appointment of Secretary to the Admiralty, is addressed for the first time in his life, and greatly to his delight, as Esquire. The title of Gentleman was more widely claimed; the son of a gentleman was also a gentleman. A younger son, however, could not call himself, or be called Esquire unless he had some other qualification. It is not at all uncommon to find the word “Gentleman” on a title-page after the name of the author. There are complaints as to the illegal use of the title. The rank of gentleman was conceded to attorneys, proctors, and notaries; but merchants, however wealthy, artists, authors, surgeons, and tradesmen could obtain no recognition of gentility on account of the nature of their work, though by descent they might be gentlemen.

Craven House, Drury Lane.

From contemporary print.

Adam A. Bierling delin.

South View of Arundel House in London 1646.

Adam A. Bierling delin.

North View of Arundel House in London 1646.

From a print published by J. Thane, London, Feb. 1, 1792.

The Visitation of London (1633–1635), published in 1880 by the Harleian Society, contains the genealogies and shields of over 900 City families. If we assume that these shields were honestly examined and allowed, we have the very remarkable fact that in the seventeenth century there were 900 City families within the walls of the City who were descended from the country gentry, and had preserved proof of their descent. The trade or calling of those whose names are given in the genealogy does not always appear; the great majority seem to be in trade of some kind. Thus we find Goldsmith, Draper, Grocer, Fishmonger, Haberdasher, Mercer, Gentleman, Skinner, “of the Temple,” Doctor of Physic, Merchant Tailor, Merchant, Doctor of Divinity, Vintner, Barber, Surgeon, “of Clifford’s Inn,” Attorney in the office of the Pleas on the Exchequer Court, Cordwayner, “Searcher and Trier and Sealer of Madder,” Dyer, Scryvener, Sadler, “Silman to Prince Charles,” Merchant of the Staple, “One of His Majesty’s Auditors,” “One of the Commissioners for the Royal Navy,” “Surveyor of Customs,” Joyner, Stationer, Brewer, etc. Here are enough to show that every kind of trade was represented, but not every kind of craft. It is rare to find a craft at all, and then the person concerned was evidently an employer of working-men, a master craftsman. The names themselves have quite lost the mediæval aspect which they presented in the wills and memorials. There is hardly a name which might not belong to the London Directory of the present year. The name of Pepys is among them, but not that of Samuel, who was not yet born. “Yet I never thought we were of much account,” he said thirty years afterwards. The family came from South Creake, in the county of Norfolk. The name of Milton is there, with a confusion of Mitton and Milton, but not the name of John. As for the origin of these families, it was from every part of the country. It is, however, noticeable that, whereas in the fourteenth century the names of Mayor and Sheriffs in office were frequently—nay, generally—those of men who came up from their fathers’ manors young, in these lists most of them are London citizens of the second, third, and fourth generations.

Referring to the lists in the “Stow” of 1633, the following Mayors have marks of cadency on their arms. The arms, therefore, are not newly granted but hereditary:—

“Adam Bamme, 1390. Ermine, on a chief indented, sable, two trefoils, argent: an annulet for difference, being the mark of cadency for a fifth son.

John Froyshe, 1394. A fess engrailed: an annulet.

Richard Whittington, 1397. A fess checky: an annulet.

Drew Barentyn, 1397. Three eagles, displayed: an annulet.

Ralf Jocelyn, 1464. Azure, a wreath, argent and sable, with four bells, or: a mullet for difference, third son.

[Sir John] Young, 1466. Lozengy, two unicorns’ heads, erased, on a bend: an annulet.

[Sir Thomas] Mirfine, 1518. Argent, a chevron sable: a mullet, and in dexter chief a crescent: perhaps third son of a second son.

[Sir John] Bruges, 1520. Argent, a cross sable, a leopard’s face, or: a crescent.

Dodmer, 1529. A crescent.

Lambert, 1531. An annulet.

Dormer, 1541. A crescent.

Amcoates, 1548. A crescent.

White, 1553. An annulet.

Curteis, 1557. A crescent.

[Sir Thomas] Rowe, 1568. A crescent.

Ducket, 1572. A mullet.

Harvey, 1581. A crescent.

Bond, 1587. A crescent, thereon a mullet.

Calthrop, 1588. A crescent.

[Sir William] Rowe, 1592. A crescent.

Some, 1598. A crescent.”

The following have quartered coats:—

“Chalton, 1449.

Clopton, 1491.

Bradbury, 1509.

Rudstone, 1528.

Amcoates, 1548, eight coats.

Jud, 1550.

Martin, 1567.

Heyward, 1570, six coats.

Ducket, 1572.

Woodroffe, 1579.

Branche, 1580.

Osborne, 1583, three coats.

Dixie, 1585.

Barne, 1586.

Calthrop, 1588, five coats.

Heyward, 1590.

Billingsley, 1596.

Mosley, 1599.

The following is the list in full already referred to, of the nobility and gentry living in and about London in 1673. I have omitted those names whose rank was lower than that of Baronet so as not to include the City and law knights:—

Lord Berkeley of Berkeley Castle.

Lord Berkeley of Stratton.

Sir William Boyer, Bart.

The Earl of Bridgwater, Barbican.

Baron Brooke of Beauchampe Court and Hackney.

The Earl of Buckingham and Earl of Coventry.

The Earl of Burlington, Burlington House.

Clarenceaux, Knight at Arms.

The Viscount Campden, Kensington.

Sir Robert Carr, Bart.

Sir Nicholas Crisp, Bart.

Earl of Clare, Clare House, Drury Lane.

Earl of Clarendon.

Lord Clifford.

The Viscount Courtney, Clarendon Street.

Earl of Craven.

Sir John Cutler, Bart.

Earl of Devonshire, Devonshire Square.

Marquis of Dorchester, Charter-House Yard.

Earl of Dorset.

Sir Heneage Finch, Bart.

Sir Reginald Foster, Bart.

Sir F. Everard, Bart.

Lord Grey.

Sir Harbottle Grimston, Bart., Rolls.

Viscount Halifax.

Lord Hatton.

Sir William Hicks, Bart.

Earl of Holland.

Sir Francis Holles, Bart.

Sir James Langham, Bart.

Earl of Leicester.

Earl of Lindsay.

Sir Thomas Littleton, Bart.

Sir Philip Mathews.

Viscount Mordaunt.

The Earl of Mulgrave.

Sir Herbert Price, Bart.

The Earl of Salisbury, Salisbury House.

Sir John Shaw, Bart.

Sir William Smith, Bart.

Viscount Stafford.

The Earl of Thanet at Thanet House, Aldersgate Street.

Sir Robert Vyner, Bart.

The Earl of Warwick, Holborn.

Sir Jervis Whitchott, Bart.

Sir William Wild, Bart.

Sir Thomas Wolstenholme, Bart.

The Earl of Worcester, Worcester House.

The freedom from taxation of certain privileged classes was a fruitful cause of quarrel and annoyance. Barristers who lived in the Four Inns of Court and in Serjeant’s Inn were exempt from taxation on account of chambers. The same privilege was extended to residents in Doctors’ Commons and residents in the precincts of Blackfriars and Whitefriars, who were also exempt from fifteenths and from the burdens of watch and ward, except charges for defence of the State, for pavement and clearing within the precinct, and except freemen of the City, who continued to be liable to the City charges.

A City office long discontinued was that of Chronologer. In the Analytical Index to Remembrancia (Guildhall) we have the following notes:—

It may not be considered uninteresting to give a list of the names of the different holders of this peculiar office, some of whom, as Thomas Middleton, Ben Johnson, and Francis Quarles, are otherwise known to fame, with some few particulars from the Civic Records concerning them.

1620, September 6, 18th James I.—Thomas Middleton, admitted City Chronologer. Item, this day was read in Court (of Aldermen) a petition of Thomas Middleton, Gent., and upon consideration thereof taken, and upon the sufficient testimony this Court hath received of his services performed to this City, this Court is well pleased to entertain and admit the said Thomas Middleton to collect and set down all memorable acts of this City and occurrences thereof, and for such other employments as this Court shall have occasion to use him in; but the said Thomas Middleton is not to put any of the acts so by him to be collected into print without the allowance and approbation of this Court, and for the readiness of his service to the City in the same employments this Court does order that he shall receive from henceforth, out of the Chamber of London, a yearly fee of £6:13:4.

1620, November 20, 18th James I.—His salary increased to £10 per annum.

1621, April 17, 19th James I.—A freedom granted to Thomas Middleton, Chronologer and inventor of honourable entertainments for this City, towards his expenses.

1622, May 7, 20th James I.—Another freedom granted to him for his better encouragement in his labours.

1622, September 17, 20th James I.—£15 granted to him for the like.

1622 (3), February 6, 20th James I.—£20 granted to him.

1623, April 24, 21st James I.—One freedom granted to him.

1623, September 2, 21st James I.—Twenty marks given him for his services at the shooting on Bunhill and at the Conduit Head before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen.

1627, February 7, 3rd Charles I.—Twenty nobles given to his widow Magdalen.

1628, September 2, 4th Charles I.—Item, this day Benjamin Johnson, Gent., is by this Court admitted to be the City’s Chronologer in place of Mr. Thomas Middleton, deceased, to have, hold, exercise, and enjoy the same place, and to have and receive for that his service, out of the Chamber of London, the sum of one hundred nobles per annum, to continue during the pleasure of this Court.

1631, November 2, 7th Charles I.—Item, it is ordered by this Court that Mr. Chamberlain shall forbear to pay any more fee or wages unto Benjamin Johnson, the City’s Chronologer, until we shall have presented unto this Court some fruits of his labours in that his place.

1634, September 18, 10th Charles I.—Item, this day Mr. Recorder and Sir (Hugh) Hamersley, Knight, Alderman, declared unto this Court His Majesty’s pleasure, signified unto them by the Right Hon. the Earl of Dorset, for and in the behalf of Benjamin Johnson, the City Chronologer, whereupon it is ordered by this Court that his yearly pension of 100 nobles out of the Chamber of London shall be continued, and that Mr. Chamberlain shall satisfy and pay unto him all arrearages thereof.

1639, February 1, 15th Charles I.—At the request of the Right Hon. the Earl of Dorset, signified by his letter, Francis Quarles, Gent., was admitted Chronologer. with a fee of 100 nobles per annum, during the pleasure of the Court.

1645, October 1, 20th Charles I.—Walter Frost, Esq., Sword-bearer, admitted Chronologer, so long as he shall well demean himself therein and present yearly something of his labours.

1660, February 28, 13th Charles II.—Captain John Burroughs admitted City Chronologer, the place having been void for several years, his salary to be 100 nobles per annum.

1668, November 23, 20th Charles II.—Upon the recommendation of a Committee, the yearly payment of 100 nobles to one Bradshaw, called the City Chronologer, was discontinued with the place, there appearing no occasion for such an officer.

1669, February 24, 22nd Charles II.—On the petition of Cornewall Bradshaw, Gent., late City Chronologer, for some recompense for his salary of £33:6:8, taken from him by vote of the Court (Common Council), it was ordered that, upon his resigning his said place, the Chamberlain should pay him £100 in full of all claims.

1669, March 17, 22nd Charles II.—Bradshaw (admitted in the Mayoralty of Sir T. Bludworth, 1665–6, as City Chronologer) surrendered his office, with all its rights, etc., and a freedom was given to him (Index to Remembrancia, pp. 305, 306).

Between 1583 and 1661 there were continual efforts made to restrain the building of new houses in the City and the erection of small tenements. The Lords of the Council pressed on the Mayor the duty of enforcing the laws. The Mayor replied that there were many places in the City that pretended to be exempt from the jurisdiction of the City; notably the sites of the old monasteries. One result of this activity was the driving of the poorer sort outside the City Liberties altogether, especially along the river side. Owing to this cause Southwark began to enjoy an influx of the least desirable of the population. This distinction the Borough has ever since continued to possess. The same cause built the courts and created the slums of Westminster.

Cornhill, London,
AS IT APPEARED ABOUT THE YEAR 1630.

From an engraving published by Boydell & Co., London.

The attempt to restrain the increase of London should have been accompanied by an enlargement of the City jurisdiction. Had this been done, many of the evils attendant on a rapid growth of population with no corresponding powers of justice and police might have been avoided.

The necessity of cleaning and keeping clean the streets was very much to the front after the scare of the Plague and the Fire. There were projects advanced by ingenious persons for this purpose. Thus one Daniel Nis laid a plan before the King, who sent it on to the Lord Mayor for consideration. He wanted, apparently, to raise the footpath on either side to a “convenient height, evenness, and decency, leaving ample passage for coaches, carts, and horses, and reserving a competent part to be made even and easy in a far more elegant and commodious manner for the convenience of foot passengers, besides a handsome accommodation of water for the continual cleansing of the streets by lead pipes.”

WATCHMAN

From a print published by John Watson, temp. Charles II.

BELLMAN

From a rare woodcut, temp. James I.

Daniel Nis was before his age, but one feels that when such projects are in the air, reform and improvement are at hand. Unfortunately projectors of this kind never understand the practical side of the question. Now the streets of a great city cannot be revolutionised all at once; no city is rich enough to undertake such a reform; the only thing possible is a gradual reform, taking the most important streets first. And this, in fact, was the way adopted in the City and carried on from the Great Fire to our own time.

If we go into the unreformed streets we find the kites and crows still acting as the principal scavengers, the bye-streets unpaved and unlighted—that is to say, not yet even paved with cobbles, but left quite untouched with puddles of liquid filth standing about; there were also masterless dogs by the hundred who devoured the offal.

The regulations for the standing of carts were of very early date. Standings were fixed in Tower Street and on Tower Hill in 1479. It must be remembered that most of the streets in the City were too narrow for the passage of wheeled vehicles; it was therefore necessary to regulate the traffic in the streets wide enough for carts to pass. Such Acts were passed and altered in 1586, 1605, 1654, 1658, 1661, 1665, 1667, and 1681. The last Act for licensing and regulating carts was passed in 1838. The Woodmongers’ Company at one time had the management of the carts. In 1605, when Christ’s Hospital had charge of the carts, a single cart was taxed 13s. 4d. a year, together with 4s. for quarterage and no more. The whole number of carts allowed was 400, viz. 100 for Southwark, 200 in the skirts of the City, and 100 in the wood wharves.

The watchmen carried bells, not rattles; they rang them as they went along to announce their coming; the thieves in this way secured timely warning and got themselves into safe hiding. But Cosmo, Duke of Tuscany, who came here in 1669, says that the streets were orderly, well lit by lanterns, and that the citizens were not afraid to go about without swords.

Such squares as then existed, as Lincoln’s Inn Fields, had taken the place of Smithfield as a place of public resort. They were now laid out in three separate fields; these were surrounded by mulberry-trees. It was a common complaint that in summer evenings after work was over ballad singers stationed themselves at every street corner and bawled their songs to an admiring and a listening crowd, that their songs were coarse and lewd—perhaps it is the Puritan minister who complains,—and that young girls stood among the audience listening and laughing.

In 1618 the chimney-sweepers sent a petition to Sir Robert Naunton stating that householders generally neglected to get their chimneys swept, to the great danger of fire and the starvation of their kind, 200 in number; and they prayed that the citizens might be compelled to have their chimneys swept at proper times, and that an overseer should be appointed to look after this duty. The Lord Mayor reported that it was unnecessary to appoint another overseer, because there were already officers annually sworn to inspect chimneys. So nothing more is heard of the chimney-sweep and his grievances.

The subject of the City laystalls is unsavoury. But the removal of waste matter is always a trouble in every town. In 1670 orders were made for laystalls to be established at various points. It must be understood that all kinds of rubbish, ordure, decaying vegetables, etc., were shot out upon the laystall; when it was near the river the contents were from time to time shovelled out into the ebb tide. The following is the list of the laystalls as appointed in 1670:—