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Title: London in the Time of the Stuarts
Author: Besant, Walter
Language: English
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[Illustration: CHARLES I (1600–1649)

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

                      IN THE TIME OF THE STUARTS

                           SIR WALTER BESANT


                         ADAM & CHARLES BLACK


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

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

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.


                           STUART SOVEREIGNS

  CHAP.                                                             PAGE

   1. JAMES I.                                                         3

   2. CHARLES I.                                                      22

   3. THE CITY AND THE CIVIL WAR                                      53

   4. THE COMMONWEALTH                                                64

   5. THE RESTORATION                                                 74

   6. THE REIGN                                                       82

   7. JAMES II.                                                      103

   8. WILLIAM III.                                                   117

   9. QUEEN ANNE                                                     127


   1. RELIGION                                                       137

   2. THE CHURCH AND DISSENT                                         154

   3. SUPERSTITIONS                                                  159

   4. SANCTUARY                                                      168

   5. CITY GOVERNMENT AND USAGES                                     172

   6. TRADE                                                          190

   7. IRISH ESTATES                                                  206

                       THE GREAT PLAGUE AND FIRE

   1. THE PLAGUE                                                     215

   2. PLAGUE AND MEDICINE                                            233

   3. ASPECT OF THE CITY BEFORE THE FIRE                             240

   4. THE FIRE OF LONDON                                             244

   5. CONTEMPORARY EVIDENCE                                          258

   6. LONDON AFTER THE FIRE                                          269

                          MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

   1. FOOD AND DRINK                                                 287

   2. DRESS AND MANNERS                                              298

   3. WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS                                          308

   4. PLACES OF RESORT                                               311

   5. THEATRE AND ART                                                318

   6. SPORT AND AMUSEMENTS                                           328

   7. COACHES                                                        338

   8. PUNISHMENT AND CRIME                                           345

   9. PUBLIC MORALITY                                                355

  10. GENERAL NOTES                                                  359


   1. THE COURT                                                      365

   2. LIST OF LONDON CLERGY EJECTED                                  371

   3. ALMSHOUSES                                                     374

   4. COMPOSITION OF THE LORDS AND COMMONS                           376

   5. ENLARGEMENT OF THE STREETS                                     377

   6. THE NEW BUILDINGS OF LONDON                                    380

   7. GARDENS                                                        383

  INDEX                                                              387

  KEY TO OGILBY AND MORGAN’S MAP OF LONDON, 1677                     397



  Charles I.                                              _Frontispiece_

  James I.                                                             3

  Triumphal Arch erected at the time of the Coronation of James I.     4

  The Gunpowder Conspirators                                           7

  Gunpowder Treason                                                    8

  King James I. Entertaining the Spanish Ambassador at Whitehall      10

  Henry, Prince of Wales                                              11

  A Facsimile of the Order for the Burning of the Book of Sports      14

  The Destruction of Cheapside Cross and the Burning of the Book
        of Sports                                                     16

  Charles I.                                                          22

  Cheapside—Queen Henrietta Maria’s Entry into London                 23

  Henrietta Maria                                                     26

  George Villiers, First Duke (Second Creation) of Buckingham         30

  King Charles I. Thrown Overboard                                    36

  “England’s Miraculous Preservation Emblematically Described”        38

  “The True Maner of the Execution of Thomas Earle of Strafford”      39

  Thomas Wentworth, First Earl of Strafford                           40

  A Plan of London and Westminster after the Fire                     41

  A Soldier of the Time of King James the First armed with a
        Caliver                                                       45

  The Trial of King Charles I.                          _Facing page_ 46

  Sir Thomas Fairfax and his Wife                                     48

  Trial of King Charles I.                                            49

  Execution of Charles I.                                             51

  Prince Rupert                                                       60

  Cromwell Dissolving Parliament                                      65

  Hackney Coachman                                                    66

  Oliver Cromwell                                                     67

  General Monk, First Duke of Albemarle                               69

  View of General Monk’s House in Grub Street                         70

  Letter from General Monk to the Speaker of Parliament (facsimile)   71

  Mob at Temple Bar                                                   74

  The Coronation of Charles II. in Westminster Abbey    _Facing page_ 76

  Charles II.                                                         77

  Incidents in the Rebellion of the Fifth Monarchy Men under
        Thomas Venner, and the Execution of their Leaders             79

  Hungerford Market, near York Buildings, Strand        _Facing page_ 88

  “The Solemn Mock Procession of the Pope, Cardinalls, Jesuits,
        Fryers, etc., through ye City of London”                      90

  Lord Mayor and Aldermen                                             93

  Nell Gwynne                                                        101

  The Coronation of James II. in Westminster Abbey     _Facing page_ 102

  Titus Oates Flogged at the Cart Tail                               103

  Titus Oates in the Pillory                                         104

  Duke of Monmouth                                                   105

  The Execution of Monmouth                                          106

  James II.                                                          109

  The Seven Bishops on the Way to the Tower                          111

  Parliament in the reign of James II.                               112

  Judge Jeffreys                                                     113

  The Arrest of Jeffreys                                             115

  Entry of the Prince of Orange into London            _Facing page_ 116

  William III.                                                       119

  Mary II.                                                           120

  London Street Cries                                                123

  Queen Anne                                                         127

  Thanksgiving Service in St. Paul’s                                 129

  Henry Sacheverell, D.D.                                            132

  St. Paul’s Cross                                                   138

  William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury                             140

  A Trimmer                                                          142

  Execution of William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury                143

  John Bunyan’s Meeting-house, Zoar-street, Gravel-lane,
        Southwark                                                    154

  Touching for King’s Evil                                           165

  St. Bartholomew’s                                                  170

  Warwick House, Cloth Fair                                          173

  Craven House, Drury Lane                                           174

  Arundel House                                                      175

  Cornhill, London                                                   180

  Watchman—Bellman                                                   181

  The Apprentices’ Enforced Toilet                     _Facing page_ 188

  Custom House                                                       191

  “The Soveraigne of the Seas”                                       192

  The First Royal Exchange—Exterior and Interior       _Facing page_ 196

  Coins of the Period                                  _Facing page_ 200

  Old Grocers’ Hall used for Bank of England                         201

  A Perspective View of the Bank of England                          203

  Paul Pindar’s House                                  _Facing page_ 211

  Lord Craven                                                        219

  Rescued from the Plague                              _Facing page_ 220

  Samuel Pepys                                                       221

  Daniel Defoe                                                       224

  Part of Cheapside with the Cross, etc., as they Appeared in
        1660                                                         241

  The Great Fire of London                                           245

  The Cathedral Church of St. Paul as it was before ye Fire of
        London                                                       247

  A View of the Monument of London, in Remembrance of the
        Dreadful Fire in 1666                                        249

  A Plan of the City and Liberties of London after the Dreadful
        Conflagration in the Year 1666       _Between pages_ 252 and 253

  Sir Christopher Wren                                               254

  Sir John Evelyn’s Plan for Rebuilding the City of London after
        the Great Fire in 1666                                       255

  Sir Christopher Wren’s Plan for Rebuilding the City of London
        after the Dreadful Conflagration in 1666                     255

  John Evelyn                                                        259

  The Great Fire of London                             _Facing page_ 260

  Temple Bar, the West side                                          263

  London after the Fire                      _Between pages_ 268 and 269

  Somerset Palace, 1650                                              270

  Durham House, Salisbury House, and Worcester House                 271

  The Charter House Hospital                                         273

  Newgate, 1650                                                      277

  Remains of Prince Rupert’s Palace, Beech Street                    279

  St. Ethelburga within Bishopsgate                                  281

  Specimen of Armorial Architecture                                  282

  House in Great St. Helen’s formerly the Residence of Sir Jno.
        Lawrance, Lord Mayor of London A.D. 1665                     288

  Tavern Scene                                                       292

  Two Costume Portraits                                              298

  An English Lady of Quality—Lady of the Court of England            300

  Citizen’s Wife—Citizen’s Daughter                                  301

  English Gentlewoman—Noble Gentlewoman of England                   303

  Maypole Dance in the Time of Charles I.                            305

  Merchant’s Daughter—Merchant’s Wife of London                      306

  Procession in the City                                             306

  “Corpe Bearer”                                                     309

  St. James’s Park                                                   313

  Interior of St. Paul’s                                             316

  Inside of the Duke’s Theatre, Lincoln’s Inn Fields                 320

  Inside of the Red Bull Playhouse                                   322

  Musical Instruments of the Period                    _Facing page_ 326

  Sports of the Period                                 _Facing page_ 328

  Dress of the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress of London in 1640        333

  Coaches in St. James’s Park                                        339


                               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.

[Illustration: 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.


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.


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.

[Illustration: 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

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.


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.

[Illustration: 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

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.


E. Gardner’s Collection.]

                    _Die Veneris 5^o. Maij. 1643._

  It is this day Ordered by the Lords and Commons in Parliament,
  That the Booke concerning the enjoyning and tollerating of Sports
  upon the Lords day, be forthwith Burned by the hand of the Common
  Hangman in _Cheape-side_, and other usuall places: And to this
  purpose, the Sheriffs of _London_ and _Middlesex_ respectively, are
  hereby required to be Assistant to the effectuall Execution of this
  Order, and see the said Books burnt accordingly. And all persons
  who have any of the said Books in their hands, are hereby required
  forthwith to deliver them to one of the Sheriffes of _London_, to
  be burnt according to this Order.

                                   _John Browne Cler. Parl._
                                   _Henry Elsynge Cler. P. D. Com._

                   *       *       *       *       *

  _The Sheriffes of_ London _and_ Middlesex _have assigned Wednesday
  next the 10^{th} of this instant May, at twelve of the clock, for
  the putting in execution of the foresaid_ Ordinance, _and therefore
  doe require all persons that have any of the Bookes therein
  mentioned, to bring them in by that time, that they may be burned

                                                   John Langham.
                                                   Thomas Andrewes.

                   *       *       *       *       *

        Printed for _Thomas Underhill_ in _Great Woodstreete_.
                            _May 9. 1643._}

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


  _The 2 of May, 1643 y^e Crosse in Cheapeside was pulled downe, a
  Troope of Horse & 2 Companies of foote wayted to garde it & at y^e
  fall of y^e tope Crosse dromes beat trumpets blew & multitudes of
  Capes wayre throwne in y^e Ayre & a great Shoute of People with
  ioy, y^e 2 of May the Almanake sayeth, was y^e invention of the
  Crosse, & 6 day at night was the Leaden Popes burnt in the place
  where it stood with ringinge of Bells & a greate Acclamation & no
  hurt done in all these actions._

  _10 of May the Boocke of Sportes upon the Lords day was burnt by
  the Hangman in the place where the crosse stoode, & at Exchange_}

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: CHARLES I. (1600–1649)

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


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:—

  Merchant Taylors    £6300
  Grocers             £6000
  Haberdashers        £4300
  Drapers             £4608
  Vintners            £3120
  Goldsmiths          £4380
  Mercers             £3720
  Fishmongers         £3390
  Clothworkers        £3390

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.

[Illustration: 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

    “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

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).

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

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

  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:—

  New England           69 ships
  Virginia              21   „
  Barbadoes             10   „
  St. Christopher’s      6   „
  Providence             2   „
  Bermudas               2   „

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

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.


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

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:—


  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

  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.

[Illustration: From a contemporary print in the British Museum.]

  Englands Miraculous Preservation Emblematically Described, Erected
               for a perpetuall _MONUMENT_ to Posterity.

  _Though Englands Ark have furios storms indurd By Plotts of foes
  and power of the sword Yet to this day by Gods almighty hand The
  Ark’s preservd and almost safe at land_}

  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

  “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.

STRAFFORD. LORD Lieutenant of Ireland. upon Towerhill, the 12^{th} of
May, 1641.

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


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.

[Illustration: _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

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

On the temper and discipline of the City trained bands Sharpe thus

  “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.’”


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

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.


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

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

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.

[Illustration: SIR THOMAS FAIRFAX (1612–1671) AND HIS WIFE

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

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.

[Illustration: 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^tday
w^{th}out 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

[Illustration: _ENGLANDS ROYAL PATTERN_ or the Execution of _KING
CHARLES_ y^e 1^{st} Jan^y 30.


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

                              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

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

  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

  “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

  “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.

[Illustration: 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

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

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.


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.)


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

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

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

[Illustration: 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

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.

[Illustration: 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

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.

[Illustration: _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 LETTER
                          Of His Excellencie
                        The Lord General Monck,
       To the Speaker of the Parl. From _Guild-Hall_, _London_.

  _Right Honourable_,

  In obedience to the Commands received from the Council last night,
  I marched with your Forces into the City this morning, and have
  secured all the persons except two, ordered to be secured, which
  two were not to be found: The Posts and Chaines I have given order
  to be taken away, but have hitherto forborn the taking down of
  the Gates and Portcullises, because it will in all likelihood
  exasperate the City; and I have good ground of hopes from them,
  that they will Levy the Assess; They desiring onely first to meet
  in Common-Council, which they intend to do to morrow morning.
  It seems probable to me, that they will yeild obedience to your
  Commands, and be brought to a friendly Complyance with you; for
  which reason I have suspended the execution of your Commands
  touching the Gates and Portcullises, till I know your further
  pleasure therein, which I desire I may by this Bearer; I shall
  onely desire, that (so your Commands may be answered with due
  obedience) such tenderness may be used towards them, as may gain
  their affections; They desired the Restauration of those Members
  of their Common-Council that are secured, which desires of theirs
  I shall onely commend to your grave Consideration, to do therein
  as you shall think most expedient, and, in attendance upon your
  further Commands, Remain

  _Guildhall_ Feb 9, 1659.           _Your most Humble and Obedient
                                                   George Monck.

  _To the Right Honourable_ William Lenthal, _Speaker
    to the Parliament of the Common-Wealth of_ England
    _at_ Westminster.


  I shall become an humble suiter to you, That You will be pleased
  to hasten your Qualifications, that the Writs may be sent out; I
  can assure you it will tend much to the Peace of the Country, and
  satisfie many honest Men.

                   *       *       *       *       *

                _Thursday Afternoon_, January 9, 1659.

  This Letter from General _George Monck_ from _Guild-Hall_,
  _London_, of the 9th of _February_, 1659, was read.

  _Resolved_, Upon the Question by the Parliament, That the Answer
  to this Letter be, to send General _Monck_ the Resolve of the
  Parliament, That the Gates of the City of _London_, and the
  Portcullises thereof be forthwith destroyed, And that he be ordered
  to put the said Vote in Execution accordingly, and that M. _Scot_
  and M. _Pury_ do go to General _Monck_ and acquaint him with these

                        Tho. St. Nicholas, _Clerk to the Parliament_.

                   *       *       *       *       *

                     _Thursday_, February 9, 1659.

  Resolved upon the Question by the Parliament, That the Gates of
  the City of _London_, and the Portcullises thereof be forthwith
  destroyed, and that the Commissioners for the Army do take Order
  that the same be done accordingly

                        Tho. St. Nicholas, _Clerk to the Parliament_.

                   *       *       *       *       *

          LONDON, Printed by _John Macock_ in the Year 1659.}

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.

[Illustration: 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

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

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.

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.

[Illustration: 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,

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

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.


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

“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

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

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

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

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

  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.”


_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.

[Illustration: _The Solemn Mock Procession of the POPE, Cardinalls,
Jesuits, Fryers, etc: through y^e City of London, November y^e 17^{th}

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

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

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.


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):—


  “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

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

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

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

  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.

[Illustration: NELL GWYNNE (1650–1687)

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

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.).

[Illustration: A Perspective of WESTMINSTER-ABBY from the High-Altar
to the West end. Shewing the manner of His Majesties’s CROWNING.


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


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.


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.

[Illustration: 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

[Illustration: 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

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.

[Illustration: 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.


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


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

[Illustration: 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

“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

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.

[Illustration: _The Lord Chancellor taken disguised in Wapping_

— _Engraved for the Devils Broker_ —


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.”


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

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.”

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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

  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

  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

  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

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.

[Illustration: “Rats or Mice to kill”



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.

  1688.  July 21st. Fireworks on Thames cost £20,000. Present 100,000

    „    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

             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.

[Illustration: 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.


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

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

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

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.

[Illustration: 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.


                               CHAPTER I


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

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.]



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.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: A TRIMMER

From a contemporary print in the British Museum.]

  A Trimers Character._
  _Who Can in the Twinkling of an eye Transform himselfe .viz^t. to
  act the patriot and Saint. With two Hearts, two Tongues, and two
  Opinions for God or Baal like the Hedg-Hog’s Holes of refuge to
  fly too when a Storme Aproches, or the Barnacle both flesh and
  fish, Janus with two faces, or the Sea-gull that Swims as fish
  and flyes as fowl that hath a Double devotion Scotch and English,
  in one day’s duty. Half Surplice, and half Cloak both Priest and
  Presbeter. by way of Caution, be not led— misled I meane, but
  Mark these Monsters, who serve their own bellyes, and are onely
  fleecers, not feeders.
  He would be stil a Rebel if he durst,
  Turn-Coat in every Age for Interest._}

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

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.


  _S^t. Alexander Carew, S^t. John Hotham, Captin Hotham & the Arch
  Bishop of Canterbury, beheaded on Towerhill for Treason against y^e
  Parliament 1645._

  _issue of blood in this more then miserable Kingdom; I shall
  desire, that I may pray for the people too, as well as for my self:
  O Lord, I beseech thee give grace of repentance to all people that
  have a thirst for blood, but if they will not repent, then scatter
  their devices so, and such as are or shall be contrary to the
  glory of thy great name, the truth and sincerity of Religion, the
  establishment of the King, and his posterity after him in their
  just rights and priviledges, the honour and conservation of Parl.
  in their ancient and just power, the preservation of this poor
  Church in her truth, peace and patrimony and the settlement of this
  distracted and distressed people, [un]der the ancient laws, and
  in their native liberties; and when thou hast [don]e all this in
  mercy for them, O Lord fill their hearts with thankfullness, [and]
  with religious dutiful obedience to thee and thy Commandments all
  [thei]r dayes: So Amen, Lord Jesus; and I beseech thee receive my
  soul to [mer]cy. Our Father, &c._

        The Bishop of Canterburies last prayer on the Scaffold.

  _Lord I am comming as fast as I can, I know I must pass through the
  [sha]dow of death before I can come to see thee, but it is but_
  umbra mortis, _[a m]eere shadow of death, a little darkness upon
  nature, but thou by thy me[ri]ts and passion hast broke through the
  jaws of death; so, Lord, receive my Soul, and have mercy on me,
  and bless this Kingdom with peace and plenty, and with brotherly
  love and charity, that there may be not this effusion of Christian
  blood amongst them, for Jesus Christ his sake, if it be thy will.
  And when he said, Lord receive my soul, which was his designe, the
  Executioner did his office._}

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

  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

  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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

[Illustration: _John Bunyan’s Meeting-house, Loar-street, Gravel-lane,

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

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.

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

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.”

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


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

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.

[Illustration: _London Printet for Dorman Newman at the kings Armes in
the Poultry &c_:


  _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


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

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



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

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

  “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

                               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.


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.

[Illustration: _Craven House, Drury Lane._

From contemporary print.]

[Illustration: South View of Arundel House in London 1646.

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

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

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

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.

[Illustration: Cornhill, London,


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.”

[Illustration: WATCHMAN

From a print published by John Watson, _temp._ Charles II.]

[Illustration: 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:—

                                   {Billingsgate Ward
                                   {Bridge        „
                                   {Langbourn     „
  “(1) Dowgate Dock                {Cornhill      „
                                   {Candlewick    „
                                   {Vintry        „
                                   {Walbrook      „
                                   {Dowgate       „

                                   {Portsoken Ward
                                   {Tower      „
  (2) Mile End                     {Aldgate    „
                                   {Duke’s Place Ward
                                   {Lyme Street   „

  (3) Holloway Lane End            {Bishopsgate Within Ward
                                   {    „       Without „

                                   {Cripplegate Within and Without Ward
                                   {Aldersgate Without Ward
  (4) Bunhill Fields               {Bassishaw           „
                                   {Coleman Street      „
                                   {Broad Street        „

  (5) Laystall at or near 3 Cranes {Cheap Ward
      and in Dunghill Lane, near   {Cordwainer Ward
      Broken Wharf, till Key is    {Queenhithe   „
      there laid open. Afterwards  {Bread Street „
      a Laystall at Puddle Dock

                                   {Farringdon Within Ward
  (6) Puddle Dock                  {Aldersgate Within  „
                                   {Castle Baynard     „
                                   {St. Martin’s le Grand Ward

  (7) Whitefriars                  Farringdon Without Ward”

The Radical root-and-branch reformer is not unknown in every age. I
have before me a pamphlet written by such an one in the year 1675. It
will be seen that he advocates a thorough reform or rather a return to
the former conditions. I quote a portion only of the pamphlet. Among
other things the writer proposes—

  (1) That a stop be put to any new buildings in London, or within
  the bills of mortality.

  (2) That the nobility and gentry of the country be compelled to
  reside so many months in the year on their estates.

  (3) That brandy, music, coffee, and tea be prohibited, and
  coffee-houses suppressed.

  (4) That the multitude of stage coaches and caravans now on the
  roads be all, or most of them, suppressed.

  (5) That a Court of Conscience should be established in Westminster
  and in every important town.

  (6) That the extravagant wages of craftsmen should be reduced. The
  writer proceeds to advance his reasons for these proposals. For
  instance, the abundance of new houses tempts people to come up from
  the country in order to establish ale or brandy shops or to let
  lodgings; it also tempts the gentry to leave their estates and to
  live in London.

As to the prohibition of brandy, it is stated that brandy was so cheap,
a quartern being sold for threepence, that the people drink spirits
instead of strong beer and ale. (This is the first complaint of spirit
drinking.) Whereas, if the sale of brandy were prohibited, there would
be so great an increase in the consumption of barley required for beer
that the farmers would rise from their impoverished condition and be
once more able to pay their rents. “Brandy,” he says, “burns out the
hearts of his Majesty’s subjects.” It is not generally understood, I
think, that there were complaints on the subject of brandy before the
introduction of its cheaper and more destructive rival—gin.

He would suppress tea, coffee, and chocolate for the simple reason
that he does not understand that they do any good to anybody, and he
would shut the coffee-houses because he believes them to be mischievous

  “And for coffee, tea, and chocolate, I know no good they do; only
  the places where they are sold are convenient for persons to meet
  in, sit half a day, and discourse with all companies that come
  in, of state-matters, talking of news, and broaching of lies;
  arraigning the judgments and discretions of their own governors,
  censuring all their actions, and insinuating into the people a
  prejudice against them; extolling and magnifying their own parts,
  knowledge, and wisdom, and decrying that of their rulers, which, if
  suffered too long, may prove pernicious and destructive. But say
  there was nothing of this in the case, yet have these coffee-houses
  done great mischiefs to the nation, and undone many of the king’s
  subjects; for they, being very great enemies to diligence and
  industry, have been the ruin of many serious and hopeful young
  gentlemen and tradesmen, who, before they frequented these places,
  were diligent students or shopkeepers, extraordinary husbands of
  their time as well as money” (see also p. 292).

Granted a case against tea and coffee, what can be said against the
stage coach? A great deal. Stage coaches destroy the breed of good
horses, make men careless of horsemanship, and make them effeminate and
afraid of cold, rain, and snow (for further on this subject see p. 338).

The crime of crimping—that is, inveigling or forcing young fellows
to enter into service in the plantations—became very common in this
century. It caused trouble in many ways. First, a man was encouraged
to get drunk, and on recovering was told that he had enlisted, or he
was knocked on the head and carried aboard, or he voluntarily enlisted
and afterwards repented. In all these cases the victims complained on
reaching Virginia that they had been betrayed or trapped, and they sent
home sworn statements, with instructions to their friends, to indict
the merchants for crimping and ensnaring them.

These complaints became so numerous that rules were laid down for
the enrolment of these servants, and if the rules were obeyed, the
merchants were assured that there should be no prosecution:—

  “I. Such servants as are to be taken by Indenture, to be executed
  by the servant, in the presence of the magistrate or magistrates
  hereafter appointed: one part thereof signed by such servant, and
  also underwritten or endorsed with the name and handwriting of such
  magistrate, which is to remain with the clerk of the Peace to be
  renewed to the next sessions, there to be filed upon a distinct
  file, and numbered and kept with the records.

  II. The Clerk of the Peace is to keep a fair book, wherein the name
  of the person so bound, and the magistrate’s name before whom the
  same was done, and the time and place of doing thereof, and the
  number of the file shall be entred; and for the more easie finding
  the same, the entris are to be made alphabetically, according to
  the first letter of the sirname.

  III. All persons above the age of one and twenty years, or who
  shall, upon view and examination, appear to be so in the judgment
  of the magistrate, may be bound in the presence of one Justice of
  the Peace, or of the Mayor or chief Magistrate of the place where
  they shall go on shipboard, who is to be fully satisfied from him
  of his free and voluntary agreement to enter into the said service.

  IV. If any person be under the age of one and twenty years, or
  shall appear to be so, he shall be bound in the presence of the
  Lord Mayor of London, or one of the Judges, or an Alderman of
  London, being a Justice of the Peace, or the Recorder, or two
  Justices of the Peace of any other county or place, who shall
  carefully examine whether the person so to be bound have any
  parents or masters; and if he be not free they are not to take
  such indenture, unless the parents or masters give their consents,
  and some person that knows the said servant to be of the name and
  addition mentioned in the indenture is to assist his said knowledge
  upon the said indenture.

  V. If the person be under the age of fourteen years, unless his
  parents shall be present, and consent, he is not to be carried on
  shipboard till a fortnight at least after he becomes bound, to the
  intent that if there be any abuse, it may be discovered before he
  is transported. And where his parents do not appear before the
  magistrate, notice is to be sent to them; or where they cannot be
  found, to the churchwardens, overseers of the parish where he was
  last settled, in such manner as the said magistrates shall think
  fit and direct.

  And because Clerks of the Peace may conceive this not to be
  any part of the duty of their office, and may therefore exact
  unreasonable rewards for their trouble and pains therein, his
  Majesty doth declare that if any merchants or other persons shall
  be aggrieved thereby, and upon complaint to the Justices cannot
  obtain relief, his Majesty will take such further care for their
  ease herein, as in his royal wisdom he shall think meet.

  And his Majestie’s further pleasure is, that this order be printed
  and published, to the end all persons whom it may concern may take
  notice thereof, and govern themselves accordingly.”

Here is a very curious note concerning a custom long since forgotten.
Before the discovery and importation of Indian nitre, saltpetre was
manufactured from animal matter. This stuff was piled in heaps,
protected from rain, and watered with stable runnings. Men called
saltpetre-men were employed in collecting earth thus impregnated,
and were by Act of Parliament (1624) authorised to dig up the floors
of stables and any other places where this saturated earth might be
found. So important was the manufacture that no dove-house or stable
was permitted to be paved. The appearance of the saltpetre-man and his
asserted right of digging up and carrying off the earth under stables
became a grievance, against which remonstrance was in vain so long
as the civil wars lasted. In 1656, however, it was enacted that no
saltpetre-man should dig without permission of the householder.

During the seventeenth century the ’prentices, as we have seen,
became of greater importance than ever; in the eighteenth their power
declined. For instance, when in 1643 it was feared that Charles would
march on the City, the ’prentices turned out in great force to fortify
the entrances and roads all round the City. Four years later they
turned out on strike, meeting in Covent Garden, then an open space, in
order to compel their masters to give them back the old holidays of
which the Puritans had deprived them. These were especially Christmas,
with its days of merriment and minstrelsy, Good Friday, Easter Monday,
and, I think, Whit Monday. Perhaps the Puritans had also deprived them
of Queen Elizabeth’s Day. On Shrove Tuesday the ’prentices demolished,
if they could find any, houses of ill fame. Their keepers were locked
up in prison during the whole of Lent. This zeal for virtue on the part
of the London ’prentice becomes a thing of suspicion when one reads
_The English Rogue_. Perhaps it was a custom ordered and maintained
by the masters. I conclude this chapter with the history of one of
them. It will be seen that the lot of a ’prentice was not always the
happiest or the most desirable. The following notes are taken from
the autobiography of one of them, a scrivener’s printer, named F.
K. To begin with, he was very fond of reading. While he was still a
boy he read _The Friar and the Boy_, _The Seven Wise men of Rome_,
_Fortunatus_, _Doctor Faustus_, _Friar Bacon_, _Montelion Knight of
the Oracle_, _Parismus_, _Palmerin of England_, _Amadis de Gaul_. The
boy procured the latter in French, and for the sake of reading it,
taught himself French, and made a French dictionary for himself. As
he could not afford to buy paper, he cut pages from the middle of the
other boys’ copybooks, and, being found out, received a very sound and
well-deserved flogging.

When he was sixteen he was apprenticed to a scrivener for eight years’
servitude, his father paying £30 and giving a bond for £100 as a
guarantee of the boy’s honesty.

His master had already two apprentices. It was the custom that the
youngest apprentice should do, so to speak, the dirty work; but in this
case the master had a son who was shortly afterwards apprenticed, and
should, in his turn, have taken the lowest place; but by right of his
position in the family he was spared this ignominy, and so the writer
continued the drudge of the whole household as long as he remained in
the house. Apart from his work in the shop, where he had to write out
deeds, conveyances, etc.,—the scrivener’s profession exercising much
the same functions as those now undertaken by the solicitor,—he says,
“I was to make clean the Shooes, carry out the Ashes and Dust, sweep
the Shop, cleanse the Sink, (and a long nasty one it was), draw the
Beer, at washing times to fetch up Coals and Kettles; these were the
within doors employs, and abroad I was to go of all errands, and carry
all burthens. I dispensed with all these matters, being told thereof
by my Father and Mother before I came, wherefore I was content, and
did undergo all very willingly, till I had served about three years,
and then being grown up to some maturity and understanding, I began to
grumble. I had Money given me which I always laid out in purchasing of
Books, especially such as treated of Knight Errantry, or else in buying
somewhat to make me fine, and Money coming in pretty plentiful, I had
bought me a very good Suit of Cloaths to wear by the by; and withal,
being desirous to appear in everything like a gentleman, I had a Watch
for my Pocket; being thus accoutred, I sometimes went abroad with our
Neighbour Apprentices and others, and being thus fine, it troubled me
that I must still carry Burthens, for whoever went empty, my Mistress
would still take care that I had my Load to carry Working-day and
Sunday from our London to our Countrey-house, and rather than I should
want a Burthen, I was to carry earthen Pots and Pans and Ox Livers, and
Bones for the Dog. This I grumbled at, and when I have bin seriously
a drawing Writings in the Shop and studying and contriving how to
order my Covenants the best way, a greasy Kitchin-wench would come and
disturb me with one of her Errants, and tell me I must fetch a farthing
worth of Mustard, or a pint of Vinegar, or some such mechanical story;
nay, my Mistress hath sent me for a Pint of Purl, which when she hath
warmed and tasted of, and not liked, I must carry it again to change
it. And I being the youngest Apprentice was to be commanded by every
one; the two eldest would appoint what I was to do in the Shop, and the
Kitchin-wench would, when she pleased, command me into the Kitchin, so
that I must be here and there and everywhere; and above all things,
I must humor and please the Maid, or else she would pick Holes in my
Coat, and tell Tales of me to my Mistress, who would not let me live a
quiet hour” (_The Unlucky Citizen_, pp. 35–37).

Presently, having served for three years, and being now nineteen years
of age, he complained to his father:—

“But I was little the better for it; for no sooner was I come into
my Master’s House, but he seeing me, enters his Closet, from whence
fetches a lusty Battoon Cane (the ordinary Weapon with which I was used
to be disciplined), and without by your leave, or with your Leave, he
takes me by the hand, and lifting up his Sword Arm like a Fencer, he
gives me a lusty Thwack over the Shoulders, and without any warning
given, not so much as the least word of Defyance, that I might know
his anger, or the cause of it, he follows that blow by a second and a
third, and many more, so fast and so long as he could lay on, till he,
being out of breath, was forced to give over, and then so soon as he
had recovered the use of his Tongue, he thus breaks silence, ‘Sirrah,
I’le teach you to run and make complaints to your Father.’ I now having
heard him speak, knew whereabouts he was, but methought the News was
strange and sudden, and somewhat I began to mutter, but my Tale would
not be heard; he prosecuted his business with the Second Part to the
same Tune, both upon my Sides and Shoulders till he was again weary,
and then there being a cessation of Arms, down I sate me, not daring to
speak a word; but though I said nothing, yet I paid it with thinking,
but all to little purpose; he was Master, and I found so he would
continue” (_The Unlucky Citizen_, pp. 43, 44).

A master at that time had a perfect right to beat his servants; nor
does the writer complain, except that there was, perhaps, too much laid
on. It will be remembered that the wife of Pepys caned her maids. F.
K., however, does point out the vile treatment of apprentices by some
of their masters, and their advantage in it:—

“And let me tell you that I have observed and known that some Citizens
have much encreased their Estates by taking many Apprentices, for
perhaps having fifty pounds or more with an Apprentice, and being very
severe and rigid, the boy hath been so hardly used, that he hath run
away within a year, and rather than return again, lose all his Money.
I knew one that served eight so, one after another, and in three or
four years, by this means, gained four hundred pounds for their diet,
which they likewise earned, causing them to work like Porters, so that
I think they paid dear enough for it; they had been better to have been
boarded at the costliest Boarding-school in England; and besides the
loss of the Money, there was a worse inconvenience, for the Apprentice
hath been quite spoiled, so harassed and frighted, that he hath not
been fit for any other service, and for the sake of his first Master,
would not be perswaded to go to any other” (_The Unlucky Citizen_, pp.
144, 145).

After being taken from this master and transferred to another, who
turned him out of the house for betraying confidence, F. K. was set
up in business by his father, opening a small scrivener’s shop on
Tower Hill. If his bad luck through life was like his bad luck as an
apprentice, it was due to his own folly and stupidity. For instance,
he says that he was arrested a few days after he was married, for his
wedding clothes. Why, then, did he not pay for them? And so on. But we
need not follow the _Unlucky Citizen_ any farther.

The Sumptuary Laws against Apprentices so stringently enacted in the
preceding century were still in force, and a youth who dared to array
himself in finery other than befitted his craft, ran the risk of being
forcibly despoiled of his ribbons and adornments and being reduced to a
severe simplicity of apparel.

Here is a glimpse of life furnished by Howell when he placed his two
younger brothers apprentices in the City:—

  “Our two younger Brothers, which you sent hither, are disposed of;
  my Brother Doctor hath placed the elder of the two with Mr. Hawes,
  a Mercer in Cheapside, and he took much Pains in it; and I had
  placed my Brother Ned with Mr. Barrington, a Silk-man in the same
  Street; but afterwards, for some inconveniences, I removed him to
  one Mr. Smith, at the Flower de luce in Lombard Street, a Mercer
  also. Their Masters both of them are very well to pass, and of good
  repute; I think it will prove some advantage to them hereafter
  to be both of one Trade; because, when they are out of their time,
  they may join Stocks together; so that I hope they are as well
  placed as any two Youths in London; but you must not use to send
  them such large Tokens in Money, for that may corrupt them. When I
  went to bind my brother Ned Apprentice in Drapers-Hall, casting my
  eyes upon the Chimney-piece of the great Room, I spied a Picture
  of an ancient Gentlemen, and underneath _Thomas_ Howell; I asked
  the Clerk about him, and he told me that he was a Spanish Merchant
  in Henry VIII.’s time, and coming home rich, and dying a Batchelor,
  he gave that Hall to the Company of Drapers, with other things, so
  that he is accounted one of the chiefest Benefactors. I told the
  Clerk, that one of the Sons of Thomas Howell came now thither to
  be bound; he answered, that if he be a right Howell, he may have,
  when he is free, three hundred Pounds to help set up, and pay no
  interest for five years. It may be hereafter we will make use of
  this. He told me also, that any Maid that can prove her Father
  to be a true Howell may come and demand Fifty pounds towards her
  portion, of the said Hall.”


By permission of the Artist, Ralph Hedley, R.S.A., and of the Owner,
W. F. Henderson.]

                              CHAPTER VI


The chapter on trade under the Stuarts may be introduced by certain
extracts from a paper written by Sir Walter Raleigh early in the
seventeenth century. It was called “Observations on Trade and
Commerce,” in which he compares the Dutch trade and Dutch merchants
with our own, very much to our disadvantage. The following, he says,
are the seven points in which the Dutch surpass us:—

  “1. The Merchant Staplers which maketh all Things in abundance, by
  reason of their Store-houses continually replenished with all kinds
  of Commodities.

  2. The Liberty of free Traffick for Strangers to buy and sell in
  Holland, and other Countries and States, as if they were free-born,
  maketh great intercourse.

  3. The small Duties levied upon Merchants, draws all Nations to
  trade with them.

  4. Their fashioned ships continually freighted before ours, by
  reason of their few Mariners and great Bulk, serving the Merchant

  5. Their forwardness to further all manner of Trading.

  6. Their wonderful employment of their Busses for Fishing, and the
  great Returns they make.

  7. Their giving free Custom inwards and outwards, for any
  new-erected Trade, by Means whereof they have gotten already almost
  the sole Trade into their hands.”

  “Thus,” he goes on, “as regards the storing of merchandize,
  Amsterdam is never without a supply of 700,000 quarters of corn,
  which they keep always ready besides what they sell; and the like
  with other commodities, so that if a Dearth of Fish, wine, grain,
  or anything else begins in the country, forthwith the Dutch are
  ready with fifty or a hundred ships dispersing themselves at every
  ‘Port-Town’ in England, trading away their cargoes and carrying off
  English gold. Moreover, the Dutch have in their hands the greater
  part of the carrying trade of France, Portugal, Spain, Italy,
  Turkey, the East Indies, and the West Indies. Yet London is a much
  more convenient port for a store-house and for the carrying trade
  if our merchants would but bend their course for it.”

As for small duties in foreign countries compared with the excessive
customs in ours. James, it will be remembered, relied on his Customs
duties, which were heavy, thereby keeping off foreign trade. In Holland
the Customs duties were so much lighter that a ship which would pay
£900 in the port of London could be cleared at Amsterdam for £50.
Raleigh points out that what is lost by lowering the duties is more
than made up by the increase of trade when the duties are low. He
advocates Free Trade, observe, long before that innovation was thought

By the “fashion” of the ships he means the Dutch merchant vessels
called “Boyers, Hoy-barks, and Hoys,” constructed to contain a great
bulk of merchandise and to sail with a small crew. Thus an English ship
of 200 tons required a crew of thirty hands, while a ship of the same
tonnage built in Holland wanted no more than nine or ten mariners.


                             CUSTOM HOUSE

  _The_ Custom House _for the Port of_ London, _or Grand Office for
  the Management not only of the Affairs relating to y^e Exports
  and Imports of the Opulent City, but of the_ Customs _throughout_
  England _according to the Regulations of Parliament. It was
  built by_ K. Charles _the_ 2^d. Anno _1668, at the Expence of
  above 10,000 Pounds, the former House being—consumed by the
  Fire of_ London. _It is a large and gracefull Building, fronting
  the Water side, very Comodious as well for the Commissioners and
  the several Officers and Clerks above Stairs, as the Ware houses
  underneath,—and the Cranes for Landing and Lading the Merch^{nts).

Then, again, as to their “forwardness” in trading. In one year and a
half the merchants of Holland, Hamburg, and Emden carried off from
Southampton, Exeter, and Bristol alone near £200,000 in gold. And
perhaps £2,000,000, taking the whole of the kingdom into account. The
Dutch alone sent 500 or 600 ships every year to England, while we sent
but thirty to Holland.

A warning and an example is presented by the fallen and decayed
condition of Genoa. Formerly this city was the most prosperous of all
trading cities. All nations traded there; but in an evil moment Genoa
declared a Customs duty of 10 per cent, which caused the whole of
her trade to vanish. Why, again, Raleigh asks, do we not secure for
ourselves the magnificent fisheries which lie off our shores? In four
towns within the Sound are sold every year between 30,000 and 40,000
casts of herrings, representing £620,000. In Denmark, Norway, Sweden,
etc., are sold our herrings, caught on our shores, to the amount of
£170,000. This fishery represents over a million sterling in addition
to all this. They are herrings caught off our shores, and yet we have
no share in this great trade.

The Dutch employ a thousand ships in carrying salt to the East
Kingdoms; we none. They have 600 ships in the timber trade; we none;
they send into the East Kingdoms 3000 ships every year; we 100 only.
They carry goods from the East Kingdoms to France, Spain, Portugal, and
Italy in 2000 ships; we have none in that trade. They trade to all the
ports of France; we to five or six only. They trade with every one of
our ports—with 600 ships; we with three only of these ports, and but
forty ships.


From a contemporary engraving by John Payne.]

We neglect to take advantage of what we have. For instance, we send to
Holland our cloth undressed; we let them take, for purposes of trade,
our iron, our coal, our copper, lead, tin, alum, copperas, and other
things on which we might employ thousands of people, and this country,
which produces nothing, is enriched by carrying commodities about the

The arguments of Raleigh in favour of taking up the fisheries appear
elementary. He thus sums up the advantages:—

  “1. For taking God’s blessing out of the Sea to enrich the Realm,
  which otherwise we lose.

  2. For setting the People on work.

  3. For making Plenty of Cheapness in the Realm.

  4. For increasing of Shipping, to make the Land powerful.

  5. For a continual Nursery for breeding and increasing our Mariners.

  6. For making employment of all Sorts of People, as blind, lame,
  and others, by Sea and Land, from ten or twelve years and upwards.

  7. For inriching your Majesty’s Coffers, by Merchandises returned
  from other Countries for Fish and Herrings.

  8. For the increase and enabling of Merchants, which now droop and
  daily decay.”

The trade of London during the first half of the seventeenth century
decayed. The decay was due partly to the monopoly of the privileged
companies, which stifled or discouraged enterprise; partly to the
civil wars; partly to the Customs duties; and partly, it would seem,
to a falling off in the vigour and enterprise which had marked the
Elizabethan period. In trade, as in everything, there are times of
reaction and of torpor. Meantime, in spite of everything, foreign trade
increased. But Raleigh’s comparison between the trade of Holland and
that of London shows how small our foreign trade was, in comparison
with the vast bulk carried on by the Dutch.

After Sir Walter Raleigh’s “observations” let me quote Howell on the
profession or calling of the merchant:—

  “For my part I do not know any profession of Life (especially in
  an Island) more to be cherished and countenanced with honourable
  employments than the Merchant-Adventurer (I do not mean only
  the staplers of Hamburgh and Rotterdam); for if valiant and
  dangerous actions do enoble a Man, and make him merit, surely the
  Merchant-Adventurer deserves more Honour than any; for he is to
  encounter not only with Men of all Tempers and Humours (as a French
  Counsellor hath it), but he contests and tugs oft-time with all the
  Elements; nor do I see how some of our Country Squires, who sell
  Calves and Runts, and their Wives perhaps Cheese and Apples, should
  be held more genteel than the noble Merchant-Adventurer who sells
  Silks and Satins, Tissues and Cloths of Gold, Diamonds and Pearl,
  with Silver and Gold.”

In the year 1606 James made an attempt to introduce the breeding of
silkworms. He sent mulberry-trees into the country with instructions
for the feeding of the worms. There was a certain amount of
English-grown silk manufactured, as is shown by an entry in Thoresby’s
_Diary_. “Saw at Mr. Gale’s a sample of the satin lately made at
Chelsea of English silkworms, for the Princess of Wales, which was very
rich and beautiful.” The experiment proved unsuccessful, yet it caused
the immigration of a great number of silk throwsters, weavers, and
dyers, who settled here and entered upon the silk trade in London. The
raw silk was brought from India and China by the East India Company.

A table of imports from India in 1620 gives the most astonishing
difference between the cost in India and the selling price in London
(see Capper, _Port and Trade of London_, p. 82):—

|   Imports, 1620.    |    Cost on Board Ship    | Selling Prices in London. |
|                     |        in India.         |                           |
|                     |_s._ _d._|   £   _s._ _d._|_s._ _d._|   £    _s._ _d._|
|250,000 lbs. Pepper  | 0  2-1/2| 2,604  3    4  |  1   8  | 20,833  6    8  |
|150,000 lbs. Cloves  | 0   9   | 5,625  0    0  |  6   0  | 45,000  0    0  |
|150,000 lbs. Nutmegs | 0   4   | 2,500  0    0  |  2   6  | 18,750  0    0  |
| 50,000 lbs. Mace    | 0   8   | 1,666 13    4  |  6   0  | 15,000  0    0  |
|200,000 lbs. Indigo  | 1   2   |11,666 13    4  |  5   0  | 50,000  0    0  |
|107,140 lbs. China   |         |                |         |                 |
|             Raw Silk| 7   0   |37,499  0    0  | 20   0  |107,140  0    0  |
| 50,000 pieces Calico| 7   0   |17,500  0    0  | 20   0  | 50,000  0    0  |
|                     |         +----------------+         +-----------------+
|                     |         |79,061 10    0  |         |306,723  6    8  |

In 1620 the East India Company established themselves at Madras, where
they had a trade in diamonds, muslin, and chintzes in return for
English or European goods. They had in their service 2500 mariners, 500
ship carpenters, and 120 factors.

The story of Cockaine’s patent should be (but it was not) a lesson in
Free Trade. It was this man’s custom to send white cloth from England
to Holland to be dyed and dressed, and then sent back for sale.
Alderman Cockaine proposed to the King to do the dyeing and dressing
himself if he had a patent. He represented that the whole profit made
by the Dutch would be saved by this arrangement. The King consented;
he prohibited the exportation of white cloth to Holland, and seized
the charter of the Merchant Adventurers which allowed them to export
it. The Dutch naturally retaliated by prohibiting the importation of
English dye cloths. It was then discovered that Cockaine could not do
what he proposed to do; his cloths were worse dyed and were dearer than
those dyed by the Dutch. After seven years of complaints over this
business, the patent was removed and the charter restored.

The following is a statement of the trade of England at this time:—

  “We trade to Naples, Genoa, Leghorn, Marseilles, Malaga, etc., with
  only twenty ships, chiefly herrings, and thirty sail more laden
  with pipes-staves from Ireland.

  To Portugal and Andalusia we sent twenty ships for wines, sugar,
  fruit, and West Indian drugs.

  To Bordeaux we send sixty ships and barks for wines.

  To Hamburgh and Middleburgh, thirty-five ships are sent by our
  Merchant Adventurers’ Company.

  To Dantzic, Koningsburg, etc., we send yearly about thirty ships,
  viz. six from London, six from Ipswich, and the rest from Hull,
  Lynn, and Newcastle, but the Dutch many more.

  To Norway we send not above five ships, and the Dutch above forty,
  and great ships too.

  Our Newcastle coal trade employs 400 sail of ships; viz. 200 for
  supplying of London, and 200 for the rest of England.

  And besides our own ships, hither, even to the mine’s mouth,
  come all our neighbouring nations with their ships continually,
  employing their own shipping and mariners. I doubt not whether, if
  they had such a treasure, they would employ not their own shipping
  solely therein. The French sail thither in whole fleets of fifty
  sail together, serving all their ports of Picardie, Normandie,
  Bretagne, etc., even as far as Rochel and Bordeaux. And the ships
  of Bremen, Emden, Holland, and Zealand supply those of Flanders,
  etc., whose shipping is not great, with our coals.

  Our Iceland fishery employs 120 ships and barks of our own.

  And the Newfoundland fishery 150 small ships.

  And our Greenland whale fishery fourteen ships.

  As for the Bermudas, we know not yet what they will do; and for
  Virginia, we know not what to do with it; the present profit of
  these two colonies not employing any store of shipping” (Capper, p.

The completion of the New River in 1620 was a great boon and blessing
to the people, but the greatest benefit to trade in the reign of James
I. was the improvement of the navigation of the upper part of the
Thames by deepening the channel, so that not only was Oxford placed in
communication with London, but the country all round Oxford.

The granting of monopolies was an interference with trade which
would now cause a revolution. There were many complaints. Parliament
declared that all monopolies were void. That was under James. Charles
began, notwithstanding, to sell monopolies to whomsoever would pay
him most for them. Thus the importation of alum was prohibited, for
the protection of the alum works of Whitby; also brick-making, the
manufacture of saltpetre, of tapestry, the coining of farthings, the
making of steel, the making of stone pots and jugs, making guns,
melting iron ore, and many other things. More than this, Charles made
the sale of tobacco a royal monopoly; he forbade the infant colony of
Virginia to sell tobacco to any foreign state; he levied a duty of
four shillings a chaldron on all coal exported to foreign parts; and
he actually endeavoured to establish a malting and a brewing monopoly.
When we read the historian on the despotic acts of Charles and his
attempts on the liberties of his people, let us bear in mind the
constant exasperations of these interferences with trade—that is, with
the livelihood of the people. When at last he became awakened to the
danger of the position, he revoked all their “grants, licences, and
privileges”; but it was then too late—revolution had already arisen.

Shops which had been open stalls confined to one or two markets in
London, such as East and West Chepe, began, towards the end of the
sixteenth century and early in the seventeenth, to appear along Fleet
Street, the Strand, and in King Street, Westminster. Haberdashers,
milliners, woollen drapers, cutlers, upholsterers, glassmen, perfumers,
and others established themselves everywhere, making so brave a show
every day, that, as Stow complains, “the people of London began
to expend extravagantly.” There were offered, among other wares,
“French and Spanish gloves, and French cloth or frigarde (frieze),
Flanders-dyed kersies, daggers, swords, knives, Spanish girdles,
painted cruses, dials, tables, cards, balls, glasses, fine earthen
pots, salt-cellars, spoons, tin dishes, puppets, pennons, ink-horns,
toothpicks, silk, and silver buttons. All which ‘made such a show in
passengers’ eyes, that they could not help gazing on and buying these
knicknacks.’ This great offence a contemporary writer, quoted by Stow,
bitterly apostrophises. He ‘marvels’ that ‘no man taketh heed to it
what number of trifles cometh hither from beyond the seas, that we
might either clean spare, or else make them within our own realm;
for the which we either pay inestimable treasure every year, or else
exchange substantial wares and necessaries for them, for the which we
might receive great treasure.”

There had then arisen outside the City a new class, and one which was
becoming wealthy and important, namely, the suburban shopkeepers. They
were certainly not a class that Charles could afford to exasperate. But
apparently he never asked himself how far it was prudent to exasperate
any class. Thus, in the blindness of his wrath against the Puritans,
whose emigration was the best thing that could happen to him, he
forbade them to emigrate without a certificate of having taken the
oath of allegiance and supremacy, and likewise from the minister of
their parish a certificate of their conversation and conformity to the
orders and discipline of the Church of England. He therefore did what
he could to preserve his own enemies in his kingdom, and to increase
their hostility. Again, he ordered that the Weavers’ Company should
admit to its freedom none but members of the Church of England. He even
interfered with trade to the extent of trading on his own account,
on one occasion buying up all the pepper imported by the East India
Company and selling it again at a profit.

The foundation of the banking business is said to date from the
outbreak of the Civil War; perhaps it was partly due to that event.
Banking was impossible in earlier times for several reasons: there was
no system of commercial credit; there were no bank-notes; goods were
bought or sold for actual coin; there was no Exchange; when men went
abroad or came home, they had to take their foreign money to the Mint
for re-coinage, or they had to get foreign money at the Mint; there was
no recognised system of lending or borrowing; if a man borrowed money
he did so as a special occasion and for a special purpose, and paid a
large interest for the accommodation. The money-lenders were the Jews
first, who carried on the trade as a Royal monopoly, followed by the
Lombards, who came as the agents of Papal taxation; and afterwards the
London merchants and goldsmiths.

When the Civil War broke out it became a serious consideration with the
merchants to place their money in some place of security. The Mint,
their former place of deposit, could not be trusted because Charles
had already seized upon £200,000 belonging to merchants, and placed
there for safety; their own strong rooms would not do, because if the
City fell into the hands of the Royalists, the strong room would most
certainly be plundered first.[8] They therefore began to lodge
their cash in the hands of goldsmiths, keeping what was called a
“running cash” account. They probably thought that in case of need the
goldsmiths could take their money and plate abroad. Country gentlemen
also began to send their money up to London for greater security. This
method was found so convenient that banking quickly spread and the
bankers began to flourish. During the Commonwealth one Henry Robinson
proposed the establishment of a “Land Bank,” with branches in the
country to lend money upon mortgage, the payments to be by paper.


The wars with the Dutch and the extraordinary developments of French
industries caused our imports to vastly exceed our exports; every
maid-servant, it was said, paid the French King half her wages; when
peace came and trade was recovering, the madness of Charles II. in
closing the Exchequer paralysed and ruined the City for a while. Never
did monarch inflict a blow so cruel upon his people. And never did the
Stuarts recover the confidence which this measure lost them.

The Plague of 1665, followed by the Fire, proved, as might be expected,
a temporary check to the prosperity of the City. But the people kept up
their courage.

After the Fire there was built, in place of Gresham’s Exchange, which
had been burned, a new Royal Exchange of which the first stone was laid
by King Charles II.

The increase of trade, although petty trade, in the West was recognised
in the foundation of the New Exchange, an institution which has been
mostly overlooked by historians.

“This building was erected by Robert, Earl of Salisbury, somewhat after
the shape of the Royal Exchange, having cellars underneath and paved
walks above with rows of shops. The first stone was laid on the 10th of
June 1608. It was opened by King James I., April 10th, 1609, who came
attended by the Queen, the Duke of York, the Lady Elizabeth, and many
great lords and ladies, but it was not successful” (_Stow_).

“In the Strand on the N. side of Durham House stood an olde long
stable, the outer wall whereof on the street side was very olde and
ruinate, all which was taken down and a stately building sodainely
erected in the place by Robert, E. of Salisbury, Lord High Treasurer
of England. The first stone of this beautiful building was laid the
10th of June last past, and was fully finished in November following.
And on Tuesday, the 10th April, the year (1609), many of the upper
shoppes were richly furnished with wares, and the next day after that,
the King, Queen and Prince, the Lady Elizabeth and the D. of York,
with many great Lordes and chief ladies, came thither, and were there
entertained with pleasant speeches, gifts, and ingenious devices:
there the King gave it a name and called it Britain’s Burse” (Nich.,
_Progresses_, vol. ii. p. 248).

The exports and the imports of London during fifty years of this
century are thus tabulated. It will be seen that they show a steady
increase in the bulk of trade:—

           Exports.     Imports.

  1614     2,090,640    2,141,283
  1622     2,320,436    2,619,315
  1663     2,022,812    4,016,019
  1669     2,063,274    4,196,139

The prosperity of the country was shown by the contemporary writers
to have been advancing steadily and rapidly, in spite of the civil
wars, the Dutch wars, the pestilence which on five separate occasions
devastated the country and the City, and the Great Fire which destroyed
all the “Stock” of the merchants. Sir William Petty (1676) observes
that the number of houses in London was double that of 1636, and that
there had been a great increase of houses in many towns of the United
Kingdom, that the Royal Navy was four times as powerful as in later
years, that the coal trade of Newcastle had quadrupled, the Customs
yielded three times their former value, that more than 40,000 tons
of shipping were employed in the Guinea and American trade, that
the King’s revenue was trebled, and that the postage of letters had
increased from one to twenty.

Davenant also (1698) speaks twenty years later to the same effect. He
shows that the value of land had risen from twelve years’ purchase in
former times to fourteen, sixteen, and twenty years’ purchase in 1666;
and by the end of the century to twenty-six or even more; that great
quantities of waste land had been enclosed and cultivated; that the
merchant marine had doubled between 1666 and 1688; that many noble
buildings had been erected; that the Customs duties had increased
in twenty years by a third; that the standard of comfort among the
working-classes was greatly improved; and that property in cattle,
stock-in-trade, and personal effects had risen from £17,000,000 in 1600
to £88,000,000 in 1688.

As already mentioned, the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes brought
to this country some 70,000 of the most highly skilled artificers.
Many thousands settled in the suburbs of London, especially in Bethnal
Green, Spitalfields, and St. Giles. Among the things they made or
prepared were “light woollens, silk, linen, writing-paper, glass,
hats, lute-string, silks, brocades, satins, velvets, watches, cutlery,
clocks, jacks, locks, surgeons’ instruments, hardware, and toys”
(_Capper_, p. 103).

These refugees gave the country a large and valuable industry in
silk-weaving; it is also supposed that the manufacture of fine paper
was due to the French immigrants. In 1670 the Duke of Buckingham
brought Venetians over here who introduced the manufacture of fine

The making of linen cloth and tapestry was encouraged by an Act of
1666, which offered special advantages to those who set up the trade of
hemp dressing. In 1669 certain French Protestants settled at Ipswich
and engaged in this trade.

The old industry of woollen cloth was protected by the prohibition to
export wool. In 1666 a law was passed directing that every one should
be buried in wool, and the clergy were required to take an affidavit to
that effect at every interment.

In 1676 the printing of calicoes was commenced in London. A writer of
the day says that “instead of green say, that was wont to be used for
children’s frocks, is now used painted and Indian and striped calico,
and instead of perpetuam or shalloon to line men’s coats with is used
sometimes glazed calico, which in the whole is not a shilling cheaper,
and abundantly worse.”

An Act passed in 1662 forbade the importation of foreign bone lace, cut
work, embroidery, fringe, band-strings, buttons, and needlework on the
ground that many persons in this country made their living by this work.

The art of tinning plate-iron was brought over from Germany. The first
wire-mill was also put up at this period by a Dutchman.

In short, the development of the arts was largely advanced during the
century, and almost entirely by foreigners—French, German, Venetian,
and Dutch.

The income of the Crown does not belong to the history of London,
except that the City furnished a large part of it. That of Charles
II. was ordered by the Parliament, August 31, 1660, to be made up to
£1,200,000 a year. To raise this sum various Acts were passed. Thus
there was the subsidy called “tonnage” levied upon foreign wine, and
that called “pundage” levied upon the export and import of certain
commodities. These taxes were collected at the Custom House. There
was also the excise upon beer, ale, and other liquors sold within the
kingdom. There was the tax of hearth money, which was two shillings
upon any fire, hearth, or stove in every house worth more than twenty
shillings a year. There were also the Royal lands, such as the Forest
of Dean, the duties on the mines in the Duchy of Cornwall, the
first-fruits and tenths of church benefices, the Post Office, etc.
Other duties were laid occasionally on land, on personal property, on
the sale of wine, etc. It must be remembered, however, that the King
maintained out of this income the Fleet and the Army.

The coinage current in London consisted of more kinds than the present
simpler system. In gold there were sovereigns, half-sovereigns, crowns,
and half-crowns; in silver, crowns, half-crowns, shillings, sixpences,
half-groats, pennies, and halfpennies. To this there were added from
time to time the Thistle crown of four shillings, the Scottish six
pound gold coin valued at ten shillings, the French crown called “The
Sun,” valued at seven shillings. There were also farthing tokens in
lead, tin, copper, and leather.

Ben Jonson shows us what kind of money was carried about. “The man had
120 Edward’s shillings, one old Harry sovereign, three James shillings,
an Elizabeth groat: in all twenty nobles”—a noble was worth 7s. 2d.;
“also he had some Philip and Marias, a half-crown of gold about his
wrist that his love gave him, and a leaden heart when she forsook him.”

“Before the reign of James I. nothing beyond pennies and halfpennies
in silver appear to have been attempted to supply the poor with a
currency. In 1611 Sir Robert Cotton propounded a scheme for a copper
coinage; this was not, however, carried out. A scheme to enrich the
king produced the farthing token, weighing six grains, and producing
24s. 3d. for the pound weight of copper; half the profit was to be
the king’s and the other half the patentee’s. The first patent was
granted to Baron Harrington of Exton, Rutlandshire, April 10, 1613,
and a Proclamation was issued May 19, 1613, forbidding the use of
traders’ tokens in lead, copper, or brass. The new coin was to bear, on
the one side, the King’s title, ‘Jaco. D. G. Mag. Bri., two sceptres
through a crown;’ on the reverse, ‘Fra. et. Hib. Rex., a harp crowned.’
The mint mark, a rose. A Proclamation was published June 4, 1625,
prohibiting any one from counterfeiting this coin. Upon the death of
Lord Harrington, in 1614, the Patent was confirmed to Lady Harrington
and her assigns; subsequently it was granted to the Duke of Lennox and
James, Marquis of Hamilton, and on the 11th of July 1625 to Frances,
Duchess Dowager of Richmond and Lennox, and Sir Francis Crane, Knight,
for seventeen years, the patentees paying to the King one hundred
marks yearly. By a Proclamation issued in 1633, the counterfeiters of
these tokens were, upon conviction, to be fined £100 apiece, to be
set on the pillory in Cheapside, and from thence whipped through the
streets to Old Bridewell, and there kept to work; and when enlarged,
to find sureties for their good behaviour. On the 3rd of August 1644
the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commons of the City of London petitioned
the House of Commons against the inconvenience of this coin, and the
hardship suffered by the poor in consequence. No farthing tokens
being issued during the Commonwealth, private persons were under the
necessity of striking their own tokens. The practice being, however,
contrary to law, was subsequently prohibited by a Proclamation issued
August 16, 1672. It further appears, by an advertisement in the _London
Gazette_, No. 714, September 23, 1672, that an office called the
‘Farthing Office’ was opened in Fenchurch Street, near Mincing Lane,
for the issue of these coins on Tuesday in each week, and in 1673–4 an
order was passed to open the office daily. These measures not proving
effectual to prevent private coinage of tokens, another Proclamation
was issued on October 17, 1673, and another on December 12, 1674. These
farthing tokens encountered the contempt and scorn of all persons to
whom they were tendered, as being of the smallest possible value.
Sarcastic allusions were made to them by dramatists, poets, and wits.
‘Meercroft,’ in Ben Jonson’s _Devill is an Asse_, Act ii. sc. 1, played
in 1616, alludes to this coin and its patentee” (_Index to Remem._ pp.
89, 90, _note_).

In 1694 the London tradesmen began to cry out about the badness of the
coinage; vast numbers of halfpence and farthings were forged, and the
chipping of the silver went on almost openly. The Government resolved
on an entirely new issue, which was complete in 1699.

[Illustration: COINS OF THE PERIOD

   1. Old Harry sovereign
   2. Edward shilling.
   3. James I. shilling.
   4. Charles II. gold crown.
   5. Elizabeth groat.
   6. Charles II. half groat.
   7. Charles II. sixpence.
   8. Charles II. gold sovereign.
   9. Charles II. half broad (gold)
  10. Charles II. shilling.
  11. Charles II. crown.
  12. Charles II. half crown.
  13. Charles II. silver Maundy penny.]

It was not a time of universal prosperity; witness the following
account of the Grocers’ Company (Ninth Report, Historical MSS.):—

  “27th March 1673. The Grocers’ proposal for payment of their debts.
  The Company’s year rents and revenues amount to only £722:5:4,
  and are charged with a yearly payment of £7571:19:8 in charity.
  Their debts are £24,000. In 1640 they lent the king £4500, for
  repayment whereof some of the Peers became bound. In 1642 they
  advanced £9000 for suppressing the Irish Rebellion. In 1643 they
  lent the City of London £4500. The principal and interest of these
  several debts, still owing to the Company as aforesaid, amount to
  above £40,000. The greater part of their estate was in houses burnt
  down in the late Fire, and since leased out for 60, 70, and 80
  years, by decrees made in the late Court of Judicature established
  by Act of Parliament. The several sums they owe were voluntarily
  lent them. They propose that £12,000 be raised by voluntary
  subscriptions and equally distributed among all their creditors
  within six months; that, to discharge the rest of their debt, the
  debts owing to the Company be assigned to trustees; that a special
  memorandum be entered in the Company’s books, that, in case the
  creditors be not satisfied by the means proposed, the Company
  shall, if ever in a capacity hereafter, pay the whole remainder to
  every creditor; and that, on performance of these proposals, the
  Company be absolutely discharged from all their debts. Meanwhile
  all prosecutions against the Company to be stayed, that the Company
  may be animated cheerfully to raise the money. The Company submit,
  in conclusion, that a Hall encumbered and not half finished is
  all the Company of Grocers have to encourage their members to a
  voluntary contribution to satisfy debts contracted before most of
  them were born, and before all the residue, save some few only,
  were free of the Company. (Offered this day, having been called for
  by the Committee on the 24th. Rejected as ‘not satisfactory’ on the
  28th. Com. Book of date.)


  28th March. Answer of the Appellants. The Company, besides their
  £722:15:4 for rents in England, have an estate of nearly £400
  rental in Ireland, and their Hall, with appurtenances worth £200 a
  year more. The lands charged with charitable uses are expressly
  excepted by the decree. The estate is let at quit-rents, and, if
  rack-rented, would yield another £12,000. The yearly contributions
  of members amount to another £1000.

  Their disbursements in 1671 were:—
                                                          £  s. d.
    For payment for dinners and collations               172 13 10
    To the Wardens                                        12 10  0
    Corn money                                            25  0  0
    Reparation of their Hall                             281  4  6
    In Gratuity given                                     89  0  0
    Suit in Chancery and in Parliament with Appellants    89  8 11
    Lord Mayor’s Day                                      44  4  0
    Interest money                                        46 14  0

  Besides this they can at pleasure raise in a month’s time, by fines
  for offices and calling to livery, £4000. Most of their debts are
  recent. Their loans to the City should be sued for by themselves.
  The loan of 1643 was to defend the City against the King. The
  Company did not suffer much by the Fire, as most of their estate
  was let on long leases. All the creditors have received one-sixth
  of their claims, except the Cholmleys, who have been promised
  payment since the decree, but have received nothing. The Company
  itself is willing to pay its debts, but is prevented by a small
  minority, who are the authors of the proposal, and dishonestly deny
  liability. Appellants cannot agree to stand equally with the rest
  of the creditors, who refused to join them at first before the suit
  commenced, and only sued the Company at its own litigation, with
  a view to forestall Appellants. They cannot accept the Grocers’
  proposals in lieu of the decree they hold. The Company have already
  offered more favourable terms, which have been refused. The Hall
  is actually sequestered, and was so before its conveyance to the
  Lord Mayor, etc. of London, as Governors of Christ’s Hospital.
  The Company’s estate is sufficient to cover their claim, in which
  Appellants are supported by several members of the Company itself.
  If the Company will give good personal security to discharge their
  debts in seven years, and to pay at once the sixth part of the
  principal to the Cholmleys, with interest from the time others had
  it, with costs, Appellants will accept these terms, assign over
  their sequestration, and help them to pay their other creditors;
  otherwise they pray the sale may be enforced. (Put in this day, but
  rejected by the Grocers’ Counsel. Com. Book of date.”)

Another company was also struggling with difficulties, as the following
extract from the same Report shows:—

  “10th March, 1675. The petition of the Master, Warden, Assistants
  and Commonaltie of the Corporation of Pin-makers, London, to the
  King; with paper of proposals attached thereto Reminding his
  Majesty of a contract made between Him and their Company, for
  the benefit alike of His Majesty and the London Pin-makers, that
  came to nought in consequence of the Great Plague and the Dutch,
  the Pin-makers beg for an aid of £20,000—£10,000 thereof to be
  laid out in wire, to be bought of His Majesty at 30d. per hundred
  weight about the current rate of such wire; and the other £10,000
  thereof to be used as a fund by Commissioners, and the pins being
  distributed to buyers at a cost sufficient only to cover the charge
  of production. By operation of the scheme, embodied in these
  proposals, it is urged the trade of the pin-making will revive, the
  pin-makers will have full and lucrative employment, and his Majesty
  will by his profit on the wire receive a revenue of at least £4000
  per annum.”

The most important civic event in the reign of William was the
foundation of the Bank of England. The bankers of the City had been,
as we have seen, the goldsmiths, who not only received and kept money
for their customers, but lent it out, for them and for themselves, on
interest. Thus, when Charles the Second, on January 2, 1672, closed the
Exchequer, his creditors could obtain neither principal nor interest.
He then owed the goldsmiths of London the sum of £1,328,526. Some
of the older banks of London trace a descent to the goldsmiths of the
seventeenth century—Child’s, for instance, Hoare’s, and others.


From Maitland’s _History and Survey of London_.]

The idea of a National Bank seems to have been considered and discussed
for some years before it was carried into effect. The principal
advocate of the scheme was a Scotchman named William Anderson. The
advantages which he put forward in defence of the Bank were the support
of public credit and the relief of the Government from the ruinous
terms upon which supplies were then raised. There was great difficulty
in getting the scheme considered, but it was at last passed by an Act
of Parliament in 1693. By the terms of this Act it was provided that
the Government should take a loan of £1,200,000 from the Bank, this
amount to be subscribed; additional taxes were imposed which would
produce about £140,000 a year, out of which the Bank was to receive
£100,000 a year, including interest at 8 per cent, and £4000 a year for
management. The Company was empowered to purchase lands, and to deal in
bills of exchange and gold and silver bullion, but not to buy or sell
merchandise, though they might sell unredeemed goods on which they had
made advances.

The subscription for the £1,200,000 was completed in ten days. The Bank
began its business on July 27, 1694.

Its offices were at first the Grocers’ Hall, where they continued until
the year 1743. In this year the new building, part of the present
edifice, was completed.

Maitland describes it as

  “A most magnificent structure; the front next the street is about
  80 feet in length, adorned with columns, entablature, etc., of the
  Ionick order. There is a handsome courtyard between this and the
  main building, which, like the other, is of stone, and adorned with
  pillars, pilasters, entablature, and triangular pediment of the
  Corinthian Order. The hall is 79 feet in length, and 40 in breadth,
  is wainscotted about 8 feet high, has a fine fretwork ceiling,
  and a large Venetian window at the west end of it. Beyond this
  is another quadrangle, with an arcade on the east and west sides
  of it: and on the north is the Accomptant’s Office, which is 60
  feet long, and 28 feet broad. There are handsome apartments over
  this and the other sides of the quadrangle, with a fine staircase
  adorned with fretwork; and under it are large vaults, that have
  very strong walls and iron gates for the p reservation of the cash.”

By the charter they constituted a Governor, who must have £4000 in
Bank stock; a Deputy Governor, who must have £3000; and twenty-four
Directors, who must have £2000 each.

The Bank, although a year or two after its foundation its utility was
fully recognised by merchants, did not command complete confidence
for many years. Pamphlets were written against it. They were answered
in 1707 by Nathaniel Tench, a merchant. The defence is instructive.
Maitland sums it up:—

  “The chief purpose of this defence was to vindicate a corporation,
  and the management thereof; not so much from crimes they had
  already been guilty of in the experiment of eleven or twelve years,
  as the fear of what they might do hereafter.”

The charter of the Bank was renewed in 1697 to 1711; in 1708 to 1733;
in 1712 to 1743; in 1742 to 1765; in 1763 to 1786; in 1781 to 1812;
and so on. There have been times of tightness. In 1697 the Bank was
forced to suspend partially payment in coin, giving 10 per cent once
a fortnight, and afterwards at the rate of 3 per cent once in three
months. In 1720 it escaped the disaster of the South Sea Bubble. In
1745, when London was thrown into a panic by the approach of the
Pretender, there was a run upon the Bank. This was staved off by paying
slowly in silver. In the year 1797, by an order in Council, last
payments were suspended. These events, however, belong to the after
history of the Bank.

The foundation of the Bank of England brought about a complete
revolution in the relations of Crown and City. We have seen that
hitherto the City was called the King’s Chamber; when the King wanted
money he sent to the City for a loan; sometimes he asked more than the
City could lend; generally the City readily conceded the loan.

In a note, Sharpe calls attention to the absurdity of representing the
Chancellor of the Exchequer going about, hat in hand, borrowing £100 of
this hosier and £100 from that ironmonger:—

  “The mode of procedure was nearly always the same. The lords of
  the treasury would appear some morning before the Common Council,
  and after a few words of explanation as to the necessities of the
  time, would ask for a loan, offering in most cases undeniable
  security. Supposing that the Council agreed to raise the required
  loan, which it nearly always did, the mayor for the time being was
  usually instructed to issue his precept to the aldermen to collect
  subscriptions within their several wards, whilst other precepts
  were (in later times at least) sent to the master of wardens of
  the livery companies to do the same among the members of their
  companies. There were times, also, when the companies were called
  upon to subscribe in proportion to their assessment for supplying
  the City with corn in times of distress” (_London and the Kingdom_,
  vol. ii. pp. 586, 587).

The last loan ever asked by the King of the City was that asked by
William the Third in 1697 to pay off his navy after the Peace of
Utrecht. Instead of going to the City the King went to the Bank, but
not then without the authority of Parliament. The City was no longer
to be the Treasurer—or the Pawnbroker—of the King and the nation. This
event, though the citizens did not apprehend its full meaning for
many years, deprived London of that special power which had made her
from the Norman Conquest alternately the object of the Sovereign’s
affections or of his hatred. Henceforth it mattered nothing to London
whether the King loved or hated her. The power of the City was now
exercised legitimately by her representatives in the House of Commons.

                              CHAPTER VII

                           THE IRISH ESTATES

The following history of the Irish estates is taken from _London and
Londonderry_, published in Belfast (1890) by Messrs. Marcus Ward and Co.

In the year 1608 the first steps were taken towards the settlement
of Ulster by English and Scotch emigrants—a measure whose wisdom was
shown eighty years later, when the grandson of James the First owed his
expulsion largely to the descendants of the original settlers.

The greater part of six counties in the Province of Ulster, viz.
Donegal, Fermanagh, Cavan, Tyrone, Armagh, and Coleraine, after the
rebellions of O’Neill and O’Donnell, were declared to be escheated to
the Crown. James conceived a plan for securing the peace and welfare of
Ulster by replacing the Irish rebels by Protestant settlers, together
with those of the Irish who were willing to conform to the English rule
and religion. He therefore invited “undertakers” who would accept of
lands in Ulster on his conditions.

These were, that they should not ask for large portions “in tending
their private property only;” that there should be three classes of

  (1) Those who would plant with English or Scotch tenants.

  (2) Servitors or military undertakers.

  (3) Native Irish admitted as freeholders.

The first class were to pay to the Crown the great rent of £5:6:8 for
every thousand acres. The second class, when they planted with English
or Scotch tenants, were to pay the same; otherwise, the second class
were to pay £8 for every thousand acres; and the third class were to
pay £10:13:4 for every thousand acres.

The third condition was, that all were required to provide strongholds
and arms for defence, to let their lands on easy terms, to “avoid Irish
exactions,” and to be resident; they were not to accept the “mere”
Irish as tenants at all; they were required to create market towns,
and to found at least one free school in every county for education in
religion and learning. They were also privileged to import from Great
Britain for three years, free of custom, everything requisite to put
the plantation on a satisfactory footing.

In 1609 Commissioners were appointed to survey the escheated lands and
to divide them into convenient parcels for allocation.

In the same year proposals were made in the King’s name to the City
that the Corporation itself should undertake the restoration of the
city of Derry and the town of Coleraine, and should plant the rest
of the county with undertakers. The City was offered the Customs for
twenty-one years at 6s. 8d. per annum, the fisheries of the Bann and
the Foyle, free license to export wares grown on their own land, and
the admiralty of Tyrconnel and Coleraine.

The following were the inducements held out to the City:—

  “If multitudes of men were employed proportionally to these
  commodities which might be there by industry attained, many
  thousands would be set on work to the great service of the King,
  strength of his realm, advancement of several trades, and benefit
  of particular persons, whom the infinite increasing greatness
  (that often doth minister occasion of ruin to itself) of this
  city might not only conveniently spare, but also reap a singular
  commodity by easing themselves of an insupportable burthen which so
  surcharged all the parts of the city that one tradesman can scarce
  live by another, which in all probability would be a means also
  and preserve the city from infection; and by consequence the whole
  kingdom, of necessity, must have recourse thither, which persons
  pestered or closed up together can neither otherwise or very hardly
  avoid” (_London and Londonderry_, p. 7).

On July 1, 1609, the Court of Aldermen sent a precept to each of the
City Companies asking them to appoint representatives to consider the
propositions. The Companies refused to undertake this work. Thereupon
the Mayor appointed a Committee, ignoring the refusal of the Companies,
to carry out the undertaking. This Committee sent an order to the
Companies to ascertain what each member would willingly undertake.

On August 1, 1609, the City sent out four “viewers” to survey the
place intended for the new Plantation and “to make report to this
City.” The viewers returned in December, when it was resolved that
£15,000 should be raised to meet preliminary expenses. The money was
to be raised _in_ the Companies, not by the Companies. Meantime the
City asked for certain additional advantages, including forces for
defence to be maintained at the King’s charges. It was agreed that 200
houses should be built at Derry, leaving room for 300 more, and that
100 houses should be built at Coleraine, leaving room for 200 more,
and that fortifications should be constructed. Another sum of £5000
was then ordered to be raised. In January 1610 the demands of the City
were granted by the Privy Council. It is important to observe that the
“undertaking” by the City was not a purchase by the Companies, but
taxation of the members of the Companies by order of the City, just as
any other tax was imposed and collected. Some of the poorer Companies
were exempted, but not the “abler” men among them.

In July 1611 another contribution of £20,000 was raised by tax. In
this case those Companies which might choose to lose the benefits
resulting from their previous contributions were exempt—a privilege
accepted by two of the Companies.

Power was given by the Common Council to the Committee of the
Corporation, afterwards the Irish Society, to divide the land among
those Companies willing to accept them, and so “to build and plant the
same at their own cost and charges, accordingly as by the Printed Book
of Plantation is required.” Eight of the great Companies accepted at
once, and the other four shortly afterwards.

Meantime the Privy Council made certain conditions, among them the

  “The Londoners are _first_ to provide habitations for such poor
  and necessary men as they draw thither for their business, and
  afterwards to let for such rents as shall be fitting _as well for
  the good of the Plantation_ as for some valuable rent (THE
  CHARGES CONSIDERED), _the Londoners always performing the
  Articles of Plantation_” (_London and Londonderry_, pp. 12, 13).

It would appear from this that the subscribers were intended to get
rent in return for their outlay, but they never did, because the
Companies added the rents of the land to their own corporate funds. As
the subscribers do not appear to have objected, this was probably done
openly and without any remonstrance or objection.

Complaints began to be made that the conditions were not carried out;
only twenty houses were built at Derry instead of the 200 promised; the
Londoners were converting the timber to their own profit. In December
1612 the King wrote to Sir Arthur Chichester, the Lord Deputy:—

  “‘If there were no reason of State to press it forward, yet we
  would pursue and effect that work with the same earnestness, merely
  for the goodness and morality of it, esteeming the settling of
  religion, the introducing of civility, order, and government among
  a barbarous and unsubjected people to be the acts of piety and
  glory, and worthy also a Christian Prince to endeavour’” (_London
  and Londonderry_, p. 13).

On March 29, 1613, the first charter was granted to the Irish Society
as representing not the Companies, but the Corporation of the City of
London for the Plantations. This charter constitutes and incorporates
the Irish Society:—

  “‘For the better ordering, directing, and governing all and all
  manner of things for and concerning the City and Citizens of
  Londonderry aforesaid, and the aforesaid County of Londonderry,
  and the Plantation to be made within the same City and County
  of Londonderry, and other businesses belonging to the same,’
  giving the Society power to purchase and hold in fee, _for these
  purposes_, lands, goods, etc., in England or in Ireland, to have a
  common seal, and to sue or be sued” (p. 14).

A grant of timber is made only for the Plantation and “not for any
other causes to be merchandized or sold.” In other words, the Irish
Society was incorporated for the purpose of a Trust; the members were
originally Trustees.

It is charged against the Society that they began by neglecting the
conditions, setting too high a rent upon their lands, and trying to
make a profit for the Londoners out of the property. James himself was
much dissatisfied with the conduct of the estates. He wrote to Sir
Arthur again in August 1615, adding a postscript in his own hand:—“My
Lord, in this service I expect that zeal and uprightness from you, that
you will spare no flesh, English or Scotch, for no private man’s worth
is able to counterbalance the particular safety of a kingdom, which
this Plantation, being well accomplished, will procure.”

A year afterwards the King granted a licence to the twelve Companies to
hold in mortmain whatever lands the Irish Society might grant them.

These grants contained a reservation of the right of re-entry if the
conditions specified were not kept.

It is, of course, evident that if the Irish Society were Trustees they
could not give away their lands, and that they could only make grants
under the conditions of their Trust.

In 1620, on further complaints being made, the sequestration of the
estates was granted, but not carried out. In 1624 other complaints were
made that the conditions of allotting 4000 acres to Derry and 3000
to Coleraine had not been carried out. It was replied that Derry had
received 1500 and Coleraine 500.

Charles I. began by making an attempt to fix a fair rent, which
appears to have failed, the Society declaring that for the time it was
impracticable. There were, no doubt, difficulties in the way of getting
settlers, or, which seems possible, there were so many applicants that
the Society was able to run up rents. In 1637 the Court of Chancery
gave judgment in the case. The letters patent of March 1613 were
annulled, and the premises granted to the Irish Society were seized
into the hands of the King. A fine of £70,000 was also imposed upon the

The charges brought against the Londoners were as follows:—

  “1st, Unduly and deceitfully obtaining the letters patent, ‘under
  pretence of a due observance of the articles’; 2nd, Obtaining
  more land than it was the King’s intention to grant (97,000
  acres of fertile land, instead of 27,000), the rents mentioned
  being ‘one hundred and ninety-three pounds, eight shillings and
  fourpence, and no more;’ 3rd, The neglecting to plant with English
  and inland Scots, and illegally many of the ‘mere Irish’ (names
  being given) in possession of the lands; 4th, Rack-renting of an
  atrocious type. ‘Their Agents ... do still continue the natives
  upon the said Plantation, and paid the Fines imposed upon them,
  according to the said Proclamation, for not departing from the
  British undertaken Lands, _because they would give greater Rents
  for the said Lands than the British were able to live upon_, and
  did prefer the Irish before the English, because they pretended
  they were more serviceable unto them, by which means, AND BY
  are much disheartened, and the natives do far exceed the British,
  etc.;’ 5th, Spoliation of the Plantation and fraud on the Crown by
  cutting down the woods _for merchandise_ instead of for Plantation
  purposes to the extent of one million oaks, two thousand elms, and
  two hundred thousand ash trees, of the value of £550,666 13s. 4d.”
  (pp. 21 and 22).

The King, however, accepted a fine of £12,000 with the surrender of all
the grants.

Three years later the sentence of the Court was set aside by the House
of Commons with the following resolutions:—

  “Resolved that it is the opinion of this House that the Citizens
  of London were solicited and pressed to the Undertaking of the
  Plantation of Londonderry.

  Resolved, that the Copy attested by Mr. Goad’s Hand is a true Copy
  of the Sentence given in the Star-Chamber against the Mayor and
  Commonalty of the City of London, and of the new plantation of
  Ulster in the Kingdom of Ireland.

  Resolved, That the Order made in the Court of Star-Chamber, dated
  the eighth of March, in the eighth of Charles, is unlawful, both
  for the Matter, Persons, and Time therein prefixed.

  Resolved, That this House is of Opinion that the King was not
  deceived in the grant which he made unto the Society of Governors
  and Assistants of London of the new Plantation of Ulster in
  the Kingdom of Ireland, in particular; nor in creating a new
  Corporation, called the Society of the Governors and Assistants of
  London of the new Plantation of Ulster in the Kingdom of Ireland.

  Resolved, That this House is of Opinion that the King did not by
  that patent grant more Land than was by him intended to be granted,
  nor was he therein deceived.

  That it doth not appear by sufficient Proof that the Citizens of
  London were tied to perform the printed Articles, and consequently
  not bound to plant with English and Scots, nor restrained from
  planting with Natives.

  By the seven-and-twenty Articles, the City was to build two hundred
  Houses in Derry, and an hundred at Coleraine by the first Day of
  November 1611. Admitting that the Houses were not built, nor the
  Castle of Culmore repaired, by the time prefixed; yet this is no
  Crime, nor Cause for giving Damages, in regard the City had not
  that Patent until the nine-and-twentieth of March 1613.

  That there is no Proof that the Governor, etc., of the new
  Plantation, or any of their Companies, did make any Lease unto any
  Popish Recusant, nor of any Decay of Religion there by default of
  the Planters.

  There is no Proof of any Default in the Planters for not making a
  sufficient Number of Freeholders, nor any Articles that do tie them

  That there is no proof that the City of London, or the Governor
  of the new Plantations, have felled any trees in the Woods called
  Glancankin and Kellytrough, contrary to their covenant.

  That the not conveying of Glebe Lands to the several Incumbents of
  the several Parish Churches, in regard their did enjoy the Lands,
  is no Crime punishable, nor cause of Seizure of their Lands.

  That the Breach of Covenant (if any such were) is no sufficient
  Cause to forfeit the Lands.

  That the Breach of Covenant is no Crime, but triable in ordinary
  Courts of Justice.

  That the Court of Star-Chamber, while it stood as a Court, had no
  Power to examine Freehold nor Inheritance; nor had any Power to
  examine or determine Breach of Covenant or Trust.

  That the Sentence upon these Corporations aggregate, no particular
  Person being guilty, it is against Law.

  That in all the Proofs of this Cause there doth not appear Matter
  sufficient to convince the City of London of any Crime.

  That, upon the whole Matter, the Sentence of the Star-Chamber was
  unlawful and unjust.

  That this Composition and Agreement made with the City upon these
  Terms in the Time of Extremity ought not to bind the City.

  That the Opinion of the House is, That they think fit, that both
  the Citizens of London, and those of the new Plantation, and
  all Under-Tenants, and all those put out of Possession by the
  Sequestration, or King’s Commissioners, shall be restored to the
  same State they were in before the Sentence in the Star-Chamber.

  That the Citizens of London, and all they against whom the
  Judgement is given in the Scire Facias, shall be discharged of that

In 1650 Oliver Cromwell made a new grant of the estates to the City. In
1662 a great charter was granted by Charles II. This charter restored
the Irish Society, with the same powers of management as had been
granted in 1613 with all the former conditions and reservations. The
management of these lands by a Committee in London, quite ignorant of
the place and the people, and wholly dependent upon reports of their
servants, presented difficulties and dangers which, to us, are obvious.
But it was an age for creating companies and enterprises all governed
by Committees from London, and some of them so well governed, that
the plan seemed feasible and convenient for all companies. Ireland,
however, was a more difficult country than Hudson’s Bay or East India.



  _This was formerly the Residence of_ Sir Paul Pindar, _an eminent
  London Merchant; Consul to Aleppo; Ambassador to Constantinople and
  a public Benefactor during the reign of King James the first._

  _The Vignette exhibits part of the First Floor Cieling._}

The election of members of the Irish Society after this new charter
became practically the appointment on the Board of representatives
of the Companies concerned. There were two permanent and official
members, the Governor of the Society and the Recorder of London; the
other twenty-four were appointed by the Corporation. The Society
became, therefore, quite naturally, the servant of the Companies, the
responsibilities of the trust were forgotten or neglected, and the
custom arose of dividing among the Companies whatever surplus remained
after the management expenses had been paid.

The management of the estates by the Irish Society is a chapter which
belongs rather to the history of Ulster than to that of London. The
case against the Society is simply that, instead of exercising a trust
for the benefit of the estates, they acted as landlords for the benefit
of the Companies.

In the year 1830 the Corporation began to elect members of the Irish
Society from the whole body of freemen. The first result was that
the Companies lost the division of the surplus from the undivided
estate. The Skinners’ Company brought an action in the Court of
Chancery intended to force the Irish Society to become Trustees for the
Companies of all the rents and profits of the undivided estate.

The case was decided against the Skinners; they appealed; again
judgment went against them; they took the case up to the Lords. It was
a third time given against them.

The judgment of Lord Langdale, Master of the Rolls, when the case came
before him, contained the following strong opinions:—

  “‘It is, I think, impossible to read and consider the charter
  without coming to the conclusion that the powers granted to the
  society were more extensive than, and very different from, any
  which in the ordinary course of affairs are vested, or would upon
  this occasion have been vested, in mere private Trustees for the
  benefit of particular undertakers. The powers indeed are, many of
  them, of a public and political nature, and ... were given for
  the public purposes of the Plantation.... The Companies of London
  were, with the burthen of undertaking the plantation of such lands
  as might be allotted to them, to receive such benefits as were
  offered to ... ordinary undertakers.... The Charter of Charles
  appears to me to be substantially, as it is avowedly, a restoration
  of the Charter of James. The property is part of that granted for
  the purposes of the Plantation, and the powers possessed by the
  Society, as well as the duties with which it is charged, _have all
  of them reference to the Plantation_. I AM OF OPINION THAT THE

Since this decision the Irish Society has remained untouched. After the
Report of the Royal Commission of Inquiry into the Livery Companies of
London, a Bill was prepared on lines indicated by this Report, but the
Bill did not pass into law.

                       THE GREAT PLAGUE AND FIRE

                               CHAPTER I


The Plague of 1603, which is said to have swept away 30,578 persons,
is one of the four great plagues of London of the seventeenth century.
Historians, in their desire to account for these visitations, talk
glibly about the sanitary arrangements of the City, the scant supply of
good water, the crowded houses, and so forth as helping to spread the
Plague. No doubt these things did help and encourage the visitation.
Let us point out, however, that the City a hundred years after the
plague of 1666—say, in 1766—was far more crowded than at that time,
that its sanitary arrangements were no better, and that the people,
though the New River water was laid on, continued to drink the water
of the City wells (not, certainly, so many as before the fire), which
received the filtrations and the pollutions of a hundred and fifty
burial-grounds. They also continued their cess-pools, their narrow
lanes, and their kennels filled with refuse of all kinds. Yet in the
eighteenth century there was no plague. Let us also point out that
parts of all great cities in Europe were, and are still, extremely
crowded and filthy, yet no plague. In other words, it is dangerous to
be unwashed, but not in itself a sufficient cause of plague. There must
have been causes, of which one knows nothing, why the Plague should
take hold of the City on four separate occasions in one century, and
after devastating it on a grand scale, should go away for good. All
the precautions observed in 1666 are recorded to have been taken in
1603. Women who had to do with the sick and the dead, if they went
abroad, carried in their hands a red staff, so that people gave them
a wide berth. Warnings were issued against attending funerals; dogs
were killed; infected houses were marked with a red cross; streets were
cleansed; bonfires were lit at street corners; the grave-diggers and
the conductors of the dead carts did their work with the protection of
tobacco; a thick cover of earth was laid upon the dead. The people,
thrown out of work by thousands, were relieved and maintained by the
Corporation and the City Companies.

There exists a strange and whimsical account of this plague entitled
_The Wonderful Yeare 1603_. The writer has no intention of setting
down a plain unvarnished tale, as will be seen from the following
extracts (_Phœnix Britannicus_):—

  “A stiffe and freezing horror sucks up the rivers of my blood;
  my haire stands on ende with the panting of my braines: mine eye
  balls are ready to start out, being beaten with the billowes of
  my teares: out of my weeping pen does the ink mournfully and more
  bitterly than gall drop on the pale-faced paper, even when I do
  but thinke how the bowels of my sicke country have been torne.
  _Apollo_, therefore, and you bewitching silver-tongued _Muses_, get
  you gone: I invocate none of your names. Sorrow and truth, sit you
  on each side of me, whilst I am delivered of this deadly burden:
  prompt me that I may utter ruthfull and passionate condolement:
  arme my trembling hand, that I may boldly rip up and anatomize
  the ulcerous body of this _Anthropophagized Plague_: lend me art
  (without any counterfeit shadowing) to paint and delineate to the
  life the whole story of this mortall and pestiferous battaile. And
  you the ghosts of those more (by many) than 40,000, that with the
  virulent poison of infection have been driven out of your earthly
  dwellings: you desolate hand-wringing widowes, that beate your
  bosomes over your departing husbandes: you wofully distracted
  mothers that with dishevelled hair fall into swounds, while you
  lie kissing the insensible cold lips of your breathless infants:
  you outcast and downtrodden orphans, that shall many a yeare hence
  remember more freshly to mourne, when your mourning garments shall
  look old and be forgotten: and you the Genii of all those emptyed
  families, whose habitations are now among the Antipodes: joine
  all your hands together, and with your bodies cast a ring about
  me: let me behold your ghastly vizages, that my paper may receive
  their true pictures and eccho forth your grones through the hollow
  trunke of my pen, and rain down your gummy tears into mine incke,
  that even marble bosomes may be shaken with terrour, and hearts of
  adamant melt into compassion.”

He goes on to describe the many who ran away:—

  “It was no boot to bid them take their heels, for away they trudge
  thick and threefold: some riding, some on foote, some without
  bootes, some in their slippers, by water, by land, swom they
  westward: many to Gravesend none went unless they were driven: for
  whosoever landed there never came back again. Hacknies, water-men,
  and wagons were not so terribly employed many a year: so that
  within a short time there was not a good horse in Smithfield, nor a
  coach to be set eye on: for after the world had once run upon the
  wheeles of the pest cart, neither coach nor caroach durst appeare
  in his likenesse. Let us pursue these run-awayes no longer, but
  leave them in the unmercifull hands of the country-hardheaded
  Hobbinolls (who are ordained to be their tormentors), and return
  back to the siege of the citie.

                   *       *       *       *       *

  Every house lookte like St. Bartholomew’s Hospitall, and every
  street like Bucklersbury, for poor Methridatum and Dragonwater
  (being both of them in all the world, scarce worth threepence) were
  boxt into every corner, and yet were both drunke every hour at
  other men’s cost. Lazarus lay groaning at every man’s door: marry
  no Dives was within to send him a crum (for all your Gold-finches
  were fled to the woods) nor a dogge left to licke his sores, for
  they (like Curres) were knockt downe like oxen, and fell thicker
  than acornes. I am amazed to remember what dead marches were made
  of three thousand trooping together: husbands, wives, and children
  being led as ordinarily to one grave as if they had gone to one
  bed. And those that could shift for a time, and shrink their heads
  out of the collar (as many did) yet went they most bitterly miching
  and muffled up and downe with rue and worme-wood stoft into their
  eares and nostrils, looking like so many bores’ heads stuck with
  branches of rosemary, to be served in for brawne at Christmas. This
  was a rare world for the Church, who had wont to complaine for
  want of living, and now had more living thrust upon her than she
  knew how to bestow: to have been clarke now to a parish clarke was
  better than to serve some foolish justice of peace, or than the
  yeare before to have been a benefice.

                   *       *       *       *       *

  Never let any man aske me what became of our Phisitions in this
  massacre; they hid their synodicall heads as well as the prowdest:
  and I cannot blame them: for their phlebotomes, losinges, and
  electuaries, with their diacatholicons, diacodions, amulets and
  antidotes had not so much strength to hold life and soule together;
  as a pot of Pindar’s Ale and a nutmeg: their drugs turned to dirt,
  their simples were simple things: Galen could do no more than Sir
  Giles Goosecap: Hipocrates, Avicen, Paracelsus, Rafis, Fernalius,
  with all their succeeding rabble of doctors and water-casters were
  at their wits end, or, I think, rather at the world’s end, for
  not one of them durst peepe abroad, or if any did take upon him
  to play the ventrous knight, the plague put him to his nonplus:
  in such strange and such changeable shapes did this camelion-like
  sicknes appeare, that they could not (with all the cunning in their
  budgets) make pursenets to take him napping.”

The Plague first made its appearance in the East End; it raged at
Gravesend. On the alarm of its spreading all those who could took
flight; those who were left behind were the working-men, craftsmen,
journeymen, and servants, who lost their work and their wages. Among
the fugitives were the physicians, whose place was taken by quacks; and
in the City there perished many thousands, sometimes whole families
dying in a single house; sometimes poor wretches lying down to die
in the street or under a stall; in a word, all the horrors of such a
visitation with which Defoe has made the world familiar.

Twenty-one years later, on the accession of Charles, the Plague
returned, and, continuing for a year, carried off 35,417 persons in
London alone. I mention it in this place because the same writer,
Benjamin Spencer, who gave us _The Wonderful Yeare_ lived to write in
1625 _Vox Civitatis_, the Lament of London. The City complains that her
children have infected the air with their sins; we need not enumerate
the sins; in this respect every city is conservative. These and not the
stinks of the City, not the reeking shambles, the noisome kennel, the
malarious laystall are the cause of the Plague. Nor is her trouble only
caused by sickness and death of multitudes:—

  “This is not all my trouble, for my sorrows are increased like
  my sins: sickness hath consumed my substance: and with David, I
  justly say, I am weak and poor. My poverty lieth in being void of
  Trade, Money and victual. All which I am well nigh destitute of
  at this time. This I confess to be justly inflicted on me for my
  Pride, with which I have sought to outface Heaven. My tinckling
  feet, and my tip-toe Pace, my horned Tyaras, and crisp-curled
  locks, Shin-pride, and shoe-pride. Fulness of Bread hath made me
  lift my heel against my Maker, I said in my prosperity I should
  never be moved: but Thou, O Lord, hast turned Thy face, and I am
  troubled. My children have been so full-fed, that they have fallen
  out among themselves, the meanest thinking himself as good as the
  Magistrate, and the mighty refusing to look upon the cause of the
  mean. My Merchants have been the companions of Princes, but now
  are gone; their place is scarce to be found. How hath my back
  groaned with heavy burdens: and now Issacher stands still for want
  of work. One Waine may carry all I sell in a day. I have had such
  trading, that I could scarce find time to serve God, but now every
  day is a holiday, because I have prophaned His holy day (even His
  blessed Sabbath) which hath been dedicated to Him, as a remembrance
  of His glorious resurrection. But I have laid dead in sins and
  trespasses. I have given liberty to my servants to execute their
  wills in Sabbath breaking and deceiving: now God hath proclaimed
  liberty for them to the pestilence, to wandering, and to idleness.
  My apprentices have been the children of knights, and justices of
  the country (which they accepted at my hands joyfully), but now
  my children are cast out by those Swines like dung, rated like
  Beggars, served like swine in Hogsties, buried in the Highway like

With a great deal more, from which we perceive that the same things
happened in 1625 as in 1603. Aldermen, Common Councilmen, Magistrates,
Physicians, Lawyers, Clergymen, all ran away, and among the dying sat
the children not yet infected, crying for bread. It would seem—a fact
that I have not elsewhere observed—that they turned the rooms over
the City gates into hospitals or receiving houses for the children,
doubtless the orphaned children.

Besides the two visitations of Plague already mentioned, there were in
the seventeenth century two more, viz. in 1636 and 1665, the first of
these occurring after an interval of no more than five years since the
preceding one. The deaths from Plague for these four visitations were
as follows; the numbers must be taken as approximate only:—

  In 1603 there died of Plague 30,561 persons.
  „  1625       „       „      35,417    „
  „  1636       „       „      10,400    „
  „  1665       „       „      68,596    „

That is to say, in sixty-three years there died 144,974 persons of
Plague alone. There were, however, many more victims, because between
1603 and 1636 the Plague was hardly ever absent. The deaths from Plague
every year ranged from 1000 to 4000, though in one or two years there
were none.

For the greatest and last visitation, that of 1665, we have, besides
the graphic account of Defoe, also the more sober notices of Pepys
and Evelyn. There were warnings of the approach of the Plague. In the
autumn of 1663 it was reported to be raging in Amsterdam; ships from
Holland were placed in quarantine; in December 1664 one person died
of Plague in London; in February 1665 another death was reported; in
April there were two; in May the number began to increase, running up
to nine, fourteen, and forty-three. The summer of 1665 was extremely
hot; an unclouded sky continued for weeks; there was no rain to wash
the streets; there was no wind to refresh the air; if the people made
bonfires to create a draught, it was observed that the flame and
smoke mounted straight up. In June all those who could escape to the
country left the town in whatsoever vehicles they could get—coaches,
carriages, waggons, and carts. There was a general stampede, until the
villagers stopped it, driving back the people with pitch-forks, and
the Lord Mayor stopped it by refusing certificates of health. Then,
the mortality rising daily by leaps and bounds, the people sat down
in their houses to die, or wandered disconsolately about the desolate
streets, marking the crosses on the doors with sinking hearts.

It must be observed that the Lord Mayor, the Sheriffs, and the
Aldermen remained at their posts, that the Archbishop of Canterbury
remained at Lambeth, and that the Duke of Albemarle and Lord Craven
remained in their town houses; the Court, however, went away, and the
judges removed their courts to Oxford. The physicians excused their
flight by the plea that they accompanied their patients, and the City
clergy—those who ran away—that they had followed their flocks.

[Illustration: LORD CRAVEN

From a rare print.]

There was no trade or craft of any kind carried on; shops, warehouses,
offices, quays were closed or deserted; ships that arrived laden
remained unnoticed in the Pool; the craftsmen and the common people
had no work and drew no wages; servants and apprentices were thrust
into the street; except for food there was nothing bought or sold;
the quays, the port, the streets were silent; there was no grumbling
of the broad wheels of waggons; there were no street cries; there
were no bells; there were no children shouting and running about the
streets. The churches, deserted by their incumbents, were taken over by
Nonconformist ministers. It was contrary to law, but at such a time
who cared for law? These preachers, braver than their persecutors,
exhorted fearlessly crowded congregations, catching at every word
of consolation or hope; quacks of the basest kind issued their
advertisements, professing to cure the Plague. All kinds of ridiculous
remedies were tried; plague water, amulets, hot spices, cupping
glasses, besides old mediæval nostrums, all these were advocated and
proved futile. The parishes which suffered most were St. Giles in the
Fields; St. Andrew’s, Holborn; St. Clement Danes; St. Martin’s in
the Fields, and Westminster. When the disease abated in those parts
it broke out with equal force in Cripplegate, St. Sepulchre’s; St.
James’s, Clerkenwell; St. Bride’s, and St. Botolph’s, Aldersgate. The
City was divided into districts, each with surgeons, nurses, watchers,
and grave-diggers; infected houses were closed; their doors were marked
with a red cross a foot long; the grave-diggers removed the bodies of
those who died in the streets; in the night the cart went round to
collect the dead; the bodies were thrown into _fosses communes_, or
common graves, either in the parish churchyard or some place set apart
outside the town. There were hospitals erected called Pest Houses,
one in Tothill Fields and one in Old Street; but those were only for
people who could afford to pay. In a tract entitled “God’s terrible
voice to the City,” by the Rev. Thomas Vincent, there is a picture, not
overdrawn, of the City in August when the Plague was at its worst:—

  “In August how dreadful is the increase! Now the cloud is very
  black, and the storm comes down upon us very sharp. Now death rides
  triumphantly on his pale horse through our streets, and breaks
  into every house where any inhabitants are to be found. Now people
  fall as thick as the leaves in autumn when they are shaken by a
  mighty wind. Now there is a dismal solitude in London streets:
  every day looks with the face of a Sabbath day, observed with a
  greater solemnity than it used to be in the City. Now shops are
  shut, people rare and very few that walk about, insomuch that the
  grass begins to spring up in some places; there is a deep silence
  in every street, especially within the walls. No prancing horses,
  no rattling coaches, no calling on customers nor offering wares, no
  London cries sounding in the ears. If any voice be heard it is the
  groans of dying persons breathing forth their last, and the funeral
  knells of them that are ready to be carried to their graves. Now
  shutting up of visited houses (there being so many) is at an end,
  and most of the well are mingled amongst the sick, which otherwise
  would have got no help. Now, in some places, where the people did
  generally stay, not one house in a hundred but what is affected:
  and in many houses half the family is swept away: in some, from the
  eldest to the youngest: few escape but with the death of one or
  two. Never did so many husbands and wives die together: never did
  so many parents carry their children with them to the grave, and
  go together into the same house under earth who had lived together
  in the same house upon it. Now the nights are too short to bury
  the dead: the whole day, though at so great a length, is hardly
  sufficient to light the dead that fall thereon into their graves.”

During this terrible time, when all work was suspended, the people
were only kept from starving by munificent gifts. The King gave £1000
a week; the City £600 a week; the Archbishop of Canterbury many
hundreds every week; there was the whole industrial population of the
City to be provided for. Some got employment from the Corporation as
watchmen, grave-diggers, searchers, and the like; most had no work
and no wages; their insufficient nourishment no doubt assisted the
disease, which raged with the greatest force among the poorer sort.
Bartholomew Fair was forbidden. In September Pepys writes, “To Lambeth:
but Lord! what a sad time it is, to see no boats upon the river, and
grass grows all up and down Whitehall Court, and nobody but wretches
in the street.” The people began to get back and to go about their
usual business in December; the Court returned in February, and it
was soon observed that the streets were as full of people as ever.
Yet nearly 70,000 had fallen, or perhaps one in three. If with the
present population of 5,000,000 one in three were to die of Plague
there would be a loss of 1,700,000. It seems as if about a third part
of the population of London were cut off by this scourge. Happily it
was the last of the great plagues. The history of London is no longer
interrupted by the death of one-third of its people.


From the painting by F. W. W Topham, R.I., by permission of the

[Illustration: SAMUEL PEPYS (1633–1703)

From the painting by John Hayles in the National Portrait Gallery,
London. This picture is referred to in Pepys’ _Diary_.]

The following notes are a brief diary of the Plague as it was observed
by Pepys—

  April 30th. “Two or three houses in the City already shut up.”
  May 24th.   “All the news ... is of the plague growing upon us in
                    this town.”
  June 7th.   “The hottest day that ever I felt in my life. This day I
                    did in Drury Lane see two or three houses marked
                    with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord, have
                    mercy upon us’ writ there.”
  June 10th.  “Hear that the Plague has come into the City.”
  June 15th.  “The town grows very sickly and people to be afraid of
                    it: there dying this last week of the
                    plague 112 from 43 the week before.”
  June 20th.  “There died four or five at Westminster of the plague.”
  June 21st.  “I find all the town almost going out of town, the
                    coaches and waggons being full of people going into
                    the country.”
  June 29th.  “The Mortality Bill is come to 267.”
  July 1st.   “To Westminster, where I hear the sickness increases
                    greatly. Sad at the news that seven or eight houses
                    in Basinghall Street are shut up of the plague.”
  July 3rd.   “The season growing so sickly, that it is much to be
                    feared how a man can escape.”
  July 12th.  “A solemn fast day for the plague growing upon us.”
  July 13th.  “Above 700 died of the plague this week.”
  July 20th.  “There dying 1089 of the plague this week.”
  July 21st.  “The plague growing very raging and my apprehensions of
                    it great.”
  July 22nd.  “To Foxhall, where to the Spring Garden, but I do not see
                    one guest there, the town being so empty of any one
                    to come thither.”
  July 25th.  “Sad the story of the plague in the City, it growing
  July 26th.  “Sad news of the death of so many in the parish” (his
                    City parish) “of the plague, forty last night, the
                    bell always going.”
  July 27th.  “The weekly bill ... about 1700 of the Plague.”
  July 31st.  “The last week being 1700 or 1800 of the Plague.”
  Aug. 2nd.   “A public fast ... for the plague.”
  Aug. 3rd.   “I had heard was 2020 (deaths) of the plague.”
  Aug. 10th.  “In great trouble to see the Bill this week rise so high,
                    to above 4000 in all, and of them above 3000 of the
  Aug. 16th.  “Lord! how sad a sight it is to see the streets empty of
                    people and very few upon the ’Change. Jealous of
                    every door that one sees shut up, lest it should be
                    the plague; and about us two shops in three, if not
                    more, generally shut up.”
  Aug. 28th.  “To Mr. Colvill the goldsmith’s, having not been for some
                    days in the streets: but now how few people I see,
                    and those looking like people that had taken leave
                    of the world.”
  Aug. 31st.  “The plague above 6000.”
  Sep. 7th.   “Sent for the Weekly Bill, and find 8252 dead in all, and
                    of them 6978 of the plague.”
  Sep. 14th.  “Decrease of 500 and more.”
  Sep. 20th.  “(Dead) ... of the plague, 7165.”
  Sep. 27th.  “Blessed be God! there is above 1800 decrease.”
  Oct. 4th.   “The plague is decreased this week 740.”
  Oct. 12th.  “Above 600 less dead of the plague this week.”
  Oct. 16th.  “Lord! how empty the streets are, and melancholy, so many
                    poor sick people in the streets full of sores; and
                    so many sad stories overheard as I walk.”
  Oct. 31st.  “Above 400 less ... of the plague, 1031.”
  Nov. 5th.   “The plague increases much at Lambeth, St. Martins, and
  Nov. 9th.   “The Bill of Mortality is increased 399 this week.”
  Nov. 15th.  “The plague—Blessed be God!—is decreased 400, making the
                    whole this week but 1300 and odd.”
  Nov. 22nd.  “I was very glad ... to hear that the plague is come very
                    low; the whole under 1000, and the plague 600 and
  Dec. 13th.  “Our poor little parish is the greatest number in all the
                    city, having six, from one last week.”

  Jan. 3rd.   “Decrease of the plague this week to 70.”
  Jan. 8th.   “To Paternoster Row, few shops there being yet open.”
  Jan. 10th.  “Plague is increased this week from 70 to 89.”
  Jan. 16th.  “The plague 158.”
  Jan. 23rd.  “Plague being now but 79.”
  Jan. 31st.  “Plague decreased this week to 56.”
  Mar. 13th.  “Plague increased to 29 from 28.”
  April 25th. “Plague is decreased 16 this week.”
  May 12th.   “The plague increases in many places and is 53 this week
                    with us.”
  June 6th.   “A monthly fast day for the plague.”
  July 2nd.   “The plague is, as I hear, increased but two this week.”
  Aug. 6th.   “Greenwich worse than ever it was, and Deptford too.”
  Aug. 9th. } “Mrs. Rawlinson is dead of the sickness ... the mayde
  Aug. 10th.}       also is dead.”

It will be observed that the Plague lingered until the Great Fire of
September 2 drove it clean away.

The best—that is, the most graphic—account of the Plague is that of
Daniel Defoe. It is, perhaps, too long. The mind grows sick in the
reading. He presents us, after his favourite method, with a series of
pictures and portraits of individuals. When it is remembered that his
book appeared in the year 1720, the year, that is, of the great Plague
of Marseilles, and fifty-five years after the event, it is generally
believed that his history is a work of pure fiction. I think it can be
shown, however, that it was not a work of fiction at all, but simply a
work of recollection. To the old man of sixty came back the memories
and the tales that he had heard as a boy not yet in his teens.

Defoe was born in the year 1661. His father lived in Cripplegate,
where, as we know, he had a shop. The child, therefore, was four years
of age in the Plague year. A child of four observes a great deal and
may remember a great deal. Children vary very much in respect to
observation and memory. For instance, a child would remember, perhaps,
anything out of the common in the buying and selling of goods in
his father’s shop, where he looked on at the customers. Defoe says:
“When anyone bought a joint of meat, he would not take it out of the
butcher’s hand, but took it off the hooks himself; on the other hand,
the butcher would not touch the money, but put it into a pot full of
vinegar which he kept for that purpose. The buyer carried always small
money to make up any odd sum, so that he might take no change.” This
must surely have been seen by the child and remembered. It happened
in his own father’s shop before his eyes. Another thing. The Great
Fire not only drove the lingering Plague out of the City, but actually
drove away the memory of it. Who could talk or think about the Plague
with this other awful affliction to consider? Now Cripplegate—where
the child Defoe lived—was not touched by the Fire; it was very heavily
afflicted by the Plague, but the Fire spared it. Therefore to the
people of Cripplegate the Plague continued as the chief incident in
their lives; they continued to talk of their adventures, their escapes,
their sufferings, and their bereavements long after the people within
the walls had left off thinking of theirs. And the boy grew up amid
such talk. Therefore he was never allowed to forget his childish
impressions. The awful silence in the streets, save for the shrieks
and groans of the plague-stricken; the rumbling of the burial carts at
night; the houses deserted, infected, no longer marked but left with
open doors ready for the robber who roamed about with impunity till
Death seized him and he fell; the poor wretch, gone mad with terror and
suffering and bereavement, moaning and crying in the street; the closed
shops; the poor creatures sitting down in any porch or on any stall to
die—all these things were told to the boy over and over again, until
they were burned into his brain, to be reproduced in the most wonderful
account of a plague that has ever been written. Therefore, and for this
reason, Defoe’s _History_ is a real history; the incidents are not
invented but remembered. While we allow something for the embroidery
of the novelist we must acknowledge that we have a contribution to the
history of that terrible year larger, fuller, more human, than we can
find in Pepys or in Evelyn, or in any other contemporary authority.

[Illustration: DANIEL DEFOE (1661–1731)

From a print in the British Museum.]

On the first appearance of the Plague of 1665 the Mayor and Aldermen
issued orders of precaution similar to those which had been framed
in the visitation of the year 1625. These orders are contained in a
collection of “valuable and scarce Pieces” relating to the Plague of
the latter year, published for J. Roberts at the Oxford Arms in Warwick
Lane, 1721. This collection gives in full the orders of the Mayor and
Council as follows:—

“Examiners to be appointed in every Parish. First, it is thought
Requisite, and so ordered, that in every Parish there be one, two,
or more Persons of good Sort and Credit, chosen and appointed by the
Alderman, his Deputy, and Common Council of every Ward, by the Name of
Examiners, to continue in that Office the space of two Months at least:
And if any fit Person so appointed, shall refuse to undertake the same,
the said Parties so refusing to be committed to Prison until they shall
conform themselves accordingly.

                         THE EXAMINER’S OFFICE

“That these Examiners be sworn by the Aldermen, to enquire and learn
from time to time what Houses in every Parish be Visited, and what
Persons be Sick, and of what Diseases, as near as they can inform
themselves; and upon doubt in that Case, to command Restraint of
Access, until it appear what the Disease shall prove; And if they find
any Person sick of the Infection, to give order to the Constable that
the House be shut up; and if the Constable shall be found Remiss or
Negligent to give present Notice thereof to the Alderman of the Ward.


“That to every infected House there be appointed two Watchmen, one for
every Day, and the other for the Night; and that these Watchmen have
a special care that no Person go in or out of such infected Houses,
whereof they have the Charge, upon pain of severe Punishment. And the
said Watchman to do such further offices as the sick House shall need
and require: and if the Watchman be sent upon any Business, to lock up
the House, and take the Key with him; And the Watchman by Day to attend
until ten of the Clock at Night; and the Watchman by Night until six in
the Morning.


“That there be a special care to appoint Women-Searchers in every
Parish, such as are of honest Reputation, and of the best Sort as can
be got in this kind: and these to be sworn to make due Search, and true
Report to the utmost of their Knowledge, whether the Persons whose
Bodies they are appointed to Search, do die of the Infection, or of
what other Diseases, as near as they can. And that the Physicians who
shall be appointed for Cure and Prevention of the Infection, do call
before them the said Searchers, who are or shall be appointed for the
several Parishes under their respective Cares, to the end they may
consider whether they are fitly qualified for that Employment; and
charge them from time to time as they shall see Cause, if they appear
defective in their Duties.

“That no Searcher during this time of Visitation, be permitted to
use any publick Work or Employment, or keep any Shop or Stall, or be
employed as a Laundress, or in any other common Employment whatsoever.


“For better assistance of the Searchers, for as much as there hath been
heretofore great Abuse in misreporting the Disease, to the further
spreading of the Infection; it is therefore ordered, that there be
chosen and appointed able and discreet Chirurgeons, besides those
that do already belong to the Pest House: Amongst whom the City and
Liberties to be quartered as the places lie most apt and convenient;
and every of these to have one Quarter for his Limit; and the said
Chirurgeons in every of their Limits to join with the Searchers for the
View of the Body, to the end there may be a true Report made of the

“And further, that the said Chirurgeons shall visit and search such
like Persons as shall either send for them, or be named and directed
unto them, by the Examiners of every Parish, and inform themselves of
the Disease of the said Parties.

“And forasmuch as the said Chirurgeons are to be sequestered from all
other Cures, and kept only to this Disease of the Infection; it is
ordered, That every of the said Chirurgeons shall have Twelve-pence
a Body searched by them, to be paid out of the Goods of the Party
searched, if he be able, or otherwise by the Parish.


“If any Nurse-keeper shall remove herself out of any infected House
before twenty eight Days after the Decease of any Person dying of the
Infection, the House to which the said Nurse-keeper doth so remove
herself, shall be shut up until the said twenty eight Days be expired.


“The Master of every House, as soon as any one in his House
complaineth, either of Botch, or Purple, or Swelling in any part of his
Body, or falleth otherwise dangerously Sick, without apparent Cause of
some other Disease, shall give knowledge thereof to the Examiner of
Health within two Hours after the said Sign shall appear.

                       SEQUESTRATION OF THE SICK

“As soon as any Man shall be found by this Examiner, Chirurgeon
or Searcher to be sick of the Plague, he shall the same Night be
sequestered in the same House. And in case he be so sequestered, then
though he afterwards die not, the House wherein he sickened shall be
shut up for a Month, after the use of the due Preservatives taken by
the rest.

                           AIRING THE STUFF

“For Sequestration of the Goods and Stuff of the Infected, their
Bedding, and Apparel, and Hangings of Chambers, must be well aired with
Fire, and such Perfumes as are requisite within the infected House,
before they be taken again to use: This to be done by the Appointment
of the Examiner.

                       SHUTTING UP OF THE HOUSE

“If any Person shall have visited any Man, known to be infected of the
Plague, or entered willingly into any known infected House, being not
allowed; the House wherein he inhabiteth, shall be shut up for certain
Days by the Examiner’s Direction.

“None to be removed out of infected Houses, but, etc., Item, That none
be removed out of the House where he falleth sick of the Infection,
into any other House in the City (except it be to the Pest-House or
a Tent, or unto some such House, which the Owner of the said visited
House holdeth in his own Hands, and occupieth by his own Servants),
and so as Security be given to the Parish whither such Remove is made,
that the Attendance and Charge about the said visited Persons shall
be observed and charged in all the Particularities before expressed,
without any Cost of that Parish, to which any remove shall happen to be
made, and his Remove to be done by Night; and it shall be lawful to any
Person that hath two Houses, to remove either his sound or his infected
People to his spare House at his choice, so as if he send away first
his Sound, he may not after send thither the Sick nor again unto the
Sick the Sound. And that the same which he sendeth, be for one Week at
the least shut up and secluded from Company for fear of some Infection,
at the first not appearing.

                          BURIAL OF THE DEAD

“That Burial of the Dead by this Visitation, be at most convenient
Hours, always either before Sun-rising, or after Sun-setting, with the
Privity of the Churchwardens or Constable, and not otherwise: and that
no Neighbours nor Friends be suffered to accompany the Corps to Church,
or to enter the House visited, upon pain of having his House shut up,
or be imprisoned. And that no Corps dying of Infection shall be buried,
or remain in any Church in time of Common-Prayer, Sermon, or Lecture.
And that no Children be suffered at time of burial of any Corps in any
Church, Church-yard, or Burying-place to come near the Corps, Coffin,
or Grave. And that all the Graves shall be at least six Foot deep. And
further, all publick Assemblies at other burials are to be forborn
during the Continuance of this Visitation.


“That no Clothes, Stuff, Bedding or Garments be suffered to be carried
or conveyed out of any infected Houses, and that the Criers and
Carriers abroad of Bedding or old Apparel to be sold or pawned, be
utterly prohibited and restrained, and no Brokers of Bedding or old
Apparel be permitted to make any outward Shew, or hang forth on their
stalls, shopboards or Windows towards any Street, Lane, Common-way
or Passage, any old Bedding or Apparel to be sold, upon pain of
Imprisonment. And if any Broker or other Person shall buy any Bedding,
Apparel, or other Stuff out of any infected House, within two Months
after the Infection hath been there, his House shall be shut up as
Infected, and so shall continue shut up twenty Days at the least.


“If any Person visited do fortune by negligent looking unto, or by
any other Means, to come, or be conveyed from a Place infected, to
any other Place, the Parish from whence such Party hath come or been
conveyed, upon notice thereof given, shall at their Charge cause the
said Party so visited and escaped, to be carried and brought back again
by Night, and the Parties in this case offending, to be punished at the
Direction of the Alderman of the Ward: and the House of the Receiver of
such visited Person to be shut up for twenty Days.


“That every House visited, be marked with a red Cross of a Foot long,
in the middle of the Door, evident to be seen, and with these usual
printed Words, that is to say, ‘Lord have Mercy upon us,’ to be set
close over the same Cross, there to continue, until lawful opening of
the same House.


“That the Constables see every House shut up, and to be attended with
Watchmen, which may keep them in, and minister Necessaries unto them at
their own Charges (if they be able) or at the common Charge if they
be unable: The shutting up to be for the space of four Weeks after all
be whole. That precise Order be taken that the Searchers, Chirurgeons,
Keepers and Buriers are not to pass the Streets without holding a red
Rod or Wand of three Foot in length in their Hands, open and evident to
be seen, and are not to go into any other House than into their own, or
into that whereunto they are directed or sent for; but to forbear and
abstain from Company, especially when they have been lately used in any
such Business or Attendance.


“That where several Inmates are in one and the same House, and any
Person in that House happen to be infected; no other Person or Family
of such House shall be suffered to remove him or themselves without a
Certificate from the Examiners of Health of that Parish; or in default
thereof, the House whither he or they so remove, shall be shut up as in
case of Visitation.


“That care be taken of Hackney-Coachmen, that they may not (as some of
them have been observed to do) after carrying of infected Persons to
the Pest-House, and other Places, be admitted to common use, till their
Coaches be well aired, and have stood unemployed by the space of five
or six Days after such Service.


                     THE STREETS TO BE KEPT CLEAN

“First, it is thought necessary, and so ordered, that every Householder
do cause the Street to be daily pared before his Door, and so to keep
it clean swept all the Week long.


“That the sweeping and Filth of Houses be daily carried away by the
Rakers, and that the Raker shall give notice of his coming, by the
blowing of a Horn, as heretofore hath been done.


“That the Laystalls be removed as far as may be out of the City, and
common Passages, and that no Nightman or other be suffered to empty a
Vault into any Garden near about the City.


“That special care be taken, that no stinking Fish, or unwholesome
Flesh, or musty Corn, or other corrupt Fruits, of what sort soever be
suffered to be sold about the City, or any part of the same.

“That the Brewers and Tipling houses be looked unto, for musty and
unwholesome Casks. That no Hogs, Dogs, or Cats, or tame Pigeons, or
Conies, be suffered to be kept within any part of the City, or any
Swine to be, or stray in the Streets or Lanes, but that such Swine be
impounded by the Beadle or any other Officer, and the Owner punished
according to Act of Common-Council, and that the Dogs be killed by the
Dog-killers appointed for that purpose.”

                   *       *       *       *       *

It was further ordered, and for once the City did provide a sufficient
number of constables to enforce these orders, that the multitude of
rogues and wandering beggars that swarm in every place around the City
shall be dispersed, and that no beggars be allowed in the City at all.
That the theatres be closed and that none of the sports be held which
attract assemblies of people, such as bear-baitings, ballad-singings,
buckle-play, and the like; that public feasts and dinners be
discontinued, particularly those of the City companies; that tippling
be discouraged, and that every tavern, ale-house, coffee-house, and
cellar be closed at 9 o’clock.

And further that the Aldermen and Common Council should assemble once a
week to hear reports upon the manner of carrying out these rules.

                   *       *       *       *       *

The following is a contemporary account by the Rev. John Allin; it was
published in the thirty-seventh volume of _Archæologia_:—

“Loveing ffriend,—Yours of the 16th instant I have received and give
you hearty thankes for that particular accompt you gave me of your
affayres. If I can possibly gett time I thinke to write to you againe
on Thursday: but I thought it not amiss for the inclosed’s sake, to
write a few lines now, and to give you my thoughts of the death of
Tolhurst’s sister. According to your description of her, there hath not
one of those thousands yet dyed here with all the signall characters
of this present Plague more evident than she had, which this inclosed
will in parte confirme to you. Concerning the external effects of this
internall infection, there are these three, with one or more or all
of which this distemper is usually attended, botches, blaines, and
carbuncles, to which I may add a fourth, spotts commonly called the
tokens, and are very symtomatical never ariseing till the full state
of the disease, even when deathe stands at the doore: for very few or
none live that are so markt. For the botches or pestilential bubos,
they usually aries but in 3 places, whereof the principal emunctorys of
the body are:—behind or under the ears when the braine is afflicted;
under each arme when the heart or vitalls are afflicted; in the groynes
principally when the liver is afflicted. The blaines and carbuncles
may and doe aries generally in any parte of the body, necke, face,
throate, backe, thighs, armes, leggs, etc., and all of them very
hard: and obstinate to be dealt with withall, and must have several
proceedings with them: and if any of them, after once appearing, either
fall or retire backe againe, it is a very bad and dangerous symptome.
The botches sometimes rise to a very great buiggnes, especially under
the armes and in the groines; if so under the ears they quickly choake
or kill with paine, there being no roome for them to bee extended: if
they rise something in an oblongish forme, and red at the first, it is
so much the better then if round, though as they grow to more maturity
they will tend to a more round forme, as they come to ripen, especially
on the topp; if they rise white it argues coldnes and want of heate and
spot to drive them out, and must bee more carefully helpt forwards with
internal drivers and externall drawers. The blaines rise first like
blisters, but not puffy, as if sweld with wind or water, but hard, not
yielding to the touch: but if they come forward to any maturity (which
they are very difficult to bee brought to, and many dye if they have
blaines) there will bee a very hard and knotty bunch of corrupt matter
in them. The carbuncles, though it may be rise roundly like a pinn’s
head, yet presently rise up to a pointed boile, very hard: sometimes
fiery red, sometimes black, and sometimes blewish in places: red the
best, ye others worst. All of these risings (if they be accurately
observed at the first; but especially the carbuncles and blaines) have
a particular symptome annexed to them, viz. they are generally circled
about with red or blew circles, sometimes with both: sometimes they
are broader then a bare circle, one within another: the red colour
argue the small blood affected or choler abounding: the blewish argue
the arteriall blood from the hearte affected; the blacke choler adust
or melancholy: white, the potre actions of cold and crude humours
most. For the spotts or tokens, which most generally are forrerunns of
certain death, they do more generally this year then formerly appeare
in divers parts of the body, formerly usually and allmost onely to
be found upon the region of the hearte and liver, or the brest, and
against it on the backe; but now on the necke, face, hands, armes,
amost anywhere as well as there: sometimes as broad as farthings, these
are called tokens: sometimes this yeare as broad as an halfecrowne:
sometimes smaller: but always of more colours than one. If they bee
observed at first rising sometimes with a red circle without and blew
within: sometimes with a blew circle without and red within: sometimes
one more bright red, the other blewish or darker, sometimes blacker:
the blew from the arteriall, the red from the venall blood affacted,
the blacke from melancholy as is aforesaid. Of the swellings, or mixt
as the infection is mixed more or lesse, these usually come forth about
the state of the disease, when nature hath done its utmost to expell
but cannot conquer: which endeavours to expel the utmost send forth
these external symptomes of it: and generally when these come out the
party seemes not sick as before, but dye presently within a day or 2
at the utmost after. Many times this distemper strikes the vitalls so
immediately, that nature hath not time to putt forth either spotts or
blotches, and then it is the highest infection, most aptly called the
Pestilence, and not the Plague: but done by a more immediate stroake
of the destroying Angell. But, if such bodyes bee kept a little length
of time after death, sometimes spoots will then arise which did not
before, especially whilst any warmth remayne in the body: but how
many are therefore deceived, because either they view the body onely
immediately when dead, or bury them whilest warme: others, wickeddly to
conceal the hands of God, will drive them in agaune, and keepe them in
with colde and wett cloths.”

                              CHAPTER II

                          PLAGUE AND MEDICINE

This chapter dealing with the medical literature of the Plague covers
both the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries, in which there was
little change medicinally.

The sixteenth century was full of plague and pestilence. In Elizabeth’s
reign there was plague in 1563, in 1569, in 1574, in 1581, in 1592,
and in 1603. Preventive ordinances were drawn up and issued. It
is, however, evident that the people could not be possibly made to
understand the necessity of caution and quarantine. The invisible
enemy, to an ignorant folk, does not exist. The people of London bribed
the officers, surveyors, constables, and scavengers to take down the
“Bills” affixed to infected houses; they refused to carry the white
rods enjoined by law upon the convalescent; they went about among their
fellows while they were still dangerous; and they would not keep the
streets clean. The period of seclusion was fixed at four weeks; women
were appointed to carry necessaries to infected houses; every morning
at six, and every evening at eight the streets were to be sluiced with
buckets of water; there were to be no funeral assemblies; beggars and
masterless men were to be turned out of the City. These precautions
were excellent; the sanitary laws were in the right direction; but all
was rendered ineffectual for want of an executive; the Plague might
have been stamped out had these rules been enforced; but they were not,
and so the disease continued until the Great Fire of 1666 purified the
soil. New investigations rendered necessary by the outbreak of Plague
in India and elsewhere will perhaps lead to an abandonment of the old
theory that the Plague was caused simply by the unclean condition of
the ground, saturated with the abominations of a thousand years and
more. Until science, however, has spoken more definitely, I suppose
that we shall continue to associate a visitation of this terrible
scourge with unsanitary conditions. It is at least a useful and a
wholesome belief.

I have before me certain infallible remedies prescribed in the attack
of 1625. Among them are blisters, clysters, cauteries, poultices,
cuppings, strong purges and emetics. Drugs and strange compounds
were also administered. Among the former, London treacle, Venice
treacle, angelica root, dragon water, and carduus play a large part.
The roots of certain wild flowers were also powdered and added to the
infusion, showing that the medicine of the time depended largely on the
science of the herbwoman. Who but she knew the properties of the roots
and leaves of tormentil, sorrel, goat’s rue, gentian, bay berries,
scabious, bur seeds, celandine? Who but a village herbalist could have
discovered the healing powers of fresh cowdung strained with vinegar?
I transcribe one of many prescriptions to induce a strong sweat and
thereby to expel the Plague.

  “Take the inward Bark of the Ash Tree one Pound, of Walnuts with
  the Green outward Shells, to the number of Fifty, cut these small:
  of Scabious, of Vervin, of each a Handful, of Saffron two Drams,
  pour upon these the strongest Vinegar you can get, four Pints, let
  them a little boil together upon a very soft fire, and then stand
  in a very close Pot, well stopt all Night upon the Embers, after
  distil them with a soft Fire, and receive the Water close kept.
  Give unto the Patient laid in Bed and well covered with Cloaths,
  two Ounces of this Water to drink, and let him be provoked to
  Sweat; and every eight hours (during the space of four and twenty
  Hours) give him the same quantity to Drink.

  Care must be taken in the use of these Sweating Cordials, that the
  Party infected, sweat two or three Hours, or rather much longer,
  if he have strength, and sleep not till the Sweat be over, and
  that he have been well wiped with warm Linnen and when he hath
  been dried let him wash his Mouth with Water and Vinegar Warm,
  and let his face and Hands be washed with the same. When these
  things are done, give him a good Draught of Broth made with Chicken
  or Mutton, with Rosemary, Thyme, Sorrel, succory and Marygolds;
  or else Water-Grewel, with Rosemary and Winter-Savory or Thyme,
  Panado seasoned with Verjuice, or juice of Wood-Sorrel: for their
  Drink, let it be small Beer warmed, with a Toast, or Water boiled
  with Carraway-Seed, Carduus-Seed, and a Crust of Bread, or such
  Posset-Drink as is mentioned before in the second Medicine; after
  some Nutriment, let them sleep or rest, often washing their Mouth
  with Water and Vinegar.”

Or instead of the complicated nostrum, here are two. By the first, it
is said, “Secretary Naunton removed the Plague from his Heart.” The
second, it is asserted, was prepared by Sir Francis Bacon and approved
by Queen Elizabeth.

  “An Ale Posset-drink with Pimpernel seethed in it, till it taste
  strong of it, drunk often, removed the infection, tho’ it hath
  reached the very heart....

  Take a Pint of Malmsey burnt, with a spoonful of bruised Grains,
  _i.e._, Cardamom Seeds, of the best Treacle a spoonful, and give
  the Patient to drink of it two or three Spoonfuls pretty often,
  with a draught of Malmsey Wine after it, and so let him sweat; if
  it agrees with him, and it stays with him, he is out of Danger; if
  he vomits it up, repeat it again.”

Let us leave the Plague for a moment and consider the general subject
of medicine in the seventeenth century.

When he was ill, the Londoner had as many nostrums and infallible
medicines as his successor of the present day. We have our effervescent
drinks, our pills, our ointments—so had our ancestor. First of all,
the pharmacopœia included an immense quantity of herbs, specifics for
this and the other; their names still preserve some of their supposed
qualities—such as fever few, eye-bright, etc. Thus, walnut water was
supposed to be good for sore eyes. The apothecary understood how to
cover a pill with sugar so as to make it tasteless; and his pills
were great boluses which we should now find it hard indeed to swallow.
The physicians prescribed potions fearfully and wonderfully made,
some containing thirty, forty, or even seventy ingredients. Such was
“Mithidate” or “Mithridates,” as a common medicine was called.

For fevers they prescribed a “cold water affusion,” with drinking
of asses’ milk. When the Queen was ill in 1663 they shaved her head
and applied pigeons to her feet. When a man fell down in a fit, they
treated him vigorously. No half measures were allowed. They boxed and
cuffed his ears, pulled his nose, threw a bucket of cold water into his
face, and pinched and kneaded the nape of his neck. Powdered mummy for
a long time was held to be a specific against I know not what diseases.
It is said that the reason why it went out of use was that Jews took to
embalming bodies and then sold them for genuine ancient mummies.

If a dentist was wanted he was sought in the street; he was an
itinerant tooth drawer, and he went his regular round, carrying with
him his “dentist’s key” and decorated with strings of teeth, while he
bawled his calling and offered his services.

Ben Jonson ridicules the pretences and pretensions of the quacks of his
time when he puts the following extravagance into the mouth of Bobadil:—

  “Sir, believe me, upon my relation for what I tell you, the
  world shall not reprove. I have been in the Indies, where this
  herb grows, where neither myself, nor a dozen gentlemen more of
  my knowledge, have received the taste of any other nutriment in
  the world, for the space of one and twenty weeks but the fume of
  this simple only; therefore, it cannot be, but ’tis most divine.
  Further, take it in the nature, in the true kind: so, it makes an
  antidote, that, had you taken the most deadly poisonous plant in
  all Italy, it should expel it, and clarify you, with as much ease
  as I speak. And for your green wound—your Balsamum and your St.
  John’s wort, are all mere gulleries and trash to it, especially
  your Trinidado: your Nicotian is good too. I could say what I know
  of the virtue of it, for the expulsion of rheums, raw humours,
  crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind, but I
  profess myself no quacksalver. Only this much: by Hercules, I do
  hold it, and will affirm it before any prince in Europe, to be the
  most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to
  the use of man.”

Francis Bacon—the last of his generation to be considered a
quack—prescribed a regimen which would make longevity a certainty.

Every morning the patient was to inhale the fume of lignaloes,
rosemary, and bay-leaves dried; “but once a week to add a little
tobacco, without otherwise taking it, in a pipe.” For supper he was
to drink of wine in which “gold had been quenched,” and to eat bread
dipped in spiced wine. In the morning he was to anoint the body with
oil of almonds and salt and saffron. Once a month he was to bathe
the feet in water of marjoram, fennel, and sage.... That diet was
pronounced best “which makes lean and then renews.” The great people
were content with nothing less than extravagant remedies. Salt or
chloride of gold was taken by noble ladies; dissolved pearls were
supposed to have mystic virtues, and even coral was a fashionable

Common folk had to submit to more desperate remedies. They were advised
by Dr. Andrew Boorde to wipe their faces daily with a scarlet cloth,
and wash them only once a week. Pills made of the skull of a man
that had been hanged, a draught of spring water from the skull of a
murdered man, the powder of antimony, the oil of scorpions, the blood
of dragons, and the entrails of wild animals were all recommended
for special diseases. Salves, conserves, cataplasms, ptisanes, and
electuaries were made of all kinds of herbs, and freely used and
believed in, though most of them must have been ridiculous. The
“nonsense-confused compounds” which Burton ridiculed half a century
later were in great demand, however, and the amount of general
physic-taking was marvellous. Complexion-washes for ladies and fops,
love-philtres for the melancholy, and anodynes for the aged, were
commonly dispensed in every apothecary’s establishment.

Tumours were supposed to be curable by stroking them with the hand
of a dead man. Chips of a hangman’s tree were a great remedy for the
ague, worn as amulets. To cure a child of rickets, it was passed head
downwards through a young tree split open for the purpose, and then
tied up. As the tree healed, the child recovered. The king’s evil, a
scrofulous affection, was supposed to be cured by the royal touch, as
we have already seen in considering the service for the occasion. There
is a description of the process in Macbeth:—

  “_Doctor._  Ay, Sir, there are a crew of wretched souls
              That stay his cure; their malady convinces
              The great assay of art; but, at his touch—
              Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand—
              They presently amend.
  _Macduff._  What’s the disease he means?
  _Malcolm._  ’Tis called the evil,
              A most miraculous work in this good king;
              Which often since my here-remain in England
              I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
              Himself knows best; but strangely-visited people,
              All swollen and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
              The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
              Handing a golden stamp about their necks,
              Put on with holy prayers; and ’tis spoken,
              To the succeeding royalty he leaves
              The healing benediction.”

Ben Jonson contains some excellent prescriptions. Thus, for old age:—

        “Seedpearl were good new boiled with syrup of apples,
    Tincture of gold, and coral, citron-pills,
    Your elicampane root, myrobalanes— ...
        Burnt silk and amber; you have muscadel good in the house.—
        I doubt we shall not get
    Some English saffron, half a dram would serve;
    Your sixteen cloves, a little musk, dried mints,
        Bugloss, and barley-meal.”

On the divergence of opinions among physicians:—

    “One would have a cataplasm of spices,
     Another a flayed ape clapped to his breast,

     A third would have it a dog, a fourth an oil,
     With wild cats’ skins.”

Or if the patient called in the wise woman:—

    “A good old woman—
     Yes, faith, she dwells in Sea Coal Lane, did cure me
     With sodden ale and pellitory of the wall.”

One learns from Ben Jonson that at St. Katherine’s by the Tower there
were lunatic asylums:—

        “Those are all broken loose
    Out of St. Katherine’s, where they used to keep
         The better sort of mad folks.”

The cunning man or woman was a kind of physician and in large practice.
He undertook to cure all diseases under the sun by the “Ephemerides,”
the marks on almanacks of lucky or unlucky days. Besides his medical
learning he knew how to advise in the matter of winning at horse races;
in card playing, how to win; he could search for things lost, he
sold charms, he told girls about their future lovers, and he erected
astrological figures. Often he was a physician by profession, like that
unfortunate Dr. Lambe, done to death by the crowd in the City for being
an astrologer or cunning man.

The level of medical science in the seventeenth century may be judged
by the prescriptions which follow:—

  “(1) For Dimness of sight.

  For dimness of the Eyes, eat 12 leaves of Rue in a morning with
  bread and butter and it will very much availe.”

For the stopping of bleeding

  “Take red nettles, stamp them and straine them alone, then take the
  juice and rubb all over the forehead and temples, so lett it dry
  upon the face 7 or 8 hours, after you may wash it of, but if you
  bleede againe, renew it.”

For the plague we have

  “The Medicine that the Lord Mayor of London had sent him from Q.
  Elisa: the ingredients are sage, rue, elder leaves, red bramble
  leaves, white wine and ginger. ‘So drink of it till evening and
  morning 9 dayes together: the first spoonfull will by God’s grace
  preserve safe for 24 dayes and after the ninth spoonfull for one
  whole yeare.’”

Another “safe medicine” is as follows:—

  “Take a locke of your Owne hair, cutt it as small as may bee, and
  so take it in beere or wine.”

The next is not so appetising. For a dull hearing

  “Take a grey snaile, prick him, and putt the water which comes from
  him into the eare and stop it with blackwool, it will cure.”

  “(2) To cure the biting or stinging of a Snake, as it hath often
  been tryed.

  ‘Take the leaves of a Burr-dock stamp and straine them and so
  drinke a good quantity, halfe a pint at the least, the simple juice
  itselfe is best.’

  (3) A most pretious Water of Wallnutts.

  Cures many ailments. Among the rest: ‘One drop in the eyes healeth
  all infirmityes, it healeth palsyes, it causeth sleep in the night.
  If it be used moderately with wine, it preserveth life so long as
  nature will permitt.’

  (4) For Sciatica.

  The principal ingredient is the marrow of a horse (killed by
  chance, not dying of any disease) mixed with some rose water.
  ‘Chafe it in with a warme hand for a quarter of an houre, then putt
  on a Scarlett cloth, broad enough to cover the parte affected and
  go into a warme bed.’

  (5) Headache.

  The juice of Ground-ivy snuft up into the nose out of a spoone
  taketh away the greatest paine thereof. This medicine is worth gold.

  (6) For consumption is recommended an infusion in which the
  following ingredients take part:—

  “Malaga-sacke, liverwort, Dandelion-root scrapt and the pith tooke
  out, and a piece of Elecampane sliced.

  (7) Madness in a Dog or anything:—

  Pega, tega, sega, docemena, Mega. These words written and the paper
  rowl’d up and given to a Dog or anything that is mad, will cure

Floyer, for his part, placed the greatest reliance on the sovereign
virtues of cold water, administered externally. He spared no pains
to inculcate on sufferers from rheumatism, nervous disorders, and
other maladies, the virtue of cold bathing, and maintained that the
prevalence of consumption in this country dated only from the time when
baptism by immersion had been discontinued.

I have mentioned the “cunning man” who was also an astrologer. But
there was the astrologer in higher practice. Everybody believed
in astrology, from the King downwards. The astrologer followed a
profession both lucrative and honourable. Sometimes, as in the case
of Dr. Nenier of Linford, he was an enthusiast who prayed continually
and was in confidential communication with the archangels, being by
them enabled to heal many diseases, especially ague, and the falling
sickness by means of consecrated rings.

When the Civil War began there were astrologers on both sides
who prophesied, each for the good of his own cause. Thus, on the
Parliamentary side the astrologer prophesied disasters to the Cavaliers
and victory to the Roundheads. These predictions became weapons of
great weight because people believed them. Butler puts the case in his
own way:—

    “Do not our great reformers use
     This Sidrophel to forbode news?
     To write of victories next year,
     And castles taken yet i’ th’ air?
     Of battles fought at sea, and ships
     Sunk, two years hence? the last eclipse?
     A total o’erthrow given the king
     In Cornwall, horse and foot, next spring?
     And has not he point-blank foretold
     Whats’e’er the close committee would?

     Made Mars and Saturn for the cause,
     The Moon for fundamental laws?
     The Ram, the Bull, and Goat, declare
     Against the Book of Common Prayer?
     The Scorpion take the protestation,
     And Bear engage for reformation?
     Made all the royal stars recant,
     Compound and take the covenant?”

The most important of the tribe was William Lilly, already mentioned,
who wrote on the Roundhead side, publishing his predictions in
an almanack called _Merlinus Anglicus_. Towards the close of the
Protectorate he had the good sense to see what was coming and to
predict the Restoration. When this came he made his almanack loyal to
the backbone. Astrology fell somewhat into disrepute after Charles’s
return, or perhaps younger men got all the patronage, for Lilly
abandoned astrology and took up with medicine.

The Royal Society had not yet been founded, and the only learned
association was the Society of Antiquaries, formed by Archbishop Parker
in 1572, meeting weekly at the College of Heralds and dissolved by
James I. “from some jealousy,” remarks Hallam, about the year 1604.
Consequently there were no influences at work to stem the popular
superstitions, and individuals who profited by them were not likely
to turn reformers. The trade in charms was, however, more than half
sanctioned by the learned. In his _Natural History_, Bacon lays it down
as credible that precious stones “may work by consent upon the spirits
of men to comfort and exhilarate them. The best for that effect are
the diamond, the emerald, the hyacinth Oriental, and the gold stone,
which is the yellow topaz. As for their particular properties, there
is no credit to be given to them. But it is manifest that light, above
all things, excelleth in comforting the spirits of men: and it is very
probable that light varied doth the same effect, with more novelty, and
this is one of the causes why precious stones comfort.”

Bracelets of coral are recommended to cool the body, because coral
loseth colour through “distemper of heat,” and other varieties for
similar purposes. The learned lawyer and philosopher was thus not many
degrees higher than the plain and simple folk who imagined that every
precious stone had some mystic virtue communicable to the wearer. The
sapphire was believed to impart courage, the coral to preserve from
enchantment, the topaz to cure madness, and the hyacinth to protect
from lightning. As for the carbuncle, with its brilliant unborrowed
light, it is referred to many times by Shakespeare, but perhaps in the
happiest form in “Henry VIII.,” where the Princess Elizabeth is spoken
of as

                       “A gem
    To lighten all this isle.”

Texts of Scripture, mystic letters, cabalistic rings, and other devices
were commonly worn even by the most intelligent.

                              CHAPTER III

                               THE FIRE


There was very little difference between the London of Elizabeth and
the London of Charles II. I briefly quote a contemporary. The following
humorous description was written by Sir William Davenant two or three
years before the Fire:—

“Sure your ancestors contrived your narrow streets in the days of
wheel-barrows, before those greater engines, carts, were invented. Is
your climate so hot, that as you walk, you need umbrellas of tiles
to intercept the sun? Or, are your shambles so empty, that you are
afraid to take in fresh air, lest it should sharpen your stomachs?
Oh, the goodly landslip of Old Fish Street, which, had it not had
the ill luck to be crooked, was narrow enough to have been your
founder’s perspective! And where the garrets, (perhaps not for want
of architecture, but through abundance of amity) are so made, that
opposite neighbours may shake hands without stirring from home. Is
unanimity of inhabitants in wise cities better exprest than by their
coherence and uniformity of building: where streets begin, continue and
end, in a like stature and shape? But yours (as if they were raised in
a general insurrection, where every man hath a several design) differ
in all things that can make distinction. Here stands one that aims to
be a Palace, and, next it, another that professes to be a hovel; here a
giant, there a dwarf: here slender, there broad: and all most admirably
different in faces as well as in their height and bulk. I was about
to defie any Londoner, who dares pretend there is so much ingenious
correspondence in this City, as that he can shew me one house like
another: yet your houses seem to be reverend and formal, being compared
to the fantastical looks of the modern: which have more ovals, niches,
and angles, than are in your custards, and are inclosed with pasteboard
walls, like those of malicious Turks, who, because themselves are not
immortal, and cannot dwell for ever where they build, therefore wish
not to be at charge to provide such lastingness as may entertain their
children out of the rain: so slight and prettily gaudy, that if they
could more, they would pass for pageants. It is your custom, where men
vary often the mode of their habits, to term the nation fantastical:
but where streets continually change fashion, you should make haste to
chain up the city, for it is certainly mad.

[Illustration: _Part of_ CHEAPSIDE _with the_ CROSS, &c. _as they
appeared in_ 1660

From a contemporary print.]

“You would think me a malicious traveller if I should still gaze on
your misshapen streets, and take no more notice of the beauty of your
river: therefore, I will pass the importunate noise of your watermen
(who snatch at fares as if they were to catch prisoners, plying the
gentry so uncivilly, as if they had never rowed any other passengers
but bearwards) and now step into one of your peascod boats, whose
tilts are not so sumptuous as the roofes of gundaloes, nor when you
are within are you at the ease of a chaise-à-bras. The commodity and
trade of your river belong to yourselves: but give a stranger leave to
share in the pleasure of it, which will hardly be in the prospect of
freedom of air, unless prospect, consisting of variety, be made up with
here a palace, there a wood-yard: here a garden, there a brew-house:
here dwells a lord, there a dyer, and between both, _duomo commune_.
If freedom of air be inferred in the liberty of the subject, where
every private man hath authority, for his own profit, to smoak up a
magistrate, then the air of your Thames is open enough, because it
is equally free. I will forbear to visit your courtly neighbours at
Wapping, not that it will make me giddy to shoot your Bridge, but that
I am loth to disturb the civil silence of Billingsgate, which is so
great, as if the mariners were always landing to storm the harbour:
therefore, for brevity’s sake, I will put to shoar again, though I
should be constrained, even without my galoshoes, to land at Puddle

“I am now returned to visit your houses, where the roofs are so
low, that I presume your ancestors were very mannerly and stood
bare to their wives: for I cannot discern how they could wear their
high-crowned hats: yet, I will enter, and therein oblige you much,
when you know my aversion to a certain weed that governs amongst your
coarser acquaintance as much as lavender amongst your coarser linen; to
which, in my apprehension, your sea-coal smoke seems a very Portugal
perfume. I should here hasten to a period, for fear of suffocation, if
I thought you so ungracious as to use it in public assemblies: and yet,
I see it grows so much in fashion, that methinks your children begin to
play with broken pipes instead of corals, to make way for their teeth.
You will find my visit short; I cannot stay to eat with you, because
your bread is too heavy, and you disdain the light substance of herbs.
Your drink is too thick, and yet you are seldom over-curious in washing
your glasses. Nor will I lodge with you, because your beds seem no
bigger than coffins: and your curtains so short, as they will hardly
serve to inclose your carriers in summer, and may be held, if taffata,
to have lined your grand-sires’ skirts.

“I have now left your houses, and am passing that of your streets,
but not in a coach, for they are uneasily hung, and so narrow, that
I took them for sedans upon wheels: nor is it safe for a stranger
to use them till the quarrel be decided whether six of your nobles,
sitting together, shall stop and give way to as many barrels of beer.
Your city is the only metropolis in Europe where there is wonderful
dignity belonging to carts. I would now make a safe retreat, but that
methinks I am stopt by one of our heroic games, called foot-ball:
which I conceive (under your favour) not very conveniently civil in
the streets, especially in such irregular and narrow roads as Crooked
Lane. Yet it argues your courage much like your military pastime of
throwing at cocks: but your metal would be much magnified (since you
have long allowed those two valiant exercises in the streets) to draw
your archers from Finsbury, and during high market let them shoot at
butts in Cheapside. I have now no more to say but what refers to a
few private notes, which I shall give you in a whisper when we meet
in Moorfields, from whence (because the place was meant for public
pleasure, and to shew the munificence of your City) I shall desire you
to banish the laundresses and bleachers, whose acres of old linen make
a shew like the fields of Carthagena when the five months’ shifts of
the whole fleet are washt and spread.”

To this satirical note let us add a glance at the suburbs with the
help of Hollar’s map of 1665. In this map Lambeth is evidently a
small village lying south of the church and Palace, with at least
one street running along the road on the east leading across to St.
George’s Fields. On the north there are no houses; the Palace Gardens
stretch out behind the Embankment, covered with trees; then comes
the Lambeth Marsh, a broad field bare of trees; there is a broad
mile where the river bends, and here, buried among the trees, houses
begin, and continue along Bankside; on the east of Lambeth Marsh is
St. George’s Fields, with houses on the north side, and St. George’s
Church. According to Hollar, South London at this time must have been
a charming and rural place divided into gardens and set with trees.
Unfortunately his picture becomes unintelligible when we find St. Mary
Overies on the other side of the river.

                              CHAPTER IV

                        II. THE FIRE OF LONDON

If, as some hold, the cause of the long-continued Plague, which
lasted, with intervals of rest, from the middle of the sixteenth
century to 1665, was nothing but the accumulated filth of London, so
that the ground on which it stood was saturated many feet in depth
with poisonous filtrations, the Fire of 1666 must be regarded in the
light of a surgical operation absolutely essential if life was to be
preserved, and as an operation highly successful in its results. For it
burned, more or less, every house and every building over an area of
436 acres out of those which made up London within the walls.

It began in the dead of night—Sunday morning, 3 A.M., September 2,
1666—at the shop of one Farryner, a baker, in Pudding Lane, one of
those narrow lanes which run to north and south of Thames Street.
All the houses in that lane were of wood, pitched throughout, and as
the stories jutted out, the houses almost met at the top. The house
itself was full of brush and faggot wood, so that the Fire quickly grew
to a head, and then began to spread out in all directions at once,
but especially to the west and north. Close to the house was an inn
called the “Star,” the courtyard of which was full of hay and straw.
In a very short time Pudding Lane itself was completely destroyed; it
would seem as if the people were distracted and attempted little or
nothing except their own escape. When day broke the fire had caught
Thames Street, which was full of warehouses containing everything
combustible, as butter, cheese, brandy, wine, oil, sugar, hemp, flax,
tar, pitch, rosin, brimstone, cordage, hops, wood, and coal. The only
means of combating a fire fed by such materials was to blow up the
houses, and this the people vehemently opposed at first. As for the
supply of water, there was none at all adequate to the situation,
and the water machines of London Bridge were quickly destroyed with
the houses on the Bridge. In order to escape and to carry away their
property, every available vehicle, cart, waggon, carriage, or boat, was
in requisition. Forty pounds was offered and given by many householders
for the safe removal of their property, while in some cases—those of
the wealthy—£400 was paid simply to get the plate and jewels and other
valuables carried out of the reach of the Fire. The things were taken
out into the open fields, where they were laid on the grass, and so
left in charge of the owners; open and unconcealed robberies took
place, as was to be expected. Some of the people placed their things
for safety in the churches, fondly thinking that the fire would spare
them; the booksellers of Little Britain and Paternoster Row deposited
the whole of their books in the crypt of St. Paul’s; alas! they lost
them all. Those who had friends in the villages near London carried
away their money and their valuables and deposited them in the houses
of these friends. Pepys buried his treasure in the garden of Sir W.
Ryder at Bethnal Green. He afterwards describes how he dug it up again
and how he lost some of the money by the decay of the bags.


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

A strong easterly wind carried the flames along from roof to roof, and
from house to house, and from street to street. The fire raged almost
unchecked. By Monday morning it had covered the area between Pudding
Lane and Gracechurch Street and Lombard Street, and to St. Swithin’s in
Candlewick Street, along the river as far as the Three Cranes in the
Vintry. By Tuesday night it had destroyed everything as far west as
St. Dunstan’s in Fleet Street. By this time the men arrived from the
dockyards, and by blowing up houses the fire was stopped at a great
many points at once; the Duke of York superintended the work, and
gained all hearts by his powerful labours in handing the buckets and
giving orders. On Wednesday the fire broke out again in the Temple,
but was reduced without difficulty. The damage done by this terrible
calamity was computed, to put it into figures, as follows:—of houses
destroyed, 13,200; their value, £3,900,000; of streets, 400; of parish
churches, 87; their value, £261,600; of consecrated chapels, 6; their
value, £12,000; of wares, goods, etc., £3,800,000; of public edifices
burned, £939,000; St. Paul’s rebuilt at a cost of £2,000,000. The whole
loss, with other and smaller items, was reckoned at £10,730,500. The
public buildings destroyed included St. Paul’s Cathedral, eighty-seven
parish churches, six consecrated chapels, the Royal Exchange, the
Custom House, Sion College, the Grey Friars Church, St. Thomas of
Acon, the Justice House, the four prisons, fifty companies’ halls,
and four gates. By this time many of the former nobles’ town houses
and the great merchants’ palaces had been taken down and turned into
private houses, warehouses, and shops; as, for instance, the Erber,
Cold Harbour, la Riole, the King’s Wardrobe, and others. The mediæval
buildings with the exception of the churches had all gone, but there
was still left a great quantity of remains, walls, vaults, arches, and
other parts of ancient buildings, the loss of which to the antiquary
and the historian was irreparable.

This appalling calamity is without parallel in history except, perhaps,
the earthquake of Lisbon. Once before there had been a fire which swept
London from east to west, but London was then poor; there were few
merchants, and the warehouses were small and only half-filled. In 1665
the warehouses were vast and filled with valuable merchandise. There
still stands south of Thames Street a warehouse[9] built immediately
after the Fire, evidently in imitation of its predecessors. It consists
of seven or eight stories, all low; there are still small gables,
a reminiscence of the old gables; looking upon this warehouse and
remembering that there was a long row of these facing the river with
lanes and river stairs between, we can understand the loss to the
merchants caused by the conflagration. Considering also the rows of
shops along Cheapside, Eastcheap, Ludgate Hill, and Cornhill, we can
understand the ruin that fell upon the retail dealers in that awful
week. All they had in the world was gone save the right of rebuilding
on the former site. The master craftsmen lost their tools and their
workshops; the bookseller lost his books; the journeyman lost his
employment as well as his sticks. I quote here certain words of my own
in another book:—

“The fire is out at last; the rain has quenched the last sparks; the
embers have ceased to smoke; those walls which have not fallen totter
and hang trembling, ready to fall. I see men standing about singly;
the tears run down their cheeks; two hundred years ago, if we had
anything to cry about, we were not ashamed to cry without restraint;
they are dressed in broad-cloth, the ruffles are of lace, they look
like reputable citizens. Listen—one draws near another. ‘Neighbour,’
he says, ‘a fortnight ago, before this stroke, whether of God or of
Papist, I had a fair shop on this spot.’ ‘And I also, good friend,’
said the other, ‘as you know.’ ‘My shop,’ continued the first, ‘was
stocked with silks and satins, kid gloves, lace ruffles and neckties,
shirts, and all that a gentleman or gentlewoman can ask for. The stock
was worth a thousand pounds. I turned it over six or seven times a year
at least. And my profit was four hundred pounds.’ ‘As for me,’ said the
other, ‘I was in a smaller way, as you know. Yet such as it was, my
fortune was all in it, and out of my takings, I could call two hundred
pounds a year my own.’ ‘Now is it all gone,’ said the first. ‘All
gone,’ the other repeated, fetching a sigh. ‘And now, neighbour, unless
the Company help, I see nothing for it but we must starve.’ ‘Must
starve,’ the other repeated. And so they separated, and went divers
ways, and whether they starved or whether they received help, and rose
from the ashes with new house and newly stocked shop, I know not.”

[Illustration: _The CATHEDRAL CHURCH of S^t PAUL as it was before y^e
fire of LONDON_

From a contemporary print.]

It is generally believed that the Fire left nothing standing where
it had passed. This was not the case. Many of the church towers were
left in part. Only the other day in building offices in the City on
the site of a church—St. Olave’s, Old Jewry—it was discovered that the
lower part of the tower with the stone turret outside belonged to the
old church. Many crypts escaped; the walls where they were of brick
remained standing in part; in one case a whole court survived the Fire.
This case is very curious. On the north-east of Apothecaries’ Hall,
with an entrance from Castle Street, was, until a year or two ago, a
court called Fleur de Lys Court. At the time of the Fire there stood
close beside the court, on the east side, the church and churchyard
of St. Anne’s, built after the Dissolution upon part of the old
Blackfriars. Remember that the wind was easterly and strong during
the Fire. When the roof of St. Anne’s caught fire, therefore, the
flames were driven across this court and over it. It would appear that
the roof had been injured and part of the upper stories, but not the
lower part. The court looked strangely out of keeping with the other
buildings. I took my friend Mr. Loftie to see it. He gave it as his
opinion at once that the mullions of the windows were of earlier date
than the Fire. I afterwards took Mr. J. J. Stevenson, the architect,
who made one or two sketches and came to the same conclusion. A few
weeks later I found that they were pulling the court down.

The causes of the Fire and the conditions which made its existence
possible are thus enumerated by Strype:—

  “First, They consider the time of the night when it first began,
  viz. between one and two of the clock after midnight, when all were
  in a dead sleep.

  Secondly, it was Saturday night when many of the most eminent
  citizens, merchants, and others were retired into the country and
  none but servants left to look to their City Houses.

  Thirdly, it was in the long vacation, being that particular time
  of the year when many wealthy citizens and tradesmen are wont to
  be in the country at Fairs, and getting in of Debts, and making up
  accounts with their Chapmen.

  Fourthly, the closeness of the Building, and narrowness of the
  street in the places where it began, did much facilitate the
  progress of the Fire by hindering of the Engines to be brought to
  play upon the Houses on Fire.

  Fifthly, the matter of which the Houses, all thereabouts were, viz.
  Timber, and those very old.

  Sixthly, the dryness of the preceding season: there having been a
  great drought even to that very day and all the time that the fire
  continued, which has so dried the Timber, that it was never more
  pat to take Fire.

  Seventhly, the Nature of the Wares and Commodities, stowed and
  vended in those Parts, were the most combustible of any other sold
  in the whole City: as Oil, Pitch, Tar, Cordage, Hemp, Flax, Rosin,
  Wax, Butter, Cheese, Wine, Brandy, sugar, etc.

  Eighthly, an easterly wind, which is the driest of all others,
  had blown for several days together before, and at that time very

  Ninthly, the unexpected failing of the water thereabouts at that
  time: for the engine at the North end of London Bridge, called the
  Thames Water Tower, was out of Order, and in a few hours was itself
  burnt down, so that the water pipes which conveyed the water from
  thence through the streets were soon empty.

  Lastly, an unusual negligence at first, and a confidence of easily
  quenching it, and of its stopping at several probable places
  afterwards, turning at length into a confusion, consternation, and
  despair: people choosing rather by flight to save their goods, than
  by a vigorous opposition to save their own houses and the whole

This dry reasoning would not satisfy the people. They began to
whisper among each other that this was the work of an incendiary and
a stranger; a Dutchman, or, more likely, a Roman Catholic. Divers
strangers, Dutch and French, were arrested on suspicion of firing the
City, but as there was no evidence they were released. What gave some
colour to the suspicion was that, in April of that year, certain old
officers and soldiers in Cromwell’s army, eight in number, were tried
for conspiracy and treason, their design having been to surprise the
Tower, to kill the Lieutenant, and then to have declared for an equal
division of lands. After taking the Tower their purpose was to set fire
to the City. They were all found guilty, condemned, and executed. After
the fire there was brought to the Lord Chief Justice a boy of ten, who
declared that his father and uncle, Dutchmen both, were the persons
who set fire to the house in Pudding Lane with fire-balls. This little
villain appears to have been sent off as an impostor.

[Illustration: _A View of the Monument of London, in remembrance of the
dreadful Fire in 1666. Its height is 202 Feet_.]

Then, however, followed Robert Hubert’s confession, which was far more
important. The man Hubert confessed or declared that about four months
before the Fire he left his native town of Rouen with one Piedloe,
and went with him to Sweden, where he stayed four months; that they
came together in a Swedish ship to London, staying on board till the
night when the fire began; that Piedloe then took him to Pudding Lane
and gave him a fire-ball, which he lighted and put through a window
by means of a long pole, waiting till the house was well alight. One
Graves, a French merchant, resident in London, said that he knew both
Hubert and Piedloe; that the former was a mischievous person, capable
of any wickedness, while the latter was a debauched fellow, also apt to
any wickedness. Next, in order to try the man’s story, they took him to
Pudding Lane and bade him point out Farryner’s house—or the site of it.
This he did very readily. Then they questioned Farryner, who declared
that no fire could possibly have broken out in his house by accident.
On the other hand, the Swedish captain swore that Hubert did not land
until after the Fire, and his confession was full of contradictions;
also he declared himself a Protestant, yet died a Catholic; in the
opinion of many he was a man of disordered mind; moreover, why should
Piedloe take him as companion when he might just as well have done the
job himself? And how should a complete stranger taken into the dark
streets of London for the first time in the dead of night be able to
recognise again the street or the house?

In any case Hubert was hanged; and as he died a Catholic, it was of
course abundantly clear that the whole thing was a Catholic conspiracy,
a fact which was accordingly inscribed on the new monument when it was
erected, so that

    “London’s column pointing to the skies,
     Like a tall bully lifts its head and lies.”

The inscription was removed on the accession of James the Second, but
put up again on the arrival of William the Third. It remained on the
monument till the year 1830, when it was taken down by order of the
Common Council.

It is generally stated that the houseless people took refuge in
Moorfields. This is only partly true. There were 13,200 houses
destroyed and 200,000 people turned out into the streets. One remarks
that if these figures are correct the crowding in the City must have
been very great. For these figures give fifteen persons to every
house, great and small, one with another. They did not all lie out on
Moorfields simply because there was no room for them. Upper and lower
Moorfields covered an area of about 840,000 square feet, or a square of
900 feet, very nearly. If we allow 15 feet × 20 feet for each hut to
accommodate five people, we can find room for 2800 such houses without
counting the lanes between them; so that Moorfields would contain
about 14,000 people only. Evelyn says that the people were dispersed
about St. George’s Fields, Moorfields, and as far as Highgate. “I then
went towards Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen 200,000
people of all ranks and degrees dispersed and lying along by their
heaps of what they could save from the Fire.”

“Pitiful huts,” Maitland says, “were erected for their accommodation,
and for their immediate needs the King sent a great quantity of bread
from the Navy Stores to be distributed, and neighbouring Justices of
the Peace were enjoined to send in all manner of victuals.

It was reputed that the loss of life was only six, but I venture to
think that this loss must be greatly understated. When one considers
the rapid spread of the fire, the way in which the people lingered
to the last to save a little more, and when one remembers how Evelyn
noticed on his first visit to the ruins the “stench from some poor
creatures’ bodies,” we cannot but feel persuaded that the losses were
more than six.

On Moorfields temporary chapels also were built. But when the fire
ceased, and before the embers were cooled, the people began to
creep back and the rebuilding of the City began. As there was still
remaining that part of the City east of Billingsgate with the river
and the shipping, business went on, though with broken wings. For
the Royal Exchange they used Gresham College; the same place became
their Guildhall; the Excise Office was removed to Southampton Street,
near Bedford House; the General Post Office was taken to Brydges
Street, Covent Garden; the Custom House to Mark Lane; Doctors’ Commons
to Exeter House, Strand. For temporary churches the authorities
appropriated the meeting-houses which had not been destroyed. They
began to rebuild their City. Within four years, ten thousand houses,
twenty churches, and a great many companies’ halls had been put up
again. It took thirty years to complete the building of the fifty-one
churches which were put up in place of the eighty-seven destroyed.

One effect of the Fire was to drive out of the City many of the
shopkeepers. Thus Maitland says that before the Fire, Paternoster
Row was chiefly occupied by mercers, silkmen, lacemen; “and these
shops were so much resorted unto by the nobility and gentry in their
carriages that ofttimes the street was so stopped up, that there was
no room for foot-passengers.” After the Fire, however, the tradesmen
settled themselves in other parts; one supposes that they opened
temporary shops, and, finding them convenient, they stayed where they
were. They went to Henrietta Street, Bedford Street, and King Street,
Covent Garden. Ludgate Hill, however, remained for a long time the
principal street for the best shops of mercers and lacemen.

Were so great and overwhelming a calamity to befall a City in our
times, we should have abundant materials for estimating not only the
total value of the destruction, but also its effect upon individuals.
We learn next to nothing of the Fire as it affected classes, such as
merchants, shopkeepers, or craftsmen. The Plague ruined its thousands
by slaying the breadwinner; the Fire ruined its tens of thousands
by destroying everything that the breadwinner possessed, warehouse,
goods, and all. Credit remained, one supposes; by the aid of credit
many recovered. Yet, one asks, what amount of credit could possibly
replace the trader’s stock? What amount of credit could once more
fill the great warehouse crammed to the very roof with commodities?
Those who were debtors found their debts wiped off; one supposes that
all prisoners for debt were enlarged; those who were creditors could
not collect their amounts; rents could neither be asked nor paid; the
money-lender and the borrower were destroyed together; almshouses
were burnt down—what became of the poor old men and women? The City
charities were suspended—what became of the poor? In such a universal
dislocation, revolution, and cessation of everything, the poor man lost
all that he had to lose, and the rich were sent empty away. Would that
some limner of the time had portrayed for us a faithful picture of the
first meeting of the Common Council after the Fire! Dryden speaks of
the Fire:—

    “Those who have homes, when home they do repair
       To a last lodging call their wandering friends:
     Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care
       To look how near their own destruction ends.

     Those who have none sit round where it was,
       And with full eyes each wonted stone require:
     Haunting the yet warm ashes of the place,
       As murdered men walk where they did expire.

     The most in fields like herded beasts lie down
       To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor,
     And while their babes in sleep their sorrow drown,
       Sad parents watch the remnant of their store.”

One thing is certain: for the working man there was no lack of
employment; thousands were wanted to clear away the rubbish, to get
the streets in order, to take down shaky walls, to make bricks, to dig
out foundations, to do carpenter’s work and all those things required
for the creation of a new London. And as for the artificers, they were
wanted to restore the stocks of the traders as quickly as might be.
Labour was never in such request before in all the history of London.

[Illustration: _A PLAN of the CITY and LIBERTIES of LONDON after the
Dreadful Conflagration in the Year 1666_. _The_ Blank Part _whereof
represents the_ Ruins _and Extent of the_ Fire, _& the_ Perspective
_that left standing_.

From a contemporary print.]

Twenty-five years later they were congratulating themselves on the
changed and improved condition of the City. The writer of _Anglia
Metropolis_, or _the Present State of London_,[10] says:—

  “As if the Fire had only purged the City, the buildings are
  infinitely more beautiful, more commodious, more solid (the three
  main virtues of all edifices) than before. They have made their
  streets much more large and straight, paved on each side with
  smooth free stone, and guarded the same with many massy posts for
  the benefit of foot passengers: and whereas before they dwelt in
  low dark wooden houses, they now live in lofty, lightsome, uniform,
  and very stately brick buildings.”

Of the wooden houses commonly found in London before the Fire you
will find one or two specimens still left—fifty years ago there were
many. One such is in the Churchyard of St. Giles, Cripplegate. As
to the total destruction of the houses I am in some doubt; I have
already mentioned one court called the Fleur de Lys, Blackfriars,
which escaped the Fire. The same fact that probably saved this Court
may have saved other places. Strype, for instance, mentions a house
in Aldersgate Street which survived the Fire. There were, again, many
houses partially destroyed, some accident arresting the Fire, and
there were many walls which could be used again. These considerations
are confirmed by an examination of Hollar’s minute picture of London
immediately after the Fire. In this picture all the churches are
presented as standing with their towers; they are roofless and their
windows are destroyed, but they are standing. It would be interesting
to learn how much of these old walls and towers were used in the new
buildings. Half the houses on London Bridge are gone, and the Bridge is
evidently cleared of rubbish. Part of the front of Fishmongers’ Hall
is still standing; All Hallows the Less, which appears to have been
quite a small church, has no tower, but its walls are standing. Between
that church and the river is a space covered with ruins, in the midst
of which stands a pillar. The Water Gate remains at Cold Harbour; part
of the front and the quay of the Steelyard, and a small part of the
roof at the east end of St. Paul’s still remain, melancholy to look
upon; the square port of Queenhithe is surrounded by fallen houses; the
steeple of the Royal Exchange stands over the ruins; the river front of
Baynard’s Castle still stands, but the eastern side is in ruins; the
place is evidently gutted. In all directions there are walls, gables,
whole houses standing among heaps and mounds of rubbish.

Two circumstances must be reckoned fortunate: the Fire, while it burned
down the churches and reduced the monuments to dust, also penetrated
below the surface and transformed the dreadful mass of putrefaction
caused by the Plague a year before into harmless dust. It also choked
most of the numerous wells, whose bright and sparkling waters charged
with malarious filtrations the people had been accustomed to regard as
sweet and healthy.

The King issued a Proclamation on the rebuilding of the City. No houses
of wood were to be put up; cellars, if possible, were to be strongly
arched; the principal streets were to be made broader and no narrow
lanes to remain; the river was to have a fair quay or wharf running
all along, with no houses except at a certain distance; trades carried
on by means of fire and causing smoke to be placed in certain quarters
where they would be neither dangerous nor noisome; a survey of the
whole area covered by the Fire was to be made. There were also Acts
passed by the Court of Common Council for the enlargement and the
pitching and levelling of the streets. These Acts will be found in
Appendix V.

[Illustration: SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN (1632–1723)

From the painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller in the National Portrait
Gallery, London.]

Three plans were sent in to the Common Council for the laying out
of the City in a more convenient manner; they were drawn up by
Christopher Wren, who was appointed architect and surveyor-general,
Sir John Evelyn, and Dr. Newcourt. The scheme of Wren was considered
very carefully. It proved impossible, however, on account of the
unwillingness of the people to give up their right of building on their
old foundations. The scheme of Evelyn provided an embankment along the
river, broad streets, piazzas round the churches, in which were to be
shops; a Mansion House; a footway on London Bridge instead of houses;
the churchyard of the whole City was to be a strip of ground under
the old wall; opposite to the churchyard was to be a street set apart
for inns and stations for carriers. It was, in short, a scheme quite
impossible, yet remarkable for anticipating so much of what has since
been carried out.

[Illustration: _Sir John Evelyn’s Plan for Rebuilding the City of
London after the Great Fire in 1666._

_S^r. Christopher Wren’s Plan for Rebuilding the City of
London after the dreadfull Conflagration in 1666._

From contemporary prints.]

Meantime the rebuilding went on rapidly; in a few cases a street was
widened; but the narrow lanes running north and south of Thames Street
show that little regard was paid to the regulations. No wooden houses
were built, and the old plan of high gables and projecting windows
was exchanged for a flat façade and square coping. The churches were
rebuilt, for the most part slowly. Some were not rebuilt at all.
The last was finished thirty years after the Fire. Of the general
character of Wren’s churches this is not the place for an estimate.
It is sufficient here to explain that Wren was guided first by the
sum of money at his disposal, and next by the extent of ground; that
many of the old churches were quite small buildings standing in small
churchyards; but he extended the foundations and increased the area of
the church; that he built in every case a preaching-house and not a
mass-house, so that nearly all the churches are oblong halls instead
of cruciform buildings; that he studied the interior instead of the
exterior, and that some of his finest churches inside present no
feature of interest on the outside.

The builders, all over the City, used as much as possible of the
old foundations. Thus the Heralds’ College preserves the court
of Derby House; Wardrobe Square is the inner court of the King’s
Wardrobe Palace; while the narrow streets on either side of Cheapside
preserve exactly the old lines of the streets burned down. It would
be interesting to ascertain, if possible, where Wren’s churches were
built upon the older foundations; the north wall of the Holy Trinity
Minories, for instance, belongs to the ancient convent there; the
vestry of Allhallows in the Wall is on a bastion of the wall.

They altered the levels of many streets. Thames Street, “to prevent
inundations,” which shows that, in parts at least, it was lower than
the old embankment, was raised three feet, and the streets leading
out of it raised in a proper proportion; many streets were ordered
to be widened, but it does not appear that the order was in every
case carried into effect; several new streets were constructed; a
duty on coals, one shilling at first, and afterwards two shillings on
every ton, was granted to the City for the express expenses of the
rebuilding; a Court of Judicature was established for the purpose of
deciding quickly all disputes as to rents, boundaries, debts, etc.,
that might arise; the Court sat in the Hall of Clifford’s Inn; rules
were laid down concerning the materials, thickness of party walls,
etc., rules so minute that it is perfectly certain that they could
not be carried out; they divided the City into four quarters; they
ordered each quarter to provide 800 buckets with brass hand squirts
and ladders of various lengths; they appointed a bellman for every
ward, whose duty was to walk up and down the streets all night long
from Michaelmas to the Annunciation of St. Mary; that on the alarm
of fire every householder was to hang up a lantern over his door and
provide an armed man: that every householder should keep at his door a
vessel filled with water; with a great many more regulations which may
be omitted, the whole showing the terrible scare into which they had
all fallen. Forty years after the Fire, Dr. Woodward of Gresham College
thus wrote to Wren (_Strype_, vol. i. p. 292) in a private letter that

“The Fire of London, however disastrous it might be to the then
inhabitants, had proved infinitely beneficial to their Posterity, and
to the increase and vast improvement as well of the riches and opulency
as of the buildings. And how by the means of the common sewers, and
other like contrivances, such provision was made for sweetness, for
cleanness, and for salubrity, that it is not only the finest and
pleasantest, but the most healthy City in the world. Insomuch that for
the Plague, and other infectious distempers, with which it was formerly
so frequently annoyed, and by which so great numbers of the inhabitants
were taken off, but the very year before the Fire, viz. Anno. 1665, an
experience of above forty years since hath shewn it so wholly freed
from, that he thought it probable it was no longer obnoxious to, or
ever again likely to be infested by those so fatal and malicious

In May 1679 the people were thrown into a panic by the discovery of
a so-called plot to burn down the City again. The house of one Bird
in Fetter Lane having been burned, his servant, Elizabeth Oxley, was
suspected of wilfully causing the fire; she was arrested and examined.
What follows is a very remarkable story. The woman swore that she
had actually caused the fire, and that she had been persuaded to do
so by a certain Stubbs, a Papist, who promised her £5 if she would
comply. Stubbs, being arrested, declared that the woman’s evidence was
perfectly true, and that Father Gifford, his confessor, incited him
to procure the Fire, saying that it would be a godly act to burn all
heretics out of their homes. The Irishmen were also implicated; the
Papists, it was said, were going to rise in insurrection in London and
an army was to be landed from France. Five Jesuits were executed for
this business, and so great was the popular alarm, that all Catholics
were banished from the City and ten miles round.

                               CHAPTER V

                         CONTEMPORARY EVIDENCE

I proceed to quote four accounts of the Fire from eye-witnesses.
Between them one arrives at a very fair understanding of the magnitude
of the disaster, the horrors of the Fire, especially at night, and the
wretchedness of the poor people, crouched over the wreck and remnant of
their property.

“Here”—Evelyn is the first of the four—“we saw the Thames covered with
floating goods, all the barges and boates laden with what some had time
and courage to save, as on the other, the carts carrying out to the
fields, which for many miles were strewed with movables of all sorts,
and tents erecting to shelter both people and what goods they could
get away. Oh the miserable and calamitous spectacle! Such as happly
the world had not seene the like since the foundation of it, nor be
outdone till the universal conflagration of it. All the skie was of
a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seene
above 40 miles round for many nights. God grant mine eyes may never
behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in one flame: the
noise and cracking and thunder of the impetuous flames, the shrieking
of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of Towers, Houses
and Churches, was like a hideous storm, and the aire all about so hot
and inflamed, that at the last one was not able to approach it, so that
they were forced to stand still and let the flames burn on, which they
did for neere two miles in length and one in bredth. The clowds also
of smoke were dismall and reached upon computation neere 56 mile in
length. Thus I left it this afternoone burning, a resemblance of Sodom,
or the last day. It forcibly called to my mind that passage _non enim
hic habemus stabilem civitatem_: the ruines resembling the picture of
Troy. London was, but is no more.”

The next day he went to see the Fire again. All Fleet Street and the
parts around it were in flames, the lead running down the streets in a
stream, the stones of St. Paul’s “flying like granados.” The people,
to the number of 200,000, had taken refuge in St. George’s Fields and
Moorfields as far as Islington and Highgate; there Evelyn visited
them; they were lying beside their heaps of salvage, of all ranks and
degrees, deploring their loss, and though ready to perish for hunger
and destitution, yet not asking one penny for relief. It was not money
they wanted, it was food and shelter. Can one conceive a picture more
sorrowful than that of 200,000 people thus wholly ruined? Evelyn went
home, and at once set to work on a plan for the reconstruction of the

[Illustration: JOHN EVELYN (1620–1706)]

Pepys has preserved fuller details:—

“So I down to the water-side, and there got a boat and through bridge,
and there saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michell’s house, as far as the
Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that
in a very little time it got as far as the Steelyard while I was
there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into
the river or bringing them into lighters that lay off: poor people
staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them,
and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by
the water-side to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons,
I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the
windows and balconys till some of them burned their wings and fell
down. Having staid, and in an hour’s time seen the fire rage every
way, and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but only to
remove their goods, and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get
as far as the Steelyard, and the wind mighty high and driving it into
the City, and everything after so long a drought, proving combustible,
even the very stones of churches, and among other things the poor
steeple by which pretty Mrs. —— lives, and whereof my old schoolfellow
Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top and there burned till
it fell down: I to White Hall (with a gentleman with me who desired
to go off from the Tower to see the Fire, in my boat), and to White
Hall, and there up to the King’s closett in the Chappell, where people
come about me, and I did give them an account dismayed them all, and
the word was carried in to the King. So I was called for, and did tell
the King and Duke of York what I saw, and that unless His Majesty did
command houses to be pulled down, nothing could stop the fire.”...
“Walked along Watling Street, as well as I could, every creature
coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and there sicke people
carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on
backs. At last met ye Lord Mayor in Canning Street, like a man spent,
with a handkercher about his neck. To the King’s message he cried
like a fainting woman, ‘Lord! what can I do? I am spent; people will
not obey me. I have been pulling down houses: but the fire overtakes
us faster than we can do it.’ That he needed no more soldiers: and
that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all
night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home, seeing people all
almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire.
The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for
burning, as pitch and tarr, in Thames Street: and warehouses of oyle,
and wines, and brandy and other things.... And to see the churches
all filling with goods by people who themselves should have been
quietly there at this time.... Soon as dined, I and Moone away, and
walked through the City, the streets full of nothing but people and
horses and carts loaden with goods, ready to run over one another, and
removing goods from one burned house to another. They now removing out
of Canning Street (which received goods in the morning) into Lombard
Street and further: and among others I now saw my little goldsmith
Stokes, receiving some friend’s goods, whose house itself was burned
the day after. We parted at Paul’s: he home, and I to Paul’s Wharf,
where I had appointed a boat to attend me, and took in Mr. Carcasse
and his brother, whom I met in the streets, and carried them below and
above bridge to and again to see the fire, which was now got further,
both below and above, and no likelihood of stopping it. Met with the
King and Duke of York in their barge, and with them to Queenhithe, and
there called Sir Richard Browne to them. Their order was only to pull
down houses apace, and so below bridge at the water side: but little
was or could be done, the fire coming upon them so fast. Good hopes
there was of stopping it at the Three Cranes above, and at Buttolph’s
Wharf below bridge, if care be used: but the wind carries it into the
City, so as we know not by the water-side what it do there. River full
of lighters, and boats taking in goods, and good goods swimming in the
water, and only I observed that hardly one lighter or boat in three
that had the goods of a house in, but there was a pair of Virginals in
it.... So near the fire as we could for smoke: and all over the Thames,
with one’s face in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of
fire-drops. This is very true: so as houses were burned by these drops
and flakes of fire, three or four, nay, five or six houses, one from
another. When we could endure no more upon the water, we to a little
ale-house on the Bank-side over against the Three Cranes, and there
staied till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow: and as it grew
darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and
between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the
City, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame
of an ordinary fire. Barbara and her husband away before us. We staid
till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire
from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for
an arch of above a mile long: it made me weep to see it. The churches,
houses, and all on fire, and flaming at once: and a horrid noise the
flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruine.... I up to the
top of Barking steeple, and there saw the saddest sight of desolation
that I ever saw: everywhere great fires, oyle-cellars, and brimstone,
and other things burning.... Walked into the town and find Fenchurch
Streete, Gracious Streete, and Lumbard Streete all in dust. The
Exchange a sad sight, nothing standing there, of all the statues or
pillars, but Sir Thomas Gresham’s picture in the corner. Walked into
Moorfields (our feet ready to burn walking through the towne among
the hot coles), and find that full of people, and poor wretches
carrying their goods there, and everybody keeping his goods together by
themselves (and a great blessing it is to them that it is fair weather
for them to keep abroad night and day).... To Bishop’s gate, where no
fire had yet been near, and there is now one broken out: which did give
great grounds to people, and to me too, to think that there is some
kind of plot in this (on which many by this time have been taken, and
it hath been dangerous for any stranger to walk in the streets), but I
went with the men, and we did put it out in a little time: so that it
was well again. It was pretty to see how hard the women did work in the
cannells sweeping of water: but then they would scold for drink, and be
as drunk as devils. I saw good butts of sugar broke open in the street,
and people go and take handsfull out, and put into beer, and drink it.
And now all being pretty well, I took boat, and over to Southwarke, and
took boat to the other side the bridge, and so to Westminster, thinking
to shift myself, being all in dirt from top to bottom: but could not
find there any place to buy a shirt or pair of gloves, Westminster
Hall being full of people’s goods, those in Westminster having removed
all their goods, and the Exchequer money put into vessels to carry to
Nonsuch: but to the Swan and there was trimmed: and then to White Hall,
but saw nobody, and so home. A sad sight to see how the River looks: no
houses nor church near it, to the Temple where it stopped.”


From the fresco painting in the Royal Exchange, London, by permission
of the Artist, Stanhope A. Forbes, A.R.A., and the Donors, The Sun
Insurance Office.]

Here is a letter addressed to Lord Conway a few days after the Great

“Alas, my lord, all London almost within the walls, and some part of
it which was without the walls, lies now in ashes. A most lamentable
devouring fire began upon Sunday morning last, at one of the clock,
at a baker’s house in Pudding Lane beyond the bridge, immediately
burned down all the new houses upon the bridge, and left the old ones
standing, and so came on into Thames Street, and went backwards towards
the Tower, meeting with nothing by the way but old paper buildings
and the most combustible matter of tar, pitch, hemp, rosin, and flax,
which was all laid up thereabouts: so that in six hours it became a
large stream of fire, at least a mile long, and could not possibly be
approached or quenched. And that which contributed to the devastation
was the extreme dryness of the season, which laid all the springs so
low, that no considerable quantity of water could be had, either in
pipes or conduits: and above all, a most violent and tempestuous east
wind, which had sometimes one point towards the north, then again a
point towards the south, as if it have been sent on purpose to help the
fire to execute upon the City the commission which it had from Heaven.

From Thames Street it went up Fish Street Hill into Canning Street,
Gracechurch Street, Lombard Street, Cornhill, Bartholomew Lane,
Lothbury, Austin Friars, and Broad Street northwards, and likewise into
Fenchurch Street and Lime Street, burning down all the churches, the
Royal Exchange, and all the little lanes and alleys as it went. From
thence westward it swept away Friday Street, Watling Street, Cheapside,
Newgate market, and the Prison, Paternoster Row, St. Sepulchre’s,
and so up to Smithfield Bars, and down to Holborn bridge. Also all
St. Paul’s Churchyard, the roof of Paul’s Church, Ludgate Hill, part
of Fleet Street, Blackfriars, Whitefriars, and all the Inner Temple,
till it came to the Hall, a corner of which had taken fire, and was
there most happily quenched, as likewise in Fleet St. over against
St. Dunstan’s Church: else, for aught appears, it might have swept
away Whitehall and all the City of Westminster too, which is now left
standing, together with all the suburbs: viz. the Strand, Covent
Garden, Queen Street, Lincoln’s Inn fields, Holborn as far as the
Bridge, and all Hatton Garden, Clerkenwell, and St. John Street.

Of the City itself, from the Tower unto Temple Bar, remains only all
Smithfield and St. Bartholomew’s, being stopped there before it came
to Sir Elias Harvey’s, wherefrom, together with Sir John Shaw’s and
Gresham College and so forward, are preserved: all Bishopsgate Street,
Leadenhall Street, Duke’s Place, and so to Aldgate.

But ’tis fit your lordship should know that all that is left, both
of City and suburbs, is acknowledged, under God, to be wholly due to
the King and Duke of York, who, when the citizens had abandoned all
further care of the place, were intent chiefly upon the preservation
of their goods, undertook the work themselves, and with incredible
magnanimity rode up and down, giving orders for blowing up of houses
with gunpowder, to make void spaces for the fire to die in, and
standing still to see those orders executed, exposing their persons not
only to the multitude, but to the very flames themselves, and the ruins
of buildings ready to fall upon them, and sometimes labouring with
their own hands to give example to others: for which the people do now
pay them, as they ought to do, all possible reverence and admiration.
The King proceeds daily to relieve all the poor people with infinite
quantities of bread and cheese, and in this is truly God’s vicegerent,
that he does not only save from fire but give life too.

[Illustration: TEMPLE BARE

The West-Side

From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.]

I believe there was never any such desolation by fire since the
destruction of Jerusalem, nor will be till the last and general
conflagration. Had your lordship been at Kensington you would have
thought—for five days together, for so long the fire lasted—it had
been Doomsday, and that the heavens themselves had been on fire; and
the fearful cries and howlings of undone people did much increase the
resemblance. My walks and gardens were almost covered with the ashes
of papers, linen, etc., and pieces of ceiling and plaister-work blown
thither by the tempest.

The loss is inestimable, and the consequence to all public and private
affairs not presently imaginable, but in appearance very dreadful: yet
I doubt not but the king and his people will be able to weather it out,
though our enemies grow insolent upon it.

The greatest part of the wealth is saved, the loss having chiefly
fallen upon heavy goods, wine, tobacco, sugars, etc.; but all the money
in specie, plate, jewels, etc., were sent into the Tower, where it now
lies; and the Tower itself had been fired, but that it preserved itself
by beating down the houses about it, playing continually with their
cannon upon all that was fired, and so stopped the progress.

So great was the general despair, that when the fire was in the Temple,
houses in the Strand, adjoining to Somerset House, were blown up on
purpose to save that house, and all men, both in City and suburbs,
carried away their goods all day and night by carts, which were not to
be had but at most inhumane prices. Your lordship’s servant in Queen
Street made a shift to put some of your best chairs and fine goods into
your rich coach, and sent for my horses to draw them to Kensington,
where they now are.

Without doubt there was nothing of plot or design in all this, though
the people would fain think otherwise. Some lay it upon the French and
Dutch, and are ready to knock them all on the head, wheresoever they
meet them; others upon the fanatics, because it broke out so near the
3rd of September, their so celebrated day of triumph; others upon the
Papists, because some of them are now said to be in arms; but ’tis no
otherwise than as part of those militias which are, or ought to be, in
a posture everywhere.

All the stories of making and casting of fire-balls are found to be
mere fictions when they are traced home; for that which was said to
be thrown upon Dorset House was a firebrand, seen by the Duke of York
upon the Thames to be blown thither, and upon notice thereof given by
his highness was for that time quenched. But there could be no plot
without some time to form it in: and making so many parties to it, we
must needs have had some kind of intelligence of it: besides, no rising
follows it, nor any army appears anywhere to second such a design.
Above all, there hath been no attempt upon the King or Duke’s person,
which might easily have been executed had this been any effect of

Men begin now everywhere to recover their spirits again and think of
repairing the old and rebuilding a new City. I am told this day by
Mr. Chichely the City have sent to the King to desire a new model.
Vaults are daily opened wherein are found immense quantities of
pepper, spices, and wines, oils and sugars, etc., safe and untouched,
though the houses were fired: but all the cloth laid in St. Faith’s
Church under St. Paul’s is burnt. Gresham College is set apart for
an Exchange and Post Office. Leadenhall is to supply the uses of
Guildhall; and without doubt, when the Parliament meets, as much will
be done towards the restoring of the City, and in it of the kingdom, to
its ancient lustre and esteem, as can be expected from the piety and
policy of so dutiful an assembly.”

The fourth eye-witness whom I shall quote is a certain Edward Atkyns in
a letter preserved in the _London and Middlesex Note-book_ (p. 171):—

“GOOD BROTHER—I received your letter and shall give you ye best account
I can of our late sad fire, though it is scarcely possible for any man
fully to describe it. It began at a Baker’s house in Pudding Lane,
near Thames Street, on Sunday morning about 2 or 3 of ye clock: and
burnt doone several houses, but could not be quencht in regard it was
a narrow place where engines could not play, and ye Lord Maior did not
think fit to pull doone eny houses to prevent ye further spreading of
ye fire: about 10 of ye clock, whilst we were at church, there was
a cry in the streets yt ye Dutch and French were in armes, and had
fired the Citty, and therefore ye Ministers dismist their several
congregations, but wee yt were soe remote thought little of it. In
the afternoon I went into the temple garden, where I saw it had made
an unhappy progresse, and had consumed towards the Thames side many
houses and 2 or 3 churches, as Laurence Pointney Church, which I saw
strongly fired, and other churches, and at last growing violent,
and meeting with many wharfes, and the wind being high, it grew very
formidable, and we began to thinke of its nearer approach. By Monday
morning it had burnt doone all Thames Street, New Fish Street, and some
part of Cannon Street, and thereupon ye Citizens began to neglect ye
fire, and in fine, and to be short, by Wednesday evening it had burnt
all the City: yesterday I went from St. Dunstan’s Church to Bpgates
Street, and there is not one house standing betwixt those places, there
one only within the wall, but a part of these 3 streets remaining,
viz. part of Leadenhall Street, Basinghall and Bpgates Street, all
the rest burnt to the ground, and not so much as a considerable piece
of timber as I could see saved from the fire: it is impossible almost
to conceive the total destruction, all the churches burnt, nay, some
of ye churches, as Bow Church and ... have not so much as the walls
standing: all the Halls, as Guild-hall, Merchant Taylors, Mercers
Chapel, Old Exchange, burnt downe to the ground, soe yt you can hardly
tell where such a Parish or place was: I can say but this, that there
is nothing but stones and rubbish, and all exposed to the open aire,
soe yt you may see from one end of ye Citty almost to the other. St.
Paul’s Church, ye very stones, are crumbled and broken into shivers,
and slatts, and you can compare London (were yt not for ye rubbish) to
nothing more than an open field. The Citizens were forced to remove
their goods into the open fields, and £2:10 a Cart was no deare value
to carry away ye goods, the inner Temple almost all burnt, and pulled
down except ye Temple Church, ye Hall much defaced, and ye Exchequer
Office, Sergeants Inn in Fleet Street, and all to St. Dunstan’s Church,
and soe on ye other side to Holborne Bridge: ye King and Duke of Yorke
were exceedingly active, or otherwise I doubt the suburbs would have
undergone ye same calamity. Some have conceived it was a plott, but
most, and ye King himself, believed yt it was only ye Hand of God.
Ye King comforts ye Citizens with ye rebuilding of ye Citty, but God
knows when yt will be: ye Exchange is now kept at Gresham College,
where I heard yesterday there was a full exchange of Merchants. My
father’s house at St. Ellens stands well; the fire began to seize
upon Chancery Lane, having burnt up Fetter Lane, and came as far as
Brides Lane and Whites Alley, but, blessed be God, suppressed, and all
things safe at your house and chambers: but Mr. Hainson of Cateaton
Street Mr. Lowe has enquired for, and cannot hear of him, his house
suffered the same calamity. Dr. Tillotson has lost many goods and
£100 worth of books: he has taken a house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
where his father-in-law purposes to remain. 40,000 quarters of Corne
destroyed in Bridewell—being the City—store. Sir William Backhouse has
lost £1600 per an. in houses and in the benefit of ye New River. Sir
R. Lucy and ye Lady Allen and Lady Fairfax about 3 or 400 per an. Sir
Richard Browne’s house burnt to the ground, where he has sustained
great losses, and my brother Broone likewise, for my sister being then
ill, all the care was to remove her. They and all now at ye Red Lyon,
Holborne, my sister at her sister Howards house at Rockhampton. My
father came up on Monday, and staid removing his goods till Wednesday
morning, and I sat up all ye night, but through Mercy, Chancery Lane
is yet standing, except St. John’s Head next Lincolns ... was pulled
doone by way of prevention, and another house towards Holborne. The
Parliament will certainly meet at ye day: ye Duke of Albemarle is now
in London. There was a flying report of an engagement at sea, but not
confirmed. Several persons, foreigners, are in prison upon suspicion,
but little will be made of it, as I am informed the Attorney-General
very ill. My father and his family are well at Albany, where my wife
went on Thursday last. I had gone my circuit and my last two counties
this week, but ye fire prevented my intentions. If we cannot find out
your cousin Harrison I’le go to Totnam on Tuesday next and inquire
after him, and how it stands in reference to your goods in his custody;
but I believe he having notice sufficient, and being a prudent man,
has secured both his owne and youre goods. Houses are now at an
excessive value, and my Lord Treasurer’s new buildings are now in great
request. I think it best yt you remove noe goods either in your house
or chambers, for I doe believe ye danger is well over, only we have
frequent alarms of fire, sometimes in one place and then in another: it
only now burns in cellars and warehouses, where either coals, spirits,
or other combustible matters were lodged. I thinke it convenient yt
you be here agst the sitting of Parliament, for there will be need of
you: great watch is kept, for though the judgements of God have been
soe remarkable, yet you would wonder at ye profaneness of people, and
how little some are concerned in this sad calamity. My hearty service
to my sister and nephew, Sir Robert: my father writt a letter this week
to you, but no post went, and I cannot come at ye letter. My mother
has had a great loss in her house by Ludgate—for what service I can
perform pray command me. My paper bids me end. Our navy is come into
St. Helen’s Bay.—I am your ever loving brother, most ready to serve you,

                                                        EDW. ATKYNS.”

The following account is from Dean Milman’s _Annals of St. Paul’s_.

“A certain Doctor Taswell remembered well the awful event, for it
happened between his election and admission as a king’s scholar at
Westminster. It was likely to be graven deeply on the memory of a
boy. ‘On Sunday between ten and eleven, just as I was standing upon
the steps leading up to the pulpit in Westminster Abbey, I discovered
some people below me, running to and fro in a seeming inquietude and
consternation; immediately almost a report reached my ears that London
was in a conflagration. Without any ceremony I took leave of the
preacher, and having ascended the Parliament steps near the Thames, I
soon perceived four boats crowded with objects of distress. These had
escaped from the fire scarce under any covering but that of a blanket.’

The next day (Monday) Dolben, then Dean of Westminster, set gallantly
forth at the head of the Westminster boys (the Dean, by Taswell’s
account, had frequently in the civil wars mounted guard as sentinel)
to do what they could to render assistance in staying the fire. They
went a long way, for they aided in saving the Church of St. Dunstan in
the East by fetching water from the back sides of the building, and so
extinguishing the fire. Taswell acted as a sort of aide-de-camp page to
the Dean. During this expedition Taswell may have heard or seen what
he relates about St. Paul’s. ‘The people who lived contiguous to St.
Paul’s Church raised their expectations greatly concerning the absolute
security of that place upon account of the immense thickness of its
walls and its situation, built on a large piece of ground on every
side remote from houses.’ Upon that account they filled it with all
sorts of goods; and besides, in the Church of St. Faith, under that of
St. Paul, they deposited libraries of books, because it was entirely
arched over; and with great caution and prudence even the least avenue,
through which the smallest spark could penetrate, was stopped up.
‘But,’ Taswell proceeds, ‘this precaution availed them little. As I
stood upon the bridge (a small one over a creek at the foot of what is
now Westminster Bridge), among many others, I could not but observe the
progress of the fire towards that venerable fabric. About eight o’clock
it broke out on the top of St. Paul’s Church, almost scorched up by
the violent heat of the air and lightning too, and before nine blazed
so conspicuously as to enable me to read very clearly a 16mo. edition
of Terence which I carried in my pocket.’ This was on Tuesday 4th; on
Thursday, like a bold boy, Taswell, soon after sunrising, endeavoured
to reach St. Paul’s. ‘The ground was so hot as almost to scorch my
shoes, and the air so intensely warm, that unless I had stopped some
time upon Fleet Bridge to rest myself, I must have fainted under the
extreme languor of my spirits. After giving myself a little time to
breathe, I made the best of my way to St. Paul’s.

And now let any person judge of the extreme emotion I was in when
I perceived the metal belonging to the bells melting, the ruinous
condition of the walls, with heaps of stones, of a large circumference,
tumbling down with a great noise just upon my feet, ready to crush
me to death. I prepared myself for retiring back again, having first
loaded my pockets with several pieces of bell-metal.

I forgot to mention that near the east end of St. Paul’s’ (he must
have got quite round the church) ‘a human body presented itself to me,
parched up as it were with the flames, white as to skin, meagre as to
flesh, yellow as to colour. This was an old decrepit woman who fled
here for safety, imagining the flames would not have reached her there;
her clothes were burned, and every limb reduced to a coal. In my way
home I saw several engines which were bringing up to its assistance,
all on fire, and those engaged with them escaping with all eagerness
from the flames, which spread instantaneous almost like a wildfire, and
at last, _accoutred with my sword and helmet_, which I picked up among
many others in the ruins, I traversed this torrid zone back again.’

Taswell relates that the papers from the books in St. Faith’s were
carried with the wind as far as Eton. The Oxonians observed the rays of
the sun tinged with an unusual kind of redness, a black darkness seemed
to cover the whole atmosphere. To impress this more deeply on Taswell’s
memory, his father’s house was burned and plundered by officious
persons offering to aid.”



From the engraving by Hollar.]

                              CHAPTER VI

                         LONDON AFTER THE FIRE

Let us turn to London rebuilt after the Fire. The City now began to
grow outside the walls with determination; it was found impossible to
stop its expansion any longer. London spread out long arms and planted
colonies, so to speak; the craftsmen, driven out of their old quarters
in the City by the increase of trade, and consequently of warehouses,
quays, shops, and offices, settled down in the new colonies. The City
joined hands with Westminster; it ran houses along Holborn to the
Tyburn Road; it reared a suburb at Bloomsbury; it turned Clerkenwell
into a crowded town; it made settlements at Ratcliffe, Mile End, and
Stepney; it created a river-side population beyond Wapping (_see_
Appendix VI.)

The map of Porter, _circa_ 1660 (London Topographical Society, 1898),
shows us the suburbs of that date.

Beginning with the east, we find a continuous line of houses “on the
wall between St. Katherine’s and Limehouse.” Wapping contains two
streets parallel with the river; at intervals there are stairs. What
was afterwards Ratcliffe Highway is a broad road with cottages on
either side, half a mile long; on the north of this road are fields
intersected by country lanes. Stepney Church stands in the middle of
fields. In the Whitechapel Road there are no houses beyond the church.
On the north-east of the Tower is a broad open area, on the north of
which stand, apparently, some of the remains of Eastminster. In the
Minories, however, we look in vain for the ruins of the nunnery,
though these were undoubtedly still standing at the time. Petticoat
Lane, running into Wentworth Street, is the only street leading out of
Whitechapel. On the north of Wentworth Street are the Spittle Fields;
the Cloister and Cross of St. Mary Spital are visible. Lines of houses
run north along Bishopsgate Street as far as Shoreditch Church.

North-east of Moorfields are Finsbury Fields. Cripplegate Without and
Clerkenwell are thickly populated, including the Barbican, Chiswell,
Red Cross, White Cross, and Grub Street. Goswell Street, as far north
as the Charterhouse, Little Britain, Long Lane, and St. John Street,
West Smithfield, were enclosed. There were houses as far west as St.
Giles’s. Between Holborn and the Strand, or Fleet Street, lay Fetter
Lane and Chancery Lane; between them large gardens; Lincoln’s Inn
Fields was an open area of irregular shape, the gardens of Lincoln’s
Inn occupying the same position as to-day. New Inn and Clement’s Inn
have a garden behind them; Drury Lane is an open road; Covent Garden is
the “Piazzo.” Along the river-side are Bridewell, Whitefriars, nearly
all a garden; the Temple, Essex House, Arundel House, Somerset House,
The Savoy, Worcester House, Durham House, Buckingham House, Northampton
House, Whitehall, each in its own broad garden. There are no houses
in Pall Mall; none in the Haymarket, except a “Gaming House” in the
north-east corner. Piccadilly is “Pecadilly Mall” without a single
house. Westminster consists of King Street and the lanes round the

[Illustration: SOMERSET PALACE, 1650

From a contemporary print.]

On the south side there is a fringe of houses on the river wall,
forming a street extending for nearly a mile east of London Bridge;
there are houses in “Barmisie” Lane; a single street, ending with St.
George’s Church; another fringe of houses west of the Bridge, nearly
as far as the bend of the river to the south. A theatre is still
standing—or is it a house for bear-baiting?—apparently on the site
of the Globe. There is a strange and unexpected street, with houses
on either side, in the very middle of Lambeth Marsh. And with these
exceptions, and a few cottages dotted about, there are no houses
south of the river at all. The whole of the low-lying ground is covered
with gardens, orchards, and meadows.

[Illustration: From an old print published by William Herbert, Lambeth.]


  _The three Houses above represented, stood on the banks of the
  Thames nearly adjoining each other. DURHAM HOUSE, the first in the
  Plate, occupied the spot called DURHAM YARD, now the ADELPHI, and
  was built by Ant^y. Bec Bish^p. of Durham, as a town residence for
  the Bishops of that See. SALISBURY HOUSE was erected by Robert
  Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, in the reign of James I. and covered the
  site of the present Salisbury and Cecil Streets. WORCESTER HOUSE,
  originally belonged to the See of Carlisle. It afterwards came into
  the possession of the Earls of Worcester. Edw^d. the last Earl of
  Worcester died here in 1627. His son Hen^y. being created Duke of
  Beaufort, it was called BEAUFORT HOUSE, and the Site is now called
  BEAUFORT BUILDINGS. The above View was taken about the year 1630._}

Turning now to the new London as it was after the Fire, we have
Ogilby’s excellent map of 1677 (_see_ Map) showing the whole of London
from Somerset House to St. Katherine by the Tower, and from the
river to Clerkenwell, Chiswell Street, and Norton Folgate. It does
not, indeed, include Westminster or Southwark. This map is an exact
survey of the town as it was during the latter part of the seventeenth
century, making allowance for some increase of houses in the northern
suburbs. It is on the large scale of 100 feet to the inch; it presents
every building, every street, and every lane, court, and alley. It
consists of twenty sheets. I propose to pass this map under review,
taking the streets in line from west to east.

The area of the City within the walls, according to Ogilby, was 380
acres; including the Liberties, it was 680 acres; the length from
Temple Bar to Whitechapel Bar is 9256 feet, or one mile, six furlongs,
and a pole; the breadth from the Bars of Bishopsgate to the Bridge 4653
feet, or seven furlongs and two poles. If we include the suburbs, the
distance between Blackwall inclusive and St. James’s Street is nearly
six miles; between St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, and the end of Blackman
Street, Southwark, is two and a half miles.

In Clerkenwell, we observe, taking St. James’s Church as a centre, that
on the north side, apparently on the site of the Cloister, there lies
a garden surrounded by buildings named “The Duke of Newcastle.” On
the south-east side is the churchyard; on the west and south-west are
Clerkenwell Close and Clerkenwell Green. A hundred yards north-west of
the church stands the “New Corporation Court Yard” with its “Bridewell
Yard” and the “New Prison Walk” leading to it. Behind the Court Yard
is a “Churchyard for Clerkenwell.” Beyond and west of the Court are
bowling fields, ponds—one of them a ducking pond—pasture lands, and
private gardens; the houses are few. In the south part, however, round
Hockley in the Hole, at the east end of which is a pond, the houses
stand thickly with small gardens and open courts. Clerkenwell Green
leads into St. John Street where the Inns begin. Here are the White
Horse Yard and the Red Bull Yard; here are Aylesbury House and Gardens,
500 feet long by 200 feet broad. The east side of the street is lined
with houses, apparently of the humbler kind, for they have no gardens
and are divided by narrow alleys or lanes. On the north lie “Gardiners’
Gardens,” that is, market gardens. Between St. John’s Street and
Goswell Street are fields and woods, belonging to the Charter House.
Old Street runs out of Goswell Street, and like the east side of that
street and the east side of St. John’s Street, it is lined with small
houses and narrow alleys. Between Goswell Street and Bunhill Fields
lies a quarter thickly inhabited and covered with houses. Golden
Lane and White Cross Street run across this district in a north-west
direction. Between the two streets, on the north of Playhouse Yard,
is a churchyard, and on the Bunhill side are gardens behind the
houses; the largest of them is not more than 80 feet square. There is
no church in this thickly populated area, more than a quarter of a
mile long by nearly as much broad. It is evidently a place inhabited
by the craftsmen, most of whom have ceased to live any longer in the
City. The houses and gardens of Bunhill overlooking the “New Artillery
Garden” remind us that many of the citizens had already begun to live
out of town. Continuing east, beyond the Artillery Garden, we find
Upper Moorfields, with trees planted on all four sides and paths
intersecting; a large area called “Butchers’ Close or Tenter Field,”
and a thickly built part bounded on the north by Hog Lane, and on the
east by Norton Folgate. Here, again, the abundance of narrow alleys and
the houses without gardens proclaim a humble population. Shoreditch
is lined with houses; on its east side lies a large open space called
Porter Close, with Spital Fields beyond. Two or three streets are
fully built, but the vacant spaces are many and wide. No church is on
this part of the map, except St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch. We observe on
the west of Norton Folgate two or three of the little streams which
formerly ran across the moor here; they lie open for a little space and
then disappear again.

[Illustration: _The Charter-House Hospital_

From a contemporary print.]

The second line of maps carries us from east to west in the latitude of
Gray’s Inn. The only buildings of the Inn are South Square, Gray’s Inn
Square, and the Hall and Chapel. The rest of the Inn is planted thickly
with trees, or lies open, a beautiful garden. Not far to the east of
Gray’s Inn are the great gardens of Furnival’s Inn. Between Gray’s Inn
Road and the Fleet River lies a quarter thickly populated on the west
and the east, but with many open spaces, especially on either side
of Hatton Garden and Saffron Hill. What were these open spaces? They
were not gardens, or the fact would have been indicated; they were not
enclosed. Were they simply open spaces, the playground of children, the
retreat of pickpockets? In this place, apparently, no gentlefolk dwelt,
and there is no church.

We now cross over the Fleet and find ourselves in the classic regions
of Turnmill Street, Cow Cross, and Chick Lane. Here, however, we are
in a suburb which has been occupied and partly built over since the
twelfth century. North of Chick Lane is the new churchyard of St.
Sepulchre’s, re-discovered recently when excavations took place which
revealed stacks of human bones regularly laid and piled. I believe
that these bones were moved from the old churchyard, which seems the
only way to account for their great number, and the regular method
of laying them. They have now been moved to some consecrated ground,
and the place is built over. St. John’s Lane leads to St. John’s
Gate, and Berkeley House and Gardens are on the west side; the great
houses of the Elizabethan period are replaced by mean tenements. On
the south side of St. John’s Street is “Hix’s” Hall. Further south,
again, passing through the Bars, we are in Smithfield. The church of
Little St. Bartholomew was not yet within the Hospital; that of St.
Bartholomew the Great shows the ambulatory and the Lady Chapel, but
not the transepts. Charter House shows the Courts as at present; on
the east side of Charterhouse Yard are the houses and gardens of the
Marquis of Dorchester and Lord Gray. St. Bartholomew’s Close is a large
open space; Cloth Fair and the narrow streets around it are much the
same to-day as then; the whole area is covered with narrow alleys and
courts with narrow openings. Between Aldersgate Street and Little Moor
Fields lies a suburb thickly built over except on the northern portion
south of Chiswell Street, where the houses are more scattered and
there are gardens and, apparently, small fields. The same remarkable
abundance of open courts approached by narrow passages that has been
already mentioned may be observed here. East of Aldersgate, and just
under the wall at the Cripplegate angle, are the gardens of Thanet
House. North of Barbican are those of Bridgewater House. St. Giles’s
Church has taken over a part of the town ditch for an extension of its
churchyard; the wall is encroached upon on both sides by buildings,
but a strip on the south side is still left free from buildings. As
regards the portion of the City included in this street, it will be
noticed farther on. The upper field has trees planted along its sides
and diagonally from point to point shading two intersecting fields;
the lower field has also trees along its sides and two paths across
at right angles, also planted with trees. On these fields the people
turned out by the Fire encamped until they could rebuild their houses;
it is, however, impossible to describe the great number of streets east
and west of the Fields, without feeling sure that the houses afforded
lodgings, better or worse, for the great majority of the homeless. On
the south of Moorfields stood the New Bethlehem Hospital, a long narrow
building on the outside of the wall, a piece of which has been cut down
to afford an entrance from the City. The old churchyard of Bethlehem,
about 200 feet by 300 feet, lay on the north-east side of Lower
Moorfields; the site of St. Mary Bethlehem is preserved in the name of
a street or court: “Bethlehem”—between the yard and Bishopsgate Street
Without. St. Botolph’s without Bishopsgate has taken a large piece of
the town ditch for an extension of churchyard; the lane running along
its north side leads into Petty France, now called North Broad Street.
All the ground about this part is now swallowed up by the Liverpool
and Broad Street Stations. Bishopsgate Street Without, with the ground
east and west, is completely built up and covered with houses. The site
of Old Artillery Garden is still marked by Artillery Lane, which led
into it. East of Bishopsgate Street we find Petticoat Lane, Wentworth
(then called Wentford) Street, Brick Lane, Carter Street, Fashion
Street, Dean and Tower Streets, and other streets and lanes, lined with
houses but not yet filled in with courts; the houses, in nearly all
cases, have gardens behind them. One wishes for a drawing of one of
these early Whitechapel streets, but in vain. Tenter fields fill up the
spaces not yet built over.

We next come to the third line of maps. On the north of this line runs
the noble highway of Holborn; on its north side we pass Warwick House,
Gray’s Inn; and Brook House, evidently a stately building in the form
of a court, with a gateway to the street and gardens behind; this is
separated from Furnival’s Inn by a narrow lane. The Inn, whose gardens
we have already noticed, presents in plan an oblong outer court, a
hall and chapel, and an unfinished inner court; Ely House has a court,
gardens and buildings, and a hall. In the street itself stands the
Middle Row, only taken down a few years ago; at its east end, and just
west of Staple Inn, are the Holborn Bars. We next observe Chancery
Lane; its west side is largely taken up with Lincoln’s Inn. The Inn
itself consists of the first two courts, the chapel, and the hall; the
rest is all garden, open on the east to Chancery Lane, and on the west
to the Fields. Lincoln’s Inn Fields are not enclosed and are crossed by
paths; the south side is occupied by “Portugal Row.” South of the Inn,
on the ground now covered by part of New Square and by part of the High
Courts of Justice, is an open space called Lower Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
the existence of which appears to have been neglected by writers on
topography. On the east side of Chancery Lane there are continuous
houses, and behind them the gardens of Staple Inn, the Rolls with the
Master’s house, the chapel, and the gardens.

Following the south side of Holborn we find Staple Inn, much as it is
at the present day, but with fine and spacious gardens; Barnard’s Inn,
as it was before it was turned into a school; Fetter Lane, where most
of the houses still had gardens; Thavies Inn, with its two courts and
its small garden; and St. Andrew’s Church and Churchyard. The labyrinth
of undistinguished streets called Harding Street, New Street, etc., is
almost the same in 1677 as at present, save that it was not as yet the
Printers’ Quarter.

At the end of Holborn is Holborn Bridge, crossing the Fleet, which is
here called the New Canal; barges and boats lie upon it. At the back
of the street now called Farringdon Street, facing the stream, are
two burial yards, one belonging to St. Andrew’s, Holborn; the other,
lower down, to St. Bride’s, Fleet Street; on the west side a great
number of narrow streets branch off to the east, ending at Snow Hill
and the Old Bailey. Newgate Prison lies north and south of the Gate,
quite separated from the court. The Gate and wall crossed the road 200
yards east of Giltspur Street. Passing over Holborn Bridge we can walk
up Snow Hill, which leads us to St. Sepulchre’s Church and Newgate,
or we can keep straight on through Cock Lane to Giltspur Street, Pie
Corner, and St. Bartholomew’s and Smithfield. The Hospital consists
apparently of one court only. Three large churchyards lie round it:
that of St. Bartholomew the Less; that called “Bartholomew Churchyard,”
and the “Hospital Churchyard,” on the site of the town ditch. In front
of Newgate Prison stood a block of buildings like the Middle Row of
Holborn, Butcher’s Row in the Strand, or Holywell Street; on the west
side the narrow street was called the Little Old Bailey. Among the
courts leading out of the Little Old Bailey we observe Green Arbour
Court, afterwards the residence of Oliver Cromwell.

The next sheet is altogether within the City.

We then come to Aldgate and Whitechapel. The eastern limits of the map
run through Goodman’s Fields, in 1677 really open fields. We observe
that from Aldgate to the Tower, the site of the town ditch is still
left open. A broad space not built over lies across the site of the

[Illustration: NEWGATE, 1650

From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.]

The last line of streets begins with Somerset House. Taking the north
side we find Lyon’s Inn between Holywell Street and Wych Street;
Clement’s Inn and New Inn, side by side, each with its two courts
and its garden; Butcher Row, built in the middle of the Strand, and
a labyrinth of courts, lanes, and yards lying between Clement’s Inn
and Bell Yard, the whole now occupied by the High Courts of Justice;
Clifford’s Inn lies north of St. Dunstan’s Church in Fleet Street.

On the south side we get Somerset House and Gardens, soon to be
all built over; the two Temples with their gardens—a vast number
of wherries are waiting at the Temple Stairs—and the Whitefriars
Precinct, between Whitefriars Lane and Water Lane, where there is a
dock for barges. St. Bride’s is called St. Bridget’s; the Palace of
Bridewell, with its two courts and two gateways, is represented as
still standing. The Duke’s Theatre on the south-east side of Salisbury
Court perhaps accounts for the number of wherries gathered at the

Passing over the City we come to the Tower, and beyond the Tower to
the eastern boundary of our map. As to the crowded lanes and courts on
the other side of the Tower, there is nothing to say about them; they
belong to the Precinct of St. Katherine, now almost entirely converted
into a dock.

We have thus gone all round the City from Somerset House west to St.
Katherine’s east, and from the City wall on the south to Clerkenwell on
the north. These were no longer rural retreats or villages; they were,
for the most part, completely built over and laid out in streets; there
were among them half a dozen noblemen’s houses. As there were none left
in the City, it is certain that the former connection between the City
and the nobility had been well-nigh destroyed; but not quite. Prince
Rupert is said to have lived in the Barbican, and there are still the
houses we have found in Ogilby and those along the riverside between
the Temple and Westminster. In all these suburbs there are as yet no
new churches, and for all these crowded suburbs, only ten old churches.
There are few schools. In the seventeenth century was begun the fatal
neglect of the populace, formerly living in the City under surveillance
and discipline, taught, trained, and kept in their place. This was
the creating cause of the terrible London mob of the next century.
What could be expected, when a vast population was allowed to grow up
without guidance, without instruction, without religion, and without
even a police? We observe also that outside the City there was a great
number of market gardens, with gardens at the back of every house until
the space is wanted, when courts and alleys are run into them. The
Londoner always loved a garden, and had one as long as he could (_see_
Appendix VII.).

Let us next, very briefly, consider the City of 1677 as represented
by this map. It is eleven years after the Fire. It is sometimes
stated, loosely, that it took a great many years to rebuild London.
The statement is only true as regards the churches and the companies’
halls. The City itself was rebuilt with every possible despatch.
As for the plans prepared by Wren and Evelyn, they came under the
consideration of the Council after the people had begun with feverish
haste to clear away the rubbish and to rebuild. The actual alterations
made by order of the Mayor were carefully enumerated by Maitland, and
will be found in their place (Appendices V. and VI.).

We must remember that the people, deprived of their shops and their
warehouses, huddled together in temporary huts erected on Moorfields,
with the winter before them, or lodged in the mean tenements of the
suburbs, living on bounty and charity, were eager to get back to their
own places. Every man claimed his own ground; every heap of rubbish
was the site of a house; every house had its owner or its tenant;
without a workshop or his counter there was no means of making a
livelihood. Therefore, even before the ashes were cooled, the people
were picking their way through the encumbered lanes, crying “Mine!
Mine!” and shovelling away the rubbish in order to put up the walls
anew. The improvements ordered by the Mayor were not, one fears,
carried out exactly; we know by sad experience the difficulty of
getting such an order or a regulation obeyed. If we look into Ogilby’s
map we see plainly that as regards the streets and courts, London after
the Fire was very much the same as London before the Fire; there were
the same narrow streets, the same crowded alleys, the same courts and
yards. Take, for instance, the small area lying between Bread Street
Hill on the west and Garlick Hill on the east, between Trinity Lane
on the north and Thames Street on the south: is it possible to crowd
more courts and alleys into this area? Can we believe that after the
Fire London was relieved of its narrow courts with this map before us?
Look at the closely-shut-in places marked on the maps, “1 g., m. 46,
m. 47, m. 48, m. 40.” These are respectively, Jack Alley, Newman’s
Rents, Sugar Loaf Court, Three Cranes Court, and Cowden’s Rents. Some
of these courts survive to this day. They were formed, as the demand
for land grew, by running narrow lanes between the backs of houses
and swallowing up the gardens. There were 479 such courts in Ogilby’s
London of 1677, 472 alleys, and 172 yards, besides 128 inns, each of
which, with its open courts for the standing of vehicles, and its
galleries, stood retired from the street on a spot which had once been
the fair garden of a citizen’s house.


From a print published by J. Sewell, Dec. 1, 1791.]

The projecting upper stories had disappeared; wooden houses and
thatched roofs were no longer permitted; moreover, the hot breath of
the Fire had burned up the infected soil, the noisome laystalls, and
the plague-smitten churchyards; the wreck and rubbish of the Fire had
choked the wells fed from the contaminated soil: these were not, for
the most part, reopened. As for the churches, we know the date of the
rebuilding of every one. In 1677 there were only about twenty rebuilt
out of all the eighty-seven which were burned down; a white square
space on the map indicates the site of a church not yet rebuilt.

The picturesqueness of London had been lost; gables, projecting
stories, casement windows gave place to a straight façade, and flat
square windows with sashes. In this map of 1677 we step from the
seventeenth to the eighteenth century. And the most ardent admirer
of Wren will hardly aver that his cathedral and his churches were
externally more beautiful, while they were much less venerable, than
those which they replaced.

The demand for land and its value was shown in the curious way in
which many of the churches were built. Some had houses beside and over
the porch; some against the north or south side: as, for instance,
the church of St. Ethelburga, which still has houses built before the
west front; the churches of St. Peter Cornhill, St. Mary le Bow, and
St. Michael, the church of St. Alphege, all hidden by houses. The old
craft quarters had by this time almost disappeared. But there were
still places which continued to keep what modern tradesmen call a
“line.” Linen-drapers and toymen were found in Fleet Street; here also
jewellers held raffles; mutton was sold in Newgate Market; beef in
Leadenhall; veal at St. James’s; the cheesemongers set up their shops
in Thames Street; second-hand booksellers round Moorfields; second-hand
clothes-men in Monmouth Street: fruit was sold in Covent Garden;
mercers were always faithful to Cheapside; bankers and money-lenders
were found in Lombard Street; milliners had stalls in the upper rooms
of the Royal and the New Exchange.

The frays and feuds between the crafts, which constantly arose during
the earlier centuries, had almost become things of the past: but in
1664 the weavers and the butchers reminded the elders of the good old
days by one more burst of brawling and fighting. It seems strange that
so peaceful a creature as the weaver came oft victorious. The weavers
marched triumphantly about the streets offering a hundred pounds for
the production of a butcher, and the blue smocks stayed at home in the
shambles of Newgate, inglorious and defeated. And a butcher, too! a man
of blood and slaughter! The streets, with the exception of Cheapside
and Ludgate Hill, were not used by ladies as a place of walking and
meeting. The merchants met on ’Change; the lawyers had their Inns of
Court; for social and convivial purposes there were the taverns. Nor
were the streets used greatly for purposes of locomotion; if a man
wished to go from the Tower stairs to Blackfriars or from the Temple
to Westminster, he took a boat; the Thames was, and continued until
the nineteenth century, the great highway of the City; thousands of
boats and barges plied up and down the river; the old ferry—the ferry
of St. Mary Overies—still crossed the river above the bridge; that
called the Horseferry still crossed the river at Westminster. It was
a great deal easier and shorter to take oars than to walk, to ride,
or to take a “glass coach”: one of the newly invented machines which
replaced the old coach, with its perforated sides for windows. No one
thought it a scandal that the watermen on the river should exchange
language which in these days would drive every decent man or woman from
the boats for ever. It was natural that rough and coarse men, like the
watermen, should use rough and coarse language. The ladies of Charles
the Second’s time heard coarseness unparalleled from these fellows
with much the same air with which ladies of our own time pass a group
of working-men energetically strengthening every assertion with the
universal adjective. They hear, but they do not hear.

[Illustration: S^t. Ethelburga. _within Bishopsgate_.

From a contemporary print.]

As we already know, shooting London Bridge was a dangerous feat except
at high and low water. Some of the boats were tilt boats, covered,
that is, with a tilt or awning of canvas to keep off the rain; they
were a kind of omnibus, and ran between Greenwich and London, with
other lines. Most of them, however, were wherries of the kind which
still survive, though they are now little used. It is melancholy to
look at the river of to-day above Bridge and to compare its silence
and loneliness with the animation and bustle of two hundred years ago,
when it was covered with boats taking passengers up and down the river,
barges with parties, stately barges of the Mayor and the Companies,
Royal barges, cargo-freighted barges, boats with anglers moored in mid
stream, tilt boats, sailing boats, and every conceivable kind of small
craft. When the Queen came down from Hampton Court ten thousand boats
accompanied her.


From a print drawn and etched in 1792 by J. T. Smith.]

We read a great deal about the insanitary condition of the City, the
narrow lanes, the projecting storeys nearly meeting at the top, the
laystalls and the stinking heaps of offal and refuse, which were not
abolished by the Fire but only burnt up. No doubt these things were
bad; probably they contributed to the spread of the Plague. However,
the City was as healthy as any town in the world, as cities then went;
it stood upon a broad tidal river which swept up a fresh wind with
every tide—twice a day; the City was less than half a mile in breadth,
and on all sides it was surrounded by open spaces and broad moorland.
Fresh pure air on every side, without a town to speak of for twenty
miles around. Moreover it stood upon a hill, or many hills; the ground
sloped to the river and to the two streams; the climate had always been
rainy, and the rain washed the streets and carried away the decaying

There were public latrines in the streets and cesspools at the back of
every house; carts went about for the collection and removal of things
which require removal; they emptied their contents sometimes in the
river, unless they were stopped; sometimes in “laystalls,” of which
there continued to be many outside the walls. One need do no more than
indicate the sanitary condition of a great town without any sewers.

Pepys, in one of his observations upon the effects of the Fire, says
that the Royal Exchange “is now made pretty” by having windows and
doors before all the shops to keep off the cold. So that before 1666
the shops in the Royal Exchange were mere stalls open to the cold and
wind. This, I take it, was the condition of nearly all the shops at
that time; they had no doors, and if any glass in front, then only in
the upper parts.

                          MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

                               CHAPTER I

                            FOOD AND DRINK

In considering the manners and customs of London during the seventeenth
century we are met with the difficulty that a long civil war, followed
by a visitation of Plague and a dreadful Fire, cuts the periods into
two parts, and that after the war is over and the King restored we
find great changes, in religious thought and ideas, in manners and
customs, in society and fashions. The seventeenth corresponds in this
respect with the nineteenth century; in our own time we have emerged
out of eighteenth-century ideas, which prevailed until displaced by the
silent though rapid revolution of the Victorian age. In the seventeenth
century there is a similar revolution, but violent and created by the

The City of 1670, as we have seen by our study of the map, resembled
in very few details the London of 1640. We must endeavour to bear that
point very carefully in mind. And if we take the latter, rather than
the former half of the century for consideration, it is because the
former half offers little change from the London of Queen Elizabeth.

The rents of houses varied, of course, with the site and the size. It
would appear that for £30 a year one could rent a house of moderate
size in any but the most expensive parts of the town. On Ludgate Hill
or in Cheapside the rents were a great deal higher.

Of the furniture in such a house I have an inventory belonging to the
year 1680. There were four bedrooms. One of these, the principal room,
was furnished with a carved bedstead, which had a canopy and a valence;
curtains, a looking-glass, and four chairs. The other three bedrooms
were less splendidly furnished. There was, however, a plentiful supply
of blankets, pillows, bolsters, and feather beds. There were two
parlours. One of these was hung with tapestry; curtains of green cloth
and a green carpet adorned it; it contained two tables, a clock case,
a leather chair, a plush chair, six green cloth chairs, and two green
stools. There was a cupboard and one of the tables had a drawer. The
other parlour was more simply furnished, and was hung with grey linsey
woolsey and gilt leather.

Carpets were advertised for sale in 1660; they were Turkey carpets and
intended for the cover of tables; for the floors there was matting in
those houses where rushes were not still used. Oil-cloth was introduced
about the same time; made “after the German manner” either of linen,
cloth, taffeta, or wool.

[Illustration: _House in Great S^t. Helens formerly the Residence
of S^r. J^{no}. LAWRANCE, LORD MAYOR of LONDON_ AD 1665

From a print published by J. Sewell, Feb. 1, 1796.]

Hangings of leather and of velvet were commonly used; the furniture
with tables not laid on trestles but provided with carved and decorated
supports; chairs with inlaid work and carving richly upholstered;
couches, sideboards, stools, all carved; paintings richly framed
hanging from the walls show a great advance on the Tudor time.

The inventory of the kitchen shows that pewter was the material
commonly used for plates and dishes. There is no mention of china ware.
Probably it was kept for the use of the master and mistress in the
parlour cupboard. There are wooden platters, pewter candlesticks and
pewter pint pots. And there is no mention of forks. Yet forks by that
time were well known. In 1652 Heylin speaks of “the use of silver forks
which is by some of our spruce gallants taken up of late.” It would
seem, therefore, that twenty-five years later they had not got into
general use.

The family took breakfast at eight. The meal consisted of cold meat,
small beer, and oat cake. This was not an invariable rule. Pepys once
breakfasts off bread and butter, sweetmeats, and strong wine; on
another occasion he has oysters, anchovies, and neats’ tongues. When
Cosmo, Duke of Tuscany, visited England he had breakfast with a country
gentleman, and it consisted almost entirely of Italian wine. Archbishop
Sancroft used to take two cups of coffee and a pipe of tobacco. A
learned physician recommended for breakfast two poached eggs, bread and
butter, and a cup of claret.

The amount of small beer consumed in every household was enormous. It
must be remembered that it was not only the national beverage, but,
for a great many people, the only beverage. Children drank it as well
as adults; tea was as yet only a luxury or a fashion. The household of
which I am speaking drank three quarts of beer a day for every member.
It seems impossible. We must remember, however, that people drank a
great deal more then than now—a thing of which I have no direct proof,
yet of which I am perfectly satisfied; that breakfast, dinner, and
supper would easily account for two quarts, and the remaining quart was
spread over the rest of the day. Benjamin Franklin’s fellows in the
printing office drank each his three quarts a day.

Ale, of which there were various kinds, and wine were served in the
best parlour at dinner. On the variety of drinks Chamberlayne speaks:—

“Since the late Rebellion, England hath abounded in variety of Drinks
(as it did lately in variety of Religions) above any nation in Europe.
Besides all sorts of the best wines from Spain, France, Italy, Germany,
there are sold in London above twenty sorts of other Drinks, as
Brandy, Coffee, Chocolate, Tee, Aromatick, Mum, Sider, Perry, Mede,
Metheglin, Beer, Ale, many sorts of Ales, very different, as Cock,
Stepony, Stich-back, Hull, North-Devon, Sambidge, Betony, Scurvy-grass,
Sage-Ale, Colledge-Ale, etc., a piece of wantonness whereof none of our
Ancestors were ever guilty.”

Howell sends a bottle of Metheglin to a friend with a recommendation
to use it for a morning draught. What were the heads of our
seventeenth-century ancestors made of that they could drink this heavy,
powerful stuff before breakfast?

  “To inaugurate a good and jovial New Year to you, I send you a
  morning’s draught, viz. a bottle of Metheglin. Neither Sir John
  Barleycorn or Bacchus had anything to do with it; but it is the
  pure juice of the Bee, the laborious Bee, and King of Insects. The
  Druids and old British Bards were wont to take a Carouse hereof
  before they entered into their Speculations; and if you do so when
  your Fancy labours with any thing, it will do you no Hurt, and I
  know your Fancy to be very good.

  But this Drink always carries a kind of State with it, for it must
  be attended with a brown Toast; nor will it admit but of one good
  Draught, and that in the morning; if more, it will keep a-humming
  in the head, and so speak too much of the House it comes from, I
  mean the Hive, as I gave a caution elsewhere.”

Let us go on to repeat an observation forced upon us in every age, that
London has always been a great place for good living. We learn from
Pepys what a profusion of food was offered at a dinner given at his own
house. The quantity of food habitually taken was much greater then than
now. People got up earlier; though they took little exercise for the
sake of exercise, yet they were in the open air a great deal; on the
river quiescent; in the gardens sitting, strolling, or playing bowls;
they all grew sleek and fat. These people had probably taken very
little breakfast, a few radishes, a draught of small ale or claret, a
piece of bread. The hour of dinner had advanced; it was now served at
one o’clock, or sometimes at two; it was the principal event of the
day. Food was simpler and less composed of made dishes than in the days
of Whittington and Picard. We find served roast chicken, veal, mutton
and beef, tongue, salmon, stewed carp, pies of goose, fish, turkey,
eels, and everything else. The people served their dinner in courses,
each course being, in fact, after the ancient custom, a complete dinner
in itself. There was a great deal of dining together, as Pepys lets us
see continually, and after dinner they sat and talked and drank. In the
matter of drink they were catholic. It does not seem that the merchants
did much business after dinner, for then began the time of rest,
recreation, and drinking; then came the theatre or the tavern, later on
the coffee-house, though in the evening Pepys, who was an industrious
official, got through a good deal of work.

Fresh meat was scarce, and even impossible to get, in the winter. In
the country, and perhaps in town as well, housewives had to lay in
a great stock of beef for pickling; it was bought in pieces and in
quantities of 70 lbs. at a time for the pickling tub; salt beef was the
standard winter dish, garnished with a great quantity of parsnips as a
corrective. Children and servants had no forks; small beer was brewed
at home, and gentlemen thought no more of a pint of wine than working
men think now of a pint of beer.

The fashion of putting the dinner on the table at once began to be
changed soon after the Restoration, when the dishes were presented one
after the other in some sort of order; but I find in boarding-houses
and in private houses, long after this, the custom of putting
everything on the table at the same time.

At dinner the women sat together at the upper end and helped every one,
conversing freely the while.

We find some excellent specimens of dinners in the _Diary_ of Pepys.
Here is the menu of a grand dinner (April 4, 1665):—

  “A Fricasse of rabbits and chickens, a leg of mutton boiled, three
  carps on a dish, a great dish of a side of a lamb, a dish of
  roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a lamprey
  pie (a most rare pie), a dish of anchovies, good wine of several
  sorts, and all things mighty noble and to my great content.”

About prices I find that a leg of mutton cost half-a-crown; a hand of
pork eighteenpence; butter was eightpence a pound; sugar, sixpence;
candles, fivepence; bacon, sevenpence; rice, sevenpence; tea was sixty
shillings a pound. They seem to have had all our vegetables, all our
fruit, and all our spices. But the fruit lasted only a short time;
oranges appeared at Christmas, but were then unripe and sour; they
lasted till April or May; strawberries lasted three or four weeks;
cherries about the same time. They knew how to preserve fruit for a
short time; and they pickled everything, including nasturtium buds,
lime-tree buds, and elder roots. In the stillroom the housewife made
wine out of cowslips, gooseberries, raspberries, and any kind of fruit;
she also made certain cordials and strong waters; and she made plague
water, hysterical water, fever water, and many other efficacious
remedies in case of need.

The supper, of which very little is said, was served at five or six; it
was, like breakfast, a mere informal stay. Cold meat with a “sallet,” a
tankard of strong ale, and a pipe of tobacco generally formed this meal.

As additional notes on food, one may note that asparagus was common,
but as yet very dear; goose-pie was a favourite dish; buttered shrimps
were also much in demand; vinegar and pepper were taken with roast
beef; the potato was in use since the year 1586, but as yet by no means
universally known; roast mutton was stuffed with oysters; young peacock
was a stately dish, served only on great occasions; oysters were stewed
with white wine; pigeons were stuffed, in the season, with green
gooseberries; radishes were taken with meat as a salad; grapes were
boiled in butter and served with sips of bread and sugar; turkey was
stuffed with cloves; hot salmon was thought unwholesome; dates were put
into broth; they used habitually mushrooms, sorrel, capers, and snails.

When a man gave a great dinner, he did not expect it to be prepared at
home but ordered it at the cooks’ shops, whence it was carried through
the streets in a kind of triumphal procession, a server with an apron
and a white cap going before. The fiddlers and the trumpeters went
the round of the cooks’ shops every day in order to learn where their
services might be accepted.

In Howell’s _Letters_ we read how, on one occasion, he finds a cook for
a lady, and thus describes his qualities:—

  “You spoke to me for a Cook who had seen the World abroad, and I
  think the Bearer hereof will suit your Ladyship’s Turn. He can
  marinate Fish, make Gellies; he is excellent for a piquant Sauce
  and the Haugot; besides, Madam, he is passing good for an Olla. He
  will tell your Ladyship that the reverend Matron the _Olla Podrida_
  hath Intellectuals and Senses; Mutton, Beef, and Bacon are to her
  as the Will, Understanding, and Memory are to the Soul; Cabbage,
  Turneps, Artichokes, Potatoes and Dates are her five senses, and
  Pepper the Common-sense; she must have Marrow to keep Life in her,
  and some Birds to make her light; by all means she must go adorned
  with Chains of Sausages. He is also good at larding Meat after the
  Mode of France.”

The reign of the tavern still continued. Most of the citizens
frequented the tavern every day. It was complained that the tradesman,
who ought to have been in his shop, too often spent his mornings in the
tavern, leaving his shop to the care of his ’prentices. There were many
men in London who, being visitors, strangers, unmarried, or houseless,
habitually took their dinner at the tavern.

[Illustration: TAVERN SCENE

From a ballad in the Roxburgh Collection.]

The ordinary price for dinners at a tavern was a shilling, but one
might pay a great deal more; dinners could be ordered for five
shillings, or even ten shillings a head. The most fashionable tavern
was Locket’s at Charing Cross, where is now Drummond’s Bank. Adam
Locket started his tavern in the reign of Charles the Second; he died
in 1688, and was succeeded by his son, Edward Locket. It was a very
famous tavern. Cunningham quotes a column and a half of contemporary
mention of Locket’s house. Here is one from Price and Montague, _The
Hind and Panther, Transversed_:—

    “Come, at a crown a head ourselves we’ll treat,
     Champagne our liquor and ragouts our meat;
     Thus hand in hand we’ll go to court, dear cuz,
     To visit Bishop Martin and King Buz;
     With evening wheels we’ll drive about the Park,
     Finish at Locket’s and reel home i’ th’ dark.”

It can hardly be pretended that tea was a national drink in the
seventeenth century. It was not even a fashionable beverage. It was
offered as a curious foreign drink, being prepared with great care
and according to rule, and taken with a certain amount of anxiety as
to the possible consequences. Precautions were taken against these
consequences. Thus in Congreve’s _Way of the World_, Mrs. Millicent’s
lover allows her to be “Sole Empress of her tea-table,” a reservation
which sufficiently indicates the want of confidence in the beverage,
and she must promise to banish from the table “orange brandy, aniseed,
cinnamon, citron and Barbadoes water, together with ratafia and the
most noble spirit of clary.” The price of tea, which was then about
fifty shillings a pound, though it rapidly went down, prevented any
but the rich from taking it. Long after this it is noticed that the
City ladies took brandy after their tea as a corrective. The earliest
mention of tea in this country is an advertisement in the _Mercurius
Politicus_ of 1658, which is as follows:—

“That excellent, and by all physicians approved, China drink, called
by the Chineans Tcha, by other nations Tay, alias Tee, is sold at
the Sultaness Head Coffee-House, in Sweeting’s Rents, by the Royal
Exchange, London.”

And Thomas Garway or Garraway at the same time issued a broadside
in which he offers tea to the public at sixteen shillings to fifty
shillings the pound and proclaims its virtues:—

  “The Quality is moderately hot, proper for winter or summer. The
  drink is declared to be most wholesome, preserving in perfect
  health until extreme old age. The particular virtues are these.
  It maketh the body active and lusty. It helpeth the headache,
  giddiness and heaviness thereof. It removeth the obstructions of
  the spleen. It is very good against the stone and gravel.... It
  taketh away the difficulty of breathing, opening obstructions. It
  is good against lippitude distillations, and cleareth the sight.
  It removeth lassitude, and cleanseth and purifieth adust humours
  and a hot liver. It is good against crudities, strengthening the
  weakness of the stomach, causing good appetite and digestion, and
  particularly for men of a corpulent body, and such as are great
  eaters of flesh. It vanquisheth heavy dreams, easeth the brain,
  and strengtheneth the memory. It overcometh superfluous sleep, and
  prevents sleepiness in general, a draught of the infusion being
  taken, so that, without trouble, whole nights may be spent in study
  without hurt to the body. It prevents and cures agues, surfeits,
  and fevers by infusing a fit quantity of the leaf, thereby
  provoking a most gentle vomit and breathing of the pores, and hath
  been given with wonderful success. It (being prepared and drunk
  with milk and water) strengtheneth the inward parts and prevents
  consumptions.... It is good for colds, dropsies, and scurvies,
  and expelleth infection.... And that the virtue and excellence of
  the leaf and drink are many and great is evident and manifest by
  the high esteem and use of it (especially of late years) by the
  physicians and knowing men of France, Italy, Holland, and other
  parts of Christendom, and in England it hath been sold in the leaf
  for six pounds, and sometimes for ten pounds the pound-weight; and
  in respect of its former scarceness and dearness, it hath been
  only used as a regalia in high treatments and entertainments, and
  presents made thereof to princes and grandees till the
  year 1657” (Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. ii. p. 666).

Rugge’s _Diurnal_ says that tea was sold in every street in London
in 1659. That statement we cannot believe, especially when we are
reminded that a couple of pounds was a present fit for the King to
receive. A couple of pounds of a commodity sold in every street in
London? On the contrary, there is every kind of evidence that in the
seventeenth century tea was perhaps the fashion, but never became a
national beverage. Pepys mentions it once or twice, but tea formed no
part of his ordinary diet. Evelyn, I believe, does not mention it at
all. In the winter of 1683–1684 the Thames was frozen over, and in the
fair that was held upon the river, tea, among other things, was sold.
No one, I think, ever imagined that tea would become the national
beverage, excluding beer from breakfast and from the afternoon meal.
A learned physician, Dr. Lister, writing at the close of the century,
says that tea and coffee “are permitted by God’s Providence for
lessening the number of mankind by shortening life, as a kind of silent
plague.” Many attacks were made upon the tea-table. It took men away
from the pipe and bottle; it brought together men and women inclined
for vice and gave them an opportunity; it was very costly; it offered
a drink only fit for women; it destroyed the strength of man and the
beauty of woman. The hostility to tea lingered during the whole of the
eighteenth century.

In 1652 the first coffee-house was opened in St. Michael’s Alley,
Cornhill, by one Pasqua Rosee, a native of Ragusa, servant to a Turkey
merchant who brought him from Smyrna. Coffee had been introduced into
Oxford a little earlier. The following is a copy of Rosee’s handbill
(see Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i. p. 170):—

                    THE VERTUE OF THE COFFEE DRINK

      _First made and publickly sold in England by Pasqua Rosee._

  “The grain or berry called coffee, groweth upon little trees only
  in the deserts of Arabia. It is brought from thence, and drunk
  generally throughout all the Grand Seignour’s dominions. It is a
  simple, innocent thing, composed into a drink, by being dried in an
  oven, and ground to powder, and boiled up with spring water, and
  about half a pint of it to be drunk fasting an hour before, and
  not eating an hour after, and to be taken as hot as possibly can
  be endured; the which will never fetch the skin off the mouth, or
  raise any blisters by reason of that heat.

  The Turks’ drink at meals and other times is usually water, and
  their diet consists much of fruit; the crudities whereof are very
  much corrected by this drink.

  The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and though it be drier,
  yet it neither heats, nor inflames more than hot posset. It so
  incloseth the orifice of the stomach, and fortifies the heat
  within, that it is very good to help digestion; and therefore of
  great use to be taken about three or four o’clock afternoon, as
  well as in the morning. It much quickens the spirits, and makes
  the heart lightsome; it is good against sore eyes, and the better
  if you hold your head over it and take in the steam that way. It
  suppresseth fumes exceedingly, and therefore is good against the
  headache, and will very much stop any defluxion of rheums, that
  distil from the head upon the stomach, and so prevent and help
  consumptions and the cough of the lungs.

  It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout, and scurvy.
  It is known by experience to be better than any other drying drink
  for people in years, or children that have any running humours
  upon them, as the king’s evil, etc. It is a most excellent remedy
  against the spleen, hypochondriac winds, and the like. It will
  prevent drowsiness, and make one fit for business, if one have
  occasion to watch, and therefore you are not to drink of it after
  supper, unless you intend to be watchful, for it will hinder sleep
  for three or four hours.

  It is observed that in Turkey, where this is generally drunk, that
  they are not troubled with the stone, gout, dropsy, or scurvy,
  and that their skins are exceeding clear and white. It is neither
  laxative nor restringent.

  _Made and sold in St. Michael’s Alley in Cornhill, by Pasqua Rosee,
  at the sign of his own head._”

Evelyn (writing of the year 1637) says:—

  “There came in my tyme to the Coll: one Nathaniel Couopios out of
  Greece from Cyrill the Patriarch of Constantinople who, returning
  many years afterwards was made (as I understand) Bishop of Smyrna.
  He was the first man I ever saw drink coffee, which custom came not
  into England for thirty years after.”

The coffee-houses, thus begun, multiplied rapidly. The new drink, which
did not intoxicate, became popular; the coffee-houses were places
where men could sit and talk without getting drunk; it was a cheap
amusement, and, in a time of great political agitation and excitement,
the coffee-house became a power of immense influence. For this reason
the Government became alarmed, and, in 1675, endeavoured to suppress
the new institution. The attempt was a failure. The coffee-houses were
already the favourite meeting-places of men of all professions and
of all opinions. In the graver places where physicians, divines, and
responsible merchants met, the conversation was serious over coffee and
tobacco. In other coffee-houses the company were diverted with songs,
music, and even tumbling.

Some of the coffee-houses offered the attraction of a museum of
curiosities, probably things brought from the East by sailors.

I have before me one of the earliest tracts on the subject of
coffee. It is a doggerel poem dated 1665, called “The Character of a
Coffee-House.” How is one to know a coffee house? By the signs:—

    “And if you see the great Morat
     With Shash on’s head instead of hat,
     Or any _Sultan_ in his dress,
     Or picture of a _Sultaness_,
     Or _John’s_ admired curl’d pate,
     Or th’ great _Mogul_ in’s Chair of State,
     Or _Constantine_ the _Grecian_,
     Who fourteen years was th’ only man
     That made _Coffee_ for th’ great _Bashaw_,
     Although the man he never saw,
     Or if you see a _Coffee_-cup
     Filled from a Turkish pot, hung up
     Within the clouds, and round it _Pipes_,
     _Wax candles_, _Stoppers_, these are types
     And certain signs (with many more
     Would be too long to write them ’ore),
     Which plainly do Spectators tell
     That in that house they _Coffee_ sell.
     Some wiser than the rest (no doubt),
     Say they can by the smell find’t out;
     In at a door (say they), but thrust
     Your Nose, and if you scent _burnt Crust_,
     Be sure there’s _Coffee_ sold that’s good,
     For so by most ’tis understood.”

What are the benefits conferred by coffee? The coffee-man tells you:—

    “But if you ask, what good does Coffee?
     He’ll answer, Sir, don’t think I scoff yee,
     If I affirm there’s no disease
     Men have that drink it but find ease.
     Look, there’s a man who takes the steam
     In at his Nose, has an extreme

     Worm in his pate, and giddiness,
     Ask him and he will say no less.
     There sitteth one whose Droptick belly
     Was hard as flint, now’s soft as jelly.
     There stands another holds his head
     ’Ore th’ Coffee-pot, was almost dead
     Even now with Rhume; ask him hee’ll say
     That all his Rhum’s now past away.
     See, there’s a man sits now demure
     And sober, was within this hour
     Quite drunk, and comes here frequently,
     For ’tis his daily Mady.
     More, it has such reviving power
     ’Twill keep a man awake an houre,
     Nay, make his eyes wide open stare
     Both Sermon time and all the prayer.”

The company are next treated at length. There are the usurer, the
furiosol, the virtuoso, the player, the country clown, the pragmatick,
the phanatick, the knight, the mechanick, the dealer in old shoes, one
in an ague, the Frenchman, the Dutchman, the Spaniard:—

    “Here in a corner sits a Phrantick,
     And there stands by a frisking Antick.
     Of all sorts some, and all conditions,
     E’en Vintners, Surgeons, and Physicians.
     The blind, the deaf, the aged cripple
     Do here resort and coffee tipple.”

The chocolate-house was another place of resort. It was noted for its
decorations, being not only beautifully painted and gilt, but also
provided with looking-glasses all round the room. But as yet the people
were afraid of taking even a cup of chocolate without a dram to fortify
the stomach. “Bring in,” says the gallant, “two dishes of chocolate
and a glass of cinnamon water.” And the City ladies, if they invited
friends to a tea-drinking, finished with cordials to counteract any bad

The use of tobacco had by this time become universal. Sorbière says
that men spent half their time over tobacco. Even women and children
smoked pipes; some men took tobacco and pipes to bed with them in case
of being sleepless. I find in one of Howell’s Letters a dissertation
on the use of tobacco, which is more instructive than any other
contemporary document:—

“To usher in again old Janus, I send you a parcel of Indian perfume,
which the Spaniard calls the Holy Herb, in regard of the various
Virtues it hath; but we call it Tobacco; I will not say it grew under
the King of Spain’s Window, but I am told it was gathered near his
Gold-Mines of Potosi (where they report, that in some Places there
is more of that Ore than Earth), therefore it must needs be precious
Stuff; if moderately and seasonably taken (as I find you always do)
’tis good for many Things; it helps Digestion, taken a-while after
Meat; a leaf or two being steeped o’er Night in a little White-wine
is a Vomit that never fails in its Operations; it is a good Companion
to one that converseth with dead Men; for if one hath been poring
long upon a book, or is toil’d with the Pen, and stupify’d with study,
it quickeneth him, and dispels those Clouds that usually o’erset the
Brain. The smoke of it is one of the wholesomest scents that is,
against all contagious Airs, for it o’er-masters all other smells, as
King James, they say, found true, when being once a Hunting, a Shower
of Rain drove him into a Pigsty for Shelter, where he caus’d a Pipeful
to be taken on purpose; It cannot endure a Spider or a Flea, with such
like Vermin, and if your Hawk be troubled with any such being blown
into his feathers, it frees him; it is good to fortify and to preserve
the sight, the smoke being let in round about the Balls of the Eyes
once a week, and frees them from all rheums, driving them back by way
of Repurcussion; being taken backward ’tis excellent good against the
Cholic, and taken into the Stomach, it will heat and cleanse it; for
I could instance in a great Lord (my Lord of Sunderland, President
of York) who told me that he taking it downward into his Stomach, it
made him cast up an Imposthume, Bag and all, which had been a long
time engendering out of a Bruise he had received at Foot-ball, and so
preserv’d his life for many years. Now to descend from the substance
of the smoke to the ashes, ’tis well known that the medicinal virtues
thereof are very many; but they are so common, that I will spare the
inserting of them here; but if one would try a pretty conclusion, how
much smoke there is in a Pound of Tobacco, the Ashes will tell him; for
let a pound be exactly weighed, and the ashes kept charily, and weighed
afterwards, what wants of a Pound Weight in the Ashes cannot be deny’d
to have been smoke, which evaporated into Air. I have been told that
Sir Walter Raleigh won a Wager of Queen Elizabeth upon this Nicety.

The Spaniards and Irish take it most in powder or smutchin, and it
mightily refreshes the Brain, and I believe there’s as much taken this
way in Ireland, as there is in Pipes in England; one shall commonly
see the serving-maid upon the washing-block, and the swain upon the
plough-share, when they are tired with Labour, take out their boxes of
Smutchin, and draw it into their Nostrils with a Quill, and it will
beget new spirits in them, with a fresh Vigor to fall to their Work
again. In Barbary, and other parts of Africk, it is wonderful what a
small pill of Tobacco will do; for those who used to ride post through
the sandy Deserts, where they meet not with anything that’s potable or
edible, sometimes three Dayes together, they use to carry small Balls
or Pills of Tobacco, which being put under the Tongue, it affords them
a perpetual Moisture, and takes off the Appetite for some days.”

                              CHAPTER II

                           DRESS AND MANNERS

On the homely subject of washing an excellent little paper may be found
in Chambers’s _Book of Days_. What were the “things” put out for the
lavender or laundress? The common people wore neither shirts nor socks
nor any under-clothing at all. Towels, napkins, table-cloths, sheets,
pillow-cases, were the things that were washed, in all houses except
the very poorest; the mediæval inventories of furniture show that
pillows and cushions were much used in every house. Of personal things
linen shirts were not anciently worn even by great and rich nobles;
they wore their splendid velvets and silks next to the skin; the poor
man was dressed in black coarse woollen with, if he were fortunate,
some kind of cloak: there were no night-shirts. When ladies began to
use night-dresses they were of costly material which would not wash.
Anne Boleyn slept in a night-dress of black satin, bound with black
taffeta and edged with black velvet. Queen Elizabeth slept in velvet
lined in fur.

[Illustration: From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

A “Washing Tally” preserved at Haddon Hall, supposed to be of Charles
the First’s time, enumerates all the different articles then sent to
the wash. They were ruffles, bandes, cuffes, “handkercher,” caps,
shirts, half-shirts, boot-hose, tops, socks, sheets, pillow-cases,
table-cloths, napkins, and towels.

Most of these names require no explanation. The band was the white
collar round the neck, which was either starched to stand up or else it
lay upon the shoulders. The box that kept them was called a band-box.
Boot-hose were like “tights” of the present day, drawn up the whole
length of the leg. The sock, sometimes embroidered, was drawn over
the hose to the calf of the leg. It was customary when the washing
was done at home for the women to begin at midnight or very early in
the morning. Pepys complains of being disturbed in the night by the
laundresses. The basket in which the linen was thrown was called the
“buck” or the “buck-basket.”

The Puritanic fashions of dress, manners, and speech still continued
in the City. While the Court party wore their hair long and curled,
the Puritans cropped theirs close; they drawled in their speech; they
interlarded their discourse with texts and allusions to Scripture; they
still, though the power had gone from them, denounced all sorts of
merry-makings, all sports, all festivals and games as damnable; still
they continued to find their chief joy and solace at a sermon. There
was reason for this; for while their thoughts were mainly occupied
with twisting texts into the support of their favourite doctrines,
the preacher, who was engaged in exactly the same pursuit, gave them
materials for the maintenance of their doctrines, or for discussion
and controversy afterwards. The women, it is said, took down the
principal points in shorthand, being as much interested and as keen in
controversy as the men.

I do not know any period in which it could not be said that the dress
of the gallants and courtiers, as well as that of the ladies, was not
extravagant and costly. Certainly the dress of the gallants in the
seventeenth century, except for the fifteen years of Puritan austerity,
was costly and extravagant enough to please any one. It does not
appear, however, that the extravagance in dress descended to the City
or to the City madams. In the time of Elizabeth the excessive adornment
of the latter was the subject of many satirical pens. Under Charles II.
the sobriety of the men, still more or less under Puritan influence,
was reflected in the quiet dress of the women. As for the Court ladies,
Evelyn observes that they paint; Pepys finds patches coming in with
the Restoration; he also notices, but without admiration, the hair
frizzed up to the ears; in 1662 he says they began to wear perukes—by
which I understand some addition to their own hair; next year he
observes the introduction of the vizard. In July 1663 he witnesses
the riding of the King, Queen, and Court in Hyde Park. “The King and
the Queen, who looked in this dress, a white-laced waistcoat and a
crimson short petticoat, with her hair dressed _à la négligence_,
mighty pretty, and the King rode hand in hand with her. Here was also
my Lady Castlemaine [who] rode among the rest of the ladies: but the
King took, methought, no notice of her.... She looked mighty out of
humour, and had a yellow plume in her hat, which all took notice of,
and yet is very handsome.... I followed them up into Whitehall and into
the Queen’s presence, where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling
with their hats and feathers, and changing and trying one another’s by
one another’s head and laughing.... But above all Mrs. Stewart in this
dress, with her hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little
Roman nose and excellent taille, is now the greatest beauty I ever saw,
I think, in my life.”

[Illustration: An English Lady of quality

Lady of the Court of England

From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

I do not propose to dwell upon the changes of fashion, because the
alterations in a sleeve, or in the length of a lady’s waist, would
carry us too far and would be of little profit. But there was one
change in fashion which one must not pass over, because it exercised an
influence upon the whole national character. This was the introduction
of the peruke, perruque, or wig. Ladies began to wear wigs, presumably,
as they do now, to conceal the ravages of time, and the falling off
of the natural hair. Malcolm is of opinion that the wig was a natural
reaction against the Roundhead rule. For the Roundheads cropped their
hair and the Cavaliers wore it long in curls. Therefore, he who had a
scanty supply of curls, or was bald, to escape being taken for one of
the opposite camp, put on a wig; next he excited envy by the fulness
and length of his curls; finally all wore wigs, and the fashion set in
which lasted a hundred years, and, as regards the clergy, for nearly
two hundred years. A good deal might be said for the use of a wig. It
was, to begin with, an age when the heads of all the lower classes,
servants and working people, were always filled with vermin—one learns
that even so late as a hundred years ago it was almost impossible to
keep the children of quite respectable people clean in this respect.
Next, the time and trouble of having the head dressed and the curls
twisted—for not even a Cavalier could always depend upon a natural
curl—were saved by sending the wig to the hairdresser. Again, when
everybody wore a shaven face, the adoption of the wig went far to
conceal and disguise one’s age. Baldness there was none, nor any grey
hairs. A man generally had two wigs; a new wig of ordinary make cost
about three guineas, but one might pay a great deal more for a superior
wig. “Forty guineas a year,” cries an indignant writer, “for periwigs,
and but ten to a poor chaplain.” The wigs were at first an imitation
of a man’s own hair in colour, with some exaggeration in length; and
although cleanliness was one reason for their introduction, they had to
be sent to the barbers occasionally in order to be freed from vermin.
After the Plague, for a long time, nobody would buy a wig for fear of
infection. The fashion was, of course, carried to ridiculous lengths;
Lord Foppington, in the _Relapse_, is said to have a periwig down to
his knees; he also says that a periwig should be to a man like a mask
to a woman; nothing should be seen but his eyes.” The various kinds of
wig belong to the eighteenth century, in which they are treated more

[Illustration: Citizens: wife

Citizens: daughter

From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

The following are a few more scattered notes on fashion:—

Both men and women carried pocket mirrors; the women had these dangling
from their girdles; the men carried them in their hands or in their
pockets, and sometimes stuck them in their hats.

It was one of the affectations of the time for the gallants to go
abroad with their faces half covered by their cloaks and their hats
drawn down. Hence the stage custom of throwing the cloak across from
the right to the left.

The coats of inferior functionaries, such as bailiffs or catchpoles,
were adorned with pewter buttons.

A country gentleman’s dress consisted of Devonshire Kersey suit, coarse
cloth coat, Dutch felt hat, worsted stockings, and neat leather shoes.

All craftsmen wore aprons, but these were different; the blacksmith had
a leathern apron, the grocer a white apron, the vintner a blue apron,
and so on. One could formerly recognise a man’s trade by his dress and

I find that this century introduced the use of the nightcap, perhaps
for the sake of quiet, because, with the bawling of the watchman, the
cry of the chimney-sweep, and the noise of the laundresses, who began
about midnight, there was almost as much noise at night as by day.

If men disfigured themselves with wigs, the women heightened their
charms, as they believed, by sticking little bits of black taffeta on
their faces. The fashion began in the Commonwealth, when ladies began
to cut out stars, circles, and even figures representing a coach and
four, and stick them upon their cheek, forehead, or chin:—

    “Her patches are of every cut,
       For pimples and for scars;
     Here’s all the wandering planets’ signs,
       And some of the fixed stars.”

Like the fashion of the wig, the patch lasted more than a hundred
years. Indeed, it lasted even into the nineteenth century. And in 1826,
a lady, speaking of a toilet-table, speaks of the patch-boxes upon it.
This proves, I take it, that the patch-box still retained its position
on the table, though the use of it had been abandoned. I have one of
these patch-boxes; it is of silver, about the same size as a snuff-box,
but a great deal deeper.

Ladies painted as well as patched. They prepared their faces for the
paint with oil. The page—_The Silent Woman_—says that “my lady kisses
me with her oil’d face and puts a peruke on my head.” They seem all to
have worn a peruke. Mrs. Otter, according to her husband, has a peruke
“like a pound of hemp, made up in shoe threads.” They understood the
art of making up. “Her teeth were made on the Blackfriars, both her
eyebrows in the Strand, and her hair in Silver Street.... She takes
herself asunder when she goes to bed into some twenty boxes; and about
noon next day is put together again like a great German clock.”

In walking with a lady the custom was to take her fan and play with it
for her. A fine gentleman displayed his fashion and his grace by the
way he handled and waved the fan.

There was a pretty custom observed by gentlefolk on the 1st of May.
The maypoles had been restored, but the old dances were well-nigh
forgotten. The people on this day flocked to Hyde Park; but gentlemen
escorted their mistresses into the country to bid welcome to the
spring. There was always a collation in the seventeenth century to mark
the day or the function, whichever it was.

[Illustration: English: Gentle:woman

Noble Gentle woman of England

From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

Kissing was as common as shaking hands. When a man was introduced to
a lady he kissed her; men kissed each other. In 1667 Pepys, having
made a successful speech, was complimented by Mr. Montagu, who kissed
him. It appears that husbands and lovers were not always pleased at
this indiscriminate kissing, and there are instances where the ladies
rebelled against the custom.

The day of St. Valentine was universally observed. Everybody chose, or
received by lot, a valentine. On the eve of the 14th of February the
bachelors and maidens assembled together in equal companies; each wrote
his or her name on a paper. These were rolled up; the men drew the
girls’ names, the girls the men’s. This arrangement gave an opening
for some choice, because everybody had the girl whose name he had drawn
and the girl who had drawn his name. These matters settled, and every
man having his Valentine chosen or assigned, it became the duty of
the man to make a present to the girl and to treat her as if she was
indeed his mistress. In Pepys’s _Diary_, however, it is apparent that
married men might have their wives for Valentines and that children
might have married women. Pepys had his wife for a Valentine two years
running. In the first he gave her £5, in the second a Turkey stone set
with diamonds. Poets wrote Valentines. Thus in 1629 J. Howell wrote the
following pretty lines to his Valentine:—

    “Could I charm the Queen of Love
     To lend a quill of her white Dove;
     Or one of Cupid’s pointed wings
     Dipt in the fair Castalian Springs;
         Then would I write the all-divine
         Perfections of my Valentine.

     As ’mongst all Flow’rs the Rose excels,
     As amber ’mongst the fragrant’st smells,
     As ’mongst all Minerals the Gold,
     As marble ’mongst the finest Mould,
     As Diamonds ’mongst jewels bright,
     As Cynthia ’mongst the lesser Lights;
         So ’mongst the Northern Beauties shine,
         So far excels my Valentine.

     In Rome and Naples I did view
     Faces of Celestial Hue;
     Venetian Dames I have seen many
     (I only saw them, touch’d not any),
     Of Spanish Beauties, Dutch and French,
     I have beheld the Quintessence;
         Yet I saw none that could outshine
         Or parallel my Valentine.

     The Italians they are coy and quaint,
     But they grosly daub and paint;
     The Spanish Kind are apt to please,
     But sav’ring of the same Disease;
     Of Dutch and French some few are comely,
     The French are light, the Dutch are homely.
         Let Tagus, Po, and Loire and Rhine,
         Then veil unto my Valentine.

     Here may be seen pure white and red,
     Not by feign’s Art, but Nature wed,
     No simp’ring Smiles, no mimic Face,
     Affecture Gesture, or forc’d Grace,
     A fair smooth front, free from least Wrinkle,
     Her eyes (on me) like Stars do twinkle;
         Thus all perfections do combine
         To beautify my Valentine.”

The May Day observances, revived with the Restoration, were duly
honoured. The milkmaids and the sweeps paraded the streets with music.
The old custom of going out into the fields to gather May dew was kept
up, though one imagines in a formal way only, and not to let good old
customs decay. On New Year’s Day presents were made by inferiors to
their patrons, by tenants to the nobles, by the nobles to the King.

The observance of Queen Elizabeth’s Day is described in the following
letter from John Verney to Sir Ralph Verney, November 20, 1679:—

  “Monday being Queen Elizabeth’s coronation day there were vast
  quantities of bonfires about town, but chief of all was at
  Temple Bar, over which gate Queen Elizabeth was deck’t up with a
  Magna Charta and the Protestant religion; there was a devil in a
  pageant and 4 boys in surplices under him, 6 Jesuits, 4 bishops, 4
  archbishops, 2 patriarchs of Jerusalem and Constantinople, several
  cardinals, besides Franciscans, black and grey friars; there was
  also a great crucifix, wax candles, and a bell, and 200 porters
  hired at 2s. a man to carry lights along with the show, which came
  from the Green Yard in great order thro’ Moor (or Cripple) Gate,
  and so along London Wall, then up Houndsditch, and so on again at
  Aldgate, from whence to Temple Bar, where they were disrobed and
  burnt. ’Tis believed there were above 100,000 spectators, and most
  say the King was at Townes’ the goldsmith’s; £10 was an ordinary
  price for a room at Temple Bar” (Walker’s MS. xi. 186).


People of position still maintained a great many servants. In 1634
Evelyn’s father was appointed Sheriff of Surrey and Sussex. He had
116 servants in livery, every one in green satin doublets. Several
gentlemen and persons of quality waited on him in the same habit.
He says, however, that thirty or forty was the usual retinue of a
Sheriff. Pepys, in his modest house in the City, apparently had a cook
and housemaid, a lady’s maid, and a “girl,” or general assistant. The
’prentice in the tradesman’s house was as we have seen a servant, and
did some of the housework. A footman followed a lady who went out into
the streets in the daytime; a ’prentice escorted his mistress when she
went out to a card party in the evening, or when she went to an evening
lecture at her parish church.

[Illustration: Marchants: daughter

Marchants wife of London

From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

When a man was rich enough to set up his coach, part of the furniture
was a pair of running footmen; these ran before the coach. The velocity
of the machine did not make this exercise a great strain upon their
activity; they stopped at the next stage and proclaimed the coming
of the great man. Generally they were dressed in white; they carried
a cane with a hollow ball at the end, in which was an orange or a
lemon to refresh themselves with. When the roads became smooth and the
carriages began to run much faster, the running footmen were gradually
abolished. They remained, however, till late in the eighteenth
century. Howell sends a running footman to a friend. He says:—

  “You writ to me lately for a Footman, and I think this Bearer will
  fit you; I know he can run well, for he hath run away twice from
  me, but he knew the way back again. Yet tho’ he had a running head
  as well as running heels (and who will expect a footman to be a
  stay’s man?) I would not part with him were I not to go post to the
  north. There be some things in him that answer for his Waggeries;
  he will come when you call him, go when you bid him, and shut the
  door after him; he is faithful and stout and a lover of his master;
  he is a great enemy to all dogs if they bark at him in his running,
  for I have seen him confront a huge mastiff and knock him down;
  when you go a country journey, or have him with you a hunting, you
  must spirit him with liquor.”


From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.]

The City tradesman kept one kitchenmaid. His wife and daughters made
the pies and cakes, and the preserves and the pickles. We have seen the
work put upon the apprentice already (p. 186).

                              CHAPTER III

                         WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS

At weddings wheat was scattered on the head of the bride; scarves,
gloves, and ribbons of the bride’s colours were presented to the
bridesmen; at the church the company carried rosemary; after the
ceremony the bride handed the cup around; it contained “sops in wine”
hallowed, and was called the knitting cup; afterwards was presented
the bride cake, but not in the church; there was a great feast, as
sumptuous as the bride’s father could afford; the bride wore her
hair on this, her last appearance as a maiden, down her back. She
distributed at her wedding, bride laces. At the better houses an
epithalamium was pronounced; in the case of rich people there was
a masque; in all houses, rich or poor, there was music, there was
bride-ale, and there was feasting. There was also fooling of various
kinds, with jests not the most seemly, and forms and ceremonies not the
most refined, which have long since been abandoned. Even in that time
voices were lifted up against the licence of the wedding sports.

Flowers, herbs, and rushes were strewed before the footsteps of the
bride on her way to church. It was unlucky if the rain fell upon a
wedding, and equally unlucky if the bride failed to weep during the
ceremony. The lucky days for weddings were as follows:—

  Jan.  2, 4, 11, 19, 21.
  Feb.  1, 3, 10, 19, 21.
  March 3, 5, 12, 20, 23.
  April 2, 4, 12, 20, 22.
  May   2, 4, 12, 20, 23.
  June  1, 3, 11, 19, 21.
  July  1, 3, 12, 19, 21, 31.
  Aug.  2, 11, 18, 20, 30.
  Sept. 1, 9, 11, 18, 28.
  Oct.  1, 8, 15, 17, 27, 29.
  Nov.  5, 11, 13, 22, 25.
  Dec.  1, 8, 10, 19, 23, 29.

It was unlucky to have the banns called at the end of one quarter and
the marriage at the beginning of the next.

The superstitions, indeed, connected with weddings were innumerable.
Let it suffice to quote Herrick in the concluding ceremony:—

    “And now the yellow vaile at last
     Over her fragrant cheek is cast.
      *       *       *       *       *
     You, you, that be her nearest kin,
     Now o’er the threshold force her in,
     But to avert the worst
     Let her, her fillets first
     Knit to the posts: this point
     Rememb’ring, to anoint
     The sides: for ’tis a charme
     Strong against future harme:
     And the evil deads, the which
     There was hidden by the witch.”


From a contemporary print in the British Museum.]

The funeral customs are described in the following (_Antiq. Rep._ iv.

“I met nothing more pleasing to me than the funeral ceremonies at the
interment of a My Lord, which mine host procured me the sight of. The
relations and friends being assembled in the house of the defunct, the
minister advanced into the middle of the chamber, where, before the
company, he made a funeral oration, representing the great actions
of the deceased, his virtues, his qualities, his titles of nobility,
and those of the whole family; so that nothing more could be said
towards consoling every one of the company for the great loss they had
sustained in this man, and principally the relations, who were seated
round the dead body, and whom he assured that he was gone to heaven,
the seat of all sorts of happiness, whereas the world that he had just
left was replete with misery. It is to be remarked that during this
oration there stood upon the coffin a large pot of wine, out of which
every one drank to the health of the deceased, hoping that he might
surmount the difficulties he had to encounter in his road to Paradise,
where, by the mercy of God, he was about to enter; on which mercy
they founded all their hope, without considering their evil life and
that God is just. This being finished, six men took up the corpse,
and carried it on their shoulders to the church: it was covered with
a large cloth, which the four nearest relations held each by a corner
with one hand, and in the other carried a bough. The other relations
and friends had in one hand a flambeau, and in the other a bough,
marching thus through the street, without singing or saying any prayer,
till they came to the church, where, having placed the body on trestles
and taken off the cloth from the coffin (which is ordinarily made of
fine walnut-tree, handsomely worked and ornamented with iron bandages,
chased in the manner of a buffet), the minister then ascended his
pulpit, and, every one being seated round about the coffin, which is
placed in a kind of parade in the middle of the church, he read a
portion of Holy Scripture, concerning the resurrection of the dead, and
afterwards sang some psalms, to which all the company answered. After
this he descended, having his bough in his hand like the rest of the
congregation; this he threw on the dead body when it was put into the
grave, as did all the relations, extinguishing their flambeaux in the
earth with which the corpse was to be covered. This finished, every one
retired to his home without farther ceremony.”

Poor people seem to have been lowered into the grave either quite naked
or wrapped in a shroud without any coffin.

                              CHAPTER IV

                           PLACES OF RESORT

The places of resort in this century, and especially in the reign
of Charles the Second, reveal the existence of a new class: that of
the fashionable class, the people who live for amusement. They have
grown up by degrees; they inhabit a new town lying between the Inns of
Court and Hyde Park, which they have built for themselves; they have
made a society composed entirely of themselves, frequenting the same
coffee-houses and taverns, belonging to the same sets, and following
the same kind of life. They have invented the fashionable saunter;
they have made the theatre their own; they have introduced the _salon_
and the reception. They gamble a great deal; they lounge a great deal;
they make love a great deal; they drink; they dress extravagantly; they
practise affectations; they lay bets; they run races; they live, in a
word, exactly the same careless, useless, mischievous life which their
successors have continued ever since.

Among the other things which we owe to them is the Park.

The old maps of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries represent
the area which is now the Green Park and Hyde Park as green fields;
these fields formed part of the manors known as Neyte and Hyde, which
belonged to the Abbey of Westminster until the reign of Henry the
Eighth, when they fell to the Crown, being exchanged for the Priory
of Hurley in Berkshire. Henry the Eighth either stocked the fields
with deer, or found deer there and ran a fence round the fields so
as to enclose them. During the sixteenth and part of the seventeenth
centuries Hyde Park was a Royal hunting-ground. In the reign of Charles
the First it was also a racecourse. In Cromwell’s time it was a place
for driving and for carriage races; under Charles the Second it became
a promenade and a drive, just as it is at the present day.

St. James’s Park came into existence later than Hyde Park.

It began with Spring Gardens, named after a spring which here issued
from the ground, but was not enough to feed the fountain which
ornamented the gardens. They were not public gardens, though many
people were admitted; they contained orchards of fruit-trees, lawns
and bowling greens, a bathing pond, and a butt for archery practice.
James the First kept some of his menagerie in these gardens. In Charles
the First’s reign an ordinary was allowed to be kept here; it was six
shillings a head, and all day long there was tippling under the trees
with frequent quarrels. Charles was much offended by these unseemly
broils and shut up the place. An enterprising barber, however, came to
the rescue of the players, and set up a large establishment between
St. James’s Street and the Haymarket, where were two bowling greens, a
tavern, an ordinary, card tables, and rooms for gaming of all kinds.

Spring Gardens were opened again during the Civil War, with the old
customs of drinking; it was, however, provided that the Gardens should
be closed on public fast days. In 1654 they were closed altogether;
Evelyn (May 10) has an entry:—

“My Lady Gerrard treated us at Mulberry Garden, now the only place
of refreshment about the towne for persons of the best quality to be
exceedingly cheated at, Cromwell and his partisans having shut up
and seized on Spring Gardens, which, till now, had been the usual
rendezvous for the ladies and gallants at this season.”

In 1658 it was open again, for Evelyn “collation’d” there on his way to
see a coach race in Hyde Park.

The best account of the Garden is one quoted by Larwood from _A
Character of England_[11]:—

  “The inclosure is not disagreeable, for the solemness of the grove,
  the warbling of the birds, and as it opens into the spacious walks
  of St. James’s. But the company walk in it at such a rate as you
  would think all the ladies were so many Atalantas contending with
  their wooers; and there was no appearance that I should prove the
  Hippomenes who would with very much ado keep pace with them. But,
  as fast as they run, they stay there so long as if they wanted not
  time to finish the race; for it is usual here to find some of the
  young company till midnight; and the thickets of the garden seem
  to be contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they have
  been refreshed with the collation, which is here seldom omitted,
  at a certain _cabaret_ in the middle of this paradise, where
  the forbidden fruits are certain trifling tarts, neats-tongues,
  salacious meats, and bad Rhenish (wine); for which the gallants pay
  sauce, as indeed they do at all such houses throughout England;
  for they think it a piece of frugality beneath them to bargain
  or account for what they eat in any place, however unreasonably
  imposed upon. But thus those mean fellows are enriched—beggar and
  insult over the gentlemen. I am assured that this particular host
  has purchased within few years 5000 livres of annual rent, and well
  he may, at the rate these prodigals pay” (J. Larwood, _The Story of
  the London Parks_).

A more detailed description shows us a garden laid out in square beds,
each twenty or thirty paces in length and breadth, and surrounded with
hedges of red currants, roses, and shrubs; in the beds were growing
strawberries and vegetables, the borders were lined with flowers, and
fruit-trees were growing up the walls. Pepys took his wife, his two
servants, and his boy there on the King’s birthday, 1662.

Visitors could help themselves, apparently, for the servants gathered
pinks from the borders. The building of houses about Charing Cross
destroyed the rural charm of these gardens; part of them were built
upon; a small part still remains at the back of the street now called
Spring Gardens.

Evelyn has mentioned the Mulberry Gardens. This place was on the site
of Buckingham Palace. James the First in 1609, following the example
of Henry the Fourth of France, endeavoured to establish a silk-growing
industry. With this object he sent out to the various counties
mulberry-trees by the hundred thousand. He enclosed four acres of St.
James’s Park, and planted them with mulberry-trees. In Cromwell’s time
the Gardens were sold; at the Restoration they returned to the King,
who threw them open. They became for a time the fashionable resort; by
day the non-decorous took cheese-cakes in their summer houses; at night
they were the haunt of “gentlemen and ladies that made love together,
till twelve o’clock at night, the pretty leest.” There were arbours for
supper parties; there were also dark paths in the “Wilderness.” Dryden
used to take Mrs. Reeve, an actress of Killigrew’s Company, to the
Mulberry Gardens. The place was closed about the year 1675.

[Illustration: ST. JAMES’S PARK

From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.]

St. James’s Park began as a marshy piece of ground overflowed by the
river at high tides, stretching out between St. James’s Hospital and
Thorney Island. The Hospital, founded by the citizens of London “before
the time of any man’s memory,” was intended to receive fourteen poor
sisters, maidens, who were leprous; they were placed in this house
to live chastely and honestly in divine service. It was endowed with
land sufficient to maintain these unfortunate women in comfort; they
possessed as well a brotherhood of six chaplains and two laymen. And
in 1290 Edward the First gave them a fair, to be held for seven days,
beginning on St. James’s Eve, July 24.

The house is said to be mentioned in an MS. in the Cottonian Library
of the year 1100; it was, therefore, certainly the oldest hospital
belonging to London.

It was rebuilt in the reign of Henry the Third. In 1450, after there
had been many disputes with the Abbey of Westminster over alleged
rights of visit, Henry the Sixth placed the house in the perpetual
custody of Eton College. Henry the Eighth acquired it by purchase
in 1537 and, according to Stow, compounded with the inmates. It has
been stated that only one sister received a pension. I think the two
statements may be reconciled. Thus the dread of leprosy had by this
time vanished. There were very few lepers left in the country, if any.
At the hospital of Sherburn, Durham, which originally contained five
_convents_ of lepers, of both sexes, _i.e._ sixty-five persons, in 1593
the house contained only men; “sick, or whole, Lepers, or wayfaring.”
Surtees, _History of Durham_, says that it would have been difficult,
long before, to find a single leper in the country.

What, then, happened at St. James’s? One of two things. Either the
sisters were reduced to one, and only one, who would be considered a
leper; or that the house, like so many others, had been allowed to
depart from its foundation, and had admitted as sisters, women who were
not lepers at all.

However, Henry enclosed the ground belonging to the hospital, stocked
it with deer, and turned it into a pleasure garden for himself.

James the First kept his menagerie here. Henry, Prince of Wales, ran at
the ring and practised horsemanship here.

During the Commonwealth the Park was not sold, but preserved, though
the deer seem to have run away. A certain number of people were
privileged to walk in the Park.

Then Charles came back, and began at once to improve the Park. He
constructed the canal, or ornamental water; he laid out the Mall; he
made a rising ground beside Rosamond’s pond; he erected beautiful
avenues of trees. More than this, he opened the Park and gave a new
place of resort, much finer than it had ever before enjoyed, to the
fashionable world of London. The literature of the period is full of
the Park and its frequenters.

New Spring Gardens at Vauxhall were formed in imitation of the old,
and were named after them. Evelyn mentions the place in 1661, Pepys
1665; he calls it Foxhall. He went there in June and in July; on the
latter day he did not find a single guest there. There were, however,
plenty of guests at other times. Pepys observes how the young fellows
take hold of every woman in the place. He heard the nightingale sing;
he heard the fiddles, and the harp, and the Jew’s trump; he heard the
talk of the young men—“Lord, their mad talk did make my heart ake.” He
had cheese-cakes, syllabubs, and wine in the gardens; and, as at the
theatre, he and his wife were not ashamed to be seen when the company
was notoriously profligate, and the women notoriously devoid of virtue.

Gray’s Inn Gardens was another place of resort, probably for lawyers
and their ladies. For the people of Holborn and Fleet Street there
were the Lamb’s Conduit Fields. These spacious fields extended from
Tottenham Court Road to Gray’s Inn Road, and as far to the north as
what is now the Euston Road. There were no houses upon them in the
seventeenth century except Lamb’s Conduit, erected in 1577. For the
City there were the Moor fields, then enclosed, planted with trees
and surrounded by shops; there were the Hoxton Fields, the Spa Fields
of Clerkenwell, and the White Conduit Fields. It was the especial
happiness of London at this time that from any part of the City the
open country was accessible within a quarter of an hour. All around
these fields sprang up places of amusement, pleasure gardens, and
taverns, which I have described fully in considering the eighteenth

In the City itself the favourite resorts were, for the young men, the
galleries of the Royal Exchange, which were occupied by shops for the
sale of gloves, ribbons, laces, fans, scent, and such things. The
shops were served by girls, whose pretty faces and ready tongues were
the chief attraction for the young fellows, who went there to flirt
rather than to buy. Some of the younger citizens also found the Piazza
of Covent Garden a convenient place to lounge and saunter. There were
attractions in the Piazzas, too, of the other sex. There was also the
interior of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

The coffee-houses quickly became a place of resort for the graver
citizen in the evening. He would not go to the theatre, where the
exhibition of actresses still offended his sense of propriety; he
had formerly gone to the tavern, but a dish of coffee was far more
wholesome than a bowl of punch, and discourse among men who were sober
was much more instructive than that of men who were drunk.

Of course, there were still left plenty of those who stuck to the
tavern and despised these new inventions of tea and coffee. Indeed,
for business purposes the tavern continued to be used. Transactions
of all kinds were conducted in a private room at a tavern, over a
bottle. If a customer came up to London, the shopkeeper took him to the
tavern when, in the Rose or the Sun, they performed their business.
The coffee-house never took the place of the tavern in that respect.
The most extraordinary secrecy was expected and maintained on either
side over the smallest matter of trade. The number of taverns was then
very great. They literally lined the two most important arteries, that
from St. George’s, Southwark, to Bishopsgate Street Without, and that
between the Royal Exchange and the Strand.

[Illustration: _The South East Prospect of y^e Inside of y^e
Cathedral Church of_ S^t. PAUL’s


From Pennant’s London in the British Museum.]

I have before me a pamphlet in doggerel verse of the year 1671 called
_The Search after Claret Wine: A Visitation of the Vintners_.

The following is the dedication which enumerates the favourite wines:—

    “To all Lovers, Admirers and Doters on Claret,
     (Who tho’ at Deaths-Door, yet can hardly forbear it)
     Who can Miracles credit, and fancy Red-Port
     To be Sprightly Puntack, and the best of the sort;
     To all Mornings-draught Men, who drink bitter Wine,
     To create a false Stomach against they’r to Dine;
     To all Tavern-kitchen Frequenters and Haunters,
     Who go thither to hear Mistress Cooks foolish Banters
     To Partake of a Dumpling, or Sop in the Pan;
     A Large Rummer Drank up, troop as fast as they can;
     To all sober Half-Pint Men, and serious Sippers;
     To all old Maudlin Drinkers, and 12 a Clock Bibbers;
     To all Drinking Committees, Knots, Clubs, Corporations
     Who while others are snoaring, they’r settling the Nations;
     To all the brisk Beaus who think Life but a Play,
     Who make Day like the Night, and turn Night into Day;
     To all Lovers of Red and White-Port, Syracuse,
     Barcelona, Navarr, or Canary’s sweet Juice;
     To all Alicant Tasters, and Malaga-Sots,
     To all Friends to Straw-Bottles, and Nicking Quart-Pots,
     To all Bacchus his Friends, who have Taverns frequented,
     This following Poem is Humbly Presented.”

The searchers after claret spend two days visiting the taverns and find
none. I suppose that the war with France had caused a stoppage of the
supply. In the same way, during the long war with France, 1793–1815,
the people forgot their old taste for claret; when they drank it at
all, it was heavy stuff. They visit eighty-eight taverns between
Whitechapel and Temple Bar and at Westminster, and this without going
out of the main streets. Many of these taverns are still remembered by
the tokens which they issued for copper money. Most of these taverns
were not hostels, and did not provide lodgings; they were taverns and
nothing more; they were frequented, as has been said, by tradesmen
during the day; in the evening there were societies, clubs, and trades,
which held their meetings in the taverns. For instance, in the Mitre,
Cheapside, afterwards called the Goose and Gridiron, the Society of
Musicians met and gave their concerts. At the Cock and the Devil of
Fleet Street the lawyers thronged.

                               CHAPTER V

                            THEATRE AND ART

On December 8, 1660, a great change was effected at the theatre. For
the first time, to the exasperation of the Puritans, a woman’s part
was taken by a woman. The place was the theatre of Vere Street. The
part first performed was that of Desdemona. The prologue written “to
introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage” was as follows
(Leigh Hunt, _The Town_):—

    “I came unknown to any of the rest
     To tell the news; I saw the lady drest:
     The woman plays to-day; mistake me not,
     No man in gown, or page in petticoat:
     A woman to my knowledge, yet I can’t,
     If I should die, make affidavit on’t.
     Do you not twitter, gentlemen? I know
     You will be censuring: do it fairly, though;
     ’Tis possible a virtuous woman may
     Abhor all sorts of looseness, and yet play:
     Play on the stage—where all eyes are upon her:
     Shall we count that a crime France counts as an honour?
     In other kingdoms husbands safely trust ’em;
     The difference lies only in the custom.
     And let it be our custom, I advise:
     I’m sure this custom’s better than th’ excise,
     And may procure us custom: hearts of flint
     Will melt in passion, when a woman’s in’t.
     But, gentlemen, you that as judges sit
     In the Star chamber of the house—the pit,
     Have modest thoughts of her: pray, do not run
     To give her visits when the play is done,
     With ‘damn me, your most humble servant, lady:’
     She knows these things as well as you, it may be:
     Not a bit there, dear gallants, she doth know
     Her own deserts,—and your temptations too.
     But to the point—in this reforming age
     We have intents to civilize the stage.
     Our Women are defective, and so sized,
     You’d think they were some of the guard disguised:
     For, to speak truth, men act that are between
     Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen,
     With bone so large and nerve so incompliant,
     When you call Desdemona, enter giant.
     We shall purge everything that is unclean,
     Lascivious, scurrilous, impious, or obscene:
     And when we’ve put all things in this fair way
     Barebones himself may come to see a play.”

And the epilogue, much shorter, was as follows:—

    “And how do you like her? Come, what is’t ye drive at?
     She’s the same thing in public as in private,
     As far from being what you call a whore
     As Desdemona injured by the Moor:
     Then he that censures her in such a case
     Hath a soul blacker than Othello’s face.
     But, ladies, what think you? for it you tax
     Her freedom with dishonour to your sex,
     She means to act no more, and this shall be
     No other play, but her own tragedy.
     She will submit to none but your commands,
     And take commission only from your hands.”

This change altered the whole character of the theatre. At the
beginning it lowered the tone of the stage, which was already bad
enough. When the spectators became accustomed to the appearance of
women on the stage, it began perhaps to have a refining influence, but
certainly not at first.

In Wycherley’s _Country Wife_, Pinchwife takes his wife to the
“eighteen-penny place” so that she shall not be seen. This place was
the tier called the upper boxes. Ladies sometimes went into the Pit,
but not alone. In the same play Alithea says to her lover, “I will
not go if you intend to leave me alone in the Pit as you used to do.”
Ladies, however, for the most part, went into the first tier or dress
circle, where they received visits from their friends. Lord Foppington
says, “After dinner I go to the play, where I amuse myself till nine
o’clock with looking upon the company, and usually dispose of an hour
more in leading them out.”

The tickets were, to the boxes, 4s.; to the Pit, half-a-crown; to the
upper boxes, 1s. 6d.; and to the gallery, 1s. There were only two
theatres, the King’s and the Duke of York’s; the seats were simple
benches without backs.

Pepys, a great lover of the stage, commends the improvement of the
theatre since the Restoration:—

  “The stage is now by his pains a thousand times better and more
  glorious than ever heretofore. Now, wax-candles, and many of
  them; then, not above 3 lbs. of tallow: now, all things civil, no
  rudeness anywhere; then, as in a bear-garden: then, two or three
  fiddlers; now, nine or ten of the best: then, nothing but rushes
  upon the ground, and everything else mean; and now, all otherwise:
  then, the Queen seldom, and King never would come; now, not the
  King only for state, but all civil people do think they may come
  as well as any. He tells me that he hath gone several times, eight
  or ten times, he tells me, hence to Rome, to hear good musique;
  so much he loves it, though he never did sing or play a note.
  That he hath ever endeavoured in the late King’s time, and in
  this, to introduce good musique, but he never could do it, there
  never having been any musique here better than ballads. Nay, says,
  ‘Hermitt poore’ and ‘Chevy Chese’ was all the musique we had; and
  yet no ordinary fiddlers get so much money as ours do here, which
  speaks our rudenesse still” (Pepys, vol. vi. pp. 171, 172).

Bankside had long since ceased to be the chosen seat of the drama. The
Globe, after being burned down and rebuilt, was finally pulled down in
1644; the Rose, the Swan, and the Bear Garden had met the same fate;
the Fortune Theatre was destroyed by soldiers in 1549; the Curtain
had become, before it was pulled down, a place for prize fights;
Blackfriars Theatre, after standing empty for some years, in accordance
with the law, was pulled down in 1655.


As it appeared in the reign of King Charles the Second. From a
contemporary print.]

In 1642 the Parliament commanded the cessation of plays on the ground
“that public sports do not well agree with public calamities, nor
public stage plays with the seasons of humiliation.” So the houses were
closed. Then, as always happened, the law was timidly and tentatively
broken; the theatres began again. In 1647, however, a second
ordinance appeared calling upon the magistrates to enter houses where
performances were going on and to arrest the performers. This ordinance
proving of more effect, a third and more stringent law was passed
denouncing stage plays, interludes, and common plays as the occasion
of many and sundry great vices and disorders, tending to the high
provocation of God’s wrath and displeasure, ordered the destruction
of all galleries, seats, and stages of the theatre. This settled the
question for the time. Most of the actors went off to fight for the
King; a few remained and gave private performances at the residences
of noblemen. In 1658 Davenant opened the old Cockpit Theatre in Drury
Lane for performances of declamation and music without being molested.
Probably he ascertained beforehand what the Protector would do. On the
Restoration a bookseller of dramatic propensities took possession of
the Cockpit, where he played with his two apprentices, Betterton and
Kynaston. Killigrew and Davenant obtained patents for opening theatres,
Killigrew’s company to be called the King’s servants, Davenant’s to be
called the Duke of York’s servants. Davenant associated with himself
the dramatic booksellers, and after a season at the Phœnix went to
the new theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and from there to the larger
theatre in Dorset Garden, Fleet Street, a place more commodious because
it was on the river, the great highway of London. Killigrew began at
the Red Bull in St. John’s Street, going from that place, which seems
to have been out of the way, to Gibbon’s Tennis Court in Clare Market.
He then proceeded to build a new theatre in Drury Lane, not far from
the Phœnix. The new theatre opened with Beaumont and Fletcher’s comedy
of the _Humourous Lieutenant_ on April 8, 1663. Ten of the company
were in the Royal household, and had allowances of scarlet cloth and
lace for liveries; did they wear the livery on the stage? It was here
that Charles fell in love with Nell Gwynne; she was playing Valeria in
Dryden’s _Tyrannic Love_. She died on the stage and then jumped up and
spoke the epilogue:—

    “O poet, damned dull poet! Who could prove
     So senseless to make Nelly die for love?
     Nay, what! yet worse, to kill me in the prime
     Of Easter time, in tart and cheese-cake time!”

Here Pepys saw her, was presented to her, and kissed her, “and a mighty
pretty soul she is.” And again he mentions how he saw her in a part
called Florimell, “a comical part done by Nell that I never can hope to
see the like done again by man or woman.”

It is sometimes stated that the theatres of the time were still without
a roof. This appears to be incorrect. Pepys mentions the inconvenience
of rain. “To the King’s house and saw the _Silent Woman_. Before the
play was done it fell such a storm of hail that we in the pit were fain
to rise and all the house in disorder.” A few years later, however, he
notes (May 1, 1668) another visit to the same theatre, where he saw
the _Surprizall_, and mentions “a disorder in the pit by its raining
in from the cupola at top, it being a very foul day.” There was,
therefore, some kind of dome or cupola open at the side.

[Illustration: From a contemporary print.]

                   Inside of the RED BULL Playhouse.

  _The Red Bull Playhouse stood on a plot of ground lately
  called “Red Bull Yard” near the upper end of S^t. John’s Street
  Clerkenwell; and is traditionally said to have been the Theatre at
  which Shakespeare first held a gentleman’s horses. In the civil
  wars it became highly celebrated for the representations of Drolls,
  to a collection of which pieces published by Frauncis Kirkman in
  1672, this view of it forms a frontispiece. The figures brought
  together on the stage are intended as portraits of the leading
  actors in each Droll. The one playing Simpleton is Robert Cox,
  then a great favourite, of whom the publisher thus speaks in his
  preface. “I have seen the Red Bull Playhouse which was a large one,
  so full that as many went back for want of room as had entred.
  Robert Cox, a principal actor and contriver of these pieces, how
  have I heard him cryed up for his John Swabber, and Simpleton, the
  Smith. In which latter, he being to appear with a large piece of
  Bread & Butter, on the stage I have frequently known some of the
  female spectators to long for it”. The above print may be regarded
  not only as highly curious for the place it represents, but as a
  unique specimen of the interior economy of our antient English

The time of commencing the performance was three, so that the theatre,
at all events for the first part of Charles’s reign, was an afternoon
amusement. The doors were thrown open soon after noon. Pepys, on one
occasion, went to the theatre a little after noon; the doors were not
then open, but they were thrown open shortly afterwards. On entering
the Pit he found many people there already, having got in by private
ways. As he had had no dinner he found a boy to keep his seat, and
went outside to get some dinner at the Rose Tavern (Wills’s, Russell

The play was constantly changed, and the popularity of the rival houses
continually varied. On one occasion, on arriving at Drury Lane at
three, the hour for beginning, Pepys found not one single person in
the Pit. However, some came late, and there was a performance after
all. The new fashion of having women instead of boys for the female
parts was so popular, that plays acted by women alone were actually
presented. One of the plays then performed, Killigrew’s _Parsons
Wedding_, is described as “obscene and loose,” for which reason it was
thought fittest for women to play.

The wearing of masks at the theatre, which was common among ladies,
was due to the disgraceful licence of the dramatist. One would think,
however, that if ladies disliked the grossness, they might stay away;
perhaps it was rather due partly to the desire of not attracting
public attention, partly to the charm of the mysterious. As for women
disliking the coarseness of the play, we may simply remember that
though women are in every age better than men in that respect, they are
not always very much better. Like the clergy, the best we can expect of
them is that they should be a little better than the men.

The seventeenth century witnessed the splendour and the death of the
masque. For fifty years, if one sought for fine stage scenery, splendid
dresses, curious stage effects, it was not at the theatre that it was
to be found, but at the masque.

It was a very costly form of entertainment. Private persons could not
attempt it. No manager of a theatre could attempt it, because the
fullest house could not pay for producing it. Only great noblemen, rich
bodies, and the Court could present a masque. There was orchestral
music of the finest; there were songs, madrigals, choruses; there were
long speeches; there was dancing, both singly and in groups; there
were most costly dresses, and there were transformation scenes managed
with a dexterity worthy of a modern theatre. It is remarkable that the
theatre never tried to vie with the masque in scenery or dresses or
music. Ben Jonson was the principal writer of the libretti; Henry Lawn
was the musician; Gills the inventor of the dances; Inigo Jones the
machinist and scene painter.

James the First and his Queen delighted in the masque. So did Charles
and Henrietta; the Civil War put a stop to this beautiful and courtly
entertainment; after the Restoration, when an attempt was made to
revive it, the taste for it had gone; it had played its part and was

Let me present, greatly abbreviated, one of Ben Jonson’s masques:—

The masque of _Neptune’s Triumph for the Return of Albion_ is a
favourable specimen of the scenic effects of the masque. It was played
on Twelfth Night, 1624.

The scene at first showed nothing but two pillars with inscriptions;
on the one NEP. RED., and on the other SEC. JOV. The masque opens with
a long and tedious dialogue between a cook and a poet; in the course
of it the latter explains the purpose of the masque, which is to
celebrate the safe return of the Prince from Spain:—

    “The mighty Neptune, mighty in his styles,
     And large command of waters, and of isles;
     Not as the ‘lord and sovereign of the seas,’
     But ‘chief in the art of riding’ late did please,
     To send his Albion forth, the most his own,
     Upon discovery, to themselves best known,
     Through Celtiberia; and, to assist his course,
     Gave him his powerful Manager of Horse,
     With divine Proteus, father of disguise,
     To wait upon them with his counsels wise,
     In all extremes. His great commands being done,
     And he desirous to review his son,
     He doth dispatch a floating isle, from hence,
     Unto the Hesperian shores, to waft him thence.
     Where, what the arts were used to make him stay
     And how the Syrens woo’d him by the way,
     What monsters he encountered on the coast,
     How near our general joy was to be lost,
     Is not our subject now; though all these make
     The present gladness greater, for their sake.
     But what the triumphs are, the feast, the sport,
     And proud solemnities of Neptune’s court,
     Now he is safe, and Fame’s not heard in vain,
     But we behold our happy pledge again.”

The ground thus cleared, the cook brings in persons representing the
various ingredients of an Olla Podrida. This was intended for the comic
part. Then a comic anti-masque is danced by these mummers. After this
the scene opens, and discloses the Island of Delos. The masquers are
sitting in their “sieges.” Then the heavens open and disclose Apollo,
Mercury, the Muses, and the Goddess Harmony. Below, Proteus is sitting.
Apollo sings:—

    “Look forth, the shepherd of the seas,
     And of the ports that keep’st the keys,
         And to your Neptune tell,
     His Albion, prince of all his isles,
     For whom the sea and land so smiles,
         Is home returned well.”

The island moves forward and joins the mainland. There is a grand
chorus of Proteus and the others while the masquers land. While they
prepare for their entry the chorus sings another verse:—

    “Spring all the Graces of the age,
       And all the Loves of time;
     Bring all the pleasures of the stage,
       And relishes of rhyme;
     And all the softnesses of courts,
       The looks, the laughters, and the sports;
     And mingle all their sweets and salts,
       That none may say, the Triumph halts.”

Then the masquers “danced their entry.” The dance was performed by the
courtiers and the Queen’s ladies. It was a dance invented for the
occasion, with stately figures, arranged groups, and active “capers.”
Then the scene was changed and disclosed a maritime palace, the home of
Oceanus, “with loud music.” “And the other above is no more seen.”

“Then follows the main dance, after which the second prospect of the
sea is shown, to the former music.”

Then Proteus and the others advance to the ladies with another song:—

    “Come noble nymphs, and do not hide
     The joys for which you so provide,
     If not to mingle with the men,
     What do you hear? go home agen.
         Your dressings do confess,
     By what we see so curious parts
     Of Pallas and Arachne’s arts,
         That you could mean no less.
     Why do you wear the silk-worm’s toils,
     Or glory in the shell-fish spoils,
     Or strive to shew the grains of ore,
     That you have gathered on the shore,
         Whereof to make a stock
     To graft the greener emerald on,
     Or any better-water’s stone?
         Or ruby of the rock?
     Why do you smell of amber-grise,
     Of which was formed Neptune’s niece,
     The Queen of Love; unless you can,
     Like Sea-born Venus, love a man?
         Try, put yourselves unto’t,
     Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet,
     Ambrosian hands, and silver feet.
         Do promise you will do’t.”

The revels follow, which ended, the fleet is discovered, while the
three cornets play.

After a little more foolish talk between the cook and the poet, the
sailors of the fleet come in and dance, and the whole is concluded with
a song by ten voices accompanied by the “Whole music, five lutes, three

    “Although we wish the triumph still might last
     For such a prince, and his discovery past:
     Yet now, great lord of waters, and of isles,
     Give Proteus leave to turn unto his wiles.

     And whilst young Albion doth thy labours ease,
     Dispatch Portunus to thy ports.

         And Saron to thy seas;
     To meet old Nereus with his fifty girls,
     From aged Indus laden home with pearls,
     And Orient gums, to burn unto thy name.

     And may thy subjects’ hearts be all on flame,
     Whilst thou dost keep the earth in firm estate,
     And ’mongst the winds, dost suffer no debate,
     But both at sea, and land, our powers increase,
     With health and all the golden gifts of peace.”

It is sometimes stated that music was killed by the Puritans. If Pepys
is to be considered as an average London citizen in this respect, their
music was very far from being killed by the Puritans. We find him, his
household and his friends, all singing, playing, taking a part; we find
parties on the river singing part songs as they glided down the stream;
we hear of the singing in church; at Court the evenings were always
provided with singing boys; at the theatre songs were plentifully
scattered about the plays. The Elizabethan custom of music at dinner
had apparently vanished, yet the power of playing some instrument was
far more general than it was later. As soon as possible after the
Restoration the choral service was re-established in the cathedrals and
the Royal chapels. Cooke, Lawn, Rogers, Wilson, and other composers
were engaged in forming and teaching the choirs; new anthems were
composed by Pelham Humphrey or Humfrey, Michael Wise, John Blow, and
Henry Purcell. The last of these, one of the greatest of English
composers, was born in 1658 and died in 1695.

It was common for people of rank to attend the service of the Chapel
Royal at Whitehall or that of St. Paul’s Cathedral. At Oxford an
association was formed, consisting of the leading scholars and
professors of the University, for the purpose of promoting the study
and practice of music, vocal and instrumental. It is true that in the
eighteenth century music seems to have deserted the English household;
perhaps in the seventeenth it lingered only among the better sort, and
had already been killed in the circles affected by the sour Puritanism
of the time.

The condition and advancement of painting in the century may be briefly
considered. The soil was prepared for the development of the fine arts
by the learning, scholarship, and travel of the English nobles and
scholars. About the year 1615 the Earl of Arundel began to collect
pictures, statues, vases, and gems. Prince Henry began a collection
which at his death passed to his brother Charles. On his accession
Charles began to increase the Royal collections begun by Henry the
Eighth, and continued slowly by his successors. Charles bought the
whole of the cabinet of the Duke of Milan for £18,000. The cartoons of
Raffaelle were acquired in Flanders by the agency of Rubens. Whitehall
Palace contained four hundred and sixty pictures, of which twenty-eight
were by Titian, eleven by Correggio, sixteen by Julio Romano, nine
by Raffaelle, four by Guido, and seven by Parmigiano. Vandyke, the
greatest among the pupils of Rubens, came over to this country and
remained here for life. In 1630 Rubens himself came over, not as a
painter but as an ambassador. However, he consented to paint the
ceiling of the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall. Charles planned an Academy
of Arts, but, like everything else, it had to be set aside.

Among lesser painters of the century were William Dobson, John Hoskins,
Samuel Cooper, John Peiletot, and Geuteleschi, all of whom lived and
painted in London.


From _Musical instruments, Historic, Rare, and Unique_ (A. & C. Black,

                            VIOLA DA GAMBA

  “For important regale of the Company the concerts were usually
  all viols to the organ or harpsichord. The violin came in late
  and imperfectly. When the hands were well supplied the whole
  chest went to work, that is, six viols, music being formed for it
  which would seem a strange sort of music now, being an interwoven
  hum-drum.”—From _Autobiography of Roger North_, born 1653.


      “The Clavichord hath a tunely kynde
       As the wyre is wrested high and lowe.”
                     JOHN SKELTON, 1459–1529, Poet Laureate.

  (The wrestler was the tuner, who wrested or strained the wire to
  the required tension.)


  This spinet was made in London about the end of the seventeenth
  century by Stephen Keene.

  A contemporary advertisement runs thus:—“Mr. Stephen Keene, Maker
  of Harpsycons and virginals dwelleth now in Threadneedle St., at
  the sign of the virginal who maketh them excellently well both for
  sound and substance.”

                             THE FLAGEOLET

  Pepys, in his _Diary_ (March 1, 1666), writes:—

  Being returned home I find Greeting, the flageolet-master, come and
  teaching my wife.” And (20th Jan. 1667)

  “To Drumbleby’s the pipe maker, there to advise about the making
  of a flageolet to go low and soft, and he do show me a way which
  he do, and also a fashion of having two pipes of the same note
  fastened together, so I can play on one and then echo it upon the
  other, which is mighty pretty.”

                        A FINE OLD ITALIAN LUTE

  A fine old Italian lute with label “1600, in Padova Venue.” A
  special interest attaches to it from its having been the favourite
  instrument of the late Carl Engel. In Evelyn’s (the Diarist) time
  lutes by famous Bologna makers were fetching extraordinary prices.

                              A VIRGINAL

  Pepys, in his _Diary_, Sept. 2, 1666, at the time of the great fire

  “Rivers full of lighters and boats taking in goods, and I observed
  that hardly one lighter or boat in three, that had the goods of a
  house in but there was a pair of virginals in it.”

Lely of course belongs to the first Restoration period. So also do
Hayls, Michael Wright, Henry Anderton, the two Vandeveldes, and many
others. Grinling Gibbons belongs to the latter years of the seventeenth
and the first quarter of the eighteenth century.

The greatest invention of the century was, without doubt, the
newspaper. As far as this country is concerned, setting aside the
apocryphal history of the _English Mercury_, its first newspaper was
started in London by Nathaniel Butter, with whom were associated
Nicholas Bonner, Thomas Archer, Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheppard,
Bartholomew Dounes, and Edward Allor. The sheet was called the _Weekly
News_, and it is believed to have begun on May 23, 1622. In the same
year the _London Weekly Courant_ also began. Twenty years later the
_Mercurius Clericus_ (1641) was started in the interests of the clergy;
the _Mercurius Britannicus_ (1642), the _Mercurius Civicus_ (1643),
the _Mercurius Politicus_, a Parliamentary paper, and _Mercurius
Pragmaticus_, a Royalist paper.

About the year 1663 the _Kingdom’s Intelligence_ was started, and this
was incorporated with the _London Gazette_ when that was founded in

Of course it was not long before the power of the Press was discovered.
The Government began to subsidise the papers; private persons began to
pay for notices in them; and trade advertisements began to appear. All
these papers were weekly. In 1695, however, the _Post Boy_ appeared—the
first daily paper.

                              CHAPTER VI

                         SPORTS AND AMUSEMENTS

A list of sports in 1600 is quoted in Furnivall’s notes to Stubbes
(Part I. Series vi. No. 6, p. 316).

    “Man, I dare challenge thee to throw the sledge,
     To iumpe or leape ouer a ditch or hedge,
     To wrestle, play at stooleball, or to runne,
     To pitch the barre, or to shoote off a gunne:
     To play at loggets, nine holes, or ten pinnes,
     To trie it out at foot-ball by the shinnes;
     At Ticktacke, Irish, Noddie, Maw, and Ruffe;
     At hot-cockles, leape-frogge, or blindman-buffe;
     To drinke halfe pots, or deale at the whole canne
     To play at base, or pen-and-ynk-horne sir Ihan:
     To daunce the Morris, play at Barly-breake:
     At all exploytes a man can thinke or speake:
     At shoue-groute, venter-poynt, or crosse and pile:
     At beshrow him that’s last at yonder style.”

The prohibition of games on Sunday by the Puritans led to the abolition
of the working-class’s amusements altogether, and was therefore
answerable for much of that hideous brutality which possessed that
class during the latter part of the eighteenth century. They were not
to wrestle, shoot, play at bowls, ring bells, hold masques, wakes, play
games of any kind, dance, or exercise any other pastime on Sunday. Now,
as Sunday was the only day when the working people could play games or
have any recreation, this prohibition destroyed the knowledge of these
games, the old delight in them, the desire for them, the skill in them.
After eighteen years of Puritan rule a new type of working man grew up,
one who knew no games and could practise none; a duller creature, heavy
witted, slow of sight, and clumsy of hand; one who would yield to the
temptation of drink without resistance; one who was capable of sinking
lower and lower still. This is one of the many blessings which have
been bestowed upon London by the Puritans.

For winter amusements the better class had a variety of games, such
as “cards, tables, dice, shovelboard, chess, the philosophers game,
small trunks, shuttlecock, billiards, music, masks, singing, dancing,
all games, frolicks, jests, riddles, catches, purposes, questions
and commands, merry tales of knights errant, queens, lovers, lords,
ladies, giants, dwarfs, thieves, cheaters, witches, fairies, goblins,
friars”—Malcolm[12] has picked this list out of Burton.


From contemporary engravings by Hollar.]

                   FEASANT HAWKING.

    The Feasant Cock the woods doth most frequent,
    Where Spanniells spring & pearch him by the sent.
    And when in flight, the Hawk w^{th}. quickned speed
    With’s beake and savage talens makes him bleede.


    _Angling on river banks, trowling for pike,
    Is noble Sport when as the fish doth strike,
    And when your pleasure’s over, then at night
    You and your freinds doe eate them with delight._}

The shows and performances at the fairs were extremely popular. There
were puppet shows, at which scriptural pieces were represented, or the
Patient Grizzle, or the Lady Godiva; there were tight-rope dancers;
there were performing dogs or monkeys; there were strong men and
cunning men; jugglers, and conjurers.

Athletic sports were in vogue. Many of the young nobles were expert
swimmers; others, among whom was the Duke of Monmouth, were fast
runners, so that foot-races were a favourite amusement. Two of them
once ran down a buck. Tennis was a favourite game, as was also
pall-mall; skating, when there was ice, was extensively practised;
bowl-racing and horse-racing were common. Bowls continued as a game
which never goes wholly out of fashion. Baiting of the bull and the
bear were resumed after the Restoration, but the lust for this brutal
sport seems to have gone out.

The evening amusements of James the First, which seem stupid and coarse
enough, may be perhaps regarded as the natural swing of the pendulum
after a day spent in the maintenance of the Royal dignity by a king in
whom there was naturally very little of dignity. The passage also shows
the kind of amusement which rich men who could afford to keep buffoons
were pleased to adopt:—

“The Monarch, it is said, would leave his dining or supping room to
witness the pastimes and fooleries performed by Sir Edward Zouch, Sir
George Goring, and Sir John _Finit_. The first sung indecent songs
and related tales of the same description, the former of which were
written by _Finit_, who procured fiddlers as an accompanyment to Zouch;
and Goring was master of the game for fooleries, sometimes presenting
David Droman and Archee Armstrong, the King’s fool, on the back of the
other fools, to tilt one at another, till they fell together by the
ears; sometimes antick dances; but Sir John Millisent, who was never
known before, was commended for notable fooling, and so he was the best
extempore fool of them all.”

Chamberlayn’s _Present State of England_ presents the most complete
picture of the sports of this century:—

  “For variety of Devertisements, Sports and Recreations, no Nation
  doth excel the English.

  The King hath abroad his Forests, Chases, and Parks, full of
  variety of Game; for Hunting Red and Fallow Deer, Foxes, Otters;
  Hawking, his Paddock-Courses, Horse-Races, etc., and at home,
  Tennis, Pelmel, Billiard, Comedies, Opera, Mascarades, Balls,
  Ballets, etc. The Nobility and Gentry have their Parks, Warrens,
  Decoys, Paddock-Courses, Horse-Races, Hunting, Coursing, Fishing,
  Fowling, Hawking, Setting-Dogs, Tumblers, Lurchers, Duck-hunting,
  Cock-fighting, Guns for Birding, Low-Bells, Bat-Fowling, Angling,
  Nets, Tennis, Bowling, Billiards, Tables, Chess, Draughts, Cards,
  Dice, Catches, Questions, Purposes, Stage-Plays, Masks, Balls,
  Dancing, Singing, all sorts of Musical Instruments, etc. The
  citizen and peasants have Hand-Ball, Foot-Ball, Skittles, or
  Nine Pins, Shovel-Board, Stow-Ball, Goffe, Trol Madams, Cudgels,
  Bear-baiting, Bull-baiting, Shuttlecock, Bowling, Quoits, Leaping,
  Wrestling, Pitching the Bar, and Ringing of Bells, a Recreation
  used in no other Country of the World.

  Amongst these, Cock-fighting seems to all Foreigners too childish
  and unsuitable for the Gentry, and for the Common People
  Bull-baiting and Bear-baiting seem too cruel; and for the Citizens,
  Foot-Ball, and Throwing at Cocks, very uncivil, rude, and barbarous
  within the City.”

In the Directory of London, 1761, there are fifteen streets, lanes,
and alleys, which are named after the game of bowls. This simple fact
proves the popularity of the bowling green. These places were licensed
by James the First. They were allowed to have tennis courts, rooms
for cards and dice, and such diversions besides bowling greens. They
were all in the suburbs; there had formerly, however, been a bowling
green in Thames Street. Twenty-four were allotted to the suburbs of
London and Westminster; four to Southwark; one to St. Katherine’s
by the Tower; two to Lambeth; one to Shoreditch; and one to every
town, village, or hamlet within two miles of London or Westminster.
In Charles’s reign a barber set up a place provided with two bowling
greens in Piccadilly, between the Haymarket and St. James Street;
nothing is said about any licence being required for this venture.

Fencing schools were much frequented. The terms used in fencing, which
are enumerated by Ben Jonson, were all Italian. The masters granted
degrees to their disciples, _Master_, _Provost_, _Scholar_. These
schools became haunts of vice, and attempts were made to suppress them,
but without success.

Duke Cosmo says that the fencing masters, in order to gain reputation,
give a general challenge, offering twenty or thirty jacobuses or more
to any one who has a mind to fight with them.

Josevin de Rochefort, whose travels in England were published in 1672,
gives a long account of a fencing match:—

“We went to see the Bergiardin, which is a great amphitheatre, where
combats are fought between all sorts of animals, and sometimes men, as
we once saw. Commonly, when any fencing masters are desirous of shewing
their courage and their great skill, they issue mutual challenges, and
before they engage, parade the town with drums and trumpets sounding,
to inform the public there is a challenge between two brave masters of
the science of defence, and that the battle will be fought on such a
day. We went to see this combat, which was performed on a stage in the
middle of this amphitheatre, where, on the flourishes of trumpets and
the beat of drums, the combatants entered, stripped to their shirts.
On a signal from the drum, they drew their swords, and immediately
began the fight, skirmishing a long time without any wounds. They were
both very skilful and courageous. The tallest had the advantage over
the least: for, according to the English fashion of fencing, they
endeavoured rather to cut than push in the French manner, so that by
his height he had the advantage of being able to strike his antagonist
on the head, against which the little one was on his guard. He had in
his turn an advantage over the great one, in being able to give him
the jarnac stroke, by cutting him on his right ham, which he left in
a manner quite unguarded. So that, all things considered, they were
equally matched. Nevertheless, the tall one struck his antagonist on
the wrist, which he almost cut off: but this did not prevent him from
continuing the fight, after he had been dressed, and taken a glass of
wine or two to give him courage, when he took ample vengeance for his
wound: for a little afterwards, making a feint at the ham, the tall
man, stooping in order to parry it, laid his whole head open, when the
little one gave him a stroke, which took off a slice of his head, and
almost all of his ear. For my part I think there is an inhumanity,
a barbarity and cruelty, in permitting men to kill each other for
diversion. The surgeons immediately dressed them, and bound up their
wounds: which being done, they resumed the combat, and both being
sensible of their respective disadvantages, they therefore were a long
time without giving or receiving a wound, which was the cause that the
little one, failing to parry so exactly, being tired with this long
battle, received a stroke on his wounded wrist, which dividing the
sinews, he remained vanquished, and the tall conqueror received the
applause of the spectators. For my part I should have had more pleasure
in seeing the battle of the bears and dogs, which was fought the
following day on the same theatre.”

Just as, early in the eighteenth century, there was a scare about the
Mohocks, so in the reign of Charles II. there was a scare about the
so-called “Scowerers.” There were “Roreres,” in the thirteenth century;
“Roaring Boys,” in the sixteenth; “Scowerers,” in the seventeenth;
Mohocks in the eighteenth; and Corinthian Tom in the nineteenth
century. And the facts and achievements of their young bloods are
always exaggerated. We are now told that the Scowerers assembled in
bands, stormed taverns, broke windows, upset apple carts, and generally
showed their indomitable spirit. Shadwell wrote a comedy about them. I
record the common belief, but doubt the fact.

Wrestling, and the sight of wrestling, was a favourite amusement of the

“In 1681,” (_Manners and Customs_) “the King witnessed a wrestling
match where the abettors were the Monarch and the Duke of Albemarle:
a meadow below the castle was the scene of action, and the match
was composed of twelve men on each side: the King’s party wore red
waistcoats, and the Duke’s blue: a ring or inclosure was formed, and a
space in it admitted the Royal coach: the Queen and her ladies viewed
the contest from the terrace, but the Duke mixed with the crowd.
The activity displayed on this occasion excited great applause, and
only one of the number offered foul play, which the Duke punished by
tripping up his heels.

The victory was gained by the blues: and they thus procured their
employer 200 guineas, the wager depending: the sum of 10s. each was
given to the King’s men, and 20s. to the victors. After which the
King’s men challenged the Duke’s at back-sword: in which exercise some
being unskilful, others were taken in to complete the number. This was
performed with great skill and courage, but not attended with those
barbarous circumstances which were usual with the Roman gladiators,
who, to shew the Emperor sport, sheathed their swords in one another’s
bowels: our most clement and gracious King abominating all acts of
cruelty. The issue of this was only some broken pates, and the palm was
again given to the blues. The King’s men being heated, and unwilling
that the Duke’s should thus carry a victory, resolved to have another
trial with them, and challenged them at football, which being accepted,
the goals staked out, and the ball placed in the middle, the Duke held
up an handkerchief over the ball, the letting fall of which was the
signal to give the start, and the handkerchief a reward to him that
got the first kick, which was one of the Duke’s men, who (in all three
exercises) behaved himself so singularly active, that his Majesty took
particular notice of him, and gave him a guinea. And, notwithstanding
fortune still appeared on the Duke’s side, his Majesty seemed highly
pleased with that day’s divertisement.”

“One of the most curious and ingenious amusements” ever offered to
the public ear was contrived in the year 1682, when an elm plank was
exhibited to the King and the credulous of London, which, being touched
by a hot iron, invariably produced a sound resembling deep groans.

“This sensible and very irritable board received numbers of noble
visitors: and other boards, sympathising with their afflicted brother,
demonstrated how much affected they might be by similar means. The
publicans in different parts of the City immediately applied ignited
metal to all the woodwork of their houses, in hopes of finding
sensitive timber: but I do not perceive any one so successful as the
landlord of the Bowman tavern in Drury Lane, who had a mantle tree
so extremely prompt and loud in its responses, that the sagacious
observers were nearly unanimous in pronouncing it part of the same
trunk which had afforded the original plank.”

The following paragraph is from the _Loyal London Mercury_, October 4,

“Some persons being this week drinking at the Queen’s Arms tavern in
St. Martin’s le Grand, in the kitchen, and having laid the fire-fork in
the fire to light their pipes, accidentally fell a discoursing of the
groaning board, and what might be the cause of it. One in the company
having the fork in his hand to light his pipe, would needs make trial
of a long dresser that stood there, which, upon the first touch, made a
great noise and groaning, more than ever the board that was shewed did,
and when they touched it three or four times, and found it far beyond
the other. They all having seen it, the house is almost filled with
spectators day and night, and any company calling for a glass of wine
may see it: which, in the judgment of all, is far louder, and makes a
longer groan, than the other, which to report, unless seen, would seem

The subject of fairs is treated very fully in the volume on the
eighteenth century; nevertheless, they cannot be here altogether
omitted, as they formed one of the chief amusements of the seventeenth

Fairs began by being serious markets, but later became a place of less
important trade, where lace, gold and silver embroidery, jewellery,
and finery of every kind were exposed for sale. A further decline took
place when people of fashion ceased to attend the fair for the purchase
of these things. Then the fair became frankly a place of amusement and
pleasure with booths. These are the several stages of a fair: first,
the exhibition and sale of its staple as wool; next, or in addition,
its ordinary trade; thirdly, a catering for children and the lower
class. All this time its shows and amusements are growing of more and
more importance, until at length they become the principal object of
the fair. Paul Hentzner, writing in 1598, describes St. Bartholomew’s
Fair as follows:—

[Illustration: _Habit of the_ LORD MAYOR _of London in 1640_.
HABIT _of the_ LADY MAYORESS _of London in 1640_.

From a contemporary print.]

“Every year upon St. Bartholomew’s Day, when the Fair is held, it is
usual for the Mayor, attended by the twelve principal Aldermen, to walk
into a neighbouring field dressed in his scarlet gown, and about his
neck a golden chain, to which is hung a Golden Fleece, and besides,
that particular ornament (the collar of SS.) which distinguishes the
most noble Order of the Garter. During the year of his magistracy he is
obliged to live so magnificently that foreigner or native, without any
expense, is free, if he can find a chair empty, to dine at his table,
where there is always the greatest plenty. When the Mayor goes out
of the precincts of the City a sceptre, a sword, and a cap are borne
before him, and he is followed by the principal Aldermen in scarlet
gowns with gold chains, himself and they on horseback. Upon their
arrival at a place appointed for that purpose, where a tent is pitched,
the mob begin to wrestle before them, two at a time; the conquerors
receive rewards from the Mayor. After this is over a parcel of live
rabbits are turned loose among the crowd, which boys chase with great
noise. While we were at this show one of our company, Tobias Salander,
Doctor of Physic, had his pocket picked of his purse, with nine crowns
(ecus du soleil), which, without doubt, was so cleverly taken from him
by an Englishman, who always kept very close to him, that the Doctor
did not in the least perceive it” (_England, as seen by Foreigners_, p.

Hentzner might have observed also that by the law of England the
cut-purse was liable to execution. In 1612 one John Pelman, a
cut-purse, was actually hanged for stealing a purse containing forty
shillings in the King’s Chapel of Whitehall. It is said of him that he
came in “good and seemly apparel like a Gentleman, a fair black coat
laced and either lined thorow, or faced, with velvet.” What says and
sings Nightingale in the play?—

    “My masters and friends and good people, draw near,
     And look to your purses, for that I do say;
     And though little money in them you do bear,
     It costs more to get than to lose in a day.
                 You oft have been told,
                 Both the young and the old,
     And bidden beware of the cut-purse so bold;
     Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse,
     Who both give you warning, you, and the cut-purse.
     Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,
     Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse!”

The following was the Proclamation made before the fair (Morley[13]):—

“The Right Honourable Lord Mayor of the City of London and his right
worshipful brethren the aldermen of the said city, streightly charge
and command, on the behalf of our sovereign lady the Queen, that all
manner of persons, of whatsoever estate, degree, or condition they be,
having recourse to this Fair, keep the peace of our said sovereign lady
the Queen.

That no manner of persons make any congregation, conventicles, or
affrays, by which the same peace may be broken or disturbed, upon pain
of imprisonment and fine, to be made after the discretion of the lord
mayor and aldermen.

Also, that all manner of sellers of wine, ale, or beer, sell by
measures ensealed, as by gallon, pottle, quart, and pint, upon pain
that will fall thereof.

And that no person sell any bread, but if it keep the assize, and that
it be good and wholesome for man’s body, upon pain that will fall

And that no manner of person buy or sell, but with true weights and
measures, sealed according to the statute in that behalf made, upon
pain that will fall thereof.

And that no manner of person, or persons, take upon him, or them,
within this Fair, to make any manner of arrest, attachment, summons,
or execution, but if it be done by the officer of this City thereunto
assigned, upon pain that will fall thereof.

And that no person or persons whatsoever, within the limits and bounds
of this Fair, presume to break the Lord’s Day in selling, showing, or
offering to sale, or in buying or offering to buy, any commodities
whatsoever, or in sitting, tippling, or drinking in any tavern, inn,
ale-house, or cook’s-house, or in doing any other thing that may lead
to the breach thereof, upon the pain and penalties contained in several
acts of Parliament, which will be severely inflicted upon the breakers

And finally, that whatever person soever find themselves aggrieved,
injured, or wronged by any manner of person in this Fair, that they
come with their plaints before the stewards in this Fair, assigned
to hear and determine pleas, and they will minister to all parties
justice, according to the laws of this land, and the customs of this
city. God save the Queen!”

The mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen sitting on horseback, robed in their
violet gowns, having made this proclamation at a point between the
city Fair and that owned by the Warwick or Holland family, as the
rest of the official rule details, “the proclamation being made, they
ride through the Cloth Fair, and so return back again, through the
Churchyard of Great St. Bartholomew’s to Aldersgate, and so ride home
again to the Lord Mayor’s house.”

“It is remarkable,” to quote from a scarce tract of 1641, which is
given at length by Morley, “and worth your observation, to behold
and hear the strange sights and confused noises in the fair. Here a
Knave in a Fool’s Coat, with a trumpet sounding, or on a drum beating,
invites you and would fain persuade you to see his puppets; there a
Rogue like a Wild Woodman, or in an antick shape like an Incubus,
desires your company to view his motion; on the other side, Hocus
Pocus with three yards of tape or ribbon in’s hand, showing his art
of Legerdemain to the admiration and astonishment of a company of
cockaloaches. Amongst these you shall see a gray goose-cap (as wise as
the rest), with a What do ye lack? in his mouth, stand in his booth
shaking a rattle or scraping on a fiddle, with which children are so
taken, that they presently cry out for these fopperies; and all these
together make such a distracted noise, that you would think Babel were
not comparable to it. Here there are also your gamesters in action;
some turning of a whimsey, others throwing for pewter, who can quickly
dissolve a round shilling into a three-halfpenny saucer.

Long Lane at this time looks very fair, and puts out her best clothes
with the wrong side outward, so turned for their better turning off;
and Cloth Fair is now in great request; well fare the Ale houses
therein; yet better many a man fare (but at a dearer rate) in the Pig
market, _alias_ Pasty nook or Pie Corner, where pigs are all hours of
the day on the stalls piping hot, and would cry (if they could speak),
‘Come eat me’; but they are dear, and the reckonings for them are

D’Urfey’s verses, written in 1655, do not present a fair quite without

    “In fifty-five may I never thrive,
       If I tell you any more than is true,
     To London she came, hearing of the fame
       Of a fair they call Bartholomew.

     In houses of boards, men talk upon cords,
       As easy as squirrels crack filberds;
     But the cut-purses they do bite and rob away;
       But those we suppose to be ill-birds.

     For a penny you may zee a fine puppet play,
       And for twopence a rare piece of art;
     And a penny a can, I dare swear a man
       May put zix of ’em into a quart.

     Their zights are so rich, is able to bewitch
       The heart of a very fine man-a;
     Here’s patient Grisel here, and Fair Rosamond there,
       And the History of Susanna.

     At Pye Corner end, mark well, my good friend,
       ’Tis a very fine dirty place;
     Where there’s more arrows and bows, the Lord above knows,
       Than was handl’d at Chivy-Chase.

Henry III. proclaimed a fifteen days’ fair to begin on the 13th of
October 1248, the Day of the Translation of St. Edward (_Matthew
Paris_, ii. p. 272)—

“On the 13th of October in this year, in the fortnight of Michaelmas,
the king proceeded to London, to keep the feast of St. Edward, that
is, of the translation of that saint, and sent word to a great number
of the prelates and nobles, begging them, out of their friendship and
devotion to him, to make their appearance at Westminster, to join with
him in solemnly and devoutly celebrating the feast of St. Edward.
At this summons, therefore, there came thither Earl Richard, Roger
Bigod, earl marshal, the Earl of Hereford, some select barons, and
certain knights, the bishops of Winchester, London, Ely, Worcester,
and Carlisle, and a great number of abbots and priors. The king then
declared it as his pleasure, and ordered it to be proclaimed by herald
throughout the whole city of London and elsewhere, that he instituted
a new fair to be held at Westminster, to continue for a fortnight
entire. He also strictly interdicted, under penalty of heavy forfeiture
and loss, all fairs which usually lasted for such a length of time in
England; for instance, that of Ely and other places, and all traffic
usually carried on at London, both in and out of doors, in order
that by these means the Westminster fair might be more attended by
people, and better supplied with merchandise. In consequence of this,
innumerable people flocked thither from all quarters, as to the most
famous fair, and the translation of St. Edward was celebrated, and
the blood of Christ worshipped to an unexampled degree by the people
there assembled. But all the merchants, in exposing their goods for
sale there, were exposed to great inconveniences, as they had no
shelter except canvas tents; for, owing to the changeable gusts of wind
assailing them, as is usual at that time of the year, they were cold
and wet, and also suffered from hunger and thirst; their feet were
soiled by the mud, and their goods rotted by the showers of rain; and
when they sat down to take their meals in the midst of their family by
the fireside knew not how to endure this state of want and discomfort.
The bishop of Ely, in consequence of the loss of his fair at Ely, which
was suspended by the king’s warrant, made a heavy complaint to him in
the matter for introducing such novelties, but he gained nothing but
words of soothing promises of future consolation.”

                              CHAPTER VII


The seventeenth century witnessed the invention of the stage coach, and
therefore the improvement of the roads. The horse litter was still used
in the first half of the century. Marie de Medici, when she visited
her daughter Henrietta in 1638, entered London in a litter. In 1640
Evelyn travelled in a litter from Bath to Wootton with his father, who
was suffering from a dropsy, which killed him. The first stage coach
was a waggon. A service of waggons was established between London and
Liverpool; there were waggons also between London and York, and between
London and other towns. M. de Sorbière, visiting London in the reign of
Charles II., says that rather than use the stage coach he travelled in
a waggon drawn by a team of six horses. Therefore the Dover stage coach
had already begun to run, and it was not thought more convenient than
the waggon. Probably it was more liable to be upset. In 1663 one Edward
Parker of Preston wrote to his father saying that he had got to London
in safety on the coach, riding in the boot; that the company was good,
“Knightes and Ladyes,” but the journey tedious.

Coaches at first had no springs, so that the occupants were tossed
about. “Men and women are so tossed, tumbled, jumbled, and rumbled.”

Stow attributes the introduction of coaches into England to one
Guilliam Boonen, a Dutchman, who became the Queen’s coachman in 1564.
He is wrong about the introduction of coaches, but he is right in
saying that within the next twenty years there grew up a great trade in
coachbuilding, to the jealousy of the watermen.

“Coaches and sedans (quoth the waterman), they deserve both to be
thrown into the Theames, and but for stopping the channell I would they
were, for I am sure where I was woont to have eight or tenne fares in
a morning I now scarce get two in a whole day: our wives and children
at home are readie to pine, and some of us are faine for meanes to take
other professions upon us.”

Taylor, the water-poet, thus speaks of coaches:—

    “Carroaches, coaches, jades, and Flanders mares,
     Doe rob us of our shares, our wares, our fares;
     Against the ground we stand and knocke our heeles,
     Whilest all our profit runs away on wheeles:
     And whosoever but observes and notes
     The great increase of coaches and of boates,
     Shall finde their number more than e’r they were
     By hale and more within these thirty yeares.
     Then water-men at sea had service still,
     And those that staid at home had worke at will:
     Then upstart helcart-coaches were to seeke,
     A man could scarce see twenty in a weeke.
     But now I thinke a man may daily see
     More than the wherries on the Thames can be.”


From the Crace Collection in the British Museum.]

In the year 1601 the attention of Parliament was called to the increase
of coaches, and a Bill was brought in “to restrain the excessive use of
coaches.” This, however, was rejected on the second reading.

Attacked or defended, the stage coach, once started, could never be
abolished. The first stage coach of the City was the hackney coach,
which was established by one Captain Busby in 1625. He posted four
coaches at the Maypole in the Strand, with instructions to his men to
carry people to any part of the town. Twelve years later there were
fifty; in 1652 there were two hundred; in 1694, seven hundred. The
coach hire was eighteenpence the first hour, one shilling afterwards.
The first coaches had no windows, but, in their place, perforated metal
shutters; the glass coach was introduced about the year 1667. Lady
Peterborough forgot that there was glass over the door and ran her head
through it.

The sedan chair was introduced by Sir Saunders Duncombe in 1634. As for
stage vehicles there were at first “long waggons,” and these as early
as 1564. The following extracts from Journals (_Archæologia_) show that
there were many stage coaches as early as 1659 and 1660:—

“1659. May 2nd, I set forwards towards London by Coventre Coach: 4th I
came to London.

1660. March 13th, my daughter Lettice went towards London in Coventre

1662. June 28th, given 16s. in earnest, and for my passage with my man
in Aylesbury Coach on Thursday next.

1663. January 27th, I went to Baginton [with his own horses, it would
appear], 28th to Towcester: 29th to St. Albans, 30th by St. Albans
Coach to London.

1677. April 8th, I went to Coventre: 9th thence to Woburne by Chester
Coach: 10th to London.

1679. July 16th, I came out of London by the Stage Coach of Bermicham
to Banbury.

1680. June 30th, I came out of London in the Bedford Stage Coach to the
Earle of Aylesburie’s house at Ampthill.”

From the diary of a Yorkshire clergyman, lent by the Rev. Mr. Hunter,
one gathers that in the winter of 1682 a journey from Nottingham
to London in a stage coach occupied four whole days. One of this
gentleman’s fellow-travellers was Sir Ralph Knight, of Langold in
Yorkshire (an officer in Monk’s army), so that Mr. Parker was not
singular in having as his companion in such a conveyance “persons of
great quality, as Knights and Ladyes.”

In 1661 there was a stage coach running between Oxford and London,
taking two days, _i.e._ thirty miles a day, or about three miles an
hour. The fare was two shillings. A coach with four horses carried
six passengers, a long waggon with four or five horses twenty to

In 1663 there was a stage coach between London and Edinburgh once a
month, taking twelve days for the journey, _i.e._ thirty-three miles a
day. In 1697 the stage coach from York to London took six days.

Charles II. instituted tolls for the repair of the roads, but they were
not extended over the whole of the country till 1767. In 1675 Lady
Russell writes that it is not possible to describe the badness of the
roads between Sevenoaks and Tunbridge Wells.

Post horses were threepence a mile, riding horses 2s. the first day,
and 1s. a day afterwards, the hirer to pay for food and to bring back
the horse.

The fare for travelling in a stage coach was a shilling for every five
miles; therefore, for the journey from London to York it would be forty

There were pamphlets for and against the use of the stage coach; it
caused those who travelled in it to contract “an idle habit of body;
they became heavy and listless when they rode a few miles, and were not
able to endure frost, snow, or rain, or to lodge in the field.” This
seems a very sound objection; there can be no doubt that when everybody
rode or walked, people were much hardier to stand against cold or heat.
On the other hand the stage coach had its defenders. One of them says
that “there is of late such an admirable commodiousness, both for men
and women, to travel from London to the principal towns in the country,
that the like hath not been known in the world, and that is by stage
coaches, wherein any one may be transported to any place sheltered from
foul weather and foul ways.”

The writer of a pamphlet in 1675 thus denounces them:—

“There is not the fourth part of saddle-horses either bred, or kept,
now in England, that was before these coaches were set up, and would be
again, if they were suppressed, nor is there any occasion for breeding,
or keeping such horses, whilst the coaches are continued. For, will any
man keep a horse for himself and another for his man, all the year, for
to ride one or two journeys: that at pleasure, when he hath occasion,
can slip to any place where his business lies, for two, three or four
shillings, if within twenty miles of London: and so proportionately
into any part of England: No: there is no man: unless some noble soul,
that scorns and abhors being confined to so ignoble, base, and sordid a
way of travelling as these coaches oblige him unto. For formerly every
man that had occasion to travel many journeys yearly, or to ride up
and down, kept horses for himself and servants, and seldom rid without
one or two men: but now, since every man can have a passage into every
place he is to travel unto, or to some place within a few miles of
that part he designs to go unto, they have left keeping of horses, and
travel without servants; and York, Chester, and Exeter stage-coaches,
each of them, with forty horses apiece, carry eighteen passengers a
week from London to either of these places: and, in like manner, as
many in return from these places to London: which come, in the whole,
to eighteen hundred and seventy-two in the year. Now take it for
granted that all that are carried from London to those places are the
same that are brought back: yet are there nine hundred and thirty-six
passengers carried by forty horses: whereas, were it not for these
coaches, at least five hundred horses would be required to perform this

We have already considered the complaint of the watermen. The stage
coaches having begun to carry passengers as far as Windsor and
Maidenhead up the river, and to Greenwich and Gravesend down the river,
who will take a boat, which is far slower and less comfortable than the

The next point of consideration is that of His Majesty’s Excise.
Formerly every traveller of quality rode with his servants, who
consumed a great quantity of beer and wine on the journey. When coaches
began, the passengers travelled without any servants at all, to the
great loss of the inns on the road and the corresponding injury to the
Excise. And consider the losses inflicted on trade:—

“For before these coaches were set up, travellers rode on horseback,
and men had boots, spurs, saddles, bridles, saddle-cloths, and good
riding-suits, coats and clokes, stockings and hats: whereby the wool
and leather of the kingdom was consumed, and the poor people set at
work by carding, combing, spinning, knitting, weaving, and fulling.
And your cloth-workers, drapers, tailors, saddlers, tanners, curriers,
shoemakers, spurriers, lorimers, and felt-makers had a good employ:
were full of work, got money, lived handsomely, and helped, with
their families, to consume the provisions and manufactures of the
kingdom: but by means of these coaches, these trades, besides many
others depending upon them, are become almost useless: and they,
with their families, reduced to great necessity: insomuch that many
thousands of them are cast upon the parishes, wherein they dwell,
for a maintenance. Besides, it is a great hurt to the girdlers,
sword-cutlers, gunsmiths, and trunk-makers: most gentlemen, before they
travelled in their coaches, used to ride with swords, belts, pistols,
holsters, portmanteaus, and hat-cases: which, in these coaches, they
have little or no occasion for. For, when they rode on horseback,
they rode in one suit, and carried another to wear, when they came to
their journey’s end; or lay by the way: but in coaches, a silk suit
and an Indian gown with a sash, silk stockings and beaver-hats men
ride in, and carry no other with them, because they escape the wet
and dirt, which on horseback they cannot avoid: whereas, in two or
three journeys on horseback these clothes and hats were wont to be
spoiled: which done, they were forced to have new very often, and that
increased the consumption of the manufactures, and the employment of
the manufacturer: which travelling in coaches doth no way do. And if
they were women that travelled, they used to have safeguards and hoods,
side-saddles, and pillions, with strappings, saddle or pillion-cloths,
which, for the most part, were either laced or embroidered: to the
making of which there went many several trades: seeing there is not
one side-saddle with the furniture made, but, before it is furnished,
there are at least thirty-seven trades have a share in the making
thereof: most of which are either destroyed, or greatly prejudiced,
by the abatement of their trade: which being bread unto, and having
served seven years’ apprenticeship to learn, they know not what other
course to take for a livelihood. And, besides all these inferior
handy-craftsmen there are the mercers, silkmen, lacemen, milliners,
linen and woollen drapers, haberdashers, and divers other eminent
trades, that receive great prejudice by this way of travelling. For
the mercers sold silk and stuff in great quantities for safeguards,
hoods, and riding clothes for women: by which means the silk-twisters,
winders, throwsters, weavers, and dyers, had a fuller employment:
the silkmen sold more lace and embroidery, which kept the silver
wire-drawers, lace-makers, and embroiderers: and at least ten trades
more were employed. The linen-draper sold more linen, not only to
saddlers to make up saddles, but to travellers for their own use:
nothing wearing out linen more than riding. Woollen-drapers sold more
cloth than now: saddlers used before these coaches were set up, to buy
three or four hundred pounds worth of cloth a-piece in a year: nay,
some five hundred and a thousand pounds worth, which they cut out into
saddles and pillion-cloths: though now there is no saddler can dispose
of one hundred pounds worth of cloth in a year in his trade. The
milliners and haberdashers, they also sold more ribbons, and riding on
horseback, spoiling and wearing them out, much more than travelling in
a coach: and, on horseback these things were apter to be lost than in a

And the expense:—

“Men do not travel in these coaches with less expence of money, or
time, than on horseback: for, on horseback, they may travel faster:
and, if they please, all things duly considered, with as little if not
less charges. For instance: from London to Exeter, Chester, or York,
you pay forty shillings a-piece in summer-time, forty-five shillings in
winter, for your passage: and as much from those places back to London.
Besides, in the journey they change coachmen four times: and there are
few passengers that give twelve-pence to each coachman at the end of
his stage: which comes to eight shillings in the journey backward and
forward, and at least three shillings comes to each passenger’s share
to pay for the coachmen’s drink on the road: so that in summer-time the
passage backward and forward to any of these places costs four pounds
eleven shillings, in the winter five pounds one shilling. And this
only for eight days riding in the summer, and twelve in the winter.
Then, when the passengers come to London, they must have lodgings:
which, perhaps, may cost them five or six shillings a week, and that
in fourteen days amounts unto ten or twelve shillings, which makes
the four pounds eleven shillings either five pounds one shilling, or
five pounds three shillings: or the five pounds one shilling, five
pounds eleven shillings, or five pounds thirteen shillings: beside
the inconvenience of having meat from the cooks, at double the price
they might have it for in inns. But if stage coaches were down and men
travelled as formerly, on horseback, then when they came into their
inns they would pay nothing for lodgings: and as there would excellent
horses be bred and kept by gentlemen for their own use, so would there
be by others that would keep them on purpose to let: which would, as
formerly, be let at ten or twelve shillings per week, and in many
places for six, eight, or nine shillings a week. But admitting the
lowest price to be twelve shillings, if a man comes from York, Exeter,
or Chester, to London: be five days coming, five days going, and say
twelve days in London to dispatch his business (which is the most that
country chapmen usually do stay) all this would be but three weeks:
so that his horse-hire would come but to one pound sixteen shillings,
his horse-meat at fourteen pence a day, one with another, which is the
highest that can be reckoned upon, and will come but to one pound five
shillings, in all three pounds one shilling: so that there would be, at
least, forty or fifty shillings saved of what coach-hire and lodgings
will cost him: which would go a great way in paying for riding-clothes,
stockings, hats, boots, spurs, and other accoutrements for riding:
and, in my poor opinion, would be far better spent in the buying of
these things, by the making whereof the poor would be set at work, and
kept from being burthensome to the parish, than to give it to those
stage-coachmen, to indulge that lazy, idle habit of body, that men, by
constant riding in these coaches have brought upon themselves.”

                             CHAPTER VIII

                         PUNISHMENT AND CRIME

In the following chapter will be found certain notes on crime and
criminals. There is little difference between the crimes of the
Elizabethan and those of the Stuart period. I have added two or three
stories of the period which seem to affect the manners of London.
Hundreds of such stories might be found scattered up and down the
annals of the seventeenth century. I have made these meagre selections
with sparing hand. The crime of Lord Sanquhar; the cruelty of the
Puritan in his punishments; an example of the honest citizen; the
treachery of a noble lord; the origin of General Monk’s wife, and one
or two more persons and episodes may be taken as illustrations of the

The punishment of criminals under the English law remained all
through the century cruel and vindictive. High treason continued to
be punished with the old barbarities; we have seen what these were.
The coiner, if a man, was drawn on a hurdle and hanged; if a woman,
she was burned alive. For petty treason, which is the murder of a
master, a husband, or a superior officer, the offender was hanged if
a man; burned if a woman. For felony of all kinds, hanging. If a man
refused to plead he was pressed to death. After death, the body was
sometimes hung in chains. In felonies where Benefit of Clergy was
still allowed, the offender was branded on the left hand. For petty
larceny, the punishments were the loss of an ear, or a whipping.
Perjury was punished with pillory, with branding on the forehead,
while the offender’s trees were pulled up in his garden and his goods
confiscated. Forgery, cheating, libelling, using false weights and
measures, forestalling the market, offending against the statutes
in bakery and brewery, were punished with pillory, and sometimes by
nailing one or both ears to the pillory, or cutting them off, or boring
through the tongue with a hot iron. For striking in the King’s Court
the right hand was struck off. For striking in Westminster Hall while
the judges were sitting, the punishment was imprisonment for life and
confiscation of the offender’s goods.

If a jury bought in a verdict contrary to evidence they were liable to
lose the franchise; to be incapable of acting as witness or on a jury,
to lose their lands and property, and to be imprisoned.

The stocks were for drunkards and vagabonds. Scolding women were to be
ducked in the ducking stool.

This goodly array of punishments was in full practice during the
seventeenth century.

There were other crimes not dealt with in this list, especially the
crime of witchcraft. James has been held up to ridicule for believing
in witchcraft. This is unjust, because there were very few in the
country who had the strength of mind to disbelieve it. Fortunately the
wave of superstitious terror hardly touched London.

The practice of duelling could be defended on the ground of its being
a survival, in a sense, of the old ordeal by battle. James I. was the
first who made an effort to restrict and abolish the practice.

Under the Commonwealth incest and adultery were made felonies.
Incontinence for the first time was made a criminal offence, to be
punished by three months’ imprisonment.

These few notes on crime and criminal law might seem incomplete without
mention of the two greatest criminals of the century, Titus Oates and
Judge Jeffreys. Their crimes, however, have little or nothing to do
with London save that those of the former were committed for the most
part in London, and that the latter died in London.

The roguery, vice, cheateries, and thieveries practised in the City
have always been on the grand scale. Perhaps there were no more of
these things in King Charles’s reign than in our own time. But it seems
so. To begin with, there were the professed and professional sharps,
men who lived by their wits. The names by which they were known under
Queen Bess had been changed; these terms of endearment or of opprobrium
do not last long. They were now known as Huffs, Rooks, Pads, Pompinios,
Philo Puttonists, Ruffons, Shabbaroons, and Rufflers. Many of them were
of good birth and of excellent manners. When one of them extorted all
his money from a flat it was with an air so engaging that he could not
resent it; nor could he believe that he had been cheated by loaded dice
and by marked cards. Not all of them were gentlemen. Thus there was the
Angler, who carried a stick with a hook at the end, which was useful in
passing an open shop; there was the Ruffler, who pretended to be an old
soldier of Marston Moor or Naseby; there was the Wild Rogue, a boy or
girl who cut off the gold or silver buttons from people in a crowd; the
Clapper Doyen, who begged about the streets with stolen children; the
Abram man, a sham madman; the Whip Jack, a sham shipwrecked sailor; the
Mumper, a decayed merchant; and the Dommerer, who pretended to be dumb.

If we are to believe the revelations of _Meritio Latron_, the City
’prentices contained among them a considerable number of young fellows
who were common rogues and thieves; they robbed their masters as much
as they dared, both of money and of goods; they met on Saturday nights
when the masters were in the country, exchanged the goods, and feasted
together in company with other rogues of the town. In the same edifying
work we are instructed concerning the sharp practices and cheateries of
the various shopkeepers. It is hardly worth while to spend any time in
enumerating these. They are much the same in every age.

The case of Alexander Leighton is one of Royal cruelty. It may be
placed beside that of Prynne. There are others of Puritanic cruelty
quite as bad, as will be seen presently.

Leighton, a Doctor of Divinity, in 1630, was accused of framing,
publishing, and dispersing a scandalous book against King, peers, and

He was brought before the Star Chamber, where he received his sentence.

First, he was degraded. He was then whipped and put in pillory. Being
taken out, his right ear was cut off and the right side of his nose
slit, and he was branded on the right cheek with the letters S.S.,
_i.e._ Stirrer up of Sedition. He was then taken back to the Fleet for
a week, after which, his wounds still fresh, he was again whipped,
again set in pillory, and was then deprived of his remaining ear, had
the left side of his nose slit, and the left cheek branded.

The Puritan was stern and unrelenting in his punishment. Perhaps this
fact may account for something of the hatred with which he came to
be regarded by the populace. Take, for instance, the case of Francis
Prideaux, a poor little petty thief, who would now be let off with a
month’s imprisonment:—

“Francis Prideaux is now convicted of a trespas for unlawfully ripping
up and taking away lead from the house of Richard Rothwell and is fined
12d., and must bee stripped naked from the middle upwards on Monday the
fourteenth day of this instant January betweene the houres of 9 and
11 of the clocke in the forenoone and then openly whipped on his back
untill his body be bloddy at the hinder part of a cart from the Old
Gatehouse through Long Ditch, Duke Street, and Charles Street in the
parish of St. Margaret’s Westminster, and back againe, from the said
Charles Street, through Duke Street and Long Ditch, to the said Old
Gatehouse. Hee is committed to the New Prison of the Gatehouse, ther to
remayne in safe custody untill he shall undergoe his said punishment,
and pay his said fine, and then be delivered paying his fees iiis.

The following history of heartless duplicity in high places is told
in the memoirs of De Grammont. The victim was one of the earliest
actresses on the stage:—

“The Earl of Oxford fell in love with a handsome, graceful actress,
belonging to the Duke’s theatre, who performed to perfection,
particularly the part of Roxana in a very fashionable new play:
insomuch that she ever after retained that name. This creature being
both very virtuous and very modest, or, if you please, wonderfully
obstinate, proudly rejected the presents and addresses of the Earl
of Oxford. The resistance inflamed his passion: he had recourse to
invectives and even spells: but all in vain. This disappointment had
such an effect upon him, that he could neither eat nor drink: this did
not signify to him: but his passion at length became so violent that he
could neither play nor smoke. In this extremity, Love had recourse to
Hymen; the Earl of Oxford, one of the first peers of the realm, is, as
you know, a very handsome man: he is of the Order of the Garter, which
greatly adds to an air naturally noble. In short, from his outward
appearance, you would suppose he was really possessed of some sense:
but as soon as ever you hear him speak you are perfectly convinced to
the contrary. This passionate lover presented her with a promise of
marriage in due form, signed with his own hand: she would not, however,
rely upon this: but the next day she thought there could be no danger,
when the Earl himself came to her lodgings attended by a clergyman and
another man for a witness: the marriage was accordingly solemnized
with all due ceremonies, in the presence of one of her fellow-players,
who attended as a witness on her part. You will suppose, perhaps, that
the new countess had nothing to do but to appear at court according
to her rank, and to display the earl’s arms upon her carriage. This
was far from being the case. When examination was made concerning the
marriage, it was found to be a mere deception: it appeared that the
pretended priest was one of my lord’s trumpeters, and the witness his
kettle-drummer. The parson and his companion never appeared after the
ceremony was over, and as for the other witness, he endeavoured to
persuade her that the Sultana Roxana might have supposed in some part
or other of a play, that she was really married. It was all to no
purpose that the poor creature claimed the protection of the laws of
God and man: both which were violated and abused, as well as herself,
by this infamous imposition: in vain did she throw herself at the
king’s feet to demand justice: she had only to rise up again without
redress: and happy might she think herself to receive an annuity of one
thousand crowns, and to resume the name of Roxana, instead of Countess
of Oxford.”

The strange story of Lord Sanquhar’s revenge belongs to the reign
of James the First; it is the story of a madman: a man who went mad
with brooding over a sense of shame. He was a Scottish nobleman, and
he came to Whitefriars to practise fencing with one or other of the
fencing-masters who had lodgings in Alsatia. He was playing with a
master named Turner, and in the course of their play he received the
point or the button of his adversary’s foil in his eye, the result of
which accident was the loss of that eye altogether. The accident, it is
said, was much regretted by Turner; considering how much it reflected
upon his professional skill, this is not surprising. Lord Sanquhar,
however, sometime visited the court of the French King Henry IV. When
the King was in discourse with him he observed the loss of the eye and
asked how that occurred. “By a sword,” said Sanquhar. “Does the man
live?” asked the King.

This question set Lord Sanquhar brooding over the thing until he
persuaded himself that his honour demanded the death of Turner. It
is, however, wonderful that he should have perversely believed that
his honour demanded the murder of Turner by two hired assassins. It
was five years after the accident of the foil. The two men went to
Whitefriars about seven in the evening. They found Turner sitting
before his house with a friend. Apparently Turner knew them, for he
invited them to drink; whereupon one of them, Carliel, turning round to
cock the pistol, presented it and fired, the bullet entering the man’s
heart, so that he fell back, dead. They then fled; one of them ran up a
_cul de sac_ and was taken on the spot; the other tried to escape into
Scotland; and Lord Sanquhar tried to hide himself in the country.

They were all three caught. The two murderers were hanged opposite the
great gate of Whitefriars—now the entrance to Bouverie Street; the
noble lord was hanged in New Palace Yard.

We hear a great deal about debtors’ prisons in the course of the
eighteenth century. Some effort was made in the seventeenth century to
investigate their condition.

In 1677 a committee was appointed to examine into the security, not
the proper treatment, of the prisoners of the King’s Bench and Fleet
Street. Joseph Cooling, Marshal of the Marshalsea, deposed that he had
given, for his office, security for £10,000 and paid, besides, a rent
of £1400 a year. He said that he gave no liberty to the prisoners to
go out; that those who would not find security were not allowed even
to leave the Rules unless attended by his servants; that his servants
saw that everybody was in his lodging at nightfall; that some prisoners
had a whole house to themselves; that the reason of the Rules was that
the prison would not hold all the prisoners; that there was a table of
fees, and that he never took more than the table allowed.

Manlove, Warden of the Fleet, deposed that his office was taxed at £600
a year; that he took security from the prisoners before he suffered
them to go into the Rules, and so on.

Then came the evidence of ten prisoners. They swore that when the
Commissioners of Bankrupts went to the prison in order to examine one
Farrington, the Marshal could only produce him twice out of eleven
times that he was wanted; that when the Commissioners’ messenger
entered the prison, the prisoners jumped upon him. The evidence on this
point is not clear. Robert Black, another prisoner, gave evidence as to
the Marshal’s exactions and tyranny. He himself had signed a petition
against these exactions, and was in consequence forcibly removed to the
poor side, where the exercise yard was encumbered with sheds and where
he had to sleep in a damp cellar 4 feet underground, 18 feet square,
with nineteen others: that prisoners had been locked up day and night,
their friends refused admission to them. This evidence of Robert Black
was confirmed by others.

Anne Moseley, another prisoner, gave evidence as to the filthy
condition of the place where she had to sleep; she also accused the
Marshal of taking £10 from her for permission to live at home and then
putting her on the poor side. George Phillips, another prisoner, swore
that he, with three others, was put into a room 16 feet by 15 feet, for
which they had to pay a rent of £24:6:6 a year, though it was worth
no more than £4 a year; that the Marshal let a number of such rooms,
some of them worth no more than £6 a year, at rents of £24, £36, £46,
and £62 a year.

Other prisoners deposed that whereas a table of fees had been laid down
by a commissioner in the third year of Queen Elizabeth and exhibited
in a frame hung up in the common hall of the prison; and whereas the
scale of fees had been further established by the 22nd and 23rd Charles
II., the warden of the Fleet, Richard Manlove, levied larger fees and
threatened to put the prisoners in irons if they were not paid.

There does not appear, however, to have been any redress of these
grievances. The difficulty in the minds of the judges was not as to the
treatment of the prisoner by the wardens, but as to their safe custody
and the keepers’ court before which the wardens should be tried in
case of allowing the prisoners to escape. In other words, a prisoner
for debt was regarded partly as a criminal who was rightly punished
by being kept in a damp dungeon, and nearly starved to death, and
partly as an obstinate person who refused to pay his just debts and was
therefore very properly maltreated.

In the year 1613 Mr. R. J., moved by the consideration of the
wickedness to be found in this City, and of the dangers and temptations
to which young men are exposed, completed a pamphlet of warning and
exposure. It is entitled “Looke on me London.” The title page goes on:—

    “I am an honest Englishman, ripping up the bowels
     of mischief lurking in thy Suburbs and Precincts.
                         Take heed
     The hangman’s halter and the Beadle’s Whip,
     Will make the Fool dance and the Knave to skip.”

The pamphlet shows, what one might have suspected, the protection
afforded by the suburbs and parts of London outside the City and
the liberties where the Lord Mayor had no jurisdiction. It was
at an innocent-looking ordinary that the young man first met the
companion who led him to destruction. He was a handsome, well-dressed,
well-spoken gentleman; he was free with his money; his manners were
easy and courteous; he laughed readily; he was known at the house,
where the drawers ran to fetch him all he wanted; it was an act of
courtesy when he spoke to the young gentleman come up from the country
to study law, as becomes one who will be a country gentleman and will
live on his estate. This brave gentleman not only condescended to
speak to the stranger, but he began to talk to him of the sights and
pleasures of the town. Would he see the play? The Curtain Theatre was
open that afternoon. Would he cross the river to see a famous fencing
match at which two would fight till one was disabled? Would he choose
rather a bear-baiting? There would be one in Paris Gardens, or, if
he liked it better, the gentleman knew where a gaming table could be
found, or a quiet hour could be spent over the dice. Or—and here he
whispered—would the young gentleman like to visit a certain _bona roba_
of his acquaintance? Upon her and her friends this friendly person
enlarged with so much eloquence that the young gentleman was inflamed,
and, forgetting his principles and his virtue, begged his friend to
take him to the house of these celestial beings.

Now this gallant of such worshipful appearance was nothing but a
“shifter” who lived by picking up such simple persons, enticing them
into the company of disorderly women, cheating at cards and dice.

“Yet for all this, my brave Shifter hath a more costly reckoning to
give him, for being thus growne into acquaintance, hee will in a
familiar kinde of courtesie accompany him up and downe the Citty,
and in the end will come unto a Mercer’s or Gold-smith’s shoppe,
of whom the young Gentleman is well knowne; there will he cheapen
velvet, satten, jewels, or what him liketh, and offer his new friend’s
credit for the payment; he will with so bold a countenance aske this
friendship, that the Gentleman shall bee to seeke of excuse to deny
him: well, although the penyworths of the one bee not very good, yet
the payment of the other is sure to bee currant.

Thus, by prodigall ryots, vaine company, and rash suretiship many of
our English yong Gentlemen are learned to say—

    ‘I wealthy was of late,
     Though needy now be:
     Three things have changed my state.
     Dice, Wine, and Venerie.’”

Presently the young gentleman falls into the hands of the money-lender:—

“After all this there seizeth upon the needy Gentleman thus consumed
another Devouring Caterpillar, which is the Broker for money: one
that is either an old Banker-out citizen, or some smooth-conditioned
unthrifty Gentleman farre in debt, some one of these will helpe him to
credit with some of their late creditors with a single protestation
of meere curtesie. But by your favour, they will herein deale most
cunningly. For the citizen Broker (after money taken out for his
paines, considering for the time given, and losse in selling of the
wares put together) will bring the yong Gentleman fifty pounds currant
money for a hundred pounds good debt.

Mary, the Gentleman broker will deale more gallanter, for he will be
bounde with his fellow Gentleman for a hundred pound, sharing the money
equally betweene them, not without solemne promise to discharge his
owne fifty, and if need be, the whole hundred pounds assurance.”

The worst places are the gaming houses.

“Thus one mischiefe drawes on another, and in my opinion gaming houses
are the chiefe Fountaines thereof; which wicked places first nourisheth
our yong men of England in pride, then acquainteth them with sundry
shifting companions, whereof one sort cozeneth them at dice, cardes,
another sort consume them with riotous meetings, another sort by
Brokage bringeth them in debt, and out of credite, and then awaiteth
covetousnesse and usury to cease upon their livings, and the officious
sergiant upon their liberties: and all this (as I said before)
principally proceeds by the frequenting of gaming houses.”

Where do the rogues of all kinds haunt and find refuge?

“Now remaineth the discovery of the third sort of these haunts, which
are placed in the suburbs of the Citty, in Allies, Gardanes, and
other obscure corners, out of the common walkes of the magistrates.
The daily Guestes of these privy houses are maister-lesse men, needy
Shifters, Theeves, Cut-purses, unthrifty servants, both serving-men and
Prentises: Here a man may picke out mates for all purposes save such
as are good: here a man may finde out fellowes, that for a bottle of
wine will make no more conscience to kill a man than a butcher a beast:
Here closely lie Saint Nicholas Clearkes, that with a good Northerne
Gelding, will gaine more by a Halter, than an honest yeoman will with a
teame of good horses: Here are they that will not let to deceive their
father, to rob their brother, and fire their neighbour’s house for an
advantage. These brave companions will not sticke to spend frankly
though they have neither lands nor goods by the dead, nor honestly by
nature. But how will this hold out; Fire will consume wood without
maintenance, and Ryot make a weake purse without supply.

Gentlemen (for the most part) have lands to make money, and the yong
citizens way to get credite: but these idle fellowes have neither lands
nor credite, nor will live by any honest meanes or occupation: yet have
they hands to filtch, heads to deceive, and friends to receive, and by
these helpes, most commonly shift they badly well.

The other upon currant assurance, perhaps, get money for twenty pounds
in the hundred, but these that worst may hold the candle: they upon
their owne, or upon their maisters apparell, Brasse, Pewter, Linnin,
Wollen, or such like, will find Brokers or Friperers, that for eight
pence in the pound for every monthe’s use, will boldly for halfe the
value take these pawnes.”

The writer goes on to describe some of the tricks of usurers. They are
so hard-hearted—but he does not consider that the profession must begin
with a flinty heart— that they neither fear God nor reverence man;
that they will neither pardon their own father nor acknowledge their
mother, nor regard their brothers, and will even make merchandise of
their own children. They bear false evidence, “offend the widow and
oppress the orphan. Oh, how great is this folly of theirs! to lose
life, to seek death, and to banish themselves from heaven eternally.”
As for the various tricks that are practised:—

“I know a Broker that will take no interest for his money, but will
have the lease of your house, or your land, in use, receiving rent for
the same till you pay your principall againe, which will come to a
greater gaine than threescore in the hundred. I knowe another that will
take no interest money, but will have Pewter, Brasse, Sheetes, Plate,
Table-Clothes, Napkins, and such like things, to use in his house, till
his money come home, which will loose more in the wearing than the
interest of the money will come to.

I know another that will take a pawne twice worth the money that hee
lends, and agree with the Borrower to redeeme it at a day, or loose
it, by which meanes the poore borrower is forced sometimes for want of
money to loose his pawne for halfe the valew.

I know another that will not lend, but buy at small prices, and
covenant with the borrower to buy the same againe, at such a price, at
such a day, or loose it. This is a fellow that seekes to cozen the Law,
but let him take heed lest the devill his good maister cozens not him,
and at the last carry him post into hell.

I know another that will lend out his money to men of occupations, as
to Butchers, Bakers, and such like, upon conditions to bee partners in
their gaines but not in their losses, by which meanes hee that takes
all the paines and ventures all is forced to give the Broker halfe the
profit for his money.

I know another, for his money lending to a Carpenter, a Brick-layer, or
a Plaisterer, will agree with them for so many daies worke, or so many
weekes, for the loane of his money, which if all reckonings bee cast
will come to a deere interest.

I know many about this citty that will not bee seene to be Brokers
themselves, but suffer their wives to deale with their money, as to
lend a shilling for a peny a weeke. To Fish-wives, Oister-women,
Oringe-wenches and such like, these be they that looke about the citty
like rats and weasels, so gnaw poore people alive, and yet go invisible.

This if it be well considered of, is a Jewish Brokage, for indeed the
Jewes first brought usury and brokage into England, which now by long
sufferance have much blemished the ancient vertues of this Kingdome:
let us but remember this one example, how that in the time of King
Henry the Third, the good cittizens of London, in one night slew five
hundred Jewes, for that a Jew took a Christian penny in the shilling
usury, and ever after got them banished the city: but surely those
Brokers aforesaid deserve worse than Jewes, for they be like unto
Strumpets, for they receive all men’s money, as well the Beggar’s as
the Gentleman’s: nay, they will themselves take money upon Brokage, to
bring their trade into a better Custome, which in my minde is a wicked
custome to live only by sinne.”

In the New Exchange, Strand, at the sign of the “Three Spanish
Gypsies,” lived from 1632 to 1649 Thomas Ratford and Ann his wife. They
kept a shop for the sale of washballs, powder, gloves, and such things;
the wife taught girls plain work, and about the year 1667 she became
sempstress to Monk, then a Colonel, and carried linen to his place. Her
father was one John Clarges, a farrier at the Savoy, and farrier to
Colonel Monk in 1632. He was a man of some success in trade, because he
promoted a Maypole on the site of the Strand Cross. He died in 1648. In
1649 Mrs. Ratford and her husband “fell out and parted.” In 1652 she
married General Monk.

Years afterwards the question arose in a court of law whether Ratford
was dead at the time of the marriage. Witnesses swore they had seen
him, but as he had never turned up to receive money due to him, which
was inconceivable if he were living, nor had he visited any of his
friends, nor was there any occasion why he should have kept out of the
way, unless it could be proved that the Duchess paid him for silence,
and as the question was only raised after all were dead, the verdict
of the jury was in favour of the legality of the marriage. The story
which represents Ann Clarges as the daughter of a washerwoman who
carried the linen which her mother had washed to Monk’s house is thus
completely disproved. Since her father was farrier to Monk in 1632, it
is possible that he noticed the girl before her marriage; it is also
quite possible that some kind of _liaison_ was carried on between Monk
and Mrs. Ratford; this perhaps was the reason of the separation, and
the marriage took place, one thinks, as soon as the death of Ratford
was known.

Thomas Bancroft, grandson of Archbishop Bancroft, was for many years
one of the Lord Mayor’s officers of the City, who in the execution
of his office, by information and summoning the citizens before the
Lord Mayor upon the most trifling occasions, and for many things not
belonging to his office, not only pillaged the poor, but likewise
many of the rich, who, rather than lose time in appearing before
the said magistrate, gave money to get rid of this common pest of
citizens, which, together with his numerous quarterages from brokers,
annually amassed a considerable sum of money. By these and other
mercenary practices he effectually incurred the hatred and ill-will
of the citizens of all denominations, that the persons who attended
his funeral obsequies with great difficulty saved his corpse from
being jostled off the bearers’ shoulders in the church by the enraged
populace, who, seizing the bells, rang them for joy at his unlamented
death, a deportment heretofore unheard of among the London rabble.

                              CHAPTER IX

                            PUBLIC MORALITY

In 1679 the Lord Mayor issued a Proclamation in favour of religion,
morality, and cleanliness which ought to have converted and convinced a
whole City. It did not, because sinners observed with satisfaction that
there was no possibility of the pains and penalties being enforced.
This instructive document deserves to be set forth at length:—

“The Right Honourable the Lord Mayor, having taken into his serious
consideration the many dreadful afflictions which this City hath of
late years suffered, by a raging plague, a most unheard-of devouring
fire, and otherwise: and justly fearing that the same have been
occasioned by the many hainous crying sins and provocations to the
Divine Majesty: and his Lordship also considering the present dangers
of greater mischiefs and misery which seem still to threaten this
City, if the execution of the righteous judgments of God Almighty be
not prevented by an universal timely repentance and reformation: hath,
therefore, thought it one duty of his office, being intrusted to take
all possible care for the good government, peace, and welfare of this
City, first, to pray and persuade all and every the inhabitants thereof
to reform, themselves and families, all sins and enormities whereof
they know themselves to be guilty: and if neither the fear of the Great
God, nor of His impending judgments shall prevail upon them, he shall
be obliged to let them know that, as he is their chief Magistrate, he
ought not to bear the sword in vain: and therefore doth resolve, by
God’s grace, to take the assistance of his brethren the Aldermen, and
to require the aid of all the Officers of this City in their several
places, to punish and suppress according to the laws of the land, and
the good customs of this City, those scandalous and provoking sins
which have of late increased and abounded amongst us, even without
shame, to the dishonour of Christianity, and the scandal of the
government of this City, heretofore so famous over the world for its
piety, sobriety, and good order.

To the end therefore that the laws may become a terror unto evil-doers,
and that such, in whose hearts the fear of God and the love of virtue
shall not prevail, being forewarned, may amend their lives for fear of
punishment, his Lordship hath thought fit to remember them of several
penalties provided by law against notorious offenders: as also of
all Constables and Public Officers (who are to put the said laws in
execution) of their duty therein.

First, every profane curser and swearer ought to be punished by the
payment of twelve pence for every oath: and if the same cannot be
levied upon the offender’s goods, then he is to sit three hours in the

Secondly, every drunkard is to pay for the first offence five
shillings: and in default thereof to sit six hours in the stocks,
and for the second offence to find sureties for the good behaviour
or to be committed to the common gaol: and the like punishment is to
be inflicted upon all common haunters of ale-houses and taverns, and
common gamesters, and persons justly suspected to live by any unlawful
means, having no visible living. And no person is to sit or continue
tipling or drinking more than one hour, unless upon some extraordinary
occasion, in any tavern, victualling-house, ale-house, or other
tipling-house, upon the penalty of ten shillings for every offence upon
the master of such house: and upon the person that shall so continue
drinking, three shillings four pence.

Thirdly, every person maintaining houses suspected of common bawdry,
by the law, is to find sureties for their good behaviour: likewise
all night-walkers, and persons using that impudent and insufferable
practice of attempting others’ modesty in the streets, are to be
punished at the House of Correction, and find sureties for their good

Fourthly, all persons using any unlawful exercises on the Lord’s Day,
or tipling in taverns, inns or ale-houses, and coffee-houses, during
divine service on that day, are to forfeit three shillings four pence
for every offence, to be levied by distress, and where none can be had
to sit three hours in the stocks: and every vintner, inn-keeper, or
ale-house keeper that shall suffer any such drinking or tipling in his
house is to forfeit ten shillings for every offence: and no person may
sit in the streets with herbs, fruits, or other things, to expose them
to sale, nor no hackney coachman may stand or ply in the streets on
that day.

And therefore all Constables and other officers, whom it doth or may
concern, are required according to their oaths solemnly taken in
that behalf, to take care for discovering and bringing to punishment
whosoever shall offend in any of the premises: and for that end they
are to enter into any suspected houses before mentioned to search for
any such disorderly persons as shall be found misbehaving themselves,
or doing contrary to the said laws, and to levy the penalties, and
bring the offenders before some of his Majestie’s Justices of the Peace
of this City, to be dealt withall according to law.

And whereas there are other disorders of another nature very
dishonourable, and a great scandal to the government of this City, and
very prejudicial to the trade and commerce of the same: his lordship,
therefore, is resolved by God’s blessing, with the assistance of his
brethren the Aldermen, to use his utmost endeavour to prevent the
same, by putting in execution the good and wholesome laws in force for
that purpose, with all strictness and severity: some of which he hath
thought fit to enumerate, with the duties and penalties upon every
Constable and other officers concerned therein.

At first the great resort of rogues, vagrants, idle persons, and common
beggars, pestring and anoying the streets and common passages, and all
places of publick meetings and resort, against whom very good provision
is made by the law, viz.:—

That all such persons shall be openly whipped, and forthwith sent from
parish to parish to the place where he or she was born, if known: if
not, to the place where he or she last dwelt for the space of one
year, to be set to work: or not being known where he or she was born
or dwelt, then to be sent to the parish where he or she last passed
through without punishment.

That every Constable that shall not do his best endeavour for the
apprehension of such vagabond, rogue, or sturdy beggar, and cause him
or her to be punished or conveyed according to law, shall forfeit ten
shillings for every default.

Secondly, the not paving and cleansing of the streets: the redressing
whereof being by a late act of Parliament put into Commissioners
appointed by Common Council, his Lordship doth hereby recommend the
same to the Deputies and Common Council of the several wards within
this City, to use their utmost diligence in that affair, and especially
to mind their respective Commissioners of the duty incumbent upon them,
and of the daily damage which the City suffers by the neglect thereof.
And his Lordship doth declare he will appear at the said Commission of
Sewers as often as his more urgent occasions will give him leave, and
doth expect such attendance of the other Commissioners as may render
the act more effectual than hitherto it hath been.

Thirdly, the neglect of the inhabitants of this City in hanging and
keeping out their lights at the accustomed hours, according to the good
and ancient usage of this City, and acts of Common Council in that

Fourthly, the not setting and continuing the watches at such hours,
and in such numbers, and in such sober and orderly manner in all other
respects, as by the acts of Common Council in that behalf is directed
and appointed.

And his Lordship doth strictly require the Fellowship of Carmen to be
very careful in the due observance of the good and wholesale rules
and orders which have been made for their regulation: his Lordship
intending severely to inflict the penalties imposed in default thereof.

And to the end that no Constable or other Officers or Ministers of
Justice may be any ways discouraged in their lawful, diligent, and
vigorous prosecution of the premises, it is provided, that if they
or any of them shall be resisted, in the just and lawful execution of
their charge and duty, or in any wise affronted or abused, they shall
be encouraged, maintained, and vindicated by the justice, order, and
authority of his Lordship and the Court of Aldermen, and the offenders
prosecuted and punished according to law.”

                               CHAPTER X

                             GENERAL NOTES

Aubrey, writing in 1678, gives some curious notes on the changes of
manners and customs. Some of his notes refer to the sixteenth century:—

“Antiently ordinary men’s houses and copyholders, and the like had no
chimneys, but flues like louver holes: some of ’em were in being when I
was a boy.

In the halls and parlours of great houses were wrote texts of scripture
on the painted cloths.

Before the last civil wars, in gentlemen’s houses, at Christmas, the
first dish that was brought to table was a boar’s head, with a lemon in
his mouth.

The first dish that was brought up to table on Easter day was a red
herring riding away on horseback, _i.e._ a herring ordered by the cook
something after the likeness of a man on horseback set in a corn sallad.

The custom of eating a gammon of bacon at Easter (which is still kept
up in many parts of England) was founded on this, viz. to show their
abhorrence of Judaism at that solemn commemoration of our Lord’s

The use of your _humble servant_ came first into England on the
marriage of Queen Mary, daughter of Henry IV. of France, which is
derived from _votre très humble serviteur_. The usual salutation before
that time was, _God keep you_, _God be with you_, and among the vulgar
_How dost do?_ with a thump on the shoulder.

Till this time the Court itself was unpolished and unmannered: King
James’s court was so far from being civil to women, that the ladies,
nay, the Queen herself, could hardly pass by the king’s apartment
without receiving some affront.

Heretofore noblemen and gentlemen of fine estates had their heralds,
who wore their coats of arms at Christmas and at other solemn times,
and cried ‘Largesse’ thrice.

A neat built chapel, and a spacious hall, were all the rooms of note:
the rest were small. At Tomarton, in Gloucestershire, antiently the
seat of the Rivers, is a dungeon 13 or 14 feet deep: about 4 feet
high are iron rings fastened in the wall, which was probably to tye
offending villains to, as all lords of manors had this power over
their villains (or socage tenants), and had all of them no doubt such
places for punishment.

It was well that all castles had dungeons, and so, I believe, had
monasteries: for they had often within themselves power of life or

In days of yore lords and gentlemen lived in the country like petty
kings, had jura regalia belonging to Seignories, had castles and
boroughs, had gallows within their liberties where they could try,
condemn and execute: never went to London but in Parliament time, or
once a year, to do their homage to the king. They always eat in their
Gothic Halls at the high table or orsille (which is a little room at
the upper end of the hall where stands a table) with the folks at the
side table. The meat was served up by watchword. Jacks are but of late
invention: the poor boys did turn the spit, and licked the dripping for
their pains: the beds of the men servants and retainers were in the
hall, as now in the guard or privy chamber here. In the hall mumming
and loaf stealing and other Christmas sports were performed.

The Hearth was commonly in the middle, whence the saying _Round about
our coal fire_.

The halls of the Justice of Peace were dreadful to behold. The skreen
was garnished with corslets and helmets, gaping with open mouths, with
coats of mail, launces, pikes, halberts, brown bills, bucklers.

Public inns were rare: travellers were entertained at religious houses
for three days together, if occasion served. The meetings of the gentry
were not at taverns but in the fields or forests with their hawks and
hounds, and their bugle horns in silken bawderies.

Before the Reformation there were no poor’s rates: the charitable doles
given at the religious houses, and the church ale in every parish, did
the business.

In every parish there was a church-house, to which belonged spits,
potts, etc., for dressing provision. Here the housekeepers met, and
were merry and gave their charity. The young people came there too, and
had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, etc. Mr. A. Wood assures me
there were few or no alms-houses before the time of Henry VIII.: that
at Oxon, opposite Christ Church, was one of the most ancient in England.

In every church there was a poor’s box, and the like at great inns.

Before the wake or feast of the dedication of the church, they sat
there all night, fasting and praying, viz. on the eve of the wake.

The solemnity attending processions in and about churches, and the
perambulations in the fields were great diversions also of those times.

Glass windows in churches and gentlemen’s houses were rare before the
time of Henry VIII. In my own remembrance, before the civil wars,
copyholders and poor people had none. In Herefordshire, Monmouthshire,
and Salop, it is so still. About 90 years ago, noblemen’s and
gentlemen’s coats were of the fashion of the beadles and yeomen of the
guard, (_i.e._) gather’d at the middle. The benchers in the Inns of
Court yet retain that fashion in the make of their gowns.

Captain Silas Taylor says, that, in days of yore, when a church was to
be built, they watched and prayed on the vigil of the dedication, and
took that part of the horison when the sun arose for the East, which
makes that variation, so that few stand true except those built between
the two equinoxes.

From the time of Erasmus to about 20 years last past the learning was
downright pedantry. The conversation and habits of those times were as
starcht as their bands and square beads, and gravity was then taken
for wisdom. The doctors in those days were but old boys, when quibbles
passed for wit even in their sermons.

The gentry and citizens had little learning of any kind and their
way of breeding up their children was suitable to the rest. They
were as severe to their children as their schoolmasters, and their
schoolmasters as severe as masters of the house of correction. The
child perfectly loathed the sight of his parent as the slave to his
torture. Gentlemen of thirty or forty years old were to stand like
mutes and fools bareheaded before their parents, and the daughters
(well grown women) were to stand at the cupboard-side during the whole
time of the proud mother’s visits unless (as the fashion was) leave was
forsooth desired that a cushion should be given them to kneel upon,
brought them by the serving man, after they had done sufficient penance
in standing.

The boys (I mean young fellows) had their foreheads turned up, and
stiffened: they were to stand mannerly forsooth, thus—the foretop
ordered as before, with one hand at the band-string, the other behind.

The gentlemen then had prodigious fans, as is to be seen in old
pictures, like that instrument which is used to drive feathers: and
it had a handle at least half as long with which their daughters
oftentimes were corrected.

Sir Edward Coke, Lord Chief Justice, rode the circuit with such a fan:
Sir William Dugdale told me he was an eye-witness of it.

The Earl of Manchester also used such a fan: but the fathers and
mothers slasht their daughters, in the time of their besom discipline,
when they were perfect women.

At Oxford (and I believe also at Cambridge), the rod was frequently
used by the tutors and deans: and Dr. Potter of Trinity College, I knew
right well, whipt his pupil with his sword by his side, when he came to
take leave of him to go to the Inns of Court.”

Misson, whose travels in England were published at the Hague in 1698,
and a few years later were translated into English, says that he
“sometimes”—as if the thing was common—met in London a procession
consisting of a woman bearing the effigy of a man in straw with horns
upon his head, preceded by a drum and followed by a mob making a noise
with tongs, gridirons, frying-pans, and saucepans. What should we
understand if we met a procession at Charing Cross consisting of four
men carrying another man, bagpipes and a shawm played before him, a
drum beating, and twenty links burning around him? The significance of
this ceremony would be wholly lost and thrown away upon us. It was,
however, one of many processions which survived from Mediæval London,
and were understood by everybody. The meaning of it was that a woman
had given her husband a sound beating for accusing her of infidelity,
and that upon such occasions, some kind neighbour of the poor innocent
injured creature—which?—“performed this ceremony.”

Again, when Prynne rode up to London to join the Long Parliament, he
was accompanied by many thousands of horse and foot wearing rosemary
and bay in their hats and carrying them in their hands, and this
was considered the greatest affront possible to the judges who had
questioned him. Why?

Of Horn Fair I have elsewhere spoken. This fair kept up to the end
its semi-allegorical character. No one seems to have known why it was
kept on October 18, which is St. Luke’s Day, but the Evangelist is
always figured with a bull’s head in the corner of his portrait. The
common people, however, associated horns, for some unknown reason,
with the infidelity of the wife. They therefore assembled at Cuckold’s
Point opposite Ratcliffe, coming down the river from London, and there
forming themselves into a procession, marched through Deptford and
Greenwich to Charlton with horns upon their heads. At the fair horns
of all kinds, and things made out of horn, were sold; the staple of
the fair was work in horn, just as the staple of Bartholomew Fair
was cloth. Besides the casual processions of the mob, a more formal
procession was organised in London itself, especially at certain inns
in Bishopsgate. This procession, which seems to have been arranged with
some care and to have been interesting, consisted of a king, a queen,
a miller, and other personages; they wore horns in their hats, and on
arriving at Charlton, walked round the church three times. The occasion
gave rise to many coarse and ribald jokes, and to much unseemliness of
all kinds—hence a proverb, “All’s fair at Horn Fair.”

In this place the fair is mentioned as one of the last places where
processions were organised, having meanings which were well understood
at that time, but which would be now forgotten. The City procession,
which everybody could read and understand like a printed book, lingered
long, falling steadily into disuse and disrepute, until the wedding
march was abandoned; the funeral, stripped of its coats of arms, the
black gowns, and its torches, and even at last, the march of the
milkmaids and the Mayday Jack in the Green, were seen no more.


                              APPENDIX I

                               THE COURT

The popular imagination pictures the Court of Charles the Second as a
place of no ceremony or state or dignity whatever; a place where the
King strolled about and where there was singing of boys, laughter of
women, tinkling of guitars, playing of cards, making merriment without
stint or restraint—a Bohemia of Courts. We have been taught to think
thus of King Charles’s Court by the historian who has seized on one
or two scenes and episodes—for instance, the last Sunday evening of
Charles’s life; by the writer of romance, by the chronicler of scandal,
by the Restoration poets, and the Restoration dramatists.

This view of Whitehall after the Restoration is, to say the least,
incomplete. Charles had a Court, like every other sovereign; he had a
Court with officers many and distinguished; there were Court ceremonies
which he had to go through; that part of his private life which is now
paraded as if it was his public life was conducted with some regard
to public opinion. What his Court really was may be learned from a
little book by Thomas De-Laune, Gentleman, called _The Present State of
London_, published in the year 1681, for George Lurkin, Enoch Prosser,
and John How, at the _Rose and Crown_. It may be useful to learn from
this book the offices and management of a Stuart’s Court.


i. _Ecclesiastical._—The Dean of the King’s Chapel was generally a
Bishop. The Chapel itself is a Royal Peculiar, exempt from episcopal
visitation. The Dean chose the Sub-Dean or _Precentor Capellæ_;
thirty-six gentlemen of the Chapel, of whom twelve were priests and
twenty-four singing clerks, twelve children, three organists, four
vergers, a serjeant, two yeomen, and a Groom of the Chapel. The
King had his private oratory where every day one of the chaplains
read the service of the day. Twelve times a year the King, attended
by his principal nobility, offered a sum of money in gold, called
the Byzantine gift, because it was formerly coined at Byzantium, in
recognition of the Grace of God which made him King. James the First
used a coin with the legend—on one side—“Quid retribuam Domino pro
omnibus quæ retribuit mihi?” and on the other side—“Cor contritum et
humiliatum non despiciet Deus.”

In addition there were forty-eight Chaplains in Ordinary, of whom four
every month waited at Court.

The Lord High Almoner, usually the Bishop of London, disposed of the
King’s alms: he received all _deodands_ and _bona felonum de se_ to be
applied to that purpose: Under him were a Sub-Almoner, two Yeomen and
two Grooms of the Almonry. There was also a Clerk of the Closet whose
duty was to resolve doubts on spiritual matters. In the reign of good
King Charles the duties of this officer were probably light.

                       II. THE CIVIL GOVERNMENT

The chief officer was the Lord Steward. He had authority over all the
officers of the Court except those of the Chapel, the Chamber, and the
Stable. He was Judge of all offences committed within the precincts
of the Court and within the Verge. In the King’s Presence the Lord
Steward carried a white staff: when he went abroad the White Staff was
borne before him by a footman bareheaded. His salary was £100 a year
with sixteen dishes daily and allowances of wine, beer, etc. The Lord
Chamberlain had the supervision of all officers belonging to the King’s
Chamber, such as the officers of the wardrobe, of the Revels, of the
music, of the plays, of the Hunt; the messengers, Trumpeters, Heralds,
Poursuivants, Apothecaries, Chyrurgeons, Barbers, Chaplains, etc.

The third great officer was the Master of the Horse. His duties are
signified by his title, which was formerly _comes stabuli_ or Constable.

Under these principal officers were the Treasurer of the Household, the
Comptroller, the Cofferer, the Master of the Household, the two Clerks
of the Green Cloth, the serjeants, messengers, etc.

In the Compting House was held the Court of Green Cloth, which sat
every day with authority to maintain the Peace within a circle of
twelve miles radius. It was so called from the colour of the cloth
spread upon the table.

The chief clerk was an official of great power and dignity: he received
the King’s guests; kept the accounts; looked after the provisions and
had charge of the Pantry, Buttery and Cellar. There were clerks under
him. The Knight Harbinger with three Gentlemen Harbingers and seven
Yeomen Harbingers provided lodgings for the King’s Guests, Ambassadors,
officers and servants.

The Knight Marshal was Judge in all cases in which a servant of the
King was concerned: he was also one of the Judges in the Court of the
Marshalsea. He had six Provost Marshals or Vergers in scarlet coats to
wait upon him.

The Servants in ordinary were the Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, and
the Groom of the Stole, the Vice-Chamberlain, the Keeper of the Privy
Purse, the Treasurer of the Chamber, the Master of the Robes, the
twelve Grooms of the Bedchamber, the six Pages of the Bedchamber, the
four Gentlemen Ushers of the Privy Chamber, the forty-eight Gentlemen
of the Privy Chamber, the six Grooms of the Privy Chamber, the Library
Keeper, Black Rod, the eight Gentlemen Ushers of the Presence Chamber,
the fourteen Grooms of the Great Chamber, six gentlemen waiters, four
cupbearers, four carvers, four servers, four esquires of the Body, the
eight servers of the Chamber, the Groom Porter, sixteen serjeants at
arms, four other serjeants at arms who attended on the Speaker and on
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. There were four Physicians in Ordinary,
a Master and Treasurer of the Jewel House, three Yeomen of the Jewel
House, a Master of the Ceremonies with an assistant and a marshal;
three Kings at Arms, six Heralds, and four Poursuivants at Arms; a
Geographer, a Historiographer, a Hydrographer, a Cosmographer, a Poet
Laureate, and a Notary.

These were the Officers of the Wardrobe: the great Wardrobe, the
standing wardrobes at Hampton, Windsor, and other places, and the
Removing Wardrobe which was carried about with the King. For the
wardrobes were one Yeoman, two Grooms, and three Pages.

For the Office of Tents and Pavilions were two Masters, four Yeomen,
one Groom, one Clerk Comptroller and one Clerk of the Tents. The Master
of the Revels ordered the plays and masques, etc. He had one Yeoman
and one Groom. Attached to the Master of the Robes were workmen,
each in his own craft. The Royal Falconer had thirty-three officers
under him. The Master of Buckhounds had thirty-four assistants: the
Master of the Otter hounds had five under him. So had the Master
of the Harriers. The Master of the Ordnance had a Lieutenant, a
master Armourer, and seventeen under officers. There were forty-two
messengers of the Chamber. There were sixty-four Musicians in ordinary;
fifteen trumpeters and kettle drummers; seven drummers and fifes; two
Apothecaries; two Chyrurgeons; two Barbers; three Printers; one Printer
of Oriental tongues. There were bookseller, stationer, bookbinder,
silkman, woollen draper, postmaster, and a Master of Cock-fighting.

There were two Embroiderers, one Serjeant Skinner, two Keepers of the
Privy Lodging, two Gentlemen, and two Yeomen of the Bows; one Cross-bow
maker; one Fletcher; one Cormorant keeper; one Hand-gun maker; one
master and marker of Tennis; one Mistress Semstress, and one Laundress;
one Perspective-maker, one Master-Fencer, one Haberdasher of Hats,
one Combmaker, one Serjeant Painter, one Painter, one Limner, one
Picture-Drawer, one Silver-Smith, one Goldsmith, one Jeweller, one
Peruque-maker, one Keeper of pheasants and Turkies. Joyner, Copier of
Pictures, Watch-maker, Cabinet-maker, Lock-Smith, of each one. Game of
bears and Bulls, one Master, one Serjeant, one Yeoman. Two Operators
for the Teeth. Two coffer-bearers for the Back-stairs, one Yeoman of
the Leash, fifty-five Watermen. Upholsterer, Letter Carrier, Foreign
Post, Coffee Maker, of each one.

Ten Officers belonging to Gardens, Bowling-Greens, Tennis-Court,
Pall-Mall, Keeper of the Theatre at Whitehall. Cutler, Spurrier,
Girdler, Corn-Cutter, Button-maker, Embosser, Enameler, of each one.
Writer, Flourisher, and Embellisher, Scenographer, or Designer of
Prospects, Letter-Founder, of each one. Comedians, Seventeen Men, and
Eight Women, Actors.

Gunner, Gilder, Cleaner of Pictures, Scene Keeper, Coffer-maker,
Wax-Chandler, of each one. Keeper of Birds and Fowl in St.
James’s-Park, one. Keeper of the Volery, Coffee-club-maker,
Serjeant-Painter, of each one; with divers other officers and servants
under the Lord Chamberlain to serve his Majesty upon occasion.

As to the Officers under the Master of the Horse, there are Twelve
Querries so called of the French Escayer, derived from Escury, a
Stable. Their office is to attend the King on Hunting or Progress, or
on any occasion of Riding Abroad, to help His Majesty up and down from
his Horse, etc. Four of these are called Querries of the Crown-Stable,
and the others are called Querries of the Hunting-Stable. The Fee to
each of these is only £20 yearly, according to the Ancient Custom; but
they have allowance for Diet, to each £100 yearly, besides Lodgings,
and two Horse-Liveries.

The next is the Chief Avener, from Avena, Oats, whose yearly fee is
£40. There is, moreover, one Clerk of the Stable, four Yeomen-Riders,
four Child-Riders, Yeomen of the Stirrup, Serjeant-Marshal, and
Yeomen-Farriers, four Groom-Farriers, Serjeants of the Carriage, three
Surveyors, a Squire and Yeomen-Sadlers, four Yeomen-Granators, four
Yeomen-Purveyors, a Yeoman-Pickman, a Yeoman-Bitmaker, four Coach-men,
eight Litter-men, a Yeoman of the Close Wagon, sixty-four Grooms of
the Stable, whereof thirty are called Grooms of the Crown Stable, and
thirty-four of the Hunting and Pad-Stable. Twenty-six Footmen in their
Liveries, to run by the King’s Horse. All these Places are in the Gift
of the Masters of the Horse.

There is besides these an antient Officer, called Clerk of the Market,
who within the Verge of the King’s household, is to keep a Standard
of all Weights and Measures, and to burn all that are false. From the
Pattern of this Standard, all the Weights and Measures of the Kingdom
are to be taken.

There are divers other considerable Officers, not Subordinate to the
Three Great Officers, as the Master of the Great Wardrobe, Post-Master,
Master of the Ordinance, Warden of the Mint, etc.

Upon the King are also attending in his Court the Lords of the Privy
Council, Secretaries of State, the Judges, the College of Civilians,
the King’s Council at Law, the King’s Serjeants at Law, the Masters of
Requests, Clerks of the Signet, Clerks of the Council, Keeper of the
Paper-Office, or Papers of State, etc.

There is always a Military Force to preserve the King’s Person, which
are His Guards of Horse and Foot. The Guards of Horse are in Number
600 Men, well armed and equipped; who are generally Young Gentlemen
of considerable Families, who are there made fit for Military
Commands. They are divided into Three Troops, viz.: the King’s Troop,
distinguished by their Blew Ribbons and Carbine Belts, their Red
Hooses, and Houlster-Caps, Embroidered with His Majesties Cypher and
Crown. The Queen’s Troops by Green Ribbons, Carbine Belts, covered
with Green Velvet, and Gold Lace, also Green Hooses and Houlster Caps,
Embroidered with the same Cypher and Crown. And the Duke’s Troop by
Yellow Ribbons, and Carbine Belts, and Yellow Hooses, Embroidered as
the others. In which Troops, are 200 Gentlemen, besides Officers. Each
of these Three Troops is divided into Four Squadrons or Divisions, two
of which consisting of one hundred Gentlemen, and Commanded by one
Principal Commissioned Officer, two Brigadiers, and two Sub-Brigadiers,
with two Trumpets mount the Guards one day in six, and are Relieved
in their turns. Their Duty is always by Parties from the Guard, to
attend the Person of the King, the Queen, the Duke, and the Duchess,
wheresoever they go near home, but if out of town, they are attended by
Detachments of the said Three Troops.

Besides these, there is a more strict Duty and Attendance Weekly on
the King’s Person on Foot, wheresoever he walks, from His Rising to
His going to Bed, by one of the Three Captains, who always waits
immediately next the King’s own Person, before all others, carrying
in his hand an Ebony-staff or Truncheon, with a Gold head, Engraved
with His Majesty’s Cypher and Crown. Near him also attends a Principal
Commissioned Officer, with an Ebony-staff, and Silver head, who is
ready to Relieve the Captain on occasion; and at the same time also,
two Brigadiers, having also Ebony-staves, headed with Ivory, and
Engraven as the others.

There is added a Troop of Grenadiers to each Troop of Guards, one
Division of which mounts with a Division of the Troop to which they
belong; they never go out on small Parties from the Guard, only
perform Centry-Duty on Foot, and attend the King also on Foot when
he walks abroad, but always March with great Detachments. The King’s
Troop consists of a Captain, two Lieutenants, three Serjeants, three
Corporals, two Drums, two Hautbois, and eighty private Souldiers
mounted. The Queens Troop, of a Captain, two Lieutenants, two
Serjeants, two Corporals, two Hautbois, and sixty private Souldiers
mounted. The Dukes Troop consists of the like number with the Queens.

The Captains of His Majesties Guards always Command as Eldest Colonels
of Horse; the Lieutenants as Eldest Lieutenant-Colonels of Horse; the
Cornets and Guidons, as Eldest Majors of Horse; the Quartermasters, as
Youngest Captains of Horse; the Brigadiers as Eldest Lieutenants of
Horse; and amongst themselves every Officer, according to the Date of
His Commission, takes precedency, when on Detachments, but not when
the Three Troops march with their Colours, for then the Officer of the
Eldest Troop, commands those of equal Rank with him in the others,
though their Commission be of Elder Date.

Next immediately after the Three Troops of Guards, his Majestys
Regiment of Horse, Commanded by the Earl of Oxford takes place, and the
Colonel of it is to have precedency, after the Captains of the Guards,
and before all other Colonels of Horse, whatsoever change may be of the
Colonel; and all the Officers thereof, in their proper Degree, are to
take place according to the Dates of their Commissions. As to the Foot,
the King’s Regiment, Commanded by the Honorable Colonel John Russel,
takes place of all other Regiments, and the Colonel thereof is always
to precede as the first Colonel. The Colestream Regiment, Commanded by
the Earl of Craven, takes the next; the Duke of Yorks Regiment next,
then his Majestys Holland Regiment, Commanded by the Earl of Mulgrave,
and all other Colonels, according to the Dates of their Commissions.
All other Regiments of Horse and Foot, not of the Guards, take place
according to their Respective Seniority, from the time they were first
Raised, and no Regiment loses its precedency by the Death of its

At the Kings House, there is a guard for his Person, both above and
below stairs. In the Presence Chamber, the Band of Gentlemen Pensioners
wait, instituted by King Henry the VII., and chosen out of the best
and antientest Families in England, to be a Guard to His Majesties
Person, and also to be a Nursery to breed up hopeful Gentlemen, and fit
them for Employments, Civil and Military, as well abroad as at home;
as Deputies of Ireland, Embassadors in Foreign Parts, Counsellors of
State, Captains of the Guard, Governors of Places, Commanders in the
Wars, both by Sea and Land, of all which these have been Examples.
They are to attend the King’s Person to and from His Chappel, only as
far as the Privy Chamber: also in all other Solemnity, as Coronations,
publick Audience of Embassadors, etc. They are 40 in number, over whom
there is a Captain, usually some Peer of the Realm, a Lieutenant, a
Standard-Bearer, and a Clerk of the Check. They wait half at a time
quarterly. Those in quarter wait daily five at a time upon the King in
the House, and when he walks abroad. Upon extraordinary occasions, all
of them are Summoned. Their ordinary Arms are Gilt Pole-Axes. Their
Arms on Horse-back in time of War, are Cuirassiers Arms, with Sword and
Pistol. These are only under their own Officers, and are always Sworn
by the Clerk of the Check, who is to take notice of such as are absent
when they should be upon their duty. Their Standard in time of war, is
a Cross Gules in a Field Argent, also 4 bends.

In the first Room above Stairs, called the Guard-Chamber, attend the
Yeomen of the Guard of His Majesties body; whereof there were wont to
be 250 Men of the best quality under Gentry, and of larger Stature than
ordinary (for every one was to be Six foot high) there are at present
100 Yeomen in dayly waiting, and 70 more not in waiting, and as any of
the 100 die, his place is filled up out of the 70. These wear Scarlet
Coats Down to the Knee and Scarlet Breeches, both richly guarded
with black Velvet, and rich Badges upon their Coats both before and
behind, moreover, black Velvet round broad Crown’d Caps, with Ribbons
of the King’s Colour; one half of them of late bear in their hands
Harquebuzes, and the other half Partizans, with large Swords by their
Sides; they have Wages and Diet allowed them. Their office is to wait
upon the King in His standing Houses, 40 by Day, and 20 to Watch by
Night; about the City to wait upon the King’s Person abroad by Water or

The King’s Palace Royal (_ratione Regiæ dignitatis_) is exempted from
all Jurisdiction of any Court, Civil or Ecclesiastick, but only to the
Lord Steward, and in his absence, to the Treasurer and Comptroller
of the King’s Household, with the Steward of the Marshalsea, who by
vertue of their Office, without Commission, may Hear and Determin all
Treasons, Fellonies, Breaches of the Peace, Committed within the King’s
Court or Palace. The Orders and Rules for the Demeanor of all Officers
and Servants are hung upon Tables in several Rooms at the Court, and
Signed with the King’s own hand, worthy to be read of all Strangers.

The Court or House where the King resides is accounted a Place so
Sacred, that if any man presume to strike another there, and only draw
blood, his Right Hand shall be cut off, and he committed to perpetual
Imprisonment, and Fined. All occasions of striking are also there

The Court of England for Magnificence, Order, Number and Quality of
Officers, rich Furniture, entertainment and Civility to Strangers, and
for plentiful Tables, might compare with the best in Christendom, and
far excels most Courts abroad. It hath for a long time been a Pattern
of Hospitality and Charity to the Nobility and Gentry of England. All
Noblemen or Gentlemen, Subjects or Strangers, were freely entertained
at the plentiful Tables of His Majesties Officers. Divers Dishes were
provided every day extraordinary for the King’s Honour. Two hundred and
forty Gallons of Beer a day were allowed at the Butters-Bar for the
Poor, besides all the Broken Meat, Bread, etc., gathered into Baskets,
and given to the Poor, at the Court-Gates, by Two Grooms and Two Yeomen
of the Almonry, who have salaries of His Majesty for that Service. The
Lord Almoner hath the Privilege to give the King’s Dish to whatsoever
Poor Man he pleases; that is, the first Dish at Dinner which is set
upon the King’s Table, or in stead thereof, fourpence a day (which
anciently was equivalent to four shillings now); next he distributes
to 24 poor men, named by the Parishioners of the Parish adjacent to
the King’s Place of Residence, to each of them fourpence in money, a
Twopenny Loaf, and a Gallon of Beer, or instead thereof three pence
in Money, equally to be divided among them every Morning at seven of
the Clock at the Court-Gate. The Sub-Almoner is to Scatter new-coined
Two-pences in the Towns and Places where the King passes through in
his Progresses, to a certain Sum by the Year. Besides, there are many
poor Pensioners, either because so old that they are unfit for Service,
or the Widows of any of the King’s Servants that dyed poor, who have
a Competency duly paid them: Besides, there are distributed among the
poor the larger Offerings which the King gives in Collar Days.

The magnificent and abundant plenty of the King’s Tables hath caused
amazement in Foreigners. In the Reign of King Charles I. there were
daily in his Court 86 Tables well furnished each Meal, whereof the
King’s Tables had 28 Dishes, the Queen’s 24, 4 other Tables 16 Dishes
each, 3 other 10 Dishes, 12 other 7 Dishes, 17 other 5 Dishes, 3 other
4, 32 had 3, and 13 had each 2; in all about 500 Dishes each Meal, with
Bread, Beer, Wine, and all other things necessary. There was spent
yearly in the King’s House of gross Meat 1500 Oxen, 7000 Sheep, 1200
Veals, 300 Porkers, 400 Sturks or young Beefs, 6800 Lambs, 300 Flitches
of Bacon, and 26 Boars. Also 140 dozen of Geese, 250 dozen of Capons,
470 dozen of Hens, 750 dozen of Pullets, 1470 dozen of Chickens, for
Bread 36,400 Bushels of Wheat, and for Drink, 600 Tun of Wine and 1700
Tun of Beer. Moreover, of Butter 46,640, together with the Fish and
Fowl, Venison, Fruit, Spice, proportionably. This prodigious plenty in
the King’s Court caused Foreigners to put a higher value upon the King,
and was much for the Honour of the Kingdom. The King’s Servants being
Men of Quality, by His Majesty’s special Order went to Westminster
Hall in Term Time, to invite Gentlemen to eat of the King’s Acates or
Viands, and in Parliament-time, to invite the Parliament-men thereto.

On the Thursday before Easter, called Maundy Thursday, the King, or
his Lord Almoner, was wont to wash the Feet of as many poor Men as
His Majesty had reigned years, and then to wipe them with a Towel
(according to the Pattern of our Saviour), and then to give every
one of them two Yards and a half of Woollen Cloth, to make a Suit of
cloaths; also Linnen Cloth for two Shirts, and a pair of Stockings,
and a pair of Shoes, three Dishes of Fish in Wooden Platters, one of
Salt Salmon, a second of Green Fish or Cod, a third of Pickle-Herrings,
Red Herrings, and Red Sprats; a Gallon of Beer, a Quart Pottle of Wine,
and four six-penny Loaves of Bread, also a Red-Leather-Purse with as
many single Pence as the King is years old, and in face another Purse
as many Shillings as the King hath reigned Years. The Queen doth the
like to divers poor Women.

The Form of Government is by the wisdom of many Ages, so contrived and
regulated, that it is almost impossible to mend it. The Account (which
is of so many Natures, and is therefore very difficult, must pass
through many hands, and is therefore very exact) is so wisely contrived
and methodized, that without the Combination of everyone of these
following Officers, viz. the Cofferer, a Clerk of the Green-Cloth, a
Clerk-Comptroller, a Clerk of the Kitchen, of the Spicery or Avery, or
a particular Clerk, together with the conjunction of a Purveyor and
Waiter in the Office, it is impossible to defraud the King of a Loaf of
Bread, of a Pint of Wine, a Quart of Beer, or Joint of Meat, or Money,
or anything else.”

                              APPENDIX II

                     LIST OF LONDON CLERGY EJECTED

  —— Adams                  St. Bennet, Paul’s Wharf.
  Dr. Samuel Baker          St. Mary at Hill.
  Dr. Walter Balcanquall    Master of the Savoy.
  James Batty, A.M.         St. Vedast, Foster Lane.
  Matthew Bennet, A.M.      St. Nicholas Acon.
  Dr. Boosie                St. Olave’s, Silver Street.
  —— Booth                  St. Botolph, Aldersgate.
  Nicolas Bradshaw, A.M.    St. Mildred, Bread Street.
  Dr. William Bray          St. Martin’s in the Fields.
  Dr. William Brough        St. Michael’s, Cornhill.
  —— Brown                  Bridewell Precinct.
  Dr. Jonathan Brown        St. Faith’s.
  Dr. Thomas Brown          St. Mary Aldermary.
  Dr. Richard Chambers      St. Andrew Hubbard.
  Dr. Richard Cheshire      St. Nicolas Olave’s.
  Robert Chestlin, A.M.     St. Matthew’s, Friday Street.
  James Chibbald, A.M.      St. Nicholas Cole Abbey.
  Dr. John Childerly        St. Dunstan in the East.
  John Clark                St. Ethelburga.
  Dr. Richard Clewet        St. Anne, Aldersgate.
  Abraham Cole, A.M.        St. Leonard, Eastcheap.
  John Cook, A.M.           St. Mary Somerset.
  Ralph Cook, B.D.          St. Gabriel, Fenchurch.
  William Cooper            St. Thomas Apostle.
  Thomas Crane, B.D.        St. Laurence, Jewry.
  Joseph Draper             St. Thomas’s Hospital.
  Dr. Richard Dukeson       St. Clement Danes.
  Gerard Eccop, A.M.        St. Pancras, Soper’s Lane.
  Phil Edlin, B.D.          St. John Zachary.
  Dr. William Fairfax       St. Peter’s, Cornhill.
  Dr. Daniel Featley        Lambeth.
  Edward Finch, A.M.        Christ Church.
  —— Foxley                 Charter House.
  Richard Freeman           St. James, Garlick Hithe.
  Thomas Fuller, A.M.       Lecturer, Savoy.
  Dr. William Fuller        St. Giles, Cripplegate.
  Dr. Gifford               St. Michael Bassishaw.
  (?)                       Rector of St. George’s, Southwark.
  Dr. John Grant            St. Bartholomew, Exchange.
  Matthew Griffith, A.M.    St. Mary Magdalen, Old Fish St. and St.
                              Bennet Sherehog.
  Dr. John Hacket           St. Andrew’s, Holborn.
  Abraham Haines, A.M.      St. Olive’s, Hart Street.
  Dr. James Halsey          St. Alphage.
  John Hanslow, A.M.        St. Christopher’s.
  Edward Harison            Holy Trinity the Less.
  Dr. William Haywood       St. Giles in the Fields.
  William Heath             Stoke Newington.
  John Hill                 St. Michael, Queenhithe.
  Dr. Percival Hill         St. Katherine Coleman.
  Dr. Richard Holdsworth    St. Peter le Poor.
  Dr. Thomas Howell         St. Stephen’s, Walbrook.
  —— Humes                  St. Dionis, Backchurch.
  Dr. Michael Jermin        St. Martin’s, Ludgate.
  Dr. John Johnson          St. Mary, Whitechapel.
  —— Jones                  St. Mary Magdalen, Milk Street.
  Dr. William Isaacson      St. Andrew’s Wardrobe.
  (?)                       Rector of St. James’s, Duke’s Place.
  Henry Kibuts, A.M.        St. Katherine’s, Coleman Street.
  Dr. Philip King           St. Botolph’s, Billingsgate.
  —— Launce                 St. Michael le Queen.
  Dr. Edward Layfield       Allhallows, Barking.
  Jeremiah Leech            St. Mary le Bow.
  Dr. John Littleton        The Temple.
  Richard Maden, B.D.       St. Mildred, Poultry.
  Edward Marbury            St. Peter’s, Paul’s Wharf.
  Dr. James Marsh           St. Dunstan’s in the West.
  Henry Mason, B.D.         St. Andrew Undershaft.
  James Meggs, A.M.         St. Margaret Pattens.
  —— Miller                 St. Helen’s.
  George Moor               Hackney.
  Cadwallader Morgan        St. Bennet Sherehog.
  Richard Owen, B.D.        St. Swithin’s.
  Ephraim Paget, A.M.       St. Edmund’s, Lombard Street.
  Thomas Palmer, A.M.       St. Bride’s.
  Dr. Thomas Paske          St. Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey.
  Thomas Pierce, D.D.       St. Martin Outwich.
  Robert Pory, B.D.         St. Margaret’s, New Fish Street.
  John Prichard, A.M.       St. Andrew Undershaft.
  —— Proctor                St. Mary Bothaw.
  Luke Proctor, A.M.        St. Michael Royal.
  —— Quelch                 St. Bennet Gracechurch.
  Nehemiah Rogers           St. Botolph’s, Billingsgate.
  —— Rush                   St. Katherine’s Cree.
  Dr. Bruno Ryves           St. Martin’s Vintry.
  Josias Shute, A.M.        St. Mary Woolnoth.
  Edward Sparke, A.M.       St. Martin’s, Ironmonger Lane.
  —— Spencer                St. Thomas, Southwark.
  John Squire, A.M.         St. Leonard, Shoreditch.
  Dr. William Stamp         Stepney.
  Dr. Matthew Stiles        St. George, Botolph Lane.
  Benjamin Stone, A.M.      St. Clement’s, Eastcheap.
  Dr. Thomas Swadlin        St. Botolph, Aldgate.
  Humphry Tabor, A.M.       St. Margaret, Lothbury.
  Thomas Thrall, A.M.       St. Mary Monthaw.
  John Tireman, B.D.        St. Mary Woolchurch.
  Thomas Tuke, A.M.         St. Olave’s, Jewry.
  Dr. Thomas Turner         St. Olave’s, Southwark.
  Daniel Tutivall           Charter House.
  Ephraim Udal              St. Augustine’s.
  Daniel Vochiere, A.M.     St. Peter’s, Cheap.
  Dr. Bryan Walton          St. Martin’s Ongars.
  William Ward              St. Leonard’s, Foster Lane.
  —— Warfield               St. Benet Fink.
  Dr. William Watts         St. Alban’s, Wood Street.
  Richard Weemsley, A.M.    St. John Baptist.
  Dr. Thomas Westfield      Great St. Bartholomew.
  John Weston, A.M.         Allhallows, Lombard Street.
  Gilbert Wimberly          St. Margaret, Westminster.
  Thomas Woodcock, A.M.     St. Mary At Hill.

It may be noted that of this list, 112 in number, 25 were either
holders of canonries in some cathedral, or were pluralists.

                             APPENDIX III


The following is a list of almshouses belonging to and founded in the
seventeenth century:—

Alleyn’s     | 1614 | Petty France  | 10 men and women  | £2 and clothes
Alleyn’s     | 1616 | Old Street    | 10 men, 1 woman   | 26s. and clothes
Alleyn’s     | 1616 | Deadman’s     | 10 men, 8 women   | 26s.
             |      |   Place       |                   |
Amyas’       | 1655 | Old Street    |  8 men or women   | £5
Aske         | 1692 | Hoxton        |  8 men, 20 boys   | £3 and clothes
Badger’s     | 1698 | Hoxton        |  6 men and wives  | 20s.
Baron’s      | 1682 | Shadwell      | 15 women          | 7s. a year
Bayning      | 1631 | Crutched      |          Parish Almshouses
             |      |   Friars      |                   |
Butler’s     | 1675 | Wismount      |  2 men and wives  | £6
Camp’s       |  ?   | Wormwood St.  |  6                | 34s. 8d.
Caron’s      | 1623 | Vauxhall      |  7 women          | £4
Dewy’s       | 1684 | Soho          |         ?         |
Emanuel      | 1601 | Westminster   | 20 men and women  | £10
Grey Coat    | 1698 | Westminster   | { 80 boys  }      | £1457
  Hospital   |      |               | { 50 girls }      |
Green Coat   | 1633 | Westminster   | 20 boys           | £300
Graham’s     | 1686 | Soho          |  4 women          | £10
Hammond      | 1651 | Snow Hill     |  6 men            | £10
Haws’s       | 1686 | Poplar        |  6 widows         | 30s.
Heath        | 1648 | Islington     | 10 men            | £6
Hill’s       | 1677 | Westminster   |  3 men and wives  | 1s. 8d. a week
Jackson      | 1685 | Deadman’s     |  2 women          | 1s. 8d. a week
             |      |   Place       |                   |
Lumley       | 1672 | Old Street    |  6 women          | £4
Meggs        | 1690 | Whitechapel   | 12 women          | £5:4s.
Melor        | 1691 | Stepney       | 10 women          | £8:13:4
Monger’s     | 1669 | Hackney       |  6 men            | £2
Newbury      | 1688 | Mile End      | 12 women          | £5:4s.
Owen’s       | 1610 | Whyton        | 10 women          | £3:16s. and clothes
Palmer       | 1654 | Westminster   | 12 men and women  | £6
Parnell      | 1698 | Mile End      |  8 women          | 1s. 8d. a week, etc.
Rogers       | 1612 | Cripplegate   |  6 men and wives  | £4
St. Peter’s  | 1618 | Newington     | Fishmongers’      |
             |      | Butts         |   Company         |
Sion College | 1623 | London Wall   | 20 men and women  | £6
Southampton  | 1656 | St. Giles     |                   |
Spurstowe    | 1666 | Hackney       |  6 women          | £4
Stafford     | 1633 | Gray’s Inn    |  4 men, 6 women   | £6 and clothes
             |      |   Lane        |                   |
Trinity      | 1695 | Mile End      | 28 men            | £10:12s.
  Hospital   |      |               |                   |
Walter’s     | 1651 | Newington     | 16 men and women  | £3:10s.
Watson’s     |  ?   | Shoreditch    | 12 women          | 20s. and coals
Whitcher     | 1683 | Westminster   |  6 men and women  | £5 and a gown
Wood’s       | 1613 | Ratcliffe     |  6 men            | £6 and coals
Young’s      | 1694 | Southwark     |  2 women          | 1s. a week

From the almshouses turn to the schools. Those founded in the
seventeenth century were as follows:—

Allhallows, Staining    | Will. Linton    | 1658 | £26 per annum | 6 boys
Almonry                 | Emery Hill      | 1677 |    7  „    „  |  ...
St. Saviour’s Church    | Applebea        | 1681 |   20  „    „  | 30  „
  Yard                  |                 |      |               |
Dunhill Fields          | Trotman         | 1673 |   80  „    „  | 30  „
Castle Street           | Alf. Tenison    | 1685 | 1500  „    „  | 30  „
Cherry Tree Alley       | W. Worrall      | 1689 |   30  „    „  | 40  „
East Smithfield         | Sir S. Sterling | 1673 |   20  „    „  | 16  „
Islington               | Dame Alice Owen | 1613 |   20  „    „  | 30 children
Lambeth                 | R. Lawrence     | 1661 |   35  „    „  | 20    „
Palmer’s School: _see_  |                 |      |               |
  Almshouses            |                 |      |               |
Grey Coat } _see_       |                 |      |               |
Green Coat}   Almshouses|                 |      |               |
Parker’s Lane           | W. Skelton      | 1663 |       ...     | 50 boys
Plow Yard               | J. Hickson      | 1689 | £30 per annum | 20  „
Rotherhithe             | Hills and Bell  | 1612 |   3  „     „  |  8 children
Tothill Fields          | Emery Hill      | 1677 |               | 20 boys
Whitechapel             | Davenant        | 1686 | about £80 „ „ |{60  „
                        |                 |      |               |{40 girls

                              APPENDIX IV


In 1687 there were in the House of Lords—12 Dukes, 2 Marquesses, 66
Earls, 9 Viscounts, 64 Barons, 2 Archbishops, and 24 Bishops. Total 181.

In the House of Commons—92 Knights of Counties, 25 cities 2 Knights
each and Lords 4, 8 Cinque ports, 16 Barons, 2 Universities 2 burgesses
each, and 344 burgesses for Boroughs.

                              APPENDIX V

                      ENLARGEMENT OF THE STREETS

The following rules were laid down for the enlargement and improvement
of the streets:—

“Pursuant to the said Act of Parliament, a Common Council was called
for the purposes thereof; in which it was enacted, ‘That the street
called Fleet Street, from the place where the Greyhound Tavern stood to
Ludgate, and from thence into St. Paul’s Churchyard, shall be further
enlarged to be of the breadth of forty-five foot.

That the street leading from the east end of St. Paul’s Churchyard
into Cheapside shall be further enlarged to be of the same breadth of
forty-five foot.

That the street and passage at the east end of Cheapside, leading into
the Poultry, shall be enlarged to be on a level line forty foot broad.

That the street and passage out of the Poultry, leading into the west
end of Cornhill, shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of forty foot.

That Blowbladder Street, leading into Cheapside, shall be enlarged to
be of the breadth of forty foot.

That Ave Mary Lane shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of eighteen

That the street from Aldersgate, through St. Martin’s le Grand,
into Blowbladder Street, shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of
twenty-four foot.

That the passage from St. Magnus Church to the Conduit in Gracechurch
Street shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of thirty-five foot.

That the north end of Gracechurch Street from Leadenhall shall be
enlarged to be of the same breadth of thirty-five foot.

That Thames Street, from the West Corner of St. Magnus Church aforesaid
to Tower Dock, shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of thirty foot.

That the ground where the Middle Row in the Shambles stood, and the
ground of the four late houses in Newgate Market, between Warwick Lane
end and the late Bell Inn, there, and also the ground where the Middle
Row in Old Fish Street stood, shall be laid into the streets.

That there shall be a new street made from the Guildhall into
Cheapside, of the breadth of thirty-six foot.

That Pannier Alley, between Paternoster Row and Newgate Market,
shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of nine foot, and paved with
free-stone for a foot-passage.

That St. Paul’s Alley, between Paternoster Row and St. Paul’s
Churchyard, shall be also enlarged to be of the same breadth of nine
foot, and paved with free-stone for a foot-passage.

That Grocers Alley in the Poultry shall be enlarged to be of the
breadth of eleven foot.

That Scalding Alley there shall be enlarged to be of the breadth of
nine foot.

That Old Swan Alley in Thames Street shall be enlarged to be of the
breadth of fourteen foot.

That Love Lane in Thames Street shall be enlarged to be of the breadth
of ten foot.

That the cross Lane between St. Dunstan’s Hill and Harp Lane shall be
enlarged to be of the breadth of fourteen foot.

And be it farther enacted, ordained, and declared, That all streight
and narrow passages, not fourteen foot broad, which have been or shall
be staked out by the Surveyor hereunto appointed by this Court to the
breadth of fourteen foot, shall be enlarged accordingly, and in such
manner, as they now are, or shall be staked and set out.

And this court was farther consenting and desirous, that all other
streight and narrow passages, not before particularly mentioned (which
should be found convenient to be enlarged for the common benefit and
accommodation, and should receive his Majesty’s Order and approbation),
should and might be enlarged and made wider, and otherwise altered,
before the twenty-ninth day of May now next ensuing, as should be
fitting for the beauty, ornament, and conveniency thereof, and staked
and set out accordingly’” (_Maitland_, vol. i. p. 443).


  “1. Tower Dock in Thames Street is to be raised 3 foot: At 147 foot
  upwards from Thames Street to be raised 2 foot 10 inches: At the
  highest part in Tower Street, against the middle of St. Allhallows
  Barking churchyard, to be sunk 6 in.

  2. Beer Lane is to be raised at Thames Street 8 ft., at 90 ft.
  upwards 4 ft., and to be abated at 192 ft. upwards 3 inch., and at
  Tower Street 6 inch.

  3. Water Lane is to be raised at Thames Street 6 ft., at 83 ft.
  upwards nothing, and to be abated at 128 ft. upwards 1 ft. 11
  inch., at Tower Street 3 ft. 10 inch.

  4. Harp Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 7 ft., at 100 ft.
  upwards 4 ft. 7 inch., and to be abated at 180 ft. 1 ft. 6 inch.,
  at 270 ft. 6 ft. 4 inch., at Tower Street 6 ft. 4 inch.

  5. Idle Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 7 ft., at 90 ft.
  upwards 4 ft. 2 inch., and to be abated at 165 ft. upwards 2 ft. 3
  inch., at 262 ft. 5 ft. 10 inch., in Tower Street 3 ft. 6 inch.

  6. St. Dunstan’s Hill, beginning at Idle Lane, is to be raised 4
  ft. 2 inch., at 76 ft. upwards 3 ft. 3 inch., at 126 ft. 1 ft., and
  to be abated at 226 ft. 2 ft. 1 inch., at Tower Street 2 ft. 10

  7. St. Mary Hill is to be raised in Thames Street 5 ft., at 87 ft.
  upwards 2 ft. 6 inch., and to be abated at 187 ft. 1 ft. 8 inch.,
  at 287 ft. 5 ft. 8 inch., at 387 ft. 6 ft. 4 inch., at little East
  Cheap 3 ft. 8.

  8. Love Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 4 ft., at 100 ft.
  upwards 6 ft., at 200 ft. 2 ft. 3 inch., and to be abated at 270
  ft. 3 ft. 10 inch., at 370 ft. 8 ft., at 470 ft. 6 ft. 5 inch, at
  East Cheap 3 ft. 10 inch.

  9. Botolph Lane is to be raised at Thames Street 4 ft., at 133 ft.
  upwards 4 ft. 5 inch., at 233 ft. 10 inch., and to be abated at 333
  ft. 2 ft., at 433 ft. 2 ft., at East Cheap 3 inch.

  10. Pudding Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 7 ft., at 115 ft
  5 ft. 5 inch., at 212 ft. 1 ft. 8 inch., and to be abated at 300
  ft. 3 ft. 7 inch., at 400 ft. 6 ft., at East Cheap 5 ft. 9 inch.

  11. New Fish Street Hill is to be raised at Thames Street 2 ft., at
  80 ft. upwards 2 ft., and to be abated at 280 ft. nothing; at 380
  ft. 2 ft. 9 inch., at East Cheap 4 ft.

  12. St. Michael’s Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 7 ft., at
  80 ft. upwards 6 ft. 9 inch., at 280 ft. 6 ft. 6 inch., at 380 ft.
  2 ft. 10 inch., and to be abated at 380 ft. 8 inch., at East Cheap
  5 inch.; the current of it is 13 inch. upon 20 ft.

  13. St. Martin’s Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 6 ft., at
  103 ft. 6 ft., at 203 ft. 4 ft. 3 inch., at 303 ft. 2 inch., and to
  be abated at 403 ft. 1 inch, at Cannon Street 2 ft. 8 inch.

  14. Green Lettice and Duck’s Field Lanes are to be raised at Thames
  Street 3 ft., at 135 ft. 1 ft. 10 inch., and abated at 235 ft. 2
  ft. 11 inch., at 297 ft. 4 ft. 5 inch., at 397 ft. 5 ft. 5 inch.,
  at Cannon Street 10 inch.

  15. St. Lawrence Pountney Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 4
  ft., at 157 ft. 3 ft. 7 inch., and abated at 261 ft. 11 inch., at
  361 ft. 4 ft., at Cannon Street 2 ft. 8 inch.

  16. Suffolk Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 3 ft., at 110 ft.
  upwards 2 inch., and to be abated at 190 ft. 3 ft. 6 inch., at 290
  ft. 7 ft. 9 inch., at the entrance into Duck’s Field Lane 4 ft. 4

  17. Bush Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 3 ft., at 103 ft. 2
  ft., and to be abated at 203 ft. 8 inch., at 303 ft. 4 ft. 4 inch.,
  in Cannon Street nothing.

  18. Dowgate is to be raised in Thames Street 3 ft., at 134 ft. 1
  ft. 4 inch., and to be abated at 288 ft. 1 ft. 8 inch., the current
  1 upon 34.

  19. College Hill is to be raised at Thames Street 3 ft., at 216 ft.
  3 inch., the current 1 upon 35.

  20. Garlick Hill is to be raised at Thames Street 3 ft., at 216 ft.
  11 inch., the current 1 upon 26.

  21. Little Trinity Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 4 ft., at
  75 ft. 2 ft. 11 inch., and to be abated at 150 ft. 1 ft. 4 inch.,
  at 250 ft. 3 ft., at Great Trinity Lane 5 ft. Current 1 upon 18.

  22. Huggen Lane is to be raised in Thames Street 4 ft., at 63 ft. 3
  ft. 1 inch., and abated at 153 ft. 1 ft. 10 inch., at 253 ft. 5 ft.
  7 inch., at Trinity Lane 7 ft. Current 1 upon 18-1/2.

  23. Bread Street Hill is to be raised in Thames Street 4 ft., at
  53 ft. 3 ft., at 153 ft. 3 inch., and abated at 253 ft. 2 ft. 11
  inch., at Trinity Lane end 3 ft. 6 inch. Current 1 upon 20.

  24. Old Fish Street Hill is to be raised at Thames Street 4 ft. and
  abated at 100 ft. 1 ft. 7 inch., at 200 ft. 4 ft. 9 inch., at 300
  ft. 3 ft. Current 1 upon 16.

  25. Lambeth Hill is to be raised in Thames Street 4 ft., at 73 ft.
  11 inch., and to be abated at 173 ft. 3 ft. 6 inch., at Old Fish
  Street 3 ft. Current 1 upon 17-1/2.

  26. The Old ’Change is to be abated at Fish Street 3 ft. 6 inch.,
  at St. Austin’s Gate 1 ft. 9 inch., the current 1 upon 68.

  27. St. Paul’s Chain, or St. Bennet’s Hill, is to be raised in
  Thames Street 8 ft., at 100 ft. 3 ft. 11 inch., and to be abated at
  190 ft. 2 ft. 5 inch., at 340 ft. 4 ft. 3 inch., at 490 ft. 1 ft.,
  in St. Paul’s Churchyard as it was.

  28. Puddle Dock is to be raised at Thames Street end 8 ft., at 56
  ft. 6 ft. 2 inch., at 196 ft. 3 ft. 3 inch., at 286 ft. 3 ft. 3
  inch., at 386 ft. 9 inch., and to be abated at Carter Lane 1 ft. 7

  29. Creed Lane at Carter Lane end is to be abated 3 ft., and so
  gradually to Ludgate Hill.

  30. Ludgate Hill is to be raised at Fleet Bridge 6 ft., at 200 ft.
  upwards 8 ft. 7 inch., at 300 ft. 5 ft. 2-1/2, at 400 ft. 11 inch.,
  and to be abated at Ludgate 10 inch., at Ave Mary Lane end 1 ft. 8
  inch., at St. Paul’s Churchyard nothing.

  31. Mark Lane is to be abated at the ending in Tower Street 3 ft.,
  and so gradually to about 150 ft. up the lane.

  32. Rood Lane is to be abated all the length of it. In Eastcheap 3
  ft. 8 inch. In Fenchurch Street 1 ft.; the descent for the current
  is 1 upon 41.

  33. Grace Church Street is to be sunk at Eastcheap 4 ft., at the
  conduit 4 ft., at Lombard Street end 2 ft. 10 inches, the descent
  for the current 1 upon 68.

  34. Cannon Street is to be abated in Eastcheap, at Grace Church
  Street 4 ft., the highest ground at 200 ft. within the street,
  near St. Michael’s Lane end; the other parts of it are to be sunk
  according to the endings of the streets before-mentioned.

  35. Lombard Street is to be abated at Grace Church Street 2 ft. 10
  inch., and so gradually to about 250 ft. within the street, where
  is to be the highest ground of it.

  36. Bread Street is to be abated at Trinity Lane end 3 ft. 6 inch.,
  at Watling Street 3 ft. 2 inch., and so gradually to Cheapside; the
  descent for its current 1 upon 60.

  37. Friday Street is to be abated at Old Fish Street 3 ft., at
  Watling Street 2 ft., the Current 1 upon 70.

  38. Watling Street is to be abated at the places mentioned.

  39. Cheapside, about Wood Street end, is to be raised 2 ft., and so
  gradually eastward and westward, and that raising to end at the Old
  ’Change westward, and Soper Lane eastward.

  40. The Stocks to be abated 2 ft., and that abatement to be
  gradually extended into Cornhill, Lombard Street, Threadneedle
  Street, and the Poultry, and a little way into Wallbrook, which
  about the South end of the churchyard of St. Mary Woolchurch is
  to be raised about 2 ft., that the current of the water that way
  may be stopt, and turned back toward the Stocks, whence it is to
  be conveyed by a grated Sewer into the main Sewer not far distant”
  (_Maitland_, vol. i. pp. 444, 445).

                              APPENDIX VI

                      THE NEW BUILDINGS OF LONDON

The following is taken from a contemporary pamphlet:—

“A Particular of the new buildings within the Bills of Mortality, and
without the City of London, from the year 1656 to 1677, according to
the account now taken by the churchwardens of the several Parishes and
the old account of New Houses from 1620 to 1656, and what they did
amount to at one whole year’s value, as appears by the Duplicate in the

|                         | 1677. | 1656. |     Value.     |
|                         |       |       |  £  _s._  _d._ |
| Westminster             |  490  |       |                |
| Martins in the Fields   | 1780  |       |                |
| St. Giles in the Fields |  889  |  141  |   4855   8   6 |
| Convent Garden          |   59  |  342  | 10,859   4   0 |
| Savoy                   |   37  |       |                |
| St. Clement Danes       |  253  |  183  |   3794   0   0 |
| S. Dustan in the West   |   72  |       |                |
| St. Bridget             |  126  |  146  |   1475  15   0 |
| St. Andrews, Holbourn   |  550  |       |                |
| St. Bridewell Precinct  |       |       |                |
| St. Sepulchre           |   35  |  127  |    725  11   2 |
| Clerkenwell             |  199  |       |                |
| Bartholomew Great       |   11  |   47  |    205  15   0 |
| Bartholomew Less        |       |       |                |
| Aldersgate              |  102  |   30  |    390   0   0 |
| Criplegate              |       |  517  |   3362   1   0 |
| Bishopsgate             |  208  |  265  |   1925   7   0 |
| Algate                  |   50  |  520  |   2855   7   8 |
| Minories                |   16  |    6  |     45   0   0 |
| St. Katherines          |   24  |   51  |    370   7   0 |
| White Chappel           |  423  |  291  |   2620   4   4 |
| Shoreditch              |  144  |  348  |   1170   7   0 |
| Stepney                 | 2137  | 1625  | 11,719   6  10 |
| Shadwell                |  289  |       |                |
| Hackney                 |   51  |       |                |
| Islington               |   25  |       |                |
| S. Saviours, Southwark  |       |  339  |   2137  11   4 |
| S. Olave, Southwark     |  385  |  147  |    963  12   4 |
| S. George, Southwark    |  231  |  144  |    595  18   0 |
| S.  Thomas, Southwark   |       |  160  |    788  19  10 |
| Redriff                 |  219  |   59  |    397   7   0 |
| Bermondsey              |  349  |  428  |   3669   9  10 |
| Christ-Church           |  100  |       |                |
| Newington               |  107  |  247  |    995   2   8 |
| Lambeth                 |  185  |  383  |   1684   6   4 |
|                         |       +-------+----------------+
|                         |       | 6646  | 57,606   1  10 |

The total of the New Buildings from 1656 to 1677 is about Ten Thousand.

The Total from 1620 to 1656 was about Seven Thousand Five Hundred.

Their value at one year’s rent about Seventy Thousand Pound if it had
been collected.

Though the particular makes the number but 6646, and the sum but 57,606
Pounds, some Parishes being wanting.

As there have been great mistakes about the Damage and Nuisance by the
increase of New Buildings in the Suburbs: so by this we may see the
mistake to be as great about their number and value; some reporting
their number to be Twenty Thousand; others Thirty Thousand: though it
is very plain to any man that considers that their number cannot be
much above Ten Thousand, for that the Total of all the Houses, both
New and Old, both in the City and in the Bills of Mortality, are not
Threescore Thousand.

That this is true, and that the number from 1656 to 1677 cannot much
exceed Ten Thousand, will appear by comparing the Increase of the
Burials from 1620 to 1656 with the particular of the New Houses built
within that time....

The Medium is the Increase of two Burials for every five houses that
were built, so that the Increase of Two Thousand Five Hundred Houses
raises the Burials One Thousand.

And If we examine the Increase of the Burials from 1656 to 1677 we
shall find them to be about Four Thousand, which being but a fourth
more than were from 1620 to 1656. The new houses since that time cannot
be reckoned above a Fourth, which makes the Total about Ten Thousand.

And this way of calculation, though it may not exactly discover the
particular number of Houses, yet it is sufficient to prove there can
be no mistake of Thousands in the Account: for that the Inhabitants of
two or three Thousand Houses would have added a visible Increase to the

And to fully justify this computation, it agrees very well with the
calculation made by the Ingenious Mr. Grant both of the Total number of
the Inhabitants within the Bills of Mortality, and his probable guess
that about three in one hundred die, allowing twelve Inhabitants to
every House, one with another, which no man I suppose will dispute.

This will apparently confute that wild conjecture of some, who report
that there is Three Thousand Five Hundred New Houses in St. Martin’s
Parish, when the Burials of that Parish are not above Eighteen Hundred
in a year: so that the Total of New and Old in that Parish cannot be
above Four Thousand Five Hundred, and therefore it is probable that the
Account of 1780 now given in is very true.

The conjectures of many concerning the value of these Houses, that they
will make twenty pounds a year one with another, and raise two or three
Thousand pounds, are as false as about the number of them.

For Ten Thousand Houses will not raise about fifty Thousand pounds, it
being the half years value at ten pounds a year one with another, which
is the most they can be reckoned at.

As will plainly appear from the account of the value of those seven
thousand five hundred Houses, which did not amount to Seventy Thousand
pound at a whole year’s value, as appears by the Duplicate in the
Exchequer, they are making one with another ten pound a year.

Now the great houses in the Piazza, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and
Queen-street, were equal in value to these twenty-two Houses in St.
James Square, or Bloomsbury Square, or other places: and are more in
number of that sort of Houses than have been built since.

Besides the middle sort of Houses in the streets of Covent-Garden,
Long-Acre, Clare-Market, Old-Southampton Buildings, and other
places have equall’d both the number and value of Leicester-Fields,
Bloomesbury, York-Buildings, Essex-Buildings and the rest. And the
number of the small houses at four and five pounds per Annum since 1656
are much greater.

So that upon enquiry it is plain that the Houses that were built before
1656 were equal in value to what have been built since. And therefore
it is not probable that a Tax upon the New foundation can raise above
Fifty Thousand Pound, which considered with the charge of collecting
it, and the loss of His Majesties customes upon Timber, Boards,
Wainscot and Iron, being not less than Ten Thousand pound per annum,
which will be occasioned by the discouraging of Building will not bring
in Thirty Thousand pounds clear into the Exchequer, if it were possible
to make the Law so that all might be collected.

But not to mention how hard the purchasers of New Houses will believe
such a Law to be, having paid a valuable consideration for them and
offended no Law.

Nor how severe the Workmen Builders will think they are dealt with, to
be punished for exercising their lawful Trades.

Nor how partial it will be to those that build since 1656, that have
already paid a year’s value. Not to mention what the owners of the
great houses that have been altered think, not being allowed the £500 a
year which their Houses yielded before: since they pay for improvement
by the building of their Gardens.

Nor what is general all those sufferers will think, who believe they
have done good service to the nation by Building. The Law will have
this peculiar disadvantage, it will be impossible so to word it, or to
comprize all men’s interests, so as to raise that money as shall be
designed by it. For after the Commissioners of Oliver’s Act had set
four years, they did pay in Twenty Thousand pounds into the Exchequer
of the £70,000 that was returned upon the Duplicates.”

                             APPENDIX VII


“The garden played a large part in the recreation of the citizens. A
contemporary account of the principal London gardens is here subjoined:—

_Chelsea Physick Garden_ has a great variety of plants both in and out
of greenhouses. Their perennial green hedges and rows of different
coloured herbs are very pretty, and so are their banks set with shades
of herbs in the Irish stitchway, but many plants of the garden were
not in so good order as might be expected, and as would have been
answerable to other things in it. After I had been there, I heard that
Mr. Watts, the keeper of it, was blamed for his neglect and that he
would be removed.

_My Lord Ranelagh’s Garden_ being but lately made, the plants are
but small, but the plants, borders, and walks are curiously kept,
and elegantly designed, having the advantage of opening into Chelsea
college walks. The kitchen garden there lies very fine, with walks and
seats, one of which, being large and covered, was then under the hands
of a curious painter. The house there is very fine within, all the
rooms being wainscoted with Norway oak, and all the chimneys adorned
with carving, as in the council-chamber in Chelsea College.

_Arlington Garden_, being now in the hands of my lord of Devonshire,
is a fair place, with good walks, both airy and shady. There are
six of the greatest earthern pots that are anywhere else, being at
least two feet over within the edge: but they stand abroad, and have
nothing in them but the tree holy-oke, an indifferent plant, which
grows well enough in the ground. Their greenhouse is very well, and
their green-yard excels: but their greens are not so bright and clean
as farther off in the country, as if they suffered something from the
smutty air of the town.

_Kensington Gardens_ are not great nor abounding with fine plants. The
orange, lemon, myrtles, and what other trees they had there in summer,
were all removed to Mr. London’s and Mr. Wise’s greenhouse at Brompton
Park, a little mile from them. But the walks and grass laid very fine,
and they were digging up a flat of four or five acres to enlarge their

_The Queen Dowager’s Garden_, at Hammersmith, has a good greenhouse,
with a high erected front to the South, whence the roof falls backward.
The house is well stored with greens of common kinds: but the Queen
not being for curious plants or flowers, they want of the most curious
sorts of greens, and in the garden there is little of value but wall
trees: though the gardener there, Monsieur Hermon Van Guine, is a man
of great skill and industry, having raised great numbers of orange and
lemon trees by inoculation, with myrtles, Roman bayes, and other greens
of pretty shapes which he has to dispose of.

_Sir Thomas Cooke’s Garden_ at Hackney is very large, and not so fine
at present, because of his intending to be at three thousand pounds
charge with it this next summer, as his gardener said. There are two
greenhouses in it, but the greens are not extraordinary, for one of the
roofs, being made a receptacle for water, overcharged with weight, fell
down last year upon the greens, and made a great destruction among the
trees and pots. In one part of it is a warren, containing about two
acres, very full of coneys, though there was but a couple put in a few
years since. There is a pond or a mote round about them, and on the
outside of that a brick wall four feet high, both which I think will
not keep them within their compass. There is a large fish-pond lying on
the South to a brick wall, which is finely clad with philaria. Water
brought from far in pipes furnishes his several ponds as they want it.

_The Archbishop of Canterbury’s Garden_ at Lambeth has little in it
but walks, the late archbishop not delighting in one, but they are
now making them better: and they have already made a greenhouse, one
of the finest and costliest about the town. It is of three rooms, the
middle having a stove under it: the forsides of the room are almost
all glass, the roof covered with lead, the whole part (to adorn the
building) rising gavel wise higher than the rest: but it is placed so
near Lambeth church that the sun shines most on it in winter after
eleven o’clock: a fault owned by the gardener, but not thought on by
the contrivers. Most of the greens are oranges and lemons, which have
very large ripe fruit on them.

Mr. Evelyn had a pleasant villa at Deptford, a fine garden for walks
and hedges (especially his holly on which he writes of in his _Sylva_)
and a pretty little greenhouse with an indifferent stock in it. In this
garden he has four large round philarias, smooth clipped, raised on
a single stalk from the ground, a fashion now much used. Part of his
garden is very woody and shady for walking: but his garden not being
walled, has little of the best fruits.”


  Abductions of women, 125
  Abram men, 346
  Academy of Arts, planned, 326
  Act of Indemnity, 81
  Act of Uniformity, 81
  Actors, 321
  Actresses, first introduced, 318
  Agriculture, bad state of, 126
  Ailesbury, Earl of, 173
  Albemarle, Duke of. See _Monk, General_
  Aldermen, 12, 17, 37, 52, 69, 72, 76, 88, 128, 155, 218, 333, 335;
    court of, 114, 207, 358;
    election of, 119
  Aldersgate, 275, 335;
    Street, 173, 253, 275
  Aldgate, 13, 103, 151, 262, 277, 305
  Allen, Lady, 266
  Allin, Rev. John, 230
  Allor, Edward, 327
  Almshouses, 158, 360;
    list of, 372, 373
  Alsatia, 146, 168, 348
  Alsatians, 126
  Ambassadors, reception of, 172;
    houses of, 39–42;
    chapels of, 42, 116
  America, emigration to, 32
  Amwell, 9
  Anderson, William, 204
  Anderton, Henry, 327
  Andrews, Thomas, 52
  Anglers, 346
  Anne, Queen, and the City, 127;
    at Sacheverell’s trial, 131;
    dies, 134
  Anne of Denmark, Queen, 143, 173
  Antiquaries, Society of, 239
  Apothecaries’ Hall, 248
  Apprentices, 19, 27, 57, 69, 121, 186–189, 305, 347, 352
  Aqueducts, 121
  Aragon, Don Blasco de, 11
  Archer, Thomas, 327
  Ardee, Dr., 162
  Arlington Garden, 381
  Armstrong, Archie, 329
  Arthur, Prince, 9
  Artillery Lane, 275
  Arundel, Earl of, 10, 326
  Arundel House, 172, 173, 270
  Astrology, 162, 238, 239
  Atkins, Alderman, 37, 52, 64
  Atkyns, Edward, 265
  Aubrey, 309
  Austin Friars, 262
  Axtell, Colonel Daniel, 81
  Aylesbury House, 272

  Backhouse, Sir W., 266
  Bacon, Lord, 139, 234, 235, 239
  Baldwin’s Gardens, 171
  Ballad-singers, 182
  Banbury, Lord, 126
  Bancroft, Thomas, 354
  Bankers, 86, 196
  Bank of England, 202–205;
    effect of, on City and Crown, 205
  Bankside, 243, 261, 320
  Bann Fishery, 207
  Baptism, 148, 150
  Barbadoes, 34
  Barbican, 173, 269, 275, 278
  Barking, 84
  Barmisie Lane, 270
  Barnard’s Inn, 276
  Barristers, 178
  Bartholomew Fair, 221, 333, 335, 336, 362
  Bartholomew Lane, 262
  Baynard’s Castle, 173, 253
  Basing Lane, 140
  Basinghall Street, 222, 265
  Bassishaw, Ward of, 105
  Bastwick, Dr., 144
  Bedford Street, Covent Garden, 252
  Beggars, 230, 357
  Bellamy, Richard, 6
  Bellmen, 257
  Bell Yard, 277
  Benefit of Clergy, 345
  Berkeley, Lord, 173, 177
  Berkeley, Mr. Justice, 29
  Berkeley House, 274
  Berkeley of Stratton, Lord, 177
  Berkstead, 80
  Bermondsey, 18;
    Lane, 270
  Bermudas, 17, 34
  Bethel, Slingsby, 92
  Bethlehem Churchyard, 275
  Bethnal Green, 198, 245
  Betterton, 321
  Bible, the, 137, 139;
    the Geneva, 141
  Bigod, Roger, 336
  Billingsgate, 43, 242, 251
  Bishopsgate, 13, 78, 362;
    Bar, 272;
    Street, 38, 155, 262, 265, 269, 275, 316
  Blackfriars, 18, 116, 128, 132, 155, 171, 178, 262, 281, 303
  Blackman Street, 272
  Blackwall, 84, 272
  Blackwell, Edward, 86
  Blood, Colonel, 85
  Bloomsbury, 269
  Blow, John, 326
  Bludworth, Sir T., 179
  Boleyn, Anne, 299
  Bonner, Nicholas, 327
  Book of Sports, 15
  Boonen, Guilliam, 338
  Boorde, Dr. Andrew, 236
  Borough, the, 66, 171
  Bouverie Street, 349
  Bow Lane, 159
  Box, Ralph, 95
  Boyer, Sir W., 177
  Bradshaw, Cornewall, 179
  Bradshaw, John, 52
  Bread Street Hill, 279
  Brentwood, 160
  Brick Lane, 275
  Brides Lane, 266
  Bridewell, 266, 270
  Bridges—Fleet, 268;
    Holborn, 262, 266, 276;
    London, 169, 242, 244, 248, 253, 256, 270, 282;
    Strand, 75;
    Westminster, 267
  Bridgwater, Earl of, 173, 177
  Bridgwater House, 275
  Bristol, 152
  Britain’s Burse, 197
  Broad Street, 262
  Broggers, 14
  Brompton Park, 381
  Brook House, 173, 276
  Brooke, Baron, 177
  Browne, General, 45, 50, 76
  Browne, Sir R., 78, 260, 266
  Brydges Street, 251
  Bubb, Captain, 162
  Buckingham, Duke of, 25, 30, 31
  Buckingham, Earl of, 177
  Buckingham, 2nd Duke of, 76, 198
  Buckingham House, 270
  Buckingham Palace, 313
  Bucklersbury, 116
  Bunhill, 179, 274;
    Fields, 272
  Burgess, Cornelius, 152
  Burghley, Lord, 161
  Burial, 147, 148
  Burlington, Earl of, 177
  Burroughs, Captain John, 179
  Burton, Henry, 144
  Busby, Captain, 340
  Butcher’s Close, 274
  Butcher’s Row, 276, 277
  Butler, Samuel, 157, 238
  Butter, Nathaniel, 327
  Buttolph’s Wharf, 260
  Byzantine Gift, 363

  Calico-printing, 199
  Cambridge, 361
  Campden, Viscount, 177
  Canning Street, 260, 262
  Cannon Street, 265
  Canterbury, Archbishop of, 218, 220
  Carmen, 357
  Carnarvon, 144
  Carnarvon, Earl of, 173
  Carolina, Provinces of, 128
  Carpets, 288
  Carr, Sir R., 177
  Carter Street, 275
  Carts, licensed, 182
  Castlemaine, Lady, 300
  Castle Street, 248
  Cateaton Street, 105, 266
  Catherine of Braganza, Queen, 173
  Catholic chapels, 154, 155;
    destroyed, 116, 125
  Catholic Priests, 6, 126, 154, 257
  Catholics, 5–8, 18, 20, 38–40, 89, 90, 91, 108, 109, 110, 116, 126,
    137, 139, 142, 154, 155, 156, 250, 257, 264
  Cavaliers, cruelty of, 61–63
  Cecil, Lord, 11
  Chadwell, 9
  Chamberlayne, 289, 329
  Chambers, Alderman, 64
  Chambers, Robert, 29
  Chancery Lane, 266, 270, 276
  Charing Cross, 292, 312
  Charles I. and New River Shares, 9;
    and the City, 20, 24, 25;
    and Dr. Lambe, 25–27;
    and the Cheapside shops, 28;
    and Parliament, 34, 35, 37;
    and the Puritans, 141;
    and Monopolies, 195;
    and the Irish Society, 195;
    and Emigration, 196;
    and Art, 326
  Charles II., his pledges before accession, 73, 75;
    his welcome, 74–76;
    lands, 75;
    enters London, 76;
    Coronation, 76;
    and the City, 82–102;
    and the Exchequer, 86;
    and Parliament, 86, 89, 90;
    his court, 100–102, 363–368;
    his income, 199;
    and the Irish Society, 210, 211;
    and the Plague, 218, 220;
    and the Fire, 260–264, 266
  Charles Street, Westminster, 347
  Charlton, 362
  Charterhouse Lane, 173
  Cheapside, 26, 28, 75, 78, 107, 118, 188, 200, 243, 246, 256, 262,
    280, 287
  Chelsea, 193;
    Physick Garden, 381;
    College, 381
  Cheshire rising, the, 151
  Chester, 144
  Chichester, Sir A., 208
  Chick Lane, 274
  Child’s Bank, 204
  Chimneys, 359
  Chimney-sweepers, 182
  Chiswell, 269
  Chiswell Street, 78, 272, 275
  Chocolate-houses, 296
  Christmas, 141, 359
  Chronologer, City, 178, 179
  Churches—Altar-rails, 155;
    Images and pictures, 147, 151;
    Organs, 147;
    Vestments, 147, 151;
    Registers, 147;
    Behaviour in, 149;
    Services, 158;
    Conventicles turned into, 155;
    Rebuilt after Fire, 256, 280;
    Ceremonies at building of, 361;
    All Hallows in the Wall, 256;
    All Hallows the Less, 253;
    Barking, 261;
    Chapels, Royal, 326, 334, 363;
    Christ Church, Newgate, 46, 64;
    Grey Friars, 246;
    Holy Trinity,
    Minories, 256;
    Lambeth, 382;
    St. Alphege, 280;
    St. Andrew’s, Holborn, 133, 276;
    St. Anne’s, Blackfriars, 248;
    St. Bartholomew by the Exchange, 43;
    St. Bartholomew the Great, 274;
    St. Bartholomew the Less, 274;
    St. Botolph, Aldgate, 149, 150,275;
    St. Bride’s, Fleet Street, 276;
    St. Dunstan’s, Fleet Street, 75, 245, 262, 265, 266, 267, 277;
    St. Ethelburga, 280;
    St. Faith’s, 264, 267, 268;
    St. Giles’s, 275;
    St. Giles’s in the Fields, 44;
    St. George’s, Southwark, 243, 270, 316;
    St. James’s, Duke’s Place, 151;
    St. James’s, Clerkenwell, 272;
    St. James’s, Garlickhithe, 150;
    St. Lawrence, Pountney, 265;
    St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, 269, 272, 274;
    St. Margaret’s, Lothbury, 43;
    St. Mary le Bow, 118, 265, 280;
    St. Mary Overies, 171, 243;
    St. Mary Spital, 269;
    St. Michael’s, 280;
    St. Olave’s, Old Jewry, 247;
    St. Paul’s Cathedral, 128, 130, 151, 152, 245, 246, 253, 258, 262,
      264, 265, 267, 268, 315, 326;
    St. Peter’s, Cornhill, 151, 280;
    St. Saviour’s, Southwark, 130;
    St. Sepulchre’s, 262, 274, 276;
    St. Swithen’s, Candlewick Street, 245;
    St. Thomas of Acon, 246;
    Stepney, 269;
    Temple, 265;
    Westminster Abbey, 5, 267;
    Whitechapel, 44
  Church of England—after the Restoration, 154;
    and Charles I., 111;
    and the City, 131;
    High Church party, 127, 130–133, 144, 145, 146;
    Growth of, 133;
    Footing in, 145, 146
  Church-houses, 360
  City, the—Area of after Fire, 272;
    Expansion of, 269;
    families, 176;
    inhabited by merchants, 173;
    health of, 283;
    new houses built in, 180;
    small tenements in, 180;
    Protestant, 20;
    turns Royalist, 69–73;
    sanitation of, 283;
    rebuilt after Fire, 251, 254, 256, 264, 265, 279 287;
    and Charles I., 24, 25;
    and Charles II., 82–102;
    and the Church of England, 131;
    and the Civil War, 42–46, 49, 53–63;
    and the Commonwealth, 64–73;
    and the County Gentry, 173, 174;
    and the election of Sheriffs, 17;
    and the fleet, 25, 28, 29;
    and the Freemen, 134;
    and the Irish Estates, 29, 30, 207–212;
    and James I., 9, 20, 21;
    and James II., 110, 114;
    and the nobility, 278;
    and its orphans, 120, 121;
    and Parliament, 46, 47, 50;
    and the Protector, 68;
    and Queen Anne, 127;
    and religion, 31;
    and supplies and loans, 34, 35, 36, 46, 47, 49, 67, 73, 89, 199,
    and William III., 117, 118
  City Companies, 17, 18, 25, 37, 207, 230;
    Clothworkers, 9;
    Grocers, 201, 202;
    Merchant Adventurers, 18;
    Merchant Taylors, 18;
    Pin-makers, 202;
    Skinners, 72, 211;
    Weavers, 196;
    Woodmongers, 182
  Civil War—Defence of London in, 43, 44, 49;
    Trade ruined by, 44, 57, 67;
    and the City, 45, 46
  Clapper Doyens, 346
  Clare, Earl of, 173, 177
  Clare Market, 321
  Clarendon, Earl of, 142, 177
  Clarges, John, 354; Ann, 354
  Clement, Gregory, 81
  Clement’s Inn, 270, 277
  Clench, Dr., 126
  Clergy, the, 125, 141, 143;
    Accusations against, 149, 150;
    and the Bishops, 35;
    ejected, 150, 151, 369–371;
    persecuted, 146, 149;
    Pluralists, 371
  Clerkenwell, 6, 44, 132, 262, 269, 272;
    Close, 272;
    Green, 272;
    Spa Fields, 315
  Clifford, Lord, 177
  Clifford’s Inn, 256, 277
  Cloth Fair, 275, 335, 336
  Cloth trade, 192, 194
  Coal trade, 198
  Cobham, Lord, 5
  Cock Lane, 276
  Cockaine’s Patent, 194
  Cockpit, the, 155
  Coffee-houses, 315;
    the first, 294
  Coffin, R., 125
  Coherton, Mrs., 125
  Coinage, 199, 200
  Coke, Sir E., 361
  Cold Harbour, 18, 246, 253
  Coleman Street, 77
  Coleraine settled, 207, 208, 209
  Comminuta, N., 125
  Common Council, 8, 17, 42, 43, 48, 50, 52, 66, 72, 73, 88, 92, 208,
      254, 357;
    Court of, 114;
    election of, 119
  Common Prayer, Book of, abolished, 147, 148;
    publicly torn, 149
  Companies’ Halls, 246;
    Drapers’, 189;
    Fishmongers’, 253;
    Goldsmiths’, 50;
    Grocers’, 46, 49, 204;
    Haberdashers’, 80;
    Leadenhall, 9, 78, 265;
    Mercers’, 75;
    Merchant Taylors’, 91, 265;
    Skinners’, 99, 72;
    Weavers’, 50
  Compting House, 366
  Conduit Head, 179
  Congreve, 292
  Constables, 356, 357
  Conventicles, list of, in 1680, 156 157;
    turned into churches, 155
  Conway, Lord, 262
  Cooke, 326
  Cooke, Sir T., his garden, 381
  Cooling, Joseph, 349
  Cooper, Samuel, 326
  Copper tokens, 317
  Corbet, 80
  Corinthian, Tom, 331
  Cornhill, 246, 262, 294
  Cornish, Henry, 92, 97, 105–108
  Correggio, 326
  Cosmo, Duke of Tuscany, 182, 289, 330
  Cotton, Sir Robert, 200
  Council of State, the, 150
  Country Gentry—and Trade, 174;
    dress of, 302
  Court of Conscience, 8
  Courtney, Viscount, 177
  Covent Garden, 56, 168, 186, 251, 262, 270, 280, 315
  Coventry, Earl of, 177
  Coventry, Lord Keeper, 29
  Cow Cross, 274
  Cowden’s Rents, 279
  Crafts, feuds between, 280
  Craftsman, 139;
    wages, 184;
    leave City, 269;
    dress of, 302
  Cramp Ring, the, 163;
    rite of blessing, 166, 167
  Crane, Sir F., 200
  Craven, Earl of, 173, 177, 218
  Crimes, 345, 346
  Crimping, 184, 185
  Cripplegate, 78, 220, 223, 269, 275
  Crisp, Sir N., 177
  Crofton, Zachary, 150, 151
  Cromwell, Oliver, 64, 65, 68, 150, 151, 276;
    and the Irish Estates, 210, 211
  Crooked Lane, 242
  Crystal-gazing, 162
  Cuckold’s Point, 362
  Cullons, Thomas, 49
  Cunningham, 292
  Customs duties, 190, 198
  Custom House, 246, 251
  Cutler, Sir J., 177

  Damiens, 104
  Daniel, Cromwell’s Porter, 157
  Davenant, Sir W., 198, 240, 321
  Day, Cornet, 77
  Deadman’s Place, 146
  Dean Street, 275
  Debtors, 8, 168, 349
  Declaration of Indulgence, 110;
    the second, 112
  Defoe, Daniel, 160, 217, 223, 224
  De Grammont, 347
  Delamere, Lord, 116
  De-Laune, Thomas, 363
  Dentists, 235
  Deptford, 223, 362, 382
  Derby, Earl of, 10
  Derby House, 173, 256
  Derry settled, 207, 208, 209
  Devil, the, bargains with, 160, 161
  Devonshire, Duke of, 381
  Devonshire, Earl of, 10, 177
  _Dictionary of Dreams_, 161
  Disception, 150
  Disorderly houses, 13, 100, 186
  Dissenters. See _Nonconformists_.
  Diving bell, 126
  Divines, Council of, in 1643, 146, 147
  Dobson, William, 326
  Doctor’s Commons, 178, 251
  Dodd, Rev. J., 149
  Dolben, Dean, 267;
    Sir W., 88
  Dommerers, 346
  Doolittle, Mr., 155
  Dorchester, Marquis of, 173, 177, 275
  Dorset, Earl of, 10, 177, 179
  Dorset House, 264
  Douglas, Captain, 116
  Downes, Bartholomew, 327
  Downey, Sir G., 80
  Droman, David, 329
  Drummond’s Bank, 292
  Drunkenness, 356
  Drury, Father, 19
  Drury Lane, 56, 125, 173, 222, 270, 321, 332
  Dryden, 252, 314
  Dubois, John, 95, 96
  Ducking-pond, 272;
    stool, 346
  Duelling, 126, 346
  Dugdale, Sir W., 54, 361
  Duke’s Place, 18, 262
  Duke Street, Covent Garden, 125
  Duke Street, Westminster, 347
  Duncombe, Sir S., 340
  Dungeons, 359, 360
  D’Urfey, Tom, 101, 336
  Durham House, 197, 270
  Dutch trade, 190, 191

  Eastcheap, 246
  Easter, 359
  East India Company, 193, 194, 196
  Eastminster, 269
  Education, 278, 361
  Eliot, Sir J., 30
  Elizabeth, Queen, 299
  Ely House, 173, 276
  Embalming, 235
  Emigrants, ages of, 34
  Emigration, 32–34, 83, 128, 142, 143, 184, 196, 206
  _English Mercury_, the, 327
  Erasmus, 159, 361
  Erber, the, 246
  Erskine, Sir T., 11
  Esquires, 175
  Essex, Earl of, 10, 99, 173
  Essex House, 173, 270
  Euston Road, 315
  Evans, Ellen, 163
  Evans, the wise man, 162
  Evelyn, John, 81, 100, 110, 113, 224, 251, 254, 258, 259, 278, 293,
    294, 299, 305, 312, 313, 315, 338, 382
  Everard, Sir F., 177
  Examiners, 225
  Exchange, the, 72, 152, 197, 246, 251, 253, 261, 262, 265, 266, 280,
    283, 315, 316, 354
  Exchequer closed, 86, 120, 197
  Exchequer Office, 265
  Excise, 342
  Excise Office, 251
  Executions, 6, 80, 81, 104, 107, 108, 125, 126, 250, 257, 334, 345,
  Exeter House, 251

  Fairfax, Sir T., 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 57, 64;
    Lady, 266
  Fairs, 329, 333–335
  Falcon Stairs, Southwark, 159
  Fans, 361
  Farringdon Street, 276
  Farrington Without, ward of, 94
  Farryner, 244
  Farthing Office, the, 200
  Farthing tokens, 200
  Fashionable class, growth of, 311
  Fashions, 302
  Fashion Street, 275
  Fasting, 145, 146, 148
  Fatal Vespers, the, 18, 19
  Felton, John, 31
  Fenchurch Street, 172, 200, 261, 262
  Ferries, St. Mary Overies, 281;
    Horseferry, 281
  Fetter Lane, 169, 257, 266, 270, 276
  Feversham, 114
  Fifth Monarchy Men, 68, 76–80, 82
  Finch, Sir Heneage, 177
  “Finit,” Sir John, 329
  Finsbury, 243;
    Fields, 269
  Fire brigade established, 83
  Fire of London, 84, 108, 157, 198;
    origin, 244;
    lack of water, 244;
    flight of people, 244, 245;
    spreads, 245;
    pecuniary damage, 246;
    public buildings destroyed, 246;
    warehouses and shops destroyed, 246;
    causes and conditions of, 248;
    suspicions of arson, 250;
    arrests, 250;
    the houseless, 251, 278, 279;
    loss of life, 251;
    effects of, 251–257;
    what escaped, 253, 362;
    contemporary accounts, 258–268
  Fire of 1679, 257
  Fish Street Hill, 262
  Fish, trade in, 192, 193
  Fisher’s Folly, 155
  Five Mile Act, the, 151
  Fleet Street, 19, 27, 169, 195, 258, 262, 265, 270, 280, 315, 321
  Fleetwood, 69
  Fleur de lys Court, 248, 253
  Floyer, 238
  Food and drink—of the working-classes, 126;
    suggested reforms in, 184;
    spirits, 184, 289;
    tea, 184, 292–294;
    coffee, 184, 289, 294–296, 315;
    chocolate, 184;
    bread, 242;
    beer and ale, 242, 289, 342;
    meals, hours of, 289–291;
    wine, 289, 312, 316, 317, 342;
    profusion of, 290;
    meat, 290;
    fruit and vegetables, 290, 291;
    cooking, 291;
    tavern dinners, 292;
    drinks, various, 293, 296, 315;
    Royal tables, 367
  Forks, 289
  Foster, Sir R., 177
  Foule, John, 155
  Fowke, John, 52
  Foxe, John, 144
  Foyle Fishery, 207
  Franciscans, the, 123
  Franklin, Benjamin, 289
  Free Trade advocated by Sir W. Raleigh, 190
  Friday Street, 262
  Frost, Walter, 179
  Fulwood’s Rents, Holborn, 146, 171
  Funerals, 309, 310
  Furnivall’s Inn, 274, 276

  Games and sports, 15, 32, 140, 155, 328;
    archery, 243, 360;
    ballad-singing, 230;
    bearbaiting, 169, 230, 270, 351;
    billiards, 169;
    bowls, 272, 290, 312, 360;
    buckle-play, 230;
    cock-throwing, 243;
    fencing, 330, 331;
    football, 243;
    lists of, 328, 329, 330;
    maypoles, 303;
    tennis, 329;
    whinney-board, 155;
    wrestling, 331
  Gaming-houses, 270, 352
  Garlick Hill, 278
  Garaway, Thomas, 293
  Gate Street Chapel, 132
  Gates, 13, 218;
    Bishopsgate, 261;
    Cripplegate, 305;
    Newgate, 276;
    St. John’s, 274
  Gaunt, Elizabeth, 108
  Gayre, Sir J., 37, 48, 49
  Genteleschi, 326
  “Gentleman,” title of, 174, 175, 176
  Gentlemen Pensioners, 366
  Gentry living in London in 1673, list of, 177, 178
  Gerard, Lord, 76
  Ghosts, 161
  Gibbons, Grinling, 327
  Gifford, Father, 257
  Gills, 323
  Giltspur Street, 276
  Gloucester, Duke of, 76
  Glyn, Recorder, 47
  Godfrey, Sir Edmondesbury, 89
  Gold, Alderman, 97
  Golden Farmer, the, 125
  Golden Lane, 272
  Gondomar, 19
  Goodenough, 107
  Goodman’s Fields, 277
  Goring, Colonel, 43
  Goring, Sir George, 329
  Goswell Street, 269, 272
  Gracechurch Street, 245, 261, 262
  Grafton, Duke of, 91
  Grand Remonstrance, the, 42
  Gravell Lane, 44
  Graves, merchant, 250
  Gravesend, 33, 216
  Gray, Lord, 275
  Gray’s Inn, 274, 275;
    chapel, 158;
    gardens, 315;
    Lane, 171, 274, 315
  Green Arbour Court, 276
  Green Cloth, Court of, 366
  Green, J. R., 139
  Green Park, 311
  Greenwich, 223, 282, 362
  Green Yard, 305
  Gresham College, 251, 257, 262, 264, 265, 266
  Gresham, Sir T., 261
  Greville, Sir J., 75
  Grey, Lord, 173
  Grey of Wark, Lord, 105
  Griffith, Sarah, 159, 160
  Grimes, 155
  Grimston, Sir H., 177
  Grub Street, 269
  Guards, Royal, 365, 366
  Guido, 326
  Guildhall, 95, 96, 107, 128
  Gunpowder Plot, 7
  Gwynne, Nell, 157, 321

  Hacker, Colonel Francis, 81
  Hackney, 173, 381
  Hackney coaches, 66, 83, 229, 242, 340
  Hackney coachmen, 356
  Haddon Hall, 299
  Halifax, Viscount, 177
  Hamersley, Sir H., 179
  Hamilton, Marquis of, 200
  Hammersmith, 381
  Hampden, John, 35
  Hampstead, 9, 78
  Hand Alley, 155
  Harding Street, 276
  Harrington of Exton, Lord, 200
  Harrison, General, 58, 68, 81
  Hart, Alexander, 162
  Hartley, William, trial of, 6
  Hartly Row, 60
  Harvey, Sir Elias, 262
  Hastings, Lord, 173
  Hatton Garden, 262, 274
  Hatton, Lord, 177
  Hawkabites, 134
  Hawkers and pedlars, 122–124, 356
  Haymarket, 116, 270
  Henrietta Maria, 24, 27, 28, 173, 338
  Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, 252
  Henry, Prince, 10, 314, 326
  Hentzner, 333
  Herald’s College, 256
  Hereford, Earl of, 336
  Heron, Colonel, 69
  Herrick, 308
  Hetheway, R., 159
  Hicks, Sir W., 177
  Hicks’s Hall, 274
  Higgins, 130
  Highgate, 251, 258
  Highwaymen, 125
  Hill, Henry, 116
  Hoare’s Bank, 204
  Hockley in the Hole, 272
  Hog Lane, 274
  Holborn, 6, 44, 146, 171, 173, 178, 262, 269, 270, 275, 315;
    Bars, 276
  Holborn, Sir R., 163
  Holidays, 186
  Holland, Earl of, 177
  Holland, Packet from, 126
  Hollar’s Map, 243
  Holles, Sir F., 177
  Holywell Street, 276, 277
  Honourable Artillery Company, 66
  Hooker, John, 139
  Horn Fair, 362
  Hoskins, John, 326
  Hospitals, 121, 155;
    Bethlehem, 121, 157;
    Bethlehem (New), 275;
    Bridewell, 121;
    Charterhouse, 269, 272, 275;
    Chelsea, 158;
    Christ’s, 121, 182;
    St. Bartholomew’s, 121, 274, 276;
    St. James’s 314;
    St. Thomas’s, 121;
    Sherburn, Durham, 314
  Houndsditch, 305
  Hounslow, 60, 61
  House of Correction, 356
  Houses—rent of, 287;
    furniture, 287, 288, 289, 298
  Howard, Sir Philip, 76
  Howell, James, 53, 57, 188, 193, 289, 291, 296, 304, 307
  Hoxton, 88;
    Fields, 315
  Hubert, Robert, 250
  Huffs, 346
  Humphrey, Pelham, 326
  Huntingdon House, 173
  Hutchinson, Colonel, 139
  Hyde, Lord, 91
  Hyde Park, 303, 311, 312;
    corner, 44

  Imports and exports, 193, 194, 197, 198
  Independents, 46
  India, imports from, 193, 194
  Infectious diseases, 14
  Inns and taverns, 281, 292, 315, 316, 317, 356, 360, 362;
    music in, 155;
    prices, 292;
    Bell, 170;
    Bowman, 332;
    Cask, 317;
    Catherine Wheel, 60;
    Devil, 169, 317;
    Falcon, 169;
    Goose and Gridiron, 317;
    King’s Head, 90;
    Locket’s, 292;
    Maidenhead, 169;
    Mitre, 169, 317;
    Old Swan, 259;
    Queen’s Arms, 332;
    Rainbow, 169;
    Red Bull, 272;
    Red Lion, 171, 266;
    Rose, 316, 322;
    Star, 244;
    Sun, 316; White Hart, 168;
    White Horse, 272;
    Willis’s, 322
  Inns of Court, 178
  Inquisition, the, 138
  Inspeximus Charter, 83
  Irish Estates, 9, 29, 37, 83, 208–212
  Irish Society, the, 208–212
  Islington, 44, 251, 258
  Ivy Lane, 116

  Jack Alley, 279
  Jacobites, 125
  James I., accession, 3;
    and the Puritans, 15;
    and the Merchant Adventurers, 18;
    and the Protestants, 20;
    and witchcraft, 159;
    and silk-growing, 193, 313;
    settles Ulster, 206;
    and the Irish
    Society, 208, 209;
    his amusements, 329;
    his Court, 359
  James II. at the Restoration, 76;
    and the Succession, 89, 90;
    and the City, 94, 110, 114;
    and the Customs, 103;
    and Catholicism, 108–111;
    escapes, 114;
    dies, 126;
    and the fire of London, 245, 260, 262, 263, 264, 266
  James Frances Edward, Prince of Wales, 113, 114, 126, 134
  Jefferson, Colonel, 151
  Jefferys, Alderman, 125
  Jeffreys, Judge, 99, 110, 114, 115, 125, 346
  Jepson, John, 125
  Jesuits, 126, 257
  Jewel, Bishop, 144
  Jewin Street, 155
  Jews, the, 151, 196, 235
  Jones, Inigo, 152, 323
  Jones, Col. John, 81
  Jones, Mr. Justice, 97
  Jones, Sir W., 88, 97
  Jonson, Ben, 178, 179, 199, 200, 235, 236, 237, 323–325
  “Judgment and Decree,” the, 87
  Juries, 345, 346
  Justice House, the, 246

  Kensington, 263, 264;
    Gardens, 381
  Kiffin, William, 110
  Killigrew, 314, 321, 323
  King’s Evil, the, rite of “touching” for, 163–166
  King’s Head Club, 90
  King Street, Cheapside, 75, 107
  King Street, Covent Garden, 252
  King Street, Westminster, 195, 270
  King’s Wardrobe, 67, 246, 256
  _Kingdom’s Intelligence_, the, 327
  Kinross, Lord, 11
  Kissing, 303
  Knight, Sir Ralph, 340
  Kynaston, 321

  Lacy, Alderman, 125
  Lambe, Dr., 25–27, 237
  Lambert, General, 69, 80
  Lambeth, 37, 221, 222, 243, 330, 382;
    Gardens, 382;
    Marsh, 243, 270;
    Palace, 149
  Lamb’s Conduit, 315; Fields, 315
  Lancaster, 144
  Land, value of, 198
  Langdale, Lord, 211
  Langham, Sir J., 177
  Lapthorne, R., 125
  Laud, Archbishop, 27, 31, 32, 37, 108, 139, 140, 141, 144
  Launceston, 144
  Lawrie, Captain, 126
  Lawes, Henry, 323, 326
  Laystalls, 182, 229, 283;
    list of, 183
  Leadenhall Street, 262, 265
  Leather Lane, 132
  Leicester, Earl of, 177
  Leicester Fields, 173
  Leighton, Alexander, 143, 347
  Lely, Sir P., 327
  Lennox, Duke of, 10, 200
  Leprosy, 314
  Leslie, Charles, 157
  Lilburne, John, 58
  Lilly, William, 161, 162, 163, 239
  Lime Street, 116, 262
  Limehouse, 128, 269
  Lincoln’s Inn, 270, 276;
    chapel, 158;
    fields, 116, 155, 182, 262, 266, 270, 276, 321;
    lower fields, 276
  Lindsay, Earl of, 177
  Lindsay, James, 11
  Linen-making, 198
  Lister, Dr., 294
  Little Britain, 245, 269
  Little Moor Fields, 275
  Little Old Bailey, 276
  Littleton, Sir T., 177
  Locket, Adam, 292;
    Edward, 292
  Lombard Street, 28, 86, 188, 245, 260, 261, 262, 280
  London, water-supply, 9, 215, 244;
    growth of, 18, 66, 180, 181;
    rebuilding of, 84;
    migration into, 184;
    decay of trade in, 193;
    new buildings in, 378–380
  _London Gazette_, the, 327
  London Wall, 305
  _London Weekly Courant_, the, 327
  Londonderry, 208
  Long Acre, 132
  Long Ditch, 347
  Long Lane, 269, 336
  Lord Chamberlain, 367
  Lord High Almoner, 363, 367
  Lord Mayor, 13, 15, 37, 38, 42, 68, 76, 91, 92, 94, 128, 130, 172,
    218, 260, 333, 335, 355
  Lord Mayors with hereditary arms, list of, in 1633, 176, 177
  Lord Steward, 363, 367
  Lord’s Supper, 148
  Lothbury, 262
  Lotteries, 85
  Lucky and unlucky days, 161, 237
  Lucy, Sir R., 266
  Ludgate Hill, 24, 75, 246, 262, 280, 287
  Lunatic Asylums, 237
  Luther, 159
  Lyon’s Inn, 277

  Mackarness, Rev. J., 149
  Maiden Lane, 80
  “Main,” the, 5
  Maitland, 97, 204, 251, 278
  Manchester, Earl of, 361
  Manlove, Richard, 349, 350
  Mark Lane, 251
  Market-gardens, 272, 278
  Markets, 84, 123, 124;
    cloth, 88;
    East Chepe, 195;
    Green-yard, or Herb, 124;
    Honey Lane, 124;
    Leadenhall, 124, 155, 280;
    Newgate, 116, 124, 262, 280;
    St. James’s, 280;
    Smithfield, 13;
    Stocks, 124;
    West Chepe, 195
  Marlborough, Duchess of, 133
  Marriage service, 148
  Mary, Queen, 117, 120, 122
  Mary of Modena, Queen, 114
  Masques, 323–325
  Master of the Horse, 366
  Mathews, Sir P., 178
  Maundy-Thursday, 367
  May Day, 303, 304
  Maynard, Sir J., 88
  Maypoles, 140, 340, 354
  Medici, Marie de, 338
  Medicine, state of, 234–238
  Meeting-houses, 251
  Mercers’ Chapel, 265
  Merchant-ships, 191, 198
  _Mercurius Britannicus_, 327
  _Mercurius Civicus_, 327
  _Mercurius Clericus_, 327
  _Mercurius Politicus_, 327
  _Mercurius Pragmaticus_, 327
  _Meritio Latron_, 346
  Metals exported, 192
  Middle Row, 276
  Middleton, Hugh, 9
  Middleton, T., 178, 179
  Midgley, Robert, his appeal for the churches, 157, 158
  Mildmay, Sir H., 80
  Mile End, 88, 269;
    Green, 68
  Milford Lane, 170
  Militia, 17, 18, 24, 25, 47, 48, 50, 66
  Millenary Petition, 20
  Millisent, Sir J., 329
  Milman, Dean, 267
  Milton, 139;
    family of, 176
  Mincing Lane, 200
  Minories, the, 67, 269, 277
  Mint, the, 146, 171
  Misson, 361
  “Mithridate,” 235
  Mitre Court, 146
  Mohocks, 134, 331
  Mohun, Lord, 126
  Monasteries, sites of, 180
  Money-lenders, 351, 352, 353;
    female, 353
  Monk, General, 69, 72, 75, 76, 218, 266, 331, 345, 354
  Monkwell Street, 128
  Monmouth, Duke of, 99, 104, 329
  Monmouth Street, 280
  Monopolies, 193, 195
  Montagu Close, 146, 171
  Montagu, Sir Edward (Lord Sandwich), 174
  Montfort, the actor, 126
  Monument, the, 250
  Moore, Sir J., 92, 94, 95
  Moorfields, 9, 57, 78, 100, 134, 243, 251, 258, 261, 269, 275, 278,
    280, 315
  Moorgate, 13
  Morality, 355–358
  Mordaunt, Viscount, 178
  Mordyke, Sarah, 159
  Mugwell Street, 155
  Mulberry Gardens, 313
  Mulgrave, Earl of, 91, 178
  Mumpers, 346
  Munson, Lord, 80
  Murders, 126, 349
  Music, 317, 326

  Nantes, Edict of, 108
  Naunton, Sir R., 182, 234
  Navy, 198
  Naylor, James, 152
  Nenier, Dr., 238
  New Artillery Garden, 274
  New Canal, 276
  New England, 33, 34
  New Fish Street, 265
  New Inn, 270, 277
  New Palace Yard, 349
  New River Head, 160
  New Spring Gardens, 315
  New Street, 155, 276
  New Year’s Day, 305
  New York, Province of, 128
  Newberry, Nathaniel, 327
  Newcourt, Dr., 254
  Newman’s Rents, 279
  Newspapers, 327
  Nis, Daniel, 181
  Nobility, and the City, 173, 177, 178, 278
  Nonconformists, 82, 85, 87, 110, 111, 131, 154–158;
    chapels wrecked, 132;
    laws against, 156;
    preachers in 1680, list of, 156, 157;
    take the churches during the Plague, 219, 220;
    Anabaptists, 110, 142, 150;
    Baptists, 84;
    Brownists, 139;
    Independents, 142, 149, 150;
    Quakers, 84, 142, 152, 153;
    46, 82, 139, 142, 147, 149, 150;
    Socinians, 142
  Nonsuch, 261
  Norfolk, Duke of, 173
  North, Dudley, 95, 96, 98
  North Broad Street, 275
  Northampton House, 270
  Northumberland, Earl of, 10
  Norton Folgate, 88, 272, 274
  Nottingham, Earl of, 10
  Noye, Sir W., 29
  Nurse-keepers, 226

  Oates, Titus, 89, 103, 104, 346
  Ogilby’s map, 272, 278–280, 397
  Okey, 80
  Old Artillery Gardens, 275
  Old Bailey, 276
  Old Fish Street, 240
  Old Jewry, 26
  Old Palace Yard, 152
  Old Street, 220, 272
  Open spaces, 274
  Open stalls, 195, 196
  Overton, Colonel, 77
  Oxford, 20, 132, 326, 340, 360, 361
  Oxford, Earl of, 347, 348
  Oxley, Elizabeth, 257

  Pads, 346
  Painting, 326
  Palace Gardens, 243
  Palaces, 172
  Pall Mall, 270
  Papacy, the, 137
  Paper-making, 198
  Papillon, Thomas, 95, 96, 98, 99
  Parents and children, 361
  Paris Gardens, 351
  Parker, Archbishop, 239
  Parks and Gardens, 311–317, 351, 381–382
  Parliament—and supplies, 24;
    and Charles I., 31, 34, 35, 37;
    and the City, 46, 47, 50;
    and Charles II., 86, 89, 90;
    composition of, 374
  Parmigiano, 326
  Passive obedience, 144, 145
  Paternoster Row, 223, 245, 251, 262
  Paul, Rev. Dr., 160
  Paul’s Cross, 152
  Paul’s Wharf, 159, 260
  Peiletot, John, 326
  Pelman, John, 334
  Pemberton, Sir F., 88
  Pembroke, Earl of, 10, 173
  Pennington, Isaac, 43, 52
  Pepys, Samuel, 75, 76, 174–176, 221, 224, 245, 259–262, 283,
    289, 290, 293, 299, 303–305, 312, 315, 319, 321, 322, 323, 326;
    Mrs., 188
  Peterborough, Lady, 340
  Peters, Rev. Hugh, 81
  Petticoat Lane, 269, 275
  Petty France, 275
  Petty, Sir William, 198
  Philo Puttonists, 346
  Philpott, Sir J., 28
  Piazza, the, 315
  “Piazzo,” the, 270
  Piccadilly, 270, 330
  Pie Corner, 276
  Piedloe, 250
  Pilkington, Thomas, 92, 94, 95, 105;
    family of, 94
  Plague—in 16th century, 233;
    of 1603, 5, 215–217;
    of 1625, 24, 217, 218;
    quack remedies in, 233, 234;
    of 1629–1631, 27;
    of 1636, 218
  Plague of 1665—distress after, 84;
    approach of, 218;
    flight from London, 218, 219;
    work stopped, 219;
    churches, 219;
    quack remedies, 220, 237;
    charity during, 220;
    regulations during, 225–230;
    theatres, etc. closed, 230;
    parishes most affected, 220;
    precautions, 220, 225;
    pest-houses, 220;
    contemporary accounts, 220–222, 230
  Player, Sir T., 105
  Playhouse Yard, 272
  Plots, 21, 42, 89, 125, 250, 257;
    Gunpowder, 108;
    Popish, 89;
    Rye House, 105–107
  Pompinios, 346
  Poor, the condition of, 67
  Poor-rates, 360
  Porter Close, 274
  Porter’s Map, 269
  Portugal Row, 276
  _Post-boy_, the, 327
  Post-horses, 341
  Post Office, 67, 251, 265
  Potter, Dr., 361
  Powis, Lord, 116
  Preaching, 149
  Precedence, 12
  Press, freedom of, 100, 143
  Price, Sir H., 178
  Pride, Colonel, 59
  Prideaux, Francis, 347
  Primrose Hill, 89
  Prisons, 13, 246;
    Bridewell, 13, 200;
    Clerkenwell, 160, 272;
    Debtors, 8, 349;
    Fleet, 54, 347, 349, 350;
    Gatehouse, 78, 347;
    King’s Bench, 349;
    Ludgate, 171;
    Marshalsea, 349;
    Newgate, 103, 106, 149, 162, 262, 276
  Pritchard, Lord Mayor, 99
  Processions, 362
  Protestantism, causes of, 137
  Providence, 34
  Prynne, William, 35, 143, 144, 362
  Psalms, singing of, 148
  Public-houses, 13
  Public Worship, Directory of, 147, 148
  Pudding Lane, 244, 245, 250, 265
  Puddle Dock, 242
  Pundage, 199
  Punishments, 103, 104, 152, 153, 200, 345, 346, 361, 367
  Purcell, Henry, 326
  Puritans, 14, 31, 32, 74, 131, 139, 140, 141, 182, 186, 299, 326,
    328, 345, 347
  Pym, 56
  Pym, Sir C., 125

  Quarles, Francis, 178, 179
  Queen Dowager’s Garden, 381
  Queen Elizabeth’s Day, 186, 305
  Queen Street, 262, 264
  Queenhithe, 253

  Raffaelle, 326
  Rainton, Sir N., 37
  Raleigh, Sir Walter, 5, 21, 190–193, 297
  Ram Alley, 146
  Ramsay, Sir John, 11
  Ranelagh Gardens, 381
  Ratcliffe, 88, 269, 362;
    Highway, 54, 269
  Ratford, Thomas, 354;
    Mrs., 354
  Red Cross, 269
  Reeve, Mrs., 314
  Reformed Church, the, 147
  Refugees—Huguenots, 108, 128, 138;
    from the Palatinate, 128, 138;
    effect of, on trade, 198, 199
  Religious dissensions, example of, 149–151
  Reynardson, Abraham, 50, 64
  Rich, Colonel, 68
  Richmond and Lennox, Duchess Dowager of, 200
  Richmond Park, 64, 125
  Riole, la, 246
  Riots, 19, 25, 26, 27, 37, 38, 47, 50, 56, 57, 78, 85, 109, 110, 114,
    116,  125, 127, 131, 132, 133
  Ripon, Dean of, 144, 145
  Ritual, 141, 142
  Rivers—Fleet, 9, 274, 276;
    Lea, 9;
    New River, 9, 195, 266;
    Tyburn, 9;
    Walbrook, 9
  River Thames, 242, 254;
    deepened, 195;
    in the Fire, 258, 261, 262;
    traffic on, 242, 281, 282;
    frozen, 293
  Roads, repaired, 338, 341
  Roaring boys, 331
  Robinson, Alderman, 76
  Robinson, Henry, his Land Bank, 197
  Rochefort, Josevin de, 330
  Rogers, 326
  Romano, Julio, 326
  Rooke, Admiral, 121
  Rooks, 346
  Roreres, 331
  Rosee, P., 294
  Rosemary Lane, 159
  Rotherham, Judge, 125
  Roxana, 347, 348
  Royal Society, the, 239
  Rubens, 326
  Rufflers, 346
  Ruffons, 346
  Rump, the, 72
  Rumsey, John, 105, 106
  Rupert, Prince, 42, 60, 61, 67, 278
  Russel, Rev. Dr., 160
  Russell, Lord, 99;
    Lady, 341
  Russell Street, 322
  Ryder, Sir W., 245
  Ryswick, Treaty of, 125

  “Sabbath,” the, 148
  Sacheverell, Henry, 130–133
  Sacrilege, 149
  Saddle-horses, decline of, 341, 342
  Saffron Hill, 274
  St. Andrew Undershaft, 140
  St. Andrew’s, Holborn, 220
  St. Bartholomew’s Churchyard, 335
  St. Bartholomew’s Close, 275
  St. Bartholomew’s the Great, 18, 171, 262
  St. Bartholomew’s the Less, 18
  St. Benet’s, Thanet Street, 173
  St. Botolph’s, Aldersgate, 220
  St. Bride’s, 220, 278
  St. Christopher’s, 34
  St. Clement Dane’s, 220
  St. George’s Fields, 243, 251, 258
  St. Giles’s, 156, 198, 220, 270
  St. Giles’s, Cripplegate, Churchyard, 253
  St. Helen’s, 266
  St. James’s, Clerkenwell, 220
  St. James’s Palace, 155
  St. James’s Park, 155, 173, 311–315
  St. James’s Street, 272
  St. John of Jerusalem, Precinct of, 171
  St. John Street, 173, 262, 269, 272, 321
  St. John’s Lane, 274
  St. Katherine’s by the Tower, 237, 269, 272, 278, 330
  St. Margaret’s, Westminster, 347
  St. Martin’s in the Fields, 156, 173, 220, 222
  St. Martin’s le Grand, 332
  St. Michael’s Alley, 294
  St. Michael’s Lane, 155
  St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, 156
  St. Paul’s Churchyard, 26, 27, 78, 262
  St. Sepulchre’s, Cripplegate, 220
  St. Valentine’s Day, 303, 304
  Salander, Tobias, 334
  Salisbury, Earls of, 178, 197
  Salisbury Court, 146, 155
  Saltpetre, manufacture of, 185;
    men, 185, 186
  Sancroft, Archbishop, 289
  Sanctuary, 146, 168–171
  Sannods, Rev. Dr., 160
  Sanquhar, Lord, 345, 348, 349
  Savoy, the, 168, 270, 354;
    precinct of, 146
  Scarborough, Mayor of, 125
  Scot, Mr. Thomas, 81
  Scott, Sir Walter, 146
  Scottish prisoners, the, 58, 68
  Scowerers, 331
  Scroop (or Scrope), Colonel, 81
  Searchers, 225
  Sedan chairs introduced, 340
  Serjeant’s Inn, 178, 265
  Servants, 187, 188, 305–307, 360;
    Royal, 365
  Seven Bishops, the, 112, 113
  Sevenoaks, 341
  Sewel, William, 152
  Sewers, Commission of, 357
  Shabbaroons, 346
  Shaftesbury, Lord, 90, 94, 99
  Shakespeare, quoted, 236, 239
  Sharps, 346
  Shaw, Sir J., 178, 262
  Sheppard, William, 327
  Sheppey, 24
  Sheriffs, 17, 66, 118, 175, 218, 305;
    right of appointment of, 91–101
  Shifters, 351
  Ship-money, 28, 29, 37
  Shoe Lane, 132, 155
  Shopkeepers, 280, 292;
    move from city, 252
  Shops, 283, 315
  Shoreditch, 9, 44, 274, 330
  Shorter, Sir J., 110
  Shrewsbury, Earl of, 10
  Shrove Tuesday, 186
  Shute, Sheriff, 92, 95, 105
  Sidney, Algernon, 99
  Silk, English, 193, 313
  Silk-weaving, 198
  Silk-worms, 193, 313
  Silver Street, 303
  Simpson, John, 150, 151
  Sion College, 246
  Skelhorn, Sarah, 162
  Slums, 180
  Smalridge, George, 163
  Smith, Sir W., 178
  Smithfield, 116, 137, 182, 262, 269, 274, 276;
    Bars, 262, 274
  Smithies, Rev. Dr., 160
  Snow Hill, 276
  Soame, Dr., 62
  Soames, Alderman, 60
  Social distinctions, 174, 175
  Somers, Alderman, 37
  Somerset House, 173, 264, 270, 272, 277
  Solemn engagement, 57
  Sorbière, M. de, 338
  Southampton, Earl of, 10
  Southampton House, 44
  Southampton Street, 251
  South Sea Bubble, 205
  Southwark, 18, 91, 180, 182, 261, 330
  Southwell, Robert, 6
  Spanish ambassador, 9, 38
  Spanish Match, the, 19
  _Spectator_, the, 161
  Spencer, Benjamin, 217
  Spirit-drinking, first complaint of, 184
  Spitalfields, 198, 269, 274
  Spring Gardens, 311, 312
  Squares, 182
  Stafford, Viscount, 178
  Stage-coaches, 183, 184, 338–344;
    introduced, 338;
    charges, 341, 343
  Stamford, Henry, 27
  Stamford Hill, 5
  Staple Inn, 276
  Star Chamber, 28, 29, 144, 347
  Steelyard, 253, 259
  Stepney, 6, 88, 160, 269
  Stevenson, Mr. J. J., 248
  Stewart, Frances, 300
  Stocks, the, 346, 356
  Storm of 1703, 127, 128
  Stow, 195, 196, 197, 314, 338
  Strafford, Earl of, 42
  Strand, the, 9, 55, 75, 173, 195, 197, 251, 262, 264, 270, 276, 277,
    303, 316, 340, 354
  Street Cries, 122
  Streets—Acts for pitching and levelling, 254;
    cleaning, 181, 182, 283, 357;
    during plague, 229;
    dogs in, 182;
    footpaths, 181;
    enlarged and improved, 375–377;
    levels altered after Fire, 256;
    lighting, 121, 181, 182, 357;
    paving, 13, 83, 182, 357;
    policing, 128;
    suggested reforms, 183, 184;
    traffic, 84, 182, 252, 281;
    water-supply, 9, 215, 244
  Strype, 248
  Stubbs, 257
  Stukeley, Sir L., 5
  Suburbs, 18, 67, 88, 133, 196, 262, 269, 272, 350
  Suffolk, Earl of, 10
  Sugar Loaf Court, 279
  Sumptuary laws, 188
  Sunday, keeping of, 14, 15, 20, 32, 145, 328, 356
  Sunday lectures, 150, 158
  Sunderland, Earl of, 297
  Sussex, Earl of, 10
  Swadlin, Rev. T., 149
  Swearing, 356
  Sweeting’s Rents, 293

  Taswell, Dr., 267
  Taxation, 68, 178
  Taylor, the water-poet, 338
  Tedder, William, 6
  Temple, the, 85, 126, 169, 170, 246, 262, 264, 265, 270, 277, 278,
  Temple Bar, 75, 262, 272, 305, 317
  Temple Stairs, 278
  Tench, Nathaniel, 204
  Tenter Fields, 274, 275
  Thames Street, 244, 256, 260, 262, 265, 279, 280, 330
  Thames Water Tower, 248
  Thanet, Earl of, 173, 178
  Thanet House, 173, 275
  Thavies Inn, 276
  Theatres, 318–323;
    closed during plague, 230;
    in Ogilby’s map, 270;
    and actresses, 315, 318;
    prices, 319;
    hours, 322;
    Bear-garden, 320;
    Blackfriars, 320;
    Curtain, 320, 351;
    Cockpit, 321;
    Dorset Garden, 321;
    Duke’s, 278, 319, 347;
    Fortune, 320;
    Gibbons’s Tennis Court, 321;
    Globe, 320;
    King’s, 319, 321;
    Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 321;
    Phœnix, 321;
    Red Bull, 321;
    Rose, 320;
    Swan, 320;
    Vere Street, 318
  Theobalds, 5
  Thieves, 334, 345–347, 351, 352
  Thorney Island, 314
  Threadneedle Street, 75
  Three Cranes, the, 260, 261;
    Court, 279
  Tillotson, Dr., 266
  Titian, 326
  Tobacco, 195, 242, 296, 297
  Tokens, 200, 317
  Toleration, 133, 152
  Tomarton, 359
  Tonnage, 199
  Tothill Fields, 68, 220
  Tottenham, 6
  Tottenham Court Road, 315
  Tower, the, 13, 85, 107, 112, 144, 151, 250, 262, 264, 269, 277, 278
  Tower Hill, 81, 104, 188
  Tower Stairs, 281
  Tower Street, 275
  Tower Wharf, 113
  Town ditch, 12, 13,
  Trade—ruined by Civil War, 44;
    state of, after Plague and Fire, 88;
    and Country Gentry, 174;
    and gentility, 175–176;
    English and Dutch, 190, 192;
    decay of, 193;
    extent of, 194, 195;
    increase of, 198;
    affected by stage-coaches, 342, 343
  Traders’ tokens, 200
  Trades, 17, 18, 27
  Trained bands, 44, 48, 70, 96, 116, 152, 153
  Trinity Lane, 279
  Trowel, John, 153
  Tulse, Sir H., 99
  Tunbridge Wells, 341
  Turkey fleet, loss of, 121, 122
  Turner, Mrs., 155
  Turnmill Street, 274
  Tyburn, 80, 103, 108, 126
  Tyburn Road, 44, 269
  Tycheburne, Thomas, 6
  Tyrconnel, Earl of, 9
  Tyrone, Earl of, 9

  Ulster, 9, 206
  Union, Act of, 128
  Upper Moorfields, 274
  Utrecht, Peace of, 205

  Vagrants, 13
  Van Guine, H., 381
  Vandeveldes, the, 327
  Vandyke, 326
  Vane, Sir H., 80, 81
  Vauxhall, 222, 315
  Veal, Mrs., 160
  Venner, Thomas, 68, 77, 78, 80
  Verney, Sir Ralph, 305;
    John, 305
  Villamediana, Count de, 10, 11, 12
  Vincent, Rev. T., 220
  Vintry, the, 245
  Virginia, 15–17, 34, 184, 195
  _Visitation of London_, the, 176
  Vyner, Sir R., 178

  Waggons, 338
  Waiters, 168
  Wakes, 360
  Walkinson, Robert, trial of, 6
  Waller, General, 44, 45
  Wallop, Robert, 80
  Waltham, 5
  Wapping, 115, 160, 242, 269
  Ward, Sir Patience, 94
  Wardrobe Square, 256
  Warwick, Earl of, 178
  Warwick House, 173, 275
  Washing, 298, 299
  Watch, the, 128, 182, 225, 357
  Water Gate, 253
  Water Lane, 278
  Water-machines, 244
  Watermen, 242, 281, 338, 342
  Water-supply, 9, 215, 244, 256, 257
  Watling Street, 260, 262
  Watts, Mr., 160
  Weddings, 155, 308
  _Weekly News_, the, 327
  Welden, John, trial of, 6
  Wentworth Street, 269, 275
  Westminster, 6, 44, 78, 152, 173, 180, 220, 222, 261, 262, 269, 270,
    278, 281, 318, 336
  Westminster, Abbey of, 311, 314
  Westminster Hall, 131, 261, 345
  Westminster School, 267
  Whip Jacks, 346
  Whipping Tom, 134
  Whitchott, Sir J., 178
  Whitechapel, 44, 269, 275, 277, 318; Bar, 272; Road, 269
  White Conduit Fields, 315
  White Cross, 269
  White Cross Street, 272
  Whitefriars, 18, 146, 178, 262, 270, 278, 348, 349; Lane, 278
  Whitehall, 36, 50, 57, 72, 100, 126, 128, 155, 221, 260, 262, 270,
    326, 334, 363
  White’s Alley, 266
  Wigs, 300, 301
  Wild, Major, 77
  Wild, Sir H., 16
  Wild, Sir W., 178
  Wild House, 116
  Wild Rogues, 346
  William III.—lands in England, 114; coronation, 117; and the City,
    117, 118; returns to London, 125; plot against, 125; and the
    Catholics, 126; dies, 126; borrows money of the City, 205
  Williamson, Sir J., 91
  Wilson, Rowland, 52
  Wilson, Squire, 160
  Wilson, the musician, 326
  Winchilsea, Lord, 114
  Windows, 360
  Winnington, Sir F., 88
  Wise, Laurence, 149
  Wise, Michael, 326
  Wise men and women, 237
  Witchcraft, 125, 159, 160, 346
  Wolstenholme, Sir T., 178
  Women, 56, 281, 290, 299, 318, 323
  Wood, Mr., 155
  Wood Street, 26, 80
  Woodward, Dr. 257
  Woollen cloth, 198, 199
  Woolwich, 84
  Worcester, Earl of, 10, 178
  Worcester House, 270
  Wotton, Lord, 11
  Wren, Christopher, 254, 256, 257, 278, 280
  Wright, Michael, 327
  Wych Street, 277
  Wycherley, 319

  Yeoman of the Guard, 366
  York, Duke of. See _James II_.

  Zouch, Sir Edward, 329

                OGILBY AND MORGAN’S MAP OF LONDON, 1677

                     (In Pocket at end of Volume.)

                         IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM

We Proceed to the Explanation of the Map, containing 25 Wards, 122
Parishes and Liberties, and therein 189 Streets, 153 Lanes, 522 Alleys,
458 Courts, and 210 Yards bearing Name.

The Broad Black Line is the City Wall. The Line of the Freedom is a
Chain. The Division of the Wards, thus oooo. The Parishes, Liberties,
and Precincts by a Prick-line, ... Each Ward and Parish is known by
the Letters and Figures Distributed within their Bounds, which are
placed in the Tables before their Names.... The Wards by Capitals
without Figures. The Parishes, &c., by Numbers without Letters. The
Great Letters with Numbers refer to Halls, Great Buildings, and Inns.
The Small Letters to Courts, Yards, and Alleys, every Letter being
repeated 99 times, and sprinkled in the Space of 5 Inches, running
through the Map, from the Left Hand to the Right, &c. Churches and
Eminent Buildings are double Hatch’d, Streets, Lanes, Alleys, Courts,
and Yards, are left White. Gardens, &c. faintly Prick’d. Where the
Space admits the Name of the Place is in Words at length, but where
there is not room, a Letter and Figure refers you to the Table in
which the Streets are Alphabetically dispos’d, and in every Street the
Churches and Halls, Places of Note, and Inns, with the Courts, Yards,
and Alleys, are named; then the Lanes in that Street, and the Churches,
&c. as aforesaid, in each Lane.



  A Faringdon Without
  B Faringdon Within
  C Bainard-Castle
  D Bread-Street
  E Queen-Hith
  F Cordwainers
  G Walbrook
  H Vintry
  I Dowgate
  K Broad-Street
  L Cornhil
  M Cheap
  N Bassishaw
  O Coleman-Street
  P Bishopsgate
  Q Cripplegate
  R Aldersgate
  S Billingsgate
  T Lime-Street
  U Langborn
  W Portsoken
  X Aldgate
  Y Candlewick
  Z Bridg
  T Tower

                        PARISHES AND LIBERTIES

    1. St. James Clerkenwel
    2. St. Giles Cripple-Gate
    3. St. Leonard Shoreditch
    4. Norton-Folgate Liberty
    5. St. Botolph Bishopsgate
    6. Stepney
    7. St. Stephen Coleman Street
    8. Alhallows on the Wall
    9. St. Andrew Holborn
   10. St Giles in the Fields
   11. St. Sepulchers
   12. St. Mary Cole-Church
   13. St. Botolph Aldersgate
   14. St. Alphage
   15. St. Alban Wood Street
   16. St. Olave Silver Street
   17. St. Michael Bassishaw
   18. Christ Church
   19. St. Anne Aldersgate
   20. St. Mary Staining
   21. St. Mary Aldermanbury
   22. St. Olave Jewry
   23. St. Martin Ironmonger Lane
   24. St. Mildred Poultry
   25. St. Bennet Sherehog
   26. St. Pancras Soaper Lane
   27. St. Laurence Jewry
   28. St. Mary Magdalen Milk Street
   29. Alhallows Hony Lane
   30. St. Mary le Bow
   31. St. Peter Cheap
   32. St. Michael Wood Street
   33. St. John Zachary
   34. St. Martins Liberty
   35. St. Leonard Foster Lane
   36. St. Vedast, alias Foster
   37. St. Michael Quern
   38. St. John Evangelist
   39. St. Mathew Friday Street
   40. St. Margaret Lothbury
   41. St. Bartholemew Exchange
   42. St. Christophers
   43. St. Mary Woolnoth
   44. St. Mary Woolchurch
   45. St. Michael Cornhil
   46. St. Bennet Fink
   47. St. Peter Poor
   48. St. Peter Cornhil
   49. St. Martin Outwich
   50. St. Hellens
   51. St. Ethelborough
   52. St. Andrew Undershaft
   53. Alhallows Lumbard Street
   54. St. Edmond Lumbard Street
   55. St. Dionis Back-Church
   56. St. Katherine Cree-Church
   57. St. James Dukes Place
   58. St. Katherine Coleman
   59. St. Olave Hart Street
   60. St. Botolph Aldgate
   61. St. Mary White Chapel
   62. Trinity Minories
   63. St. Bartholemew the Great
   64. Alhallows Staining
   65. Alhallows Barking
   66. St. Mary Abchurch
   67. St. Nicholas Accorn
   68. St. Clement East Cheap
   69. St. Bennet Grace-Church
   70. St. Gabriel Fenchurch
   71. St. Margaret Pattons
   72. St. Andrew Hubbart
   73. Dutchy Liberty
   74. St. Clement Danes
   75. Rolls Liberty
   76. St. Dunstan in the West
   77. White Fryers Precinct
   78. St. Bridget
   79. Bridewel Precinct
   80. St. Anne Black-Fryers
   81. St. Martin’s Ludgate
   82. St. Gregories
   83. St. Andrew Wardrobe
   84. St. Bennet Paul’s Wharf
   85. St. Peter
   86. St. Mary Magdaline Old Fish-Street
   87. St. Nicholas Cole-Abby
   88. St. Austine
   89. St. Margaret Moses
   90. Alhallows Bread-Street
   91. St. Mildred Bread-Street
   92. St. Nicholas Olave
   93. St. Mary Mounthaw
   94. St. Mary Somerset
   95. St. Michael Queen Hith
   96. Trinity
   97. St. Mary Aldermary
   98. St. Thomas Apostles
   99. St. Michael Royal
  100. St. James Garlick-Hith
  101. St. Marlin Vintry
  102. St. Antholin’s
  103. St. John Baptist
  104. St. Stephen Walbrook
  105. St. Swithin
  106. St. Mary Bothaw
  107. Alhallows the Great
  108. St. Faith’s
  109. St. Leonard East Cheap
  110. St. Laurence Poultney
  111. St. Martin Orgar’s
  112. Little Alhallows
  113. St. Michael Crooked Lane
  114. St. Magnus at the Bridg
  115. St. Margaret New Fish-Street
  116. St. George Botolph Lane
  117. St. Botolph Billingsgate
  118. St. Mary Hill
  119. St. Dunstans in the East
  120. Little St. Bartholemews
  121. Tower Liberty
  122. St. Katherines

                     COMPILED FROM THE MAP AND KEY

 The References on the left of the names refer to the marginal numbers
                              on the Map

   7-14. African House, Throgmorton Street, B55
    2-5. Ailesbury’s House, Earl of, A7
   7-18. Aldgate
  10-17. Alhallows Barking Church
   9-10. Alhallows Bread-street Church
  11-12. Alhallows Church, Great
  11-12. Alhallows Church, Little
   7-10. Alhallows Hony Lane Church [site absorbed into Hony Lane
   9-14. Alhallows Lombard Street Church
   5-14. Alhallows on the Wall Church
   9-17. Alhallows Staining Church, Mark Lane
    9-6. Apothecary’s Hall, C1
   5-12. Armorers Hall, Coleman Street, A65
   11-1. Arundel House

   5-10. Barber Chyrurgeons Hall, A59
   6-15. Barnadiston’s House, Sir Samuel, B61
    6-3. Barnard’s Inn
    6-3. Bell Inn, Holborn, A83
    8-6. Bell Savage Inn, Ludgate Hill, B77
    3-6. Berkley’s House, Lord, A11
   6-14. Bethlehem, New
   6-15. Bishops Gate
    6-3. Black Bull Inn, Holborn, A84
    6-3. Black Swan Inn, Holborn, A81
   10-9. Blacksmith’s Hall, C29
   7-11. Blackwel Hall, B49
   7-11. Blossom’s Inn, B48
    6-9. Bludworth’s House, Sir Thomas, Ma