THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS (_continued_).
Charles I. and Ship Money—Improvements made by him in the Navy—His
great Ship, the _Royal Sovereign_—The Navigation Laws of
Cromwell—Consequent War with the Dutch—Capture of Grand Spanish
Prizes—Charles II. seizes 130 Dutch Ships—Van Tromp and the Action
at Harwich—De Ruyter in the Medway and Thames—Peace—War with
France—La Hogue—Peter the Great and his Naval Studies—Visit to
Sardam—Difficulty of remaining _incognito_—Cooks his own Food—His
Assiduity and Earnestness—A kind-hearted Barbarian—Gives a Grand
Banquet and _Fête_—Conveyed to England—His Stay at Evelyn’s
Place—Studies at Deptford—Visits Palaces and Public Houses—His
Intemperance—Presents the King a £10,000 Ruby—Engages numbers of
English Mechanics—Return to Russia—Rapid increase in his
Navy—Determines to Build St. Petersburg—Arrivals of the First
Merchantmen—Splendid Treatment of their Captains—Law’s Mississippi
Scheme and the South Sea Bubble—Two Nations gone Mad—The “Bubble”
to Pay the National Debt—Its one Solitary Ship—Noble and Plebeian
Stockbrokers—Rise and Fall of the Bubble—Directors made to
Disgorge.
Charles I., as we all know, had a fatal amount of belief in the royal
prerogative. One of his first acts, after ascending the throne, was to
assume the direct government of Virginia, and not only to treat the
charter of the company as annulled, “but broadly declared that colonies
founded by adventurers, or occupied by British subjects, were essentially
part and parcel of the dominion of the mother country.” The Virginia
Company vainly complained that they had expended a fifth of a million
sterling over the undertaking; their territory was appropriated to the
Crown, as were shortly afterwards North and South Carolina, Georgia,
Tennessee, and part of Louisiana. But these arbitrary acts were as nothing
to the ship-money tax. There was some precedent for it. “The ancient
princes of England, as they called on the inhabitants of the counties near
Scotland to arm and array themselves for the defence of the border, had
sometimes called on the maritime counties to furnish ships for the defence
of the coast. In the room of ships, money had sometimes been accepted.
This old practice it was now determined, after a long interval, not only
to revive but to extend. Former princes had raised ship-money only in time
of war; it was now exacted in a time of profound peace. Former princes,
even in the most perilous wars, had raised ship-money only along the
coasts; it was now exacted from the inland shires. Former princes had
raised ship-money only for the maritime defence of the country; it was now
exacted, by the admission of the Royalists themselves, with the object,
not of maintaining a navy, but of furnishing the king with supplies which
might be increased at his discretion to any amount, and expended at his
discretion for any purpose.”(6) The resistance which followed, and which
assisted the unfortunate monarch to his downfall, is too well known to
need recapitulation here. Worthy Monson, who, although bluff and hearty
enough as a sailor, was something of a courtier, defended the levy of the
obnoxious tax. But then he believed that Charles really wanted the money
for the navy alone, and for retaliation upon the Dutch, while the nation
at large had not much faith in their king, or in the alleged purposes for
which the tax was to be levied. This is not the place for any defence,
partial or otherwise, of Charles’s policy. He did, however, show a
considerable amount of energy in his attempts to improve the navy, and
constructed one vessel, the _Sovereign of the Seas_, or _Royal Sovereign_,
which was in every respect an advance on anything built before it. One
Thomas Heywood wrote a very learned and flowery tract concerning it.
“There is one thing” says he, “above all things for the world to take
speciall notice of, that shee is beside tonnage so many tons in burden, as
their have beene yeares since our blessed Saviour’s incarnation, namely,
1637, and not one under or over; a most happy omen, which, though it was
not the first projected or intended, is now by true computation found so
to happen.” A description of her ornamentation would occupy several pages
of this work; gold and black were the colours alone employed. She was 232
feet long, had three flush decks, besides quarter-deck and raised
forecastle. “Her lower tyre” had thirty ports; her middle tier the same;
and the third, twenty-six ports for guns. Her forecastle, half-deck,
stern, and bows were all pierced for heavy guns—that is, heavy for those
days. On the stern was painted a Latin inscription, thus “Englisht,” as
Heywood puts it:—
“He who seas, windes, and navies doth protect,
Great Charles, thy great ship in her course direct!”
She was built of the best oak, and no more seaworthy ship had ever been
turned out from Woolwich previously. _The Royal Prince_, built only
nineteen years before, seems to have been a mere holiday ship, and was at
the above-mentioned date laid up; the _Royal Sovereign_ was in active
service for nearly sixty years, and would have been rebuilt but for an
untoward accident. The history and fate of this fine ship are thus briefly
described by a descendant of the architect, Phineas Pett, writing in
January, 1696:—
“The _Royal Sovereign_ was the first great ship that was ever built in
England; she was then designed only for splendour and magnificence, and
was in some measure the occasion of those loud complaints against
ship-money in the reign of Charles I.; but being taken down a deck lower,
she became one of the best men-of-war in the world, and so formidable to
her enemies that none of the most daring among them would willingly lie by
her side. She had been in almost all the great engagements that had been
fought between France and Holland; and in the last fight between the
English and the French, encountering the _Wonder of the World_, she so
warmly plied the French Admiral, that she forced him out of his
three-decked wooden castle, and chasing the _Royal Sun_ before her, forced
her to fly for shelter among the rocks, where she became a prey to lesser
vessels, that reduced her to ashes. At length, leaky and defective herself
with age, she was laid up at Chatham to be rebuilt; but being set on fire
by negligence, she was, on the 27th of this month, devoured by the element
which so long and so often before she had imperiously made use of as the
instrument of destruction to others.”
Charles, in spite of his troubles, either rebuilt or added eighteen
vessels to the Royal Navy, leaving it not merely numerically stronger, but
improved in all other particulars. The immense square sterns and full bows
originally copied from the Dutch (who built their ships apparently on
their own model) gave place to more shapely sterns and sharper bows.
Extremely high poops and forecastles—copied, one would think, from the
Chinese—were abandoned as increasing the dangers of seamanship. Tonnage
and number of guns were largely increased. A “first rate” advanced from
fifty to sixty, and afterwards to a hundred guns.
Holland, during the reigns of James I. and Charles I., had been carrying
off all the commercial honours from England, and it was becoming evident
that prohibitory laws were needed to stop their triumphant progress on the
sea. In 1646, and again in 1650, two Acts were passed, both having the
same tendency, to prevent foreign ships trading with England’s new
plantations in Virginia, Bermuda, Barbadoes, “and other places in
America.”(7) On the 9th of October, 1651, the celebrated Navigation Act of
Cromwell came into operation. There were no half measures in that Act. It
declared that no goods or commodities whatever of the growth, production,
or manufacture of Asia, Africa, or America, should be imported either into
Great Britain or Ireland, or any of the colonies, except in _British-built
ships, owned by British subjects, and of which the master and
three-fourths of the crew belonged to that country_. This, literally
translated, meant that England wanted the carrying trade of everything
that concerned her own well being. The next enactment went further. It
provided that no goods of the growth, production, or manufacture of any
country in Europe should be imported into Great Britain except in British
ships, owned and navigated by British subjects, “_or in such ships as were
the real property of the people of the country or place in which the goods
were produced, or from which they could only be, or most usually were,
exported_.” This provision was aimed at the Dutch; they had little to
export. But unless one can understand the long-stifled animosity and
jealousy felt in England regarding their commercial supremacy on the seas,
and as regards the carrying trade, he can hardly understand why laws,
which would nowadays be considered ridiculous and unjust, were so popular
then. So strong had these feelings become, that when the Dutch despatched
an embassy to England for the purpose of obtaining a revocation of the
navigation laws, its members had to be guarded from the violence of the
mob.
England had now unmistakably asserted her right to carry on her own
over-sea trade in her own ships, and to enter the lists with any other
nation as regards foreign trade. This action was a defiance hurled at
Holland, and after a little manœuvring ended inevitably in war. A few
facts only regarding that war may be permitted here. The Dutch were at
first, and indeed for the most part, the sufferers. Within a month of its
declaration, Blake captured 100 of their herring boats, and twelve of
their frigates, sinking a thirteenth. In 1652-3 there were five actions.
In the first Blake was successful; in the second he was thoroughly beaten
by Martin Tromp (father of the Tromp best known in history). The third,
early in 1653, resulted in a victory for the English, the Dutch losing 300
merchantmen they had captured not long before; the fourth was a decided
victory for England, and the fifth was an indecisive action. The English,
however, took possession of the Channel, and scarcely a day passed without
Dutch prizes being brought into English ports. Many of the Dutch ships,
returning from distant parts of the world, rounded Scotland, rather than
pass up the Channel. On the fifth of April, 1654, a treaty of peace was
concluded; Cromwell requiring, before it was signed, an admission of the
English sovereignty of the seas, and the Dutch consenting to strike their
flag to the ships of the Commonwealth.
One of the greatest maritime successes of the Protector’s time was the
capture of Spanish galleons worth, with their freight, £600,000. The fleet
had been lying idly off Cadiz endeavouring to provoke the Spanish squadron
to an engagement, or trusting to intercept their returning treasure ships.
Captain Stayner in the _Speaker_, accompanied by the _Bridgewater_ and
_Plymouth_, left the English fleet temporarily with the intention of
taking water on board in a neighbouring bay. On his course he luckily fell
in with eight galleons from America. Such an opportunity warmed up the
hitherto drooping spirits of the English sailors, and they fought with
fury. In a few hours one of the galleons was sunk, a second burned, two
ashore, and four taken prizes. They were loaded with plate, ore, and
money. When the treasure reached London it was placed in open carts and
ammunition wagons, and carried in triumph through the streets to the
Tower, with a guard of only _ten_ soldiers. This rather ostentatious
display of confidence in the people proved an excellent move for Cromwell;
nothing added more to his popularity among the lower classes. The Earl of
Montague, who convoyed it home, but who in reality had nothing to do with
its capture, was the subject of universal panegyrics and parliamentary
thanks.
If Charles II. could have reversed any of Cromwell’s legislative measures,
he and his court would most assuredly have done so. But they were simply
modified, and not to the advantage of the Dutch, who were very much
irritated, but attempted to gain time. Charles, however, without waiting
for a formal declaration of hostilities, seized 130 of their ships laden
with wine and brandy, homeward bound from Bordeaux, which were taken into
English ports, and condemned as lawful prizes, although such an act could
not be justified by any law of nations. War was again declared in 1665,
and an action occurred off Harwich, in which the celebrated Van Tromp was
engaged. The Dutch lost nineteen ships, burnt or sunk, with probably 6,000
men; the English lost only four vessels, and about 1,500 men. Then came a
coalition between the French and Dutch, and the great battle of June 1st,
1666, in which England lost two admirals, and twenty-three great ships,
besides smaller vessels, 6,000 men, and 2,600 prisoners; and the Dutch
four admirals, six ships, and 2,800 soldiers. The Dutch could fairly claim
the victory here, but less than eight weeks later, July 24th, were
thoroughly beaten, De Ruyter being driven into port, and a large number of
merchant ships and two men-of-war being taken immediately afterwards.
While negotiations were going on for peace next year, the Dutch, believing
Charles to be trifling, despatched De Ruyter to the Thames. All London was
in a panic. A strong chain had been thrown across the Medway, but the
Dutch, with favourable wind and strong tide, broke through it, destroyed
the fortifications of Sheerness, burnt royal and merchant ships, and
pushed up the river as far as Upnor Castle, near Chatham. It was even
feared that the fleet would sail up to London Bridge, and to prevent it,
thirteen ships were sunk in the river at Woolwich, and four at Blackwall.
Numerous platforms furnished with artillery were hastily prepared at
various points. After committing all the damage that he could in the
Thames, De Ruyter sailed for Portsmouth, intending to cause similar havoc,
but finding the fleet well prepared, he passed down the Channel and
captured several vessels at Torbay. Thence turning back, he hovered about
hither and thither, keeping the coast in continual alarm until the treaty
of peace was signed in the following summer. By its provisions each nation
retained the goods and prizes it had captured, while all ships of war and
merchant vessels belonging to the United Provinces meeting our men-of-war
in British waters, were required to “strike the flag and lower the sail as
had been formerly practised.” From this date the merchant navy of England
steadily increased, and London became that which Amsterdam had been, the
mart of nations, the chief emporium of the commercial world. In spite of
De Ruyter, England had therefore greatly gained by this war.
[Illustration: DE RUYTER ON THE MEDWAY.]
And now France sought to pluck from England the laurels she had won from
the Dutch. Her naval force had become formidable, and augmented by
privateers, played havoc with our merchant vessels. By the destruction or
capture of nearly the whole of our Smyrna fleet, with two English ships of
war convoying them, and other captures, it was estimated that the loss to
England was a million sterling. But May 12th, 1692, brought its revenge.
On that day the memorable battle of La Hogue was fought, and the French
lost nearly the whole of their navy to us.
From 1688 to the death of Queen Anne, the trade of the American
plantations had steadily and rapidly increased, till at the latter date it
employed 500 vessels, a large proportion of which were engaged in the
slave trade from Africa. It started as a monopoly in the hands of the
African Company, incorporated at first under Act of Parliament as traders
in gold and ivory, but soon developing into traffickers in human flesh. In
1698 an Act of Parliament gave permission to all the king’s subjects,
whether of England or America, to trade to Africa on payment of a certain
percentage to the company on all goods exported or imported, negro slaves
being, nevertheless, exempted from this tax. How great this inhuman and
nefarious trade had developed may be gathered from the fact that the
French, _in one year_, and to supply _one_ island, that of St. Domingo,
transported 20,000 slaves from Africa.
[Illustration: PETER THE GREAT.]
Passing rapidly over the pages of history, we come to an important epoch
in the progress of merchant shipping, when the trade to Russia was
practically thrown open to our merchants by an Act “entitling any person
to admission to the Russia Company upon payment of an entrance fee of five
pounds.” It was about this time that the Czar abdicated temporarily, and
made a voyage to Holland and England, travelling _incognito_, or as much
so as he could. Many popular accounts of Peter the Great’s stay in these
two countries are so full of errors that the present writer may be
permitted to give, moderately in detail, some account of them, derived
from the best authorities.(8) They have a distinct bearing on our subject,
not merely because one of Peter’s leading objects was the study of
ship-building and maritime affairs, but because his studies led to an
immense increase in Russia’s naval power. Previously, in fact, she could
hardly be said to have had any at all.
In many published accounts the Czar is represented as a mere youth at the
period of his visit to the dockyards of Holland and England. The fact is
that he was twenty-five years of age, and had already served in two
campaigns. Indeed, it may be said that the latter campaign, in which he
conquered Azoff, partly by the assistance of foreigners and ships built by
foreigners, was the means of opening his eyes to the superiority of the
Western Europeans over his own barbarous subjects. Resolute, ambitious,
and intelligent, he determined that his people should not remain half
savages. Influenced by such motives, he dispatched, in 1697, sixty young
Russians, selected out of the army, to Venice and Leghorn, under orders to
make themselves instructed in everything pertaining to the arts of
ship-building and navigation; forty more were sent to Holland for the same
purpose, and his own voyage had largely the same object. “It was a thing,”
says Voltaire, “unparalleled in history, either ancient or modern, for a
sovereign of five-and-twenty years of age to withdraw from his kingdom for
the sole purpose of learning the art of government.” It happened that
Peter was not as yet represented at any of the foreign courts, and he
therefore appointed an embassy extraordinary to proceed, in the first
instance, to the States-General of Holland, while he would accompany it
simply in the character of an _attaché_. The three ambassadors were
General Le Fort, a native of Geneva, who had been of immense service to
the Czar, and was now his confidential friend; Alexis Golowin, Governor of
Siberia; and Voristzin, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. With
secretaries, attachés, pages, and guards, the retinue numbered 200
persons. Their passage through Germany was a grand carouse, and the hard
drinking for which the Russians are still noted, was very much observed.
At one of these bacchanalian debauches, the Czar, who was a hot-headed
man, took such violent offence at something said by Le Fort, that he drew
his sword and ordered him to defend himself. “Far be it from me,” said Le
Fort; “rather let me perish by the hand of my master.” Peter had raised
his arm, but one of the retinue dared to interfere, and caught hold of it.
Peter’s anger was of short duration; he displayed, says Voltaire, “_autant
de regret de cet emportement passager qu’Alexandre en eut du meurtre de
Clitus_,” and immediately asked Le Fort’s pardon, saying, “that his great
desire was to reform his subjects, but he was ashamed to say he had not
yet been able to reform himself.”
Having reached Emmerich, the impetuous and youthful monarch left the
embassy, and proceeded in a boat down the Rhine, not halting till he
reached Amsterdam, “through which,” says one authority, “he flew like
lightning, and never once stopped till he arrived at Zardam,(9) fifteen
days before the embassy reached Amsterdam.” One of his small party in the
boat happened to recognize a man there who was fishing in a boat, as one
Kist, who had worked for some time in Russia. He was called to them, and
his astonishment may be conceived at seeing the Czar of all the Russias in
a little boat, dressed like a Dutch skipper, in a red jacket and white
trousers. Peter told Kist that he should like to lodge with him; the poor
man did not know what to do, but finding the Czar in earnest procured him
a cottage behind his own, consisting of two small rooms and a loft. Kist
was instructed not to let any one know who the new lodger was. A crowd
collected to stare at the strangers; and to the questions put to them,
Peter used to answer in Dutch that they were all carpenters and labourers
hard up for a job. But the crowd did not believe it, for the dresses of
some of his companions belied the statement. The Czar, shortly after
arriving at Zardam, paid visits to a number of the families of Dutch
seamen and carpenters whom he was employing at Archangel and elsewhere,
representing himself as a brother workman. Among others he called upon a
poor widow, whose deceased husband had once been a skipper in his employ,
and to whom he had some time before sent a present of 500 guilders. The
poor woman begged him to tell the Czar how “she never could be
sufficiently thankful” for his great kindness, little dreaming that the
rough-looking young man before her was that monarch. He assured her that
the Czar should most certainly be acquainted with her message. Peter
proceeded to purchase a quantity of carpenter’s tools, and his companions
were ordered to clothe themselves in the common garb worn in the
dockyards.
Next day was Sunday, and it became evident that some one had let the cat
more or less out of the bag, for crowds of sailors and dock-hands
assembled before Peter’s lodgings, which annoyed him terribly. But the
fact is that a Dutch resident of Archangel had written home to his
friends, informing them of the projected voyage, and enclosing a portrait
and description of the Czar. Among the crowd a garrulous barber, who
believed he had recognised him, shouted out, “Dat is der Tzar!” and all
poor Peter’s little stratagems could not save him from the curiosity of
the populace. A Hollander has left a description of him, which would
indicate that he was too noticeable to be mistaken by any who had once
seen him. He was very tall and robust, quick and nimble of foot, and
dexterous and rapid in all his actions; his face was plump and round,
fierce in his look, with brown eyebrows, and short curling hair of a
brownish colour. His gait was quick, and he had a habit of swinging his
arms violently, while he always carried a cane, which he occasionally used
very freely over the shoulders of those who had offended him. “His
extraordinary rapidity of movement in landing or embarking used to
astonish and amuse the Dutch, who had never before witnessed such
‘_loopen, springen, en klauteren over der schepen_.’”
[Illustration: THE IMPERIAL WORKMAN RECEIVING A DEPUTATION.]
When the embassy entered Amsterdam formally, Peter took part in the
procession, but only as a private gentleman in one of the last carriages,
and he was not recognised. But little of his time was given to the
ambassadors; it was almost entirely spent in the docks, among
shipbuilders, and on the shipping, and in sailing about the Zuyder Zee and
elsewhere, where he was accustomed to carry so much sail on his little
boat as to alarm his companions for his safety. “His first exploit in the
dockyard of Mynheer Calf, a wealthy merchant and shipbuilder, with whom he
was prevailed on to lodge, after quitting his first cabin, was to purchase
a small yacht, and to fit her with a new bowsprit, made entirely with his
own hands, to the astonishment of all the shipwrights; they could not
conceive how a person of his high rank could submit to work till the sweat
ran down his face, or where he could have learned to handle the tools so
dexterously.” While in the dockyard he was entered in the books as a
ship-carpenter, and conformed in every way to its regulations. He was
known among the workman as Pieter Zimmerman, sometimes as Pieter Bass, or
Master Peter. Dutch authorities speak of his simple habits; he was an
early riser, lighted his own fire, and frequently cooked his own food
while living in the cottage. When any one wished to speak to him, “he
would go with his adze in his hand, and sit down on a rough log of timber
for a short time, but seemed always anxious to resume and finish the work
on which he had been employed.” An English nobleman visited the yard, and
asked the superintendent to point out the Czar to him unnoticed. This was
done, and the superintendent, seeing that the Czar was resting for a
moment, called out to him, “Pieter Zimmerman, why don’t you assist those
men?” Peter immediately got up and helped to shoulder the heavy log they
were carrying. He would lend a helping hand at everything connected with
ships, even rope and sail making, and smith’s work. Once, at Müller’s
manufactory, at Istia, he forged several bars of iron, and put his own
mark on them, making his companions blow the bellows and fetch the coals.
The Czar insisted upon receiving the same payment as the other workmen,
and bought a pair of shoes with the money, remarking “I have earned them
well, by the sweat of my brow, with hammer and anvil.” Peter finished his
labours at ship-carpentering by assisting to put together a yacht, which,
at the suggestion of one of the burgomasters, was to be presented to him
as a _souvenir_ of his visit to Holland. He worked at it every day till it
was finished, when he christened it the _Amsterdam_. His numerous
investigations into science included surgery, and he carried his
instruments about with him, ever ready to pull a tooth, or bleed, or even
tap a patient for the dropsy. In short, his desire for practical knowledge
was insatiable. Ten times a day, while accompanying his friend Calf and
others about the ships, and yards, and factories, and mills, he would ask,
“Wat is dat?” and being told, would answer, “Dat wil ik zien,”—“I shall
see that.” His companions were not half so earnest as their master, and
after awhile they hired a large house, kept a professed cook, and enjoyed
themselves in idleness.
While in Holland, the news arrived of a Russian victory over the Turks and
Tartars, and the imperial workman received the congratulations of the
Emperor of Germany, the Kings of Sweden, Denmark, and other countries. He
celebrated the event by giving a grand entertainment to the principal
officials and merchants of Amsterdam, their wives and daughters. “The
sumptuous dinner was accompanied and followed by a band of music, and in
the evening were plays, dancing, masquerades, illuminations, and
fireworks. His respectable friend, Witsen, told him that he had
entertained his countrymen like an emperor.” And now, after nine months’
hard work at Zardam, he had an interview with King William at the Hague,
who arranged to transport him and his suite in one of the royal yachts,
accompanied by two men-of-war.
[Illustration: OLD DOCKYARD AT DEPTFORD.]
[Illustration: SAYE’S COURT, DEPTFORD.]
No secret was made of the Czar’s rank in London, although he tried to live
as privately as possible. He was placed under the special charge of the
Marquis of Carmarthen, and a great intimacy sprang up between them. A
large house was hired for him and his suite at the bottom of York
Buildings, where the marquis and he used to spend their evenings together
frequently in drinking “hot pepper and brandy.” But then a pint of brandy
and a bottle of sherry was nothing uncommon as a morning draught for the
Czar. After seeing all the sights of London, he paid visits to Chatham,
Portsmouth, and elsewhere, but the larger part of his time was spent at
Deptford, where he repaired to investigate and learn the higher branches
of naval architecture and navigation. There is little or no evidence,
popular tradition to the contrary notwithstanding, that he ever worked as
a shipwright there,(10) or engaged in more laborious employment than
rowing, or in sailing yachts and boats about the Thames. The writer has
before him now one of the conventional pictures of “Peter at Deptford.” It
represents a smooth-faced youth of feminine appearance, and about sixteen
years old at most, vigorously engaged, apparently, in doing damage to a
ship’s bulwarks with a gigantic hammer and formidable spike. The fact is
that Peter was in his twenty-sixth year, had been the ruler of a great
empire for several years, and was beyond his years in acquirements and
earnestness; a man of strong passions, and sadly given to drink. Peter was
glad to get out of town. Crowds gave him an amount of annoyance that was
inexplicable to a Londoner; and he avoided, as much as he could, balls and
assemblies and public gatherings for the same reason. Nor could he have
desired a more pleasant and suitable place than that which was provided
for him, the celebrated Saye’s Court, Evelyn’s charming house and
grounds(11) close to Deptford Dockyard, which had just become vacant by
the removal of Admiral Benbow, who had been its tenant. A special doorway
was broken through the boundary wall of the dockyard to facilitate
communication for the Czar. Benbow had given poor Evelyn much
dissatisfaction, but the new occupant was rather worse. His servant wrote
to him, “There is a house full of people, right nasty. The Tzar lies next
your study, and dines in the parlour next your study. He dines at ten
o’clock, and six at night; is very seldom at home a whole night; very
often in the king’s yard, or by water, dressed in several dresses. The
king is expected there this day; the best parlour is pretty clean for him
to be entertained in. The king pays for all he has.” But, alas for poor
Evelyn’s hedges! The Czar, by way of exercise, and to prove his strength,
used to trundle a wheel-barrow, full tilt, through a favourite
holly-hedge, “which,” says Evelyn, “I can still show in my ruined gardens
at Saye’s Court (thanks to the Tzar of Muscovy).” The Czar employed his
days in acquiring information on all branches of naval architecture, and
in sailing about the river with Carmarthen and Sir Anthony Deane,
commissioner of the navy. “The Navy Board received directions from the
Admiralty to hire two vessels to be at the command of the Tzar whenever he
should think proper to sail on the Thames,” and the king made him a
present of a small vessel, the _Royal Transport_, giving orders to have
such alterations and accommodations made in her as the Czar might desire.
“But his great delight was to get into a small-decked boat, belonging to
the dockyard, and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his
suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman; by this
practice he said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when
they got home. Having finished their day’s work, they used to resort to a
public house in Great Tower Street, close to Tower Hill, to smoke their
pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the Tzar of Muscovy’s
head painted and put up for his sign.” The original sign remained till
1808.
Greenwich Hospital surprised him, and King William, having one day asked
him how he liked his hospital for decayed seamen, Peter answered simply,
“If I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should counsel you to remove
your court to Greenwich, and convert St. James’s into a hospital.” In the
first week of March a sham naval fight was organised near Spithead, for
his amusement, eleven ships being engaged. The _Postman_, a journal of the
period, says, “The representation of a sea engagement was excellently
performed before the Tzar of Muscovy, and continued a considerable time,
each ship having twelve pounds of powder allowed; but all the bullets were
locked up in the hold, for fear the soldiers should mistake.” The
enterprising journal did not, probably, send down a special
representative, as would any leading paper of to-day, and the small
quantity of powder allowed must be a mistake. The Czar was greatly pleased
with the performance, and told Admiral Mitchell, who arranged the
performance, that “he considered the condition of an English admiral
happier than that of a Tzar of Russia.” On their way home from Portsmouth,
the Russian party, twenty-one in all, stopped a night at Godalming. The
sea air had done so much good to their appetites that at dinner they
managed to get through an entire sheep, three quarters of lamb, five ribs
of beef, weighing three stone, a shoulder and loin of veal, eight fowls,
eight rabbits, two dozen and a half of sack, and one dozen of claret.
Their light breakfast consisted of half a sheep, a quarter of lamb, ten
pullets, twelve chickens, seven dozen eggs, salad “in proportion,” three
quarts of brandy, and six quarts of mulled wine.
When residing at Deptford, he made the acquaintance of the celebrated Dr.
Halley, “to whom he communicated his plan of building a fleet, and in
general of introducing the arts and sciences into his country,” and asked
his opinions and advice on various subjects. The doctor spoke German
fluently, and the Tzar was so much pleased with the philosopher’s
conversation and remarks that he had him frequently to dine with him; and
in his company he visited the Royal Observatory in Greenwich Park. An
important concession was made by him to some leading merchants, through
the influence of the Marquis of Carmarthen. Tobacco had been so highly
taxed that none but the wealthy Russians could afford it. The Czar agreed
that on paying him down £12,000 (some accounts say £15,000) it should go
in duty free. He stipulated that his friend Carmarthen should receive five
shillings for every hogshead so admitted. Peter stuck to his friends, and
his kindheartedness in general does much to obliterate the memory of some
traits of character which are not to his credit. On leaving England, he
“gave the king’s servants, at his departure, one hundred and twenty
guineas, which was more than they deserved, they being very rude to him,”
says one plain-speaking historian. To the king he presented a rough ruby
which the jewellers of Amsterdam had valued at £10,000 sterling. Peter
carried this gem to King William in his waistcoat pocket, wrapped up in a
piece of brown paper. The king had treated him in a royal fashion, so far
as Peter would allow him, and before he departed induced him to sit to Sir
Godfrey Kneller for his portrait, which is now at Windsor. Four yachts and
two ships of the Royal Navy were placed at his disposal when he departed
once more for Holland. Peter took with him to Russia three English
captains who had served in the Royal Navy, twenty-five captains of the
merchant service, thirty pilots, thirty surgeons, two hundred gunners, and
a number of mechanics and smiths, making a total of little less than five
hundred persons, all natives of Great Britain. A letter from one of them
to a relative in England shows how much Peter did, almost immediately on
his return to Russia, in the interests of his navy. He had already
thirty-six ships of war: twenty, ranging from thirty to sixty guns each,
were to be launched the following spring; eighteen galleys were being
constructed by Italian workmen, and one hundred smaller vessels were on
the stocks. The forests of masts he had seen at London and Amsterdam had
fired his ambition, and we now find him not merely determined to have a
navy, but a port of the first class. Hence St. Petersburg.
Passing over events in the history of Peter the Great not bearing on
maritime subjects, we learn that “Five months had scarcely elapsed from
laying the first stone of St. Petersburg, when a report was brought to the
Tzar that a large ship, under Dutch colours, was standing into the river.
It may be supposed this was a joyful piece of intelligence for the
founder. It was nothing short of realising the wish nearest his heart: to
open the Baltic for the nations of Europe to trade with his dominions, it
constituted them his neighbours; and he at once anticipated the day when
his ships would beat the Swedish navy, and drive them from a sea on which
they had long ridden triumphant with undivided sway. When Peter was
employed in building his fleet at Voronitz, Patrick Gordon one day asked
him, ‘Of what use do you expect all the vessels you are building to be,
seeing you have no seaports?’ ‘My vessels shall make ports for
themselves,’ replied Peter, in a determined tone; a declaration which was
now on the eve of being accomplished.
“No sooner was the communication made, than the Tzar, with his usual
rapidity, set off to meet this welcome stranger. The skipper was invited
to the house of Menzikoff: he sat down at table, and to his great
astonishment, found that he was placed next the Tzar, and had actually
been served by him. But not less astonished and delighted was Peter on
learning that the ship belonged to, and had been freighted by his old
Zaardam friend, with whom he had resided, Cornelius Calf. Permission was
immediately given to the skipper to land his cargo, consisting of salt,
wine, and other articles of provisions, free of all duties. Nothing could
be more acceptable to the inhabitants of the new city than this cargo, the
whole of which was purchased by Peter, Menzikoff, and the several
officers, so that Auke Wybes, the skipper, made a most profitable
adventure. On his departure he received a present of five hundred ducats,
and each man of the crew, one hundred rix-dollars, as a premium for the
first ship that had entered the port of St. Petersburg.”(12) The second
ship to arrive was also Dutch; the third was an English vessel; both
received the same premium. The rapidity with which the swampy banks of the
Neva were covered with wharfs and buildings has been almost unexampled in
history. Peter had Amsterdam in his eye when he laid out St. Petersburg,
and he had secured the services of a number of Dutch ship-builders and
masons, architects, and surveyors well versed in making solid foundations
on swampy land.
And now, while England was distracted by the civil war of the first
Pretender, and by the rupture with Charles XII. of Sweden, she had much
trouble with the Barbary pirates, who, in the West Indies in particular,
constantly harassed her shipping interests. So great a nuisance had these
“water-rats” become that £100 head-money was offered for every captain,
£40 for any rank from a lieutenant to a gunner, and £20 for every pirate
seaman. Any private who delivered up his commander was entitled to £200 on
the conviction of the latter. But there were also at that period
“land-rats” at home, as bad as any pirate, preying on the public purse.
This was the epoch when Hamlet’s words “they’re all mad there,” might
almost have been said of England, and with even greater truth of our
neighbours across the Channel. Two extraordinary schemes, one of which was
to make France the richest of commercial nations, and the second of which
was to pay the national debt of England, were propounded, great companies
raised, and supported by half the people, from princes to petty tradesmen.
As projects depending upon commerce with foreign countries, they, of
course, are intimately connected with our subject. Need it be said that
the writer refers to the two extraordinary delusions known as the
Mississippi Scheme and the South Sea Bubble?
The first of these projects was designed to develop the resources of the
great country lying round the Mississippi, especially Louisiana; to open
up mineral deposits supposed to be wonderfully rich; and to carry on a
general trade with that part of America. The second, which more intimately
concerns us, included a monopoly of trade with the South Sea, a somewhat
elastic title, but which meant at the time commerce with the countries of
Spanish America. The South Sea Company was originated by Harley, Earl of
Oxford, in 1711, with the distinct view of “providing for the discharge of
the army and navy debentures, and other parts of the floating debt,
amounting to nearly ten million sterling.” A company of merchants took
this debt upon themselves, the Government agreeing to secure them, for a
certain period, six per cent. interest, and grant them the monopoly of the
trade to the South Seas. The most exaggerated ideas relating to the
mineral wealth of South America were prevalent at the time, and when a
report, most industriously spread, was circulated that Philip V. of Spain
was ready to concede four ports of Chili and Peru for purposes of trade,
South Sea stock rose in value with extraordinary rapidity. That monarch,
however, never meant to grant anything like a free trade to the English.
After sundry negotiations had been opened the royal assent was given to a
contract, conceding the privilege of supplying the colonies with negroes
for thirty years, and of sending _once a year one vessel_ “limited both as
to tonnage and value of cargo” to trade with Mexico, Peru, and Chili, the
king to enjoy one-fourth of the profits. On these hard conditions and
slender privileges was the great Bubble blown into popular esteem. Rumours
of commercial treaties between England and Spain were circulated, whereby
the latter was to grant free trade to all her colonies; the rich produce
of the Potosi mines “was to be brought to England until silver should
become almost as plentiful as iron. For cotton and woollen goods, with
which we could supply them in abundance, the dwellers in Mexico were to
empty their golden mines. The company of merchants trading to the South
Seas would be the richest the world ever saw, and every hundred pounds
invested would produce hundreds per annum to the stockholder.”(13) These
and still more lying statements were spread in every direction. The stock
rose like a rocket. And, so far as the present writer can discover, the
first voyage of the one annual ship, not made till 1717, six years after
the first establishment of the company, was also its last! The following
year the trade was suppressed by the rupture with Spain.
“It seemed at that time as if the whole nation had turned stock-jobbers.
Exchange Alley was every day blocked up by crowds, and Cornhill was
impassable for the number of carriages. Everybody came to purchase stock.
‘Every fool aspired to be a knave.’ In the words of a ballad published at
the time, and sung about the streets—
“‘Then stars and garters did appear
Among the meaner rabble;
To buy and sell, to see and hear
The Jews and Gentiles squabble.
‘The greatest ladies thither came,
And plied in chariots daily;
Or pawned their jewels for a sum
To venture in the Alley.’”
Not merely South Sea stock, but schemes of even a wilder nature now
deluged the market. It would seem incredible, but it is vouched for on
good authority, that one adventurer started “_A company for carrying on an
undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is_,” and in
one day sold a thousand shares, the deposit on which was £2 per share. He
thought it prudent to decamp with the £2,000, and was no more heard of.
Mackay publishes a list of eighty-six bubble companies, which were
eventually declared illegal and abolished. But the South Sea Bubble was a
Triton among these minnows, and the directors, having once tasted the
profits of their scheme by the rapid rise of its shares, kept their
emissaries at work. Nor indeed were they much needed, for every person
interested in the stock endeavoured to draw a knot of listeners round him
in ’Change Alley, or its purlieus, to whom he expatiated on the treasures
of the South American Seas. Then came the rumour that Gibraltar was to be
exchanged for certain places on the coast of Peru. Instead of paying a
tribute to the King of Spain, the company would be able to trade freely,
and send as many ships as they liked.
“Visions of ingots danced before their eyes,”
and the directors opened their books for a subscription of a million, and
then for a second million, and the frantic speculators took it all. Swift
described ’Change Alley as a gulf in the South Seas:—
“Subscribers here by thousands float,
And jostle one another down,
Each paddling in his leaky boat,
And here they fish for gold and drown.
“Now buried in the depths below,
Now mounted up to heaven again,
They reel and stagger to and fro,
At their wits’ end, like drunken men.
“Meantime, secure on Garraway cliffs,
A savage race, by shipwrecks fed,
Lie waiting for the foundering skiffs,
And strip the bodies of the dead.”
The directors used every art to keep up the price of the stock. It rose
finally to £1,000 per share. A few weeks afterwards it was down to £175,
then to £135, and the Bubble had burst.
To detail the various plans tried or suggested to bolster up the company,
the Parliamentary inquiries, or the stringent measures adopted to punish
the directors, would be out of place here. Suffice it to say that a bill
was brought in for restraining the South Sea directors and officers from
leaving the kingdom for a twelvemonth. They were forbidden to realise on
their estates and effects, neither must they will or remove them.
Eventually they were obliged to disgorge their gains. “A sum amounting to
two million and fourteen thousand pounds was confiscated from their
estates towards repairing the mischief they had done, each man being
allowed a certain residue in proportion to his conduct and circumstances,
with which he might begin the world anew. Sir John Blunt was only allowed
£5,000 out of his fortune of upwards of £183,000; Sir John Fellows was
allowed £10,000 out of £243,000; Sir Theodore Janssen £50,000 out of
£243,000; Mr. Edward Gibbon £10,000 out of £106,000; Sir John Lambert
£5,000 out of £72,000.” After every effort on the part of the Committee of
Investigation, a dividend of about 33 per cent. was divided among the
unfortunate proprietors and stock-holders. It took long before public
credit was restored.
[Illustration: COMMODORE ANSON.]