Produced by Al Haines
LONDON
IN MODERN TIMES;
Or, Sketches of
THE ENGLISH METROPOLIS
DURING THE
SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES.
New York
PUBLISHED BY CARLTON & PORTER,
SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 200 MULBERRY-STREET.
1851
CONTENTS.
Chap.
INTRODUCTION
I.--LONDON UNDER THE FIRST TWO MONARCHS OF THE STUART DYNASTY
II.--LONDON DURING THE CIVIL WARS
III.--THE PLAGUE YEAR IN LONDON
IV.--THE FIRE OF LONDON
V.--FROM THE RESTORATION OF THE CITY TO THE CLOSE OF THE CENTURY
VI.--LONDON DURING THE FIRST HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
VII.--LONDON DURING THE LATTER HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
LONDON
IN MODERN TIMES.
INTRODUCTION.
This history of an old city opens many views into the realms of the
past, crowded with the picturesque, the romantic, and the
religious--with what is beautiful in intellect, sublime in feeling,
noble in character--and with much, too, the reverse of all this.
Buildings dingy and dilapidated, or tastelessly modernized, in which
great geniuses were born, or lived, or died, become, in connection with
the event, transformed into poetic bowers; and narrow dirty streets,
where they are known often to have walked, change into green alleys,
resounding with richer notes than ever trilled from bird on brake.
Tales of valor and suffering, of heroism and patience, of virtue and
piety, of the patriot's life and the martyr's death, crowd thickly on
the memory. Nor do opposite reminiscences, revealing the footprints of
vice and crime, of evil passions and false principles, fail to arise,
fraught with salutary warnings and cautions. The broad thoroughfare is
a channel, within whose banks there has been rolling for centuries a
river of human life, now tranquil as the sky, now troubled as the
clouds, gliding on in peace, or lashed into storms.
These dwelling-places of man are proofs and expressions of his
ingenuity, skill, and toil, of his social instincts and habits. Their
varied architecture and style, the different circumstances under which
they were built, the various motives and diversified purposes which led
to their erection, are symbols and illustrations of the innumerable
forms, the many colored hues, the strange gradations of men's
condition, character, habits, tastes, and feelings. Each house has its
own history--a history which in some cases has been running on since an
era when civilization wore a different aspect from what it does now.
What changeful scenes has many a dwelling witnessed!--families have
come and gone, people have been born and have died, obedient to the
great law--"the fashion of this world passeth away." Those rooms have
witnessed the birth and departure of many, the death of the guilty
sinner or pardoned believer, the gay wedding and the gloomy funeral,
the welcome meeting of Christmas groups around the bright fireside, and
the sad parting of loved ones called to separate into widely divergent
paths. Striking contrasts abound between the outward material aspect
and the inward moral scenery of those habitations. In this house,
perhaps, which catches the passenger's eye by its splendor, through
whose windows there flashes the gorgeous light of patrician luxury, at
whose door lines of proud equipages drive up, on whose steps are
marshaled obsequious footmen in gilded liveries, there are hearts
pining away with ambition, envy, jealousy, fear, remorse, and agony.
In that humble cottage-like abode, on the other hand, contentment,
which with godliness is great gain, and piety, better than gold or
rubies, have taken up their home, and transformed it into a terrestrial
heaven.
All this applies to London, and gives interest to our survey of it as
we pass through its numerous streets; it clothes it with a poetic
character in the eyes of all gifted with creative fancy. The poetry of
the city has its own charms as well as the poetry of the country. The
history of London supplies abundant materials of the character now
described; indeed, they are so numerous and diversified that it is
difficult to deal with them. The memorials of the mother city are so
intimately connected with the records of the empire, that to do justice
to the former would be to sketch the outline, and to exhibit most of
the stirring scenes and incidents of the latter. London, too, is
associated closely with many of the distinguished individuals that
England has produced, with the progress of arts, of commerce and
literature, politics and law, religion and civilization; so that, as we
walk about it, we tread on classic ground, rich in a thousand
associations. Its history is the history of our architecture, both
ecclesiastical and civil. The old names and descriptions of its
streets, houses, churches, and other public edifices, aided by the few
vestiges of ancient buildings which have escaped the ravages of fire,
time, and ever-advancing alterations, bring before us a series of
views, exhibiting each order of design, from the Norman to the Tudor
era. In the streets of London, too, may be traced the progress of
domestic building, from the plain single-storied house of the time of
Fitzstephen, to the lofty and many-floored mansion of the fifteenth
century, with its picturesque gables, ornamented front, and twisted
chimneys. Then these melt away before other forms of taste and art.
In the days of Elizabeth, churches and dwellings become Italianized.
The architects under the Stuart dynasty make fresh innovation, till,
during the last century, skill and genius in this department reached
their culminating point. Since that period a recurrence to the study
of old models has gradually been raising London to distinction, with
regard to the elegance and beauty of its architectural appearance.
The history of London is the history of our commerce. Here is seen
gushing up, in very early times, that stream of industry, activity, and
enterprise, which from a rill has swelled into a river, and has borne
upon its bosom our wealth and our greatness, our civilization, and very
much of our liberty.
The London guilds and companies; the London merchant princes; the
London marts and markets; the London granaries for corn; the public
exchanges, built for the accommodation of money-brokers and traders
long before Gresham's time; the London port, wharfs, and docks, crowded
with ships of all countries, laden with treasures from all climes; the
London streets, many of which still bear the names of the trades to
which they were allotted, and the mercantile purposes for which they
were employed:--all these, which form so large a part of the materials,
and supply so great a portion of the scenes of London history, are
essentially commercial, and bring before us the progress of that
industrial spirit, which, with all its failings and faults, has
contributed so largely to the welfare and happiness of modern society.
The history of London is a history of English literature. Time would
fail to tell of all the memorials of genius with which London abounds;
memorials of poets, philosophers, historians, and divines, who have
there been born, and lived, and studied, and toiled, and suffered, and
died. No spot in the world, perhaps, is so rich in associations
connected with the history of great minds. There is scarcely one of
the old streets through which you ramble, or one of the old churches
which you enter, but forthwith there come crowding over the mind of the
well-informed, recollections of departed genius, greatness, or
excellence.
The history of London is the history of the British constitution and
laws. There thicken round it most of the great political conflicts
between kings and barons, and lords and commons; between feudalism and
modern liberty; between the love of ancient institutions and the spirit
of progress, from which, under God, have sprung our civil government
and social order.
The history of London is the history of our religion, both in its
corrupted and in its purified forms. Early was it a grand seat of
Romish worship; numerous were its religious foundations in the latter
part of the mediaeval age. Here councils have been held, convocations
have assembled, controversies were waged, and truth exalted or
depressed. Smithfield and St. Paul's Churchyard are inseparably
associated with the Reformation. The principles proclaimed from the
stone pulpit of the one could not be destroyed by the fires that blazed
round the stakes of the other. The history of the Protestant
Establishment ever since is involved in that of our city; places
connected with its grand events, its advocates, and its ornaments, are
dear to the hearts of its attached children; while other spots in
London, little known to fame, are linked to the memory of the Puritans,
and while reverently traced out by those who love them, are regarded as
hallowed ground.
In London, too, have flourished many of the excellent of the earth; men
who, amidst the engrossing cares and distracting tumults of a large
metropolis, have, like Enoch, walked with God, and leavened, by virtue
of their piety and prayers, the masses around them. Here also have
flourished, and still flourish, those great religious institutions,
which have made known to the remotest parts of the earth the glad
tidings of the gospel, that "God so loved the world, that he gave his
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life"--truths more precious than the merchandise
of silver, and the gain whereof is greater than pure gold.
Some of the early chapters of London history we have already
written;[1] we have given some sketches of its scenes and fortunes,
from the time when it was founded by the Romans to what are called,
with more of fiction's coloring than history's faithfulness, "the
golden days of good queen Bess." We now resume the story, and proceed
to give some account of London during the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries.
[1] See "London in the Olden Time," No. 492 Youth's Library.
CHAPTER I.
LONDON UNDER THE FIRST TWO MONARCHS OF THE STUART DYNASTY.
London was hugely growing and swelling on all sides when Elizabeth was
on the throne, as may be seen from John Stow, from royal orders and
municipal regulations. Desperately frightened were our fathers lest
the population should increase beyond the means of support, lest it
should breed pestilence or cause famine. But their efforts to repress
the size of the then infant leviathan, so far as they took effect, only
kept crowded together, within far too narrow limits, the
ever-increasing number of the inhabitants of the city, thus promoting
disease, one of the greatest evils they wished to check. In spite of
all restrictions, however, the growth of population, together with the
impulses of industry and enterprize, would have their own way, and
building went on in the outskirts in all directions. James imitated
Elizabeth in her prohibitions, and the people imitated their
predecessors in the disregard of them. The king was soon obliged to
give way, so far as to extend the liberties of the city; and in the
fifth year of his reign he granted a new charter, embracing within the
municipal circuit and jurisdiction the extra-mural parishes of Trinity,
near Aldgate-street, St. Bartholomew, Little St. Bartholomew,
Blackfriars, Whitefriars, and Cold Harbor, Thames-street. These grants
were confirmed by Charles I., whose charter also enclosed within the
city boundaries both Moorfields and Smithfield. These places rapidly
lost more and more of their rural appearance, and became covered in the
immediate vicinity of the old walls with a network of streets. But
London as it appears on the map of that day, was still a little affair,
compared with its subsequent enormous bulk. Pancras, Holloway,
Islington, Kentish Town, Hampstead, St. John's Wood, Paddington,
Kilburn, and Tottenham Court, were widely separated from town by rural
walks; these "ways over the country," as a poet of the day describes
them, not being always safe for travelers to cross. St. Giles's was
still "in the fields," and Charing Cross looked towards the west, upon
the fair open parks of the royal domain. But the Strand was becoming a
place of increasing traffic, and the houses on both sides were
multiplying fast. So valuable did sites become, even in the beginning
of the seventeenth century, that earls and bishops parted with portions
of their domains in that locality for the erection of houses, and
Durham Place changed its stables into an Exchange in 1608.
Of the architecture which came into fashion in the reign of James I.,
three noble specimens remain in London and the neighborhood.
Northumberland House, which stands on the spot once occupied by the
hospital of St. Mary, finally dissolved at the Reformation, was erected
by Henry Howard, earl of Northampton, son of the poet Surrey, and
originally called from him Southampton House; he died in 1614. It
afterwards took the name of Suffolk House, from its coming into the
possession of the earl of Suffolk; its present name was given on the
marriage of the daughter of Suffolk with Algernon Percy, tenth earl of
Northumberland. It was built with three sides, forming with the river,
which washed its court and garden, a magnificent quadrangle. Jansen is
the reputed architect, but the original front is considered to have
been designed by Christmas, who rebuilt Aldersgate about the same time.
The fourth side was afterwards built by the earl of Northumberland,
from a design by Inigo Jones. Holland House, at Kensington, now
occupied by Lord Holland, belongs to the same period, being erected in
1607 by Sir Walter Cope, and enlarged afterwards by the Earl of
Holland, from plans prepared by the illustrious architect just named.
These structures are worthy of examination. They evince some lingering
traits of the Tudor Gothic, which flourished in the middle of the
former age, but exhibit the predominance of that Italian taste which
had been introduced in the reign of Elizabeth, and which continued to
prevail till it ended in the corrupt and debased style of the last
century. The Banqueting House at Whitehall is a more imposing and
splendid relic, and presents an instance of the complete triumph of the
Italian school of architecture over its predecessors. It was designed
by Inigo Jones in the maturity of his genius, and forms only a small
part of a vast regal palace, of which the plans are still preserved.
The exterior buildings were to have measured eight hundred and
seventy-four feet on the east and west sides, and one thousand one
hundred and fifty-two on the north and south. The Banqueting House was
finished in 1619, and cost L17,000. It is curious to learn, that the
great "architect's commission" amounted to no more than 8_s._ 1_d._ a
day as surveyor, and L46 a year for house-rent, a clerk, and other
expenses. It may be added, that further specimens of this architecture
and sculpture of that period can be seen in some parts of the Charter
House.
Generally, it may be observed, London retained much of its ancient
architectural appearance till it was destroyed by the fire. Old public
buildings were still in existence; Gothic churches lifted up their gray
towers and spires, and vast numbers of the houses of the nobility and
rich merchants of a former age displayed their picturesque fronts, and
opened their capacious hospitable halls; while the new habitations of
common citizens were usually built in the slightly modified style of
previous times, with stories projecting one above another, adorned with
oak carvings or plastic decorations. Royal injunctions were repeatedly
issued to discontinue this sort of building, and to erect houses of
stone or brick. A writer of the day affords many peeps into the state
of London at the time we now refer to. He describes ladies passing
through the Strand in their coaches to the china houses or the
Exchange. He tells of 'a rare motion, or puppet-show,' to be seen in
Fleet-street, and of one representing 'Nineveh, with Jonah and the
whale,' at Fleet-bridge. Indeed, this was the thoroughfare or the
grand place for the quaint exhibitions of the age. Cold Harbor is
described as a resort for spendthrifts, Lothbury abounded with
coppersmiths, Bridge-row was rich in rabbit-skins, and Panyer's-alley
in tripe. So nearly did the houses on opposite sides of the way
approach together, that people could hold a _tete a tete_ in a low
whisper from each other's windows across the street. From another
source we learn that dealers in fish betook themselves to the Strand,
and there blocked up the highway. "For divers years of late certain
fishmongers have erected and set up fish-stalls in the middle of the
street in the Strand, almost over against Denmark House, all which were
broken down by special commission this month of May, 1630--lest, in
short space, they might grow from stalls to sheds, and then to
dwelling-houses, as the like was in former times in Old Fish-street,
and in St. Nicholas's shambles, and other places."[1]
It may be added, that it was still, at this period, the custom for
persons of a similar trade to occupy the same locality. "Then," says
Maitland, in his History of London, "it was beautiful to behold the
glorious appearances of goldsmiths' shops on the south row of
Cheapside, which in a continued course reached from Old Change to
Bucklersbury, exclusive of four shops only of other trades in all that
space." This "unseemliness and deformity," as his majesty was pleased
to call it in an order of council in 1629, greatly provoked the royal
displeasure; yet in spite of efforts to the contrary from that high
quarter, not only did the four obnoxious tradesmen keep their ground,
but a few years after the king had to complain of greater
irregularities. Four and twenty houses, he affirmed, were inhabited by
divers tradesmen, to the beclouding of the glory of the goldsmiths, and
the disturbance of his majesty's love of order and uniformity. He went
so far as to threaten the imprisonment of the alderman of the ward, if
he would not see to this matter, and remove the offenders. It is said
of Charles V., that after he resigned his crown, he amused himself by
trying to make several clocks keep the same time, and on the failure of
his experiment observed, that if he could not accomplish that, no
wonder he had not succeeded in bringing his numerous subjects into a
state of ecclesiastical conformity. Charles I. might, from his
inability to make men of the same trade live together in one row, have
learned a similar lesson. This trifling conflict exhibits no unapt
similitude of one of the aspects of the great evil conflict, the edge
of which he was then approaching. Other street irregularities were
loudly complained of by the lord mayor. Notwithstanding the numerous
laws made to restrain them from so doing, bakers, butchers, poulterers,
and others, would persist in encumbering the public thoroughfares with
their stalls and vendibles.
London, during the reign of the first James and Charles, was a sphere
of commercial activity. Monopolies and patents did, it is true,
greatly cripple the movements of trade. Nothing scarcely could be done
without royal permission, for which large sums of money had to be paid.
It was complained of, that "every poor man that taketh in but a horse
on a market-day, is presently sent up for to Westminster and sued,
unless he compound with the patentees (of inns) and all ancient
innkeepers; if they will not compound, they are presently sued at
Westminster for enlargement of their house, if they but set up a post,
or a little hovel, more than of ancient was there." Yet the very
patents sought and granted for exclusive trades and manufactures,
though tending to diminish commerce by fettering it, are proofs of
demand and consumption, and of the industrial energy of the age. These
monopolies were bestowed on courtiers and noblemen, but still, no
doubt, some of the citizens of London were employed in their
management. Of the wealth yielded by commerce, in spite of these
restrictions, ample proof was given in the supplies yielded repeatedly
to the exorbitant demands of the crown. Both James and Charles knew
what it was to have an empty exchequer, and in their emergencies they
usually repaired to the good city of London as to a perfect California.
Loan on loan was obtained. These demands, like leeches, sucked till
one would have supposed they had drained the body municipal; but soon
its veins appear to have refilled, and the circulation of wealth went
briskly on. One of the most remarkable enterprises in the reign of
James I. was that of Sir Hugh Myddelton, who in 1608 began, and in 1613
finished his project of providing London with water, by means of the
canal commonly called the New River. The importance of this laborious
and expensive achievement, which reflects great honor on its
originator, can be estimated sufficiently only after remembering how
difficult, if not impossible almost, it was before to obtain a large
supply of the indispensible element in a state at all approaching
purity. The opening of the river and the filling of the basin formed a
very splendid gala scene, the laborers being clothed in goodly apparel,
with green caps, and at a given signal opening the sluices, with the
sound of drums and trumpets, and the acclamations of the people; the
lord mayor and corporation being present to behold the ceremony.
In the train of wealth came indulgence and luxury. Sad lamentations
were expressed on account of the extravagance of the upper classes, who
spent their money in the city on "excess of apparel, provided from
foreign parts to the enriching of other nations, and the unnecessary
consumption of the treasures of the realm, and on other vain delights
and expenses, even to the wasting of their estates." London, during
the sitting of the law courts, seems to have been deluged with people,
who came up from the country, and vied with each other in their
expensive mode of living; so that, at the Christmas of 1622, the
monarch, with a very paternal care of his subjects, ordered the country
nobility and gentry forthwith to leave the metropolis, and go home and
keep hospitality in the several counties. St. Paul's Cathedral was
desecrated at this time, by its middle walk being made a lounging and
loitering place for the exhibition of extravagant fashions, and for
indulgence in all kinds of pursuits. There the wealthy went to exhibit
their riches, and the needy to make money, the dissolute to enjoy their
pleasures, the mere idler to while away his time. Bishop Earle, in his
Microcosmographic, published in 1628, gives the following description
of the place, and thereby throws light on the habits of the Londoners:
"It is the land's epitome, or you may call it the lesser isle of Great
Britain. It is more than this; the world's map, which you may here
discern in its perfectest motion justling and turning. It is a heap of
stones, and men with a vast confusion of languages; and, were the
steeple not sanctified, nothing liker Babel. The noise in it is like
that of bees, a strange humming or buz mixed of walking, tongues, and
feet. It is a kind of still roar or loud whisper. It is the great
exchange of all discourse, and no business whatsoever but is here
stirring and a-foot. It is the synod of all pates politic, jointed and
laid together in the most serious posture, and they are not half so
busy at the parliament. It is the market of young lecturers, whom you
may cheapen here at all rates and sizes. It is the general mint of all
famous lies, which are here, like the legends of popery, first coined
and stamped in the church. All inventions are emptied here, and not
few pockets. The best sign of a temple in it is, that it is the
thieves' sanctuary, which rob more safely in a crowd than a wilderness,
while every searcher is a bush to hide them. The visitants are all men
without exception, but the principal inhabitants and possessors are
state knights and captains out of service--men of long rapiers and
breeches, which after all turn merchants here and traffic for news.
Some make it a preface to their dinner, and travel for a stomach; but
thrifty men make it their ordinary, and board here very cheap."
Riding about in coaches, as well as walking in smart array about St.
Paul's, was a method of display which those who could afford it were
very fond of. Hackney coaches made their appearance in 1625, and so
greatly did they multiply, that the king, the queen, and the nobility,
could hardly get along; while, to add to the annoyance, the pavements
were broken up, and provender much advanced in price. "Wherefore,"
says a proclamation, "we expressly command and forbid that no hackney
or hired coaches be used or suffered in London, Westminster, or the
suburbs thereof, except they be to travel at least three miles out of
the same. And also that no person shall go in a coach in the said
streets, except the owner of the coach shall constantly keep up four
able horses for our service when required."
The increasing wealth of the citizens made them covetous of honor, and
king James, to replenish his exhausted coffers, was willing to sell
them titles of knighthood. The attainment of these distinctions led to
some curious displays of human vanity, and excited those mean
jealousies which our fallen and debase nature is so apt to cherish. It
was a question keenly agitated among the civic dignitaries and their
ladies,--Whether a knight commoner should rank before an untitled
alderman--whether a junior alderman just knighted should take
precedence of a senior brother, without that distinction, who had long
passed the chair? A marshal's court was at length held to decide the
matter, and it was arranged that precedence in the city should be
attached to the aldermanic office, rather than the knightly name--an
instance of flattering respect to municipal rank.
While the wealthier classes were closely pressing on the heels of their
more aristocratic neighbors, the humbler orders were, in their own way,
seeking to imitate their superiors. The pride of dress was generally
indulged in, and manifested, as is always the case, in times and
countries distinguished by mercantile activity. To check extravagance
in this respect, sumptuary laws were adopted, after the fashion of
former ages, and with a like unsuccessful result. With tailor-like
minuteness, the dress of the inferior citizens was prescribed. No
apprentice was to wear a hat which cost more than five shillings, or a
neck-band that was not plainly hemmed. His doublet was to be made of
Kersey fustian, sackcloth, canvas, or leather, of two shillings and
sixpence a yard, and under; his stockings to be of woolen, and his hair
to be cut short and decent. Like minute directions were issued
relative to the attire of servant maids. Linen was to be their
clothing, and that not to exceed five shillings an ell.
Pageants, which had been so common in the days of the Tudors, reached
an unexampled stage of extravagant and absurd display under the first
two monarchs of the house of Stuart. Even grave lawyers, including the
great Mr. Selden himself, took part in getting up these exhibitions;
and a particular account is given of a masquerade of their devising,
which was performed at the expense of the inns of court, before king
Charles, in 1633.
Liveries, and dresses of gold and silver, glittering in the light of
torches, horses richly caparisoned, and chariots sumptuously fitted up,
were set off by contrast with beggars and cripples, who were introduced
in the procession, riding on jaded hacks. Very odd devices,
illustrative of the taste of the period, and of the way in which
satirical feelings found vent, through the medium of emblematical
characters, were combined with the other quaint arrangements of this
show, such as boys disguised as owls and other birds, and persons
representing the patented monopolists, who were extremely unpopular. A
man was harnessed with a _bit_ in his mouth, to denote a projector who
wished to have the exclusive manufacture of that article; another, with
a bunch of carrots on his head and a capon on his wrist, caricatured
some one who wanted to engross the trade of fattening birds upon these
vegetables. The object was to convey to the king an idea of the
ridiculous nature of many of the monopolies then conferred. All sorts
of pageants and shows, with a dramatic cast in them, were exhibited at
Whitehall under royal patronage, and filled the edifice with revelry
and riot at Christmas and other festivals. The genius of Inigo Jones
was for many years chained down to the invention of scenery and
decoration for these trifles, while Ben Jonson exercised his muse in
writing verses and dialogues for the masquerades.
At a later period of the reign of Charles I., the year 1638, there was
much excitement produced in London by the grand entry of Mary
de'Medici, mother of the queen Henrietta, upon which occasion a
spectacle of unusual grandeur was exhibited. A very full account of
this was published by the Historiographer of France, the Sieur de la
Sierre.
After detailing the order of procession, reporting the speeches
delivered, and describing the rooms and furniture of the palace, and
the manner of the reception of the queen-mother by her daughter
Henrietta, the author dwells with wonderful delight on the public
illuminations and fireworks on the evening of the day: "For the
splendor of an infinite number of fireworks, joined to that of as many
stars, which shone forth at the same time, both the heavens and the
earth seemed equally filled with light. The smell had all its
pleasures of the cinnamon and rosemary wood, which were burning in a
thousand places, and the taste was gratified by the excellence of all
sorts of wine, which the citizens vied with each other in presenting to
passengers, in order to drink together to their majesties' health."
"Represent to yourself that all the streets of this great city were so
illuminated by an innumerable number of fires which were lighted, and
by the same quantity of flambeaux with which they had dressed the
balconies and windows, and from afar off to see all this light
collected into one single object, one could not consider it but with
great astonishment."
These festive transactions on the surface of London society little
indicated the awful convulsion that was near at hand. In the
chronicles of London pageantry, the waters look calm and bright, and no
stormy petrel flaps his wing as an omen of an approaching tempest. But
a time of controversy and confusion was near. A great struggle was
impending, both political and religious. What has just been noticed of
court and civic life was but
"The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below."
In some departments of London history, however, premonitions might have
been discovered of an approaching crisis. The anti-papal feelings of
the people had been aroused by the treaties between James and the king
of Spain, and the projected marriage of prince Charles with the
infanta. So turbulent was popular emotion on this subject, that on one
occasion the Spanish ambassador was assailed in the streets. When, in
the reign of Charles I., mass was celebrated in the ambassador's
chapel, and English papists were allowed to join in the ceremony, an
attack was made upon the house of the embassy, and the mob threatened
to pull it down. But a far deeper and stronger impression was produced
upon the minds of sound Protestants by the proceedings of archbishop
Laud and his friends. The consecration of St. Catherine Cree church,
on the north side of Leadenhall-street, was attended by ceremonies so
closely approximating to those of Rome, as to awaken in a large portion
of the clergy and laity most serious apprehension. The excitements of
later times on similar grounds find their adequate type and
representation in the troubled thoughts and agitated bosoms of a
multitude of Londoners in the early part of the year 1631. It was a
remarkable era in the ecclesiastical annals of London. The church
having been lately repaired, Laud, then bishop of London, came to
consecrate it. "At his approach to the west door," says Rushworth,
"some that were prepared for it cried, with a loud voice, 'Open, open,
ye ever-lasting doors, that the king of glory may enter in.' And
presently the doors were opened, and the bishop, with three doctors and
many other principal men, went in, and immediately falling down upon
his knees, with his eyes lifted up, and his arms spread abroad, uttered
these words, 'This place is holy, this ground is holy--in the name of
the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I pronounce it holy.' Then he took up
some of the dust, and threw it up into the air several times, in his
going up towards the church. When they approached near to the rail and
communion table, the bishop bowed towards it several times, and
returning they went round the church in procession, saying the
hundredth Psalm, after that the nineteenth." Then cursing those who
should profane the place, and blessing those who built it up and
honored it, he consecrated, after sermon, the sacrament in the manner
following: "As he approached the communion table, he made several lowly
bowings, and coming up to the side of the table, where the bread and
wine were covered, he bowed several times, and then, after the reading
of many prayers, he came near the bread, and gently lifted up the
corner of the napkin wherein the bread was laid; and when he beheld the
bread he laid it down again, flew back a step or two, bowed three
several times towards it, then he drew near again, and opened the
napkin, and bowed as before. Then he laid his hand on the cup which
was full of wine, with a cover upon it, which he let go, went back, and
bowed thrice toward it; then he came near again, and lifted up the
cover of the cup, looked into it, and seeing the wine he let fall the
cover again, retired back, and bowed as before: then he received the
sacrament, and gave it to many principal men; after which many prayers
being said, the solemnity of the consecration ended." The bishop of
London consecrated St. Giles's church in the same manner, and on his
translation to Canterbury, studiously restored Lambeth chapel, with its
Popish paintings and ornaments. The displeasure awakened by these
superstitious formalities and Popish tendencies was not confined to men
of extreme opinions. The moderate, amiable, but patriotic Lord
Falkland, the brightest ornament on the royalist side in the civil war,
sympathized with the popular displeasure, and thus pertinently
expressed himself in a speech he made in the House of Commons: "Mr.
Speaker, to go yet further, some of them have so industriously labored
to deduce themselves from Rome, that they have given great suspicion
that in gratitude they desire to return thither, or at least to meet it
half-way; some have evidently labored to bring in an English, though
not a Roman Popery. I mean not only the outside and dress of it, but
equally absolute, a blind dependence of the people on the clergy, and
of the clergy on themselves; and have opposed the papacy beyond the
seas, that they might settle one beyond the water, (_trans
Thamesin_--beyond the Thames--at Lambeth.) Nay, common fame is more
than ordinarily false, if none of them have found a way to reconcile
the opinions of Rome to the preferments of England, and be so
absolutely, directly, and cordially Papists, that it is all that L1,500
a year can do to keep them from confessing it." This fondness for
Romish ceremonies, and these notions of priestly supremacy, cherished
and expressed by Laud and his party, were connected with the intolerant
treatment of those ministers who were of the Puritan stamp. Some of
them were silenced and even imprisoned. Mr. Burton, the minister of
Friday-street, preached and published two sermons in the year 1633
against the late innovations. For this he was brought before the High
Commission Court, and imprisoned.
About the same time, Prynne, a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, was
imprisoned, and had his ears cut off, for writing against plays and
masks; and Dr. Bastwick was also confined in jail for writing a book,
in which he denied the divine right of the order of bishops above
presbyters. These men were charged with employing their hours of
solitude in the composition of books against the bishops and the
spiritual courts, and for this were afresh arraigned before the
arbitrary tribunal of the Star Chamber. "I had thought," said lord
Finch, looking at the prisoner, "Mr. Prynne had no ears, but methinks
he has ears." This caused many of the lords to take a closer view of
him, and for their better satisfaction the usher of the court turned up
his hair, and showed his ears; upon the sight whereof the lords were
displeased they had been no more cut off, and reproached him. "I hope
your honors will not be offended," said Mr. Prynne; "pray God give you
ears to hear."[2] The sentence passed was, that the accused should
stand in the pillory, lose their ears, pay L5,000, and be imprisoned
for life. When the day for executing it came, an immense crowd
assembled in Palace-yard, Westminster. It was wished that the crowd
should be kept off. "Let them come," cried Burton, "and spare not that
they may learn to suffer." "Sir," cried a woman, "by this sermon God
may convert many unto him." "God is able to do it, indeed," he
replied. At the sight of the sufferer, a young man standing by turned
pale. "Son," said Burton, "what is the matter? you look so pale; I
have as much comfort as my heart can hold, and if I had need of more, I
should have it." A bunch of flowers was given to Bastwick, and a bee
settled on it. "Do you not see this poor bee?" he said, "she hath
found out this very place to suck sweet from these flowers, and cannot
I suck sweetness in this very place from Christ?" "Had we respected
our liberties," said Prynne, "we had not stood here at this time; it
was for the general good and liberties of you all, that we have now
thus far engaged our own liberties in this cause. For did you know how
deeply they have encroached on your liberties, if you knew but into
what times you are cast, it would make you look about, and see how far
your liberty did lawfully extend, and so maintain it." The knife, the
saw, the branding-iron, were put to work. Bastwick's wife received her
husband's ears in her lap, and kissed them. Prynne cried out to the
man who hacked him, "Cut me, tear me, I fear not thee--I fear the fire
of hell, not thee." Burton fainting with heat and pain, cried out,
"'Tis too hot to last." It _was_ too hot to last.
Sympathy with the principles of these Puritan sufferers pervaded, to a
great extent, the population of London. Side by side with, but in
stern contrast to, the gay merry-makings and pageants of the Stuart
age, there lay a deep, earnest, religious spirit at work, mingling with
political excitement, and strengthening it. The Puritan preachers of a
former age had been popular in London. Their sentiments had tended
greatly to mould into a corresponding form the opinions, habits, and
feelings of a subsequent generation. An anti-papal spirit, a love of
evangelical truth, a desire for simplicity in worship, a deep reverence
for the Lord's day, and a strict morality, characterized this
remarkable race of men. The strange doings of Archbishop Laud, the
doctrines they heard in some of the parish churches, the profanation of
the Sabbath, and the profligacy of the times, filled these worthies
with deep dismay, and vexed their righteous souls. Boldly did they
testify against such things; and when the Book of Sports came out, the
magistrates of London had so much of the Puritan spirit in them, that
they decidedly set their faces against the infamous injunctions, and
went so far as to stop the king's carriage while proceeding through the
city during service-time. King James, enraged at this, swore that "he
had thought there had been no kings in England but himself," and sent a
warrant to the mayor, commanding that the vehicle should pass; to which
his lordship, with great firmness and dignity, replied, "While it was
in my power I did my duty, but that being taken away by a higher power,
it is my duty to obey." In the reign of Charles, the chief magistrate
issued very stringent orders in reference to the Sabbath.
The proceedings of the Star Chamber, its barbarous punishments and
mutilations, with the accompaniments of fines and captivity, for
conscientious adherence to what was considered the path of duty, galled
the spirits and roused the indignation of many a Londoner. The
citizens went home from the public execution of iniquitous sentences,
from the sight of victims pilloried and mangled for their adherence to
virtuous principle, with a deep disquietude of soul, which swelled to
bursting as they reflected on the tragedies they had witnessed. The
avenging hand of Providence on injustice and oppression was about to be
manifested, visiting national iniquities with those internal calamities
and convulsions which so long afflicted the land. A significant scene,
prophetic of the new order of things, took place in London in the year
1640, just after the opening of the Long Parliament. Prynne, Burton,
and Bastwick, were restored to liberty. Crowds went forth to meet
them. "When they came near London," says Clarendon, "multitudes of
people of several conditions, some on horseback and others on foot, met
them some miles from town, very many having been a day's journey; so
they were brought about two o'clock of the afternoon in at Charing
Cross, and carried into the city by above ten thousand persons, with
boughs, and flowers, and herbs in the way as they passed, making great
noise and expressions of joy for their deliverance and return; and in
these acclamations mingling loud and virulent exclamations against
those who had so cruelly persecuted such godly men." The scarred
faces, the mutilated ears of the personages thus honored, would tell a
tale of suffering and heroism, sure to appeal to the popular sympathy,
and turn it in a stream of violent indignation against the mad
oppressors. What followed we shall see in the next chapter. Meanwhile
we may remark, that much of what has now been detailed furnishes a
singular historical parallel to the events of our own times, and
illustrates the observation of Solomon of old: "Is there anything
whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old
time, which was before us." Eccles. i, 10. We have lived in the
nineteenth century to witness the revival of superstitious mummeries
and popish errors; and taught by the past, the true Christian will
earnestly pray that they may be extirpated without the recurrence of
those awful calamities, of which their introduction in former times
proved the precursor. Meanwhile may each reader remember, that an
obligation is laid upon him to counteract these deviations from
Scriptural truth by maintaining that unceremonial and spiritual
religion which Christ taught the woman of Samaria, and by cultivating
that vital faith which rests on Him alone for acceptance, while it
works by love, purifies the heart, and overcomes the world!
[1] Howes, edit. 1631.
[2] State Trials. Guizot's English Revolution, page 64.