City gift to Queen Catharine, 3 June, 1662.
According to Pepys, who got his information from a city alderman, the finances of the Corporation were at such a low ebb that considerable difficulty was experienced in raising so small a sum as 1,000 gold pieces and the price of a gold cup to be presented to Catharine of Braganza on her arrival in England "and that they were fain to call two or three aldermen to raise fines to make up the amount."[1247]
The Hearth or Chimney tax, 1662.
Whilst the civic authorities were vainly struggling to raise the last loan for the king, the House of Commons came to his assistance and voted him a tax of two shillings upon every chimney.[1248] The inquisitorial nature of the tax made it very offensive.[pg 400] Returns were to be made of the number of hearths and stoves in each dwelling by the end of May. As they did not come in as quickly as was desired an extension of time was granted until Midsummer Assizes.[1249] Even when sent in many of the returns were manifestly untrue. The returns made for the city of London and Bills of Mortality drew forth a remonstrance from Charles, who refused to attribute it to anything else but gross negligence or deceit.[1250] He was afraid lest the ill example set by London should influence the rest of the kingdom. He expressed himself as willing to bear the expense of finding two or three honest persons in each ward, if required, to join the constable in an "ocular view." But in spite of every precaution fraudulent returns continued to flow in, and the collection of the tax to be slow and precarious.[1251]
The Act of Uniformity, 1662.
The passing of the Uniformity Act[1252] which condemned every minister to lose his benefice unless he signified his assent to everything contained in the book of common prayer by the 24th August (1662) caused great dissatisfaction in the city—always a stronghold of Presbyterianism—and many a sad scene was witnessed in city churches on Sunday the 17th as ministers took farewell of their congregations.[1253] Driven from the national Church, the Presbyterians,[pg 401] like the Baptists, the Quakers and other "dissenters" formed a separate community, happy if only they were granted toleration. Many of the inhabitants of the city were already suffering confinement for attending "unlawful assemblies." On the occasion of the queen's first visit to Westminster the king gave directions to the mayor and sheriffs to release those Quakers and others who were in gaol in London and Middlesex for having been present at such assemblies, provided they professed allegiance and had not been ringleaders or preachers, "hoping thereby to reduce them to a better conformity."[1254]
Sir John Robinson elected mayor. Michaelmas, 1662.
When lord mayor's day came round Charles again viewed the pageant from a house in Cheapside. This time he was accompanied by the queen. The City supplied the royal party with refreshments as before.[1255] The new mayor, Sir John Robinson,[1256] had been a promoter of the king's restoration, and in return for his services received an augmentation of arms.[1257] He was a nephew of the late Archbishop Laud, and full of his own self-importance "a talking, bragging, buffle-headed fellow," Pepys calls him—boasting of his powers over his brother aldermen, but nevertheless attentive to the wants of the city.[1258]
The reception of the Russian ambassador, 27 Nov., 1662.
A few weeks latter (27 Nov.) the streets of the city again presented a gala appearance, the occasion being the reception of the Russian ambassador. For the last three winters there had been, we are told,[pg 402] scarce any frost, and the opening of the year 1662 had been so exceptionally mild as to cause apprehension of dearth and disease.[1259] But now, on the very day that the Russian ambassador was to pass through the city from Tower wharf, where he had landed, he was reminded of his own country by seeing the roofs of the houses covered with snow.[1260] At eight o'clock in the morning 500 men "apparelled in velvet coats with chains of gold, well mounted on horseback," from the several livery companies made their way to Tower Hill to escort the ambassador.[1261] The streets were lined with the city trained bands and the king's Lifeguards. Pepys was there of course; he rarely missed any sight. He had been disappointed at not getting a better view of Sir Harry Vane's execution, which had taken place in June.[1262] This time he was more fortunate. The ambassador to be sure was late, but Pepys beguiled the time with dinner. "And after I had dined"—he records in his diary[1263]—"I walked to the conduit in the quarrefowr, at the end of Gracious Street and Cornhill and there (the spouts thereof running very near me, upon all the people that were under it) I saw them pretty well, go by." He failed to catch sight of the ambassador himself, but was struck with the handsome appearance of the ambassador's attendants, most of whom carried hawks on their "fists" as a present to Charles. The strangeness of this sight caused the mob to jeer, upon which the diarist characteristically remarks, "but lord! to see the absurd nature of Englishmen that[pg 403] cannot forbear laughing and jeering at every thing that looks strange." Later on he makes a note of having seen the ambassador's retinue at York House engaged in a manner that does not speak well for their habits of cleanliness.[1264]