On the other hand there was due to the city's Chamber no less a sum than £77,409 6s. 6d. for principal and interest on former loans to the king. This sum Alderman Backwell undertook himself to pay to the City, accepting a transfer of the Treasury[pg 440] Bills in the hands of the City Chamberlain. The Common Council was only too ready to accept the offer.[1381] Edward Backwell, alderman of Bishopsgate Ward, was one of those city princes whose wealth brought them into close relation with the Crown. A goldsmith by trade, he, like others of his class, took to keeping "running cashes" and transacting generally the business of a banker at his house known as the "Unicorn" in Lombard Street. Pepys mentions him frequently in his Diary. In the days of the Commonwealth he was paymaster of the garrison at Dunkirk, and continued to act as financial agent in all matters connected with that town until it was sold to the French king. His house in Lombard Street having perished in the Great Fire, he was, by the king's special command, accommodated with lodgings in Gresham College, in order that his business relations with the king might not be interrupted pending the re-building of his premises.[1382]
The rights of the mayor within the precincts of the Temple.
In March, 1669, a riot occurred in the Temple on the occasion of the mayor and aldermen going to dine with the reader of the Inner Temple. The question whether the Temple is situate within the city and liberties or not was then a debateable one, whatever it may be at the present day. The lord mayor of that time (William Turner) evidently thought that it lay within his jurisdiction, and insisted upon being preceded by the city's sword-bearer carrying the sword up. To this the students strongly objected. The story, as told by Pepys, is to the effect that on Wednesday, 3rd March,[pg 441] "my lord mayor being invited this day to dinner at the readers at the Temple, and endeavouring to carry his sword up, the students did pull it down, and forced him to go and stay all the day in a private counsellor's chamber until the reader himself could get the young gentlemen to dinner; and then my lord mayor did retreat out of the Temple by stealth with his sword up. This do make great heat among the students, and my lord mayor did send to the king, and also I hear that Sir Richard Browne did cause the drums to beat for the trained bands; but all is over, only I hear that the students do resolve to try the charter of the city." From a draft report[1383] of the incident which was probably made for the purpose of being laid before the Council Board,[1384] we learn that as soon as the civic procession entered the Temple cloisters it was met by a man named Hodges and others coming down the back stairs of the Inner Temple Hall; that Hodges threatened the lord mayor if he would not take down his sword, declaring that the Temple was excepted out of the city's charter, that the sword was not the king's sword, but the lord mayor's, and that "they were as good men as he, and no respect was to be given him there." A struggle then took place for the possession of the sword, in which the sword-bearer was slightly hurt and some of the pearls from the scabbard were lost. The students made a snatch at the "cap of maintenance" worn by the sword-bearer. The marshal's men who were in attendance suffered some rough treatment, and narrowly escaped being[pg 442] put under the pump. The mayor and aldermen in the meanwhile sought refuge in the chambers of Mr. Auditor Phillips, and awaited the return of Sir John Nicholas, who with the recorder and the sheriffs had been despatched to Whitehall to report the matter to the king. As soon as they returned the mayor and aldermen essayed to make their way out of the Temple, but were again opposed by the students, with Hodges at their head. The scene was one of wild excitement and confusion; blows were showered upon the aldermen, and one of the sheriffs was seized by the collar in the frantic attempts of the students to pull down the sword. The mayor and aldermen were called "cuckolds," and their officers "dogs, rogues, rascals and other very bad names." Some of the students are said to have had weapons concealed under their gowns, and to have threatened to draw them. The sheriffs, the recorder and Sir John Nicholas having again been sent to the king, it was intimated to the mayor by some of the benchers, and by Mr. Goodfellow, the Reader, at whose invitation the civic fathers were in the Temple, that he might now leave without any interruption (the "young gentlemen," according to Pepys, had been persuaded to go to dinner), which, after some display of opposition, he was allowed to do. Such is the City's own version of the affair, which concludes with the remark "that the proceedings aforesaid were greatly affrontive and dishonourable to the government of the city," a remark with which most people will be disposed to agree. Nor is it surprising to find that two years later the mayor and aldermen declined a similar invitation from Sir Francis North to attend his "feast" at the[pg 443] Temple, more especially as another disturbance was threatened if the sword should be borne up before his lordship.[1385]
Secret treaty of Dover, 1 June, 1670.
In July, 1670—at a time when the City could ill afford to part with money—the king sent to borrow £60,000.[1386] He had recently entered into a secret treaty with France (1 June), whereby he had pledged himself to assist the French king in subjugating Holland, in return for pecuniary support. The City agreed to advance the money, but in order to raise the sum required it became necessary to draw upon the coal dues.[1387] Much opposition was raised to the loan by the inhabitants,[1388] so that in November it became necessary for the city Chamberlain to borrow at interest more than £1,000 to complete the loan.[1389] In addition to the loan by the City Charles obtained considerable supplies from parliament when it met in the autumn. The House had been kept in complete ignorance of the arrangement that had been made with France, and voted the money on the understanding that it would be used in assisting the Dutch against Louis and not Louis against the Dutch.
The Prince of Orange entertained in the city, Dec., 1670.
In order to keep up the illusion Charles treated the Prince of Orange (afterwards William III of England), who was on a visit to this country at the time, with the highest consideration and insisted on the lord mayor giving "hand and place" to his foreign guest[pg 444] (contrary to city custom) at an entertainment given by the City in the prince's honour.[1390]
The Exchequer stops payment, 2 Jan., 1672.
As soon as parliament had voted supplies it was prorogued (11 Dec.), Charles and his "cabal" being determined to have no restraint put upon them in carrying out the terms of the shameful treaty with France. No long time elapsed before they had to face the difficulty of an empty exchequer. It was useless to declare war without funds. Charles was at his wits' end for money and promised high office to any one who should point out a successful way of raising it. Clifford and Ashley, two members of the cabal, put their heads together and hit upon the bold plan of declaring a moratorium, or suspension of payments out of the royal exchequer. For many years past it had been the custom for the goldsmiths of London and others who had been in the habit of keeping the money of private individuals, either on deposit or running account, to lend it to the king, who could afford to pay them a higher rate of interest than they paid to their private customers. The money was paid into the exchequer, the bankers taking assignments of the public revenue for payment of principal and interest, as it came in. Most of this money had already been spent by Charles in paying off the fleet that brought him over, and in carrying on the late war with the Dutch;[1391] but the bankers and capitalists who had provided the money were content to abide by the[pg 445] king's frequent assurance that he would continue to make good all assignments until their whole debt should be wiped out. We may judge therefore of their surprise and disappointment when they learnt, as they did on the 2nd January, 1672, that the king proposed to suspend all payments out of the public revenue for one whole year!
London bankers brought to bankruptcy.