The council also applied (31 Oct.) to the city of London,[245] but more than a month elapsed before a reply was sent,[246] and it was not until the 14th December that the mayor issued his precept to the livery companies to raise among themselves the several sums of money they had been accustomed to pay on former occasions,[247] such sums being in accordance with a corn assessment made in the mayoralty of Sir Thomas Middleton (1613-14). Several of the companies, and notably the Merchant Taylors (the largest contributors), objected to this mode of imposing assessment upon them according to the corn rate as working an injustice. The Court of Aldermen therefore agreed to again revise the corn rate.[248] A dispute also arose as to the amounts to be paid by the Apothecaries and the Grocers respectively, the former having recently severed themselves from the latter and become incorporated as a separate company.[249] After[pg 078] all said and done the companies could not be prevailed upon to contribute more than £5,000, which sum was raised to 10,000 marks, or £6,666 13s. 4d., by contribution from the City's Chamber.[250] We have it on record that the lords of the council never intended that any call should be made on the companies at this juncture, but that only the mayor and aldermen and those who had fined either for sheriff or alderman should contribute towards the defence of the Palatinate as they themselves had done.[251] Nor would the companies have been called upon on this occasion (any more than they appear to have been called upon on the last) had the collection of money from the various parishes risen to the proportion required. It was only when a deficiency was discovered that the mayor and aldermen had resort to the expedient of raising £5,000 from the companies, each company paying rateably according to their usual rates for other assessments.[252]
The parliament of 1621.
When parliament at length met (after several prorogations) on the 30th January (1621) James opened the session with a long speech, in which a request for supplies held a prominent place. The Commons, however, without showing any disposition to be captious, were in no hurry to grant war supplies until they were assured that there was to be a war.[pg 079] The king had therefore to be content with a grant of no more than two subsidies, or about £160,000. He had recently issued a proclamation (24 Dec., 1620) forbidding his subjects to speak on affairs of State.[253] If the nation in general was to be thus bridled the Commons showed their determination, whilst criticising the king's administration, to vindicate at least their own right to liberty of speech.
The citizens and the Spanish ambassador.
There was also a class of Londoner not easily silenced. A royal proclamation had no terrors for the London apprentice; and when they recognised an old enemy in the person of the Spanish ambassador[254] in the street, they were accustomed to give tongue and, if thwarted, to resort to blows. It happened one day that as Gondomar was being carried down Fenchurch Street, an apprentice standing idly with one or two of his fellows at his master's door cried out, "There goeth the devil in a dung-cart." This remark raised a laugh which so stung one of the ambassador's servants that he turned sharply on the offender. "Sir," said he, "you shall see Bridewell ere long for your mirth." "What," cried one of his fellows, "shall we go to Bridewell for such a dog as thou?" and forthwith brought him to the ground with a box on the ear. The ambassador laid a complaint before the mayor, who somewhat reluctantly sentenced the offending apprentices to be whipt[pg 080] at the cart's tail. That any of their number should be flogged for insulting a Spaniard, even though he were the Spanish king's ambassador, was intolerable to the minds of the apprentices of London, who were known for their staunchness to one another. The report spread like wildfire, and soon a body of nearly 300 apprentices had assembled at Temple Bar, where they rescued their comrades and beat the city marshals. Again Gondomar complained to the mayor, who, sympathising at heart with the delinquents, testily replied that it was not to the Spanish ambassador that he had to give an account of the government of the city. The matter having reached the king's ears at Theobalds, he suddenly appeared at the Guildhall and threatened to place a garrison in the city and to deprive the citizens of their charter if matters were not mended. His anger was with difficulty appeased by the Recorder, and he at last contented himself with privately admonishing the aldermen to see the young fellows punished. The end of the affair was tragical enough. The original sentence was carried out, with the result that one of the apprentices unhappily died.[255]
Such is the account of the disturbance as found in contemporary letters. From the City's records[256] we learn a few additional particulars. On Wednesday, the 4th April, a special Court of Aldermen sat, at which a letter from the lords of the council was read signifying the king's pleasure that David Sampson,[pg 081] an apprentice to a tailor, should be very sharply whipt through the city from Aldgate to Fleet Street by the common executioner for an insult offered the Spanish ambassador on the preceding Monday (2 April). A good guard was also to be appointed for the purpose, and instructions were given to the Recorder and some of the aldermen to discover if possible the rest of the offenders. The result of their efforts in this direction was the apprehension of Robert Michell, an apprentice to a haberdasher, and Richard Taylor, an apprentice to a bricklayer, the former of whom was accused of threatening to throw a loaf at the "choppes" of the ambassador's servant, and the latter with having actually discharged a brickbat with effect at one of his suite. Sampson's whipping, which ought to have taken place in the forenoon of Wednesday, was thereupon postponed until the afternoon, when all three offenders were punished together, in the presence of a good guard. On the following morning (5 April) another special Court of Aldermen sat at the mayor's own house, when it was ordered that Daniel Ray, a drayman, who had been convicted of holding up his hand at the Spanish ambassador as he passed through Gracechurch Street, grinning at him and calling him "Spanish dogge" just before Michell and Taylor committed their excesses, should also be whipt between eight and nine o'clock the next morning. In order to prevent a repetition of the disturbance which had occurred the previous day, the mayor issued his precept[257](5 April) for a substantial double watch to be kept for twenty-four hours from nine[pg 082] o'clock in the evening of the 5th April. The inhabitants were further ordered to stand at their doors, halberd in hand, and ready for any emergency, whilst they were to see that their apprentices, children and servants behaved well towards all ambassadors and strangers as well as his majesty's subjects.
By this time news of the confusion and rescue attending the earlier punishment had reached the king's ears. Ray's whipping was put off. The Recorder informed the Court of Aldermen, specially summoned to the mayor's house on Friday afternoon (6 April), that the king purposed coming that day to the Guildhall in person between two and three o'clock, when the mayor and aldermen were commanded to attend, and until then the execution of Ray's punishment was not to be carried out. At the appointed hour James arrived with divers lords of the council. He is recorded[258] as having made an excellent oration to the mayor and aldermen, "much reprovinge their misgovernment, and the ill carriage of the rude sorte of people, and the affront lately offered to justice in that rescue." He commanded them at their peril to see that no manner of affront occurred in the punishment of Daniel Ray, but that he should after his whipping be quietly conveyed to prison until his majesty's pleasure should be further known. Three days later (9 April) Ray, Sampson and Taylor (Michell appears to have been the one who succumbed to ill treatment) appeared before a special Court of Aldermen and, acknowledging their offences, asked pardon of God and the king. Thereupon the Recorder signified to them the king's remission of[pg 083] further punishment, and they were discharged out of prison.[259]
Insult offered to the Elector and his wife.
Whilst the Commons were chafing under the restriction which forbade them mentioning even the name of the Palatinate, an elderly individual named Floyd was imprisoned in the Fleet for displaying joy at the news of the battle of Prague. "Goodman Palsgrave and Goodwife Palsgrave," he had been heard to say, "were now turned out of doors." All sorts of punishment was suggested by members of the House, which after all had no jurisdiction in the matter whatever; and after a kind of three-cornered duel between the king, the Lords and Commons, Floyd was made to expiate his crime by riding from Fleet Bridge to the Standard in Cheapside, his face towards the horse's tail, and having a paper in his hat with the words, "For using ignominious and malicious words against the Prince and Princess Palatine, the king's only daughter and children." After standing there for two hours he was branded on his forehead with the letter K and conveyed to the Fleet.[260]
The City asked to advance £20,000 on security of subsidy, March, 1621.