Letter of Alderman Oliver from the Tower, 29 March, 1771.
A few hours later the Common Council resolved to furnish him with a "table" at the City's expense, as they had previously done for Oliver. Both prisoners acknowledged with gratitude the favour thus shown to them by their fellow citizens, and both promised solemnly to continue their efforts to maintain the rights and privileges of the City, but the lord mayor declined the offer to furnish his table during his incarceration, as he did not wish to put the City to any additional expense on his account.[296] Oliver's letter contained some very caustic remarks upon the attitude of the government towards the City. "The last ten years have afforded the city of London, in particular, every instance of neglect, unkindness, insult and injury; their petitions have been rejected, slighted, ridiculed; their property unjustly conveyed to others; their charters violated;[297] their laws contemned; their magistrates imprisoned. The power that consumes us has the plainest and most odious marks of despotism, abject abroad and insolent at home. Whether our rights will in the end be peaceably re-established or whether this violence will be pursued is more than I can certainly declare, but this I will venture to say for myself that they must either change their laws or the magistrates, for my adherence to my duty shall be invariably the same, regardless of consequences."[298]
Supporters of the government beheaded in effigy, April, 1771.
The temper of the populace at witnessing "the new and extraordinary spectacle of the lord mayor of the city of London and one of its principal magistrates being committed prisoners to the Tower," vented itself in a very characteristic manner. On the 1st April a great mob proceeded to Tower Hill following a hearse and two carts, in which were figures representing the princess dowager, Lord Bute, the Speaker, and both the Foxes. The figures were beheaded by a chimney sweeper, after mock prayers, and then burnt. A like ceremony took place a few days later with figures of Lord Halifax, Lord Barrington, Alderman Harley, Colonel Luttrell, nicknamed "the usurper," Lord Sandwich, otherwise known as "Jemmy Twitcher," Colonel Onslow, who had been made so furious because a newspaper had called him "Cocking George," and De Grey, the attorney-general. Their supposed dying speeches were, to the intense amusement of the multitude, hawked about the streets.[299]
The contest won.
Wilkes, who had been no less an offender (if offence there was) in holding the Speaker's warrant to be illegal, got off scot free. Three times was he summoned to the bar of the House to answer for his conduct, and three times he refused to obey unless the House would acknowledge him as member for Middlesex. Ministers preferred to leave him unmolested, resorting even to a subterfuge in order to allow him to escape. It is true that, like Lord Shaftesbury in the reign of Charles II, he had removed for safety from his house in Westminster to lodgings in the city, but few can doubt his readiness, if need be, to share the fate of his brother aldermen in so good a cause. In the words of Junius, he was already a "wounded soldier" in the cause of liberty, and could point to "real prosecutions, real penalties, real imprisonment,"[300] and he deserves at least a part of the reward of the victory thus gained for the freedom of the press.
Crosby and Oliver regain their liberty, 8 May, 1771.
More than one attempt was made by the committee appointed for the defence of Crosby and Oliver to obtain their release on writs of Habeas Corpus, but in vain. They remained therefore in confinement, receiving a constant succession of friends and supporters, including Edmund Burke and the Dukes of Manchester and Portland, until set free by the prorogation of Parliament on the 8th May. The Common Council had, in anticipation of that event, resolved (3 May) to go in procession in their gowns, accompanied by the city officers to escort them from the Tower to the Mansion House.[301] As Crosby and Oliver emerged from the Tower gate they were welcomed with a salute of twenty-one guns by the Artillery Company, and carried, amid universal shouts of joy, to the Mansion House, from the balcony of which they bowed their acknowledgments. In the evening the city was illuminated.
Another address and remonstrance of the livery, 24 June, 1771.
Even after their release the Common Council remained dissatisfied, and determined to take counsel's opinion as to the possibility of testing the legality of the action of Parliament. Counsel having given an adverse opinion it was resolved to let the matter rest until the meeting of the livery on Midsummer-day.[302] As soon as the livery were informed how matters stood they drew up another address and remonstrance calling upon the king to dissolve Parliament. This time it was their intention to attend the presentation of the address in a body, clad in their livery gowns.[303] The king, however, objected to receiving so large a number, and the lord mayor was informed that only the number "allowed by law" would be permitted to attend.[304] The livery had to give way, and the address was presented in the manner prescribed by the king. The answer they got was short and sharp; the king contenting himself with expressing his concern that a part of his subjects should have been so misled and deluded as to renew a request with which he had repeatedly declared that he could not comply.[305]