“Mem. that Threadneedle Street was all day long and late at night crammed with multitudes crying out, ‘A free Parliament!—A free Parliament!’ that the air rang again with their noise. One day, he, coming out on horseback, they were so violent that he was almost afraid of himself, and so, to satisfy them (as they used to do to importunate children), said, ‘Pray be quiet, ye shall have a Free Parliament!’ This was about seven, or rather eight, as I remember, at night; immediately a loud halloa and shout was given, all the bells in the city ringing; and the whole city looked as if it had been in a flame by the bonfires, which were prodigiously great and frequent, and ran like a train over the city; and I saw some balconies that began to be kindled. They made little gibbets, and roasted rumps of mutton; nay, I saw some very good rumps of beef. Health to K. Charles II. was drunk in the streets, by the bonfires, even on their knees.”
And Pepys writes:—
“In Cheapside there were a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the churches as we went home, were ringing.” [Hence he went homeward, it being about ten at night.] “But the common joy that was everywhere to be seen; the number of bonfires!—there being fourteen between St. Dunstan’s and Temple Bar; and at Strand Bridge I could at one time tell thirty-one fires; in King Street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking for rumps; there being rumps tied upon sticks, and carried up and down. The butchers at the May-Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives, when they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill there was one turning the spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another basting of it. Indeed, it was past imagination both the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end of the street you would think there was a whole lane of fire and smoke, so hot that we were fain to keep on the other side.... Everybody now drinks the King’s health without any fear, whereas before it was very private that a man dare do it. Monk this day is feasted at Mercers’ Hall, and is invited, one after another, to all the twelve Halls in London. Many think that he is honest yet, and some or more think him to be a fool that would raise himself by endeavouring it.... This morning comes Mr. Edward Pickering; he tells me that the King will come in, but that Monk did resolve to have the doing of it himself or else to hinder it.”
When Parliament met all the members must have understood what was going to happen. On the 3rd of May, Sir John Greville presented to the House a letter from Charles. It was resolved that his promises were satisfactory and that the Government should be once more by King, Lords, and Commons. Six Commissioners representing the House of Lords, twelve for the House of Commons, and twenty for the City of London, were appointed; they were instructed to take over £50,000 for the King, £10,000 for the Duke of York, and £5000 for the Duke of Gloucester; the City Commissioners added a gift of £10,000 for the King.
“There was great joy in London,” Pepys states, “and at night more bonfires than ever, and ringing of bells, and drinking of the King’s health upon their knees in the streets, which methinks is a little too much.”
On the 26th of May 1660 the King landed at Dover; on the 29th he entered London. The cavalcade which did honour to the occasion was worthy of a mediæval riding.
“First marched a gallant troop of gentlemen in Cloth of Silver, brandishing their Swords, and led by Major-General Brown; then followed another troop of two hundred in velvet coats with footmen and liveries attending them in purple; then another troop, led by Alderman Robinson, in buff coats, with cloth of silver sleeves, and very rich green scarves; and after these a troop of about two hundred, with blue liveries laid with silver, with six trumpeters, and several footmen, in sea-green and silver; then a troop of two hundred and twenty, with thirty footmen in grey and silver liveries and four trumpeters richly habited. Then another troop of an hundred and five, with grey liveries and six trumpets; and another of seventy, with five trumpets. And then three troops more, two of three hundred, and one of one hundred, all gloriously habited and gallantly mounted. After these came two trumpets with his Majesty’s arms; the Sheriffs’ men in red cloaks, richly laced with silver to the number of fourscore, with half-pikes in their hands; then followed six hundred of the several companies of London on horseback, in black velvet coats with gold chains, each company having footmen in different liveries, with streamers, etc. After these came kettle-drums, and trumpets, with streamers, and after them twelve Ministers at the head of His Majesty’s Life Guards of Horse, commanded by the Lord Gerrard; next the City Marshall, with eight footmen in divers colours; with the City Waits and Officers in order; then the two Sheriffs, and all the Aldermen of London in their scarlet coats and rich trappings, with footmen in liveries, red coats laid with silver and cloth of gold; the Heralds and Maces in rich coats; then the Lord Mayor carrying the Sword, bare, with his Excellency (the General) and the Duke of Buckingham, bare also; and then, as the last to all this splendid triumph, rode the King himself between his royal brothers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester; then followed a troop of Horse with white colours; and after them the General’s Life-Guard led by Sir Philip Howard, and another Troop of Gentry; and last of all five regiments of the Army Horse, with Back, Breast, and Head-Pieces, which diversified the Shew with delight and terror.”
At the Coronation in April of the following year, the City, still in a fever of loyalty, raised four triumphal arches, and organised a procession as magnificent as that of the entry. After the Coronation was the Banquet, at which Pepys was so fortunate as to be a spectator:—
“A little while before the King had done all his ceremonies (in the Abbey) I went round to Westminster Hall all the way within rayles, with the ground covered with blue cloth, and scaffolds all the way. Into the Hall I got, where it was very fine with hangings and scaffolds one upon another, full of brave ladies. The King came in with his crowne on and his sceptre in his hand, under a canopy borne up by six silver staves carried by barons of the Cinque Ports, and little bells at every end. And after a long time he got to the farther end, and all set themselves down at their several tables.... I went from table to table to see the bishops and all others at their dinner. And at the lords’ table I met with William Howe, and he spoke to my lord for me, and he did give him four rabbits and a pullet, and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Minshell to give us some bread, and so we at a stall eat it as every one else did what they could get. I took a great deal of pleasure to go up and down and look upon the ladies, and to hear the musique of all sorts; but, above all, the twenty-four violins. About six at night they had dined. And strange it is to think that these two days have held up fair till now, that all is done, and the King gone out of the Hall, and then it fell a-raining and thundering and lightning as I have not seen it do for some years, which people did take great notice of. I observed little disorder, only the King’s footmen had got hold of the canopy and would keep it from the barons of the Cinque Ports, which they endeavoured to force from them again, but could not do it till my lord Duke of Albemarle caused it to be put into Sir R. Pye’s hand, till to-morrow, to be decided.”
The Fifth Monarchy men who have already been mentioned as rising against Cromwell were, on the reappearance of Charles, mad enough, or fanatical enough, to attempt a second rising, the history of which is curiously picturesque, and shows also the strange religious distractions of the time.