If we take one parish for an example—say that of St. Benet’s, Thames Street—we find that the son of the Earl of Carnarvon was christened in that church on November 26, 1633, that four children of the Earl of Pembroke were born in this parish and christened in this church, viz. Susanna, christened May 7, 1650; Mary, December 12, 1651; Philip, January 5, 1652; and Rebecca, July 18, 1655.
Before the Fire these noblemen had town houses in the parish—Lord Pembroke had Baynard’s Castle; their chaplains died in those town houses and lie buried in the church. Derby House, now the College of Heralds, was also in this parish, as was also Huntingdon House, the residence of Lord Hastings.
The departure of the nobility from their City houses was perhaps one cause of the cessation of the old connection of the country gentry with the City. This departure also contributed to a very important social change, viz. the fact that for a long time, now more than two centuries, the Mayor, the Aldermen, the City officers, and the City merchants have been socially and politically entirely out of touch with the nobility. In the next century some of the effects of this separation were greatly to be lamented. The seventeenth century, however, furnishes one very remarkable illustration of the connection between the City and the country gentry. It is also an illustration of the way in which middle-class families went up and down. Early in the seventeenth century, one Pepys, a country gentleman of no great standing, married a girl of his own class whose sister married into the Montagu family. One of his sons, a younger son, was sent to London and entered into trade, but without conspicuous success. He became a tailor, and he was of course first cousin to Sir Edward Montagu, his mother’s nephew. One of his sons succeeded him in the business, the other became Secretary of the Admiralty, and afterwards President of the Royal Society; he is also the writer of the finest diary ever committed to paper. Sir Edward Montagu became Lord Sandwich. In his family there were therefore, all closely connected, Lord Sandwich, the Chief Justice of Ireland, a Doctor of Divinity, a Member of Parliament, the Secretary of the Admiralty, a serjeant-at-law, a hosteller, a publican, a tobacconist, a butcher, a tailor, a weaver, a goldsmith, and a turner. As yet, however, the rest of the Note-book before us shows a great number of persons in the City who had the right to call themselves “Gentlemen” at a time when the title could not be assumed by any who chose, and was not conferred lightly or at haphazard. Social distinctions were much more strongly marked then than now. Although the City contained no noble lords, it had Baronets, Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen. The Esquires were gentlemen of good estate, dignified councillors at law, physicians, and holders of the King’s Commission, holders of offices of importance. The eldest son of a Knight was an Esquire by right; the eldest son of a Sheriff was also entitled to this distinction. Pepys, when he received the appointment of Secretary to the Admiralty, is addressed for the first time in his life, and greatly to his delight, as Esquire. The title of Gentleman was more widely claimed; the son of a gentleman was also a gentleman. A younger son, however, could not call himself, or be called Esquire unless he had some other qualification. It is not at all uncommon to find the word “Gentleman” on a title-page after the name of the author. There are complaints as to the illegal use of the title. The rank of gentleman was conceded to attorneys, proctors, and notaries; but merchants, however wealthy, artists, authors, surgeons, and tradesmen could obtain no recognition of gentility on account of the nature of their work, though by descent they might be gentlemen.
Craven House, Drury Lane.
From contemporary print.
Adam A. Bierling delin.
South View of Arundel House in London 1646.
