CHAPTER V

THE FACTIONS OF THE CITY

The long struggle between the oligarchic and the popular party, which was carried on without cessation for at least two hundred years, was at its acutest and its worst in the thirteenth century. It must be noted here because it exercised great influence in the development of municipal institutions. To this point I will return after we have considered the leading features of the faction struggle complicated by the machinations of the King.

We must note, at the outset, that the various Charters conferring and confirming old and new rights did not lay down laws for the government of the City; nor was it contemplated that the City was to be governed by the craftsmen. By Saxon custom every man was a lord or a dependant upon a lord; yet there was a Folk Mote: by Norman rule every townsman was under an over-lord and every countryman was under the Lord of the Manor; yet the Folk Mote was continued. That the craftsmen of the town were to be the rulers of the town; that they were to have a voice, as we understand it, in the management of the City was considered by the “Barons” of the City, the Aldermen, the wealthy merchants and the notables as a thing to be resisted in every way possible. Yet, to repeat, there was the Folk Mote with the lingering memory of a time when the people were summoned and shouted their approval or their refusal.

Again, we have been accustomed for so long to consider London as one of the greatest and most important cities of the world that we fail to realise her position in the twelfth or thirteenth century, as compared with certain other cities of Western Europe, long since sunk into decay and insignificance.

At that time the cities of Bruges, Ghent, and Ypres, now so shrunken and so deserted, were, in point of population, at least twice as great as London, while their trade and wealth were very much greater, even in proportion, and the liberties enjoyed by their citizens were such as London did not dream of until fired by their example. The trade between the Port of London and these towns, especially Bruges, made the citizens acquainted with these liberties as well as this wealth. It is difficult not to connect the newly-born ambitions and aspirations of the craftsmen of London with the liberties acquired by those of the Flemish towns.

London was governed, as we have seen, by the owners of the land; they were presently joined by the richer merchants; but they remained few in number. And they ruled the City in their own interests. We have seen how valuable was the Charter of Henry the First, how it assisted the City to advance, how it enabled the merchants to conduct their trade with greater security and ease, how it gave the citizens the right of electing their own sheriffs and their own justiciar, who were to be appointed by the citizens. What this meant, I take it, was that the Aldermen nominated the sheriffs, and their election by the people took the form of an assent declared at a noisy and tumultuous Folk Mote. It certainly could not be, and was not, an election by the citizens as we understand it. That the governing body had the power of election was a concession of the highest importance to them. The privileges of freedom from toll, etc., were again of enormous value to the merchants, but only indirectly to the craftsmen; now craftsmen understand direct advantage only. In a word, the Charters did not interfere with the government of the City, which remained in the hands of the small company of Aldermen. The Charters were intended to advance the trade and the prosperity of the City, not to confer new liberties upon the working man. Yet the craftsman began to understand the possibilities open to him.

The struggle begins, so far as history knows of it, with the brief and stormy episode of William Longbeard, shortly before the granting of the Commune. His is the first articulate voice heard among the murmurs of popular discontent. Perhaps there were other Hampdens before him whose dust lies beneath our feet, and whose blood like his tinged the earth of Smithfield, but we do not know of them.

Towards the close of the twelfth century change was impending. Guilds there were. As yet, they were not, as a rule, trading, but religious societies. As we have seen, in 1186, Henry the Second fined as many as eighteen for having been incorporated without license. What can this indicate but that the regulation of trade was contemplated by these guilds as well as the charitable and religious objects for which such associations were at first founded?

Even more important than the regulations of trade is the great fact that by means of their guilds the people, who had hitherto been inarticulate and powerless, were now becoming able to speak and to listen and to act.

Their grievances seem to have been at first founded rather on suspicion than on proof. When the City was taxed, the assessors were the Aldermen; the craftsmen had to pay what they were ordered to pay; no one knew what the Aldermen themselves paid. They were therefore, very naturally, accused of shifting the whole burden of taxation from their own shoulders to those of the craftsmen. But a grievance of suspicion, among a rude and ignorant people, is as dangerous as a grievance founded on fact. Another grievance was the poll tax, in which the poor men paid as much as the rich men. And a standard grievance in every industrial city, and in every age, is the question of wages and hours.

Presently the Deliverer arose—who yet was to prove no Deliverer.

William, called FitzOsbert, and sometimes William Longbeard, was the grandson of a certain Osbert, one of the Aldermen who, in 1125, had given to the Priory of the Holy Trinity, with the King’s permission, the lands belonging to the Cnihten Guild.

He was, therefore, by birth one of the governing class, whose abuses he attacked. He was also, it would seem from the first episode in his life which has come down to us, of a nature easily moved and imaginative, and, like his grandfather, disposed to piety. Such a mind belongs to the man who instinctively hates injustice and oppression.

Most of the chroniclers who tell the story belong to the other side, and, therefore, charge him with everything that they dare: the crimes, however, are so vague, such as obscurity of origin, meanness of appearance, ingratitude to a brother, that they mean nothing and may be neglected. I prefer to take the evidence of the historian, Roger de Hoveden, who says as follows:—

“The rich men, sparing their own purses, wanted the poor to pay everything. But a certain lawyer, William FitzOsbert by name, or Long-beard, becoming sensible of this, being inflamed by zeal for justice and equity, became the champion of the poor, it being his wish that every person, both rich as well as poor, should give according to his property and means for all the necessities of the State; and, going across the sea to the King, he demanded his protection for himself and the people.” (Roger de Hoveden’s _Annals_, vol. ii.)

The facts are few as they have come down to us. But we can learn something about the man. He was, to begin with, a visionary; now it is out of visionaries that martyrs, confessors, and enthusiasts are made. I know that he was a visionary from a little story related of him. He was one of those who took the cross and the vow when King Richard went on his crusade, and sailed in the fleet which contained the London and the Dartmouth Crusaders whose intention was to fight the Infidels. This fact points in the direction of an emotional temperament easily moved to enthusiasm. The fleet was becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Thereupon, William FitzOsbert, with one Geoffrey, a goldsmith, prayed to St. Thomas à Becket—the newly canonised saint—already considered as the natural protector of London. St. Thomas, to the eyes of faith, answered their prayers in person. He appeared to them. He bade them be of good cheer; he promised a favourable breeze in the morning, after which they should accomplish their vows and return in safety. It must have been a visionary who would actually see the saint and receive his message. In the morning the promised breeze sprang up; the ships proceeded on their course and put in at a Portuguese port. Here they learned that the King of Portugal was in dire straits, being besieged by the Moors with a vast army. The Crusaders resolved upon going to his assistance; among them marched William FitzOsbert, rejoicing in the promise made him by St. Thomas à Becket, that he should perform his vows and should return. In these days he would have said that St. Thomas had need of him in his native town.

The Moors being defeated, the London Crusaders thought they had done their duty in fighting the Infidel, and so returned home.

After this crusade, William made the discovery above described. Now he was not of obscure birth, because he belonged to one of the great City families; his grandfather had been an Alderman, probably his father as well; he was a scholar—one Chronicler calls him a lawyer; he was a man of eloquence; he could persuade and carry with him the rude craftsmen of London, whom he gathered together at Paul’s Cross in the name of the old Folk Mote. He found out irregularities of all kinds on the part of the governing class. When there was neither audit nor scrutiny, irregularities were inevitable. He imparted these discoveries to the King, who listened with attention, and doubtless communicated his views on the subject to the Archbishop of Canterbury, then justiciary. It may be understood, also, that his communications rendered him peculiarly hateful to his own class, the governing body, whom he had deserted. His nickname, Longbeard, denotes his desertion of that class, which affected Norman customs, and either wore no beard or a very small beard. He himself went back to the old Saxon custom, which seems to have been retained by the craftsmen, and grew a long beard.

He left, then, his own people; he was no longer one of the governing class; he joined the party of the craftsmen; to show his change of opinion and of plan, he grew a beard. And we find him a great orator, haranguing the people on their wrongs; calling them together at Paul’s Cross; followed by a crowd who waited on his words; going to the King with proofs of the evil-doing of the Aldermen; getting, at first, the ear of the King, until Richard was set against the reforms by reports against FitzOsbert, such as that he was continually exciting the populace to further discontent. The historians, as has been stated, differ as to William’s real character. Stow, copying some of the Chronicles, says that he was “poor in degree, evil-favoured in shape ... a counterfeit friend to the poor ... a man of evil life, a murderer ... who falsely accused his elder brother of treason....”

Holinshed says that he was a “seditious person and of a busie nature.” Fabyan’s account is much more favourable. I subjoin his account of the whole episode:—

“And Wyllyam with ye longe berde shewyd to ye kynge the owtrage of the ryche men, whiche, as he sayd, sparyd theyr owne, and pylled the poore people. It is sayde that this Wyllyam was borne in London, and purchased that name by use of his berde. He was sharpe of wyt, and somedeale lettred, a bolde man of speche, and sadde of his contenance, and toke upon hym gretter dedys than he cowde weld: and some he usyd cruell, as apereth in appechynge of his owne brother of treason, ye whiche was a burges of London, and to hym had shewed great kyndenesse in his youthe. This Wyllyam styred and excyted ye common people to desyre and love fredam and lybertye, & blamed the excesse and owtrage of ryche men: by syche meanys, he drewe to hym many great companyes, and, with all his power, defendyd the poore mannys cause agayne the ryche, and accused dyuerse to ye kyng, shewinge that by theyr meanys, ye kyng loste many forfaytes and encheatis. For this, gentylmen and men of honoure, malygned agayne hym, but he had suche comforte of ye kyng, that he kept on his purpose. Then ye kyng beyng warned of the congregacions that this Wyllyam made, commaunded hym to cease of such doyngys, that the people myght exercyse theyr artis and occupacions; by reason whereof it was lefte for a whyle: but it was not longe or ye people followed hym, as they before hys tyme had done. Then he made unto them colacions or exortacions, & toke for his anteteme, ‘Haurietis aquas in gaudio de fontibus saluatoris,’ that is to meane, ye shall drawe, in joy, waters of ye wellys, of our savyour: and to this he added, ‘I am,’ sayd he, ‘ye savyoure of poore men; ye be poore and have assayed ye harde handis of ryche men; now drawe ye therefore holefull water of lore of my wellys, and that with joy, for ye tyme of youre vysytacyon is comyn. I shall,’ sayde he, ‘departe waters from waters. By waters I understande the people; then shall I departe the people which is good and meke, from the people that is wyckyd and prowde, and I shall dissevyr the good and the ylle, as the lyght is departyd from the derkenesse.’ When the bysshop was brought to ye archebisshop of Canterbury, he, by counceyll of the lordis of the spyritualtye, sent unto this Wyllyam, commaundynge hym to appere before the lordis of the kyngys counceyll to answere unto suche maters as there shulde be layed unto hym. At which day this Wyllyam appered, havynge with hym a multytude of people, in so moch that the lordys were of hym adrad, for ye which cause they remyttyd hym with pleasaunt wordys for that tyme, and commaundyd certeyn personys, in secrete maner, to espye when he were voyde of his company, and then to take hym, and to put hym in sure kepyng, the which, accordyng to that commaundment, at tyme convenyent, as they thought, sette upon hym and to have takyn hym; but he, with an axe, resysted them, and slew one of theym, and after fled to Saynt Mary Bowe Church, of Chepe, and tooke that for his savegarde, defendynge hym by strength, and not by ye suffragis of ye church: for to hym drewe, shortly, great multytude of people; but in short processe, by mean of the hedys and rulers of ye cytie, the people mynysshed, so that, in short tyme, he was left with fewe personys, and after, by fyre, compellyd to forsake the church, and so was taken, but not without shedying of blode. After which takyng, he was arreygned before ye jugys, and there, with ix. of his adherentis, cast and judged to dye, and was hanged, and they with hym the day folowynge. But yet the rumor ceased not; for the common people reysyed a great cryme upon the archbisshop of Cantorbury, and other, and sayd that, by theyr meanes, Wyllyam, which was an innocent of suche crymes as were objecte and pute agayne hym, and was a defendor of the pore people agayne extorcioners and wronge doers, was by them put wrongfully to deth: approuyng hym an holy man and martyr, by this tale folowyng: sayinge, that a man, beyng seke of the fevers, was curid by vertue of a cheyn which this Wyllyam was bounde with in tyme of his dures of enprysonement, which, by a preest of the allye of the sayd Wyllyam was openly declared & prechyd, wherby he brought the people in such an errour, that they gave credence to his wordys, and secretly, in the night, conveyed away ye jebet that he was hangyd upon and scrapyd awey that blode made there an holow place by fetchyng away of that erthe, and sayde that syke men and women were cured of dyverse sykenesses by vertue of that blode and erthe. By theyse meanes, and blowyng of fame, that place was the more vysyted by women and undyscrete persones, of ye which some watchyd there ye hoole nyght in prayer, so that the lenger this contynuyd, ye more disclaunder was anotyd to the justyces, and to suche as put hym to deth: notwithstandynge, in processe of tyme when his actys were publysshed, as ye sleigne of man with his owne hande, and uysyng of his concubyne within seynt Mary Church, in tyme of his there beynge, as he openlye confessyd in the owre of his deth, with other detestable crymes, somewhat keyld ye great flame of ye hasty pylgrymage; but not clerely tyll ye archebisshop of Canterbury accursed ye preest that brought up the firste fable, and also causyd that place to be watchyd, that suche idolatry shuld there no more be used.” (Fabyan’s _Chronicles_, p. 306.)

The mention of the woman is also made by Holinshed. He adds a single line which contains a world of love and pathos, the words, “who never left him fearing danger might betide him.” Fabyan’s words “not without shedding of blood” are by Holinshed shown to mean that one of his assailants thrust a knife into William’s body, so that he was carried to the Tower. One pictures the faithful, loving creature—was she his wife?—watching by the wounded man all night, giving him such solace in the agony of his wound as she could, and going out in the morning to see him die—or haply, to die with him. The manner of his death was that which was ordered for William Wallace, a hundred years later. William Longbeard and his friends were dragged by the heels to Smithfield and then hanged. The distance from the Tower to Smithfield is a mile and a quarter. It is a long way for the body of a man to be dragged: first the head and arms and back were bruised by the roughness of the road; then the clothes were torn to rags; when the sufferer arrived at the gibbet he was already senseless from the blows and buffets of his head against the stones and rough places in the road; when he was hoisted up on the gibbet, his body, stripped of the clothes, was bleeding and torn. Was that poor woman present? Perhaps they took her to Smithfield in a cart and burned her alive.

The case, as I said, is one of a Reformer before his time. One knows not all the reforms he desired and advocated. The example of his life, however, and the tradition of his teaching, remained. The Archbishop might curse the priest, or anybody there who defended him. But the fact remained that this man died a martyr for the cause of justice against oppression and despotic rule. Such a life is not wasted.

Then came the Commune with the struggle, begun by Longbeard, of the craftsmen against the governing class, caused by their resolve to obtain their share in the administration. It was in one sense fortunate for the City that the factions and the struggles which divided the City were continually complicated by the dissension of King and Barons. The issues were thus to a great extent obscured, and what might have been civil war in the City became part of the civil wars between the King and the Barons.

The reign of Henry the Third is filled with the King’s displeasure against the City as well as with the quarrels and dissensions which rent the City in twain. Let us run rapidly through the main incidents of the time, and then consider how the growth and development of the Commune were affected by those factions.

In the year 1221, or 1223, the tumult for which Constantine FitzArnult was hanged awakened the jealousy and suspicion of the young King, because it revealed the existence or the survival of a French party in the City. I cannot but think that this foolish rising was the first cause of that hatred towards his rich city which Henry entertained throughout his reign. The conspiracy, says Fabyan, was so “heinous and grievous to the King that he was mynded and purposed to throwe downe the wallys of the Citie.” However, for the time he was appeased, and presently issued his Charter of Confirmation to the City with the grant of a common seal.

In 1229 the Aldermen, with the consent of the people, agreed that a sheriff should not continue in office for more than one year, because charges had been brought against previous sheriffs of taking bribes from victuallers, and also of various extortions. On referring to the list we find that the continuance in office of the sheriffs had become of recent years a common practice, as the following list (_Stow_) shows:—

1218. Sheriffs. John Viel[8] and John Le Spicer. 1219. „ John Viel „ Richard Wimbledon. 1220. „ John Viel „ Richard Renger. 1221. „ Thomas Lambart, Richard Renger. 1222. „ Thomas Lambart, Richard Renger. 1223. „ John Travars, Andrew Bokerel. 1224. „ John Travars, Andrew Bokerel. 1225. „ Roger Duke, Martin FitzWilliam. 1226. „ Roger Duke, Martin FitzWilliam. 1227. „ Stephen Bokerel, Henry Cocham. 1228. „ Stephen Bokerel, Henry Cocham.

In 1240, the Aldermen were elected and changed yearly, “but,” says Stow, “that order lasted not long.” (See Appendices II. and III.)

In the same year, following Fabyan’s Chronology, the King began to side with the popular party, intending in this manner to break up the privileges of the City.

At this point it is necessary to seek more closely into the reasons of the weakness which made London an almost unresisting prey to the exactions of this insatiate and insatiable King. The City, which could lend Simon de Montfort a fully equipped army of 15,000 men, might surely at any moment close its gates, keep the mouth of the Thames clear, and defy the King. But for many years it offered no resistance at all. The reason will immediately appear. A change so slow and gradual that it only at this juncture became important was passing over the City of London and its institutions, or to put it more accurately, the institutions themselves remained unchanged, yet assumed new meanings. It was, as has been already advanced, the happiness of London that, except for a very brief episode, its over-lord was the King and none other. The reeve of the borough was the bailiff or steward of this lord. In the name of the lord he was the magistrate; he collected rents, tolls and dues; he called the burgesses to their mote; he took care that the rights of the lord were properly executed. These duties observed, the burgesses were left at liberty to govern themselves. Naturally, when the town became prosperous it began to buy out the privileges of the over-lord. Thus, the Charters of the City of London are the recognition by king after king, that a certain portion of the rights of the over-lord have been bought out or conceded. And the reign of such a king as Henry the Third is a continual disregard of these concessions or purchases, by the assertion over and over again of the rights and powers of the over-lord, never, however, going so far as to give the City to any other over-lord. Thus Henry, as we shall see, in spite of the Charters, held courts in the City by his own justiciar, and called the citizens to plead their own cases at Westminster.

These Charters, then, granted their liberties to the citizens. But who were the citizens? “Land was from the first the test of freedom, and the possession of land was what constituted the townsman.... In England the landless man who dwelled in a borough had no share in its corporate life: for purposes of government or property the town was simply an association of the landed proprietors within its bounds.” (Green’s _History of the English People_.)

These words explain the whole position. In the twelfth century the government of London was entirely in the hands of certain families who held the land. As we have seen, the wards were their own property, named after them: the heads of these families were hereditary Aldermen of the wards. The members of this corporation or association were themselves, for the most part, engaged in trade. They were the wholesale traders—mercers, drapers, merchant adventurers. They would not admit within their body the craftsmen, who began, however, to form guilds for themselves. And the efforts of the governing body were directed against the formation of the craft guilds which, they plainly saw, would lead to the destruction of their own power. In the reign of Henry the Third this struggle of the _Prud hommes_ or the “wise men”—the men of the ruling class—against the craftsmen was at its fiercest. In the reign of John, they had secured the suppression of the comprehensive weavers’ guild. Slow and difficult is the process and many are the lessons which must be learned, great are the oppressions which must be endured, before men so far overcome their suspicion of each other as to unite for the common good. The Londoner—the man of the commonalty—of Henry the Third could unite for fighting purposes; he could trust his brother to stand by him shoulder to shoulder; what he could not do was to trust his brother-craftsman not to overreach him, or to undersell him. Do we not see the same thing to-day? We think we are better educated and wiser; and we are even now exhorting men to do exactly what these popular leaders of the thirteenth century exhorted them to do, namely—to combine. The commonalty, at first, were galled, not so much by having no share in the administration, for they had never looked for any, but by the suspicion that the real burden of taxation fell upon themselves instead of on the wealthy. The names of the Mayors of this reign sufficiently indicate the side on which the power lay from time to time. Thus Basing, Blunt, Bukerel, Frowyk, FitzWalter are names of the old families: Le Fullour and Grapefig are the names of craftsmen.

Early in the long reign of Henry the Third we find a certain Symon FitzMary, whose name perhaps indicates an origin so obscure that it was only derived from his mother, yet he was one of the Aldermen, one of the popular party, and—which is significant—in the service of the King. Henry, therefore, was playing off the popular against the aristocratic side. Symon was elected Sheriff in the year 1233, but in the first term of his shrievalty he was charged with “wasting the property that formed the issues of the Sheriffwick.” He was, therefore, set aside,—surely a very strong step,—and his clerks were ordered in his place to collect the money that formed the _Firma_. Six years later, in 1239, Symon presents himself at the election of sheriffs. He has letters from the King commanding the City to elect him. Here we have a deliberate attempt of the King to trample on the Charters. The City refused to obey, and repaired to Court in hopes of conciliating the King’s favour, but could not, “so that,” says FitzThedmar, “the City was without a Mayor for three months, when Gerard Bat, one of the aristocratic party, was elected.” At the next election he was again chosen. Then follows a very curious story. With him “certain of the citizens proceeded to Wodestok, for the purpose of presenting him; and his lordship the King declined to admit him [to the Mayoralty] there, or before he had come to London. And on the third day after, upon the King’s arrival there, he admitted him; and after the oath had been administered to him, that he would restore everything that had before been taken and received, and would not receive the forty pounds which the Mayors had previously been wont to receive from the City, the Mayor said, when taking his departure:—‘Alas! my Lord, out of all this I might have found a marriage portion to give my daughter.’ For this reason the King was moved to anger, and forthwith swore upon the altar of Saint Stephen, by Saint Edward, and by the oath which he that day took upon that altar, and said:—‘Thou shalt not be Mayor this year, and for a very little I would say, Never. Go, now.’ The said Gerard, hereupon, not caring to have the King’s ill-will, resigned the Mayoralty, and Reginald de Bunge was appointed Mayor of London.” (Riley’s edit. FitzThedmar’s _Chronicles of Old London_, p. 9.)

At the same time we find this oppressive King calling the citizens together at Paul’s Cross, and asking their leave to pass over-seas to Gascony!

On his return, the King took the City into his own hand for harbouring a certain Walter Bukerel without warrant, yet it was proved that Bukerel had been pardoned. He “took the City into his own hand,” _i.e._ he suspended all the Charters and Liberties; but he gave it to the Mayor, Ralph Aswy, for safe keeping. He then marched north to fight the Scots, but on his return he forbade the sheriffs to perform any of their functions. The City bought their pardon by paying a fine of £1000.

Again we find Symon FitzMary active at the election of the Sheriffs. It was in 1244. Now in 1229 the Aldermen had all taken oath that at no time would they allow the same man to be Sheriff for two consecutive years. Symon, therefore, understanding that it was proposed to re-elect Nicholas Bat, rose in his place and called him a perjurer. Reading between the lines, we understand that the self-denying ordinance of 1229 was a concession to the popular party, and the re-election of Bat in 1244 was due to the return to power of the other side. There was certainly a warm debate, and in the end Symon had to resign his Aldermanry, and Nicholas Bat was re-elected. The case, however, was taken before the King, who refused to admit Nicholas Bat.

To this time belongs a series of determined attacks upon the liberties of the City by the King. There was first the case of Margery Vyel; then the claims of the Abbot of Westminster; and thirdly, the Fair of Westminster. The Fair was granted to the Abbot of Westminster for fifteen days, to be held in Tothill Fields. During its continuance, trade of all kinds was to cease in London. Consider the intolerable nature of this enactment. The City bought off the latter regulation for the sum of £2000. As regards the claims of Westminster Abbey, they were complicated by questions of mediæval law and rights; for a long time they were advanced as a means of worrying the City. Thus, in 1249, the King appointed a “day of love” (_i.e._ reconciliation) between the City and the Abbot of Westminster. The meeting was held at the Temple. The Mayor, being accompanied by a “countless multitude,” met the Abbot, who had with him certain of the King’s Justices. But there was no conference; the whole of the people, with one consent, declared that they would have no conference, but would abide by their Charters. The case was taken before the King, but nothing seems to have been decided.

This brings us to the claim of Margery Vyel. It is related by Arnold FitzThedmar. Let us use his own words as far as possible.

“In the same year”—A.D. 1246—“on the Monday next after Hockeday [Hocking day was the second Tuesday after Easter] it was adjudged in the Guildhall that a woman who had been endowed with a certain and specified dower may not, nor ought to have of the chattels of her deceased husband beyond the certain and specified dower assigned to her, unless in accordance with the will of her husband. And this befel through Margery, the relict of John Vyel the elder, who, by numerous writs of his Lordship the King, demanded in the Hustings of London, the third part of the chattels belonging to her said husband.”

In the next year (A.D. 1247) “on the Monday after St. Peter Chains [St. Peter ad Vincula, August 1st] Henry de Ba, a Justiciar sent by his Lordship the King, came to St. Martin’s-le-Grand, where the record which had been given upon complaint of Margery Vyel was, to which judgment the said Margery had made complaint to his Lordship the King, and had found judges to prove that the same was false. Whereupon the Mayor and citizens meeting them, the record having been read through, and all the writs of his Lordship the King which the said Margery had obtained having been read and heard, the Justiciar said, ‘I do not say that this judgment is false, but the process thereof is faulty, as there is no mention made in this record of summons of the opponents of the said Margery, and seeing that John Vyel, her husband, made a will, it did not pertain to your Court to determine such a plea as this.’ To which the citizens made answer ‘There was no necessity to summons those who had possession of the property of the deceased for they were always ready, and preferred to stand trial at suit of the said Margery in our Court: and besides, we were fully able to entertain such plea by assent of the two parties, who did not at all claim or demand the Ecclesiastical Court and seeing that his Lordship the King by his writ commanded us to determine the same.’

At length after much altercation had taken place between the Justiciar and the citizens, the Justiciar said that they must show all this to the King and his Council and so they withdrew. Afterwards, however, and solely for this cause, the King took the city into his own hands and by his writ entrusted it to the custody of William de Haverille and Edward de Westminster, namely, on the vigil of St. Bartholomew (Aug. 24th): whereupon the Mayor and citizens went to the King at Wudestok and showed him that they had done no wrong: but they could not regain his favour. Wherefore, upon their arrival at London, William de Haverille exacted an oath of the clerks and all the serjeants who belonged to the Shrievalty, that they would be obedient unto him, the Mayor and Sheriffs being removed from their bailiwicks. Afterwards, on the Sunday before the Nativity of St. Mary (Sept. 8th) the Mayor and Sheriffs, by leave of the King, received the City into their hands and a day was given them to make answer as to the aforesaid judgment before the King and his Barons, namely, the morrow of the Translation of St. Edward [June 9th] at Westminster, and on the morrow of St. Edward, the Mayor and citizens appeared at Westminster to make answers to the judgment before mentioned, that had been given against the aforesaid Margery Vyel and so on from day to day till the fourth day, upon which last day, the King requested them to permit the Abbot of Westminster to enjoy the franchises which the King had granted him in Middlesex in exchange for other liberties which the citizens might of right demand. To which the citizens made answer that they could do nothing in such a matter without the consent of the whole community. The King on learning this, as though moved to anger, made them appear before him and after much altercation had passed as to the said judgment (Henry de la Mare a kinsman of the before named Margery Vyel constantly making allegations against the citizens) counsel being at last held before the King between the Bishops and Barons, the Mayor and citizens were acquitted and took their departure.” (Riley’s edition, FitzThedmar’s _Chronicles of Old London_.)

It will be observed that the King broke the Charters, first by sending his own Justiciar into the City to hear an appeal; next, by making the Mayor and citizens go to Westminster to have a City case tried; and thirdly, by granting the Abbot of Westminster rights or privileges in the County of Middlesex which was held and farmed by the City.

The City, at the price of surrendering its liberties, won the case, evidently a case considered as of the very highest importance. The reward bestowed upon Symon FitzMary is related by FitzThedmar:

“It should be observed, that when Symon FitzMary, for his offence, had delivered his Aldermanry into the hands of the City, as above noticed, by assent of the whole community the Mayor returned him his Aldermanry, upon condition of his conceding that if at any future time he should again contravene the franchises of the City, the Mayor might, without plea or gainsaying, take back his Aldermanry, into the hands of the City, and wholly remove him therefrom. Wherefore, in this year, because the said Symon had manifestly sided with Margery Vyel in the complaint which she had made to his lordship the King as to the judgment given by the citizens—as to which, as is already written, she herself was cast—as also, for many other evil and detestable actions of which he had secretly been guilty against the City, the Mayor took his Aldermanry into his own hands, and wholly removed him therefrom; and the men of that Ward, receiving liberty to elect on the Monday before Mid-Lent chose Alexander le Ferrun, and that too in his absence; but he, afterwards appearing at the Hustings, was on the Monday following admitted Alderman.” (_Chronicles of Old London_, pp. 16-17.)

And so Symon vanishes. One would like to hear more of his political career. As regards his private history, his will, by which he founded the House of St. Mary of Bethlehem, survives, so that he is the originator of the Royal Bethlehem Hospital, which has served the City so well and so long. He may have been of humble origin, in which case he is an early example of the rise of a poor lad to wealth, an example that after his time became well-nigh impossible until the eighteenth century.

In 1257 occurred another of the many strange stories of this time. A sealed Roll was found in the King’s wardrobe at Windsor. No one knew who wrote it, or how it came there. The Roll contained “many articles against the Mayor, to the effect that the City had been aggrieved by him and his abettors beyond measure, as well as in respect of tallage and of other injuries that had been committed by them.” In other words, the Roll contained a statement, no doubt highly coloured, of the discontented. The King, pretending to be resolute that the poor should not be treated unjustly, sent John Maunsell, Justiciar, to London with orders to hold a Folk Mote and to inquire into the truth of the allegations, which was done. Then the Aldermen were ordered to convene their ward motes, and to cause the people in each ward to elect six-and-thirty deputies, _the Aldermen being absent_; and these six-and-thirty men were ordered to appear in the hall of the Bishop of London. They were there put on oath; but they refused to make oath, alleging that by the laws of the City they ought not to make oath except upon a question of life or limb, or where land was to be lost or gained. The next day, at the Guildhall, the deputies still refused to take oath. Whereupon the King sent word that all he desired was to learn the truth; that he was willing to leave their franchises unimpaired, and that he desired to ascertain how his faithful people had been aggrieved in tallages and by whom. Then John Maunsell spoke pleasantly to the people, asking if they were not content with the promise of the King. And they shouted, “Yea, Yea,” “in disparagement,” says the Chronicler, who belonged to the City Barons, “of their own franchises, which, in fact, these most wretched creatures had not been the persons to secure.”

John Maunsell then proceeded to seize the City for the King, and to depose the Mayor, Sheriffs, and City Chamberlain. There was a trial at Westminster before the King; there was another Folk Mote, at which the people were persuaded by the silver-tongued John Maunsell to shout for the destruction of their own liberties, of which they understood little indeed. The Chronicler, in indignation, calls them “sons of divers mothers, many of them born without the City, and many of servile condition.” At that time, one observes, they were very far from the possibility of a democracy.

The popular cause never fails, in any age, to attract to itself leaders from the other side. William FitzOsbert, whose rise and fall we have already chronicled, had attempted to do for the commonalty, in King Richard’s reign, what Thomas FitzThomas attempted with greater success seventy years later. He was Sheriff during the sealed Roll business; his brother, Sheriff Matthew Bukerel, was deposed, and was replaced by a person whose name has already been mentioned, William Grapefig. William FitzRichard, another of the popular party, was made Mayor. In 1261-62, and in 1262-63, Thomas FitzThomas was elected Mayor, certainly by the people, as the names of the Sheriffs for the year imply that they had the upper hand for the time. His first year of office was marked by the stout resistance which he made to the Constable of the Tower, who attempted to take “prisage” of ships in the river. Now, one of the most important privileges of the City was the command of the river, so that no duties or tolls should be levied on ships coming up or going down the river except by themselves. FitzThomas was elected for a second year of office. And now you shall hear, what in the thirteenth century was thought by a merchant of the old school, of a man who could encourage the combination of trades and crafts.

“Be it here remarked[9] that this Mayor, during the time of his Mayoralty, had so pampered the City populace that, styling themselves the ‘Commons of the City,’ they had obtained the first voice in the City. For the Mayor, in doing all that he had to do, ruled and determined through them, and would say to them, ‘Is it your will that so it shall be?’ and then if they answered, ‘Yea, Yea,’ so it was done. And, on the other hand, the Aldermen or chief citizens were little or not at all consulted in such matter; but were, in fact, just as though they had not existed. Through this that same populace became so elated and so inflated with pride that during the commotions in the realm, of which mention has been previously made, they formed themselves into covins and leagued themselves together by oath, by the hundred and by the thousand, under a sort of colour of keeping the peace, whereas they themselves were manifestly disturbers of the peace. For whereas the Barons were only fighting against those who wished to break the aforesaid statutes, and seized the property of each and that too by day, the other broke into the houses of the people and of other persons in the City who were not against the said statutes and by main force carried off the property found in such houses, besides doing many other unlawful acts as well. As to the Mayor, he censured these persons in but a lukewarm way.” (_Chronicles of Old London_, p. 59.)

Further, the barons, wishing above all things at this juncture to conciliate the citizens, desired that they would put in writing anything they might desire in augmentation of their liberties, and undertook, if the thing were reasonable, to bring it before the King and Council. Then this Mayor called upon the craftsmen and ordered them to make such provisions as should be to their own advantage. “Accordingly, after this, from day to day, individuals of every craft of themselves made new statutes and provisions, or rather such as may be called ‘abominations’—and that solely to their own advantage, and to the intolerable loss of all merchants coming to London and visiting the faire of England and the exceeding injury of all persons in the realm.”

This was the first trades union. Their rules were drawn up by the working men themselves. The memory of the old frith guilds had by this time perished, but there were fraternities, or religious associations, which would help them to some knowledge of the rules which they should lay down. Such as they were, the Chronicler tells us, they were not carried into effect.

In 1263-64 Thomas FitzThomas was again elected Mayor; but the King refused to receive him, being “for many reasons greatly moved to anger against the City.”

In the same year began the Barons’ War, in which the Londoners played a conspicuous, if not a noble, part. They reduced the castle of Rochester; they destroyed the palace at Isleworth, belonging to Richard, the King’s brother; they murdered five hundred Jews; they pillaged the property of the foreign merchants; and at the battle of Lewes they ran away.

Peace being made in the following year, Henry, now a prisoner, was made to hold a Court in St. Paul’s, where the Mayor, again Thomas FitzThomas, and the Aldermen swore fealty to him. A marginal note of the Chronicle completes the history of this oath. “Then those who were present might see a thing wondrous and unheard of in this age: for the most wretched Mayor, when taking the oath, dared to utter words so rash as these, saying unto his lordship the King in presence of the people, ‘My lord, so long as unto us you will be a good lord and King, we will be faithful and duteous unto you.’” The Mayor was four hundred years before his time.

After the defeat and death of Simon de Montfort at Evesham, there was great alarm in the City. Some proposed to close the gates and call together the adherents of the Barons’ cause; others proposed immediate submission. The latter course prevailed. Letters of submission were drawn up and sent to the King at Windsor. The messengers on the way met Sir Roger de Lilbourne, who told them that he was sent to declare the King’s pleasure to the citizens. The King’s pleasure was immediate and complete submission: the removal of all chains and posts in the streets as a mark of submission, and the despatch of the Mayor and principal men of the City to Windsor under letters of safe conduct. They went. FitzThomas, unluckily, was once more Mayor. The King disregarded the letters of safe conduct and clapped them into prison. All of them, except FitzThomas, were shortly afterwards released. Henry remembered the words by which FitzThomas had sworn a limited loyalty. FitzThomas never again appeared. He vanished. Perhaps the King ordered his execution; perhaps he caused him to languish for the rest of his life in prison. However that may be, FitzThomas was no more seen.

Henry came to London, his chief enemy in custody; he gave away sixty houses belonging to the principal citizens; he fined the City 20,000 marks. On the 6th of December of the same year (1265) John de la Linde, knight, and John Wallraven, clerk, were made seneschals, the Tower of London being delivered into their hands. On the same day there came to Westminster four-and-twenty citizens, who swore faithfully and safely to keep the City in the King’s behalf under their two seneschals.

The King gave, further, London Bridge, with its tolls, to Queen Eleanor, who allowed it to fall into decay. She then gave it back to the City.

FitzThedmar here remarks that some of the persons who had sided with the Earl of Gloucester took to flight, and there were among them some who, in the time of the late Mayor, FitzThomas, styled themselves the “Commons of the City.” On the election of a citizen “to attend to the duties of Sheriff of Middlesex and Warden of London,” the people clamoured for FitzThomas, who was probably by this time lying in his grave.

The citizens petitioned, but in vain, for the right of electing their Mayor and Sheriffs. In the following year, 1266, John Adrian and Luke de Battencurt were chosen Bailiffs instead of Sheriffs.

Out of the confusion and trouble of the time we can gather that the trade of London was brought to a standstill; that there were massacres of Jews; that there were riots in the streets, quarrels between trades, in one of which as many as 500 men went out armed and fought in the streets; that the trades continued to combine and to form companies, but without rule and supervision, so that they claimed work belonging to other trades, and caused ill-feeling; that there was no order kept in the wards, and no authority of the Aldermen. The Mayors, during the period following the Battle of Evesham, were appointed by the King. Fabyan says that there is uncertainty about this time, some being of opinion that there were no Mayors but only _custodes_. Fabyan also says that Thomas FitzThomas was released. He enters his name as Mayor for 1269-70. But his dates do not agree with those of Stow. In the latter year Prince Edward took the City into his own hands and appointed Hugh FitzOtho Constable of the Tower and Custos of the City. A few months of despotic and military rule smoothed the troubled waters of faction and restored order to the distracted City. The last years of King Henry’s reign were years of peace and rest. But he had done what he wished to do—he had deprived the proud City of its wealth, its liberty, and its rights.

The first phase of the contest between the oligarchy and the populace comes to an end. The former party is greatly broken up; the wards cease to be called by the names of their Aldermen.

In December 1269 an order was issued by the King that all those persons who, on the restoration of the City to him, had withdrawn, should be proclaimed publicly, and should be forbidden ever to return to the City under pain of life and limb. Their names were read out in the Guildhall and afterwards cried in the streets. There were fifty-seven of them; the list has been preserved by FitzThedmar. All, with a few exceptions, were craftsmen. Cofferer, Baker, Cook, Goldsmith, Ironworker, Fuller, Plumer, Broker, Butcher, Armourer, Chaloner, with a few mercers and others belonging to wholesale trades.

This act of justice accomplished, the citizens were once more granted the right of electing their Mayor and Sheriffs, but with the increase of the _firma_ from £300 to £400.

They proceeded to exercise this right, apparently, with sadness and soberness, and with a compromise. The Mayor was John Adrian, of the aristocratic party; the Sheriffs were two craftsmen. The following year Walter Hervey, a man of the people, was Mayor, and two of the other side were Sheriffs.

The election of the Mayor of the following year is a most interesting and instructive story. Fabyan, we may observe, puts the election in the second year of Edward’s reign; Arnold FitzThedmar, one of the Aldermen concerned, and therefore an eye-witness, assigns it to the last days of King Henry and the earliest days of King Edward.

On the 28th of October, the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude, the citizens met at the Guildhall for the election of the new Mayor. The Aldermen and the more “discreet” citizens—it is one of them who tells the tale—proposed the name of Philip le Tayllor. According to usage, their nominee ought to have been accepted; but the people in the body of the Hall refused to accept him, and cried out with a great tumult, “Nay, nay, we will have no one but Walter Hervey,” and against the will of the Aldermen—one pictures a good deal of hustling and pushing—they placed their own man in the seat of the Mayor.

It is not surprising that the same kind of accusations, which had formerly been brought against William Longbeard and Thomas FitzThomas, were now brought against Walter Hervey. He is said to have persuaded and promised the people that he would keep them free from all tallages, extortions, and tolls, and that they believed his word, and followed him by thousands, even in multitudes, without number. We remember that 50,000 are said to have followed Longbeard. The charge of gaining over the people by grand promises is very likely true; the demagogue has always resorted to the same methods of persuasion; in the end to the detriment or the ruin of the cause. One understands that the more popular leaders of London between 1190 and 1272 were men who desired, above all things, to render impossible the burden of unequal taxation, and to give the commons a voice in the management of their own affairs. This twofold aim is really one, because it was believed that the people, if they had the power, would exercise it wisely and justly. The leaders, however, did not realise that the average man understands by justice the shifting of his burden to the shoulders of some other man, and he is quite careless who that other man is.

Hervey, however, had the people with him.

The Aldermen, finding themselves thrust, in this rude way, out of power, repaired to Westminster to lay the matter before the King’s Council. They were followed by Hervey himself, accompanied by a vast multitude of his supporters. The case of the Aldermen was put with much ability: it was not the loss of their own power which they so much minded, as the chance that another civil war might be caused through the unruly pride of the populace.

“The Aldermen and their adherents, on coming before the King’s Council, as already written, showed unto them, with grievous complaints, how that this populace by force had violently and unjustly impeded their election, by those to whom the election of Mayor and Sheriffs in the City of right more particularly belongs than to any one else, and has always been wont to belong. They also duteously besought his lordship the King and his Council, that the King would be pleased to set his arm and his hand thereto, that so this populace, calling itself the ‘Commons of the City,’ and excluding the Aldermen and discreet men of the City, might not upraise itself against his peace and against the peace of his realm, as had happened in the time of the Earl of Leicester; namely, when Thomas Fitz-Thomas and Thomas de Pullesdon had so exalted the populace of the City above the Aldermen and discreet men of the City, that, when it was necessary so to do, they could not make such populace amenable to justice; through which, as a thing notorious to the whole world, a deadly war arose in England.” (Riley’s edit., FitzThedmar’s _Chronicles of Old London_, pp. 154-155.)

The people, without caring to answer these arguments, raised the cry: “We are the Commons. To us belongs the Election. We elect Walter Hervey.”

It was a time of great anxiety. The King was ill; he was now old—for that time, very old; the heir was in the Holy Land; it was most desirable that the peace should be maintained.

The Aldermen went on arguing. The same arguments were used before the passing of every successive Reform Act. The Aldermen pointed out that they were the heads, the people being only the inferior members, arms and legs; the Aldermen were also, by right of office, those who pronounced judgment in pleas moved within the City; they had a stake in the country; the populace, on the other hand, for the most part had neither lands nor houses, were of obscure and lowly origin, followed humble occupations, were rude and ignorant, and cared nothing about the City’s welfare. The people, however, kept up their bawling, which reached the ears of the King on his sickbed.

The Council, therefore, put the matter off. Hervey was told to go away and to return with no more than ten or a dozen followers. So for that day he went away.

On the morrow, after dinner, Hervey called all the people together, and, with them at his heels, went again to Westminster, and there, setting forth no reason, they kept up the same cry. The Aldermen were there before them. The Council told both parties that they must agree upon a Mayor, and that when they were agreed the King would admit him.

But they could not agree; there was no chance of an agreement. So, day after day, for a whole fortnight, viz. till the 11th of November, the people became more excited every day, and the Aldermen more dogged, and the same tumultuous scene was enacted in Westminster Hall.

As for Hervey, he affirmed—very likely he spoke the truth, for the situation was full of peril, and one could not forget the vanishing of FitzThomas—that he did not desire to be Mayor for his own sake, but solely for the love of God and from motives of charity; he was willing to endure that burden and that labour, that so he might support the poor of the City against the rich, who sought to oppress them in the matter of the tallages and expenditure of the City.

It speaks a great deal for the veracity of the historian that one who stood among the Aldermen and took part in the offices, seeing his authority and power suddenly taken from him, should have penned these words without casting a doubt upon the motives which actuated his enemy.

On the 11th of November the Council, who appear to have acted with strange weakness and irresolution, decided that as they could not agree, the King would take the City into his own hands and would appoint a Custos or Warden. Accordingly, Henry de Frowyk, one of the Aldermen (his Ward was afterwards called Cripplegate) was appointed Warden.

It was then agreed that each side should appoint five persons, and that this Committee of ten should elect the Mayor, both sides promising to abide by the decision.

The death of the King caused this agreement to be set aside. There was a fear lest the populace should take advantage of the confusion caused by the absence of the new King; FitzThedmar converts a vague anxiety into the discovery of a conspiracy against the property of the Aldermen. The Archbishop of York, with the Earl of Gloucester and other nobles, met the citizens at Guildhall, and, seeing the enormous number of Hervey’s followers, exhorted the Aldermen to elect him. They still refused; they would not, of their own free will, lay down their powers; they told Gloucester that the matter was referred to the Committee of ten.

The Earl, however, disregarding this arrangement, ordered a Folk Mote to be called for the next day at Paul’s Cross, met the Aldermen separately in the Chapter House, and begged them to yield and to suffer Hervey to be Mayor for one year, lest trouble should fall upon the City. They therefore gave way, and Hervey, after taking oath that he would not aggrieve or allow to be aggrieved, any who had been against his election, was presented to the people, amid their joyous acclamations, as their Mayor.

His year of office proved uneventful. FitzThedmar says that he took bribes from the bakers, so that they might make loaves under weight, but we need not believe this story; and that he would not allow any pleading, or very rarely any, in the Hustings of Pleas of Land. “The reason being that he himself was impleaded as to a certain tenement which Isabella Bukerel demanded of him by plea between them moved.” Arnold, we observe, still harbours resentment.

At the following election the Aldermen carried their own man, Henry Waleys, or le Waleys. He was one of the richest and most important merchants. He was again Mayor from 1280 to 1283. He had been Mayor of Bordeaux in 1275.

We have seen how, according to the Chronicler, the craftsmen made covins and combinations—in other words, trade unions, being exhorted thereto by Thomas FitzThomas. It appears that when Walter Hervey was Mayor he confirmed these combinations by Charters of his own granting regulation of trade for the common benefit. Now we have the first instance of a blackleg. One of the persons who had obtained, for his own benefit probably, such a Charter, came before the Mayor and citizens in the Guildhall with the complaint that a certain person of his trade was working in contravention of the statutes contained in the Charter, which he and his trade had obtained. From whom, he was asked, had they obtained that Charter? From Walter Hervey, when he was Mayor. “And here it is,” he said, producing a copy of the document. “It is true,” said Walter Hervey; “I granted that Charter by my authority as Mayor.” Then arose Gregory de Rokesley, Alderman, and one of the most “discreet” men in the city. “Such Charters,” he said, “have no force beyond the Mayoralty of the man who may grant them. Moreover, these Charters were only made for the benefit of the rich men in every craft, not for that of the poor: and they lead to the loss and undoing of the poor men as well as the loss of all other citizens and the realm.” Whereupon Walter Hervey sprang to his feet and there ensued a warm and personal discussion. Finally, Walter Hervey retired to St. Peter’s Church, Cornhill, where he convened the people and exhorted them to keep their Charters, which he would take care should be enforced; and the whole of that day and the next he went through the City haranguing the people, so that the Barons of the Exchequer and the King’s Council feared a popular tumult. Therefore they sent the Royal command to the City to take care lest, through the action of the said Walter Hervey and others, mischief should ensue. The City Magistrates interpreted this order to mean the arrest of Hervey. Which was done, but on the surety of twelve men he was released. This happened just before Christmas. After Christmas, the Mayor called a meeting in the Guildhall and ordered Hervey’s Charters to be brought to him. A fortnight later he caused them to be read, and explained that they would lead to the detriment and ruin of trade; that the Charters carried no weight and were worthless; that the men of every craft should resume their former liberty to follow their trade wherever and in whatever way they pleased; only that their work must be good and true. In other words, the Charters which Hervey had given them were intended to teach the people the necessity of order and discipline in order to gain their rights; and this Mayor led them gently back, under pretence of giving them liberty, to resume their old dependence. But they had not done yet with Walter Hervey. It remained to deprive him of his dignity as Alderman of Chepe. This was done full craftily. The greater part of the Ward of Chepe consisted of a market-place filled with sheds, selds, and shops. The sheds are explained by Stow to mean small, open shops, each with a “solar” or small upper chamber over them. One such “shed” remained till the other day close to Clare Market.[10] The selds were wooden warehouses with shops. The tradesmen of this market, the greatest and most important in the kingdom, were the special friends of Hervey, his constituents, who had made him Alderman. Whereupon, in order to get rid of Hervey, these people must also be got rid of. The King’s Coronation suggested an expedient. Although the traders, butchers, fishmongers, and those of other callings, had paid large sums of money for the rent or permission to set up their shops in the market, the Mayor sent word that in order to clean the place of all refuse, when the King should ride through Chepe, they must all go and sell their wares in other places. Then, in the words of the Chronicle—

“On the morrow of Holy Trinity, the Mayor and citizens coming into the Guildhall to plead the common pleas, there came certain fishmongers, and more especially those who had been removed from Chepe. To whom answer was made by the Mayor, that this had been done by the Council of his lordship the King, in order that there might be no refuse remaining in Chepe on his arrival there. Walter Hervi, however, to the utmost of his power, supported the complaints of the said fishmongers against the Mayor and Aldermen: by reason whereof a stormy strife arose, in presence of all the people, between the said Mayor and Walter aforesaid. Hereupon the Mayor, moved to anger, together with some of the more discreet of the City, went to the Council of his lordship the King at Westminster and showed him what had then taken place in Guildhall. Accordingly, on the morrow, when the Mayor and Aldermen had come to the Guildhall, to determine the pleas which had been begun on the preceding day, a certain roll was shown and read before the said Walter and all the people, in which were set forth many articles as to the presumptuous acts and injuries, of most notorious character, which the said Walter had committed while Mayor, against the Commons of the City and in contravention of his oath: whereupon the said Walter was judicially degraded from his aldermanry and he was excluded from the Council of his City. Command was also given to the men dwelling in that aldermanry to choose a fit and proper man to be Alderman of Chepe in his place and to present him at the next Court in the Guildhall, which was accordingly done.”

So vanishes the form of Walter Hervey. He takes off his Alderman’s gown; he steps down among the folk, a plain citizen, and I daresay that the craftsmen, next day, had forgotten all that he had tried to do for them. But the memory of those Charters survived.

And so they made a political end of this reformer. To him, however, belongs the credit of creating or reviving the spirit of union and incorporation of the trades. I say reviving, because one must not forget the “adulterine” guilds of Henry the Second’s time; and because, wherever there was a guild for religious and charitable purposes, the other trade guild for commercial and practical purposes was not far off.

We have seen how, within forty years from this time, the wards ceased to be named after their Aldermen and their proprietors. In this interval there took place a silent revolution, the steps of which it is now difficult, or even impossible, to follow. The nature of the revolution is indicated by the rapid rise of the companies in the next few years. The authority of the aristocratic party was broken, though not yet destroyed; the shadow of their old power in giving their names to the wards vanished also. We shall now find the government of London transferred from the Aldermen to the trades.

The memory of the three early reformers, William Longbeard, Thomas FitzThomas, and Walter Hervey, should be better known to those who care about the origin and the history of civic liberties. They appear to me to bear a striking resemblance to each other. All three belonged to the aristocratic class; all three deserted their own people, and were bitterly reviled in consequence; all three surrendered their own interests; all three were filled with that overwhelming passion for justice which makes martyrs and carries on a cause. It is to be hoped that while the first was dragged by the heels to the gallows, while the second was murdered in a dungeon, while the third was put out of office and deprived of the right to speak and the power to act, some vision of the future was vouchsafed to them; some voice whispered in their dying ears that their life’s work was not lost, but would yet bear fruit in the coming freedom of the people for whom they had worked and for whom they suffered.

The long continuance of these factions, the civil wars, the disorders of the last reign, could not fail to produce the worst effects in the condition of the City. The streets were full of murders, robberies, house-breaking, and violence of all kinds. The first attempt to restore order seems to have been the recognition that a strong and permanent hand was wanted. Accordingly, we find the office of Mayor filled for twelve years by two men taking the post each for two or three years together. They were merchants of the aristocratic party; they were personal friends holding the same views, and those not of a democratic kind; they were wealthy; they bestowed large benefactions upon the City; they were trusted by the King. Yet they did not succeed. Loftie is of opinion that they were too much occupied with their own affairs, and were compelled to leave much of their proper work to subordinates. On the other hand, they may have been very great merchants, yet not good administrators. The earlier pages of Riley’s _Memorials_ are filled with cases of murder and violence. There were excellent laws made for the preservation of peace. Nothing could have been better than the following:—

(1) Every trade to present the names of persons practising that trade, where they dwell and in what ward. This ordinance proves that all the trades had their guilds or unions.

(2) The Aldermen to inquire as to lodgers in hostelries.

(3) To provide security for suspected persons.

(4) Two serjeants to stand at each gate to watch persons entering or leaving the City.

(5) Curfew to be rung in every parish church, taking the time from St. Martin-le-Grand.

At Curfew all the gates to be closed; the taverns to be shut; no persons to walk about the streets; six persons to watch in every ward.

(6) No one to cross the river at night.

(7) The serjeants of Billingsgate and Queen Hythe to guard the river, each with his boat and crew of four men.

Yet, in spite of these regulations, the condition of the City became worse instead of better. The case of Lawrence Duket in 1284, which ended in the hanging of seven men of good family, and the burning of one woman, caused general discontent and murmuring. Finally, Edward resolved upon taking the conduct of the City into his own hands. The way in which this was effected shows that the comedy was agreed upon beforehand, so that everybody’s dignity should be respected.

The Mayor was Gregory de Rokesley. He was ordered by the King’s Lieutenant to repair with the Aldermen and Sheriffs to the Tower, there to answer certain questions concerning the condition of the City. He obeyed, but left behind him in the Church of Allhallows Barking, the gowns and chains of office, excusing himself on the ground that the citizens only pleaded or answered pleas within their own boundaries. He was arrested and kept in the Tower, with the other officers, for a day or two. Meantime, as the City was technically without a Mayor, the King used the fact as a pretext for taking it into his own hands. He did so, appointing Sir Ralph Sandwich as Custos or Warden. The City was kept under the rule of Sandwich and his successor, Sir John Breton, for twelve years. They were, in fact, permanent Mayors, who could not be displaced by the citizens, yet who took the Aldermen into counsel. The rule of these two Wardens was remarkable for many reforms, including the definition of the wards, the cleansing of the Walbrook, the suppression of night fairs, the repair of bridges, the restoration of order. Trade was carried on freely and prosperously, the trade guilds had leisure to consolidate themselves, so that they became, long before they got their Charters, necessary for the business of the City; London had assumed a new face when, in 1298, Edward gave back the Mayor, and Henry Waleys once more assumed office. Not that violence altogether ceased, but that violence was less frequent and more likely to be punished.

We have seen how the opinions of Lollardy were wide-spread among the people during the fourteenth century. The history of John of Northampton and that of his rival, Nicholas Brembre, belong to the close of that century, and to the conclusion of the struggle between the employers and the craftsmen.

John was born at Northampton of respectable parentage, as is proved by the fact that he was received into the Drapers’ Company, always one of the most exclusive of the City Guilds; he was Alderman in 1376, Sheriff in 1377, one of the City members in 1378; in 1380 he was a Commissioner for the erection of some kind of tower; and in 1381 he was Mayor. The first thing he did as Mayor showed what his opinions were. He took into his own hands a great part of the duties belonging to the Bishop’s Court. He caused all those persons, men and women, who had committed acts of unchastity to have their hair cut short, and then to be carried in public through the City, preceded by trumpets and drums, for an open shame, the men being placed in pillory, the women in thewe. A second offence demanded a similar punishment. For a third offence they were expelled the City altogether. Next, he cut down the fees of the parish clergy. A mass for the dead was to be charged no more than a farthing; a baptism not more than forty pence; marriage not more than half a mark. Multiply these figures by twenty, at least, to represent modern values: we have then, a mass sung for five pence; a baptism for £3: 4: 8; and a marriage for very nearly seven pounds. Does the cheapness of the mass indicate an unbelief in its efficacy? He also signalised his Mayoralty by a persecution of the fishmongers, whose monopoly he suppressed. Their offence, one supposes, was the high price at which they retailed their fish. We must again remind ourselves that quite one-fourth of the year was a time of fasting, so that it was most important that fish should be cheap, abundant, and fresh. John not only took away these privileges from the fishmongers, but he degraded them. They were forbidden to sell fish in the country at all; they were forced to sell it in town at a price fixed by the Mayor; and they were not to be eligible for any office. John was re-elected Mayor in the following year, 1382-83, which passed quietly. His successor, 1383-84, was his enemy, Nicholas Brembre, by whom all the reforms of John were swept away. In January 1384, John was bound over to keep the peace in the sum of £5000; in the following month he was arrested by the Mayor. It was said that he went about followed by four hundred of his adherents; it was also said that he created a tumult. One of his men, Constantyn, a cordwainer, was hanged for his share in a riot, and John was sent to Corfe Castle. Thence he was brought to London, tried before a Council called by the King at Reading, and sentenced to death by the King. The sentence was commuted, at the Queen’s personal request, to imprisonment. So he was sent back to Corfe Castle. Then, for some unknown reason, he was brought to the Tower, and again informed that he was to be hanged, drawn, and quartered; and again reprieved. He was then sent to Tintagel Castle, reflecting, no doubt, that while there is life there is hope, and that he had a friend in John of Gaunt who would not forsake him.

John of Gaunt did not forsake him. He renewed, from time to time, his efforts to effect his release; and he promised that John should not return to London if he were released. Then Nicholas Brembre, Mayor for four years running, asked the opinion of the Aldermen and Common Council as to the expediency of releasing this terrible prisoner. They all agreed that it would be dangerous to let him loose, even if he lived a hundred miles from the City. In 1389, however, he was allowed to return, and his property was restored to him. But the Mayor strictly forbade any discussions as to the quarrel between John of Northampton and Nicholas Brembre.

To go back for a while and trace the career of Sir Nicholas Brembre is now necessary. He was a wealthy grocer, son of Sir John Brembre, a knight and country gentleman of Kent. One of the many examples which the City affords of the country lad who was not a rustic, but a gentleman, coming to London to make his fortune (see vol. i. p. 216).

As he purchased estates in Kent in 1372, and became an Alderman in 1376, it seems reasonable to suppose that he was born about the year 1322. He joined the aristocratic party in the City, which strove to deprive the Craft Companies of any voice in the City, and was as strenuous a supporter of Courtenay as he was an enemy of John of Northampton.

In 1377, when Staple, the Mayor, was deposed, Brembre was appointed in his place. The year after Brembre was charged at the Parliament of Gloucester by Thomas of Woodstock, the King’s uncle, with negligence of duty on the occasion of a riot, when—

“Upon Cornhille in London, the men of that vicinity made assault upon the servants of the said Earl, and beat and wounded them, and pursued them, when flying to his hostel, and broke and hewed down the doors of the same with axes and other arms, the said Earl being then within and lying in his bed, and, by reason thereof, no little alarmed; to the grievous damage of the said Earl, and so pernicious an example to the whole realm; and all this, he alleged, had happened through the inexcusable slothfulness of the said Nicholas, and he requested that redress should be made to him for the same.” (Riley’s _Memorials_, p. 427.)

Brembre, however, offered a full and complete reply to the charge, and returned, says the contemporary authority, to his hostel with honour.

Thomas of Woodstock, however, neither forgot nor forgave, although Brembre gave him a hundred marks by way of conciliation. And there follows a very pretty passage, showing the spirit with which the City liberties were regarded:—

“Which transactions being thus related in order before the Mayor and the Common Council, each one of them gave hearty thanks to the said Nicholas; knowing for certain that it was for no demerits of his own, but for the preservation of the liberties of the City, and for the extreme love which he bore to it, that he had undergone such labours and expenses. Wherefore, with one accord, by the said Mayor, Aldermen, and all the rest of the Commoners, it was faithfully granted and promised, that the City should keep the said Nicholas indemnified as to the said 100 marks, and also all other expenses by reason of that matter by him incurred. And that the same might be kept in memory, orders were given to the Common Clerk that it should thus be entered.” (Riley’s _Memorials_, p. 428.)

Brembre then became one of the two collectors of customs for the Port of London, Geoffrey Chaucer being his comptroller. On the rising of the Commons, Brembre, with Philpot and Walworth, rode to Smithfield with the King, and was knighted for his services on that occasion.

It was after this that the great struggle between himself, as the leader of the aristocratic party, and therefore of the great companies, and John of Northampton, as the leader of the popular cause, took place. We have seen how John of Northampton acted as Mayor (1381-1383). In the latter year Brembre was elected Mayor, but it was by force of arms.

In January 1384 John was arrested, and, as we have seen, his follower, Constantyn, was hanged by Brembre. In 1386, petitions were presented to Parliament by ten of the City Companies, charging Brembre with tyrannical and oppressive conduct, and especially in securing the re-election by violence. For he filled the Guildhall with armed men, who ran upon those of the opposite faction with great noise, shouting, “Kill! kill! lour poursuyvantz hydousement.” Thomas of Woodstock, mindful of the old grudge, charged Brembre with plotting in favour of Suffolk. Yet he escaped, and was admitted by the King into his Council. In November 1387 he was again accused by Thomas of Woodstock with treason. The other four of the King’s Council were also charged with treason, viz. the Archbishop of York; Sir Robert Vere, Duke of Ireland; Michael de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk; and Tressillian, the Lord Chief Justice.

The King replied that he had taken them into his own protection. Nevertheless, they all thought it prudent to fly in different directions.

The King sent for the Mayor. “How many archers and men-at-arms would the City provide in case of necessity?” The Mayor returned an evasive reply; he said that the citizens were only soldiers in defence of their City, as for himself, he begged permission to retire from office.

The King left Windsor and took up his residence in the Tower, thinking to have the City between himself and the Lords. But Thomas of Woodstock, now Duke of Gloucester, with the Earls of Arundel, Nottingham, Warwick, and Derby, hastened to London and demanded admission into the City. The citizens hesitated; at last, however, they yielded, and the Lords, with all their array, entered the City. It is significant of the condition of the City that the Lords offered to mediate in the trade disputes, but their offer was not accepted.

Meantime Brembre, who had fled into Wales, was captured and brought to London.

His trial took place as soon as Parliament met. There were thirty-nine charges brought against him as one of the King’s Council. He asked for delay to prepare his reply. This being refused, he offered wager of battle. All the Lords and Commons present threw down their gauntlets, but it was ruled that it was not a case for the ordeal by battle.

The trial was resumed the following day, the King, who was present, showing himself entirely in favour of the prisoner. The case was placed in the hands of a commission of Lords, who brought in a verdict of not guilty. But they were not going to allow Brembre to escape. They sent for the Mayor and Aldermen. Thus (I quote R. R. Sharpe):—

“One would have thought that with Nicholas Exton, his old friend and ally, to speak up for him, Brembre’s life would now at least be saved, even if he were not altogether acquitted. It was not so, however. The Mayor and Aldermen were asked as to their _opinion_ (not as to their knowledge), whether Brembre was cognisant of certain matters, and they gave it as their _opinion_ that Brembre was more likely to have been cognisant of them than not. Turning then to the Recorder, the lords asked him how stood the law in such a case? To which he replied, that a man who knew such things as were laid to Brembre’s charge, and knowing them failed to reveal them, deserved death. On such evidence as this, Brembre was convicted on the 20th February, and condemned to be executed. He was drawn on a hurdle through the City to Tyburn, showing himself very penitent, and earnestly desiring all persons to pray for him. At the last moment he confessed that his conduct towards Northampton had been vile and wicked. Whilst craving pardon of Northampton’s son, ‘he was suddenly turned off, and the executioner cutting his throat, he died.’” (_London and the Kingdom_, vol. i. p. 237.)

The history of Brembre shows that he was a strong man, at least, and fearless in a time when charges of treason were easily concocted and ruthlessly applied, when the King, his protector, was young and weak, and when the other side, which had with them the craftsmen of London, was strong and well-organised.

In looking upon the long struggle of the craftsmen against their employers, there are certain considerations which we must not forget.

It was really inevitable that the masters, the employers, would have the control, such as I have pointed out, in every trade. The men, quite ignorant of the very rudest principles of political economy, living from week to week, asking at most nothing but the weekly wage and cheap food, presently began to question. Why should the masters rule everything? Why should not the men command their own wages and their own hours? The questions, which we hear all around us at the present day, were asked six hundred years ago. The working men formed combinations, or unions, of their own; they kept on trying to form these combinations; the number of cases that have been recorded, which were certainly not the whole number, or anything like it, prove a deep and widespread discontent, and a sullen resolve of the working men to take, if possible, the management of their work into their own hands. They failed, however, and their failure was absolute and complete. They were brought before the Mayor and Aldermen; their combinations were dissolved; they were sent back to their company; no union, or association, or combination of working men was permitted to London outside the company. Let me take one case in illustration, that of David Brekenhof. This man, with half-a-dozen others, was brought before the Mayor, charged with rebellion against employers. They had broken off from the company; they had left the dwelling-places assigned to them; they had taken a house in another parish; here they had set up workshops for themselves; they called assemblies of other working men; they settled their own wages; they hustled and wounded one of the masters who went to expostulate with them; they rescued their companions from arrest when they were seized by the serjeants of the City. This, you will observe, was a very determined effort, coupled with assemblies of other working men, and backed by the appeal to arms. The sentence of the Mayor shows how seriously the danger was regarded. He did not dare to arouse a spirit of revenge among the working men. These offenders were left unpunished; they were simply told to give up their house; to go back to their company, and to resume work in obedience. And so David Brekenhof and his rebels vanish again and we hear no more of them. And until the nineteenth century there were no more combinations of working men in London.

With the ideas of the present day, this refusal to allow the craftsmen to combine seems tyrannical. We must go back, however, to the ideas of the thirteenth century. The assumption, the theory, the belief, that the working classes ought to have any voice in the management of their own affairs, if it lingered anywhere in London of the thirteenth century, was a survival of the Folk Mote, the Citizens’ Parliament, of Paul’s Cross. The Folk Mote still continued; it was used for party purposes; it had no real power, but it kept alive the memory of power. It ceased to be held after the thirteenth century; it died out when a Court of Common Council was formed, and it is significant that when the old Folk Parliament ceased to meet we hear no more of the revolt of working men against the companies.

What a citizen like Whittington thought and said was something like this: “In a great city the governing class should be wealthy, enlightened, and instructed. It should know the ports of trade, the demand for imports, the markets for exports, the limits of production, the figures which are needed to arrive at wages and retail price. It must also, in an age of artificial courtesy, understand good manners, and not be afraid to stand before kings. As for the men of the other class, who have no knowledge, save of a single trade, it is best for the State that they should be under rule and governance.” And to the best of his ability, Whittington, who was a stern Magistrate yet a just man, did keep the people under rule and governance. I believe that the mediæval masters were, as a rule, and up to their lights, benevolent; they did look after their people; they gave them wages which allowed a higher standard of living than was possible for any other working men in the world; they looked after the old, and they brought up the young.

For myself, I cannot but think that had the craftsmen then obtained their desire, the result would have been disastrous to the fortunes of the City. London would have become another Ghent or Bruges; it would be, now, a city of deserted trade. The time was not yet ready for the rule of the people by the people. They wanted education, experience, suffering, before they were able to rule. As yet they understood nothing, absolutely nothing, about liberties; they wanted nothing but the control over their own work. I think, in a word, that Whittington’s views were right for a man of Whittington’s time.