CHAPTER II.

THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS (_continued_).

Charles I. and Ship Money—Improvements made by him in the Navy—His great Ship, the _Royal Sovereign_—The Navigation Laws of Cromwell—Consequent War with the Dutch—Capture of Grand Spanish Prizes—Charles II. seizes 130 Dutch Ships—Van Tromp and the Action at Harwich—De Ruyter in the Medway and Thames—Peace—War with France—La Hogue—Peter the Great and his Naval Studies—Visit to Sardam—Difficulty of remaining _incognito_—Cooks his own Food—His Assiduity and Earnestness—A kind-hearted Barbarian—Gives a Grand Banquet and _Fête_—Conveyed to England—His Stay at Evelyn’s Place—Studies at Deptford—Visits Palaces and Public Houses—His Intemperance—Presents the King a £10,000 Ruby—Engages numbers of English Mechanics—Return to Russia—Rapid increase in his Navy—Determines to Build St. Petersburg—Arrivals of the First Merchantmen—Splendid Treatment of their Captains—Law’s Mississippi Scheme and the South Sea Bubble—Two Nations gone Mad—The “Bubble” to Pay the National Debt—Its one Solitary Ship—Noble and Plebeian Stockbrokers—Rise and Fall of the Bubble—Directors made to Disgorge.

Charles I., as we all know, had a fatal amount of belief in the royal prerogative. One of his first acts, after ascending the throne, was to assume the direct government of Virginia, and not only to treat the charter of the company as annulled, “but broadly declared that colonies founded by adventurers, or occupied by British subjects, were essentially part and parcel of the dominion of the mother country.” The Virginia Company vainly complained that they had expended a fifth of a million sterling over the undertaking; their territory was appropriated to the Crown, as were shortly afterwards North and South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, and part of Louisiana. But these arbitrary acts were as nothing to the ship-money tax. There was some precedent for it. “The ancient princes of England, as they called on the inhabitants of the counties near Scotland to arm and array themselves for the defence of the border, had sometimes called on the maritime counties to furnish ships for the defence of the coast. In the room of ships, money had sometimes been accepted. This old practice it was now determined, after a long interval, not only to revive but to extend. Former princes had raised ship-money only in time of war; it was now exacted in a time of profound peace. Former princes, even in the most perilous wars, had raised ship-money only along the coasts; it was now exacted from the inland shires. Former princes had raised ship-money only for the maritime defence of the country; it was now exacted, by the admission of the Royalists themselves, with the object, not of maintaining a navy, but of furnishing the king with supplies which might be increased at his discretion to any amount, and expended at his discretion for any purpose.”(6) The resistance which followed, and which assisted the unfortunate monarch to his downfall, is too well known to need recapitulation here. Worthy Monson, who, although bluff and hearty enough as a sailor, was something of a courtier, defended the levy of the obnoxious tax. But then he believed that Charles really wanted the money for the navy alone, and for retaliation upon the Dutch, while the nation at large had not much faith in their king, or in the alleged purposes for which the tax was to be levied. This is not the place for any defence, partial or otherwise, of Charles’s policy. He did, however, show a considerable amount of energy in his attempts to improve the navy, and constructed one vessel, the _Sovereign of the Seas_, or _Royal Sovereign_, which was in every respect an advance on anything built before it. One Thomas Heywood wrote a very learned and flowery tract concerning it. “There is one thing” says he, “above all things for the world to take speciall notice of, that shee is beside tonnage so many tons in burden, as their have beene yeares since our blessed Saviour’s incarnation, namely, 1637, and not one under or over; a most happy omen, which, though it was not the first projected or intended, is now by true computation found so to happen.” A description of her ornamentation would occupy several pages of this work; gold and black were the colours alone employed. She was 232 feet long, had three flush decks, besides quarter-deck and raised forecastle. “Her lower tyre” had thirty ports; her middle tier the same; and the third, twenty-six ports for guns. Her forecastle, half-deck, stern, and bows were all pierced for heavy guns—that is, heavy for those days. On the stern was painted a Latin inscription, thus “Englisht,” as Heywood puts it:—

“He who seas, windes, and navies doth protect, Great Charles, thy great ship in her course direct!”

She was built of the best oak, and no more seaworthy ship had ever been turned out from Woolwich previously. _The Royal Prince_, built only nineteen years before, seems to have been a mere holiday ship, and was at the above-mentioned date laid up; the _Royal Sovereign_ was in active service for nearly sixty years, and would have been rebuilt but for an untoward accident. The history and fate of this fine ship are thus briefly described by a descendant of the architect, Phineas Pett, writing in January, 1696:—

“The _Royal Sovereign_ was the first great ship that was ever built in England; she was then designed only for splendour and magnificence, and was in some measure the occasion of those loud complaints against ship-money in the reign of Charles I.; but being taken down a deck lower, she became one of the best men-of-war in the world, and so formidable to her enemies that none of the most daring among them would willingly lie by her side. She had been in almost all the great engagements that had been fought between France and Holland; and in the last fight between the English and the French, encountering the _Wonder of the World_, she so warmly plied the French Admiral, that she forced him out of his three-decked wooden castle, and chasing the _Royal Sun_ before her, forced her to fly for shelter among the rocks, where she became a prey to lesser vessels, that reduced her to ashes. At length, leaky and defective herself with age, she was laid up at Chatham to be rebuilt; but being set on fire by negligence, she was, on the 27th of this month, devoured by the element which so long and so often before she had imperiously made use of as the instrument of destruction to others.”

Charles, in spite of his troubles, either rebuilt or added eighteen vessels to the Royal Navy, leaving it not merely numerically stronger, but improved in all other particulars. The immense square sterns and full bows originally copied from the Dutch (who built their ships apparently on their own model) gave place to more shapely sterns and sharper bows. Extremely high poops and forecastles—copied, one would think, from the Chinese—were abandoned as increasing the dangers of seamanship. Tonnage and number of guns were largely increased. A “first rate” advanced from fifty to sixty, and afterwards to a hundred guns.

Holland, during the reigns of James I. and Charles I., had been carrying off all the commercial honours from England, and it was becoming evident that prohibitory laws were needed to stop their triumphant progress on the sea. In 1646, and again in 1650, two Acts were passed, both having the same tendency, to prevent foreign ships trading with England’s new plantations in Virginia, Bermuda, Barbadoes, “and other places in America.”(7) On the 9th of October, 1651, the celebrated Navigation Act of Cromwell came into operation. There were no half measures in that Act. It declared that no goods or commodities whatever of the growth, production, or manufacture of Asia, Africa, or America, should be imported either into Great Britain or Ireland, or any of the colonies, except in _British-built ships, owned by British subjects, and of which the master and three-fourths of the crew belonged to that country_. This, literally translated, meant that England wanted the carrying trade of everything that concerned her own well being. The next enactment went further. It provided that no goods of the growth, production, or manufacture of any country in Europe should be imported into Great Britain except in British ships, owned and navigated by British subjects, “_or in such ships as were the real property of the people of the country or place in which the goods were produced, or from which they could only be, or most usually were, exported_.” This provision was aimed at the Dutch; they had little to export. But unless one can understand the long-stifled animosity and jealousy felt in England regarding their commercial supremacy on the seas, and as regards the carrying trade, he can hardly understand why laws, which would nowadays be considered ridiculous and unjust, were so popular then. So strong had these feelings become, that when the Dutch despatched an embassy to England for the purpose of obtaining a revocation of the navigation laws, its members had to be guarded from the violence of the mob.

England had now unmistakably asserted her right to carry on her own over-sea trade in her own ships, and to enter the lists with any other nation as regards foreign trade. This action was a defiance hurled at Holland, and after a little manœuvring ended inevitably in war. A few facts only regarding that war may be permitted here. The Dutch were at first, and indeed for the most part, the sufferers. Within a month of its declaration, Blake captured 100 of their herring boats, and twelve of their frigates, sinking a thirteenth. In 1652-3 there were five actions. In the first Blake was successful; in the second he was thoroughly beaten by Martin Tromp (father of the Tromp best known in history). The third, early in 1653, resulted in a victory for the English, the Dutch losing 300 merchantmen they had captured not long before; the fourth was a decided victory for England, and the fifth was an indecisive action. The English, however, took possession of the Channel, and scarcely a day passed without Dutch prizes being brought into English ports. Many of the Dutch ships, returning from distant parts of the world, rounded Scotland, rather than pass up the Channel. On the fifth of April, 1654, a treaty of peace was concluded; Cromwell requiring, before it was signed, an admission of the English sovereignty of the seas, and the Dutch consenting to strike their flag to the ships of the Commonwealth.

One of the greatest maritime successes of the Protector’s time was the capture of Spanish galleons worth, with their freight, £600,000. The fleet had been lying idly off Cadiz endeavouring to provoke the Spanish squadron to an engagement, or trusting to intercept their returning treasure ships. Captain Stayner in the _Speaker_, accompanied by the _Bridgewater_ and _Plymouth_, left the English fleet temporarily with the intention of taking water on board in a neighbouring bay. On his course he luckily fell in with eight galleons from America. Such an opportunity warmed up the hitherto drooping spirits of the English sailors, and they fought with fury. In a few hours one of the galleons was sunk, a second burned, two ashore, and four taken prizes. They were loaded with plate, ore, and money. When the treasure reached London it was placed in open carts and ammunition wagons, and carried in triumph through the streets to the Tower, with a guard of only _ten_ soldiers. This rather ostentatious display of confidence in the people proved an excellent move for Cromwell; nothing added more to his popularity among the lower classes. The Earl of Montague, who convoyed it home, but who in reality had nothing to do with its capture, was the subject of universal panegyrics and parliamentary thanks.

If Charles II. could have reversed any of Cromwell’s legislative measures, he and his court would most assuredly have done so. But they were simply modified, and not to the advantage of the Dutch, who were very much irritated, but attempted to gain time. Charles, however, without waiting for a formal declaration of hostilities, seized 130 of their ships laden with wine and brandy, homeward bound from Bordeaux, which were taken into English ports, and condemned as lawful prizes, although such an act could not be justified by any law of nations. War was again declared in 1665, and an action occurred off Harwich, in which the celebrated Van Tromp was engaged. The Dutch lost nineteen ships, burnt or sunk, with probably 6,000 men; the English lost only four vessels, and about 1,500 men. Then came a coalition between the French and Dutch, and the great battle of June 1st, 1666, in which England lost two admirals, and twenty-three great ships, besides smaller vessels, 6,000 men, and 2,600 prisoners; and the Dutch four admirals, six ships, and 2,800 soldiers. The Dutch could fairly claim the victory here, but less than eight weeks later, July 24th, were thoroughly beaten, De Ruyter being driven into port, and a large number of merchant ships and two men-of-war being taken immediately afterwards. While negotiations were going on for peace next year, the Dutch, believing Charles to be trifling, despatched De Ruyter to the Thames. All London was in a panic. A strong chain had been thrown across the Medway, but the Dutch, with favourable wind and strong tide, broke through it, destroyed the fortifications of Sheerness, burnt royal and merchant ships, and pushed up the river as far as Upnor Castle, near Chatham. It was even feared that the fleet would sail up to London Bridge, and to prevent it, thirteen ships were sunk in the river at Woolwich, and four at Blackwall. Numerous platforms furnished with artillery were hastily prepared at various points. After committing all the damage that he could in the Thames, De Ruyter sailed for Portsmouth, intending to cause similar havoc, but finding the fleet well prepared, he passed down the Channel and captured several vessels at Torbay. Thence turning back, he hovered about hither and thither, keeping the coast in continual alarm until the treaty of peace was signed in the following summer. By its provisions each nation retained the goods and prizes it had captured, while all ships of war and merchant vessels belonging to the United Provinces meeting our men-of-war in British waters, were required to “strike the flag and lower the sail as had been formerly practised.” From this date the merchant navy of England steadily increased, and London became that which Amsterdam had been, the mart of nations, the chief emporium of the commercial world. In spite of De Ruyter, England had therefore greatly gained by this war.

And now France sought to pluck from England the laurels she had won from the Dutch. Her naval force had become formidable, and augmented by privateers, played havoc with our merchant vessels. By the destruction or capture of nearly the whole of our Smyrna fleet, with two English ships of war convoying them, and other captures, it was estimated that the loss to England was a million sterling. But May 12th, 1692, brought its revenge. On that day the memorable battle of La Hogue was fought, and the French lost nearly the whole of their navy to us.

From 1688 to the death of Queen Anne, the trade of the American plantations had steadily and rapidly increased, till at the latter date it employed 500 vessels, a large proportion of which were engaged in the slave trade from Africa. It started as a monopoly in the hands of the African Company, incorporated at first under Act of Parliament as traders in gold and ivory, but soon developing into traffickers in human flesh. In 1698 an Act of Parliament gave permission to all the king’s subjects, whether of England or America, to trade to Africa on payment of a certain percentage to the company on all goods exported or imported, negro slaves being, nevertheless, exempted from this tax. How great this inhuman and nefarious trade had developed may be gathered from the fact that the French, _in one year_, and to supply _one_ island, that of St. Domingo, transported 20,000 slaves from Africa.

Passing rapidly over the pages of history, we come to an important epoch in the progress of merchant shipping, when the trade to Russia was practically thrown open to our merchants by an Act “entitling any person to admission to the Russia Company upon payment of an entrance fee of five pounds.” It was about this time that the Czar abdicated temporarily, and made a voyage to Holland and England, travelling _incognito_, or as much so as he could. Many popular accounts of Peter the Great’s stay in these two countries are so full of errors that the present writer may be permitted to give, moderately in detail, some account of them, derived from the best authorities.(8) They have a distinct bearing on our subject, not merely because one of Peter’s leading objects was the study of ship-building and maritime affairs, but because his studies led to an immense increase in Russia’s naval power. Previously, in fact, she could hardly be said to have had any at all.

In many published accounts the Czar is represented as a mere youth at the period of his visit to the dockyards of Holland and England. The fact is that he was twenty-five years of age, and had already served in two campaigns. Indeed, it may be said that the latter campaign, in which he conquered Azoff, partly by the assistance of foreigners and ships built by foreigners, was the means of opening his eyes to the superiority of the Western Europeans over his own barbarous subjects. Resolute, ambitious, and intelligent, he determined that his people should not remain half savages. Influenced by such motives, he dispatched, in 1697, sixty young Russians, selected out of the army, to Venice and Leghorn, under orders to make themselves instructed in everything pertaining to the arts of ship-building and navigation; forty more were sent to Holland for the same purpose, and his own voyage had largely the same object. “It was a thing,” says Voltaire, “unparalleled in history, either ancient or modern, for a sovereign of five-and-twenty years of age to withdraw from his kingdom for the sole purpose of learning the art of government.” It happened that Peter was not as yet represented at any of the foreign courts, and he therefore appointed an embassy extraordinary to proceed, in the first instance, to the States-General of Holland, while he would accompany it simply in the character of an _attaché_. The three ambassadors were General Le Fort, a native of Geneva, who had been of immense service to the Czar, and was now his confidential friend; Alexis Golowin, Governor of Siberia; and Voristzin, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. With secretaries, attachés, pages, and guards, the retinue numbered 200 persons. Their passage through Germany was a grand carouse, and the hard drinking for which the Russians are still noted, was very much observed. At one of these bacchanalian debauches, the Czar, who was a hot-headed man, took such violent offence at something said by Le Fort, that he drew his sword and ordered him to defend himself. “Far be it from me,” said Le Fort; “rather let me perish by the hand of my master.” Peter had raised his arm, but one of the retinue dared to interfere, and caught hold of it. Peter’s anger was of short duration; he displayed, says Voltaire, “_autant de regret de cet emportement passager qu’Alexandre en eut du meurtre de Clitus_,” and immediately asked Le Fort’s pardon, saying, “that his great desire was to reform his subjects, but he was ashamed to say he had not yet been able to reform himself.”

Having reached Emmerich, the impetuous and youthful monarch left the embassy, and proceeded in a boat down the Rhine, not halting till he reached Amsterdam, “through which,” says one authority, “he flew like lightning, and never once stopped till he arrived at Zardam,(9) fifteen days before the embassy reached Amsterdam.” One of his small party in the boat happened to recognize a man there who was fishing in a boat, as one Kist, who had worked for some time in Russia. He was called to them, and his astonishment may be conceived at seeing the Czar of all the Russias in a little boat, dressed like a Dutch skipper, in a red jacket and white trousers. Peter told Kist that he should like to lodge with him; the poor man did not know what to do, but finding the Czar in earnest procured him a cottage behind his own, consisting of two small rooms and a loft. Kist was instructed not to let any one know who the new lodger was. A crowd collected to stare at the strangers; and to the questions put to them, Peter used to answer in Dutch that they were all carpenters and labourers hard up for a job. But the crowd did not believe it, for the dresses of some of his companions belied the statement. The Czar, shortly after arriving at Zardam, paid visits to a number of the families of Dutch seamen and carpenters whom he was employing at Archangel and elsewhere, representing himself as a brother workman. Among others he called upon a poor widow, whose deceased husband had once been a skipper in his employ, and to whom he had some time before sent a present of 500 guilders. The poor woman begged him to tell the Czar how “she never could be sufficiently thankful” for his great kindness, little dreaming that the rough-looking young man before her was that monarch. He assured her that the Czar should most certainly be acquainted with her message. Peter proceeded to purchase a quantity of carpenter’s tools, and his companions were ordered to clothe themselves in the common garb worn in the dockyards.

Next day was Sunday, and it became evident that some one had let the cat more or less out of the bag, for crowds of sailors and dock-hands assembled before Peter’s lodgings, which annoyed him terribly. But the fact is that a Dutch resident of Archangel had written home to his friends, informing them of the projected voyage, and enclosing a portrait and description of the Czar. Among the crowd a garrulous barber, who believed he had recognised him, shouted out, “Dat is der Tzar!” and all poor Peter’s little stratagems could not save him from the curiosity of the populace. A Hollander has left a description of him, which would indicate that he was too noticeable to be mistaken by any who had once seen him. He was very tall and robust, quick and nimble of foot, and dexterous and rapid in all his actions; his face was plump and round, fierce in his look, with brown eyebrows, and short curling hair of a brownish colour. His gait was quick, and he had a habit of swinging his arms violently, while he always carried a cane, which he occasionally used very freely over the shoulders of those who had offended him. “His extraordinary rapidity of movement in landing or embarking used to astonish and amuse the Dutch, who had never before witnessed such ‘_loopen, springen, en klauteren over der schepen_.’”

When the embassy entered Amsterdam formally, Peter took part in the procession, but only as a private gentleman in one of the last carriages, and he was not recognised. But little of his time was given to the ambassadors; it was almost entirely spent in the docks, among shipbuilders, and on the shipping, and in sailing about the Zuyder Zee and elsewhere, where he was accustomed to carry so much sail on his little boat as to alarm his companions for his safety. “His first exploit in the dockyard of Mynheer Calf, a wealthy merchant and shipbuilder, with whom he was prevailed on to lodge, after quitting his first cabin, was to purchase a small yacht, and to fit her with a new bowsprit, made entirely with his own hands, to the astonishment of all the shipwrights; they could not conceive how a person of his high rank could submit to work till the sweat ran down his face, or where he could have learned to handle the tools so dexterously.” While in the dockyard he was entered in the books as a ship-carpenter, and conformed in every way to its regulations. He was known among the workman as Pieter Zimmerman, sometimes as Pieter Bass, or Master Peter. Dutch authorities speak of his simple habits; he was an early riser, lighted his own fire, and frequently cooked his own food while living in the cottage. When any one wished to speak to him, “he would go with his adze in his hand, and sit down on a rough log of timber for a short time, but seemed always anxious to resume and finish the work on which he had been employed.” An English nobleman visited the yard, and asked the superintendent to point out the Czar to him unnoticed. This was done, and the superintendent, seeing that the Czar was resting for a moment, called out to him, “Pieter Zimmerman, why don’t you assist those men?” Peter immediately got up and helped to shoulder the heavy log they were carrying. He would lend a helping hand at everything connected with ships, even rope and sail making, and smith’s work. Once, at Müller’s manufactory, at Istia, he forged several bars of iron, and put his own mark on them, making his companions blow the bellows and fetch the coals. The Czar insisted upon receiving the same payment as the other workmen, and bought a pair of shoes with the money, remarking “I have earned them well, by the sweat of my brow, with hammer and anvil.” Peter finished his labours at ship-carpentering by assisting to put together a yacht, which, at the suggestion of one of the burgomasters, was to be presented to him as a _souvenir_ of his visit to Holland. He worked at it every day till it was finished, when he christened it the _Amsterdam_. His numerous investigations into science included surgery, and he carried his instruments about with him, ever ready to pull a tooth, or bleed, or even tap a patient for the dropsy. In short, his desire for practical knowledge was insatiable. Ten times a day, while accompanying his friend Calf and others about the ships, and yards, and factories, and mills, he would ask, “Wat is dat?” and being told, would answer, “Dat wil ik zien,”—“I shall see that.” His companions were not half so earnest as their master, and after awhile they hired a large house, kept a professed cook, and enjoyed themselves in idleness.

While in Holland, the news arrived of a Russian victory over the Turks and Tartars, and the imperial workman received the congratulations of the Emperor of Germany, the Kings of Sweden, Denmark, and other countries. He celebrated the event by giving a grand entertainment to the principal officials and merchants of Amsterdam, their wives and daughters. “The sumptuous dinner was accompanied and followed by a band of music, and in the evening were plays, dancing, masquerades, illuminations, and fireworks. His respectable friend, Witsen, told him that he had entertained his countrymen like an emperor.” And now, after nine months’ hard work at Zardam, he had an interview with King William at the Hague, who arranged to transport him and his suite in one of the royal yachts, accompanied by two men-of-war.

No secret was made of the Czar’s rank in London, although he tried to live as privately as possible. He was placed under the special charge of the Marquis of Carmarthen, and a great intimacy sprang up between them. A large house was hired for him and his suite at the bottom of York Buildings, where the marquis and he used to spend their evenings together frequently in drinking “hot pepper and brandy.” But then a pint of brandy and a bottle of sherry was nothing uncommon as a morning draught for the Czar. After seeing all the sights of London, he paid visits to Chatham, Portsmouth, and elsewhere, but the larger part of his time was spent at Deptford, where he repaired to investigate and learn the higher branches of naval architecture and navigation. There is little or no evidence, popular tradition to the contrary notwithstanding, that he ever worked as a shipwright there,(10) or engaged in more laborious employment than rowing, or in sailing yachts and boats about the Thames. The writer has before him now one of the conventional pictures of “Peter at Deptford.” It represents a smooth-faced youth of feminine appearance, and about sixteen years old at most, vigorously engaged, apparently, in doing damage to a ship’s bulwarks with a gigantic hammer and formidable spike. The fact is that Peter was in his twenty-sixth year, had been the ruler of a great empire for several years, and was beyond his years in acquirements and earnestness; a man of strong passions, and sadly given to drink. Peter was glad to get out of town. Crowds gave him an amount of annoyance that was inexplicable to a Londoner; and he avoided, as much as he could, balls and assemblies and public gatherings for the same reason. Nor could he have desired a more pleasant and suitable place than that which was provided for him, the celebrated Saye’s Court, Evelyn’s charming house and grounds(11) close to Deptford Dockyard, which had just become vacant by the removal of Admiral Benbow, who had been its tenant. A special doorway was broken through the boundary wall of the dockyard to facilitate communication for the Czar. Benbow had given poor Evelyn much dissatisfaction, but the new occupant was rather worse. His servant wrote to him, “There is a house full of people, right nasty. The Tzar lies next your study, and dines in the parlour next your study. He dines at ten o’clock, and six at night; is very seldom at home a whole night; very often in the king’s yard, or by water, dressed in several dresses. The king is expected there this day; the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be entertained in. The king pays for all he has.” But, alas for poor Evelyn’s hedges! The Czar, by way of exercise, and to prove his strength, used to trundle a wheel-barrow, full tilt, through a favourite holly-hedge, “which,” says Evelyn, “I can still show in my ruined gardens at Saye’s Court (thanks to the Tzar of Muscovy).” The Czar employed his days in acquiring information on all branches of naval architecture, and in sailing about the river with Carmarthen and Sir Anthony Deane, commissioner of the navy. “The Navy Board received directions from the Admiralty to hire two vessels to be at the command of the Tzar whenever he should think proper to sail on the Thames,” and the king made him a present of a small vessel, the _Royal Transport_, giving orders to have such alterations and accommodations made in her as the Czar might desire. “But his great delight was to get into a small-decked boat, belonging to the dockyard, and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman; by this practice he said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when they got home. Having finished their day’s work, they used to resort to a public house in Great Tower Street, close to Tower Hill, to smoke their pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the Tzar of Muscovy’s head painted and put up for his sign.” The original sign remained till 1808.

Greenwich Hospital surprised him, and King William, having one day asked him how he liked his hospital for decayed seamen, Peter answered simply, “If I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, and convert St. James’s into a hospital.” In the first week of March a sham naval fight was organised near Spithead, for his amusement, eleven ships being engaged. The _Postman_, a journal of the period, says, “The representation of a sea engagement was excellently performed before the Tzar of Muscovy, and continued a considerable time, each ship having twelve pounds of powder allowed; but all the bullets were locked up in the hold, for fear the soldiers should mistake.” The enterprising journal did not, probably, send down a special representative, as would any leading paper of to-day, and the small quantity of powder allowed must be a mistake. The Czar was greatly pleased with the performance, and told Admiral Mitchell, who arranged the performance, that “he considered the condition of an English admiral happier than that of a Tzar of Russia.” On their way home from Portsmouth, the Russian party, twenty-one in all, stopped a night at Godalming. The sea air had done so much good to their appetites that at dinner they managed to get through an entire sheep, three quarters of lamb, five ribs of beef, weighing three stone, a shoulder and loin of veal, eight fowls, eight rabbits, two dozen and a half of sack, and one dozen of claret. Their light breakfast consisted of half a sheep, a quarter of lamb, ten pullets, twelve chickens, seven dozen eggs, salad “in proportion,” three quarts of brandy, and six quarts of mulled wine.

When residing at Deptford, he made the acquaintance of the celebrated Dr. Halley, “to whom he communicated his plan of building a fleet, and in general of introducing the arts and sciences into his country,” and asked his opinions and advice on various subjects. The doctor spoke German fluently, and the Tzar was so much pleased with the philosopher’s conversation and remarks that he had him frequently to dine with him; and in his company he visited the Royal Observatory in Greenwich Park. An important concession was made by him to some leading merchants, through the influence of the Marquis of Carmarthen. Tobacco had been so highly taxed that none but the wealthy Russians could afford it. The Czar agreed that on paying him down £12,000 (some accounts say £15,000) it should go in duty free. He stipulated that his friend Carmarthen should receive five shillings for every hogshead so admitted. Peter stuck to his friends, and his kindheartedness in general does much to obliterate the memory of some traits of character which are not to his credit. On leaving England, he “gave the king’s servants, at his departure, one hundred and twenty guineas, which was more than they deserved, they being very rude to him,” says one plain-speaking historian. To the king he presented a rough ruby which the jewellers of Amsterdam had valued at £10,000 sterling. Peter carried this gem to King William in his waistcoat pocket, wrapped up in a piece of brown paper. The king had treated him in a royal fashion, so far as Peter would allow him, and before he departed induced him to sit to Sir Godfrey Kneller for his portrait, which is now at Windsor. Four yachts and two ships of the Royal Navy were placed at his disposal when he departed once more for Holland. Peter took with him to Russia three English captains who had served in the Royal Navy, twenty-five captains of the merchant service, thirty pilots, thirty surgeons, two hundred gunners, and a number of mechanics and smiths, making a total of little less than five hundred persons, all natives of Great Britain. A letter from one of them to a relative in England shows how much Peter did, almost immediately on his return to Russia, in the interests of his navy. He had already thirty-six ships of war: twenty, ranging from thirty to sixty guns each, were to be launched the following spring; eighteen galleys were being constructed by Italian workmen, and one hundred smaller vessels were on the stocks. The forests of masts he had seen at London and Amsterdam had fired his ambition, and we now find him not merely determined to have a navy, but a port of the first class. Hence St. Petersburg.

Passing over events in the history of Peter the Great not bearing on maritime subjects, we learn that “Five months had scarcely elapsed from laying the first stone of St. Petersburg, when a report was brought to the Tzar that a large ship, under Dutch colours, was standing into the river. It may be supposed this was a joyful piece of intelligence for the founder. It was nothing short of realising the wish nearest his heart: to open the Baltic for the nations of Europe to trade with his dominions, it constituted them his neighbours; and he at once anticipated the day when his ships would beat the Swedish navy, and drive them from a sea on which they had long ridden triumphant with undivided sway. When Peter was employed in building his fleet at Voronitz, Patrick Gordon one day asked him, ‘Of what use do you expect all the vessels you are building to be, seeing you have no seaports?’ ‘My vessels shall make ports for themselves,’ replied Peter, in a determined tone; a declaration which was now on the eve of being accomplished.

“No sooner was the communication made, than the Tzar, with his usual rapidity, set off to meet this welcome stranger. The skipper was invited to the house of Menzikoff: he sat down at table, and to his great astonishment, found that he was placed next the Tzar, and had actually been served by him. But not less astonished and delighted was Peter on learning that the ship belonged to, and had been freighted by his old Zaardam friend, with whom he had resided, Cornelius Calf. Permission was immediately given to the skipper to land his cargo, consisting of salt, wine, and other articles of provisions, free of all duties. Nothing could be more acceptable to the inhabitants of the new city than this cargo, the whole of which was purchased by Peter, Menzikoff, and the several officers, so that Auke Wybes, the skipper, made a most profitable adventure. On his departure he received a present of five hundred ducats, and each man of the crew, one hundred rix-dollars, as a premium for the first ship that had entered the port of St. Petersburg.”(12) The second ship to arrive was also Dutch; the third was an English vessel; both received the same premium. The rapidity with which the swampy banks of the Neva were covered with wharfs and buildings has been almost unexampled in history. Peter had Amsterdam in his eye when he laid out St. Petersburg, and he had secured the services of a number of Dutch ship-builders and masons, architects, and surveyors well versed in making solid foundations on swampy land.

And now, while England was distracted by the civil war of the first Pretender, and by the rupture with Charles XII. of Sweden, she had much trouble with the Barbary pirates, who, in the West Indies in particular, constantly harassed her shipping interests. So great a nuisance had these “water-rats” become that £100 head-money was offered for every captain, £40 for any rank from a lieutenant to a gunner, and £20 for every pirate seaman. Any private who delivered up his commander was entitled to £200 on the conviction of the latter. But there were also at that period “land-rats” at home, as bad as any pirate, preying on the public purse. This was the epoch when Hamlet’s words “they’re all mad there,” might almost have been said of England, and with even greater truth of our neighbours across the Channel. Two extraordinary schemes, one of which was to make France the richest of commercial nations, and the second of which was to pay the national debt of England, were propounded, great companies raised, and supported by half the people, from princes to petty tradesmen. As projects depending upon commerce with foreign countries, they, of course, are intimately connected with our subject. Need it be said that the writer refers to the two extraordinary delusions known as the Mississippi Scheme and the South Sea Bubble?

The first of these projects was designed to develop the resources of the great country lying round the Mississippi, especially Louisiana; to open up mineral deposits supposed to be wonderfully rich; and to carry on a general trade with that part of America. The second, which more intimately concerns us, included a monopoly of trade with the South Sea, a somewhat elastic title, but which meant at the time commerce with the countries of Spanish America. The South Sea Company was originated by Harley, Earl of Oxford, in 1711, with the distinct view of “providing for the discharge of the army and navy debentures, and other parts of the floating debt, amounting to nearly ten million sterling.” A company of merchants took this debt upon themselves, the Government agreeing to secure them, for a certain period, six per cent. interest, and grant them the monopoly of the trade to the South Seas. The most exaggerated ideas relating to the mineral wealth of South America were prevalent at the time, and when a report, most industriously spread, was circulated that Philip V. of Spain was ready to concede four ports of Chili and Peru for purposes of trade, South Sea stock rose in value with extraordinary rapidity. That monarch, however, never meant to grant anything like a free trade to the English. After sundry negotiations had been opened the royal assent was given to a contract, conceding the privilege of supplying the colonies with negroes for thirty years, and of sending _once a year one vessel_ “limited both as to tonnage and value of cargo” to trade with Mexico, Peru, and Chili, the king to enjoy one-fourth of the profits. On these hard conditions and slender privileges was the great Bubble blown into popular esteem. Rumours of commercial treaties between England and Spain were circulated, whereby the latter was to grant free trade to all her colonies; the rich produce of the Potosi mines “was to be brought to England until silver should become almost as plentiful as iron. For cotton and woollen goods, with which we could supply them in abundance, the dwellers in Mexico were to empty their golden mines. The company of merchants trading to the South Seas would be the richest the world ever saw, and every hundred pounds invested would produce hundreds per annum to the stockholder.”(13) These and still more lying statements were spread in every direction. The stock rose like a rocket. And, so far as the present writer can discover, the first voyage of the one annual ship, not made till 1717, six years after the first establishment of the company, was also its last! The following year the trade was suppressed by the rupture with Spain.

“It seemed at that time as if the whole nation had turned stock-jobbers. Exchange Alley was every day blocked up by crowds, and Cornhill was impassable for the number of carriages. Everybody came to purchase stock. ‘Every fool aspired to be a knave.’ In the words of a ballad published at the time, and sung about the streets—

“‘Then stars and garters did appear Among the meaner rabble; To buy and sell, to see and hear The Jews and Gentiles squabble.

‘The greatest ladies thither came, And plied in chariots daily; Or pawned their jewels for a sum To venture in the Alley.’”

Not merely South Sea stock, but schemes of even a wilder nature now deluged the market. It would seem incredible, but it is vouched for on good authority, that one adventurer started “_A company for carrying on an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is_,” and in one day sold a thousand shares, the deposit on which was £2 per share. He thought it prudent to decamp with the £2,000, and was no more heard of. Mackay publishes a list of eighty-six bubble companies, which were eventually declared illegal and abolished. But the South Sea Bubble was a Triton among these minnows, and the directors, having once tasted the profits of their scheme by the rapid rise of its shares, kept their emissaries at work. Nor indeed were they much needed, for every person interested in the stock endeavoured to draw a knot of listeners round him in ’Change Alley, or its purlieus, to whom he expatiated on the treasures of the South American Seas. Then came the rumour that Gibraltar was to be exchanged for certain places on the coast of Peru. Instead of paying a tribute to the King of Spain, the company would be able to trade freely, and send as many ships as they liked.

“Visions of ingots danced before their eyes,”

and the directors opened their books for a subscription of a million, and then for a second million, and the frantic speculators took it all. Swift described ’Change Alley as a gulf in the South Seas:—

“Subscribers here by thousands float, And jostle one another down, Each paddling in his leaky boat, And here they fish for gold and drown.

“Now buried in the depths below, Now mounted up to heaven again, They reel and stagger to and fro, At their wits’ end, like drunken men.

“Meantime, secure on Garraway cliffs, A savage race, by shipwrecks fed, Lie waiting for the foundering skiffs, And strip the bodies of the dead.”

The directors used every art to keep up the price of the stock. It rose finally to £1,000 per share. A few weeks afterwards it was down to £175, then to £135, and the Bubble had burst.

To detail the various plans tried or suggested to bolster up the company, the Parliamentary inquiries, or the stringent measures adopted to punish the directors, would be out of place here. Suffice it to say that a bill was brought in for restraining the South Sea directors and officers from leaving the kingdom for a twelvemonth. They were forbidden to realise on their estates and effects, neither must they will or remove them. Eventually they were obliged to disgorge their gains. “A sum amounting to two million and fourteen thousand pounds was confiscated from their estates towards repairing the mischief they had done, each man being allowed a certain residue in proportion to his conduct and circumstances, with which he might begin the world anew. Sir John Blunt was only allowed £5,000 out of his fortune of upwards of £183,000; Sir John Fellows was allowed £10,000 out of £243,000; Sir Theodore Janssen £50,000 out of £243,000; Mr. Edward Gibbon £10,000 out of £106,000; Sir John Lambert £5,000 out of £72,000.” After every effort on the part of the Committee of Investigation, a dividend of about 33 per cent. was divided among the unfortunate proprietors and stock-holders. It took long before public credit was restored.