History of London — 23 - Lessons 55 - 59: Under George the Second (I - V)

PART I. THE WEALTH OF LONDON.

If a new world was opened to the adventurous in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, this new world two hundred years later was only half explored and was constantly yielding up new treasures.

The lion's share of these treasures came to Great Britain and was landed at the Port of London.

The wealth and luxury of the merchants in the eighteenth century surpassed anything ever recorded or ever imagined.

So great was their prosperity that historians and essayists predicted the speedy downfall of the City: the very greatness of their success frightened those who looked on and remembered the past.

[Illustration: GROUP SHOWING COSTUMES AND SEDAN CHAIR, ABOUT 1720. (_From an engraving by Kip.

_)] Though the appearance of the City had changed, and its colour and picturesqueness were gone, at no time was London more powerful or more magnificent.

There were no nobles living within the walls: only two or three of the riverside palaces remained along the Strand: there were no troops of retainers riding along the streets in the bright liveries of their masters: the picturesque gables, the latticed windows, the overhanging fronts--all these were gone: instead of the old churches rich with ancient carvings, frescoes in crimson and blue, marble monuments and painted glass, were the square halls--preaching halls--of Wren with their round windows, rich only in carved woodwork: the houses were square with sash windows: the shop fronts were glazed: the streets were filled with grave and sober merchants in great wigs and white ruffles.

They lived in stately and commodious houses, many of which still survive--see the Square at the back of Austin Friars Church for a very fine example--they had their country houses: they drove in chariots: and they did a splendid business.

Their ships went all over the world: they traded with India, not yet part of the Empire: with China, and the Far East: with the West Indies, with the Levant.

They had Companies for carrying on trade in every part of the globe.

The South Sea Company, the Hudson's Bay Company, the Turkey Company, the African Company, the Russian Company, the East India Company--are some.

The ships lay moored below the Bridge in rows that reached a mile down the river.

[Illustration: TEMPLE BAR, LONDON.

(_Built by Sir Christopher Wren in 1670; taken down in 1878 and since rebuilt at Waltham Cross.

_)] All this prosperity grew in spite of the wars which we carried on during the whole of the last century.

These wars, though they covered the Channel and the Bay of Biscay with privateers, had little effect to stay the increase of London trade.

And as the merchants lived within the City, in sight of each other, their wealth was observed and known by all.

At the present day, when London from nightfall till morning is a dead city, no one knows the wealth of the merchants and it is only by considering the extent of the suburbs that one can understand the enormous wealth possessed by those men who come up by train every day and without ostentation walk among their clerks to their offices in the City.

A hundred and fifty years ago, one saw the rich men: sat in church with them: sat at dinner with them on Company feast days: knew them.

The visible presence of so much wealth helped to make London great and proud.

It would be interesting, if it were possible, to discover how many families now noble or gentle--county families--derive their origin or their wealth from the City merchants of the last century.

In one thing there is a great change.

Till the middle of the seventeenth century it was customary for the rank of trade to be recruited--in London, at least--from the younger sons.

This fashion was now changed.

The continual wars gave the younger sons another career: they entered the army and the navy.

Hence arose the contempt for trade which existed in the country for about a hundred and fifty years.

It is now fast dying out, but it is not yet dead.

Younger sons are now going into the City again.

[Illustration: FLEET STREET AND TEMPLE BAR.

] The old exclusiveness was kept up jealously.

No one must trade in the City who was not free of the City.

But the freedom of the City was easily obtained.

The craftsman and the clerk remained in their own places: they were taught to know their places: they were taught, which was a very fine thing, to think much of their own places and to take pride in the station to which they were called: to respect those in higher station and to receive respect from those lower than themselves.

Though merchants had not, and have not, any rank assigned to them by the Court officials, there was as much difference of rank and place in the City as without.

And in no time was there greater personal dignity than in this age when rank and station were so much regarded.

But between the nobility and the City there was little intercourse and no sympathy.

The manners, the morals, the dignity of the City ill assorted with those of the aristocracy at a time when drinking and gambling were ruining the old families and destroying the noblest names.

There has always belonged to the London merchant a great respect for personal character and conduct.

We are accustomed to regard this as a survival of Puritanism.

This is not so: it existed before the arrival of Puritanism: it arose in the time when the men in the wards knew each other and when the master of many servants set the example, because his life was visible to all, of order, honour, and self-respect.

[Illustration: A COACH OF THE MIDDLE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

(_From an engraving by John Dunstall.

_)] 56. UNDER GEORGE THE SECOND.

PART II.

After the Great Fire, the number of City churches was reduced from 126 to 87. Those that were rebuilt were for the most part much larger and more capacious than their predecessors.

In many cases, Wren, the great architect, who rebuilt St. Paul's Cathedral and all the churches, in order to get a larger church took in a part of the churchyard, which accounts for the fact that many of the City churchyards are now so small.

Again, as the old churches had been built mainly for the purpose of saying and singing mass, the new churches were built mainly for the purpose of hearing sermons.

They were therefore provided with pews for the accommodation of the hearers, and resembled, in their original design, a convenient square room, where the preacher might be seen and heard by all, rather than a cruciform church.

Some of Wren's churches, however, though they may be described as square rooms, are exceedingly beautiful, for instance, St. Stephen's, Walbrook, while nearly all are enriched with woodwork of a beautiful description.

It was the custom in the last century to attend frequent church services, and to hear many sermons.

The parish church entered into the daily life much more under George the Second's reign than it does now, in spite of our improved services and our multiplication of services.

In forty-four City churches there was service, sometimes twice, sometimes once, every day.

In all of them there were evening services on Wednesday and Fridays: in many there were endowed lectureships, which gave an additional sermon once a week, or at stated times.

Fast days were commonly observed, though it was not customary to close shops or suspend business on Good Friday or Ash Wednesday: not more than half of the City churches possessed an organ: on Sunday afternoons the children were duly catechised: if boys misbehaved, the beadle or sexton caned them in the churchyard: the laws were still in force which fined the parishioners for absence from church and for harbouring in their houses people who did not go to church.

Except for Sunday services, sermons, and visitations of the sick, the clergy had nothing to do.

What is now considered the work of the parish clergy--the work that occupies all their time--is entirely modern.

Formerly this kind of work was not done at all; the people were left to themselves: the clergy were not the organisers of mothers' meetings, country jaunts, athletics, boys' clubs, and amusements.

The Nonconformists still formed an important part of the City.

They had many chapels, but their social influence in London, which was very great at the beginning of the century, declined steadily, until thirty or forty years ago it stood at a very low ebb indeed.

In the streets the roads were paved with round pebbles--they were 'cobbled': the footway was protected by posts placed at intervals: the paving stones, which only existed in the principal streets before the year 1766, were small, and badly laid: after a shower they splashed up mud and water when one stepped upon them.

The signs which we have seen on the Elizabethan houses still hung out from every shop and every house: they had grown bigger: they were set in immense frames of ironwork, which creaked noisily, and sometimes tore out the front of a house by their enormous weight.

The shop windows were now glazed with small panes, mostly oblong, and often in bow windows: you may find several such shops still remaining: one at the top of the Haymarket: one in Coventry Street: one in the Strand: there were no fronts of plate glass brilliantly illuminated to exhibit the contents exposed for sale: the old-fashioned shopkeeper prided himself on keeping within, and out of sight, his best and choicest goods.

A few candles lit up the shop in the winter afternoons.

[Illustration: VIEW OF SCHOOL CONNECTED WITH BUNYAN'S MEETING HOUSE.

] To walk in the streets meant the encounter of roughness and rudeness which would now be thought intolerable.

There were no police to keep order: if a man wanted order he might fight for it.

Fights, indeed, were common in the streets: the waggoners, the hackney coachmen, the men with the wheelbarrows, the porters who carried things, were always fighting in the streets: gentlemen were hustled by bullies, and often had to fight them: most men carried a thick cudgel for self-protection.

The streets were far noisier in the last century than ever they had been before.

Chiefly, this was due to the enormous increase of wheeled vehicles.

Formerly everything came into the City or went out of it on the backs of pack-horses and pack-asses.

Now the roads were so much improved that waggons could be used for everything, and the long lines of pack-horses had disappeared from the main roads.

In the country lanes the pack-horse was still employed.

Everybody was able to ride, and the City apprentice, when he had a holiday, always spent it on horseback.

But for everyday the hackney coach was used.

Smaller carts were also coming into use.

And for dragging about barrels of beer and heavy cases a dray of iron, without wheels, was used.

All these innovations meant more noise and still more noise.

Had Whittington, in the time of George II.

, sat down on Highgate Hill (still a grassy slope), he would have heard, loud above the sound of Bow Bells, the rumbling of the waggons on Cheapside.

57. UNDER GEORGE THE SECOND.

PART III.

In walking through the City to-day, one may remark that there is very little crying of things to sell.

In certain streets, as Broad Street, Whitecross Street, Whitechapel, or Middlesex Street, there is a kind of open street, fair, or market; but the street cries such as Hogarth depicted exist no longer.

People used to sell a thousand things in the streets which are now sold in shops.

All the little things--thread, string, pins, needles, small coal, ink, and straps--that are wanted in a house were sold by hawkers and bawled all day long in the streets: fruit of all kinds was sold from house to house: fish: milk: cakes and bread: herbs and drugs: brimstone matches: an endless procession passed along, all bawling their wares.

Then there were the people who ground knives, mended chairs, soldered pots and pans: these bawled with the hawkers.

We can no longer speak of the roar of London: there is no roar: the vehicles, nearly all provided with springs, roll smoothly over an even surface of asphalt: there are no more drays without wheels: there are no more street fights: there is comparatively little bawling of things to sell.

[Illustration: GRENADIER IN THE TIME OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.

] In those days people liked the noise.

It was a part of the City life: it showed how big and busy the City was since it could make such a tremendous noise by the mere carrying on of the daily round.

Could any other city--even Paris--boast of such a noise?

People who came up from the country to visit London were invited to consider the noise of the City as a part of its magnificence and pride.

What else had they to consider?

What were the sights of London?

First of all, St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey.

Then the Tower and the Monument, the Royal Exchange and the Mansion House, Guildhall and the Bank of England, London Bridge, Newgate, St. James's and the Horse Guards.

These were to be visited by day.

In the evening there were the theatres, Drury Lane and Covent Garden: and there were the Gardens.

The citizens were always fond of their Gardens.

They were opened as soon as the weather would allow, and they continued open till the autumn chills made them impossible.

The gardens were those of Vauxhall--still in existence as a small park: Ranelagh, at Chelsea: Marylebone, opposite the old Parish Church in High Street: Bagnigge Wells, which lay East of Gray's Inn Road: Belsize, near Hampstead: the White Conduit House in the fields near Islington: the Florida Gardens at Brompton: the Temple of Flora, the Apollo Gardens, and the Bermondsey Spa Gardens, all on the south side.

These Gardens, now built over, were all alike.

Every one of them had an ornamental water, walks and shrubs, a room for dancing and singing, and a stand for the band out of doors.

People walked about, looked at each other, had supper, drank punch--and went home.

If the Gardens were at any distance from the City they marched together for safety.

The river was still the favourite highway--thousands of boats plied up and down: it was much safer, shorter, and more pleasant to take oars from Westminster to the City than to walk or to hire a coach.

[Illustration: UNIFORM OF SAILORS ABOUT 1790. ] The high roads of the country were rapidly improving.

Stage coaches ran from London to all the principal towns.

They started, for the most part, at eight in the evening.

They charged fourpence a mile, and they pretended to accomplish the journey at the rate of seven miles an hour.

You may easily compare the cost of travelling when you remember that you may now go anywhere for a penny a mile--one fourth the former charge at five or six times the rate.

The 'short stages,' of which there were a great many, ran to and from the suburbs: they were like the omnibuses, but not so frequent, and they cost a great deal more.

Threepence a mile was the usual charge.

There was a penny post in London, first set up by a private person.

A letter sent from London cost twopence the first stage: threepence for two stages: above 150 miles, sixpence: Ireland and Scotland, sixpence: any foreign country a shilling.

There were no bank notes under the value of 20_l.

_: there were no postal orders or any conveniences of that kind.

Money was remitted to London either by carrier or through some merchant.

Banks there were by this time: but most people preferred keeping their own money in their own houses.

Also banks being few everybody carried gold: this partly explains the prevalence of highway robbery: very likely the passengers on any long stage coach carried between them some hundreds of guineas: a whole railway train in these days would not yield so much: for people no longer carry with them more money than is wanted for the small expenditure of the day: tram, omnibus, cab, luncheon or dinner.

58. UNDER GEORGE THE SECOND.

PART IV.

So far we understand that London about the year 1750 was a city filled with dignified merchants all getting rich, and with a decorous, self-respecting population of retail traders, clerks, craftsmen, and servants of all kinds, a noisy but a well-behaved people.

A

church-going, sermon-loving, and orderly people.

This is in the main a fair and just appreciation of the City.

But there is the other side which must not be overlooked--that side, namely, which presents the vice and sin and misery which always accompany the congregation of many people and the accumulation of wealth.

[Illustration: COSTUMES OF GENTLEFOLK, ABOUT 1784. ] The vice which has always been the father of most miseries is that of drink.

In the middle of the last century, everybody drank too much.

The dignity of the grave merchant was too often marred by indulgence in port and punch: the City clergy drank too much: even the ladies drank too much: it was hardly a reproach, in any class, to be overcome with liquor.

As for the lower classes their habitual drink was beer--Franklin tells us that when he was a printer in London every man drank seven or eight pints of beer every day: nor was this small ale or porter: it was generally good strong beer: the beer would not perhaps hurt them so much--though the money spent on drink was enormous--but unfortunately they had now taken to gin as well--or instead.

The drinking of gin at one time threatened, literally, to destroy the whole of the working classes of London.

There were 10,000 houses--one in four--where gin was sold either secretly or openly.

It was advertised that a man could get drunk for a penny and dead drunk for twopence.

A check was placed upon this habit by imposing a tax of 5_s.

_ on every gallon of gin.

This was in the year 1735 and in 1750 about 1,700 gin shops were closed.

Since then the continual efforts made to stop the pernicious habit of dram drinking have greatly reduced the evil.

But it was not only the drinking of gin: there was also the rum punch which formed so large a part in the life of the Georgian citizen.

Every man had his club to which he resorted in the evening after the day's work.

Here he sat and for the most part drank what he called a sober glass: that is to say, he did not go home drunk, but he drank every night more than was good for him.

The results were the transmission of gout and other disorders to his children.

It should be, indeed, a most serious thing to reflect that in every evil habit we are bringing misery and suffering upon our children as well as ourselves.

The habits of drinking showed themselves externally in a bloated body; puffed and red cheeks; a large and swollen nose; trembling hands; fat lips and bleared eyes: in the case of gin drinkers it showed itself in a face literally blue.

It is said that King George the Third was persuaded to a temperate life--in a time of universal intemperance, this King remained always temperate--by the example of his uncle the Duke of Cumberland, who at the age of forty-five in consequence of his excesses in drink exhibited a body swollen and bloated and tortured with disease.

[Illustration: VESSELS UNLOADING AT THE CUSTOMS HOUSE, AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

] If you look at a map of London of this time you will see that the city extended a long way up and down the river on either bank.

Outside the walls there were the crowded districts of Whitechapel, Cripplegate, Bishopsgate, St. Katherine's, Wapping, Ratcliff, Shadwell, Stepney, and others.

These places were not only outside the wards and the jurisdiction of the City, but they were outside any government whatever.

They were growing up in some parts without schools, churches, or any rule, order, or discipline whatever.

The people in many of these quarters were of the working classes, but too often of the criminal class.

They were rude and rough and ignorant to an extraordinary degree.

How could they be anything else, living as they did?

They were so unruly, they were so numerous, they were so ready to break out, that they became a danger to the very existence of Order and Government.

They were kept in some kind of order by the greatest severity of punishment.

They were hanged for what we now call light offences: they were kept half starved in foul and filthy prisons: and they were mercilessly flogged.

In the army it was not unknown for a man to receive 500 lashes: in the navy they were always flogging the men.

Horrible as it is to read of these punishments we must remember that the men who received them were brutal and dead to any other kind of persuasion.

Drink and ignorance and habitual vice had killed the sense of shame and stilled the voice of conscience.

The only thing they would feel was the pain of the whip.

59. UNDER GEORGE THE SECOND.

PART V.

It was estimated, some years later than the period we are considering, that there were then in London 3,000 receivers of stolen goods; that is to say, people who bought without question whatever was brought to them for sale: that the value of the goods stolen every year from the ships lying in the river--there were then no great Docks and the lading and unlading were carried on by lighters and barges--amounted to half a million sterling every year: that the value of the property annually stolen in and about London amounted to 700,000_l.

_: and that goods worth half a million at least were annually stolen from His Majesty's stores, dockyards, ships of war, &c. The moral principle, a writer states plainly, 'is totally destroyed among a vast body of the lower ranks of the people.'

To meet this deplorable condition of things there were forty-eight different offences punishable by death: among them was shoplifting above five shillings: stealing linen from a bleaching ground: cutting hop bines and sending threatening letters.

There were nineteen kinds of offences for which transportation, imprisonment, whipping, or pillory were provided: there were twenty-one kinds of offences punishable by whipping, pillory, fine and imprisonment.

Among the last were 'combinations and conspiracies for raising the price of wages.'

The classification seems to have been done at haphazard: for instance, to embezzle naval stores would seem as bad as to steal a master's goods: but the latter offence was capital and the former not.

Again, it is surely a most abominable crime to set fire to a house, yet this is classed among the lighter offences.

It was therefore a time when there was a large and constantly increasing criminal class: and, as a natural cause or a natural consequence, whichever we please, there was a very large class of people as ignorant, as rude, and as dangerous as could well be imagined.

I do not think there was ever a time, not even in the most remote ages, when London contained savages more brutal and more ignorant than could be found in certain districts outside the City of the Second George.

But these poor wretches had one great virtue--they were brave: they manned our ships for us and gave Britannia the command of the sea: they were knocked down, driven and dragged aboard the ships by the press-gang.

Once there they fell into rank and order, carried a valiant pike, manned the guns with zeal, joined the boarding party with alacrity and carried their cutlasses into the forlorn hope with faces that showed no fear.

They were so strong, so stubborn, and so brave, that one sighs to think of the lash that kept them in discipline and order.

There is one more side of London that must not be forgotten.

It was a great and prosperous city: we can never dwell too strongly on the prosperity of the city: but there were shipwrecks many and disastrous.

And the fate of the man who could not pay his debts was well known to all and could be witnessed every day, as an example and a warning.

For he went to prison and in prison he stopped.

'Pay what you owe,' they said to the debtor, 'or else stay where you are.'

The debtor could not pay: in prison the debtor had no means of making any money: therefore he stayed where he was until he died.

For the accommodation of these unhappy persons there were the King's Bench and the Marshalsea, both in Southwark: there were the two Compters, both in the City: and there was the Fleet Prison.

The life in these prisons can be found described in many novels.

It was a squalid and miserable life among ruined gamblers, spendthrifts, profligates, broken down merchants, bankrupt tradesmen, and helpless women of all classes.

Unless one had allowances from friends, starvation might be the end.

In one at least the common hall had shelves ranged round the walls for the reception of beds: everything was carried on in the same room, living, sleeping, eating, cooking.

And into such a place as this the unhappy debtor was thrust, there to remain till death released him.

[Illustration: THE OLD HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT AND WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1803. ] This was the London of a hundred and fifty years ago.

No longer picturesque as in the old days, but solidly constructed, handsome, and substantial.

The merchants still lived in the city but the nobles had all gone.

The Companies possessed the greater part of the City and still ruled though they no longer dictated the wages, hours, and prices.

Within the walls there reigned comparative order: outside there was no government at all.

The river below the Bridge was crowded with ships moored two and four together side by side with an open way in the middle.

Thousands of barges and lighters were engaged upon the cargoes: every day the church bells rang for a large and orderly congregation: every day arose in every street such an uproar as we cannot even imagine: yet there were quiet spots in the City with shady gardens where one could sit at peace: wealth grew fast: but with it there grew up the mob with the fear of anarchy and license, a taste of which was afforded by the Gordon Riots.

Yet it would be eighty years before the city should understand the necessity for a police.

60. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE CITY.