Chapter V: The Factions of the City (2)

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.

Reproduced from the picture in the Royal Exchange by permission of the Artist, Sigismund Goetze, Esq., by whom the copyright is reserved.]

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.

From Froissart, vol. iv.]

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.)

MS. Harl. 1319.]

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.