In the British Museum there is a MS. of some importance (Sloane MS., 349), entitled ‘Loimographia, an account of the Great Plague of London in the year 1665, by William Boghurst, apothecary.’ This was first referred to by Mr. E. W. Brayley in his edition of Defoe’s Plague Year, and it was analysed by Dr. Creighton in his work on Epidemics. Dr. Payne printed an edition of the tract in 1894. Mr. Brayley reprinted from the Intelligencer, July 31, 1665, the following curious advertisement:—

‘Whereas Wm. Boghurst, apothecary at the White Hart, in St. Giles’ in the Fields, hath administered a long time to such as have been afflicted with the plague, to the number of 40, 50, or 60 patients a day, with wonderful success, by God’s blessing upon certain excellent medicines which he hath, as a water, a lozenge, etc. Also an electuary antidote, of but 8d. the oz. price. This is to notify that the said Boghurst is willing to attend any person infected and desiring his attendance, either in city, suburbs or country, upon reasonable terms, and that the remedies above mentioned are to be had at his house or shop, at the White Hart aforesaid.’

Boghurst gives a good deal of information in his book regarding the signs of the disease, and its treatment; and he describes the spread of the disease in London as follows:—

‘The winds blowing westward so long together, from before Christmas until July, about seven months, was the cause the plague began first at the west end of the city, as at St. Giles’, St. Martin’s, Westminster. Afterwards it gradually insinuated and crept downe Holborne and the Strand, and then into the city, and at last to the east end of the suburbs, soe that it was halfe a yeare at the west end of the city before the east end and Stepney was infected, which was about the middle of July. Southwark being the south suburb, was infected almost as soon as the west end. The disease spread not altogether by contagion at first, nor began at only one place, and spread further and further as an eating spreading soare doth all over the body, but fell upon severall places of the city and suburbs like raine, even at the first at St. Giles’, St. Martin’s, Chancery Lane, Southwark, and some places within the city, as at Proctor’s House.’

Dr. Payne writes: ‘It has always been a question whether the repeated recurrences of plague in Europe were to be attributed to re-introduction of the virus from the East, or to a fresh awakening of a virus already endemic,’ and then alludes to Boghurst’s local explanation of the origin of the 1665 plague. He concludes his Introduction by saying: ‘It seems probable that London still contained sufficient plague virus to start a fresh epidemic, when the local and temporary conditions were favourable. The only temporary conditions of this kind that we know of are, first, the rapid growth of population in London, which caused terrible overcrowding, and must have overtasked the ordinary measures of sanitation; and, secondly, the long drought in the spring of 1665, which is referred to by Boghurst. The importance of this latter fact has been explained by Dr. Creighton, in accordance with Pettenkofer’s laws, but, on the other hand, the great plague year of 1625 was remarkably wet. The question is still one for discussion, and it may be left to the judgment of the reader, guided by the valuable materials which Boghurst contributes.’

From 1348 to 1665 plague was continually occurring in London, but it has not appeared since the last date on anything but a small scale.[179] It has been supposed that in the Great Fire the seeds of the disease were destroyed, but this is not a conclusive reason, and fears were expressed as to its possible reappearance in London after the plague of Bombay in 1896-1897; and the plague of Marseilles in the summer of 1720 created a panic throughout Western Europe. Renewed attention was paid to the London plague of 1665, and in 1722 Defoe wrote his renowned Journal of the Plague Year.

We have no thoroughly trustworthy statistics of the earlier plagues, but Dr. Creighton gives particulars of the visitations in London in 1603, 1625 and 1665 in one table:—

To these may be added that, in 1593, 11,503 persons died of the plague. The figures of 1603 and 1625 in some reports differ from the above.[180]

Some of the plagues devastated the whole country, so that there was no place for the Londoner to fly to for safety, but in others the danger was more generally confined to London. In 1665 there were many places that the Londoner could visit with considerable chance of safety, but Queen Elizabeth in her reign would have none of this moving about. Stow says that in the time of the plague of 1563 ‘a gallows was set up in the market-place of Windsor to hang all such as should come there from London. No wares to be brought to, or through, or by Windsor; nor any one on the river by Windsor to carry wood or other stuff to or from London, upon pain of hanging without any judgment; and such people as received any wares out of London into Windsor were turned out of their houses and their houses shut up.’

Monke, Duke of Albemarle, and Samuel Pepys were two of the most prominent public servants who remained in London during the plague of 1665. The clergy and the doctors fled with very few exceptions, and several of those who stayed in town doing the duty of others as well as their own fell victims to the disease.

Dr. Hodges, author of Loimologia, enumerates among those who assisted in the dangerous work of restraining the progress of the infection the learned Dr. Gibson, Regius Professor at Cambridge, Dr. Francis Glisson, Dr. Nathaniel Paget, Dr. Peter Barwick, Dr. Humphrey Brookes, etc. Of those he mentions, eight or nine fell in their work, among whom was Dr. Wm. Conyers, to whose goodness and humanity he bears the most honourable testimony. Dr. Alexander Burnett, of Fenchurch Street, one of Pepys’s friends, was another of the victims.[181]

Sweating Sickness.—The sweating sickness did not appear until the end of the Middle Ages, viz., the year 1485, when the Battle of Bosworth was fought, and there were five outbreaks of the epidemic up to 1551, after which date it did not appear again in England. Dr. Creighton has taken some pains to trace the origin of the disease. He writes: ‘The history of the English sweat presents to the student of epidemics much that is paradoxical although not without parallel, and much that his research can never rescue from uncertainty. Where did this hitherto unheard of disease come from? Where was it in the intervals from 1485 to 1508, from 1508 to 1517, from 1517 to 1528, and from 1528 to 1551? What became of it after 1551? Why did it fall mostly on the great houses—on the King’s Court, on the luxurious establishments of prelates and nobles, on the richer citizens, on the lusty and well-fed, for the most part sparing the poor? Why did it avoid France when it overran the Continent in 1529? No theory of the sweat can be held sufficient which does not afford some kind of answer to each of these questions, and some harmonising of them all.’[182]

Those who wish to follow these inquiries must consult Dr. Creighton’s book. Suffice it to say here that the author is of opinion that suspicion falls justly upon the foreign mercenaries who landed with Henry Tudor at Milford Haven on the 6th of August 1485 as the carriers of the disease.[183]

Dr. Creighton found among the British Museum manuscripts (Addit. MSS., No. 27, 582) a treatise on the Sudor Anglicus, or English Sweat, dedicated to Henry VII. by the author, Thomas Forrestier, M.D., a native of Normandy, who lived for a time in London. Stow says that the sickness began in London on the 21st September, and continued till the end of October, ‘of the which a wonderful number died’; but Forrestier gives the date as the 19th.

The second sweat was in 1508, when many died in the city. In August public prayers were made at St. Paul’s on account of the plague of sweat. The third epidemic was in 1517, and the fourth in 1528. On the 5th of June of the latter year, Sir Brian Tuke wrote to Bishop Tunstall that he had fled to Stepney ‘for fear of the infection,’ a servant having died in his house. Anne Boleyn, her brother George and her father caught the infection and recovered. Her brother-in-law, William Cary, died at Hunsdon. A large number of persons caught the disease, but a very considerable proportion recovered.

The fifth and last outbreak was in 1551, and it is interesting to note that Dr. John Caius, the famous physician, wrote a treatise on it. Dr. Norman Moore[184] describes this as ‘the first original treatise published in England, by which I mean the first treatise in which the modern idea of observing the disease and writing a complete account of what was actually seen was carried out.’

In Machyn’s Diary it is said that ‘there died in London many merchants, and great rich men and women, and young men and old of the new sweat’; and Sir Thomas Speke and Sir John Wallop are instanced among others. Hancocke, a minister of Poole, Dorset, refers to ‘the posting sweat that posted from town to town thorow England, and was named “Stop-gallant,” for it spared none. For there were some dancing in the Court at nine o’clock that were dead at eleven.’

In taking stock of diseases and epidemics in London, we may note that many of the pestilences previous to the Black Death were due to famine. Dr. Creighton says of the year 1258 that ‘so great was the pinch in London from the failure of the crops and the want of money that fifteen thousand are said to have died of famine and of a grievous and widespread pestilence that broke out about the Feast of the Trinity, 19th May.’ The number is that given by Matthew Paris, and Dr. Creighton adds: ‘It suggests a larger population in the capital than we might have been disposed to credit. The same writer says that London was so full of people when the Parliament was sitting in the year before (1257) that the city could hardly hold them all in her ample bosom. The Annals of Tewkesbury put the whole mortality from famine and fever in London in 1258 at 20,000, but the whole population did not probably exceed 40,000.’[185]

Small-pox and measles were not known to the ancients, and the latter seems to have been first noted in the fourteenth century.

Of later diseases the name of influenza is Italian of the eighteenth century, but Dr. Creighton refers to several epidemics which may have been the same disease as those of 1173, 1427, 1510 and 1557. The ‘new disease’ of 1643 was either typhus or influenza.

Sanitation

Having considered the condition of medical practice at the hospitals and among private patients, and having also reviewed the particulars of some of the chief epidemics, we shall now be better able to understand the sanitary condition of mediæval London, and the means taken to keep it clean. There can be little doubt that strenuous attempts were made at different periods to improve its condition.

We may allow at once that old London was not a clean or healthy town, as we understand these words now, but there can be little doubt that it was in advance of most other towns.

Dr. Poore is rather severe in his estimate of the health of mediæval London; he considers the situation of the city fairly good from a sanitary point of view. It was not healthy, however, because of its marshy surroundings. Ague and dysentery were always present and very fatal. Scurvy was very prevalent before the introduction of the potato by Hawkins.[186]

William Clowes, the well-known Elizabethan surgeon of St. Bartholomew’s, was also surgeon to Christ’s Hospital, and in his day twenty or thirty children had the scurvy at a time in the latter house, a fact due to a diet largely composed of fish and other salted provisions, with a scanty allowance of vegetables.

‘There can be no doubt that down to the commencement of the present century London was a veritable fever-bed, the causes of death being largely malarial fever, spotted or typhus fever, plague, small-pox, measles, scarlet fever, and whooping cough, the two latter being comparatively recent introductions.’[187]

Another source of the unhealthiness of London is supposed by Dr. Poore to be due to a soil soaked with the filth of centuries, by which means the wells were probably infected.

Dr. Creighton takes a much more favourable view of the condition of London, and he writes: ‘Nuisances certainly existed in mediæval London, but it is equally certain that they were not tolerated without limit.’[188] It is also probable that the polluted condition of the soil inside and outside the houses has been greatly exaggerated.

There was overcrowding in some quarters of London, but in most parts there were gardens and plenty of fresh air. Many of the streets were used as markets, and they were mostly left in a very untidy state, but attempts were made to cleanse them.

The worst parts of the town were the lanes leading down to the river. The bad state of these places was constantly complained of, but we must always remember that complaints and legal actions are evidence to some extent that in the end the evils were abated.

Very little is recorded when affairs go straight, as all are contented to let them remain as they are, but when things go wrong we are all anxious to raise complaints, and too much weight must not be given to the supposed universality of these evils. We do not judge of the general manners and morals of the country by the cases in the law courts and the police courts.

Some of the evils, of which a description has come down to us, were doubtless the cause of remedial measures being adopted. The streets soon after the Conquest must have been in a very rotten condition, if we are to judge from some accounts that have come down to us.

Stow relates in his Chronicle that in the great tempest of November 17, 1090, when 606 houses were beaten down by the wind in London, the roof of St. Mary le Bow in Cheapside ‘being raised with the beames thereof were carryed in the ayre a great while, and at the last sixe of the sayde beames were driven with their fall so fast in the ground, that there appeared of some of them the seventh, and of some the eyght part, to wit, but foure foote above the ground; which beames or rafters were seaven and twentie or eyght and twentie foote long, which was a wonderful to see them so pierce the ground [not paved then with stone], and there to stand in such order as the workmen hadde placed them on the church.’ There these beams remained as obstructions until they were cut even with the ground.

Little appears to have been done in general sanitation until the reign of Henry III., but it has been said that the sanitary reforms of the reign of Edward I. were as great as the reforms effected in the law and constitution. It is satisfactory to learn that it was the example of this great King which made the use of the bath popular among his subjects. In Riley’s Memorials there are several references to sanitary ordinances at this time. In 1281 regulations were made that no swine and no stand or timber were from henceforth to be found in the streets. The swine were to be killed and the stands and timber forfeited. Melters of tallow and lard were turned out of their warehouses in Cheapside in 1283. The watercourse of Walbrook was to be made free from dung and other nuisances in 1288. Swine still wandered about the streets, and in 1292 four men whose names are given in Letter Book C were elected and sworn ‘to take and kill such swine as should be found wandering in the King’s highway, to whomsoever they might belong, within the walls of the city and the suburbs thereof.’ The Earl of Lincoln complained to Parliament in 1307 as to the state of the River Fleet, and the gist of his complaint is reported by Stow: ‘Whereas in times past, the course of water running at London under Holborne bridge and Fleete bridge into the Thamis, had beene of such large breadth and depth, that ten or twelve ships at once with merchandises were wont to come to the foresaide bridge of Fleete and some of them to Holborne bridge; now the same course (by filth of the tanners and such other) was sore decayed. Also by raysing up of wharffes, but especially by turning of the water, which they of ye new Temple made to their milles without Baynard Castle, and divers other perturbations, the said shippes now could not enter as they were wont, and as they ought, wherefore hee desired that the Maior of London, with the Sheriffes and certaine discreete Aldermen, might be appointed to see the course of the said water, and that by oth of honest men all the foresaid hindrances might be removed, and to bee made as it was wont of old time.’[189]

In the second year of Edward II.’s reign (1309) a proclamation was issued for cleansing the streets, which were more encumbered with filth than they used to be, and penalties were enforced against those who neglected their duty in this matter.[190] Between forty and fifty years after this we have evidence that one of the main thoroughfares of the city was in a very bad state. On August 22, 1358, Isabella, the widowed Queen of Edward II., died at Hertford Castle, and in the following November she was buried in the Church of the Grey Friars. In order that the passage of the body through the city should be carried out with any decency, it was necessary to enact that Bishopsgate Street and Aldgate Street should be cleansed of ordure and other filth.[191]

Dr. Creighton criticises the public regulations, and writes: ‘There are several orders of Edward III. relating to the removal of laystalls and to keeping the town ditch clean, which show, of course, that there was neglect, but at the same time disposition to correct it. It is farther obvious that the connection between nuisances and the public health was clearly apprehended. The sanitary doctrines of modern times were undreamt of; nor did the circumstances altogether call for them. The sewers of those days were banked-up watercourses, or shores, as the word was pronounced, which ran uncovered down the various declivities of the city to the town ditch and to the Thames. They would have sufficed to carry off the refuse of a population of some forty or sixty thousand; they were, at all events, freely open to the greatest of all purifying agents, the oxygen of the air; and they poisoned neither the water of the town ditch (which abounds in excellent fish within John Stow’s memory), nor the waters of Thames.’[192]

This seems exactly to explain the sanitary condition of the city, and we must never forget that the streets were cleared by means of surface drainage, which carried the refuse of the city to the river, to find its way to the sea at last. The streets were evidently fairly well attended to in ordinary times, and it is not for those who have polluted the Thames and made the streams into covered sewers to point the finger of scorn at the evils allowed by their ancestors, who at all events kept the Thames pure.

The proclamations and ordinances issued for the proper cleansing of the streets of London were very numerous, but the first sanitary act that appears in the Statutes of the Realm was passed in the seventeenth year of Richard II. (1388), the preamble of which Dr. Creighton prints.[193] From this and other sources, it appears that one of the chief evils complained of was due to the blood and offal in the shambles of Newgate Street.

It is impossible to mention here all the information that has come down to us as to what was done to secure a satisfactory sanitation, but special reference may be made to the useful abstract in Riley’s Introduction to the Liber Albus.[194]

‘Kennels were pretty generally made about a century after the date of Fitz-Ailwine’s Assize, on either side of the street (leaving a space for the footpath), for the purpose of carrying off the sewage and rain water. There were two kennels in Cheapside at a period even when nearly the whole of the north side was a vacant space. The kennels, too, of Cornhill are frequently mentioned. By reiterated enactments it was ordered that the highways should be kept clean from rubbish, hay, straw, sawdust, dung, and other refuse. Each householder was to clear away all dirt from his door, and to be equally careful not to place it before that of his neighbours. No one was to throw water or anything else out of the windows, but was to bring the water down and pour it into the street. An exception, however, to this last provision seems to have been made in the case of fishmongers, for we find injunctions frequently issued... that they shall on no account throw their dirty water into the streets, but shall have the same carried to the river.’

It was the duty of each alderman to cause to be elected in Wardmote four respectable men to keep the roads clean and free from obstructions.[195] The same duties were carried out at another time by a Court of Scavagers, who apparently were originally Custom House officers. The scavagers had to see that the work was done, and the labourers who actually cleansed the streets were called ‘Rakyers.’ In an Ordinance of the time of Edward III. we learn that twelve carts, each with two horses, were kept at the expense of the city for the removal of sewage and refuse.[196]

CHAPTER VIII

The Governors of the City

We know remarkably little as to how the government of London was carried on before the Conquest, but probably the course of procedure was not very different from what was the practice immediately after that great event.

When William the Conqueror granted the first charter to London, he addressed the Bishop and the Portreeve.[197] The former as ecclesiastical governor, and the latter as the civil governor.

It has been a generally received opinion that there was a succession of portreeves until the first appointment of a Mayor, but Mr. Round believes that the title of portreeve disappears after the Conqueror’s charter.[198] In this opinion he is opposed to the view of both Bishop Stubbs and Mr. Loftie. It is necessary to bear in mind that a reeve was an officer appointed by the King, just as the sheriffs (or shire reeves) of the various counties are still so appointed. There has been some difference of opinion as to the meaning of the title Port-reeve. It might at first sight be supposed to refer to the Port of London, but this is not the received opinion. Bishop Stubbs writes: ‘The word port in port-reeve is the Latin porta (not portus), where the markets were held, and although used for the city generally, seems to refer to it specially in its character of a mart or city of merchants.’[199]

The City of London obtained from Henry I. the right of appointing their own sheriffs, which was a very great privilege, and there must have been some very strong reason to induce the King to grant this great favour. Bishop Stubbs writes of this charter of Henry I. to the citizens of London: ‘The privileges of the citizens of London are not to be regarded as a fair specimen of the liberties of ordinary towns, but as a sort of type and standard of the amount of municipal independence and self-government at which the other towns of the country might be expected to aim. At a period at which the other towns were just struggling out of the condition of demesne, the Londoners were put in possession of the ferm or farm of Middlesex, with the right of appointing the sheriff; they were freed from the immediate jurisdiction of any tribunal except of their own appointment, from several universal imposts, from the obligation to accept trial by battle, from liability to misericordia or entire forfeiture, as well as from tolls and local exactions such as ordinary charters specify. They have also their separate franchises secured and their weekly courts, but they have not yet the character of a perpetual corporation or Communa, and thus although possessing, by virtue of their associations in guilds, of their several franchises, of their feudal courts, and of their shire organisation under the sheriff, many elements of strength, consolidation and independence, they have not a compact organisation as a municipal body. The city is an accumulation of distinct and different corporate bodies, but not yet a perfect municipality, nor although it was recognised in the reign of Stephen as a Communio, did it gain the legal status before the reign of Richard I.’[200] Mr. Round shows, however, that the city possessed the privilege only for a short time: ‘We see then that in absolute contradiction of the received belief on the subject, the shrievalty was not in the hands of the citizens during the twelfth century (i.e., from ‘1101’), but was held by them for a few years only, about the close of the reign of Henry I. The fact that the sheriffs of London and Middlesex were, under Henry II. and Richard I. appointed throughout by the Crown, must compel our historians to reconsider the independent position they have assigned to the city at that early period. The Crown, moreover, must have had an object in retaining this appointment in its hands. We may find it, I think, in that jealousy of exceptional privilege or exemption which characterised the régime of Henry II. For, as I have shown, the charters to Geoffrey remind us that the ambition of the urban communities was analogous to that of the great feudatories, in so far as they both strove for exemption from official rule. It was precisely to this ambition that Henry II. was opposed; and thus, when he granted his charter to London, he wholly omitted, as we have seen, two of his grandfather’s concessions, and narrowed down those that remained, that they might not be operative outside the actual walls of the city. When the shrievalty was restored by John to the citizens (1199) the concession had lost its chief importance through the triumph of the communal principle.’[201]

Mr. Round holds that the office of Justiciar of London was created by Henry I.’s charter, and as that officer took precedence of the sheriff he must have been for a time the chief authority of the city. Mr. Round’s explanation of this position is of so much importance that it is necessary to quote it here in his own words: ‘The transient existence of the local justitiarius is a phenomenon of great importance, which has been wholly misunderstood. The Mandeville charters afford the clue to the nature of this office. It represents a middle term, a transitional stage between the essentially local shire-reeve and the central justice of the King’s court.... The justitiarius for Essex or Herts, or London or Middlesex, was a purely local officer, and yet exercised within the limits of his bailiwick all the authority of the King’s justice. So transient was this state of things that scarcely a trace of it remains.... Now, in the case of London, the office was created by the charter of Henry I. (as I contend) towards the end of his reign, and it expired with the accession of Henry II. It is, therefore, in Stephen’s reign that we should expect to find it in existence, and it is precisely in that reign that we find the office eo nomine twice granted to the Earl of Essex and twice mentioned as held by Gervase, otherwise Gervase of Cornhill.’[202]

The question of the date of the charter of Henry I. is discussed in Geoffrey de Mandeville (p. 364), and reasons are given for dating it after 1130 instead of 1100 or 1101.

Bishop Stubbs specially refers to the foreign element in London at this time thus: ‘Richard the son of Reiner, the son of Berengar, was very probably a Lombard by descent; the influential family of Bucquinte, Bucca-uncta, which took the lead on many occasions, can hardly have been other than Italian; Gilbert Becket was a Norman.’ And further, in a note, he adds: ‘Andrew of London, the leader of the Londoners at Lisbon in 1147, is not improbably the Andrew Bucquinte whose son Richard was the leader of the riotous young nobles of the city who in 1177 furnished a precedent for the Mohawks of the eighteenth century.’[203] Andrew, who was present at the transference of the Cnihtengild’s land to the Priory of Holy Trinity (1125 or 1126), was one of the witnesses of the agreement between Ramsay Abbey and Holy Trinity after that date, where his name is written ‘Bocunte.’[204] He was Justiciar of London in Stephen’s reign.[205] The Buccarelli were another Italian family whose name is said to be preserved in Bucklersbury, and Round also mentions Osbert Octodenarii (otherwise Huitdeniers), a kinsman and employer of Becket.

The origin of the Commune of London has always been an exceedingly obscure problem, but Mr. Round has succeeded in throwing a flood of light upon the subject.

In the twelfth century there was a great municipal movement over Europe. Londoners were well informed as to what was going on abroad, and thoroughly dissatisfied with the existing organisation they waited and were constantly looking for an opportunity of obtaining the privileges of the Commune. Mr. Round points out that ‘even so early as 1141, when the fortunes of the Crown hung in the balance between rival claimants, we find the citizens forming an effective Conjuratio, the very term applied to their “Commune” half a century later by Richard of Devizes. Moreover, earlier in the same year (April), William of Malmesbury applies to their government the term Communio.[206] Miss Mary Bateson has gone to the manuscript from which Mr. Round obtained the Oath of Commune (B.M. Add. MS., 14,252), and her conclusion after consideration is that ‘the collection as a whole leaves the impression that “Communio quam vocant Londoniarum” (1141), as it is styled by William of Malmesbury, was not merely a unit in the eyes of the Exchequer, that the jurisdictional unity of the city organised in folkmoot and husting gave something substantial whereon the foundations of mayoralty and Commune could be laid.’[207]

Mr. Round writes: ‘The assumption that the mayoralty of London dates from the accession of Richard I. (1189) is an absolute perversion of history,’ and he adds that ‘there is record evidence which completely confirms the remarkable words of Richard of Devizes, who declares that on no terms whatever would King Richard or his father have ever assented to the establishment of the Communa in London.’[208]

In October 1191 the conflict between John, the King’s brother, and Longchamp, the King’s representative, became acute. William of Longchamp, Bishop of Ely (1189) and Chancellor to Richard I., was once described by Henry II. as the ‘son of two traitors.’ When Richard called a Council in Normandy in February 1190 Longchamp hurried over to the King in advance of his enemies and returned to England as sole justiciar. The Pope also made him Legate.

Longchamp bitterly offended the Londoners who, finding that they could turn the scales to either side, named the Commune as the price of their support of John.

Bishop Stubbs, in his Introduction to the Chronicle of Roger de Hoveden, after referring to the negotiations between Longchamp and John, and describing the hastening of the two parties to London on Monday, 7th October, when Longchamp met the citizens in the Guildhall, writes: ‘The magnates of the city were divided—Richard Fitz-Reiner, the head of one party, took the side of John. Henry of Cornhill was faithful to the Chancellor. These two knights had been sheriffs at Richard’s coronation, and both represented the burgher aristocracy.’ Longchamp betook himself to the Tower, and a meeting was held at St. Paul’s on Tuesday the 8th, and the barons welcomed the Archbishop of Rouen as chief justiciar, and saluted John as Regent. ‘This done, oaths were largely taken: John, the justiciar and the barons swore to maintain the Communa of London; the oath of fealty to Richard was then sworn, John taking it first, then the two archbishops, the bishops, the barons, and last the burghers, with the express understanding that should the King die without issue they would receive John as his successor.’[209]

Mr. Round writes: ‘The excited citizens, who had poured out overnight, with lanterns and torches, to welcome John to the capital, streamed together on the morning of the eventful 8th October at the well-known sound of the great bell, swinging out from its campanile in St. Paul’s Churchyard. There they heard John take the oath to the “Commune” like a French King or lord; and then London for the first time had a municipality of her own.’[210] After this the influence of Longchamp at once faded away. He stood a three days’ blockade in the Tower, after which he was forced to surrender, and was deposed from all secular offices.

As to the results of this revolution Mr. Round writes: ‘Of the character of the “Commune” so granted, of its ultimate fate, and of the part it played in the municipal development of London, nothing has been really known. The only fact of importance ascertained from other sources has been the appearance of a Mayor of London at or about the same time as the grant of a “Commune.” It cannot, indeed, be proved that, as has been sometimes supposed, the two phenomena were synchronistic, for no mention of the Mayor of London, after long research, is known to me earlier than the spring of the year 1193. But there is, of course, the strongest presumption that the grant of a “Commune” involved a Mayor, and already, in 1194, we find a citizen accused of boasting that, “come what may, the Londoner shall have no King but their Mayor.’ ”[211]

Mr. Round then states very clearly the divergent views of Bishop Stubbs, Mr. Loftie and Mr. Coote on the question of the concession of the Commune. The bishop held that it was difficult to decide with certainty on the point, as no formal record of the confirmation of the Commune is now preserved. Mr. Coote believed that a charter was granted in 1191, which has been lost, and Mr. Loftie dates the mayoralty from 1189, and deemed the Commune to have been of gradual growth, and to have been practically recognised by the charter of Henry I.

In reply to Mr. Coote’s view that in the case of London, which had acquired all other things, the Commune expressed for its citizens the mayoralty only, Mr. Round writes: ‘We find, however, that on the Continent the word “Commune” did not of necessity imply a Mayor, for Beauvais and Compiègne, though constituted “Communes,” appear to have had no Mayors during most of the twelfth century. The Chroniclers, therefore, had they only meant to speak of the privilege of electing a Mayor, would not have all employed a word which did not connote it, but would have said what they meant. Moreover, his theory rests on the assumption common till now to all historians that the citizens had continuously possessed from the beginning of the twelfth century the privileges granted in the charter of Henry I. But I have shown in my Geoffrey de Mandeville that these privileges were not renewed by Henry II. or Richard I., and this fact strikingly confirms the explicit words of Richard of Devizes when he states that neither the one nor the other would have allowed the Londoners to form a “Commune” even for a million of marcs.’[212]

Of Mr. Loftie’s argument that Glanville’s words prove that London, if not other towns as well, had already a Commune under Henry II., Mr. Round remarks that it had been disposed of by Dr. Gross in his Gild Merchant (i. 102).[213]

We have now to refer specially to Mr. Round’s remarkable discovery among the manuscripts of the British Museum of the Oath of the Commune, which proves for the first time that ‘London in 1193 possessed a fully-developed “Commune” of the continental pattern.’

This discovery not only gives us information which was unknown before, but upsets the received opinions as to the early governing position of the aldermen. From this we learn that the government of the city was at that time in the hands of a Mayor and certain échevins (skivini).

Of the existence of these skivins in England no suspicion has previously been expressed. Mr. Round, indeed, points out that Dr. Gross, in his Gild Merchant, considers these governing officers as a purely continental institution.

Twelve years later (1205-1206) we learn from another document, preserved in the same volume, that ‘alii probi homines’ were associated with the Mayor and échevins to form a body of twenty-four (that is twelve skivini, and an equal number of councillors).

In these documents there is no mention of aldermen, and further information is required as to when the Court of Aldermen first came into existence. This point will be discussed later on in this chapter, when the position of the alderman as a governor is considered.

Mr. Round holds that the Court of Skivini and ‘alii probi homines,’ of which at present we know nothing further than what is contained in the terms of the oaths, was the germ of the Common Council. He prints the oaths and compares the oath of the twenty-four with that of the freemen in the present day.[214]

The striking point in this municipal revolution is that the new privileges were entirely copied from those of continental cities, and that the names of Mayor and échevins were French, thus excluding the aldermen who represented the Saxon element. Still, as time went on, the aldermen obtained their natural position in the government of London, and the foreign name of échevin sank before them.

The intimate connection between Normandy and England made it certain that Englishmen would seek inspiration from Normandy. Mr. Round has devoted considerable attention to Monsieur Giry’s valuable work, Les Etablissemens de Rouen, and shows that there is conclusive proof of the assertion that the Commune of London derived its origin from that of Rouen. The vingt-quatre of the latter city formed the administrative body annually elected to act as the Mayor’s Council. Mr. Round further found that the oath of this ‘twenty-four’ bears a marked resemblance to the oath of the London Commune discovered by him. ‘The three salient features in common are—(1) the oath to administer justice fairly; (2) the special provisions against bribery; (3) the expulsion of any member of the body convicted of receiving a bribe.[215]

Much attention has been given lately to the important question of continental influence on English municipalities, and Miss Mary Bateson has discovered that a considerable number of boroughs in England, Wales and Ireland drew their customs from the little Norman town of Breteuil.[216] These are Bideford, Burford, Chipping Sodbury, Hereford, Lichfield, Ludlow, Nether Weare, Preston, Ruyton, Shrewsbury; Llanvyllin, Rhuddlan, Welshport; Drogheda, Dungarvan, Kildare and Rathmore. Besides these there are eight suspected cases and a number of derived cases.[217]

Although the fact that the Council of twenty-four seemed to exclude the already existing aldermen from the chief government of the city was opposed to our previous views, Mr. Round has set himself to show that a Mayor’s Council of twenty-four (not aldermen) was not unusual, and he draws especial attention to the case of Winchester. There the Mayor had a Council of twenty-four, who continued to exist down to the year 1835. This Council was elected by the city as a whole and not by the wards, and Mr. Round believes that this was also the case in London. He then quotes from Dean Kitchin’s book on Winchester (Historic Towns) where it is said: ‘The aldermen, in later days, the civic aristocracy, were originally officers placed over each of the wards of the city and entrusted with the administration of it.... It was not till early in the sixteenth century that they were interposed between the Mayor and the twenty-four men.’ We learn from Mrs. Green (Town Life in the Fifteenth Century) that there was a Council of twenty-four at Colchester, Ipswich, Leicester, Northampton, Norwich, Oxford, Wells, and Yarmouth.

When the city obtained the long-coveted privilege of the Commune and the power of electing their own Mayor, one would naturally expect the electors to choose the most distinguished citizen. We cannot however say whether Henry Fitz-Ailwin was that. At all events, he seems to have retained the esteem of the city, as he was continued in office until his death in 1212.