On the 15th June, 1727, the Court of Aldermen were informed by Sir John Eyles, the lord mayor, that he had received an order of council dated from Leicester House (the residence of the Prince of Wales) for his lordship and the Court to attend at eleven o'clock the next morning at Temple Bar for the purpose of proclaiming King George II. The Court thereupon agreed to be present, and instructed the lord mayor to see that they were allowed to follow in the procession immediately after the lords of the council.[74] Proclamation having been duly made the mayor and aldermen, accompanied by the Recorder, waited upon the king with an address, and afterwards proceeded to pay their compliments to the queen.[75] Another address had been drawn up by a joint committee of aldermen and common councilmen on behalf of the Common Council. But when it was submitted for approval the aldermen insisted upon exercising their right of veto—recently confirmed by parliamentary authority—and as they and the commons failed to agree on the several clauses of the address it had to be abandoned altogether. The mayor was asked to summon another court, "in pursuance to common usage and ancient right," to consider another address, but after consultation with the aldermen he declined to accede to the request.[76]

The coronation did not take place until October. The ceremony was one of far greater splendour than that of George I, such pageants being "as pleasing to the son as they were irksome to the father."[77] The City put in its customary claims, which were duly allowed. The manner in which these claims were made, as set out in a report made to the Court of Aldermen by the city Remembrancer, whose duty it was to make them, was shortly this. Having first obtained the names of the masters of the twelve superior companies, he put in two claims—written on parchment, and stamped with a treble sixpenny stamp—for the usual services in attendance upon the king and queen. The claims being allowed, he obtained certificates to that effect, and on presenting them at the lord great chamberlain's office he received warrants to the master of the king's jewel office for two gold cups, each weighing 21 ozs. One of these, the king's cup, he conveyed to the lord mayor; the other, the queen's cup, he left until after the ceremony, "for note"—says he—"they were not nor are they used to be carryed down to Westminster Hall to be made use of on that solemnity." The coronation over, the Remembrancer applied for and received from the Clerk of the Crown a copy of the judgments on the several claims.[78]

According to custom the king attended the first lord mayor's banquet after his accession. He was accompanied by the queen, the royal family, the great officers of state, and a large number of the nobility.[79] The entertainment was signalised by what appears to have been a barefaced attempt at extortion on the part of the king's own cup-bearer who made a claim on the City for a silver cup (or its value) by way of fee. The matter having been brought to the notice of the Court of Aldermen, the Town Clerk was instructed to search the city's Records for precedents, and upon his reporting that he had failed to find one the claim was dismissed.[80] The new king, like his father, ordered £1,000 to be paid to the sheriff for the relief of insolvent debtors.[81]

The day that the king was invited to the lord mayor's banquet the Common Council resolved to set up his statue at the Royal Exchange.[82] Eventually they commissioned Charles Jervas, an Irish painter and pupil of Kneller, to paint portraits both of the king and queen for the Guildhall. Jervas had been originally apprenticed to a frame maker, and this may account for the anxiety he displayed to put the portraits into better frames than was usual. To do this he asked for and obtained the consent of the Court of Aldermen.[83] The pictures now hang in the members' reading room at the Guildhall.[84]

For a short time after the king's accession it appeared as if Walpole's ascendancy was to be suddenly cut short. The minister was fortunate, however, in winning over the queen to his interests, and her influence, combined with his own masterful tact, turned the scale in his favour, and he was allowed to remain at the head of affairs. Before long he succeeded in gaining the entire confidence of the king himself, but during the lifetime of the queen it was chiefly to her that the minister turned in times of difficulty. She was a woman of considerable ability, and thoroughly appreciated Walpole, and together they were able to avoid many political pitfalls and to persistently carry out that policy of peace which characterised the whole of this reign.

Thus it was that in 1730, when the government was placed in an unpleasant dilemma over an attempt that was being made by Dissenters throughout the country to obtain the repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts Walpole took counsel with the queen, and these two laid a plan with Hoadley, Bishop of Salisbury, for getting the Dissenters to postpone bringing their petition before parliament. The plan as we learn from Lord Hervey,[85] who had every means of making himself acquainted with the inner workings of the Court of George II, was this. Hoadley, in whom the Dissenters placed much confidence as an avowed advocate of ecclesiastical as well as civil liberty, was to do all he could to persuade them to postpone, at least for a short time, their petition to parliament, whilst Walpole was to see that the committee of London Dissenters, which was to be chosen to confer with government, should comprise none but creatures of his own. The scheme succeeded entirely. The Dissenters were hoodwinked. The packed committee went through the form of an interview with the ministers, and in due course reported to the general assembly of Dissenters that the time was inopportune for petitioning parliament. The general body agreed, and the ministry was thus saved.

Although it was chiefly as a financier that the great minister, under whom England enjoyed an unexampled period of peace and prosperity, excelled, it was a financial reform that nearly brought him to ruin three years later. This was his famous Excise Bill. In a hasty desire to curry favour with the landowners by reducing the Land Tax Walpole proposed to establish a new system of levying duties on tobacco and wine. The tax itself was not new, but only the manner of levying it. Hitherto the duty on wine and tobacco had been payable on importation. The new proposal was that these commodities should be allowed to lie in bonded warehouses duty free until taken out for home consumption, when their sale was to be restricted to shops licensed for the purpose. In other words the customs' duties on these commodities were to be changed into excise duties, a form of taxation especially hateful in those days, as seeming to infringe the rights of the subject by giving revenue officers the right of entering and searching houses at any hour without further warrant. The City and the country were up in arms, and the city members of parliament were instructed to oppose the Bill for reasons set out in writing and delivered into their hands.[86]

Walpole delayed bringing in the Bill as long as he could in hopes that the clamour against it—"epidemic madness," as Hervey called it—might subside. Neither London nor the kingdom, however, would listen to reason, and the universal cry was No slavery—no excise—no wooden shoes![87] When the Bill was at last introduced (14 March) it met with violent opposition, and more particularly from two of the city members, viz., Sir John Barnard and Micaiah Perry. During the debate the doors of the House were besieged by such a noisy crowd that Walpole in an unguarded moment characterised the mob as "sturdy beggars." This at once brought Barnard to his feet, and although there was at first a disposition not to hear him, as he had already spoken to the Bill, the House was prevailed upon to give him a second hearing, owing to his position as a representative of "the greatest and richest city in Europe," and a city greatly interested in the issues of the debate. Barnard thereupon took Walpole severely to task for the expression he had let drop. "The honourable gentleman," said he, "talks of sturdy beggars; I do not know what sort of people may be now at the door, because I have not lately been out of the House, but I believe they are the same sort of people that were there when I came last into the House, and then I can assure you that I saw none but such as deserve the name of sturdy beggars as little as the honourable gentleman himself, or any gentleman whatever." Sturdy beggars or not (he declared in conclusion) they could not legally be prevented from coming down to the House. After some further debate Walpole gained the day, and on the 4th April the Bill was read a first time.[88]

Before the Bill came on for its second reading a copy of it had been laid before the Common Council (9 April), and a petition had thereupon been drawn up and presented to the House asking that the City might be heard by counsel against the Bill.[89] After long debate the prayer of the petition was refused, but only by a bare majority of seventeen.[90] By this time the clamour had become so great, even the army showing signs of disaffection, that Walpole, true to his principle of expediency, the key-note of his policy, resolved to purchase peace by concession. He postponed the further consideration of the Bill (11 April) for a period of two months, and afterwards withdrew it altogether. On leaving the House the day that the motion for postponement was carried the minister was mobbed. The affair was little more than an "accidental scuffle," but it was studiously represented to parliament as "a deep-laid scheme for assassination." Resolutions were passed condemning in strong terms all actors and abettors of the outrage, and the city members were especially directed to carry copies to the lord mayor for publication within his jurisdiction—the City being considered as the real author of all the mischief.[91]

The defeat of the Bill was received with extravagant joy, and in 1734 it was proposed to celebrate its anniversary in the city with bonfires. For this purpose subscriptions were invited through the medium of the press. The mayor, Sir William Billers, on learning this consulted the Court of Aldermen as to what was best to be done under the circumstances, and by their advice he issued his precept for a special watch to be kept, and for the arrest of all persons attempting to make bonfires or to create disorder.[92] Notwithstanding this precaution a riot broke out, and Billers not only had his windows broken, on account of his obnoxious precept, but was himself pelted with dirt and stones, whilst patrolling the streets in company with the Swordbearer. Insult was added to injury by the newspapers of the day holding him up as having himself been the real cause of all the disorder. The Court of Aldermen, on the other hand, accorded him a hearty vote of thanks for the courage he had displayed.[93] On going out of office Billers again became an object of attack, the mob pelting him with all kinds of filth and endeavouring to smash his coach. The Court of Aldermen were so indignant at this outrage that they offered a reward of £50 for every offender brought to justice.[94]

In 1734 the princess royal was married to the Prince of Orange, and two years later the Prince of Wales married the Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha. On both occasions the City presented congratulatory addresses.[95] Lord Hervey, the king's vice-chamberlain, was highly indignant at the first address because of the reference it made to King William III. But if the City sinned in this respect it sinned in good company, for Oxford University and other corporate bodies made similar allusions. "The city of London," wrote Hervey,[96] "the University of Oxford, and several other disaffected towns and incorporated bodies took the opportunity of the princess royal's marriage to say the most impertinent things to the king, under the pretence of complimental addresses, that ironical zeal and couched satire could put together. The tenor of them all was to express their satisfaction in this match from remembering how much this country was indebted to a prince who bore the title of Orange, declaring their gratitude to his memory, and intimating as plainly as they dared, how much they wished this man might follow the example of his great ancestor, and one time or other depose his father-in-law in the same manner that King William had deposed his." Happily the king took a more sensible view of the address, and vouchsafed a gracious reply. So far from being offended at the City's allusion to William of Orange he was pleased. "It is a great pleasure to me," he said, "to see this great metropolis remember with so much gratitude the deliverance of these kingdoms from popery and slavery by my great predecessor King William."[97] Soon after the marriage of the Prince of Wales he was presented with the Freedom of the City in a gold box, having previously been admitted a member of the Saddlers' Company.[98]

For nearly twenty years England had enjoyed uninterrupted peace at home and abroad. The last action in which an English force had been engaged had taken place in the summer of 1718, when Admiral Byng defeated a Spanish fleet off Cape Passaro. Since then trade had been flourishing, and the city merchant had been busily sending cargoes of English merchandise across the sea to the West Indies, paying little regard to the restrictions imposed on them by the provisions of the Treaty of Utrecht.[99]

Spain on the other hand insisted upon the right of search, and their coastguards had often seized English vessels suspected of smuggling, and were sometimes reported as having brutally ill-used their crews.[100] Matters were fast tending to an open rupture when the episode of Jenkin's ear roused an intense desire for war both in the city and the country generally. The story is well known. Jenkin was master of a small trading vessel which seven years before had been overhauled by a Spanish guarda-costa. Irritated at finding nothing contraband on board the Spanish commander is said to have cut off one of Jenkin's ears, bidding him carry it to the king. Jenkin took advantage of the prevalent feeling against Spain to exhibit his ear wrapt in cotton wool, and when asked as to his feelings at the time of the outrage declared that he had commended his soul to God and his cause to his country. This clap-trap story—it is shrewdly suspected that Jenkin lost his ear in the pillory—had the desired effect. Popular indignation was roused, and the nation clamoured for war.

To all this Walpole turned a deaf ear, and instead of proclaiming war opened negotiations for peace. A Convention with Spain was agreed to, but as it left the question as to right of search still unsettled, great opposition was displayed, both in and out of parliament, to its ratification. The minister was in the greatest straits. His best friend and supporter, the queen, had recently died, and the king, freed from the peaceful influence of his wife, as well as the City, were urging war. It was not often that the Londoners called for war, they were too interested in commercial pursuits not to appreciate to the full the blessings of peace. But on this occasion the City felt bound to make a strong representation to parliament as to "the fatal consequences of leaving the freedom of navigation any longer in suspense and uncertainty." They had too much reason to fear (they said) that if the right claimed by Spain of searching British ships at sea were admitted in any degree "the trade of his majesty's subjects to America will become so precarious as to depend in a great measure upon the indulgence and justice of the Spaniards, of both which they have given us for some years past such specimens as we humbly think this nation can have no cause to be satisfied with."[101] The citizens were probably right, although they were held up to much ridicule for venturing to give advice upon affairs of state. During the debate on the convention, lists of the members of the Common Council, with their respective trades or companies, were scattered abroad, and to these lists were appended texts from scripture to the effect that however useful such men might be in a city "they shall not be sought for in public council."[102]

One citizen in particular distinguished himself by advocating war in a poem of greater length than merit. This was Richard Glover,[103] known as "Leonidas" Glover (from another poem he wrote bearing that title), author of "London, or the Progress of Commerce," in which he reminds the citizens of their former prowess at Newbury, and asks—

Besides being an "eminent Hamburgh merchant" and a writer of verse, Glover took an active part in city elections, and was a strong upholder of the rights of the livery. On Michaelmas-day, when Sir George Champion, who sat for Aylesbury, was put in nomination for the mayoralty and rejected chiefly, if not wholly, on account of his having voted for the Convention,[104] Glover was asked to move a vote of thanks to the city members, for having opposed the Convention. This he did in a spirited speech, in which he referred to Champion's chance of election to the mayoralty as being in all probability for ever lost, a prediction which proved true.[105]

Although the Convention was carried, it became apparent that either war must be declared or Walpole resign. The minister's love of power overcame his convictions, and he allowed himself to be dragged into a war which he felt at the time to be unjustifiable and foreboding of evil. The declaration of war which was made in October was welcomed with peals of bells from London churches. "They ring their bells now," said he, "before long they will be wringing their hands." When the outgoing mayor received instructions from the Duke of Newcastle to assist at the proclamation of war according to custom, he demurred on the ground that the town clerk had been unable to find a precedent for the Court of Aldermen attending a proclamation of war; but upon the Duke referring him to what had taken place when war was declared in 1718 against Spain, the objection was withdrawn. A question next arose as to the place the civic authorities should occupy in the procession, and the Remembrancer was instructed to make enquiries on the point both at the secretary's office and the Heralds' College. The information gathered by him proving unsatisfactory, the Court of Aldermen took it upon themselves to decide that the civic party should fall in immediately after Garter King-at-Arms. This order, however, was not carried out, for the Horse Guards thrust themselves into the procession in front of the municipal officers.[106]

At the outset of the war fortune favoured British arms, and in November, Admiral Vernon succeeded in surprising and capturing the town of Porto Bello, situate on the Isthmus of Darien (Panama). The City was delighted and presented the king with the usual congratulatory address.[107] Such a feat the citizens declared would not only serve to show that the maritime power of the country, although allowed to lie dormant so long, was still capable of vindicating the honour of the crown, but also gave promise of future successes, and they assured the king that he might depend upon them to contribute towards the support of a war so necessary for the protection of their long injured trade.

As for Vernon, he became a popular idol with the citizens, who continued to look upon his single success whilst they turned a blind eye to his many subsequent failures. Not only was he presented with the Freedom of the City in a gold box, but his birthday was for some years kept with general rejoicing.[108] His capture of Porto Bello was made the subject of a poem by Glover—his one readable ballad—under the title of "Admiral Hosier's Ghost," in which Vernon's good fortune is compared with the ill-luck which attended Hosier's expedition to the West Indies in 1726, when, doomed to inaction by orders from home, that gallant officer saw the greater part of his men swept off by disease, and he himself died subsequently of a broken heart.[109]

When Michaelmas-day again came round Glover was again to the fore. It was customary for the livery to hold a preliminary meeting either at the London Tavern or some company's hall before they met in Common Hall. On this occasion the meeting was held in Vintners' Hall, and Glover took the chair. The business of the day having been opened by a speech from the chairman, in which he referred to the rejection of Sir George Champion the previous year, and exhorted them to choose a mayor for the year ensuing who would be agreeable to the majority of the citizens, the livery proceeded to choose Sir Robert Godschall and George Heathcote, although they were not the senior aldermen below the chair.[110] There names were accordingly submitted to the full body of the livery assembled in Common Hall on Michaelmas-day and were accepted.[111] It now became the duty of the Court of Aldermen to select one of these two to be mayor for the year ensuing. Godschall was the senior, and Heathcote particularly desired not to be chosen on the plea of ill-health, and because he had so recently served sheriff. Nevertheless the choice of the aldermen was declared to be for Heathcote, although he repeated his request not to serve. A Common Council was thereupon summoned to consider the matter, and it was eventually resolved that Heathcote should be discharged without fine.[112]

This necessitated the summoning another Common Hall, and another accordingly met on the 14th October. A preliminary meeting of the livery took place, as before, at Vintners' Hall, and again Glover was in the chair. The action of the Court of Aldermen in thus passing over Godschall merely because the livery had refused to nominate Champion, was strongly condemned by the chairman, who no less strongly eulogised the action of Heathcote for refusing to serve—a refusal which emanated, according to the speaker, not from ill-health, but from a determination not to fill the place of the rejected Godschall.[113] When the election came on in Common Hall the livery returned Godschall for the third time, and with him Humphrey Parsons who had served mayor ten years before. Again Godschall was passed over by the Court of Aldermen, and Parsons was called to the mayoralty chair for the second time, although by the bare majority of one vote.[114]

The Common Council were desirous (22 Oct.) of passing a vote of thanks to Parsons for again accepting a laborious and expensive office, "and thereby endeavouring in some measure to restore the peace and tranquility of this city which has been greatly disturbed by a late extraordinary and unusual proceeding." A A long debate arose, some of the aldermen present insisting upon their right of a negative voice in the matter; and upon the question being put to them, the words in italics were vetoed by twelve aldermen to one.[115] Those aldermen who had previously voted for Godschall and a large number of the Common Council had already got up and left the Court.[116]

In 1741 a general election took place. Parsons, who had sat in the last two Parliaments with Sir John Barnard, had, in the meantime, died during his mayoralty, and had been succeeded in the civic chair by Daniel Lambert.[117] Barnard retained his seat, and with him were returned the new mayor, and Aldermen Godschall and Heathcote. The ministry still retained a majority in the House, but it was not always to be depended upon.

Early in the following year two petitions were laid before Parliament complaining of the manner in which the trade of the country was being ruined owing to insufficiency of convoys. One petition—drafted by Glover—was from merchants of the city, and was presented to Parliament by Godschall,[118] who had at last succeeded in becoming mayor; and the other was from the Common Council of the city, and was presented by the sheriffs.[119] Both petitions were referred to a committee of the whole House, with Godschall in the chair, and in due course the House instructed the lord mayor and Sir John Barnard to prepare a Bill for the better protecting and securing the trade and navigation of the kingdom in time of war.[120]

A Bill was accordingly prepared, which passed rapidly through the Commons but was thrown out by the Lords.[121] This was almost the last parliamentary business on which Godschall was engaged, for he died during his mayoralty in the following June.

Whilst these petitions were under consideration the ministry suffered a defeat over an election petition, and Walpole resigned (17 Feb.). With the great "corrupter" removed the City hoped for great things. The Common Council had, previously (10 Feb.) made a "representation" to the city members urging them to promote a Place Bill and a Pension Bill, as well as the repeal of the Septennial Act, and so secure the constitution "against all future attempts either of open or secret corruption or of any undue influence whatsoever."[122]

After some difficulty a new ministry was formed in which Carteret soon became the leading man. The City continued to look for the execution of the long-wished-for reforms, but looked in vain. It was the old story. Men who when out of office breathed the spirit of patriotism and virtue were anything but virtuous and patriotic in office. Again were the city members urged by another "representation" to press forward certain measures and not to vote supplies until the government showed some signs of moving in the direction required.[123] The example of the City was followed in other places, and copies of the "representation" were freely circulated in all parts of the country. The newspapers of the day, whilst lamenting the condition into which the country had fallen through "the iniquitous administration of the late corrupter," expressed their confidence that the example set by London—"the source and fountain head of all our wealth and trade"—would continue to have, as it had already had, its proper influence both within and without doors.[124]

When Carteret came into power, Europe was distracted with the war of the Austrian succession, and before long England was drawn into the vortex. Whilst France embraced the cause of the Elector of Bavaria, England supported Maria Theresa. In June, 1743, the French army was defeated at Dettingen, when, for the last time, a king of England appeared in the field of battle at the head of his men, and bore himself right royally. Louis retaliated by promising assistance to Charles Edward Stuart, known in history as the Young Pretender, who meditated an invasion of England to claim the crown.

Information of the project having been communicated to Parliament (15 Feb., 1744), both Houses concurred in an address of loyalty to the king, promising him their utmost support, and the next day the Common Council voted a similar address.[125] The deputation which waited upon his majesty with the City's address met with a gracious reception, and the king conferred the honour of knighthood upon the mayor (Robert Westley), the recorder (Simon Urling), two aldermen, (viz., Daniel Lambert and Robert Willimot), and the two sheriffs, Robert Ladbroke and William Calvert,[126] the latter of whom had succeeded to Godschall's seat in Parliament as one of the members for the city. Before the end of the month the lord mayor was informed by letter from the Privy Council that extensive preparations were being made at Dunkirk, in concert with disaffected persons in this country, for an invasion, and it behoved his lordship to put into operation the Acts against papists and non-jurors.[127] The aspect of affairs began to look black indeed. "If they still attempt the invasion," wrote Walpole to his friend, "it must be a bloody war."[128] The danger that seemed so imminent passed away owing to a violent storm which destroyed the French transports, and England was thus again saved from foreign invasion by the difficulties of the channel passage.[129] Nevertheless on the 29th March, war was declared against France.[130]

Though bitterly disappointed at the failure of this expedition the prince did not lose courage, but resolved in the following year (1745) to cross over to Scotland unsupported by France, and to trust to the loyalty of his friends there. Landing in the western highlands with a mere handful of followers he gradually drew to his side a small force, and on the 19th August set up his standard in Glenfinnan. On the 4th September the Duke of Newcastle (brother of Pelham, who had recently succeeded Carteret in the premiership) informed the lord mayor by letter of the Pretender having set up his standard and of his then being on his way to Perth or Edinburgh. The king was assured, he said, that the mayor would do his utmost to preserve the peace and the security of the city.[131] Both the Common Council and the Court of Aldermen presented addresses to the king in testimony of their loyalty to the constitution of Church and State, and both bodies in return received assurances of royal favour and promises of protection for their trade and commerce.[132] The London merchant and trader had been the greatest gainers by the Revolution and the policy of peace pursued by Walpole. It would have been base ingratitude, if nothing else, had the City acted otherwise at this important crisis. Dr. Gardiner points out that it was much the same in Scotland, and that the traders there, having profited by the Union, were to a man staunch Hanoverians.

On the 17th September the prince entered Edinburgh and took up his quarters at Holyrood House. A few days later he succeeded in defeating an English force under Sir John Cope at Preston Pans, and thus encouraged he prepared to cross the border and to appeal to England for support. The news caused a run upon the Bank of England, and had it not been for the praiseworthy promptitude of the leading London merchants who met and passed a formal resolution pledging themselves to support the credit of the bank's notes, its doors would probably have been closed.[133]

Again fortune favoured England. The prince delayed his march so long, collecting money and organising his forces, that time was gained for putting London into a state of defence. A camp was formed at Finchley[134] to intercept the rebels, and subscription lists were opened in London and the country for the soldiers who were to be engaged in the coming winter campaign. The Common Council voted £1,000 to the fund,[135] but England as a whole was strangely apathetic. Carteret, the late prime minister, who had, on the death of his mother recently, become Viscount Carteret and Earl Granville, refused to subscribe anything to the fund, and a similar indifference to the country's danger was displayed by others of the aristocracy.[136] By Wednesday, the 4th December, the Pretender had succeeded in evading the English forces sent to oppose him under the command of Wade and the Duke of Cumberland and had entered Derby, where he seized all the money he could lay his hands on, including the subscriptions that had been raised to oppose him.[137]

The news of the rebels being within 150 miles of the capital reached London on Friday, the 6th December—"Black Friday," as it came to be called. The Duke of Newcastle immediately wrote off to the lord mayor informing him of the fact of the Pretender's forces having already reached Derby "in their way, as they give out, towards London." The Duke of Cumberland, the letter went on to say, was making every effort to intercept the rebels at Northampton, and part of his cavalry would be there that night and the rest the next day, when the foot soldiers were also expected. The mayor was desired to take immediate steps, in the meantime, for the defence of the city, in case the duke failed to place himself between the rebels and London. The letter having been communicated to a special Court of Aldermen on Saturday it was resolved to issue precepts for returns to be made by the following Monday of the number of coach and saddle horses found in each ward. The trained bands were to take up their quarters in the Royal Exchange, whilst a portion of Bridewell Hospital was to serve as a guard-room for the night guard appointed by the commissioners of lieutenancy. The two city marshals were to be instructed to visit the night watches in the several wards and to see that the constables did their duty.[138] All was excitement and activity. The king prepared to go to the camp at Finchley to take command of the guards. The weavers of London offered to supply him with 1,000 men, whilst the lawyers formed themselves into a little army under the command of Chief Justice Willes, and offered to serve as a body-guard to the royal family during the king's absence.[139] Another run was made upon the Bank of England, which again had to resort to strategem (as in 1720) in order to avert bankruptcy. Instead of refusing payment the Bank employed agents for the express purpose of presenting notes which, in order to gain time, were cashed in sixpences; "and as those who came first were entitled to priority the agents went out at one door with the specie they had received and brought it back by another, so that the bon fide holders of notes could never get near enough to present them."[140]

Fortunately the crisis was soon over, the Pretender had scarcely reached Derby before he reluctantly accepted the advice of his commanders and ordered a retreat. Under the circumstances it was perhaps the best thing to do. The English armies were gradually closing in upon him, this country had shown no disposition to rise in his favour, and the Duke of Cumberland was, as we have seen, hastening towards Northampton to bar his passage to the capital.

The citizens were not slow to realise how much they owed to the duke for their protection, and on the 23rd January (1746) the Common Council resolved to present him with the Freedom of the City in a gold box, both for his "magnanimous" behaviour against the rebels, as well as for his vigilant care in protecting the city "in a late time of imminent danger."[141]

Some time elapsed before the duke was able to receive the freedom, for as soon as he was aware that the rebels were in retreat, he hurried off in pursuit. After defeating General Hawley at Falkirk (17 Jan., 1746) the rebels retired towards Inverness, but in April they were brought to bay by the duke at Culloden Moor and utterly defeated. The duke was a man of violent passions, and his victory was marked with so much wanton cruelty and bloodshed, that he acquired the name of the Butcher. This name he never lost, and when it came to his taking up the Freedom of the City, some one was bold enough to suggest the propriety of his becoming a member of the Butchers' Company.[142]

Cruel as the duke's conduct had been, it had the effect of crushing the rebellion. London and the kingdom could once more breathe freely, and the citizens could follow their commercial pursuits without fear of further abortive attempts being made to restore the crown to the Stuarts. Instead of blaming the duke for his drastic measures, they applauded him and formally thanked the king for giving him the command, "Permit us, Sir"—they said, addressing his majesty—"to return our most unfeigned thanks ... for the appointment of his royal highness the duke to this important service, whose conduct and bravery (so early conspicuous) have by the blessing of the Almighty produced this our happy deliverance: a glory reserved for one of your illustrious family, endowed with those princely qualities which render him amiable to those under his command, and formidable to his enemies." They, at the same time assured his majesty that it would be always their firm resolution, no less than their indispensable duty "to oppose every attempt of the common disturbers of the peace of Europe" against the rights of his crown.[143]

One effect of the rebellion was to strengthen the hands of the government. The subscription lists that had been opened during the crisis were the means of displaying to the world who were Jacobites and who were not, and when the general election came on in the summer of 1747 it went hard with those who entertained Jacobite proclivities. Barnard and Culvert retained their seats for the city, but Slingsby Bethell and Stephen Theodore Janssen were returned in place of Lambert and Heathcote. "Both Westminster and Middlesex have elected court candidates," wrote Walpole to his friend,[144] "and the city of London is taking the same step, the first time of many years that the two latter have been whig; but the non-subscribing at the time of the rebellion, has been most successfully played off upon the Jacobites."

The rebellion had also a considerable effect upon the war on the continent, for the Austrians, deprived of English succour, lost nearly the whole of their possessions in the Netherlands to France. The French, however, were unsuccessful in Italy, whilst at sea the English navy attacked their colonial possessions, and captured the island of Cape Breton. All parties being ready to come to terms, a peace was at length concluded (Oct., 1748) at Aix-la-Chapelle on the general principle of restitution of all conquests.[145]

From the time when Henry Pelham succeeded Carteret (Nov., 1744) as Prime Minister, the strife of parties was lulled by the simple expedient of admitting into office any man capable of rendering himself dangerous to the government. Pelham's administration thus became distinguished as the Broad-bottomed Administration. Upon his death in March, 1754, the era of tranquillity passed away. He was succeeded in the Premiership by his brother the Duke of Newcastle. Already there was danger of war with France, as well as opposition at home, but with the assistance of Charles Fox, Newcastle contrived to get through the year. Before another twelvemonth had elapsed, however, England was again threatened with a French invasion.[146]

On the 11th November (1755) the lords of the council wrote to Slingsby Bethell, who had just entered upon his mayoralty, instructing him to call out the whole of the City's militia for immediate service. The letter was laid before a special Court of Aldermen on Saturday, the 15th, when it was resolved to summon the Commissioners of Lieutenancy to meet that afternoon, and a special court of Common Council for the following Tuesday.[147] The Common Council having assembled on the day named the Lord Mayor communicated to them the contents of the letter he had received. A motion was thereupon made for applying to Parliament for a more effectual National Militia Bill, but a debate arose, and the matter was adjourned for further consideration. On the 25th the debate was resumed, but upon being put to the vote the motion was lost. Nevertheless, a Bill for better ordering the militia of the country was introduced into Parliament the following spring and passed (10 May, 1756), but the City's militia was exempted from the Bill.[148]

Newcastle was not the man to conduct a great war. A fresh election had taken place soon after his appointment as first lord of the treasury, and the result had given the ministry a handsome majority. Nevertheless, so helpless was he that he could devise no better plan for saving the country from invasion than by importing Hessian and Hanoverian mercenaries. Worse than this, his proposal was adopted, although Pitt left a sick bed on purpose to go down to the House and solemnly protest against such a course.[149]

A proposal, made by the chancellor of the exchequer, Sir George Lyttelton, to impose a tax upon plate, for the purpose of raising supplies, was reasonable enough, but it met with opposition not only from Pitt but also from the City,[150] partly on account of the existing inland duties being already sufficiently heavy and partly because this particular tax would teach servants to become informers. At the same time the citizens avowed themselves ready to hazard their lives and their fortunes in support of the king and the Protestant succession.[151]

The threatened invasion was only a trick played by the French king to draw off attention from the real object of attack—the capture of Minorca. Owing to dilatoriness on the part of the ministry Byng was despatched too late to save the island. This loss excited the utmost indignation. The cry was loud against the government, but louder still against Byng, who was accused of rank cowardice, if not treachery. Newcastle was content to make a scapegoat of the admiral, and ordered him home under arrest to await trial. The feeling of disgust which prevailed in the city at Byng having withdrawn to Gibraltar without hazarding a brush with the enemy manifested itself by the display of a placard at the Royal Exchange advertising Three kingdoms to be let.[152] Whilst Byng awaited his trial, popular clamour, throughout the country rose to such a pitch that at last war was declared (17 May, 1756). In August the citizens again assured the king of their readiness to shed their last drop of blood and contribute all that might be necessary for the defence of the kingdom and colonies, but they none the less expressed an eager hope that Byng and those who were responsible for losses in America should be brought to punishment.[153]

The recent failures and the general weakness and incapacity of Newcastle irritated the country to such a degree that the ministry became frightened, and in October (1756) Fox, who for the last year had undertaken the duties of the leadership in the House of Commons, resigned. At this juncture the Common Council again drew up a "representation" for the guidance of the city's representatives in parliament.[154] First and foremost they were to insist upon a strict and impartial parliamentary enquiry into the causes of the recent disasters at Minorca and in North America, which had rendered the British name contemptible; and in the next place they were to seize the earliest opportunity of urging the necessity of establishing a constitutional militia and of ridding the country of those foreign mercenaries, whose numbers had been constantly increasing, whose support had become an intolerable expense, and who claimed to be above the law of the land. They were to vote for no supplies until this were done. They were further instructed to endeavour to limit the number of placemen and pensioners, which of late had so remarkably increased; to restore at a proper season triennial parliaments, as being the only means of obtaining a free representative of the people; to keep an eye on the proper application of public money; and finally to see that the country did not become involved in continental affairs so as to threaten its independence.

This representation was not without its effect. In November Newcastle resigned, and Pitt, although nominally only secretary of state under the Duke of Devonshire, became virtually prime minister. He had not been many weeks in office before he gratified the City by sending the Hanoverian and Hessian troops out of the country, as well as by passing a Bill for re-organising the national militia.

Just as the year was drawing to a close Byng was brought to trial. Owing to a comparatively recent change that had been made in the articles of war the court found itself compelled to bring in a verdict of guilty without any imputation on the personal courage of the admiral.[155] The extent of his criminality was that he had failed to do all that might have been done to save Minorca. Pitt, who was no favourite with the king, was courageous enough to plead for a royal pardon, but the king turned a deaf ear. The country deemed itself betrayed, and called for a victim. The timorous Newcastle had long promised a deputation of citizens that Byng should be speedily brought to justice. "Oh! indeed he shall be tried immediately, he shall be hanged directly."[156] The trial had taken place, and although the court that tried him had shown an unmistakable desire to treat him with leniency, the City began to show signs of impatience and clamoured for his death. Papers bearing the words "Shoot Byng, or take care of your king" are even said to have appeared posted up in the Royal Exchange.[157] The citizens had their wish. The sentence was carried out, and Byng was shot on the quarterdeck of the "Monarque" at Portsmouth (14 March, 1757).

Soon after this Pitt was dismissed. His dismissal was the signal for a general ebullition in his favour. The Common Council presented both him and Legge (who had served under him as chancellor of the exchequer) with the Freedom of the City and gold boxes, in testimony of their conduct during their "honourable tho' short administration." The City declared its appreciation of the noble efforts of these ministers "to stem the general torrent of corruption and revive by their example the almost extinguished love of virtue and our country," their zeal in promoting a full and impartial enquiry into the real causes of the late disasters in America and the Mediterranean, and lastly their efforts to support the glory and independence of Great Britain, the true interests of the crown and the rights and liberties of the subject.[158] The example thus set by the city of London was followed by other corporations in such quick succession that for some weeks, as Lady Hervey wittily remarked, "it rained gold boxes."

The king tried to get Newcastle, with his subservient band of supporters, to accept office again, but the duke could not make up his mind whether to resume office or not, and for nearly three months the country was without any ministry at all. At last a compromise was arranged in June between Pitt and Newcastle,[159] whereby the former undertook all affairs of state, leaving to Newcastle the business of patronage, such as his soul loved. Pitt threw himself heartily into the war, determined to raise the national spirit. His task, however, was a difficult one, owing to the incompetency of those he found in command. Thus, for instance, an attempt to take Rochefort failed through dissension between Admiral Hawke and General Mordaunt. The Common Council were on the point of considering the advisability of addressing the king on the subject, when the mayor informed them that one of the clerks of the Privy Council had waited on him at the Mansion House to inform him that directions had already been given for an enquiry into the cause of the recent miscarriage; and so the matter was allowed to drop.[160]

Thanks to Pitt's military reforms and to the confidence he inspired, the remainder of the reign was marked by a series of successes culminating in the conquest of Canada. In the summer of 1759 the French again threatened an invasion, but it caused no alarm. A new spirit had been breathed into the nation and animated both services. The City resolved to open a subscription list at the Guildhall for encouraging the enlistment of recruits, and to contribute £1,000 towards the fund. By way of further encouragement the Freedom of the City was offered gratuitously to every soldier who should produce to the chamberlain a testimonial of his good behaviour during his term of service, and who should wish to be admitted to the privilege of exercising a trade within the city and liberties. A committee was appointed to make the necessary arrangements for carrying out the enlistments, and Pitt was desired to lay these resolutions before his majesty as an humble testimony of the City's zeal and affection for king and government.[161] The king commissioned Pitt to thank the City on his behalf, and to express the satisfaction he felt at this signal proof of the City's resolution to support the war.[162] The money raised between August, 1759 and June 1760, amounted to a little over £7,000, which was distributed in bounties to 1,235 men, enlisted for the term of the war with France, at five guineas a head. The livery companies subscribed to the fund: the Grocers' contributing 500 guineas, the Goldsmiths' and the Fishmongers' respectively £500, the Clothworkers' £300, and other companies lesser sums. The names of Pitt himself and of Legge also appear as having each subscribed £100.[163]

But of all the achievements abroad at this time none caused so much joy as the capture of Quebec (Sept., 1759). The City once more embraced the opportunity of presenting a congratulatory address to the king, at the same time expressing deep regret at the loss of so gallant an officer as Wolfe.[164] A year later it again offered its congratulations on the complete conquest of Canada,[165] promising to assist in the preservation of that valuable acquisition, and "to prosecute the various and extensive services" of the just and necessary war. Pitt was delighted with the address. "The address of the city of London," he wrote to Grenville, "will speak for itself, and I believe you will think that it speaks loud enough to be heard at Paris.... How it was heard at Kensington you need not be told, as the address is big with a million in every line. Were it able to produce an advantageous peace it would be most happy; next to that, such generous and warm assurances of supporting the war cannot but give the highest satisfaction to government."[166] Within ten days of listening to the address the king died (25 Oct.).

On the last day of the month the first stone was laid of Blackfriars Bridge. The bridge was originally known as Pitt Bridge, and bore an inscription in Latin and English testifying the City's affection for the great statesman who had done so much to restore the ancient reputation of the British empire,[167] whilst the approach to the bridge was for some years known as Chatham Place.