had as complete a civil and military organization
as if it had been an independent republic. Each
citizen had his company; and the companies, which
now seem to exist only for the sake of epicures and
of antiquaries, were then formidable brotherhoods,
the members of which were almost as closely bound
together as the members of a Highland clan. How
strong these artificial ties were, the numerous and
valuable legacies anciently bequeathed by citizens
to their corporations abundantly prove. The municipal
offices were filled by the most opulent and respectable
merchants of the kingdom. The pomp of the magistracy
of the capital was inferior only to that which surrounded
the person of the sovereign. The Londoners loved
their city with that patriotic love which is found
only in small communities, like those of ancient Greece,
or like those which arose in Italy during the middle
ages. The numbers, the intelligence, the wealth
of the citizens, the democratical form of their local
government, and their vicinity to the Court and to
the Parliament, made them one of the most formidable
bodies in the kingdom. Even as soldiers they were
not to be despised. In an age in which war is
a profession, there is something ludicrous in the
idea of battalions composed of apprentices and shopkeepers,
and officered by aldermen. But in the early part
of the seventeenth century, there was no standing
army in the island; and the militia of the metropolis
was not inferior in training to the militia of other
places. A city which could furnish many thousands
of armed men, abounding in natural courage, and not
absolutely untinctured with military discipline, was
a formidable auxiliary in times of internal dissension.
On several occasions during the civil war, the trainbands
of London distinguished themselves highly; and at
the battle of Newbury, in particular, they repelled
the fiery onset of Rupert, and saved the army of the
Parliament from destruction.
The people of this great city had long been thoroughly
devoted to the national cause. Many of them had
signed a protestation in which they declared their
resolution to defend the privileges of Parliament.
Their enthusiasm had, indeed, of late begun to cool.
But the impeachment of the five members, and the insult
offered to the House of Commons, inflamed them to
fury. Their houses, their purses, their pikes,
were at the command of the representatives of the
nation. London was in arms all night. The
next day the shops were closed; the streets were filled
with immense crowds; the multitude pressed round the
King’s coach, and insulted him with opprobrious
cries. The House of Commons, in the meantime,
appointed a committee to sit in the city, for the
purpose of inquiring into the circumstances of the
late outrage.
The members of the committee were welcomed by a deputation
of the common council, Merchant Taylors’ Hall,
Goldsmiths’ Hall, and Grocers’ Hall, were
fitted up for their sittings. A guard of respectable
citizens, duly relieved twice a day, was posted at
their doors. The sheriffs were charged to watch
over the safety of the accused members, and to escort
them to and from the committee with every mark of
honour.