onally forgot the
respect which they owed to his person. [109] He learned, with concern,
that great offence had been given to the people of London by the
injudicious act of his representative, and, much to his honour, declared
that he would forego the privilege to which, as a sovereign prince, he
was entitled, rather than endanger the peace of a great city. "I, too,"
he wrote to James, "have Protestant subjects; and I know with how much
caution and delicacy it is necessary that a Catholic prince so situated
should act." James, instead of expressing gratitude for this humane and
considerate conduct, turned the letter into ridicule before the foreign
ministers. It was determined that the Elector should have a chapel in
the City whether he would or not, and that, if the trainbands refused to
do their duty, their place should be supplied by the Guards. [110]

The effect of these disturbances on trade was serious. The Dutch
minister informed the States General that the business of the Exchange
was at a stand. The Commissioners of the Customs reported to the King
that, during the month which followed the opening of Lime Street Chapel,
the receipt in the port of the Thames had fallen off by some thousands
of pounds. [111] Several Aldermen, who, though zealous royalists
appointed under the new charter, were deeply interested in the
commercial prosperity of their city, and loved neither Popery nor
martial law, tendered their resignations. But the King was resolved
not to yield. He formed a camp on Hounslow Heath, and collected
there, within a circumference of about two miles and a half, fourteen
battalions of foot and thirty-two squadrons of horse, amounting to
thirteen thousand fighting men. Twenty-six pieces of artillery, and
many wains laden with arms and ammunition, were dragged from the Tower
through the City to Hounslow. [112] The Londoners saw this great force
assembled in their neighbourhood with a terror which familiarity soon
diminished. A visit to Hounslow became their favourite amusement on
holidays. The camp presented the appearance of a vast fair. Mingled with
the musketeers and dragoons, a multitude of fine gentlemen and ladies
from Soho Square, sharpers and painted women from Whitefriars, invalids
in sedans, monks in hoods and gowns, lacqueys in rich liveries, pedlars,
orange girls, mischievous apprentices and gaping clowns, was constantly
passing and repassing through the long lanes of tents. From some
pavilions