re trouble to the City. The king tried to be as despotic as his
father, and resolved to break the Whig love of freedom that prevailed
among the citizens. Loyal as some of the citizens seem to have been,
King Charles scarcely deserved much favour at their hands. A more
reckless tyrant to the City had never sat on the English throne. Because
they refused a loan of L100,000 on bad security, the king imprisoned
twenty of the principal citizens, and required the City to fit out 100
ships. For a trifling riot in the City (a mere pretext), the mayor and
aldermen were amerced in the sum of L6,000. For the pretended
mismanagement of their Irish estates, the City was condemned to the loss
of their Irish possessions and fined L50,000. Four aldermen were
imprisoned for not disclosing the names of friends who refused to
advance money to the king; and, finally, to the contempt of all
constitutional law, the citizens were forbidden to petition the king for
the redress of grievances. Did such a king deserve mercy at the hands of
the subjects he had oppressed, and time after time spurned and deceived?

In 1661, the year after the Restoration, Sir John Frederick (Grocer),
mayor, revived the old customs of Bartholomew's Fair. The first day
there was a wrestling match in Moorfields, the mayor and aldermen being
present; the second day, archery, after the usual proclamation and
challenges through the City; the third day, a hunt. The Fair people
considered the three days a great hindrance and loss to them. Pepys, the
delightful chronicler of these times, went to this Lord Mayor's dinner,
where he found "most excellent venison; but it made me almost sick, not
daring to drink wine."

Amidst the factions and the vulgar citizens of this reign, Sir John
Lawrence (Grocer), mayor in 1664, stands out a burning and a shining
light. When the dreadful plague was mowing down the terrified people of
London in great swathes, this brave man, instead of flying quietly,
remained at his house in St. Helen's, Bishopsgate, enforcing wise
regulations for the sufferers, and, what is more, himself seeing them
executed. He supported during this calamity 40,000 discharged servants.
In 1666 (the Great Fire) the mayor, Sir Thomas Bludworth (Vintner),
whose daughter married Judge Jeffries, is described by Pepys as quite
losing his head during the great catastrophe, and running about
exclaiming, "Lord, what can I do?" and holding his head in an exhausted
and helpless w