ok offence at Sir John
Lyon, the Lord Mayor, coming in state, with his sword up, and the sword
was dragged down as he passed through the cloisters. The same sort of
affray took place again in 1669, when Lord Mayor Peake came to Sir
Christopher Goodfellow's feast, and the Lord Mayor had to be hidden in a
bencher's chambers till, as Pepys relates, the fiery young sparks were
decoyed away to dinner. The case was tried before Charles II., and
Heneage Finch pleaded for the Temple, claiming immemorial exemption from
City jurisdiction. The case was never decided. From that day to this
(says Mr. Noble) a settlement appears never to have been made; hence it
is that the Temples claim to be "extra parochial," closing nightly all
their gates as the clock strikes ten, and keeping extra watch and ward
when the parochial authorities "beat the bounds" upon Ascension Day.
Many struggles have taken place to make the property rateable, and even
of late the question has once more arisen; and it is hardly to be
wondered at, for it would be a nice bit of business to assess the
Templars upon the L32,866 which they have returned as the annual rental
of their estates.

A third riot was with those ceaseless enemies of the Templars, the
Alsatians, or lawless inhabitants of disreputable Whitefriars. In July,
1691, weary of their riotous and thievish neighbours, the benchers of
the Inner Temple bricked up the gate (still existing in King's Bench
Walk) leading into the high street of Whitefriars; but the Alsatians,
swarming out, pulled down as fast as the bricklayers built up. The
Templars hurried together, swords flew out, the Alsatians plied pokers
and shovels, and many heads were broken. Ultimately, two men were
killed, several wounded, and many hurried off to prison. Eventually, the
ringleader of the Alsatians, Captain Francis White--a "copper captain,"
no doubt--was convicted of murder, in April, 1693. This riot eventually
did good, for it led to the abolition of London sanctuaries, those dens
of bullies, low gamblers, thieves, and courtesans.

As the Middle Temple has grown gradually poorer and more neglected, many
curious customs of the old banquets have died out. The loving cup, once
fragrant with sweetened sack, is now used to hold the almost superfluous
toothpicks. Oysters are no longer brought in, in term, every Friday
before dinner; nor when one bencher dines does he, on leaving the hall,
invite the senior bar man to come and take wine