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Ebook has 621 lines and 58073 words, and 13 pages

"The Committee has prepared these votes. All persons shall pay one shilling per poll, all aliens two, all Nonconformists and papists two, all servants one shilling in the pound of their wages, all personal estates shall pay for so much as is not already taxed by the land-tax, after twenty shillings in the hundred. Cattle, corn, and household furniture shall be excepted, and all such stock-in-trade as is already taxed by the land-tax, but the rest to be liable."

Stringent work! Later on we read:--

"Three shillings in the pound for all offices and public employments, except military; lawyers and physicians proportionate to their practice."

Here is the income-tax long before Mr. Pitt.

The House of Lords, trembling on the verge of a breach of privilege, altered this Poll Bill. Marvell writes in January 1667:--

The Lords agreed, and the Bill passed.

It is always agreeable to be reminded that however large a part of our history is composed of the record of passion, greed, delusion, and stupidity, yet common-sense, the love of order and of justice , have usually been the predominant factors in our national life, despite priest, merchant, and party.

Nowhere is this better illustrated than by two measures to which Marvell refers as Bills "for the prevention of lawsuits between landlord and tenant" and for "the Rebuilding of London." Both these Bills became law in February 1668, within five months of the great catastrophe that was their occasion. Two more sensible, well-planned, well-drawn, courageous measures were never piloted through both Houses. King, Lords and Commons, all put their heads together to face a great emergency and to provide an immediate remedy.

The Bill to prevent lawsuits is best appreciated if we read its preamble:--

"Whereas the greatest part of the houses in the City of London having been burnt by the dreadful and dismal fire which happened in September last, many of the Tenants, under-tenants, and late occupiers are liable unto suits and actions to compel them to repair and to rebuild the same, and to pay their rents as if the same had not been burnt, and are not relievable therefor in any ordinary course of law; and great differences are likely to arise concerning the Repairs and rebuilding the said houses, and payment of rents which, if they should not be determined with speed and without charge, would much obstruct the rebuilding of the s^d City. And for that it is just that everyone concerned should bear a proportionate share of this loss according to their several interests wherein in respect of the multitude of cases, varying in their circumstances, no certain general rule can be prescribed."

This court sat in Clifford's Inn, and was usually presided over by Sir Matthew Hale, whose skill both as an arithmetician and an architect completed his fitness for so responsible a position. Within a year the work was done.

The Act for rebuilding the City is an elaborate measure of more than forty clauses, and aimed at securing "the regularity, safety, conveniency and beauty" of the new London that was to be. The buildings were classified according to their position and character, and had to maintain a prescribed level of quality. The materials to be employed were named. New streets were to be of certain widths, and so on. This is the Act that contains the first Betterment Clause: "And forasmuch as the Houses now remaining and to be rebuilt will receive more or less advantage in the value of the rents by the liberty of air and free recourse for trade," it was enacted that a jury might be sworn to assess upon the owners and others interested of and in the said houses, such sum or sums of money with respect of their several interests "in consideration of such improvement and melioration as in reason and good conscience they shall think fit."

It takes nothing short of a catastrophe to suspend in England, even for a few months, those rules of evidence that often make justice impossible, and those rights of landlords which for centuries have appropriated public expenditure to private gain.

The moneys required to pay for the land taken under the Act to widen streets and to accomplish the other authorised works were raised, as Marvell informs his constituents, by a tax of twelve pence on every chaldron of coal coming as far as Gravesend. Few taxes have had so useful and so harmless a life.

All this time the Dutch War was going on, but the heart was out of it. Nothing in England is so popular as war, except the peace that comes after it. The king now wanted peace, and the merchants on 'Change had glutted their ire. In February 1667 the king told the Houses of Parliament that all "sober" men would be glad to see peace. Unluckily, it seems to have been assumed that we could have peace whenever we wanted it, and the fatal error was committed of at once "laying up" the first-and second-rate ships. It thus came about that, whilst still at war, England had no fleet to put to sea. It did not at first seem likely that the overtures for peace would present much difficulty, when suddenly arose the question of Poleroone. It is amazing how few Englishmen have ever heard of Poleroone, or even of the Banda Islands, of which group it is one. Indeed, a more insignificant speck in the ocean it would be hard to find. To discover it on an atlas is no easy task. Yet, but for Poleroone, the Dutch would never have taken Sheerness, or broken the chain at Gillingham, or carried away with them to the Texel the proud vessel that had brought back Charles the Second to an excited population.

"The close cabal marked how the Navy eats And thought all lost that goes not to the cheats; So therefore secretly for peace decrees, Yet for a War the Parliament would squeeze, And fix to the revenue such a sum Should Goodricke silence and make Paston dumb. ... Meantime through all the yards their orders were To lay the ships up, cease the keels begun. The timber rots, the useless axe does rust, The unpractised saw lies buried in the dust, The busy hammer sleeps, the ropes untwine."

Parliament is got rid of to the joy of Clarendon.

"Blither than hare that hath escaped the hounds, The house prorogued, the chancellor rebounds. What frosts to fruits, what arsenic to the rat, What to fair Denham mortal chocolate, What an account to Carteret, that and more, A parliament is to the chancellor."

De Ruyter makes his appearance, and Monk

"in his shirt against the Dutch is pressed. Often, dear Painter, have I sat and mused Why he should be on all adventures used. Whether his valour they so much admire, Or that for cowardice they all retire, As heaven in storms, they call, in gusts of state, On Monk and Parliament--yet both do hate. ... Ruyter, the while, that had our ocean curbed, Sailed now amongst our rivers undisturbed; Surveyed their crystal streams and banks so green, And beauties ere this never naked seen."

His flags fly from the topmasts of his ships, but where is the enemy?

"So up the stream the Belgic navy glides, And at Sheerness unloads its stormy sides."

Chatham was but a few miles further up.

"There our sick ships unrigged in summer lay, Like moulting fowl, a weak and easy prey, For whose strong bulk earth scarce could timber find, The ocean water, or the heavens wind. Those oaken giants of the ancient race, That ruled all seas, and did our channel grace; The conscious stag, though once the forest's dread, Flies to the wood, and hides his armless head. Ruyter forthwith a squadron doth untack; They sail securely through the river's track. An English pilot too Cheated of 's pay, was he that showed them in."

The chain at Gillingham is broken, to the dismay of Monk, who

"from the bank that dismal sight does view; Our feather gallants, who came down that day To be spectators safe of the new play, Leave him alone when first they hear the gun, and to London run. Our seamen, whom no danger's shape could fright, Unpaid, refuse to mount their ships for spite, Or to their fellows swim on board the Dutch, Who show the tempting metal in their clutch."

Upnor Castle avails nought.

"And Upnor's Castle's ill-deserted wall Now needful does for ammunition call."

"That sacred Keel that had, as he, restored Its excited sovereign on its happy board, Now a cheap spoil and the mean victor's slave Taught the Dutch colours from its top to wave."

Horrors accumulate.

The situation was indeed serious enough. One wiseacre in command in London declared his belief that the Tower was no longer "tenable."

"And were not Ruyter's maw with ravage cloyed, Even London's ashes had been then destroyed."

But the Dutch admiral returns the way he came.

The poet then indulges himself in an emotional outburst.

"Black day, accursed! on thee let no man hail Out of the port, or dare to hoist a sail, Or row a boat in thy unlucky hour! Thee, the year's monster, let thy dam devour, And constant Time, to keep his course yet right, Fill up thy space with a redoubled night. When ag?d Thames was bound with fetters base, And Medway chaste ravished before his face, And their dear offspring murdered in their sight, Thou and thy fellows saw the odious light. Sad change, since first that happy pair was wed, When all the rivers graced their nuptial bed; And father Neptune promised to resign His empire old to their immortal line; Now with vain grief their vainer hopes they rue, Themselves dishonoured, and the gods untrue; And to each other, helpless couple, moan, As the sad tortoise for the sea does groan: But most they for their darling Charles complain, And were it burned, yet less would be their pain. To see that fatal pledge of sea-command, Now in the ravisher De Ruyter's hand, The Thames roared, swooning Medway turned her tide, And were they mortal, both for grief had died."

A scapegoat had, of course, to be at once provided. He was found in Mr. Commissioner Pett, the most skilful shipbuilder of the age.

"After this loss, to relish discontent, Some one must be accused by Parliament. All our miscarriages on Pett must fall, His name alone seems fit to answer all. Whose counsel first did this mad war beget? Who all commands sold through the navy? Pett. Who would not follow when the Dutch were beat? Who treated out the time at Bergen? Pett. Who the Dutch fleet with storms disabled met? And, rifling prizes, them neglect? Pett. Who with false news prevented the Gazette? The fleet divided? writ for Rupert? Pett. Who all our seamen cheated of their debt, And all our prizes who did swallow? Pett. Who did advise no navy out to set? And who the forts left unprepared? Pett. Who to supply with powder did forget Languard, Sheerness, Gravesend, and Upnor? Pett. Who all our ships exposed in Chatham net? Who should it be but the fanatic Pett?"

This outburst can hardly fail to remind the reader of a famous outburst of Mr. Micawber's on the subject of Uriah Heep.

The satire concludes with the picture of the king in the dead shades of night, alone in his room, startled by loud noises of cannons, trumpets, and drums, and then visited by the ghost of his father.

"And ghastly Charles, turning his collar low, The purple thread about his neck does show."

The pensive king resolves on Clarendon's disgrace, and on rising next morning seeks out Lady Castlemaine, Bennet, and Coventry, who give him the same advice. He knows them all three to be false to one another and to him, but is for the moment content to do what they wish.

I have omitted, in this review of a long poem, the earlier lines which deal with the composition of the House of Commons. All its parties are described, one after another--the old courtiers, the pension-hunters, the king's procurers, then almost a department of State.

"Then the Procurers under Prodgers filed Gentlest of men, and his lieutenant mild Bronkard, love's squire; through all the field arrayed, No troop was better clad, nor so well paid."

Clarendon had his friends, soon sorely to be needed, and after them,

"Next to the lawyers, sordid band, appear, Finch in the front and Thurland in the rear."

Some thirty-three members are mentioned by their names and habits. The Speaker, Sir Edward Turner, is somewhat unkindly described. Honest men are usually to be found everywhere, and they existed even in Charles the Second's pensionary Parliament:--

"Nor could all these the field have long maintained But for the unknown reserve that still remained; A gross of English gentry, nobly born, Of clear estates, and to no faction sworn, Dear lovers of their king, and death to meet For country's cause, that glorious thing and sweet; To speak not forward, but in action brave, In giving generous, but in council grave; Candidly credulous for once, nay twice; But sure the devil cannot cheat them thrice."

No member of Parliament's library is complete without Marvell, who did not forget the House of Commons smoking-room:--

"Even iron Strangways chafing yet gave back Spent with fatigue, to breathe awhile tabac."

When Clarendon was well nigh at the height of his great unpopularity, he built himself a fine big house on a site given him by the king where now is Albemarle Street. Where did he get the money from? He employed, in building it, the stones of St. Paul's Cathedral. True, he bought the stones from the Dean and Chapter, but if the man you hate builds a great house out of the ruins of a church, is it likely that so trivial a fact as a cash payment for the materials is going to be mentioned? Splendid furniture and noble pictures were to be seen going into the new palace--the gifts, so it was alleged, of foreign ambassadors. What was the consideration for these donations? England's honour! Clarendon House was at once named Dunkirk House, Holland House, Tangiers House.

Here is Marvell upon it:--

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