lected, perished in the
flames. His only comfort was that the host in his chapel was rescued
from the same fate. [578]

The morning of the twelfth of December rose on a ghastly sight. The
capital in many places presented the aspect of a city taken by
storm. The Lords met at Whitehall, and exerted themselves to restore
tranquillity. The trainbands were ordered under arms. A body of cavalry
was kept in readiness to disperse tumultuous assemblages. Such atonement
as was at that moment possible was made for the gross insults which
had been offered to foreign governments. A reward was promised for the
discovery of the property taken from Wild House; and Ronquillo, who
had not a bed or an ounce of plate left, was splendidly lodged in the
deserted palace of the Kings of England. A sumptuous table was kept for
him; and the yeomen of the guard were ordered to wait in his antechamber
with the same observance which they were in the habit of paying to the
Sovereign. These marks of respect soothed even the punctilious pride of
the Spanish court, and averted all danger of a rupture. [579]

In spite, however, of the well meant efforts of the provisional
government, the agitation grew hourly more formidable. It was heightened
by an event which, even at this distance of time, can hardly be related
without a feeling of vindictive pleasure. A scrivener who lived at
Wapping, and whose trade was to furnish the seafaring men there with
money at high interest, had some time before lent a sum on bottomry. The
debtor applied to equity for relief against his own bond; and the case
came before Jeffreys. The counsel for the borrower, having little else
to say, said that the lender was a Trimmer. The Chancellor instantly
fired. "A Trimmer! where is he? Let me see him. I have heard of that
kind of monster. What is it made like?" The unfortunate creditor was
forced to stand forth. The Chancellor glared fiercely on him, stormed at
him, and sent him away half dead with fright. "While I live," the poor
man said, as he tottered out of the court, "I shall never forget that
terrible countenance." And now the day of retribution had arrived.
The Trimmer was walking through Wapping, when he saw a well known face
looking out of the window of an alehouse. He could not be deceived. The
eyebrows, indeed, had been shaved away. The dress was that of a common
sailor from Newcastle, and was black with coal dust: but there was no
mistaking the savage eye and mouth of