rom cellar to cockloft, with outcasts whose
life was one long war with society. The best part of the population
consisted of debtors who were in fear of bailiffs. The rest were
attorneys struck off the roll, witnesses who carried straw in their
shoes as a sign to inform the public where a false oath might be
procured for half a crown, sharpers, receivers of stolen goods, clippers
of coin, forgers of bank notes, and tawdry women, blooming with paint
and brandy, who, in their anger, made free use of their nails and their
scissors, yet whose anger was less to be dreaded than their kindness.
With these wretches the narrow alleys of the sanctuary swarmed. The
rattling of dice, the call for more punch and more wine, and the noise
of blasphemy and ribald song never ceased during the whole night. The
benchers of the Inner Temple could bear the scandal and the annoyance no
longer. They ordered the gate leading into Whitefriars to be bricked up.
The Alsatians mustered in great force, attacked the workmen, killed one
of them, pulled down the wall, knocked down the Sheriff who came to keep
the peace, and carried off his gold chain, which, no doubt, was soon in
the melting pot. The riot was not suppressed till a company of the Foot
Guards arrived. This outrage excited general indignation. The City,
indignant at the outrage offered to the Sheriff, cried loudly for
justice. Yet, so difficult was it to execute any process in the dens of
Whitefriars, that near two years elapsed before a single ringleader was
apprehended. [788]

The Savoy was another place of the same kind, smaller indeed, and less
renowned, but inhabited by a not less lawless population. An unfortunate
tailor, who ventured to go thither for the purpose of demanding payment
of a debt, was set upon by the whole mob of cheats, ruffians and
courtesans. He offered to give a full discharge to his debtor and a
treat to the rabble, but in vain. He had violated their franchises;
and this crime was not to be pardoned. He was knocked down, stripped,
tarred, feathered. A rope was tied round his waist. He was dragged naked
up and down the streets amidst yells of "A bailiff! A bailiff!" Finally
he was compelled to kneel down and to curse his father and mother.
Having performed this ceremony he was permitted,--and the permission was
blamed by many of the Savoyards,--to limp home without a rag upon him.
[789] The Bog of Allen, the passes of the Grampians, were not more
unsafe than this