The Strange Death of Edmund Godfrey

by Alan Marshall

  As a bachelor, Godfrey only needed a small home establishment, but there were already signs of his growing prosperity. Gregory King, writing in the 1690s, claimed that the average number of servants the household of a man such as Godfrey should possess was around six.26 Most of them would live on the premises and would consist mainly of maidservants, a cook, housekeeper with, for the very rich, perhaps a butler, coachman and a porter. Godfrey seems not to have indulged in such luxuries, or perhaps being a bachelor he thought it cheaper to live with some three servants to perform all of the necessary functions of the household. All of his later servants were to be important witnesses to their employer’s last days – the aged Henry Moor, who became Godfrey’s clerk in the 1670s; Elizabeth Curtis, the maidservant; and Mrs Judith Pamphlin, a somewhat nosy and gossipy widow who seems to have acted as Godfrey’s housekeeper and perhaps his cook.

  Edmund Godfrey’s house was a business address as much as a home, and the yard attached to the property enabled him to become one of the most successful businessmen in the parish of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields. Godfrey’s main business was coal rather than wood, perhaps reflecting the fact that at this period the coal trade was becoming a boom market in London and Westminster.27 Coal was taken from the fields of Durham and Northumberland, and passed through a variety of hands from pit to hearth. The London market and London hearths were part of the staple of the coal trade. Fortunes could be made from coal, as fuel and warmth were vitally important in the life of the average seventeenth-century Londoner. The wholesalers, who were woodmongers and merchants such as Edmund Godfrey, were the middlemen of the trade. They acted as brokers, buying the coal from the shippers and selling it on to smaller traders and even directly to consumers. Although London’s staple fuel had originally been wood, the gradual infiltration of coal into the London market had begun in the sixteenth century and woodmongers were well placed to exploit it. By 1605 they were incorporated as the Woodmongers’ Company. As it exerted a monopoly over street transport and also took great care to exploit its position as best it could, the company became a powerful voice in City affairs.

  There is no doubt that the woodmongers’ general reputation was poor. There were constant wrangles between the Woodmongers’ Company, the Carmen, who were used to carry the fuel and the Warfingers, whose wharves they used – unless a woodmonger possessed his own. Ultimately these divisions left a bitter legacy, for although the woodmongers’ strength made them important for a time their victory proved to be short-lived. In any case most woodmongers and coal merchants were thought to be naturally dishonest and were looked upon unfavourably by London citizens. They were regularly abused and accused, and in return they engaged in fixing prices and engineering shortages to make a profit. In 1673 the anonymous author of The Grand Concern of England Explained complained that ‘I need not declare how the subjects are abused in the price of coal and how many poor have been starved for want of Fewels by reason of the horrid prices put upon them; especially in time of war, either by the merchant, or the Woodmonger, or between them both’.28 Of course, the Woodmongers’ Company denied these accusations, but its members increasing individual wealth could not be denied. London citizens, of course, naturally continued to believe the worst of them. They claimed prices were rigged and designed to bring in profit while they suffered shortages. In 1664 the court of Aldermen even set up a committee to inquire into the price of coal and the abuses of weight and measure. They found that the woodmongers had set the prices at their pleasure, bought up wharves in and about the city and leased them out under certain conditions, fixing prices and cheating in good measure into the bargain. The winter of 1666, however, caused real problems for the Woodmongers’ Company. As a result of the Great Fire of September 1666 and the very harsh winter, not to mention the continuing war with the Dutch, the price of coal rocketed. Complaints rose in proportion. The House of Commons finally took a hand and established a committee to investigate abuses in the trade.29

  Edmund Godfrey was deeply involved in this world, and he made such a name for himself that he was elected Master of the Woodmongers’ Company in the 1660s.30 He was proving to be a shrewd man of business. He was willing to put in long hours to make a handsome profit, and he had the correct proportions of gravity, shrewdness and judgment necessary for success. In 1667, however, it emerged that despite his alleged charitable nature (about which we shall shortly learn), he was not above making a profit from the poor by selling them overpriced coal. Godfrey himself was summoned before the Commons Committee touching Coals and Fuels in January 1667, and, as the Master of the Company, it was Godfrey who was found guilty (with others) of buying coal at 41s to 47s per chaldron (= 36 bushels) and selling it at 3s per bushel to the poor, making a good profit in the process. Edmund was doubly damned because most of his business lay in Westminster, and so it was thought that he had suffered little loss in the Great Fire. He was also in a doubly difficult position as Master of the Woodmongers’ Company. By December 1667, after a long wrangle between the Commons and the company, the woodmongers’ charter was finally withdrawn.31 Some years of normal prices followed and the Carmen escaped from the woodmongers’ control in the process, but the latter still formed a powerful company, especially as the tax on coal was being used to pay for the rebuilding of London after the Great Fire. In 1673 a further attempt was made to regulate the abuses of the trade and in response the woodmongers went to the press. They published a pamphlet in which they stated their case. In this broadside it was noted that ‘The Woodmongers have most of them laid out great sums of money in building houses, stables and other buildings and the rest have taken wharves and houses at great rents, and all of them have been at great charges’. Such mouthings did them little good and problems continued until 1680 when a new act was passed to regulate the trade.32

  But what were Edmund Godfrey’s characteristics as a businessman? From the slender evidence available, it seems that, like many another in his trade, he was somewhat aggressive in his dealings with others. He certainly proved reluctant to allow bad debts to grow too high. As a result he made frequent forays into the murky legal world of the Chancery in search of debtors. Indeed his attempts to have the king’s own physician Sir Alexander Fraser arrested for debt in 1669 were to backfire on him in a spectacular fashion.33 Fraser complained to the king and as a result Godfrey ended up in custody for seven days. We catch a glimpse of Godfrey in the midst of this conflict as an obstinate, somewhat dogmatic man, who stood by the law he knew and claimed to stand for people’s liberties. Godfrey’s fairly immoderate statements and his refusal to admit he was in the wrong in this case did him no good at all. As a king’s servant, Fraser possessed immunity from prosecution for debt, although that did not stop Godfrey’s continued attempts to justify his actions even when it was obvious he would gain more by keeping quiet. This incident fuelled his reputation for arrogance. On a visit to France in 1668 such an attitude had apparently already taken him close to being whipped for his pains.34 Chancery cases, as well as the sharp practices of hoarding and price fixing, were therefore known to Edmund Godfrey and in general seem to have been regarded by him as part of a successful business life.

  During these years Godfrey endured other vexed relationships. His nephew Godfrey Harrison had been brought into the business as his assistant in 1667.35 By the late 1660s Godfrey was spending some of his time in local politics, for he had been nominated as alderman in Farringdon Ward in 1664, but he was discharged on claiming a bodily infirmity and fined as a result.36 In 1666 he was nominated again, but was not elected. He also staved off his election as sheriff. In the course of all of these distractions, Godfrey seems to have left his nephew to control the business. Harrison was unused to such responsibility and the business went into a severe decline. Godfrey Harrison’s part in his uncle’s affairs ended with bad feelings. By January 1671 an ‘unnatural kindness’ existed between the pair.37 Numerous cases were launched in Chancery by Godfrey against his nephew, but they came to naught. Ed
mund Godfrey struggled to regain control of his business and remained very bitter over the affair. Not only did he lose some £4,000 from his own pocket (a fortune in contemporary terms) but he felt betrayed by a member of his own family.38

  However, other Godfrey business affairs were profitable enough. He had suffered some property losses during the course of the Great Fire, but he had engaged in a number of land deals since the 1650s to tide him over the inevitable bad patches in his trade.39 In November 1657 he had purchased some leases, and inherited others from one of his mother’s relatives’ old properties in Stanwell. These included barns, stables, an orchard, as well as gardens in the manor. A house, water mill and arable lands also came into his possession. They were promptly rented out to tenants. He bought the local inn, the Swan in Fulham, as well as lands around it. Between 1674 and 1676 he also purchased the lease to some freehold houses in Blue Cross Street, and there were even some deals in property around Brewer’s Yard on the eve of his death.40 On a wider front the Godfrey business was engaged in a number of transactions with his friend, the healer Valentine Greatrakes in Ireland.41 Land in Ireland was to be purchased from James, Duke of York (the king’s brother) through the duke’s servants Charles and Matthew Wren. Godfrey’s connections also extended to businessmen in Bristol and Dublin, while both he and Greatrakes were to invest in a rather dubious saltworks owned by Sir William Smith on the Medway. This latter deal came unstuck in 1667 when the Dutch, during their raid on the navy base in the Medway, burned the works to the ground. All in all, however, Edmund Godfrey, like many another London businessman of his day, was hardworking, usually shrewd and occasionally just a little beyond the legal limits of good business practice. This was ironic, for at the same time as he was making a profit he was also beginning to establish a name for himself as a man of the law and as justice of the peace in his parish.

  THE PARISH OF ST MARTIN’S-IN-THE-FIELDS: GODFREY, PLAGUE, CRIME AND THE VESTRY

  In the later seventeenth century Godfrey’s home parish of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields was one of the largest and most successful in England.42 The parish’s population was on the increase, as it was in much of Westminster; the area was described in the 1690s as ‘wondrous prosperous’ and by that stage some 20,000 people were estimated to be crowding into its streets and its 5,000 dwellings. The growth of the population could be witnessed in the church, the focus of parish life. St Martin’s Church, a spacious building constructed in the 1540s, had seating for some 400 parishioners, although John Evelyn had seen congregations of 1,000 or so cramming into its pews and aisles.43 If the church was crowded the parish considered itself second to none, and it was certainly one of the most prestigious in the country. Located next door to Whitehall Palace and the court, it provided homes and lodgings for innumerable courtiers, ministers and civil servants. In addition to this select group of parishioners, the close proximity of St Martin’s to the court also meant a profitable living for any cleric who occupied its pulpit. He alone could expect to receive £900 to £1,000 a year from his office.44

  The traditional social composition of the parish has been seen by most historians as one of aristocracy, courtiers, gentry and their dependents, but the parish also contained large numbers of respectable tradesmen and small businessmen, as well as growing numbers of the poor and destitute.45 St Martin’s was a centre for consumer goods and services. Food, clothes and other retail goods were produced to satisfy the many wealthier individuals and their families who lived there. Many of the small tradesmen in the parish had moved out of the City of London itself because of its high rents and lack of space, only to turn up in Westminster. Other immigrants also seized the opportunities in the area. They ranged from the prospective servant to the poor labourer. Yet a darker side to the prosperity in the parish of St Martin’s also existed. Overcrowded, airless and often verminous houses were packed with the poor and destitute. Such slums also brought with them the perennial problems of disease, crime and poverty. In this respect St Martin’s after dark was not unlike the rest of London. As we have seen, respectable folk kept to their houses after dark, or if they did venture out at night they went in carriages, aided by link-boys carrying torches to light their way through the oncoming darkness.46

  At the heart of parish life lay its government and in particular the place where the parish met: the vestry. During the Restoration and for some time afterwards the vestry of St Martin’s was a thinly disguised oligarchy.47 It had the reputation for strong and efficient government within its boundaries and the parish officers were also kept under tight control. The self-perpetuating and self-selected vestry of St Martin’s was intent upon law-abiding order and conformity. Edmund Godfrey made his first appearance at its board in January 1660 and thereafter was regularly involved in its affairs. The select vestry (they were very careful about whom they allowed to sit at the vestry table) had been confirmed by the events of 1662 in which Godfrey also played his part.48 In that year a new instrument had enabled the interested parties to regulate the vestry sufficiently to cut down the troubling influence of dissent and outside interference. Despite this, the parish was still noted for the presence of a small dissenting congregation.

  Although he was a member of the vestry almost from the moment of his arrival in the parish, Edmund Godfrey never actually took up a parish office himself. Indeed he seems to have deliberately avoided office on a number of occasions, mainly due to the expense involved rather than any lack of a sense of duty. Although it remains surprising that given his prestigious position he was able to avoid such appointments, in other spheres he was busy enough in its dealings to become known as the ‘mouth of the vestry’ when it dealt with superior authorities. He was the man to whom the other members of the vestry turned whenever they had any problems with their religious and political masters.

  In general, Godfrey’s main interest in parish affairs turned on the problems of poverty and crime. Some parts of London and Westminster were, as the novelist Henry Fielding was to note in 1751, ‘a vast wood or forest in which the thief may harbour with as great security as wild beasts do in the deserts of Arabia and Africa’.49 Disreputable areas had always existed within the metropolis and naturally rookeries of vice and poverty were to be found in Edmund Godfrey’s own parish. Indeed between St Martin’s Church, Bedford Street and Chandos Street there was one such rookery known in Ben Jonson’s day as the Bermudas and later as the Carribbee Islands.50 Within such areas the problem of poverty was rife. Families were sometimes packed into old, unstable structures with little to live on and so turned to crime or the parish relief in order to survive. The local authority responsible for such problems set up systems of relief under the provisions of the act of 1601, and the dreaded workhouse was also constructed to deal with those poor who were thought worthy enough to benefit from it. The parish authorities took to punishing the incorrigible, reckless or criminal elements, or simply sending them back from whence they came. Edmund Godfrey, in his capacity as a parish benefactor, helped the needy through charity or poor relief. In September 1677, for example, he supported Thomas Beare’s claim that as a poor and disabled ex-sailor he should be given a pension of 2s per week.51 Yet Godfrey also had a reputation for great severity against vagabonds and criminals in general. In fact this interest in the problem of the poor had led to his support for the building of a new workhouse in the parish in 1664–5. Perhaps typically where Godfrey was concerned, after the building was finished it became the subject of a minor scandal in 1672, for the poorhouse authorities were accused of letting out the workhouse vaults, designed for interments, as a wine cellar! The Bishop of London himself was forced to intervene to ensure that the practice was stopped. This intervention appears to have been ineffective in the face of local resistance, for by 1683 the locals were letting out the whole structure for business purposes and a replacement was not to be constructed until 1724.52

  According to Edmund Bohun, to enter upon an employment as a justice of the peace, as Edmund Godfrey did, would
‘occasion [a man] much loss of time, some expense and many enemies’.53 The hours were long and work in an urban parish could be hard with little reward. The city justice, much like his rural brethren, was a mixture of administrator, judge, arbitrator and detective. In addition, the justice of the peace in the urban environment of London had perhaps to face more squalor, violence and problems than most. To match the many difficulties he would face, Bohun noted, a good justice of the peace needed a number of attributes for success. These ranged from natural abilities, such as apprehension, judgment and memory, to civil qualities of a competent estate, good reputation and a reasonable education. The justice also had to have a religious disposition as well as the usual moral qualities of prudence, patience, sobriety, industry, courage and honesty. Few justices of the period lived up to such ideals, but Edmund Godfrey seems to have tried harder than most. In his time Godfrey gained the reputation of a useful and active justice of the peace with a strong sense of duty. Others were not so conscientious. The role of the ‘trading justices’ – men who abused their office and grew rich on bribes and extortion – was not unknown in London at this time.54 Normally, however, the justice held a responsible position in society, and given his power it was important he acted fairly in his dealings.

  As a keeper of the peace, the justice would be able to issue warrants against suspected persons, conduct preliminary inquires into criminal cases, deal with minor misdemeanours such as drunkenness and swearing, and take from more serious offenders recognizances or sureties for good behaviour. The justice was a local administrator: he could take certain oaths, supervise the parish officers and present them for any negligence at the next assizes. In conjunction with his fellow justices, a justice of the peace such as Edmund Godfrey could become even more powerful. Together they could grant licenses, prosecute recusants, make provision for the maintenance of illegitimate children and deal with the day-to-day life of the people in their jurisdiction. In regard to the complaints that came before him, the justice usually had three options. First, he could attempt to mediate and use his local influence, authority and standing to resolve the problem. Secondly, he could bind the defendant over until the sessions. Thirdly, for certain offences he could make a summary conviction and punish by whipping, fining or committal to an institution. More serious crimes, such as felonies, were usually dealt with more formally through the courts. Crimes that were misdemeanours allowed the justice more flexibility of response and were in fact far more common than the formal prosecutions. Thus, the justice of the peace could by his actions provide guidance to his parishioners and dispense justice when necessary.